Counter the Attack above You

From the moment the Ironclad man hit the ground, it was on. Even the very ground beneath him cracked as he landed. From a distance it was like a rocket hitting the ground without the added effect of wind and rubble, though all together an impressive feat. But as the man landed, his mind like a steel trap, focused on one and only one detail, kill his enemy. Unfortunately at this time Conrad was playing that role. With lighting speed the Ironclad man drew his gun from his holster and with perfect precision aimed it at Conrad’s position. Then with a steady hand, he unleashed a volley of hollow point bullets each one after the other, aimed at vital organs. Surprisingly enough, Conrad was more than prepared, and at the moment his Ironclad foe reached for his gun, Conrad reacted in the most curious of ways, and instead of ducking or running for cover, he choose to run straight at him. Without rhyme or reason, The Scoundrel made himself an easier target by running head first into the attack, and even more bizarre did it without even drawing a weapon of his own! But being the true ‘scoundrel’ that he is, not only did he have a plan to stay alive, he was already tossing around another twenty just to be sure. But as he finally settled with the idea of using an invisible shield to protect him, he even smiled under his helmet while thinking, “today is a good day to be a scoundrel!”

Racing forward with one foot in front of the other, he bravely charged towards the gunfire, hoping that his foolish act would at the least shock or surprise his enemy, but the fact was it didn’t matter. For seconds before he began his mad dash forward, he created a thin but sturdy invisible shield before him to block the bullets. Unseen by his enemy, the invisible shield would be a few feet before him, traveling forward as he ran. But as planned, the rounds finally hit, but instead of piercing through the Scoundrel’s flesh, spraying out a river of blood along the way, the rounds simply collided, then fell harmless to the ground. From the enemies angle it would look as if the Scoundrel had some kind of telekinesis power, but other than a soft thud as the bullets hit, there were no other clues. Either way the Scoundrel raced, closing the distance with every passing second, confident he had bested his enemies attack, and with enough flair to do it as a ‘scoundrel.’ For only until reaching his adversary face to face, would he drop the shield, then change his primary defensive tactics to a more aggressive one.

Waiting to the last second, it wasn’t until reaching striking distance that he dropped the shield and reached for his quarter staff. Then with a push of a button the staff extended to it’s full length, as a powerful and threatening weapon. With less than seconds to react, he twirled it over his head like a professional, followed by a quick twirl around his waist. Then as he locked eyes with his enemy [You], from under his helmet, he stopped it spinning right in front of him, where he slammed one end firmly into the ground. Planted one inch deep, he then grabbed it tight with both hands, with one square in the middle and the other three inches from the top. Already building up momentum, he kicked off the ground, arching his back just right as to send him flying forwards. With the use of his trusty quarter staff, he used it like a pull-vaulter to send his body up and towards his foe [You]. Utilizing his already impressive athletic skills he shot forth with both of his size ten boots, leading the way, aimed dead center at [You’s] chest. If successful he would no doubt knock even an above average human on their butt, while easily cracking a few ribs! All in all it was not meant as a lethal attack, just one to knock out and subdue his enemy [You]!

On most days, in most occasions, Lamont would be in control of the situation, with his head up and his mind in the game. But on this rarest of occasion, this was not the case. Instead of being in control, he was a pawn per-say, a simple punching bag for his adversary's amusement. Not only did his opponent sneak up on him, but did so, so elegantly that he managed to not only get past the Shadow Guards defenses, but get in striking range. With the use of a quarterstaff, strategically placed in the ground, his enemy pol vaulted his way forward, with two size ten sturdy boots leading the way. Despite the fact it was a rudimentary attack by most standards, from his enemies view point it appeared quite devastating. Either way Lamont was out of time and was now, either to be kicked squarely in the chest and most likely break a few ribs in the process, or pull a magnanimous rabbit out of his hat, and hopefully survive! But with less than seconds to react he needed to do something rather quickly!

Even before he could blink, his body goes into motion, moving his muscles at a speed slightly above peak human. As the incoming kick was seconds away from colliding, Lamont leaned with a shoulder, tilting his body to the right and putting his torso into motion. Never once breaking eye contact, he locked his eyes square center of his foes helmet, staring straight into the visor. With his right arm already up, and in place, he quickly brought up his left, just at the moment his enemies boots were about to collide. But lucky for the Shadow Guard, his upper torso had finished moving out of the way, just as his two hands were about to grab his enemies legs. If successful, Lamont would grab both feet around the ankles, and with added momentum of his body turning, he would attempt to swing his adversary around like a base ball bat. Quick and fast the enemy would be flung around him until clearly out of harms way, at which point if successful, Lamont would then let him go in the hopes of flinging him into a variety of large heavy objects, knocking him unconscious or at least knock the wind out of him!

Successful or not, the previous adversary was no longer an issue as he either left or departed. But just as Lamont finished his full 360, he noticed a new enemy [You] stepping up to face him. Immediately, Lamont declared, “Lets do this!” as he drew both of his swords with a ‘swooshing’ manner. Like a professional he began swinging them through the air, beginning with on his left side and across to his right. His speed was amazing as the two steel blades appeared as more of a blur. Clearly they were moving at a speed that could block bullets, as he ever so carefully moved forward in a swaying motion side to side. In the end his objective was quite clear, make his way closer to his enemy then find the opportune time to strike. For at that moment, when he would be close enough to look his enemy square in the eyes, he would hold the sword in his left hand up to guard his face, while using the sword in his right to attack. With all his strength, his move was to run his sword through his enemies chest. Not necessarily through the heart, but in the general area, where if successful he would pull it out and allow his enemy [You] to bleed out, as he walks away without ever looking back!

“Lets do this!” the stranger said, with a raspy voice, staring down at Alex under the brim of his hat. He was indeed a menacing presence, dressed head to toe in black with a red scarf draped across his face. However, Alex was not impressed. All Alex could see was another enemy standing before him and whether it be a hoard of lizard men from another world or one crazed vigilante, Alex would see them fall! Already he was sizing up his opponent, looking for any advantage, from a weak spot or chink in the armor as the enemy drew his swords. In one brilliant display of swordsmanship, he began twirling them around his torso, so fast that they appeared as a blur, but with each slice through the air, Alex stood there with a hint of a smile on his face. For even though the move was impressive, it was a waste of energy, giving Alex a clear advantage. For the next few seconds the man in black moved forward, twirling his swords around him faster and faster, with a sound like spinning wind. Alex however countered with his shield at the ready, as he clasped it tight with his right hand, while arching his back in order to lean forwards with his shield side leading the way.

As planned his enemy finally reached striking distance, with both blades at the ready. But by now Alex was more than prepared. With both feet planted firmly on the ground for leverage, he raised his shield up, just as his enemy raised the sword in his left hand. Although it was only for protection both fighters were thinking the same thing, as the real and fatal blow was coming in lower. In his right hand the man in black thrust his other swords towards Alex’s mid section, aiming at the chest right between the rib-cage and close to the heart. With great speed, aided with a keen tactical mind, Alex brought his free hand down and around in a clockwise manner, until his palm was in contact with the flat side of the cold steel. Then with great effort he continued swinging it around to the point the blade passed by his midsection, a hair away from cutting into his flesh. Immediately there after, he would reposition his grip lower down upon his enemies wrist and with a little extra muscle he would then twist and jerk it until his enemy would release the blade, or break the wrist in two. Then with one final move he would pivot on his right foot, turning his whole body a three hundred and sixty degrees with his shield strategically place so at the moment he would face his opponent again, his shield would be positioned to strike his foe in the side of the head, with the full brunt from the face of his shield.

But at the moment his enemy dropped, Alex continued spinning, leaving his defeated foe to fall to the ground behind him, while he would finish off in a overly dramatic pose! Then just as fresh blood was dripping from his shield, he caught sight of a new adversary [You] standing there ready to fight. Immediately, Alex attacked hard and fast, not wasting a seconds breath to how or why he/she was there. In a one fluid motion, he began with spinning around again, this time while dropping to the floor. As he did he would extend his free leg out in order to sweep the legs of his foe [You] hoping to kick them both out from underneath him/her. Successful or not he would finish by leaping up, and after planting both feet firmly on the ground, he would explode up like a rocket leading with his shield again, aiming it’s thin side towards his foe’s [Your] jaw line, all in the hopes of smashing it in one devastating and impressive blow. Seeing as how he moves at a speed slightly above peak human level and had preformed such a move millions of times flawlessly, in an attack like this he would most likely come out the victor!

