Spade looked the group of men in the eyes.

"No, this is my responsibility," he said. "I won't be able to live with myself if you were all to die."

The leader of the innocents spoke up. He was a Hispanic-American who looked like a businessman because of his tan suit and white tie he was wearing. He stood about five feet and eight inches.

"If we don't do something, we will all die, Snypa," he said. "So, if we can stop these guys from destroying the plane, we'll possibly live."

Spade felt the truth in the man's words and agreed. "Okay. I got one question. Who knows how to fly a plane?"

---

Spade, with his twin Desert Eagles at the ready, was prepared to lead a charge to the cockpit that was locked. The vigilante realized he couldn't just shoot the door down, so two of the men walked up to the door and began to shoulder-ram it. The terrorists inside began to fear for the lives. Spade stepped up and gave the door one last kick, which caved it in as the men rushed in and overtook the hijackers and dragged them out of the cockpit with force. This made the plane start to descend into a deadly nosedive toward the terrorists' intended target. Spade, with two more men, rushed inside the plane and took control, instantly bringing the plane back to normal. One of the men got on the PA.

"Ladies and gentlemen- please return to your seats and relax...the hijackers have been shut down."

Cheers came from the entire plane as Spade emerged from the cockpit, finally putting his weapons away and sliding in his seat as the plane performed an emergency landing at a nearby airport in New York. NYPD and EMTs rushed to the plane to check out what was going on as Spade disappeared among the crowd of people. Surprisingly, there was a black car waiting on him as he got in with his bag and the car pulled off. One of his contacts, obviously.

---

Later in the afternoon-

Spade was watching the news after hearing about three more airline hijackings and suicide bombings:

One plane successfully destroyed the target of the terrorists he encountered on his flight-the World Trade Center in New York. Another flight had crash-landed in a field in Pennsylvania and one more flight hit the pentagon. The death toll was in the thousands. Spade was in shock. He did not see that coming. He didn't think there would be more than one hijacking. Th

Later that night in Spade's Los Angeles apartment-

The United States President was making a State of the Union address on television. He spoke about how this attack on American soil would not go unanswered and the terrorist network responsible would pay a great deal for it. But then there was a message that caught his ears and eyes. The President held up a Congressional Medal of Honor.

"And this Medal goes to the man who law enforcement has hunted for a long time," the President started. "This Congressional Medal of Honor goes out to the Snypa. Snypa, wherever you may be- I thank you. Though three more kamikaze attacks took place, you prevented one. And you saved a great deal of lives from being unnecessarily sacrificed for terrorists purposes. And for that, I grant you a full presidential pardon for the crimes you have committed in your vigilante war. Once more, Snypa, I thank you...no, America thanks you."

At that moment, Spade felt more grateful that he was being...honored. No one had ever thought of him a hero besides the people he saved. And with that, Spade felt more determined to serve the people and to not let anyone suffer.

---

The wee hours of morning-

Glass was broken and screams and gunshots were heard as ten hooded thugs were running.

"Come on! We gotta get the hell outta here!" one man screamed, stuffing his pockets with hundred-dollar bills while trying to keep up.

Then a gunshot that sounded like it was silenced rang out as the thug dropped to the ground, his head with a doorknob-sized hole now. The others looked up at a fire escape and saw the figure of a masked man's face covered in a black hood, wrapped in SWAT armor and covered with a trenchcoat, also holding a nightvision sniper rifle.

"Oh...shit..."

"THE SNYPA! EVERY MAN FOR THEMSELVES!"

Spade jumped from the fire escape, dropping the sniper rifle and landing on his feet- holding his self-forged titanium katana. The vigilante lowered his hood as one of the thugs came at him with a broken rake handle he picked up. Spade ducked under the first swing as he drove the blade of his sword so far into the guy's anal crevice it came out of his stomach, retracted the weapon and holstered it. Two more rushed him with their revolvers, only to be met with Spade's quick movement and his laser-sighted Desert Eagles that left nice blood-spouting holes in their chests. He left the rest to run away before changing his mind and pulling the trigger, completing his mission for the night. As Spade looked at the corpses about 400 yards away, he holstered his guns and turned to walk away...

---

The Snypa...a man alone in his fight.

The Snypa...a warrior.

The Snypa...lost in the darkness.

The Snypa...the helping hand that would always have a gun attached to it.