InsaneJournal

Who: Adrian Veidt, two groups of Purifiers (one local, one more professional group at the end) and a little mutant girl.
What: Rescuing a little girl, and then being chased by a group of more professional Purifiers. Narrative.
Where: The streets of New York City.
When: Now, pretty much.
Warnings: Very few, actually. One dude’s wrist gets broken. I’d say PG.

Adrian had been combing the streets in his civilian get-up most of the day. People in colorful tights would likely have attracted the notice of these “Purifiers”, so instead he’d opted for his usual colorful business clothes. He had selected slightly simpler clothes to allow for a bit more maneuverability, not that he felt he would need to exert a great deal of skill in taking down any attackers he found.

He’d found none so far, and after stopping in at a coffee shop that he knew occasionally drew some abnormal clientele, he was prepared to get back into his car and drive to another part of town, having already canvassed much of the business sector. It was as he was exiting the coffee shop that he found his first sign of trouble. Some men were chasing a little girl down the street, wielding a submachine gun of some kind. A gun. Fantastic. They’d surrounded her near the coffee shop. He was only about thirty feet from them. There were four men, and only one had a gun.

This would be no trouble at all.

He approached slowly, and when he was within about ten feet he called out. “Children!” The group’s attention diverted to him, he continued, “I believe it’s time for your lesson.”

The lead man, apparently NOT the one holding the gun, leered at him. “Wanna get in on this, pal? Little mutie freak had a good sprint, but we caught ‘er.”

Adrian was now within arm’s reach of the man, and he smiled, still moving. “You misunderstand me.” Like a flash, his right hand came up, the briefcase held there being used to backhand the lead man in the face. Following it up, too quickly for the man or his friends to react, Adrian brought the case swinging back for another hit, knocking the leader out. He let go of the handle immediately after so that it could sail handily into his left hand. Now safely in his left hand, he allowed the case to continue on its path, adding strength to what would become another backhand blow, this time to the man on his other side. Twisting it so the smaller, harder edge of the case would hit the man, he brought it back around, striking the man with such force that he spun almost all the way around before falling, unconscious.

As his hand continued its arc, now moving to the right, he popped open the case and let his papers go flying, ruining the aim of the man with the gun and providing him another precious moment, which was all he needed. Never having fully stopped, he sped up his pace, abandoning the case now that he no longer needed it. Reaching the gunman in a heartbeat, his left hand flashed out and gripped the man’s right wrist, twisting and squeezing sufficiently hard to send the gun clattering to the ground…and break the man’s wrist. His right followed a second behind, palm open and wrist upward, smashing into the man’s nose once, twice, three times, and met the gunman’s face one last time in a hook that dropped him. Three down, one to go. That one was approaching with a large hunting knife, but Adrian wasn’t worried. The man was sloppy, leaving his gut wide open. When Adrian spun and drove his left foot up and into it, the man likely realized his mistake. Too late, though, as immediately after the first kick came a second, textbook roundhouse that caught him right on the chin and leveled him.

Adrian turned immediately, crouching down to check on the little girl. For her part, she’d ducked the minute he’d struck the first blow and protected her face with her hands, and she hadn’t cried or screamed. He put his hands on her shoulders gently, and when he spoke it was with a soft voice. “You were very brave. It’s over now.” When she chanced a peek from behind her hands, he smiled at her, and gently took one of her hands in his to lower it from her face.

Then came a screech of tires from behind him. Adrian swore under his breath, scooped the child up in his arms, and made a break for his car, leaving his papers and briefcase behind. “Be brave just a while longer,” he whispered to her, touching a button on his remote to trigger the automatic doors and automatic start-up. Leaping into the car, he pulled the door closed behind him and dropped the little girl into the passenger seat as gently as he could. Retrieving his iPhone so he could text while driving, he took off, the van of more professional Purifiers close behind.