Benedict was nervous for tonight. It had been a while since he had been out in public. After a very hard breakup with a well known model, he had basically gone into hiding since the press had uncovered an unflattering -- and very untrue -- story about the two of them. After what seemed like months of begging, his publicist finally got him to agree to get back out in the world by going to a charity event. Some of his other friends, like Tom Hiddleston and Martin Freeman, were going to be there so he was going basically just to spend time with them. Tom actually offered to give Ben a ride so that his nerves would be erased before the gathering happened.

"Maybe I shouldn't go," Ben wrinkled his nose while trying on an old suit. "Isn't it supposed to rain tonight? I'm pretty sure rain is a sign of bad luck."

Tom sat on Ben's couch flipping through a magazine. "We live in London, mate. I'll be surprised if it doesn't rain."

"So I can't get myself out of this?"

"No chance," Tom doesn't hesitate to look up from his magazine.

***

As the evening came, the crowd at the gathering got larger and larger. Benedict was starting to get claustrophobic; or at least that's the excuse he used to Tom. Of course, Tom didn't buy it and just put a drink in his hand.

"Loosen up," he patted Ben's back before walking away to meet with a group of friends. Ben just mumbled back in 'agreement'.

Suddenly, all that could be heard were two gun shots and several women's screams. The crowd in the middle of the dance floor parted to reveal three men, all in goggles and two of them handling gigantic guns.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the one in the middle announces. "This is going to be very simple; hand us your valuables and we'll think about letting everyone go unharmed." The crowd stood silently in fear, no one seemed to be breathing. "Tsk tsk. I ask you, please don't make us come to you. Why not start a straight line like they had you do back in your elementary school days? Don't be shy." Slowly but surely, a woman with a pearl necklace shakingly reached for the clip and unhooked her necklace while walking toward the thieves. A man in a customized tuxedo began to follow as he removed the cufflings from his sleeves. One by one, nearly everyone in the room began to take their possessions and ready them for the men.

"Hold on a minute," a female voice rings through the room. Everyone's heads start moving in different directions trying to see who interrupted the thieves' process. "Up here," the woman waves from the chandelier that's almost twenty feet about ground. The bandana covering her face hides her smile. Flawlessly, the woman does a front flip and lands right in front of the three men.

"Who are you?" One of the men points his gun for her brain.

She lifts a finger at him. "I don't like names. They're like labels, but more permanent."

"You don't think you can save these people, do you?" The other gunsman points his gun at her.

"Another thing I don't like," she crosses her arms. "Being interrupted. You should always let someone finish their thought properly."

The middle man throws his head back in laughter. "What could you possibly have to say?"

The woman sighs. "Strike three, boys." Before the men could make another snappy comment, the woman pulls two pocket knives from her jacket sleeves and jumps to attack the left gunsman. The second gunsman was preparing to shoot her but was too busy getting a knife in the back of his leg, paralyzing him like his companion.

"Well," the remaining man smirked. "I definitely under estimated your abilities. But, since you did that, I now feel like shooting a hostage." As he talks, he walks toward the bar and chugs a random drink on the counter. He pulls a gun from his back pocket and points it at Benedict's head.

I knew I should've stayed home tonight, Benedict thinks to himself, fliching when the cold barrel touches his forehead.

The woman begins to make strides but pauses when the man raises his hand. "Don't take another step," he demands. "I'm usually a very reasonable man but something about your presence makes me change my mind."

"Let him go," the woman states.

"I could do that," the man ponders. "But, what's in it for me?"

"You could keep your hand," the woman nearly whispers.

"Excuse me?" In the blink of an eye, the woman throws one of her pocket knives at the hand holding the gun, making the gunman scream out in pain and drop to the floor.

"Everybody," the woman announces, "get out of here, now!" Without hesitation, the entire crowd rushes to the front door, some still screaming.

Benedict, however, was still standing by the bar. "She saved my life," he whispers to himself. "I have to find her."

"There you are!" Tom grabs Ben's arm and leads him outside. Looking behind his shoulder, Ben sees the woman leaning over the injured man, as if she's telling him one final thing. When she stands up, she runs somewhere in the venue and disappears.

"We have to go back," Ben states.

"Are you crazy?" Tom pushes him toward the car. "You just fled death. What you need is to go home."

"That woman saved my life," Ben argues. "I need to see her again."

"She saved all our lives. Plus, she'll probably be on the news  tomorrow, just like some of the victims who gave up their possessions. Now, come on, traffic is going to be terrible."

Benedict bitterly let Tom drive him home. While staring out the window, recalling the night's event, he saw a figure standing on top of a roof. Their red hair flowed with the wind and their head continuously turned, as if it was always watching the city.

"Thank you," Ben whispered to himself. "Thank you, Savior."