This was gonna happen! She was beaming, he was excited, the chemistry was incredible! This was gonna happen!

She raised her arms... and he was instantly trapped in an electric bubble or something.

What in the fu-

Then he was pulled under the water, apparently he needed a "cold shower". She thought she was funny! He had done nothing but be nice to her and she responded by trapping him and dragging him into the ocean! While he was naked! This was lawsuit worthy or something because Jesus Christ he felt violated. Perhaps not physically, but on some level it was true! He was being wronged here! He hadn't done anything wrong! He was an American citizen dammit! She'd probably just jumped the border a few weeks ago the Mexican bitch!

Then she let him go and he watched in horror as the bubble began to fade.

No, nonono this is bad

He screamed in horror as the magic began to fade, but this horror quickly morphed into rage at her for doing this to him.

"You bitch! I swear to God when I gather myself back up I'll dice you up into tiny pieces and burn them to ashes! You whore! Fuck you! Fuck you fuck you fuck you!"

With one second left, he gathered all the fury he had and roared at the top of his... not-lungs.

"Fuck! You!"

He carried the "you" at a furied scream until the bubble finally faded and he was torn apart by the ocean tides.

It was a strange feeling, like he was being stretched from every side. He felt himself growing weaker and weaker, until he felt absolutely massive, and at the same time... weaker than the weakest insect.

This fucking suuuucks.

As she watched him disintegrate into the water, Lady Arcana couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of guilt at tricking the poor lecherous moron. He claimed that tossing him into the water wouldn't kill him, but rather simply disable him for a while...or forever, in the case of the ocean. Hopefully that would give her some time to figure out how to make him a better suit, one that didn't have him constantly leaking radiation everywhere.

How exactly she was going to get all of him out of the water when that day came, however, was another mystery. Maybe Orin would know a way? He was her go-to man when it came to all things ocean-related, after all.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Lady Arcana dived down further and used the eidetic memory of Mnemosyne to return to where Bang's helmet had sank, quickly retrieving it. As the ascended again, she likewise grabbed his hazmat suit. "Man, just how many weirdos am I gonna meet before this year is up?"

October 26th, 15:00
Lundgrau Special Operations Center, Utah

---

Twenty three men and women sat around the conference table, another fourteen listening in through the phone at the center on speaker. Each of them was brought to the company a skill or knowledge that marked them out as invaluable in some way. Biochemists, physicists, engineers, two lawyers and an account, not to mention the top members of his security staff physically present. Raymond stood at the head of the table, arms folded behind his back as he allowed them all a moment to get acquainted after informing them that they were all now part of a new department. They didn't know the details quite yet, but that would come very shortly. For now, he wanted them to be comfortable with each other, because a good number of them would be seeing a lot of each other.

"I trust you all have had enough of introductions, so if we're all ready I'll move to the task at hand and explain why you are all here."

The room went silent as he spoke, an effect that came from being the most powerful person in the room and holding the fate of their jobs in his hands.

"As we are all aware, the world is changing, and in some ways it is not for the better. The rise of powered individuals such as Lady Arcana, Aquaman and Celerity have been lauded as a new age of vigilantism, but let us not ignore the consequences of such a rise. With new and greater heroes, there will always be more powerful criminals to face them. We have the late Asad to look to as our most prominent example. Through arcane means he created weapons that punched through our most advanced tanks as if they were paper. Weapons that spit starfire to melt people and vehicles. Many of the Lundgrau family lost their lives during the costly intervention in Arabia earlier this year, and I have resolved that such must not ever be allowed again."

He took a moment to pause, catch his breath and ensure they were all still with him. All of them to a man. That was good, he needed them to be on board with this, and moreso he wanted them to be inspired. Most of the people he assembled were career Lundgrau, more than one had family overseas in the intervention and that was something he took into consideration quite carefully.

"Lundgrau Applied Sciences continues to push the envelop when it comes to technology, and our recent acquisitions of Asad's magitech have proven more than enough to inspire them further… But as a few of you know, being members of LAS, there is only so much they can do. More than that, there is only so much they can do publicly."

Now that raised some eyebrows for sure, and he did his best to hide the smirk that was slowly forming.

"That is what all of you are here for. I have created a new department of Lundgrau Intelligence Services, an off the books organization that answers only to me and my inner circle. Let it be said now that anyone who is uncomfortable with such arrangements should leave now. I will not hold it against anyone who does not wish to partake in black operations. Anyone who wants to leave will retain their current position and will not be asked of this any further."

With a gesture, the security officer at the door opened it, holding it for any who wished to leave. For their credit, none immediately rose from their seats. They all talked among themselves for a moment of course, as he had just told them they would be involved in something that would answer only to him, and not be official in any way. That always implied something illegal or immoral. After a few minutes he looked up, seeing all of them still sitting and waiting for him with a look of determination on each of their faces. Better than he hoped. Far better in fact.

"Well, have to say I'm pleasantly surprised that everyone is still here. Today marks the establishment of the Metaphysical and Arcane Studies Committee. Let's get to business, there is much to discuss."

At those words, the doors sealed and the room went dark to the world.

"I'm tellin' you, pa," Jim Bob gestured frantically with his hands towards the depths of the great forest of Hope Springs, the morning sun filtered through the treetops above, "I done found me a Sasquatch!"

Pa Buford grunted in irritation as the younger man's screaming sent the nearby flock of ducks scattering prematurely in the wrong direction. Squeezing off several shots with his rifle, he only managed to down a couple due to their advanced range. "Damn it, Jim Bob, look what you done now, talkin' all crazy!"

Smacking his son over the head, the patriarch of the Masterson clan spat a wad of tobacco onto the lush foliage beneath him. "Er'body knows Sasquatch are extinct!"

Covering his head instinctively at the oncoming smack, Jim Bob nevertheless managed to protest. "But pa, I's seen him! He was a big green bug-lookin' motherfucker!"

"Ain't them Sasquatches supposed to be hairy?" Billy Joe interjected, using his duck call to try and lure another flock in. "Maybe you jus' seen one of them Zambos that been crawlin' on up outta the ground this past while?"

Pa Buford scoffed, squeezing off several more rounds with greater success, managing to down four ducks. "Ain't no zambos here, Billy Joe. They needsa graveyard to come up! Nah, this sounds like them stories I been hearin' of that 'Vine Stalker'."

Jim Bob and Billy Joe glanced at each other for a moment, before huddling in close to Pa Buford to echo him in unison, "Vine Stalker, Pa?"

"Yup. Kelly Su claims to have spotted him 'bout a couple months back attackin' some workers! Er'body been seein' lately," Pa explained, using the butt of his rifle to push himself up from his lounger. "Wun't sure I believed em', but then I seen pictures on that internets of it!"

Jim Bob's eyes seemed to light up at this, the youngest of the Masterson clan glancing over his shoulder as if expecting the terrible creature to be there. "W-what if was that Vine Stalker, pa? What're we gonna do?!"

"We's gonna gather the rest of our clan, boy, and we gonna bag ourselves a Bug Man!" Pa grinned, showing a mouth not-so-full of crooked and yellow teeth. "If'n we does, we's'll be famous TV stars!"

Billy Joe practically leaped out of his boots. "A TV star?! They gets all them pretty girls!"

"And big fancy houses and cars, too!" Jim Bob noted excitedly. "Let's do it, then, pa! Go rustle up the others, so I can show em' where he was!"

Harris shuddered awake as a gunshot rang through the air, startling birds and causing him to hear the crowing of fleeing crows and the flapping of their wings as the feathers of their wings beat against the air. Harris freed his left arm from within the wooden cocoon that contained it and held him high within the tree. The one day he decided to get some well deserved rest, he'd sent Josh off to go buy food and everything! So inconsiderate, these poachers, he was so tired of beating people up for shooting everything and stomping all over his garden. Hey, at least the Green didn't seem to be pissed off, they'd cooled down a bit now that Harris was actually able to talk to them.

Harris rubbed his face with his free hand and groaned in agony and rage, he just wanted to sleep for Pete's sake! He grasped his other shoulder and yanked it loose with a sudden twist of his upper body. The yawing tree let out a huge cracking noise as he did. Harris held up his hands and stayed completely still, waiting for the sounds to dissipate. It was like he was trying to sneak down to cook himself dinner in a creaky house, except the threat had changed from slight berating to gunfire.

After the sounds stopped, Harris, soft as a towel dabbing a wet spot, began pulling forwards, looking down into the tree as he did so. He took a deep breath and with one fast motion, pulled himself from the wall and began to plunge towards the bottom of the trunk. With a thought, he pulled a vine from the wall and caught himself around the waist, grabbing onto it as it lowered him down slowly, all the way to ground level.

Harris dropped a few inches to the ground below and watched as the vine sprung back up into the tree trunk, no longer burdened by his weight. He walked slowly, and by the time he had reached the inside bark, the top of the tree had been blown away by the wind and he felt the delicious warmth of the sun on his skin once more. He supposed he could call that breakfast, he hasn't exactly been active all day, so that was the first sun he'd gotten in a while, he really enjoyed drinking in the sun's rays after a long time without, it was both calming and pleasurable... that sounded kinda dirty.

Harris couldn't help but stifle a chuckle at his own joke. What had he become?

Finally the last of the tree blew away in the breeze, the bark shredding in the wind like burnt paper, it would have been a cool visual if it wasn't the fifteenth time this month that Harris had seen it. He didn't sleep in the storage tree much anymore, instead constructing a new one whenever he needed a nap, maybe a bit wasteful but if you asked Harris how much he cared you wouldn't get a large amount. Harris stood still and crossed his arms as a plant creation broke the ground under him and began to glide its way through the mud, bringing him with it. He could scarcely remember those days months ago when he barely knew the limits of his powers, now he knew every little trick that he could do... well, he could really do whatever he wanted other than teleport or travel through time.

He stopped at a clearing in the forest, where he placed a hand against a tree and listened to the men's conversation. They were discussing him! How exciting!... Well, not really, he'd kinda developed a bit of a reputation, so most people entering the forest these days were just bigfoot-hunter types, if they had cameras he'd give them a glimpse of his shoulder just so they could feel fulfilled, much to the Green's chagrin. He liked sneaking into town and seeing those grainy images on the news, people like that just craved attention, so giving them a bit of it couldn't hurt really.

