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Colonel Wayne considered each of his Knights' questions, and tried to answer as many as possible.

"The concerns about engaging with the Crimson King are valid," he began. "I expect he'll want to keep me alive long enough to put on a show, but I don't believe for a second that any one of the Crimson Fists will be interested in a fair fight. Sabotage to the Mech is practically a given, as is the notion that the other Fists will be waiting in the wings. In fact, I'm counting on it. The more of them are waiting to take me out, the fewer of them will be at the Fort."

At Marit's comment, he glanced at his prosthetic hand. "The neural link controlling my prosthetic will interfere with my ability to wear a neurohelmet, that's true. As much as I'd like to, the simple truth is I'll never be able to pilot a Battlemech the way I used to. But I don't need to beat the Crimson King; I just need to stay alive long enough to keep him busy. And my Battlemaster still has enough armor on her that even sustained fire from an entire lance won't bring her down easily."

Glancing over at technician Wyatt, the Colonel gave her an appraising look. She'd definitely come a long way since the coup, from a talented but reserved weapons tech to being able to parlay with a Comstar Precentor. He'd began to lean on her for her burgeoning abilities as the 'face' of the Green Knights' operation, but in truth her real expertise was still working with Mechs. "Wyatt: as per your request you're coming with me. Assuming the Crimson King is going to hedge his bets, you're my best chance at sniffing out sabotage. I'll see if I can get someone else to negotiate with the FPA for use of those Thumpers."

Looking at his Mechwarriors and the crew of the Von Luckner, he went over the tactical overview. "As for those of you conducting the assault on the fort, the first phase of this operation is simply to draw their fire. Ramrod and Desperado, the two of you keep moving, hit what you can where you can, and bring your fire on whatever provides the biggest threat in the immediate moment. Assuming we are able to get the Thumpers on our side, Alley Cat will be instrumental in calling targets. Family Man, I want you to take an elevated position and put that PPC to use against any armored assets that come in for backup. Giggles, your Archer has enough armor to absorb a lot of the small fire, so don't be afraid to brawl, but listen for Alley Cat's signal to provide fire support as well. Merry-Go-Round, as the Mechs clear the way and draw fire, your crew will come up the pass and blast through the fixed positions."

"In the event that Sgt Dalton gets hung up, we go to plan B,"
he continued. "Any mech with functioning hand actuators will need to enter the complex and start opening doors. If prisoners aren't able to get to the underground tunnels, we may have to physically pick them up and carry them out. Obviously, that means you may have to choose who you take and who you leave; I'm confident that I can trust in your discretion on that."

Taking a deep breath, Gaius said, "There's a good chance that I don't come back from my duel with the Crimson King. In that event, tactical command of the Green Knights is entrusted to Lance Commander Daschke, with advisement from Sgt. Dalton. Logistical command and coordination of the civilian contingent will go to Captain Roth, once she's freed from the Fort. Once operations on Espia are concluded, you'll all receive your share of payment in full, and you'll be free to discuss the future of the command from there."
<Snipped quote by AndyC>

If we're truly week one, I like the idea that Waller is SHIELD and not head of one of the other hundred alphabet organizations. It doesn't make sense for all of them to already exist.


Yeah. DC has way too many "we want to have our own version of SHIELD but can't stick to any one concept so we've got like a thousand shadowy organizations with acronym names" groups, so i figured it'd be cleaner to just lump them all into SHIELD. Since that's what they're all pretending to be anyway.
It doesn't appear that Hamazasp Sulser would be able to fit in this lore, would he?


Depends on what they were doing at the time; this game takes place a few years before the Rasalhague one. And because the two RPs aren't necessarily canon to each other, you can always make edits to fit. There are ways to work in some new Mechwarriors, depending on what ideas you've got.
While I haven't named her by name yet, for fear of stepping on toes, I've alluded in my Wolverine posts that the Assistant Director under Fury is Amanda Waller. If someone else has grand designs for Waller, though, that could just as easily be Maria Hill or someone else.
Bobby T.


