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Thread: Battle On! [M]

  1. #21
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    Alone in her refurbished treehouse, Hali sat surrounded by pieces of wood and a couple of how-to books. There were a couple of electric lanterns around the place, for all the windows had long been covered and insulated, due to its inhabitant's want for privacy, warmth, and their general uselessness. As Hali sat finishing up her latest birdfeeder for one of the parks nearby, she half-listened to the anchorman on the radio blabbing on about all the cities news. The Solus City hokey team had lost again, but that was not to surprising. The weather tomorrow looked great. Gas prices were on the rise. And so on.

    They seemed to be running out of news, for now they were interviewing some somebody from somewhere, when suddenly, the program was cut.

    "We're interrupting this program with a special broadcast straight from the south side of Solus City," the newscaster began.

    Oh, another crime? though Hali, How 'unusual'. She scoffed as she carefully glued two pieces of wood together.

    The anchorman continued, "Just five blocks from the local library SSG leader Sophie has been reported kidnapped by the Claw."

    The reporter then went on to talk about who this suspected guy probably was, and give a couple of conspiracy theories, and then, finally, a few facts. As for Hali, she was partly listening to it all, but only partly. After all- there was not too much the guy could really say about the Claw that Hali did not already know. Besides keeping tabs on all the meta-humans she had identified in Gardenview, she also had researched every single possible government experiment she found out about. Of course, there was never really ever anything completely concrete about any of them, or even if they truly were an experiment, but, she did know what she did know. And what she did know was that the government loves lies and hiding things, so if it's too hard to find- then something is up.

    Either way, if what she knew and now heard of the Claw was even half true, then this might change the shape of crime in the city, which would be, obviously, not good. With most of the major happenings in the South side and near the port, Gardenview had relatively few major crimes compared to the other districts, and, therefore, the already overburdened police force only patrolled this area because the residents would not reelect the sheriff otherwise. But, if the Claw decided to operate in the same area as the SSG, then one would likely end up moving, which would only be bad. For Hali, at least. For goodness sake, she did not need anyone to find out where she lived.

    But, either way, with a new threat so big- according to the rambling newscaster, the city council was going to hold a special meeting to discuss it tomorrow. Well, Hali would "be" there- that is, she would be watching it. Not only would they likely be more informative (especially the parts that went on behind the public eye), but they might have some fragment of a clue as to where the Claw took his victim.

    After all, if the SSG leader ender up anywhere near Gardenview, Hali would have to do something about it. She could not let the police or the SSG come running into a place like this. It would be disastrous for the stability of this little region. And Hali did not want to move so soon again.
    If the gold does not stay in this world,
    then I will chase it till I find my home

  2. #22
    Member NightlightNinja's Avatar
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    Parked on the roadside of a dimly-lit, almost-deserted part of the city was a sleek silver car with couple of lip-locked teenagers in the front seats. Typical of these hot-headed high schoolers - to be out in the open this late with super-powered criminals prowling the streets simply for the thrill of it, though, they learned of the consequences soon enough, when they decided to shoot a glance at the windshield to see it clouded with fluorescent pink mist.

    Panic struck the young lovers as a sweet fragrance seeped in through the melting glass and metal. It was sickeningly sweet, and they were starting to feel slightly faint from it. The mist then cleared when the windshield was almost gone, revealing a glowing purple figure perched on the hood. The both of them stared in alarm, clearly remembering who this was - Phyllis Vega, also known as Aroma, or the Mist of Death, as the students of Sun Valley High had named her ever since that... incident took place at the school.

    Aroma, too, knew these couple of kids well. Who better to rob than the jerks who tormented you back then when you were defenseless?

    "Brandon, Natalia... It's been awhile. I didn't think that you'd survive that first time. Some of your friends didn't though, did they?" Taunted the purple bespectacled girl.

    "Y- You... monster!" Natalia angrily spat as she fought to remain conscious.

    The gaseous runaway laughed bitterly. "That's funny. I still remember when all of you were the monsters. You thought you could do whatever you want to other people. How does it feel, now that I can do exactly that?"

    Aroma's own fumes were making her remember it all too well. She realized the resentment she truly felt for those bullies. Seeing those two again made her blood boil. They were fortunate. Them being alive and well meant that they didn't get what they deserved for what they did to her. People like them shouldn't exist, and it angered her that they did.

    She lunged forward, grabbing both the light-headed, squirming teenagers by their throats and yanking their heads closer to hers. This is it, I can get rid of them right now! Just one breath out will burn their faces right off. They'll suffer like they should before I end them for good...

    A satisfied smirk formed on the face of the young villain as she steadily drew breath through her nostrils, preparing to exhale a stream of acid mist on her victims.
    Credits to PrinceOfRedroses at https://www.rinmarugames.com/ for avatar and signature.

  3. #23
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    Default Part I: Fight-Night

    Tarragon


    The delicate moonlight drifted in through the window, just barely illuminating a large tail peering from within an overfilled bathtub. Opening her eyes delicately, Tarragon pushed her head from above the water, her wet hair spilling across her face with the motion. Raising her two pale, slightly scaled arms, Tarragon placed them against the sides of the clean bathtub before taking a moment to peer around the room, enjoying the silence that pervaded its entirety. Looking over her left arm, she felt a wave of anger as she found the tell-tale pinpricks of injections within her skin. They were old now, a few months before Gabriel had joined her and Woof-Lord; a few months before Toby got what he deserved. Running her soft fingers against the marks of forced drug-consumption, Tarragon shivered as her mind called back to the sensation of rushing heroine. A bile like taste filled the woman’s mouth as she forced her hand to remove itself - fingers prying away with seeming disdain – calling the Mermaid back a week of cold turkey after Toby had turned into a dribbling mess.

    Laying her head against the back of the tub once more, Tarragon stared upwards into the ceiling, perhaps the least dilapidated part of the entire apartment complex. Sharktooth’s boys hadn’t come knocking for a few days, and the young mermaid was left wondering whether Gabriel had scared them off – though she was sure the tight shift of drug dealers hiring addicts to sell drugs to addicts would have his men coming back. Such was life in the gutters of Solus – the only one of the four who could work was Gabriel, who would often come back with enough money for the meagre rent, bills and food; she was part of the violent circle of poverty, whether she liked it or not.

    “Rise and shine Fishy.” Woof-Lord’s voice came from beside the bathtub. Tarragon smiled as she shifted an arm from the side of the bath towards the voice, soon feeling the dog’s soft fur coat shift through her fingers, letting her nails scratch at him soothingly. “Didn’t wanna disturb ya’, and ya’ seemed to be sleeping pretty peacefully.” As Tarragon ran her hands across the dog’s fur, she felt his sincerity – he was tired, not too warm yet not too cold, thinking of steak and tennis balls. She smiled at the warmth of his mind, patting him slightly.

    “I was having a beautiful dream.” Tarragon muttered, smiling and closing her eyes. “We were at the beach, and the sun was shining – me, you, Gabriel.”

    “I could sure as hell go for a beach.” Woof-Lord interjected, his tail loudly thumping against the side of the bath-tub as the thought of warm sand beneath his paws.

    “We were all smiling, and then Toby appeared.” The Mermaid continued, causing Woof-Lords tail to stop wagging as he looked up at her, confused.

    “You said this was a good dream?” The talking Dog tilted his head, confused. “You don’t have good dreams about him.”

    “This one was probably the best dream I’ve ever had.” Tarragon leaned her arms backwards and smiled, stretching off the last of her sleep. “Toby was there, and I sung to him and came out of the sea and let my legs come out.”

    “Fishy…” Woof-Lord muttered, a worried expression on his face. “These dreams aren’t good for you…”

    “And then I got on my hands and knees just like he used to make me.” Tarragons eyes opened now, and her smile had disappeared, replaced by a straight face laden with malicious glee. “And when he got close to me, and his pants were halfway down I pulled him into the sea and held him under.” A humoured sniff escaped the Mermaid as her straight face returned to a delicate smile. “I’d just stopped counting the bubbles when the light woke me up.”

    A panicked, childish cry came from the neighbouring room, coupling the noise of the television set – something Tarragon had missed as she woke from her great dream. “I should go to him.” Woof-Lord muttered, lifting himself from the slightly-damp bathroom floor, shaking stray drops of water from his fur. “He’s probably hungry or the fuckin’ things gone on the fritz again.”

    “Leave him.” Tarragon muttered coldly. “Let him wail.”

    “I can’t…” Woof-Lord looked at the floor, seeming at war with himself internally. “Gabriel asked me to look after him whilst he went to work.”

    “Gabriel’s the one who wants that bastard around, tell him to take him with him next time.” Tarragon snapped, good mood ruined as she sat up in the tub, dipping her tail into the warm water.

    “You know I can’t do that Fishy.” Woof-Lord spoke tentatively. “As much as I agree with you, Gabe loves him – it’d destroy him if we hurt him, or neglected him.”

    “He doesn’t know that fuck like we do.” The Mermaid lamented quietly, dipping her head once more beneath the water, drowning the wailing of her creator out, purging his cries from her uncaring ears.

    “I know.” Woof-Lord responded, whimpering quietly before returning to the living room, leaving Tarragon beneath the water.


    Gabriel


    The locker room was quiet, the sounds of the small crowd outside echoing into the claustrophobic area. Gabriel stood ahead of one of the small compartments, its metal door cracked open – there was nothing of value within, Gabriel had taken its meagre contents out and laid them upon the metal chair beside him, a bottle of water and a small, old towel that he had used to wipe away his sweat after a fight before. Lifting up his legs to loosen them up, Gabriel breathed in heavily through his nose and out through his mouth, slowly flexing his left leg forwards after about the third time he’d raised his knees. Finishing with his legs, the man shrunk slightly into a normal boxing stance, standing upon his toes and bending his knees to keep himself bouncy and quick on the move. Gabriel clenched his hands and thrust forwards with his left, hissing the air from his mouth as he did so, before refilling his lungs with oxygen upon the hands quick withdrawal. This was the starter blow, and Gabriel followed it up by attacking the air ahead of him with another jab, closely joined by a right uppercut to loosen the muscles in his shoulders and his arms. A hiss came with each punch, and with every punch came deadly intent - there was money on the line today, and Gabriel was confident.

    Finishing throwing his punches, Gabriel leaned backwards and rolled his shoulders slightly, feeling a slight pang of discomfort as the feathers of his wings pressed against the rope bindings he had forced around them - he didn’t want the crowd to see them, he figured more people would bet against him if he looked like a normal guy. Taking a quick swig of his water bottle, Gabriel span around just in time to hear the announcer through his budget microphone calling his name. There was a silence in response, followed briefly by some meagre clapping - the type of clapping that was given to unknowns. Cracking his neck from side to side, Gabriel pushed open the double doors and stepped out into the poorly lit room that held the ring.

