Outcasts: City Under Fire [IC: High Casual Superhero RP]

[Lord Wraith]

The last gentle rays of golden sun stroked against the western face of the Coastal Watchtower as the glowing orb ebbed its way below the horizon. Dusk had fallen upon Baeville which meant soon those who worked their nine to fives would soon be returning home for dinner, while those who thrived upon the night would soon be venturing out. A cold wind swept its way through the city as the five men piled into the old Cadillac, the wind sweeping their long coats around them before the doors slammed shut. The engine whined slowly before turning over as the big car made it's way down the alley it had been parked in before turning onto Central Street and heading towards the downtown.

Truth be told, Baeville isn't a crime ridden city. Sure it has it's petty theft and the occasional assault, which rarely evolves into murder but for the most part the city was known to be safe. That wasn't however to say an underworld didn't exist in the quiet city.

The Cadillac kept on driving down Central, passing all manner of restaurants whose neon lights and signs were turning on to signal the coming darkness. Heading South from Central, the Cadillac made its way towards the Foxy Lady night club. Pulling over roughly onto a drive way, the car made its way around to the back of the building where it parked, the trunk clicked open as the five men got out.

"Get the girls out the trunk and get them prepped and dressed. We need to make sure they're ready for tonight's guests." The man in the front said before another opened the door for him while two more went to the trunk and roughly dragged too barely legal girls from it.
"You think you can get them ready to perform tonight? Look at 'em, they've still got their mommy's milk on their lips and their eyes still be full of tears." The last man said walking beside the other.
"Doesn't matter what they're feeling now, they're fit, they look good naked and we've got him waiting inside. He'll make sure they work tonight."
"You brought him in again? But what about what happened to the last ones, their brains turned to mush. We can't have them bleeding out on stage again. It was hard enough passing that off as a zombie act last time."
"I paid him good cash to ensure it won't go that way. As long as we bring him girls, he gets to do his experiments and we get dancers. A deal's a deal."
"Aight Boss, but I think you're playing with fire." The man finished before leaving his boss's side and heading up the stairs of the club. The other four men took the two girls into the basement. Muffled screams could be heard as the man upstairs cringed before dropping to his knees and pulling a rosary. He didn't know who he was praying to, whether it was the God that the Catholics believed in or Zeus. All the man was sure of was that he was going to Hell for what he had just help send those girls to.

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Night had fallen by the time that Gabriel Carter had made his way out of the University. He had taken an extra couple of hours to study in the library before heading home. With no buses in sight, or his hearing range for that matter, Carter decided to take the trip on foot, super parkour style. Setting his back pack down, he pulled a large black hoodie jacket from within it and slide the jacket on. Slipping his hands in the pockets he pulled out a pair of fingerless gloves and quickly put his hands into them before throwing his back pack up onto his back. Bracing his legs he could feel the power surge in them as he looked around to make sure no one was watching before launching himself into the air. The height of his jump was incredible, he felt as though he was able to move further every day as though his strength was still growing. Making his way across the roof tops of East City, it was everything Carter could do not to damage the roof tops he landed upon. Eventually he arrived at the Union Bridge, as he climbed onto the suspension struts, he took a moment to pause. He liked to watch the lights from the cars sometimes as they sped across the bridge. In the night sky, the reflection of the headlights on the water below was always an interesting light show. However the light show suddenly became much more interesting as the usual dancing of white lights suddenly parted to allow for red and blue. Pulling his hood tight around his head, Carter took off after the cruisers below.

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"I told you we should have gone for the convenience store. We weren't ready for this yet." The first thief yelled over the blaring alarms as his partner attempted to stuff as much jewelry as he could into a large duffle bag.
"Shut up and grab the loot, we have like five seconds before either the cops or the vigilantes show up and I'm not keen on dealing with either." His partner said as he booked it for the door.
"Wait up, I'm coming!" The other yelled as he finished cleaning out the cash drawer he had his hands in. Together they ran out onto the West End street where their ride waited. Sliding into the back seat of the import brand car, the driver pushed the pedal to the ground as the car flew off just as the reflection of red and blue was coming around the corner.

"This if officer 319, we're in pursuit of the suspect vehicle. Dark Grey Honda Civic, all units in the area beware of a dark grey Honda Civic." The black and white Dodge Charger took off after the import only to quickly fall behind as the modified car was able to gain speed much faster.

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The sound of a baseball bat hitting flesh and bone echoed through the same North End neighborhood as the man beat on the other while the latter's fiance watched on in horror. Her screams for help went unanswered as the blood from her lover started to stain the pavement beneath him. The thug, finished with the man dropped the bat, before reaching for his belt.
"Since your boy toy didn't have much money, perhaps you could offer me some comfort my dearie." He said, smiling wickedly as he advanced towards her.

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Shadows of several boys on skateboards fell across the walls around the shopping complex as the echoes of their wheels on the pavement could be heard around the parking lot. Nudging each other, the all reaching into their back packs and pulled out cans of spray paint. It was their dream to turn the wall before them into an urban piece of artwork. After which they would continue their way down the rest of the mall. They had hit up a McDonald's recently, painting various pictures of cows and chickens being horribly mutilated and turned into the fast food products. The sound of compressed air hissed into the night as the first one began to paint.