Yep, these poachers certainly were wanting an in into that "TV star" lifestyle, he didn't blame them, he had harbored a desire to be famous back in the day, perhaps that's one of the reasons he ended up in the everglades and transformed into the Vine Stalker, but the fame that he had achieved was unlike the kind that he had imagined. They seemed like they were going looking for him. Well, looks like he'd have to show them why no-one poached in his forest.

Harris smiled as he leaned against the tree, his body sinking into the wood as if it weren't even there.

He had little time to prepare, so he'd have to make the most of it.

----
Mexico City, Arena Coliseo
July 13th 6:00 PM

Some would say that a world that celebrates violence in countless forms, this world is a black and unforgiving place. Well to the men, women and children who were gathered here they would probably share this sentiment to anyone who disputed the fun of violence; Color our world blackened, blackened.

Well while the world might have not immediately blackened, at the very least the arena itself quickly turned the lights off, with the only lights visible being a few lights down the ramp and the cellphones that illuminated sections of the stands who were trying to figure out who was coming out, if it would be Bane after all or if they were getting swerved with someone else.

The sounds of the crowd were starting to fill the air as no music had yet played; when suddenly both down on the ramp and on the titantron an illumating pair of red eyes appeared and blinked open as the lights shot back up to full view.

Bane stood at the center of the ramp, well after he dropped his dufflebag just under the ring, near the very curtain which led to the television control center of the Gorilla Position. His right hand was held up skywards as, his theme began to play. Bane swaggered down to the ring, deliberately rolling his fists around as he threw them up towards the crowd. It was a simple pattern, do it a bit with the right, then moving it on to the left.

Meanwhile at the Spanish Commentary desk, Hector "The Hand" Espinosa - a bald man in his late fifties with a piglike nose, used to be a luchador back in the day before he came down with a nasty back injury - was part of the current announce team. He was dressed in a simple black three piece suit with a canary yellow undershirt and a peach colored tie, and as many would attest to he still smelt of cigarette smoke.

["Ladies and Gentlemen, for all of you watching here live, at home, the bar, or for you kiddos out there anywhere where you can get a signal, let me welcome you to the Arena Coliseo for the Showdown of the Rising Suns! Up for grabs tonight for the winner of this tournament between our, well at the least my home of CFM and the RAW invaders is the MASK OF AZTECA. Only with mental and physical fortitude, not too mention a little bit of Lady Luck - believe me I've had a fair share of her grace - on their side, one man will achieve great honor and glory, not only for themselves but for their organization!"] Hector declared in his raspy voice as he beamed a grin showing off his, well lack of really, stained yellow teeth. He continued, ["And this kid here, the man they call Bane, I'm glad he found his break in the big leagues. Brave guy diving right in his debut to hang with these harded sharks of men from over the seas."] Hector chuckled for a moment, before he began wheezing a bit; after that he returned to his dialogue.

["Well I appreciate his testicular fortitude in boldly going out into this tournament while he's still fresh meat in these big leagues. His fighting spirit cannot be questioned but will it burn passionately enough to help progress him through to the next round?"]

At the edge of the wrestling ring, Bane made his way up the metal steps, through the top two ropes before heading to the far right corner. He climbed up to the top of the ropes as he slowly raised his right arm. Extending his pointer finger he circled around the arena to point at everyone, while he kept his footing on the ropes only bouncing from it slightly, before clutching his hand into a fist and dragging it down to his side.

Leaping down Bane stood in the corner flexing as he awaited his opponent to come to him.

["And now, the challenger!"]

Doyun Kim- the man who'd given Shousei Kougami, the promotion's owner, a ride earlier that day ran forward down the ramp as his entrance music blared. Taking a running jump from the stairs into the corner, he flipped up onto the turnbuckle and started pumping up the crowd. At the request of the referee, he shrugged, dropping down to lean on the corner.

["Looks like our first member of the Rogue Alliance of Wrestling is Doyun Kim- the Middleweight Champion of All Japan Pro Wrestling. This feisty Korean spends his time during RAW's off season as an MMA pro... but he doesn't have any titles from that little side venture yet!"] came from the other member of the two-man booth of the Spanish Commentary Team. This man was Yamashita Katsurou, a thin man who appeared to be in mid-thirties. He was dressed in a grey suit, a black tie with a white undershirt. He had short, but slick back hair which gleamed from the set's lightning. He pulled out a switch-blade comb, flicked it open and combed a bit of his hair before continuing.

["Still, for a guy his size, getting to the semifinals in those matchups is pretty impressive. He's one of the more agile members of RAW, but that leg injury he took in the octagon won't be doing him any favors tonight. His love of violence, on the other hand, might just help him pull through."]

["Who doesn't love some good carnage? That's a tune we can all brawl to. And that's certainly what these two are going to do.]

Bane carefully eyed his opponent, the Killer Korean, Douyn Kim. Just as these proceedings were about to start, well as soon as the bellkeeper rang the bell and after the ring announcer's spiel was done, Bane stopped the impromptu flexing, headed to the center of the ring and when he was there Bane spread his legs apart and began to square his shoulders. This luchador was ready to compete for the amusement of the crowd, and more importantly, for that prized mask. For his part, Doyun kept his feet spread as well, making his way cautiously to the center of the ring. Bane here was an unknown quantity, but he knew the gist of the script. The thing about the leg injury was true, but it was healed up by now. It was a way to save face for going down in the first round. He was ready for Bane, though he wasn't sure how well striking would go over against this opponent.

Alongside the two competitors was a woman who was dressed in a sequin red dress carrying a microphone.

["Laaaaadiiiiiiiies and Gentleeeemeeeeen, this match will be], quite a few fans in the audience chanted alongside her, [ ONE FALL! The winner of this match will progress to the next bracket in the tournament!"]

She gestured to Bane, ["FIGHTING FOR THE CFM, BAAAAAAAANE!"] Bane kept his position as he continued to staredown Doyun Kim.

["AAAAAND FIGHTING FOR THE ROGUE ALLIANCE OF WRESTLING, DOOOOOYUUUUN KIIIIIIIIM!"]

With the announcements done, she left under the ring ropes as the Timekeeper rang the bell to signify the match start.

Showdown of the Rising Suns Early Bracket: Bane vs Doyun Kim, Arena Coliseo

And so Bane charged at Doyun Kim with his left arm extended to start off the affairs with a clothesline. For his part, Kim was going to press his agility as best he could. He ducked the clothesline and stepped to the side, taking a quick punch at Bane's side as he did; Bane stumbled back a bit from the punch, Kim after all needed to go a bit over, especially as he had that MMA career mojo on his side. However Bane of course felt that he could not sell too much, after all he was a strong man, so after regaining himself he ran a bit towards Kim before diving in an attempt to get Kim with a spear. Perhaps it was a bit early for a move such as that, but at this moment it felt right to Bane to be a bit flashy. For what it was worth, the spear hit its mark. Doyun obviously knew how to sell this one, exhaling sharply and staggering back.

Bane got up before speaking briefly, loudly enough for Doyun to hear, but hopefully quiet enough so no snoopy dirtsheets could claim the call was a botch. ["Too stiff?"] With that said Bane began to throw a few more worked punches at Doyun's direction.

Doyun's spanish was, surprisingly, quite good. Whatever his martial art was, he knew how to do functional, but flashy, blocks. ["Nah, I work with other strikers a lot."]
["Good."]Bane took a few steps back before throwing a, telegraphed, right elbow at Doyun. Doyun ducked under, delivering a few quick punches to Bane's stomach before leaping back. Bane, buckled down a bit as he held his arms over his chest for a moment. He then began to circle around towards Doyun as if he was stalking prey. He lifted back his arms and began moving his hands back and forth, ready to pounce. And as he pounced, Bane attempted to perform a double axehandle, a move involving Bane clutching both of his fists together, as he swung them to strike Kim on the head. Kim took it, falling to one knee and springing back again, making sure to sell the stumble as he landed on his left leg and shook his head. He gave Bane a cocky grin and "come at me" as he steadied himself.

And now as the story had been expressed by Kim, Bane would be sure to do his part in order to sell the story in the ring. Outside the ring the commentators would most surely sell it as it should be, once again charged at Duyon, starting off with a feint jab, before moving in with the attempt to take him down with a single leg takedown on Kim's bad leg. Doyun moved to block the feint, though he took the takedown like a champ, crying out and collapsing. Still, he wasn't going down easily, lashing out with a leg sweep with his good leg. He was still, naturally, quite hurt, as the script dictated.

Bane reacted quite naturally to the leg sweep as he motioned to the side away from the strike and towards the ground. From here Bane transitioned into a kneebar, as he went to trap Duyon Kim's good leg in between his own and after securing his arms around the leg, Bane began to stretch the leg.

["Tap."] Bane tersely stated.

Doyun knew the role in this tournament. He made a show of the struggle, wincing and struggling, but eventually tapped out, gasping for air. The referee came over to separate the two, leaving Doyun to look down at his leg as two men with a stretcher came to retrieve him.

As the referee and the two work medics came, Bane simply nodded his head in approval of Doyun, but as the bellkeeper rang the bell to signal the end of the match, Bane hopped on the rops and began thrusting his fist into the air as his music played.

Above an updated graphic had a large 'X' pop over Doyun before moving to a bracket which showed the updated competitors. With that done, alongside his bit of celebration, Bane rolled out of the ring and headed to the back for a brief rest before he would be called once again to the ring.

----

After this match, the crowd were introduced to various promo packages from the competitors who were stating their desires about why they wanted to win the Tournament. Some like El Guacho gave a promo about how they looked up to Aztec the First and how it inspired them to become a proper wrestler.

Bane didn't necessarily give so much of a speech as much as simply pointing towards his own Mask and nodding, the solemn respect that a luchador could offer another luchador. It was the way of the mask, Bane knew it and those who did know the 'Honor Code of Lucha' would get it, everyone else didn't matter.

Loco Loro had an enthusiastically delivered package detailing about the payoff that was going to the winner and of course how he was always destined to fly to the top.

Kid Phoenix spoke of how it was great to face off against other agile fighters- his acrobatic style needed testing against folks who didn't focus on the ground game as much as practitioners of Strong Style, and Luchadores made for perfect opponents.

The remaining wrestler- a disgraced sumo- talked about how his powerful techniques would crush any luchador's style.

Senketsu Joe played the heel nicely- speaking of how Aztec was one of the only luchadors he could bring himself to respect. How he wanted to take that mask and protect it from those who wouldn't live up to the legacy.