    Gabriel’s opposition already stood in the ring, a young hispanic man who bounced on his heels before throwing one or two punches, riling up some of the crowd upon his side of the cage - the only noise to overshadow the sound of Gabriel’s footsteps upon the cold concrete floor. The event was underground, as was to be expected, therefore it was a poorly funded affair, yet the ring was pristine - though lacking any sort of logo or sponsorship, telling of the unprofessional and unregulated nature of the fight club - and the lighting upon it was nigh-on contradictory with the state of everything else about the event. Gabriel hadn’t seen the light’s glare before now - being a virgin to the ring - and it pressed upon his vision now, leaving white spots upon his eyes every time that he blinked. Shaking the feeling off, Gabriel took a step up and climbed into the octagon, still flexing his arms out whilst purposely avoiding the blaring lights surrounding him on every side. There was a seismic murmur within the crowd as he stepped in, his long blonde hair bound in a ponytail to keep it from getting in his face: Who is this guy?; What chance does he have?; What type of freak is he?

    Gabriel’s opponent - Jack the Ripper he was affectionately known by his fans and himself, as he was full of modesty - smiled and walked forwards to the centre of the ring, shaking his feet and arms about to continue to limber up. The ref took a step forwards upon another side of the centre and turned towards Gabriel. “Come on son, don’t be shy.” He smiled, raising a hand and ushering for Gabriel to step forwards, to which Gabriel complied, moving towards the centre of the ring to come face to face with his opposition. Cracking his neck once more, Gabriel glared with his Golden Eyes into Jacks, who smiled like a shark. “Now boys, I want a good clean fight, you know the rules of engagement.” The Referee spoke. Gabriel did know the rules, tap or die - there were no rules, only a winner and loser at the end. “Touch gloves.”

    Jack raised his gloves upwards and his smile widened. Gabriel lifted his in response, hesitating slightly as Jack lowered his eyes to look upon his approaching hand. Watching his eyes very carefully and lowering his stance slightly in preparation, Gabriel pushed his hand forwards and tapped Jack’s gloves. Almost as soon as Gabriel had done so, Jack swung outwards, a long, sharp bone jutting out of his right glove aiming directly for Gabriel’s temple. Having prepared for it, the blonde man ducked backwards and raised his arms up.

    “I’m gonna cut the shit out of you boy.” Jack marched steadfastly forwards, exuding yellow-white bone from every pore of his skin, like small spines that slowly grew larger as they pressed further out of his body. “You gon’ die in this ring.” Swinging upwards, Jack threw an uppercut towards Gabriel, who twisted out of the way once more before thrusting his fist towards Jack’s abdomen, cracking the spikes upon his stomach and pushing him backwards around 3 feet. Jack’s eyes widened slightly before he grinned once more, extra teeth pushing through his gums, more like sharp needles than the large, mostly dull teeth that usually sat within Human mouths. “I knew you weren’t normal!”

    Jack darted forwards once more, Gabriel walking steadily forwards to match him. The bone-exuding man swung left and right, catching Gabriel upon the shoulder but being unable to move him, before missing on his second swing. Pulling Jack forwards by his arm - the spines pressing through his skin being caught upon the tank top he wore, having cracked and bent sideways as they grazed across Gabriel’s skin - before spinning him around and slamming him into the side of the cage Gabriel had come from, the man smashing into the metal with a few cracks. Quickly pressing himself upwards from the floor, Jack ran his forearm across his mouth, removing blood from his lips before laughing. “Been awhile since someone made me bleed boy; you’re in for it now!” Gritting his spiney-teeth together, Jack sprinted towards Gabriel, foregoing all form for anger and confidence.

    Lowering his stance, Gabriel wrapped his arms around the charging man, grabbing him up in a large bear-hug. The sound of cracking and shattering bone came from behind the man’s ear as Jack’s teeth cracked and broke trying to bite into Gabriel’s shoulder. With a slight smile tugging at the side of his mouth, Gabriel squeezed hard, first listening for the cracking of the spines around the man’s ribs, but then listening for the deeper, more resonant cracking of his rib-cage. It came within a few seconds, the pressure Gabriel exerted being far too much for Jack’s impressively conditioned body to handle. The man cried out and Gabriel released him, dumping the man to the floor as blood streamed up from his throat and across his cheeks, pooling up on the mat. Turning to the referee, who stood with his eyes agape, surprise being noted by his dropped jaw, Gabriel smiled.

    “Well…” He muttered, the crowd utterly silent as they watched one of the best fighters they’d seen be felled in less than a round. “Looks like we have a winner…”
    Last edited by Death of Korzan; 02-21-2017 at 06:24 PM.

  4. #24
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    Default Co-Post with Triple Gs(Mink)

    Lights flickered in the dank, shadow filled lair that belonged to none other than the infamous Claw, nearly a mile and a half beneath Solus City. In a very horror film-esc way, the main room was filled with many different torture devices, such as the iron maiden, the bed of nails, an erect and pointed post for impalement to name the nice ones. Dry blood clung to many areas of these devices. It appeared as though they haven't been used in quite some time, but nonetheless were still rather unsettling to be in the presence of.

    In the far corner of the torture room and to its left, seemed to be a hidden door. Within this hidden door was a more apartment sized room. Within it was the simplicity of a couch, a television, and then a government-like radar-system with a computer. Okay, maybe not so simple. There was also a kitchen with a small sink and miniature fridge that you more often see in a college dorm room or something. There wasn't a bathroom though, oddly enough.

    Either way, the heinous mask of the Claw, was actually taken off and placed down on a generic and seriously old looking wooden table. How long has he been doing this? Since the olden days or something? Really, it could be said of any of the furniture in here, other than this relatively advanced computer system that he got down here somehow. That was another thing, how the hell did he get something like this down here without anyone knowing? Where'd he get the paper from? Hell, who knows.

    His face was pouring red from the mask's spikes going directly into his head, it was dry-ish, and he seemed to be watching the news reports on himself as well as his new captive whom he had placed on the couch. This first part of his plot was much of a success as the loss of the city's oh so lovely"Greedy Goddesses" or whatever, was all that was going to be talked about for now. From his cross armed position in front of the screens, he half-scoffed and half-chuckled.

    The bruised blonde was stuck on the couch, staring at her bare foot and the swollen ankle attached to it. What she could have glimpsed so far she wondered what sort of sick bastard this guy was. When he pulled of his S&M helmet to reveal his bloodied face Sophie glared at him. He was a strange mix of sleazy and sexy all covered in gore. It dawned on her that she was still very capable of literally ripping this man in half - from what she's seen in his place, he might light it...ehhh...-ew. Sophie knew that this was out of her league of thinking and that Lin was going to be needed if she was going to get out of this and maybe outsmart him. The Greedy Goddess bit her lower lip but decided to act on it.

    FLASH

    On the couch was an even small female figure, with more pale skin exposed in her teasing with dress that allowed the eyes to almost peer through to the skin. The Asian woman bore the same pains as Sophie and she leaned back in the couch to stare at her capture, analytically.

    "Why are we here?" Lin asked directly, waiting to see what he said.

    The Claw was silent for several seconds after the question was asked. He turned his head to look directly at her as his eyes were still healing. The spikes of the helmet seemed to pierce directly through his eyes from simply how red they were near the center.

    "Oh, you're here because for a little while, I'm going to let the public think that you're dead." He stated. "I'm going to leave some obvious clues around for the public to play with and piece together for themselves. I would actually do it, but I think you are much more interesting to keep around. Don't try to get out of here though...people have actually found themselves dying in the darkness because they don't have a clue where they're going, wandering for days."

    To simply watch them wander around in the darkness with no clue as to where they are going for days on end, trying to make sense of blackness. To see the life leave their bodies as they eventually give in to their doubt as they realize that they are never leaving alive. The thought gave way to a corner of his lip that was upturned in a smirk as he turned back to the screens.

    The man was psychotic, Lin realized. Lester was a failed attempt...but she was learning she could have a certain over the crazies. The Greedy Goddess pulled herself further back into the couch and put her feet up, to make herself comfortable. With these wounds she wasn't going to be leave any time soon...A ball of stress and anxiety nestled in her stomach; one that bargained for freedom from responsibility but it held nothing to barter with.

    "You like pain..." Lin mumbled, looking at all the blood over the flesh of her kidnapper. "We know many ways to inflict pain on men..." The Asian being of the Greedy Goddesses informed him with her demure charms. The Claw merely shrugged his shoulders some. It was what he was known for.

    "So...?" His voice responded to her mumbling, somewhat disinterested. Lin bit her bottom lip, fine, so he wasn't going to be that easy to seduce. Lester was super easy...Lin looked away to her ankle and went quiet while she figured out her disempowering circumstances. Right now she was tired, and if he would have tried anything - he would have.

    "Hm." Lin sounded softly and shrugged, laying down and turning so her face was sheltered by the back of the couch, away from Claw. Lin would let the thought of the three women sit in his mind, dudes tend to have pretty seedy imaginations after all. She'd let his own brain do the work. The beautiful woman closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, rubbing her bruised arms several times. Without Black Wasp, she didn't know who would get her out of this situation...making it all up to herself to get out.

    Great.

    Spoiler: Theme Song 

  5. #25
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    Breaking News - Black Wasp Found Dead

    A shocking discovery was made this morning at the docks. A warehouse worker coming in for his morning shift. Has discovered the body of Black Wasp.

    “I get into the warehouse about six am, and noticed well at the time I just thought the night guys left the hose on. But then I recognize that it was actually blood. I just didn’t expect to see the body of Black Wasp,” warehouse worker Joe King told six am news.

    Continual coverage will be shown throughout the day when we get more information in. This is six o’clock news. Let’s move on now to the traffic.

    “Just in a major discovery the police have identified Black Wasp as Erica Vayne,”

    “DNA test results have identified her as Erica Vayne, while facial details were horribly disfigured, we were able to properly identify her as Erica Vayne. With what little information we have,” officer Richard Vickers told eight o’clock news today.

    “So Richard, tell us how could such a tragedy happen. And does anyone have any leads on the current murderer of such a beloved hero?”

    “There were no witnesses. The only guess we have is that she didn’t have her guard up,”

    “But she’s a hero.”

