Grrrrrnnnnnngh"

Gabriel blearily opened his eyes and blinked several times. The light from the late morning sun felt like it might as well have been a halogen lamp placed 5 feet in front of him. He shut his eyes tightly for a few more seconds before attempting to sit up. He'd been sprawled out along a park bench, with his left arm and leg hanging off the side.

He tried to sit up, and his limbs weren't exactly cooperating. Furthermore, his left hand felt heavier, and he realized he'd been holding something. Upon inspection, he was holding a now empty 750ml bottle of cheap whiskey. Good fucking god, I'm a degenerate, he thought to himself. Once he maneuvered himself into a sitting position, he began patting down his pockets, making sure he didn't lose anything. Phone, check, keys, check, wallet, check, ID intact, check, mask, check...ok. Phone messages…

There was one from Petyr, simply stating that he'd need to be sober by Friday night. Apparently Coil wanted to hit the ABB soon. Alright, I can live with that. Now, where the hell am I? He went to stand up and nearly fell over immediately, before placing a hand on the bench to steady himself. Beautiful. I'm STILL drunk. And likely will be for a while longer. Time to down a quart of coffee or something.

He carefully made his way out of the tiny park and towards one of the restaurants across the street. Once inside, he took out his phone and did a quick check on his location. Brockton Bay Financial District, eh? At least I wound up in the same city. People have pulled this kinda shit before and woken up in way worse situations. He sat down near the window looking out towards the central bank building.

"Hello there. Would you like something to drink to start off?"

Gabriel jumped a little, already starting to fall back asleep due to the copious amounts of alcohol still in his system.

"Coffee. Lots of coffee. And…" he paused looking over the laminated menu once more. "The bacon and egg platter, with a side of hash browns."

She nodded. "If I may make a suggestion?"

"Hmm?"

"Swap out the hash browns for some sausages. Always helps me after a rough night anyway. And judging by that gash on your arm, your's was kinda terrible."

Gabriel chuckled. "I guess you could say that. And I think I'll take your suggestion."

Antares put the finishing touches on his outfit. This time he opted for a pair of black bell bottom pants with a ruffled long sleeve shirt that was a deep green color with various leaf motifs along the sleeves. He'd dyed his hair a particularly bright shade of lime green, letting it trail behind him in a short ponytail, and he'd applied makeup to make his features look practically elven. He'd even rounded out the deal with pointed ear tips.

"Any particular reason you're dressing up like Legolas's metrosexual brother?" Impulse asked.

"Well think about it. We're about to kidnap a child, which is something the fair folk of celtic lore did. So why not look the part?"

Impulse just stood there for a second staring at Antares, head slightly cocked to one side. "Do you listen to half the shit that comes out of your mouth?" he asked. ALSO, WHY DO YOU STILL HAVE THAT FUCKING BANDOLIER WITH SHAVING CREAM?

"Of course I do. Everything I say is calculated," Antares calmly. "And to preemptively answer your next question, no, I will not disclose my decision making process. It is mine and mine alone and you can't have it."

Impulse rolled his eyes, before turning his attention towards Chimera. "You finished up eating yet?"

"Gimme like..3 more minutes," he said, mouth still full with a half-eaten rack of ribs.

"Well take it with you then. We gotta go now if we want to beat some of the traffic; better to be safe than sorry. I'd run there myself, and this wouldn't be a problem, but neither of you can keep up with me."

Chimera made a slight groan of annoyance, but began to shift into a smaller form that would have an easier time fitting into a van.

Coil's instructions stated that Faultline and her associates would be waiting in a pair of electrical repair vans parked in the first rest stop outside the western edge of the city limits. According to Coil's information, they would be parked between two semi-trailers on the eastern end of the lot; secluded enough for a quick meeting. They arrived about 4 minutes ahead of schedule, and pulled up in the empty spot between the two repair vans. Antares took out his phone and called the number he'd been provided.

"Eighteen jackalope dubai martyr," Antares spoke.

"Smithtown jungle twenty-two acorn," came the response. The man answering the phone had a hint of an accent that Antares couldn't quite place, but if he guessed it sounded like some type of Eastern European.

"Polaris forty-five quark Sinclair," Antares supplied, completing the passphrase.

"Very well then. Please exit your vehicle and enter the one on your right side. The back door is unlocked."

One by one they piled into the the electrical van, which thankfully had been stripped of most of the original equipment, allowing the six occupants a bit of breathing room. Chimera had opted for a cross between a fox, an otter, and a cat so as to take up a relatively small amount of room.

The woman wearing what looked like a modernized version of a samurai's armor spoke first. "Let's get the introductions out of the way quickly. I'm Faultline, and the other two are Newter, and Gregor the Snail." Newter looked to be in his late teens, with a relatively lean build. His skin was a bright orange, which had a faintly visible sheen of multicolored sweat, and bright blue hair. He also had a long prehensile tail behind him which he absently swished about. Gregor on the other hand looked to be a bit older, closer to 30, and was of a fairly rotund build. His skin was translucent, and his skeleton was just barely visible, and several conch shell-like growths dotted his body.

After Antares introduced each member present, Faultline laid out the information she had on hand. "The kid is currently sick at home complaining of headaches. Her mother is there with her, along with a hired protection detail. Between 8 and 12 plainclothes armed guards. We don't move until exactly 12:06:30. Antares, you can do something about the nearby powerlines can't you?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Make it look as...I guess 'non-intentional' is as good a descriptor as any...as you can. Chimera, how small can you make yourself?"

"If need be, roughly the size of a mouse."

