Detective Harrison Slyde stood at the sidewalk beside his parked car. He twisted open the lid of the thermoflask in his hand, inhaling the nutty scent of his self-brewed coffee.

“Harry, don’t slurp that loud. People can hear you,” his colleague and good friend, David Lakes, said as he nudged Harrison’s arm. “Actually, why are you drinking coffee at night, anyway?”

“It’s decaf. I like coffee.”

“Pack another one for us next time. Thanks in advance,” another detective, about a metre away, joked. He was leaning on another car, scratching his head, holding a cup of smoothie from the shop just a few metres ahead.

Harrison grinned mid-sip, before lowering his flask and replacing the lid. “Har har, Frank. I suppose you deserve to sample the great Harrison Slyde’s coffee. You know, when I retire from the force, I should open a coffee chain. Y’all can be my loyal customers.”

Then, the door beside Frank Thomas opened, surprising him into moving aside. A female detective stepped out, her shoulder-length brown braid dangling behind her head. “Come on, guys, be alert. The officers down at 55th just called, they said an armored Cottonmouth van passed them, and the Skydra’s in pursuit. They’re heading our way.”

Harrison sighed as he pulled open the car door and tossed his flask onto the front passenger seat. The coffee inside swirled and swished as the flask tumbled. “The Skydra,” he grumbled with distaste, bitter at the mere mention of the name, as he slammed the door shut.

“Hmm. Probably explains the plane sound. Well, 55th’s only three streets down,” Frank pointed out as he placed his hat over his black hair. “And we won’t have a problem identifying the van.”

The detectives began to move and spread out, weapons ready. They could hear the rumble of a jet getting louder, signalling the approach of the Skydra. Soon enough, a black van came into their view and made a hard right, skidding on the tarmac. Nearby vehicles, although few at this hour, braked and honked at the van, which broke all traffic laws in its escapade.

Its dark paint was adorned with the striking symbol of the Cottonmouths: the head of a snake baring its fangs, its forked tongue a metallic maroon, spitting red-and-gold flames. And that symbol had multiple bullet holes, which also dotted the rest of the vehicle—courtesy of the officers positioned a few streets down.

“That’s the Cottonmouths!” Valeria Hardy, the female detective, shouted, her pistol letting out a few rounds of bullets as the van swept past her.

To her surprise, the van came to a screeching stop by the renovation site that was a short distance ahead. The other three detectives advanced and also opened fire, closing in onto their position.

The doors of the van burst open as two armed, well-built men got out and dashed for the renovation site, carrying guns and silver cases. One of them fired at Valeria, landing a single shot in her thigh. She yelped as her gun fell out of her hand, clattering onto the ground. She put out both arms to stop herself from falling face-first onto the pavement.

Harrison yelled and let out a few more rounds, before the Cottonmouths smashed through the locked door and disappeared into the construction site. He crouched slightly, turning to face Valeria. “Val! You alri... never mind,” he stopped, seeing her pained expression.

Frank and David rushed over from their respective positions, taking a look at Valeria’s injury. She gritted her teeth, as her face and ears flushed. “You know I’ve survived worse than this, go!”

Right at that moment, a golden-silvery robotic figure appeared, his head adorned with a shimmering pair of horns, his body decked with plates of shiny metal, gleaming under the rays of the street lamps.

The mechanical suit whirred and hissed as its pilot within cut off the rocket boosters as gravity guided his landing onto the pavement. He raised his right arm at the Cottonmouth van, and a small weapon of sorts popped out from the arm, launching a disc-like projectile that swiftly embedded itself into the van, emitting a soft, repeating beep.

The four detectives covered their ears instinctively and watched as the black van went up into a cloud of orange and grey. Flames began to grow and feast upon the destroyed vehicle.

The Skydra stared, motionless, at where the van formerly sat, watching its disfigured metallic parts slowly fall off.

“Skydra!” David yelled, running into the robotic hero’s field of vision. “The Cottonmouths went in there!” He pointed to the construction site while facing the Skydra, staring into the emotionless, glowing yellow eye lenses of the Skydra.

The machine-man gave a small nod, his dragon-like head lowering slightly, before he quickly vanished into the site. Meanwhile, one of the police cars drove off, with Frank and Valeria inside.

“Well, Frank and Val just left. And the other units, they should be here soon,” Harrison informed as he stopped beside David. “And it absolutely sucks that we’re here when we just got off work.”

The continuous rumble and rattle of guns could instantly be heard the moment after Harrison finished his sentence. Bullets ricocheted off beams of steel as the Skydra exchanged barrages with the Cottonmouths.

“This building, or whatever’s been built so far, is gonna go down,” David predicted, as he began to back away and head back towards his police car.

“Dammit!” Harrison gritted his teeth, before he began to shout a warning at the people who began to gather in the vicinity to see the Skydra in action. “Hey y’all, get out of here! It’s not safe!”

David pulled a loudspeaker out of the car, flicking on the switch. “Dear members of the public on the streets, please move away from this location for your own safety.” He tossed it back into the car, and looked at Harrison. “Harry, we need to work on your... warning skills.”

Harrison laughed and nodded hurriedly as he gestured for civilians to get out of the danger zone. “People, you can safely watch the fight online tomorrow!”

