Work 3

"Just put your hands up." 808 whispered to 707, nudging him. He dropped his staff to the ground and listened too it clank against the cement at the same time 707's escrima sticks did. 808 watched as a tall, lanky man with a metal plate covering one of his eyes walked down the alley way towards them. Four additional men, two on each side of the alley, approached the two heroes as well, large assault rifles aimed at their heads.

"I am putting my hand's up. I did it before you did." The blue hooded young man responded. 808 just rolled his eyes.

"Cause you're a pussy." He said mockingly.

"I'm not a pussy, now don't get us killed." 707 angrily whispered, harshly nudging 808 in the ribs.

"Well, well, well, 808!" The lanky man said, "So nice to see you again! I've been dying to re-connect after our last... encounter." The man said, tapping the metal plate over his eye.

"Dude you took his eye out?" 707 whispered.

"Yeah, apparently I punched him so hard in the eye it like broke the bone around the socket and tore apart the eye, had to be removed."

"Jesus, that's metal as fuck." 707 said, shaking his head and impressed.

"Right? Like you'd think he'd give up after that but apparently he just though melting some metal onto his face would be a better idea." 808 said in a sarcastic tone.

"Silence!" The lanky man yelled, continuing to advance toward the heroes. "I finally have you right where I want you, 808. And you know, what they say..." The man said, taking out a small dagger from his pocket, "...an eye for an eye."

"Actually..." 707 began, "I think the general consensus on that one is that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."

"What?" The lanky man asked, stopping momentarily and looked at 707, confused.

"You don't solve anything by just doing the same thing back to someone. It's not that hard of a phrase to understand."

"I'm not doing it back to you. I'm going to kill you, both of you. Through the eye." The lanky man said, brandishing the knife and swinging it around in front of them.

"I mean, maybe." 808 said, and as he said that, four shadows descended rapidly from the sky, smashing directly into the four gunmen and knocking them right onto the ground. The four shadows each, simultaneously, tossed the rifles toward 808 and 707 and brandished knives at the throat of the gunmen. 808, meanwhile, grabbed his staff and spun around, sweeping the lanky man's legs and knocking him onto the ground. 707 grabbed his escrima sticks and bounded over 808's back, pinning the lanky man down on the ground. "Maybe if the Nighthawks hadn't shown up."

"You have people that fly now?" The lanky man shouted in complete frustration and shock.

"It's not flying, it's gliding." 707 remarked.

"Plus they're kids, you just got taken down by ten year olds, how does that feel?" 808 mockingly informed the lanky man.

"I'm eleven." One of the Nighthawks shouted, concentration not breaking on the throat of the gunman.

"Right..." 808 said, "...and one eleven year old. But how does that feel?"

"You know, 808, you really should do a