Stylistically, this is more story-oriented than stat-oriented, but I wanted to try and establish this guy before we get the ball rolling. Anyway, I regret NOTHING! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [b]10:10 AM: New York City, NY[/b] “C’mon, man, hurry up!” The young man kneeling down in front of the safe shoots an irritated look over his shoulder at his cohort, both of them clad in casual clothes, the color purple dominant in their ensemble, and both of the brandishing pistols tucked in their waistbands. As the safe is emptied, the overseer calls to the rear of the shop, a pawn shop which had been ripping off people in the neighborhood for years. Now, in all the chaos surrounding the city, the gang finally had an opportunity to rob the place, and take their time doing it. A third member of their gang emerges from the back room, his gun in-hand, “What’s taking so long, man?” He asks, clearly agitated. “Relax, man, we’re all good.” The lookout grins, “The cops are too busy dealing with whatever, and we’re free to cash in…” He glances at the collapsed form of the shopkeeper over in the corner, his grin turning to a sneer, “This bitch has had it comin’ for too long.” The kid who had emerged from the back looks around the shop, “Yo, man, where’s Ruiz?” He asks, noting the absence of one of their crew. “He’s keepin’ an eye out front.” The overseer says, turning his attention back to the one unloading the safe, “Don’t worry, everything’s good.” Just then, almost as if on cue, the plate glass window at the front of the shop shatters, a purple-clad thug being hurled through it. The startled gang members all draw their weapons, aiming at the now-open air window and whatever instinct tells them to open fire and not bother asking questions later is silenced by the sight of a white-clad, hooded vigilante stepping through. The crunch of glass under his boot heel echoes across the silent shop, the ambient noise outside not doing much to fill the void. Just as one of the gangsters finally has enough sense to pull the trigger, the vigilante leaps to the side, taking cover behind another counter extending all the way down towards the rear of the store. “Damn, man, it’s that White Knight guy!” The gangster who had just emerged from the back room asks in a panic, firing blind and not counting his ammo. The man under the hood rolls his eyes, [i]Who did he have to kill to find a superhero-friendly publicist?[/i] The overseer helplessly replies over the sound of gunfire, “Let’s get the hell out of here!” He grabs the half-full bag sitting beside the gangster emptying the safe, him and the other gang member making a run for the back room. “Hey!” The gang member still ducked behind the counter shouts after his friends, outraged at being left behind. As he rises to try and follow after them, he’s overtaken by the sight of the vigilante barreling straight at him. He tries to pull his gun to defend himself, but isn’t quick enough as the vigilante vaults over the counter and plants both feet in the criminal’s chest, dropkicking him into the back wall of the shop, the shelves lining the wall behind him collapsing and burying him under a pile of valuable merchandise. He makes after the two fleeing gang members, one of them turning ‘round before reaching the back and getting a couple of shots off. His aim is true, but the bullets pancake against the vigilante’s body armor, totally ineffective. “You’ll have to do better than that!” He howls after them, the back door of the shop being thrown open and the two gang members fleeing into the alley out back. The vigilante is right on them, sprinting after them and drawing two crescent blades from his greaves and launching them with pinpoint accuracy into the backs of the fleeing thieves. The one lagging behind topples over, his gun skittering away out of reach, but the one ahead of him, the overseer, only staggers, holding onto his gun and letting go a pained cry. He stops momentarily, turning and lifting his arm to fire, fighting through the pain shooting up his spine as he does. The vigilante goes into a roll, avoiding the bullets whizzing overhead and pulling another crescent blade halfway through. He comes out of his roll, simultaneously hurtling his dart and clipping the gang member’s wrist and making him drop the gun. Seeing his opportunity, he rushes forward and nails the hoodlum under the jaw with an uppercut, lifting the kid off his feet and sending him sprawling onto the ground, out cold. The vigilante shakes his hand off, massaging his wrist, “Damn, I still got it.” He mutters to himself, grinning under the cover of his hood. He reaches down and plucks the crescent blade from the back of the lingering gang member, trying in futility to crawl towards his gun, so far out of reach. The vigilante places his knee on the back of the thug’s neck, “I need this back.” He says simply, plucking the crescent blade from the criminal’s back. The gang member yelps in surprise before catching a boot to the face, “By the way, I’m the [i]Moon[/i] Knight, not the [i]White[/i] Knight; get it right.” Moon Knight drops the bag full of cash beside the unconscious shopkeeper, leaving the same way he came in: through the blown-out window. As he walks back out into the street, he’s witness to more of the gang’s members running amok. For the one shop’s he’s saved, ten more are in the process of being robbed. Smoke billows up from somewhere a few blocks ahead of where he is now… The looting, the rioting, the chaos… there was no end in sight, not with that devourer, or whatever it is they called him on the news, looming over New York City. The authorities were occupied, the Avengers were M.I.A., and aliens were invading… He supposes now was as good a time as any to step into the light.