    “Even heroes make mistakes,”

    Even Heroes Make Mistakes
    Last Night

    Erica was staring at her computer screen, pinching the bridge of her nose she squeezed her eyes closed. It was both the pain and eye strain, she huffed out of boredom. Drained mostly. Running her fingers through her hair and only stopping when she found a hair knot only to tear it out. Something needed to happen. Something should be happening. Irrelevance never suited her style. She tried to get comfortable in her work chair, changing to a position that more suited her.

    Still wasn’t enough. Her hands flexed. Muscles tightened. That was it. She was going to go out tonight. She knew what she had told Albert and Bobby, but she didn’t care. She needed the rush. She needed some action. Then like divine intervention her computer beeped at her. She had a message. An email. Sent, three days ago?

    Why was she only getting this now? Clicking on it impatiently. It could be a number of things. The location of the goddesses. Perhaps information about the villains movements. Maybe it was one of her bugs informing her of an oncoming case in the police station. Maybe she could help.

    No she could help. They needed her. That didn’t sound right coming out of her own head or her own mouth. Clicking eagerly on the message.

    To: Black Wasp

    From: !%%#$Q@#

    There were already warning signs just from the address bar. It was a strange encryption that her own systems couldn’t debunk. That spelled trouble. Her strained eyes scrolled down though to read the content of the message.

    1n0rm4t1on. M33t 4t w4r3h0us3. L0c4t1on 3ncl0s3d 1n 4ttch3d f1l3.

    Even she had to raise a brow at the use of text. Either this individual thought they were being clever or this was some kind of joke. Still she was curious. Clicking on the attach file expecting the worse. But instead there was merely a picture of a warehouse a few miles out of the city, near the docks. There was a black circle clearly drawn at the dock, with a I will wait. 10 pm..

    Did the individual mean they had been waiting for three days before she got the message, every day at 10 pm? Wouldn’t that look suspicious? Or did they plan for her to get this message today, and meet them here today at 10 pm.

    Still she had a few tricks up her sleeve. While there was a pang of guilt in the bottom of her pit. She felt she didn’t need to or should inform Bobby of any of this. He should focus on school. He also shouldn’t have to be dragged into this if it was just her silly paranoia.

    Getting up from her chair she began the process of outfitting herself in her exoskeleton suit. It was good to be back. Or at least it felt like she was back. Or somewhat back. She was over complicating this. Black Wasp looked at her reflection just once. For a moment she felt a sense of pride in herself. She couldn’t be lazing about any more. She needed to move.

    She needed to encourage others to do so as well. She sighed. All right let’s go Erica.

    Warehouse, The Docks Outside of the City

    Here she was preparing for the worse. It could be a trap. No she prepared for it to be a trap. The warehouse and the containers were a perfect place to hide individuals. Doing a quick scan of the area, no heat signatures. It didn’t seem like anyone was here, but a single individual sitting too close to the sea.

    He was fishing, well he appeared to be fishing. He had a fishing rod and wore a ragged looking trench coat, it was worn, was patched, and was stained. His fedora was torn at the edges like something had chewed the rim. She was always known to be cautious, yet the man hadn’t attacked her yet. And there was no ambush.

    She was hesitant, but stepped forward trying not to show any weakness to the fishing stranger.

    “You sent that message?” she asked.

    “Depends,” was the answer she got, in a dry voice, but the man hadn’t turned to her.

    “Depends on what?” she asked.

    Cocky wasn’t he. Still she was unsure if he was friend or foe.

    “If you are Black Wasp,” he responded, his voice had a scarred quality. It sounded like his vocal chords might have been wounded at some point. And when he spoke, some words were inaudibly quiet.

    Clearly she was. Who else had he expected to come? As she thought this was a setup. She raised a brow and crossed her arms across her chest.

    “Quit the grandstanding. If you have something to give me or say, do it, or else I am going,” she told him. The other issue was she wasn’t entirely sure. If he was merely an innocent informant, then she couldn’t attack him it goes against her code. But if he was an enemy, then striking before he had the chance was the better option.

    The man didn’t say anything at first, he merely slowly stood up and slowly drew the fishing rod out of the water. Keeping it as his side he turned around to look at her. His eyes were hidden by the brim of his hat, and he was wearing a half mask of cloth at the lower half of his face. Making discernable details hard to see.

    “You’re an impatient one aren’t you,” he remarked calmly.

    “I don’t trust you. Trust is earned by what is given to me,” she retorts right back. He keeps his head low, but she almost could imagine him closing his eyes calmly.

    He stuck his hand in the pocket of his trench coat and took out a yellow package. What was that? She narrowed her gaze. And he placed it back in his pocket. She was hesitant. She knew she was. But only because she couldn’t read him. Was he going to attack? Was he a friend? She needed to be prepared. She needed to be focused.

    On her best. Alert.

    “I’m afraid Mrs. Wasp, that isn’t an answer I like,” he told her, “Respect is often earned. How can I be respectful to someone who is prepared to fight me and won’t listen? You’re on edge. Perhaps pain. I heard about your injury.”

    “Who are you?” she demanded, it was not a question it was a command for an answer.

    “No one of importance,” he responded, “A Stranger you may say. Or a Wayfarer to another.”

    Just attack her already. Attack her. Every bit of her was tensing up. Fear? When had she felt fear before. This Stranger’s aura was drowned in it. Washed in it. Black energy swarming around her that made her sweat from fear. She didn’t feel fear. Focus on the battle. Focus on the man. But he was disappearing from her vision in this black fog.

    And in this black fog, was herself standing in front of her? No that couldn’t have been. Until she took a swing from her doppelganger. She doubled back. She shook herself back into the fight, okay me let’s go. Charging in she swung at her doppelganger with a swift roundhouse kick from her right leg, controlling the momentum to balance and threw out a quick sidekick.

    Her doppelganger version toppled over. Okay want to play, swiftly grabbing from her utility belt she threw out some sonic hornets throwing them at her doppelganger and hopefully in the direction where the man was standing. She’d exploit her own weakness. Should make the exoskeleton suit have some vulnerability to sonic powers too.

    The hornets connected and exploded into a sound wave, that even made her own ears ring. Her doppelganger self fell to her knees, but she was hoping she had disorientated the man enough. Peering through the darkness fog as best as she could deciding where she would run. Throwing a smoke bomb to conceal her movements she ran towards where she remembered the man standing. She’d find his weakness as well.

    If his abilities were range. She’d find it. If his abilities were an illusion, she’d break it. Whatever it was. She would come out of this. Launching a right hook at where she thought the man was standing, her fist was stopped by a hand. Her doppelganger self recovered a lot faster than she had hoped for. Landing a knee into her doppelgangers gut she took a step back.

    Only for her doppelganger to come in fast and hard, land a knee on her, which had her take a step back, only to sweep her unto the ground. Black Wasp bounced back fast though, rolling to the side, sweeping her doppelganger onto the ground and standing back up.

    This Stranger was a cheap fighter. Where was he hiding in all of this? Then it hit hurt. Pain. Beginning to rise from her body. Her injuries and the painkillers wearing off. A shock of pain running up her leg.

    “Aaa,” she called out into pain, falling to her knee. Why now of all times? She could work through this she had too. Stand up Black Wasp. She told herself. She stood up, woozy from the pain, but she’d fight through it. She had too. She had no choice.

    She was prepared for this. She clenched her fist and charged at her doppelganger. Landing another hit. But it sent pain through her arm. Her doppelganger responded with an uppercut to her abdomen. Did she feel that one? No it was just her imagination it had to be.

    She tried to retaliate with another swing. But missed. No you have this. Continue fighting. You can do this. You have always been a fighter so fight.

    She needed to find Stranger. She needed to find him. Throwing an explosive hornet at her doppelganger self she tried again. This time extending out her hand where she thought the man was and activated her shock gloves.

    For a second it worked as the shadows slinked back and her doppelganger self shrank. There was a smug smile on her face inside her mask. Yet what she saw was darkness wrapped around her arm like inky tentacles. Practically invisible to her the only reason she noticed they were there was because of how dark it looked around her arm.

    He was standing behind a small black mass. She quickly with her free hand tried to grab another hornet in order to break her grip. But a shadow came from the black mass grabbing her other arm. Pain was coursing through her body right now. No she had to fight.

    She had to continue to fight. She could find a way out of this. The shock gloves didn’t work through the shadows though. Meant they weren’t not conductive. Think of something. She could think of something, couldn’t she?

    Was it the pain that made her unprepared? No she didn’t make mistakes. She had to think. Think Wasp. Think. Kick him.

    Again there was that fear. She tried to bury it away. It only distracted her from the situation at hand. She needed to find a way to break free.

    At first she felt nothing. It was a swift tugging at her arm. Her shoulder became dislocated, she heard the bone rotate and twist out of its place. She could feel every muscle begin to tear, as bits of flesh dangled from her right arm, a bit of bone exposed and blood beginning to pour onto the cement of the docks.

    She saw the shadows move from her right arm onto her leg and another shadow onto her other leg. She realized that there was nothing she could do. As he swiftly dismembered her other limbs. She didn’t feel anything at first. Blood beginning to ooze out of every amputated limb.

    She was slowly fading. What had she done wrong? What could she have done better? What should she have done better? She would make it out. Wouldn’t she? She made it before. She’d get out of this better than ever. Till she felt the shadows around her neck.

    What was the point? As she was unable to breath. Losing blood fast. It was swift. Just as the other. And the only thing she could utter in the last minutes of consciousness was, “I’m sorry….Bobby.”

    Retracting the shadows, Stranger convulsively put his hands together in a prayer like hand position. But he did not pray. Nor uttered a prayer, he uttered a sigh, then slipped his hands in his pockets. Before turning heel and walking away from the corpse.

    Today - Current

    Afternoon News: Villains Now Claiming to be Sole Responsible for Wasp Death


    Just in. Villains all over the city are rejoicing for Wasp death. Some have even come clean to committing the crime. But what will police investigation and other investigations reveal. No one knows.

    “Yeah, I killed Wasp, I was there at the warehouse you know, and I just was like hitting her a lot. Then with my massive strength I just, you know killed her,” Ketchup King tells afternoon news.

  6. #26
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    Earlier at dawn…

    February 21st, 2001 - 6:40 A.M.

    Warehouse, The Docks Outside of Solus & Crime Scene of Black Wasp’s Murder

    “I expected you’ll be useful somehow” Jin’s voice spoke against the glass of the slowing limousine. Often speaking harshly against himself it was instead diverted to the reflection of an almost monstrous sized man/technological behemoth that was occupying most of the sectional.

    The handsome lawyer and now desperate rescuer of The Greedy Goddess formed unwanted alliances with not only someone disliked in the South Solus Gang but also a man who had already been publicly denounced from any further association with them. If the press put too much together, there was going to be more to save than he could muster.

