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Thread: Battle On! [M]

  1. #11
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    The dim lighting of the villain's humble surroundings, a rather meager cellar space that he had "appropriated" from some poor, unsuspecting homeless man who had been squatting here for some time before the well-dressed gentleman now before us had acquired it via heavy negotiations, mostly dealing with a nail-riddled baseball bat and a canister of gasoline. A box of matches may have played a role in there somewhere as well, but who can say?

    Ripper, the maniacal engineer of human suffering (as he preferred to be known as, but the moniker wasn't quite sticking yet), was busy poring over a series of newspapers, chuckling to himself as he flicked through the pages.

    The funny pages were top-quality, lately.

    Although, the most hilarious story he had encountered lately was not one he had perused in the newspapers, but rather picked up on the twenty-four hour news broadcast: Black Wasp's little mishap at the bank with the South Solus Gang. 'Strange,' he had thought to himself at the time, 'In all the time I've spent ruining lives and blowing up orphanages, I've only run into that bug-eyed bitch a handful of times, and now it seems she'll be out of commission. What a shame. She was the most entertaining hero out there...'

    That being said, he now realized that Black Wasp's pacification had left open a large window for him to sneak out of, set off some explosives, and run back to hiding. He doubted any of the other heroes were as crafty as she, as she was the only one that was able to track him down and haul him in after he'd taken off running. She was good, fun to toy with, fun to tango with. He wondered, now, what she was up to, what with the spinal injury and facial reconstruction via Warpath.

    "Ah well," he said aloud, sweeping the pile of newspapers off of the splintered oak table he stood at. "I guess I should get started." With that, he hauled a stack of folders onto the tabletop, letting them topple unceremoniously all over the place. He opened up the first one he touched, looking into it with giddy attentiveness.

    What he had acquired were the various files of metahumans on record in the Solus City penal system. "Card Shark...lame. Hmmmm. The Fool...too unoriginal. Ooooh...this one looks interesting. Bit on the dwarf-y side, though." This would continue for several minutes until he was satisfied, picking the most suitable candidates for his new scheme.

    Five dossiers were splayed out before him, showing him the faces, names and sexual preferences of all the people he wanted on his team. Twirling a revolver on his index finger, he whistled a cheery jingle for a local ice cream chain, contemplating how and where he was going to find these cretins.

    "Welp, no sense wasting time here," he said, holstering the pistol and walking up the stairs leading to the cellar door. Throwing the heavy wooden contraptions open, he stepped out into the dying light of the late afternoon, the air cool and brisk. He took the time to lock up his hideout, his eyes shifting around to ensure no one was about to encroach upon his quarters before walking off into the sunset.

    "Yoooooooohooooooooo!" he called to no one in particular.

  2. #12
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    co-post with Cosmic Fury

    In the north area of Solus city, there is a wonderful little area known as Gardenview. As can be assumed by its name, the area is scattered with multiple parks, and almost all the street houses have some sort of garden. Even the apartment communities have large lawns. Green, green, everywhere. And a bit of brown, too- after all, even in the fanciest areas of Solus City, there are still casualties from the immense amount of superhuman activities.

    Speaking of which…

    Redwing jumped from roof to roof, getting closer to a particularly tall residential building. He was on the job- here would be his first recruitment- well, possibly his first recruitment. He really was not sure. After all, he was certain of this guys abilities… But he was not really sure if this guy was really going to be on their side. He recalled the big highlighted line on his profile: “POSSIBLY LINKED TO THE MURDERS OF ...” Well, at least he remembered that part of the line. Either way, he would have to be careful.

    He attached his grapple hook to the side of a building and lowered himself down to a much shorter one. Marcello’s Italian Cuisine, the sign read, but Redwing did not bother to read it. Instead, he was concentrated on the tree-lined street in front of him. If his information was correct (and Redwing was sure it was), there would be another metahuman passing by soon. And if all went well, it would be a great start to this new day.

    Elsewhere in the city…

    Adrian was more or less pleased with himself this evening. He had gone out hunting, and had gotten his next quarry. Thankfully, this particular director was a known criminal by the name of John Heathcliffe. Although Adrian was sorely disappointed that he had to hurry up his work, he at least got his day’s slice of vengeance tossed in.

    He had already finished destroying every last bit of incriminating evidence on the scene by the time he left. Even if it was one of the city’s crime lords (whose face was caved in by his retractable mace) he wanted to keep a very low profile, especially in matters as… sensitive as this. Either way, even if it was a simple swing-and-be-over-with sort of exercise, Adrian was still rather happy that he at least got it done. Two down, eight to go.

    He had only begun his revenge work in earnest relatively recently, but the planning had gone on for quite a while. At this point, he was more or less waiting for the rest of the pieces to fall into place. Overall, it was morbidly satisfying work.

    He passed out in the open through the Gardenview district, hidden in plain sight. His darker clothes hid all of the random items he was carrying with him: a couple of canisters filled with ball bearings, a couple butterfly knives, and of course his mace. He had decided on leaving his sword at home, thinking that would be way too conspicuous to be carrying out in the daylight.

    He passed by one of his favorite Italian restaurants along the way, and took a beeline towards his small penthouse not far from there. He was going at an easy pace, taking in the as-always beautiful scenery, when he suddenly felt something amiss. Given that this area always had its share of crime, he picked up the pace, eager to get back home.

    There. That one. The one who had just started walking faster. Redwing looked at the guy in the somewhat odd black-and-white outfit. That one had to be the one. After all, there were not that many choices- not this early in the morning, at least. Most people that lived here could afford to sleep until 9, 10, or whenever. It had to be that guy.

    Redwing jumped off the roof. “Hey,” he called out, causing a few heads to briefly turn towards the red-clad sidekick, “I want to talk to you!”

    Son of a bitch! Adrian knew that something was off. He saw the masked vigilante come down, and rapidly whipped out his mace. “If I were you, I’d stay back.”

    Regardless of whether he wanted it or not, Adrian had a stalker, and this stalker knew enough to track him down out in the open. “Just who are you, anyway?” Adrian already had a hunch, but he wanted the kid (which this guy looked like) to at least give himself a chance not to get maced in the face.

    Redwing stopped where he was.”I’m Redwing.” he stated, “and you’re… you’re Adrian, right? A superhero?” Redwing asked this, not really taking into account the full situation. True, there were not that many people around. But there were some. And blabbing out information like this to a guy who seems somewhat on the shady side is not necessarily a good idea. And it was not. Unfortunately, though, Redwing made this mistake. And he had not even realized he made it.

    Alright, so now I’m really tempted to simply whack this kid and be done with it.. “You’ve got some explaining to do.” Adrian gave a stare that indicated that he was willing to go to extremes to protect his identity. “Why the hell are you stalking me, and how the hell did you find this stuff out?”

    He didn’t even wait for an answer this time around. He simply took out a canister of his ball bearings, and readied it in case he needed to take this kid down on the spot. Sure, I’m not gonna kill him, but he’s going to learn a hard lesson if he thinks he can invade someone’s personal life like this and get away scot-free. Adrian’s deadly gaze didn’t waver for an instant. Either the kid gave a good explanation for his actions or there’d be a fight on their hands.

    “Well,” began Redwing, still maintaining his position some feet away, and speaking cheerfully, “I was following you because you are a candidate for our new superhero league! Isn’t that awesome? After all, you have cool powers, and can practically nuke stuff- Of course, before we can recruit you, we have to make sure you didn’t kill that director. Did you? Anyways, I got this information from a collection on all these superheroes- you wouldn't believe how much stuff is on there. But I had to read it all- even the part about your dentist appointment last week.”

    Redwing paused to take a breath. When he spoke again, his voice a little slower now, as, at this point, he had got out all the basic stuff. And Adrian’s stare was really starting to get to him. Still, Redwing held the other’s gaze as he continued to speak, “But anyways… did you kill that other guy? I can’t offer you a position if you did. But if you didn’t…” he trailed off. Redwing would never- at least not at this age, ever get a job in interrogation.

    “I did.” Adrian's gaze simply intensified. “I knocked off the other guy too. Tell me, kid: what do you do with murderers? Do you let them go without delivering justice? If you don't then apparently we're on a completely different page here.”

    Redwing gasped. Well, this one could be scratched off the list. But as for the other’s next question… What did he do with murders? Or perhaps, what could he do with this murderer? What was the answer to these questions? After all, the correct answer, was of course, no: everyone gets justice. But he could not just say no- after all, he was looking into the eyes of a murderer right now. And he could not just say yes- after all, murder was an injustice. And if he- and the people he would recruit- were not there to avenge injustice, then what was the whole purpose of all this?

    For a moment, Redwing stood his ground, holding the other man’s gaze. What could he do? What would he do? Here he was, by himself. For an instant, the memory of himself watching helplessly at the bank replayed in his own mind. But there had not been death there. And here, here in front of him- Here was a guy who freely admitted, out in the open, that he had killed not only one person, but another as well.

    Out of the corner of his eye, Redwing saw a man pulling out a phone. That man was doing something, Redwing supposed, even if he was only calling the police. And if that one, who probably had no superpowers whatsoever was doing something, then what should he do? True, he had no superpowers as well, but he did have a vest full of gadgets… and with greater gadgets comes greater responsibility.

    “NO! I DON’T!” Redwing shouted, and, grabbing an electric shocking bomb, threw it at Adrian.
    It was time for Adrian to pull out his trump card. “So be it.” With a vicious look appearing on his face, he intensified his concentration, and simply watched things go BOOM.

    As the grenade reached near the outstretched hand that held his ball bearings, they both simply turned around and got launched the other way, flying in Redwing’s general direction. The electric shock grenade collided with one of the ball bearings from their dismantled canister, and exploded violently, while the rest flew at obscene speeds at his enemy.

    It was obvious that this kid misunderstood what Adrian had said. He had implied that he had disposed of murderers. Sure, he was no hero to speak of, but he still sought justice on his own terms, like many other superheroes out there.

    However, Adrian knew that the kid was beyond convincing for the moment. However, he still had to respect the young hero for his bravery and fortitude. As such, he couldn't bring himself to kill the kid. No, that would be unjust and, in a sense, unforgivable. He had to find a way to knock the poor sod out without seriously injuring him.

    Hoping to keep the kid in one spot, he furrowed his brow, and activated his trademark nuclear bombardment. Immediately, the immediate area started flooding with radiation. If he could stay still, eventually it would only become harder and harder for the kid to come close and attempt to strike… while Adrian had the luxury of popping off a few ranged attacks, while using his particle acceleration to blast back any more of those silly grenades.

    When one believes they may be fighting at a disadvantage, one sometimes plans next moves even before they have finished the first, and carries them out before the opponent even attacks. As such, even as Redwing threw the grenade, he was already taking a few steps forward and to the left, and already swinging forward his left arm, with which he held his grappling hook.

    And the hook shot forth, powered by compressed gas, latching on to a rather decorative (yet sturdy) lamppost jutting out from a building ahead and to the right of where Redwing had been standing. Within the same parcels of seconds that the other was using to redirect the force of the grenade, Redwing was in the air, and, with an arc shaped pattern (for he had been running somewhat tangential compared to the line of the grappling hook), managed to avoid most of the ball bearings. Of course, he did not avoid them all (darn those spray patterns!), and the ones that did hit, well, they were painful.

    Still, they did not deflect him from his course: for, with the way the rope swung, his outstretched foot was heading for the right side of Adrian’s face.

    Holy shit, this kid’s good. Adrian watched in shock as the kid simply dodged his sudden counterattack -- but noticed that he had been struck very hard by a couple of his ball bearings. However, those seemed to have hit the kid’s suit, and didn’t do a world of damage beyond some gnarly welts and bruises. Still, I can use that. As he saw the kid flying through the air, he had to mentally tip his hat. He was an ordinary kid trying to get his own sense of justice. Not unlike myself. Still, that didn’t change the fact that right here, right now, they were enemies.

    As the kid flew over, Adrian came up with the only strategy he could. As the kid came from above with the classic foot-to-face trick that way too many heroes liked to pull off, Adrian simply moved, but not by much, to keep up with the slowly building effects of his radiation in that very small area. He took a powerful kick to his right shoulder, forcing a grunt and some air out of him… but that was where his momentary disadvantage ended.

    You’ve got plenty of cool gadgets… but so do I! With that thought in mind, he swung the mace upwards in a windmill-like arc, hoping to strike his midsection as he flew by. At first, the mace moved just slow enough for him to block it, but then Adrian used his particle acceleration on the mace… making it suddenly fast and powerful enough to feel like the kid was about to get hit with a bullet train to the face.

    But of course, neither the bullet train, nor the mace would be hitting Redwing in the face. For that matter, they would not hit him in the midsection either.

    After Redwing’s kick had connected, the forces of motion began to pull him back in a retreating arc, which, if they had been left unhindered, would have led to the rather hefty blow directly in the midsection. However, there was another tug that had been added into the mix: that of the upward pull of the grappling hook’s contracting rope. If the mace had been an ordinary one, moved by the normal forces of a normal man, there would have been no hit, and the mace would have harmlessly swung in its upward arc, hitting nothing. But just like Redwing’s own movement had been aided by an extra upwards force, so was the movement of the mace.

    Had anyone been watching (and indeed, there were a few bystanders that were actually awake this early, and probably because of that had probably forgotten that there was always the hazard of death at these events), they probably would have missed the actual hit itself: the mace swung upwards and accelerated, grazing the bottom of Redwing’s extended right leg. The pain shot through him, not enough to make him stop, but enough to let him know that his leg would probably not cooperate for the rest of the fight. Even so, it was not over just yet. With his free hand, Redwing reached into his utility belt, and pulled out a smoke grenade, which, as soon as it was thrown down, began to mix the colors of the early morning light.

    Son of a bitch! Adrian shot off a mental curse as his mace barely grazed the kid’s foot. He was hoping to get in a harsh enough body blow to knock his enemy out, but apparently that was no longer an immediate option. Time to go for the usual care package. While the kid was still swinging around, he pulled out another canister of ball bearings. He was about to detonate it in his direction, but he let off a smoke grenade. Dear gods this kid’s a pain in the ass!

    Still, wherever there was smoke… so was fire. And so he did, right to where he knew the kid’s momentum would take him next. Knowing he had smacked the kid’s leg pretty hard, he prepared for a series of attacks from above. All in all, Adrian knew he was screwed in the mobility department. The best he could hope for was to execute a few good ranged attacks to bring the kid to the ground, and deliver the coup de grace.

