A/N: This is a companion collection of shorts to go with my Resbang fic for 2014, Down and Out in Death City. This first short was actually written long before that fic, and the fic itself continues what happens here. The Cover Art was done by CaptainPomelo on tumblr as a birthday gift.

He didn't want to do it anymore, but he didn't know how to stop. In the beginning, it was a matter of desperation—he'd discovered the ability and it had been his ticket out.

They called him the Weapon, because really, that's what he was. He could turn himself into flexible metal, stronger than steel, impervious to harm, and shape his body to his whim. To fight, he sprouted blades. He only stole from fatcat corporations and assholes like his parents. What did it matter? He wasn't hurting anyone, was careful to never really hurt anyone. Hell, he even helped people sometimes! He donated a lot of what he took to places that helped poor kids, sometimes gave money to poor families. He had even done things that were called heroic on occasion—saved people from burning buildings, stopped a few muggings, helped stop some guy who wanted to kill everyone in the damned city—the type of stuff the Meister generally handled, only she hadn't been there and he had.

Being a villain had been great. But then Soul met Maka and realized how full of shit he was.

She was a lit major at the same college he attended for music—he needed a cover, after all. They met when he spilled a coke on her, bought her lunch to make up for it, and the rest was history—they became friends, then roommates, then lovers. She was far and away the best thing that had ever happened to him, the only good thing that had ever happened to him apart from discovering his powers.

They talked about everything and when they talked about the Weapon, theoretically of course, she had shown him how what the villain did actually hurt others—how people lost jobs because of what he stole sometimes, how changing the system was good but it had to be done from the inside—and he'd felt like shit. He wanted out, only he didn't know how because he had to make a living and what else did he know how to do?

He promised himself this would be the last time, a big score, big enough to ensure he'd be set for awhile. Long enough to figure out how to do something else with his life because he'd do anything for her. He wanted to be someone she deserved and the Weapon never would be.

It was a large sum of money set to be transported to a newly opening bank, one run by a company that had been involved in some huge stock scandal a few years back. It was perfect. The Weapon would hit the truck, get the cash, take it through his contact to launder, and Soul would be set for some time to come. Maybe he could even get his fledgling music website that he claimed his income to originate from off the ground enough to actually make money. That was the goal, anyway.

He willed himself to change, absorbing his clothes and all. The change into metal altered his appearance so much he needed no disguise—he had no hair, no color, just a shiny metal human shaped body. He would jump from the bridge to the large armored truck, cut in, grab several sacks of the most obvious valuables, then escape over the bridge. Easy peasy.

What he hadn't counted on was the Meister waiting for him. When he entered the truck, she was already there, in her usual, stupid school girl costume (that Soul might have found hot had it been on, say, Maka, but the Meister was too often annoying for him to admit she was actually attractive,) and that stupid black mask that covered half of her face, letting her pigtails poke out the sides.

He had just started to sift through bags, not having seen her in the shadows of the truck, when she clucked her tongue, causing him to whirl around.

"Tsk, Tsk, Mr. Weapon. Getting predictable in your old age."

"You're one to talk," he growled at the annoying super hero. It was his last damned job. Couldn't she be derelict in her duties just this once? Fuck.

He transformed his arm into a scythe blade, his other hand on the sack he'd begun to fill, and then, leapt up through the top of the still moving vehicle. "I'll just be going then," he smirked down at her and then, bounded off the truck. Along with making him impervious to most physical harm, his metal body was super strong and abnormally fast. Not fast enough, though. The Meister had followed and had him by the arm, whipping him around. Shit shit shit. Worse, they weren't on the bridge, the truck had moved faster than he'd calculated and they were back in the city. He transformed the arm she grabbed, causing her to let go, and ran.

But the Meister was as fast as he was. And she could fly. He was never going to lose her this way. Finding that he'd ran to a dead end alley, he turned to fight. Double fuck.

The Meister was a real pain in the ass to fight, too. Flight. Super strength. Energy attacks. Mind reading. Shielding. She claimed her power was to manipulate her soul and to read the souls of others, but whatever the case, she was strong.

The Weapon dropped his loot bag and transformed both arms into sharp scythes, facing her with a vicious smile.

"Sure you wanna play, little girl?"

"I should be asking you that. I don't think you can handle me."

"Oh, you'd be surprised what I can handle, tiny tits. You get outta my way and I might not have to scar up that pretty little face of yours."

"Pffft. As if, loser. A two bit villain like you should give up now, save yourself a few broken bones—or," she eyed his odd metallic form skeptically, "whatever you have in there."

"Bring it on, little girl."

And then, she did. Only, this attack was new. It was an energy attack, the type that normally didn't hurt him so he didn't even bother trying to dodge, but this time, it was super heated, unlike anything she'd ever thrown at him before, and he found himself beginning to—melt. Gasping in pain, he felt his grip on his metallic form slipping and fell to the ground, totally vulnerable, totally human. This was supposed to be his last job, and now he was totally fucked.

"Oh, crap! I didn't know that would—I mean—I never meant to—" The Meister sounded panicked as she knelt over him. He'd collapsed to the ground face first and was groaning in pain. His torso felt on fire and he was pretty sure he was burned, badly. The hero flipped him over gently, her strength allowing her to handle him as if he were a child, and then gasped.

"S.. Soul?"

"Wha—?" His vision was hazy with pain, his senses blurred, but she suddenly sounded so familiar.

"Oh my god Soul, I didn't know—I didn't. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but how could you—" She was shaking her head and were those—tears? Was the Meister crying for him? It was the first time, the only time, she had ever been so close and he noticed her eyes were green, so green. So much like—

"Maka?" His voice was a low rasp.

She was still shaking her head in disbelief as she spoke. "We'll… figure this out. I'll take you home, and I'll—I'll call Stein to help you—and we'll figure this out, okay?" She sounded more like she was talking to herself than to him, but she scooped him up just after, leaving his bag of loot behind in the alley like so much trash and whisking him off into the night.

He didn't know what was going to happen now, what she would do, though her arms around him felt familiar, good and right. It was supposed to be his last job, and one way or the other now, it would be. It truly would be.