[Mattmanganon]

This city, it was too warm for Ivans tastes, maybe it was from growing up in Siberia, but even the nights here were warm. He was on his way home to his apartment, a low-budget place in the ass-end of the city. He walked along the practically dead streets, it was too late for anyone to really be out, only the weirdo’s and the criminals, those who didn’t like to be seen in the day-light, Ivan got to the traffic lights and they turned to red, just as the little man turned to green. He began to cross the street just as police sirens came wailing into earshot, he looked along the streets to see the red and blue flashing lights following a grey car. He continued to walk but the car wasn’t slowing down. “Не пытайтесь его друг… (don't try it friend...)” he said under his breath. The car saw no hint of slowing down, he ran to the side of the road and pulled out his Beretta he trained it on the wheels of car. Though in his mind, he was no-where near here.

the small boy laying in the snow, a comparatively large rifle inn his hands, his eye looking down the barrel at the brilliantly white wolf, it was hard to see it with the rhythmic steam rising from his breath. The Wolfs head turned to look at him. He squeezed the trigger… slowly…

back in the real world the trigger met the wooden handle and a shot rang out, the bullet flew out of the end of the barrel towards the car, ripping straight through the tire. He put the gun back in its holster and watched the car veer off into the side of a building, crashing straight into the solid brick wall of a bank. He then grabbed put his hand to his heart and in a flash of blue, the black armour descended over him. Ivans mind was pushed to the back as something else took control, it was like watching someone else play a video-game. He power-walked across the street to the crashed Civic and ripped the car door off, the beast looked inside and saw none of them still inside, it then looked down the street to see one running and another limping, blood pouring from his head. The beast set off at a fast sprint towards the fleeing criminals

“FUCK!!! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!!!” yelled the injured criminal. “FUCKING HELP ME!!!” he yelled to his comrade who was running ahead of him. the injured criminals face hit the concrete quickly as the Beast ran by with his arm outstretched, hitting him hard in the back of the head. he continued, quickly closing the gap between him and the other one. The criminal turned around with a Machine-pistol. The beast slowed to power-walking speed and advanced on the criminal fast, the criminal held down the trigger and didn’t stop until all he could hear was the clicks to indicate that the clip was empty. He looked up to see all of the bullets were squished on the armour, the beast swept its arm down the front of its armour and wept off the small squashed bits of lead. He then stared back at the criminal, a small stain appeared on the criminals trousers as he fell over backwards. The beast walked over to the criminal and delivered a knock-out punch to his face. The sirens finally caught up with them, the beast looked at him and then set off at a fast sprint down the street, running into an alleyway, it then returned to the form of Ivan, he immediately threw his arms across his chest.

“aaaahhh…” he choked back his wail as he felt the pain as though someone had unloaded a clip of Uzi ammo into his chest. “AAAHH!!!” he hunched over and curled into the foetal position, wailing in pain. “ПОШЕЛ гадят ДЕРЬМО ЧЕРТ влагалище!!!” he cried out in all of his native profanities. he took out a small packet of pills and threw 3 pain-killers into the back of his throat, he lay whimpering, hoping for them to kick in as soon as possible.

[TheAcmeEmployee]

Desmond spied on the graffiti artists at the mall from across the street, having followed the trail of vandalism for about half an hour now. He lowered his night-vision binoculars, replacing them in the pocket of his baggy cargo pants. Yeah, it had been a slow night. This hero business wasn't exactly blockbuster movie material. The hooded vigilante hopped off the small building he had perched upon, his sneakers insulated with rubber and foam allowing him to land with ease. He smiled in satisfaction. Field testing was a success. The young engineer was always improving his vigilante gear, usually testing them on patrol. The shock absorbing shoes were definitely being added to the kit.
As he crept towards the gang of youths from the shadows behind them, pulling his hood up as he moved, and he began rummaging through the pockets in his cargo pants for something useful. His fingers searched past handcuffs, grappling hooks, nets, chewing gum and other assorted gadgets before grabbing hold of a small pellet.

This ought a do it.

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One of the hoodlums stopped painting for a moment to grab another can, first stepping back to take a proud look at what would be their latest masterpiece. He grinned in pleasure, the mural looking especially gruesome. There was graffiti, and then there was this, the kind of images that could cause an elderly person to take a heart attack.

"Gettin' real sick of your shit fellas..." came a voice behind them.

Most of the vandals jumped as the voice appeared from thin air. They turned to face a hooded figure, strolling casually towards them, flipping something in his hand as though flipping a nickel.

"Aw, shit. It's that hooded asshole." one of them whispered.
"Who?" another replied.
"Some dickhead my brother told me about, kicked his ass durin' a burglary last week."
"He looks like a chump." the other chuckled in disbelief. "Your brother must be a total puss, bro."

The man stopped and flipped the object towards the group, the pellet landing in the middle of the gang of hoodlums.

"... I like McDonalds."