The whole thing felt like a joke. The guy Stomp was fighting was human, maybe physically enhanced, but still pretty much human. Stomp on the other hand was a powerhouse with strength and endurance of a God like proportion. Even though his enemy was skilled, and carried a Vibrainium shield, this fight was over before it started. Still standing in one place, with his arms down by his side, Evan choose to give his enemy a chance. Instead of taking time to brace oneself or even taking a defensive stance, Evan just smiled as he watched his enemy move. Coming in low, his enemy moved to sweep the leg and as his leg swung in, it hit hard against Evan’s, but to know avail. If anything Evan may of heard his enemies leg crack or even shatter as it was like a twig swinging against a brick wall. Still Evan had to give the man props as it did not stop him and even with a wounded leg the man continued to fight. Somehow still in motion, his enemy leaped up with his shield firmly in hand and aimed it square center at Evan’s jaw. Surprisingly the man’s speed was impressive enough to collide, mostly because Evan was not taking the fight seriously.

At the moment the shield struck, Evan felt it, much like a regular human feeling a fly on them or something. It did not register as pain or any sign of discomfort, but more of a slight annoyance. Surprisingly the shield did not break, but more or less made a dull ‘Thud’ sound that quickly faded away. Unfortunately for the frail shield swinger, his fight was over, as there was nothing more he could do to hurt the Powerhouse Pachyderm, and instead he laid there beaten and broken. In Evan’s mind fighting the man now would be pointless, as there was no thrill or pride in beating a defenseless enemy and instead he choose to walk away and just leave the man there. Evan did however choose to make a snide comment or two such as “Come back when you grow a pair” and “Mymama could hit harder than you,” but the fact was the shield swinger was now in the past and it was time to move forward.

It was then he spotted a new foe [You] standing a few yards away on the far side of the street and immediately took notice. “So you come to play with the big boys?” Evan shouted as he dug his feet into the street below him, “Well don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Without wasting a second, he grabbed hold of a 2600lbs red Pontiac, and with the slightest of ease tossed it down the street as if it were a snowball. Not done yet, he needed his enemy to be caught off guard when the automobile collided, therefore at the moment he let it fly, he slammed his massive right foot into the pavement, causing a huge fissure. So as the hunk of steel was flying overhead, towards his enemy [You] at the same time the ground below him would shake and rattle, maybe even opening up underneath him/her. Either way Evan would be standing at the other side of the street with the crack of the fissure beginning under his foot, laughing while bouncing around on his feet, while throwing a few jabs in the air for the fun of it. Either way he was more than confident that his two prone attack would be more than enough to stop his newest opponent [You]!

Once again Jack had gotten himself into trouble. Put loosely the beast before him was a monster. Standing a clear two feet taller, the enemy was big enough to block out the sun, or at least leave Jack in his shadow. Clearly Jack was out matched this time in strength. But lucky for him Jack still had the advantage in distance and with the use of his four mechanical arms, he hoped to keep the beast at bay, until finding some way to take the monster down. Suddenly the beast let out a bone chilling “So you come to play with the big boys?” as he taunted Jack with his mighty muscles “Well don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Immediately, Stomp grabbed hold of a 2600lbs red Pontiac and as his fist dug into the metal, he hurled it out towards Jack like it was a rag doll, though flying through the air like a bullet. Already soaring across the street, Jack immediately began to take a defensive stance, when suddenly Stomp strategically made another move. With one leg up, he slammed his massive foot down upon the concrete and after a loud shattering ‘BOOM’ the street cracked open wide, creating a huge fissure that began spreading out and down the rest of the street. At the same time the entire road began to shake on both sides, as street lights and signs were shaken to the ground.

Wasting no more time, with a thought Jack summoned his two lower mechanical arms and like a bullet they protruded from his back. Still fumbling around from the quake, the arms stretched out to the far sides of the streets where the two tips grabbed hold of the side walks where they immediately clamped down. Then while the ground was opening beneath him, with the aid of his two mechanical arms he hoisted himself in the air twenty feet, while shouting back, “Bring it on!” Unfortunately, now the red Pontiac was coming in, crashing down like a massive weight, closing in with every second. Unwavering, Jack summoned his two upper mechanical arms, just in time, as the steel arms shot out in front of him like two battering rams, they reached out just in time to grasp the automobile in mid flight and stop it cold. Then in a simple bad a$$ move he gripped the car at both ends and with the slightest of tugs ripped the car in two, spreading metal, glass and wires all out across the street. All that was left now was to toss the remaining parts away like trash and deal with the menace called Stomp. But surprisingly enough, just as Jack released his grip from his two upper mechanical arms, his enemy was no longer there. All that was left was a demolished street and carnage at a higher level.

But as sure as the sun will rise in the morning, another opponent arrived on the scene ready for battle. Standing a good twenty yards away Jack tossed the stranger a mean look through the top of his shades, taking less than a minute to stare before pushing his shades back up to cover his eyes. Then before saying a word, he sprung into action. Still propped up on his two lower mechanical arms, he shot his upper right one outward, straight down the street towards his enemy. Moving like the speed of a bullet, it would shoot forward like a battering ram with its steel tips in the form of a fist. But what his enemy did not know was that Jack never planned to hit his enemy with it but instead, lure him into a trap. For before his enemy had arrived, the street was in shambles after Stomp’s attack and as such a fire hydrant had been spilling out water for minutes. In doing so, the side of the street his enemy was standing on was now flooded with water up to ankle level. Therefor as Jack’s mechanical arm was shooting forth, at the last second it would alter its course and slam straight down and into the water. At that point, with the slightest of grin from the four armed fighter, he would send an electric shock through the arm, down to the tip and into the waiting water. Filled with over 60,000 Volts, it would have enough shock to incapacitate any man or woman standing in it, thus leading to a quick and simple ending to the fight, just the way Jack was looking for!

Standing before him was a man of interest. Like himself, his enemy appeared to be a man/animal hybrid, though his artificial arms where more technological rather than that of a true octopus’s limbs. Either way the strange man was challenging him and as such The Stallion would not turn away. Standing in a clear battlefield the street looked like carnage, as smashed cars alarms rang from every side. The street lights were either broken in half, or shooting sparks, as a huge crack ran down the middle of the road, right between Argosus and his foe. Still gripping his enchanted weapon tightly, he stared out across the battlefield, as he turned his body slightly to the right, in order to hide his ‘Thundercracker’ in his throwing arm, as not to give away any intentions of his next attack. But being the proud beast he is, he choose to let his foe strike first and thus add flavor to the art of battle! For what seemed an eternity he stood there, waiting, judging and anticipating until finally his enemy made his move.

Still supported in the air by his two mechanical arms, with a shifting of the hip the enemy sent his upper right one outward in a striking manner. Soon enough like a snake it uncoiled as it shot forth extending further and further, until it closed in towards striking distance. Argosus however was more than prepared for it. Due to his advanced speed the whole thing moved for him in slow motion, like watching a slide show, clip by clip by clip. Although an unfair advantage, he choose not to exploit it and instead decided to allow his foe the privileged of completing his strike, rather than attacking him in a blitz, in the blink of an eye. As such his plan was simple, grab the mechanical arm as it comes into reach, then use it as leverage to pull the rest of his enemy towards him, then strike him with a mighty blow from his fist! However, just as his enemies mechanical arm came into striking distance, for some unknown reason, it took a different direction, by turning down and aiming for the street right below his feet.

It was in that one brief moment Argosus thought to himself “What now?” as he watched the mechanical arm slam itself right into a waiting puddle of water resting beneath his yellow boots. There was no tactical advantage in it or psychological. It was almost as if his enemy had just given up. It was then he heard the unmistakable sound of lightning, as a low charge was sent through his foe’s mechanical arm and into the water below, in the attempt of electrifying him. Immediately, Argosus laughed, for If only his enemy knew how foolish an attack like this was against him, as lightning was his to command. With a twirl of his enchanted weapon ‘Thundercracker’ he lifted into the air just as the water popped and crackled beneath him, causing him to laugh out loud, “Oh you foolish mortal, I give you respect for your efforts but that is about it!”

