"What?" I asked, putting a hand to my buzzer and clicking the call while punching in numbers to my calculator with the other. "I'm busy."

     "Busy patrolling, which means you shouldn't be too busy to listen to me speak."

     "Same thing," I fired back, leaning over the number that appeared and grabbing my pencil to start scribbling away on the worksheet. Almost done. Almost there. I checked the time on my display, looking up to the rightmost corner of my own little digital world. Ten minutes to midnight. "Now what do you want? I'm really doing something right now."

     "I just got a report that there's a bank robbery in progress not far from you. It's Spear Mint Associates. Go take care of it. I'm logging you on to the job."

     "Give me a few seconds." Of all the timing in the world. Fumbling for my phone along my legs, then remembering I was wearing a suit so there was no such thing as pockets because that would've just been too efficient, I seized the white backpack at my feet and rumbled around till my phone appeared. Scribbling some numbers down for the rest of the slots after some seriously fast mental math, taking a picture of the worksheet, this side and that, and opening that stupid slow app...uploading the pictures to the assignment, and hitting submit. Taking my the folder off the ledge where I'd been pinning it down with a desperate forearm from the wind to hide beneath my backpack on the roof. "Okay, ready."

     "You're thirty seconds late."

     "Come on! Are you trying to mess up my track record?"

     "Then you should stop doing homework on the job."

     "Well!" My feet went on top of the ledge as a blue map appeared in front of my eyes, a green dot pinging where I was on top of my usual perch in the city, and a red dot pinging where they were, three blocks away. "If you stopped giving me so many patrols and a little more action, I'd have a lot less time to do it!"

     Though I hoped she would give me more action, I also hoped that she protected my homework time. I still hadn't mastered the art of productivity on the weekends and got everything done during my patrol shifts during the week.

     Ah, crap, I realized, backing up from the ledge and feeling the wind beginning to take around my feet. Don't I have an essay due next week?

     The smart thing would've been to get it done on my one day of the week I was free from both school and work.

     Well. That's taking into account the idea that I'm actually smart.

     Buildings flew by below me, dark roofs with colorful sides and people still working into the night. Air vents humming, dark clouds emerging from vents on top and clouding the already deteriorated and polluted midnight sky. When I hit the next roof, it was with a light tap that sent me off again, and again, covering those three blocks in as straight of a line as I could before the alarms finally reached me and I was right overhead.

     Ugh.

     Black vans out front told me they must've brought a fleet. And there were two of them, even, as I shifted the setting on my buzzer and looked down. Red outlines pulsed around the interiors of the vehicles, showing me the two distinct figures in driver's seats and the one in a passenger seat in the first van - no doubt the boss - waiting for the others to come out. Looking straight down through the building didn't really do much for me since there were layers of floors, a stray office worker here and there, a janitor vacuuming back and forth over a bunch of other heat signatures.

     Whatever. Just get this done, fill out the report, and I can go to sleep.

     For once, it seemed like I'd actually be able to sleep before one.

     That depends, though, on how fast you go down. [Inventory].

     Those red lines were moving awful slow as I reached up to the sky and started to reach through space looking for what I needed. It was a habit, an act of boredom, delaying the inevitable because those things always ended the same way and nothing really got me going anymore after doing that so many times. Maybe an energy drink...no, no, the adrenaline would do that for me. But it was really hard to get excited when it was just the same old, same old those days...

     Whatever.

     Alarms going off below finally stopped. Sirens in the distance, however, were only getting closer. A map on a separate screen showed they were still a few blocks away. Plenty of time for me to make things a whole lot safer for them before they arrived and dealt with my aftermath.

     Grabbing the can out of my inventory, I popped the top, threw it back, crumpled up the can, and threw it right back into its little box. Stepping up on the edge, I looked down at the vans and listened to movement below. The wind wasn't so bad, since the bank was shorter than other buildings around. Sadly, it didn't make them any less of a target - just less intimidating and easier to hit.

     That's why I told you, Mom, I sighed, finally stepping over the edge and falling. The rush that took my stomach lifted my energy drink up to the top of it. To switch banks.

