Hold up, this is a Hold up? (Invite/closed)

"Listen kid," Said the officer over the phone, his connection to the force, "We know you're in to the teaching thing, but, you have to get out there, you need to be a hero, show the world you are still around. Also because, you know, we'll just bring up your vigilante charges if you don't. So, cheers mate!" Said the British voice over the phone, before hanging up. Arata spun around in his apartment's swivel chair, going around in circles again and again while he grumbled about the unfair nature of all of this. Only to plant his feet on the ground. The sudden stop of his lower body but continued motion of his upper body threw him off the chair and on to the floor with a big thud. He had to get up and get out of course. And, you know, do some heroing.

He sighed as he stood up. he was getting better, now that he was getting in touch with the school and the outside world again. He just, he needed to get his mind off of what was going on behind the scenes, something he didn't want to trouble anyone else with. Arata would walk away from that work bench, filled with stories, drawings and costume designs for his students, and head over to the closet to get out of his clothes and in to his hero outfit.

He needed to get more patrol time, of course, that much was true. Being a professional hero, he had back logged a lot of time being a teacher that he needed to put in equal time policing the streets. As such, Arata Hayashi was out and about today wearing his hero costume. It was a bit more refined than his old vigilante one. That old turtle neck, hoodie, scarf and other baggy clothed frankenstein's monster tossed out when he became a full time hero. No, he was no longer Moonlighter, he was Glovebox now. He had to look the part of his quirk's namesake, Sleight of Hand.

Glovebox's outfit was a bit over the top magician style. Designed by one of his students, he thought about ditching the cape, keeping a more stream lined look to it, though the mask and top hat were nice to have, though a bowler might make it a bit easier to move around in. For now, Arata's hero outfit was a top hat, and a plain white mask with a black outline around the eyes and a cover over them of white. He could see through them, but, people wouldn't have to see those unnerving red eyes of his. Form fitting black pants and a double buttoned up top, he figured it made him look more flashy, especially with that cape on his back bellowing in the wind behind himself. Jumping from ghostly glove to ghostly glove through the air. As he went through the air, he double checked those white gloves of his, holes cut out for his knuckles and joints, dark marks showing through them, helping his quirk come through when need be.

Just as he was passing over a street, Arata heard a commotion down below. Welp, good a time as any. Jumping form the glove he was on, another appeared in the air, catching him as he flipped, only to whip him around like a fast ball straight for the ground! As he came close, another series of gloves came up, allowing him to hit the palm of one, rolling down to the floor to leap to his feet, discarding the cape in the process while he plucked the hat off of his head and stepped up in to a deep bow, "Now, I hate to butt in out of the blue, it's a little cliche and all that, but, I'd rather you drop the weapons."

"Who is that?" "Oh crap! It's a Cape!" Shouted a thug, signifying a slang term for a pro hero. Next was someone shouting about the quirk, it was Glovebox, a very prominent hero in Tokyo currently. "You can try and get some street cred, beating me up and all, but, you know, I've kind of got the advantage in the All Hands on Deck department." He said while assuming a fighting stance, one hand tucked in to his jacket pocket, the other clutching the top of his hat to his head.

Brandon has finished beating up the poor man, causing one of his friends to run up and try to avenge them or some shit. Brandon doesn't really know nor care for the reason, since he immediately punched the goon in the gut, causing them to gasp for air, leaving them open for a knee to the face. Complete and utter rookies. Barely any armor or protection to protect themselves. Brandon shakes his head as he heads towards the entrance to meet up with the other thugs. 

What he finds instead is something a bit more...interesting. Some weird wrapped up zombie slowly approaching and grabbing one of the robberss, who appear to be obeying the whims and commands of the wealthy-looking young woman. There also appears to be some...some...okay who is that guy?

First of all, he's wearing like a gaudy ass butler suit, with a matching cape and hat. He's sworn he has seen this guy before, but he can't put his finger on it. Maybe it was the way he wore the mask, as if he was some sort of masked vigilante sworn to protect the innocent appearing out of nowhere to aid a lending hand. Maybe it was the way he assuredly assumed a fighting stance with a sort of lackadaisical attitude reflected on one half of his body, and a cocky fighter on the other half. It's a bit difficult to determine, but that's the sort of impression that Brandon gets from this guy. He could have sworn he's seen this guy before.

("Hey, Its that crazy ghost hand guy, Glovebox!" One of the goons yell out )
("Shit, man! We are OUT OF OUR LEAGUE!" The other screams in fear.)
("LIKE HELL WE ARE! If we beat him up, think of all the reputation we get, man! Us, beating up a Pro Hero!")
(Meanwhile the other goon being accosted by the mummy is  begging for the rich lady to stop it, and she appeared to respond with a sort of shrug. "Oh, are you really surprised by a quirk like 「Monstrum Sabulo」?, ufufufu, it shouldn't be that big of a surprise you know," She snakily comments.)

Oh shit, Brandon slams his fist to his hand in a "I just solved it" manner (ow, his hand). He knows who this guy is. He's...He's...He's...

"HEY!" Brandon yells out, making everyone momentarily pause.

"...YOU'RE SUIT FACADE!" He smirks in victory. 

