[color=#F660AB][h3]La Buitre[/h3][/color]
[color=#F660AB][b]Los Angeles- The Unnamed Bank.[/b][/color]

[@Chiro][@ClokwerkDukk][@thewizardguy]

[hr]


[color=#F660AB]“You know who I am!”[/color] Even over the distance that seperated La Buitre from her opponent, it wasn’t particularly difficult to pick up on the sheer, unbridled glee in her voice, or the fact that she was practically bouncing on the spot. [color=#F660AB]“It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Gimmi- I mean, um.”[/color]

A pause. She cleared her throat. She had to be [i]serious[/i]. A very serious, intimidating hero. When La Buitre next spoke, she had deepened her voice, and had made it sound all gravelly. Like Batman. Though she didn’t sound like Batman. She sounded like a fifteen year old girl making a very bad imitation of Batman, but being as grave about it as if the playboy himself.

[color=#F660AB]“It [i]would[/i] be nice to meet you, but because you are the bad guy and you are trying to rob the bank, it is [i]not[/i] very nice to be meeting you.”[/color] She gave a firm, decisive nod, planting her fists against her hips. Then, fists still against her hips, proceeded to bow deeply in response to Mr. Gimmick. 

[color=#F660AB]“Mr. Transplan- oh! I am sorry that I did not recognize you. If you would like, you can talk to the La Buitre that was killed then, because I am sure that she would love to talk to you. You will have to stop robbing the bank, though. And it is okay! I also-”[/color]

Given that she was still striking her pose, La Buitre was unable to raise her hands in time to catch the mask thrown at her, though another pair of pale hands caught the thing a foot away from the girl’s face. 

[color=#F660AB]“Hey! Wait! I am supposed to be catching you!”[/color] She began to bolt after the supervillain- admittedly, not at the most impressive of speeds- though her attempt at a chase was cut short by one of the walls blasting in, a bit of rubble hitting her in the torso and knocking the wind out of her. Not, luckily, doing any more of that, of course. The armor in her costume did its job well. 

Patting her chest a little, La Buitre straightened, turning to see that [i]another[/i] supervillain had burst into the bank. Her eyes widened. [i]Two[/i] bad guys? This would be very, very tricky, indeed. She shot a glance over to the door, relieved to see that Mr. Gimmick hadn’t taken the chance to run off, then cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted over. 

[color=#F660AB]“I am okay!”[/color] Then, after a moment of thought, she acted, summoning a new batch of ghostly hands to clamp down on Mr. Gimmick’s ankles. If they managed to get a good grip, they would promptly drag his ankles out from underneath him, pulling him into the air and leaving him upside down. A few more ghosts swept out throughout the bank, checking on the civilians, sweeping away rubble. 

To someone unfamiliar with La Buitre, it would seem as if she was particularly excellent at multitasking.

To someone who knew the hero, they would know it was more along the lines of having her own, particularly competent, team behind her.

Clearing her throat, La Buitre turned to the new supervillain, though not exactly all the way. She still had to keep her eyes on Mr. Gimmick, after all. [color=#F660AB]“I am sorry, Dr. Science, but you can not be having the bank all to yourself! If the people can not go to this bank, then they will have to go to one that is farther away! And I do not think that all of the people here own the cars, so they would be having to walk, which means that it would be very diffi-”[/color]

A sharp eye might have noticed a hand appear beside La Buitre and gently, but firmly, nudge the girl in the ribs before disappearing. A sharp ear might notice her whisper what seemed to be an apology before returning to her usual volume. 

[color=#F660AB]“You will not get away with this, because I am La Buitre, and I am here to fight the bad guys!”[/color] With a dramatic flair of the hand, another swarm of ghosts swept out. Faces with pitless eyes and gaping mouths rushing at the good Doctor, hands grabbing at the contraption, at his limbs, rushing for the drones.

The bank was swarming, churning, the air alive with ghosts.

It seemed as if what La Buitre had in power and supply, she lacked in actual strategy.