    At least, at this goddamn time in the morning. The urgency still plucked at his psyche and lift sickly cold chills under his olive suit; but with not even a glimpse of sleep and no promise of it for many many hours to come - Jin’s stamina was dulling to a low hum.

    Coffee met his lips while he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. The taste bothered him, too sweet. But he was in desperate need of the caffeine - even if it came from a cheap brand. Jin’s almond eyes gradually turned from the watery view of the window to Warpath himself.

    “You still haven't explained why Sophie was in such an injured condition for any of this to happen.” Striking, his voice didn't hold any forgiveness but certainly processed impertinence and judgment. A wiser man could also hear fear.

    The first response Jin received was an, “I assure you, I am useful.” Though a small reality was that he was trying to shield himself from the feeling of guilt. He prided himself on being a logical man, but couldn’t quite get it around his head.

    Why did they make him do that? How could he have done that? He bit his lip, and was only glad that Jin could not see him. Jin always liked the idea that he was a better man than him. But he was just a prideful, boastful man. That was all. A man who lived on his own personal pride. Except again he was trying to deflect guilt and blame onto someone else. He couldn’t settle in his own skin. Nor could swallow the bitter pill of reality.

    Warpath, Lester, tried to not look at Jin too much. While certainly Jin was not entirely a powerful man, he was an observant one. And he didn’t want to give Jin some kind of satisfaction that he was actually a nervous wreck.

    When Sophie’s name was mentioned, a pit began to develop in his stomach. Guilt swarmed like a witches brew inside his gut and at first he had no response. He was asking himself the same question. He would have never done that. He would have never hurt them. He loved them. So then. Why. Why did he….no why did they make him do what he had done.

    He didn’t like the idea that he had to swallow his own ego or his own pride in order to ask Jin for help. Never saw what they saw in him that he already wasn’t. But he’d never. He would have never.

    He answered Jin’s question as quickly as he could, “I’m not sure.” But that wasn’t true. He knew what had happened. And he was entirely sure how it happened. But he didn’t want to admit to the action.

    Jin glared until the vehicle stopped entirely: a smooth ease of speed until it became stationary. The rising sun was only starting its trip through the sky. First colors of daytime were shining in the tinted windows and over dock waters with scattered bits of pollution.

    The red and blues of police cars blared visually in the fading night. A dozen or so men and women were standing in uniform behind yellow tape, doing what the taxpayers were paying them to. Though Jin doubted their actual ability to produce anything.

    Standing out from the limousine the Asian-Solus citizen guzzled down the last of his coffee and in single minded focus, tossed the white biodegradable cup right in the bright blue waters of the city. His watch bearing hand slid into his pocket, the other occupied with a writing pad listed with all the angles they could pursue in hopes of finding their beloved lady bosses.

    Already three lines were crossed; footage was accessories with a shaky question mark to its side. His handwriting was getting worse throughout the night, his eye would never fail to notice of his shortcomings. He was fading - but now wasn't the time for that to get in the way.

    Jin joined Warpath’s side to the barrier where the corpse of Black Wasp would lie. Shocking, eerie, alluring for questioning Jin wondered what force in Solus besides Sophie would have the sheer physical strength to accomplish this bittersweet action.

    “How long has the body been here?” Jin said with a flick of his nose when he spotted the officer he had on his payroll.

    The cop that was told to stand guard at the post started at Jin. There were two very important things. Not pissing off the guy who paid you to inform him. But also not to piss off the chief of the department right under his nose. He nervously squirmed.

    “The chief is here,” the cop told Jin instead, “All I know is a little over three hours. It’s all I can say. You want more. Gotta convince the chief.”

    A woman should never be treated in the manner that was seen today. While the news had broken out very little, more or less discussed over police chatter and media channels trying to clamber to be the first to tell the story. The crime scene was a lot worse than he had frankly heard. Warpath simply tried not to show that any of this concerned or bothered him. Though the reality of the situation was, whoever had committed the act would greatly irritate his goddesses.

    He didn’t say anything. Just waited to see what Jin would do. Should step up? Should do something? Prove yourself more worthy than Jin. Do it. Do it. Stand up. Take control.

    Instead he turned his head to Jin and waited for him.

    “I could bury your entire department with legal infractions in a week’s time. Get me the chief now or see what the law can do, officer” The Xu lawyer spat with a tired eye leer.

    The cop looked at Jin. Clearly he was nervous and then he stared at the large, franken monster man. He knew who he was. Everybody sort of did. But when you had the lawyering breathing down his neck. And no one had a fuck idea how this happened with Black Wasp or who. The cop just didn’t want to irritate the wrong person.

    “I’ll..gget the chief,” he stammered, sort of looking at one of his buddies who stayed in place the whole entire time. Paralyzed from fear at first.

    His other officer nodded and ran off, while he did as he was asked. Guarding the body till the chief came and to maintain the line.

    “He….’ll..be right here,” the cop said, digging his toes into the ground and trying to pretend he got a call on his radio.

    On the other side of the warehouse grid, Clint and his crew had arrived not soon ago. Clint was carrying one of those environmental friendly coffee cups that they give you nowadays at one of the many generic cafe places that pretended to be all uniquely different.

    But their coffee all ended up tasting the same, he bet if you tracked their supplier they’d eventually be found from the same place. But these environmental kids were blinded to a truth. He scoffed, but took a sip. While watching officers that had arrived before him, scrambling to finish putting up police tape and otherwise making themselves look like a fool.

    He wasn’t a man of rumors, he wasn’t very fond of them. Though the department had a habit of calling them “The Solus Golden Trio” reality was they seemed to be the only three people who had more than a pea sized brain cells left in their noggin.

    Zane Hutchings was still a rookie in his eyes, rised through ranks fairly quickly. And while he didn’t seem like the carrot heads that ran around here, he still had a lot to learn before Clint would just freely allow him a case.

    Or maybe he was holding onto the reins too tightly. He was sort of unsure. Zane was too much of a blind optimist sometimes. The joy that came from that man, made Clint a little weary if he could sit down and focus.

    He had also brought Oliver with him. Who was wearing a pair of damn sunglasses like some idiot. It was in mid winter, where weather went from sunny to hiding behind the clouds. But the kid never seemed wanted to be out in these public spaces. Never understood that about him, but Clint felt that subject was too personal at work.

    “Sir,” an officer walked up to him a rush, “Ketchup King has called the police department. He’s pressuring the department in announcing he’s the one who killed Black Wasp. And if we don’t take him seriously he’s saying he’s going to go to the media with his story.”

    Clint raised a brow at the officer.
    “Officer, let me ask you a question,” Clint said sternly.

    “Yes, sir,” the officer looked at him clearly not capturing the serious judgment Clint was laying down on with him a single gaze.

    “What’s the crime scene look like you?”

    “A bloody mess sir,”

    “Ketchup King dresses in a ketchup costume and calls it a uniform and steals mustard packets. He hasn’t killed Black Wasp. He could barely swat a fly down. Tell Ketchup King he can go to the media because no one with the intelligence of even a cat would believe he killed Black Wasp,”

    “Yes, sir,” the officer went off. Clint rolled his eyes and sighed a bit. Walking up to yet another officer in hopes to get more information.

    “Sir,” the officer, Tim read his badge, nodded.

    Clint snapped his fingers at Zane to get him to focus. While Zane sort of stared at Clint.

    To Zane, Clint was over demanding and held people to a much higher standard than he thought they would be able to achieve. Still Zane stepped forward and smiled at Tim. Cute kid. Probably had a girlfriend though.

    “Tim,” Zane shook his head, “Zane Hutchings. How are you doing this morning?”

    “Good sir,” Tim replied, his tight lipped stare had become a bit more open as he began to smile, “And yours?”

    “Very good, can’t complain about my life, even when a hero ends up dead,” Zane said there was some heavy heart in his statement, but for the most it came off as a passing, airy comment, “Could you give me a rundown?”

    While Tim was briefing Zane, Clint had been called down by yet another officer.

    “Sir, there’s lawyer here, who would like to speak with you,” kid looked like he had seen a zombie rise from the grave. But Clint didn’t like hearing lawyers were already his crime scene. Especially since he had radioed in to not let anyone near the scene before they got there.

    Zane turned, eager to get some recognition.

    “Want me to talk to them?” Zane asked. Clint stared at Zane and took a sip of his coffee.

    “Just come along,” Clint grumbled.

    Clint began to walk towards the other end of the warehouse. What could a lawyer possible want a crime scene. Didn’t they understand he had important work to do. When they finally got to the end of the warehouse near the docks. This was a mess. Someone had dismembered another human being into several different body parts. Like a dog that tore up a chew toy.

    “Well, at least you brought me,” Oliver said quietly, “They might have lost a foot. Or a leg.” He sort of slinked away from the two of them as he didn’t really like being noticed. But the sunglasses were a dead giveaway.

    Clint glared as he saw a Xu here. Pain in his rear fucking end. He huffed and crossed his arms. Heading over there.

    While Zane just smiled. This was the first time he was meeting a Xu. With a name like Xu you’d expect someone Asian. Just you rarely expect them to be pretty and Asian.

    “Are you the lawyer?” Clint barked, it was then he realized Warpath was here. He glared even further. A wanted felon and a lawyer he absolutely despised. This morning was starting to turn out like the time the dog got too old to go outside to use the restroom and pissed all over the bed sheets. Jin narrowed his view just slightly. The stink of blood and the February cold convinced Jin to rub his arm - he had been too tired and too focused to grab a coat. Another failure he could add to his list of fading thoughts. On Jin’s kindly designed Chinese-Solus face lay the darkening bags under his eyes. The coffee churned in his gut, but the warmth didn’t stay.

    “Yes. Warpath and I will have access to this scene.” Jin told the chief crisply, fierce exhaustion powering with ambition met the older man eye to eye.

    Clint eyebrow twitched.

    “Like piss you will,” Clint pointed to Warpath, “He’s a wanted felon. And you’re a crooked lawyer for all I know. You can work with my team, but you’re not having any other access than what you ascern from your two own fucking eyeballs from that line.”

    Jin rubbed the side of his nose bridge. As if the chief truly had such control of the situation. But it had to be played, the game of diplomacy and words. Jin had to keep his hands clean, Warpath was free to do as he wanted - but Jin wasn’t stupid enough to propose any illegal activities within earshot of Solus City’s very criminal department.

    “There is a strong chance Black Wasp’s murderer might be Claw. Your cooperation might just help get a centuries old murder off the streets” Jin said with a deadpan tone, leaving whatever humor filled energy in such a strange punchline to be left for someone else to deliver.

