Blüdhaven (CVU Living Location)

@kaija:

"I just like to set things on fire," Diara answered, still kicking her leg. "Sometimes I get... distracted. I have ADHD. It makes it kind of hard to focus sometimes. Hard to focus on what I'm supposed to be focusing on, anyway. My sister tried meds for me for a while when I was younger but I can't take them any more. The fire just burns them right out. She says that probably means I'm immune to systemics and diseases and stuff, but sometimes I'd rather just be able to do what I'm supposed to."

She shrugged a shoulder. "Anyway. If you're talking to someone and you keep talking about different subjects, they just think you're kind of strange, but if you're setting things on fire and you get distracted, it can get kinda toasty, and I guess not everyone likes that. You're very easy to focus on, you know that? More so than other people."

It was actually pretty remarkable how well Kaija was holding Diara's attention. Usually she would have been on to a different subject or setting something on fire by now. Admittedly, she really wanted to set Kaija on fire, except she had promised her sister she wouldn't, and besides, she didn't really want to set Kaija on fire anyway. I would like one revenge, please. Diara wasn't even sure what she'd meant by that. Sometimes the fire was strange like that. It seemed to be very focused on Kaija.

It was kind of nice.

@incandescence:

Kaija began to realize something as the young woman spoke her mind. Skyblaze wasn't really as crazy as she had initially come off to be. Or, at least, the girl wasn't the kind or level of crazy that she had initially believed her to be. She honestly reminded Kaija of a good-hearted child; someone who wanted to do good and help people; but who stumbled over their own urges and lack of focus along the way. Now, Kaija never had any issues with focus, but she understood what it was like to be burdened by urges that went against who she wanted to be. She wanted to believe that she understood the girl's perspective entirely, but she wasn't so conceited to believe something like that.

Kaija felt the urge to murder for two months. The urge to burn stuff must've been an everyday thing for this girl.

UNKD aircraft landed in the immediate area; VTOL's preparing to take the carcass away for research purposes while weapon carriers landed to collect the soldier's Goliath Arms and transport them back to base for cleaning, repairs, and refueling. Kaija gestured for Skyblaze to wait there as went to return her weapons to their rightful containers. And as she placed the weapons, one by one, into the transports, she thought about what life must've been like for the girl. One would think that a girl asking for vengeance and to set her on fire would scare a sane person away but... well... Kaija was pretty freaking fire-retardant. And, more importantly, she kinda sympathized with the girl. Instead of immediately hopping into a VTOL and leaving the girl hanging... she actually went back to Skyblaze after packing up all of her gear.

"I take it that your sister looks after you, right? Would you mind if I came back to Bludhaven at some point and talked to her?" Kaija asked, likely to the girl's surprise. Diara may not have said it outright but, if she was obeying her sister's commands and quoting her words as though she was always right, then her sister was obviously her guardian, "I'd like to meet her. And I suppose I'd like to see you again too," that probably made Kaija sound more like she was trying to be a friend than help someone in need, but she figured that that was for the best, "You just have to promise me one thing. Don't set me on fire when I come back, Okay?"

@kaija:

Diara crossed a finger over her heart, very solemnly. "I will do my very best," she promised. She had been watching all the activity, the airships taking the dead crocodile away, the tankers sluicing away the blood and gore - not really gone, but diluted, some of it washed down into the city sewers, where it would probably emit isotopes and in three months Bludhaven would suffer a plague of radioactive rats.

Myné would take care of that, though. She was very good at taking care of things like that, as long as she had a long enough lead time. Myné didn't do conventional superhero work, as so much of it revolved around the here and now, but given enough time to prepare, Diara thought that her sister could probably handle any of the powers out there. Of course, Diara might have been a little bit biased about that. It didn't matter, anyway. Myné didn't want to be a hero. She was content with where she was, managing her little portion of Bludhaven, making sure the city ran smoothly. She didn't need to spread her wings. She didn't even have any.

Diara unfolded hers, keeping them scaled to her own size and keeping most of her body in its normal shape, only the wings behind her a scarlet blaze. "Come when you can," she invited Kaija. "I'll find you. The fire knows when you're here."

@_vex_: @ryth:

Hirokazu, the wound on his torso biting his chest, crested on the hillside overlooking the industrial plant flanked by a dozen of his ronin. The Dingo stood there, talking to a woman and disagreeing on something. The Daimyo raised a hand, his loyal warriors producing a rocket-propelled grenade from their formidable arsenal.

"Aim to incapacitate. What he has stolen from me will be returned, one way or another,"

With the single pull of a trigger, the situation between the two on and near the scaffolding would change dramatically. Hirokazu had no mercy for those that stole from the Oda Clan, least of all those who were still alive. With a single word, the Daimyo would authorize that brutality into existence.

He lowered his hand.

"Fire."

And all hell would break loose.

@incandescence:

"Come when you can; I'll find you. The fire knows when you're here."

With that, Skyblaze's form erupted into the flaming dragon that Kaija had witnessed not too long ago and flew back in the direction that it had first come from. Kaija couldn't help but feel more than a little creeped out by her last words but wasn't sure if they were any worse than most of the other things that the girl had said prior. Kaija returned to a human stature and made her way onto a VTOL for departure back to Boracay. Unbeknownst to the soldier, even though they may not have been able to hear the words of Diara, they couldn't help but hear Kaija's. A giant's whispers weren't really whispers to anyone looking up at them.

"Where do you find all of these weirdos?" the pilot asked from the cockpit.

Kaija simply shrugged and shook her head slightly, "As if I'd know the answer to that."

"It's like they're drawn to you..."

"Look, I'm not the one who gets to hide their face behind a mask within a cockpit when I'm working, okay?" Kajia explained, slightly annoyed, "You show up on T.V. once without a mask and you'll have to deal with the same crap."

"Hmm," he replied casually; a brief pause before he spoke again, "With that in mind, you should probably bring a fire-retardant suit with you if you're planning to walk around in this city 6-foot-tall 'civilian-style'... And a bulletproof vest. And a bomb suit. No offense, but..."

"Yeah, no. I know," Kaija replied, looking out onto the filthy, gang-infested city, "Bludhaven is a rough place..."

@_razor_:

"Septimus..."

Belle spoke softly with traces of her southern drawl in her every word.

"Septimus wake up. I wanna go huntin' tonight..."

His eyes erupted awake.

It had been days. Slowly, but assuredly, he had begun to come into terms with what Belle really was. And eerily enough to him, it seemed she was coming into terms with it as well. Her physiology had definitely changed, with her stinger already in. Her organs are no doubt non-functioning as he no longer heard her heart. Assuredly, she would stop growing aging and would remain as though at this age for an eternity. Judging from how she was hanging upside down as she spoke to him, her muscle fibers were beginning to mature as well, and would grow stronger with age. Already however, her smaller frame had proven more agile and nimble than he was when he had first begun. Heck, in some ways, she was more nimble in some ways than he was by virtue of her own weight.

Soon after, Septimus left on patrol. The criminal element called to him, as every night it did.

It had been a few days. He had fed on Razor exactly twice. Once at Fort Knox. And again upon returning. Then promptly he resumed his normal routine and left Belle and Razor to primarily their own devices. As promised, Rayne was bound by no one but herself to stay her and even Belle could have left. But really, where would she go? How would she fare out in the world by herself, despite the Ankh's advice. As for Razor, he had been accomodating, having food and drink purchased for her as well as whatever such means of entertainment she requested. Clothes were bought and this time, there was no necessity in him being present while she was nude. Indeed, ever since the first night, after he fed on her, he had been distant from Rayne. He did not speak to her unless particularly necessary.

