"Get off me!" A middle-aged man with a short, well-shaven beard, and sandy brown colored hair shouted as he tried throwing off his attackers hands, both of which were wrapped around his collar. Backing up as much as he could, the man attempted to pull his assailant closer and tried to kick him in the groin, but the man twisted to the side and rammed a tightly clenched fist into his face causing a sickeningly loud cracking sound to echo throughout the alley.

The man with brown hair clutched his face and wheezed in pain as he stumbled backwards disorientedly. Letting out a few pained groans, the man removed his hands from his face to find the gloves he was wearing coated in blood. His blood. He could feel the panic begin to well up inside his body at the sight of it and desperately began to search for a way, any way, he could get out of this situation, but found none. He turned his attention back to his attacker, who pulled a switchblade from his jeans pocket and flicked it open, and watched in horror as he drew closer.

"This is it..." The man thought to himself solemnly, tears begining to form in his eyes. This was where he died. This dark and disgusting alley was where they would find his lifeless corpse and what possessions he owned that weren't taken from his lifeless corpse. Possessions which included pictures of his wife and son, he realized with a start. If this bastard got his hands on those, there was no telling what he'd do. Letting out a low growl as a wave of anger and newfound resolve flared up within him, the man got to his feet and balled his hands into fists which he held at the ready in front of his bloodied face. It had been years since he'd gotten into any real fights, but he wasn't about to let this son of a bitch harm his wife or his kid.

Planting his feet and centering himself to the best of his ability, the man let out a small grunt as he resolutely stood his ground.

"What are you waiting for asshole?" He said. "Come at me."

The thug stopped dead in his tracks and scoffed at the man.

"What, you suddenly grow a pair?" He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The man didn't reply, choosing to glare at him instead.

"Eh, doesn't matter." He said with a shrug as he resumed his slow and steady walk towards his victim. "Won't change the fact that I'm gonna kill you and take your shit." Twirling the knife in his hand, the thug paused briefly before rushing towards the man, striking out with his hand whilst simultaneously angling his knife in a way that would allow him to cut right into the man's exposed neck. Normally he would have just shot the dumbass and then taken his stuff, but he forgot to bring his nine-millimeter with him when he left his apartment a few hours earlier and was forced to resort to a more "hands on" approach.

The brown haired man readied himself to block or dodge the attack, when the sound of a gunshot caused him to jump backwards in fright. Looking around in shock, the man watched as his attacker let out a pained scream and fell to the ground clutching his now bleeding arm. As he watched the man writhe in pain, the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere off to his left caught his attention. Turning his head in that direction, the brown haired man saw a taller, older, man wearing all black and an odd looking cowboy hat step into the dim pool of light being cast by a street lamp mounted on the wall of a nearby building.

"Garrgh! What the fuck man!?" The thug yelled, staring daggers at the newcomer as he walked closer.

"What?" He said coldly as he flicked his guns safety back on before placing it back in its holster. "Did you'd think I'd just stand back and watch you murder him?" Bending over, he grabbed the thugs shirt collar and pulled him to his feet. The thug made a hissing sound as the force of the pull and the friction from his clothing agitated the wound in his arm.

"Well yeah, I kinda did." The thug retorted smugly, while doing his best to ignore the flaming pain shooting up and down his right arm. "I mean, why the hell should you care, you don't know this guy."

"You're right. I don't" He said, nodding to the man in question. "But that doesn't mean I have to sit back and let you get away with murder." The man replied menacingly as he slowly tightened his grip on the thugs shirt collar.

"And just who the hell do you think you are, the Lone fucking Ranger?" The thug spat, his lips curling in disgust as he broke free from the man's grasp. Taking a few steps backwards, the thug bent down and picked up his switchblade before brandishing it at the man and continuing his tirade.

"I mean, who the fuck even wears a cowboy hat along with an all black getup in this day and age? What are you, some kind of old, creepy, emo goth dude? Granted, you're one hell of a shot-" The thug remarked, absentmindedly gesturing to the bullet hole in his upper arm with the knife. "-but other than that you're just some delusional grandpa that's trying too hard to be a badass."

"I wouldn't be to sure about that. Appearances can be deceiving after all."

"Oh give me a break you retarded old fart." The thug replied. "Listen, why don't you go back to your retirement home and forget this ever happened, alright? That way no one-" He glanced over at the brown haired man. "-well almost no one, has to get hurt."

The man stared at the thug from underneath his hat for a few moment's, almost as if he were giving the thug a chance to leave, to run, before replying.

"No."

The thugs brows shot up as a look of surprise washed over his face.

"No? You've got to be shitting me, right?" He said as he took a few steps closer to the man. "You have a death wish or something? I mean, I know you have a gun and all..." He went on as he slowly inched his way towards the man, getting closer and closer to striking distance. "But it can only do so much..." He was close now. Very close. All he had to do was lunge forward and angle the knife up to cut this guys throat open. His eyes narrowing into slits, the thug readied himself for the attack, the muscles in his arm tensing up as he planted his feet and took a few breaths to steady himself...

Almost there...

Almost...

Now!

The thug lunged towards the stranger in black with a sadistic grin spread wide across his face. One that quickly disappeared as he saw his target reach out and swat his good arm, the one that held the switchblade, off to the side before pulling out his own wicked looking knife. He saw the man reverse it in his grip before making a horizontal slashing motion to the left, whilst simultaneously moving in the same direction to avoid being tackled or grabbed.

Stumbling forward a few steps, the thug tried to speak, but found that he couldn't. As a matter of fact he could hardly breathe. Panicking slightly, he reached up to touch his throat and felt some kind of warm, liquidy substance there. Raising his hand up before his face, the thug realized that what he'd felt was blood.

His blood.

Spurting from the large gash in his neck.

That son of a bitch had got him. He'd actually gotten him. It shouldn't have been possible and yet here he was bleeding out in an alleyway. Letting out a chuckle, or as close as he could get to one with the hole in his throat, the man sank to his knees, not bothering to try and stop the bleeding. After all, what was the point? He'd already lost too much blood as it was and nothing he did now would change that. Looking up to the star filled sky above him, the thug let himself fall backwards onto the pavement as his vision seemed to swim for a moment before eventually being overcome by darkness.