    Clint glared. Did he really think he was going to make deals with him? All those fuckwads needed to be put behind bars. Its because of this vigilantism in the first place that the police department had become lackadaisical.

    Because why do the work, when a hero or a villain could do the work for them. People like Black Wasp and Warpath should be put behind bars for very different reasons. And while he did not deny Black Wasp’s efforts to serve the city. The best way to serve a city was to let the cities department that govern the people, govern the people.

    “Does Claw normally dismember people?” Clint asked throwing it out there, to humor the lawyer at least.

    “It should be clear I’m a lawyer, not an information broker. We know exactly the same amount in regards to Claw. It was yesterday the urban legend became reality - right before he kidnapped the goddesses.” Jin hissed with disdain.

    Zane stepped forward finally, clearly these two gentleman were swinging swords and Zane smiled at Jin.

    “It’s early in the morning,” Zane said lazily, “Let’s all relax. The best way to solve this situation is with a cool tempered head. Hmm, right. How about we make a deal?” He looked at Clint. Who looked at him right back, with a sort of, what the fuck are you doing? Look.

    Zane just waited for the lawyer to acknowledge him in some way. Jin was beginning to wonder why be brought Warpath when the scientist had not contributed in the least. However, Jin met eyes with the commissioner, not appeased.

    “What is it exactly you are thinking? If it’s Claw - you need us. I have no interest in watching the entire police force become slaughtered: it would be more troublesome to do my job”

    Warpath had been watching from the sidelines for a while. Jin was so bothered to speak with the police officers. But the more and more they postured. The more and more something inside of him snapped. The something more and more festered.

    He finally just crossed the police line and decided to head for the body. The thing they should have done in the first place. Look at that Jin. Look. I made a stand. Certainly more useful than you. I didn’t grandstand and fuck with the police.

    Clint’s head quickly adjusted as he saw Warpath teared down his caution tape, like he owned the warehouse. It wasn’t like Clint or the boys could take down Warpath, but he had to try to do something. Not doing something would not be something he could stand for.

    “Exactly is he doing!” Clint exclaimed, then staring at Warpath, “This is your only warning. Stand down. Or we will be forced to take action.”

    Zane whistled. Exactly were they going to do to the robot monster? Sure maybe Ollie could maybe reason with the robo monster. But he didn’t see how any standard issue guns were going to take down Warpath for god sake.

    The other officers just got out of the way of Warpath. Despite Clint’s clear threat they weren’t exactly willing to give up their lives to take down the Warpath. Without any heavy arsenal. They knew who the clear winner was.

    Clint only growled under his breath. There was a glint of concern inside of him, that had to do more with Rosser who Warpath was making his way towards.

    People in general made Oliver nervous. Socializing was a pathetic attempt of trying to be normal. When the first words out of your mouth at a Christmas party is “do you know the difference between postmortem and antemortem are?” then it tends to shut down conversation quick. So when a giant robot was walking his way he wasn’t exactly sure what the natural reaction was suppose to be. “Hi, sorry we gave you all that trouble, here have at the pieces.”

    He just nervously continued writing his current observations without looking at individual pieces. Hoping the robot wouldn’t kill him. If they were in a cemetery this wouldn’t be much of an issue or back at the morgue. But he couldn’t do much with moving parts beside maybe wiggle the middle finger.

    “Move aside,” Warpath commanded him.

    Oliver looked around. Most of the officers had taken posted positions of fear. Clint looked about ready to throw punches with Warpath and Zane smiled at him. Why was he always smiling?

    Still Oliver managed to conjure a mantra in his head, think of this as you’re at the morgue. And another doctor tries to claim your body.

    “There’s enough room, you take that end, and I’ll take this end,” Oliver told him, pointing to the legs. If he was going to get a helper whether he liked it or not he was going to give them the end that shit came out of. Jin sighed and crossed over the threshold and stood beside Warpath. He was disgusted, seeing what become of the vigilante he had found ever more and more a problem for the SSGs over the last year. However, he never wanted this to happen to the woman. And Jin feared this could happen to Sophie, Nikisha and Lin. He snapped his fingers at the small man with the pad, pulling his hand from his pocket to do the gesture.

    “What data do you have, I want to see it.” The Xu lawyer commanded.

    Oliver looked at the lawyer. He had briefly only heard some things they were talking about. Though they were a distance away for him to catch whole sentences. Simply he took a second.

    “I’ll be willing to share relevant data with you,” Oliver told him as professionally as he could, “But I will not lend you my data. You’re not of the department and that’s just for my legal safety. I overheard you think this might involve Claw?” Jin set his eyes on Oliver - seeing a meek figure and a hint of a smirk showed itself. The meek man had more backbone than first seen, it was a rare type of person he’d seen - especially in front of a lawyer.

    Slowly Jin’s hand fell back to his side and into his left pocket. He looked instead up to Warpath, expecting him to use his nanobots to examine the corpse.

    Warpath had kept quiet using his nanobytes to extract relevant data. If this was the work of Claw, it must have meant he was more busy than they had previously assumed.

    Oliver looked at Jin, while staring at the left arm.

    “If I am correct,” Oliver said quietly, “I have to look over the leg pieces. But the antemortem wounds on the wrist in the same location. Would mean, this Claw of yours needed to one have super strength. Which probably isn’t a problem, but” Oliver sort of made a noise as he adjusted and grabbed one of the legs, Looking at the ankle where the exoskeleton had also been broken, “Your suspect would also have to have four arms. All I can discern is that she was grabbed by each location at the same time. Merely at the indication level of the bruising on the ankle and the way the exoskeleton been broken apart. Here and here.”

    Jin’s face fell deeply, his pale skin turning almost ghostly with the reflections of increasing sunlight. He didn’t know anything other than what kids used to scare each other with in school. He knew nothing; but he knew Claw didn’t have four arms. Anxiously he pulled out a pin from a hidden pocket, yanked out his writing pad and crossed off another line, crossing away another possible lead.

    G..-reat…” Jin whispered nervously to his writing pad. You fool, stupid, ignorant. You’re letting them die. the voices, his voices, in his head chastised. He furrowed his brows in some humiliated acceptance of his inability. “This isn’t a lead.” He said to Warpath dryly.

    Warpath already discerned that, but he felt a little strange about Black Wasp’s body. He wasn’t sure if should voice this to Jin. He was eager to find the Goddesses. Still he sighed.

    “Even so, there’s a weird something about this,” Warpath said, “I was picking it up on my scans.”

    “It’s fascinating isn’t it,” Oliver looked over the body with curiosity, “Oddly enough. I have seen a lot of bodies and you can tell the way a person dies in a way reveals something the killer was thinking. Reveals something about them.”

    Warpath looked at Oliver.

    “Just seems weird,” Warpath told him.

    “Weird in what way?” Oliver asked.

    Warpath wasn’t sure if he should say something. Yet, he didn’t want Wasp to go out in this way. There must have been a better way. Perhaps by the goddesses themselves. But not this way.

    “It,” Warpath wasn’t sure how to word, “It’s like there some kind of darkness that lingers. Weird energy that left itself over.” It was actually weirding out his scans too. Whatever this was, wasn’t something he’d be able to find on any computer. It just acted weird on his readings.

    “What’s even weirder, is while the scene is brutal,” Oliver pointed to the center of the pieces and the crime scene, “Look at the way the blood has pooled. What do you see?” Oliver sort of pointed the buildings and the few crates close by.

    “Just crates and buildings,” Warpath told him. Oliver shook his head.

    “They aren’t covered in blood, this wasn’t torment, this wasn’t even a brutal beating. This….might have been a merciful death,” Oliver told him.

    Merciful how? Warpath asked him. They tore her limb from limb.

    “What makes you say that?” Warpath asked.

    “Else everything else been painted in blood,” Oliver told him.

    “There are painful and orderly ways to die. Maybe someone found a new way” Jin criticised Oliver’s odd fetish of what had happened to Black Wasp. “Have some respect and cover what’s left of this woman’s body” The lawyer said and turned away, putting his writing pad and pen away discreetly, his path was straight back to the limousine that was still humming away.

    Maybe Jin would have criticized Lester at this moment, but he was already walking back to the limousine. While his main goal currently was to find the Goddesses. He took a second to look at Oliver who still was looking at him. In reality he couldn’t let something like this stand to even Black Wasp.

    “If you need any help with the case, I am willing to help after I find the Goddesses,” he offered.

    Oliver looked at him eyes sparkling.

    “That would certainly be useful, especially if it was an attack of a metahuman not yet recorded in the data records,” Oliver told him.

    Warpath nodded. Warpath began to follow after the Xu lawyer who was only now beginning to walk past the police chief and commissioner.

    “You gentleman should come to the Trio Amore soon after the Greedy Goddesses are home. They always put on a good show and I’ll let you in for free, otherwise you’d not be able to afford it” Jin taunted to the men with a tired and shiteating smile.

    Zane was just glad Oliver didn’t get hurt in all of that. When the two men, well does a robot count as a man? Probably not. When the two individuals came walking back their way and the cute lawyer began to taunt them with an offer to the Trio Amore, Zane politely responded with his own grin, “Thanks for the offer. But I am happily gayly married.” Jin glared, his thunderous backhand sapped by the commissioner.

    “Goodbye.” He said neatly and proceeded passed them into the car, Warpath following. Warpath’s entrance into the black vehicle made it sluggishly hang down to one side before driving off.

    Clint looked at Zane who only gave him a cheeky grin. Clint rolled his eyes. He was too old to be chasing Goddesses. His wife, Maryanne, was his love of his life. And she was gone now. Taken a lot earlier than they had the time to get really old, retirement home and senile and still in love. Now he just had this job, his daughter and her children. And the kid he had picked up from the morgue. He headed over to Oliver, who was putting things together on his datapad.

    “Tell me you have found something useful?” Clint asked.

    “Plenty,” Oliver told him, “I’m thinking maybe a someone with four arms and super strength. It’s a shame the head was removed. With three hours and if the head had remained in tact, I could have hacked the nervous system a little. But,”

    “But?” Clint asked.

    “It’s just a weird scene,” Oliver told him frowning, “Warpath talked about the body having a weird energy and just being here. Feels. Weird. Off. I don’t know. The four arm thing seems so far off. When this. Scar left here. It’s uncomfortable.”

    Now that had Oliver mentioned the boys had seemed more on edge than before. And while death robots like Warpath were terrifying, they were terrified before that. Something had them spooked. So they were looking for a four armed individual, maybe. And someone they worked with. Clint clearly had his work cut out for him.

    “Do you feel anything Zane?” Clint asked, “See anything?”

    Zane shook his head.

    “I mean the place feels crazy,” Zane said, “But the scene itself is clean.”