These segments served as a bit of time filler so that the talent would be called back to the arena, to stir up interest for the upcoming matches due to investing in the talents that were being presented. As each of these matches were coming to ahead, the jumbotron above kept a steady picture of the current bracket standings.
---

Behind the scenes, Death Man had already set to work. Splicing into the cables leading to the titantron wasn't any big deal, really- a quick "smoke break" as one of RAW's promoters had given him all the private time he needed. He'd even located the mask and appropriated it- treated as some worthless prop. Originally, he had planned to simply abscond with it in silence. But the conditions it was kept in, then suddenly whipped out had made him angry. No, now he was off-script. Now he was going to make these fools pay for disrespecting the mask. He sat down in front off the chair and waited.
----

...["With the diving fist drop Loco Loro, whiffed, and got the ref instead."] Hector stated bemused as he placed his hands on his head. Yamashita smirked as he watched as Joe took advantage of this unique opportunity from this botch.

["And Senkentsu Joe goes for the Hangman's Choke!"] eagerly declared Yamashita, while Hector was banging his hands on the desk. ["Ref are you blind!? That's illegal!"] cried out Hector as he watched as Loco Loro had his will of life drained from him, as he was stuck in a sleeper hold within the ropes. Slicking back his hair Yamashita smirked, ["What they don't see won't hurt them. Kid shouldn't have tried to go to the ropes. When Joe's around, you're in a no fly zone."] Hector snarled as he shook his head.

["Ref c'mon, GET IN THERE!"] bemoaned Hector as the ref returned back into the ring to see a knocked out Loco Loro. ["Day late and a dollar short, well if you were a fan of Loco anyway. I'll give the kid this, he did make a wonderful combo, but all things must come crashing back down to earth, and Joe will bring them down."]

...

["JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH!"] exclaimed Hector as he looked down at the carnage that happened to their desk set. The Spanish Announce Table was a shattered pile of wood, both in flaming debris and regular debris, that held the masked man known as Bane crashed in the middle of it. Standing triumphantly Kid Phoenix began swinging his flaming right leg up and down to the admiration of the crowd.

["Ha! That's the blazing spirit of Kid Phoenix for you; he'll light himself on fire if that means he can get an advantage and take you down. And that Flaming Frog Splash from the top ropes certainly brought that shooting star downwards."]

["Don't count on it just yet. Bane is still stirring with some fighting spirit."] Hector remarked as Bane arose from the ashes to catch Kid Phoenix by surprise and caught Kid Phoenix in a front face-lock. Bane transitioned this into a vertical suplex and slammed Kid Phoenix into the ruined table that he created. As the ref continued counting, Bane slid back into the ring and watched as Kid Phoenix was counted out.
___
Showdown of the Rising Suns Semi-Finals: Senketsu Joe the Fifth vs Bane, Arena Coliseo, 7:55 PM

Through a rough series of matches, the collective of Japanese and Mexican wrestlers began to dwindle as the cream among them were rising to the tops. At this particular round of the semi-finals, two men, one Japanese and one Mexican clawed their way to the top.

These two were the established superstar, Senketsu Joe the Fifth and the rising talent, the one simply known as Bane.

["I hope you folks are ready, because we have a legacy versus the new blood! Senketsu Joe is the fifth to don the mask of the man deemed too brutal for the ring! Holding two heavyweight belts in the various Japan Pro Wrestling circuits for five years running, he has earned his place in history!"]

Amid the smoke and darkness, fountain fireworks went off as a large, burly man in a full-body suit made to look like the human circulatory system walked through the sparks. He thrust his fists upward and let out a hearty laugh before running for the ring, performing a surprisingly agile front-flip to clear the ropes.

["Standing at a whopping six and a half feet tall, weighing in at over two hundred and eighty pounds of muscle! The strongest and nastiest that the Rogue Alliance of Wrestling has to offer! Presenting, the one, the only: Senketsu Joe The Fifth!"]

"And challenging, the rising force of CFM, standing at five feet six inches, weighing in at two huuundred and eighty five pounds, BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!"

Once again Bane's theme began to play. He simply settled for entering through the middle ropes and pointing around to the crowd with his right index finger. After he finished pointing up towards the rafters, he pointed towards the jumbotron which currently displayed a portrait of the Mask of Azteca.

Pointing back to himself, Bane flexed and readied himself.

Once again the ring announcer explained the rules; that this particular match, the penultimate battle with the winner facing El Guacho for the chance to win the tournament, was a one fall match, with disqualification and count outs at play. With her job finished, she rolled out of the arena so these wrestlers could duke it out.

The bell rang to signal that the match was now official and had begun. Bane pounded on his chest with his right hand before stomping up towards Senketsu Joe the Fifth in order to challenge this wrestler in their field. Extending his right arm wide, Bane whipped it against Senketsu's chest.

It appeared that the luchador wanted to engage this man in a contest of strength, done in a traditional fashion in Puroresu. One could only imagine whether this was done in an attempt to mock and embarass Senketsu Joe the Fifth in his area of expertise, or if it was done as a sign of respect. Joe, meanwhile, ran forward to meet the charge, grabbing for Bane's neck for a typical lock stalemate. A fairly standard start to a match for two grapplers. While the two grappled, however, Joe kicked at Bane's calf. Bane took some damage from this attack, and began to falter downwards, so Joe had the advantage. However this could prove to be an opportunity for the masked man; Bane attempted to bring Joe's elbow away so he could do a proper duckunder and weasel his way around his opponent for a better position and perhaps attack with a suplex. Of course, a momentary distraction can cost a lot- especially with an experienced grappler. Joe brought his head back, and gave Bane a mighty headbutt, attempting to distance himself from Bane a bit.

"[LISTEN UP, AMIGO, BECAUSE I'M GONNA SAY THIS ONCE!]"

"[THERE ARE THREE FUNDAMENTALS OF WRESTLING. DOYUN'S KOREAN MARTIAL ARTS MAKE HIM A POWERFUL, AGILE FIGHTER, BUT HE'S PATHETIC AT FOULS.]"

"[KID PHOENIX IS AN AGILE GUY WHO FIGHTS DIRTY, BUT HIS MOVES DON'T HAVE A LOT OF POWER BEHIND THEM BEYOND THE FIRE.]"

"[AND THAT SUMO IN THE LAST ROUND IS A POWERFUL JACKASS WHO CHEATS, BUT HE'S AS AGILE AS A GODDAMN HIPPO!]"

"[SO ASK YOURSELF... HOW DO YOU FIGHT A MAN WHO HAS MASTERED THE THREE FUNDAMENTALS OF WRESTLING?]"

The headbutt was successful at its intended goal, Bane staggered backwards as he was struck from the blow. He listened carefully to the lesson that Senketsu Joe was teaching in his boastful speech. Bane needed to out-think, out-manuever and out-power Joe, as a master of these three arts could only be defeated by a superior master of those three essentials, or one with a fourth essential.

["BY BEING THEIR BANE!"] roared out Bane as he rushed towards Joe to grab an arm and fling him towards the turnbuckles in an Irish Whip. As Bane threw him towards the turnbuckle, however, Joe dove to the side at the last minute- sliding between the top two ropes and leaving the ring, landing in a painful-looking roll into the announcer table. He dashed back in as fast as he could. However, the titantron's picture began to waver as a cloud of static overcame it, and a new entrance theme played. The screen showed a laughing skull- followed by various headlines in various languages. "SKULL-FACED JAP BAFFLES GIs." "MYSTERIOUS THIEF BURGLARIZES ST. PETERSBURG ARMORY." "MASKED MIKADO OF MAYHEM MYSTIFIES MANTIS."

Interspersed were clips from some Japanese cartoon, all featuring the same man in a skeleton costume. Finally, a voice clip.

"A heist is all about aesthetics! It requires style, coolness, and nobility! The ultimate contest of wits? Stealing today, tomorrow and everything in between! I am The Phantom Thief..."



Finally, the camera shifted to a costumed man reclining comfortably in an office chair, drinking wine through his somehow unstained mask. Three suitcases sat on the desk in front of him as he stood up and held his hands up on either side.

"SALUDOS, Mexico City! You came here to watch masked men in the ring, but I'm afraid there's one more behind the scenes thanks to the shoddy security systems!"

Tapping his cane to the side of his head, Death Man continued, reaching under the desk and putting a picture of the most famous Luchadores of all time on the table- an unmistakable figure in a silver mask, Followed by Fray Tormenta, and finally Azteca 1.

"And I've been thinking. Back during the second World War, there was an attempt by the axis to turn Mexico against the United States. During that time, I was here in Mexico attempting to gather intelligence at Emperor Hirohito Tojo's behest. I saw a truly amazing spectacle- one of El Santo's first matches! And the most beautiful part was that it wasn't staged. Glorious combat between two actual competitors!"

Lord Death Man sighed, seemingly lost in the nostalgia as he looked at the pictures. He sighed and replaced them on the desk.

"And, while I decry the death of shoot promotions outside Japan, today my heart goes out to the luchadores. You are, possibly, the last people on Earth who understand the value of a mask. And I can understand the pain you feel. Nobody cared who you were until you put on the mask."

With that, Death Man opened the middle suitcase and took out a red and blue mask, adorned with a massive topaz, to the gasps of the attending crowd.

"Take Aztec The First... a salt miner from an impoverished town seeking money to build a school. He claimed he had mystical might that came from the Star of Quetzlcoatl, the gem he built into his mask. However, whether or not that element is true, the fact remains- he was a strong man, both in character and in the ring. This mask, it became a symbol to so many! But no, the audience today doesn't really care about that... They're here to watch a violent spectacle, so that CFM's golden boy El Gaucho can don it. No honor, no attempt to actually earn it..."

Death Man pointed his cane to the camera, smiling underneath the mask.

"And that is why, I have come to make an announcement!"

["Cut the feed and call the fucking police."] the lead promoter from CFM shouted frantically to one of the backstage agents manning the monitors at the gorilla position.

["Sir, I've been try-"] answered the closest agent before getting interrupted by the promoter who was already losing his mind.