Now in a position of power, he held his ‘Thundercracker’ to the sky as he boasts, “You wish to play with lightning, then I shall show you the power of lightning!” With that said, the sky above began to turn dark with thunder clouds rolling in. Immediately, the wind began to pick up as rain drops fell in numbers. “I do wish you a happy journey in your after life” he says as small bolts of lighting lite the night sky, “and a fond farewell!” at which point he aims ‘Thundercracker’ in [Your] direction. “You were an honorable yet foolish opponent!” Soon enough a single bolt of lighting comes crashing down right where [You] stood with enough energy to char the ground beneath [Your] feet and the surrounding area! If successful all that should be left of [You] would be a smoking pile of ashes in a burnt crater. Either way Argosus would fly away with no other concern, while at the same time the skies above would slowly turn back to normal.

Standing among the carnage Alex looked skywards to see the beast of a man hovering there above him. Half man half horse, his enemy was monstrous, standing a clear two inches taller, with his muscles rippling. In his hand he held a war hammer, that with great pride he held it up to the sky and boasted “You wish to play with lightning, then I shall show you the power of lightning!” Immediately, the sky above began to turn dark with thunder clouds rolling in and just as a heavy rain began to fall, the Horseman shouted again, “I do wish you a happy journey in your after life, and a fond farewell!" With great pride he aimed his war hammer down upon Alex, just as lighting crackled above, he made his final words before releasing the power of the God’s, “You were an honorable yet foolish opponent!” Suddenly a single bolt of lighting struck down, splitting the night with it’s glow while burning its way down.

But throughout the whole ordeal, Alex was sizing up his enemy, strategically learning all he could in what short time he had left. Throughout it all the most obvious fact was that the Horseman was going to use lighting as his main attack, after the storm clouds flew in and of course the phrase, “I shall show you the power of lightning!” Overall it wasn’t much, but it did give Alex a slight advantage and at the moment the bolt came crashing down he moved. Seconds before the Horseman finished his last sentence and the lighting bolt came down, Alex was already in motion. With a quick kick off from his legs, he proceeded to do a perfectly preformed back-flip, arching his back just so that he landed a safe distance away from ground zero. In effect, just as Alex was spinning backwards through the air, the single bolt of lighting struck the ground before him, charring the pavement and leaving behind a trail of smoke rising from it.

However, eager to dish-out some overdue payback, at the moment his feet hit the ground, with his right hand he drew his Intratec TEC-9 from his holster and open fired. Within seconds over fifty rounds expertly aimed, would come riddling down upon [Your] location, aimed specifically at target areas such as exposed flesh or vital organs. But secretly each round came with a special trick, as his shots came in from his opponents left side, on-wards to his right. The reasons being, most moving targets would instinctively move to their right to avoid the shots, and thus fall into his trap. For just as the last ten rounds let out, with his left hand Alex pulled out a standard fragment grenade from his belt and lobbed it right in [Your] direction. All that was left was to wait and seek shelter behind his shield for the inevitable ‘BOOM’ putting an end to the fight swift and quickly.

Matt was a creature of habit, hit hard and hit fast, that was his motto. He was pretty much built for battle. But in some situations he had to go on the defense. In the middle of the street he was squaring off against a rather human looking foe, bringing nothing more to the fight than a gun and a shield. Still that did not mean an easy victory, or kill. Either way Matt kept his head in the fight and choose to keep a distance rather than engaging in hand to hand, or at least until he could size up his opponent and see what he was dealing with. His foe’s first attack was rather rudimentary, opening with gunfire in quick but short blasts, forcing Matt to dodge right in an attempt to avoid them. But despite his vast speed, his enemy still managed to tag him in the leg, just as he was about to get out of the way. As expected, the bullets that hit did no damage, as they simply bounced off his thick hide and shot out in other different directions. Unfortunately for him, as he was patting himself on the back over his clear advantage, he failed to notice he was walking right into a trap! With his eyes fixating on the incoming bullets, he did not see his enemy tossing a live grenade, right where he was heading.

Acting fast, his tail uncoiled from behind his back and reached out just over his left shoulder. Once there a thin but thick green substance shot out from the tip and headed out towards the grenade. Already a toxic smell filled the air just as the substance was sprayed, that continued until the substance finally hit the grenade. At that moment the green spray quickly enveloped it and began burning the grenade at first touch, so fast that the grenade was corroded before even going off. In less than seconds the grenade was fully dissolved with no sign it was ever there, except for a few acidic drops that fell to the ground, burning even tinier holes in the pavement. “Bet that burns!” Matt mocked as he recoiled his tail behind his back, “Got anything else you want me to waste?!?!” Either way, it was now his turn to attack and with full confidence he could take his enemy, he choose to do it in the same way his enemy attacked him. Only this time with a little more flair! With a flick of his wrist, tiny arrowhead like thorns shot forth from under his wrist moving outwards as fast as bullets. Within seconds dozens of these stingers would hopefully be either hitting his enemy or around him. For by thought, Matt could make these tiny stingers explode, each one with the equivalence of a single grenade. Either way with all the stinger’s flying, he had a good shot of obliterating his opponent with relative ease! As such just after he ignited the stingers, he couldn’t help but mock, “Bet that stings!”

Dexter stood like a beast of a man, over eight feet tall and rippling with muscles. So big that his enemy stood in his shadow. The guy he was facing wasn’t much, just a human shaped size scorpion with green armor covering his body. Clearly not in his league. Either way Dexter prepared for the fight by cracking his knuckles, releasing a sound so loud that it echoed off every building and sent birds above scurrying away as fast as their wings could take them. Already Dexter was clinching his fists as he staired across the street at his enemy, just waiting for him to make a move, after which he would proudly retaliate with a beat-down of epic proportion. Soon enough the tension was broken as the man Disturbance was facing, raised his arms up and through some form of mutation proceeded to fire several small but sharp stingers at him. Within seconds the space between the two of them was filled with them, like a swarm of angry hornets, each one targeting on him, with a ‘whizzing’ noise around them. Then as if he was playing the winning card, the green scorpion man openly mocked , “Bet that stings!” with no idea the trouble he was getting himself into!

Without hesitation Dexter charged forth head on into the stingers, while letting out a loud and grumbling ‘ROAR,’ while at the same time three nine inch blades extended from his wrists. Immediately, he began swiping through the air at the stingers, with speed and fury, slicing at them and cutting them to pieces, until suddenly and unexpectedly the stingers began to explode! Before he knew it he was ground zero inside a massive explosion, destroying everything around him and engulfing him inside a raging ball of fire. At that moment a loud roar of pain and anger bellowed from inside, until finally when the smoke settled, Disturbance stood there unscathed, but covered in a layer of dust and debris. Then with just a hint of a crooked smile on his face, he staired back at his enemy and while brushing the dust from off his shoulders, he mocked back, “MY TURN!” With that said he charged forth picking up speed with every stride until reaching striking distance in record time. Then with great pride he swiped with both hands hoping to cut his enemy [You] with both of his nine inch blades! Utilizing both his massive size and strength, he swung one arm down upon the throat area, while the other hand was coming up from around the midsection. Either way both were most likely a fatal strike. In the end Dexter felt nothing, whether his enemy lived or died, to him it was simply the outcome of another battle!

Calm as could be Connor stood there, face to face with certain death, without a care in the world. His composure was nothing short of miraculous. With a monstrous beast stairing you down from a few feet away, with rage in his eyes, most people would run in fear. But it was not the fact that Connor was blind and could not see the danger in front of him that made him so brave, it was the fact he knew there was nothing to fear. Still holding his cane in front of him like a third leg he continued to remain nonchalant even up until the beast spoke. With a deep voice that echoed like thunder, his enemy proudly shouted, “MY TURN!” just before he began his attack. But even before the beast could make a move, Connor was already trying his best to persuade him to find a more peaceful solution. “I don’t think you want to do this” he said without moving an inch, “I’m sure if we talked we could find a more reasonable solution, without the need to fight!” But the fact was his enemy was beyond the point of reason and wanted nothing more than to do grievous bodily harm, of an epic proportion.