Invariably, Bell scampered off to go see what Rayne was up to at this time of night with blood wiped from her pale face. Blood red eyes peeked around each and every corner of Septimus' Warehouse for her starting with her room. Wherever she was found, Belle butt into whatever she was doing without any real second thought or consideration. "Howdy Rayne! I wanted to ask ya somethin'. Couldja....uh. Take me huntin'? Septimus don't wanna do it and I ain't really wanna feed on you no more..."

She scratches the back of her head.

"Even though you taste n' smell good."

@voracious:

Rayne had been largely reaching out to contacts to set herself up to operate within the city. Getting to know what people to talk to and what streets to travel. Her notoriety came and went when there was so many metahumans and events that came through the world. Didn't make her history less blood stained, she did what she could as well to track down her previous allies. The team might be breaking up but as apart of it Rayne felt she had to see to their wellbeing. So long as they weren't in her way or sitting on their ass she had nothing against them.

When it came to her little corner of the place of theirs Rayne wasn't exactly known for wearing much. She was still in somewhat hostile territory and more importantly with someone who was challenged by temptations. She wasn't against spilling her blood and often practiced various arts of combat in little besides undergarments. Way she saw things it challenged the vampire to pick if he would feed and act against her more or less. And if things got violent there was little in the way of talons or marrow based extensions.

When it came to Belle Rayne permitted one feeding a night with the possibility of a bit more for good behavior. She didn't want to overdo it, to be the only food of a hunter but also didn't want the "animal to act in a blind and stupid manor" as Rayne had often said.

Like plenty of evenings one vampire stayed away from her and a smaller one came close. A small stove top burned flames keeping the living weapon warm as she cleaned up from a previous meal small steps were heard and a hand brushed Raven black hair aside to expose her neckline. Hands returning to cleaning her claws uncaring of what she expected to be the usual sting of skin and feeling of coming and leaving fatigue as her seemingly bottomless pool of carmine was drawn from. This didn't come however instead there was words. A choice.

"And what exactly would we be hunting kid? Personally I'd say hunt me don't risk a drug fueled snack or endanger Septimus. That said I'm not the one who needs to hunt tonight." There was a lot of risks to anything they might do but Rayne also believed she was an instrument of others choices.

@_razor_:

Belle put her hands behind her back and swiveled her foot upon her toes as she thought about that last sentence.

"Well..."

Then she just abruptly invasive, and nimbly, jumps to Razor's back, wrapping her arms around her neck, speaking into her ear as ship rubs her lips on Rayne's neck.

“I was more askin' you to come. It don't really benefit you none, but I mean, I don't wanna feed on you all the time! Don't it feel..weird? I can feed on a bad person like Septimus does. Can't I? It ain't hard to find no criminals in Bludhaven, I imagine. I can prolly just walk into an alleyway and some pedo’ll Jump me. An' I'll just beat him up with ma new vampar strength.”

She considered her actions and Rayne's wording. It dawned on her once more that Septimus was no father and Rayne, no mother. She had a lot in the realm of freedom and no physical barriers that would prevent her from doing anything. Then again, it didn't really feel all that different to her than having someone to watch over her.

“Oh. Or we can go into one of them uppity places. They're prolly all real healthy. And a lot of ‘em fat. Prolly have it comin' too. Ma pa never liked rich folk. He tells me that money does things to people and to never be a snob.”

A part of her wondered how she came up with that proposition, but she was mostly just glad she did.

@beatrice_dubois

The dusty shelves creaked as the thick ivory book had been retrieved from it's long occupied spot. The cover of the grasped tome had been branded in strange characters that were illegible to the untrained eye. Lorna Crown however, was not untrained. She scanned it's cover identifying and memorizing each turn, edge, and curve of every symbol.

Reviving The Past.

She transcribed the title in her mind, admiring the sheer beauty of the engravings. The Living Virus couldn't feel the exact texture as well as an organic being could, but still, she held it in awe as if the slightest movement of mishandling would turn it to ash within her palms. The recently revived cybernetic was only now picking up the shards of her past life and attempting to put them back together. Their was too many missing pieces however. Images in her mind that had no meaning and snips of sounds and smells that held some sort of locked bliss.

She ignored to think about it any further. It only brought her to a dead end with answers and so it was best not to become distracted. The library was tucked away in between some of the countless blocks of lower middle class living in between The Narrows and Avalon Hill. It's collection wasn't modern at all and was more of an antique shop, but for the few adept in the arcane arts, they knew that these were the kinds of merchants that held the best artifacts in regards to magic.

"I think this will help."

Lorna said aloud, verbally reassuring her that there was still a chance to recover what was lost. What was taken.

@_razor_:

I see why now. Why I ache for it, so..

He hadn't changed out his armor and more just worse clothes. Bullets made holes on his chest only because he willed it. Because he just stood there as the thugs frantically fired into the frame of his body. An ever so slight twitch was all the was needed to prevent any rounds from hitting the heart. His head whipped back upon receiving one 9mm round. He looked upon them, his eye already in the midst of recovering as I did.

How long has it been since I have felt like this?

His speed becomes blistering. He moves so fast in such a short distance it looked almost like he teleported away from their gunshots. Fear united the two warring rival gangs in vane, as he moved in bursts. Their eyes attempt to follow the blur as it appears near their allies, V's humanity saving them from what would be a skeleton shattering strike. And yet, there remained a vigor for more. No living upon the brink of hunger as he sent as squad enemies hurdling back with a casual backhand.

Should I fight it? Truly. My mind.

His sword finds its way thrown towards the oncoming car in perfect form, beginning to swerve uncontrollably. He becomes a black blur amidst a storm of bullets, grabbing the thug by her neck among the crowd and then simply jumping off and taking her god knows where. They don't see as his jaws crack open to accommodate the extension of his hellish stinger. All they hear is her screaming. One of them lungs forward, shouting towards the sky in vane as his friends pull him back and take him away.

This is the will of the beast. Never…have I seen this before.

The tendril hovers mere inches from her neck, the tip of it swaying to and fro as he looks at her with blood red eyes, but these are not the eyes of a blank faced beast. Not the kind of face a praying mantis regards. These are the eyes of merely a man with red irises. He knows he can draw back for he does not crave this one blood. He craves the blood of the Razor. To drink it every day, and for his body to grow as it should. To grow truly into what a two thousand year old vampire should be. A god among men.

But this is what the Beast desires. Not Septimus Nier.

Why does she offer herself to me so? Could it be that she knows?

His grip tightens and his tendril draws back into from whence it came. He watches the white leave her eyes in some six seconds, before she passes out from a lack of bloodloss. Police sirens sound from below and her friends are long gone.

"Heh. The hell is this? The middle ages?" The officer says, pointing towards the sword speared in the car.. "I mean, look at this." The officer points to a head to toe tattooed chick laying on top of the car's hood as she comes to. She gradually rolls off, revealing the hole where the sword is.

The streets always whisper.

@lady_grimm:

She had come in pursuit of a being that had once worn the title of "Sorcerer Supreme".

Lady Grimm. One more force to add to the ranks for the fight to preserve the force of magic in their world. Despite the warrior's honors, Beatrice's travels lead her to increasingly... run down territory. For someone whose title boasted so much power and prestige, the librarian couldn't help but be surprised to find her guest of honor living in squalor alone in a ghetto. She couldn't deny it though. Despite how lost she felt as she pressed forward, she could feel the champion's magic.

And would you believe that Beatrice was even more shocked when she caught sight of Grimm?

The witch rode in on a broom; silent. She made no effort to announce her presence as she flew into the area and laid eyes on what was left of the previous Sorcerer Supreme. The creature standing before her wasn't human anymore. Even moreso, if it wasn't for her own attuned senses, Beatrice would've probably assumed the woman to be little more than some common android abomination forged from science in the absence of magic. Even now, as much as she doubted that she had found the right person, her senses continued to point her directly towards the arcane machine. The librarian made no effort to step off of her broom and continued to float silently. The first sound that Lady Grimm would hear was the sound of Beatrice's voice from behind her back.

