808

The Thug stood in stunned shock as the figure rose, standing up to it's full height. The thug was already in complete shock, as whatever had just landed in front of him had jumped down at least two stories into the alley, cutting him off. It's eyes met with the thugs, surrounded by what seemed to be some kind of black plastic, reflecting light off of the dim alley lights. The figure was clearly muscular, but not anything overly impressive. He looked like he worked out at the least, as his sleeveless red hoodie showed off his arms. The figure held a long, metal staff in his hands which were clad in what seemed to be lacrosse gloves.

"Who are you?" The Thug asked, bewildered and just a slight bit scared, holding his gun out in front of him.

"I'm 808." The figure responded. The Thug's face contorted into a look of confusion.

"Um, I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm 808. I'm that guy the newspapers keep writing about. They keep calling me 'The Vigilante'. 808 began, he relaxed his pose and swung his staff around a bit in a playful manner, suddenly seeming much less imposing then before. "That's so boring, ya know? 'The Vigilante'."

"What?" The Thug asked again, absolutely bewildered with what was going on just in front of him right now.

"I thought the general rule about being a superhero was that you got to pick your name. Or at the very least the media gave you a really good one. That's how it always seemed to happen in the comics and TV shows and movies anyway." 808 continued, continuing to walk towards The Thug. He drew a gun and pointed it at 808 as he began to walk backwards, but it didn't seem to phase the young man at all.

"You think you're a superhero?"

"Not think, I am." 808 said, wagging his finger at the Thug. "Unless you don't count stopping 7 murders, 4 assaults, and 5 robberies and about 10 other miscellaneous crimes all in the span of about two months superhero worthy. And it's incredibly annoying you know. I do the whole hide my face thing cause, ya know, vigilante shit is still illegal in this day and age. But I try to make it very clear that I want to be called 808, I leave calling cards, I've spoken to civilians, criminals, and cops all with the occasional name drop and I STILL get called 'The Vigilante'. You have no idea how hard it is to get some recognition out there for a guy like me. a start-up Superhero."

"You sound like a fucking high school kid."

"Well that's because I am, I'm like 17. I'm just a really smart and really strong 17 year old. Who's also probably a little crazy, and maybe just a teensy bit sociopathic. And I've been going through some tough shit recently, but hey. Take the negatives and turn them into something positive, right?"

"Oh so what, you're gonna take me down? I have a gun, you have a really long stick." The Thug said, waving the gun at 808.

"Well other than the fact that this is a really cool stick, no. I've just been distracting you and backing you up to the other side of the Alley so that my partner could have time to run down the stairs, get out here, and grab you from behind. He doesn't really like to do the whole parkour-dramatic entrance thing like me."

Suddenly, the Thug felt arms wrap around him and force him down on to his knees and a new voice. "In case you're wondering, I've been standing here forever just waiting for you to back up. I got her like five minutes ago."

"Not bad, 707." 808 said, walking towards his friend.

"Are you fucking kidding me with these stupid nam-" The Thug began before 707 forced his head down into the cement.

"No, no." 707 said, "No talking."

"See that's what I was telling you about getting the name out, you know, casual name drops. I'm 808, he's 707. You know, advertising and all that." 808 said, getting down on the Thugs level. "I just hope you remember all this after you wake up."

"Huh?" The Thug managed to mutter, just before 808 whipped around and slammed him in the side of the head with his staff, knocking him out cold in a split second.

"I thought you said I could knock the guy out this time?" 707 asked, releasing the Thug's limp body onto the ground. The blue hoodied young man shokk his arms out as if stretching, then dusted himself off as if the Thug had been overly filthy.

"No, I never said that. I said once you were able to hit hard enough you could." 808 remarked. "You didn't even hit him once."

"You literally hit him exactly once." 707 said, holding up one finger.

"Ugh, I mean, like, whatever man. Just call the cops so we can go home and shit. And don't touch the purse, it's gotta stay with him or else they won't have any reason to take him in other than the fact that, you know, he's passed out in a dark alleyway."

"With head trauma." 707 added.

"Yeah exaclty, with Head Trauma... and some bleeding... oh shit we should go. Let's get to that payphone at the high school and call this in stat." 808 said, turning and running off into the night.

"Right behind you!" 707 shouted after him.