“--few more days, and we'll get negotiations back on track," Bobby said into his iPhone, pacing back and forth around the rooftop pool of La Casa Del Sol Nasciento. “I've told you this, Terry. It's just a hiccup, nothing to get worried about."

The early evening sun was beginning to turn the sky a gorgeous orange, the thin wisps of clouds turning shades of pastel pink and violet. A few stories below, the streets of Isla Zafrio were starting to come alive as people left work to take in the night-life. Salt air came in on a refreshing breeze from the ocean, and the view from the top of the hotel let him see waves lapping at the beach a leisurely stroll from where he was staying.

On the outside, Bob Townsend Jr. was every bit the picture of serene paradise as the view he looked down on. On the inside, he was ready to start screaming.

“Look, you know how these family things can be," he said with a dismissive chuckle. “One person says the wrong thing to the wrong relative, someone takes it the wrong way, then it's all Hatfields and McCoys and Montagues and Capulets. They've all got their dander up, but once things simmer down, I'll pick right back up where we left off. These Azul Days that are coming up? Everyone here goes nuts for them. It'll put them in the right mood to talk. I'll bring you something from the festival. Something with dolphins on it, they love dolphins here. You like dolphins?"

At the far end of the pool, a thirty-something-year-old Japanese woman lounged in one of the poolside deck chairs, busily tapping away at her tablet even as she tried to relax. Behind her sunglasses, Machiko Chigusa rolled her eyes at Bobby's smooth-talk.

“All right, I'll let you go," Bobby said, “And hey, like I said, these Cardenas guys are just a little touchy right now. A few days of partying, a few rounds of drinks, and we'll get the winery deal and more. You know me, Terry, just trust in Bobby T's golden touch, okay? All right, talk to you later, give Linda my love. Bobby T, out!"

Bobby ended the call, and as soon as he saw the disconnect, he shouted Asshole! You call me up, start questioning me? Try to kick me while I'm down? I've seen what you've been bringing in the last three quarters, and you're not in any position to question shit! You start poking your nose around here, I'll bury your ass alive!"

Machiko looked over the rim of her sunglasses, raising an eyebrow. “Are you done, Bobby?" she said, not a hint of accent in her perfect English.

“Oh, don't you start, Chiko," Bobby snapped at her. “I've been doing all the heavy lifting since we've got here. I was the one who was sweet-talking the Cardenas, I was the one who got us the rights to this hotel. All you've been doing is playing tattle-tale for your cousins back in Osaka."

I've been keeping track of the funds and spending on this little venture," she said, “making sure you don't blow through all of your family and my family's money."

Bobby had gotten a reputation as a rock-star in his father's business, throwing wild parties and spending lavishly, but making up for it by landing huge real-estate deals. After the merger that turned Townsend Holdings into Townsend-Chigusa Holdings International, his new partners from the other side of the Pacific had become a thorn in his side, sending bean-counters and penny-pinchers along with him to rein him in.

Machiko, one of the younger cousins of the Chigusa family, was basically a machine that always managed to somehow turn fun into work. She had all the warmth and softness of a block of brushed steel, and he was convinced she had at some point replaced her soul with accounting software. Honestly, the fact that she looked incredible in a bikini was the only reason Bobby hadn't found a way to ditch her back on the mainland.

Bobby looked out on the horizon with annoyance. “Is that peckerwood with the airplane still flying around? Some goddamn local yokel, thinking he's hot shit because he can handle a Cessna."

Machiko grinned. It annoyed Bobby to no end that she had begun calculating fuel expenditures for his private helicopter as "entertainment expenses," unless if it was directly related to an upcoming deal. This meant he could only use it to shuttle himself and members of the Cardenas family between the islands, and he had to take the most direct route possible. And because the Cardenas family had put their dealings with him on hold, he was grounded for the foreseeable future.