Desmond calmly yanked the hood of his jacket down to cover his eyes, detonating the pellet with a thought as a blinding flash of light burst out from the tiny pellet. The group yelped and shielded their eyes, staggering backwards towards the freshly painted wall. One of the more thuggish artists started growling at him when he regained his vision, pounding his chest as if trying to recreate the effect of an alpha gorilla. A stereotypical tough jock if he ever saw one. Thick neck, popped collar, livestrong bands, this was going to be a blast.

"Bro, kick his ass." his friends snarled, shoving the large one forward roughly.

"You wanna go? You wanna go, bro?" Desmond taunted.

As the vandal took a swing at him, Desmond easily shifted his head backwards, away from the slow, sluggish punch. The vigilante leapt forward, rolling over the angry vandal's head and down his back, finishing with a mocking kick to the ass. The hoodlum tripped forwards onto his hands and knees, before jumping up and whirling around, grabbing hold of Desmond's jacket. The vigilante felt the impact of a fat fist slamming into his stomach. The enraged beefcake hoisted the vigilante up into the air, readying his fist for a brutal punch. After the first punch cracked across his cheekbone, Desmond wasn't planning on taking another. Time for a distraction. Taking control of the thug's cellphone, Desmond played the poor sap's bubblegum pop ringtone aloud at full blast. As his dim-witted opponent was distracted, Desmond smacked a fearsome headbutt into his jaw, landing nimbly as he was dropped to the ground. He sprang back up into the air, back-flipping to drive both feet strongly and squarely into the exposed jaw. For such a big fella, he had one hell of a glass jaw. The hoodlum was left on his back, his 'bros' left speechless.

"We done here, bro?" Desmond asked, wiping the trickle of blood from his chin.

The blank faces on their faces told him that noone would be dumb enough to make an attempt of their own. The others collected their fellow artist and fled, nursing damaged egos, and a set of busted teeth, maybe even a broken jaw. They wouldn't be expressing themselves again anytime soon.

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Desmond checked the time on his phone. The little escapade had barely lasted fifteen minutes. A flashing of red and blue lights darted past on the road behind him. He heard the wailing of police sirens fading into the distance.

"Yeah, I still got time." he smiled.

[Kangaroo]

Trent had been sitting in the shadows of that McDonalds, in a nice not-so-comfortable platic chair which he was sure would be trash at any respectable location but here in the dead of night it was his own luxury throne. He'd been given some front-row seating to a nice bit of vigilantism, some neighborhood thugs had drawn the attention of a passerby who was obviously more then prepared for dealing with the juvenile delinquents. He swigged from his beer and winced a little bit when a ultra-bright flash went off but then he saw that the biggest of the lot, the brute who was obviously the driving force behind the group seemingly trying to man himself up. As the vigilante got hit and got in trouble he went to stand up but he quickly felt an urge to sit down again, either due to the alcohol inside of him or otherwise. As he took his seat again, the hooded man managed to distract and defeat the thug with a series of moves that impressed Trent. It'd been well worth leaving that warm, cozy pub which he'd ordered a few too many scotches at, he'd only been following a rumor on the wind of occurrences but once again his otherworldly sense had proven it's worth.

Whilst many wouldn't view him as a hero or vigilante for the fact that he spent most of his time looking at the wrong end of a bottle but this was all due to the injuries he'd sustained and the shithole his life had become. Whilst more then secure financially due to a very generous government compensation and pension he was faced with the overwhelming burden of attempting to out drink his mailed cheques, something he had yet to manage despite having some rather heavy nights and even more horrid mornings. This was the makings of a bum, not a vigilante.

He decided he'd meet this hooded man who had dealt with the teens, he'd proven very capable in fighting and more then prepared with some of his toys and this interested Trent greatly, as well as what drove him to defend his neighborhood. He grabbed his drinking cane, a black walking stick that became required after a certain amount of alcohol had sufficiently impaired his walking and walked torwards the hooded man, exiting the shadows and rather tacky broken plastic chair which had been his viewing platform for an interesting night. The cane clicked on the ground as it's metal base impacted with the carpark surface, making it obvious where he was coming from to the hooded man. Despite his drunken state, his senses and eyes still picked up everything, this had been hammered to him after decades of training and assignments that no matter what your state was you still evaluated and investigate everything.

He started clapping as he said "Well that was some nice work, I especially loved the cellphone takedown on the jock, was a fine piece of improvisation if I do say so my..." he was briefly interrupted by the need to stifle a hiccup before returning again with "Sorry about that, myself. Was some nice work out there, you showed some good form and tenacity. But what makes a man, seemingly a smart man like you go out wanting to fight criminals in the night?" As he finished speaking you took another hefty swig of his beer only to realise with some disappointment that his next swig would be the last one from this bottle.

[WittyReference]

"Ha! Say's you!" A voice contradicted from behind the partially grafitti'd wall, low and boisterous in tone.

"His technique was sloppy! If he'd spent more time on the basics and less on gadgets and one liners, he wouldn't be tasting blood right now!" From his place in the wall's shadow stepped an old man in a baggy suit and a brown hat, leaning on a knotted wooden cane.

