[URL=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwDDswGsJ60I][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]F L A S H B A C K:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][sup][color=silver]A Night in April 1985 | [i]New Lilith[/i][/color][/sup][/INDENT][/URL]

The warehouse in the Wharves, one of the many used by the Harbor Kings, where they would store their goods they have stolen from the shipments coming in. They had just gotten a large shipment of heroin, packing it and going to package it and ship it off to their dealers in the morning, but for now, there were only a handful of guards keeping watch over the shipment.
 
Two of them watched the outside, three on the inside, among them was Carlos Suarez, one of the Lieutenants of the Harbor Kings, a right-hand man of the boss. His wrap sheet was longer than most, assault and battery, breaking and entering, attempted murder, and murder were all among the things he had been booked for.
 
Yet, he had slipped through the system, on his last case the chain of custody had been broken, and key evidence had vanished. The witness that could send him away for life washed up on the beach, body broken in so many places that she had to have been run over by a truck. Tonight, justice would finally be served.  This shipment was risky, it belonged to the Fierro’s and the Kings had stolen it, killed a couple of their guys, this could very well mean war, and they didn't have the resources for that. Not yet, anyway.
 
[b]“Keep watch. Some of them fuckin' Mexicans might show up to try and steal our shit.”[/b]
 
[b]“Aren't yo-”[/b]
 
[b]“I'm Puerto Rican, dickhead.”[/b] Carlos immediately snapped back at one of the guards.
 
They heard cursing from outside. [b]”Hell is going on our there?”[/b] One of the guards asked, Carlos waved him to go check, the man turned around to grab his gun from the table, one of the blacked-out windows broke as the limp body of one of the guards was sent flying in, a broken nose, knocked out cold and barely breathing.
 
The three men began moving towards their guns, when they heard the cocking of a handgun behind them, followed by a voice. [b][color=gold]”Wouldn't try that if I were you.”[/color][/b] The biker-looking man, in his black leather jacket, a hood over his face, but one could see his short blond hair and black sunglasses, his look wouldn't betray his identity, the one truly defining feature to his figure was the belt buckle in his Jeans, a golden A.
 
[b][color=gold]”Guns didn't help the guys outside. It ain't gonna do you any favors, either.”[/color][/b]
 
[b]”Think you're the terminator, or some shit?!”[/b] Carlos shouted, as the man in the hood grinned, but remained quiet. [b]”Get him!”[/b] Carlos shouted, as his two men charged at the man in the hood, whom smiled, twirled his pistol in his hand and put it back into it's holster as the two men charged at him, one of them picked up a baseball bat from the floor while running, the other a knuckleduster from his pocket.
 
The hooded man took one step backwards, as the bat came towards his face, dodging the wooden weapon with less than an inch, his arm came down hard on the man holding the bat, snapping his wrist, his hand went limp and a cry of pain rang out, the next guy came along, bring the bat up from the ground, he smashed it against the man's skull, shattering the bat and knocking the guy out cold. The first man whimpering on the ground about his broken hand.
 
[b][color=gold]”No guns didn't seem to work, either.”[/color][/b] He taunted, as Carlos backed slowly, the masked man heading towards him. [b][color=gold]”You lot have been making big moves lately. You planning on starting a war? Lot of innocent people are gonna get hurt, can't let you do that.”[/color][/b] He said, as Carlos turned towards the shipping container, getting out the blowtorch and turning it on.
 
[b]”I'll fucking burn you, Puto!”[/b] He shouted, and the hooded man chuckled.
 
[b][color=gold]”You think I'm afraid of fire?”[/color][/b] a golden flicker could be seen from inside of his shades, as the entire room lit up with bright, warm light as six violent, yet beautiful flames, like tendrils, spawned on the figure's back. Carlos let out a gasp.
 
[b]”Dios mio..”[/b] He dropped the blowtorch, falling to his knees. The torch burning his hand, and he cried out in pain. The vigilante walked to him, grabbed him by the neck and pinned him against the container, a heavy [I]'THUD'[/I] from his body hitting the steel door.
 
[b][color=gold]”You tell me what you got planned, or you'll be burned a lot worse than that!”[/color][/b] He shouted, and Carlos said a prayer in Spanish, before nodding.
 
[b]”B-Bank, we're gonna pull a bank heist. Oh god, he's gonna kill me. We need the money to fight the Mexicans.”[/b] He said, and the vigilante smiled, kicking the blowtorch to the side, it rolled out of the way from hurting Carlos again.
 
He grabbed his wrist, put his gloved thumb right next to the wound, still holding the criminal by the collar.
 
[b][color=gold]”You'll turn yourself in, and confess to every crime you've ever committed. Or I'll be back. And it'll be a lot worse than this.”[/color][/b] The hooded man growled, Carlos nodded, crying, his sobbing turned into a cry of pain, as his burned hand began healing at the vigilante’s touch, a pain he couldn't even imagine as his skin wound closed, and his tissue began re-growing in a matter of seconds.
 
[b][color=gold]”Be good, Carlos.”[/color][/b] The man simply said, turning around and taking to the air, out of the warehouse and into the sky.