“I saw them set down while you were talking with Terry," Machiko said with a grin; if there was anything that made her feel any kind of joy, it was seeing Bobby annoyed. “I believe the pilot does tours, if you’d like me to book you for one.”

Bob was about to make some pithy remark dismissing the idea, but he caught himself, and in the seconds he took to find his composure, had a bit of inspiration.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” he said, grinning as the facade of ‘Bobby T’ settled back into place. “Sure, it’s not as nice as my chopper, but flying’s flying, right? And hey, seeing what the locals think passes for a thrill ride will give us some ideas on how to improve on the concept once we buy this hotel and start doing our own airplane tours as part of an ‘island adventure’ package.”

Bobby had already spoken with Ramon Gutierrez, the proprietor of La Casa Del Sol Nasciento, about purchasing the hotel, and while the old man was hesitant about turning over his life’s work, Bobby knew he was less than a week away from flipping him. The hotel was old, and while it was still profitable, it was nowhere near as successful as newer hotels like the Casa de la Contessa. Once La Casa was his (or rather, was Townsend-Chigusa’s), he’d bulldoze the old building and replace it with a brand-new top-of-the-line facility, maybe keep a few bits like the original awning or cornerstone as “historical preservation.” From there, it’d be easy to spin it into an underdog story, the old underperforming establishment given new life and dominating the island. Combined with the developments he was planning with the Cardenas winery, he’d make Townsend-Chigusa a tidy little profit on these islands when all was said and done.

Of course, that was just the opening act. Bobby could’ve bought some land or flipped an old hotel anywhere on the planet and made money off of it. But he’d come to Azul for something much bigger than that…

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Bobby said as he stretched, “but I could use a drink. And not one from the hotel bar– Marta doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of ‘no coconut, por favor.’ Ronaldo, you know anywhere nice to get some refreshments?”

Ronaldo Cortez, a local man that Bobby had hired to be his private security, cleared his throat. While he’d done his best to remain professional, given long enough, his gaze always seemed to wander back to Ms. Chigusa’s legs.

“I, erm, I know a few places,” Ronaldo said, now making an effort to stare straight forward. “Do you want somewhere nice, or a, er, a hole in the wall?”

Bobby gave a shrug, perfectly practiced to show how casual and flippant he was. “Surprise me. Let’s hit the town.”


@AndyC could you not decide?


I was using my phone and kept fat-fingering the wrong reaction.


M I S S I O N B R I E F I N G


"Green Knights," Colonel Wayne began, addressing his gathered warriors, "I don't need to tell you all how difficult it's been, having our families, our friends, our loved ones locked away in Fort Tie Shan. I've been holding off a direct assault on the Fort, as the combination of their heavy fortifications and the threat of harm against our civilian contingent has been too great. Unfortunately, the leader of the Crimson Fists, the so-called 'Crimson King,' is forcing our hand. He's demanded our surrender by sunrise this morning, or he's going to have our people executed."

Angry and concerned murmurs spread through the crowd, but the Colonel put his hands up to quiet them. "Fortunately, we have an advantage, one we didn't know about until recently. Lieutenant Lyons?"

"Hm? Oh, right, sir!" the commander of the Mobile HQ perked up before speaking. "Approximately two hours ago, the comms team in the mobile HQ intercepted a crude transmission on a civilian channel. It was a simple message in Morse code, using a short-range scrap-made transmitter, and we have reason to believe the signal was coming from inside Fort Tie Shan. The message let us know that there is an underground tunnel southwest of the fort! We cross-referenced it with the old Star League maps provided by Ms. Jeong, and it appears to be a valid link. It's a back-door into the Fort, and there's a good chance that the NPDRE and the Crimson Fists don't even know about it!"

"Thank you, Lieutenant, that will be all," Colonel Wayne dismissed her. "Now then, even with those service tunnels active, the second the guards notice prisoners disappearing, they'll know something is up and start shooting. That's why we'll need a distraction. A very big distraction. The tactical map, please."

