October 26th, 5:54 PM
Coast City, USA

Preston tapped his fingers against the counter, his forearm resting to prop himself up. His phone was currently in his hand. That same hand also bore his Green Lantern's Power ring, despite the fact that he was in his civilian attire.

He had just gotten off the phone with some news people. Hub City, Central City, and even one Skeptic from Gotham. He was trying to arrange his big move, but he still needed a little help.

He scrolled through his contacts until he reached Oscar. He had never actually talked to the man over the phone. The only time he had actually spoken to him was when he had first gotten his ring. Preston would drop by with new reports of his mundane life to the voicemail of a man that probably wasn't even listening. On one hand, that was super weird. On the other, Oscar never got around to calling him back to tell him to stop, so it was nice for Preston to have a quiet ear to pour everything into. At least, everything unrelated to his alter-ego, that is.

He considered calling him again. The air was cool outside, maybe after he made this really dumb decision he would go out for a walk in this wonderful Coast City weather. Hard to believe that he had gotten his ring a year ago.

"Alright." He whispered to himself. "Gotta do this." He hit the call button and let the phone ring. Voice mail. as he expected. Nothing wrong with that.

"Hey, Oscar. Me again." He took a long sigh, wondering if he should go through with it. "Look, I've got some news, and I'd really like for you to call back if you get the chance."

"My name is Preston Westfield, and I am the Emerald Knight."

The Tiger: An Interim
March-October, 2020.

March flew by, Marvin had--for the most part--spent the rest of April and May cleaning up the criminal gangs in and around Brooklyn. By June, crime in Brooklyn had dropped to nearly zero; consequently, the city began to speak. Whispers of Brooklyn’s mysterious vigilante spread similar as the wildfire which engulfed New York City months earlier. In the wake of crime’s depression in the Brooklyn area, Tiger was able to focus his efforts on other things. Come the end of July, he was able to finish his mixed martial arts training, achieving inhuman levels of prowess in: Taekwondo, Judo, Boxing, Greco-Roman wrestling, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, Muai Thai, and Krav Maga to name a few.

He had also went about setting up cameras on every street in Brooklyn, including alleways. All of which programmed to the same frequency as the magic detecting satellite he helped Grim build earlier in the year. There was little which occurred in the city of Brooklyn which escaped the Tiger’s watchful eye, normal or mystic. Earlier in the month of July, he had thrown Independence Day festivities; a block party for the entire Marcy housing projects. There were school supplies for the kids, fireworks, Marvin had even partnered with the local homeless shelter and invited the city’s disenfranchised for the celebration.

Not all the month of July was peace for the Tiger, he watched vigorous as Grim, Lady Arcana, and several other vigilantes he had never seen before repelled rebel forces in the Middle East. A hundred thousand men or more versus six or seven vigilantes, and the vigilantes won. Marvin was tickled at the sight, if there was any inkling of desired secrecy in the vigilante community, it was now gone. It was national news. The repercussions--good or bad--meant the citizens of New York would grow to love or hate masked men such as himself; which way the public leaned Marvin could not yet tell; the populus (and he, himself) were still new to this ‘hero’ phenomenon. Marvin was unsure how much longer he could shroud himself behind the Tiger’s mystique, the public eye was well set on the hero community, and though he personally did not care too much about having his identity exposed, to have his veil lifted would mean he would have to begin anew. One could never be sure what enemies one may make in this line of work, no matter how secretive one attempted to remain.

Marvin had assumed there were others like himself out there after meeting Lady Arcana, Grim, the Tree, and the others during the riots. Since then, he had been watching them all--creating countermeasures for each one. A swell of joy fluttered within as he imagined Grim was doing the same. Nice improvements on the jet, by the way. I’ll need to tell her when I see her next. As July waned, The people of the Marcy projects were watching him, too. News of vigilantism around the nation focused the Marcy residents’ formerly unconcerned eyes on the large warehouse which overlooked the whole projects as though it were some five star hotel high rise. They begun to wonder just who--or what--had suddenly made their slums crime free. But many of the citizens, like the criminals Marvin had preyed upon, never heard nor saw anything.

July faded into August; the dead of summer was never Marvin’s favorite time of year. His suit oxygenated itself, but it was still partly made of leather and on those arid summer midnights when the air was still and the people of the projects slept, Marvin was leaping across the city’s rooftops. Even with the projects relatively safe, the Mob began entrenching itself in the five boroughs once more. Marvin drove the dregs of the mob from his part of town with a lightning ferocity; he had not taken out the upper brass. In truth, he did not intend to; there were grander threats worthy of his attention, the Mob’s infighting would assure they took care of themselves sooner or later. A few sightings of Brooklyn’s resident vigilante by the city’s insomniac and night owl population, and murmurs about the moniker of the Brooklyn mask spread: ‘Claw Man’, ‘Kitty’, ‘Jaguar’, all feline related. Marvin heard the whispers and each guess amused him.

Life as a vigilante was not glorious, especially for Hayes. Most of his time was spent in the warehouse where he watched the world as it progressed. Part of him wished he was out there participating in its advancement, establishing relationships; but so is the isolated life of his line of work. While the world advanced technologically, Marvin watched. He designed and installed into his current suit a rotation of different visual nodes: one for night vision; there was another for motionsense; in borrowing from Grim, thermal and heat vision, and by replicating the design of the magic sensory satellite’s features, a node for visualizing magic energies large and small within a long radius.

He continued working with the samples of magic energy he attained in March, but he made no great advancement. August lulled, and Marvin’s desire to stir swelled; he travelled around New York, pursuing the night life. Clubs, bars, ballrooms; he figured it best to spend some of that money he had saved and network with some of the city’s rich and depraved. He forged friendships with some of the city’s most powerful politicians, bankers, crime figures, and celebrities. Come the middle of September, there was no member of New York’s elite who Marvin didn’t know. He opened small non-for profit organizations, started a martial arts gym, and was in the process of mapping out a minor trucking business; in part so he could replenish some of his disposed wealth, and in part to draw the eye of some of those same crime figures he had become friends with. After all, the crime bosses knew Marvin, but they didn’t know it was Marvin himself who was also terrorizing their illegitimate kingdoms.

Or so he thought.

A brisk October morning, Marvin was out for a jog. New York winter was approaching unfettered. Marvin typically wore the torso piece of the suit underneath his workout clothes in case he did need to act suddenly; lately, Marvin was not as sharp. Maybe it was the lack of crime, maybe it was because his galavanting had softened him; he was beginning to enjoy the softer things in life--fine wines, jewelry, women. Lots of women. His in ring persona never quite left him, though he hadn’t been inside a ring in almost a year. When the mask was off, he was still loud, abracious, cocky. The dissonance between himself and the Tiger had to remain wide, lest a being keener than himself deduce the two parts were in fact one whole. So when Marvin failed to notice the gunmen trailing him on his route, enhanced senses and all, it was only indicative of one cold fact: Grim was right.

