The jewelry store’s silent alarm had been tripped a few minutes ago, and police response had been quick. Just as quick, however, was the call for back up; apparently, within a minute of their arrival, all eight officers had been taken down without a single shot being fired. One officer had managed to choke out a call for help before his radio went silent. It was quickly determined that a metahuman criminal was at work, and the call went out the nearest Centurion base to handle the situation.
Windrazor had been the only available Centurion of Epsilon base on duty that evening. Since the store hadn’t blown up, become radioactive, been dumped into another dimension, or started pouring out hordes of monsters, Windrazor was fairly certain this was probably a low-level meta causing the problem. Simple robber types usually were.
The silver-costumed hero took off from Epsilon Base like a shot, able to travel far faster by foot than any of the team’s jump jets. He crossed the fifty miles to reach the bank in just under thirty seconds. When he got there, the area had been cordoned off by more police, but no one else had dared enter the building. Unfortunately, no one had come out, either. Still, this seemed straight forward enough; rush in, grab the bad guy, rush out.
The world slowed to a crawl as Windrazor shifted to super speed. He increased his personal “clock” to the point that a bullet traveled almost as fast as a snail. Then he casually strode into the building.
Windrazor blanched as he opened the door to the bank. The unmistakable musk of semen hung heavy in the air. A quick glance around showed a mess of people sprawled all over the floor. These were the cops who had first come in. They all had their pants open, and were in the process of vigorously masturbating; several had large streaks of semen splattered up their fronts, or along the floor. Long ribbons of cum hung in the air, arcing from the cocks of two of the officers as Windrazor moved in the moment between spasms.