Vault Room Stand-Off

The two intruders squared off.

Graph tilted his hooded head, then reached into his bag. He pulled out a spray paint can, preparing to aim it at Shin. But before he could react, the American held his breath, activating Dead Eye. In a blink, Shin's hand flew to his side, drawing the Iron Viper in one swift motion.

He fired.

The bullet flew from the revolver and struck the spray can dead on. The canister exploded with a deafening bang, ripping apart its metal casing. Shrapnel tore through the air, scattering in all directions. Graph collapsed to the ground, the force knocking him off balance.

The explosion's echo was enough to trigger the bank's alarms, their blaring noise filling the vault.

Shin stepped forward, his gaze locking on Graph, who was now writhing on the floor. The thief struggled to rise, but when he braced himself, he slipped. His eyes widened in horror as he realized—his hand was gone. Blood poured from the stump at his wrist, pooling beneath him. His mouth opened in a scream of agony, raw and unrestrained.

In a panic, Graph ripped off his hood and mask, revealing his face—a face far younger than Shin had expected. The boy couldn't have been much older than himself.

Shin's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening, though there was a flicker of something deeper—regret, maybe. He glanced down at what remained of the boy's hand and winced, taking in the grisly sight. Graph leaned back against the vault door, his screams echoing through the room.

Shin knelt down a few feet away, eyes still locked on the wounded boy.

"Guess that didn't go how you planned," he muttered, his voice low and steady. "Should've walked away when you had the chance."

He sighed, shaking his head. "This?" Shin nodded at the bloodied stump. "This ain't worth a bag of gold."

Shin glanced back at the alarms, then down at Graph, who was still writhing in pain. He scanned the room and spotted the severed hand, bloodied but somewhat intact. With a grimace, he walked over, picked it up, and headed toward the wall he had phased through earlier. Pressing the hand against the surface, the wall shimmered and became transparent once more.

Before stepping through, Shin turned back, a smirk creeping across his face.

"Need a hand?"

Graph stared at him in horror, eyes wide.

Shin chuckled, tossing the severed hand at the thief. "Sorry, sorry... too soon."

Without waiting for a response, he slipped through the wall and into the alley outside. The distant wail of police sirens reached his ears as he made his exit.

"They must've had eyes on all the banks," he muttered to himself, but before he could relax, the flashing lights appeared, flooding the alley.

Shin's instincts kicked in. He heard the heavy stomp of boots approaching and quickly began scaling the side of the building, climbing the railings with practiced ease. Behind him, flashlights swept the area.

"There!" a voice shouted, followed by a beam of light locking onto Shin's figure.

He squinted against the harsh light, his bandana still covering his face, but he didn't stop. He kept climbing.

"Stop!"

"Get down from there!"

Gunfire erupted, the sharp cracks of the shots echoing through the alley. Just as he was nearing the top, a burning pain shot through his shoulder—a bullet had found its mark. Shin gritted his teeth, his grip slipping for a moment before he caught himself with his other arm.

He tried holding his breath, hoping to activate Dead Eye, but nothing happened. His body felt heavy, drained.

"Guess I'm tapped out," he muttered under his breath, clicking his tongue in frustration.

Summoning the last of his strength, Shin pulled himself over the edge, collapsing onto the rooftop. He winced but didn't waste time. With the police closing in, he bolted across the rooftops, leaping from building to building. The night air rushed past him as he ran, but then a new sound cut through the chaos—the low thrum of a helicopter.

Shin glanced back, his heart racing as he saw the helicopter closing in, its searchlight sweeping across the rooftops like a beacon. The bright light flickered over the buildings but somehow, it missed him.

Panting, Shin dove behind a door on the rooftop, kicking it open with a swift motion. He slipped inside, pressing his back against the wall as the helicopter's light passed over the roof. His breaths were ragged, but he managed to stay hidden, lying low until the noise faded.

Hours later, under the cover of night, Shin made his way back to his motorcycle, parked in a nearby lot. His shoulder throbbed, but he managed to ride back to his farm without drawing attention.

Once home, he slumped onto the porch steps, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The exhaustion from the night finally caught up to him, his muscles aching from the climb and the injury.

And then, he felt it—a familiar vibration in his coat pocket.

With a sigh, he pulled out the pocket watch, flipping it open.

Mission Complete:

[Stopped Graph]

Rewards:

[Paralysis Bullets]

[450 Shop Points]

Morality: 21(-1)

Shin noticed the drop in morality.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking to himself. "Guess Graph really had a hand in that."

A low chuckle escaped him, carried off into the night, but it was cut short as a sharp pain flared in his shoulder. He winced, pressing a hand against the wound, the sting bringing him back to reality.