[center][h3]Iron Fist[/h3][/center] 

"You son of a-" 

The .45 cracked as he pulled the trigger. Blood and shattered skull fragments flew every which way, and the nondescript man reloaded his gun casually, blowing the light steam from the barrel before placing in a new magazine. Within the alleyway, three corpses lay rigid on the ground, two with bullet wounds and one horribly mangled from the hunter's surprise move. Snapping necks wasn't something he particularly enjoyed, but these fellas had joined the wrong side. Wonderland, Protectorate. Not his side. 

It was a job. 

In the distance, he could hear shouts. A light glow illuminated the streets along with the faint whoosh of flame, and the much louder crashing of metal on stone. Manny holstered his gun, flexing his free hand that held the titanium ring. It was time to move again, he thought to himself. "Do they pay me enough for this?" He asked into the dead alleyway. The silence that followed was as much of an answer as any he'd get. He strode out, his coat swaying. "We'll see." 

Whatever he expected to find when he entered the scene, it wasn't what he saw. The tall fellow looking positively average compared to the parahumans that were ducking and dodging. He'd seen Sickle from a briefing before, and it was noteworthy to see the immensely powerful parahuman on the ground. He didn't know what would cause that...other than the great fire beast that was wrecking goons and doing its best to fillet the mostly woman group of would-be heroes. 

He decided to step back and wait for a moment, his power at the forefront of his mind, ready to be called at a moment's notice. The Dragon hadn't seen him, and he didn't guess any of the others had as well. He'd wait and see an opportunity to strike. The former detective knew a thing or two about patience, and fighting the battles you were sure to win. 

One thing was for certain. He wasn't leaving before he took down as many parahumans as he could. The Consortium would get its money's worth.