     Just before hitting the cement, I disappeared from sight. Walking inside the bank, looking left and right at the old wooden designs and smelling that 1960's mug only old people enjoyed, I noted one, two by the door, then three, four, five, six...seven total in the bank. Those by the door were still trying to figure out what that blur was they'd been watching and I was plodding along the carpet, a firm crisscross of red and green, until I was right before the door to the back and looking inside.

     "Put the money in the bag! Hurry up before the cops get here!"

     Check.

     "I'm going as fast as I can," one of the others hissed back, still grabbing roll after roll off the shelf. It was an awfully small room where all of those bills were kept. "This is why I told you we needed one more! How else are we going to make quota with just five people grabbing-"

     "Keep working and shut up!"

     Check.

     Looking around at their all black clothes and ski masks, seeing the weapons on the ground beside them as they shoved things in their duffle bags, I reached up to turn the buzzer's display off and look at them with my own eyes. Waiting for them to notice me leaning in the doorway, only sighing when one was twisting rapidly enough back and forth shoving money into bags that he finally happened to catch sight of me. Eyes going wide, mouth opening to try and warn the others as one of my hands freed itself from where my arms had been folded, and I clicked my fingers. It really wasn't even fun anymore.

     "There's a-"

     "Yeah, yeah."

     The others turned around, shocked. They must've been doing one of their first runs together, that group - normally the more experienced ones reacted within a second without bothering to look all surprised that someone actually bothered to show up.

     But all I could do was yawn, taking a step forward and spraying him in the face with sedative before he could finish his sentence. Then another, then another, and another. The last one, by the time I'd gotten to him, had lifted his rifle up to the low ready from where it'd just been hanging, and all of his buddies were still busy dropping to the floor.

     "Now, there's no need to hurt anybody. The jig is already up."

     The rifle was suddenly no longer in his hands and no longer on semi. It was instead broken in half and on the ground, and his eyes were fluttering while falling towards me.

     "Sorry," I said, grabbing his collar and swinging him from hitting his face on the sharp metal corner of a cart in the middle of the room. "Kind of. Not really."

     "What was that? Alpha One! Hey, Alpha-"

     "I put them to sleep, don't worry. You'll see them at your court date or something. I don't actually know where you guys go after I deal with you, but, well. It's not my problem."

     The two standing by the door were suddenly sleeping by it. Radios were crackling on their shoulders as I stooped to pick one up, squatted by one of the unconscious men and held the radio to my face, looking at the passenger and drivers through the glass windows.

     "Hey-" They jumped. This is actually kind of funny. "I just wanted to let you guys know that I knocked out your boys inside and the cops are, well, you can probably see them at this point. If you're going to make a getaway, now's the time."

     And then they looked over to the bank, frantic. No doubt they saw me in my pure white suit, because they froze as I smiled and waved.

     And, I stood up, stretching, stepping over the guy and dropping his radio. The curly black cord wound all the way back up to his shoulder. Cool air flowed inside, which was rare for a polluted city like that in summertime, and I stepped outside as the drivers tried to figure out what to do and I was walking towards them. Scene.

     All the tires were flat as the vehicles started and the passenger tried to get his window down enough to point a weapon at me. His ski mask was having a hard time staying up over his nose, which made him fall asleep even easier when spraying straight through his window, then past him to the other guy. The second van was a bit smarter than the first, having already backed out and shifted gears to take off down the road. He quickly found that simply gunning it for a getaway didn't work, though, as the red and blue flashes in the background were suddenly down both sides of the street and the tires were a little more than just flat, he realized, as metal grinded on the ground and the van seemed to fall a foot lower as the rubber completely collapsed and fell off.

     "Oho!" I walked around the first van to see who'd bothered to show up to the scene that night. "Look who it is! It's been a while, how you doin'?"

     "...fine," the first man eased up where he'd pulled out his weapon and hunched up, trying to make sure he had a clear sight of the situation before relaxing. "How many?"

     "Seven inside. Five in the vault, two just inside the doors. Three outside. Two drivers, one passenger. All armed."

