[b] Gotham City, [/b]
[b] Gotham National Museum [/b]
It was just a stroke after midnight at the Gotham National Museum when a lone guardsmen was making his last round of the exhibits. The guard on duty was Charles Anderson, a fifty-three year old retired GCPD officer divorcee and father of two of Gotham University's honor students. He was a burly man, though age had obviously had added more than a few pounds to what once was a fit figure, with balding white hair, a unshaved face and pale blue eyes. He was only two hours away from getting off his shift and being able to head back to his run down apartment in down town Gotham, which was littered with over do bills and empty beer bottles. Charles made his way through the empty museum, his heavy foot steps echoing through the halls. Sadly for Charles this would be the last time he patrolled this tomb for the relics of the past.

It was in the very next room that a menacing figure strolled throw the shadows, looking over the glass cases that held ancient tomes and artifacts of the past with only the faintest of interest. The figure was a man like any other, at least on the surface, with his ebony black hair and lightly tanned skin. He dawned a simple black T-shirt and jeans, which just barely covered the black combat boots he wore. His toned body seemed to glide through the space, his foot steps being soundless, as he moved his gaze from one case to another. It was when he reached the last row of glass boxes that the dim light of flashlight shined on him.

The elderly guard Charles stood at the entrance of the room with his flash light and night stick both raised at the intruder. "Stop right there!" Charles spoke in a gruff voice as he slowly began to close the gap between him and man. The intruder didn't acknowledge the old security guard's order and continued his browsing of the exhibits. It was when the trespasser's gaze found a old and tattered scroll that he came to a stop. He stepped forward towards the glass case that held the scroll, which prompted Charles to give another threat to stop. Charles was less than ten feet away from the man when he came to a halt, his night stick still pointed at the man. "What are you doing here?" Charles asked in a voice that suffered from years of smoking. This caused a slight smirk to come across the man's face, though he still paid no mind to the armed guard. "I said what the hell are you doing here?!" Charles said in an agitated tone. After more silence from the trespasser Charles let out a sigh of annoyance and began walking towards him again. "Alright buddy, I'm going to take you in and-"

Charles wasn't able to finish his sentence, his very last sentence. The man finally turned his head towards the approaching guard with a wicked smile on his face. It was the man's eyes that froze Charles, they were as if he had two flawless rubes instead of irises. "No, you're not." The man spoke in a cruelly amused voice before Charles could continue. Then like child the man held up his hand, imitated the shape of a gun and pointed it at Charles. The man then proceeded to 'pull the trigger' and a second after that there was a flash of green light from the man's finger tips and then a smoking hole in Charles' chest. The old guard was only able to let out a gurgling sound before he fell to the floor, the light quickly fading from his eyes.

The man let out a slight chuckle before he turned his gaze back to the scroll. He outstretched his hand towards the case and it passed right through the glass as if it wasn't there. He took hold of the scroll and pulled it out of the case, leaving the alarm it was connected to unactivated. Another smirk came to the man's face as he reviled in his work before stepped back from the case and looked towards the ceiling. He pushed off the ground and continued to float up towards the roof of the building when and he was suppose to hit his face against the ceiling tile he simply fazed through it, emerging out side of the museum. The man let out a laugh before he began to soar away from the building and off to the drop off point his resent employer told him leave the scroll. Though he didn't need the money the man planed on making a name for himself, a feared name. As he neared the drop off point he couldn't help but sneer at the thought of how far he had fell, having to work for others, but he knew it would change and he would be on top again, as Dan Phantom should be.