    The rope (with Redwing still attached to it), swung back it its backward arch, moving back around (although, of course not exactly) to the location where Redwing had been, and then, further still, back to the buildings, or, rather the gap between the buildings.

    For indeed, if one could have seen through the nuclear infested smoke, one would have realized that the path of the arc swung directly in between the Italian Restaurant and this other building (it happened to be a high-end clothing store), and straight into its wall. And so, Redwing, following this arc, pretty much face planted into the wall, as the grappling hook automatically released from the lamppost. The cable began to retracting as Redwing fell to the floor.

    From his position, Redwing looked up, but he could not see the top of the building. It seemed his attack had been successful, at least successful in affecting him. His opponent attack, however- well, those ball bearings were now sailing up the street, and a few windows could be heard breaking. But Redwing himself had not been hurt this time.

    Nevertheless, he was still suffering from the effect of the previous attack: as he released his grappling hook up to the top of the building (for he had researched this rapidly changing environment), he felt his right leg picked up, and continue the journey with the rest of his body to the top.

    Adrian knew that staying out here was a bad idea. The kid was swinging everywhere like some sort of spider, while he had no choice but to stand around like an idiot. Time to regain the home field advantage. He scanned the fog-filled area for the nearest good building to get into… and he rushed into a nearby abandoned building across the street from the restaurant.

    Given the lack of very many windows in the small abandoned hotel’s lobby, it would be the perfect place to finish off the fight. He immediately set to irradiating the place before the kid found his way into this veritable spider’s nest. Let’s see you dodge THIS!

    From his place on the roof, Redwing surveyed the ground below, with the aid of infrared goggles. There was no one in the mist, although the whole area seemed just a little bit hotter than it should have been. That must be because of that nuclear thing. thought Redwing, to himself. Not that this thought helped much now. All it meant was that…

    He had raised his head. The building across the street was beginning to positively glow with red. Only one thing could have caused it- the slightly redder figure within. Adrian.

    Of course, the question was just how to get to him. Redwing himself had mobility issues, and, even without them, intentionally going into a radiation filled room,instead of having one detonate on the city you live in, is not a good idea. For that matter, getting a bomb blown up on you is not a good idea, either. But I digress. Point is, there had to be some other way.

    Redwing scanned the building- completely abandoned. It probably was only still standing because it was a historical landmark or something. And there probably were a ton of businessmen who would have loved to have seen their store in its place. Well, they would get their chance soon, because after this fight…

    With the amazingly low tech device that Redwing still carried on him, commonly known as a slingshot, Redwing aimed another electrical grenade at one of the few openings of what was the hotel’s lobby: the small window on the door that Adrian had just entered.

    Well, crap. Adrian saw an object flying in through the window, and activated particle acceleration... just a split-second too late. The grenade exploded before it made physical contact, but its electricity still struck his arm, numbing his arm a bit. He bit back a stream of curses, and used his partly numb fingers to fish for a knife to throw at the kid when he came through the door. Next time I’ll use both hands to push that shit back… In the meantime, this guy is so fucked when he gets in here!

    From the roof of the opposite building, Redwing continued to watch through his glasses. The man was still standing: In other words, it had not worked exactly as planned. And he was out of electrical grenades. What could he do now?

    He looked around him. The roof he was on was one of those flat ones, and, as was the nature of many places in this area, had a greenhouse on top. Hobbling over to the structure, Redwing opened the door, found what he was looking for, and headed back to the edge of the roof. Now armed with an assortment of various fruits and vegetables, he could continue the siege so long as his opponent was near a window. Or… he could simply go for the windows. There were not many of them, true, but if one could strategically open just a few of them… they might be able to create an air tunnel and send a lot of the radiation spewing into the streets. He placed an apple in his slingshot, and aimed at one of the few lobby windows on the front side, and fired.

    The result was not altogether pleasant for Adrian. On the one hand, the kid was giving him some free ammunition to use if he ever decided to get close. On the other hand, he felt the heat rapidly diminishing in the hotel lobby. As soon as he saw the fruit crashing through the windows, he knew instantly that his position was compromised. [/i]Time to draw him in…[/i] Adrian hated it, but it was time to withdraw to a higher floor.

    He grabbed a stray apple, figuring that he could easily use it later on. He then climbed up the staircase, and entered the narrow hallway on the second floor… but noticed a single window at the end. Time to drop some bait. He up a stray piece of rubble that had fallen from the ceiling from the building’s decay, and then chucked it with ridiculous speed at the window, shattering it loudly. Not waiting for the result, Adrian picked the nearest windowless room, and rushed in there.

    Figuring that there was no time like the present, Adrian found a random piece of paper and started scrawling a quick message at it with a small pen that he tended to carry around for no particular reason. Writing quickly, he knew he wouldn’t have much time at all before the fight resumed in earnest…

    From Redwing’s point of view, he saw a red figure leave the room, climb up a set of stairs, come towards a window and…

    Something came forth from the window, denting the storefront sign that Redwing had been hiding behind. He looked out from behind his cover: The second story hallway window was now broken. And somewhere within the floor, he knew his opponent was waiting. He could see the dim figure among the cold walls. There was still time. But his opponent would know he was coming.

    Redwing shook his injured leg. Feeling was starting to come back into it, but only enough so that he would be able to walk. With actual fistfighting out of the question, it would come down to a battle of wit. And right now, his opponent seemed to have a slight lead.

    Redwing gently lowered himself down the side of the building, and walked across the street slowly, always keeping an eye on the building. As far as he could tell, his opponent never moved. When he got to the side of the building, he shot his grapple hook up to the top, then used it to raise him to the large window at the end of the hallway. Letting the hook unfasten and withdraw, he then shot it out again to the rooftop of the opposite street- he would have a quick ( if not somewhat painful) escape if necessary. Then, he began…

    Silently, Redwing crept down the hall, his feet helped by the threadbare carpet. And then- CREAK!- Adrian must know he was here now. Redwing paused. But the other seemed to remain in his room, and, after a moment, Redwing continued… close, closer still…

    Then, he got there, creeping slowly up the wall until he was next to the door frame. With his goggles, Redwing could see that the room which contained Adrian was the next one. The walls appeared to all be the same color, indicating that the room for now, was not irradiated. And that it had no windows. To enter it would likely mean a certain death. But, an enclosed room meant that anything thrown in…

    Redwing was out of electrical grenades, but his supply belt was far from empty of all the cool gadgets that one could dream of. He picked another grenade from his belt, this one designed to give off a large burst of light. True, it would only severely disorient and not hurt anything but the eyes much, but…

    Redwing threw it around the corner of the room.

    Well, shit. Adrian heard a creak on the floor, and before he knew it, he saw an object flying into the room… He had a number of choices, but only an instant to choose. Odds were that it was another one of those silly electric grenades, so Adrian chose the most obvious option: drop the apple and blast the damn thing back. But, instead of that expected electric shock, there was a massive flash-bang that hurt his eyes intensely.

    Biting back a loud curse, he wasted no time in picking the apple up again, knowing that the kid would come in and follow up on that flash grenade… if he wasn’t already affected himself. Regardless, Adrian had that apple, his mace, and that door. Even if he was blinded, he wasn’t stupid, and he’d be able to hear that kid coming through, and then he’d get some serious payback for what he just did.

    Redwing had not been looking in when he had thrown the grenade, but, when he did look, he noticed the changed position of Adrian. Still hidden from visible sight by the door, it was obvious that he was ready to do something just as soon as Redwing stepped in. Of course, Adrian would not be able to see if Redwing stepped in. But he would be able to hear it. Or hear something like it. Redwing chose two more objects from his vegetable and fruit ammunition: a pair of rather hefty potatoes. Then, he threw them just inside the door, in the pattern of two footfalls. They did not make much sound of course, but then, neither would have Redwing, assuming the floor would not have creaked again.

    Adrian couldn’t see that well from that flash, but at least it didn’t completely nerf his sight. He saw the outline of something moving into the door, and make the sound of two thuds in quick succession on the floor. He waited for a third or fourth to slam the door shut… but never heard them. He knew that two steps wasn’t quite enough to see into the room, and most heroes would simply run headlong into the fight… Why isn’t he moving? Suddenly, it dawned on him: he nearly fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book!

    Instead of acting on impulse, he simply decided to start pumping out radiation and simply sat there until his sight returned. Since the kid knew he was in the room already, it wouldn’t do to simply sit there and twddle his fingers until the fighting started. Instead, he decided to toss out some bait of his own. He slammed his mace against the wall, just hard enough to make the kid think he was swinging wildly in a vain attempt to smack him.

    Redwing was looking in the direction where the other was, along the wall, near the room, which was gaining some heat. He would have to act quickly now. Taking a step forward as the other had his hands on the swinging mace, Redwing, grabbed another object from his belt: a rope tied into a lasso. All those years in the circus were not for nothing, and he shot the loop forward, letting it wrap around the doorknob. Then, he took a step back out of the room and began to pull the door shut.

    Well, that was totally unexpected. The kid clearly wasn’t there, and Adrian heard the door slam shut on its own. The kid was good, Adrian had to admit… and that very fact was starting to piss him off. He was hoping to knock out the kid way back out on the street, but this fight was still dragging on. Adrian had regained enough sight by now to know that the kid was most definitely not in the room. So, he’s trying to make me take the fight back to him, is he?

    One thing was for certain, and that was that using the door meant a loss for whoever used it first. And, if there was no feasible door, the only option possible was to use the wall to make one. While it was sturdy, with enough concentration and a lot of power he could make the other side of the wall explode. Gods, this is going to suck so fucking bad. He hated detonating large, solid objects with a passion. If he blew up the wall, he wouldn’t be able to use his power for long, and the fight would have to get wrapped up then and there with a vicious counter-attack. On the other hand, the kid on the other side would get absolutely pulverized by an entire wall blowing up (quite literally) in his face.

    Well, here goes! Adrian dropped the apple again, put his hand directly on the wall, and put everything he had into it… and watched the entire wall go off like a veritable nuke. The highly concentrated radiation (which was at very lethal doses for most normal people in that room by now) spilled out into their part of the hallway, while the wall exploded like some gigantic grenade, with anything from bits of sheet rock to very sharp splinters flying around like knives.

    Luckily, for Redwing, he was not behind the wall, but behind the door. Having tied the other end of the lasso to the opposite wall, he was now fiddling with a small device at the base of the door just recently shut.

    In the wild, one can make bees sleepy by spraying them with smoke. In this hotel, Redwing had planned to do something similar… The device he had with him was, in essence, a self contained fire starter and keeper, usually for use if one gets lost in the woods or something. He had planned to place it just at the bottom of the doorframe, where it would slowly pull out all the oxygen from the room, making it harder to breath until the other fell unconscious, but…

    The wall to his left suddenly exploded, bringing an end to that plan.He pressed closely against the wall, avoiding most of the exploding fragments as well as much of the condensed radiation, which shot off down the hall behind him and out the window. Still, there was enough present that he knew he could not remain here forever. The Geiger counter he had brought with him told him so. For once he was happy that he had read the brief. But not for long, after all, there were other things to worry about: for instance, that exploding wall…

    There is one good thing about explosions, though, and that is the inability to distinguish explosions from non-explosions. Even as the wall went outward, Redwing threw one thing that would land somewhere in the middle, where the wall was rapidly becoming a hole, and this object whereupon landing, would explode, releasing a super sticky substance designed to keep a person in one place. Meanwhile, the grapple rope was beginning to contract…

    At the same time as the wall started to disintegrate under the force of its own demise, Adrian started to emerge from his side of the wall… He grabbed his last canister of ball bearings, and, unaware of Redwing’s own projectile, detonated his canister directly where he saw him.

    The result was a disaster for both sides. Bits of still-flying shrapnel flew even faster, ball bearing careened towards their target like buckshot… and bits of something sticky blasted in every conceivable direction in the hallway. It hit Adrian’s legs, making it harder to move forward. As the wall’s remnants rapidly cleared, it was very evident that both sides had done some extreme damage to both the environment, and to each other’s position in the fight.

    With everything flying everywhere, it was impossible not get hit by something. In fact, it was impossible not to get hit by a lot of things. Redwing felt the sting of the many projectiles, and knew that after this fight, he would need to rest for the rest of the day. And maybe tomorrow, as well. But that would have to wait for later, right now, he had a fight to win!

    Suddenly, Redwing noticed a rumbling above him. He looked up, just in time to see the building beginning to fall. Quickly, he pressed the retract button for the grapple hook. But he only made it to near the window before it all fell down, and a particularly heavy piece of wall fell on his head.

    At the same time, the trauma to the building’s structure caused the floor to collapse, and Adrian felt himself starting to fall with the floor. Son of a bitch! Before he knew, he was falling headlong into the spacious lobby, and suddenly everything went black as he landed unceremoniously on the floor… and heavy bits of the building followed suit, and landed squarely on his head before he could do anything about it.

    Sometime later, ambulance, police cars, and news reporters would come screeching down the street, followed by a couple of fancy cars including the mayor’s (so that he could make a statement of how sad the destruction of this building was) and a bunch of businessmen (who would clamor over who got this now freed lot). However, although they would find this sizable pile of destruction, there was one thing- or rather, two people- they would not find: Adrian and Redwing.

    Indeed, soon after the fight, a small figure appeared, and walked toward the building. Making sure she was out of street view, she moved a bit of the rubble, then, after peering in with a flashlight, she disappeared from the top. When she reappeared again, it was with Adrian. Then, she disappeared from sight once more, returning minutes later empty handed. She again disappeared into the rubble, this time reemerging with Redwing. And then again, she was gone.

    When the two battered people awoke from their rock hard sleep, they would each find a note lying on their stomach.

    When Redwing awoke on the roof of the Italian restaurant, he would find Adrian’s note. While the writing was clearly scrawled on there quickly, it was still legible. What the note basically had was a written confession of Adrian’s actions… but more importantly, it held the exact reasons for them. The messed up things found on that note would justify almost any atrocity committed against these very specific people in the name of justice, vengeance, or however the heroes might have called it...

    When Adrian awoke in his own penthouse, he would find another note, written with in a very neat, orderly handwriting. Upon reading the note, he knew that Redwing wasn’t the only one that knew about him…
    .
    Your note to Redwing has been delivered. the note said, then continued with just a simple signature:
    Signed,
    -S


    S for The Shadow, if, of course, he knew who Shadow was. As it was, he did not know even who the hell S was. Either way, people knew of his favorite hiding place. As such, he prepared the place for a potential siege, if he was attacked before the next fight…
    Last edited by m139; 01-21-2017 at 05:17 PM. Reason: giving credit where credit is due... You didn't think I could write this all by myself, did you?
    If the gold does not stay in this world,
    then I will chase it till I find my home

  3. #13
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    as written by Calcos and Minkasha

    Several days later...

