A Strong Appetite

It was a lively Wednesday afternoon in Queens. The 3 o'clock hustle and bustle of the area filled Jerome’s ears, as he stared at his mark, the Queens County Savings Bank. Normally, Panzer abstained from exiting his comfortable section of Manhattan, but today he felt like trying something different, and with ol’ Carlson breathing down his neck, this new area of his city looked all the more appealing. Moving across the street, Jerome’s masked face darted to his left and right. He saw no signs of the police or any other supers on patrol. Spotting none, he would move to the nearest ATM, and carefully begin to remove money from it. And by “carefully” he really just stuck his hand into the money opening slot, and filled his bag to the brim. Several alarms went off inside the facility, but unfortunately for Panzer he could not hear them due to him being outside.

Such was a life of crime.

There was nothing to discern this Wednesday from any other other day to Viktor. He began this day as he did every other one; laying upside down on his couch covered in empty bags of snack food. He lay among cheespuff dust and stray grains of salt that had fallen off his pretzels, lazily reaching across his couch as he transitioned to his next victim. A rerun of Spartacus that he had seen probably 5 or 6 times flashed onto the TV as he popped upon his bag of shrimp fries, shoveling handful after handful into his mouth. Gladiators brutally slashed each other down for his enjoyment as he casually munched on his traditional Korean snack.

"I gotta get myself another bag of these. I'm almost out."

He mumbled to himself through another mouthful, flipping through the channels from Fox News to The Big Bang Theory to National Geographic, finally settling on Criminal Minds, and it happened to be an episode he hadn't seen before. Everything was coming up Chi. He really didn't have a whole lot to do during the day besides sit around and watch TV, seeing as every time he left the apartment was another opportunity for him to be recognized. Little bits and crumbs of shrimp fries that managed to miss his massive mouth pinged off of his shirtless chest and fell onto the floor. He really had become kind of a slob lately. He was already popping open a bag of dark chocolate chex mix as he polished off his bag of shrimp fires, continuing to mow down bag after bag of junk food.

"Wonder if there's anything good on the radio today. It's been a week or something since my last appearance."

He mused, reaching across the couch to grab the police radio he kept on the coffee table, turning it on and fiddling with dials, moving across channel after channel filled with nothing but static.

"Oh come on, come on..."

Panzer lacked any sort of tact when it came to these things. Honestly his entire criminal career consisted of abusing his natural gifts, and getting away He lacked any sort of real skill at bank robbing. All of these thoughts coalesced in Panzer’s mind as several armed security guards surrounded him, pointing their firearms at him, and telling him to drop the bag. Looking around at the varying faces, Panzer tilted his head, listening to them but not really hearing their commands. They had him well and truly surrounded, and their intent was honorable, but that PS2 money didn’t come easy.

Reaching forward, quickly, he grabbed one of the men, wrapping his left arm around his neck and putting him into an inescapable chokehold. Trying his best to look serious, he pulled backward near the ATM so that his back was pressed against the machine. The security guard, an older balding man struggled, but was no match for the monstrous strength of the hooded criminal.

“Stay back,” Panzer shouted at the guards, looking grim but determined, “or this guy’s head is gonna end three blocks that way.” Pointing his left index finger eastward, he would  try to formulate a plan of escape, as his grip around the now full sack of money tightened in his right hand.

“Alright...nobody follow me or this guy’s balding head is gonna shine like the sun on its way to the… Sun...Don’t follow me!” he said slowly as he moved to the right, exposing his back, but also moving away from the security guards. They were skeptical about his threats, but they were just waiting for the perfect opportunity to shoot the man in the leg and move in to retrieve their friend.

A series of odd circumstance occurred then. A series of events lined up like dominoes to fall perfectly into place. First, a police cruiser’s siren blared from an area up the street. Panzer, worried as he was turned his head to locate where the noise was coming from. His lack of tact gave the officers their opportunity. One, a young woman, possibly a mother with dark brown hair and fair skin took the shot, aiming for his right knee. When the bullet connected, instead of passing clean through the plate, the bullet simply pushed into his skin, flattening against his knee bone, and causing a reflex action. His knee flew forward, connecting with the red metal of a fire hydrant, and effortlessly launching the public works project forward and over the heads of the security, leaving a huge geyser of water to spray into the air, and slowly rain back down.

