A/N

Hello and welcome to this latest episode, my dazzling friends. A huge shoutout to Shiny knight for some quality advice. And, we officially have 20 reviews, and 550 views!

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Nick Striker: Here is your 'more'

Feeling the cool, gentle winds of the night wash over my slightly shocked face, I prepare my heart for any further sudden twists to come. I can comprehend the fact he is here, but the fact that it's in the dark expanses of the night, that's what truly takes me aback. Despite his apparent hatred towards me, I only had an inkling that he was shady. Maybe even on a dubious payroll.

However, I can't deny the sight. The commissioner is here, and seemingly to actively take part in some illegal activities. Of course, I am speculating and everyone- even him- has the right to be innocent until proven otherwise. Justice comes before personal grievances, that is the way of a 'hero' like me. Or, at least similar to how I operate.

For once, I won't mind catching this bad guy. I stifle a snort at the prospect of 'arresting' the police commisioner. Maybe even get a few names from him; he's bound to be on the payroll of someone.

Darting up when he slides into the back of the glossy, black car- opened by the professional looking guard, of some sort- I silently crouch and tip-toe to the edge of the building. The eerie silence makes a potential fall seem much worse, judging by the knot in my stomach when I peer down. The dull, paved floor seems uneasily too far, in my opinion. Then again, I am perched on top of a high building.

A smooth rev can be heard by my enhanced hearing as the engine of the automobile fires up, coughing out any excess waste via the exhaust. The quiet grumble signals to me that the commissioner is taking a leave of absence, kicking my mind into gear, and figuring out several possible routes.

One such action is that I use my homing beacon and implant it on the exterior of the vehicle, thereby allowing me to pursue the car from an inconspicuous distance. However, this would have a major drawback- the minute chance that I completely miss the rear and hit the surface of the road. Another is purely straightforward: charging down there and interrogating them now, before they decide to excuse themselves from my view. Still, it's not the most effective method, considering that the target is the local police commissioner; more than likely armed, and willing to shoot me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the car starting to pull put out of it's parked position. Given that it's escaping, my timeframe to decide has become drastically reduced. It's now or never, so get ready.

Hastily pressing down on the utility compartment located on my chest, I collect the tiny tracker, and place it into my outstretched right palm. The tracker is light and soft, almost as the weakest of touches would snap it in two. Definitely not what a hero would tend to use in these types of predicaments, or in any other to be honest. I guess that I will have to hope and pray that Smithy did a fantastic job, and it isn't as pathetic as it feels.

Drawing back my powerful arm, I take aim at the rear, specifically the bumper. And, with a precise launch I direct it perfectly, the tracker landing not an inch from where it was intended to be. "Smithy, I need you to locate that tracker you gifted me." I speak into the comm installed into the suit on the underside of my left arm.

"Haven't lost the suit yet, have you?" comes the irritating response, the voice crackling from the embedded speaker.

"No," I bite back, my eyes seeking out an adequate grappling point. "just do it, please." I end up sighing, my short jubilation at finding a spot eroding away. "And make it quick, he's getting away."

Leaping into the air, I fire the grapple at the ledge before I could slam against the sidewalk. Gratefully watching it cling onto the wall, I commence with the tedious procedure of reeling my body in. As I was floating up, a spark of thought emerges in the back of my mind.

What if I did die one of these times? Who would attend my funeral? Surely, a few people would arrive to show their respects and give their condolences. I may not be the popular employee at StarrWare, but I have an inkling that some would gather the energy to turn up. Although my parents and I haven't been in contact for the recent years, I hope they would somehow find out and show up to grieve. Grieve? They haven't shown a shred of emotion to me in my whole existence.

"Are you ignoring me?"

The question throws me offguard as I climb up the ledge of the roof, seeming to be out of nowhere. "Sorry, I was just dangerously climbing up the side of a building ; no time to talk." I tell the half-truth, mixing a lie with the truth in a useful combination.

"Well, get yourself together- the beacon is heading to the commercial district, around the town hall." Smithy eagerly reveals, apparently revelling in the opportunity for some real action.

"Thanks, man." I acknowledge his hard work and superior computing skills. " See you in a bit."

Knowing my destination, I scramble down to the road by dropping to the floor. It's better to run. That way I will cover ground ten times faster than using the hook. Intaking a large amount of air with a deep gulp, I slowly pick up the pace; my walk gradually evolving into a rhythmic jog, and then a full-blown run. The pounding of my armoured feet on the road and the crunching sound it makes gives me a feeling I have forgotten all about.

For the first time since I became a hero, I am actually... happy.