    The cold comfort of the surrounding laboratory brought an odd calm to the villain’s mind; despite him toiling away valiantly (and mostly in vain), he felt at ease, neutral, his mind focused on the task at hand, wanting nothing to distract him. “Blood sample appears to be stable, no noticeable changes...nanite injection commencing…” The slender, bone-thin hands held steady as they applied the nanites to the blood sample. After some minor adjustments to their programming, he was willing to test their efficiency once again. Maybe this time they would finally eradicate the viral agents in the blood and he could be done with all of this.

    As a pragmatist, however, he knew that likely wouldn’t be the case. From under the microscope, he observed. The nanites went to work, and quickly, sniffing about the sample and searching for the agents that were using his mother’s blood as a host. He watched a swarm of them cluster around one of the viral structures, consuming it as they were programmed to do. ‘Good,’ he thought, continuing to watch his creations maliciously and without mercy hunt down the rest. He smiled, assured in his victory.

    However, he saw, just moments after his machines had gone to work, a fatal flaw in their programming: eventually, the nanites became confused, apparently, failing to finish the job they had started, and instead began aimlessly wandering the blood sample, allowing the virus to continue to pollute the blood and, eventually, reproduce. “Goddammit!” he hissed, tearing himself away from the microscope. “Obviously I’ll need to tinker with them more extensively,” he muttered to himself, turning around to be alone with himself for a moment.

    It was then that his silence was interrupted by several loud thuds before the heavily dented metal door leading into his lab broke off of the hinges, careening straight to the floor with a mighty thwomp. Bearing her full strength and charging into his lab with female empowerment was Sophie. Her black office professional, yet stylish and sexy heel slammed down onto the lab’s floor, or rather into his floor as her heel had sunk in with her ferocity. Scream hadn’t been able to poach Lester because he hadn’t left his office once in the past three days. He wasn’t owning up to what he did and she figured she better come in and resolve it herself. She’d want a sister who would really knew how to draw out blood, Nikisha.

    FLASH!

    In a stupidly blinding light the mocha, long legged, sensual dancer and martial arts queen Nikisha reared her beautiful head in Sophie’s place. Her static-laced hands fell onto her athletic hips, the purple energy shining off her skin tight bodysuit Lester has taken off a few times prior - not any more for this asshole.

    “You’ve been avoiding me, tch, you know that pisses off a woman, don’t you?” Nikisha’s smooth and velvet voice barked. She sauntered, leapt, spun (because she’s graceful like that), to land on his desk behind him and kick him in the back of the head. She watched the professor dweeb fall out of his chair and her sewn in fibrous heels had no prejudice to stepping all over his lab equipment - the sample of his mother’s blood dripping off the side of his desk. Why did Lester always have life problems surrounding women? Or did this one not count as a woman...oh this is complicated - at least he doesn’t know. Right? Ignorance is bliss…

    Falling out of (read: forcefully removed from) his chair, the doctor hit the ground with a pain he was not prepared to tolerate ransacking his head and body, barely able to turn himself enough to see Nikisha standing atop his work station, amidst his broken instruments and other equipment; including the blood sample. His eyes widened in horror; sure, he had plenty more of his mother’s blood to test on, but he had been making some (almost no) progress with that sample. Finding the strength the shuffle himself into a sitting position, he looked up at the ebony enchantress, equal parts terrified and aroused.

    “I-I know. I just...I didn’t know how to…” He was stammering, at a loss for words suitable enough to explain himself. Of course, he knew there would be nothing he could say to unfuck himself out of this particular jam; such was the result of arguing with a woman, after all. “I’m sorry,” he said weakly.

    Sorry? Why are you sorry? Rip her throat out! Beat her until she screams and bleeds!’ A voice in the back of his mind was firing off colorful, brutal suggestions as to how to dispose of the woman currently vandalizing his lab. ‘Cut her apart and sew her back together, except put her legs where her arms go and her arms where her legs go!

    “Shut up!” he mumbled with a grimace.

    You know, back in high school Nikisha always thought women were the problem. Her mom was weak, the girls were lying bitches. You know, every girl was just a bitch and could hardly be trusted. Then a large boom from a space rock, tits and a no-no square later and playing on the other side of the equation gave way to a whole new light: it was the men. It was all the men of this privileged world that made women weak or defensive. Maybe her mom wouldn’t have to had raise her as a single parent if she had a good man.

    Nikiasha bit her bottom lip, a leg raising off the table’s surface, ready to launch her once more into the air.

    Excuse me?” Nikisha asked with an entitled and rather pissed off approach. “You know what’s been done? I’ve cut ties with you. No funding. We’re through. Maybe if you hadn't tried murdering children, beating women to hell and back and actually acted like a man-” Jesus she wouldn’t stop with her high and mighty feminist propaganda would she? “-I could have worked with you. But you fucked it all up. All of it!”

    I’ll beat you to hell in a minute, whore! Only you won’t come back!’ That voice again; it was cold, metallic, sounded like it was spoken from behind a big metal helmet. It assaulted his conscience, tapping into a primal rage that Lester never knew was there before. Try as he might to make it go away, it overpowered his meek thoughts. ‘Slit her throat and string her body upside down! Bathe in her blood and laugh! Make her suffer as you suffer! KILL HER!’ “Shutupshutupshutup!” Lester muttered again, covering his ears with his hands, smashing his eyelids so tightly together that tiny specks started to form in the dark of his vision.

    Nikisha, none-the-wiser, stepped off his desk to sit in his chair and cross her legs impatiently. ’Dudes could be such cry babies’.

    “So, you’re going to give Solus a speech tonight apologizing for what you’ve done. Do that and maybe I won’t help them toss your ass in prison” Nikisha huffed and leaned back in her sexy position of power, blue tipped locks flipped from one side of her head to the other with a sassy whip of her skull.

    You’re going to let her condescend to you? This low-life, filthy, arrogant nothing of a woman? Are you going to let her talk to you like that, or are you going to get up and END HER IN THE MOST PAINFUL POSSIBLE WAY?!’ Lester had had enough, from both ends. His sanity packed its bags and moved to Brazil for the next few moments. “I said,” he...said, slowly emerging to his feet, “Shut…” His skin was rearranging, seeming to coagulate into a lumpy, graying mass of flesh before solidifying, his muscles engorged as the nanites in his bloodstream began to take control of both his body and mind. “...UP!” With that, he lashed out, throwing a heavy fist in a downward motion towards Nikisha’s frame, aiming to pummel her into dust.

    “Oh dude, this is rich!” Nikisha scorned, shoving her heels back and slamming the lab chair into the desk. Her nimble and yummy legs parted to let the fist fall right in between and pound the earth of Lester’s lab. Her right foot sparked with psychic electricity. “Black Wasp made a fool of you but I’ll straight up humiliate you!” She warned, that foot Lester once held back and over Nikisha’s head in the bedroom and other intimate places, coming full force across Warpath’s face with a dose of the zaps.

    Before he knew it, Warpath was eating toes as he was kicked with the full force of an electrically-charged kick. While the stunning sensation brought on by the shock was enough to daze him for a few seconds, the actual physical impact of the kick itself wasn’t enough to move him from where he stood. He continued to tower over Nikisha, his rage building at the annoyance he had endured, resigning to suffer it no longer. Ya know, once he got his bearings back from being Taser-footed.

    Nikisha was getting her own bearings back, everyone finna try in this lab, her right foot felt like it was just slammed with a brick and she was biting her tongue to hold back any whimpers of pain; but her face showed it. Jumping off with her left, she grabbed onto the arms of the wheeled chair to backflip back to Lester’s desk. Landing on her right foot made her wince but the martial fighter was able to make distance by jumping from the desk back to the knocked down doors. While the other Goddesses would have gotten the point to leave since the doorway was wide open, Nikisha’s need for vengeance and just being a cool bitch who kept rebellion down blocked her from thinking the otherwise obvious in this situation.

    Her right blue, neon-lit heel tapped the ground - getting feeling back in her foot.

    “I’m waiting.”

    Warpath eventually shook off the trauma, miniscule as it was, and turned to face his former lover. His eyes took note of her leg, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. He’d have to be quick; hard to do when you were a lumbering mass of metal appendages and innards, but you can’t win if you don’t try. “You know the difference between us?” he asked in that deep, robotic tone she was probably tired of hearing by now.

    “My tight ass and my even tighter gang?”

    The monstrous image that resembled Lester released a low, ominous chuckle. “No. The difference between us is that I’ll live to regret this moment.” With that, he bull-rushed the bitch, his left arm at the ready to intercept her inevitable attack while his right hand went for her elegant, slender throat.

    Nikisha’s senses jumped when robo hulk barreled right through his previous lab equipment; the metal pieces, tubes, and other things she didn’t know because she was just a deadbeat who never went to higher education and stayed in her mom’s basement before becoming sexy crime lord, went flying each direction and the table itself was soaring right at her. The black woman crossed her arms. Her screams of pain echoed out of the lab and another room of the shutdown factory.

    Being promptly kicked out of Lester’s lab and sent rolling backward, her swift agility allowed her to curl herself into a fetal position - evening the impact while she went on going on. Into the darkness and the cool of the much wider and untapped main floor of toy assembly line construction, dust and plastic bright bits littered the floor. The Greedy Goddess halted into a stop after a healthy seven rolls that gave her body the impression of wanting to call it quits for a bit. Pain was up her spine and the back side of her ribs, her forearms were sore and probably bruised. Either way, as a murderous man-killer, impersonating symbol of women in Solus, Nikisha stood up and lowered herself into a bouncing and fluid boxing position - fists raised.

    Despite the Goddess’ cries of pain and unwavering tenacity, Warpath kept it coming. His footsteps thundered with each fall, his frame picking up momentum as he neared his quarry. ‘I’M GOING TO SNAP YOUR BONES LIKE TWIGS AND USE YOUR INTESTINES AS A JUMP ROPE!’ he screamed internally as he continued to charge. As he got near enough to get within Nikisha’s attack range, he opted for a move that was rather unconventional for someone who wasn’t used to fighting: playing dirty.

    Allowing himself to slow down enough to try to confuse his opponent in her anticipating state of mind, he tilted his upper body backward, avoiding her predictable punch, sweeping with his left leg and colliding with her previously-crippled right. In that moment, he’d lurch down to finally get her in that stranglehold he’d been fiending after.

    Nikisha had no idea to expect her slow opponent to pull a fast one and feign a charge. That opening of her exposed fist just before his chest had her speedy mind race with adrenaline and her narrow cat eyes open wide. Her mind and body had the speed, but it also had the petty drive and the clouding of critical thinking when victory was presumed to be hers. Nikisah was sharp enough to see the error but the end result had no avoidable change. Another sharp and feminine scream bounced off concrete walls, going on without a ear that could care to hear. Her right ankle threatened to burst, the hot and cool sensation the joint gave told her it was at least internally bleeding.

    Held by wrist and soon after by neck, the prepossessing dark skinned woman held onto the cold metal hand against her smooth tanned skin. The Triple Goddesses never came close to experience death, and its tangibility. Nikisha was scared and it relinquished all her critical thoughts she could possibly have and funneled it down into one spotty trail of thinking: claw at the hand to her throat. Her shaking breath was restrained and her fingerless gloved hands pawed at what was liable to kill her at any moment. When she had made the South Solus Gang all she ever wanted was freedom, the ability to be left alone and enjoy the things she wanted without reservation. Freedom was the exact opposite of what pounded in her temples. Her brain was starting to throb in pain, guess that’s what happened when someone was strangling you - she had no idea. Nikisha’s only cherry left was popped by Lester: the almost-killed-me cherry.

    “Eh-uh-aa-” Nikisha’s strained voice coughed.

    Holding the elegant woman aloft in his blackened, metal grasp, Warpath let loose a laughter even maniacs would tremble at. “Do you understand, now? You’re not dealing with meek, pitiful, useless Lester anymore! No, I’m much worse; worse than you could comprehend.” Are we...are we really about to do this? Monologuing while choking a bitch out Rick James style? Really? It’s in the script? Sigh. Okay, get on with it then.

    “I want to see the light leave your eyes, to hear your last breath escape your lungs! I want to end everything about you! I want to-”

    In that instant, clarity found purchase. For behind all the galavanting and shouting and other absurdities that could go on while actively trying to take someone’s life away from them, Lester had been arguing with...well, himself, to let her go.

    We can’t do this! We can’t!
    And why not? She’s nothing! She only gets in the way!
    We aren’t killers. We can’t go through with this!
    I’m going to crush her, and I won’t let you stop me!
    No! I won’t let you! I’m taking over, NOW!
    What do you-AGHHHHHHH!!!!

    His grip relaxed, his muscles receded, and his skin began returning to that pasty, ghost-white hue it once was. Nikisha’s oxygen-deprived body fell to the ground —doing no favors for her already physically-ransacked body.

    FLASH!

    It was Sophie who took the hit onto the ground, her soft and unusually tough skin feeling not a lick of it. But just like Nikisha, her right ankle was damaged. In her pencil skirt, what would have been the length of a good looking shade of white skin (not Lester’s I-never-go-outside white) was ruined by a bulbous, purple, inflammation of the ankle. Passed the folded cuffs of her three-fourth sleeves purple lined up her forearms. To added to her abused barbie glamor, purple fingers left their grim reaper kiss across her slender neck and Sophie’s blue eyes were glazed over while she ponder and bounce between what would have been death and the return to life. Her shuddering breaths didn’t show the same proud and fearless leader who ran at police officers with live ammunition and took their bullets without care or the woman who robbed banks and ripped away bank vault doors. No, this woman had the same core as any woman victim of abuse: vulnerability and shock.

    Sophie grit her teeth and dragged herself to a concrete wall. This being a woman thing was getting too real and in this moment she decided she’d need a man-break until she could recover. But for now her flushed face and bouncing tits worked their way to the wall and she huddled against the cold of it. Maybe she wouldn’t be so cold if she wasn’t wearing a fully opened suit jacket, lace bra, a skirt and black panties as her entire ensemble of clothes. The blonde bombshell whimpered while she took taste of mortality for the first time.