"You're good, but that's it...good." He stepped closer as he spoke until he formed a semi-circle with the techie and the drunk. "Keep playing hero like that though, and you'll get yourself killed!"

Whether in genuine anger or simply to accentuate his point, the old man threw a feint punch which Desmond had no trouble avoiding before thumping him on the back of the head.

"Hmph." With that, Dr. Heckle turned his attention back to both men. Tapping Trent's cane with his own, he chastised,
"What brings a ballet dancer and a drunk together on a night like this?"

[Fox Hound]

A one of a kind, early released Bugatti Super Veyron 2013 model, capable of snapping to 60 mph in 1.8 seconds silently shot through the streets of downtown Baeville. Its 9.6-liter W16 engine good for 1,600 horsepower, was heavily customized to produce a soft whisper even at its top speed of 288 mph, which could easily be maintained without harm to the vehicle. It's sleek design, 550 pounds lighter than its earlier brothers, was aerodynamically engineered to maintain perfect balance in every situation and altogether reduce its visibility. The matte black wrapped, carbon fiber bodied supercar, with its hardened exterior and bulletproof windows, was designed to withstand the onslaught of even the toughest of races and drivers. Its vast airplane wing of a spoiler hovered over it to act as a stabilizing force to counteract the 200mph speeds the vehicle was enduring, and also doubled as an airbrake to swiftly slow the vehicle when needed.

The car maneuvered through the nighttime traffic with impossible precision, blasting past the other vehicles as a dark blur and nothing else. Fred rounded the vehicle into the Foxy Lady's private parking area to hand it over to his personal valet who awaited him. "Remember, you're getting paid to do this. Don't you dare fuck it up." He said with a hard glare as he did every time he handed a vehicle over to another driver. Of course he'd spent weeks researching and recruiting some of the best drivers whose sole responsibility was to park the vehicle and wait for Fred's call to return it to him, but there something about the power that money gave him over people at any range that he found exhilarating. "Yes, Mr. Watson." Rang the obedient response over Fred's shoulders.

He strolled into the club, his overconfidence brimming out of his suit as he was approached by the VIP host. Fred was a regular and had his own personal skybox in which he and his friends enjoyed their time. Brushing past a woman or two on his way, a smile played on Fred's face as his shoulder made contact with them. A bundle of nerves was generated at the site of touch and released a euphoric blast that resonated through their bodies, leaving the women quivering in his wake. The host escorted Fred to the skybox and an attractive group of waitresses made their way over to get started on the group's extensive bottle service for the night.

"About time you showed up!" "Finally!" "How's the fastest driver around always the last one here?"
The calls of Fred's friends met him before he'd even shut the door. "Whatever, you know I wouldn't leave you shitheads to muck up the place." Fred shot back at the last remark with a grin.
"We're the shitheads? That's hilarious. But look, there's a picture here of that guy from the bank." Wade tossed his phone over to Fred, who snatched it from the air absentmindedly.
"Holy hell, what is that?!" The picture on the phone was appalling, a man lay in the ICU with boils and blisters, skin charred from the center of his chest to just below his eyes. "Did someone hold up a bank with a flame thrower???"
"No, man. You've got it backwards. This is what happened to the bank robber." Wade said as the group laughed.
"I don't know how you couldn't have heard about this. Yeah, they say some massive dude came up to him and, get this, fired beams from his eyes at him." With that the group burst into uproarious laughter. "No, no. It gets better! Apparently, the big guy was shot, like, three times in the chest and he just ate it up. They say the bullets fuckin' bounced off of him and then he proceeded to fryin' up a burglar." This time it was Tim chiming in who seemed to have heard a lot about it. "I've been looking all over, but I don't think it'll be coming out anytime soon."
"What?"
"The video. There's plenty of surveillance in there, likely three or four cameras in the lobby alone. It's only a matter of time before that video gets leaked. Hell, the bank could pay me all the money in their vault to keep it all under wraps, but if I had access to that tape, I'd be bumping up to Class A fame overnight." Wade said.
"You actually think there's someone running around with heat vision and impenetrable skin?" Tim laughed with the rest of the group at the notion. Wade, however, stayed silent.
"Shit happens, man."
"Honestly, I'm with Wade here. I don't see why there couldn't be some super powered Vin Diesel strolling around melting people with his mind."
The group was nearly in tears laughing at this point. "Hahahaha, 'I don't see why not.' I see what you did there, Rick!"
"Pft, I sure as hell wouldn't have when I was born." They all burst into laughter again when the waitresses began to return.
"Well, hello again, good lookin'. What do you think of this whole superhero deal? I don't know if you know it or not, but I've got a superpower too. I can go from drunk to naked in no time at all." Tim shot out to one of the attractive young women.
“Well, I don't know if it's true. But, god, I hope it is. I'd love it if someone saved me from you right now."
"Ooooooooooooh!" "Ouch..." "Hahaha, I bet that burn feels worse than the burglar's!"

[Hillan]

A Collab Between Hillan And CidTheKid.