The man in black let out a disappointed sigh and shook his head disapprovingly as he pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wiped the blood from his knife. Once the blade was clean he tossed the now crimson colored kerchief onto the lifeless body of the thug and slid the knife back into its sheathe.

"Such a waste." He remarked as he turned to stare down at the corpse. The man stood there for a few moments before turning his attention back to the brown haired man.

"You should leave." He said, readjusting his hat. "The police are bound to show up at some point and you know how that goes. Questions are asked, suspicions are cast, and drama is created." The man said as he started to walk away.

"W-wait!" The brown haired man called out, taking a few steps towards him. "W-who are you?"

"I'm the Man In Black." The man said as he tipped his hat and walked off into the night.

Remote Alley- Los Angeles- California
@Prosaic[@Harbinger of Ferocity]

Faultline listened politely as the young man before him spoke, though he had to admit he did wish the boy wouldn't cut his sentences with French as the older man didn't speak a lick outside english... well that wasn't fair, almost anyone living in California for any amount of time picked up a bit of Spanish, especially the slang, but was he fluent, no. The most he knew of French was C'est La Vie and oui.

But despite this Eclatair's English was very good, but from what he heard most of Europe spoke English so maybe it was normal for a Frenchman to speak English this well.

"Yeah, Midnight's has good instincts. Otherworldly sometimes. So if he felt you were being watched then you probably were. It definitely wasn't me that's for sure. More than likely i-" he cut off his sentence as the Tiger emerged, his first reaction was to slid into a ready stance, arms up and his right leg shifted back. The thoughts of really... a tiger! Had it escaped from a private residence, the Zoo, or was there some Ultra running around controlling animals? Then it 'spoke'. "-... Okay... psychic and or magic Tiger was not going to be in my top ten guesses. So then big guy, I take it there's something you want?" He didn't relax, staying at the ready.


-0-0-0-0 Nello's Home- Los Angeles- California -0-0-0-
@Shard

As Nello fled the home a shimmering blue portal tore open in the entry way just after the door closed, out stepped the Sorcerer Supreme himself. Ignacio took a brief look around the home, his personal wards already in place to protect his mind and body he reached out with his sense. Magic energy fired back from throughout the home. Something was definitely here, but there was a latent arcane presence, one that had lived there for a long period, as well as a number of magic artifacts. It as like trying to spot a rock at the bottom of a mud puddle.

He strode forwards and spotted the fallen man on the ground, inspecting him from a distance he gave a shrug. Not unexpected. When he felt such a surge, and failure of a ritual, he figured whoever botched it would be dead.... Really could he never get a day off.

Rather than begin a spell to investigate and risk getting jumped by whatever is here he backed out of the room and began climbing the stairs. Slowly.

Chicago- Illinois- The Man in Black
@ZavaZGGG

He was watched as he moved, finding and tailing the illusive man had been difficult, but the team had managed it. Through night vision len's attacked to their head gear they tracked the man from the roof tops, just waiting for him to leave an occupied area. Each of the Fourteen assailants were armed to the teeth, packing assault rifles, body armor, a targeting visor, grenades. They were loaded to enter a warzone. And all of this to kill one man as a 'application' to join some shadowy group?

Easy pickings to break from small conflicts in the third world into the big leagues. And the big money, they watched, followed and waited for their chance.

The terms were simple, the man had to die, couldn't be witnessed, but the body had to be as intact as possible.

Los Angeles, California
Obscure Alley
@Prosaic@Count Cuddles

Despite the calls to question, initially the athletic cat replied only with the least obvious of body language. Little more than the tip of the elegant sleek tail flexed with a curl, a gentle flick from side to side. The rest of it was relatively rigid, as though frozen in place, aside from the two pools of gold that made up its eyes, which seemed all the more content to drink in the details. It wasn't as though the costumed man had done all that much aside from make himself ready to fight, but the tiger had replied. The casual pace of the tail twitch became a bit more erratic before it eased before it so silently sneered, slender whiskers splayed like fingers from open hands.

The stress of ambiguity was dispelled the moment Éclater, with the caress of alcohol working at his demeanor, asked its name. Like a switch had been flicked, less concerned about Faultline's visual challenge, the supple animal blinked and appeared distant for a moment. It fumbled through what to call itself really, no one had ever asked it. Reasonably so of course, when they did see the tiger, not a small Bengal tiger at that, the reaction was typically chaotic with panic and concern the first and foremost. The Predator almost went to name itself but remembered that was not what it was called anymore.

When it returned from its brief adventure through the mind, the stare lingered from the still tense figure to the woefully loose one. Again it spoke without moving a muscle, either one of the most convincing illusions or one of the greatest shared delusions to-date.

"I am a tiger, I am a predator." It began in a surreal sort of way, adding to the wordless but still oddly deep inner voice, "That is what they call me."

It then smiled, in a sort of way that showed the points of its teeth and perhaps added a bit of discomfort that called back to some sort of now long gone primate ancestors of the superpowered humans. The devious smile it shared, was accompanied by another telling motion of its tail and the slight draw of one of its paws as it took a step at an angle. It stopped as it had before, at last no longer looking directly at them. If they knew anything about big carnivores, that was honestly for the better. Not that the Predator would have had the same reactions as they might, the staring earlier was never good.

"I came to see people like me. But I am not people, as you see, I am tiger."

The answer to more well known of the two heroes' questions was less abstract in answer, although the tiger's slow plodding along might have distracted more from it. Each still damp step left an ever evaporating print on the blacktop of the alley, the tiger a bit more comfortable now in positioning; facing them head on wasn't ideal, not for long. The slow pacing was a way to compensate for the situation, even if on the surface it made little sense to an observer. By the time it turned around, walking now in the other direction and seemingly divided by an invisible barrier between the two camps, it narrowed down the results.

Adding after in the mental voice, "You can guess what I do then."