    Lester stood with his back to the cowering woman, afraid to look her in the eyes (like he had been doing when attempting to yank the life out of them). He merely remained idle, shoulders slouched and sighs heavy, beside himself with grief and genuine, apologetic sadness. “I’ll do it,” he said, “I’ll do it.” With that, he shuffled away, head down and tears beginning to well up in his eyes. ‘It’s only a matter of time until I’m let loose again, and when that happens, I’m going to kill her!

    “Shut up.”

    While he was talking to himself and basking in self pity. Sophie had flipped him off and began dragging her sexy ass out the nearest door into open daylight. She hadn’t gotten the smart idea to call any backup thinking she’d just take care of this one herself. Her soft pillowy breasts were collecting dust and when she had rolled down cement steps to the asphalt parking lot - bits of rocks and debris were starting to get all up in her bra.

    “God-fucking bitch” The famously half naked crime lord swore to herself, dragging along straight into the busy intersections and crowds of people (This was after two blocks of by the way). Hopefully someone would pick her up...not like she had a cellphone on her when every form she changed into didn’t have actual pockets. Female clothing liked to fake them, not actually have useful pockets...either way...she needed help...from someone….

    Jin was going to either be really happy the PR spin on this will be or really pissed.
    Last edited by Calcos; 01-21-2017 at 09:14 AM.

  4. #14
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    as written by Calcos and m139

    “Agh! God...dammit!” Erica cursed, her feet dragging across the floor ever so slowly. Shambling around the Wasp’s Nest with what basically amounted to a high-tech back brace wasn’t doing her any favors in the pain relief department, but she was quite thoroughly fed up with being bedridden and needed to physically do something other than sleeping, which she had done a lot of under the medication she was taking, and pushing buttons on a TV remote.

    So, instead, she decided to push buttons on the massive computer she had set up in the Nest. She was reviewing footage from Redwing’s clash with Adrian, transmitted to her via the recording device on Bobby’s suit; her sidekick, in all of his unthorough glory, was probably unaware of the apparatus himself. Unfortunately, the two combatants were either too far away from each other, or there. was too much noise in the ensuing chaos in order for her to get any good audio that wasn’t Bobby’s own pre-pubescent voice yammering away nonstop about either trivial things or information that was best kept under wraps. ‘I love this kid to death, but by God is he an idiot sometimes,’ she thought.

    The footage gave her some indication into Adrian’s character, however. Obviously her trusted sidekick wouldn’t engage him unless he did in fact commit the murders he was under suspicion for (at least she hoped, anyway). It also gave her some insights into Adrian’s fighting style; something she could use to her advantage should she need to ever confront him personally. Clearly, she’d need to develop a hazmat variant of the Exoskeleton to combat the radiation he spewed from his own body so he wouldn’t have the luxury of instantly cooking her like a (hopefully by then) walking Hot Pocket.

    The second thing she would need to do is formulate attack patterns to counteract his projectile barrages. Those seemed dangerous, if Bobby’s encounter with them said nothing else. She’d think of something—she always did. The video cut out around the time the building collapsed, and all that was left was blackness. Her eyes widened at this, fearful and full of a motherly concern that she often tapped into when she thought Bobby might be in real danger. ‘By God, did he make it out of there alive?’ she wondered.

    Bobby had, of course, made it out alive, although not in perfect condition. Battered by a barrage of bolts and wall pieces, he had, after glancing over the note he found, went home almost immediately. And after that, fallen asleep. It was only later, when he awoke, that he read the note Adrian had left more carefully- carefully, of course, being used relative to Bobby’s standards. And his thoughts on it were mixed. He would have to talk to Ms. V about it. But Ms. V had been asleep. So Bobby went back to sleep, too.

    Now fully rested and recovered, he had been researching a few new candidates (although with no intention of actually talking to them any time soon), with rather lengthy bios. It was at this moment that his little wrist watch thing began to buzz. Ms. V was awake. He stood up quickly, and immediately, a pain shot through his leg. Maybe he was not quite all that recovered. Still, that did not stop him from skidding around corners and dashing down the halls…

    Still, he made one quick stop before he made it to where Ms. V. was: dashing into his own room, he paused just long enough to grab the scrap of a note Adrian had left before heading out again.

    He made it to the room, skidding in and facing the bed, “Hi, Ms. -” The bed was empty. He paused, then, hearing a slight movement, turned. She was at the computer, facing a black screen. “Hi, Ms. V!” he began again, walking over, “What’cha doing?”

    Erica was silent for a moment, her disheveled look not betraying any of the emotional well-up she had felt, although her lungs heaved a heavy sigh of relief when Bobby came bounding around to check up on her. Restraining a warm smile, her mind switched back into business mode. “Reviewing your excursion,” she said, looping the video again, to the beginning. “I take it that your encounter with Draegar didn’t go over well?” she said in a stern tone.

    “No.” Redwing said, looking at the video as it began again. For a second, his mind wondered how in the world she got that footage. But then, that thought quickly faded. After all, who really cared where it came from when it was almost the beginning of the fight!

    He watched as the camera began to get closer to Adrian. This must be where I began to run. Redwing thought. Aloud, he said, somewhat quietly, “This was when he told me that he did murder that guy. And that he just murdered another- it was on the news later that day. I couldn’t let him get away… but…” his voice trailed off as the video continued on playing.

    Erica cocked an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair, and simultaneously holding back the fact that that action had just caused a flare up that felt like a hot iron rod to shoot up her spine, opting to sit up straighter instead. The brace made it hard to sit comfortably anyhow. “But…?” she asked, expecting, almost hoping, that Bobby was going to say what she thought he was going to say.

    “But… I think he got away… but… I’m not sure.” his eyes were still glued on the screen, “You see, the building was falling, and then he was falling, and then… I don’t know what happened next.” He was silent again, and the video in front of him kept rolling. For a moment more, he patiently watched. But, after about one second, his patience was out. He turned to Ms. V. “Do you know what happened?” he asked.

    Erica’s eyes went back to the monitor, her hands operating the controls, fast-forwarding the footage to the ending portion, just before the screen cut to black. “What I know...is that you allowed civilians to fall into harm’s way with your carelessness, lack of proper planning, and overall tactlessness regarding this stakeout. I know that you gave away your advantage over him by spilling your guts so forthcomingly. I know that Adrian Draegar is a killer, and yet you didn’t bring him to justice.” She paused, not allowing herself to succumb to emotion. She had to remind herself from time to time that he was only still a child. The fact that she had high expectations of him was no reason to needlessly lash out vehemently. Still, she had to deal him the facts.
    “I know that this operation was a failure. So, how are we going to do better next time?”

    “Uh…” Bobby began, then paused for a moment, actually thinking, “Fight in more stable buildings?” he answered, somewhat hesitantly.

    Erica’s brow furrowed, becoming increasingly frustrated. Yes, she had to remind herself that he was a child, but by God was he a dull one right now; and this was no child’s game. “You think, Bobby! You plan ahead, and carefully! You get so caught up in the acting part of the mission that you don’t consider the planning! Human lives were at stake, under your watch! What if those bystanders had been killed? What then?” She sat back, as much as she could, feeling drained. ‘What if you had been killed?’ she thought. She wanted to say it, to let Bobby know that she did indeed care. However, her stoic, overbearing perfectionist nature got the better of her. Still, his well-being did concern her all the same.

    Letting Draegar escape was of course a huuuuuge problem in and of itself, but that was a problem that could be corrected at a later date. Loss of life wasn’t something you could take back.

    Of course, Bobby had not even thought of the possibility that he could have died. Sometimes, it takes more than a piece of ceiling to convince someone of their mortality, especially if that person is a twelve year old boy who had dealt with quite a few of (what he would call) minor scrapes and bruises here are there. That, of course, didn’t mean that he totally ignored Ms. V’s point- it just meant he didn’t grasp the hidden message. Which was not unusual- especially not for Bobby.

    “No one died,” he muttered, “The building was abandoned, I checked it! Besides, the brief said nothing about blowing out walls. And as for the collapse, only one person was hurt- I checked the news afterwards- after I woke up and got back.”

    Erica remained quiet, that eerie calm silence that she maintained that always seemed to send chills up people’s spines ever-present in that moment. “Just make sure to be more careful,” she said with finality. “Think, then act.” With that, she stood, albeit slowly, and began to shuffle about some more, the searing pain in her back reminding her that she probably shouldn’t be mobile. The Spinal Alignment Apparatus (trademarked by Vayne Enterprises LLC. DO NOT STEAL) could only do so much for her. “Now,” she spoke through the pain, “Was there anything else I need to know, or can I get back to work?” By work, she meant trying to find some activity to attempt to take her mind off of the agony she was enduring.

    “Wait, you can go back to work now?” Bobby asked, then, judging by the harsh glare he received, guessed that was a no. So, after a moment of looking down, he pulled something from his pocket, and began to speak of a different matter.

    “I don’t know exactly how the fight ended,” Bobby began, “but when I woke up, I was on top of that Italian building across from the hotel. There were still ambulance vehicles and all the cars there, but they did not see me. I don’t know how I got there, but… Adrian- I think it was him at least, left me this note.” With this somewhat confusing statement, Bobby handed the scrap of paper that Adrian had written his confessions of murder and reasons for them to Ms. V.

    Erica took the note, her interest piqued even more. Unfolding the crumpled piece of paper, she scanned its face with an intense glare, her eyebrows arching as she continued to read. When she was finished, she closed her eyes, a heavy, calming breath escaping her nostrils as she put her hands to her sides. “So, not only do we have a confession, but a motive. It’ll be much easier to anticipate his next move,” she said, turning back towards the computer.

    “But… what are we going to do about it?” Bobby asked, “I can’t stop him from killing anyone else, and you can’t work yet…”

    As the woman typed away at the keyboard, the screen produced several images depicting the profiles of a group of older men (it’s not like that, you sick bastards), all of them members of the Draegar Corporation’s board of directors. The two that had been killed, John Heathcliffe and whatever-the-fuck the other guy’s name was, were faded out. “We don’t have to stop him. Not right away, at least. We just need to warn the other directors that Adrian is coming for them, give them some time to make themselves scarce until we can finally capture him.” Though she’d never admit it out loud, she was quite certain that these men deserved what Adrian was giving to them. Still, she couldn’t abide a murderer.

    “It’s possible we could determine who he’s going after next, try to snare him then.”

    “And send them to jail ourselves? These men seem almost as bad as Adrian himself.” Bobby stated. This caused his mentor to chortle. “Only problem is getting the evidence to convict them; these men may be crooks, but they’re thorough ones.”

    Bobby paused, then sighed. “Why can’t bad guys simply be bad guys. It would make things so much easier.” He stopped, then continued a moment later, “So we are just going to warn them now? And then do something, if we can, later? When we get more people?”

    “Basically,” she said. It was all she had that resembled a sound plan, at the moment.

    Bobby sighed a long, drawn out sigh, “Well then, he said, glumly, “I guess I better start working on the profiles once more. More carefully, this time.” Erica nodded. “That would be best. Meanwhile, I’ve got some anonymous emails to send…”
    Last edited by Calcos; 01-25-2017 at 06:03 PM.

  5. #15
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    co-post with Splat

    Ms. V totally would not approve of this, but what she did not know would not hurt her, right? And how in the world could she possibly know that Redwing had decided to use this plan to recruit someone? It's not like she had a camera on him or something.

    Redwing, from the safety of the inside of a garbage container, surveyed the street before him with a pair of really cool goggles that let him see through the metal. This precaution, was quite necessary- and, this part, at least, Ms. V. would probably approve of. After all, this person's power was super-sight, so if he was hidden, she would not see him. Nor would anyone else for that matter.

    Oh look, someone was walking by now!

    The lid to the trashcan opened, and something fell into it, though not on Redwing's head. After all, he had even taken the precaution of installing a fake bottom! See, he did plan... sometimes.

    But as for the part Ms. V. would probably not approve of, well... It was his superhero trap.

    The streets he found himself on was relatively normal, located within one of those residential districts of the neither poor nor rich that scattered Solus city. Yeah... If things went south, Ms. V would not like that. But... at least this girl was supposed to be able to hit only one thing instead of blasting buildings! Or... she could just hit a lot of people... hmm...

    Well.. that would be something to muse about when the time came. For now, Redwing was in a residential district, close to where the hero Aquila lived. Near him, a little bit further into this garbage alley and a bit away from the street front, was an arrow sticking out of the ground. Underneath it was a note, which was, of course, turned upside down. No one would notice this set up normally, of course, and Aquila herself might see it and just pass by. However, Redwing was hoping that, if she passed, she might examine it a little more closely. After all, it had taken him some time to find an arrow that looked almost like one of her original ones...

    "There's no use trying to run," the avian-themed superhero shouted after her quarry, a man making off with his weight in hard-earned cash. Aquila quickly followed behind him across the low rooftops of the neighborhood, surprisingly quiet at this time of day. I think I can see my house from here, she jested to herself as she bounded a step behind, which was odd considering the thief's sizeable load.

    As she was beginning to grow bored of the chase, a strange glint caught her eyes. Unwilling to give up her prey to an (admittedly far more interesting) distraction, she paused for a moment and took in her surroundings in a single glance. She raised her bow, the grip molding to her fingers like it was a part of her, and sent and arrow whizzing past the ear of the burglar. Being the dumb criminal he was, the man took the time to gloat.

    He turned around for a second, still running. "Ha-Ha! You mis--!" The robber had no time to finish the sentence as the arrow ricocheted off of the satellite dish ahead with a clang and zoomed back to hit its target in the back of the head, sending him and his ill-gotten gains crumpling to the ground.

    Aquila skidded to a half in front of the incapacitated man with a smirk. "You're the police's business now," she quipped, pushing an automated button on her phone that sent an anonymous tip and her location straight to the boys in blue. Much more efficient than a call. Now, onto that other thing...

    She retraced her steps back to where she first caught sight of the object seven stories below her, on street level. She didn't have to go down to see exactly what it was- an arrow. One of her arrows, in fact, or at least a very good recreation. "Well isn't that interesting," she said aloud. Underneath it was a piece of paper, undeniably addressed to her. Definitely a trap... what the hell. Curiosity kills, but I can protect myself if it comes to it. She climbed her way down the side of the building and into the alleyway below, plucking up the arrow (a replica, upon further examination) and read the note, ready to spring back into action if needed.


    Dear Ms. Aquila, the note began,

    Congratulations on your superhero accomplishments! As a valuable member of Solus City's unofficial police force, you are invited to join a special group of others like yourself, being formed to save the city from both petty criminals and more powerful super villains.