    Clint huffed under his breath. Fuck him over twice. It was more than likely he’d have to call in the big brass.

    “We might need to call Cereberus,” Clint told the two. Oliver looked devastated.

    “What! No! This is my body!” he protested, “I positively find this enthralling.”

    “And if I don’t call them in, my job is on the line,” Clint told him.

    Oliver frowned. This was one of those times where he really liked to push Clint’s buttons.

    “Give me two days to extract all the relevant data from the body before calling them?” Oliver asked actually it sounded more like begging and groveling at this point, “Please. I don’t want to give it to them. We could at least complete the case, but not confront the metahuman behind it then call it in.”

    Clint sighed. He really was trying to push his buttons. And his position. He couldn’t just withhold relevant metahuman data from Cerberus. He stuck his hand in the pockets of his suits pants, taking out his lighter. Really he was fidgeting with it. It would look bad on the department. Then again the department already makes itself look bad.

    “Two days to find all the relevant data, then I call in Cerberus, but you have to relinquish them all your findings,” Clint told Oliver.

    Oliver groaned it wasn’t as an acceptable as a deal he wanted, but finally nodded. Looking over to pieces of Wasp.

    “Now Mrs. Wasp, I’ll keep you in good care, and we’ll put you back together for any of your kin. Then we have some talking to do,” Oliver told Black Wasp.

    “That’s more creepy than the murder scene,” Zane finally piped up.

    Oliver kind of soclwed. He wasn’t creepy.

    Clint lit a cigarette. This whole situation was shit, a well done hamburger with chard ends at the edges and the meat turning black. He had the Xu lawyer pressure him in the morning in front of his men. And he’d have to possible give up a big case, that could revive the department, to Cerberus. To say he wasn’t happy, was the kinder way of putting it.
    Last edited by Minkasha; 04-19-2017 at 04:33 AM.
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  7. #27
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    『Co-Post: Hoef & Clyde』

    Defense Intelligence Agency Headquarters - [Undisclosed Time]



    “We’re standing at a crossroads gentlemen.” Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency (D.I.A), 3-Star General TreKell Howard, said to a given amount of board members at a meeting concerning a certain rogue element. “The way I see it, we have two options: We either take our chances and give Cerberus Team additional objectives or we send in an operative who is capable of dealing with the situation in a quiet manner.”

    He had been sitting at the opposite side of the table with his fingers between his nose bridge, eyes closed. He had been listening to them deliberate on the situation at hand without saying a word. He liked to be the one at the table who listened to the position of others grandstanding before he spoke up. But this, Deputy Director Lieds took a second, before folding his hands together. Hands interlocked in a position of thought before speaking calmly, eyes open.

    “Is this our future reputation?” Lieds asked the Director of Defense, “Designing projects that ultimately spell doom for all of all living kind, metahuman or not.” Lieds gave a few looks at the other board members, “And then abandoning them because we think this is the better future for all. Everyone will know some way or another what we had done. Killing him or capturing him. There’s no saving our asses from this. We lose the trust of everyone either way.” Lieds cleared his throat, “You have yourself a nuclear bomb with a pair of legs that used them to walk away. We were already criticized for the assistance in the creation of a real nuclear bomb. We’ll be criticized for this. But we didn’t destroy the nuclear bomb. We put him in a safe and locked away. The way we should do with Project Ifrit.”

    Director Howard immediately looks up from his petty squabbles with the two other members, “Deputy Director Lieds.. You’ve been an invaluable asset to Project Ifrit, however we cannot afford to allow him to exist knowing how dangerous he is. To keep a ‘walking nuclear bomb’ in high containment will only spell even further doom. I do realize that Project Ifrit was our response to the Metahuman situation, but we didn’t realize how deadly he is. He can adapt to any threat, Metahuman or otherwise.. Do you understand how he got out in the first place Deputy Director?”

    Lieds looked at Howard with a sideway glance, it wasn’t disrespectful for someone of a higher position. But in this current situation it seemed that ranks no longer matter and each one of them was an equal trying to figure out what to do.

    “From what I recall,” Lieds paused, “He wasn’t in a highly secured facility to begin with. With the guards we had on post, someone must have known they couldn’t withstand the power of a grown metahuman. That was a failure on realizing on how a, created, metahuman's abilities would grow. Beyond that, killing him makes those men’s death worth nothing. At least by capturing him we can extract a little bit more use. For the several people who were killed. Don’t let them die in vain.”

    “I will say this again Lieds,” Director Howard stared Lieds right in the eyes with a deathly serious look, “If we capture him and, say, he escapes again, what further impact would that cause on the populace? What would the President say about the project? As long as he’s out there looking for Subject Claw, as that’s what he’s been saying for the past year, he’s clearly a threat that needs to be disposed of. Capturing him will only slow down his search for Claw.”

    Leids sighed at first. It was difficult debating the unpopular decision, especially since it seemed the tabled was enthralled with what both Howard had to say and what he had to say. It was a difficult position to discuss as well, considering Ifrit’s current course of action.

    Those dead men did not create a sympathetic cause. Nor did they really give Ifrit an excuse for anyone to give them pity. But it was hard to explain this to the table. Merely because it was something difficult for people to understand, unless they gave themselves up to the idea. Still Leids wrung his fingers together, it was not a nervous habit, more like he was in deep thought and it showed.

    “I’m going to get some laughs at the table,” Lieds began, though his voice was even and calm, “But let’s take the nuclear bomb aspect of the equation. Or even the fact that Ifrit was created.” Lieds took a second, “Pretend for a second.” It was the first time Lieds looked at the whole of the table, “That this was your daughter or your son. Or that fact of the matter we created Ifrit to deal with the metahumans out there. And do you know what threat a metahuman not created poses on the populace?” The table was looking at him to see where he was going here, “Let’s say Ifrit was your child. A metahuman child who made a mistake. A deadly. Horrible. Unforgivable mistake. But a mistake. Let him find Claw and then take Ifrit and Claw in together. And contain the both of them.”

    Director Howard looked down at the manila folder that was at his breast on the table. He’d sigh at this predicament, he was finally pulling some weight in this discussion. He stood to his feet and walked over to the window of the meeting room and stared out at the world that was experiencing a summer unlike anything they’ve seen before.. “If I gave you a pardon on finding and securing both Claw and Ifrit,” he’d look over his shoulder at Lieds, “Then I will see these two in a secure, top-quality, facility. I will accept no failures, not one. You have three months to find and secure those two. After that lethal force will be authorized, and we will send in Cerberus team to dispose of them both. Understood? You have permission to use any methods possible to their capture.”

    Leids took a second. To be perfectly honest he was surprised that Howard would have changed his mind. Howard had always come as the type of man who set his mind and did not budge. Mostly because Leids had dealt with Howard in the past and his stubbornness.

    “Then I will look into it,” Leids told Howard, “Thank you for allowing this much.”

    Which sounded like a weird gesture, but it was all he could say in his moment of surprise. In a way, he had no children of his own. And Project Ifrit had been like creating a child. A child that doomed the whole of the world. But then again so did every other metahuman child born.

    But then who was to say they were the abnormal defect? What if the mundane, like those at this table, what if they were the abnormal ones to become extinct and the world ran by the metahuman? An idea that frightened many. Not many wanted to think in that matter. And not many would like to consider that thought. That they would someday become obsolete.

    Then again. Didn’t they all have to prepare for that? Didn’t they all have to consider and think about that outcome? That consequence? Then wouldn’t it mean that they would have to find a way to deal with that outcome someday? He only wished sometimes it was not in the way of making weapons. But Ambassadors. Wouldn’t it have been better if Ifrit was a bridge between being a metahuman and a human.

    Now the argument became one of life and death. Like it always did. Robots. Life and death. Metahumans. Life and death. If we created AIs would they destroy us and make us obsolete. If we created Metahumans or gave Metahumans more liberty, would they destroy us. And maybe the answer wasn’t as simple as yes.

    What if they created their own destruction by trying to eliminate what they perceived as a threat? What if their own fear, made others respond in fear, which would ultimate create their death? Or maybe Leids had let this job get to him. Maybe he was overthinking it.

    Another member at the table, Doctor Michael Rothschild, leaned back in his seat watching the two of them and studying their chemistry. He’d silently contemplate Director Howard’s decision on the project. In the beginning Howard was very set in making a weapon capable of withstanding any Metahuman that stood against the government. However, as those days went on Howard became more and more cynical about both Ifrit and Claw respectively. Though, when Project Claw was scrubbed all those years ago, Doctor Rothschild noticed a clear emotional difference in how he acted towards Ifrit.

    Doctor Rothschild took a cigarette to his mouth and lit the end of it, taking a swig of the cancer-stick, “You know.” He took a minute to collect his thoughts. “If you’d understood how Ifrit acted towards other subjects, then you'd know that he’s extremely volatile.” Doctor Rothschild stood to his feet and walked over towards the door, “As long as he’s out about.. He’ll always be considered a danger to others..” Doctor Rothschild left the room and walked down a far hallway. ‘As long as Lieds is around calling the shots.. I won’t be able to shut down the project and get it scrubbed.. Although I could use Ifrit’s DNA to clone him, but that would present moral dilemmas. And so.. It begins..

    Mercer had watched the exchange with mostly just silence, his eyes going back and forth between the verbal sparring of Leids and Howard. It wasn’t that he didn’t have much to say on the manner. It was a delicate situation with either choice. There would be pros and cons on either end of the spectrum.

    Mercer’s eyes though slowly drifted towards Howard after he had made his decision to allow Leids to continue his little containment plan.

    “I hope you know what you’re doing Howard,” Mercer told him, “If either mission fails. There will be black on your name.”

    Howard looked at Mercer with a semi-serious-semi-sad look upon his face. “I do hope as well..”
    Last edited by Dire Hoef; 04-17-2017 at 07:53 AM.

  8. #28
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    February 21st, 2001 - Roughly 8 A.M.

    Apartment, Claw's Hidden Base

    He was crouched on the arm of the small, somewhat dirty sofa that he had laid his prisoner. Or was it a hostage rather…? Didn’t matter. He was hunched over, his forearms resting on his thighs as he looked down at the blonde’s head. The figure, whom many arguably believed was the most terrifying of monsters was studying Sophie. He wore the infamous mask, as this was more of a study of the anatomical aspects of the “goddess’” body.

    There was always something that intrigued the killer’s mind whenever it came to this gimmick known to be the “Greedy Goddesses”. He didn’t buy that it was simply three women trapped in one body. Nah, that’d be stupid, no one could actually work together in harmony THAT well. This wasn’t a kid’s show.

