Disclaimer: Pi does not own Teen Titans, etc. However, this storyline is Pi's, so no stealing!!!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Robin put down his communication device and spoke to the team as they landed in front of the Downtown Bank, a fully armed SWAT unit in the background, ready to mobilize at the drop of a hat. They had been instructed to hold back and provide any necessary cover. The Titans would deal with the dug in criminals.
"Okay team, we have several heavily armed thugs inside," Robin said, "The building has been successfully evacuated. It's time to get to work."
The entire team nodded synchronously and leapt forward to action, flying full boar into the main entrance of the bank, Patrick in the back, still not entirely sure what his part would be, but sure it would become clear quickly.
The bank was large, perhaps one of the largest banks in the nation. It had a large entrance area where the tellers and the ATM were. To the left and right were doors to side offices which the team soon found out, were very maze-like in design.
"Okay, split up," Robin commanded as when approached a nexus of office hallways.
Each member of the team split off, going four separate ways then forking at the next available hall. Patrick was alone in no time after running neck and neck with Raven for a short period of time. He checked each offices desk as he ran, the burglars were nowhere in sight.
Within minutes of feverish searching, Patrick found himself back in the entrance of the bank, his powers still activated from when he first entered. He looked around to see if there was a safe in the entrance. Surely enough, to the left of the teller windows was a nine-foot tall door of hardened Carbon steel that lay slightly ajar. He walked towards it with the hunch that he might at least find some clues in the scene of the crime if they failed to located the criminals in this enormous bank As he approached it, he began to hear voices, deep, masculine voices.
Patrick smirked. The thugs were hiding in the last place the Titans expected, right in the impenetrable bank vault. He charged his powers fully and pulled out his knife, prepared to fight these bandits one-on-one, too impatient to wait for the rest of the team.
As he walked up silently, to the vault door and peered in, spying on his enemy. They were sitting on bags of money, loaded M-16's lying across each one of all eight of their laps.
Patrick smirked once more and pulled the door open with an extremely loud screech as the metal rubbed on its hinges and they strained to keep the heavy door on track. This got the attention of all the men in the vault as they sprung quickly out of their makeshift beanbag seats, aiming at the opening door, Patrick standing right there in the open. They opened fire instantly, filling the air with automatic fire from eight separate guns. As instantly as they had started shooting, Patrick was moving towards them, narrowly missing bullets as he ran with a blinding speed, a trail of rippled air following in his wake of heat as his power charged.
He drove his knife in the hands of each of the thugs very methodically as to not harm them, but cause them to drop their weapon and disable them. It was pretty easy work due to his supernatural power, but very loud, the mix of agonized screams and gunshots were deafening.
When it was all done, there was a neat stack of eight slightly bloodstained M-16's in the corner and eight criminals cradling their hands, with bandages that Patrick had given them, on the floor in the other corner furthest from the door. They were all cursing like sailors and bleeding somewhat, but not at an alarming rate. Patrick sat on a sack of money next to the guns, wiping his blade clean, whistling an airy tune.
This was about the point when the rest of the team showed up. They all stood shocked in front of Patrick as he got up slowly. He looked at all of them and smiled, showing them that the situation was entirely under control.
"They'll be fine, one or two bandages and they'll be good as new," he said, realizing that they were looking at him with a worried expression like the one he was given on the obstacle course a few weeks before.
"No, it's not that," Robin said getting closer and looking at Patrick's left arm, "you've been shot."
Starfire gasped loudly, muting all the other members of the team. She shot forward towards him and looked at his arm with tears forming in her eyes.
"You're dying, yes?" she asked worriedly.
Patrick looked at the bloody portion of his hooded sweater and then to Starfire with an expression like she was crazy.
"No, it's just my arm," he said smiling. Truth be told, he hadn't even felt it the entire time he was watching his captives.
He looked at the wound closely. The bullet had gone clear through, leaving no shrapnel. He was bleeding profusely; it actually was beginning to drip and pool around where he was sitting earlier.
"I'll be right back," he said as he walked into the restroom that was across the entrance, leaving a thin trail of blood droplets as he walked.
Seconds later, there was a bright flash seen from through the gaps the door made by not completely meeting the floor. As soon as the flash subsided, Patrick walked out with his hooded sweater sleeve rolled up to his shoulder, the gunshot wound no longer noticeable.
"Patrick…" Robin said slowly, "Did you just cauterize that?"
Patrick nodded and rolled his sleeve back down and stood in front of the team. His eyes were bloodshot from the tears brought from the immense pain of burnish his skin shut over his wound with no numbing agent.
"We done here?" he asked smiling.