    As you may have noticed by now, while you were reading this note, nothing has happened, besides a bit of time passing by normally. No arrows have flown out, no things have shot at you, nothing has bashed you. Nor will they. This is not a trap, but rather, an opportunity.

    Now, of course, you are always welcome to walk away. If so, you can take this arrow or not, and just leave. Nothing further will happen. But if you do decide to take this opportunity, then stick around: I would like to talk to you.

    However, just as you trusted nothing would too bad would happen when you took the note, I am going to have to ask you to trust me just a little bit more before I can recruit you. Would you please lay aside your weapon for a second while I come out? I know you have an advantage on me as far as sight goes, so its not like I can surprise you. I just need to be sure I am safe as well.

    If you are willing to take that bet, then I hope that you will consider joining our superhero league.

    In either case, thanks for being a helpful member of Solus City.


    Aquila raised a skeptical eyebrow as her eyes skimmed over the small, neat handwriting. A team of superheroes? That's the silliest idea I've ever heard... Yet, still, her interest was piqued. Criminal activity did seem to be rising recently, and with Black Wasp MIA after that injury, she could use all the help she could muster.

    Sighing, she unslung her bow from off of her shoulder and carefully set it down next to her, then crossed her arms. "Alright, you can come out now," she spoke in her Italian lilt. "But you better know that my bow is not the only thing I can injure someone with."


    "Of course I know!" came a booming voice, magnified by the walls of the garbage can a few meters off before it... well... fell apart. Where it had once stood, there was now a pile of metal panels, a discarded banana peel, and a young superhero in red and black standing amid it all. "Hi," he spoke again, his voice now in the normal higher pitched tone for someone his age, "I'm Redwing, and I'd like to invite you to join an elite group of superheroes who assemble for the purpose of saving Solus city.

    Redwing's sudden appearance startled Aquila, but it was quickly taken over by one of amusement upon seeing the short-statured young boy. "Hey, I know you!" Aquila said with a giggle. "You're Black Wasp's sidekick! You've got some neat moves, kid." She smirked, but her smile faded once she was reminded of the aforementioned vigilante's situation.

    "How is she holding up, by the way?" she asked. "Black Wasp, I mean. Is she okay?" She knew it probably wasn't the best subject to bring up, but the hero was genuinely intrigued.


    "She's..." Redwing paused. Ms. V had said not to give everything away at once, but... this trust thing had to go both ways, right? And Aquila had not blasted him out of the sky, and, according to the records, she was pretty clean. So...

    He continued, his voice sincere, "She's doing better. She still can't come out and recruit you personally, but, that's what I'm here for. What we hope to do is organize a bunch of superheroes who can team together to fight bad guys when it is too much for one person. To look out for each other... so that no one gets hurt the way Ms.- Black Wasp did at the bank. Are you interested in joining?"

    "That's good." Aquila grinned. "I could always use someone to watch my back. Or, I guess more likely, a back to watch. You've got yourself a deal, kid," she answered.


    Well...thought Redwing to himself, this one is surprisingly easy! Truthfully, he was glad. After dealing with Adrian, and a couple of rejections, things like this reminded him that his mission would not be, all things considered, fruitless. All that reading did serve a purpose!

    "Thanks for joining." he said aloud, then, he pulled out a royal purple watch-shaped gadget from his utility belt. "Here," he said, "this is for you. Because, you know, saying you are in a group is not really useful if you can't ever talk to them. If anyone's trying to contact you, this light will turn on. And you can contact other people using this button- finger-print activated, of course, so no one can steel it. It has a microphone and a speaker that can turn off and on, and if you press this button over here, it will even tell you the time. And it has been made specially for you." he smiled, almost as if he had just been reciting something for one of those infomercials on TV.

    Aquila smiled. "I've never been one for fancy gizmos and gadgets, but thanks." She accepted the watch-like device and slipped it onto her wrist, admiring how surprisingly well it went with her costume. As she looked over the new device, she noticed the time displayed on its face. "Oh, dear," she said, "it's about time I should get going. Catching criminals and all that. In the meantime, I shall be eagerly awaiting your call on this thing." She turned from the boy and gave him a quick wave farewell before beginning her ascent up the building nearby.


    "Good luck!" Redwing called as she darted off.

    As soon as she was gone, he fist pumped the air. A new recruit for what was going to be the most awesome team of superheroes - ever!
    Last edited by m139; 01-22-2017 at 02:18 AM.
    If the gold does not stay in this world,
    then I will chase it till I find my home

  6. #16
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    copost with NightlightNinja

    It wasn't regular that Ms. Casey would finish her day's administrative work before sundown, though it took place often enough, and when it did take place, Pentaxa would pop out in the night to patrol the streets of Solus City. This irregularity made her appearances unpredictable, and the fact that the location she would emerge from was always different and unable to be determined by any sort of pattern caused them to be even more so. She would then take care to ensure that nobody was trailing her before making her way to the small automobile repair shop where her motorcycle was kept to pick up for the night.

    It just happened to be one of those nights that saw the suited and masked- um... helmeted vigilante sneak through the darkness, avoiding the glow of street lamps and other well-lit areas as she swiftly neared the automobile repair shop. Vince, the owner of the aforementioned shop, was simply a citizen and acquaintance of Pentaxa, though not Maya, who supported her crime-fighting cause. He had given her the key to the garage's side door, granting her access to her bike after he closed up for the night.

    Pentaxa had previously been confident that such an arrangement would be safe for the both of them, but now that Black Wasp was going to be out of the game for quite some time, if she'll even ever get back in, big-time criminals like the SSG might just be able to pay a little more attention to the small-time vigilantes like herself. She'd think more about that while she rode through the streets on this night, hoping to catch a few law-breakers in action, and perhaps a certain super-powered runaway teen...

    Waiting was boring. Almost as boring, in fact, as reading through all the information Redwing had been given on this particular meta-human. Granted, this hero's brief was rather short, but even if it had been one sentence, Redwing would have found it all too long. Just as he was finding this waiting thing too long.

    Redwing was on the rooftop of Vic's Auto Repair, as he had been for the last hour or so, and as he had been a few of the preceding nights before. He had not expected this to take this long- heck, he thought it would be easy. After all, how hard could it be to find one of the multiple people this Pentaxa could split up into? He lay on his back, one eye looking at the darkening sky, and the other looking into this nifty little device which he had nicknamed "the bug's eye", which is more commonly known as a periscope, albeit a really fancy expensive one.

    The other side stood out over the roof, a small little pipe adjacent to the gutter and facing out into the darkness. With any luck, Redwing would see something besides dingy streets, fading lights, and cats. And with a bit more luck, he would see it soon.

    Pentaxa slowed from a sprint to a cautious walk some feet away from the side entrance of the lone garage, her senses on high alert as they usually were at this point of her night as the duplicating hero. She would look and listen out for any indication that she was being followed. While concerned with that possibility however, she didn't factor that she might instead have been waited for, which she would soon discover to be the case on this very night. She checked her surroundings once more, overlooking the end of the strange device that seemed to blend in with the other features along the edge of the roof in the dark, before whipping out the key to the side door as she approached it.

    Redwing almost missed it. The stealthy footsteps, the muffled jingling of the keys...

    In fact, being so used to seeing nothing, he would have not seen it at all had it not been for that pesky mosquito that flew by his ear and brought him back to the present. He slapped at it. He missed. But he looked through the periscope again, and there she was... Helmeted, and heading towards the door. It had to be her.

    Redwing jumped up so suddenly that he hit the Bug's Eye, and it fell over the side of the roof, landing at Pentaxa's approaching feet. Oops.

    He quickly looked over the edge of the roof. "Don't run!" he called, his voice sounding like a whispered shout, "If I hit you on the head I didn't mean to, promise!"

    Pentaxa immediately jumped back as the strange object fell right in front of her, slipping her fingers through her knuckle duster and push dagger and yanking them from her belt. She then took a battle-ready stance, glancing up at where the device had fallen from. She had to figure out how big of a threat this was before she duplicated.

    To her surprise, all she saw was the lone head of a masked kid peering over the roof of the repair shop, his voice when he whispered to her giving his age away. Looking more carefully, she found something about the boy to be rather familiar, like she'd seen him on television, maybe. That mask though... was that...

    "Redwing?" She spoke for the first time.

    Pentaxa bent down to pick the periscope up. What was Black Wasp's sidekick doing here? Did he think she was a criminal? No, or he wouldn't have been concerned about the thing landing on her head.

    "Okay, how long have you been up there?" She continued, examining the periscope. She would have gone on to ask him about the 'why' and the 'how', but he was probably here to give her that information, if him being there even concerned her to begin with.

    The voice that Pentaxa used sounded almost exactly like Ms. V's. Or, at least, its tone did. Redwing could not help but feel a little sheepish, as if some adult had caught him snooping where he was not supposed to be. Well... he was, in some sense, snooping. But he had been given Ms. V's permission!

    From his place on the roof, he looked at the helmeted hero below him. "Um," he began, hesitantly, "Do you mean just for today? Or today and yesterday? Because, uh... it's been a while."

    Redwing, who was normally quite the chatterbox, seemed to have just the slightest trouble getting the words out of his mouth this evening. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he kind of felt like he was selling some sort of magazine subscription, without the actual magazine. Perhaps it was due to the fact that, despite the length of information he read, there was no actual document entitled "How to Recruit Superheroes into Your Team". Perhaps it was due to the fact that he had been almost asleep on the roof. Most likely, though, it was a combination of all these things, and a little more. Nevertheless, he managed to continue:

    "But... um..." he said, "Do you mind putting your knife away? So I can come down and talk? I'm not going to drop anything else... I promise I'll be more careful."

    "Well, uh... sure," Pentaxa muttered, still a little stunned at the unexpected situation.

    She was rather intrigued by the implications of Redwing's words, not being able to come up with a reason why the Wasp would take the effort to keep track of her activities and have Redwing wait out her arrival. Though, it was quite an honor to have been noticed by the famous Black Wasp.

    Pentaxa reattached her equipment to her belt before picking up the key she had dropped earlier when startled by the falling periscope. Despite being the sidekick of the big-time vigilante, the boy seemed a little afraid. Well, he was still a child, after all.

    "Alright, kid," she called out to him, twirling the periscope around her thumb. "You're safe now, and I suppose you want this back. Come on down, it must be important if you've been waiting that long just for me to show up."

    Redwing nodded, disappeared for a moment more, and then, after attaching his grappling hook to the side of the building, lowered himself to ground level.

    "Hi." he began, then paused, a cheeky grin on his face. Now was the time when he tried to get her to join up with other superheroes. Offer something she wants. Ms. V had said. And so he would... if there was not just one little problem... Of all the information he read on her, it did not contain this vital information! All it contained was... Well... he could start with that.

    He began again, "So, your horoscope for today says 'Today is a good day for trying out new things and making new friends.' With that in mind, would you like to join a group of superheroes being formed right now for the defense of our city?" He smiled brightly. Well, figuratively brightly. The light, after all, was just as dim as before.

    "Does it really now?" Pentaxa wouldn't know, it wasn't as if she had any kind of interest in astrology herself, but she couldn't help but smirk slightly under her helmet, amused at the kid's creative thinking.

    Though, the 'joining a group of superheroes' part was obviously the main point here, and she decided that it would be best not to go over the details out in the open. She strode up to the side door and unlocked it, motioning for Redwing to enter with her. She then shut the door and flicked a switch, lighting up the interior of the garage.

    "So you're assembling a team, huh? Does this have anything to do with the SSG and that incident at the Northside Bank a while back?" Pentaxa asked as she pulled the black polyester cover off to reveal her sleek, dark red motorcycle. "That was some awful damage the Wasp took."

    Being part of a superhero team seemed pretty awesome, and it'd be great to have some help stopping criminals. However, if they were planning on targeting the SSG, each individual member of this team in the making would risk getting onto the big villain team's hit list, and if they ever managed to track Pentaxa down like Redwing did, well... that would be bad...

    "If I do agree to join your team," she continued after some thought. "There would be some issues with personal safety, and the security of my true identity as well as those of the others you plan on recruiting. The fact that you were able to find out that I would come to this place tonight is already proof that this would be a big risk, especially when the villains that you plan to go after as a group start paying more attention to us. Unless of course, you can somehow ensure that there would be no way we could ever be individually tracked down by bad guys."

    "I'm not lying about your horoscope," Redwing said, his voice serious, "You could look it up if you want. But, uh... yes. It has a lot to do with the Northside Bank incident. And just as much to do with being able to do with your own safety. After all, since Black Wasp is out, why not start going for the lesser superheroes? Any superhero is at danger- I mean, with that new guy on the bad guy side, we all will fall alone. Which leaves us two choices if we remain alone: we either stop being heroes, or we wait until it is down to us and die. And, I bet you don't want to really do either. So that leaves us with the third choice: we team up and stop them before it is too late. We all look out for each other. We may not be able to stop them from tracking us, but we can show them what happens if they do.'

    See this cool watch?" Here Redwing paused, and pulled out a rather nifty looking black watch from his tool belt. "It contains a bunch of cool buttons, one which can turn it into a walkie talkie. This light over here will signal if anyone calls for help. And you can signal for help with this button here- fingerprint activated so no one else can steal it. And if you press this button here- you get a flashlight. And this button even lets you know the time!"

    He paused, his excited face becoming a bit more serious again, "I don't know that much about you- I could probably walk past you tomorrow and not even recognize you for all you do, although what you do is important to the people you help daily, just as what I do is important for the people in my daily life. But... this is not enough. And I ask you to help me and others do something we cannot do by ourselves. It is easy to me heroes for a few- but together, we can be heroes for the entire city."

    He stopped. There ended recruitment speech draft twenty one. Although he believed every word he said, he could only hope that it would not only appeal to Pentaxa's head... but also her heart.

    "That is a rather cool device. Beats having to shine a searchlight into the night sky as a distress signal, eh?" Pentaxa joked.

    "I'm concerned about security because," she then turned serious too, but leaned in closer to the boy and spoke with a gentle tone. "Like you've pointed out, besides ourselves, we have important people in our lives - family, friends, and in my case, even the guy who owns this place. If we as heroes were to form this team and get out there, proving ourselves a threat to the SSG, we simply increase the risk of being attacked, ending up with only one another to trust the safety of our loved ones with - the ones that we personally have a responsibility to protect. As 'solo heroes', trusting people we don't even know with something like that would be a really big step to take for some of us, and unlike in the movies, pulling together a group of individuals from different walks of life and expecting them to work together can possibly backfire. If we can't protect ourselves and the ones close to us, we can't protect anyone else. You do understand that, don't you?"