The night was cool and calm, just like That Man liked it. He could hide his snubnosed revolver under a jacket without sweating, and walking down the street was always that much more pleasant with a chilly breeze around him. The North End Neighborhood was one of the best places in town to hustle, as it was always active, day or night. People would get mugged, stores would get robbed and pawnshops would be around every corner ready to buy goods without asking too many questions. Paying attention was important in this sort of place, keeping an ear out for everything was how he stayed one step ahead of everyone else. With never any reputation to lose, or without needing to fear retribution, he could easily stay in the business of monetized vigilantism. By returning lost goods, people generously let him keep a small share. Unfortunately though, people would never come to him for his services, he had to look for clients himself. And thats precisely why he walked down dangerous avenues at night.
---
Jacob was out, walking back home to the northern district. He had chosen against taking a cab back from Band-practice. The chance was smaller that he'd see something that would set off his.. Need if he'd walk, or at least, so he thought. It was always the same story with these things. He always had a sense when someone nearby was in danger, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Almost like a Spider-Sense, only you know, useless. However, it wasn't there at the moment, no. He was walking past the street, when he passed a man in a coat. He himself wasn't wearing anything more than a leather-jacket, a pair of ripped- stonewashed jeans and a T-shirt under the unbottoned jacket. In his pocket, his glasses and bandana laid in the inner pocket of his jacket.

He was just a couple of blocks away from his house, when the tingling feeling put him dead in his tracks. "Go away.. Go away.. Go away..." He repeated to himself, he knew it wouldn't go away. It never did.

---

The man in the coat turned around when Jacobs pair of footsteps stopped. Youths walking home wasn't a rare sight, no matter how empty the streets may seem at any given time. However, this one in particular had stopped walking for some reason. That was rarely seen, since most of them knew better than to stand still in the middle of the night. "Whats the matter, dude?" the man asked.

---

Suddenly, the man that had passed him had turned around. Jacob looked up at him, with a weary look, as he nodded. " Yeah.. I'm fine.. Just a little.. Ehm.. Headache..." He blonde male said, as he looked at the other man. " But.. Thanks for asking.." Jacob continued, as he kept on walking, he had to find the source of where this need for Heroism was. That was the only way to get it to stop. He turned around a corner, and fiddled into his jacket ,getting out his aviators and his Bandanna. Putting them on, he began walking towards where his gut told him to go. A dark alley, where he heard screams, someone was in trouble.

---

Jacob had been followed into the dark alley. It had been a slow night for the man in the coat. The constantly increasing drop in crime seemed to be killing his job. Thankfully, this kid seemed to be up to no good. Just fall out of his field of view for a second, and then follow him discretely, and with any luck he wouldn't be the wiser. Right there, in the alley was quite the gruesome scene, and the kid was walking right into it. Standing his distance, The man in the coat gripped his gun, ready to pull it out at a moments notice.

---

Jacob had noted the footsteps behind him, but paid no attention to him. His...Craving, so to speak. Was too strong, as he took two steps into the alley, he looked at the man swinging the bat, just as he heard the victim's last scream ,before he either passed out, or died. The man with the bat was just about to attack the woman, when Jacob burst into action, sprinting towards him. " Hey, STOP right there, you criminal scum!" He shouted, a line straight from his favorite video-game. He jumped into the air, and with both his feet, he kicked the man in the back. Jacob himself fell down on the ground, not being able to see anything, because of the dark-alley, and the fact that he was wearing aviators.

The Thug recovered, as he grabbed the bat again. " Who the hell are you supposed to be, tryin' to stop me from' gettin' some pussy?!" The thug shouted, as the woman screamed, and clinged to her half-dead partner. Jacob saw how the man was about the swing the bat down at him.

---

It was dark enough that you couldn't see very much in front of you. Too dark for shooting, as there was about as good a chance of hitting the kid or the woman as the thug. And the aforementioned thug had a bat, which beat out a gun when it came to bashing heads in. Thankfully, the prefered method was still viable. Bluffing.

A gunshot was fired from the Snubnose, which was great for getting attention. "This is Baeville City Police department, get on the floor now!". Those words could send chills down the spine of any common thug. But in the dead of night, they lost their effectiveness quite a bit. In fact, sometimes thugs got clever and tried something. This was one of those times. The baseball bat passed right in front of the gunmans face, much too close for his comfort. He strafed to the right and backpedaled, hoping to put some space between him and the thug. Instead, he found himself up against a brick wall, staring down the handle of a baseball bat.

---

Jacob got up, as he heard the gun-shots, almost sure it was the actual cops. Much to his surprise, it was the dude who he had met a few minutes earlier. Jacob sighed Why the hell am I the one who has to be the hero? He thought, as he began sprinting towards the thug, throwing himself at him, knocking him down to the ground before he could smack the bat into the head of the other male. Jacob and the thug thumbled around on the floor, as Jacob kicked him off him. Putting his hand into his side pocket, he got out his butterflyknife.

" Looks like someone brought a bat to a knife fight!" Jacob shouted, as he turned his head to the other man, the one with the gun. " Mind not pointing that thing at me? I'm the hero, here!"