Everyone stares at him, a bit dumb-fuddled. ("Hey, didn't you just say he's Glovebox?" "Yeah." "Who the hell is Suit Facade?" "You know, that guy from Luna Voyager, that one anime my niece and newphew like to watch!...What? I gotta take care of them sometimes.") The rich-looking woman looks at Brandon's mutated arm, then smirks a bit. "That's quite the quirk, why were you hiding it up until now?" she exclaims as she points to his hand.

Brandon stares at it. Oh yeah, it is starting to look a bit visible. He looks around himself. Some poor customers are staring to get afraid of what's about to happen. Well, let's just end this before it gets too big for our britches. He smacks his face to pump himself up (ow, his face.) and readies himself in a boxing pose. His other hand starts to grow scales, but unlike the other one, he can control this properly.
"Aight then. Let's not beat around the corner too much. You wanna mug me, huh? Haha...Alright  THEN COME GET SOME!!!!"  He screams. Some steam starts to pour out of his arms. It's go time. 

He looked at the woman speaking in a weird tongue to him, that 'no hablas whatever' look on his face while he was temporarily distracted by the girl as the male ran off to use his quirk on the runners. That was it for Arata. He sighed, and rolled his shoulders back while the demeanor and tone of the room, so to speak, changed. When he opened his eyes, he would wait for Brandon to return, only to seek to shove him firmly against a wall with one of his quirk gloves. It was big enough that it could grasp and entire human torso, and tough enough to put a little bit of cracks in the stone work.

"I don't care if you have licenses or not. I used to be a vigilante. I don't care if you from another country or not. I was born in England. I don't care if you were defending yourself or not. You used your powers on people that don't have anything on par with that. And it's because you are quirkers defending yourselves against non quirkers that the problem arises. ONE PERSON has to just cry out the other way around, and you are going to be all over social media. Both of you, did you stop to think about that?"

"Ever once, did it cross your mind in the spur of the moment to find a way to use your quirk in a way to bolster YOURSELF instead of pummeling someone with your power like you were showing off?" The grip on his glove, if it was holding the hot headed Brandon down, would tighten a bit. The red glare in Arata's eyes on par with a ravenous wolf hunting someone from the shadows. He was clearly pissed.

When he looked back at the girl, he would point over to where Brandon was, "Stand over there. Now." If she complied there would be no need to scoot her over with his quirk. Those gloves could pack a wallop, and their size alone made them imposing. "Never, and I mean never, use your quirk to directly touch someone without a quirk. That's an easy way to start another Semper Fi incident, do you understand? We get enough flak over having what others can't have. I don't want to see stupid acts like that cause another god damn situation where militaristic force is carried out against us!"

"Next time, do what I do against people without quirks. Block them off, launch yourself, find ways to use your power more than hitting someone, please." He would say while loosening his grip while the sirens started to ring out in the background. "I want you both to meet me somewhere, I want to talk to you more, if you want to talk about some sanctioned work, or maybe learning about forming a team, or how to NOT PUNCH PEOPLE ALL THE TIME." He said while flicking two cards out to Brandon and Isis. On the cards was information for a nice hidden bar, one for people with quirks, and one specifically for vigilantes, known as the WatchTower. It was up to them what they did now, and if they wanted to meet Arata later as he was looking to network with them actually.

Brandon stares at the pro hero and then looks back to his partner in vigilantism. That quirk of his was pretty good, he won't lie. If anything, it would be pretty handy to have several seperate hands to form out of nowhere and do your dirty work while you help out people. It's the quirk for a well intended hero... But see that's that the problem. He didn't start out beloved by some people, nor does he have to put up with the law at every risk and turn (and even if he did know the reason why Glovebox got his position as a Pro Hero, it still wouldn't have changed his opinion.)

""On par huh...that's a smart way to say "Not prepared." Not prepared is the most dangerous of all kinds of people." He growls out. "Those blunt weapons? They can cause concussions! If they aimed for that kid over there before YOU came here being all "FEAR NOT CITIZENS, I'M HERE', some poor kid would be on the ground, out cold...there could have been more legal trouble on your end. See...that's the problem, Mr. Fascade. Punching is all I can do, but I think I can do it well enough to not kill people. If I can only do one thing...might as well do it to help people, to protect others...for 'love and peace.' They knew what they were getting into...everyone in that event knew the consequences of what could have and did happen. So if another event like that happens, I'll be there to stop it. If you were a vigilante, you would have remembered WHY you actually cared to break the laws to help people! Even if...whatever...You don't care dumbass. " While the pro was occupied with the poor failed robberies, Brandon heard some sirens. Immediately he snapped a photo of the card, then stored his phone in the pocket. "I don't do this for people like you to recognize me, I do it to help others. And when you're gone, I'll still be there." Ripping the card in two, he steps away from Isis and lets out some steam that clouds up the corner, not hot enough to burn some skin but enough for people to sweat a little. "After all, we (vigilantes) were here first, and we will be here when this whole heroism thing passes over." He bitterly replies as he runs to the back of the store, rushing out of the building covering up his head with his hood, shoving the smaller phantom hands aside. He can't afford to get in more trouble than he is already, considering that Drag-On's 'face' is already known to the police.

After all, he can't afford to mess up over trying to do something good again. Not like this hypocrite cared enough.