I began writing this story when I thirteen. Looking back on it now, I'm no longer happy with most of it. So I'm going to be doing an edit of the entire thing. I hope any old readers I have looking through this fic will be okay with the changes.

I smiled as I examined the case of money that had been placed in my cool and collected hands by trembling, sweaty, nervous ones. "This all of it, old man?" I asked, my voice a careful monotone.

"Y-yes, that is all the money in the account you chose. Miss…?"

"My name is Commando." I grinned, tension going out of my shoulders. "And we are the Highwaykids." I waved to the small group of boys and girls behind me. I'd chosen a small team, only three or so of my best soldiers. Some of them grinned when I acknowledged them, but they mostly just hung back and watched the exits. Mostly, their costumes followed a similar theme: black leather, with matching boots and leather jackets. Most of them had ditched the stealth gear I'd given them when they joined up. I didn't mind it much, as long as they didn't get too flashy. We looked pathetic, I knew. Little children playing dress up.

But hey, this guy seemed to be afraid of us. So we must be doing something right. I stepped back and knelt down, unlatching the case with a soft click. I had to work fast, the cops would be on us any moment now. The claret velvet cloak with the fancy golden dragon clasp draped over my shoulders sent a crazy shadow spreading across the room. I took a second to pull down my hood, smiling as my unruly dirty blonde hair fell down over my black domino mask. I loved my cloak, more than I should. It hid my tiny shoulders nicely, making me cut a slightly more impressive figure.

"This is good, really good." I let my calm persona slip for a moment and ran my black, fingerless gloved hands over the money. I felt a brief stab of guilt, but I shook it off just as quick. I'd been careful. I wasn't taking away somebody's college fund or retirement. The man who this money really belonged to wouldn't miss it. He was so rich he probably wouldn't even notice.

I shook my head. I was being stupid again, making excuses. Of course he would miss it, no one can just lose ten thousand dollars and not notice. Ten thousand dollars...that's a lot of money, but—I needed it more than he did. "Nice doing business with you, sir." I shut the case and stood, doffing an imaginary hat. I beckoned to my friends and pulled my hood back up, stepping over an unconscious teller (sleeping gas really is wonderful) and made my way across the room. My combat boots made an eerie clack, clack, clack as I went. I had to keep up the cocky act, if the guys or the banker saw how tense I really was…

"You'll never get away with this!" the banker shouted. I rolled my eyes. Why was it that nobody got brave until I was actually leaving? "Whatever you say, pal." I said, not even looking back. I didn't have time for witty banter.

"Isn't it past your bedtime, girlie?" Everyone froze. The two boys who were cutting a hole in the concrete walls let go of the lasers—nearly zapping off my leg before they deactivated themselves.

"That's right, turn around slowly. Cooperate with us and no one gets hurt, alright?" This voice was different from the banker's, lighter and full of authority—used to being obeyed. I did as I was told, and faced my would-be captors.

There, standing casually in the doorway, were two heroes. One was a man dressed in a red full-body suit with yellow lightning bolts across the waist and wrists. He also had a yellow lightning bolt in a white circle on his chest and yellow boots. The other was a teenager, maybe two or three years older than me, with spiked-up red hair and emerald green eyes. His costume was yellow with red pants, red gloves, and a red lightning bolt in a white circle emblem on his chest. The teen also had shoulder pads and other padding on his costume, probably to act as shock absorbers if he crashed.

I felt my throat close up. It was Flash, fastest man alive, founding member of the League—and his sidekick, Kid Flash, some teenage boy I really didn't care about.

And they were here to arrest me.

"Crap." I breathed. "Just…crap."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sweaty Banker race behind the two speedsters. He squinted at me from behind his glasses and wailed. "Thank god you two are here." He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. "Be careful. She's...unstable, I think. Not right in the head. She's a menace to society."

I winced, slightly. The old man looked like someone's grandfather. I didn't really care one way or another what he thought of me, really, but...it still hurt. I couldn't let them know that, though, so instead I twisted my mouth up into a sneer and clutched the case of money tighter.