"Help with what?"

@kaija@beatrice_dubois

Lorna skimmed through the pages of the relic, the dust floating off the parchment and on her hands as her eyes met the hand scripted words. She could scour the internet and comb through countless of articles in less than a second, but the modern world had abandoned the arcane arts long ago and whatever information they held had yet to be rendered onto digital formatting. The old school way to research what she needed to know was her only viable option.

The tome had revealed the possibility of countless of dimensions universes and parallel realities with either stark differences of minor variations in their worlds. It intrigued her knowing that her soul was not from this world and was therefore not bound it.

"Help with what?"

The break in solitude caught her, for the first time, off guard. She turned around causally, closing the spine of the book and folding it's cover under the violet cloak of her arm.

"I hadn't noticed you there."

The Living Virus had said playfully, analyzing the recently arrived woman before her. The strange woman's aura was different in both color, sense, and size. All were considerably distinct, indicating someone who knew there way around the world.

"I just found the section of mythology that I wanted."

It was difficult for Lorna to seem like an average person given the paleness of her skin and glowing marks that could easily mistaken for tattoos. The long shawl and cloak were her only option to go incognito, but even now she was realizing how pointless her disguise was if she could be so easily approached.

OP UPDATED

@lady_grimm:

"That's good," the librarian replied as she stepped off of her broom and took it up into her hands, "That's good."

An awkward pause as she simply stared at the creature before her, unsure of what exactly she was looking at and why it was here. She continued before the atmosphere grew too heavy.

"I'm actually looking for someone myself. Someone of great importance, prestige, and power," her eyes trailed away from the mechanical anomaly for a moment as she confirmed her surroundings once more. Filth, dirt, and rot were everywhere. How could a being that once wore the title of "Sorcerer Supreme" be living in a place like this; living like this? "Does the name 'Lady Grimm' mean anything to you?"

Beatrice wasn't sure what answer she had wanted to hear from the being standing before her.

@beatrice_dubois:

If Lorna's face pigmentation would change like a normal human's, the burning crimson streak would betray her emotions. She staggered back, taken by the surprise inquiry that had already been answered by it's own utterance.

"What does that name mean to you?"

The words seethed from her lips as she crossed her arms in defiance, shoveling away her normal politeness.

Lady Grimm

The magical entity that had once, for a very brief time, held the title of Sorceress Supreme. The Mistress of Malevolence that had once razed a city and ravaged a nation. The soul from which Lorna had been created from or merged with, wither way, she didn't know. It was a fragment of her shattered memories that she could not purge, but instead was cursed to live on with.

"Because that was a different world, and a different life."

Lorna replied, eyeing the broom the witch had rode in on. Cautiously watching her movements, hoping this wasn't a vindictive sorceress from something Lorna wouldn't even remember.

(so sorry I've been so behind on this <3)

"Belle how many times have you seen me with these" the answer was every night of course. Rayne used her claws all the time "then there's the other abilities." Though only seen when training she often would extract bones that grew from her body. "Do things long enough and you become numb to it. In short no, it doesn't feel weird nor do I mind." Entire pools could be filled with the blood she had spilled over her years of violence and brutality.

She gave a tug on her shoe laces and grabbed a hoodie to help hide amongst the civilians. "If we do this, you need to be able to conceal yourself. Hunt don't be hunted." As nice as Rayne wished to be that came first from the known terroris. One of the core aspects of survival she believed. Her expression was stern, as exciting as getting to hunt might be it was a serious activity not a game. Even if when Rayne was Belle's age she'd thought killing just as fun as a game.

"I'm pretty sure I taste better, but free food doesn't help that side of you. Question is who do you want to go after? How much do you expect to get from them? Sure you could drain the rich man but what happens to his wife or daughter? So you only take some blood from a hooker, is it where she can get help still? It's all your choice, I intend to just see you home safe. I won't treat you like a stupid child playing a game however" hunting killing it all had ramifications. Might be hard to fully grasp what could come of being a predator at Belle's age but that didn't mean understanding was entirely impossible either.

@_razor_:

“Well Gaw-lee Rayne. You're even scarier than Septmius! When you wanna be... I ain't never…really thought of it like that..”

Her eyes gawk at the blade for a second, before she drops down from her back and onto the floor.

She looks down almost out of a bit of shame. She wasn’t experienced in feeding at all. Rayne was functionally a feast but she saw the ramifications of her actions on the form of the Ghoul hanging up in the rafters, now in a deep sleep as a result of starvation. But, it was outweighed by her desire to explore in all honesty. She was the leader here in a way and Rayne gave her more freedom than Septimus' instructions.

“Alright. Imma have to choose wisely when the time comes.” She herself, went to throw on a hoodie and sweat pants. And sneakers! She had to be ready to move, particularly to climb.

“I ain't the type for runnin' round the streets much. My eyes are red as rubies. My skin is pale as snow. AND I got shark teeth. So I say, we go by the rooftops like Septimus does. That way, we can also just spy on people. Like Septimus does! But I still wanna go after some rich folk. Better blood prolly, too.”

She pulls her own hoodie over head, not unlike the way Rayne has hers. With no need of any type of tool in particularly, she starts towards the door of the warehouse.

Police sirens hum ambiently so much most only really noticed when it stopped. The cool air was stained with subtle undertones of carbon dioxide, unsurprising for an industrial city like this. Gunshots could be heard across the city, some far and wide. A few were near. Belle didn't like it too much but at least as a vampire, she didn't have to breath it in. Sure, now she was ugly and her hair was fallin' out, but being stuck like this had it's benefits.

She sprinted forward, faster than most little girls her and towards a near by building. From there, she began her ascent, starting quickly up a pipe and then grasping a window sill, propelling herself upwards as she instinctively grabbed the little crevices within the wall.. More of the city. As they neared general society, smoke from factories mixed with pretty lights. And now you could start to hear traffic.

“Heya Rayne, how you and Septimus meet? He don't really talk much but when I ask him, he just keeps on tellin' me to ask you. An' I'm forgetful, but I remember now…”

Maybe that'd answer why they don't talk.

@voracious:

"I don't want to scare you girl, just also won't lie." The living weapon remarked with a shrug before leaning against a wall and waiting for the kid to get ready. "Your nature wants to hunt, but that comes with a cost. Killing should you do so can shape who you are, it can also shape others." Turn children into vengeful psychopaths or break the mind of a loved one. Rayne didn't think the act inherentply wrong she'd been molded not to. A part of her still felt the weight of such however.

A smile creeped it's way to Rayne's features at choices made. Good shoes, a hoody to help hide, kid could learn. A preference to roof tops to help hide always a good call. "Sometimes places won't have as many high buildings, one of these nights we should work on blending in. Your right though for tonight." Changing from the child to a hunter would take more then a knowledge of rooftop travel. With that Razor exited the building, her claw extended from her shoes and her nails became metallic just enough to adhere to a surface. Shouldn't be enough markings to trace however, just scars on a building side not the trail of a known terrorist.

She kept up with Belle but never pulled ahead, if for some reason the girl fumbled the killer was there to catch her. Something Rayne found herself liking to be honest, messing up could be fine or all the deadlier. Once on the roof amongst lights and smoke a question was asked. Her mind went back to what she'd said not so long ago, "I was with a team doing bad things. I killed because the mission said so, they didn't deserve it. We needed an extraction and Septimus was my way out. During our fight he got a meal from me decided to bring me here. Anything else you'd like to ask?"