A pack of police cars came to a stop by the roadside, and officers filed out to provide backup and to secure the area. One muttered a few phrases of commands, and the rest followed swiftly.

Meanwhile on the battlefield, a Cottonmouth member briefly turned back to lob a small silvery device at the Skydra, before continuing to run from his pursuer. The Skydra swerved to avoid the explosive, the propulsion system in his feet roaring to keep up, as it struck and blew up part of a nearby metal beam instead. The structure began to groan and creak as the police officers, still getting people to get out of the area, turned their heads to look for a short moment.

From within the construction site, half a dozen more Cottonmouths appeared from behind walls of concrete, likely there to receive the package from the two Cottonmouths who drove the van earlier. The man holding the silver case tossed it to another, before turning to face the Skydra and to unleash his own weapon.

His shotgun did little against the tough alloy that formed the Skydra’s external shell, as the Skydra returned fire, puncturing holes through the Cottonmouth’s body.

The other Cottonmouths did not hesitate to face the Skydra, even if it meant their impending doom. The Skydra, although a supposed superhero, did not hold back against common criminals. They were worth nothing to him, not even worth a second chance.

One of the Cottonmouths hurled another silver explosive at the Skydra, this time making contact, blasting the Skydra backwards into another metal beam. His robotic suit finally took significant damage, the bomb creating dents and singe marks on the side of his golden dragon-like head. However, the suit was capable of holding on for much longer.

The Skydra launched his own rocket, hoping to take out as many Cottonmouths as possible. Seeing it blow multiple bodies away gave him satisfaction. He was no sadistic murderer, but to him, the Cottonmouths were a plague that had to be eradicated.

It was a mistake. Not to the Skydra, but to Harrison, whose eyes were transfixed on the robotic figure hovering in the air while trading gunfire with the Cottonmouths. Harrison could feel part of the construction beginning to give way, as the steel pillars, now compromised, creaked even louder. Watching the scene play out made him trickle sweat out of anxiety, as he cursed under his breath.

The Skydra saw that he had only four Cottonmouths left to kill. The rest had unfortunately gotten away. It didn’t matter much to him. They’d come back someday.

A flare shot out, temporarily obscuring the Skydra’s vision with a puff of smoke and sparks, while the other remaining Cottonmouths maintained their rain of gunfire. The Cottonmouth who shot the flare ran behind a wall, reappearing a few seconds later with a rocket launcher. The rocket ignited, speeding out of the barrel, headed straight for the Skydra.

The Skydra’s propulsion systems roared again, guiding him aside to evade the rocket. It exploded upon contact with the girders behind.

The metal structure had taken enough damage, and its piercing cry echoed through the air as the efforts of the construction workers went to waste. It was only a few more seconds before the beams fell completely, but judging from their angle and positions, Harrison deemed his position to be safe.

The Skydra briefly looked at the falling bars, but his focus quickly shifted back on the Cottonmouths, as he killed the last of them with his automatic gauntlet gun.

“HEY! GRAB THE GIRDERS!” Harrison yelled, waving his arms frantically. Then he noticed someone step into his field of vision. He saw a little girl, likely no older than seven years of age, popping out of the glass doors of the building beside, curious to see the commotion, and to see the Skydra in action.

“Kid! Outta of the way!” Harrison cried out while running frantically towards her, reaching out with his right arm, forgetting about his own safety.

The way he saw it, even if the girders didn’t hit her, the impact on the ground would be enough to send her toppling.

But she was unresponsive, unaware of his warning amidst the screeching of the metal. Even if she did hear him, she still stood rooted to the spot.

The girders entered his peripheral vision, and instinctively, Harrison stopped and raised his arms, closing his eyes, bracing for impact. He lost his balance a moment later, shaken by the ground, forced into a kneeling pose. He shook his head, blinking repeatedly while facing the fallen girders, and he saw a little bit of pink poking out from behind the girders.

He heard the anguished cry of a woman as she wobbled out of the building, covering her mouth, before she fell on her knees. Her face was one of utter disbelief and pain, sorrow that only those who lost a loved one could understand.

The sight of her broke his heart. It told him everything he needed to know.

It sent a chill through his spine, as he exhaled shakily. Even though he had seen people die during his time in the police force, it was his first time seeing a mere child lose her life. Hearing a rumble, Harrison turned to see the Skydra fly off into the night sky, for his job was done.

David appeared, putting his hand on Harrison’s shoulder. He had just finished sealing the section of the road, and had dialed for the ambulance.

“He’s a killer,” Harrison spat, his eyes wet and slightly reddened. “He could’ve held the girders. At least for long enough.”

David was speechless, and gave a long sigh of sorrow. So he gave Harrison a light pat on the shoulder before rushing towards the woman kneeling before the body of her precious daughter.

The little girl deserved better. She deserved to grow up, discover more about the world and about herself, and not to meet death at such an early age. The system had failed her.

Harrison stood up slowly, his palms dusty from pressing against the tarmac, as he clenched his fist, shaking. “I will seek justice for you, child. The Skydra will be behind bars, and the Cottonmouths will crumble. Someday, they’ll all pay.”