Least Favorite People

As the cranky old agent went for his pistol, cold metal pressed against his forehead. Andre was now crouched next the agent, the other one's pistol was now in his hand and against the agent's head.

"I'd be in deep shit if I blew your head off right now, huh? But then again, you'd probably try to hunt me down if I let you live. Oh, decisions, decisions."

There was a moment of silence as Andre pretended to think. Pressing the gun harder into the man's head, Andre smirked under his mask.

"I've already gone this far, might as well!"

Andre grinned, before squeezing hard on the trigger.

CLICK CLICK CLICK

"Bang, you're dead."

Andre tossed the empty pistol somewhere behind him, before standing.

"You're fucking scum, Fed, but if you got to die to a bullet in the head, that'd be me being generous."

In the distance, several police sirens could be heard, the sound slowly rising in volume as the cruisers came closer.

"Ah, someone must've squealed. It's your lucky fuckin' break. I'll remember that ugly mug of yours though, so no worries. You too," He glanced over at Det. Red, "You ain't special."

With nothing more than a playful salute, Andre was gone in a grey blur, his glowing green eyes the last thing of him the two would likely have seen. Seconds later, backup burst through the door.

Andre had dashed though a building to the roof, this building being several blocks away from the previous crime scene, and sat on the edge, staring out over downtown Captiol City. If asked, he would never say that he had hoped to spot that girl and her big protector fleeing somewhere. He was a villain, after all, a bonafide bad guy. That girl couldn't have done anything wrong, not as bad as the Fed had said anyway. Hell, he called her a fucking weapon if Andre wasn't mistaken. No, she was a good girl, and Andre had no business anywhere near her. That's why he definitely did not want to spot her from this rooftop.

It was getting even darker now and the stars were out tonight. Andre had decided that after today, he wanted noting more than to pass out in a drunken stupor rather than sleep sober. He usually refrained from doing things like this, but he was feeling a special kind of careless tonight, and maybe there was a certain set of amber eyes that he would rather forget.

A bit more running and Andre found himself in front of the Platinum Raven. Not even this place stayed open this late. Andre had heard some dangerous people operated the place, however as a Super, Andre considered himself pretty damn untouchable to a couple mobsters. Andre pulled on the door, only to find it locked. The barkeeper, who seemed to have been cleaning the glass mug in his hand since Andre had approached, glared at him and mouthed, 'We're closed', before going back to his business.

"I want a drink!" Andre shouted through the glass, only to be wholly ignored by the "busy" barkeep. Andre frowned and straightened his hand, before setting it off just like before. Seconds later, Andre walked up and rung the bell on the counter, before staring the barkeep in his eyes.

"I said I want a drink."

Andre followed the man's near-terrified gaze to see four men in suits, his other least favorite people next to Feds, mobsters. He assumed they had witnessed his antics earlier and turned, his back leaning against the counter.

"Hello fine gentlemen," He started with a terrible Al Capone expression," This man seems not to understand me. I would like a drink?"

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