    Pentaxa drew back slightly. "I do get your point though. If we don't fight for the city, nobody else can. You've already watched someone important to you get so badly hurt while unable to do a thing about it, and so you're coming to us, and you're deciding to trust us - trust that we can work as a team and that we are capable of helping you achieve what you plan to. For the rest of us, this may or may not be the better option, but I guess..."

    She paused for a second, taking a deep breath. "After all that being said, if this still means that much to you, and to Black Wasp... I'll be willing to give this a shot."

    Redwing smiled. "Then take this." he handed her the watch, then continued, "but..." he paused, "I don't want you in this just because you feel sorry for us, but because you actually want to do this. I can't say everything about protecting those you love, but maybe I can help a little... Perhaps you would like a better place to store your bike?"

    "Look, I still have loads of respect for you both. So you guys messed up that one time... big deal, it happens to the best of us," Pentaxa said as she accepted the watch. She then thought back to the reason she had decided to become a vigilante in the first place. "The truth is... there's someone I'd like to help out too, well... maybe not exactly help- it depends on how you put it, there's something I'd like to get done, and I've been trying, but maybe it's time I accept that there are just some things that I can't do alone, and maybe we shouldn't just be satisfied with the way things are right now."

    The helmeted hero cocked her head at Redwing. "You honestly believe that this is going to work, don't you? I can tell how serious you are about doing this, so I shall take you, and this project of yours just as seriously."

    She turned to her bike as Redwing mentioned it. "You know what kid? If you truly can offer me a place to store this thing, that would already significantly alleviate the risk of the people who work at this place being in danger. That's a good start, perhaps I am making the right decision after all."

    Redwing beamed. "I'm glad you've joined us. And as for the bike... just pick a location around which you would like, and we'll take care of the details." Or more like, he thought to himself, Ms. V. will. After all, she did say 'offer them what they want'. Aloud, he continued, "You can tell us where you've decided with that fancy watch. And we'll find a place nearby. It will be a safer city with you and yourselves on the team."

    "Wherever I'd like? It's that convenient, huh?" Pentaxa commented while examining the watch. "Well then, guess you'll be hearing from me soon. That is, if I don't hear from you first."

    She tossed her bike cover onto a nearby bench, catching sight of the day's paper on that same bench as she did so. Glancing over, she realized that it was conveniently left open at the horoscope page and read out the one for her star sign.

    "'Today is a good day for trying out new things and making new friends.' Well, what do you know... I'd ask how you found out when my birthday is, but we'll leave that for another time. It's been a wonderful talk." She did actually mean that last line, and she could only wish that the teenagers she taught at school would display half the intellect that this kid just did.

    "We should both be off now," Pentaxa ended off as she got on her motorcycle and wheeled it out the door. She then took her key out to lock up. "Thank you for the invitation, I"ll see you again real soon then."

    Redwing followed the woman out of the door. "Alright," he said, "See you soon." he released his grapple hook, and it vanished into the thick air, latching on to the rooftop of a tall nearby building. He was about to take off, when he paused for a moment, saying, "Good luck, tonight." The look in his face showed sincerity mingled with a bit of gratitude. But it was only visible for an instant, then it vanished with its owner into the night.

    The biker's tinted visor hid her smile of satisfaction as she watched the sidekick leave. She then took to the road, the roar of her engine fading as she too, disappeared from sight.
    If the gold does not stay in this world,
    then I will chase it till I find my home

  7. #17
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    Copost with Pheasant

    The back streets of Solus didn’t look any less grimey through the lenses of a cheap pair of twenty dollar bird watching binos.
    What could the hooded man behind them say? He wasn’t big leagues, as far as anyone knew Blademaster was a discount Cape. The only things he had access to were on the discount or clearance racks of hardware stores.

    He sat upon a ledge next to broken glass, on his high perch in the belfry of a run down chapel on Third and Brickston in the really dirty part of town near the Harbor where the streetlights needed new bulbs and you would have to be crazy to be out on this late.
    People came.
    People went.
    Some were cursed enough that they had to live in these run down tenements, forced to live where poverty and crime were cross streets. They passed hurriedly into the night with pulled down hoodies and the pace of men and women who know every second they linger is a risk.

    Others...lingered. Out of place folk with out of place clothes, name brand clothes with expensive new Nike’s. Men in clean jackets, women in enticingly short black skirts.
    They possessed a certain swagger, a confident step that was neither too slow or too fast.

    It was like watching wolves, out looking for their next meal.

    There was no lack of criminal syndication here. Drugs, prostitution, others that were...darker.
    He could dig the whole of his blade into the criminal element here and in a day it would be back stronger, more potent, more dangerous.

    No, he was here for a man, a certain man known on the street by Sharktooth. The man was a distributor, a middle man who bought and peddled anything that would turn a dime. Drugs, guns, sometimes people.
    Standard affair for a career criminal.
    But, Sharktooth was special. Very special.
    He was a freelancer who did work for the South Solus Gang. Turned their drugs into money into ‘just good business’.
    He’d spent a few hours at the Trio Amore before heading down to the bay.
    Blademaster was still a bit fuzzy on the details, anything that wasn’t readily accessible on the internet was a bit beyond the boy.
    But, he did know it was a fortress, and any sort of move on Trio Amore even just for recon was like signing his own suicide note.

    No, there would be a time for that.
    Until then, out here under the heavy smog of the city Blademaster would hide, slicing away quietly at the South Solus Gang’s investments until their hands were stumps.

    Sharktooth rounded a corner, and Blademaster was gone, a hook tossed across the narrow street and pulled taut.
    It was a wide swing, at the height of which he let go, landing lightly on a low rooftop above the corner Sharktooth had turned. There was a bang, the sound of a heavy steel door slamming shut and Blademaster looked over the edge.
    The man was gone, down a set of stairs into the bowels of some ancient warehouse.

    The man glanced back at the grappling hook that dangled in the moonlight, then looked back down.
    He’d have to come back for the hook, in the meantime there was only one way down to the street.

    He held his breath and hopped over the edge, landing in a full dumpster with a quiet ‘thunk’.

    The man sighed and hopped out, quickly dusting a bananna peel off of his shoulder.
    “Thank God nobody saw that…”, he mumbled.

    There were times when Redwing had hated reading those briefs Ms. V had shown him. But at least, the super-humans who had the lengthy briefs had been easy to find. In fact, he had just finished finding a particular one, who really does not matter to this story at all except that it placed Redwing on top of a particular building in the area near the harbor. Now, he was resting on this particularly tall building for a moment, checking off this guy on his list, and preparing to head back to the Wasp's nest.

    Suddenly...

    There was a loud clunk behind him. Redwing turned abruptly. There was a grappling hook on the edge of the roof. Perhaps... perhaps this was not as safe a spot as he hoped? He crept towards the edge of the roof, and when no one came over, cautiously looked over the side. A simple rope hung down, still swaying from the movement that had just taken place. A simple rope... hm... Well, it wasn't the SSG then- they would have had cool gadgets- with retractable stuff. Yeah! (Not for the SSG, of course. But cool gadgets were cool gadgets. Especially if reading the manual was optional.)

    He patted the side of his utility belt, then pulled out a pair of really cool and expensive binoculars, which, like the cheap ones, allowed you to see the grime of this part of the city. In fact, these ones allowed you to see it in such hi-def it looked practically more disgusting than if you were on the street. But Redwing ignored this. Instead, he scanned for something else: the owner of this particular grappling hook. If they were friendly, and on his list (goodness knows there were quite a few on his list that had a picture, a horoscope, and not much else), they might be recruited. And if not, well, a little fight with an obviously not major bad guy (I mean, look at that equipment!) could be fun.

    He was looking for signs of movement, anything. And, if it came to it, he would wait until Mr. Mysterious came to retrieve their hook. After all, if the person was this cheap, then they probably would not leave even the little they had.

    Blademaster hustled down the alleyway, pulling his hood up and tight. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but people who prowled the city streets at this time of night loved the color black.

    It wasn’t much of a walk before he reached the door that had ‘thunked’ shut about a minute ago, down a short flight of stairs. It was heavy, steel, with a slide open eye port and no lock on this side.
    Out of place, for a neighborhood as poor as this.
    Well, at least he was on the right track.
    Blademaster hammered the door twice, and after only a few seconds the eye port slid open.
    “What--”, came the voice of a burly man, but it was quickly silenced as Blademaster slammed the pommel of his bladeless handle through the opening, right between the man’s eyes.
    Judging by the thud on the other side, he went down.
    “Now, about this door…”, the boy mumbled.

    The tightly encased pocket of iron carbon and steel began to unfold from the long handle of the blade, sliding out in an unusual pattern that seemed to demand most of Blademasters focus, his arm scooping around the other side of the door until there was a loud click and his arm returned to the outside, blade again vanished.
    He pushed open the frame, grunting as he moved the olive skinned man passed out behind the door, and stepped into a dimly lit hall.

    Beneath the calm, he felt his blood rush. Blademaster was approaching the high point of the evening, the centerpiece for what would define his future for the coming weeks.
    The blade in his hand grew to roughly thirty inches, short by most standards but perfect for an enclosed place like this. It tip came to perfectly round curve, along with what should have been its razor sharp edge. As dull as it was, it wouldn’t kill anything as long as it was below the neckline.

    It would hurt like fucking hell though.

    He faced the door on his left hand side, where the light stopped and only darkness continued down the hall.
    With one hand he tightened up his Menpo. He hadn’t brought a mask, Blademaster would have to hope he wouldn’t get a good whiff of whatever was in the lab.
    He knocked again.
    “That you Marty? You’re supposed to be watching the freakin’ door!”, mumbled a man on the other side, “Hang on a sec…”
    He could hear his approach on the other side, along with the sound of boiling and sloshing and dim conversation.
    The lock popped and then, wham! The door was off its hinges with one solid kick, knocking the thug on the other side onto his back while the massive projectile continued and slammed into one of the tables lined with beakers and hot plates, and other amenities needed for an efficient drug lab. The hiss of acid and toxic chemicals was a dead giveaway, much like the four men strewn about the room attempting to pull weapons out of their dark jackets.

    The nearest man was not prepared for a man with a sword to come rushing through the door, and Blademaster had already wrapped the flat of his blade across his solar plexus, sending him wheezing and disoriented to the floor.
    The next was close, across the table from where Blademaster stood, one sharp kick removing two obstacles at once as he was sent flying back into a brick wall with the shattering of glass.
    Fortunately for him, that hadn’t been a work table covered with dangerous chemicals.

    By now the other two had drawn their weapons, one a sawn off shotgun, Sharktooth was the other with a baby AR-15 that looked like it had a fun switch.
    It looked a lot less fun from where Blademaster stood.
    They unloaded just as he dropped his duct taped smoke grenades, filling the room with more unhealthy gases. He took cover behind a wall of bags, filled with dry chemicals of a type he could only hazard a guess.
    “Go around you idiot!”, Sharktooth commanded, to which the other only responded with a cough, that and the crunch of glass giving away his position.
    “I can’t see a damn thi--”, the second man complained, before a brick from the now half destroyed wall slammed into his head and he rolled his eyes back until he hit the floor.
    “God damnit, they got Wasp, we were supposed to be in the clear for awhile…!”, Sharktooth muttered fearfully.
    He fired a few rounds blindly into the smoke, “Come on Wasp, meet your maker!”

    Blademaster stepped out of the smoke on one of the tables, sword held up showing the flat. Several bullets were stuck to the blade, the steel expanded the bullets had struck it.
    He thunked it lightly on the table and the lead broke off, the blade seeming to repair itself back to a pristine flat.
    The blade flew from his hand, pommel knocking the mans bell hard enough to put him out like the rest.
    “I’m not Wasp...but the longer you and your buddies think Wasp is still out and about, the better off I am…”

    There were two peaks of a swinging rope- a left one and a right one. With his rather awesome pair of binoculars, Redwing looked in the direction of both, scanning the nearby flat surfaces to see where the mysterious swinger had landed. Slowly he scanned the area, or at least as slowly as his impatience allowed. As such, he was on his sixth or seventh go around when he finally saw it: a break in the disgusting grime which covered everything, on a lower roof over to his right.

    Using his own tools, he managed to get to that spot. He looked at the two marks on the roof top- two little streaks where the grime was just a bit less thick than the rest. A pretty clean landing, from the looks of it. Very little skid at all. Whoever it was obviously had some experience. The question was, where were they now?

    Their grappling hook was on the other roof, so odds were they had dropped to the ground somewhere around this building. Redwing walked around on the roof, but could see no obvious footmarks on the ground below, even after looking a couple more times than before. Sighing, he touched a button on his binoculars, and looked through them again. Much of his view was immediately tinted red, some spots a little lighter, and some a little darker. There was one spot, though, not too far from here that was colored a deep, deep, red- almost to the point that you could hardly tell there was a building beneath it! The predicted criminal overlay vision was not perfect (only in Beta phase, after all), but if there was a suspected spot that red, then there probably was some sort of something going on. Besides, it was the most likely place where the person he was following was likely to be.

    He turned off the overlay, then, using his grappling hook, swung his way over to the site of the building highlighted. Once there, he was going to use the air ducts, but upon approaching them and seeing unidentified fumes coming out, decided that this usual method of entrance was probably not the wisest. Another mode of entry would need to be found...

    He lowered himself to ground level, and began to look around. Perhaps a window... Or, the door...

    Cautiously, Redwing approached the open portal. Some of the sounds of fighting were escaping out into the open air, and if there were reinforcements or such, redwing did not want to get in the way. Although he doubted this was the case- the people of this area were kind of of the 'I'll do my bad stuff, you can do yours but leave me alone' type, it was always better safe than sorry. Especially if Redwing decided to actually enter the building. Which, after finding no one guarding the door, he did.

    He could see through another open portal the rest of a fight going on, but before going further to investigate, he quickly checked the health of the criminal behind the open door: this criminal was obviously alive, but would not be waking up soon. As for what was going on in the rear room...

    Smoke from the smoke bombs and other fumes made it a bit hard to see the closing action, but it was nothing that could not be overcome by Redwing's multi-purpose and very convenient binoculars. Looking through them, he was just able to catch the final moments of action. Ouch- painful for the criminal, but a very good shot for... for...