Cadet Higgins switched on a projector, which played an image of an overhead map of the Fort on a flat section of wall.



"This is a layout of the only approach to Fort Tie Shan, taken a few weeks before the coup," the Colonel said. "It's heavily fortified with heavy walls, minefields, and several turrets. And that's not including the vehicles from the Espian Guard, and likely Mechs from the Crimson Fists. A direct assault would likely get us and all of our people killed. So instead, we're going to buy time."

The projector moved to the next slide, showing a close-up of the prison complex.



"Before sunrise, we are going to get every APC, cargo hauler, flatbed truck, scrapyard schoolbus, anything and everything that can carry people, down into that tunnel and have them all on standby. Once they're in place, the Green Knights will begin an assault on the prison from the outside, drawing the attention of the fort's defenses. As soon as the assault begins, Sergeant Dalton will lead a strike team into the fort from below and begin evacuating the general population detention center. The number one priority will be to buy Dalton and his team enough time to pull everyone out.

"The secondary objective,"
he continued, "Is the super-max wing of the prison. It's likely that members of our command staff will be held within the super-max, as well as officers from the old loyalist regime, and several key members of the FPA. If we can spring them, we can help create a united front to take down Federov and end the fighting once and for all."

"There are, however, going to be...challenges,"
said the Colonel. "The guard barracks houses hundreds of infantrymen, who will begin to muster once the assault begins. Not much against Mechs, but they'll make evacuating the fort more and more difficult as the attack goes on. The comms tower will also give the enemy the ability to call in air strikes; don't forget, the NPDRE still has one Mechbuster out there, as well as a Shilone bomber. Destroying either of those targets will make our job significantly easier; if need be, Dalton's troops can divert manpower to placing C-64 explosive charges inside those structures, but doing so will slow down the evacuation. Daschke, that will be your call."

The projector moved to another slide, closing in on the bridge crossing the river and the machine gun emplacements on the far side. "Now, onto the static defenses."



"There's a network of pillboxes around the perimeter of the fort," he continued, "Allowing teams of machine gunners to attack from a fortified position. Individually each one won't be much of a threat, but the damage they do can add up. Not to mention, they'll absolutely shred soft targets like infantry...or civilians."



"There are also multiple automated turrets, most of which are equipped with missile racks. The most numerous of them contain a single LRM-5 launcher, but there are bigger ones with a pair of LRM-10s. In particular, the hill on the southeast will be a pain in the ass to clear."



"Perhaps the biggest threat will be the heavy laser turrets," he continued. "There are only two of them, but each has a pair of Large Lasers, and a quad set of AC/2s. If they're left unattended, they can ruin your day."



"The turrets are all linked to the power plant on the south end of the fort. It's a hardened building, so it'll take some concentrated effort to crack it, but if you manage to get to it, you'll take the whole turret network down."

The slides ended, and the Colonel continued the briefing.

"Fort Tie Shan does not have an armored garrison, but there's a nearby firebase where we know they've got vehicles that will go on alert as soon as we start shooting. Given the Espian Guard's typical MO, that likely means Scorpion tanks, Warrior helicopters, an SRM Carrier in the worst-case scenario. If we move quickly and knock out enough of the Fort's defenses, we can get our people and be out of there before reinforcements arrive, but the longer we stay, the uglier this fight will get."

Looking out at his Mechwarriors, he knew what he was asking of them. This was going to be the heaviest fighting the Green Knights had ever encountered as a unit, and there was little chance of everyone coming out alive. Which is why it was important to give them some hope.

