Name: Drake Marshall / Crosshairs
Date: 11/15/2023
Location: Condor Indoor Shooting Range
BLAM BLAM! BLAM BLAM BLAM!
Drake dropped the magazine out of his pistol, quickly reloading. The slide snapped shut, and he continued firing into the target. Bullet after bullet tore into the paper target, a silhouette of a man holding a gun. Center mass. Head. Gun. Arm. Wrist. Ankle. Knee. Each shot hitting the target with absolute precision. The second magazine empty, Drake loaded a third one. Then paused. The hearing protection he wore at the range was more than just a set of headphones, Drake had replaced the radio set inside with a miniaturized police scanner. Reports of a fight, supervillains robbing an armored van. Minotaur and Doc Arachnid. A tough duo, with brains and brawn working together, and not to mention Doc Arachnid having all of those mutant spiders.
Should he respond? No doubt there were already quite a few heroes already going to the call. That HEROSIGNAL app tended to get out the call faster than the police were alerted to it. It was a pretty good app, but no way in hell would Crosshairs use that app as a hero. The less info out there, the better. Drake pressed the button on his firing lane, bringing his target paper closer so he could take a better look at it as he listened to the police scanner. Jade Lightning and Bubble Girl were on scene, fighting the villains. The daylight heroes probably had this situation under control.
It was by the time he had made it to his car that another part of the event unfolded. Reports of another superpowered person arriving to the scene. Leviathan. A real wild card. Every time that cloaked woman showed up, it was always something different. Helping catch bad guys one day, attacking heroes the next.
Hm.
Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to check in and make sure nothing got too out of hand. At least until some more daylight heroes showed up.
Drake drove towards the fight. He stopped a few blocks away, grabbing one of his go bags from the trunk of his car and confidently walking into the shadows of the alleyway. Despite the people around, no one seemed to give him a second notice. With memorized practice, Drake slid a manhole cover open and decended into the sewers of New York City, sliding the cover shut behind him. He walked quickly through the sewers, unpacking his bag as he went. His vest and duster went on in practiced precision. Even in the dark, throwing on his costume was muscle memory. Crosshairs applied the facepaint and removed the assault rifle from his bag, tossing the bag aside.