---

An audible click reverberated accross the alley, followed by a gunshot. The thug fell backwards with a nice, bassy thump sound, while the baseball bat clattered on the ground beside him. "I don't see your point hero, as you brought a knife to gunfight." When bluffing failed, shooting would pick up the slack. Fortunately the commotion on the ground gave the conman time to line up a shot. "Why don't you call 9-1-1 while I take care of a few things?" The thug was still bleeding out when his pockets were emptied, and his stolen belongings were returned, minus the 30% commission charged. Another job well done. Mostly.

[Stein]

Tammy Reynolds was, for the most part, finally able to breathe. She had gotten to the point where she wasn't constantly looking over he shoulder in crowded areas, checking for ill-intent faces or malicious presences. She didn't have to duck her head down when she walked in to building where she knew there was a security camera. She had actually started making a couple of friends without the thought of trying to research them first. She had stopped sleeping with a gun and knife under pillow.

She had finally stopped worry about the well-being of Robyn every fifteen minutes.

Robyn.

Tammy's heart ached slightly as she thought of the girl. None of this was right. This situation. None of it.

With a heavy sigh, Tammy rose from the couch where she was sitting and reading over case files, making her way to make another cup of coffee. It was going to be a long night. It had been a few months since she had escaped with Robyn from the facility where she had foolishly called herself a loyal scientist at one point, and she had finally picked up another well-paying job, and she could actually feel this one lasting. The transition on the run and undercover had not been easy. Robyn stuck out like a sore thumb in some instances. Her eyes always search around her, like a caged animal in a new area. Her body was always tense. And, she always seemed ready to spring. Hell, on their first week on the run, Robyn had broken a man's hand for copping a feel on Tammy's behind. The man had screamed out in pain, and Robyn had jabbed him in the throat to block his airway, causing him to collapse on the floor, writhing in agony. Tammy had tried to scold Robyn, but she couldn't be too hard on the girl. For Robyn, that had been a way she showed that she actually cared for Tammy. Tammy knew she saw her as one of the only constant things in the world. And for all Robyn's advanced training, knowledge and the like, she was still a young girl in some areas.

Their transition had been made any easier by Robyn's abilities. She was still working on controlling them, but their first apartments hadn't fared so well. Metal rods coming down from the ceiling, window panes missing, and a plethora of other things. But now, Robyn was actually getting better. Tammy had made the executive decision to try and hone and control powers before she worked on the social aspect of the anomaly that was Robyn Anderson.

Now, Robyn was sleeping in her room. Tonight was a good night. There hadn't been any thrashing, or cries of pain. There'd been no rumbling from Robyn unconsciously manipulating the magnetic field in the building. Tammy peaked in the room and saw just a beautiful girl. In her sleep, Robyn actually looked like a normal girl. The experience of things she'd done and seen didn't play on her face. Worry and a critical eye weren't evident. One could actually believe that this was just a girl going through a little bit of trouble in life.

And that's what Tammy wanted to make for her. A life where all she had to worry about was passing classes, finding a boy. Tammy would even be alright with a pregnancy scare. Just something.....

"Normal...." the words escaped Tammy's mouth before she knew what was happening. She gave a soft smile as she closed the door softly.

Just something to make Robyn felt like she belonged. That was it.

[Lord Wraith]

After his failure to pray his way out of his guilt, the man had taken to the bottle. His name was Brad Allegro, slightly a black sheep of the Allegro family. A black sheep in the fact he had a conscious. Abducting young women to have them brainwashed by some Russian fanatic was not his idea of a good way to run a business, but yet for the past three months that's how the Foxy Lady had been finding its dancers. Naturally brain washed women didn't require a pay cheque, and most of these women were never missed.

Staggering his way downstairs, the alcohol had awakened a curiosity that his sober self would have never wanted to see. He wanted to see the Russian work, he wanted to see how one of those 'freaks' used their powers. Making his way to the basement again, he half walked, half stumbled down the stairs, he saw the dingy basement turn from stone and wood to a newly renovated laboratory.

"Vat is he doing 'ere?" The Russian asked, biting down hard on his consonants as he spoke.

"I *hic* want to watch."

"You vant to vatch?" The Russian seemed amused. The other mobsters around seemed to become rather nervous, as the Russian stood up from his chemical experiments. Though drunk, Brad was still observant as he looked around. A nearby computer screen was running a simulation of human DNA being mixed with a formula, while another displayed statistics about an airborne containment and the spread radius. Lastly across a desk were several blueprints showing mechanical augmentation of a human skeleton.
"I tell you vat, how about instead of just vatching, you become my experiment." His accent amused Brad, the way the Russian bit down on each dental sound and spat out each English word as though it was a horrible taste in his mouth.

"Oh *hic* Kay..." Brad nodded, smiling from ear to ear like fool.

The Russian smiled as the others around him cringed. Lowering the dark eyeglasses that shielded his face, the Russian revealed his mysterious eyes to Brad. Looking Brad straight in the face, the young mobster had no choice but to look straight into the Russian's eyes. They were like whirlpools of water, except you felt like you were drowning while you looked into them. Brad slowly felt himself slowly slipping away as the Russian's voice filled his head.

"Here's vat I want you to do..."