“Woops,” he said quietly to himself as he continued to back off.

After a few moments of prolonged static, Viktor finally found a channel that had a few officers talking on it.

"Bingo! Whaddya got for me today?"

He inquired the radio, blaring fuzzy, unclear noise for a few minutes before it zeroed in on the dialogue. A smile played across his face as the words spewed out of the speakers.

"Yeah we got Panzer down here by the Queens County Savings Bank. He's got a sack of money and an officer hostage."

"He took a guy hostage? In Queens? Geez he's acting out of character. Try to keep him as long as you can. I doubt he'll hurt the officer."

"Panzer? Haven't I heard that name before?"

Viktor asked himself, throwing on his tank top and a pair of tight black jeans. He played the name over and over again in his mind but couldn't quite put his finger on where he had heard it before. Probably just some low-grade villain. No biggy. He tossed back the remains of the chex mix before indulging himself with some more, well, practical foods. A couple rolls of quarters, a few boxes of staples, some razor blades, even a couple kitchen knives. He chased this delectable meal with a gallon of gasoline and another of bleach, topping it all off with a few handfuls of fireworks. Fireworks were by far his favorite dessert.

"Man that feels good. Let's go!"

He yelled to himself after a satisfied sigh. He quickly stepped into a pair of combat boots, slipped on his riding gloves and ran out of his apartment, putting on his helmet as he booked it down three flights of stairs. Rounding the corner as usual and straddling his golden beauty of a motorcycle, he sped off towards the Queen County Savings Bank with a satisfied "Weehaw!"

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Man Viktor was really looking forward to this. He was leaning into his handlebars and gliding through New York traffic at top speeds, allowing the tattoos he normally tried hard to supress to cover his face in preparation for his face off with Panzer. The wind whipped over his open arms, a sensation he was very rarely able to enjoy. He savored it for the brief moment he could before riding onto the scene. Quickly knocking the kickstand down and tossing his helmet aside, he allowed his gaze to wash over the spectacle before him. The man Viktor assumed to be Panzer had one arm locked around an officer's neck and the other firmly attached to a bag of money. Other sights included a team of officers with guns trained on the villain, a lone ATM laying displaced on the side of the road, and a fire hydrant that had been turned into an urban geyser. That was by far Viktor's favorite.

"Well, I don't suppose I can ask you to come quietly, can I?"

Viktor questioned, taking a few slow steps towards the man. His inky skin began to flow up and down his arms, the art moving and shifting with each movement he made.

Panzer turned his head around, eyering the new entrant to the scene.  What he saw was a man, who was some kind of Asian, and covered in tattoos. Wait. Those tattoos moved independently. “Freaky,” Panzer muttered to himself, as the man gave him the standard hero’s opening schpiel. Honestly, these types always liked to romanticize the idea of fighting crime. This is why Panzer preferred dealing with cops. With the 5-0, it was just a few orders, some gunfire and a quick escape. No muss. No fuss. And certainly no banter. Panzer hated banter.Still, upon spotting the wheels the guy pulled up on, he nodded with some respect. At least his ride looked nice.

Turning himself so that his back was to the street away from the bank, security to his left and the tattooed man to his right, he took a few steps back. Studying the new guy, he put his thumb over his fore finger, and let the pent up pressure in the fingers build up. He placed his prime to flick fingers against the left temple of his hostage, and spoke to the new guy. “Aight, dawg. I’mma tell you what I told them,” he said nodding toward the security who looked both worried for their comrade, frustrated over their lack of ability to do anything to the hooded figure, and anxious about the likely fight to come. If two superhumans had a brawl, things could get messy.

