The blades of the helicopters whirred ominously above, cutting through the night sky as Chris stood on the museum rooftop, surrounded by the dazzling lights of Manhattan. The flashing red and blue of police sirens bathed the nearby buildings in a surreal glow, adding to the chaotic scene. It was a stark contrast to the festive atmosphere only a few blocks away, where families and friends gathered to watch the spring fireworks, blissfully unaware of the battle unfolding above them.

Chris had known the risks when he agreed to help Felicia. He was well aware that one wrong move could land him in a cell—or worse. But there was something about her, something that always drew him back in. Maybe it was her infectious charm, or perhaps the thrill she brought into his otherwise controlled life. Whatever the reason, here he was, facing off against police helicopters with his powers blazing.

The air crackled around him as he gathered more energy, the sparks dancing around his body like fireflies on a summer night. His mind was focused, calculating his next move. He could sense the pilots' fear as they hovered just out of his immediate reach, debating whether to risk another attack.

Another shot rang out, the bullet whizzing past Chris's shoulder. He reacted instantly, sending a barrage of energy needles towards the sniper who had dared to take aim at him. The helicopter wobbled under the impact, the pilot struggling to keep it in the air as the damage became too much to control. Within moments, the chopper began its descent, spiraling downward until it crashed into an empty parking lot below.

"One down, two to go," Chris muttered, his eyes narrowing as the remaining helicopters circled him like vultures.

The police weren’t going to back off, not after that. He could hear the tension in their voices over the loudspeakers, issuing final warnings that he knew they didn’t really mean. They were just as cornered as he was. But Chris wasn’t in the mood for surrender, not tonight.

One of the helicopters moved in closer, trying to position itself for another sniper shot. Chris could see the gunner lining up his target, but he was already a step ahead. He crouched low, his body tensing as he prepared to leap.

With a powerful jump, Chris launched himself into the air, straight towards the approaching chopper. His hands crackled with energy as he reached out and grabbed hold of the landing skid, sending a surge of electricity through the metal. The chopper jolted violently, and the gunner lost his balance, dropping his weapon as he fell back into the cockpit.

Chris swung himself up, his movements fluid and controlled despite the chaos around him. The pilot tried to shake him off, but it was no use. With a final surge of power, Chris released his grip, sending another blast of energy directly into the chopper’s main rotor. Sparks flew as the rotor seized up, and the helicopter began its rapid descent. Chris kicked off just in time, propelling himself back onto the rooftop as the chopper crashed below.

"That just leaves you," Chris said, turning his attention to the last helicopter.

This one was smarter, keeping its distance while trying to coordinate with ground units. Chris could see the spotlights from the approaching police cars reflecting off the museum’s glass facade. Time was running out. He needed to end this quickly before more reinforcements arrived.

The last pilot, realizing that their options were limited, decided to take a risk. The chopper swooped down, its side door sliding open to reveal another squad of armed officers, weapons trained on Chris. But Chris was ready. As they opened fire, he twisted his body, transforming his arm into a massive shield that absorbed the bullets with ease. The metal of his shield gleamed under the searchlights, reflecting their own force back at them.

In one swift motion, Chris transformed his other arm into a long, tendril-like appendage and lashed out, wrapping it around the helicopter’s tail rotor. With a forceful yank, he ripped it off, sending the chopper spinning uncontrollably. The officers inside scrambled, desperately trying to regain control as the helicopter veered off-course and crashed into the Hudson River with a tremendous splash.

Chris stood on the rooftop, his chest heaving from the exertion. The adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, but he could feel the fatigue setting in. He hadn’t anticipated the fight to be this intense, but it was over now. The museum was still intact, and the police had been forced to retreat, at least for the moment.

He glanced around, his eyes searching for any signs of Felicia. She was long gone, of course, as he expected. By now, she was probably miles away, her precious loot safely tucked under her arm as she made her escape through the darkened streets of Manhattan.

Chris exhaled, allowing his body to return to its normal state. The energy dissipated, and his arms returned to their usual form. The night was quiet again, the chaos he had caused now just a memory. He knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long, though. The police would regroup, and the hunt for him and Felicia would continue.

He looked towards the horizon, where the last of the fireworks were bursting in the sky. The bright colors reflected in the glass of the skyscrapers, a stark contrast to the destruction he had left behind. Despite everything, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Guess I’ll be keeping my window unlocked tonight," Chris muttered to himself, turning away from the museum and heading towards the edge of the rooftop.

With a final glance back, he leaped off the building, disappearing into the shadows as the city returned to its slumber. He knew that tonight was just the beginning. Whatever Felicia had planned next, he would be there, caught between the thrill of the chase and the danger it brought.

And for now, that was exactly where he wanted to be.