Free Vigilante by Robin Parrish

was sprinting down another part of Seventh Street, away from Times Square, chasing a pair of thieves who had raided laptops and money from an accountant’s office.
    His quarry doubled back across Fortieth Street and ran past a tiny tchotchkes dealer, ducking into the next doorway, which led to a back staircase that went up to the second floor of the building. Not taking notice of where the stairs led, Nolan hustled to keep pace, and soon burst into the retail space that occupied several thousand square feet on the second floor.
    It was an enormous comic-book store. Punk rock music blasted from speakers in the ceiling, and a dozen or so geeks milled about, filing through bagged-and-boarded collections of their favorite superheroes’ exploits.
    For the first time in his life, Nolan felt conspicuous and uncomfortable, making a big entrance in his customized military garb and gadgetry. A pair of grungy slackers to his left had been having an enthusiastic discussion of some kind, gesticulating with gusto and laughing hard, but they came to a sudden stop at the sight of him. Every eye in the building turned.
    And then, as if because of some unwritten geek code, they all seemed to know exactly why he was there. As one, they pointed to the far end of the room, where a spiral staircase led to the third floor.
    One of them, a pale boy dressed in black with a mop of blond hair that nearly covered his eyes, muttered “bad guys” softly as he pointed.
    Nolan looked up and tapped the side of his glasses until the X ray came online. He saw two human skeletons that were darting frantically right over his head, through what looked to be another retail level of the same store, trying to find a route of escape.
    Nolan ran and ascended the stairs two at a time. His prey were trying to find a way out on the other side of the room, but the only door appeared to be locked. Spotting Nolan, one of them turned and grabbed a store patron by the back of his shirt and held a blade up to the kid’s throat. The teenage boy was a good head and a half shorter than the two much older crooks.
    “Back off, man!” the man with the blade shouted. “Somebody let us out of here! Now! ”
    With a snap of his wrist, Nolan had his staff in his hand and, in one motion, twisted and flung it, backhanded. It expanded in midair, allowing its six-foot length to catch both men across the face. Their disorientation gave Nolan all the time he needed to get a running start toward them.
    The one with the knife recovered quickly, reaching out to grab the staff and preparing to use it against Nolan.
    Nolan never slowed, he merely held out his right hand and activated the focused electromagnet there. The staff soared right out of the man’s hand and into Nolan’s, and he caught up with the two men just in time to slide down on his knees and knock both men off their feet. Spinning fast, Nolan sent a punch into one man’s jaw, followed by a similar blow to the other.
    He hoped he hadn’t hit them too hard; Arjay had outfitted his gloves with a special chemical compound that, when electrically activated by wires embedded in the gloves, made their flexible material turn hard and solid upon impact. Arjay had set the electrical leads to activate automatically whenever Nolan made a fist. It effectively gave him a fist that was as hard as metal.
    He hadn’t practiced as much with the gloves as he had with the rest of his equipment—Arjay had only completed them a few days ago. His intention had been to hit these two thieves not hard enough to do any permanent damage, but enough to keep them unconscious until the authorities could arrive. At least they were still breathing, and a quick look with the X-ray setting on his glasses confirmed neither of their skulls was fractured.
    As he ran back through the store, he saw that the clerk on the second floor was already on the phone with the police. He also noted that most of the patrons had gathered in a small crowd near the checkout