Despite the beast humongous size, he was quite light on his feet. In the few feet between the two of them he ran across it building up momentum with every stride. Within seconds he was already on top of Connor, with nine inch blades protruding from knuckles and a wickedly evil snarl coming from his lips. The enemy was so close that Connor could feel the beast breath, huffing down upon him as he loomed over him ready to strike. But even then, Connor stood relentless, without flinching and even once again gave his enemy the option to drop out. “I am warning you.” he said in a calmest of tones, “We can still work this out without violence.” But by now it was too late. With both hands his enemy swiped at him, one towards the throat, the other across his midsection, with metal claws sharper than diamonds. But at the moment they were about to slice through flesh skin, instead they swiped through nothing but air. For at that exact moment Connor simply phased his mortal coil and became nothing more than a ghostly apparition. In the end no matter how strong or deadly his enemy was, there was nothing he could do to harm the man in white except for wasting his precious time.

In retaliation, Connor wished not to harm his enemy but simply restrain him/her [You] from doing anymore damage. Now standing toe to toe, he continued to blindly stare forward, without a care, until finally whispering the words, “..goodbye..” At that exact moment he raised his right hand in a nonthreatening manner, only to flick his wrist in a ‘be gone’ gesture. What should happen next would be [You] would feel yourself become weightless, almost drifting in air, then suddenly thrown back as if a giant magnet was pulling you from behind. Now, even if you could fly, the magic spell cast upon [You] would still send you traveling backwards at a fast speed, until finally hitting the nearest solid object behind you. Naturally Connor would wait around to make sure there was no permanent physical damage done to [You] through his third eye, then simply slip away like the wind until needed again!

Jack had faced many enemies over his life time, aliens, dragons, even armies of advanced soldiers. But never had he gone up against a blind man. The whole fight seemed, wrong. But as in most cases Jack underestimated his opponent, and just as he was about to use brute force, the blind man simply stood there and said “..goodbye..” As odd as it may seem, before Jack knew it some spiritual force lifted him off the ground and flung him back. To his surprise, there was no physical force involved, just a feeling of weightlessness that hurled him back like a rag doll, unable to do anything about it. At first Jack flailed around like a child, grasping at air as he continued falling back, even kicking his legs for no other reason than he thought it would help. But as he continued to fall back to no avail, he took only the briefest of seconds to clear his mind, before he went into action. With just a thought his two upper mechanical arms shot forth from his back, and continued extending out in a Y shape pattern. Then, like two anchors, the claws at the tip of the arms grabbed deep into the ground beneath him, digging their way into the dirt, where they grabbed hold ready to stop him dead in his tracks.

But as this was no normal force he was fighting against, his body continued to fall backwards, as his mechanical hands began digging trenches in the ground. The further he flew back, the longer the trenches grew as the mechanical arms, were pulled back along with him. In the end Jack quickly summoned forth his two lower mechanical arms to help, but instead of using them as anchors he hoisted them back over his shoulders and began blasting an energy that in effect turned them into retro rockets. By now he had fallen back a good two hundred yards with no signs of stopping, but by God’s grace the usage of his four mechanical arms began to slow him down. Within seconds he had slowed down to a crawl, eventually coming to a halt. The blind man was far and forgotten, leaving Jack the fool, alone in an empty field with only the stars above. Only the two trenches dug by his mechanical arm accompanied him, as there were no other signs of life, as far as the eye could see. Suddenly, he saw a lone figure [You] moving in the shadows a few yards away, and immediately he knew he was in for a fight. Using the same four mechanical arms that he used before, the two lower ones aimed downwards thus thrusting him into the air like a jet pack. There he hovered, a good forty feet off the ground while shouting, “You picked the wrong guy on the wrong day to mess with” as he slowly flew closer towards the stranger [You]. Then, just as he was getting a good view of the stranger [You], he aimed his two upper mechanical arms down like cannons and began blasting away with short concise blasts of energy.

Blubber loved to play in the fields. Running, jumping, just playing around for all it’s worth. At times he even loved to blow on the weeds and watch them bend. It all made him laugh, and to Blubber he enjoyed that more than food. Today he was dancing around doing twirls, just playing to his hearts content, when all of a sudden he heard the words, “You picked the wrong guy on the wrong day to mess with” come bellowing from above. With a curious mind he look skyward to see a man hovering above through the use of mechanical arms that he used as a make shift jet pack. Immediately Blubber responded in kind, “have I done something wrong..”along side “...i truly apologize if I did!”But no matter how polite or sincere Blubber was, the man hovering there above him, was in the mood for a fight! From his two other mechanical arms, the man in the sky began firing short concise blast of energy, that not only packed a powerful charge, but set the weeds on fire. Within seconds Blubber’s over sized frame was struck, but due to his overtly protective exterior, the blast hurt no more that being slapped with a fly swatter. But the saddest part was, that with the blasts that missed him, quickly set the whole field a blaze!

For a few seconds, Blubber stood there, confused over how any one person could do such a thing, with the flames dancing all around him. But it wasn’t until he thought about all the other kids that would never get a chance to play in the fields again, that he choose to act! With one big, over exaggerated inhale, his chest blew up three times it’s normal size, until reaching the point his belly was full. Then like a jet engine, he exhaled it all, but only in short controlled blasts. For the last thing Blubber would want to do would be blowing away the weeds like dandelions, so instead he used just enough to put out the fire and no more. Seconds later, despite his best intentions, he was standing in a near empty field surrounded in smoke and embers, with over fifty percent of what was the field is no more, and despite how much Blubber wanted to be heroic, he could not help himself but cry. Immediately he looked back up to the sky to yell, “How could you do this? How could you cause such senseless,disctrack, disctruck, destruction?”

Unfortunately by now the man in the sky was gone, with no sign he was ever there except for the smoldering embers he had left behind, and although he was not there Blubber still yelled “You were a bad bad man, whoever you were!” Still saddened, he stumbled around a bit wondering who he should call to report the fire, when he suddenly noticed a stranger [You] standing a few yards away on the far side of what’s left of the fields. On any normal occasion, Blubber would greet the stranger with kindness and respect, but today was a different day. Today he was more concerned with protecting the fields rather than making friends. As such he moved in with actions, not words, and in an instant his hands began to grow five times larger than normal. At the same time his two arms began to stretch out in front of him, straight towards the stranger, but to his sides. Before you knew it, his hands were the size of a small house with fingers the size of trees, and they were closing in to grab the stranger in between them. But despite it all, Blubber was peaceful and all he wished to do was grab hold of the stranger and hold him until the police arrived, while at the same time warning him/her“Now you stay right where you are, for now!”

Despite the fact his enemy was about to crush him, he was a very polite guy. In fact if Lee weren’t fighting him, they might have been friends. For Lee wasn’t exactly the beat em up kind of guy and his enemies kind demeanor, made their fight even harder. Still, Lee was in no mood to be held hostage or even hurt in their disagreement, that is why as hard as it was to get forceful with Blubber, he knew it might come down to that. With two massive hands, the size of a small house, closing in on both sides, Lee no longer had the option to play nice, and immediately went into action. Still holding back, for fear of hurting his plus size foe, he began by simply raising his hands to his side with his palms facing out. By now the two massive hands were almost grasping him tight, but with out a moment of doubt, powerful waves of concussive force shot forth from Lee’s hands, slamming hard against Blubber’s incoming ones. For a few brief seconds a war of strength raged between Blubber’s muscle and Lee’s shock waves, as two forces rivaled each other, neither one relenting. In the end Lee felt this show of force was unnecessary and instead of wasting his time in this conflict, the better option would be to simply fly away.

Immediately, Lee shot upwards to the sky, with one mighty gust of wind, just as Blubber interlocked the fingers of both hands. At that exact moment a loud ‘Slamming’ noise echoed below, as Lee proceeded to make several laps over the battlefield at an incredible speed, ending up right were he started just a few feet in the sky above where Blubber was once standing. For by some weird twist of fate Blubber was no longer there, easing Lee’s tension, for one of the last things he would ever want to do, would be getting into a fight with such a lovable individual. It was then he noticed a new face stepping into the battlefield appearing to look eager for battle. Immediately, Lee’s eyes lit up behind his thick red shades and before you knew it, lasers shot out from them in two intense precise beams. Then with pen point precision he fired these beams in a circular manner, around his enemy, until his newest opponent was trapped in a circle of fire. Not done yet in a blur of super speed, Lee flew behind him/her hoping to come in on their blind side, where he would fly in through the flames, and hopefully grab his enemy from behind and hoist him/her high into the air. Should he make it this far, he would then proceed to fly straight up into the sky, past the atmosphere and reach a point where his enemy would then be trapped without oxygen, whereas they would soon fall asleep, ending the fight without any physical blows.

