@renn_kelen: Watching him stare with his ears at the watch, Joe stands behind the counter with his hands on top, "So...What kind of work do you do? Construction? Thought you were a banker because of the suit, but you've got the hands of an iron worker." Joe said, his father once being one of the men that helped build Gothic to what it is today, and his hands looked the same way.
A team of sirens wheer by outside the barred shop windows, Joe tensing up wondering what was going down so close to home.
As though Renn could hear Joe's thoughts or predict the future, his hand was already fiddling inside his jacket pocket and pulling out a business card.
He slid the black and grey card over the counter. It read:
"All ears private investigations: We Hear All."
There was a little number and a few extra words too, he then looked up at Joe without muttering a word, quietly retreating his palms into pockets at the mention of them.
As though Renn could hear Joe's thoughts or predict the future, his hand was already fiddling inside his jacket pocket and pulling out a business card.
He slid the black and grey card over the counter. It read:
"All ears private investigations: We Hear All."
There was a little number and a few extra words too, he then looked up at Joe without muttering a word, quietly retreating his palms into pockets at the mention of them.
Picking up the card Joe examines it, his eyebrows rising, "Uhh...I know I sound like a bigot, but how do you do detective work when you're, you know...?" Reading the tiny slogan he looks up again, "You tap phones?"
His head bobs over to look out the window, the sirens were settling closer. The cruisers were stopped only a block or two away. "Uh look-" Looking at the card one more time, "Mr.Kelen? My name is Joe locke. You can call me anytime for repairs, I mainly do watches but I also moonlight as the neigborhood mr.fixit. Gimme a call if you need anything upgraded or fixed at the number on the window and I'll be happy to help. But..."
Taking off his grease stained apron and wiping his hands with it, eyes glued outside now, "I've got to close shop early. There's something I need to fix for my neighbors."
Exiting the shop and holding the door for Mr.Kelen he gives him one more goodbye then waits for him to walk a reaosnable distance before pressing his foot into the sidewalk and launching four stories into the air onto an apartment building, the roof nearly giving way to his incredible weight.
Walking to the opposite ledge he looks down, squad cars surrounding an abandoned building in not much worse wear than the one he was on now. Voices echo out of the empty windows, "We've got hostages man! Don't fck with us! We want a chopper on the roof and all you clowns gone in five minutes or this bitch and her kids are done!"
Shit. Joe was a one man army but this called for a stealth, not blunt force. If he crashed in he might set them off and they'd kill the hostages, if he didn't do it himself jumping in blindly.
@gale_xanders: @ishmael_strix: I've been coming to this post for the past four days and staring at the screen for at least an hour, struggling to respond. Those posts were f****king amazing lol. I need one more day to brainstorm where I want to go with this lol. I'm not ignoring this, I'm competing with it.
No no no! I should never have left Abby. Dang it, where is the way back? I can't hear the gunshots anymore! Crap! Why am I so stupid....wait is someone following me!
Her thoughts seemed to be within more chaos than the energy output of her own power, as she, though unable to fly, ran around at speeds just above the greatest olympic athlete. She managed to even increase her jump height, as jumped over wrecked cars, weaved past random passerbies and hoodlums, and managed to keep her balance through it all. Until she met one bum trying to make his way from the area with a shopping cart as soon as she cut the corner. Her eyes widened immense and she jumped, but the bottom of her foot hit the shopping cart.
With a high pitched shrill, she fell forward, her forward momentum carrying her quite the distance as she rolled and bounce along the concrete, her loss of concentration and inexperience leading to her lacking the ability to slow herself down, as she tripped along the ground. Her powers doing nothing to negate the pain of each impact. A gash along her arm appeared, small tidbits of aspalt embing themselves into her flesh. Her eyes looked it over with a sort of shock, rather than pain. Adrenaline was too high, and she'd never been hurt like that before. But, through steely determination, she opted to tough it out. She coiuldn't feel it yet, and now was not the time to fret. Not when she was being chased by some unknown aggressor.
I gotta take care of this guy.
Her mind goes back to the new Noir Rose, the way she shot the men up as she came in.
I mean, soldiers kill, cops do too....but only if they have to....I don't need to do that. Even....even if he's trying to.