No matter how many gangs he took down, how many charities he opened, or how much he tried to protect an entire city when he was only one man, eventually he would slip. Whoever had been watching him was waiting, documenting every mistake he made. Each shot boomed louder in his ears than normal; and for a mere second between hearing the gun’s blast and the initial impact of the first shot, Marvin knew today may be his last. The first round hit his shoulder blade and exited through his right bicep, the second tore through his glutes and splintered his hip, the third burst through his back inches from his spine and curled out through his abdomen. A fourth hemorrhaged his hamstring and blew through his knee entirely.

Marvin fell face first into the concrete, in the middle of the slums he swore to protect. The masked gunmen kept firing, Marvin still clung to life; and had it not been for the returning fire of two drug dealers, the gunman who stood over him may have had time to deliver the coup de tat. The two drug dealers, men who Marvin knew but never bothered even during his escapades as Tiger, stood over his dying body. One of the two, named Lamarcus, spoke first,

“Aye, ain’t that Marvin?”, the other man, Trevon, added,
“Oh shit, yeah, that is him!” then Lamarcus chimed,
“Why they hit son like that? Fucked his shit all up!” Trevon, one who always got excited at the sight of violence, almost giggled at the comment,
“On god they did.” both were hardened to even a gruesome sight as this, a lull fell over the interaction for a few seconds as they pondered. Lamarcus spoke again,
“We gone help ‘im or what?”
“Shi’, migh’ as well.”

When Marvin woke in the hospital a few days later in King’s County Hospital, he was bandaged nearly from head to toe and hooked up to several tubes. On the television above his bed there was a news report,

BREAKING NEWS

“Jennifer Greene with Channel 52 news. Several days ago, a man was shot and left for dead in Marcy’s Brooklyn housing projects. A police investigation launched into the shooting uncovered that the victim, 24 year old Marvin Hayes, former Middleweight IBC boxing champion, may be connected to the new vigilante presence sweeping the nation. More at 6.”

He must have left the warehouse key in his pocket!

A pan of the skycamera fixated on the warehouse, there were police wagons and swat vans trying to break down the front door, to no initial avail; after prodding with a battering ram, the defensive measures activated. A massive flashbang followed by a torrent of non-lethal armor piercing rounds sent the streamlined officers careening backwards. On the lower levels, the gunrack walls in the ballistics lab flipped around, an array of weapons exchanged for blank hollow steel walls. On the fourth floor, where his engineering room was; more importantly, where his official and prototype suits hung along every wall, the hollowed partitions opened in back and the mechanized arms from which the suits hung were reverted into the hollow spacing. When the walls closed, they were as regular walls should be. One would not know the walls were actually hollow unless they had built the infrastructure themselves. As for the engineering drawings themselves, they remained. Marvin figured he would be caught someday, and should someone attempt to replicate his designs, they couldn’t build them the way he had so it was of little consequence.

A knock on his hospital room’s door; the FBI. A tall, slender man in a creme trench coat sauntered in and flashed his badge. In a detached voice, he spoke,

“Marvin Hayes! David Ramsey, FBI! You and I need to have a chat, hm?” Mr. Ramsey showed his badge as confirmation and pulled the blue hospital chair next to the railing of Marvin’s bed.

Well. . . fuck.

Oooo, she was interested in who he was, that was an excellent sign, Bang really was irresistible, she was even backing away to hide her reddening cheeks! She was so into him it was adorable, it was cute! Wait, she was from Hub City? That place was supposed to be a crime-ridden hole in the ground, how could something so pure come out of a place like that?

"Hub City? That shithole? Well, I suppose even the most beautiful devils have to come from Hell," he said slowly, hopefully she was the kind of "devil" he was looking for, heh. "As for me? Well, I'm from West Virginia, and my name..."

Bang flexed, dancing between positions that showed off his prodigious physique. Finally he jumped into the air and landed in the Most Muscular position.

"Is Bang! Hell yeah right? Yeah, you get me," he stood back up and crossed his arms. "Yeah, I'm a superhero, I'm like GI Joe and shit, real American hero right here. Who has two thumbs and is a superhero? This guy!"

Bang looked around a moment before cupping a hand over his mouth and whispering to Arcana.

"Y'know, don't tell anybody, but I think all those other 'hero' fellers is just trying to rip us off, y'know?" he said with a hint of a joke but mostly dead serious. He pulled back and held out a hand. "But enough about that, what can I do ya for? Ya did want ta talk to me didn't ya?"

Lady Arcana felt her jaw drop slightly, her voice lost in the abyss of his oblivious bravado. He really did seem to think he was the greatest thing to ever fall from between a woman's legs. In fact, it'd be fair to say that out of all the other vigilantes she had met, his ego was the most inflated. Even Tiger wasn't this arrogant, though Grim might argue with her on that point.

Still, he called himself a superhero. That meant he wasn't here to intentionally cause trouble, so maybe if she just kept her cool and explained things to him in a delicate manner, she could get him to either stop or at least show a bit more caution around civilians.

"Um...yeah, I did want to talk to you," she forced herself to smile. Raising a hand to gesture down at the street below, her eyes remained focused on the hazmat-suited man before her. "It's about what you just did down there. Your powers...they like, involve radiation, don't they?"

A lot of it, if that pillar of light earlier was any indication. They were just lucky it hadn't wiped out everything for a mile. "I mean, it's cool that you took out all the Mudos there, but don't you think the fallout might hurt any nearby civilians?"

And she was interested in his powers? Oh this was just a dream come true! She was wondering whether they involved radiation or not, which was fair, it could have just been a really big bomb. Or a laser, or a laser that explodes like a bomb... bomb laser.

"Yes missus, radiation, gamma radiation and stuff like that, constantly letting it off, can burn things with it, explode things, make people really sick... come to think of it usually my conversations don't last this long, you're a tough 'un aren't ya?" he asked, smiling.

She also asked about whether he thought the radiation would be hurting anyone. He never quite thought about that, he always just thought that if you were a good strong American you'd survive, and if you weren't then you didn't deserve to live anyway, he thought that logic was solid enough, but hey, maybe she wouldn't see it that way. Eh, she'd get it, they got each-other, he could tell.

