Few years later.

SHHHHINNNG.

A sharp sound of metal resonated within a building of bureaucracy and finance.

“Someone call the police!” A middle age women yelled out among the lines of customers who saw the horrified remains of decapitated tellers in front of a young man dressed in a mask and an oversized cape. A sword dripping with blood could be visibly seen, horrifying any mortal who is not used to the sight of blood.

Suddenly as another man was pulling out his phone.

“AGGGGHHHH” Was his last words before he turned into a slump of flesh and blood.

A hollow voice of oppression rang in the ears of the survivors. “One call, one gun, one person is all it takes for the rest to be slaughter like cattle.” Suddenly the voice turned into one typically heard in an elevator or a train, “Therefore, ladies and gentlemen, please make no moves or sounds. Thank you very much.”

With that all the remaining people stared into what was left of the man who dared to take action.

CREAAAKK

The study metal door which gave way to the vault was bent by an unseen force.

Concealed by the smoke a shadow creept in “permanently borrowing” everything of financial value and storing it into a mysterious pocket dimension. What is strange is that the masked man looked no different from entry to exit.

The young man appeared, leaping from the decimated vault door to the main entrance of the bank. However a peculiar opponent was waiting for him.

“Step back evildoer!”

A muscular man with a wrestling mask hurled towards the thief, knocking him to the cold marble floor.

The young man quickly rolled to the side before the vigilante crushed him with his weight. With sword quickly drawn, the caped man stepped back, preparing to anticipate his enemy’s next move. At the same time the wrestler chanted and began to glow a solemn red.

"Bull's rage!"

The crowd cleared the path making a circle to ensure each witness would not get hurt in the conflict.

Then the caped man closed in on his target and appeared to swing his sword at his opponents neck. The wrestler ducked only to realize the fake out by getting brutally kicked in the stomach.

“Argh.” The man grunted as blood spilled out of his mouth. Creating a small pool on the floor.

The caped man began to swing his sword down to cleave the man’s shoulder from his body. However the attacker was struck in his side with the fist of the wrestler. Before the masked man could react, a punch sent him flying across the room, landing on an ATM.

Suddenly the masked man’s eyes changed color from black to yellow as he got up from the floor. The air was tense “You are foolish.”

The presumed wrestler lunged at the figure on the floor, causing his head to crash into the hard floor. But the young man simply rolled over again and stood up. “What are you going to do murder me?”

The wrestler, now sweating got up from the floor and this time attempted to punch the talker.

However his fist was caught and his shirt was being pulled towards the masked face.

“Look at the both of us. We are no different. We use force to obtain our goals. Only difference is that your goal is fame and mine is power.”

Though the mask was hiding any indication of facial expressions the wrestler felt eyes sharp as nails and a crooked smile not much separated from a scythe.

“Now dissipate.”

The unfortunate man felt an unseen force choking him while the masked man threw his corpse into the horrified crowd. The man didn’t breath. “Have a wonderful evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

With that the caped man waltzed through the door leaving a crowd of onlookers silent and horrified at the display of crime.