"Good. Do that, find out where inside the house she is, and report back. Impulse, once we know where the girl is, you grab her and bring her back to the van."

"Can do." Did you have to say it that way though? That sounded really rape-y, he thought but didn't say.

"We'll handle any vehicles or personnel capable of pursuit. The girl's mother is not to be touched whatsoever, and there are to be ZERO lethal takedowns. Is that understood, Chimera?"

Chimera shot her a look of annoyance. "That was only that one time…." he muttered under his breath.

"Alright. Get in the other van, and follow us. Maintain a distance between 20 and 30 feet."

While following Faultline's truck, Impulse was distracted in the passenger's seat by the nicer parts of town that he didn't visit much. Passing the Arcadia High school, Impulse couldn't help but wonder where he'd be right now if his childhood had been just a little bit different. Well, a lot different. Looking at some of these houses, these people easily had 10-30 times as much money as we did. Impulse grimaced slightly. Must be nice when you worry about whether or not you'll have to settle for a porterhouse instead of a filet mignon instead of whether or not you'll be eating tomorrow. Might have even gotten to compete like I wanted to in the first place. They passed by several of the nicer looking apartment complexes before entering the really rich looking parts of town. Trimmed gardens, pristine roofs and windows, complete lack of bullet holes...what have these people ever had to really deal with in their lives? The gangs don't even bother them all that much. The heroes certainly concentrate their efforts here, that much is fucking obvious. He let his thoughts stew in jealousy a bit longer before he turned his attention back on the task at hand.

And now we're about to rob a young girl of her charmed circumstances. The thought disturbed him more than he'd anticipated.

He was shaken out of his thoughts as Antares put the car into park a block away from the cul-de-sac the Alcott residence was. The clock read 11:52.

Nearly showtime.

Gabriel had forced himself to get through most of the meal. The waitress's suggestion had paid off in large part; Gabriel was convinced he'd be more or less fine after a few more hours and a few more trips to the bathroom. By his count he'd had close to a quart of coffee from the time he woke up till now. That waitress is getting a healthy tip today for dealing with my shit. He got up a tad shakily, but otherwise able to pass as a functioning member of society, and turned to leave.

He'd walked a half block and towards the nearest bus stop, when he started to notice that everyone had more or less stopped what they were doing. Alright what the hell has everyone staring like a deer in-

What the fuck is that?

He turned around to see the Central Bank's main entrance was now spewing a very large amount some sort of thick perfectly black smoke. It didn't move like the kind that was produced by a fire; the way it flowed looked far too deliberate. Like it was being controlled by something or someone. Gabriel thought he read something similar to this on a PHO thread a few days ago, but his memory was failing him on the details. He reached for his phone, but the sound of police sirens and the sight of several PRT vans converging on the bank was enough to confirm his suspicions. Yes, a bank robbery was underway, and yes, one or more parahumans was involved.

Goddammit. He took a deep breath. 'Don't do anything stupid.' I don't need to be there. They've probably got this without me. They'll be fine.

He turned back around, and began walking away.

Of course. Weren't Petyr and John talking extensively yesterday about the white hats' absolutely stellar track record over the past decade?

He stopped. A surge of pain ran through his body at the thought, and it began to grow slowly. It felt like a deep ache in his nerves and joints, yet at the same time it could almost be called a burning sensation. Gabriel shook his head.

I'd be going in absolutely blind. I've no idea who or what I'd be up against. The pain flared up again, bad enough that he stuck a hand out to the wall to steady himself.

Which means I'm too much of a fucking coward to attack when attack is necessary. Too scared to fail. What if the heroes and the PRT lose? What if civilians get hurt, especially when I had the option to do something and chose to do nothing?

Gabriel took a deep breath, before checking that the mask he brought with him was still there. I'm going to regret this decision either way.

He took a left off of the main street, walking two blocks before taking another left and starting to circle back towards the bank. He took a second to look around up and down the street for signs of anyone who might spot him. No one's looking...no one's look-wait for that woman to turn around….and...there we go...and fuck the jacket I can get a new one. He turned back towards the bank.

Once he was about a block away, two armed PRT officers quickly ran up to him, each holding what looked like grenade launchers.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you what the hell do you think you're doing? This area is not safe for civilians."

Gabriel coated one of his hands in plasma, then quickly dismissed the effect. "My family's got money in that bank," he lied. "So I'm a little pissed off. You gonna let me help or what?"

The two guards looked at each other. One of them levelled his weapon at Gabriel. "Do not move. Drummond, call it in."

The other officer quickly walked out of earshot. After a few tense seconds, the other officer started walking back. "...yeah, he's right here. Looks new. Oi!" Gabriel snapped his attention to the other officer as the first lowered his weapon. "You got a name? What do you do?"

Gabriel hesitated for a half second. "Call me Crown. I chuck plasma."

"Alrighty. Higher-ups said go for it. We're fairly certain the Undersiders are in there, and we know they have hostages. Just let out a couple dozen less than a minute ago. Gallant, Kid Win, Vista, Clockblocker, and Aegis are standing by; we've let them know you're here. Head over there, and wait for them to engage first. We've got all the other exits covered, so if they're coming out, they're coming out through the front door. Be warned, Hellhound doesn't play nice."

Crown nodded and jogged over.

Almost immediately after he got situated, Hellhound and her three dogs emerged in a full on sprint from the opaque smoke billowing out of the bank's front entrance. Each seemed to about 10 feet high at the shoulder and seemed much closer to monsters out of nightmares than dogs. Reading about how big she makes these fuckers and seeing it in person are very different, he decided.

...Especially when one of them is headed right at me.