“Stay back, or this guy’s cap gets flicked with enough force to smack baseball all the way to California and back.” Smack a baseball? I don’t even like baseball. Shaking his head, he continued to back into the road, noting the police officers exiting their vehicle, and training their weapons on him. This was quickly turning into too much attention for Panzer. He missed Manhattan. Queens was apparently too hectic. In Manhattan, it was just cops and maybe some security guards. But here, in under twenty minutes, he was surrounded by, Panzer did a quick count, two squadrons of officers, all of one bank’s security and a walking interactive display? No thanks.

Unfortunately for the hooded delinquent, he couldn’t just throw the man away and leap home. At least not until he was almost certain that the human art show couldn’t just fly after him and disintegrate him with heat vision or something. Weird thing to worry about for sure, but Panzer was never one to take risks when it came to getting turned to ash.

Then, an idea struck Panzer for when he looked down, he spotted a perfectly disc shaped manhole cover. Looking to the tattooed man, he grinned. “Yo! Art exhibit,” Panzer called out clearly referring to the Asian. “Catch!” he said, changing his grip on the bald security guard so that he had two handfuls of the back of the man’s shirt, while still gripping his cash. Spinning like a discuss tosser, he would throw the man at the tattooed man, before reaching down, and effortlessly ripping the cover out of the ground. Now he had a heavy metal frisbee, and a sack of cash. “I should get a backpack for this stuff,” he said quietly to himself, as he moved to enter the sewer beneath him, ignoring the officer’s opening fire, which was delayed by the shock of him tossing the hostage.

Viktor eyed Panzer carefully, trying to find any sort of physical tells of his next move. He could tell that Panzer was most likely doing the same to him, both strangers strangely interested in the other. Even though it had only been barely a week since Viktor's last appearance as Sideshow, he was itching for another taste of fighting with another metahuman. As Panzer re-positioned himself, so did Viktor, slowly beginning to move so that he was in front of the hooded man.

"Now, did that poor man do anything to you? He probably has a wife and kids. Do you really want to be the guy who killed someone's dad?"

Viktor responded calmly, doing his best to keep his smile internal. Even though there was potentially a life at stake, he couldn't help but let the adrenaline excite him. Viktor was poised and ready to retaliate to Panzer's next move, shifting his weight from foot to foot in anticipation. And it was then that something struck him. He finally remembered where he had seen Panzer before. It was on the local news, he had robbed a bank in Manhattan not too long ago. It was probably the ATM laying on the sidewalk that jogged his memory.

"So, uh, what brings you to Queens, big fella? I didn't think this place was really your scene."

He curiously questioned, but the answer he received wasn't exactly the one he expected. Instead of the usual, yet brief hero-villain banter, Viktor received a very distressed and screaming man hurdling straight towards him. Without missing a beat, the tattoos along Viktor's arms had already created a large, inky hand to catch the poor guy, setting him down gently on the ground.

"Hey, you alright?" Viktor asked, getting a silent nod in response as the man's fellow officers rushed over to retrieve their compatriot. "Good, keep up the good work, officer. I got a man to catch." But not without stopping for a little drink first.

"Man I am parched. How lucky for me that big guy knocked over the fire hydrant before he left. Well, don't mind if I do."

And there Viktor went, expanding his jaw as wide as he could and putting his mouth right over the geyser, gulping it down as quickly as it came. Gallon after gallon, Viktor let the cool water rush down into his endless stomach for a good couple minutes. He would need this if he had any chance of catching that guy. He stepped back with a contented sigh, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his arm.  Quickly turning to the man hole he had seen Panzer jump down, Viktor followed in hot, yet delayed pursuit, jumping down into the sewers without hesitation, getting blasted by a horrible smell that was surprisingly familiar to him. His eyes scanned around, looking for any sign of Panzer.

"Leaving so soon, buddy? I thought we were gonna really get to know each other back there! You even gave me a present! I returned him though, hope you're not too offended."