    Moreover, the circumstances of each of their mental states seemed to be always on the same tract, as though each of them either weren’t aware of the other or simply one mind all together. The question was, who was the one actually in control.

    Questions without answers...He didn’t like that. Not at all. The Claw traced a clawed finger over the sleeping face, debating with himself as to what would happen, should he tear out one of the eyes. The blonde could consider herself lucky that he decided against it. It’d be too bad to mess up such a pretty face, it’s all she has.

    “...coming in for his morning shift. Has discovered the body of Black Wasp.” There was a bit of a double-take in his mind at the sound of the name mentioned. Black Wasp...Wasn’t that the hero that was known for upholding the government’s own justice..? The hero that was known for her “cunning and intelligence”...? How ironic. Since whoever-this-bitch-was, liked to saunter around with the Wasp, she’d surely like to hear this. So, he lightly gripped onto the side of her head and knocked the blond onto the cold floor.

    Coming down hard on the floor Sophie was shaken into a disturbed sense of primal fear with her unconsciousness ripped away. Messily piled on the floor the bruised and beaten Greedy Goddess felt the throbbing reminders of her encounter with Warpath. Whatever tactics of pain and sadism Claw had intended would fail to be so easy with Sophie.

    Then, she felt anger. Sophie turned her head to look over her shoulder and see the BDSM sewer king residing above her. Of course this was how she was awoken, last night Lin knew not to trust the mythological night-time story killer. Dazed, startled, and in pain, Sophie had to take a moment to gather herself before she could find words and speak.

    “What do you want? You have no respect for women” she said spitefully.


    “Yeah, you can get back on the feminist dick later. For now, you can just watch how the Wasp got brutally massacred.” He stated as he was stepping over the couch toward the computer. With the push of a button, he expanded the newsfeed across all of the screens to create a sort of gridded but larger screen.

    The Claw watched the program silently, his arms crossed in a sort of disinterested manner. Sophie dropped her jaw.

    “No…I didn’t want that to happen!” Black Wasp was never supposed to die, she was suppose to resign her crime work and just disappear. Oh god, she had the blood of a woman on her hands...No, it was Lester’s fault. If Lester hadn’t gone so far...Warpath. The image of his mechanical body infuriated her while she listened on to the ways Black Wasp was killed. Claw was the only sociopath she knew and he didn’t leave, so who did this to Black Wasp? Her eyes flickered over to Claw, shaken and a bit dumbfounded, but, the classic American beauty was the most courageous of the three. “You’re not the only monster out in this city anymore.” Sophie jutted at him verbally.

    “Never was the only one, cupcake. Just the loudest.” There were always monsters in this moshpit of a town. Yet, they were always in the dark crevices, y’know, the ones under the kids’ beds or hiding in closets. The Claw, however, made his mark a little more...open. So, he wasn’t actually surprised by the the bug getting hit with the windshield.

    “You never did anything to Black Wasp, whoever was out there last night did!” Her womanly voice strained with sadness. “Black Wasp was a powerful woman and that shouldn’t have happened to her.”

    “Eh, she had it comin sooner or later. She had better hoped she trained the kid how to run the streets, because he’s next.” The Claw didn’t really care all that much about seeing her dead body on the screen, or what he hadn’t seen, rather. It was instead more so the thought of this kid that she left behind. It wasn’t like he was going to go out of his way for that boy, but she dragged him into a world that a kid plainly shouldn’t have to go through. The kid should be able to have his own childhood.

    Despite that view, this was still the kind of stunt he was looking for. With both of these events combined, there was enough heat covering over these two events happening so quickly together. It was getting to be the time to actually execute on his plans. The mayor of this city, was connected. Nearly all of them were. The only reason why he decided to snatch the conveniently placed blonde, was the keep the eyes moving. After all, the fact that nearly every person that rose to power in Solus City, had been consistently vanishing. Each of them knew something different about the secrets that the government kept from common ears. Each one kept one more clue that brought the Claw closer to who he actually was.

    The killer thought about it. He wasn’t exactly known to be a bed and breakfast. “You know, I actually don’t have to keep you here anymore. But, I want you to tell me somethin first. What kind of pirate do you want to be…?” Sophie had pressed her pink lips firmly together and had gathered herself up from the floor to sit on one side of her hips. She stared up at Claw with a raised brow flashing up but jumping right back down as she tried to hide her expression of bewilderment. What kind of pirate she’d want to be?

    “...I don’t want to be a pirate, I don’t like being told what I have to be” Sophie said the only honest answer she could think of. It was a stupid question.

    “Ah, one of those “Freedom fighter” types. Or do I have to break it down for you…?” He asked, leaning up from his wall. He crept ever closer. “I’m one that doesn’t take prisoners. So, me letting you back to swim with the other fish without so much as an extra scratch would make me look soft, now wouldn’t it…?”

    Sophie narrowed her eyes, gradually working her way up to stand, her left foot after kicking off her heels (Fun fact: as she had changed back to Sophie she got two heels again - yay matching!) and stood with a skeptical look on her face.

    “Kidnapping a woman made you look soft. I couldn’t even walk.”

    “Eh, you let yourself get vulnerable in public as their crime “goddess”. I don’t think you can use the “woman” angle.” Sophie looked away, her hand holding onto Claw’s aged couch while she held with a tightening grip. Splinters of wood under the cushion begin to crack audibly. So much was out of her control.

    “Shut up.”

    “Or what..? You’re gonna shut me up..?”

    “AH!” Sophie grunted and flung the couch with a feminine super-powered slap, flying like a frisbee the old ass decor slammed into Claw’s armored body - his spikes piercing his own furnishings to make it look even uglier than his own natural taste of home setting naturally was. Claw's body sank into the wall of the apartment in sole part from the impact. The armor held but the wood frame made victim of Sophie's lady like attack could not endure and shattered only after collapsing upon itself. Thousands of pieces filled his home away from his torture chambers. Grandma’s choice in fabric hung off his 666 spikes and was now becoming a trip hazard - the only real danger the couch could have been for either parties.

    It didn’t only pierce the couch, but the force had stuck him to the wall. The warrior’s exposed face had gotten rather thoroughly violated by one of the surviving wooden remnants of the furniture. It was enough to where it not only penetrated his cheek, but instead threatened to have went straight through the back of his head.

    He felt all of his ribs shatter simultaneously, even as the armor acted as a barrier that kept his skin in place. With the pain from the injuries alone almost overtaxing his brain’s comprehension, he should’ve at the very least been unconscious. However, there he was, still staring at his opponent. Quite plainly, he hadn’t ever faced an opponent like this,and with that brought a feeling of vim that he wasn’t used to.

    The Claw tore his arm from the wall that he was tucked into to retrieve the small wooden beam from his face. It felt as though his entire face was set ablaze as the fractured material scraped along the inside of his mouth. With his other arm, he lightly pulled off the fabric of the old sofa and tossed it to the side. He felt the pounding and aching pain as his face worked to put itself back together. As it was doing so, it appeared that his lips closed into a taunting smirk.

    Sophie braved the first hobbling step to her opponent. A cold shiver of anticipation touched her mind till her dragged right foot slid across the ground. The pain teetered on being manageable, her ankle simply wasn't ready for this. Anger, however, intoxicated Sophie to continue regardless; stab proceeded another with her left leg taking the lead. The white skinned Greedy Goddess neared Claw and followed her anger to finish what she had started. It was now going to end with a punch directed at the man's head with all the strength she could muster in her awkward stance.

    It was unfortunate that all that unique power was deflected to the wall beside him instead. The old killer, hand having had the speed now to grab her wrist, pulled on it to impale the wall with her arm. It was enough to shake the room’s very foundations. The smirk of his didn’t move a muscle. “Not bad, cupcake.” He stated, as he pushed himself out of the wall. Sophie’s fist did very well sink in and hold true, but her ankle didn’t because Warpath f*cked that up. She hissed in pain, whimpered and fell to her knees, arm stuck above her in the wall. Her face was caught in a layer of dust and she had to sneeze.

    The Claw didn’t waste much time going over to where his helmet was. He heard her sneeze over his shoulder and half-chuckled. “Need a tissue there, Goldilocks..?” He taunted. “I’ll hand it to you though, you are making women look less like bitches. Props.” His mask slammed onto his face. This created a small explosion of fire across his face, not unlike that of which he just healed from. Sophie grit her teeth and unearthed her fist from Claw’s wall. Confined to the floor, Sophie dragged herself away and chose to stop out of frustration. She didn’t want to fight while in this pain, she wanted to be away from him. He was the strongest person she’d face.

    “Why do you not respect women?” Sophie asked, weirded out and disturbed by the darkly handsome man under the mask.

    “Huh, you know, to be the blonde of the trio, you jump to conclusions kinda quick.” He rolled his shoulders as he went over and crouched beside her. “Since you painted me impressed, I’ll give ya this. Even as the killer I am, I have more respect for your life as a woman, than the Mayor’s.” Sophie’s breath hitched and her eyes shifted from one empty sleek space of Claw’s mask to the other - knowing clearly he had his eyeballs stabbed out with spikes beneath the surface. How...was he even seeing? Eww, she didn’t want to think about it.

    “I won’t let you hurt me.” Sophie said in a low tone to the man so close to her.

    “Didn’t plan on it.” He responded, standing up and dusting his suit off. Sophie gripped the man’s ankle with the tightest squeeze she could muster. And in the same feat of strength she yanked him onto the ground with her. Shouting, in a grip of her two hands Sophie tossed Claw face first into the wall he had walked out from. For a second time the foundations shook and this time chips of the ceiling were raining onto the floor. Some were getting in her hair, and one lucky chip fell between her breasts - aka the sweet spot.

    It didn’t take too long, however, for him to simply push himself off of the wall again. It seemed a little more sluggish than the first time. He turned his head from side to side, creating a bit of a cracking sound for each motion. “Hundreds of feet underground, blondie. Not a good idea to keep hitting the walls.” Sophie rolled over to be entirely face up and looked down past her cleavage to Claw trying to warn her. He was the a*shole threatening to chop her up, why would she care about his base and torture dungeon?

    The pitiful porcupine man hadn’t taken the time to actually notice one of her feet move to impact his shin as he was turning. Like a bat to glass, it were as though his bone was splintered entirely, making the limb near completely useless. So, down the great dragon was hurled, the original serp--killer. Down the great killer had fallen, crashing onto the body of the attacker. It was upon immediate impact that he felt his body cling to hers. Wait, no that didn’t sound right did it..? Rather that, the spikes of his suit, clung to her clothes.