["Did I fucking stutt- What do you mean you've been trying?!"]
---

Mexico City Police Department
July 13th, 8:00 PM

Throughout the parking lot and halls, the police faced a rather... interesting problem. The floors, parking lot, and offices were currently being patrolled. Not by any human- the humans were hiding in bathrooms and cells. No, tonight the ones travelling the methodical routes tonight were a swarm of cobras, slithering about. The phones in dispatch were ringing constantly... but a number of cobras were already curled up quite comfortably around them. Officer Santiago decided to be a hero and make a break for it. Maybe, if he could make it to a car, he could radio a patrolman or something. He gritted his teeth, gripped his pistol, and made for the door, raising his gun to take a shot at a cobra... which sprayed him in the eyes even as he pulled the trigger. The shot went wild. Officer Santiago was blinded that night. He didn't know how things would turn out- but he would now and forever fear the snake.
---

"Going forward, the final round will be a Shoot match! The winner will receive three prizes: The first, two hundred thousand pesos! The second, the mask of Aztec that I now hold! And finally, a personal gift from yours truly: The opportunity to join the greatest criminal enterprise in history!"

Bane clenched his right fist as he began pounding it in an open hand. Certainly this was a serendipitous boon to the luchador, he wouldn't have to force his way into claiming it against the wishes of the promotion. That specter he saw on the television at that fateful morning at the gym was here. And he understood the mask, this much was clear from that broadcast and now properly putting up for a prize in a real battle. Bane was not about to lose his chance at the prize, nor would he disappoint this man.

He had to make a good impression, Lord Death Man was watching. That skeleton needed to know that he was another student of the mask; and Bane was ready to conquer all who stood before him.

And with that Bane went charging towards Joe to strike with a shoulder tackle. Joe dodged to the side, sticking out his leg and attempting to trip Bane.

"[Look. There's one more round. You wanna run down your gas tank fighting me, or you want to save it for Gaucho?]"

Bane noticed the leg and began to dive through the ropes, ["You make a good point."] but he did not dive through the ropes and in fact managed to hang on to the second rope. Swinging on his side around through the ropes, Bane performed a Tiger Feint Kick to strike Joe. ["But who said we were going back to a regular scheduled program?"]

["Lord Death Man ain't one to skip on planning. He'll have something set up. But I've been watching Gaucho's matches. I can teach you the techniques he won't be able to counter, but I'm not sure you've got the mass for 'em."]

Swinging back through the ropes without contact, Bane struck his feet back on the ground and stood back up, taking a bit of time for a breather. ["Do not worry about the mass, my body is a pristine temple that can handle it and I would say more."]

["Alright... then prepare for the brutal technique passed down by the original Senketsu Joe! Prepare your body for... SENKETSU HELL!"]

Joe rushed forward, grabbing for Bane's neck and thigh and lifting him up onto his shoulders. Pulling Bane's chest and arms down, Joe pulled tighter and tighter. Ordinarily, Bane's strength would prove more than a match for such a hold. However...

["First, the backbreaker! Disorient your foe... and just as they are about to break out...]"

Joe fell to the side, bringing Bane's head straight down onto the canvas... and indeed, through it, Bane's head sticking out the bottom of the ring. Joe jumped backward upon the landing, going for the ropes to help build momentum.

["A Japanese mat is firmer, meaning this technique is a good deal more lethal. However, a Lucha mat is softer to allow for a better airgame. These are key differences you'll need to know in the ring if you want to work for Death Man."]

Bane clawed his hands deep into the mat as Senketsu Joe illustrated the manuever. To a normal man, and with the proper mat, this would be the most dangerous technique. Fortunately Bane was not an ordinary man; pushing down against the mat he roared as he ripped his head out through the mat and emerged. Heaving, Bane turned around to face Senketsu Joe the Fifth.

["Hm."] Bane mused as he clutched his right hand over his chest before rolling his neck around. ["I still have much to learn it seems to be a truly masterful warrior."] After rolling his neck around he moved to rolling around his shoulders, ["Good. This means I can progress further. I thank you for showing me this."] Bane said with small nod to Senketsu Joe.

["Now, I need El Guacho."]

Meanwhile as this was going on, the crowd and commentary just watched in a stunned silence unsure of how to respond to the events that quickly unfurled before them.

["Hehehe... yeah."] With that, Joe gave a thumbs-up to Bane and made his way over to the announcer's table. He promptly picked up a mic and made an announcement.

["RAW didn't sign up for this shit. I just came here to see Mexicans getting hurt, and I don't care if it's me or Bane doing it. Just send me my damn check, I'm out."]

With that, Joe dropped the mic and headed for the arena's exit, rolling his shoulders as he made his way out.

-----
Meanwhile, in the locker room, El Gaucho was cornered by a swarm of cobras, hissing menacingly. He became a luchador with CFM to avoid shit like this. He expected it from bushleague tier and those hardcore promotions but hoped that moving to CFM would give him a sense of safe professionalism in his work. But at least the dumb animals had left him an opening. A clear path from the locker room to a nearby door. El Guacho needed to manuever through this gracefully, no way would his medical insurance company believe that he was attacked by a swarm of cobras at one of his performances. With that El Guacho began dashing and hopping his way through multitudes of cobras in order to reach that door to freedom.

Back inside the ring, Bane began pacing back and forth. ["El Guacho! You can't hide from me! I am waiting!"] In an attempt to get some measure of control of the situation, a pair of referees hopped in the ring and attempted to calm down Bane and try to convince him that this wasn't worth it, and that this was just some manner of trick and things were still going to go on as planned.

[ "I WILL NOT BE DEEEENIIIIIED!" ] roared out Bane as he hooked one of the referees with a headlock and transitioned into a fisherman's suplex as he sent the referee flying. The other referee scurried back as security were swarming towards the mat; but the results were the same as most times when security got involved in wrestling angles...

...lots of security agents took a beating.

While lower on gastank, he still had enough for this task. Bane began battering security guards with flurries of jabs, elbows and a few lariats. Bane carved his way towards the back to find El Guacho so he could finally earn the prizes that Lord Death Man put up for stake.

["YOU, THE MONEY AND THE MASK SHALL BE MINE! LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORD DEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAATH MAAAAAAAAAAAN ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!?"] was uttered in a rather dramatic fashion as Bane forced his way towards the back to collect the few belongings he left at the arena, and more importantly to find El Guacho.

In the locker room, sitting on one of the benches and with a cobra on either side, a figure in a black cape and skull mask sat, watching a pocket television that would have been outdated 20 years ago. Still, it got the transmission well enough, and as he leaned on his cane, he nodded.

"Quite impressive work, Bane. I must admit, since I stole the matchup card, I was curious about you. Wondered why they would let new talent go so far in his first appearance. Nevertheless, you took a bit longer than I thought you would."

Bane gave a bow towards Lord Death Man, "I am glad. Hopefully not too long?" he spoke as he opened up his locker and ripped out his dufflebag without paying much mind to some of his pads that fell out.

"Oh, no, but those lockers smell like ass and I was hiding in one for like... ten minutes. El Gaucho was in here but... something or other scared him off, I suppose."

"Hmrphm." Bane grumbled out as he opened up his dufflebag and took out one of the many containers of Venom that was stashed within it. Attaching this first container of his most precious drug to the system, he mused. "Any plan for getting out?"

"Well, I suppose I can give you a lift. We do have a submarine to catch." Death Man swung his cane about, letting the cobras slither up into his cape as he made for the exit. "I think you'll fit right in with what I'm planning if you're willing to bring that no-nonsense attitude to the criminal world."

"You understand The Code the Way of the Mask. As such my services are at your disposal." Bane explained as he took out another canister and put it into place. "However I was not able to catch El Guacho; was my performance enough to earn those rewards?"

Under the mask, Death Man sighed and gave a smile. Not exactly what you'd expect from a Yakuza boss- a warm, friendly one, almost fatherly.

"Bane, I have an excellent eye for rising young talent. You are, frankly, wasted in a promotion like the CFM. You have the potential to become one of the greatest criminals of the modern age, and as an elder... well, it's my solemn duty to help you and others come into your own. The 'civilized' world turns its back on us, those who were abused and abandoned, so it's only right we look out for each other. That's how the Yakuza started, and that's how we remain."

Reaching into a duffle bag of his own, Death Man withdrew a number of other cobras, sticking them under his cape.

"Now, let's go. Our ride is waiting."

"YEEE!" Rufus whooped from the window of his all-terrain jeep, one of three military camouflaged vehicles that now burned a trail through the thousands of acres of forest that Hope Springs was home to. "We gon' bag ourselves a Bug Man!!"

Each of these trio of vehicles was loaded with several members of the Masterson clan, ten men in all. Pa Buford, Jim Bob, Billy Joe and Rufus Masterson lead the pack, with the second jeep containing Floyd, Darrel, and Jeb Masterson. Bringing up the rear were "Doc" Willie, Verne, and Bubba Blue Masterson.

They came armed with every rifle, shotgun, assault weapon, and pistol in their arsenal as well as a wide assortment of steel nets, cages and, high yield explosives. This would be the biggest hunt the family had engaged in ever since those beavers drank Bubba Blue's moonshine. All the leftover C4 from back then had just been going to waste ever since!

"Hold up," Pa Buford called out over the CB radio in his jeep. "Ya'll stop at this clearin' up here."

Obediently following their Patriarch's instructions, the other two jeeps pulled to a stop in the clearing. Flinging open the doors, they hopped out onto the ground, dried leaves and twigs crackling under their heavy combat boots. Armed with their firearm of choice, the Masterson clan all gathered 'round to hear the words of Pa Buford.

Unfolding a cheap plastic table on the ground, Pa laid a map of Hope Springs across it. Running a tobacco-stained finger across a circular area marked on the map, his eyes darted between the other members of his clan. "We know that the 'Vine Stalker' been seen mostly in this area here. We know he don't like it when folks exercise their God-given right to hold dominion over nature, neither. That means we's already know how to draw him out!"

The other Mastersons slowly nodded along, with Cletus being the first to speak up.

"If'n thats how it is, Pa, then let's slaughter us up some elk and deer!" Cletus' face stretched into a grin full of missing teeth. "That's sure to make him good and proper mad!"

Pa gently shook his head at this plan, reaching out to place his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Now Cletus, that ain't the way of Jesus."

"Ah..." Cletus hung his head as Buford made his way to the back of his jeep. "I'm sorry, pa, you right."

Throwing open the trunk of the vehicle to reveal many stacks of red cylinders, Pa Buford grinned cheerfully to the others. "We gotta blast this 'somebitch out with some proper dynamite!"

A chorus of hoots and hollers filled the forest in that moment as the Masterson clan quickly began unloading every ounce of C4 they had on them. In a startlingly short amount of time, they manage to rig up their section of the forest with the explosives in such a way that the resulting wildfire could potentially endanger every animal, plant and perhaps even human being living there when they went off.

Yeah, that should lure their Bug Man out!