    Redwing studied the bladed hero as well as he was able to from his position, which was not very well at all. Still with an unconventional weapon like that... He put away his binoculars and pulled out a small touch screen electronic device (also known as a phone, albeit highly customised), and, opening up a specific program, filtered and sorted a list of potential recruits until he found the one he was looking for: Blademaster. Tapping on it, it was easy to see why Redwing had not remembered the name at first- there was very little information about him. But what there was appeared good, and from what he had seen...

    He looked up just as Blademaster was finishing speaking, and smiled. Yep, this guy was good. Now, to recruit him...

    "Very nice," Redwing said from his position in the front room. He was standing out in plain sight, all in red and black, as he waited for the other to emerge from the smoke.

    "W-who--", Blademaster coughed as the smoke began to clear. He'd been so focused on the heavily armed men he hadn't noticed the one standing by the door.

    Another cape with a similar palette of red and black, although his didn't look like it had been bought from a second hand store, and the gadgets he had on him didn't look like they had been bought on E-bay.
    Either way, his stance didn't appear particularly aggressive, at least for the moment.

    Blademaster regained his poise, rolling the unconscious men into a pile on the wall, "Were you following me? Or was it the sound of gunfire?", he murmured somewhat absently as he slipped zip ties on their hands, stopping briefly to slip his blade-less weapon under his jacket before continuing.

    "You'll have to excuse my manners, I was hoping I'd be out before anyone saw me. I'm not one for the spotlight, especially in SSG territory"

    He grabbed something out of his bag, retrieving what looked like a Hornet from Black Wasp's own arsenal, if it had been made by an overzealous fan in a shop class with little attention to its overall aerodynamics. He then proceeded to toss it as non-nonchalantly into the chaos of the room as he could in the hopes it would fool someone into actually believing the Wasp was here.

    Redwing nodded. "Understandable. But perhaps, if you don't want anyone to follow you, you should close the door." he paused, and gestured to the still wide open door behind him. "Anyways," he continued, as the other was finishing up, "I would like to talk to talk to you. But... Maybe we should move to someplace safer? If you are done here, of course."

    "One last thing...", the boy murmured, pulling a cellphone out of Sharktooth's jacket and quickly dialing a number.
    It rung for a moment before a voice on the other side, a womans said, "Hello, 911, what is the nature of your emergency? Hello?"
    He set the phone down in front of the group of unconscious thugs gingerly, then breezed past Redwing into the hall. "Should have just enough time to grab my grappling hook and get out of here, before they trace the call to this place"

    Most people he met as Blademaster weren't too interested in talking, but he hadn't run into too many other capes. Couldn't hurt, especially if they were running down the same leads.

    It was a short trek to a nearby rooftop, the highway for capes. It would have been made shorter if he didn't have to retrieve his hook and then vault up the building in question, but it was relatively safe if you ignored the three or four squadcars full of police and detectives that were now cuffing a man on Interpol's wanted list and his goons.
    There would probably be something on it in the news later tonight, hopefully mentioning the return of Black Wasp with a lot of pomp and circumstance.
    Either way, his thoughts were turning into an impolite silence.
    "What did you need to talk to me about? Were you tailing Sharktooth as well, or did you just notice my Vietnam era whiff of a smokebomb?"
    Up here, he was more easily able to make out Redwing's gear. Yeesh, evidently he wasn't a cape on a budget.

    "To be honest," Redwing began, "I noticed your grappling hook. I was on this building earlier. I've been talking to other superheroes around the area, and, when I saw your hook, well, it was a pretty big giveaway that there was a hero nearby. So I followed you, to see who you were."

    He paused for a second, then continued. "Anyway, I'm Redwing, Black Wasp's sidekick. I've come here to try to recruit superheroes to join forces. Those that do will help each other, both in terms of getting the big guys and it terms of... equipment. Are you interested, Blademaster?" Redwing paused for a moment, then added, "You are Blademaster, right?"

    "Wait, THE Redwing? Black Wasp wants my help?", he paused for a moment, sighing as he said, "Blademaster is what they call me, yeah. Though nights like these make me wonder if I should be called throw-master..."
    Equipment? Like the kind of high grade equipment he and Black Wasp used? Man, if he could get his hands on some of that...
    "Well, I certainly wouldn't pass on an opportunity to train with the Wasp herself...I guess I'll throw my lot in with you for the time being"

    Two in a day! thought Redwing, What luck! Aloud he said, somewhat excitedly, "That's excellent. To show your membership, let me give you this..." suddenly he stopped, abruptly.

    Because he had only been expecting to recruit one person, he had only brought out one super-hero super-watch thing. He didn't have one for Blademaster! Oh, no! his thoughts raced, I really, really need to recruit him, but how... how can I? For a second he wished he had listened to Black Wasp's constant warnings about being prepared and ready for any circumstance. But that thought, in the usual way it did, faded, because at that moment he remembered...

    That extra bag she makes me carry! Maybe it has an extra watch! His eyes lit up, and he brought what amounted to a slim backpack around to the front. After the fight with Adrian, and a couple other of what Redwing called "fun" and Black Wing called "dangerous" misadventures, Black Wing had told Redwing he had better take this extra package just in case something happened. Redwing had, reluctantly, after a bit of persuasion in the form of that tone of voice and the look. He looked at the pouches... Let's see... extra grenades, extra grapple hook... and... extra watch. He smiled and pulled it out. It was red, and probably actually intended for if Redwing somehow lost his own. But since it was unused...

    He clicked a few buttons on it and handed it to Blademaster, smiling once more. "Here's your first piece of equipment. It functions as a walkie talkie, help signaler, internet surfer, and even as a watch. All you have to do is press these buttons. Pretty cool isn't it?" Redwing paused, admiring its coolness for a bit as well.

    "No doubt a tracker as well" Blademaster thought off offhandedly, but he wasn't about to look a gift-horse in the mouth. The masked man quickly fastened it around his wrist.
    "Very cool", he murmured, "Probably the most expensive bit of equipment I have now"
    He couldn't help but be a bit disappointed, but he'd have to wait for his own dreams of a utility belt.
    "So, whats the next step? Do I wait for you to call or something?"

    Redwing answered, "I guess so... Unless you need something first. Black Wasp is in charge of all that stuff. I'm just here for recruiting, right now. But, while I am here... Is there anything else you need?"

    Blademaster laughed, heading over to the edge of the building, "What don't I need?" he murmured, vaulting over the side onto a fire escape and disappearing down the alleyway below.

    "Wait!" Redwing's voice cried from the top of the building. But it was too late- Blademaster was gone.

    Or maybe it was not too late. In the typical never give up fashion, Redwing through a small object over the side of the building, landing near where Blademaster had. It was the extra retractable grappling hook. He peered over the building, and waited just long enough to make sure it was in good hands. Then, after waving goodbye, he, too, disappeared into the night.
    If the gold does not stay in this world,
    then I will chase it till I find my home

  8. #18
    PREACH FORGIVE ME PLEASE I BEG OF YOU!
    Minkasha's Avatar
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    There were unsettlingly heavy footsteps moving through a small group of people that had subtly gathered themselves near the mess of boobs, blonde, and bruises. There seemed to be a sort of eeriness to the metallic thuds, that when people finally did turn their eyes away from the crime lord inching across the ground they found themselves ducking to the side.

    It was a rather odd moment to see a figure more only really known to be a myth. The people staring quickly took their leave, especially since one of them had decided to inform authorities of the Greedy Goddesses’ whereabouts. The man didn’t have a charge going against them, mostly because everybody loved the famous beautiful bandits. A fucked up situation, as it looked like they fucked with the wrong one.

    But who the hell was this just walking over like he belonged in a horror film as the brooding killer or the terrifying monster? None other than the infamous “Claw”. The old ghost story used to box people into staying indoors at night and to keep from getting too big in this city, lest they fear falling into his radar.

    Though, with the business of the Nova Bomb bringing out more people with powers, the citizens of Solus City seemed to forget about the old killer. That was a bit annoying, but it didn’t matter. They’d all remember sooner than later. And this gimmick that was the “Greedy Goddesses” was going to help them.

    The Claw made his way to the inching woman without a word to be said. The eyeless and spiked helmet stared down as he knelt in her path with a hand resting on his knee. “Well, what have we here…?” A deep and somewhat scratchy voice taunted. “Seems to me that breakups are harder than they look.” He joked, but he did not laugh. Sophie, sporting a domestic abuse chic seen in 90s ads, glared with deep scorn from her wettened blue eyes. They shot a deep frustration and all Sophie saw was red when she heard someone disrespect what had just happened to her. Fuck was this how men saw the abuse of women?

    A pretty hand, well fist, met knuckles upon spikes to the cup covering the man’s genitals. The man’s BDSM amor didn't manage to break the skin of her flesh and the rattling impact sent the man pelvis first straight into the air. Passerby who were gawking and had their fill of abused Sophie pics were now laughing, gasping, or starring in true horror of what could happen next as Claw flew from one block to the next. His shadow cast over citizens walking down the sidewalk who had no idea to expect an urban legend raining down on them. His shadow passed over cars ready to turn at the intersection but had stopped to gaze up at a man flying over their streetlights.

    A raining cutting hazard Claw impacted a man not fast enough to project the trajectory. Claw’s armor alone turned the mildly overweight man into an amalgamation of bodily puncture wounds. What the aged killer landed on was a carcass of meat and bone taken out by a ‘womanly’ backlash and six hundred and sixty six silver protrusions. The sidewalk now all but abandoned and leaving the two people to stare at each other across the distance.

    The Claw chuckled quietly to himself as he pulled his body off of some guy possibly on his way to see his wife or family without much of a care. He instead stood back up and simply decided to start walking right back to where she was. Sophie had dragged herself to a wall of a local shop and stood on her left foot. Her right ankle couldn't be used at all and she stared down at her dirtied, ashy front covered body. Being the strongest person she knew alive, seeing the asshole get back up and cross the crosswalk without even a hobble bothered her. The beauty star, feminist icon, and gang leader was pinned to the wall with nowhere to go until a gang member either rushed to her or she somehow got a ride back to Trio Amore. Sophie really wanted a woman break soon, shit’s intense.

    “Who the hell are you and who taught you to be an asshole to women?” Sophie challenged. The spiked murderer tilted his head a bit in some consideration.

    “Somethin of nightmares babe, but I’ll admit, that actually hurt a little. So I’ll tell you what, I won’t do what I was going to originally. I’ve actually got a new plan, and since you like bein the star, I’m not gonna change that. So you’ve got two options, you could ride out of here with the police on a stretcher straight to whatever hellhole they’re gonna put you in. Or, you could come with me and you might just make it outta this in one piece.”

    A sharp flash of anger crossed Sophie’s eyes and one of her manicured hands crushed the brick she was holding to. Sophie, The Greedy Goddesses, hell Stephen himself loathed being told what to do. It was why the GGs and SSG were even a reality: freedom from the rules. It downright pissed her off for someone to ‘lay it out’ for her. She made it this far without that, didn't need it now. But...she just had her ass handed to her by Warpath and she couldn't afford to underestimate someone right now. If this man could take hundreds of pounds of force right in the balls, Sophie had to guess the rest of him could take a few as well. “Teh..” Sophie’s small and alabaster teeth grit behind pink lips. The distant sounds of sirens told her the police were coming. Maybe if she waited she'd be on the news and Scream could meet her, but she couldn't afford having her right hand getting arrested. AKA she was kind of fucked and needed this guy. “I can't walk.” The dirty and abused looking ‘woman’ said with a reservation not known to her super powered image. And the bubbly blonde of the three Goddesses wasn't sounding so bubbly.

    The Claw placed a hand at her chin patronizingly. “I probably should make you walk…” He sneered, but moved the hand pull the woman up and over his shoulder. The old legend started off toward one of the buildings, aware of one of her shoes falling to the ground. Yet, he decided that a better message would be given to the people of Solus if their favorite villainess went missing for a while.

    **

    Back at Trio Amore…

    While the front of the gentleman's club continued to be filled with wealthy bachelors, attractive serving waitresses and an empty stage only fit for the bosses, Jin Xu and Hacker were having their daily meeting in his office. Jin was scribbling down records of income being generated by the rapid purchase and reselling of stock. Dollars gained started slow but he had an apt eye for world news and promptly told the late twenty-something technomancer what to look for. As of now, this month’s income was over two hundred thousand. The South Solus gang could have simply been moderately affluent through this means alone but they were trying to become millionaires, billionaires. Higher and higher. And expenses did the same things: ever increase.

    All the indirect services. One annoying one that disgruntled the Asian-Solus citizen was always having someone on payroll to cover and paint over any graffiti disrespecting the South Solus Gang and their bosses. He already stared at the texted picture of a signed imitation of Lin being diddled by something he'd rather keep under wraps. However it was taken care of.

    However, The Greedy Goddesses were running late. Managing Warpath should have been easy, he agreed. Jin stared at the clock with handsome almond shaped eyes. He looked impatient and his thin brows furrowed. Hacker, a dye job blonde and fashion rebel with wires connected to his well taken care of body, had his red eyes shut in focus. His hand was touching and holding Jin’s laptop - peering into a economic, digitized world of nebulous zeroes and ones.

    Jin studied Hacker and was already well aware it was going to take some time. The manipulation of the markets had to be gradual - least they draw attention. Until things settled with Warpath it was going to be their primary income.

    His phone bleeped again and activated the touchscreen to read sourly that another of his go to freelancers was behind bars. The text came directly from a police officer on the payroll, a lot of people had to be on it. Another sigh kept from the lawyer’s lips. He was already skimming his contact journal for one of his lawyer peers to defend Sharktooth into an insanity charge and make him disappear from Solus for many, many years. An easy twenty to thirty five thousand spent in that alone. Currently there were some of the freelancers more expensive to make disappear than what they had ever raked in for the SSG.

    In short, it was going to be time to pull their mild interest from drugs. He noted that on a to do list on his desk. There was a very deliberate reason the lawyer kept everything to paper. Hacker was a very threat to digital security. With him, nothing was safe on a computer - all he needed to know was where to look. And if Hacker existed there could be no risk for some exploitation from another possible technomancer in the city. Luckily not many people held this concern - making SSG very aware of the dirty laundry of politicians across the fair city.

    To make his ever spinning thoughts and worries ease up the man in the dark maroon suit grabbed a remote and turned on the television revealed with a spin from a hidden panel on the wall.