"On the positive side, we may have some backup," he then said. "Our contact Stiletto has arranged a meeting with the heads of the FPA at zero-dark-thirty this morning, before the attack is scheduled to begin. The FPA has assets in the area, most notably three Thumper artillery pieces they captured during the fighting in Yuzhny Portveyn. If we can convince them to bring those guns to the fight, then Ziska can use her Raven's TAG Laser to feed them targeting data and start putting shells onto targets. Since the Knights are going to be tied up in the fighting, Ms. Wyatt: since you handled our negotiations with Comstar so well, I'd like you to be the one who speaks to the FPA leaders to get us those guns. Failing that, Mechwarrior Daschke: as Lance Commander, I authorize you to make use of the recovered tactical nuke at your discretion."

He took a long sigh, "Which leaves us the matter of the Crimson King and his cronies. We've bloodied them twice now, but they still have the numbers on us. If they show up in force for a fight, and those defenses are still online, we lose, plain and simple. So before any of that happens, there's one final layer of diversion at hand."

He gave his men a somber look, then over to the Mobile HQ, who returned his look with a nod.

"I'm going to open up a direct channel to the Crimson King," he said. "I'm going to acknowledge his demand to turn myself in, but dispute it warrior to warrior. I'm going to demand the Crimson Fists return my Battlemaster to me, and by the honors of war and the tenets of the Lorix Creed, I'm going to challenge him to single combat."

This brought an uproar from the crowd, which he immediately quieted.

"I'm well aware this could fail," he stated, "That they could simply find my location and send a sniper or a drone. But given that this character likes to put on a show, I don't think his ego will allow him to resist. He'll come out for a fight, and then the rest of the Fists will probably jump me and try to kill me. But every second they're doing that is a second they're not defending the Fort."

"We've come back from the brink already," Gaius said, "And I couldn't be more proud of how you've performed in extreme circumstances. This is the moment we take it all back. This is moment we win this war. And we'll do it, because frankly we don't have the option not to."

He held out his hands to open up the floor. "Now then: any questions before we decide the fate of this planet?"
To tag up on what's been said: we're all starting off on the first week of, more or less, superherodom. Superman appears (when I finally have him appear, sorry about the wait) and it sets off a chain reaction of other vigilantes and powered heroes showing up in this world, leading to things like mutants being more outwardly active and villains on an Earth-level coming out of the woodwork. The implication there is that every hero character is very green and amateur at what they do, leading to them being susceptible to mistakes and power levels that are far below their peak.

So when we say that we don't want major threats like Darkseid, Thanos, Galactus and the lot beaming down from space and challenging the current crop of characters, we literally just don't want our characters either getting an automatic power boost to compete with villains on that level or, more realistically, getting killed. It's not interesting to have characters this new to the cape life be decimated by threats that are ordinarily saved for fully stacked teams and heroes that are more experienced compared to having them struggle against jobbers like The Rhino or Clayface. That's the goal, which is to build heroes to eventually become capable of taking on bigger threats.

So no, we're not literally talking about the idea that the Green Lantern Corps just started and recruited Hal and Sinestro this week. That'd be absurd. Darkseid is obviously around and ruling Apokolips, he didn't just ascend to that throne. Galactus is out there. Thanos might already be off Titan, we don't know. It's just that for the sake of our player characters, the characters that matter to this game, it's the first week. Just don't throw something like that at any of them. We're telling a story as a group and that story is "Superhero? What even is a superhero?" in a generalized sense.


Meanwhile I'm over here playing two different characters who have been around for over a century. I did not understand the assignment.


“Hey kid,” I say, nudging the sleeping teenager with the toe of my boot, “breakfast is almost ready.”

Kitty stirs, and I groggily step back into the main room of the small cabin to give her some privacy. Outside, the morning sun has warmed the valley to just being too-goddamned-cold instead of deadly, but I close the cabin door behind me to keep as much warmth in as possible as I step bleary-eyed outside and trudge through the snow.

*Sniff*...yeah, not much longer,” I say as I get a nose full of wood smoke, mixed with the salty smell of fatty meat cooking. Just the smell of it wakes me up a little, enough to make me realize how tired I am.