"It'll be fine, don't worry about it, I just wanted to hurt the dead guys, so they'll be the only ones hurt, I promise ya that," he lied, he didn't want to disappoint her too much, he still thought she was hot as hell.

Lady Arcana understood now, after hearing the things he was saying. He wasn't just capable of emitting radiation, he was constantly and uncontrollably doing so. He was doing it right as they were having this conversation! If she'd been a normal human, there's no telling what sort of awful things would've happened to her by now. Given that he apparently didn't know she could survive this long while standing near him, that also seemingly didn't matter too much to this guy, despite him constantly trying to pick her up.

Furthermore, if everything he was saying is true, just his mere presence made him a threat to everyone here. There was no telling how much radiation he was expelling as they floated here talking. She needed to get him away from people and then figure out what to do about him!

"Hey, Mr. Bang," Lady Arcana put on the best smile she could. "Would you mind following me? I have something that I really want to show you."

She then did what she imagined was a seductive wink, and then - just a little - died inside.

Karen just had to bear with it for now, until she could lead this radioactive creepo out to sea where he wouldn't be a threat to anything or anyone. Then she could figure out a way to keep him contained or something, even if she had to call for help on it.

October, 1956
Boston, New England

It was late. So very, very late.

Her mother would be upset, Susan knew. She would take a switch to her for not coming home by her curfew. But she didn’t care. It was better than being back home. She hated it there.

The clouds overhead obscured the evening sunlight, a faint blue lingering in the sky just before the twilight.

She could just barely see the blacktop in front of her, but the chalk outlines of the hopscotch drawing were still clear enough for her to play. Throwing her hacky sack onto the third square, she began to hop her way to the end of the small series of squares. She was the best hopscotch player in her class. She hoped she could one day become the champion of the National Hopscotch League.

That existed, right? She didn’t just make that up?

Regardless! This eight year old would much rather play by herself here any day than return to her mean ol’ mom and her stupid rules.

Reaching the eighth square, Susan quickly turned and set her eyes on the hacky sack. With barely a pause she began skipping her way back to it with only one foot. She hadn’t needed two in ages. Only a hopscotch amateur needed two.

When she at last reached the 4th square, she easily leaned over to pick the hacky sack up. As she began to rise, she heard…something.

A scratching sound, like nails against the pavement but louder. So much louder. Another flash of chalk-like white caught her eye, and her jaw slowly dropped as she stared down at the message writing itself into the blacktop.

She began to tremble. She wanted to run, but…but her mom would be so very angry at her! She didn’t want to get switched.

“There once was a young girl,” she slowly read the message aloud. “S-she enjoyed playing hopscotch. She enjoyed playing it a lot…”

The chalk continued to etch itself into the blacktop, and even as she could barely stand straight due to her quivering, Susan continued to read. It felt like she couldn’t move now. “B-but the girl’s grades in East Boston High School weren’t very good, and she liked to disobey her mother. She likes to stay out far, far too late…”

Susan froze when it named her high school. She could hardly even breathe now, much less think of running.

“Her p-parents,” She choked out, “Rachel and Henry, were often so upset at l-l-little Susan’s disobedience that they would strike her with a switch, over and over again, sometimes until she bled.”

The warmth of tears running down her face did little to soothe the biting chill working its way up her back. The words continued, scratched into the blacktop by…by something. “B-but then someone started watching little Susan...watching her at school. Watching her sleep.”

The warmth of liquid now worked its way down her leg as she struggled not to collapse under her own weight. “W-w-watching her...disobey her mother and p-play h-h-hopscotch…”

As the message continued to be ripped into the black asphalt, Susan found herself no longer able to speak to read the final part. Her lip trembling, all she could do was slowly look behind her as those bright blue eyes grew wide.

…

“SUSAN!” Rachel screamed, searching for her daughter, a flashlight tightly clutched in her hand. Night had fallen, and she hadn’t come home. It wasn’t the first time the girl had stayed out past her curfew, but never before had she remained out after it became completely dark.

She’d already looked all over their neighborhood, and so the school blacktop was the only place where she could imagine that she might be.

Sweeping the flashlight across the black surface, Rachel’s eyes finally settle on the hopscotch drawing where her and the other children often played. Unfortunately, her daughter wasn’t here, either, just…

A hacky sack. ...And a single shoe. Susan’s shoe.

“S-Susan…?” Rachel muttered, her eyes growing moist, the light continuing to drift over the blacktop until it at last fell over...a message.

There once was a young girl.
She enjoyed playing hopscotch.
She enjoyed playing it a lot.
But the girl’s grades in East Boston High School weren’t very good, and she liked to disobey her mother.
She likes to stay out far, far too late.
Her parents, Rachel and Henry, were often so upset at little Susan’s disobedience that they would strike her with a switch over and over again, sometimes until she bled.
But then someone started watching little Susan...watching her at school. Watching her sleep.
Watching her disobey her mother and play hopscotch.
And then, at last, he caught her all alone one night.
Don’t turn around, Susan McKenzie.
KINDERFRESSER

Dropping her flashlight to blacktop beneath her, Rachel fell onto her knees in horror as a tearful scream ripped its way past her throat.

She would call the police immediately...but they never found any trace of her daughter.

---

8:48 PM, October 26th, 2020
Brooklyn, New York

“And that’s all he was doing, Mr. Williams? Playing ‘Grand Theft Auto 6’ online?” Agent Curtis Cruller questioned the father of Travis Williams, age fourteen.

The middle-aged man slowly nodded. “Yes sir. I came in to tell him supper was ready, and...and all I find was his headset laying there on the floor.”

Nodding to the parents of the missing teen, Curtis pressed the red square on his smartphone to end the recording of their interview. “Thank you for answering my questions, Mr. and Mrs. Williams. If you’ll excuse me.”

Stepping away from the clearly frightened parents, Curtis wasted no time in stepping through the open door of Travis’ room. Swarming with police officers as they combed over every inch of it in search of some kind of forensic evidence to clue them into what had happened, they paid him little mind.

Shifting his eyes over the headset as the police continued their forensic work, Cruller slowly approached it. “You’ve taken your pictures already, right?”

“Of course,” Lieutenant Armstrong replied rather tersely. “We know how to do our jobs, believe it or not.”

Ignoring the woman’s tone of voice, he reached down to pick the abandoned gaming accessory up with his hands, the plastic gloves that he had stretched over them upon entering the room protecting them from contamination.

They were cheaply made, and slightly bent. If he had to guess, it was the sudden impact with the floor that did this to them. It was just like the other disappearances. No trace of the victim, beyond perhaps an overturned chair or microphone.

