Tonight I go on patrol without my trademark faux-velvet topcoat, which was scorched by that damn mini-flamethrower in Green Dragon’s mask. I hop around Midtown in just my black nightstalker armor, and at first I feel like I’m running around in my underwear but after a while I get used to it. It’s kind of nice, actually. I didn’t realize how bulky that coat is.
I’m listening to Jane’s Addiction tonight on the suit’s audio system. The sky is cloudless and clear, and I wish I could turn off all the lights in the city for a minute and just check out the stars hidden by the urban glare. A nice breeze drifts in off The Bay. Summer in the E.C. is pleasant.
Swinging through Chinatown, I spy two Asian guys breaking into a shop through the rear door. I call 911 for once and give the operator the location, then stand on a rooftop overlooking the alley waiting for the ECPD to show up. This is one of those cases where yes, I could stop the two guys, but what happens when the police show up? What do they charge the guys with, getting their asses kicked by a superhero? And oddly enough, courts don’t accept testimony from masked men, so I can’t testify as a witness against them. No, the best thing is to just let the cops catch them red-handed and make the collar, as Lenny Briscoe would say.
In a matter of minutes two bike cops show up in the alley, and are soon joined by two more cops in a cruiser. The cops find the shop and quickly drag out the two guys, who can’t be more than sixteen, and slam them on the hood of the cop car.
One of the bike cops spots me watching them from above and points me out to his buddies. I give a jaunty lil’ wave to the cops and jump across the alley, high over their heads, then vanish into the night.
I’m feeling pretty chuffed as I head back to my car. That was a bit of mature decision making on my part, I think. See? I am growing. No longer a young padwan am I.