However, she had soon come to learn how the world worked. She hated it, but if this was to show anything, it was to be a deterrent for the present and the future. Her hand cackled as it found it's way towards a lamp post. Electricity embed through it, and it melted within moment, the girl forming it into a sphere moments after.
Her hand extended and through months of practice in secret, she had found that she could intricately shape magnetic fields using her ability to control electrons. Her power did not rely on the strength of the body, but more the body's endurance and her own mental fortitude. And she was determined to never, ever allow this to happen.
Ever again.
It glowed red hot, looking almost like a laser as she shot it forth. In actuality, it was a narrow stream of molten liquid, propelled at velocities akin to a high caliber at hypervelocity. Through sheer kinetic impact, it would strike and drill through the ground and cause an explosion. Her intention being that, if it struck near and true, to use the small concussive explosion to make the man fall off his bike.
Her arm limped, and she found herself weak. Already, if the man would appear, or more were to come, she began looking around for an escape route. Onlookers backing away from the mutant, rather than drawing near her. She garner little sympathy. Only fearful, hateful gazes from those who would blame people like her for a place being like this. She shrunk back, concern on her face. Adrenaline pumping, she could hardly think up anything when poop hit the fan.
Having silently followed the scene, visually as well as physically, the adventurous meta-hating Count of Owls had slowly taken position atop a nearby roof. Stoic posture governed his observational composure as the scene below played out with unexpected intrigue. There, in the streets below, a young unknown child began to showcase an unbelievable command over some form, some derivative, of energy. A child,whom by all initial accounts, had been the victim of a kidnap ransom exchange gone wrong. Yet her she was taking up defiant stance. Feet planted and ready. Mental fortitude beaming off her renegade disposition. Her aim and precision indicated a learning curve above those of an accidental nature. This information would later be laid out and thoroughly dissected by the secret society of Strix. A family dynastically opposed to, in their opinion, the cancerous infestation of so called superior beings. Whom, in their self-aggrandizing nature, had captured countries and destroyed states. Perhaps must unsettling to Strixian aristocrats, was the irreparable pollution of the political landscape.
The masked blueblood crouched and amusingly smirked to himself as the beam struck with intense yet contained destruction. Sending the fatally injured motorist into a tailspin, lurching him off the exquisite two wheeled ride which was unintentionally ghost rided several yards before crashing. "Handled that." he introspectively mused. To engage now would be to reveal himself to yet another chapter of powered individuals. Having already engaged the legendary paragon of Gothic, thus inviting an inevitable rematch, Ishmael was hesitant yet.....compelled. His growing collection of hunter trophies could use an exclusive piece of work such as the young girl below. But she had already escaped two unbelievable situations thus proving to be well mentored in the arts of evasion and self-defense. Nevertheless she was young, alone, possibly malnourished and weak. Going through an experience that would have killed, let alone drain, lesser men.
Slicing the night air, pulling the subtle reverberations of metal sheering through the turbulence of motion, one of Ishmael requisitioned explosive shurikens had been launched with the intention of exploding in the unknwon Powers face. With the explosive confined before the detonation in order to cultivate a focused and isolated area of detonation. Fluent and near simultaneous reaction propelled the acrobatic seditionist into action. Regardless of his initial attack's success, or failure, the aristocratic assassin gymnastically dove off the roof somersaulting several times in a firmly tucked ball of cape and cowl. Before exploding open in a mirror articulation of a flying squirrel, firing his trademark Grapnel into the summit of the nearest lamp poll and swinging feet first towards, the hopefully stunned, teenager with the intent of extreme martial violation.
Sorry. I want her to be alone for just a little bit. I've never been in an actual combat scenario with her. And I get a little tired of playing with myself.
Sorry. I want her to be alone for just a little bit. I've never been in an actual combat scenario with her. And I get a little tired of playing with myself.
Sorry. I want her to be alone for just a little bit. I've never been in an actual combat scenario with her. And I get a little tired of playing with myself.
A spiteful claim to the city while adorned in the nostalgic attire of a Knightfall had leaked many clues to the Ebony Bat. He was a detective by trade and had absorbed every single word and detail that came from the unknown assailant with a keen eye, savoring it for further scrutinization when time would allow. Preparation was the essence of the Dark Vengeance mantle and being ill prepared was a quality unbecoming of the cowl.
