Society of Heroes with Indeterminate Talent

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Book: Read Society of Heroes with Indeterminate Talent for Free Online
Authors: Sebastian H. Alive
absolutely no idea that this was going to happen."
    "Boss!" cried Bradley.  "Where's all the jewelry?"
    Max cursed under his breath and moved over to one of the display cabinets and looked at the empty shelves and placements.  Striding across to another he saw it was the same and quickly scanned the rest of the shop.
    "Where's all the goods?" yelled Max, rounding on the shop attendant in alarm.
    "We didn’t have a clue this was going to happen," said the man.  "Not the faintest tip-off at all in the slightest."
    "The jewelry, where is it?"
    "About that," muttered the shopkeeper, winching slightly.  "Yeah, it's not here, but I'll tell you what is here."
    "What?" snapped Max starting to panic.
    "Well, for starters, outside we have twenty London police officers that have surrounded the building and your escape vehicle."
    Max swallowed hard and moved a couple of steps back towards the door and peered through the window at the patrol cars blocking in their transit van, while some of the officers were cordoning off the area and advising the public to stay away.
    "Boss!  Boss! What is it?" asked Bradley walking across.
    "We've been trapped." growled Max snatching the handgun from his accomplice and spinning around to point the barrel at the man in the suit behind the counter.
    "For the record I'm not bulletproof," said the man in a raised voice.  "Let me also just say that the officers outside have extendable batons, speed-cuffs, PAVA spray and Tasers.  I think one is from the armed units too, and has a firearm."
    "I'm gonna' shoot you." shouted Max, gripping the handgun tightly.
    "Can we get confirmation on that gun, quickly?" shouted the man in the suit to the police outside.
    "Heckler and Koch MSG901." answered a voice from outside.
    "See!" said the man.  "Now, can I put my arms down now, they're kind of aching?"
    "Who are you?"
    "You can call me Agent One, and before you ask, no I don’t work here and yes you have been caught."
    "But how?" whimpered Max lowering the handgun in defeat.
    "We are a secret government project funded by the taxpayers to fight the London-wide crime database.  We're a specialist unit consisting of unique individuals with one goal which is to make the streets of London safe again."
    "But…how did you know?"
    "It's time for your grand entrance." called out Agent One to the ceiling.
    Max looked up and around the room nonplussed then back to the agent.
    "I don’t know where they are," mumbled Agent One glancing around.  "They could be anywhere really.  It's getting kind of awkward now, boys!"
    Suddenly in a whoosh of air two tall cloaked figures appeared from nowhere and gently floated to the ground in front of the astonished robbers.  They stood there looking majestic, dressed head-to-toe in white spandex with their cloaks draping over the floor.
    The two superheroes narrowed their eyes and glared at the robbers before they simultaneously began to speak.
    "No, no, no," cried Agent One waving his hands.  "Keep the silence going a little longer and build on that tension."
    "Sorry." said one of the heroes snapping his mouth shut and resuming the stare.
    "What the hell is going on, boss?" muttered Bob.
    "Shhhh…" hissed Agent One putting his finger to his lips.
    Just then three alarms began beeping from the wrists of the robbers followed by a melody which broke the silence.
    "Your alarms are going off." pointed out Agent One.
    Nodding numbly Max flicked his off and his accomplices followed suit.
    "Good, well done boys," said Agent One turning to the spandex clad newcomers.  "Good entrance, slightly delayed though, and next time keep the foreboding silence going just a touch longer, okay?"
    "Yes, sir." they said in unison.
    "Who are these men and how can they just appear out of thin air?" gasped Max.
    "I can answer that," said Agent One.  "The man on the left with the lazy-eye and the swallow tattoo on the back of his hand is called GPS, and his colleague with the scar running down his face,

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