A quiet night in Hell's Kitchen. A young man stands quietly on top of an apartment building, a custom painted kitsune mask in his right hand. Everything, even the cold September air, is at a standstill. Until it isn't.
A quiet sob and a plea for help rings throughout the streets of Clinton. Two more follow suit. Tears and begging that only this young man can hear.
"Alright, Sean. You got this," he whispers to himself as he puts on his kitsune mask. In a flash, he's gone. Jumping from building to building, across New York's streets. A child who still hasn't gone to sleep yet sees a shadow pass his window. He looks outside to see someone jump from one side of the street to the other with ease, despite the buildings being over thirty feet across. This living shadow makes his way to a quiet, abandoned street. The buildings surrounding had been burnt by a mysterious and still uncaught arsonist just weeks ago. It was planned, and now it makes sense to him why the sobs were coming from here.
He jumps down from the building he was spying from onto the ground, forty-five feet without a single scratch. He's landed into a human trafficking operation. Three huge thugs stand behind a moving truck, with another in the driver's seat.
The man behind the wheel whispers tk himself. "Who the hell?"
"Get outta here, kid. Unless yer tryna get hurt," another trafficker says as the other two of them lift and toss three college-age girls into the truck along with many more already inside. They close the doors and the driver speeds off.
Sean charges towards them. He jumps fifteen feet into the air and kicks off of a lightpost, ricocheting into one of the men. His knuckles bash into the man's face with the ferocity of a wild animal until the man is left bleeding and unconscious. One of the two still standing charges toward Sean while holding a crowbar. The last man stands back as he takes out a glock. The man with the crowbar readies his swing and nearly hits Sean's right temple, had Sean not dodged at the last second. He grabs the man's weapon and then he man's arm, using the leverage to send the man over his head. He lands violently and brutally onto the concrete, breaking his left femur upon impact.
BAM!
A bullet slices across Sean's shoulder. He turns to the origin of it. As soon as he does, Sean senses a massive change. He hears the man's heartbeat quicken. He smells the sweat perspire from the man's pores and the adrenaline spike in the man's body. Fear. The classic signs of fear that Sean had still not gotten used to. The assailant begins running and Sean follows.
BLAM! BLAM!
Bullets fly towards Sean as the man fires behind himself. Sean jumps to the top of the buildings to his right, still following the shooter. The man stops and looks back, his eyes searching for his pursuer. The man looks to his left and sees a fist coming straight towards his face.
"The truck," Sean thinks to himself. "Listen for them."
The world goes silent. He searches for their hushed cries. Baby waking up and crying in the middle of the night a few blocks away. No. Dogs barking at each other from across streets. No. Someone-
"Please save us. Please."
His thoughts race. "There. Please be there. They're headed to the pier. I can be there in two minutes. You gotta save them, Sean. You have to. GO!"
His legs move quicker than his thoughts. He feels almost as fast as the fastest member of The Vanguard, Nitrous.
The man driving the truck feels no fear. He thinks that the vigilante had already died. Except for one small problem.
CRASH! A broken brick flies through the driver side window. In reaction, the driver turns the wheel in a hard right turn. The truck flips onto its left side. The driver groans in pain. Sean opens the back door.
"Are you all okay? Take my hand, I'll keep you all safe," he reassures them.
Ten minutes pass. The cops arrive, everyone is in shock. Sean stands atop a Bodega on the corner nearby, keeping a close eye on them. A man dressed in all white walks from behind him.
"Hey, Archangel," Sean says to the man behind him.
"You did good out there, kid. All on your own, too."
"Thanks."
"Listen. The Vanguard need my help across the pond. I'm leaving New York tomorrow night, but I've asked a previous protégé of mine to leave you a going away gift of mine."
"Wait, you're leaving? But- but-"
"But nothing, Sean. I'm needed, and I've got to help people. You should know the feeling."
"What if I fail? What if something goes wrong?"
"Then Hell's Kitchen has someone to look out for her. Get some rest, kid. I'll patrol for the rest of the night."
"I-- Okay. I'll try. See you later, I guess."
Ten minutes later, Sean enters his room through the fire escape and his window. He takes off his mask, throwing it into his open closet. Crouching down, he slides a med kit out from under his bed. Taking out some antibiotics, gauze, and cotton, he covers the slash wound left by the bullet.