-----

The music in the Foxy Lady echoed all around, the bass pounding across the stage as the girls danced, strategically removing their clothes without revealling the whole package. The girls who had been brought in earlier happily danced away on the stage as though they were old pros.

Suddenly laughter erupted from those around as Brad danced his way onto stage, swinging his shirt above his head while taking swigs from a bottle of scotch. The music was abruptly cut as security rushed onto the stage to grab Brad. No sooner had they come onto stage then he threw down the bottle of scotch and lit the alcohol aflame. Pulling two handguns, he nailed a guard in a knee and another in the shoulder. Firing into the air, the guests screwed as the dropped to the ground while Brad, no longer seemingly drunk walked down the center of the club.

"People of Baeville hear me! I have been enlightened!" Upon the word enlightened, he fired more bullets into the air. "Change is coming, soon the weak will be separated from the strong and when this city has been purged, then we will move on." He pointed one gun to his head now, raising the other into the air emptying its clip completely. "Today Baeville, tomorrow the world." Brad's finger begin to twitch as he started to fall out of the trance, he was fighting himself. He let out a scream as he failed to stop his own hand. The trigger clicked and one last bang sounded as Brad fell to the floor as the blood poured out of his now empty skull.

-----

Gabriel jumped from rooftop to rooftop. His shoes were perfect for this kind of parkour like exercise which made keeping his footing quite easy. The sirens had headed towards the West End, which means whatever the crime was likely came from there. His hood hung low over his eyes keeping his identity concealed as he bounded across rooftops. The wind rustled the hoodie as Gabriel hung from the side of an apartment building, scanning with his eyes infrared vision to follow the police cars. He could see the heat from the car crash, though what caused the crash was a mystery to Gabe. Summoning his strength, he pushed off from the wall, launching himself into the air before free falling. Tucking his legs in to his chest he rolled through the air, righting himself in time to use his momentum just in time as his feet met another roof top and he pushed off. Jumping again he quickly came across the car crash. Ahead there was three people passed out on the ground. Two looked pretty roughed up while the other merely was huddling in the fetal position. The police were already moving in to pick the three of them up.

It looked like Gabriel wasn't needed here tonight.

Or at least so he thought until he saw a man limping away from the scene with a dufflebag on his shoulder and using a shot gun for a crutch.
"Well now, looks like someone managed to pull a switcheroo." Gabe muttered as he slide down the brick wall before leaping onto the ground.
"Hey Bub!" He yelled, drawing the thug's attention to himself. The thug spun around, holding the shotgun up in the air, he quickly cocked it with one hand.
"Stop right there punk! I don't want to kill you if I don't have to." He held the gun level at Gabe's chest as Gabe kept moving closer and closer to the thug.
"I'm afraid I can't let you move leave with that."
"And what are you going to do? Can't say I didn't warn you!" He said letting the shot fire from the gun. The blast of buck shot burned through the chest of Gabe's hoodie, scorching the bionic skin beneath it. Staggering slightly, Gabe cracked his knuckles before he proceeded to continue coming closer.
"Huh, you can take one shot. Can you take another!" The thug yelled, cocking the gun again only for the dufflebag to drop from his shoulder as a beam of red scorched the strap from his shoulder. "What the he-" The thug was cut off as Gabe launched himself forward a bionic powered punch to the jaw knocking the thug flat on the ground, dislocating his jaw.
"Stay down, Bub." Gabe muttered as he punched through the window of a nearby store, ripping out the metal grating that guarded it by night. Quickly wrapping the metal grating around the thug, he placed the dufflebag on top of the thief before leaping to a nearby fire escape. As sirens rounded the corner, Gabriel quickly scaled the apartment building, as he climbed, he felt his grip slip. Falling slightly, he thudded against a bedroom window of a beautiful blonde girl. She looked to be about his age, but Gabe couldn't look long. Well not without committing a felony himself. Perhaps he could run into her another time.

With a mighty pull, he launched his body upwards, grabbing another ledge and heading off into the night. It looked like another set of cruisers were heading for the downtown. But if that was true, there would likely be way too many officers around for Gabe to even dream of helping out. They would bust him for being a vigilante. With that in mind, he turned East and headed back towards his loft apartment on East City.

-----

Good Morning Baeville City! This is Andrea Pearson reporting with the Breakfast Club. It would seem last night was a busy night for Baeville's police force as a deadly suicide occurred in the Foxy Lady Club down town. Brad Allegro of the famously notorious Allegro family shot himself after what appeared to be too many drinks. Police are still investigating this incident.

In other news, police have had their hands full in a number of petty crimes. Swift Jewelers on King was robbed last night but not without the thieves being caught. A mysterious vigilante assisted police in the capture of two criminals before passing out himself. The vigilante is in East City Hospital under police watch currently while the two suspects have been taken into custody. There was another suspect found nearby mysteriously wrapped in metal grating that appears to have been ripped from a nearby store window.

It would seem vigilantism is on the rise in Baeville. A number of teenagers were reportedly assaulted by by two vigilantes outside of Baeville Mall. While in the North End, a woman claimed her and her fiancé were rescued by a duo of vigilantes from a would be mugger and rapists.