“I suspect we won’t find any DNA evidence this time, either,” Curtis muttered under his breath.

It was beyond frustrating. In all his years in the FBI, he had never encountered a case like this before. This was seventh incident that had occurred in the past week, and the third he had been called in for. But he hadn’t had any more luck than the NYPD.

Honestly, he was at the end of his tether. Kids were disappearing at their computers without a trace, and he didn’t know how to stop it. The only connection he could identify was that they had been playing online games at the time.

His partner, David Ramsey, hadn’t had any more luck than him.

There was only one individual that could possibly be skilled enough to pull these abductions off in Brooklyn, and he was in the hospital right now, as his partner was in the process of confirming…

---

9:22 PM
Brooklyn Hospital Center

“I’m not certain if you’ve been keeping up with the news, Mr. Hayes, but there has been a series of child abductions plaguing the Brooklyn area this past week,” Agent David Ramsey explained, leaning forward in the hospital chair beside the bedridden boxer.

Easing back, the well-dressed agent folded his arms. “Adolescents and teenagers alike, disappearing without a trace at their computers as they play online video games. Forensic investigations have yielded no trace of a kidnapper. It is unlike anything we’ve ever seen.”

“There are few who could have accomplished such a feat in Brooklyn,” David’s eyes narrowed on the injured man, his lips set into a modest frown. “In all of New York, in fact. Many suspect a certain masked vigilante of being behind these abductions, though I wonder…”

His eyes swept over the bandages that were clearly visible beneath Marvin’s hospital gown.

Moving was anguish. His right arm was in a sling, and his left served as the catalyst for transmission of IV fluids into the rest of his maimed body. He was grateful the shooters missed his spine and that he could afford to position his head enough to face Ramsey’s direction. Marvin’s eyes once more fell on the news report and with the aid of the visual before him, Marvin fought the cloud wearing over his mind and reserved the remainder of his mental faculties to parse what Ramsey said. Abductions? In his city? Cowards. None of these dopes would try anything like that if he were on the streets. Unbeknownst to Marvin, what the FBI--and now he, himself--were dealing with was not human at all.

Marvin tried to inhale, the bloat of pain too fat for him to complete his attempt. Halfway through the intake, his chest decompressed and he let out what oxygen he was able to take in before he spoke,

”Guess the jig up, huh? Errbody know n--” it slipped his mind that he wasn’t in action right now, Marvin did away with the common speech he used when conversing with the people of his neighborhood while he was unmasked. He opted instead for the level of speech used when the mask was on,

”I guess everyone knows now, huh? You think you have everything figured out… then you don’t.” Marvin shifted as much as he could in order to get comfortable, an inescapable contortion brought about by the prohibited change in level along the bed forced the next few words from Marvin’s mouth through gritted teeth,

”You know who I am, Mr. Ramsey, so you know well I would not spend my time, money, and resources kidnapping the children I aim to protect. I think your friends at the bureau and those beat cops you all have been sending to my neighborhood know that as well. So yes, Mr. Ramsey, you are right to wonder; just don’t be irrational when you do it, huh?” A strong return, perhaps too strong a reply for one who was only trying to help him. Marvin, nor Tiger, were never enemies of the badge unlike some of his fellow commonmen and vigilantes.

The light in the room was particularly bright, the sound of the television an increasing irritant. Another slight shift, and he clutched the hanging remote from the side of the bedrail and used it to cease the sounds. His senses were going haywire.

David’s brow furrowed in irritation at the condescending tone he received from the hospitalized vigilante. He seemed to think himself to be in a far better position than he was, but at the moment such a thing did not matter. He wasn’t here to have a dick-measuring contest with the other man, he just wanted to find out what happened to those kids.

“Mr. Hayes, we know your persona - ‘The Tiger’, yes? - has been active for almost a year at this point,” he revealed, feeling it was necessary to lay at least some of their cards on the table in order to accomplish the task at hand. “In that time, have you encountered anyone capable of snatching these kids from their homes without leaving a trace? Perhaps another vigilante?”

The FBI was aware that they had gathered in New York back in March during the riots. Whether or not that had continued to associate with one another since then, however, was a mystery. If they had, perhaps they could at last identify a likely suspect. One other did come to mind, in fact.

“And on that note, have you had any interactions with the individual calling himself ‘Superman’?” David leaned forward slightly, awaiting his answer.

Ramsey was direct, he had some swagger. Marvin respected that. If he didn’t dread the tinge of pain awaiting him if he smiled, he would have--instead, he softened his countenance and voiced the internalized appreciation,

”Between you and I, Mr. Ramsey, I spent most of my time dealing with footsoldiers; I haven’t had a real fight since the last time I was in the ring. One day the bums stopped showing up after I had cracked their heads a couple times and left a few of them on your doorstep. None of those idiots are smart enough to make kids disappear without a trace. I’m sure you know that I know that you know I have tabs on everything that happens in Brooklyn, so I would have known if some half decent wannabe started snatchin’ my kids up off the street. Which leads me to believe that whatever you’ve been looking for isn’t something you--or me, for that matter--are going to find if we think we’re looking for some normal dreg. Hell, all the shit I’ve been through in the past couple months, whatever we are supposed to be looking for might not even be of this world.”

Marvin had grown weary of magic, truly. He hoped whatever this new threat was had a beating heart, breathed oxygen and walked on two legs. Even with his penchant for preparation against human threats, not even the reputed Tiger was prepared for the otherworldly.

”You have no leads at all? the question about Superman he circumvented. Marvin had seen clips of what Superman did to those two thugs, and Marvin nor Tiger would enjoy a visit from him, healthy or otherwise.

David was quick to note that Hayes had skillfully dodged his question, but chose to ignore it. He likely wouldn’t gain a satisfactory answer even if he tried to press the issue. Instead, the agent simply shook his head in frustration. “No DNA evidence, no strands of clothing, no trace of the victim. All we have is the pattern.”

In truth, he had already considered the possibility that they might not be dealing with something even remotely human, but...well, he didn’t truly wish to think about it. The FBI simply were not equipped to deal with something like that, not yet. He hoped somebody higher up than he was had some plan on how to deal with this insane world they were now living in, because he sure as hell didn’t.

“If it was an ‘otherworldly’ threat,” David looked the other man directly in the eye, “how would you approach it? What method would you employ to track, capture or if necessary, destroy it?”

Silence.

For once in his life, Marvin had no answers. Suits and gadgets were only effective against the corporeal, and Marvin’s attempts at harnessing magic were thus far ineffectual. No, no, there was always some tether. Magic itself may be above nature’s routine, but it still needed a way into the world through some substance; this rule was a constant, an internal logical consistency. It was such for Arcana, it was such for Elysium, it was such for this.