Now it looked back to them from the corner of an eye, most of its elaborately decorated body visible than the mere head-on encounter when they first started the conversation. It seemed almost as though it was courteously noting it had moved into the area and now considered this its territory. Which was, in fact, true. It was no longer the "The Conroe Predator", it had evolved beyond that. Los Angeles was its new hunting ground and it had enough wherewithal to announce itself to them and study them in turn. For example, it was fairly confident in this moment it could handle a skirmish, as one of the two men drifted in a pleasant haze of booze not high enough to crash down when it wore off or low enough to be as keen as he really was, but knew that if the both of them were even remotely familiar partners it probably could not edge in on their ground.

Then again, people didn't really have claims like that. But for the Predator, that would be news.

"We can't go to Al..," a tired, raspy breath escaped Nello's lips as he huddled into a corner. None of this made sense, not a single aspect of transpired events passed the boy's mind in a manner which tuned into logic. His father's decision did manage to boil his obsession down into a concentrated mass of insanity, but the recurring question of 'why' jabbed at the back of Nello's head in constant motion. However, now that they were safe enough to gather their thoughts, Nocturne allowed his arms to loosen their protective embrace of Nello's frame. 

"Involving him would just cause issues," the shade returned, lowering himself to the ground where his frame maintained its presence in our most physical world. "They're gonna' be looking for us, Nello. The cops, our friends, Al.., this is gonna' be a fucking shit fest."

The boy paused a for a moment, before nodding his head. Nocturne's words were a given, an obvious truth, but hearing them out loud confirmed whatever minuscule though of a hopeful nature had bet against. "Fuck..," Nello clenched his teeth, the boy's embrace around his knees tightening. "He's fucking gone, mom's gone, they're all fucking gone..," the young hero trembled, his cheeks already glistening from tears coating their shape.

"Look, this sucks, big time," Nocturne attempted to maintain a leveled head, and a calm demeanor. Someone surely had to. "But, magic's dangerous. It can change you in mind, body, and soul. It can kill you, make you powerful, and it can fuck shit up so bad, Cthulu seems like a better fucking option, and we're kind of slipping into that territory, right now." Indeed, Nocturne had earned the boy's attention, as Nello raised his head, those large eyes meeting the shade's. "I can feel everything you're feeling, Nello. The sadness, the loss, all of it, but whatever your dad pulled out of Tamura.., scares the shit out of me."

"A fucking moment, Nocturne, to mourn.., can I have that?" The boy countered with a frown making itself visible on his face. Though reality had settled, and though Nello understood that the situation was worse than he wanted to admit, there was little this young teenager wished for more so than a moment of silence. Nello was an orphan, a homeless one, at that, and no matter where he shifted his thoughts, another sting would proceed to pierce his heart. 

Though a response had been prepared, Nocturne found himself frozen to the spot, his eyes wide and a fearful expression making its way to his face. Nello, too, could feel the lingering cold within the air, a presence which brought forth memories of the darkest winter night. A moment to mourn, it was a request the child would find denied, time and time again. Though a warm summer's day, this very denial took the shape of a frozen petal, as if from a rose, floating from the sky and onto Nello's palm where it chilled him to the bone. Fear, it was an emotion he had discarded long ago, or so he believed. However, this would be proven wrong. 

With another petal floating down across the summer sky, a mist of icy wind following its path, Nello soon noted several such petals joining the first, each landing on the hard concrete with a light, crystalline clang. "Found..," Nocturne breathed, a sense of shock washing over him. "No, how could..," he tried, the very air now growing frigid and unforgivably cold. Had there been anyone else in that alley, they would surely have stared in awe at the winter's approach, piercing the warm veil of summer as if a lance through the beating of a heart. 

"Wh-what's happening? Nocturne?" Nello stuttered, hurrying to his feet as he turned every which way, attempting to find the source of this intrusion. "Is this the thing dad summoned!?" The boy exclaimed, shifting his attention to Nocturne who appeared most distressed. It was an expression Nello had never seen before on the shade's features, a feeling the spirit had never previously displayed. 

"Yes..," a whisper trickled through Nocturne's lips, before his gaze slowly rose towards the descending petals of ice. "There is no hope of running, prepare yourself." The spirit finished, before vanishing in a dark mist which proceeded to coat Nello in a passing breeze of magic. Though it left the boy fully armored, he felt entirely too exposed. Nocturne's worry, his sense of.., defeat, infected every wiring within Nello's mind. "She's coming.."

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Prosaic
Alleyway- Los Angeles- California

The veteran hero was not put at ease by the Tiger's demeanor. He had more than one broken rib for letting his guard down around figures that appeared from seemingly nowhere, specially the strange ones. Telepathic tiger fell under the category of change. However while he was still cautious he let himself visibly relax, if this Tiger was going to attack perhaps he could lure it into a false sense of having an advantage. Plus with Eclater's seemingly complete ease and lack of worry at the situation did not help his own nerves.

His eyes tracked Predator's smallest movements, with careful attention to the movement of the tigers hind quarters and back legs, if it was going to pounce, Faultline figured that's where he would see the first signs.

He didn't have to try hard to listen to the beast while he watched it. After all the voice echoed through his head. Its words concerned him. The sentences were simple, straight forwards but they lacked a full sense of... well there was definitely a sense of self but it lacked an identity. It all made him feel like this creature while intelligent, could more than likely still be controlled by its baser instincts, which meant it could be a danger to everyone in the area. The last statement 'You can guess what I do then.' sealed this thought.

"Alright then 'Tiger', if that's all you want to be called. Just wondering if you've got somewhere to go. A home or... family." family felt like a better word than owner. "I don't like assuming others actions, guesses can be just that so, what is it you do..."



@Shard
Nello's Home- Los Angeles- California

Ignacio continued to wander through the seemingly empty home, he had climbed the stairs and walked down the hall before coming to a stop before one of the doors. There was a pull, a latent presence, something had spent a great deal of time in this room. He waved his hand before the door and several bright circles of yellow light appeared, crossed with strange and ancient symbols, levitating in the air, his eyes watched it, looking for something that would be a mystery to any other.

With the spell showing nothing seemed to be staying in the room currently he grabbed the knob and pushed it open, viewing what was Nello's bedroom, not that Ignacio had anyway of knowing it.

'This guy kept something here... raised something? Hmm.. with that summoning... was he trying to add to his 'family'.'

He turned from the room, continuing down the hall he stopped and looked at a mask hanging in the hallway. African... no no New Guinea most definitely, a ritual mask. It emanated a minor magic energy, these masks were often a danger if worn so...