“HOLY SHIT,” Panzer shouted the moment he landed in the sewer system. He clenched his nose shut, eyes watering a bit. “OH MY GOD, IT SMELLS LIKE A FUCKING MEXICAN RESTAURANT WITH NO CLEANING STAFF DOWN HERE. ARGH!!!” Moving with barely any speed due to the smell, he turned a corner, and hid there, silently wishing to die.

He had a very cartoon like idea of sewers. He knew of course that sewers smelled disgusting, but he had assumed that it was only if you entered the water. He had never been more wrong. The walls stunk, the air down here stunk. Even the pipes down here stunk. “I hate my life,” Panzer said to himself.

He stared at the open manhole cover, tears streaking down his face. A few minutes passed by before the man finally jumped down after him. Panzer rolled his eyes at the banter. “Fucking Christ. Why do people feel the need for banter?” he muttered to himself

He tried his best to stay quiet, the manhole cover heavy in his hands. He had no clue what this man could do, but he wasn’t all that interested in a fight. Moving away from the corner, he strolled away creeping as quietly as one could in a relatively silent sewer while wearing boots. A very faint yet resounding cluk sound could be heard every time he took a step, though he was trying his hardest to keep quiet.

Even with all the silence in the world, the sewer system in New York was ridiculously labyrinthian. Panzer had no idea where he was going, but the beautiful thing about his blunt way of thinking was that he didn’t need to. He just needed to keep a comfortable distance from this super nutcase, and find a way back up to the surface.

As he turned yet another corner, smiling at his genius, he tripped over a displaced pipe, making quite a bit of noise, that echoed throughout the underground area. “Shit!” he yelled losing all pretense of stealth. He got up dusted off his now awful smelling clothes, and made a mad dash from some exit.

Though familiar to him, the smell of the sewers was one you never fully got used to. The retched stench of rot and waste assaulted Viktor's nostrils. God, why did it have to be the sewers? Couldn't Panzer have just tried to lose him through the alleys like everyone else did? But no, he just had to jump down below the ground into this dank, disgusting tunnel system.

"Well, so much for the banter. Guess this guy's a little more serious. Maybe he heard of me?"

Viktor questioned himself quietly, listening closely for footsteps. Luckily, the large and not so graceful assailant was sporting a pair of boots, each step letting out a quiet yet resonant blast of noise. Viktor couldn't help but chuckle softly at his own luck, holding his hands up the ceiling as a pair of inky tendrils stretched from each arm, latching onto the pipes above him. He controlled these strange appendages with a great amount of finesse, swinging from pipe to pipe in pursuit of this man, keeping the sound of his feet hidden while moving at a quick pace. By the time Viktor caught up to this man, he had tripped over a pipe.

"Man today just really isn't your day, is it, big fella?"

Viktor chimed, taking one final swing from the pipes, flying through the air and landing a few yards in front of the man. Quickly pivoting on his heels so he faced the man who had already begun his dash towards him, Viktor let loose. Expanding his mouth as wide and as tall as his body allowed him to, he let a massive torrent of water bellow towards the man, colliding directly into his face and chest and not letting up.

Panzer flinched when the tattooed man landed in front of him. I knew he could fly, he thought to himself as he quickly got over his shock, just in time for the man to pull an unexpected maneuver. The tattooed man, who Panzer would decide to refer to as Art Show for the sake of convenience, opened his mouth and blasted him with a torrent of water. “AGH!!!” Panzer cried for the second time today as the water doused him from head to toe. The water was indeed inconveniencing, but unfortunately for Art Show, he was dealing with The Living Tank. The water pressure was powerful, but Panzer stopped cars in their tracks just by standing still.

Panzer had his arms covering his face, the money getting soaked along with his manhole cover, as blocked the water from entering his mouth or eyes. It’s like the 60s all over again. Whenever the water ceased, he would stand there drenched but unharmed, and looking a little pissed.

“That was rude, man,” he said looking into his sack of cash and finding the money washed beyond recognition. A groan filled the sewer, as he rolled his eyes and removed the soaking bills from the bag and tossed them into the sewage. Then he would stuff the sack back into his deep hoodie pockets and cross his arms, looking at Art Show.