Harris had to wait a few hours for the rednecks to return, but in that time he'd positioned himself at the top of a tree overlooking the clearing, his lower body sunken into it and everything from the stomach upwards free, just to ensure he wasn't seen too early while still providing him with a three hundred and sixty degree field of vision. While he waited, he extended roots beneath the ground of the clearing just in case. He wasn't the world's greatest strategic mind, but he knew that if these folks were coming to kill him, they weren't gonna half-ass it.

So, neither would he.

These people were clearly one screw short of a toolbox, so he'd rather beat them up and drop them off at the police station rather than just let them go, as a good citizen would. Maybe scare the absolute crap out of them first just to make sure they didn't try that again.

Harris shot to life as he heard the rumbling of arriving jeeps, much to his chagrin. The powerful fumes drifting out the back of the things were enough to make him feel incredibly ill, and where they touched his bark-like flesh it burned like salt spilled on an open wound. Harris groaned as the fumes continued to drown out the air, covering his mouth and nose as he continued to watch the men hopping out of their jeeps.

He watched with restrained anger as they planted explosives all over this section of the forest, they were really willing to kill so many living things, not even on their own property, just to get a glimpse of one being that they didn't even know for sure is real. The Green was even more furious, and it began to sneak into his mind, attempting to take control so it could slaughter all of these morons. Even if Harris and The Green were close to being on the same page here, he couldn't just kill them, no matter how idiotic they were.

Harris sunk into the tree in order to close the distance with the fools. He walked out of the tree and examined the area. There was a truly huge amount of C4 and dynamite hooked up, he had to wonder just how this group of people had managed to acquire such a massive amount of military-grade explosives, then he realized he was south of the Mason-Dixon line and it all made sense. He had to move fast so that the hillbillies didn't detonate the entire forest, but even going at incredible speeds he probably wouldn't be able to get them all. So he decided not to do that.

As soon as the planters looked away from their charges the explosives sunk into the wood that they had been planted on. Travelling through the massive root system that Harris had planted, these explosives were buried deep underground, ensuring that they wouldn't be reachable by any electronic detonator, or, in the case of the dynamite, deep enough that when the fuse did run out, they wouldn't blow up anything important. Any cords were broken off by sharpened wood, ensuring no detonator would reach them.

One of the hillbillies did manage to spot this happening, but Harris stopped him before he could do anything about it by shooting a pair of vines from his arms and pulling the man by his feet deeper into the forest, drawing the rednecks deeper into the forest that they knew nothing about.

"PA!" Darrel screamed when the vines emerged from the ground and encircled his legs. Before he could say another word or get off a shot with his rifle, it ripped him off his feet and began dragging him deeper into the woods. "PA HELP! SOMETHIN'S GOT HOLD OF ME!"

Twisting on his heel, Pa Buford and the other Mastersons standing with him glanced between one another in confusion. It wasn't like Darrel to let a critter sneak up on him like that. Their confusion was soon cleared up, however, when Jim Bob came running towards them in a panic. His face was white, and not in the good Christian way.

"I...I seen it again, Pa! It got Darrel!" Jim Bob wheezed out, hands resting on his legs. "It's vines came up from the ground and plum dragged him away into the forest!"

Narrowing his eyes, Pa Buford immediately turned back to where their jeeps were parked without another word. The other Mastersons took that as a cue to call the others back. It didn't take long for the remaining nine members of the clan to assemble and start piling into their jeeps in an effort to chase after Darrel and his abductor.

Belching yet more exhaust into the air, they rumbled through the forest as "Doc" Willie used his binoculars to try and spot any sign of the boy or their target. "Don't see no sign of him yet, Bu."

"Let's detonate the charges, Pa! Maybe it'll draw it out, and we can make it show us where Darrel is!" Floyd suggested over the radio.

Buford, however, was quick to shut that idea down. "We don't know where it took em'. Till we get our kin back, we can't risk blastin' anythang here apart."

No, they would have to track this mountain monster down the old fashion way.

Harris continued to pull the screaming hillbilly through the forest, hearing the engines of their jeeps roar to life. They'd naturally split up in a forested environment, and when they had to look for one of their own, it made sense to do so.

First he'd have to deal with the one he'd captured. Harris, deciding that this was far enough in the forest to stash him for now. He'd let him out later, when he was done handling the whole family. First to scare him though. Fishing the man between trees and over ditches, Harris finally dropped the man, alone.

Harris danced around the trees, each time giving the man just the slightest glimpse of movement to send him into hysterics. Harris barely held back a laugh as he turned the man into a twitching wreck, this was fun! Now he understood why that... Grim he thought it was? That Grim person used fear as their weapon, and it wasn't hard to see why, it was fun to make awful people dance in terror.

Harris sent the man looking one direction, then snuck up behind as the man looked into the forest in fear. He let out a crackling sound from his skin as he approached, and the man spun just as Harris reached him, clapping a wooden hand around the man's throat and hoisting him into the air. His teeth sharpened into points as he let out a roar that could probably be heard over the chirping of birds.

Satisfied with the terror on the man's face, he ripped an elbow across his face and pulled him away with a group of vines. He pulled the man's unconscious form through the air and finally hung him not far from where the clearing was.

Harris chuckled as the Green seemed to be pleased with his actions for the first time... ever. It wasn't in his normal behavior to be such a dick, but he had to admit it was quite fun, and it wasn't like these guys didn't deserve to be a little afraid, he'd apologize once he'd knocked them all out, kinda weird to do, but he couldn't help but be a little weird. He retreated back in the forest, preparing for the next straggler to isolate themselves.

They had been searching for over ten minutes for Darrel, each jeep moving independently to cover as much ground as possible. Despite this, however, they had been unsuccessful in locating their missing family member. It was only when the Masterson clan reconvened at the clearing that they saw him: strung up from the trees, unconscious.

Pa Buford could feel his blood boiling at the sight of one of his clan being manhandled in such a way. Nobody had ever dared to spite them and walked away. "You damn Tree Fucker! String my kin up like a fuckin' spade, will you?!"

The other members were equally incensed by the creature's action, Bubba Blue in particular cracking his knuckles. Standing nearly seven feet in height with arms that seemed disproportionately large and swollen at the bottom, his beady eyes had gone bloodshot with rage. "Lemme at it, pa! I'mma whump it good!"

"You can whump it all you like, but first we needsta lure it out!" Buford responded, glancing to the rest of his family. "If'n it wants a war, then we's givin' one! Get the flamers!"

An assortment of toothless, yellow grins lit up the clearing as the Masterson clan quickly moved to their respective jeeps in order to retrieve a trio of flamethrowers, while Jeb and Cletus cut Darrel down. The dynamite they'd set wasn't working for some reason, but there'd be no way the Vine Stalker would be able to stop these weapons!

"Let's light this somebitch's house up!" Buford exclaimed, now wearing his flame retardant suit over his army fatigues alongside Floyd and "Doc" Willie. Wasting little time, they turned their flamers on the surrounding trees. When the Vine Stalker appeared, they'd turn them on it instead...and if that didn't work, well...then Bubba would just have to whump it!

Bubba was much more special than most boys his age, after all. He'd been blessed by the Lord!

Right, now was the time to stop fucking around.

It was amusing watching the hillbillies scrounge through the forest, searching for their stupidest cousin, but that amusement quickly faded when they pulled out flamethrowers, how the hell did they get flamethrowers? Not even the least gun-controlling state would allow you to buy one of those... he thought, maybe Texas would, place was already insane as it was.

He couldn't let them just torch the forest, he had to stop them right here, it was fun to terrify them just a bit, but he wasn't just gonna sit down and let them ruin all he had worked for.

Harris pulled himself from the dirt just within the treeline, keeping out of sight of the three flamethrower-wielding men. He shed the hardened plant-matter carapace, if he got caught by their flames it wouldn't do him much good anyway, what he needed was speed right now.

Right, so three flamethrower wielders and a few more without, that made it easy to figure out which targets to focus down. Harris didn't want to wish using the ground as a transportation method any more than he needed to, considering the explosives, so he'd be making a mad dash here. Harris spread his wings to ensure more sun collection, giving him greater stamina, and beefed up his leg muscles to allow faster running speed.

And then he was off, at speeds far surpassing that of even the fastest human sprinter, he leaped, shoulder-first, into the nearest hillbilly, knocking them both to the ground and knocking the weapon from the man's hands. Harris managed to land on all fours, his control of his body offering him the flexibility to get extremely low to the ground. He grabbed the flamethrower and tore it to pieces with a single motion before driving his foot right into the man's head, knocking him unconscious. As he did so, he grew to about twice his normal size, and then split off an identical duplicate, who, just as fast as when he had charged from the treeline, zig-zagged over to the next flamethrower-man, leaping into the air with the aid of a suddenly protruding section of ground and plant-matter, and slamming the man into the ground with one massive hammer-fist.

He'd managed to take out two of the dangerous hillbillies in under a minute, but now he'd lost the initiative, he wasn't close enough to the third man to deal with him as well, so he'd have to think of some way to regain that lost initiative.

The doppelganger disappeared into the wind as Harris stood to full height, a thin, green mass of wettened musculature, covered in chips of his shattered exoskeleton. He took a sophisticated stance, rubbing the chips of hardened plant matter off of his arms, before suddenly shifting to a beast-like stance as he let out a terrifying roar that seemed to shake the very ground.

"Leave this place, or be devoured!" he cried out as his wings assumed their full glory above his shoulders. It was an empty threat of course, he wasn't just about to eat them! He didn't even need to eat anymore. No, it was just for the intimidation factor of it.

October 28th 5:00 PM

Queens, New York

When you look the way John does, it was easy to gather attention even through his hooded sweatshirt Tall, strong, relatively good looking... mothers gossiped to each other at the young man who frequented visited the local boxing gym while fathers privately reflected their youth pondering if they looked as John did at the same age. Ever since his brief entanglement with the Irish Mob the great "Superman" had relatively been quiet since then. While New York City and the other boroughs struggled with its crime activity, one particular masked individual in the form of the Tiger was far more active. As the Tiger went about and made his mark throughout New York, Superman simply stayed quiet and when several other famed individuals descalated the conflict in the Middle East, Superman remained quiet. For a figure who had made several notable appearances, John was fortunate he was able to routinely settle back into the shadows.

Sitting in a stool outside the ring John wrapped his hands slowly as any typical boxer would do. Such an activity was a waste after all, nothing was capable of harming him, or at least so he thought. Was it laziness or maybe a lack of understanding in his place in the world that John pondered as he wasted his days again in secrecy. It was reassuring being out of the spotlight and there was enough heroes in the world and he wasn't one of them until...