“You said something about video games? Now, this may only be coincidental, but I would investigate whatever patterns the disappearances share. Whatever this thing is, it has the same tendencies of a serial killer; they target one type of victim, usually. I’d investigate your records for any cold cases, any old disappearances to see if there are any anomalies. See if any adults have been captured. If no adults have ever been targeted that you know of, find the similarities in the kinds of kids who disappeared: are they troubled? Orphans? Rich? Poor? Of a certain ethnicity?” Being so long winded with broken ribs was never a pleasure, so when he ran out of breath it took him a moment and an audible expulsion of injury for him to begin again,

“And if that fails, then I have. . . other ideas.” these measures he would never divulge to Ramsey, one always needed leverage.

David listened quietly to the advice of Marvin Hayes, noting the wisdom in it. Yes, of course, if they were dealing with something not entirely - or even remotely - human, then there was no reason to limit their investigation to the current year or even the current decade. As for his other recommendations, they were already running extensive background checks on the kids who had been targeted.

“All of the victims had been troubled in one way or another,” David confessed, against his orders. He had been told to reveal only what was necessary to the vigilante - a criminal himself - about their investigation, so he had withheld this detail up until now, even when Marvin had asked if they any leads. “A lot of them had criminal charges. Alcohol, drug use, gang violence in some cases. Others were known to be troublemakers, even if they’d yet to be arrested.”

He noticed he was speaking of the kids in posthumous terms, and that alone sent a chill up his spine. Had he given up on them being alive? Admittedly, it did seem unlikely that whatever was doing this would have left them unharmed, but...who could really say? Logic had seemingly flown out the window a year ago.

”Troubled kids. Makes sense that whatever it is snoops around my neighborhood then. The place is filled with them. Do you have kids, detective?”

David nodded once. “One, a boy. Nine years old. He likes gaming like these kids.”

Though he had never been in trouble before. He was a good kid, never even had a complaint from the teacher.

”I only ask because once this thing knows we are after it--if it doesn’t already--it may come after your son. Who knows how far it can reach or how vindictive it is?”

Again his mind whirred, this time painted with a spurt of frustration. If he was going to face this threat, he had to get out of this hospital, and he had to do it before every child in Brooklyn disappeared. For now, he could only ask a favor--something he hated doing, as favors always require recompense. Owing a man is something Hayes’ father, minimal though he was, taught him never to do; it meant that so long as you were indebted to someone else you were, in a sense, beneath them. At least that was how his father explained it to him, but Marvin’s father was never the wisest man in the world, either.

”Until I can get out of this hospital bed, detective, Brooklyn isn’t safe for anyone’s children. I don’t know how much manpower you have, but this thing knows it isn’t in danger so long as there is no one protecting the streets and it might become more aggressive as a result. Use whatever resources you can to protect those kids, detective. If all else fails, I have one last contingency; a friend of mine, if you will. Ironic, if you think about it.”

David exhaled, his hand clasped together at this point with enough force to cause his tanned knuckles to turn white. “Well, Mr. Hayes, I do hope this contingency plan of yours is a damn good one, for the sake of those children. And mine.”

He would be lying if he claimed that he hadn’t considered the possibility of whoever - or whatever - was behind this coming after his son. He didn’t live in Brooklyn, but as Marvin had pointed out, that wasn’t necessarily any guarantee of safety. No, the only thing that would ensure that anyone’s children were safe would be if they stopped the perpetrator of these abductions.

Reaching into his suit coat, David produced a simple card and laid it on top of Marvin Hayes as he stood from his seat. “This is my number. If you have any new information, give me a call.”

”How many buses do you have at your disposal?”

The hospital was normally closed to visitors at this hour. In fact, the only ones allowed entry at such a time were those in need of emergency care. Alessandro “Pretty Boy” Marino did have an emergency, at the very least. He had to clean up the mess made by that idiot tasked with ending the thorn in the side of the Colombo family known as “The Tiger”.

Boss Persico had pulled the necessary strings to get him in, and get everyone inside out of his way. He was going to make this quick, and make it messy. He’d rather leave them with a mess than risk there being any chance of that psycho nigger drawing another breath. The staff stuck around just long enough to let him through the door, and now he had a special song he’d composed just for Marvin Hayes.

He knew the door. He knew he would be asleep at this time of night...and even if he wasn’t, he would still be bedridden and unable to put up any kind of fight. As he stepped down the hallway, drawing closing to his target with each breath, Alessandro opened the guitar case he had brought into the hospital to reveal an AK-74.

Shoving the clip into the chamber, he pulled back on the lock as he arrived at the door. Drawing a quick breath, Alessandro dashed forward to kick the door in as he aimed his rifle at the bed and opened fire in a spray of bullets.

Marvin’s senses had been going haywire all day; his body was reacting violently to its present predicament. Each sight and sound was sharper than previous, but this appeared only to be a result of the physical trauma his body had underwent days earlier--much like when his metagene first activated. A headache prevented him from truly sleeping, though he managed in spurts. It was nothing deep, however. His body was healing abnormally quick, much faster than a normal human could, would, or should. He had been rather restless all night.

The hospital itself was quiet. It was a weekday and the nursing staff who were on duty weren’t there. Odd. Not odd enough to arouse suspicion from Marvin, though; there were always anomalies. When a polished dress shoe hit the bottom of the door, Marvin’s head sliced toward the noise; where his senses had failed him before because he was becoming careless, they hadn’t failed him this time. Of course, this was no quarter in helping him avoid the hail of bullets which followed shortly after. A repeat of earlier, he was hit again in the shoulder, once more in his hip, and once in his left hand before he manage to roll out of the bed and onto the floor opposite the door. In the jerk reaction he pulled the IV stand over the bed with him and hand torn the IV needle itself out of the vein.

Coupled with growing fatigue, there swelled a flash of anger he had not felt since his first bout in the ring. It was fight or die. Tonight, Marvin Hayes would not be the one dying. No, not as long as the city needed him. Adrenaline coursed within, and his body tried failing him. he tried to muster what situational awareness he could and glean his surroundings. Cold floor, hospital floor. Alright. Now, set the trap; Marvin used his good arm to drag himself toward the window, and in one succinct motion, gave the illusion that the IV was still attached to him as he crawled and dragged the stand with him. Marvin knew better than to underestimate his opponents, he couldn’t run--his next moves all depended on how smart--or idiotic--this gunman was.