Heavy were the shoulders that wore the burden of the knight. Alexander’s mind broke down every memory and dusted off the most obscure of details that he could recall of the well known clan. Whether this masked assailant was a Knightfall or not had less bearing on the quarrel at hand than if Gothic’s mayor was adequately prepared. The next few maneuvers and evasions would put his pride in readiness to the test.
The electrically charged shrunken had done well utilizing the element of surprise, completely taking Alexander’s counterpart unguarded. However, this shadow of a person was well-trained and executed a flawless vault to the rear and avoided the intended debilitating projectile, but instead taking advantage of the charge to set off his own diversion. Smoke pellets. Effective ones that clouded the immediate area that Alexander had desired to close the distance with. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, but refused to let this stranger gain the upper hand.
As quickly as the veil of grey smoke had appeared, it had fallen. The fluid and perfect movements of the expertly trained acrobat that rivaled Alexanders own had broken through the wind, each swing of his arms or kick of his feet had cut the wind like a bullet. The menacing dash was rapidly closing the distance giving little time for the Gothic Angel to react appropriately. His muscles tensed and boasted the tutelage of multiple masters in a wide variety of martial arts.
Together, their limbs clashed at speeds that a normal human would deem supernatural. While each of their strikes had been launched, the other was just as proactive as meeting and defending head on. Whenever one of the combatants had attacked, the other evaded and so on. Seemingly equally matched, the Owl like offender had exploited an opening, a weakness in Alexander’s defensive posture. The intended death strike was performed impeccably. With only a split second decision, Dark Vengeance took a single step back and bent his back into a limbo like stance in response to the surprise blade that had came within millimeters of the cybernetic cornea of the Gothic Mayor.
Refusing to let the void be exploited any further, it had been deemed to switch to the offensive in the battle. An acrobatic vault that reminded him of his younger days, Dark Vengeance had leapt back into a squat like stance and retrieved dual gas caplets from his golden embossed utility belt and immediately slamming them at the feet of the possible Knightfall imposter.
The capsules had contained a immense concentrated mixture of chloroform and ammonia specifically designed to blind and cough his enemy into a blind coughing fit that would eventually lead into a sleepy submission. Experience was on the side of Dark Vengeance as he would not allow the assault to slow down, but instead spring himself from the squad and torpedoed forward, leading with the vibranium gauntlets that had been embedded to his forearms.
Renn gestured with his palm and made a fake phone, both signifying he allegedly tapped phones and would call if he needed in the future. With a smile the seemingly sightless hero wandered out of the exit, "accidentally" bumping into the door frame, before turning his head away and walking out of view....
He had heard the commotion too...
Briefly pausing he reached the top of the roof and heard Joe bound off into the distance, he almost smiled. Hm. It took a few minutes for Renn to locate his apartment and don his suit, he didn't even leave his apartment as he listened to the hostage crisis en route via.
A hostage crisis.
Landing exactly opposite but slightly above Joe on an opposite building, he folded his arms and ascertained each and every heartbeat within the building, locating all of their weaponry and the best possible route to enter without being seen. Luckily, he was a master of stealth -- Simply because he could hear how others would hear him, and adjust his movements accordingly.
There was a fire escape on the side of the building... The hostages and takers were on the second floor, the escape allowed him to get onto the third without being heard. With a single, powerful yet elegant pounce he landed upon the roof and slid down to the escape without making a sound (although knowing Joe could see him now)... Before running his finger down a window-seal and feeling which window was left open...
...Click.
He turned the corner and entered a hallway; six men inside two different rooms.
@joe_locke: (That one-liner was so legit) The sudden silence from the vagabonds was unusual, but not without explanation. They'd never come up against a metahuman before, and they only had one idea to go with, one that required the meta to make the first move. Shaking in their boots, they knew that if this didn't work, they didn't have much chance of surviving the ordeal. Finally, he dropped to his knees, which, at first, they thought was submission, but they soon realized he was giving the Lockleys an escape. The thugs watched as he stood, and when he spoke, it caused their hearts to race. He grabbed a lamp post and ripped it from the ground for a weapon, and then he swung behind him. They let him have all their bullets straight in his face at that moment, but with his eyes closed, the idea was a bust. Even the bullets that actually managed to hit his eyes were deflected by his eyelids. Joe's attack was not so unsuccessful, however. He'd managed to bash in the head of one thug, and send three more flying back into the ground with extreme chest wounds. Four down, ten to go. "Ramirez! Gray! Taze that freak!" the leader said, shouting out his last idea. Two of the gangsters pulled tasers from their belt, and fired them at the meta. If this didn't work on him, they knew they were screwed.