He did his job, he reached out, grabbed it and tucked it under his arm, best if no one got a hold of it around here. There were those he trusted to care for it elsewhere. He walked on, calm as always, he couldn't count how many times he'd been in this exact situation. The door at the end of the hall, a myriad of magics swirled there, perhaps an answer would lie there. Unknowingly walking towards the Study of Nello's father.

0-0-0-0- Ping Tom Memorial Park- Chicago- Illinois-0-0-0-0
@ZAVAZggg

The leader of the team gave a simple hand signal that was passed between members as they moved through the wooded park, in a wide semi circle, angled to keep The Man in Black between themselves and the river not to far away. It didn't matter when he spotted them, he was done for now.

They opened fire, the rifles firing off in controlled, suppressed semi automatic bursts creating a constant stream of fire at the old man. The squad of would be assassins were completely confident, completely sure of themselves.

The mans slow, obvious and casual draw of his weapons, screwing on the silencers, they weren't the least bit intimidating.

Alexander grunted as bullet after bullet tore through his body, jerking it about as though he were some kind of marionette being forced to dance at the end of a puppeteers strings. After what seemed like an eternity of non stop firing, the never-ending storm of projectiles finally ceased.

"They must have burnt through their magazines." Alexander mused as he stumbled in place slightly. The sounds of clicking coming from around him in what seemed to be a roughly circular formation only confirmed his suspicion, while simultaneously revealing the locations of his attackers.

"That was pretty good!" He exclaimed with a hiss of pain as his body pushed the bullets out before going on to repair damaged tissue, muscle, flesh, and bone. "But it's my turn now." He said darkly. Reaching down to his belt, Alexander drew both of his revolvers from their holsters and began firing while spinning in a semi-circle to minimize his chances of missing a target.

"She?" Nello took a cautious step back, his heart beating reminiscent of a jackhammer against his ribs. Yes, it was a growing fear, not because of an internal struggle blossoming within the boy, but due to an emotional bond shared with the spirit fused with Nello's very soul. Joy, sadness, sorrow, and ecstasy were all notions brought to a new high because of a doubled source. It would be a lie to claim that such a feature conjured only distress, however. Moments of intimate relation could scarcely be compared to the linked spectrum of emotion. So too, was a mere smile, or the warmth of an embrace. Would it then be a surprise that anger and hatred columnated zealous intent? The explanation would then be a reasonable definition as to why Nello felt exposed as if he stood bare in the face of a blizzard storm. Chilling him to the core, shivering limbs and tremblings fingers told a story of their own, a winter's supernatural cold trickling through the boy's armor like knives forcing their way past the seams of cloth.

"Crystallia," Nocturne's voice echoed from within Nello's mind, the same voice which had brought him comfort and the utmost confidence, now replaced by crystalline terror. "She is one of the most feared knights of Tamura," the spirit continued as Nello stepped out of the alley he had so desperately sought in an attempt to claim solace.

Only those bereft of sight would neglect the frost coating streets and windows alike, though an unforgiving cold would be quick to remind any who were present of the shift in climate. However, the sight of Midnight's sudden appearance would further warrant the gathering of a crowd, piquing its interest with curiosity taking center stage. "She was my mentor.., before I kind of betrayed her and our order of knights, leaving them for dead and selling them out." The shade explained, awkwardness coating every word as it mingled with the fear still present. "Bitch must have been looking for a while, considering how I was put in that fucking trinket. Scenarios not related." Nocturne finished with a sigh breezing its way through Nello's mind. "Bottom line? We're fucked."

Though a short pause was afforded the pair, Nello eventually managed a frustrated groan. "Idiot..," the boy returned, his focus maintained on those falling petals of beautiful terror. It was curious, indeed, their shape reminiscent of layers on a rose, rather than snowflakes. This was a distraction which only added to the following entrance, however. A woman appearing through the hazy mist as if a ghost stepping through the veil separating life from death.

One should, however, be weary of an ungraceful word such as ghost, the term an insult to the beauty making herself known to gathering spectators. A nymph, yes, a fairy of the arctic north. This woman maintained a presence of enchanting beauty and unparalleled grace. However, what struck Nello as quite the oddity, was the oriental appearance of this creature's clothes, reminding onlookers of a kimono ever so tenderly embracing her slender frame. Long, black and flowing hair moved in tune with the winter winds, brushing past this most perfect creature of Tamura's wastes. When Nocturne described this woman and claimed her a knight, Nello would speak a lie if he didn't admit to the image of glimmering armor beneath those frozen petals. No, this entity maintained a presence of oriental blossoms, with a floral pattern stretching along the length of her ice blue kimono. 

Nello could scarcely withstand the creature's enchanting presence, terror replaced by awe if only for a split second. The world of Tamura was a curious one, indeed, displaying sights thought naught but folklore. 

Severing this theme of blossoming grace, the woman wore upon her face a skull mask, that morbid sight brought to a level of fascinating satisfaction by virtue of its misplaced presence. A skull, a mask resembling death, truly a reminder of what hid beneath that incomprehensible magnificence. A statement which both allured and struck fear in the heart of those who would dare oppose The Frozen Knight, The Winter Maiden. "Nocturne," came a spectral voice echoing from beneath her skeletal mask. "How you have eluded me," she continued, an inhuman tune to her words. With a slender hand swiping its way across the frigid air, between her fingers a sword manifested itself, frozen blossoms scattering. One would be forgiven for mistaking her weapon for a glass blade, the shape reflecting its wielder in presence and elegance. As if a sheet of ice brought form, dark energies emanated from the woman's sword, powerful and intimidating. "Has my hunt concluded?" Crystallia, the frozen warrior asked, her expression obfuscated by a skeletal glare.