“You happy now? Now no one has any money. Good work hero,” Panzer said turning to go back the way he came. “Fucking heroes,” he muttered to himself along the way.

"W-Wait. What?"

Viktor sputtered to himself, blinking a few times to clear his vision. This man was still standing, totally unfazed by his massive torrent of water? That usually finished people off right away!

"Oh come on! That was, like, my best attack! That's my patented move! I drink a lot of water, swing in, and then bam! They're done! Their criminal attempts are quite literally drowned out! What are you one of them super strong people that can withstand anything! That's so unfair! God why do my powers have to be so- AGH!"

Viktor began to angrily berate himself, punching the wall next to him with alternating fists, his tattoos keeping the angry man from hurting himself too much. This was the first time since his heroic attempts that Viktor had ever been stopped. Usually the criminals he fought were easy take-downs, but Panzer had to go and ruin his perfect record.

Then he noticed that Panzer was walking away from him. Again, Viktor blinked a few times to clear his vision. At first, he was confused. Was this guy really just going to walk away from him? How insulting!

"Hey! You bastard! Stop right there or we're both going down! I have a few questions to ask you, and you'd better answer them if you wanna keep yourself alive!"

Viktor readied his mouth for a blast, opening wide as his lips and tongue crackled with the familiar static of electricity. Viktor would not let his pride go damaged without a price.

Panzer heard the mini tantrum, and ignored the opening questions, grinning to himself at his temporary superiority.

Panzer paused mid step turning around and eyeing the man. He rolled his eyes at the man’s stance, expecting more water and unable to see the lightning arcing around the man’s mouth at this distance.

“What?” he asked staring the man down, as he turned to face him and crossed his arms. “Do you have more banter for me?” he asked looking serious. He was expecting an attack, and he was ready to frisbee toss the manhole cover as hard and as fast as he could.

"No, no banter. I'm down with this now. I have some serious question to ask you now. You're lucky I'm letting you live."

Viktor seethed through gritted teeth, absolutely furious that anybody dare best him. His temper had gotten the better of him, now taking a few steps closer as the lightning continued to crackle and arc around his mouth in preparation.

"Now, why are you stealing all this money? With powers like that couldn't you be working for the city or some shit?"

Panzer blinked a few times, confused as to why the man was so upset. The dampness of his clothes, and the smell of the area was not increasing his desire to stay. His arms stayed crossed as the man pegged him with questions.

“Ugh, well let's see. I could help this city, but… why? Crime won’t ever disappear, and frankly it’s too much work. So much simpler to just take what I need when I need it, and not draw attention to myself. I’m a bad guy, not a bad guy. Now can I please go home? I have to wash this fucking mess off of me before the smell never goes away.”

"Yes, but other people need that money. Do you know how many lives you're fucking up by taking that money? Do you understand what you're doing? Look, I'm no hero, trust me. But I would never steal from the innocent."

Viktor's rage was subsiding, and he slowly began to realize how serious and rash he was being. He had just been ready to kill this man, but would he really have done it? A pang of guilt rose up in Viktor's chest as he cleared his throat.

"Hey, uh..." Viktor wasn't really sure where to start. "I uh, I know a place where you can make money without stealing from people. It seems like the kind of thing that would be right up your ally.

Panzer rolled his eyes at the man’s sanctimonious drivel. He let out a prominent sigh, and turned his back on the man again. “Fine. You got me. I'm sorry for stealing the money, and it will never happen again, I assure you. I’m gonna go turn myself in right now. Wish me luck in the pen, hero.”

With that, Panzer tensed the muscles in his legs, and balled his fists. Bending his knees, he made a giant leap toward the ceiling, propelling himself like a rocket, fist first. He crashed through the ceiling and road above and fell a good twenty feet down ward, landing in front of the gathered police forces, and giving them a wave, before jogging away from the scene with a grin. The cops were so confused at the display that they just stared in bewilderment at the man’s retreating figure.