Dammit. God dammit. Why hadn’t he died? What did it take to put this motherfucking maine coon down?! The last guy they sent had been ran off by some fucking punks, like a goddamn amateur. But that wasn’t Alessandro. No man had ever escaped him, and he wasn’t about to see that reputation be ruined by anyone.

Continuing to fire at Hayes as he seemingly attempted to escape towards the window, Alessandro reached into his white suit coat and pulled out a grenade. Pulling the plug with a grunt, he kept up the suppressive fire with his AK-74 as he counted down the seconds. Since he was wielding it with one hand, the shots were no longer terribly accurate in that moment, but that wasn’t the point. It just had to keep him pinned down for a few seconds until…

There, five seconds!

Tossing the grenade over the bed where Hayes had been sleeping moments earlier, Alessandro seized the handle of the door and pulled it shut before charging down the hallway to escape the explosion.

When the shots from the AK lost accuracy with less than sufficient plausibility, it meant something more nefarious was at hand. Marvin had tested his suits using the same weaponry the hitman brought to kill him this very night, and anyone with experience in the use of assault rifles can differentiate the severe drop in accuracy when an amateur believes it fine to shoot with one arm. Though Marvin couldn’t see clearly because most of his visage was covered, this ‘professional’ had left his case in the hospital room with his DNA all over it.

That wasn’t the crux of Marvin’s issues right now; he heard the clank of the grenade pin and its drop alongside him as it cooked. Maybe this hitman wasn’t too amateurish, his boss had finally sent someone with a shred of mettle to try and end the Tiger’s run. Two seconds wouldn’t have been enough time for him to cease suppressing fire, toss the grenade, and leave before the grenade exploded. Nor would it be any set of odd numbers: three seconds would still not be optimal for the hitman to guide himself to safety, one was death for them both, seven was too long, the even numbers suffered a similar fate. He couldn’t tell what type of grenade it was, but it likely packed enough power to blow him and the room to smithereens in the happy medium five seconds he had likely left the timer on. He had enough time to try and lob it out of the window.

The window.

Hahaha! Slightly amusing indeed. Every window, no matter the make, had a weakness in its side; and these were hospital windows at that, the weaker kind, ironically enough. Marvin grabbed the grenade as it cooked and with the might he could muster, bellowed all of his remaining strength and pent up rage to toss the live grenade out of the hospital window.

Alessandro had waited far down the hallway for the sound of the explosion...and he had indeed received it. But there was something wrong. He could feel a slight rumble at his feet, and a muffled roar of thunder...but it should have been so much greater than that. Furthermore, he should have seen a bright flash from within the room, but that too was absent. The blast sounded like it was a good distance away, and there was only one thing he could think of that would’ve allowed that to be the case: the window.

“Motherfucker!” He spat, dashing further down the hallway before skidding to a stop. Kneeling down onto one knee, he took careful aim at the door with his AK-74, switching it to burst fire mode for increased accuracy. He didn’t know if Hayes intended to leap out the window after the explosion had died, but something told him that monkey would be too prideful for that.

He’d heard that Hayes had a freakish strength about him, so just in case he did something unexpected like smashing through the walls of the adjacent room to get at him, he’d at least be able to hear him beforehand and make preparations.

Marvin had used a great portion of his remaining strength to take care of the grenade, and in doing so, he had given himself an out, in some respect at least. He didn’t possess the focus necessary to partake in his usual building scaling, but he had enough to get himself to the lower floor if worst came to worst. There was, of course, the matter of Alessandro being as prideful as himself and returning for round two. But if Alessandro’s boss had told him anything about the Tiger in particular, it was that if you didn’t kill him the first time, there would be no round two for you. He’d have already developed a plan C for your plan B.

The hospital room itself was not as large as those on the bottom floor; the rooms in ICU never were. It meant less space to hide, but more weapons in close proximity. Marvin used the window seal in order to stand and he shuffled himself as best he could toward the hospital bed; yanking off the sheets, Marvin used the moments of Alessandro’s departure to tie a three cord fold stretching from the doorknob to the end rail of the hospital bed and then to to himself. He wrapped the intravenous cord around his good wrist for added measure; it was his lone distance weapon at present, he was still bleeding from the wound in his vein, though it had slowly began to congeal--a sign of the rapid speeding up of his healing factor.

Should he hear footsteps down that hall to the north and toward the room, it was out of the window he went; should he hear them to the south, it was out of the room and down the opposite end of the hall. But first, some quick fiddling with the lock; using the second of his intravenous needles, Marvin made quick work of the hospital door’s archaic lock mechanism, setting the needle into the groove of the lock’s pin so the door was sealed shut. The only way to open it would be to shoot through the window, reach through and unlock it manually, or shoot off the doorknob. Either way, Marvin had a plan.

He wasn’t coming.

He had expected Hayes to either start smashing through the walls, or maybe kick the door out and use it as a shield to rush him. Either way, he’d have a plan for that...but he was still in there. Unless...unless he’d jumped out the window. But no, everything he’d heard about “The Tiger” indicated he was never one to run, so he must be up to something.

That was when he heard it. A small sound, very subtle.

Alessandro hadn’t always been contract killer. He’d started his criminal career breaking into places where he didn’t belong. During those days, he’d learned a good thing or two about picking locks...and while he didn’t need to resort to common thievery anymore, that skill still occasionally came in handy for getting to his targets.

Now, it told him that Hayes was fucking with the hospital door in some way, shape or form. There wasn’t really any way to tell what he was doing. Likely preparing a trap, he would guess. If he tried to go in with a spray of bullets, the cat freak would probably end him then and there. No, he needed to use that.

His last trump card.

Once again reaching into his suit coat, he produced a small green rectangular object. It had been strapped tightly to him to the point where it only slightly distended his suit on his way inside, but after hearing everything this fucker had done, he wasn’t about to take any chances. Slowly removing his shoes, Alessandro began to slowly walk forward at a deliberate and silent pace.

When he arrived, he made certain to never step in front of the glass window or the door. They weren’t his target. Rather, it was the section of wall just adjacent to them. Still a part of the room, but at the left hand side from his perspective. The right from Hayes’.

Placing the green rectangle on the ground, he carefully and quietly began to prime the claymore. Once this was done, Alessandro stood and once more distanced himself from the room. Gently nudging the door of an unoccupied room open, he hid around the corner before activating the explosive. It contained enough force to easily blast out the wall and likely pelt the room with a fair amount of shrapnel.

Once the smoke cleared, then he would go in and open fire with precision shots.