She moved about the roof some looking out to the city and trying to figure out who was where. A phone in hand to check some details online, she did her best to do it where Belle could watch. With any luck she'd be taking notes on one of the ways to learn about ones prey. "Drug dealers, hookers, rich criminals, and over there the rich who do questionable things." Rayne pointed in the general direction of each, never enough to say everything about the option however. The living weapon testing the vampire'a own ability, it was after all Belle's choice Rayne was but a tool to see to the course of action.

@_razor_:

Traffic hummed ambient and pretty lights appeared all around them as they moved. Lot of homeless folk all around. Belle remembers seeing on the news talk about this place, people comin' from Grim to here to get away from all the stuff.

Belle moved with an intuitive grace, one who'd clearly had practice or something that made her able to move the way she did. She was not as fast and powerful as Septimus, but already, she was lightweight and much more nimble than he was. Many things that she could grip would break or be strained by the weight of his muscular body and armor. But Belle was light and carried no weaponry of her own bar the weapons her body came with. She jumped unto flagpoles and even landed on top of signs. It wouldn't be difficult for one to mistake her for falling to her doom as she landed on sharp spikes between her feet and balanced herself atop street signs and ran across cables with. Her ascension of buildings closely resembled that of almost an insect, constantly moving, her hands and feet always seeming to find something to bring herself up, further and further.

A smile found itself appearing on a face of someone who was growing more and more ugly as the stages of vampirism progressed, slowed only by the amount of life remaining in her. And yet, she found herself enjoying her new found abilities. Boys were icky anyway so if none of them would like her than, so be it. She was used to living on a farm and being away from people, so she didn't really need much. But this was all new and all exciting. Bludhaven and being with Raeyn? Why, that was all she needed.

"So you two was fightin' when ya'll met? Guess it's good ya'll could make up or whatever...I got one. But I wanna ask you later." She thought more to herself. Raeyn was a curious woman. A bit rough around the edges and super serious but she wanted to help her out with whatever she wanted to do it seemed. Not commanding, she let her take the lead. Naturally, she was curious as to how this woman worked and why she wasn't bossing her around like literally any other person would.

Here seemed like a good spot. As Raeyn pulled out her phone to assess the area, Belle walked over to her and climbed onto her back, her chin resting on her shoulder as she looked at the phone and then towards each and every point that Raeyn pointed towards.

"The rich people. Over there in Avalon Hill." She spoke without any hesitation in her answer. Said it before, say it again. Those types were the worst and really, Belle had given consideration to the thought of one's family. Non of that really crossed into Belle's mind.

"Let's go!"

The gates stood some twenty feet high. There were no buildings near by so to speak from which one could simply jump over them and unto another. Besides, the place was on a hill, towering over the rest of the city. No building near it would allowed to be higher, and the open field lent it both ample aesthetic in concerns to gardening and the practical aspect. There was little place to hide. Little to take cover. Even an open assault by a riot was apt to be easy pickings for the best weapons money could buy. And in this day and age, with the fall of Grim and a residing bitterness all about the air.

Good smells all around. Raeyn did taste good but there were temping smells she could pick up from even people driving by in cars. From fat, blood filled cats to spoiled wives and pampered pups. They weren't threatening themselves but the security guard. Maverick insignias often attracted trouble, so they'd forgone them. But still. Belle wanted in, because no one deserved it more than people like them, in her eyes.

"...Huh. This looks...kinda hard." She was perplexed, far from a strategist or a tactician.

"Butcha know? Ma pa told me some of the best stuff in life is the stuff you work hard for." She looks to Raeyn, as if for encouragement or for some measure of assurance.

"I think it'll make it taste all the sweeter."

@voracious:

"Whenever your ready to ask girl." The living weapon remarked sendinf a light headbutt toward the kid on her back playfully. She doubted she was on all that good of terms with the vampire. It wasn't the worst arangment either though. A target was decided with a solid affirmation and with that the pair was on their way towards the pompous rich.

"Notice the guns and patrol pattern, that kind of arsenal might not kill us it'll hurt though and might have ammo variation that can do more. Way they move their well trained, they lack insigna but you can see the skill." Her Jade eyes looked over the various guards and found someone a bit more lax "that would be more the usual for sake of compariso. He's probably new." Looking over the place and info on her phone she smiled pleased by the selection.

"His business isn't the worst in my opinion but isn't good either, has no immediate family. Getting to him though would require sneaking through way to many open fields and bushes." Her hand showed the best trail she could find and even that had a good number of guards bound to be stumbled upon. "Best bet I would say is to clime along the cliff side there" she pointed. "Stay Low and watch the garage door for when he tries to head out.

Turning her hand Rayne let a small bone creep from her wrist and handed it over to the kid. "A few questions though girl. How wold you get the target to go to his car and how will you use this to cover the bite wound? Course your welcome to make your own plan, but fewer bodies less trouble for the three of us." Rayne remarked doing her best to give ideas and warnings but largely leave the course of action in the little vampire's own hands.

Not a lot of rich folk stay in Bludhaven. Maybe a year, tops; if they can get associated with the right kinds of protection. But Bludhaven just does not have all the vigilante eyes other industrial cities like Gothic or L.A. have, despite it's similar dangers. Things happen here, just as much as they happen in other places, but the capes don't fly around every corner like they do in other locales. So the one percenters who come here usually find some nice corner to themselves, set up business, stare at something nice, like the bay nearby their high rises and end up swallowed whole by the great abyss at the heart of this concrete jungle.

Out of the ash,

The Bison, with his red craze,

Hunts men here everyday like he prays

This land should be a safe haven for someone though. Someone should pull more profit from these lands than just harbor goods and fiscal gains. Someone is always curious about the beauty on the surface of Bludhaven. However, the Quiet Man is more interested in soul within the city.

He is a creature of the abyss.

A student of the uncharted.

No man's friend, but a weopon of conquest.

Thunder strikes and he has arrived at the gates of Avalon Hill. Rain falls beneath a marron moon and a troupe of the Bison Priest's trained hunters, called 'The Silencers' land on the smoothest pavement in the deprived city.

He has pulled many into the Blüd's abyss before, but tonight The Quiet Man intends on ripping open the heavens for the rest of earth and hell to feed on.

Just curious if anyone would stop me >_>

@ran:

"So tell me again why are you in Bludhaven?" Dave had a point I hated this city, in fact, I couldn't care any less if it burned to the ground. But he didn't need to know yet how I was planning to make this place better," I've heard you say more than on one occasion that you would never go back to Bludhaven if you couldn't help it and that something bad always happens when you enter the city."

Lying to Dave over the phone was much easier than in person," Your right I do hate this city but I'm forced to check into a couple local events that could be supernatural. So it's better that I deal with it than somebody who doesn't know what they're doing. Of course, I have my equipment in the rental everything will be fine this time I'll be sleeping with one eye open this time." I wasn't going to risk anything while I was in Bludhaven I was already using my powers to sense the people nearby. No one would sneak up on me this time," Thanks for watching Sahi again Dave I'll be back in L.A. in a couple of days just make sure to keep her away from my club and everything should be fine." Dave would know I was ending the conversation with that and now it was time I was looking for an investment opportunity.

I'd been busy recently and I haven't talked to Ryth after everything that happened in the cave with those damn orcs. But then again I was probably still on her "don't pick up this person's call" list. But for now, I continued to walk around Bludhaven and look around for my "investment opportunity" to expand my operations into Bludhaven.