The Father of the Forsaken stared at the man with opponent with disinterest. His opponent large and muscular -- compared to the pale creature which stood before him tall and gaunt to a degree that would be considered among. This form however became incorporeal, anticipating an attack of a physical nature.

After all -- he had watched the hero trading blows with one such individual off in the distance.

And yet the modern "metahuman" as they were called in this age remained to some extent unpredictable. Lasers came from his eyes and Bashanipal had expected them to be aimed to go dead center -- through his chest. Or through the head. Such would have been a much more immediately. But the hero was not so ruthless as he'd thought. However, he had been less prepared to deal with the ring of fire. His form became immediate corporeal once more and he hissed in both anger and terror at the flames around it.

The cracking of bone occurred as wings erupted from the thing's back. And it slammed said wings down into the ground hard enough cause minute fractures. Great winds blew about as Bashanipal was himself launched into the air -- opening up distance and extinguishing the fires at the same time. His wide, blood red eyes had calmed -- regaining some semblance of humanity once more. Just in time to spin away from the brute. But the man was not only strong, but also fast.

Up it is then.

The pale creature looked upwards, towards the sky, as the man the man gripped him bare chest to bare chest. The air grew cold. The oxygen was thin. And the pressure of the atmosphere less and less secure. And yet the creature was unfettered by these things. What need did an undead have for air? And the warmth he desired was in blood.

If anything, the notion of being taken to space was entertaining.

"There once was a time when I would have leapt to catch a glimpse at the stars." He harkened back to his human self, the same way a human might look back at being a child. It was a time when humanity had crawled from the cradle of wilderness and finally built for themselves...farms and cities. "But alas, matters of the stars and the universe interest me no longer. There is no blood there."

Just like that -- the vampire's body would go from firm enough to withstand the man's bear hug to pliable enough to slip through a crack but an inch deep. No matter the man's strength, it was anatomically impossible for most to form such a thing. Once he slipped out, he took on the form of the dark itself. And alluded all manner of detection as he merely blended seamlessly into the night sky itself.

It made it all the more difficult to see him -- with only the light of the city illuminating a rapidly moving shadow fell from the atmosphere and crashed into the street. People scattered and screamed naturally. Emergency personnel descended and would save those would. But something was not right about people who'd nary but a visible wound on them.

Soon however -- the people would awaken. Now pale, bald and with features more befitting of a ghoul -- such those who selflessly rushed into danger would be the first to turn.

More and more turned. Which each who was bitten and dead -- a new minion was made. One who could only be stopped with destruction of the head or piercing of the heart. Car doors were ripped off. Barred windows shredded with claws. And barricades made with car simply toppled as those mundane defenders were fed upon and turned into new recruits for the ever growing undead army. Once innocent people who would now drink man, woman and child with almost reckless abandon.

Almost.

A person of interest appeared. An with eyes like unto an owl -- Bashanipal locked onto his person of interest. And as he willed it, so too did his ever growing army of the cities mutated denizens. Without regard for the threat the target posed and without fear -- they would rush past their master and attack as he merely pointed at them from in the middle the street.

They would topple cars -- plow through barricade and run at speeds like that of a wolf. A human would have been ripped limb from limb as claws buried into them. But something from the target seemed exceptional. The Avatar of the Unholy watched, content to play the role of monster once more -- eager to see just what humanity and it's defenders presented.

Perhaps some of them might make for interesting pawns.

What began as a low rumble quickly turned into a massive roar. From over the distance David could only see a crowd of people rushing towards him in a frenzy. After quick use of the telescopic vision in his visor, he was shocked to see that this was no mere crowd. The faces of the mob were now gaunt, with soulless eyes vacant of any humanity. They were in fact a hoard of the dead, charging at him with the soul intent to rip him apart and feast on his remains. Not only that, but they ran forth like wild animals clawing and scratching their way as they ran over anything in their path. And all though they appeared to be void of any since of reason, they ran forward as one, with the intent to kill. With what little time David had left, he drew his gun and with a flip of a dial turned it to ‘Flame Thrower.’ By now the crowd was close enough that David no longer needed his telescopic vision to see them, and with a pull of his trigger, blasted them all with fire raging at over 4,000 degrees. Immediately, the ones in front, went up in flames, screaming an ungodly tone as they burned alive. But even as the front ones burned, those behind simply crawled their way over them, and even at some times, stepping right on top of them on their way forward.

Unfortunately, despite his best intentions, a huge number of the crowd continued to charge forward, some of them almost on top of him. With no other option, David kicked in the thrusters on his boots to launch him upwards into the sky, seconds before he was about to be ripped apart. Just a few seconds later he touched down on the roof top of the nearest and tallest building he could access, only to see the crowd still chasing after him. Like a hoard of ants, the dead were now clawing one on top of another as they made their own human ladder, in order to soon reach the top. By now there were still to many to count, and from their pace they would soon be on top of him again, all the while letting out shrieks and howls as they climbed. Realizing the threat he was still in, with a quick sprint David ran to the edge and with incredible agility, he leaped from one roof top to another, clearing a good sixty yards through sheer athletic skill and a little help from the thrusters on his boots. Either way he hit the landing with a perfect tuck and roll, taking less than a second to clear his head and get back into the fight.

Already a large handful of the crowd was trying to recreate his leap to the other building, with the majority falling several flights to what was left of the crowd below. Crushing an impaling those they landed on. That only leaved the sixty or seventy still climbing as a threat as they quickly began to scurry back down the street where they could proceed to climb the building David was on. With less than seconds to react, David spun the dial on his gun to ‘Missiles’ then aimed at the base of the other building. With no less than four shots, he sent all four rounds to the bottom floor, dislodging the buildings stability, and in one glorious moment, causing it to topple over upon it’s self. In effect the huge building was falling apart but more specifically, falling on top of the remaining crowd, burying themselves under several tons of rubble and debris. Naturally, after all the smoke settled there were still a handful of survivors, clawing their way out, with little to no major damage done during the fall. But with the aide of his enhanced marksmanship and the ‘Laser’ feature on his gun, he quickly picked them off one by one, as they scurried around, trying their best to reach the top of the building where he stood. In the end they were all dead, sent to whatever hell would except them and only causing million dollars worth of damage to the city.

But just as he stood alone atop his building, contemplating on how he could fund the repairs to the city, he caught a glimpse of another individual residing atop another still standing building. Wasting no time he quickly spun the dial on his gun to ‘Heat Seeking Missiles’ and let three rounds fly. Each one thermally locked on his target’s [Yours] heat signature, theoretically they would continue to seek him/her down until they hit, then explode with enough force to obliterate it’s target and blow away everything around him/her with in twenty yards. Either way David was done with him/her, confident that the threat was neutralized and proceeded to summon his ride through the link on his helmet. All that was left was to listen for the inevitable ‘Booms’ as he flew away on his bike, heading back to his lair where he would log down tonight's events, paying close attention to the crowd and how the humans were transformed into the ungodly beasts!

For the last few weeks, Carl had been working out by running up the thirty flights of stairs every day, to build up his leg muscles and work on his cardio. Today was a special one as he raced up the building in record time. Even reaching the top with a calm and controlled breath, rather than gasping for air as he did when he started. But today was special, a victory one would say, as he reached the top sweaty but in good health. With great pride he threw a few jabs in the air like a make-shift Rocky wannabe, as he even hummed the tune to “Eye of the Tiger!” On most occasions he would bask in the open air of the rooftop, looking down upon the people below and contemplate on the bizarre circumstance that brought him there. For if he was going to be the hero he wanted to be, he needed to train, train, train. Unfortunately on this day and time, as he looked out across the open city sky line, he noticed a rather odd sort of figure residing on the roof top next to him. Dressed head to toe in a state of the art riot gear, the stranger across the way was aiming his gun in Carl’s direction with what appeared a smirk under his helmet

Before he knew it, the stranger had already pulled the trigger, and immediately three missiles were launched, each one following the one before it. With a whistling sound they flew forth so fast that Carl had less than seconds to act, before being blown out of the sky. Immediately, and almost by impulse, he covered his skin with a metallic shell, while at the same time waving his hand through the air. At the same time, hundreds of tiny little metal shards began to form in-front of him, forming a make shift shield that stood strong before him and took the full force of the first two missiles. In that moment the sky lit up with fire, followed with a ear shattering “BOOM” as smoke and fire filled the air. Unfortunately in a rather naive state of mind, Carl naturally assumed the threat had been neutralized and without thinking it through, he lowered his shield just before the last and final missile had hit. Instead, as he stood there with a “Oh Crap!” expression on his face, it hit him square in the chest and sent him flying along with it, just as it exploded!