I kept watch on the cabin until Kitty calmed down enough to fall asleep, and I've been busy since the dead of night. I took care of the hardest job first: digging a long ditch to bury the men outside. I was lucky enough to find a ditch a few hundred meters from the cabin, and my claws make me better than most at digging and burrowing, but even then, after carving out enough room for fourteen bodies and their gear, dragging them through the woods, and then covering them up, I was about spent.

Still, we were both gonna need fuel to get moving, so I had to find some fat and protein. After a few minutes to dig out a Dakota fire pit that won’t give off much smoke, another few minutes to get some wood burning, and then a few more to clean and chop a fresh kill, I was able to sit for a while and just cook.

Eventually, Kitty comes out of the cabin, bundled up in her coat and a heavy blanket wrapped over her. She looks down at the frying pan I’ve got over the fire, and sees the red strips of meat that are sizzling in the pan. ”What’s that?”

”Bacon,” I answer, turning a strip over with one claw.

”I, uh, I can’t eat bacon,” she says, uneasily.

I look over my shoulder and raise an eyebrow. “You a vegetarian or something?”

She shakes her head. ”Er, no, I’m Jewish.”

”Ah,” I nod. “Well, good news: it’s not pork.”

Kitty nods, then I see her face go white. “Wait a sec. Those guys from last night…is that–”

“It’s deer meat,” I cut in, realizing the conclusion she’s jumping to. “I caught a doe this morning.”

Gesturing to the treeline, I point out the skinned and cleaned carcass I've got hanging from a branch. Most of it’s butchered cleanly, apart from a couple of bloody mouthfuls I tore out to keep my hunger down.

“Oh God, that's… eucch!” Kitty turns away, holding back a dry-heave. “Seriously, I don't do blood. You can't just show me a dead animal without warning me!”

I shrug. “It's just nature, kid. Gotta eat to live. And we're gonna need a lot of food to get us all the way to New York.”

Kitty nods, still not wanting to look at the carcass. “Just, I dunno, warn me first, okay?”

I grunt, and after a few more moments of cooking, I pull the strips of deer bacon off the pan, put them on a small plate from the cabin's supply closet, then offer it to Kitty.

The kid looks at the deer meat and makes a face, but after a moment, the picks up a strip and bites into it.

“Thishh … tayshht…mmf” she says as she takes another bite, before she's even done with the first bite. “It…*gulp*...it tastes really bad.”

“Sorry,” I nod, “I'm not much of a cook. But you’'ve gotta make sure deer meat's cooked all the way through, so you don't get parasites. Don't want to travel with somethin’ nasty tagging along. Which reminds me..you got a phone on you?”

Kitty nods, and rustles around in her pile of blankets and heavy clothes before pulling out a smartphone. “The battery is almost out, but if we can get it to a charger, we can HEY!”

I drive my claws into the phone, shattering the glass and cracking the electronics inside, then throw it on the ground and stomp on it until it's pulverized.

“What the hell, Logan!” Kitty shouts. “That was a birthday present from my parents, they saved up all year for it!”

“You know how easy it is to track a cell phone, kid?” I ask her. “Half the programs on those things are loaded up with spyware. I'd bet you anything those assholes that attacked you last night knew where you were following that phone.”

“Paranoid much?” she scoffs.

“It's not paranoia when they really are out to get you,” I say, “and they are. Whichever organization those guys worked for, they're not going to give up just because a couple of their grunts went down. They're gonna try again, with more guys and bigger guns. Which means we've gotta move soon, and we can't leave any way for them to track us.”

“Okay, I..I got it,” Kitty nods as she finishes the last of her deer bacon. “So no cell phones, no footprints, no trash that could give away where we went, yeah?”

“No strong smells either,” I add. “You've got something on you, smells like coconuts. It's a dead giveaway.”

