Although the government did not sanction vigilantism, they were not above seeking the assistance of a strange man with an even stranger skill set. He was adept at dealing with criminals that did not leave a traditional law enforcer with any option but to let the guy go free, and as such, John was quite well thought of. He caught these serial criminals in the act, dealing with them as best he could, whether that involved violence, murder or simply a bit of good old intimidation.
Today was another day at the office, the boring place in which he worked just to keep himself ticking over when he wasn't needed. His gloved fingers worked away at the keyboard, unnoticed by anyone else at the office. The story was that he had been burned quite badly as a child, and was still quite sensitive about the scars. No one seemed to bat an eyelid at this story.
Lucky for his sanity, just down the street, it seemed that something terrible was happening, and the ruckus swiftly bled into earshot. Needless to say, John was on his way in mere seconds. Half the office were at the windows, looking down at the jewellery shop, while John took the back stairs down to street level. He took a gym bag with him, as he always did, shedding his opaque shirt and tie, as well as his leather gloves, swapping into a t-shirt that could hardly be considered his usual attire. He also donned a homemade mask that settled neatly over his rather distinctive hair, covering his facial features in an electric blue that was sadly rather garish. It did the job though, which was all he could ask for.
Stowing the gym bag somewhere in the stairwell, John shot out into the open, a flash of burnished steel grey reflecting the beating sun. His left arm was entirely mechanical, fused to the organic part of him, to a degree that had not even been dreamed of by most people. The augmentation granted him a few powers that were enviable, though for the most part John did not see this. The limb was unfinished, and he still felt the phantom pain of the atrocities he had been subjected to. But right now, this didn't matter.
One man stood out in the chaos, slipping out of the shop as if nothing was happening, drawing attention to himself just by the fact of his normality. John hastened towards him, a grimace of determination on his face as he met the man hand on, opting to speak first, rather than throw an unnecessary punch. "Hand over what you've stolen, and no one has to get hurt." Well, aside from all the people that were still grappling with one another for no apparent reason.