Though none had been able to note Nocturne's presence in the past, Crystallia saw none other. Indeed, it was not Nello who stood before her, but rather an enemy she had sought for countless years. "Yeah," Nocturne offered, his voice, though disembodied, clearly heard by his adversary. "This is it," though the shade would have desired a quick escape, he was aware of their position. There was no escape, and barely any hope of leaving this fight alive. Least of all in one piece. Even so, Nello and his closest friend could agree on the outcome. Nello's mother had died at the hands of an illness, the same plague which would have claimed the boy himself. His father had perished to his very own incompetence, leaving Nello with a brand of guilt for transgressions the child had not committed. The poor boy stood against a tide caused by dice of life, unfair and cruel, a life which had been stacked against him. Yes, they could very well agree on the following decision. Nello was not going to kneel in the face of his demise. He was not going down without a fight, as one said, a notion made clear as Moonshadow appeared in his hand. 

"Then," Crystallia returned, "you shall pay for your sins, Nocturne. You shall pay, in blood," the knight finished. Time for talk had reached its conclusion. That of which remained was the language of blades, a conversation Crystallia was eager to begin. 

The Winter Maiden swung her transparent sword in a swift motion, the slender blade traveling through the air before a wave of devastating ice followed the cut and clashed with Nello's blade as if an impact of heavy metal. A clang echoing from the impact drowned out a tune of shattering crystal, as The Frozen Knight vanished in a burst of icy petals. Mere moments later, she appeared a few, meager feet from her enemy. Another slash flowed into the movement, her sword striking at Nello's own in a masterful exchange. 

However, a single motion of Crystallia's hand, she conjured forth a slew of devastating spikes errupting from the ground in an explosion of ice. Though Nello managed to quickly manouver to the side, gracefully twirling his body before the boy raised his sword to retaliate, he noted how Crystallia had made her way up the frozen spikes. Leaping from their height with a powerful overhead swing, The Frozen Knight overpowered her smaller foe, sending him stumbling back as the boy's blade rose to block the incoming strike. "You shall repent." There was no anger in Crystallia's voice, despite a hunt which had lasted for nearly a millenia. Rather, there was a steadfast determination dripping from every action, and every word. She possessed an eerie calm, truly, a woman of zealous intent. 

Taking the opportunity to land a vicious blow on her enemy, Crystallia prepared her sword for another strike, leaving a devestating crack along Nello's breastplate. The boy could hardly believe this swordswoman's power. Her speed was unmatched, movements as if vanishing from sight for a brief moment before reappearing in a cloud of frozen petals.

"You have to anticipate her moves!" Nocturne's voice echoed with a shout.

"I'll extend the mercy of a quick death," Crystallia returned, exhanging blows with Nello's sword. Where the dark knight was growing angrier by the second, his opponent appeared almost emotionless, her mask surely displaying nothing else. 

"I won't die, here!" Nello exclaimed, catching Crystallia's blade in his armored hand, blood dripping from the appendage. It was a desperate attempt, indeed, though proved fruitless. In her opposing hand, Crystallia manifested an icy reflection of her sword, blocking Midnight's attempted strike. 

"Excellent effort," she praised, before vanishing in a scattering mist of frozen petals. Appearing further away, the swordswoman sent several ice shards at her opponent who swung his blade, clashing against their bullet like path. "But this ends now," Crystallia charged forth. Vanishing and appearing sporadically around the boy in a haze of countless strikes clashing with both Nello's sword and armor. Two swords in hand, The Frozen Knight slashed their lengths across the boy's protective plate, before she conjured forth an explosive burst of frigid mist which then coated Nello's armor in a layer of ice. "I lay you bare," she uttered, the woman's haunting voice echoing with every word before she, with a powerful slash of both swords, completely shattered her opponent's plate, like glass. 

"NELLO!" Nocturne screamed, the immimnent moment of the boy's demise bringing forth a tearful shout. 

"Nello..," Crystallia repeated quietly as the boy fell to his back, her sword halting only inches from his face as a set of large, wide eyes gazed upon her with terror in their depth. It trembled, the sword which was close enough to pierce the young hero's skull, confusion seeping into the child to intermix with the fear of his closing doom. "N-no..," Crystallia's voice cracked, that blade frozen in place. Staring into the boy's eyes only cemented the truth. "Ibne..?" She continued, the Arabic term of one's utmost endearment, the Arabic word for son, before Crystallia dropped her sword. As it connected with the ground, the woman stumbled back, her frame shivering as those otherwise lifeless, black sockets upon her skeletal mask maintained a fixed gaze on the boy, following the scattering of her body in a passing breeze of frozen petals. 

"..." Stunned, Nello tried to move, his body sore and mind shattered from the fight. "..mom..?" A weak, fragile word escaped his lips as the frigid air began to dissipate.

Los Angeles, California
Obscure Alley
@Prosaic@Count Cuddles

The pacing of the large carnivore waned and it twitched at the whisker, almost as if in reply. It wasn't a meaningful gesture, at least not to humans, but if the rest of the cat was any indicator - which it certainly was - the Predator's tail curled slightly and eased, lashing thoughtfully one way then another at the tip. It wasn't appreciative of the line of questioning it had and that irritation carried on throughout. Not that the man was wrong, actually he hit upon a strong note, but that he mentioned it at all was the issue. Monte, rather the tiger that had been Monte, hadn't any interest in sharing that at the moment between the two. Not as the sirens drew closer and the cars themselves they belonged to stopped a block over.

It was a momentary distraction which seemed to preoccupy the striped cat until it looked back to the unlikely duo, where it replied. Although the reply likely was unhelpful at best and potentially more concerning; it outright ignored one of the two questions and only muddied the other.

"I guess you will just have to watch and see then."

Came the strange harmonic vibration pulled at thoughts much like one's own conscious. The "noise" itself tapered off, the pair of devious eyes watching as the man feinted his ease. Animals, unlike humans, were not so easily fooled, but at least now the tiger knew the costume clad paragon was, more or less, savvy enough to not make it so overt. It was better, a lot better, than the usual hysterics no matter how rightfully due they were.

"So I will leave you with a hint..." The thrum of the animal's soundless words came, "Is there a difference between us?"

As perplexing as that was, the tiger didn't bother to add anything more. It did its duty and had learned a bit about the neighbors of its environ, its habitat. Instead, it seemingly snapped out of existence as quickly as it came, with such startling "speed" that it would take a moment of realization to register it simply was no longer there. At least not visibly, but heaven only knew where it went, until like the Cheshire cat it made itself known again from a perch, although not quite high as the first.

