Videl felt a sense of satisfaction flush her body as her fist smashed into the last standing criminal's face. The 9mm pistol barked out a deafening boom as the weapon discharged almost next to the crime fighter's head, but luckily she had her sound proof earplugs on. The stray round pinged off one of the many police squadron cars blockading the entrance of the Satan City Bank, and Videl rolled her eyes as she heard the frightened squeak of an overweight police officer cowering behind the vehicle that barely covered his massive body.
As the criminal stumbled back clutching his bloodied face, a quick snap kick to the temple interrupted him mid yell putting him down for the count. A great cheer broke out from the police officers who had been covering the scene with half drawn weapons, and a greater cheer broke out from the crowd standing further back.
Rolling her eyes again, Videl had to wonder at the stupidity of people who hung about watching her take down criminals. Sure, so far in her career as a crime fighter no one had been killed yet, but that didn't excuse the morons standing around gawking at her while she pummeled half-witted criminals within gun distance or worst yet those who stood close enough to be in hostage grabbing distance. What really pissed her off was when they took pictures or videos. What was she, some sort of entertaining monkey pandering to their amusement?
Dusting her hands off, Videl chanced a glance skywards, but there was not telltale glow of the golden warrior watching over her today. Frowning slightly but not certain why she felt disappointment, Videl halfheartedly smiled at the police officers that rushed by to snap on wrist cuffs onto the downed bank robbers. Lately the mysterious golden warrior that had appeared some two months back had stopped helping her fight crime as he had initially done. Nowadays he mostly showed up and hung around in the air with his arms crossed while watching her fight. By the time she had put down the last criminal, he would be gone, as if he had never been there at all.
In the past month there had been only one instance where he had stepped in, and admittedly things would have gone really bad for Videl if he hadn't. Some criminals that had been holding up a jewelry store had gotten their hands on some military ordinance, and Videl had found herself on the wrong end of a rocket launcher. Sometimes at night she still woke in a cold sweat, remembering acutely how her perception of time seemed to have slowed down to a crawl for her to watch the missile come inching towards her position while her body was still helplessly slow in moving out of the way. Certain that death was imminent and wishing she had managed to find what was left of her father within the stranger hailed as the world savior, Videl had closed her eyes and waited for the end.
Instead of oblivion, she had been treated to the dizzying sensation of vertigo resulting from moving too quickly for her body to comprehend. When she dared open her eyes she found herself stumbling on pavement half a block away from the crime scene. By the time she jogged back to the jewelry store, all the thugs had been knocked unconscious and the missile that had been fired was placed neatly on the ground next to the leader's head. The police analyst had been baffled by what they found. The missile had in fact run out of propellant, which was perplexing seeing as it had not hit anything. Even if it had been a dud it should have hit something and left a dent. But nothing in the nearby crime scene had sustained any damage that would fit the profile of a collision with a speeding object the size of a missile.
Decapsulating her jetcopter with a practiced motion, Videl opened the door and stepped into the pilot seat. Removing the reinforced fingerless gloves from her hands, she took a moment to examine the design of the protective garment that had no traceable logo or markings. She had used a trusty brand of sparring gloves when she fought the various criminal elements that plagued Satan City in the past, but the soft material had often left her hands bloodied and scrapped. On more than one occasion she had found herself with fractured knuckles from having pounded on an especially thick skulled brute. Somewhere around the beginning of the month she had been fighting a group of wannabe gangsters trying to make a name for themselves by holding the mayor hostage. When she had returned to her jetcopter which she had left uncapsulated in her haste to get to the mayor, she had found the pair of reinforced gloves on the dashboard of her plane.
The material was soft and velvety, but had a certain leathery quality to them that fit snuggly to her hands yet still allowed her skin to breathe. The back of the hand was reinforced with a thin plate that she later found out was titanium, and the knuckles of the fingerless glove sported similar titanium reinforcement with cushioning within the finger cusps themselves. They were a bit heavier than she was used to, but the benefits of being able to punch a dent in a car while barely feeling it certainly offset the small disadvantage she learned quickly to adapt to. She had seen the golden warrior hovering over the scene when she had hopped down to tackle one of the hostage takers, and she assumed the gift was from him.
Part of her wanted to throw them back in his face if she ever saw him close enough in person to do so, but the other part fell in love with the advantages they gave her. Being pragmatic, she had put aside her ambivalent feelings towards the mysterious hero and had put his gift to good use much to the dismay of the criminals that found themselves on the wrong end of her now reinforced fists.
Soon after, she found other random objects in her jetcopter whenever she left it uncapsulated when she went to fight. There had been this strangely elastic vest that had molded to her body when she had tried it on. The material was thin and had a silky feel to them, and she had gotten the impression it was supposed to be some sort of armor. Videl had point blank refused the police chief's demand for her to wear a bullet proof vest when fighting because the material slowed her down and was more likely to get her shot than if she could move freely, but the strange silky vest felt more akin to a second skin than bulky armor.
Out of curiosity she had brought the vest into the police firing range to test for herself how effective it was. She had been shocked when the flimsy garment held up against military grade armor piercing rounds fired from a sniper rifle. Granted seeing the damage to the dummy beneath the armor, most likely she'd be sporting some broken ribs and some massive internal hemorrhaging, but that was preferable to having her body torn in half by a .50 caliber tungsten round. It had withstood being cut and even burned. She had been tempted to see what electricity might do to it, but chances were she wouldn't survive contact even if the armor stood up to it.
The form fitting vest hugged her frame nicely and was barely noticeable underneath her normal clothes and Videl had taken to wearing the thing every day. It had gotten some funny looks from her classmates in the locker rooms for P.E. but Videl paid them no mind. Oddly after a while she noticed that the material also acted as a temperature regulator. The parts of her body covered by the silky material always felt just right even if the rest of her was blazing hot or freezing cold. Some nights she was tempted to wear it to bed to keep warm, but she refrained from doing so even if the silky material was rather pleasing to the touch.
There had also been a small bag of these strange dried green bean looking things she had found with a typed note placed inside them. Supposedly these beans had amazing healing properties in case she ever got grievously injured while on the job and taking one of them will save her from death's door. She had scoffed at the supposedly magical properties of the dried beans, but had nonetheless kept them on her person. Hell if she was dying it might be worth a shot even if it was only to give herself some false hope before she kicked the bucket.
Sighing to herself for her morbid thoughts, Videl maneuvered her jetcopter onto the roof of her high school taking note of the time on her on board clock. It seemed she would make it to class on time today for once. Walking into her multistoried building of a school she fought back a sigh at the chattering crowd of teenagers. Sometimes she really couldn't relate to people her own age. Scratch that, she just didn't relate very well to people in general.