"Stick around for a little while and you'll see truly how menacing I can be."

"Woah, why don't we all just calm down for a minute, yeah?" Flash intervened, holding his arms up like a referee. As soon as Sweaty Banker realized the attention wasn't on him any longer, he turned tail and fled the building.

"...Alright, I guess its just us, then." He smiled at me. I wished he would stop doing that. Flash was known for his kindness and ability to talk almost anyone know. That was probably why they sent him to take care of this. They must've figured he'd be the most qualified to pacify a possibly mentally unstable little girl.

Honestly, it made me long for Sweaty again. At least with him I knew what to expect. Lost in thought, it took me a moment to realize Flash was talking to me.

"...Your name, sweetheart? What is your name?"

I closed my eyes, briefly. "My name is Commando."

Not the answer he was looking for, clearly, but he must've decided not to push it. "Okay then, Commando." He took a few careful steps towards me. "What are you doing here, huh? I know you don't really want to hurt anybody." A fair assumption, considering I don't use actual bullets.

"Actually, Flash." I grinned. "I think you might be wrong about that one." I raised my gun level with the hero, hand shaking. Flash's arm came out in front of Kid Flash, keeping him from darting out after me. The redheaded boy made an indignant little sound in the back of his throat, but didn't try again.

For a moment, the air stood still.

"Your move, kiddo." Was all Flash said, shrugging slightly.

My finger tightened around the trigger, and...fired at the ground by the speedster's feet. Smoke billowed out, quickly turning the room black.

"Everybody out." I hissed, backing up as quickly as I could without tripping over myself. I handed the case of money to a passing kid and kept going, not even bothering to look at the face. It was an unspoken rule, I suppose. I was always the last to leave, even if that meant they had to leave me behind.

No one argued. I could hear the heroes on my right, spinning around at high speeds to clear the smoke. I pulled a few more bullets out of my belt and threw them at the ground, figuring it would take to much time to reload, and tried to pinpoint the exact location of the heroes. I could see the tornados, of course. But it was hard to tell where the smoke stopped and the hero began.

I switched guns, deciding to try my luck with my new Shocker Bullets. They would give the victim a little shock on impact, not enough to cause any permanent harm, but if I fired them at close range it should be enough to render the heroes unconscious for a few precious minutes while we made our escape.

I looked up when I realized the smoke had cleared.

"Cute trick." Kid Flash grinned. "But... not very effective."

Ah. Cocky teenage boy. That, at least, was familiar to me. I shot at him, but the boy was already in motion. The next thing I knew I was being surrounded by a red-and-yellow tornado. The speedster's closed in, spinning away my oxygen. I collapsed to the ground, chest heaving, and they stopped—allowing me to have a second to recover. I knew they wouldn't really suffocate me, but my pounding heart thought seemed to think otherwise.

I gratefully gulped in the fresh air, but my relief didn't last long when I felt Kid Flash grab onto my hood.

"Give up, kid?"

Give up? I wish I could. Whatever the League would do with me couldn't possibly be worse than the hell I experienced on a daily basis. I aimed a punch to his stomach and swept his legs out from under him, using the opportunity to get to my feet. He didn't stay down long, but I was ready for him. The base of my gun made a sickening crack against his temple and the boy went down again. This time, however, he stayed that way.

Flash rushed me. He got my legs out from under me on his first try. I hit the ground hard, almost losing my hold on the gun. The speedster tried to kick the gun out of my hand, but I rolled away from him.

Suddenly, I screamed and clutched my knee, face twisting up in pain. My entire leg was bloody from the fall. I'd barely felt it, but Flash didn't know that.

His face softened and he reached out to me, gently touching my him by surprise I fired a shocker at his chest and watched him crumble to the ground next to his sidekick.

I sighed and looked down at the blood on my hands. Sirens wailed in my ears, but I paid them no mind.

"I'm sorry…" I said to the heroes, even though they I knew they couldn't hear me.

"I'm so sorry…."

I meant to be done with this ages ago, but it kept not saving on me and I had to rewrite a lot of it.