John glanced upwards as he saw several young children running around imitating the very super heroes they watched on television.
"Lady Arcana is the coolest!"
"No, no! Aquaman is the coolest!"
"No uh!" Another cried as John chuckled at their innocent arguments.
"Hey kids what about New York's... the Tiger! huh?" The kids turned and looked towards the head boxing trainer, Julian who caught their attention with a clap, also laughing at the arguments as the kids nodded their heads in approval. As the various parents of the children rolled their eyes in the silly conversation Julian congratulated the kids on a good day's work from the previous hourly long workout class
"Alright everyone, that's enough for the day, get home safe!" Julian said as he waved the children and their parents goodbye. But just before one exited the building, one small boy asked out loud "Hey coach, what about Superman!?"
"We can talk about this tomorrow, go home good job today!" Julian replied watching the last of them leave as he took a deep breath knowing the gym was closed. It was only 5 in the afternoon but the way the world was... nobody liked being out at night, it was too unpredictable. The gym was now empty save for Julian and of course the sitting man who stared at his wrapped hands.

"Hey champ you alright?" Julian asked as he approached wondering why John seemed so lost in thought.
"Yeah I'm good" John replied as he glanced upwards. He didn't want to admit it but the reminder that nights now a days can be so scary for the common people irritated at him.
"Listen, I got some guys from the island coming in tomorrow I think they got someone who wont be too scared to get in the ring with ya"
"You always say that" John replied as the pair bumped fists and the two shared a quick chuckle.
"Listen John, you think about what I said? You're a natural. A real heavyweight but your real fit, you're fast, hit hard as shit. It's like you aint trying half the time. I'm telling ya, you're here all the time why don't you fight, for real just once, I can set something up" John rolled his eyes, he's heard this pitch before.
"Oh cmon John don't give me that! look at ya! You were built to go professional in something, you look like a god damn super hero. You remember when that guy Marvin won the championship? That could be you next time! imagine that New York producing another world champ"

John stayed quiet and ignored the statement as he stood up as he rotated his shoulders before he began to lightly shadow box in place. "Listen man, I know you ain't scared to be in there so what's the deal? I mean your crazy enough to walk these streets alone at night"

"You think the world has enough super heroes?" John finally replied as his attention turned towards the nearby wall mirror as John watched his movements closely making sure he did all the little thing correctly. Shadow boxing after all was all focused on watching your own movements, to perfect them... a honest way of critiquing one's technique. "The hell? See now that's some bull shit. The world is all sorts of messed up, the world needs all them crazy freaks out there saving the world cause hell you know I ain't doing it" As Julian watched John work, John picked up the pace in his intensity, each punch fast and powerful, each with a purpose. There was some real pop behind those punches, Julian knew it but what bothered him is why it looked so easy as if John routinely held back.

"You think Superman should've went to the Middle East?" Another question, a relatively dumb one but Julian had an opinion on everything and anything.

"You're god damn right he should. You seen that asshole on television, he's capable of doing all that weird super alien shit but I think he's on our side you know?. But I think he's a bit off in the head, just my opinion" Julian shrugged before letting John be to continue warming up...

An hour or so later

John could hear Julian relaxed in his office watching the local news as the latest stories about the latest murders and kidnappings in the local area. Each story seemingly got more negative and depressing than the other as John got too caught up in listening that his concentration slipped and with a punch with too much pop into it sent a punching bag flying off its hook, the heavy bag slamming into the wall as sand spilled everywhere. Realizing what he done John slightly cringed at his mistake but took a sigh of relief as Julian was too caught up in the news to notice. Kneeling towards the downed bag John slowly worked too clean up his mess as he took the time to close his eyes and truly listen to the world around him as he once more asked the question he's been asking himself all year... Does the world need a Superman?

They knew It was going to attack when they began setting the forest ablaze. It could barely stand anyone even cutting trees down, much less trying to set the whole damn place on fire! They were ready, and they were all armed with either flamers or shotguns. They were expecting the creature to move on them quickly...

But It had moved with far greater speed than they could ever anticipate.

Before any of them could react, "Doc" Willie and Floyd had gone down, leaving Pa Bufford as the sole remaining member of the Masterson clan with a flamethrower. His eyes flaring in a mixture of startled fear and absolute fury, he aimed the flamer at the plant-bug-monster. Unleashing the stream of napalm at the creature with a roar of his own as gunfire erupted around them, he was infuriated to see the majority of his clan already fleeing in terror.

Firing wildly at the Vine Stalker even as they ran, five out of the remaining seven conscious Mastersons piled into two of the jeeps and began making tracks to escape, having realized they had bitten off way more than they could possibly chew. "Goddamn little yella' shits! I'm gon' tan your hides right proper for this!"

But not all the Mastersons were fleeing. Pa Buford was standing his ground, and so was Bubba Blue!

"Bubba, go on and whump it's ass!" Buford shouted, continuing to spray a steady stream of fire at the beast as the young man used his oversized hands to grasp onto a sizable boulder and rip it free from the ground with a broad and misshapen grin stretched across his equally malformed face.

Hurling the boulder at the monster a short distance away from him, he wasn't content to leave it at that and began charging at it without fear. "Imma wump you good, ya durn ol' bug man!"

Swinging those big and powerful arms that could effortlessly pulverize a pickup truck at the creature, Bubba Blue screamed with a mad fury.

Harris watched in amusement as the majority of the hillbillies fled into their jeeps, well, he supposed now there would be concrete proof that he lived here, but he didn't know if that was exactly a bad thing. In the meantime, he had to deal with the last two good ol' boys, though that big guy seemed a little... overly muscled, as Harris noted while leaping out of the flamethrower's range.

Then the man pulled a massive rock out of the ground and hurled it like it was nothing.

He appears to have unnatural strength. The Green helpfully noted as the rock shattered against Harris' suddenly armored chest. He had just about enough time to re-armor his chest against the attack and anchor his body to the ground via roots in order to prevent the rock from doing any damage.

As the pebbles from what remained of the rock tapped against the ground, Harris bore witness to the large fellow declaring that he was going to... ahem, "whump him good". Although that statement made no logical sense, Harris still understood the meaning behind it. Bless his heart, he was trying to communicate in the only way he knew how.

He had to compliment their courage for not fleeing, even if one of them was a very strong country boy. Harris would need to match his strength in order to knock him out, to that end, he bulked up his muscles considerably, reaching Demon's height in only a few short seconds, and becoming a massive ball of muscle as he did so. He countered the muscled redneck's charge with one of his own, charging with far too much speed for his massive frame, planning to slam his shoulder into the guy's face with enough force to hurl him into the flamethrower-wielder, knocking them both out in an instant.

At least, that was the plan, and he knew what was said about best laid plans.

When the Vine Stalker slammed into Bubba, the towering man was knocked off his feet. Sailing back through the air, he smashed into the much smaller form of Pa Buford. With a scream, the elder Masterson was crushed beneath his kin, the flamethrower falling to the ground. Shaking his head to clear the brief feeling of disorientation that had resulted from his collision with the creature, Bubba looked down to instantly see his unconscious Pa on the ground.

"W-wo-no!" He cried in distress, checking over him in a panic. "I'm s-sorry, Pa! It wu'nt my fault, it was that there Bug Man!"

Bubba was many things, but a doctor wasn't one of them. In his unconscious state, bleeding from a clearly broken nose, it was impossible for his simple mind to tell whether the patriarch of the Masterson clan was dead or merely unconscious. The very idea of the former brought tears to his eyes...and rage to his heart.

"NGHYYAAAAAUUHH!" Bubba Blue roared to his feet, raising his arms to the sky. Already massive, his muscles began to ripple and expand to the point where the arms and legs of his blue checkered shirt and overalls began to tear. Soon, the buttons of his shirt popped open and his overalls fell to reveal his muscular - and hairy - chest. Something was burning inside of him, the same strange feeling that started about a year ago when he began changing.

Slamming his booted foot down onto the ground with enough force to cause a small tremor, Bubba swerved on the vine stalker. He now seemed smaller than before, even though he thought he saw him grow. It didn't matter: he was going to pay for making him hurt his pa!

"IMMA WHUMP YOU TILL YOU NO LONGER MOVE, YA DURN MONSTER!" Bubba charged at him with startling speed for a being of such size - well over eight feet now! - and bulk, swinging his tree trunk-like arms at Harris with an even greater force than before. While he wouldn't be winning any awards for technique, he more than made up for it with his sheer power and ferocity.

8:30 a.m.
All Across the City of Brooklyn
October 30th, 2020

---

A citrus sun rose above the city’s skyline. On this day in particular, there were an odd number of public transit vehicles parading the already dense streets of New York. Buses, trains, taxicabs, all of which had apparently divulged from their normal routes on this special occasion. Today, the kids of Brooklyn would be taking a city wide field trip, sponsored by an anonymous backer.

Brooklyn Arts and Sciences Elementary School

“And that is how you do PEMDAS!” Miss Huckle chimed to her brimming class of third graders as some valiantly scribed the chalked math equation which sprawled the spacious green board at the front of the classroom while others threw paperballs at one another and passed notes demeaning their fellow classmates in secret. A man clad in long trench and matching slack swung open the door, creme fedora brim pushed back slightly to reveal his thinning hairline. It was detective David Ramsey, FBI. He’d come with a special message for Miss Huckle and her band of third graders,

“Miss Tabitha Huckle! David Ramsey,” he whipped the badge, federal bureau insignia etched on its face , “FBI, please escort yourself and your students to the playground.”

“B--” expectant of defiance, Ramsey sliced her speech before she could knit it,
“This is for the safety of you and your students, Miss Huckle, please do as I ask.” ever stern was 6’1 Ramsey.
“But, but you can’t take them now! I’m trying to teach! What is going on?!” Tabitha shot back, not one to be silenced swift,

David only glared. A cold quiet cleansed the room, stained only by the rising giddy of twenty four 3rd grade children deciphering the situation before them. Too lofty for their capacity of sense, half the class looked on with excitement--if it meant they got to leave class early instead of partake in another dreadful math problem, they would. The other half spurred disappointment; a correct answer on a math problem in Miss Huckle’s class meant candy for everyone! Stupid crises, they always ruined a good thing.