@ran: @orange_water:

The water boiled, little bubbles rising to the surface and breaking their bonds upon one another. The poor little guys. It was hard being a bubble. Diara crossed herself solemnly, and intoned a prayer: "In the name of the father, the son, the holy spirit, amen, bless-us-o-lord and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through crystal swords, amen." Maybe that wasn't really a prayer after all, but it was the one she knew. And it was what people said at the table anyway. The bubbles having been properly mourned, she dumped half a box of macaroni noodles into the boiling water, then grabbed a fork and fished out the little sauce packet.

Why they even put those things in there was beyond her. Sauce was gross. Her sister had pointed out that it was possible to buy macaroni that didn't come with cheese sauce, but those didn't come in little shapes. This box had Christmas trees! Diara wondered how long it had been in the pantry, given that it was May. It didn't seem to matter. She let it boil very patiently - because undercooked noodles were gross, even if it was super hard to wait that long - and then fished the noodles out with her fork and put them in a bowl with a pat of butter.

Breakfast time was a good time. She took her bowl and fork outside, wandering down the streets. It was raining on the hill. "And the rain, rain, rain came down, down, down, in rushing rising rivlets... and the river crept out of it's bed, and crept right into Piglet's." She walked up to see what was going on, and why there was rain there when the rest of Bludhaven was relatively sunny. Maybe her sister was doing another ritual - in which case she'd be greeted with Go away, Diara, I'mworking.

Her sister, however, was not there. Just some guy in a fancy outfit, with a bunch of other guys around him in fancy outfits. Maybe it was a rock concert? Or a convention. People wore all sorts of cool stuff to those. Well, Diara had a fancy outfit too. It was yellow like the sunshine, and fireproof, and waterproof, because there had been that little problem with the fire hydrant that once. Her sister might have been grumpy when she was working, but she was very good at spellwork, and at fashion. Sisters were good for that.

Diara munched on another forkful of noodles, and then walked up to the place where the others had congregated. "Hi!" she said cheerfully, entirely oblivious to the somber tone they had going on, "I live here, what's all this?"

The Bison inhales the moment's caution. He makes eye contact with the benile woman. He exhales. Then he focuses his attention to the gate ahead. Finally, he preaches" These are the last five seconds of calm... Then we will storm the hill. You seem nice enough, girl-"

4...

Bison Priest's party, consisting of thirty-six assassins, shuffle to form a semi-circle around Avalon's perimeter. Their leader has brandished his blade so that the steel may get acclimated to the inclement weather. The others remain empty handed while he continues on, "-you should go... You live in this city's hub of corruption. You may be a part of the cancer too, but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt-"

3...

The Silencers assume defensive stances, then they begin the physical ritual of shifting energy from the earth to their palms. The Bison Priest, like a weathervane, continues as the downpour zeroes in on his position, "-I don't take joy in this... This business of leveling the playing field."

2...

Their physical ritual, a dance of swift stomps and grateful hand motions, eventually sees each of the thirty-six Silencers pulling some electricity from the Bison's storm cloud, to the palms of their hands. As the black sky continues to snake down on his position, the Bison allows it to fly around him like a serpent of mist. "But I have responsibilities you see... Battles that must be fought."

1...

Each of the Silencers now carried chirping bombs of electricity in one hand and their own blades in the other. They are ready. The Quiet Man absorbs the snaking storm into the black gaps of his devilish helmet. He can feel the energy coursing through every vain. He is ready, but he must first ask "Do you have such obligations keeping you in my way right now?"

@incandescence

@orange_water (Hey man, I wasn't sure exactly where your character was in this scene so I haven't directly referred to him yet, but if I missed something just let me know and I'll get to editing.)

@ran: @incandescence: @orange_water:

Breath in

Zikmund stabilized the rhymic movement of his chest before slowly moving his head down to meet his D. Tech HTI. Situated just under two klicks away from the confrontation lying prone on some scaffolding used for local construction he lied in wait as he panned his scope over the situation. Two suits so far, well over two dozen of the others. Nothing had broken out yet, however, at this point, but by the looks of it, it was just a matter of time. Which meant he was running out of time to make his decision.

Releasing his breath he pulled away, as of now he was still a wildcard in this equation. The ones in red hadn't taken any measures to hid their approached, and the suits appeared to have strolled onto the scene. Whichever course of action he decided to take, he was nearly guaranteed a free shot at his target. He was allowing himself three magazines here, fifteen shots, if he couldn't make them count he'd leave on the spot. This wasn't a part of his operation. However, nothing ever goes unnoticed in Blüdhaven and word of an attack on the city had trickled down to him. While in most circumstances he could care less about the fate of an American city on its last legs, Blüdhaven was different. Letting this 'Bison Priest' come into power could prove problematic, he still had business to conduct in this city.

Noting the faint flashes of light the Lebensborn Nestvůra realized he was out of time to debate over it. He couldn't plan around the quiet man, he was too much of an unknown. Better to deal with him and his followers now then have them rise up later. Placing his eye upon his scope once more he brought the crosshairs directly over the only armed one there, the masked figure the rest appeared to be drawing power from. Adjusting his aim for the distance he steadied his breathing, mitigating the gun's natural movement. Then, with the intent to kill, he pulled the trigger.

@nasledky: (nice moves there:) Imma give the others a few hours to reply, before I push too far forward)

@ran: @nasledky: @orange_water:

The man had many things to say. Corruption, cancer, doubt, joy. She'd heard it all before, really. She paid it about as much attention as she always did - which was to say that she listened, even if she appeared not to be, silently munching on her noodles and letting the countdown fall. Only the last of what he had to say was really directed at her specifically, and it was a moment before she answered.

Not a moment of contemplation, or quiet thought about how to answer. That wasn't her. Just a moment of distraction, more focused on noodles and fancy outfits, on the cosplayers who held the lightning. "Obligations?" she repeated, after the moment passed, bringing her attention back to the inquiry. "I don't know. It depends on what you do, I suppose." She shrugged a shoulder, then pointed at him with the tines of the fork, an ornament-shaped noodle still caught on them. "I'm not allowed to be a hero in Bludhaven. My sister says people who live in grass houses shouldn't something something expletive set them on fire. That wasn't exactly what she said, but it was kind of like that."

The man before her seemed to devour the storm above, sucking it inside his helm. That was a pretty neat trick, she had to admit. It would have been really nice to be able to stop the rain any time she wanted to go on a picnic. With grape-jelly sandwiches and strawberries and cupcakes. The cupcakes had to be eaten first, of course, because otherwise the frosting melted and got-

From the rear, the crack of a car backfiring. Someone really needed a better mechanic. No... wait, that was a gun. Diara didn't really like guns. Not even before that one guy shot her, and now she liked them even less. She looked down at herself, but didn't seem to have been the one who'd gotten shot, so she shrugged to herself and ate the noodle off the fork.

"Someone will be here soon," she assured the man calmly, as if discussing the arrival of the cable repairman, "Maybe Kaija. I like her. She's my new friend, only I haven't seen her in a little while, but that's okay because we're still friends even if we don't see each other every day. Maybe someone else. Maybe my sister, even. She doesn't like it when people mess up her city, you know."

She gave him a naughty smile, maybe better suited to a small schoolgirl than a young woman. "You are gonna be in trou-ble."

@ran: Don’t worry your post is fine I just wanted to place myself in the city. I’ll be working on my post while I’m at work and post it later on tonight when I get home.

Everytime the girl speaks, The Bison pities her a little more. Why it is a shame, he would think, when a doe would have to be thrown out with the rest of the pest infestation. If she was so determined to stand by her convictions though, she would face his wrath all the same. She may not be able to fight back in this environment, but the girl would be forced to make a move sooner than later when The Bison flexed his blade, spun the hilt in the palm of his hand and - PKK! -

The whisper of a sniper in the distance.

The hollow point bolt through the air.

The moment to deflect.

