Maggia & Mad Science: Part 1
 

The black car sped through the city streets, police hot on their tail. The backseat of the car was full of ill-gotten laboratory equipment, the source of the trouble the two men in the front found themselves in now. "Turn here and then into the alley right around!" The man in the passenger seat yelled, turning around to try to keep an eye on the car behind him.
The sudden turn knocked him hard into the car door, and he cursed, then again when the car made another sharp turn almost immediately. "Dammit, Johnny!" the man in the passenger seat yelled, though the reply shut him down "What?! You told me to!"
The police car following them didn't make the second turn - speeding past the alley they'd found themselves in. The man in the passenger seat cheered, looking behind them to find the way clear.

"Johnny, I think we did it, I think we lost---"

BANG

BANG

The car's front tires exploded, forcing to a sudden, screeching halt, and rocking both men into the dashboard - well, Johnny mostly got the steering wheel. "What the hell was that?!" Then the passenger shouted, and Johnny righted himself, then gazed out the window with a look of defeat. "Well, Bobby, we're out of the frying pan, at least."

Bobby's attention turned to the front, too, and replied the only way he could think. "Awe, man!"

Some feet away, in front of the car, stood the Human Torch. After a moment, he moved towards the car, leaving a rapidly-extinguishing trail of fire behind him. Johnny hurriedly opened the driver's side door - and threw his gun out onto the ground. Bobby reacted, dumbfounded. "What are you doing?!" "I was hired to steal some beakers, I'm not fighting the Human Torch!" Johnny thought the logic was sound, and he carefully got out of the car, hands in the air. Bobby stayed put, though had silently given up on any idea of putting up a fight himself.

A fireball hit the ground at Johnny's feet - a warning shot - and Johnny jumped. The Torch spoke, "Mind telling me where you're going in such a hurry?" Bobby leaned over towards the driver's side, but before he could tell his partner not to say anything, Johnny spilled the beans. "We were told to take it all to a warehouse at the docks and deliver them to somebody!"

Bobby groaned, slumping back in the car's passenger seat, and the Torch followed up. "Deliver it to who?" Johnny shook his head. "I don't know - they just said 'the Doctor"

The Torch stepped past Johnny, eyeing Bobby in the car for a moment before turning his attention to the backseat - checking on what, exactly, was being delivered. As he did, police cars turned into the alley, finally catching up with the two thieves. The Torch glanced towards the patrol cars, gave a short nod, then turned to Johnny. "Well, you boys have a nice night." Then the Torch shot up into the sky like a rocket, scorching Johnny's jacket and leaving the two men to the police.


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In a bar across town, the Angel stood among a mess of broken furniture and injured men - the ones who weren't unconscious were groaning, tending to dislocated joints and broken bones. The only other man standing was the bartender, his hands in the air but otherwise defiant. "I already told the cops I don't know what you're talking about." The Angel stepped on-and-over one of the men on the floor, planting a foot on the goon's back and producing a pained groan as the vigilante-slash-detective stepped towards the bar.

"Do I look like a cop? Is it the cape?"

Behind him, one of the injured gangsters struggled to his feet, making a stumbling escape and slamming into the door on his way out. The Angel turned in reaction to the noise, but opted to let the escape happen - he didn't plan on being here long enough for it to be a problem, anyway. The distraction gave the bartender an opening, and he reached under the counter to grab his shotgun. Before he could get a good aim, the Angel whipped his cape around as he turned, distracting the would-be gunman long enough to draw his own gun and bring it level to the bartender's face.

"Just tell me why Manfredi is snatching people off the street and where he's taking them."

The bartender dropped the shotgun and put his hands back in the air. "He's having them taken to the docks - I don't know why!"

The Angel believed him - and it was good enough information for now. He holstered his gun, but before the bartender could let out a sigh of relief, the caped detective reached across the bar and grabbed his tie, yanking him down to smash his face into the counter. 

He had places to be, and didn't need to worry about turning his back on a man with a shotgun.