The tiny anchors propelled from the ends of the box-shaped cartridges of the taser guns, aimed directly at his chest with a precise pinpoint over the Gothic goons' heart, but the plan was short lived. The anchors tap his chest and fall limp to the ground, Joe looking up with a confused smirk, "...Forreal though?" He bends down and grabs the coiled wires with a scoop of his rough palm while the gangsters stare in shock at his apparent stupidity, or maybe their own "Now!" the leader yells, ordering them to pull their triggers. The electric current flows through the copper coils near instantaneously, but Joe is just shaking the hooks in his hand like dice, "How'd I not see that coming." He wasn't even phased.
"Now!" the leader yells, ordering them to pull their triggers. The electric current flows through the copper coils near instantaneously, but Joe is just shaking the hooks in his hand like dice, "How'd I not see that coming." He wasn't even phased.
He throws the hooks back with a casual nonchalance that was deceptively weak in form yet every bit as powerfully launched as they were at his own body moments ago. The barbs sink into the shock troopers skin and the effect is immediate as soon as they land, every muscle accentuated and rippled to reveal itself beneath their flabby hides even still beneath valor track suits as they contracted. The current tightens their thick finger, along with every other muscle sinewed in their bodies, into an unrelenting vice on the trigger. They drop to the deck and flop like fish. This power sponge was absorbant, wore yellow, and wasn't porous, at least not in anyway they could see. Not one bullet hole let any blood free,
"Screw it boys we didn't come out for this! Get back in the truck! And you? We'll see how an rpg works on your ass next time!"
"MMO or text based?" He asks pulling off his tattered black jacket to reveal a bullet proof under armour like shirt beneath, "You come and find me whenever your ready little man, I'll be waiting."
They speed off into the hills of the hood roads until the sound of their screeching tires blend with the squeals and shrieks of the rest of the city.
"Mm" Legs planted, the gothic goliath turns left and right with his torso popping his spinal column in order like a stick ran over a xylophone. Looking up he sees a giant billboard, faded and falling apart, for a dive bar just a few blocks up the road. Seeing as he couldn't do much else for that family but pray, he sets off up the road. Bout that time for beer and billiards.
With the devilish dexterity of a battle engineered ballerina Ishmael dropped down into a single leg squatting splits. In harmony with his heroic counterpart as they both rapidly unleashed their chosen projectile's in what one could only consider a modern day quick draw. With the dark knight legend of Gothic proving to be the more accurate of the two. For although the masked Count had successfully targeted one of his dead-eye foe's encapsulated instruments of offensive entanglement, igniting it early with his own costume shaped shuriken, the other had managed to by the narrowest of margins escape and explode before his feet. Instantly forcing him into a positionary retreat with his midsection completely exposed, as cape was brought before face, mouth, and nose in a desperate attempt to shield himself from involuntary inhalation.
Almost immediately the sharp piercing pain inflected by the hidden Rook's razor tailored grieves forced Ishmael, by design, to take a breath. Almost unbelievably the young Strix sought to quickly catch the spearing vigilante's exposed neck, hopefully ensnaring him in a basic front headlock that would lead to a rapid succession of knees and ultimately, Ishmael would ride and or generate enough moment to flop to his back seeking out a rare submission. Showcasing the unique martial prowess of a pankration practitioner. But only if all had fallen to plan. Already the uncontrollable coughing and blurred vision were overwhelming the secret seditionist's honed senses. His grip and form slowly slipping in both power and proper technique. He was fading, and fast.
Good move Dark Vengeance, very good. Xae reached down and used her claws to gut her still living victim. She grabbed his living body by the neck and put him up against the side of a cargo container. She used her free hand to pull a device from her belt and put it against his shoulders. His eyes widened and he gurgled in additional agony as she used the device to drive a bolt through his shoulder. She did the same to the other shoulder and left him hanging there, his intestines spilled out of a gaping wound in his stomach. It would take him almost an hour to die and he'd suffer in the mean time in shock and pain he couldn't voice.
