Now's Not The Time (Dragontithe)

Sideshow sped down the street, weaving through car after car as he easily navigated through the New York streets on his beautiful, golden motorcycle.

"We got 4 men holding at least 50 people hostage at The Grapevine down in Manhattan. It's too dangerous to the storm the building without harming the hostages. We're working on negotiations as we speak. Things aren't looking good."

The report on the police radio echoed in his ears. Sideshow had lost all touch with Viktor, lives were at stake here. The tattoos that covered his face and body angrily writhed over his skin, almost as if to mirror his own rage. He wouldn't let these guys get away with this. He might have only been a small-time hero, but he was about to do a big thing. He wouldn't let these men get away with ransom money and walk away after the fear and distress they caused innocent people.

"Wasn't there another situation just like this in Brooklyn a couple months ago? Do we think it's the same guys?

"Probably, I mean 4 men holding restaurants hostage isn't exactly a common crime. From what we can tell they're in the same get ups. All four of them are protecting themselves with hostages. We can try to get a sniper up there but I doubt it'll work.

He hadn't been able to stop them in Brooklyn. He was too inexperienced, too afraid. He wasn't fully aware of what he was capable of. Bullets meant nothing to Sideshow. Had he known that then he could have saved some lives and stopped this second attack from even happening. Though he had no real connection to it, this was personal to Sideshow now. The tires of his golden beauty screeched as he skidded up the front of the restaurant. Angrily knocking the kickstand down with his foot, stepping off of the motorcycle. His tank-top left his tattooed arms fully exposed, frightening the officers slightly even though they recognized him.

"U-Uh, Sideshow, this situation is uh-"

"I'll handle it. None of the hostages will get hurt. You have my word."

The tattoos slowly creeping across his stoic face made him look very eerie, his expression of determination marred by these strange markings. He looked more fearsome than he did heroic.

The streets were busy today, more than usual. Cars seemed to go for miles with no end in sight. I was on a run, trying to get that "hero" body, when i heard the sirens. They were quickly followed by screaming and gunshots. I nearly dropped my poorly fixed I-Pod onto the street as i broke into a frantic sprint to see the scene.

 The cops were all over the scene. People were pushing against the caution tape separating them from the block the crime took place on. I managed to push my way thru some less than savory smelling tourists to get a look at the place. Cops were behind their cars, pistols aimed at the revolving doors that lead into the Grape Vine,  a local restaurant.

  I could feel the tense situation getting only more so as demands were shouted at the cops. The situation looked tense. Just then, i saw something i never thought id see with my own eyes. A golden motorcycle pulled up on the scene, carrying a man of Asian decent. The man had tattoos that seemed to move around his body, snaking and coiling around him. He wore a simple tank-top and a mask. The man got off his golden hog, and moved over to the police, exchanged a few words, and began walking twords the building.

 Now any sensible man would ignore he went in alone and hope the situation disarmed itself, but i am no sensible man. No, I exited the ant- farm of a group i had been meshed in and made my way into the alleyway that was behind the establishment. I took out of my bag a black sweatshirt with a fur collar, and a black bandanna that, when tied around my face, looked like a skeletal maw.

  "Don't you worry! Aaron Black is on the case!" I  proudly proclaimed to myself as I sneaked in through the back door and made my way to the hostages.

Sideshow ducked under the police tape, much to the dismay of the authorities. They were not pleased that some loose canon renegade was about to try and clean up a delicate hostage situation, but Sideshow didn't care in the least. He was going to get those hostages out of there and put those criminals in jail to rot. Black ink began to bulge and expand around Sideshow's legs, forming into these strange, angular black masses that looked like very simplistic legs. With just a thought they flung Sideshow up onto the roof of the restaurant, landing without a sound as he used more of his tattoos to cushion his blow. There was a ventilation duct on top of the building, which would most likely be Sideshow's best way in. His slim body should be able to snake through them no problem.

Taking a quick breath in, he grabbed the gate keeping the ventilation shaft blocked off to intruders like him. With one quick pull, the cover was off, though he wasn't really sure how quiet it ended up being. Using the tattoos to aid him in silently sliding down the vent, he began crawling around through the vents, not realizing it may be fairly loud and the criminals could possibly hear him. He could hear one of them talking on the phone below, demanding things from the offers who stood outside, though it was too muffled to understand. He had to find where the hostages first.

And fast.

The aroma of the restaurant's cuisine danced across my nostrils as i entered the kitchen through the alley door. They must have used that entrance to throw old food to the peasant boys or stray dogs like in the movies.
           
The kitchen itself was large full of different stations and ingredients. Many of the stations had burners with the pots still boiling ingredients, mostly burned or boiled over after being unattended for however long.
         
  I squeezed up against the wall, attempting to stifle my breath and listen in on the crooks. I couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but I did hear that they were threatening to kill one of the captives unless they got something soon. Could be a getaway vehicle or something. Regardless if I was going to act, I needed to act fast, but not alone. That other man, he must have been a mutant, or hero of some kind like me. It’d be best to wait for him to move in and then help where I can. I didn’t want someone to be shot because I wanted to play hero.
           
I bided my time, poking my head out occasionally to evaluate the area. There were a number of hostages all sitting next to each other on a wall. There were two men with automatic guns letting them know, in quite a hostile manner that they were not afraid to lose a hostage. Another man held a pistol very close to the guard that had been on duty. He had been separated from the group, probably to prevent them from rallying or something like that. Prevent acts of heroism.
           
 The last guy was different and I presumed him to be the brains of the group. He had no apparent weapon on him, and held the phone the crooks had been using to make requests from the police. The way he spoke was slow, patient, calculated. Every word was thoroughly planned and had meaning behind it. He almost seemed to hiss at times, which painted a scary picture of him in my head. Like a viper, rearing back, harmless, until he bites.
         
   The scene was pretty scary, but I focused my mind on the two men overlooking the captives, particularly their weapons. My plan was to superheat the gun where the men's hands were placed, disarming them and giving that hero a better chance with the other two. It was a solid plan. Now all there was to do was wait for the time to strike.