"The answer is, only some of us will be the 'heroes'." Predator commented again, wholly unaware of the nature of Éclater's wrestlings with himself and his own identity. Perhaps that note would strike home at him, at least much more than Fault Line. Frankly there really was no knowing and the tiger had just assumed it was speaking for itself. As far as the world was concerned, it was probably a public enemy, let alone a man-eater; not that it had ever done such a thing.

And with that, as it had shortly before, snapped itself out of apparent existence.

@Prosaic@The Harbinger of Ferocity

Faultline stayed at the ready, he wasn't any good at reading large predator cats, people were open books. This created a strange uncertainty within the veteran hero, which only put him further on the defensive. The creatures passive movements, its ability to speak directly into his head.

All of it bothered him to no end. He wasn't sure why he was hoping to get a direct answer from a large cat, maybe he was to use to all the crazies and crack pot Ultras that seemed to love monologues... Mr. Gimmick didn't help that. He made sure to stay still, not trying to invite an attack as he 'listened' to each answer. So it was definitely using the city as a hunting ground, at least that's what he drew from this, true its not like it could just walk into the grocery store but.. he couldn't let it stand, as the Tiger left, as eerily silently as it arrived he knew he'd have to go after it sooner or later, and a voice in the back of his head told him he'd just missed his best chance..

Once it was gone he let out a small breath but stayed ready, knowing it could easily be lurking and watching still.

"Well, I know I may have said it already. But that was a strange, weird strange, even for me. Psychic tigers... something I'd expect to see in a show in Vegas." he glanced over at the young Frenchman beside himself. "Well, you kept your cool pretty well, I'm impressed."

-0-0-0 Ping Tom Memorial Park- Chicago- Illinois -0-0-0
@ZAVAZggg

While each man apart of the team was a trained professional, knew to expect the unexpected, when their employer, known for near perfect intel, had stated the target was a standard, you tended to expect a standard.

You didn't expect an old man to take a hail of gun fire enough to put down most Ultra's, stay standing and brush it off like it had all been pointless. So when they stopped to reload and the words reached them.

"That was pretty good!" WHAT! "But now it's my turn!" WAIT! WHAT?! And he fired back, they immediately took cover, reacting slower than normal, but fast enough that only one of their members dropped, the round impacting with his vest and knocking him to the ground, but he was still alive, he'd be up again in a second or two. The others scattered, ducking behind trees, diving to the ground as the hurried to reload, they were already spread thin, they couldn't move further out without risking catching each other in the crossfire, so now plan B, always have a plan B, if he survived the open volley, try and push him back towards the river. As each reloaded and was ready it was guns free, fire at will, each one firing of a few rounds in controlled bursts before moving to reposition in the dark.

You didn't expect an old man to take a hail of gun fire enough to put down most Ultra's, stay standing and brush it off like it had all been pointless. So when they stopped to reload and the words reached them.

"That was pretty good!" WHAT! "But now it's my turn!" WAIT! WHAT?! And he fired back, they immediately took cover, reacting slower than normal, but fast enough that only one of their members dropped, the round impacting with his vest and knocking him to the ground, but he was still alive, he'd be up again in a second or two. The others scattered, ducking behind trees, diving to the ground as the hurried to reload, they were already spread thin, they couldn't move further out without risking catching each other in the crossfire, so now plan B, always have a plan B, if he survived the open volley, try and push him back towards the river. As each reloaded and was ready it was guns free, fire at will, each one firing of a few rounds in controlled bursts before moving to reposition in the dark.

Alexander ducked and rolled as several bullets sped towards him, dodging most thanks to his years of training. Those that did hit were simply temporary inconveniences that only managed to slow him down slightly as he rushed towards the men, taking cover where he could and firing back when he was able to. As he silently crawled into the bush, Alexander kept low to the gound as he holstered his pistols and pulled out his knife, a grim look on his face.

"Forgive me for what I am about to do..." He thought as he slowed his breathing and strained his ears to try and locate his attackers. "But know that it is necessary." Moving forward inch by inch through the underbrush, Alexander began his hunt. Stealthily moving through the woods, Alexander slit the throat of any soldier's that had the misfortune of being caught unawares by him or had strayed to far from the main group.

Los Angeles, California
Elsewhere

The vanishing act was timely, if at least for the reason that it afforded a chance to withdraw from the events. It was most timely if for the fact that the sirens hadn't stayed completely idle at this point; a few more were drawing nearer still, almost as if wandering in from all directions. Predator didn't lack any understanding that they were not after him now, that whatever drew out the two contrasting figures in the masked and costumed men was truly the cause, or that the law would never have had any idea just where it was unless by sheer accident, but that did not change the need to up and leave. So, each foot pitter-pattering across the gravel of the rooftop, passing by rows of undisturbed pigeons that had no idea just how close a predator was, the game was on to find a place to call its own.

That journey took the tiger a ways but it was a rewarding one in the end. An old, decrepit series of apartments would come to be the place in the end. It wasn't difficult finding a place to rest in it, it was full of tucked away dark corners, and likely did not draw too many visitors. The air after all was musty and few prints of wayward shoes lined the floor, even less toward the higher floors. The seclusion was good enough, particularly for an animal well known for trying to keep itself out of sight and out of mind - except for when tampering with others' in this case.

@ZAVAZggg@DJAtomika
Ping Tom Memorial Park- Chicago

Gabriel watched the fiasco from atop a building across the river, his helmets thermal vision allowing him to watch as one figure slowly moved through the dark, executing one after the other.

He was flanked on either side by several men dressed in dark form fitting garb, armed with short Japanese style swords strapped across their backs, faces covered with masks.

"Unbelievable, and these amateurs thought they could join Black Out? At least we can confirm the Old Man now." Another of the armed men dropped across the river, they were down to just six now... Oh look they were finally getting smart...

Across the river the would be assassins had come back together, they were moving in a close circle keeping watch in all directions and made their way out of the slightly forested area and into the open grass, they were being taken out from the shadows, their target was obviously experienced, and knew how to move through cover, so it was time to drag him out. Fear was gripping their hearts, the hairs on the back of their neck stood on end and each had broken out in a cold sweat.