The Future Predator returned the device to her belt and sought higher ground. In a brief moment she was visible though only just barely as she leaped from the ground and used her wings to fly up to a higher vantage point, a huge loading crane on the docks. In that moment she was visible she appeared as a demon from Gothic's terrible nightmares. She landed on the crane and folded her wings and her suit took care of the rest, working to blend her in with the surroundings. When immobile her suit made her heat signature blend with the air around her, masked her biological rhythm and bent light around her to create a 'cloaking' affect.
The new vantage point allowed her to watch both fighters now that they had progressed farther from her original position and deployed various means to obscure vision. She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head ever so slightly as she traced the movements of Dark Vengeance's opponent. He's fading, must have been some kind of nerve agent or knockout gas. Clever, he reminds me more and more of Dark Justicar the more I watch him fight. He's more refined, more artful and less brute force but it's definitely there.
What a giant mess. Gale mused as she walked into the shattered remains of Bishop Tower. Shards of glass broke with her first steps into the building, her considerable internal mass ensuring the destruction of any glass she stepped on while her reinforced shoes ensured the glass had no chance of penetrating the material to her feet. Uncertain as to how safe the building was or what vagrants may have moved into it she drew both of her pistols and carried them at the ready at her sides.
She was here because it was an excellent time to retrieve information, just after the cops had left and before anyone had arrived to remove the evidence. The bodies had all been dragged out but the pools of blood they left behind remained. She could smell the scent of death and it excited her predatory instincts. The ancient soldier pushed those to the back of her mind, carefully avoiding any pools of blood or explosions of gore on the floor. The problem with fighting criminals and *just* killing them is you don't shutdown everything they were doing. It's likely most of that information is still here. I want to uncover what was going on here and hunt down the remnants of it, there's a good opportunity here to shut down several large criminal operations.
Xae remained on alert as she made her way up the stairs, ignoring the damaged elevators and heading for the main offices located in the higher floors of the building. If you've been in one office building, you've been in all of them. Always have the head offices up stairs near the top of the building lording over everyone on the lower levels.
Xae wants to shut down some criminal enterprises, but it's mostly a reason to have the new dragonfang interact with Xae since Xae could operate as something of a mentor.
@gale_xanders: "If you've been in one office building, you've been in them all. Always have the head offices up stairs near the top of the building lording over everyone on the lower levels."
Bah! Humbug I say! Mr Winters office is in the middle, such foolishness as being at the top floors is below a mind such as his.
Less then twenty four hours and the corpses were gone and so to the key bits of evidence. Figures that now Gothic authorities did their job, when the corrupt had fallen. For all their work though they hadn't gotten much. Any files were secured away. As for the evidence it was almost irrelevant, the bones of the dragon was what they took because a dragon was to blame. As things started to clear up Taylor told the employees to take a week off of paid vacation time. She needed time to process what followed given how her life had been flipped upside down.
At the moment though Taylor was in her father's office now her's. Jeans hugging her legs were starting to dye from the carmine stains she tried to scrub away. Her knuckles white as they grinded into tile with individual scrup pads. A series of mops were to the side of the office tainted soapy water around them telling that the little Bishop had been at it for awhile. Anyone who knew the child of the Gothic Bishop knew that being even in the late twenties Taylor hadn't had to work a day in her life. There was a virtually uncharacteristic drive to her behavior at the moment, scarlet hair done up in a pony tail for the first time in who knew how long.
Loosely dressed and unkempt was usually the look gone for a very punk styling. On this eve post her fathers death and the fall of the Gothic Dragon however she carried herself better then ever. Around her neck though was the more telling find, a necklace hung with the Bishop's dogtag stamped into a dragon shaped blade worn from use. Stopping to give her knees and knuckles a rest the Bishop's princess took a seat on her dad's desk. "Nobody is hear but me, you can put the guns away. Unless your hear to cap me, in that case I couldn't stop you."
Xae wants to shut down some criminal enterprises, but it's mostly a reason to have the new dragonfang interact with Xae since Xae could operate as something of a mentor.
Gale shrugged and holstered the weapons, not concerned by the girl and her own senses indicating she was correct. "She did a number on this place." Gale commented. "To be honest with you I didn't expect anyone here at all." Her eyes shifted around the room, taking note of the scrubbing that had been done, her eyes caught sight of the stamped dogtag as well and her advanced mind put together the math pretty quickly. "I'm sorry for your loss." She said gently.