Holding his blade reverse-grip style, The Occult Devil lashes the bullet off trajectory with one jagged swipe. The bullet sizzles and sparks upon contact with the razor's edge. It deviates slightly, but still blasts into one of the black eyes of the demon. Then, it exits before reaching an ear. Finally, The Quiet Man is paralyzed in shock.

He is stuck in a pose of genuine surprise for a second. No blood spills, and no one utters a word, but anyone can tell that pain has been inflicted. The Quiet Man straightens up like he's caught second wind and signals the Silencers with an index finger and calm roar, "Bring down that damned gate."

A frenzy of precise actions now breaks loose. The Silencers began launching their lighting bombs at the hill. Then, Bison Priest watches the bullet's previous field of trajectory for the flash of a sniper's muzzle. And, a little worse for wear,the bison anchors himself to a pitching-like position so that he may build up the energy for a more long-range approach.

@incandescence@nasledky@orange_water

@orange_water: @incandescence: @ran: @nasledky

He smells fear. They tremble at the top of their towers. The city held an air of rebellion. The air was of one that almost always foreshadowed something the Accursed Crusader. Blood. Any blood would draw forth the beast, so that Septimus would be there to lap up what he would in the ensuing conflict. But, to the man, this was more than a meal. As much as he dread admit it, these people were both the bane of the city and one of the pillars that had held it together. It's destruction would not only accursed the wretched rich, but strike the damned poor.

You again.

His dull blue eyes looked downward upon the scene, afflicted by danger of cold as the rain drained what little semblance of heat his corpse held. His eyes were drawn to the sea of red amidst the black as he watched the entire scene unfold. To his surprise, the girl whom he'd shot appeared to be warding them away, or attempting to. He even learned that she lived here.

Interesting.

The man had made his promise. Five seconds, and then, chaos. It would be worse for the city, but this moved more into his sphere. He was good with the blade. Not with talking to people or knowing them beyond observation and books. He'd forgotten. He did not however, ever forget how to run one through with one a well placed thrust.

"I presume these are no friends of yours."

There was seemingly no indication of his presence, him holding the LWRC M6 Assault rifle behind Diara in one hand and his Greatsword resting on shoulders in the other one. "I should kill you. But, I will deal with you later." He spat at her with metaphorical venom, rows of razor sharp teeth visible as he speaks. She was doing nothing at the moment and he'd heard of her seemingly benevolent activities. He would rather run the risk of dealing with two catastrophes at once. With that he flicked the safety off, beginning his walk forward, the rifle slung to his chest as he cooly squeezed the trigger as he simply walked past her.

RATAT. RATAT. RATAT.

Controlled bursts of three. His hungry, red eyes moving amidst the men and his rifle following wherever he so aimed. Fifteen rounds and he took but a moment to proceed.

His gun lowered, hanging from the strap around his body as he now he clutched. His walk became a blur. An sudden dash at the end of which he sought to horizontally bisect his the nearest silencer. Now seeking to continue his steady pace, the six foot long greatsword held firmly in a fool's guard.

Belle

@_razor_

She giggled at the response, the back of Rayne's head booping her nose a bit as she fell back on her butt, still smiling.

"I like it when you ain't so edgy Rayne."

Her relationship with Septimus was strained, yes. He wasn't so inclined towards a weapon who took no heed in the moral quandaries of whosever wielded her. However, In Belle's eyes, she couldn't help but to like Rayne far more. She was here all the time and while she didn't seem to need company to be happy, she didn't seem to much mind it either. It was different from Septimus who was closer to her and yet still…distant. Not like Rayne. She “stayed where she stood” as Belle would put it, most of the time.

Except tonight. Why, actually, Rayne was following her. And she was the first adult to do so. Not even her own parents had done that, let alone her sire. This made Rayne the coolest.

She looked at the guards and gulped. She'd been shot at before, all but dead before Septimus revived her a new. Into this life, as an undead. According to Septimus, most bullets didn't hurt. But a gun was still what killed her. Her eyes however steadied, because from her perspective these were the ones who should give for a change the most.

Just like pa said.

She almost wanted to suggest someone bigger, but she knew deep down that it would be harder to drink a fatter cat. So this one would do, for now. T'ill she can come back stronger, at least.

“I didn't really think about that. I was just gonna get him when he slept. Crawl in somewhere. Not a window though. Prolly a vent. I can fit in a lot of em, since I'm small and spry. I just gotta figure out how Imma get past them."

Razor had given her choice and she'd decided on it. Her wandering mind honed in like a laser beam as she prowled around the top of the hill. However, she came to find the area to be gated along. She started to hunger, and to grow a bit more antsy. The prospect of going up against men with guns, of just seeing one of them fire? It made her spine shiver.

Then, it dawned upon her as she saw a car speeding by. Girl took off like a frantic dog towards it, running rooftop to rooftop and making massive bounds before....she jumped. Her momentum carried her into a roll as she disappeared beneath the car as it drove over her. The drivers look bewildered, looking behind them and seeing nothing. Probably some piece of trash or something. Not like you could go huntin' in Bludhaven.

Getting in became easy. Not like rich folk were all that stiff as to want to get their car searched. But it became up to Razor how she wanted to get in. Maybe she followed her along the way.

Either way, the terrain changed. Way lower rooftops in this part of the hill, as the place was a neighborhood afterall. Some condos, hotels and such near more market oriented areas. But at it's heart was more mansions and other fancy places rich people built. As she ran through people's massive yards, so free and her eyes so sternly locked on her objective, she didn't notice the Rotweiler on her way to intercept her.

T'ill it was too late. To avoid the impact anyway.

@ran: @voracious:@incandescence@nasledky

After walking through the city of Bludhaven for several minutes I stood in front of an old and dilapidated row of buildings. I smiled for a moment and told myself,” Well here it is.” The expansion opportunity in Bludhaven had been found and I could clean up the rat and insect problem in no time. Apart of me wondered if I shouldn’t go on and exterminate them myself right now but that would only drive up the price. I turned my head for a moment looking around when I sensed the water inside a rather large group of people.

“Damn it,” crowds like this are never good in a city like Bludhaven,” I hate this place so much.” The walk would take a couple of minutes and in that time a couple more people would join the group whether they were there to fight or to help I didn’t know. But someone would fire a shot and that’s when it became obvious the group was much worse than it seemed as they responded with lightning. “Of course it’s magic it’s always magic.” But this only made the situation more dire and in need of a rapid response so I started my run towards the battle with the group.

It would only be a couple more minutes before I arrived and at that moment I looked around. Magic and bullets were flying and in the middle was a young woman with red hair and a man in a red mask with a sword,” someone mind giving a quick rundown of what’s going on?” I couldn’t just allow them to keep firing off dangerous amounts of magic while I waited for an answer so I would prove myself to be someone better not to messed with and the next five of the group to fire off magic lightning I would drain them of their water leaving them looking like a desiccated corpse but still alive.

Magic required an appropriate response and that was what I would give them.

@incandescence: @ran: @orange_water: @voracious:

Clic-Click

A massive shell shot out the chamber as Zikmund pulled back the bolt with honed efficiency. The shot had hit its mark, however, its results were unsatisfactory. It would have blown a hole through any normal man's skull, then again it was clear these weren't normal men. At the very least Zikmund was sure they weren't invulnerable, the masked man wouldn't have tried to deflect it if he was. It might just take a bit more effort to bring him down. If this was just a usual hit he'd have long since fled the scene, even if the Bison Priest hadn't gone down. However, in this case, he could afford to stick around longer, with three down on the ground serving as distractions he still had free reign over the battlefield. It would take one or two more shots before anyone could pin down his position, he just had to make them count.