     My fingers interlaced and went high overhead, pulling this way, then the other, as the other cops went around me to go deal with the aftermath and that guy kept standing in front of me. His badge was looking a little shiny that night, and so was his new rank. I grinned and clapped him on the shoulder a couple times, forgetting my strength as he rocked a little to the side.

     "Someone's really owning his new rank." My eyes flicked up to his blue ones, seeing the displeasure as he only sighed and waited for my antics to be over. "Lots more paperwork on your desk already?"

     "No," he replied, looking over my head and off to the vans where his men - they were his, not just his peers - were pulling open doors and pulling out the unconscious men inside. Weapons were confiscated and secured in cop cars, the backs of each vehicle being cleared. The man in front of me spoke into a radio on his shoulder, updating them on what I'd said before going to deal with part of the scene himself. "Is there anything else you want to say?"

     "No, Sergeant!" I laughed, looking at the rank again and knowing it chafed his ears to hear it. He'd been so bashful at the party we held for him. "I'll be sending my report in to you within the next twenty minutes, but it's nothing too pressing. Regular weapons, regular aim, regular robbery."

     "Got it." He turned away as I took a few steps forward, past the cars, away from the bank.

     "Have a good night, Sergeant."

     I looked back to see his face turn sour, laughing again while jumping off. Soaring up over the height of the bank, then another few buildings over, landing with a tap on the same building I always watched the world from and picking up my backpack.

     "Hey," I tapped the buzzer, turning it on and pinging the other side until she picked up again. "I'm done. Stop the timer. I'll send in my report within the next twenty, so don't be bugging me past 12:30 for anything or I won't see it till ten."

     "It took you a whole minute longer this time."

     "Yeah, well, I was bored. You also started the timer thirty seconds before I took off, without my consent. I also had to talk with Sergeant Bell a bit, so you can shave off another thirty seconds there."

     "Fine. Only a minute and twenty-seven seconds then."

     "Thank you," I said with the most patronizing voice possible, "for your service."

     My handler snorted on the other end of the line. Yeah, yeah. Sucks to suck.

     "Make sure you come in on Friday for your weekly report. I can only make up so many excuses for why you've been missing the last month."

     "Pssh," I waved her off while stalking to the edge of the roof and looking down into the alley below. Nothing moved, and no heat signatures were registered. Dropping off the top, landing below and pressing the buzzer to retract my suit. Once it was all gone, leaving only me in my casual clothes behind, I pulled over the hoodie and straightened the bag on my back. Walking out of the alley, past an almost empty parking lot, and across dark streets in the lazily quiet downtown. The curfew really had been doing its job recently. It was possible that it was even harder to find the drunks and druggies out late too. "I have a 100% success rate and am the top of our company, so they shouldn't be complaining."

     "Do you know how hard you make it to be your handler?"

     "Very. You know why? Because I'm not even supposed to be what I am," I said, readjusting dark hair over my ears and face so it was hard to see the buzzer. "But I'm a necessary existence, so have no choice but to keep me around, so I get to be as difficult as I want to be. Surely you're not going to make life too much harder for a poor high schooler, right? Doing homework while on patrol is not the most accommodating lifestyle."

     "You wouldn't have to if you were just efficient about your time."

     "Alas, I'm but a seventeen-year-old that doesn't know what such adult words are. I only know to keep my weekends sacred and ignore all work on days that have 'Sun' or 'Sat' at the beginning of it. For, you know, child labor laws."

     Looking left, looking right. I dipped into another alley, elsewhere, and sped off at a run. She was saying something on the other end of the line, but it was so slow that I couldn't make anything out until I stopped another few blocks away and listened to the whole thing.

     "And you, when you go to school tomorrow, will you really be paying attention?"

     "Of course - I'm a very good child during the day. Why wouldn't I?"

     "I'd really like to meet you during the day to corroborate that statement."

     "But alas yet again," I took a step forward and dashed another few blocks. She didn't notice the silence at the end of the comma since I kept it to just a second. "We are never meant to meet, my friend, because I very much value my identity and freedom."