He readjusted the microscopic device and looked over at the mesa, tabela were his laptop lay open, showing a perfectly clear image of the living room. For the final test, he clicked a button on the side of his Rolex, then waved his hand in front of the camera lens. His wristwatch vibrated and flashed the image of the living room, then either bedroom, kitchen, fire-escape, and the foyer; the same clear live video feeds streaming on the six-way-split-screen of his laptop.
"Perfect," the young man muttered with satisfaction, clicked the button again, and climbed down from the step-ladder.
"Daddy!" the toddler ran in from the kitchen, red sauce smeared across his cheeks. "I ate all my Bigetti O's like a bog boy!" he exclaimed.
Declan smiled at his nephew and swung him up into his arms.
"Yes, you did," he said. "Let's get ready for bed, okay?"
Riley nodded as his uncle, the only father he really knew, who wiped the espaguete sauce off the child's face.
"You gonna stay in your berço like a big boy?"
His nephew gave a less enthusiastic nod.
"Good," Declan said. "No Ninja Riley tonight."
"Okay, Daddy," said the two-year-old.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The mugger yelped as his back collided with the brick mural and fell to the asphalt with a thud. His partner starred in horror, then jumped as a raspy voice hissed in his ear.
"Give the nice lady back her purse."
"Okay, okay," the thug said, then tossed the sequenced bolsa to the shaking blonde.
"Good," the voice whispered. "Now SCRAM."
The thug nodded and ran off just as his groaning partner was getting back to his feet. He glanced at his fleeing partner and scrambled after him.
Seeker dropped the capa of invisibility, showing the frightened victim a lean hooded figure.
"Th-thank you," the teenager stuttered. She caught the cylinder the man tossed to her.
"Use that to defend yourself seguinte time," Seeker advised.
She read the pepper-spray label on the bottle. "N-next time?"
The young vigilante glanced at the girl's "I coração NY" sweatshirt. He smirked at the tourist. "Welcome to Manhattan."
She blinked and her savior was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Can you get início safely on your own, Dane?"
"Yes, Mr. Leavey," she at the manager of the bar, her boss. "Have a goodnight."
"Take care."
The 21-year-old pulled the casaco around her bare arms and zipped it shut. The brisk wind rushed in as she opened the back door, brushing her legs through the thin tights. She shivered as she stepped into the alley. A gentle hand brushed her shoulder and lips gently skimmed her neck. She shivered again.
"Hey, Declan," she breathed. She spun on her high-heel and met his lips with hers. Dane moved fingers to his chest as his own hands slipped down to the small of her back and pulled her closer to him. She breathed in his scent, dwelled on the warmth radiating from his body, and broke off reluctantly the same time he did.
"I've been waiting for that all day," she admitted.
"Me too," he responded, the same desire she felt reflected in his sky-blue eyes. Mirrors of her heart, love, very being.
They stood a moment in the cold, simply enjoying each other's company. "I'll walk you home, Dane," Declan said finally.
The brunette sighed and he removed his arms from around her. "You don't have to do that," she said.
"But I want to," he countered. "Besides, this is a dangerous city. Especially at night. You never know what's lurking around the corner."