[center][color=0072bc][h2]Jackson Hurley: AKA Slingshot [/h2][/color][/center] [hr] [i][u]May 5th, 2012[/u][/i] [u]Location: Manhattan, New York City[/u] Slingshot nodded as he took the address in hand and watched the others preparing to leave. With the distraction underway, the vigilante kneeled next to the pile of corpses. He quickly lifted a sleeve, taking a picture of their markings before pocketing a few spare pistol magazines. He took a moment to examine one, and sure enough… armor piercing. Military Grade, and something you certainly couldn’t pick up at the local gun shop. With a quick zipping up of the jacket, Sling exited the bar through the back with his case in hand. He took a second to fasten it… and there they were. Cops. Only one squad car, from the sound of it. Seemed rather light for a shooting, but it was fairly late. Slingshot swung his leg to straddle his bike as he fastened his helmet, sliding the visor down to obscure his face. Before launching out into the New York streets, Sling unholstered his SIG and a specially crafted holster located on the bike’s chassis. A small addition that the vigilante figured might actually come in handy, given the insanity around them. With everyone gone, Slingshot slid out onto an empty 46th street… a street that was far too empty for New York City. He leisurely glided down the empty road, his eyes looking for any signs of life. Nothing. No pedestrians or other cars as he carefully prepared to turn left onto 6th. He almost didn’t notice the cars lined up, blocking the road until he heard the signature order to Freeze from a police officer. The line of cars were about 40 ft away, and the distinct sound of helicopter wings could be heard in the distance. It was certainly a trap, an interesting strategy that seemed too orchestrated for the NYPD. Certainly just a gift from the nice men at the bar. Slingshot pulled on the brake, the Bike lurching to a stop but the engine continuing to run. Sirens began to blare behind the lone vigilante, who had chosen to go the opposite direction as his newfound compatriots. Within a few moments, Slingshot would be surrounded. Luckily, this wasn’t exactly Sling’s first time at the rodeo. Five gunshots in rapid succession rang out only a few blocks away from Radio City Music Hall as the squealing of two tires on the uneven pavement accompanied. The police officers… the three still standing and not groaning on the ground from incapacitating shots, opened fire as Slingshot hopped up onto the curb and began to bounce down the steps into the NYC subway system. He leaned forward on his bike, lifting up the seat under him to pull out a small bundle. Sling pulled the pin of one of the grenades out of his mouth as he tossed it out in front of him once he hit the ground, sliding to a stop. After but a moment, the gates before him clanged to the ground as the detonation knocked them loose. Slingshot drove out into the main terminal, and it became clear this is where the police had quickly evacuated civilians. Men, women, and children were all huddled on the ground, with a few police officers turning their attention clearly to the criminal. Slingshot revved his engine and drove past, the officers having difficulty landing a shot on the weaving target. Sling pulled the pin on another grenade as he held it in hand for a couple seconds before lobbing it at the gate before him. He cut it close as the bike shot through the weakened gate, dust and debris clouding the visor. The vigilante cleared it with his jacket sleeve as he began to ascend the stairs on the other side in a very bumpy and surprisingly uncinematic moment, one Jackson was not proud of. Once out on the other side of the street, it became clear the NYPD were scrambling to find the vigilante. The streets of New York were narrow and not particularly designed for maneuverability… but the construction especially in light of recent events did provide grounds for cover. Slingshot’s ride was surprisingly silent (thank you hybrid engine) as it drove under a construction pedestrian barrier down W 49th street. The helicopter above nor the patrol cars below noticed the dark silhouette shooting down the walkways. The perimeter established ended at 9th street, so Slingshot veered through a small open area at the border of the theater district, hopping onto W 50th and then into a parking garage, making his way past the barriers. He got out onto W 51st and far from harms way, making sure to drive quietly back into the light NY traffic as he made his way towards his home. It only took a few minutes as he pulled into the alleyway for the run-down, former SHIELD safehouse loft he was staying in. The vigilante went to stand up, when he realized his legs weren't exactly in the same working order he had expected. Jackson fell to the ground next to his ride, falling on his side as several sharp pains became apparent. A few dull pains in his torso were obvious as clear bullet holes lined up near his shoulders, along with two shots in the back. The body suit had worked well to prevent penetration... but his right leg was another story. A lucky shot at the right angle managed to pierce his calf. Jackson ground his teeth as he pulled himself to his feet, getting up to guide his bike into a rather large garage he opened with a quick button-press on his phone. "[color=0072bc]Damn... At least that looked cool. Can't wait to tell them about it later.[/color]" [hider=Little Chase Music (Yes, there has been a pattern)] [youtube][/youtube] [/hider]