Saria scanned the bank before jumping down onto the roof. By the blueprints of this place, the main vault should be right….here. She felt a small smirk tug at her lips, her hands lighting with flames as she burned a hole through the roof. She then shifted into her native form, that of a swan-sized scarlet bird with red and gold plumage, along with a golden beak and talons, bright green eyes, and a tail as long as a peacock’s with the colors a mix of red, gold, orange and blues. Quickly she dived into the bank, bag in her talons. “Lets see….where to start..”
There was nothing quite like sitting in a van with dumb and dumber arguing about god knows what nerdy television show. It was beginning to overpower his train of thought, and Phil found himself drumming his fingers on his knee a lot harder than usual.
“Yeah but he never saw it!”
“It does matter! She helped him regenerate!”
The heavy door slammed with vigor as Coulson shucked on his windbreak, stepping onto the damp curb. Overhead, the rain continued to pour. Somehow it was better than the shelter of the van. He looked up for a moment, letting the cold droplets fall over his face.
And then he saw it. The faint glow of fire reflecting off the surfaces of Westfield Bank’s rooftop. In a blink it was gone, and Phil’s radio was in hand. “Target spotted— Roof access, move.” He ordered.