    The man sensed from each of the little ripping sounds, what was happening. “You know...you could’ve just asked, blondie.” He said, from up close, his voice sounding more like it was in a radio of sorts due to the echo. Sophie’s breath was loudly inhaled and exhaled, her heart speeding with the stress building in her mind. The cold and aged air down here in this dark base was easing through the crevices of her exposed body. She could feel a draft forming between her thighs, around her waist and at her breasts. Damn it, she was losing her clothes. A certain kind of heat was churning in her stomach. Sophie liked what she was experiencing and all her conscious drives told her to throw this man off her. She had more than enough strength to hurl him across the room. Even if she couldn’t walk, she was still powerful and able to defend herself. She was naked and he was on top of her, but it didn’t feel the same way when Lester was.

    “I want nothing from you…” Sophie growled, her left leg scraped against Claw’s body. The pricks of the armor only sank into her skin. They couldn’t penetrate her (wink wink). A spiked hand went to the thigh of that straying leg. He scoffed.

    Really….?” His tone carried heavy sarcasm. Sophie gasped and clenched the perving man’s neck. Her face turned to stare directly at the man on top of her.

    “You are a disgusting murderer”

    “What a surprise...Want a gold star..?” His speech went nearly unimpeded as the muscling around his neck increased to a point. He placed a hand onto the ground, beginning to push himself up. However it was realized due to an almost stabbing pain, that his shin was out of place, thanks to her strategically unnecessary kick.

    It while as the killer was half of the way up, that the tearing he heard earlier, was realized more or less in the fact that the button to her vest was knocked out. To make the mood just that much more fitting, the front of her skirt tore as well, leaving her with really her bra and panties. So, it seems like the Claw was right. This most definitely wasn’t a kid’s show, but instead turning into some kind of anime.

    Exposed, Sophie’s face paled and shuttered. Yet, there was a shiver down her spine…

    At this rate the two of them just stared at each other. “All black huh…? Not bad.” He commented, pushing her leg slowly back down.

    “I want to leave, you’re going to take me…”

    “....Fine.” Sophie rolled over, shaking off some paint chips along the way. Her breasts were urgent need of covering with the bra failing to stay on. An arm held down over what must have been succulent nipples. The fates must have given the man in woman’s disguise a break because her panties still held neatly at her hips. There was a lot she had to think about, and the only place she yearned to be was home - even away from her gang. A bitter part of this soul was darkening from the sickening glance she was given into this city.

    The Claw went up to reset his shin, the small clicking sound filling the rest of the silence. In the few minutes that he felt the slight pain of it healing, the eyeless mask seemed to watch the blonde. He shook his head as he stood. Still unsure.

    Sophie sighed.

    “Do you have clothes?” The Claw seemed to have given it some thought. He went over to the computer desk, where on one side, there was a set of drawers. In the second drawer, he pulled out a mostly generic, white T shirt and tossed it in her direction. While she was dressing she made a passing comment. “I am surprised this doesn’t have blood all over it”

    “What..? You against shirts without blood..?” He asked the blonde, again with an edge of sarcasm to his words. Though, he noticed one of her small fists shaking and that she was, instead, looking past him back to the screens. Hearing that it was the news still going on, he crossed his arms and waited a few seconds. “What..?” He asked again.

    “Warpath is responsible for this, and he hurt me. When I’m out of here I’m going to rip his skull off from his body” Sophie hissed from her seated position on the floor. Her death threat to the man to go along with the fact she actually had the substance to back it up, was enough to get a smirk out of him. It looked like he might like this one, the first in a few decades...

    “Well what do you know. Warpath sure knows how to get in harm’s way..”
    Last edited by Minkasha; 04-20-2017 at 08:39 AM. Reason: GM Critiques Used - Mink & MC DC
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  9. #29
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    The apartment was small, a little front room with a cozy couch and a television, a kitchen in the far corner pressed into what little space was left. A short hall led to the bed and bathrooms which were a mere half the size of the front-room.

    It wasn't much.
    But for a College student, it was almost enviable. The privacy, the quiet.

    But the quiet that hung over Linton's apartment was not a pleasant one.

    The small off brand television played the news idly, a yellow 'MUTE' button in the bottom left corner. An African-American reporter prattled on, expression interested but eyes distant.
    Underneath him scrolled the haunting headline.

    'Breaking News - Black Wasp Found Dead'

    On the small table in front of the TV sat a trio of newspapers, all pulled apart and tossed on to the same article.
    The Trumpeter.
    Metropolitan.
    The Solus Times.

    All had the same title, headlined in bold.
    'Even Heroes Make Mistakes'

    At first, he hadn't believed it. Not for an instant.
    Wasp had been hurt, been 'killed' before.
    She had come back.

    So he'd bought every reputable newspaper he could get ahold of, scoured the internet, flipped on the news.
    Anything to confirm his suspicions that the Wasp was still alive.
    But the only newspapers that seemed to agree with him were tabloids.
    'Aliens kidnapped Black Wasp and killed a clone'
    'Proof that Black Wasp was a man and couldn't possible be Erica Vayne'

    It was absurd, painfully so.
    Little by little, doubt began to creep in.
    His theory that it was a body double, or Erica Vayne coming back from a costume party were as absurd as the articles in those tabloids.

    Erica Vayne was Black Wasp.
    Erica Vayne was dead.
    Joshua Linton's hero, the woman who had inspired him to put on the cape was dead.

    Now he was putting on the cape again, the sword, the grappling hook straight from Black Wasp's own armory of gear.
    But this time it wasn't for justice. With Wasp dead an enormous power vacuum was about to be created, and someone had to stand up and keep the status quo, keep the peace.

    But it wasn't going to be Blademaster, not tonight.

    He stepped out into the main room in a sleeveless red hood with a scabbard sewn tightly into the back on a strip of leather and Thai fishermen pants that ended just at the ankle.
    A Menpo was firmly placed on his face, the worn and ancient mask showing more vibrant color and less chips and cuts, almost as though it had been in the hands of someone who specialized in restoring particularly old artifacts.
    It wasn't uniform however, as though it had been taken from them only after a small amount of carefully dabbled paint and sanding.

    Even more striking than the curiously restored Menpo, the man behind the mask was clearly not Joshua Linton.
    It was Mars.
    It was Mixcoatl.
    It was Guan-Yu.

    He was a ball of fury, barely held together behind a thin veneer of monk like stoicism.

    Blademaster stepped out into the moonlight, aiming the grappling hook firmly attached to his left wrist high above.
    With a loud pop, the grappling hook flew high into the late night and caught a low building, the heavy torque of the gadget's wire whipping him upward into the night.

    These next few nights would define the future of the city.
    Whether Black Wasp's commitment and hard work to keep the criminal element in-line would hold firm, or fail.
    Blademaster would not allow the second.

    He decided he would start with Ketchup King, the criminal who had claimed to be Black Wasp's killer earlier in the afternoon.

    Blademaster brought the watch he had been given earlier up to his mask, opening the channel.

    "I don't know if you're the only one listening Red Wing, maybe someone got to you too", he began quietly, on the edge of the rooftop looking over Solus.
    "But I will not allow this city to fall. Not to the South Solus Gang, or Wasp's killer. Not to the army of leeches that roam these streets, draining the life out of the City and its people"

    The man paused, "I'm leaving this channel open, maybe...Maybe we can do like Wasp wanted. Form a team that can put these guys behind bars, honor one of her last wishes"

    The grapple hook whizzed by, whipping Blademaster up to the next building.
    "If not, fine. I'm going to catch up with Ketchup King, I saw him on the news earlier. I doubt he had anything to do with Black Wasp's death, but he'll tell me soon, one way or the other.
    He'll be coughing up red.
    But this time, its not going to be ketchup.
    Blademaster, out."

  10. #30
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    The Sun was already up over Solus City as the weary young high school teacher drove her small champagne hatchback through the streets on the way to school... um, work. It wasn't just the taxing night out before that contributed to Maya's reluctance to go to Sun Valley High that morning, but also the knowledge that she would be seeing two empty desks in one of her afternoon classes. How did she know that? Well, Pentaxa had discovered the murdered bodies of the two students who had occupied those desks, and from the evidence of acid burns at the scene, she knew exactly who was responsible, and knew, that once again, she had been too late to stop her. She was never going to get tired of that happening, was she?

    The ringing of her mobile phone mounted right above her dashboard then interrupted her thoughts, and she hit a button, putting it on speaker.

    "What is it, Kelly?"

    "Listen May, you've got to turn the news channel on, like right now."

    "Hmm? What's going on?"

    "You... need to hear this for yourself..."

    "Fine, I'll talk to you later."

    Maya usually preferred driving in silence, which meant she hardly ever had the radio on in the car, but Kelly sounded unusually disturbed and upset over the phone. If her cousin had taken the trouble to call her about some news, then it probably involved a crime or some other metahuman activity, and it was probably bad. Curious and slightly apprehensive about what she would be hearing, she cautiously reached over and turned the radio on to tune in to the eight o'clock news.

    “...police have identified Black Wasp as Erica Vayne...”

    “...does anyone have any leads on the current murderer of such a beloved hero?”

    Maya almost pulled over at the news, though, she quickly got a hold of herself and decided to continue driving, letting the newly-discovered reality sink in. Black Wasp was dead... but how? It was merely a few days back when she was having a conversation with the vigilante's bright little sidekick... Redwing! The kid must be devastated, and he probably needed all the support he could get. She would try contacting him, once she found a safe, quiet place to use her 'Team Black Wasp' watch, yeah... Black Wasp was no longer around, she needed a new name for that thing.

    Sun Valley High, as expected, was buzzing with the news of the deaths of the students' schoolmates, and of course, more so of Black Wasp. The lack of focus displayed by Maya's students in class that morning was apparent, though, she didn't exactly have the heart to demand much of their attention. What happened was indeed a tragedy after all. It continued until lunchtime rolled around, when Maya was sitting in the staff lounge watching the afternoon news.

    Ketchup King? Really? Are these people tired of living?

    She then made her way right up to the school rooftop and to a deserted corner. Leaning against the railing, she pulled out her black watch that she had earlier slipped into her pocket and attempted to contact the deceased vigilante's sidekick.

    "Redwing? Hey kiddo, if you're getting this, answer me when you can, alright? Look, I heard the news, and I just want to give you my deepest condolences. I know that she was someone really important to you. Just know that I'm here for you, okay? I hope to hear from you soon."

    As Maya made her way back downstairs, she couldn't help but wonder how big of a team Redwing had already managed to assemble. With Black Wasp gone, this team was going to have more of a purpose than ever.
    Credits to PrinceOfRedroses at https://www.rinmarugames.com/ for avatar and signature.

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