"Rifle" was the only word Gabriel spoke next, one of his henchmen opened a case upon the roof and quickly withdrew and assembled a barret .50 caliber rifle, it did not possess a scope. As he held it up and got into a standing firing position his visor began to do its work, dialing in the shot.

"C'mon then.. Get out of trees..."

@Count Cuddles & @DJAtomika

Location: Chicago - Ping Tom Memorial Park.

---

Alexander moved cautiously through the bushes, stealthily assassinating any soldier's he came across until only two were left standing. Having silently made his way up into the branches of a tree directly above the men a few minutes earlier, Alexander peered down at them from his perch, the knife clutched firmly in his right hand as he briefly went over the angle of attack in his head.

From this height he should be able to jump down from the branch, land on top of them, and then finish both of them off with a quick stab to the back of the skull. Deciding upon his course of action, Alexander dropped down on the pair, slamming one man's face into the ground with his free hand while stabbing the other in the back of the head. Once the first guy was down, Alexander calmly moved onto the second, ending his life just as quickly and efficiently as his comrades.

After taking a few moments to compose himself, Alexander reached down to cut a piece of cloth from one of his attackers shirts and used it to clean off his knife before tossing it off to the side and sliding the weapon back in its sheathe. He then got to his feet, dusted off his jacket and pants, readjusted his hat, and began to walk back towards the park when an uneasy feeling welled up deep within his stomach. Something wasn't right. He'd killed all of his would be attackers, sure, but there was still something bothering him about the whole situation...some detail that he was missing that just wasn't sitting right with him. It was almost as if something or someone was waiting for him to leave the safety and cover of the forest.

Not one to go against his instincts, Alexander slowly withdrew back into the cover of the underbrush where he took cover behind the thick trunk of a nearby tree. While leaning against the tree, he noticed the corpse of one of his attackers lying nearby, his gear still intact. Alexander's lips pressed into a thin line as he made his way to the corpse and picked it up, vest side facing out, and crouched behind it. Planning to use the man as a shield against whoever or whatever might be out there waiting for him to emerge, Alexander slowly began moving towards the treeline where he would then make a run for the cover of the boathouse by river.

Hopefully everything would go as planned. If not...

Well he didn't want to think about that.

Rampere

Mark walked down the street. Well, from his perspective he was walking. To everyone else, he looked like a white blur dashing down the street at 100mph. He almost didn't catch his phone ringing. "Hey, mom." he answered. The people around him would see the young hero on the phone with his mother, a few of them probably questioning whether or not his speed came from her.

Back home in Louisville, pronounced loo-uh-vull by him and his family, he was well enough known that he could get away what is more stuff than most other Heroes. However, you cannot get away with everything. One of his favorite things to do was find a couple of the normal people and challenge them to a race, only to let them win to show he wasn't a bad guy. However, since he had come to LA at the behest of the general, he didn't have time to do that. Apparently, there had been a few heroes and villains that had gone missing and he was told to begin his search in LA. Of course the boy wasn't happy but when the guy providing your super suit asks you to do something, you don't ask questions unless it pertains to getting it done. And, for that reason, he went in knowing almost nothing about any of the heroes or villains that had gone missing and only a little about where their lairs were. He didn't care. He was still going to try his best to look around.

"Did you forget the plan?" His mother asked, seemingly perturbed. Back in her day, she had been a pretty serious gyro herself. However, that was almost 20 years ago. Now, she had two teenage children to look after. Mark, who had just turned 18, and his older sister, who was only a few months from being 20. She often acted as the person behind the computer for her son just to keep him safe as he ran around the streets of whatever City they had been sent to. She was not fond of the general but could understand his reasoning for working with the Speedster.

Unlike Mark, his older sister hadn't inherited as much of their mothers speed as he had. Also unlike her brother, she had inherited much more of their fathers intellect, making her a natural with computers, robotics, and school work. All stuff she hated. She loved to run. However, despite her Need for Speed she inherited only 1/5 of the speed her brother had and was forced to use it wisely. She could currently hear their mother calling him.

"How could I forget the plan? We went over it 20 times." The boy asked, practically ignoring is Mother's please for safety again. What he knew and almost didn't care about was the fact that his mother I put a tracker in his suit. One of the ones his father had once used on her. His father was not a nice man. All overseas, the pair had met and nearly instantly fell in love. Neither of them knew who the other was despite nearly fighting to the death multiple times as their counterparts.

"You're about two blocks off course." She noted, watching the screen. Despite having a tracker on the boy, she didn't have a camera on him to see what he saw. She was a little surprised when he told her about the road construction that had been less in the way only 3 days prior when she had walked the past herself.

"Road construction." He simply said, slightly embarrassed that he had to explain something so simple to his mother. Upon hearing her facepalm, Mark's sister began laughing. The girl that always been a bit of a rebel, if only to get on their mother's nerves. She always took after their father more. That was something the woman never understood. This girl look like her father, acted like her father, was as intelligent and creative as her father, you wanted nothing to do with him, no information about him, what are you going to see a picture of him.

After a small amount of banter, mark continued his path North, keeping his eyes open for the next camp we could go back to these three she wanted to be on. Between his mother and the general, Mark was beginning to turn into a rather well equipped hero.

Mark was soon to arrive at this destination near the North End of the city where one of the recently disappeared Heroes had set up. He had popes he would not find bones or anything of the ilk in the supposedly abandoned hideout. One thing he did want to find, however, was some of the Hero's technology that he could adapt to fit himself.

@Count Cuddles@ZAVAZggg

Alexander Mackey walked along the street, hands in his pockets. The night was mostly quiet, save for the beeping of car horns in the distance. He was on his way home from work, his barista apron slung over his shoulder as he made his usual walk through the park back to his apartment. Alex worked at a cafe nearby and, as was his custom for a few years now, he made this walk through the park his daily commute.

But today, it was different. As Alex drew the hood of his hoodie up over his head to combat the cold breeze, he caught a telltale scent. And an even more familiar sound.

Cordite. Very recent. Just after a spattering of loud, not fully suppressed gunfire echoed from the streets in front him. And coupled with a commotion in the section of park ahead.

"Not good..."