A demolition man was Alessandro. As a kid, Marvin enjoyed blowing things up, but as a man, he found it sloppy. Some shrapnel cut across his face and upper chest before he bound himself backward in a freefall, part of him forced out of the broken window from the concussive force of the blast. With the rope tied around his waist, all 220 pounds of his frame and the added force of the blast itself pushed Marvin out of the window and activated his makeshift harness; as he had hoped, the bed dragged along the room’s floor and when it hit the window seal, its top end snagged against the top of the window vertically. It served as an added layer of protection against bullets and made cutting the bedsheet itself difficult unless one had a dozen or so minutes to spare.

By that time, Marvin would have been gone already. His descension to the ground down the side of the hospital wall was not as swift as it would have been were he in better condition, but it was apt enough. Once the bedsheet was finally taut as Marvin lay his feet on the ground soft as possible, he uncoiled himself. Alessandro couldn’t get through the window to give chase, and would likely have to go down the hospital’s several flights of stairs in order to reach the ground. But, ever a master of the urban jungle, Marvin broke for the nearest alley in a limp; he had the entire city of Brooklyn’s landscape nearly memorized. It would be a sin for him not to, much time as he spent watching it every day. Escape and preservation were necessary--especially given today’s news. To live and fight another day was the goal; Marvin would see to it that Alessandro got his due.

He had underestimated him.

As Alessandro stared at the bed, it was obvious that her mark had escaped him, much as he was loathe to admit it. Never before had a target escaped him, but he had today. Never before had he bothered to bring multiple explosives just to kill one man, and yet it hadn’t been enough. Not for this opponent.

It was clear that even a professional like himself was not equipped to bring down somebody like “The Tiger”...even when he was already wounded. There was no telling how long he would even remain so now, given his freakish abilities. No, this was something that was beyond him...beyond any mere hitman the mafia had on their payroll.

But that didn’t mean it was impossible.

No, he knew somebody who would complete his mission for him, and do it for free. A man not interested in money, or “the good life”. No, this man was only driven by one thing in life: the thrill of the hunt.

And there was nothing he loved to hunt more than a Big Cat.

October 26th, 6:02 PM
Coast City, USA

After Preston hung up, he didn't do a whole lot. His work day at the lab was over, and he was just relaxing at home, preparing himself some dinner for the evening.

His phone buzzed. Preston, by the stove, mixing something into a pot, looked over to see the caller ID. The time between him seeing the number and him picking up the phone was a good second. He couldn't let his stew be unobserved.

With a brief moment to himself, he answered the call and put it on speaker phone. It was better for everyone this way.

"Uh, hey?" Preston wasn't quite sure what to say, since he hadn't actually spoken to the man in about a year. "I'm sure you have some questions, so I'll just let you fire away, and I'll answer to the best of my abilities, alright?" He left his phone on the counter and continued to prepare his dinner. his TV was off, and the only other thing making noise was his stove, boiling the broth and the contents of the pot while he talked to Oscar.

"That's, uh... That's kind of why I called." He pulled on the collar of his shirt. Stir the broth, add a little pepper. Make sure the steak cutlets were properly prepared. "You see. You aren't going to be the only person to know." He took a breath. Only one other person knew his secret identity as the hero of Coast City. Tony was busy getting his life together.

Turn down the heat, chop the carrots, into the broth. "I've got this plan. I've been trying to make myself a presence worldwide. Making sure everyone knows who the Emerald Knight is. Maybe not loved and praised, but at the very least known." Broccoli too, that goes in there as well. Clean up the cutting board. "I'm going to reveal my identity to the world. I'm going to come clean. I can't tell you the whole scope of the plan, but that's the first step. Most of it depends on how well the people handle it."

"Huh. That's... That's pretty ballsy of you, Preston." Oscar said, walking in circles around the roof as he spoke on the phone. "You've done a good job letting the people know you're here to protect them from what I've seen. I don't think there would be any hostile reaction to you revealing your identity, unless someone is actively seeking to hurt you and those you love."

As quietly as he could, Oscar unwrapped a sugar cube and plopped it into his mouth, chewing on it softly. "So I'd be careful, if I were you. And if you do this, you probably won't be able to go back to your normal life because people will probably always try to stop you in the street because, hey, it's Emerald Knight."

Preston chuckled. Oscar was assuming that he would be on earth at all times. Through the interviews Preston had taken as his Alias Emerald Knight, he had dropped plenty of hints to aliens existing and himself being able to leave the earth to do other things, but he made sure that he wasn't the one to break the glass ceiling. "Yeah. I just hope it works out for the best." Now it was just time to stir the pot a little more and put the lid on it.

He had no idea what him coming out what cause. He knew that his goal was a little selfish, but he wanted to be an example. Heroes needed to be trusted, needed transparency. If he stepped up to the plate and came clean, he hoped that would result in the general populace trusting him more. He wanted to start to try and unite earth like some of the other civilizations he had seen, but he didn't want to lead. He wanted to make that sort of goal more feasible for other people.

A pillar of nuclear energy shot out of the top of Bang's head at her response. This was it! He quickly pulled the pillar back and offered a smug grin in response to her wink, which was incredibly hot, Bang could barely contain himself, this was incredible, he knew going to this third-world shithole would be worth it, but he thought he'd be punching zombies not hooking up with this babe!

"Ooooh, what is it you need to show me?" he said in a seductive whisper. He felt like he was forgetting something, something important, something about the city? Eh, not important, he was gonna get... huh, he never really thought about the mechanics of that... he'd figure something out... hopefully.

He was so excited he thought that he might burst, he felt something burning up inside him, a mix of nervousness and furor, he'd never felt so fulfilled and yet so afraid, he'd never quite done this before, he was already a master clearly, but that didn't mean he couldn't be a bit nervous, even the best had their moments of worry, though it was the first time he'd been worried since he became an immortal mass of nuclear energy.

Well, if you were as cool as he was, it was hard to get nervous, especially when you knew you would win any conflict with no problems, but this wasn't a conflict with an outside force, this was a conflict with an internal issue, his own fear fighting his courage. At least his courage was winning out for now.

Bang approached Arcana, stealing a glance at her rack, nice, before draping an arm around her shoulders.

Smooth as silk.

Oh Gods, he was touching her. He was touching her while staring at her boobs! Why did he have to be such a gross creep? She liked to give everyone calling themselves a superhero a fair chance, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to beat his ass into the ground. It only made it worse knowing she was only still alive due to her invulnerability. How many women had this radioactive sicko reduced to a skeleton in his efforts to get his fuel rod wet?

"Just a little further, handsome," She replied, doing her best to keep her eye from twitching. It felt like her stomach was turning cartwheels as those words left her mouth.