Scenes such as these played similar across the city as the afternoon waned. Principals sat dilapidated in their offices as disgruntled single mothers, fathers, and purveyors of classic nuclear families flooded the meager protection the principal’s office doors provided from such an encroaching threat. No matter how many times public and private school principals and deans hoped to assuage the ire of the parent body, there was no rest. Schools graced with less funding than the more prestigious Brooklyn Arts and Sciences Elementary who still used LAN line phones could not escape the seemingly endless ringing of the phone’s hook as it sat on their desks.

Around the city, kids of all age brackets were summarily stripped from classrooms and hauled onto the public transit system. And visiting every classroom, knocking on every door, pulling out every strand of greying hair he had left, was Mr. Ramsey, FBI detective extraordinaire. He was not extraordinary today, though; no, today he was just annoyed. Annoyed at that goddamned Tiger.

---

October 30th, 2:02 PM
Kasimir Castle, Gotham City

It had been a surprisingly good few days for Zoey Kasimir, especially considering her hate for early November months. Aside from unpleasant memories at this time of year, the entire city turned into a shit show of teenagers trying to be edgy and too tough for their britches simultaneously. That wasn’t including the occasional lunatic off their meds who thought actual zombies were rising up - which, to be fair, you know this time he was actually right.

Plus, that certain chill that filled the air was creeping in. Zoey hated the cold.

However, none of that was on the billionaire’s mind currently. At the moment she was on the phone with Nicole, her personal assistant, checking and double checking that her little plan had gone off without a hitch. Well, as much as covering every grave in Gotham in concrete could. Charity work sure had changed since she was a kid.

“Alright, so only the Rosier Cemetery is left… and it should be done by five, correct? Excellent. Has there been any reports of any undead rising?” She wasn’t expecting any, considering Jaina had sent her a quick text informing her of how quiet the last two nights had been. The first day, the 28th, had been laying down a mess of concrete over every grave - function over form. The past two days were cleaning everything up to be respectful to the dead, pouring more concrete and shaping it to create tasteful slabs.

”Great, so make sure that I’m informed if - what was that?” A sudden honk, faint but still surprisingly close considering she was in the Castle, was Zoey’s first alert that something was wrong. The second was one of the servants hurrying to her, whispering to her that a bus was outside.

What?

And the third, and final part, was her intercom coming to life. Zoey flicked her phone to the custom app to accept the intercom call after informing Nicole she’d call her back, staring at the video feed of a well dressed man.

“FBI.”

David better not have done something stupid at school today.

---

Gotham’s cold was no better than Brooklyn’s at this time of year; Ramsey’s stylish trenchcoat no match for nearing winter winds. He buried wrinkling hands into his coat pockets before speaking into the intercom,

“This is the ___ residence, yes?” Marvin had given Ramsey strict orders not to use Zoey’s real name, for her own protection and for his.

Ramsey continued, “I have--” the rustling of paper, what sounded like a small and single notecard fold blossoming into one large sheet, “I have a ‘gift’ for you from a ‘distant friend’ in five. . .” the sound of more wheels stopping, “or more parts. Yes, one-two-th… yes, yes. I was told this is where I should drop off this ‘donation’.” David began to wonder whether or not this was a drug deal merely disguised as hero work. Marvin was not the finest coder of language, written or verbal. Given recent events, Marvin wanted to keep everything secret, even the way he spoke to others--in this case, one Zoey Kasimir, the only person Marvin believed he could trust.

A screech, the doors to the several buses opened; some children dressed in coats, some not--all of whom stood in Gotham’s blistering cold, huddled together. At the head of the amassing pack of presschoolers and middle schoolers was their patron saint, Ramsey. He hoped there was some ounce of grace in this ‘dog’ person Marvin told him about; why exactly Marvin referred to her as a dog Ramsey was unaware, nor did he care. All he wanted was for these kids to find safety and warmth; he hoped he could find some for himself as well.

Behind him, Ramsey heard the chattering of teeth, the cries of kindergarteners and ushered some of the chaperones to escort the smallest children and those without jackets onto the bus.

For a long moment Zoey could only stare at the video feed being streamed onto her smartphone, at the well-dressed man, the bus behind him with a multitude of children, at the utter catastrophe unfolding in front of her gate. Finally, with a lifetime of grace and well-bred manners, the billionaire responded in the most appropriate way.

”What the fuck?” There was so, so much wrong with this scenario. For a moment Zoey was even tempted to turn them away, but … trap or not, she couldn’t just leave the children in this person’s care without knowing his intention. For all she knew the whole bus was loaded with bombs and this was Anarkee’s next big ploy. Something about the ‘FBI Agent’, or more specifically the message he was delivering, bothered her. The thought of it just pecked at the back of her brain, urging her to read into the situation more closely.

Finally the billionaire huffed, irritation coursing through her veins. A quick flick of a button in the bottom right corner of her phone had the gates unlocking, before swinging open with a flourish to provide access to her Castle’s magnificent lawn. It was a stupid idea just letting him in, but to be honest Zoey would never allow him to be turned away with a bus load of children either.

”Approach, we’ll talk at the front.” With that Zoey cut off the intercom and rose, pacing quickly to the front. A quick text to Nicole to take care of the graves was sent off, followed by one to her chef letting him know to prepare… a very large amount of snacks.

This better not be more magic bullshit.

Ramsey waited for the gates leading to the mansion’s front doors to open. Once they did, he lead the procession of confused, tired, restless children to the entrance of their resting place. He waited for Zoey to approach before he spoke,

“Mrs. Dog, one of our… mutual” he spat the word with disgust, “friends is having a bit of a problem. Under no other circumstances would something like this occur, I assure you. Inside, if you will? The little ones are beginning to annoy me.” Ramsey was not a man with tremendous patience for one with his line of work, but for the sake of the children, today he would ring the last bit of patience from himself to assure the safety of those in his charge. The children stood a long shadow cast from Ramsey’s back, eyes wide gazing up and across the wide architecture of the castle’s front.

“In, in, shall we? The little ones are cold.” As was Ramsey himself, but now he could only wait.

Dog.

Zoey’s eyebrow twitched, her teeth gritting together as all at once she was filled with a wave of irritation. She knew exactly who sent this gaggle of children now. While the part of her that was coiled and waiting for a trap relaxed, her shoulders had tensed now knowing the sender of her ‘gift’, as the FBI Agent had put it. One of the most brilliant men she knew, and the one who had the ability to step all over her nerves so easily.

He still hadn’t apologized for the window!

“Inside, then,” With a short nod of her head Zoey turned on her heel to retreat back up the short set of steps and passed the double doors. As soon as she was inside Dan was looking to her curiously, and her nod to him was much stiffer. ”Guests. Henry is making snacks for them - get them set up … somewhere. Wherever you need to make them comfortable. Call in the other staff if you need more hands.” The billionaire took a few paces before stopping, glancing over her shoulder.

”When David comes home from school let him know I don’t know yet, either.” The last part was stated in a very flat tone before Zoey moved ahead, gesturing the Agent to follow her. She honestly couldn’t remember his name, despite having gotten it less than ten minutes ago. She never had a head for names.

Having the feeling this wasn’t for prying ears of small children Zoey led the Agent to a small office on the bottom floor, obviously one not regularly used considering how spartan it was, but clean and secure. Shutting the door behind him Zoey none the less took a moment to sweep over the room, paranoid as she was, before turning back to him expectantly.

Ramsey’s steps were hurried, though there was yet no apparent danger. Once inside the small office, Ramsey did away with his long trenchcoat, hanging it atop the headrest of a nearby chair. Now donning a tan dress shirt and brown suspenders, Ramsey resembled a classic 40s noir detective. Never one to disrespect etiquette, Ramsey removed his hat and let it rest upon the table positioned in front of the chair where his coat hung. An admirant of scenery, Ramsey surveyed the room; his eyes reflecting interest and fatigue. He had been in so many board rooms, offices, and meetings in the last four days and they were all beginning to look the same.

If Ramsey stood idle in one spot for too long, he may have toppled over. Sleep escaped him, nights joined together as a chain; the worry for the safety of the children outside these gothic doors of this castle intensified the gradual incline of dismay he was beginning to feel for his own son. To keep busy before he spoke, Ramsey latched his shirt’s wrist cuffs undone and peeled them to his elbow and then began,

“Kids are disappearing. Three abductions this week. Ten this month. We still don’t know who or what the hell is behind any of this. Our friend has asked me to reach out to you and inform you to keep these kids safe while he--we, while we investigate the matter.” Ramsey, for the sake of remaining awake, began to pace about.

“Coffee? You got any?” he finished.

For a moment, Zoey could only stare at the Agent opposite her. Brows furrowed, the corners of her lips downturned, eyes narrowed. He was being serious. He was being serious.

“So the solution to kids disappearing was to pack up a couple dozen - no, there had to have been at least a few hundred kids there, and send them to me?!” The billionaire raised her hands, rubbing at her face. Now was not a good time for these… these shenanigans! The Agent’s words had the redhead glancing up, examining the man before her with a cold gaze. He seemed exhausted, a man running on his last legs. Ten children disappearing in a month - it was no wonder, even if she thought this was ridiculous.

“... Yeah, sure.” Retrieving her phone once more Zoey’s slender fingers tapped out a quick text message to her chef, followed by swapping to disable the more dangerous defenses set up deep in her home. Children had the tendency to get into things they weren’t supposed to. With that done she deposited the phone in her pocket once more, her painted nails soon playing at the cuff of her white button up.

“I can house the children, if you both consider this the safest method.” Zoey finally admitted. Her jaw rolled as she considered her words. “My home is fortified and monitored. I can have the staff assist. What of their parents?” A knock at the door, typical of her swift order, had Zoey turning. Her muscles coiled as she put her back to the Agent, but she none the less unlocked the door and took the offered tray with a short nod.

The door closed once more the billionaire set the tray of coffee, two cups, cream and sugar on the desk and gestured him to it, before once more resuming her position of standing back to a corner of the room.

“Blue mountain, strong. You look like you need it. I don’t suppose this can count as a tax write off, huh?” The last part was stated dryly, as Zoey relented to the absolutely insane idea. At least it wasn’t as bad as breaking her windows.

It didn’t take him any time to engulf the entirety of the Blue mountain coffee. Dead eyes strum awake; the change in chemical balance was so rapid that his hairs would have stood up on his body from excitement if they could. But he was a hairless man. Awakened, the dull drag of his tone changed to one more involved--a glimpse of what he was when well rested,

“I might be able to work something out!” a smile,
“Back on topic, Davey, back on topic, back on topic! Uh,” he rustled a hand through his brown hair,
“Yeah, right! Our mutual friend doesn’t know how long these kids are going to have to remain here. Their parents will be here shortly. Whatever this threat is, it has no interest in the parents. We aren’t sure how aggressive this kidnapper is, so they may come here once they figure out the ruse. I advise you to be ready, but something tells me I don’t need to advise you of that at all.” David finished.