25 minutes later...

Overlooking the city hall with an examining eye, I analyse all possible escapes. To the left of the building is several windows, large enough to allow me to fit through. Then, there is also obscure pathway leading from the side of the building into an adjacent carpark, shielded from prying cameras by a wide oak tree. Just what I need- a route that he will jump at the chance to take.

Grappling to the governmental building, I zoom across and grasp the underside of a window.

Slowly forcing open the locked, unorthodox entrance, I slip in without a peep of sound or exertion of effort. The way the window lies means that my technically illegal entry was smooth and easy, compared to the possibly loud and difficult maneuver that it would have been, if it was too shallow.

Pressing my right ear against the door situated to my side, I gradually begin to slither up.

"How is this not a problem?! Have you got any idea how much this vigilante is costing us?!"

As soon as I fully creaked into a stood position, those words drifted into my ears. The voice is unmistakably hostile and furious, reflecting the apparent mood of the male owner, judging by the depth of the pitch.

"He isn't a problem! But these people you consort with are!" another male voice responds, equally as wrathful. Yet, it didn't escape my attention that whoever it is feels the desire to defend me, and my recent actions. "You started this mess, a long time ago." the voice reduced to a low whisper.

"I gave you everything, 'lix." the person who I first heard gasps. "Helping you become the commissioner cost me a lot of favors." was his addition, solidifying my initial guess. It appears that Commisioner Felix may have a soft side, after all.

"Favors with who? Criminals?"

Commisioner Felix lets out a noise similar to a chuckle, a small trickle of fear radiating from the forced vocal sound. "You didn't give me this, you forced me. In doing so, I became a lackey of your 'friends' and have to watch my city burn, because if I tell someone they will kill me." the passionate resonance absorbs into the atmosphere, like shoving emotion into your heart. "Believe it or not, you did this."

"I could waste my breath talking about how ungrateful you are, but... I know it would be a waste of my precious time." a slam of wood accompanies the sound, followed closely by a heavy, weary sigh. The lengthy interlapse between the door closing and the exhale of breath conveys the tense encounters personal touch. Seemingly, these two have a relatively close relationship.

Well... up until now.

I reckon it's about time that the Black Titan makes a sudden reveal. Dramatically sliding open the lavish door, I breach with an air of confidence and swagger. Looks like the pig has met the fire. Now, time to turn him into bacon.

Almost collapsing onto the floor, he frantically scrambles around for a firearm. Or, he was until I bounded up to the man and held him by the neck- crossing my arms over around his windpipe, pressing down ruthlessly. "Shhh." I hush, observing the facial features of the police boss- at first anger, then frustration, and finally, resignation. "If i let go, will you be quiet?" I pause for a nod of acceptance before releasing the hold. The commissioner convulses, desperately in taking the air vacuum that was created.

"What the he-"

"Remember what I politely asked of you, Commisioner Felix. Next time, you open that trap without my permission, I won't let go." I sharply interrupt with a clear threat. "It's about time that me and you had a long chat. To be frank, it's overdue by a long shot." I step back in an attempt to seem less intimidating as usual. In most of the encounters I've had it works, however, this is a different circumstance. One that calls for warmth and empathy. "Sorry for the... disturbance, commissioner. Although," I halt theatrically. "I couldn't help, but overhear your conversation. You're a dirty boy, Mr Felix." I resist the increasing temptation to smirk.

"If you did hear, then you would know that I hate it. This deal has torn apart my life." he makes his case. "it destroyed my family, my parents, my happiness in life." he solemnly elaborates, his head drooping.

"You can change all of that, maybe redeem yourself." I guide him to the most comfortable chair I can discover, and gently place him down.

"How? How can I change something that is so messed up?"

Those questions tore my heart away from my brain. My every instincts are yelling at me to feel sympathetic and pity him, whereas the rational part of my mind is implying that he is stalling me. When people tell you to follow your heart, they never understand that the mind is a cold and calculating thing, needed more knowledge to fuel compassion.

"What should you do? Only you can figure that question out. What would I do? It's true to say that I would resign; defiance is the most complex path, but... the more inspiring one. As I said, it's up to you and no one else." I cordially answer, maintaining a respectful distance, and not interfering with his thought process.

A thick mire of conscious deliberation envelops him, emphasising the exhausted circles around his eyes. It remains this way for some length of minutes; weighing up the consequences, and planning a goal.

After I almost cave in to my growing boredom, he at last gives a conclusion.

"I know what I have to do."

A/N

As all ways, hope you enjoyed.

And see you soon.