Still, their close proximity was at least informative. She had initially assumed she was dealing with at least a physical person with out of control radiation powers, but now she wasn't so certain. Glimpsing into his the face of his helmet revealed...something that wasn't human. It looked more like a cloud of yellow-green trying to imitate human facial expressions. Normally her keen eyes would've been able to pick this up sooner, but the shading had made that difficult.

Too bad, she would've really liked to have avoided getting anywhere near him.

As they found themselves over the open ocean, Lady Arcana could now at least feel more relaxed knowing that no more innocents were going to be hurt by him, regardless of how this went down. Now she just had to figure out how she wanted to resolve this. He didn't seem particularly bright, so maybe she could get him to give her that answer. 'Murica seemed to get his mushroom cloud rising, so starting there seemed like a good idea.

"You seem to be really strong, Mr. Bang," Lady Arcana smiled to him. "Every challenge must be so easy for you, though, since you're completely invincible. I mean, I guess that's pretty cool...but, I always found it sexier when a big, strong American man was willing to put himself at risk to do good."

She released a rather melodramatic sigh, and pulled ever so slightly away from him.

Bang followed her eagerly, feet following head as he felt himself pulled with her. He felt sort of confused when they stopped over the open ocean, what did she want to show him here? Oooh, maybe she just wanted a place where they could be alone, and there was no better place than here, unless a boat went by, that'd suck.

And she called him handsome! Well, he already knew that, but it was nice to hear from her, kinda getting him in the mood, nice, maybe some music, that'd be real nice.

She was really into flattery it seemed, calling him strong and stuff, maybe it wasn't so much flattery as just pointing out the obvious, he knew he was handsome! Yeah, calm down there lady, you're a little too hot and bothered right now... wait, in what world was that a bad thing? That was worth encouragement actually. He smiled at her with a raised... eyebrow-shaped mass of energy, and flexed his arm, rubbing the bicep with his other hand. Damn he was good.

Every challenge was easy to him, he was invincible, damn, keep pointing that out and maybe it would happen to you too, that kinda seems like something that would happen, maybe. Hold on... she guessed that was really cool? Instantly Bang looked deflated. Then she continued, saying she thought it was sexier when a good American man put his life on the line.

Well, he was a good American man, but he wasn't exactly putting his life on the line... unless somebody captured him! Yeah! That was totally dangerous to him! And that time when he ended up in a lake without his suit and it took him a week or two to gather back up, that too!

"Well, that's just as true, if somebody got me out of my suit, like yer about to..." he joked with a chuckle. "And put me in a metal box, I'd prolly be dead as a doornail. That's a real risk I face every day, these streets are dangerous, ya know that. And, and, if I got put in a bunch of water without my suit on, everything in the water would die but I'd be out of commish for... ah, I dunno, a few months for a really big lake, like a really big one, like the one where people think England is. England is a conspiracy, and probably forever for the ocean," he admitted earnestly.

"Oh, and I can't really hurt people without my suit, yep."

Now she'd totally be ready! Oh dear lord he was so happy! He barely held back a laugh.

So that was it. He'd just revealed how to stop him from hurting anyone. That suit he was wearing was his weak point, and if it were destroyed that would...what, kill him? She didn't want him to die, creepy as he was. No, wait...it sounded more like he would be alright, so long she didn't bottle him up in anything metallic? Maybe it was because the metal would keep him from "venting" and he'd therefore explode? In that case, she just needed to get that suit off.

And she unfortunately had an idea on how to do that.

Clasping her hands in "awe" of his bravery, Lady Arcana offered him a pretend swoon. "Oh my, you're so brave, Mr. Bang! I don't think I can stand to wait another minute to get out of these old, hot clothes so I can know you better!"

Grasping the hood of her cloak, she pretended to fan herself with it as she desperately fought back her gag reflex. "But I'm a traditional sorta girl, Mr. Bang. I like it when the man takes the lead, so if you show me yours, I'll show you mine..."

Her eyes settled on him as she decided to hammer the point home. "That is the way Jesus intended things, after all. You believe in Jesus, right Mr. Bang?"

Gods, she hated herself so much right now.

Another pillar of nuclear energy shot its way out of the top of Bang's helmet and his eyes began to glow with the intensity of the sun in the morning sky.

Holy fuck!

Bang's reaction probably wasn't an over-reaction, judging by what had just happened. This was really happening! Dear god he was so happy. She did want him to take his suit off first, but he was totally willing to wait as long as he got what he was hoping for.

And it was what Jesus wanted... he didn't remember that appearing in the Bible, but it totally sounded like something Jesus would say, and he was no heathen, nuh-uh, America was built on the Protestant tradition, and he was gonna live up to that.

Bang speedily moved to his helmet, pressing down at the neck and releasing four puffs of air from inside before pulling it off greedily. His physical form shot out in an instant, a six foot by three foot cloud of atomic energy with a face.

As soon as he left, his suit fell to the ocean below, crashing into the water. The suit floated, the helmet... did not. Something also sank in Bang's mind.

"Son of a bitch, I only have one spare! Hey, you mind getting that for me after we're done here? I can't go in the water."

He wasn't just gonna interrupt this to make her go get that.

"It's not important right now, I'd rather see yours, right?" he said, chuckling in excitement. This was awesome!

Holy shit, he actually did it. He really was that stupid!

And how thankful she was that her hunch about him being entirely made of...whatever that gas was had been correct. He had a face, but nothing else. Then again, after the whole harpy incident as well at Tank, she supposed she should be used to dudes flashing her at this point. What was wrong with her life?

But never mind that. This was her chance.

"Alright, I'm gonna show you now! You ready?" Lady Arcana beamed a smile at him, slowly raising her hands. Focusing on the laylines that ran through the ocean depths below, she swiftly called upon the arcane energy she required before unleashing it at the area immediately surrounding Bang. Warping and forming into a shimmering blue sack that enveloped the energy being, it oscillated and crackled with what appeared to be electricity.

The sack looked like it was made of solid electricity, somehow. In truth, however, it wasn't lightning...it was raw arcane energy! Lighting up the night sky with its persistent glow, she smirked at the little golden thunderbolt shining at the center of it. That always appeared on any magical object she managed to create, almost like a brand logo. Heh.

"Okay! Now let's give you that cold shower you so very obviously need!" Lady Arcana snickered, darting into the water while making sure she was a fair distance from where his suit had landed. She didn't need him crawling back into it, after all. She would also make sure to grab both parts before she left.

Flying a good one thousand feet beneath the surface, Lady Arcana finally allowed her magic sack to dissipate, watching closely to see what would happen next.