Adjusting his sights he looked towards the hooded figures, cutting off the head hadn't worked so he'd pick off the lackeys instead. Aiming at those farthest from the fight the muzzle exploded as he began pumping the trigger. His body settling into a rhythmic motion that had been seared into his muscle memory. The sound of his rifle muffled through the plugs in his ears, the stock slamming back into his shoulder, the brief pause as his hand shot up and pulled back the bolt, the swivel of the gun as he looked to find his next target. This same detached cycle repeated four times, each looking to claim the life of a different hooded Silencers. Yet he paused as the last bullet entered his chamber.

Instead of turning his sights upon another Silencer he looked back to the Quiet Priest. He hadn't yet been engaged by any of the ground units, and while the breadth of his abilities hadn't been revealed letting him go unchecked would be foolish. He doubted he could put the masked man down now that he'd lost the element of surprise, however, he could keep him on his guard. Firing last bullet seeking to pin him square in his chest Následky prepared to relocate. He still had two magazines left, however, with the enemy capable of hurling thunder he couldn't stick in one place for long. The bullpup design of the HTI made it much lighter to move around, however, it would still take several minutes before he could get to a position far enough away to start firing again.

The Quiet Man had not smiled much in his life. In the heat of combat, with his natural instincts firing on all cylinders, joy was not a luxury he found with bloodshed. Although, in this moment of crossfire in all directions like flashing spotlights, his stiff upper lip may have curled a little.

For measures

He has pulled many into the Blüd's abyss before,

With the young mutant (Landon) approaching the scene, Bison Priest takes inventory of his Silencers getting mowed down by the Pale Man. Without moving, he releases one of the Silencers who had been freshly shot from his hex. A woman, who then screams in horror of the rounds newly found in her chest. Then, the Priest releases another taken down by the vampire, and another. This cycle repeats after all six of the vampire's targets fell to fatal wounds. Shrieking howls emanate from all of the Bludhavenites who had awoken from The Quiet Man's control to find death nearing again from the Pale Man's kill shots. Now, little more than casualties on the battlefield, The Bison's challenge to the Mutant: "The rundown here is work getting done. Now, would you mind escorting our casualties away from this dirty work? They've served enough for Bludhaven future."

For insurance

-the bison anchors himself to a pitching-like position so that he may build up the energy for a more long-range approach.

His meditating had gone on long enough. The sniper was making his presence worth it in several masterful shots. The Vampire was on a deathly stroll. And the mutant served as an uncanny opponent on the field. Now, certain cards needed to be played. The Bison plants his previously raised leg from the pitching stance. The ground shakes. He clears his left arm, with the blade in hand, to an acute angle by his side. A fist is revealed on the right arm still extended behind the Bison's head. He throws it in a long arch that ends when his knuckles blast into the pavement below and the very iron gating that once protected Avalon now sprouted out of the ground in several twisted 10 foot stakes and launch toward the back of the vampire. The swarm of iron may make contact or it may not, but their race leads them to a massive helix formation around the Quiet Man.

& For the thrill

He is a creature of the abyss.

A student of the uncharted.

No man's friend, but a weopon of conquest.

The sniper's last shot leaves its nets and the bullet flings off the iron swarm like a persian's spear off of a spartans shield. And now, the Bison had better aim at the location of the target in the distance. Sacrificing most of his plentiful iron stakes, Bison hurles a barrage at the sniper's general direction in a circle-formation that should rain over the scaffolding. Bison's tether forces them to loop back to his helix following any contact with a solid object in the distance.

The Quiet Man takes a breath and point-commands the rest of his Silencers (20) to keep an eye on everyone but the Pale Man. The Vampire is found at the attention of Quiet's words. "I like your style, elf" he taunts. "The prophecy warned me of you, believe it or not", he admits. "This won't be our last fight", and he dashes in. The iron helix of his three remaining spikes continues to guard its wielder as he closes the gap between the two, picks up another sword on the way and lashes both at the Vampire's right while the iron stakes come down on his left.

@orange_water@nasledky@voracious@incandescence (Sorry for the delay. Hopefully this makes half as much sense in words as it looked in my head. Loved all of y'all's posts, just playing a little hardball before this ends)

(& Thanks @_vex_ for letting me get a little messy with your sandbox :))

Diara

And here they'd been having such a nice conversation. She'd been about to ask the newcomer if he wanted to be a friend, but then he'd gone and gotten distracted by guns and bullets and other boring things. At least when she got distracted it was by important things, like fire and cupcakes and bugs and sparkly things and people walking by and music and television.

She was considering whether or not to be offended when the man walked up behind her. "I presume these are no friends of yours." Well, NOW they weren't. They could have been, maybe. She'd been about to say as much when he continued. "I should kill you. But, I will deal with you later."

Well, that was just rude. She turned to tell him so, then started. "Hey! You're that jerk who shot me! That was mean." And now he just showed up here, three blocks from her apartment, like he thought she wasn't going to recognize him? She was angry with him still, even though she was trying to be a good hero and forgive people, but it was kind of hard to forgive people who shot you.

She wondered if anyone ever actually did it, or if they just pretended. She liked pretending, but she wasn't very good at it. She kept forgetting who she was supposed to be. And setting things on fire.

Another man walked up - not one she knew. He hadn't shot her. And he didn't start with threatening to kill her either, so maybe he was a friend. "I think they're having a convention. Probably anime," she answered his question. "There was a some rain, and now all the guys in the silly outfits are holding lightning and the guy with the funny hat ate the storm and now it's gone but the ground's still wet, and there's that guy with the sword who totally shot me and I don't like him very much but I'm trying to be nice about it. I'm a hero but I'm not allowed to be one in Bludhaven, so I'm just watching until my sister gets here. Hey, I know you, you were on TV! You're Orange Water, that's, like, the coolest name ever. It doesn't make any sense and that's great! I'm Skyblaze except sometimes I'm Toasty Ghost but really only with Cody and when I feel like rhyming. You don't rhyme, but I forgive you. Anyway, please don't destroy Bludhaven, it makes my sister grumpy."

Myné

Gunfire overrode the near-silent sounds of a black sedan arriving on scene, and the driver stopped near enough to the action to make it known that this was involvement, and yet not so near as to threaten to run anyone over. The car idled a moment, then the door opened and a woman emerged. Black heels clicked on the pavement, and a black evening dress was hardly the sort of thing one wore into combat. Her hair was pinned up with spurs of ivory, and slivers of the same pierced the flesh of her right arm, joined by inky tattoos in a spiral helix, some sort of strange sigils. Her other arm was covered by a long glove, and she proceeded calmly, as if above all the violence erupting.

She paused, her eyes falling on the red-haired girl. They shared the same eyes, intense blue-violet. "So. You've managed to stay out of trouble." She took in the scene, recognizing most of the players. Certainly, Myné Anisele kept informed about doings in the greater world, even if she was content not being a power-player. This was different, though. This was Bludhaven.

Bludhaven was her haven. A nod, then a quiet: "So be it." Her hand slipped into a pouch, and removed a piece of yellow-tinted chalk, which she tossed idly to her sister. Diara caught it - she knew better than not to. She looked about to protest, for a moment, but a look from Myné quelled that before it started. The fire-girl swallowed her argument, then knelt and drew a small circle around herself. Whatever the chalk's composition was, it showed up bright against the wet pavement, unhindered by the lingering damp.

Myné knelt as well, white chalk in hand, inscribing her own circle beside it. Two tangent lines at her rear formed a wedge, impenetrable walls, and a quickly drawn chain linked the yellow circle to a miniature white one, also drawn tangent to Myné's own circle. As soon as it connected, the chain writhed and the yellow circle collapsed into a collar, binding. Myné left her at that, for now, and started drawing a complex line outside her circle - mostly straight, but with crosshatches and sigils that somehow managed to suggest an arrow without actually looking like one. She finished the sketch and raised her chalk, and it burst forward, targeting one of the servants.