In a instant, he was knocked off his feet, and tossed over the edge, just as the massive explosion went off. Like his shield before, he was engulfed in a ball of fire and shrapnel that would normally tear most anything in it’s path to shreds, but due to Carl’s mutation, his skin was neither harmed or scarred. Instead he simply shrugged the blast off as no more than a tickle, that had unfortunately knocked him off the roof top and sent him reeling. Unfortunately he was now a huge metal statue alone in the sky, and like all heavy things he began plummeting to the ground at record speed. But lucky for him, instead of flapping his arms like some cartoon character, he calmly and carefully waved his arms beneath him, and like on the roof top, another construct of metal shards began forming below him in the shape of one humongous spiral slide, that although silly looking, safely placed him back on the ground then simply flickered away as if it was never there!

Still reeling for a fight, he repositioned himself into a fighting stance, when he noticed his enemy [You] standing far away on the other side of the street. Wasting no time Carl reached for the first thing he could throw, and in this case it was a 2020 red Pontiac. With one hand he grabbed it tight, with his metal fingers ripping through the automobile’s steel and with the greatest of ease, hurled it across the street as easy as a Frisbee. Not done yet, he then reached for several other cars, each a different shape and size, and tossed them towards his enemy [You] as easy as the first. In the end he threw three cars and one truck, all coming down on his enemy [You] like giant boulders of cold steel, one on top of the other, and should his enemy[You] survive such an onslaught, Carl had one more trick up his sleeve. As he watched each and every cars strike down upon his enemy [You], or near by him, Carl ripped a street light from the concrete ground beneath it, and as his enemy [You] was jumping around, or whatever, Carl threw it like a javelin right at him/her in the hopes it would hit him/her as he/she was distracted by the cars!

The street had become a war zone and Jack had gotten himself caught in the middle. It seems no matter where he goes or who he meets, he always gets himself trouble. Standing a few feet away, was a beast of a man covered in metal with a strength that rivaled the very Gods, and for some unknown reason he had chosen Jack as his enemy. Unprepared, Jack stood alone in the middle of the street, while every bystander ran for their lives, as the metal man proceeded to attack. With his mighty strength he grabbed hold of a standard automobile, and with the greatest of ease, hurled it towards Jack like it was a rag doll. But then just as the first car took flight, the metal man proceeded to toss one after the other, in the end a massive collection of cars where thrown, in all shapes and sizes, each one thrown with enough speed and force to make them more than a dangerous threat, as these were much much more. If Jack had more brains than guts, he would have run for safety, but once again he chose to stand his ground.

With a thought, four mechanical arms shot forth from his back and began hovering around him like metal pythons. Each one slithering back and forth as if they had a mind of their own. But at the moment the cars came within striking distance, the arms went to work. With the first car, his upper left arm came crashing down, hitting the car right through the middle and splitting it in two as the arm followed through. The next car was caught in-between his two lower mechanical arms, as each grabbed hold of it on different sides, and with little to no effort, in a massive display of metal spark flying everywhere, he ripped it in two like paper. Then with the two halves in each arm, he swung them like giant clubs, swatting down the other incoming cars, left and right, until all that was left was a pile of metal debris littered across both sides of the street. Unfortunately, as Jack was busy manhandling the automobiles as only he could, he was unaware the the metal man had one last trick up his sleeve.

All the while Jack was being distracted by smashing car after car after car, his enemy waited for just the right time to strike with a telephone poll. Coming in around 65 feet long and weigh more than 4,000 pounds, the metal man threw it like a javelin so fast that it whistled as it flew through the air as it traveled. But lucky for Jack his arms (or Stooges as he calls them) can see for themselves and in this occasion Moe, his upper right mechanical arm, was free at the time and more than capable of allowing Jack to see the attack before it could strike. With just a thought he sent Moe into action and like a boa, it wrapped around the pole as it move forward. Then once trapped inside, with the greatest of ease it squeezed tight, crushing the pole into splinters along with one loud and deafening “SNAP!”

Tired of all this shenanigans, he dug his feet into the ground as he eyed his enemy at the far side of the street. Already Jack’s heart was beating faster in expectation for a fight. With a thought all four of his arms recoiled back around him where they bobbed and weaved around him ready to strike. Then in a blink of an eye three of them shot forth like a bullet, snapping and clawing all the way, until reaching striking distance of his enemy. At the tip of each arm would be a six inch blade protruding from where it’s claws would normally be, and essentially they would try to slice and dice his opponent to pieces. But as planned, all three arms would generally be attacking from his enemies right side, which would open up his left for a sneak attack. As the other three kept his enemy busy, Shemp his lower left mechanical arm would come creeping around the blind side ready to strike like a cobra, charged with over 55,000 volts of electric energy. Then at just the right moment, with it’s three pronged tipped hand, it would try to grab hold of his enemy, anywhere, and continue to tazzer him until he fell unconscious!

Darkness, fires, and screams, all permeating the night as if it were a symphony of chaos. The witching hour was near and the smoke-filled aroma clouding the air like stenches of despair. Her eyes slowly shifted back as she began to channel the natural esoteric energies of the world. In a lotus position, her body began to resonate with the wild forces she sought to control, calling out to those who would answer her call. Wooshes of winds from soft and gentle to strong and magnificent began to circle her, the lit candle flame circle rose higher in intensity, and whispers of the dead from behind the veil began to dance alongside the elements, all speaking in unison as she chants a spell of transcendence, and union of both life and death all converging to a synergistic harmony with the witch providing lead.

As she opens her eyes, her shadow-self emerged within the streets of conflict. Her real physical body was miles away, deep within the sacred catacombs of her people, a powerful place for a powerful woman. While her physical body sung the song death, the chants continue to allow the duration of her spell to continue. The intense pull on her body as she felt a rush of power seep from within her, shooting as a comet would in a benign sky, leaving a trail of fire and flames, all so brilliant but all so dangerous. Her eyes whiten in trance allowing the passage of vision to be bestowed within her incorporeal silhouette. She can see it all, a city that never knew peace, dangerous and intoxicating.

This rife between allies and enemies made it a perfect opportunity for the witch to take advantage of the disarray in the city. Blood was strong, blood was plenty, and she would need to draw one so very close to her line of sight. Synthetic arms twist and twirl at the command of a powerful man, maneuvering each of the four with precision and nigh flawless coordination. As one rattle and slither in secrecy, like a cobra it would strike, voltage acting as venom would surely be just as lethal.

From behind, the siren began to whisper into the man of many appendixes with hopes of enchanting him in a state of calm and bliss, thus ensuring his concentration would break before the enchantress and she would use him as a conduit for possession and as a sacrifice for power.

The Mercenary sat atop the pagoda roofing of his retirement shrine watching the New Age's combatants fight tirelessly, his murky eyes half-closed and tranquil. Blood spray marked the air like masterful brush strokes on an old canvas, the sounds of physical instruments and bodies colliding over and over like a beautiful song to his ancient ears.

Should any of them have happened to look up just then they might have seen his scarred form stretch its arms out and breathe deeply before he rolled backward into the coiling shadows that surround him and disappeared, a low cackle bouncing across the expanse.

Amber embers turned into a cold ice blue, as a hooded figure stood amongst the flames, seemingly unfazed by the heat. In front of [YOU] a phantom stood without any sign of life except their presence. The flames' roar began to quiet, as if they had been conducted to do so. Then, an ever of slow and steady motion began. Withdrawn from the thin of the air, a slender black violin had appeared and in the other hand, a bow fashioned similar to a sword. Its hairs glowed with an ethereal blue, giving it a spectral aura. Yet, despite this somber disturbing sight, the worst has yet to come.