Once again this is Andrea Pearson and these are your top stores.

Gabe stirred from his futon as the TV came to life. It seemed in his sleep he had rolled onto the remote and turned the TV. Groaning, he felt the warmth of the sun, peeking through the window. Standing up he opened his blinds, allowing the new morning's light to recharge his body. Below on the ground a couple girls blushed and giggled as Gabe looked down to find himself shirtless. At least he was toned, he thought as he felt his own cheeks flush before steeping away from the window. Looking down at his chest, he traced the remnants of the burns from the criminal's buckshot. Essentially they were heeled over, but his skin was still susceptible to temporary scars it would seem.

Reaching into the door's mail slot, he pulled out the paper and began to look through the pages. The story about the incident at the Foxy Lady was definitely interesting, but Gabriel had no idea what it could mean.

Showering quickly, he stuffed his black hoodie into the side pocket of his bag before slinging over his shoulder as he finished dressing. Locking his door behind him, he made his way to a bus stop. While he didn't have any plans for the entire day, the first thing he was doing was picking up a couple new releases from his favourite comic book store.

[TheAcmeEmployee]

Desmond had spun on his heels as the man addressed him, his hand already having dove into his pocket, now aiming a modified tazer squarely at the man with the bottle and cane.

"... but what makes a man, seemingly a smart man like you go out wanting to fight criminals in the night?" the man said in a slightly slurred voice.

Desmond could smell the stench of liquor off him, and holstered his weapon, no longer considering the man a threat. The way he leaned so dependently on his cane let the vigilante know that he couldn't be too much trouble in his drunken state. Desmond winced involuntarily and turned his face slightly as the man spoke, the reeking of alcohol on his breath was somewhat overbearing. Smelt like he was trying to drink something away. Something nasty.

"Oh... thanks, man." he said, pleasantly surprised that someone appreciated his work. "The way see it... if I got the power to lend a hand, there's no reason for me not to help out." he smiled.

Again, another unfamiliar voice appeared, this one sounding wise, yet bitter.

"His technique was sloppy! If he'd spent more time on the basics and less on gadgets and one liners, he wouldn't be tasting blood right now!" Desmond turned to see another cane-using stranger approach them. What the hell was this anyway? Did he have a fan club now or something?

"Hey, hey, hey!" Desmond interrupted. "Now I may be a lotta things, but I sure as hell ain't sloppy! I do exactly what I mean to." he said defensively.

He barely attempted a dodge as he allowed the old-timer to strike him. Desmond had half a mind to return the favor... if this guy had been like, seventy years younger.

"What brings a ballet dancer and a drunk together on a night like this?"

"I can't speak for this guy, but I'm just tryin' to-" Desmond began. He was cut off when the Bluetooth earpiece beneath his hood came to life, interrupting his train of thought immediately. Desmond had customized the device to receive police radio signals. The vigilante turned away from the men, brought his two fingers up to the earpiece, trying with some difficulty to hear the unclear, fuzzy policewoman's voice. An alley on street not far from his location. Several men entered. Residents heard shots fired. It had been reported by a resident roughly 10 minutes ago, but it was worth a shot. The vigilante knew it was unlikely he would even make it in time to help, but he had to at least try.

"It's been a blast, gents, but if you'll excuse me, I really need to get going." Desmond said. "You ever want to lend a hand sometime, I'd appreciate it."

The hooded vigilante left as quickly as he had arrived, a concealed grappling hook in his sleeve zipping him back to the darkness of the rooftops.

-----------------------------------------------
------------------------------

"Donovan...."

"Donovan...!"

"DONOVAN!!"

Desmond awoke with a start, cold water having been thrown onto his face. He looked up from his wooden 'pillow', only to see his lecturer's irritated face leering over him, and realizing he had dozed off in yet another lecture. His mornings were never much but a tired haze, staggering out of his apartment after a long night of playing hero. The young vigilante had been sleeping, huddled over to rest his face on his desk. The other students didn't bother waking him, and seemed to find this hysterical. Desmond had no idea why this was funny. Seems him falling asleep in class never got old. The pompous, bearded lecturer clutched a now empty bottle of water in his hand, and was clearly enjoying making a laughing stock of his student.

"S-sorry, Professor Keyes..." Desmond mumbled. "Won't happen again..."

"Heard it before, Donovan. Not enough for you to be incompetent, but you feel the need to sleep in my class?" he said angrily, tossing the bottle at Desmond's head as he walked away. Even in his groggy state, his eyes half open, Desmond caught the bottle easily, setting it back on his desk. He had been up all night. He never found who was responsible for the gunshots, but even then refused to go home, remaining on patrol until the early hours of the morning. Same thing he did every night.

This kind of lifestyle would have been the end of any other student, but Desmond could probably outdo the others in his sleep anyway. He stretched his arms and neck, feeling the bruises from last night on his stomach. He sat back in his chair, trying to appear as attentive as possible. Same old routine. Sit up straight, and slowly but surely, the head would find it's way back to the comfort of the desk. Desmond just couldn't wait for the sun to go down.