In a fight among heroes, there would always be plenty wanting the glory of victory against a main opponent. Myné would act as support, and take down as many of the Bison's army as possible.

She was not about to let them run rampant in her city.

@voracious: @orange_water: @ran: @nasledky:

@voracious:

"I'll keep that in mind." The living weapon found herself saying it without a pause as well as with whatever her equivalent of a smile may be. To her surprise it was something she entirely meant as well. There was no calculation to an agenda or a mission she simply cared what the kid thought of her or liked on some capacity. A sensation that'd been largely gone sense she'd moved away from military services. Granted some edge couldn't be helped, everything about Rayne was a weapon however and she'd been raised basic to kill she could try however.

A hand moved to wrest on a prowler's shoulders. "Good plan, still need to cover the wound however. Make the wound look like an assassin, an assault anything but you. You seem nervous" guns probably from what the killer could tell. "Keep an eye on their hands, your faster vision sharper. If you see a trigger finger twitch for now move." In time this would need to likely be honed more. Some people could use that or adjust for it, for the time being however Rayne felt the basics of observation and moving was what the Hunter needed. The hands of Rayne remaining as an attempt at comfort as hunger set in. A predator wasn't going to get a meal by being reckless.

For Razor she stuck to alleys and rooftops always keeping an eye on shadows and an eye on the car. It might have even seemed like she wasn't following, trained by various assassins and military she was rather good at tailing while unseen. The security and cameras were good, she knew these kinds of settings however like others knew their rooms or more specifically like a predator knew their stalking grounds. It wasn't long before crouched on a telephone pole Razor watched the girl run. To much fun was in it, a lack of focus.

A dog jumps and while it might have made impact it wasn't long before the dog to would strike the ground in a slump. Before Rayne had even known it a claw had extended and fist reared back. A blade sank into the collar at the end of the throw. "Can you finish it or shall I?" She asked dropping silently into the yard, she didn't like having to put animals down but if it meant sparing the girl she'd accept it. "I reacted on instinct, shouldn't kill an animal if it can be helped. A good way to avoid that however is to stay focused." Rayne finished doing her best to teach and just offer a hand instead of scold.

@orange_water: @nasledky: @incandescence: @ran:

The smell of blood was in the air. If only he'd an idle moment to lap it up.

No. Bullet and blade carved his path. The Silencers never giving him a dull moment as their attack continued. CHING CHING Blade clashed on Blade, Septimus systematically parrying each thrust of the silencer's spear as he kept him far from reach. He held fast, better than his brothers. But The Count of Moonlight did not feel fatigue as humans felt it. He only felt hunger and the prospect of prey who was only getting more tired made him more than welcome.

The way in, his blade slides along the shaft as he finds his way in past it's greater reach and soon, the head comes off. He counts twenty silencer's left. But the threat did not stop. He hadn't a chance to feed, to properly replenish his speed as before, and he didn't move as tactically as he should've. Ten Stakes headed for him and his body twisted at unfathomable speeds but the stakes came at him like a shotgun blast.

PLINK

He intercepted two in one swing, the ones that went for his heart. The rest? He felt one go through his midsection stomache. Another his shoulder. Another through his wrist. His boots slid for but a moment before he was pinned to the wall like a plank. His expressions speaks of irritation, his undead body not experiencing any sort of psychological damage in the form of pain, but mechanical damage. Physical. Everything is weakened through simply having muscles throughout shredded. Bones, broken. His body attempts to speak to his sword arm, but his blade is on the ground.

Half a sigh, but with gutteral undertones. Not to breath, but to calm himself. He grasps his gun, flicking the switch to "Auto".

RATATAT RATATATAT RATATATAT

His firing hand keeps the gun steady, as he shoots the spikes wedging him into the wall and slowly but assuredly, pulls himself off the spikes while the eponymous quiet man speaks. "Did you now?" A grunt, as with his good hand, he rips out a car. "I have met many a man" He leans over, picking up his sword as his Rifle hung loosely in front of his body via strap. "Who hing themselves on such insight." He watches the spikes levitate, and he remembers his trips to the far east. He had once sought out temples and used meditation as some means of attempting to quell his hunger. He saw men who had abilities that relied on something of natural forces. Forces he could not channel.

His foe charged, and Septimus held a greatsword in one hand, and a car door in another in a way not unlike a shield. Indeed, that was exactly how he used it. He focused, remembered what it was to be human. To rely on technique in addition to strength. Fights like these reminded him of Rome. A mere mortal with but a sword and sometimes a shield. More allies came amidst the battle and all he had to focus on was his opponent.

His opponent comes forward, and Septimus steps back. The car door should have been pierced by the stakes, but he struck them at a such an angle, not unlike a slanted armor. His sword sought to make use of both it's greater weight and reach, as he sought to bring Jackhammer like force crashing down to his opponent via a tungsten edge. All from roughly six feet away.

@incandescence: @voracious: (Hey, I'll have a post up for you two by the end of tomorrow, regardless of whether or not the other two post again.)

@ran: (Cool, man.)

Striking like a centurion, The Vampire's blow burst's through Bison's defenses and takes an arm with it. The right one to be exact.

Blue sparks fly out of the wound and oil leaks like blood as the The Quiet Man stumbles back. "Know what? I have to give it to you, elf-" he jams the last few iron stakes surrounding him into the ground "- I respect your resolute."

Now an eye down and an arm short, The Bison Priest calls the rest of his silencers to his position with a hand signal. He awaits their cover for a swift escape, but no one meets his call. They have all been defeated. Handily wiped out by the quick work of Myne and Diara. Well played, heretics, he'd think in a growl.

"Well then, it looks like there's only one thing left for me to do here without endangering more innocent Bludhavenites.." Suddenly, the Quiet Man is very still. As if he were meditating again. However, he falls to a kneel at the opponent's feet. Knuckles on the ground and head straightforward, he says quite dryly, "Turn me in."

@voracious@incandescence@orange_water@nasledky

@ran: [Sweet post with interesting ways to approach. I'll shoot you a reply sometime soon. I don't wanna give a day but it shoudln't be too long. I alerted other folk too. This will be some people's last canon post on here so I'll try and make it good!]

@ran:

"What is this?"

Some sort of automaton.

He expected to be greeted by the sickeningly sweet smell of the man's blood. But there was no such thing. This thing, was no man. Not a man in the way that he was conceived it. The rest of the iron stakes jutt into the ground and Septimus stands firmly with the car door held defensively in front him. His blade held paralell ready to thrust to counter an attack that had never came.

Still yet, Septimus had...stopped. He thought to himself. He had seen people change and people reform before. Indeed, there was a woman he saved from being simply locked away into a system that simply did not work. One that would seek to punish more so than reform. One that sought service, rather than to do what was necessary to help her. The man before him, could he be helped? He did not know. He knew little of him. However, he was no so flimsy. He was motivated by a greater cause. And he was dangerous. Far more dangerous to the world as a whole.

The Judgement had been made.

Woosh.

The air sings with the blur of his passing blade. His feet drag along the concrete at the end of his swipe, driven with such force that the momentum sent Septimus spinning with his attempt to halt it, the blade only stopping when it's tungsten tip embed into the ground.

It was only after his strike, that he would speak.

"I respect you as warrior, but this was a war. Not a duel. There is little glory to be had in these streets."

His strength leaves him, and fingers fall limp, as he can no longer hold the card door as his shield. The wound upon it, is too great. And his supply of blood, lacking.

"Honor is for the dead."

He stood, and watched. If his surprise strike was successful, his mysterious foe....would likely fall ceremoniously in two.