David finally took a seat.

“If there is anything you need, our mutual friend advises you to let him know. He says he is willing to repay you in equal parts for this favor.”

”I’ll be ready,” Was the immediate, dangerous response. Zoey lifted her head, crimson bangs falling into her face as she gazed back at the Agent. ”Of that you and our … friend, can be assured. I will protect them as though they were my own two sons. Nothing will be a threat to these children while they’re within these walls.”

A crash came from beyond the walls, followed by a child’s yelling protests.

”... Except each other.”

“Nicole. What’s happened so far?” The quiet, clipped and cold voice had the young woman sitting near the back of the City Hall forum glancing up, nodding a greeting before looking down to the clipboard in her arms. Her note taking hadn’t stopped even then, and the dark haired woman merely adjusted her glasses before beginning to go over them in a low whisper, conscious of the debating voices at the front of the room.

“The hospital issue has been tentatively decided on by burning the bodies, except for the families who pay to just have the body locked away in a morgue slot until the whole issue is resolved. Uhm, the … the skeletons are also being ground down into ash since the bones seem to keep moving, from what I understand.”

“Yes, I heard about that. The graveyards?”

“A few more recently dead have already emerged from their graves, with signs of others following. Police barricades have been keeping them back, it seems stationing more around the city graveyards is the leading solution.”

“And as for the lack police of coverage in the rest of the city?”

“Not mentioned.”

“Of course.” Zoey leaned back slightly into the seat she had taken, right at the corner of the large room filled to the brim with people. Officials, concerned citizens - it was almost as though people cared about this dump called a city. Though, the billionaire wasn’t all too convinced - more than likely they were more concerned about their own hides.

Or in the case of one specific man, what he could get out of this.

Steel-blue eyes narrowed as a burning, white-hot anger coursed down her spine and spread throughout the woman’s entire being. Since Zoey entered the room and took her preferred spot - corner, back to a wall, good view of everything - saved by her personal assistant, she couldn’t tear her gaze from the man heading the open forum.

William Murphy. Mayor of Gotham City. Tall, handsome, charismatic. Won his election with honey-sweet promises to focus on the rights of citizens, though there were whispers on the streets of what other promises were made behind closed doors. That’s how it always was in this city, he was no different than any other politician.

Except that Zoey hated that piece of trash disguised as a man.

His face was burned into her visage almost two decades ago, before she ever knew who he was. When he was no more than one of numerous corrupt beat cop, and her a teenager, brimming with overconfidence and hope for helping this poor, corrupt city she had just moved to. Did he even remember? Did he feel any remorse?

He certainly didn’t suffer nightmares that kept him up for days on end. Didn’t becomes a shell of what he could have been. If she knew who he was back then, he’d have been buried all those years ago, with the rest of them.

Now here they were. Him, Mayor of her town. Her, three threads of sanity away from breaking into his home and murdering him where he slept.

Heh.

A nudge to her arm, though Zoey didn’t even spare a glance to Nicole. Didn’t need to see her assistant’s pinched, worried gaze. It brought her back to reality though, and to the fact that glaring a hole through Murphy wouldn’t actually put a hole through him. Focus. Nicole was pointing out something to her.

“... So if anyone should have an idea to put forth towards the Mudos…”

Ah.

Rising up from her chair Zoey strode with purpose to the small podium set before the councilmen. Every step, every person put to her back made the billionaire’s already tense, burning muscles coil further. Anxiety, paranoia, that underlying rage. Then standing there, waiting to be addressed.

When Murphy’s glittering black eyes met hers, cold steel-blue to that fake, infuriating warmth, something flicked in his gaze. Recognition. Realization.

“Miss Kasimir,” He greeted after a heartbeat, that same warmth inflected in his tone. It made Zoey’s jaw tense, her teeth gritting together. “You have a suggestion?”

Inhale. Exhale. “Concrete.” A pause.

“Pardon?”

“Get a few dozen workers, a couple concrete mixers, and cover the graves. Prevention is key.” For a moment the Mayor stared at her, a frown tugging at his lips. Whispers filled the room, thoughtful agreement from the citizens at her back. It took a moment for Murphy to respond, his words slow and thoughtful.

“There’s no room in Gotham’s defense budget for something of that magnitude-”

“I’ll pay for it, then.” Something changed in Murphy’s eyes then, the faux warm gaze becoming calculating. It made the small hairs on the back of Zoey’s neck stand on end, made her already tense muscles tighten further. The pause this time was longer, his gaze searching hers. She met him head on, head held high.

“...Miss Kasimir, as noble as your intentions are, we cannot merely disrespect the dead by covering their final resting places over. Families will have to be contacted, those without listed next of kin tracked down, really it’s just a lot of red tape that can’t be ignored without proper protocol.” Fire burst in Zoey’s chest, adding to that white-hot rage that never cooled. Her slender fingers flexed, missing the familiar spark that would’ve started up had she been wearing her gloves. When she spoke again her words were biting, anger bleeding into every syllable.

“If we don’t do something about what’s happening the only family that will be contacted is for those who lose their lives to these things! Wasn’t your entire platform built on keeping Gotham safe, Mayor Murphy?”

“And I am keeping Gotham safe, Miss Kasimir, from ideas that would sue our city into the ground, or trod all over the wishes of our people.” Their eyes didn’t part from each other, and in that moment Zoey knew that any singular, slim chance that he wasn’t the same man from seventeen years ago was dead. He was looking for something, there was a reason he was doing this. “Now if that’s all, I’ll let you know if something changes - as I’m sure you will to me as well, of course.”

And if Zoey Kasimir couldn’t find out what it was, Grim could.

---

Something changed.

Three days had passed. Three nights of terror, of destruction, of death. The blood of police barely able to contain them, the blood of citizens in the street without even the meager protection that their presence held.

And Mayor Murphy’s quiet backroom deals to have a load of cargo delivered via the Gotham City docks while there was so much chaos, absolutely decimated by Grim’s wrath.

She might’ve gone a bit overboard getting the Grim Jet to sink the ship, too.

He still hadn’t relented to her plan either, but Zoey was tired of playing his waiting game of who would break first. Tired of seeing blood in the streets that was so easily preventable. It would’ve been easier to wait just one more day or two for him to cave under pressure, or even to just grease his palms to get things rolling, but she wasn’t willing to risk more lives. Wasn’t willing to play his game.

“I told you there were some good guys in the force.” A grunt was the only reply the Captain got, but Jaina wasn’t too worried about it. The short blonde woman stood at her friend’s side, watching the construction crew work. It took some convincing to get the owners of Owl’s Rest anywhere near here, but they finally relented to give them the access the broken locks couldn’t. Two dozen construction workers - those who both wanted to protect the city, and those whose greed eclipsed their fear. Three cement mixing trucks, five smaller ones. A surprising handful of off-duty Gotham City’s finest, watching over everything with sharp eyes.

“Not going to say thanks?” Captain Jaina Jasper’s tone was teasing, but Zoey’s eyebrow merely twitched lightly. She was so tired. So exhausted.

“...Thanks.” The billionaire finally rumbled lowly. Her steel-blue orbs slid over to Jaina’s, holding her friend’s gaze. “And when the commissioner finds out what you and them are doing? This wasn’t exactly sanctioned.” Jaina shrugged.

“His nephew was one of the officers hurt in the past couple nights. I doubt even he is going to stop you.”

“Good.” Zoey returned her gaze forward, watching as Nicole followed the shouting foreman around, making sure he had everything he needed. Everyone was on edge being here, but it was quiet during the day - anything that did move was quickly put down. Mostly into concrete.

“What do you plan to do when Murphy gets on your back?”

“Ki-”

“Aside from sulking?” Zoey huffed, glaring darkly.

“He can puff and moan all he wants. If even the Commissioner is on my side, his ratings will plummet if he tries to oppose what I did.”

“He might fine you, at least.”

“Let him. Threatening to move Kasimir Realty’s Headquarters will end that right quick. I have no fear of making an enemy of a coward.” Beside her, Jaina could only sigh and shake her head. Slowly her gaze moved forward as well.

“... You really need to see a therapist, Zoey.”

“Fuck off.”

Harris could do little but watch in amazement as the large fellow stood up from an attack that by all means should have incapacitated him right there, but the man stood even after crashing into the apparent leader of the group and knocking him flat. This flat-knocking seemed to have caused the muscular hillbilly a bit of distress, as he loudly made clear before growing to even larger proportions, ripping the shirt off his chest through sheer force of muscular growth.

"...Oh."

Then he charged, swinging those massive elephant-like paws. Harris managed to pull up an arm despite the shock factor of what he had just witnessed, making a shield of hardened plant matter... that shattered the first blow it received.

In the instant between blows, Harris managed to stare, open-mouthed, at the shattered remnants of what was once a shield, letting out the only word that made it to his mouth.

"Oh no."

Then Harris got whumped.

Right in the chin.

The blow was like a truck had just smashed into his face, and he reacted accordingly, flying through the air with enough force to completely snap the tree he smashed into in two. Harris cringed as the top half of the tree fell onto his chest, compressing his torso enough to cause him to let out a puff of air, a puff of very old, disgusting air that had probably been there since Florida. Harris laid there a few moments, waiting for the pain to lessen, before slowly, almost drunkenly, pushing his way free of the tree-trunk.

Harris rubbed his chin and hissed in pain as he fell against the nearest still-standing tree. He looked over at the incredibly muscular hillbilly and wondered to himself just how in the hell he was going to put him down.

You have all of our power and you are struggling with a single human?

But he hits like a truck!

Either you stop him now or we take over and handle it our way.

Augh, you know how much I hate your way!... Oh fine, you're no fun.

Harris rubbed the back of his head and looked at the tree trunk that had buried him as the strong good ol' boy got closer and closer. He supposed that would work.

With a heave, Harris took the massive tree-trunk on top of his shoulder and climbed up on top of the other half of tree. With a deep breath, he pulled a large chunk of wood out of the trunk, propelling him into the air for quite some distance. After spinning once or twice, he pulled the trunk over his head and focused on the hillbilly.

It was his turn to whump somebody.