Silas sat out on the balcony of his apartment with a wine glass in his hand. The glass was filled with just water tonight, as it had been every night before for a long time. He'd slept most of the day away after doing a job the night before, and tonight he was going out again. Why didn't evil ever get tired and just take a break? The "good guys" were always left playing catch up. He didn't have time to follow that thought down the rabbit hole though. It was about time to go.

Silas sighed and stood to bring his empty glass back inside when he heard what might have been a muffled yell from the alley not a hundred feet down the road from where his apartment building sat. Did he have time? Yeah, he could deal with this and still be where he needed to be with time to spare. It wasn't like he was one of those costume heroes who needed a good hour's warning if they were to be called upon to save anyone. 

He set his glass on the balcony table and bent down to pull on his black shoes, and then Silas dropped himself over the side of the railing and fell fifty feet to the street below. He landed with hardly a sound, crouched out of reflex more than necessity. The sound had come from... yes, that was the alley there. Silas put on his sunglasses, the closest thing to a mask he would ever wear, and walked into the dark side street.

It was empty and silent. He probably would have just left then if the door to one of the building's basements hadn't been left open. But as it was, Silas just pushed the door the rest of the way open and followed down. He found pretty much exactly what he'd been expecting: some street thug trying to force himself onto some moderately attractive passerby. It was so boring dealing with these types day after day. One lazy kick was enough to send the man crashing into and very nearly through the concrete wall ten feet away. He could see that he'd come before anything serious had happened, so Silas just told the woman to watch herself and left.

Okay, now he had to get to the job. He did make one stop on the way there though, to buy a pair of black shoes that were identical to the pair he was wearing. Silas was carrying these when he arrived at the home of one Thrace L. Kasp and kicked in the front door. This was a small job, practically a freebie compared to what Saint's services usually cost. Thrace L. Kasp; age 27; relatively clean record;in reality a serial arsonist; murderer of over a dozen people, including the son of the man who had hired Saint; lives alone. The dumb bastard ran out of one of the rooms to find Saint standing in the splintered remains of what had previously been a heavy wooden door. Saint did have to give the kid some credit though because the second thing the boy did was run back into the room and grab a gun. Well, you couldn't be an idiot and get away with murder.

Too bad he never got a shot off. The second the kid raised his weapon, Saint kicked a piece of the shattered door across the floor at his feet. Kid's face was eating white tile before he knew what had happened, and he accidentally pulled the trigger as he fell, putting a hole in the wall nowhere near Saint. 

Saint stood over the boy, the murderer, foot on the gun and the boy's hand. "You are Thrace L. Kasp," he stated flatly. The boy gritted his teeth and nodded, his eyes showing how much he hated the person standing coldly over him. Saint just looked back and asked, "Do you wish to tell me anything before you die?"

"Fuck you! Fuck all of you and your damn powers!" With his other hand, the boy pulled out an old cellphone and quickly punched a button. Silas' eyes widened as the house was engulfed in a massive fireball.

Damn, the kid had really had a thing for fiery explosions. Saint hung in the air for a moment, watching on as the force of the explosion spread the flames onto a neighboring house. Then he started falling back towards the ground as the momentum from his jump ran out. If the fall didn't kill him, the sea of flames he'd be landing in the center of certainly would. Saint's black shoes all but fell of his feet as he removed his imprint and placed it on a quarter he pulled from his pocket. It was a good thing he'd thought ahead and brought the second pair. Saint threw the quarter so that it bounced of the unburning side of the neighboring house, and then he swapped places with it, pulling the quarter back to him and replacing it in his pocket. Removing the imprint barely left a noticeable scratch on the coin.

After Silas was done putting on his new pair of black shoes, a quick search of the house revealed that no one was inside, thankfully. Silas walked outside as the flames began to really take hold of the bottom floor. He really hadn't expected things to escalate quite so fast. Blowing yourself up just because you were finally paying the price of your crime. Childish. Silas sighed, he'd fucked up. At least it was done. He pulled out his own phone and hit three buttons. 

"I would like to report a fire."