With his hood still up, Alex dug a hand into his back pocket and pulled a square of cloth that he wrapped around the lower half of his face to hide his identity and ducked down. As he moved forward, he heard more than saw another burst of gunfire. The fact that their guns were softer than normal meant suppressors, not some typical drive-by shooting or gang-related thing. It was professional. His mind put two and two together as he hugged the bushes, moving from hiding spot to hiding spot as he approached where the gunfire was coming from. In a clearing, he spied a very strange scene: a man in a black hat and trench coat holding up the body of...someone. Blood coated the street behind him, and within the darkness of the park, Alex could see bodies. Dead bodies.

Alex pushed out of the bush he was hiding behind and made a dash towards the Man in Black, an arm extended as if to see if he was okay.

"Sir! I-"

And that was when it hit him. A bullet slammed into his side with enough force to knock him over, sending him head over heels onto the pavement behind the Man in Black. The report of the gun was extremely loud and echoed through the entire neighbourhood. Stunned briefly but not out of the fight, Alex shook his head to clear the cobwebs as he felt the heat of the .50 BMG round spread all over his right side. There was a small fist-sized hole in his hoodie and a bruise about the size of his face on the flesh underneath that, but oddly enough, he hadn't been torn in half by the monstrous rifle round. Instead, he kept himself on the ground, trying to get his thoughts together as he let his body recover from tanking the heavy blow.

@DJAtomika
@Count Cuddles

Location: Chicago - Ping Tom Memorial Park.

---

Alexander shifted the body he was shielding himself with slightly to get a better look at the person that was running towards him, when a loud gunshot pierced the air. Moving the body he was using as a shield aside slightly, Alexander could see a man lying on his back a few feet away with a fist sized hole in his side. Judging from the appearance of the wound and the sound of the shot, Alexander determined that the weapon used was a Barret .50 Caliber Rifle, something that should have torn this man in half.

Yet here he was intact.

And from the looks of things, still alive too.

Letting out a barely audible curse, Alexander threw the body aside and ran over to the man. Upon reaching him, he picked him up and threw him over his shoulders before making a beeline towards the boathouse where he knew they would, for the moment at least, be out of harms way. As he ran through the open park several thoughts flooded his mind at once, the most prominent of which was the nature of his surprise cargos physiology. Even now he could hear the man's flesh repairing itself as it slowly pushed the bullet out through layer and layer of muscle tissue. Was this random stranger genetically enhanced like himself? Or was he one of these mutants he'd heard so much about recently? And why was he even here in the firs-

Alexander let out another curse as he heard a second round being fired in his direction. Readjusting his hold on the wounded man he carried, Alexander rushed towards the boathouse, sliding at the last minute in order to get some of the building between him and his attackers as the projectile buried itself in the soil a few feet behind him as he ran.

While its walls probably weren't thick enough to stop most fire from high powered weapons, he was confident that they were thick enough to buy him some time to formulate a plan. Huddling behind the side of the boathouse facing away from the river, Alexander layed the man on the ground beside him and peaked out from behind cover slightly in an attempt to find the location of his newest attackers. He scanned the entire park and the rooftops of the buildings across the river, but found nothing.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, Alexander turned towards the man and glared down at him.

"Who the hell are you and what in God's name are you doing here?!" He hissed.

Los Angeles, California
Elsewhere

What was a brief sleep for a tiger was hours on end to others. The passage of time came and went swiftly in the realm of dreams of course, whereas events elsewhere led up to their unfolding in the rest of the world. In fact, things had not been so quiet as they were in the tiger's lair. A world away it would seem other acts were evolving, but for the awakened cat? All that was in this moment was the need to stretch its limbs and yawn. Moseying about for a time, the cat figured it was high time again to find other sources of inquiry and interest, as the rest period had given it time to consider what was next.

By which, of course, meant staking out and seeking out marks within its territory. It knew the terrain now well enough that there was little concern for the other competition; it had an idea about them, which was more than none. But it needed to act on that drive to do something with this knowledge. So what next would come, one could only wonder, as the Predator sauntered its way out the rickety boards that shuttered the windows and quickly, quietly, maneuvered among rooftops and alleyways once more; an urban jungle as it was often referred to and one the great cat did not disagree with in perception. Each silent step was masked by the ambiance of the world around, still as busy as ever and unaware of the unseen guest.

What new things would come? Only time would tell as the wandering for the hour started...

Tom Ping Memorial Park- Chicago
@ZAVAZggg@DJAtomika

Gabriel cursed internally as the first shot was intercepted by a new comer, he couldn't tell any details accept they were likely male, partially due to the distance between them and that he was still viewing everything through a heat vision filter. He knew the shot hit and he saw them go down.

He immediately moved to reacquire his target in the Man in Black but said old man had already begun moving, almost seeming to catch the new comer before he hit the ground and took off at a dead run towards the boat house, Gabriel had fired again, but his target had dropped in the same moment sliding into safety.

He lowered the rifle and deactivated the heat vision in his visor.

"How is the police situation?"

"Still fine sir, our outpost has managed to intercept and filter all local 911 calls, a single patrol car in the area had to be dealt with."

"Hrm... alright then.." he held the rifle off to his side where it was wordlessly retrieved and disassembled by one of the others. "Swords..." and in the next moment his swords had been retrieved and latched onto the hips of his power suit. "Alright then, I need to confirm what happened to the interloper the rest of you begin Standard Evac plan C. I won't be long." he took a step off the edge of the building and hit the ground running, making a bee line for the river he weaved between a few benches and trees and took a mighty leap at the waters edge, he landed upon a small moored vessel and lept again landing upon a small bit of drifting wood debris, he felt it sinking but in that same moment his leg fired off and launched him the rest of the way across the river, he entered the park running straight for the boat house, hands resting on the hilts of his swords.

Los Angeles- California
@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Rockin Strings

There was a great sound, like the tearing of metal that echoed across the city as several large metallic objects plummeted, burning, from the sky, crashing through buildings as the made impact, sending debris and hot stone and metal flying in every direction, in total Four had crashed down at different points in the city. One seemed to land near the Angel Stadium of Anaheim, another at Long Beach, the third landed Holy Wood and the final crashed down in China Town, leaving behind destruction and a small crater, the smooth metallic pods glowing white hot however were in tact.