"I'm not here to kill anyone but my experiences with places like this is to expect a shootout or loitering attackers. I'm here for information, Gothic's police are terrible at securing crime scenes, or in this case vigilante scenes and there's a great deal more that can be done with some of the information I suspect moved through this building than randomly killing people in an office." She shook her head a little. "Not my style at all."
Gale took a step closer to get within arm's reach and offered her hand to shake. "Gale Xanders, Jurassic World Holdings."
"What you have something against the Cretaceous and Triassic period?" The last Bishop commented not loosing her snark despite loosing much else. "Taylor Bishop owner of well whatever is left of this tower. Knew she could always do some damage but god damn." It was a mixture of frustration and amusement off a response. The last Bishop wasn't sure how to feel perhaps, a bit to privaledged and new to the scenario she was in. "Though what's a dino designer like you care about dad's work?"
Pulling her dad's laptop to her lap the grieving Bishop began to work on rooting out any information she could. "Weapons smuggling was the main business of this tower, it wasn't exactly a secret. What was a secret was this." Flipping a switch the monitor on the wall behind Taylor lit up. Cracks to the screen and blood ruined some of the image but it was clear enough. "Dad wanted to get a hold of some of the Maverick left overs. If he had his way he'd be able to strike a profitable deal with someone like the Brotherhood or Curve or so he hoped."
"You know Jessica worked for him? Just another persona amongst the many. Hell she and dad got me the bike I used to get hear for my birthday earlier this year." The sorry comment had gone from one ear to the next, Taylor not believing it to be true. "Efficiency of the cops comes down to who paid them, they were paid not to care about dad's activity. And if I'm being honest this wasn't the Dragon's style either, she was guerrilla tactics she was out to burn all she could that night though. If I had to guess it had to do with feeling inferior to Proxy and the risk placed on the more known Rook."
"Sorry, I was a fan and this has as you can imagine been on my mind for awhile."
Xae turned her attention to the monitor, listening closely as the hatchling spoke. "Eh, I didn't name the company, I just run it for them." She said with a smirk. "Besides, Jurassic rolls off the tongue better. I care about your father's work because I care about Gothic City. Perhaps you never heard the news when it came out awhile back, but I do a lot of...night time activities...in Gothic City as Xae. The Humans First Foundation made sure awhile back that most everyone knew that already."
She cocked her head ever so slightly at the images on the screen. "He would have sold them to the Brotherhood, they pay more...but never dance with Vipers. Especially if their cage includes a pet Time Siphon. I'm afraid I didn't know Dragonfang very well, I work mostly alone in Gothic and have the most experience with Dark Vengeance and his Hawk lovers."
"Do you know who his suppliers were?" Gale asked. "I was never interested in taking down your father, I want the people causing the problems, not the people profiting from them. You're right about this not being her style though, I've studied some of her past actions and it seems likely she wanted to go out so her brother would be safe...assuming of course she's actually dead."
"Hate to break it to you but about a day ago I didn't give a shit about most things so this Xae news is still news to me." The Bishop remarked with a shrug not meant to be offensive so much as simply honest. She was starting to realize she'd have to grow up but that didn't change who she was just who she might become. "Humans First, what a richly rhetorical title. We live on the same planet should invest in people in general." Her hands danced along the keyboard looking for information of note.
"There are snake charmers you know between human ingenuity and human stupidity there's very few options not on the table." Pausing she looked to the experienced figure not sure if she was legal vigilante or something other. Still maybe it could be helpful to try and make an allegiance here. "Dad always said when you see a good move, look for a better one." The Bishop remarked quoting one of the chess quotes her family was fond of.
"I don't know who the suppliers are, but I do have a location. And I think someone has to carry on Jessica's work. Will you help me get these guns off the street and into my hands to profit off of?" A switchblade being twirled in the biker's hand as she contemplated her moves. She wasn't a veteran of the game but apart of her had been raised for it. "Dead or not her skeleton is in the morgue but mine isn't."
Xae smiled a little at her words but it was her last comments that the Gothic Raptor focused on. "I'll do you two better. First, I'll put you in direct contact with a buyer I know won't misuse the weapons and second...I'll train you. If you're going to take Dragonfang's place you need to do so with more skill than you have now. Dragonfang would have never been helpless against someone armed with a pair of pistols, regardless of what she was wearing at the time."
