(PROFESSOR UZUMAKI) BATTLE AT THE BANK

On the other side of Brockton Bay, Shadow Stalker stood on the rooftop of a narrow commercial building, her mask and hood already in place, the weight of her mini crossbow resting against her thigh. She had skipped school the moment the morning announcements ended, a decision born more from irritation than actual forethought, but one she now felt immensely grateful for. If she had been stuck in a classroom right now, forced to sit and pretend to care about whatever was being taught, she would have missed what was shaping up to be the perfect opportunity.

Below her, the Undersiders were in the middle of a robbery at Brockton Bay Central Bank, and they had taken several dozen civilians hostage to ensure their getaway. It was sloppy work, the kind she would have expected from newer villains, yet here they were: Bitch’s dogs stationed at the windows, Grue and Regent inside the lobby, and Tattletale no doubt lurking somewhere out of sight. The situation was more tense than frantic at the moment, but it was still the kind that demanded decisive intervention rather than the careful, timid approach so many heroic capes defaulted to.

Shadow Stalker felt anticipation settle into her chest. This was her chance to show everyone just how far she had come. Her chakra training with Naruto had already doubled her strength and speed, and her phasing was more responsive and long-lasting than it had ever been. The Wards were aware of some of her improvements, but the villains certainly weren't. And Grue in particular had no idea what was coming for him after what had happened the last time they had crossed paths.

Shadow Stalker glanced toward the Wards gathering on the ground in front of the bank. They were deep in a discussion about tactics, and she caught snippets of their conversation through her earpiece. Aegis and Clockblocker had decided to switch costumes to throw off the Undersiders’ expectations, and the others were trying to figure out how to coordinate a distraction without provoking the dogs or inciting panic among the hostages.

Shadow Stalker tuned them out. Waiting had never suited her, and the way the Wards insisted on cooperation only made it worse. Their need to weigh every option, to accommodate every strength and compensate for every weakness, felt painfully slow to her. She had no patience for plans built around the limitations of others when she knew she could move faster and strike harder on her own.

She intended to enter the bank her own way, on her own terms, through an avenue the villains would never expect, and she wanted to be in a good position long before anyone realized she was there.

Large buildings like this always had multiple exits, service corridors, and emergency access points. Technically, one was supposed to consult the building plans to find them, but she had been inside this particular bank often enough to know its layout—at least, the parts available to the public—by heart. She had even spent time exploring those back areas in the past, mapping out potential infiltration routes for reasons she would never admit to anyone. 

There had been a time, not so long ago, when she had genuinely believed she might need to rob this very bank just to keep herself afloat, and she had walked those corridors with the same ruthless determination she applied to everything else in her life. Now, that old, uncomfortable foresight had become unexpectedly useful, providing her with exactly the advantage she needed for a situation like this.

She doubted the Undersiders had managed to cover every entry. They were admittedly competent, but thoroughness was not their reputation, and there were simply too many to bother guarding.

Picking a side entrance at the back of the building, she sprinted across the rooftop and vaulted down silently to a narrow maintenance walkway. She phased through the locked door, letting her body shift into its shadow state before slipping through the metal. Once inside, she transitioned back into solidity in one fluid motion. She kept close to the walls as she navigated the access corridors, checking corners, and pausing now and then to listen for any footsteps.

Fortunately, there was none. 

A quick vertical run carried her up the plaster wall, and she began moving along the ceiling using chakra to anchor herself in place. It was a technique she had only recently begun to trust, but the feeling of weightlessness and the vantage point it granted her had already become addictive.

She slipped through the interior space until she reached the main lobby.

Directly below her, the Undersiders stood guard over the hostages. Bitch’s dogs, including the one she was on, growled low in their throats, ears pricked toward the front windows; Regent lounged on a teller counter, swinging his foot as though bored with the entire ordeal; and Grue stood near the center, his presence imposing in a way that struck her as frustratingly intentional. 

Tattletale was nowhere to be seen, which meant she was either in the back offices or had already scouted the entire building.

Shadow Stalker’s eyes moved over the crowd of civilians huddled in the corner of the lobby. They sat, or in some cases, knelt with their bodies pressed against each other for comfort, their breaths overlapping with whispered prayers, frantic questions, and panicked ramblings, though they were sure to remain as quiet as possible. 

Then she spotted a familiar face.

Panacea.

The realization sent a chill down her spine. The city’s only healer was trapped in the middle of a bank robbery, surrounded by unpredictable villains and frightened civilians. 

She forced down the instinctive curse that rose inside her. She had no intention of letting anything happen to the girl, but her presence made everything more dangerous. If a fight broke out and one of the Undersiders panicked, if a misstep caused the dog to lash out, or if Grue released darkness in the wrong direction, the situation would spiral out of control faster than even she could react.

Shadow Stalker remained still and let herself think. 

The Undersiders were preparing to move. Hostages were being selected for release, their paths directed toward the front entrance. Once they were outside, the Undersiders intended to smother the area in a thick cloud of Grue’s darkness, preventing the Wards from making any aggressive move without risking the newly freed civilians. 

It was a good plan, irritatingly so, effectively neutralizing the hero’s ability to strike without risking civilian lives, and forcing them to follow the Undersiders’ lead instead of dictating the engagement themselves. Even the Wards’ costume-switching tactic would be rendered largely useless.

Which meant Shadow Stalker would have to act before the first hostage stepped outside.

She needed to strike at exactly the right moment, early enough to disrupt their formation but late enough that she wouldn’t risk the hostages in the ensuing panic. If she hesitated, even for a few seconds, Grue would drown the lobby in darkness, and once that happened she would be left with no clear shots and no way to guarantee the hostages’ safety.

It took a few seconds to calm her racing heart, but she succeeded. The smile that tugged at the corners of her lips, however, she could not suppress. After all, she had already decided this was the perfect opportunity, and there was no way she would let it slip through her fingers.