hey, guys, what do you think of

[i]July 7th, 1998: Just another night. Rats on the streets. Despair, rodents, for I am rain, I am storm, I am dark. Two in the alley. A prostitute, perhaps. A Jezebel in guise of a lamb. He hides nothing in torn jeans and beaten, stained, and crumpled leather jacket. He waves a knife. She sobs and cowers against a dumpster, the purest of filth. She clutches her purse, no doubt the sole remnant of her possessions, and screams to the night. He smashes her jaw with his fist, but still she shrieks. He shouts something, but I don’t hear it. This has gone far enough. I can feel this vermin’s pulse through my glove, bounding and leaping with the stimulants in his system. I pull his wrist backward, sharply, and his bone tears a new wound in his jacket sleeve. He thrusts his knife unsteadily. I grip the steel in my invulnerable fingers and snap off the blade. Its stinger removed, the scorpion retreats, backing against the brick of the alley. I unfurl my wings and leap, catching his armpits in my hands, trying to concentrate through his screaming. Almost there. The streets are dark, seemingly, deceptively empty. Mailboxes and garbage cans cast eerie shadows in the soft orange light. There it is. A blue backlit sign proclaims it, alongside an illustration of their golden shield: Darius City Police Department. I hurl my quarry through the window, admittedly happy to be rid of his noise. I raise my eyes to the sky, and call the cry of my people. 
I am the Black Vulture.
This is my city.
[/i]

I'm working on a vigilante story, sort an antihero thing.