As bow met string, a melody was drawn, almost forcibly. A silent cry from the world beyond had begun. A somber song that spoke of doom without words, filling the listener's ears with dread and despair as the music continued. Soon, the solo turned into a duo, as another phantom had joined the sorrowful symphony.

And another.

And another. . .

The music continued to play, sounding more and more like whispers as the strings were played. [YOU] would soon find yourself grieving without reasonable cause. The fear beginning to swell as your were being drained. Not of your body, nor mind. But of your vitality.

Of your spirit.

Lest you act quickly, [YOU] ran the risk of becoming nothing more than the sorrow that was threatening to envelop you.

Music is life, or that was what Ricky choose to believe. It can make you happy, it can make you sad. It even has the ability to make you feel comforted when you’re alone. But never before had he heard such a sound, coming from the man before him. With nothing more than a violin, his enemy created a sound so unique to it’s self, that it struck a cord in Ricky so deep that he wanted to hear more. It was so unique that he was unable to repeat it, despite his mutant ability to control and manipulate sound. To him, it was a sound like no other. But just as the violinist played, a strange occurrence began to take place. Where once stood a single violinist, now stood two. Suddenly there was three, then four, then five. In mere seconds Ricky was surrounded by the violinist, all playing the same sound that now played out like a whisper, all reaching Ricky deep within his very soul.

But just as he was being taken away by such a lovely sound, he began to feel weak in the knees as his hands began to tremble. Suddenly he was sweating bullets as a pain began to swell up inside him. It took all he could not to pass out or vomit, and it was then he realized that the violinists tune, was poisoning him. With less than seconds to react, Ricky summoned up all the strength he had left in him for one loud blast of sound. Still shaking at the knees, he manage to raise his arm to his sides and with one thought, he fired off a wave of sound in all directions, with him standing in the center. Immediately the area was overwhelmed with a “Whump Whump” sound, as a visible wave of sound resonated outward like wind. It was so powerful that with the greatest of ease it collided with the violinists, knocking them back one by one, until they were all knocked out or incapacitated.

All that was left now was to deal with the one or two violinists that were lucky enough to survive his attack. But by luck they had all been knocked out. However, it was then he saw his newest opponent [You] standing alone at the far side of the street. Already Ricky was alive surging with new energy, after quickly recovering from the violinist’s attack, and as such he was ready to go. With a quick, “Sounds, like you are in trouble!” he raised both hands forwards, with his palms out, as he stomped one foot just for dramatic effect. Immediately a concussive wave of sound shot forth, much like a massive gust of wind. However this time instead of being accompanied by his standard “Whump Whump” sound, this time it was followed by the sound of an electric guitar when someone strums all the strings at once. In effect the sound wave should easily knock out or incapacitate his enemy, all with an awesome sounding rocking effect.

Having to fight a kid was bad enough, but being mocked by one was even worse. Jack had faced a lot of foes over his many years, but never a kid from the street. That’s why when the kid mocked, “Sounds, like you are in trouble!” it bugged Jack more than his attack. Granted now a days it seemed every two bit hood had a catchphrase or battle cry, but the kids was just pathetic. It was enough to give him one of those special headaches he gets when really really annoyed. But unfortunately for him, this was a fight and whether or not the kid meant to kill him or harm him, Jack needed to teach him a lesson. With a thought Jack called forth all four of his mechanical arms and within seconds they were snapping and coiling around him. Whereas the two upper ones lurched over his shoulders, the lower two roamed beneath his mortal arms.

It was then he heard the unmistakable sound of an electrical guitar, as if someone had just plucked all it’s strings, blaring loudly at him all at once. It was loud, echoing and above all threatening in it’s own way. But unfortunately it was not his enemies main attack. Instead that came in the form of a wave created with the sound that had the ability to hit like a solid force and cause some serious damage. Before he knew it, Jack was knocked off his feet and sent tumbling back. Despite his best efforts he was fumbling back like a rag doll, unable to stop or control himself, left to the whim of the sound wave until it either stopped or worse he hit a solid object behind him.

With no time to think, he reacted the only way he could, and immediately he reached out with all four of his mechanical arms. Within seconds his upper right one grabbed hold of a telephone poll, that unfortunately ripped from the ground. At the same time his upper left one grabbed another pole while the two lower ones dug deep into the very road beneath him. Unlike the first pole, the second one stuck in the ground like an anchor as the two lower arms ripped through the concrete for only a few feet. In the end he ceased his tumbling back and slowly landed back on his feet, where after a few seconds he regained his balance. Still some what shaken, he recoiled his stooges back to his side, where three of them went back into defensive mode, while the fourth held him up like a makeshift crutch.

It was then he was ready to strike back and strike back hard, as he eyeballed his enemy [You] at the far side of the street. Roughly fifty yards apart, they both stood on a random street, without any signs of random pedestrians around. In one mighty act he leaped towards his enemy as all four of his arms immediately went into action. As he soared over head, his right upper arm coiled tightly around a car, that with a quick tug, hurled towards his enemy as his left upper one simply struck down upon him like a razor sharp spear. As for his two lower ones, they both came swinging from his enemies sides, with their claws wide open in the hopes of grabbing hold of his enemy and perhaps subduing him/her. All in all it was a four prong attack from different sides, added to the fact Jack himself was still coming in from above in the hopes of kicking his enemy should all other attacks fail.

Eric stared on at his opponent, his eyes flickering side to side to get a better glimpse of his surroundings. At no point did his opponent ever escape from his peripherals. But with that quick glanced -- he surmised there were no civilians present.

Thus there was no need for the Cape-Killer to hold back. "No civilians present. Looks like a class 3 Metahuman. I'll handle it." He watched the man leap dramatically into the air. And took aim as he predicted the trajectory the car would travel.

BOOM

The grenade struck squarely at the car's engine block. Nano-energetic explosives combined with the fuel already on the vehicle. Rather than be reduced to a burning heap, the entire vehicle exploded catastrophically -- vaporizing in the ensuing explosion as near by windows shattered and fell to the ground.

A slight lean of his head. And a burn piece of the car's axel swings by Bradshaw's head, spearing into solid concrete behind him. A flame tire rolls by -- bouncing as it goes to roll down the street.

The Cape-Killer drops a smoke bomb and it rolls on the ground, yet to go off. Leaving the mortal man to contend with the meta's might for a time that couldn't have been more than 1.5 seconds.

Bradshaw hops a little side as the first tendril spears into the ground -- his brief jump sparing him the effects of it denting the ground. The hop carries him to a nearby trash can as the next two tendrils come. And Bradshaw jumps off it to gain height his human legs couldn't give him, tucking his legs in and rotating his body.

He landed unceremoniously and yet deliberately on his armored stomach as the last. The Man named "Gripper" stomped on the ground.

He rolled onto his side, the man's feet landing on solid pavement as Bradshaw's body rests in between the man's legs. Just beneath his crotch.

"I'm too old for this ****." He mutters.

The smoke bomb goes off. And by the time it washed over, him, he was long gone. Spared from having to smell the man's sweaty crotch. Soon, a thick smoke filled the street, blotting out light both visible and not.

"You capes never get tired of throwing cars, do you?" A strike to where the voice was heard from would only result in destroying a radio sitting on top of a mailbox.

A hardened palm-strike would slam into the middle of next opponent's back. But it couldn't have been more force than that one might find from an average, heavyweight boxer. They'd find no opponent behind them attempting any other strikes as well. Only that one strike.

The real attack was far worse.

What the next target would feel was an object the size of a soda-can stuck to their back. But it was far heavier. It made no ominous beep. Instead, internal electronics within quietly counted down quick enough for the plant to make his get-away.

The explosion's sound filled the street. Yet it's radius was short. Instead -- it liquified a copper cone and propelled it fast enough to reach escape velocity. The simple piece of explosion propelled copper would slam into the target it was stuck to, and mutually annihilate itself with whatever conventional materials it struck, making tensile strength all but irrelevant as it sought to punch molten holes in target. And the building behind him. And the building after that.

The smoke would clear and there'd be no sign of the Cape-Killer after. Only another assailant.