Gale watched the switchblade for a moment, contemplating its effectiveness automatically. "I can train you and if there's anything you need to know that I don't, I can hook you up with others who can provide additional training. You're right, her work needs to continue but if you want to keep your skeleton out of the morgue...there's a right way to do it."
Baza the Face-Changer. Penumbra Baza. That is what the criminal underground knew him as, or so they thought. At any given time he could mask his identity in any way shape or form he could think of. The only constant was his height and body composition, but from there - where would his pursuers go?
One of these had been hunting him for a week, spying on him through binoculars and the scope of a sniper rifle. He could have taken the shot several times, but knew it those situations were too easy. The Shadow wanted to be caught, he understood his temporary status as prey. Yet Baza did not once become helpless. At any given time, his station as prey could flip in a disastrous turn of events for the sniper.
He sat down at a restaurant one day and ordered some water.
Only one way in, one way out. A large window separated the two. From several other possible angles the sniper could never take the shot. He had to settle for directly in front of the shop. Baza had picked a seat such that he could not be seen any other way. The congested streets of America's Favorite War Zone did not do him any favors either.
All he had to do... squeeze the trigger... and the several billion dollars promised to him would set him up for life. But then, his scope became dark. He wobbled backwards, and touched where his eye should have been. Yet he only felt the wetness of blood and the razor-sharp point of a needle. He did not cry out in pain, but he knew in that moment he could not do this job. With just a single gesture, his eye ceased to be.
Baza had spat a needle as he took a drink of water, piercing through three layers of glass: his own drinking appliance, the window, and then the scope itself. The damage went unnoticed for another few days. In the meantime, he sat at that restaurant three more times, and ordered the same grilled fish fillet and salad.
---
"That is why I wanted to speak to you three. Hopefully, there could be others in this world who can stop that monster. He's in this city somewhere. He probably has a different face than before, but his height and body composition stays the same no matter what. Look for a man who is exactly six feet and eight inches tall, with an unmistakable murderous intent in his eyes. You'll know, because you'll want to look away the instant you make eye contact with him. You'll know it's him, because as soon as you do you'll have the sensation as if he were holding a blade at your throat, or as if he were already stabbing you in the chest. It is his bloodlust, and it has driven many people insane. That is all I can tell you."
An anonymous tip came to me about a threat. A monster roams the city of---
Moa: "Gothic City?"
Yui: "How many times did we almost die in that wretched city?"
Moa: "of course there's a threat there, it's Gothic City."
In a flash Moa transported us in this place. Gothic City, we emerged into the light coming from a dark alley between two establishments. Here we are after many months of hiatus.
"Well--- yeah" I curtly replied. They're right. In this city, crime and injustice is ubiquitous.
Moa: "Why do people still live here again?"
Yui: "Wait, my senses are tingling..."
Moa: "yeah yeah, Suzuka Chan! Yui is hungry"
Yui: "Well, it's been months since we got to eat food you know..."
The two bickered for a while and I started to slowly walk on my own... As if my feet taking me some place.
Might as well investigate right? I thought to my self. The one we're looking for might be in this restaurant, silly it may seem. I walked up to the nearest restaurant and beckoned the two to follow, I did not need to tell them more and they came up to where I was also headed.
I opened the door and came in, the two immediately followed. I was looking for a vacant table when Moa tripped on the foot of a chair. The man in the table looked vexed and I could not blame him. Sometimes I wonder how Moa could be so clumsy when in fights, her reflexes save her and her companions.
The man stood up from where he sat and didn't say a word.
then a chill went down my spine. Something's different. Something's...
Something;s wrong.
Moa: "Gomen-ne!"
Yui: "We're sorry Sir!"
I walked up to the three and bowed courteously.
"I am sorry for the inconvenience my girls has caused you sir."
The man standing in the middle of the restaurant grew visibly angry, his eyes gleaming with rage. He did not seem out of the ordinary, though he did have a nasty personality.
"You'd better apologize!" he roared, disrupting the place. "Now get out of here before I kick you out, worthless little - "
"Hey, stop yelling," a quiet and reserved voice spoke out.
He sat at a table the girls had previously passed, having just now appeared to be there. This particular man had a plate of fish and a salad in front of him, and short red hair. He stood up, ready for something.