    The news layout was marked with red, white letters boldly saying ’BREAKING NEWS’. Jin looked carefully at the news broadcast. Images of Sophie heavily beaten with purple marks across her neck, forearms and on her ankle, laying on the ground were in a slideshow.

    “We are showing submitted images of Sophie, pop idol and one of three leaders of the South Solus gang. The extent of her injuries is unknown but some are starting to suspect Warpath may have done more than maim the famous vigilante Black Wasp” Jin’s eyes shot wide open and his chest began to burst with fear. He couldn't even get to his phone before it got worse.

    “It is disturbing to see what has become of the gang leader” the female anchor said, her brown hair slicked back far too perfectly. “But there is more to the South Solus Gang’s beaten female boss. Just five blocks from Solus Library there was an encounter that seemed more than a stroke of chance” a phone video from a person standing across the road had recorded a man in entirely spiked armor approaching and engaging Sophie. When he landed on a man’s body the image was blurred until he returned back to the blonde, spoke briefly and threw her over his shoulder. Jin couldn't help but notice how vulnerable she looked and it made him nauseous. The spiked armor, he knew its history well from the stories his older brother scared with at night. The Claw, a generations old killer. And for him to surface in the daytime, to make that urban myth real?

    “Oh god…” Mr. Xu mumbled. Hacker was blissfully unawares as he was still in his electronic trance and was no different than a statue. While Jin’s phone rang, a cover photo of the story planted itself on the center of the screen: Sophie’s left behind black stiletto. “Scream, gather everyone. We need to find her before he does whoever he wants with her. Now.”
    Last edited by Minkasha; 01-30-2017 at 02:45 AM.
    Thank you MayhemsCurse <3


    Spoiler: Memorable Quotes 

  9. #19
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    as written by Calcos and m139

    The sounds of an acetylene torch searing steel reverberated throughout the Wasp’s Nest, its fire cutting into the metal like a Justin Beiber song into a sane person’s ears. Equipped with the Spinal Alignment Apparatus and an arsenal of potent painkillers, Erica felt up to the task of initiating a new project; a countermeasure to the powerhouse that was Sophie, the very same Greedy Goddess who had (albeit inadvertently) put her in this position in the first place.

    Had it not been for her, Warpath would have never placed a finger on Black Wasp. At least, that’s what Erica liked to tell herself.

    Of course, being the overly-snoopy person that she was, she scoured the news on a constant basis, and was practically assaulted by headlines of Sophie’s supposed disappearance at the hands of Claw, a man who was something of an urban legend around these parts. But then again, so had Black Wasp been, once, before stepping up and giving a shrouded face to the name that once haunted the dark.

    Returning to her task at hand, however, Erica was hard at work constructing the frame of a new powered exoskeleton that would, hopefully, be able to withstand the onslaught of Sophie’s super-powered punches (as well as any other super-strength sporting opponents she would undoubtedly come across once she wasn’t restrained by her injuries). Cutting apart the steel and reconstructing it to suit her needs would take some time and doing, but she was patient and very determined.

    Albert stood by in quiet concern, having thrice warned the lady that such strain would likely only worsen her condition. She had replied, in no uncertain terms, that she had not a single fuck to give. Her mind was focused, and she wouldn’t be stopped now. The painkillers were enough to keep her mind off of her… well, pain. She’d deal with repercussions later.

    Right now, she was deep in the zone.

    Meanwhile, Bobby had been off not doing anything exceptionally important. By this time, he had finished reading all the current briefs he had- finished reading them and recruiting them all!

    … Or rather, most of them. There were of course, some who told him, despite every technique he tried, that they would never join, but, for the most part, well memorized speeches, hope of some sort of finances, and -in desperation- puppy eyes convinced them. But now that was all over. And now Bobby was free to do whatever he wanted for a bit. Well, at least he would be free after doing regular school homework. But such were the pains and trials of a twelve year old superhero boy. First one had to read for the job, then for school - the agony!

    However, this painful exercise was now drawing to a close. As Bobby crossed his last ‘t’ and dotted the last ‘i’ (although with his sloppy handwriting it did not seem to make much of a difference), his mind thought of all the fun activities he could now do. And first up… was checking up on (or bugging, depending on who you asked) Ms. V!

    Running around corners, skidding, and making the general ruckus that normally accompanied his movement, Bobby rushed down the stairs and halls until he arrived in the Wasp’s nest.

    “Hi, Ms. V!” he called, then wrinkling his nose as he noticed the bitter odor for the first time, added, “What’s that smell?”

    The torch burned low before finally dying off as Erica killed the flame, Bobby’s voice somehow louder than the sounds of cutting metal. She placed the apparatus by her side, lifting up the visor on her welder’s mask and standing, turning around fully (she couldn’t quite twist her torso round, despite the pills), to look her ward in the eye.

    “Progress, Bobby. You have a report for me, I assume?” she said, in no regards toward his schoolwork; although, she’d expect that later on.

    “Oh, yeah, progress.” Bobby stated, completely forgetting his own question at the thought of superhero stuff. He paused for a moment, then began to rattle on in a stream of words. “I read through all those reports that you gave me, and scouted out every single one. And believe me, some of them were hard to find. Like this one guy- you won’t believe how many buildings I had to climb- although it was pretty fun- or how many bridges he snuck over. The bummer though was that he didn’t even join after I really really tried to recruit him. A couple of the others did not join either. But some, well…”

    [Here, Bobby talked about all the people he recruited, going off from time to time on some tangent about what he thought of their fighting skills, or what he saw nearby that was kind of cool. The writer of this particular segment is too lazy to write out all he said, as he said it, and so will give you only this quick summary. It is sufficient to say that he spoke of all the people who have been recruited in the posts above, plus a few extra NPCs who are not important at all unless we need them later on in the story. But speaking of the story… Let us continue with Bobby’s prattle…]

    “Anyways,” Bobby continued, “I’ve gone through them all. They all have their watches and such, and now you know what I told them you’d give them, so it’s all good. We’ve got a team now.” He smiled, beaming. He was quite proud of himself.

    Erica soaked in everything Bobby had just spouted (all without losing her patience at the diversions from the topic at hand; she must have some kind of superpower after all!), her constant resting bitch face never fading. “So, that’s everyone then?” she said, her tone very indicative that she was not pleased. Bobby had made progress, sure, and for that she was grateful, mostly because she had expected him to get distracted by a stray butterfly or wind up taking a trip to the amusement park before he’d get the job done. However, the measly ten recruits he had rounded up wasn’t up to her standards (they are very high, if that wasn’t obvious enough).

    “I’ve got more work for you, Bobby,” she said, walking across the steel grated floor towards her sidekick, handing him a touchscreen pad she had scooped off of a nearby workbench on her way over. “Take a look.”

    As soon as Ms. V had spoken with that tone of voice, Bobby had guessed the outcome of whatever happened next wasn’t going to be that favorable- at least, not to Bobby. Therefore, when she held out the screen, he had cautiously come forward to look at it, and upon looking at it, tried not very hard to stifle a groan. After letting out most of the full mental anguish that he felt, he whined, “More recruits? Isn’t ten enough?”

    “Not when only three of them are worth a damn,” she said with a slow turn of the head and a wink towards the metaphorical camera. Looking back to Bobby, she stated bluntly, “We’re going to have to reach out more. The more people we have on our side, the better.”

    It was here that Albert stepped forth from his quiet reclusion, clearing his throat in that haughty, English-butler style he worked so well. “Mistress Vayne, if I may,” he began, “Master Flayson has just returned from a rather lengthy excursion. Wouldn’t it be more pertinent to let him rest himself before diving into the hunt again so soon?” Erica shot her old friend a look that was somewhere between contempt and reluctance, all the while knowing (although she was not ready to admit it) that he was probably right.

    With a sigh, she relented. “Of course, Albert. Bobby can have a few days off. After that, though,” she said, turning back to the boy blunder, “I expect you to be back on patrol for new recruits. Understood?”

    Bobby nodded, his mind already thinking of some of the things he could do. With a few days off… that meant at least a day or two before he would have to start on all that reading. And as for the amount of fun (or, alternatively, trouble) he could get into during that time. His eyes gleamed with excitement. “Of course, Ms. V.,” he said, somewhat excitedly, “I will get back to work right after my days off.” Obviously, this excitement was not in any way connected to the prep-work at all.

    “Good. Now, as far as your homework is concerned…” she began, the tone of her voice indicative of her expectations. “I expect no less than an A+. I’ll review it myself later on, and believe me: if it’s not up to snuff, you’ll redo all of it.”

    The light in Bobby’s eyes quickly faded. Even the thought of being stuck here for the next few days was enough to put a damper on any illusions of fun. He couldn’t let his freedom become spoiled by this!

    “Of course, Ms. V.” he said, “I’ve got it mostly all done already. It should be ready in an hour or so.” There. That should give him enough time to look over both his essay and math problems. Or, at least, enough time for him to look over them quickly, as was his custom.

    “Good, now. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got several things I need to work on, myself.” Albert, in his sarcastic grace, piped up once again, “I believe you’ve worked enough for the three of us today, Mistress Erica. Perhaps it’s time to put these matters to bed for now,” he said, unsmiling and yet still getting his point across. Erica rolled her eyes, defeated. Bedridden and immobile was not how she wanted to spend any portion of this day; however, she could feel the painkillers starting to wear off.

    “Fine, dammit, fine! But I’m not going to be cooped up in there any longer than I have to be.”
    “Indeed, Mistress Erica. A good two to three more months should see you through.”
    “You know I can fire you, Albert?”
    “Not in this lifetime, Miss Vayne.”

    Bobby, meanwhile, had not been paying too much attention to all this adult talk. All he knew was that he had one thing he was supposed to do- leave and do his homework. Although he did not look forward to either (talking to Ms. V was fun and homework has long been accepted as the one of the banes of a middle schooler’s existence), the sooner it was over with, the sooner his vacation could begin. At this oh so convenient lull in the conversation, Bobby took the chance to insert his own words, “Bye, Ms. V!” he said, half turning to the door, “Have a nice rest!” The gradually lessening thuds in the hallway signalled he had completely departed.
    Last edited by Calcos; 01-30-2017 at 06:43 AM.

  10. #20
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    Murderer! That's what the masked kid had called Adrian. The part that sucked the most about it was the fact that Redwing was right. What the hell am I even doing?

    For a long time, he wanted his own justice, convinced that the city's heroes -- to include both the boys in blue and the then-recently-minted super humans -- were unwilling and/or unable to get it for him. Adrian had spent quite a while drawing up irrefutable evidence of other crimes these people had committed. Sure, they may or may not have helped the Nova bomb attacker kill his parents, but those few people still took everything from him in one fell swoop -- and Adrian was certainly not their first victim... and in most cases not their last. For the umpteenth time that day, Adrian asked himself what "justice" really was.

    Was it merely a matter of morally acceptable vengeance? Was it merely a tool used by the strong to grind others under their heels? What if the unjust were the ones who got to define the word in the first place? An entire day of pondering led him nowhere. Yeah, I did some horrible shit, and I'm going to be haunted for it for the rest of my life -- as if I'll last that long anyway. Quite frankly, half the things Adrian ended up doing were unforgiveable. Yes, his actions were justified, but by no means were they the mark of any hero's actions. He knew that revenge begets violence, and he already got a taste of it earlier that morning, courtesy of Redwing.

    Speaking of which, Adrian was still pissed off that he got his ass kicked by not only a kid, but a kid with a weird costume and armed with nothing but a bunch of gadgets. He exercised no powers, and didn't do a lot of things out of the ordinary. Overall, he felt his fight was a catastrophic disgrace. The kid had soundly trounced Adrian enough to force him into his native environment to fight... and even then the fight had come to a very inglorious draw. To make matters worse, the kid was someone else's sidekick! Sure, Adrian had only brought a stockpile of random objects he found effective, and was on his way back home from another fight. But when he could literally nuke shit left and right, he had no excuses at all.

    This fucking sucks. Adrian's resolve had more or less shattered in the face of his erstwhile foe's very direct and scathing statements, in tandem with his brooding thoughts on the matter. To top it off, it became horridly clear that he lacked suitable equipment for a fight. Sure, the mace did its job well, but his knives turned out to suck, and his ball bearings sucked more. Literally the only thing that saved him was his on-the-spot discovery that he could rip entire walls to hell and back if he was backed into a corner. [I]Hell, I literally shot a tiny nuke through that thing...[I]

    The thought gave him extra inspiration. Shoving unsolvable ideas of justice straight out of his mind, he began looking for his small stash of radioactive materials that he kept in his well-fortified penthouse. Coming to a small, secret panel labelled with the red letters "JOLLY ROGER," he carefully cracked open the lid, revealing various types of radioactive materials, from plutonium to uranium -- and even carbon isotopes. He simply started to take the entire stash out, with plans of performing experiments on them -- namely bombarding them directly with more radiation, followed by particle acceleration... until he got the right fit for a new weapon.

    Three tests into the experiment, he moved to a still-radioactive piece of rubble that was taken out of the original Nova bomb site. He only had a few pieces of this lying around, but if his experiments indicated anything, he could generate stupid amounts of radiation from this thing. He performed the same experiment as he did on the other pieces of radioactive things: he bombarded it with his own radiation, causing the object to go critical... and then he detonated it with his particle acceleration. While the previous blasts produced a lot of radiation, their force wasn't anything to write home about. This one though, felt like a supernova to the face...

    When he finally woke up several hours later, half the fortified room was heavily damaged. Anything not bolted down in that direction was destroyed almost beyond repair. The normally clean and pristine room looked like a tornado had struck and destroyed anything that could possibly fly off the floor. The reinforced walls were also extensively damaged from his detonating a radioactive chunk of metal gone critical. The chunk itself was embedded in a random piece of steel at the far end of the room, having flown through one of the consoles that monitored conditions in the room. Despite the fact that Adrian had literally gone flying the other direction into one of his work stations, he was determined to perfect the method... after the heat in the room had a chance to be scrubbed out by the internal air conditioning.

    Seems I've found a good weapon, holy shit what a recoil that thing had!. Knowing that he at least had a new ace-in-the-hole, Adrian decided to forego questioning the science behind it for the moment. Instead, he needed to know how to keep stable while setting off a force of that magnitude. In the meantime, he knew that he had to at least perfect of method of forcing an otherwise inert object to go critical and nuke everything around it, in case he lost some of his plutonium-laced objects during a fight...

    Braving the Storm (A Short Story) -- role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=55314

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