Why? Solomon asked himself, 'watching' the battle form afar. The Blind Violinist stood melancholy at the end of the street, shrouded with a dark ethereal glow to his being. Mozart, his seeing-eye spectral cat companion, was doing her best to imitate the movements of both parties within the battle within Solomon's field of darkness. Tendrils shot out from one, lacking the mechanical properties they should due to Mozart's failing to comprehend their nature. Thus, to Solomon, appearing as if they assailant was a mutant of some kind. Maybe mixed with an octopus in some kind of weird

experiment. The second contender was much more plain, appearing little more than a soldier. Yet, his performance showed that he was much more. Solomon watched as man's movements, blind to the gadgets that were being used. Solomon was in no way a martial artist, having used his brain and violin more than his fist, but even he could see the purposeful steps and tactical fluidity of the man in front of him. Masterfully maneuvering past the tendrils, narrowing the gap between the two.

Suddenly, after mumbling something, the man threw something onto the ground before appearing elsewhere. Mozart kept up with the man's trajectory, tracking his spirit rather than relying on light. But even knowing where he was didn't make up for a simple fact that Solomon couldn't possible deny.

He's was way too slow.

Within the next instance, a strike was placed between his shoulder blades. Nothing that could punch a whole through him, but enough to knock some wind out of the unathletic musician. He clumsily took a step forward, catching himself before he toppled over. He could feel a difference in his weight -something he had become sensitive to after losing his sight- specifically in the place that was struck. However the real warning sight came immediately after the strike.

"HISSSSSSSSSS!"

The astral kitten arched over and hissing as if all hell was breaking loose. Its fur standing on all ends. Meaning only one thing to Solomon.

Immediate Danger

Solomon had little time to draw conclusions outside of 'BOOM!'. As he knew he had to reach immediately. No moment later did he play a singular chord from his violin, drawing it faster than people could blink. The note was rigid and harsh, defying all definitions of the word music, but it played its part. The afterlife accepted his body into the other plane, turning him a phantom.

Shortly after, he heard something shoot through him from behind - his now incorporeal body unharmed - before something dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, followed before explosions followed in front. His instinct was right, and he let out a relieved sigh that he didn't permanently join the ghosts that day.

"Good job."He whispered as he crouched down to pet his companion. But he knew things wouldn't last peaceful for long as Mozart's form shifted into another humanoid, mimicking the actions of the next assailant.

'The next opponent would stare into the wretched streets to find a entity shrouded dark cloaks with a shadowing covering over their face. Within both hands were a pair to a instrument, a violin, wielding as if a gatekeeper were holding their swords and shield. Saying nothing and moving with a somber urgency, they placed the violin underneath their chin before playing a gradually drawn out tone. Dark and glooming, almost as if it were seeking to herald a dark tale. And it was.

A tale of doom and destruction.

The start of the Symphony Of Afterthought began to play. As it did, chains wrapped around the clocked figures arms and legs, with nails deep within his wrist and bones. Yet, the music still played. Resonating not through their ears, but within their very souls. Seeking to sap them of their will and being. An inky black substance dripped from the figure's wrist, marching its march down into the earth below, dripping to the slow pulls of the ghastly bow. Deep and rich melodies were played before the assailant, the chains pulling upon the figure's appendages in unnatural ways, becoming more violent. Threatening to pull apart flesh and twist bones

Yet, the cloaked figure made no sound outside of its sweetly somber orchestra. The tempo steady and perfect. Enticing the assailant into its alluring sounds. The music seeking to distract them from the truth. From the reality of the situation. That its enchanting chords and masterful notes made the assailants own safety nothing more than an afterthought as their pains were washed away. As they watched, blissfully unaware. That the very scene they were watching was nothing more than a reflection of their spirit. Threatening to tear them apart from within, while they watched ignorantly.

The street lamps flickered mindlessly with the unmistakable chatter of static interference. The noise rumbled from the copper veins of infrastructure, coiling into the air and seizing the water and whatever floated or moved. What resulted from this could only be described as a faint tingling sensation, the barest caress of an electrical blanket stripped to its basic components.

It hung there, never moving, but allowing everything to pass through. It was a curtain, twinkling and shimmering with cracks in-between the details of the world. These were glimpses into the center stage, where blinding spotlights exposed the every move of every actor. Every blemish on their skin was on display, every howl of intrigue or sorrow from the eternal audience imprisoned in a never-ending loop - untouched by decay or discoloration, preserved forever as it was recorded for the very first time: with that infernal, sinister tone of static clinging to every note and word.

A pair of spats stepped out from this thick concentration of void, the entropy of a different dimension. The crackling subsided as the polished-black and bleached-white trappings of the shoes themselves settled above the grass, not once actually touching the vegetation. Above these were the collections of a grandiose showman, every piece of the suit clinging to his lithe body tailored extensively and exclusively for his own personal use. Reds of every shade were present in the design, though his jacket was branded with thin black pinstripes to denote a break in what would otherwise seem to be a singular blob of color. A black bowtie clung to his throat, just below a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth locked in a characteristic rictus grin. His eyebrows were low, sly, and betrayed an almost callous distancing from anything considered kind or decent. For that split second, he possessed an unnerving malice.

This expression quickly died once it was exposed to the open air, twisted into a more welcoming - but nevertheless still cruel and cunning - visage. He smoothed his curls of blonde hair back, two black protrusions from his forward-facing bangs were propped up like horns amongst his various swirls and details. His bright scarlet eyes, framed by blood-crimson sclera, darted back and forth, examining the condition of what had transpired here.

"Oh dear, it seems we have had a bit of miscommunication!" His voice rolled out from behind his teeth, a soothing and haunting siren call from distant shores.

"My name is Mephisto, and I do believe that this particular style of yours is better suited for…"

He trailed off, his voice becoming muffled by the serenade of chaos chilling him to the marrow. A figure with the presence of one of Lucifer's comrades in rebellion stood at a distance, untouchable from here. Mephisto watched eagerly, his lips curling tighter into an infatuated grin.

The notes sparking such joy inside his twisted heart soon came, matching the lingering specter of music already forming in his mind. With each sonorous passage, with each crumbling column of dissonance, came the latest gesture of self-mutilation upon the strange spirit. Despite his best efforts to entertain the possibility of this being some form of attack, Mephisto simply did not care.

His soul was fully injected into the performance, mirroring his physical dismemberment in an unimaginable cavalcade of havoc. His limbs snapped at the roots and joints, flinging themselves high into the air as he conducted the invisible symphony centered around the mysterious violinist. His hands, each finger cracked and snapped at impossible angles, clenched with the determination to finish the piece of decadence he had now found himself immersed in. He cackled with untold glee, his mind drowning in images of fire and heaven. Wings collapsed in bloody fragments before his eyes, black swords clashing against serpent scales and unleashing torrents of acidic blood - anarchy reigned!!

With the beauty of the song that initially drew him here, he never expected there to be an encore such as this…

And yet, for all the enjoyment he gleaned from it, for all the power he became stimulated by, flesh was still flesh. His body collapsed under its own weight, clinging together through what seemed to be sheer willpower. But, for all intents and purposes, this was merely a lie - one of his many lies, one used to escape certain situations that found him in unfavorable territory.

Color vanished from his body and clothes, replaced with the deep bluish-black of a shadowy being that took his shape, grinning out from the darkness in the mockery of a scarecrow - hanging its arms out to either side and bending them akimbo, its head lowered. Applause emerged from behind it, and Mephisto in all of his predetermined splendor invited himself once again to the mortal plane. He stood there as his shadow melted back under his feet, his hands clapping slowly and methodically.

"Congratulations are in order! That was positively lovely," he chuckled, knowing that the power he had endured drained a significant part of the reservoir that he accumulated. It was a strange symbiosis he had with it, gaining and losing what gave him his bizarre abilities in equal measure.

"I will tell you, however, that I'm not much use in a fight," he remarked, his shadow gripping a nearby fire hydrant in one, now oversized, claw.

It ripped the barrier to thousands of gallons of pressurized water away from the street and threw it without hesitation towards an innocent bystander. Mephisto seemed content with causing a distraction and escaping, rather than staying for the fireworks.

"But if you ever want to play professionally… just give me a call," he laughed, his form melting away into another portal of pure static.

With a puff of smoke, a business card was all that remained of the King of Swing, possessing the pungent and distinctive odor of brimstone.