"Wh-Where did you come from?" the first man replied, obviously shaken. He had been sitting there for thirty minutes, and never saw the guy approaching him anywhere in the restaurant. Then all of a sudden this happened, and it seemed like he made himself at home a long time ago.
"That doesn't matter. I get that you want to act all tough in a city like this, but yelling at random strangers won't do you any good,"
This earned the red-haired man a swift punch across the face. He visibly turned with the momentum, but did not seem hurt.
"Come on, ladies, I'll buy you lunch at another restaurant,"
As the man showed them out, the owner came in to settle the dispute - only to find it had already stopped.
"Hey, your hand - are you okay?" he asked the man who had gotten upset.
He didn't speak, only sat down uselessly on the floor. He had caught a glimpse of something, something so terrifying the pain of his broken hand didn't snap him out of it. The owner told someone in the back to call an ambulance, fearing one of his customers had a stroke. That's when he passed by the plate of fish on a nearby table.
"What the... we don't even serve this here. This city's getting weirder and weirder by the second."
"You are right" realizing she had no real experience in combat Taylor paused briefly to examine the office more thoroughly to observe in a way new to her. She was no combat specialist however her family was always fond of chess a key component being to look for moves. She catagorized them into three groups, the more extreme and the basic, which led to what.ones she thought she could do. If she was going to become a dragon she needed to be wise as one because she couldn't be as furious as the one she idolized.
"There is no buyers. I'm taking it for myself, I mean your helping so I guess if you want to have some pickings we can negotiate. Was called a princess though, want that shit for myself." The little Bishop remarked jumping to her feet and taking a moment to grab what few weapons her dad kept in his desk. An additional moment was made to bag the laptop into a backpack. Looters or not to come Taylor didn't want someone getting a hold of the main files. "Training of course is welcome. Way I see it everyone's infatuated with the Lone Ranger routine, can't keep teams alive practically. But with everyone having an army there's no room to try and not be cooperative."
Despite being broken down from forced entry and being little more then a frame the Bishop opened the office door. "Lead the way" the light hearted behavior more just the grieving woman trying to get a sense of pryer self back. "Just do me a favor and don't go easy. Can't get good if the games settings are on low."
"If you want it, it's yours, I have much more advanced equipment for myself." Gale said with a shrug. She slipped out of the opened door or rather, what was left of it. "You want to be good? You need to start slow, not easy but slow. You have to establish basics before you can do anything else." She drew one of the pistols from its holster and as they walked she handed the weapon over to her. "I want to see how you hold one." she explained. "I also want to know what kind of combat you're going to try and learn. A lot of people make the mistake of trying to learn everything, they want to know all the forms of combat they possibly can...but unless I'm mistaken you're human and it's just not practical for Humans. You might learn new techniques over time and blend it in with your other combat techniques but there's a reason masters of Ninjitsu don't tend to also be Boxing Heavyweight Champions."
"Well aren't you fancy." She remarked at the claim of better tech but more with a smile then any form of agitation. "It's not about the best tech to me but reliability. I can't just go out buying the latest laser gun or whatever it draws attention. If I invest in cleaning up the leftover tech however then I have a cover as to why I have it. As the supply drops in the city I might gain some heat. But I can use that heat to root out maybe some bad eggs in this building. It's not a flawless plan but there's enough of a foundation to build off of. I don't want to be a shadow of Jessica, to become my own however I need to start out as such."
Taking the fire arm she raised it to get a feel of it in a field like element. Her hold and stance was uniform and military telling that her dad had been the one to show her. "Gale I'm a girl of Gothic I'm not a stranger to firearms just haven't had to pull the trigger on someone." Stepping into the elevated to more quickly reach the garage she continued figuring out her approach to things. "It'll probably be a mix of what dad taught me and improvisation. I'm relatively good at observation, I need to develop a tact here's how I see it."
"Jessica was as furious as a dragon, she had the scars to spark a fury in her and the training of an assassin. I have the training of someone militaristic and have lived a life of improvising on nights on the town, I have to meld that into the wisdom of a dragon." Reaching the floor Taylor was of course greeted by a mural of her father from one of his promotional adds. She took a moment to wipe the tears aside not ashamed of her vulnerability before stepping in the garage and heading toward her bike. "I assume you have your own transportation or would you like to pick from the left overs?" The amount of dead accumulated by the dragon left a variety of vehicles for Taylor to sort through eventually or just give away.
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