The sound of glass shattering breaks the silence. Jumping through a second story building was a boy with dark red haired boy. His arms obscuring his face in order to protect it. Behind him was a female, a purplish color on her flowing locks as she followed him. Behind her was a gang of thugs in hot pursuit. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop trying to escape, it became clear that the pair had stolen something. The woman, holding it tightly in her hand, as to not drop it or let it go. They were running out of roofs and fast. They needed an escape plan, quick thinking was not this boy's strong suit either.
Getting to the last rooftop in this row of houses it was clear they would either have to fight or get down to street level.
Turning to the woman the boy spoke. "Got any ideas?" He said in a casual sort of way, as if they weren't about to get into a fight.
"Yeah." The woman gave the boy a devilish smile before kicking the boy off the rooftop and down to the street below, then running off on her own and escaping the herd of thugs who quickly turned their attention to the boy on the street, still recovering from the recent fall.
Getting up slowly and shaking his head a couple times and got his bearings back. Still a little dazed, he continued running. His auburn jacket flowing in the breeze. Running into a dead end only blocks later and he cursed his situation.
"There's no way she'd do this to me!" He yelled into the night sky as the group of thugs came up behind him. Their leader cackled to himself.
"Of all people, Ronan, why would you trust that girl?" This guy clearly knew them both, but now in this predicament, it seems there was no escape. "Now, since she's not here, you're going to pay for stealing from me, get him boys!" The leader of the group shouted to his men. A group of about nine people circled the redheaded boy. Each one more menacing than the last, Ronan had no choice but to fight.
Throwing his hands up in the air, he activated the gauntlets on his hands. A red and orange number that armored his wrist and hands. Not to mention the mechanism at the base of his wrist as well. Ronan looked at his surroundings and noticed no exits. No ways up. The walls were brick and cold, nothing to grab onto, forced to fight, the one thing he was good at.
The thugs attacked him one by one, a situation that favored Ronan. His skilled hand-to-hand combat was one of his only redeeming traits. Ronan showed off his prowess, taking down each thug with speed and technique. Even using the chain that shot out from the bottom of his wrist, effortlessly. It wasn't long before he finished the nine guys and ran past the leader to get to safety.
He hadn't kept track of the time. The boy raced through the streets of Vale trying to get back to his home in time. Jumping through the side alleys and using his gauntlet chains to swing through the city he was close, but got stopped by an array of bright lights.
"Ah, crap." He used his hands to block the lights as a voice shouted at him.
"Why am I not shocked? Of course it would be you, Ronan." The voice was one of a cold disappointment. One long sigh followed as the person shouted directions to the men next to him. Ace police detective, Callum Rosewood, strikes again. Next thing he knows, Ronan is sitting in an interrogation room.