Kitty blinks, then sniffs her forearm. “What, my skin cream? It's not even all that strong, what do you…oh eww, are you, like, sniffing me in my sleep or something?!”

Kitty takes a few big steps away from me, a look of revulsion on her face.

“It's part of what I do,” I say, hands up again. “Enhanced senses. Lets me see in the dark, hear things most people can't, smell things from miles away. How do you think I got that deer in pitch black?”

Kitty doesn't look convinced. Hell, I wouldn't be convinced either, if I were her.

“Right,” she says. “Buuut, even if you can smell my skin cream a mile away, mutations are usually unique, right? So wouldn't that mean you're the only one who can do it?”

“...well, th-”

“Oh wait, dogs!” Kitty interrupts. “They use bloodhounds to track people, right? Do they even still do that?”

“Sometimes, yeah, especially in the woods,” I answer.

And it isn't a lie.

But it isn't really the truth, either. And it isn't what I was going to say.

Truth is, I'm not the only one who can do what I do.

Still, she's scared enough already. Better she doesn't know about him. Not yet, anyway. One nightmare at a time.

“We're gonna need to get a move on soon,” I change subjects, finishing off the deer meat. “I've got a pickup truck stashed away not far from here,” I say as I start to break up the camp. “We'll need to head East to meet up with one of my contacts in Winnipeg; he can get us the paperwork we need to get into the States. We cross the border at Buffalo, and from there it's a straight shot to Westchester. Should be about three and a half days driving if we don't get slowed down. Time to spare.”

Kitty raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“By what?”

“You said ‘time to spare,’” she says. “Are we on a time limit now?”

Shit, I mutter to myself. I shouldn't have let that slip.

“It's…a long story,” I say carefully. “For now, let's just say your timing really could've been better.”

“Right,” she says, skeptical again. She's not satisfied with the answer, but that's the only answer she's getting.

A few minutes pass in relative silence as we put out the fire, pack up Kitty's things, and clean the cabin til there's no trace we were there.

We start heading through the valley down an old game trail, towards another one of my safe houses where I'd stashed the truck. If the kid does a half-decent job of keeping up the pace, we should make it there before evening.

Around the halfway point, Kitty stops in her tracks.

“You know, it just occurred to me how screwed up this is,” she says, “You kill a bunch of guys from the government, you smash my cell phone, you say you know what my skin cream smells like, and now you're making me follow you to a second location. This is, like, every red flag possible.”

I look back at her, and realize she's got a point. I haven't given her any reason to trust me, other than that I killed some guys that were after her.

“Wish I had more to give you than just my word,” I tell her. “but it's all I've got right now. There's about a thousand wild animals between here and the next town. You know what the only difference between them and me is?”

Kitty shakes her head.

“I can make a promise, and keep it,” I tell her. It's only a half-truth: I can make a promise and try to keep it, at least. “You stick with me, I'll make sure nothing and no one gets a hand on you. Promise.”

She doesn't answer, so I add “And anyway, you can run through walls. If you want, you can run and I can't catch you.”

“Good enough for now,” Kitty shrugs. “Just don't get any ideas, okay?”

I chuckle. “Kid, I'm old enough to be your granddad, probably older than that. I stopped having those kinds of ideas a long time ago.”

We hike along in silence for another two hours or so, then eventually, we reach an old tumble-down farmhouse with a garage on the side. Sliding up the garage door, there's a beaten-up pickup, covered more in rust than paint.

“There's a town about an hour southwest of here,” I say. “We'll stop there to grab some cash, supplies, a couple changes of clothes.”

The suspension audibly creaks as I hop into the bed of the truck and lay down against the back of the cab. “You know how to drive, right?”

“I, ah, I got a learner's permit,” Kitty says sheepishly.

“Close enough,” I say, “Just don't get pulled over. Keys are in the glove box”

Kitty nervously climbs into the cab, and after a couple of false starts, the engine starts.

As the truck rumbles down the long dirt road towards civilization, I let myself fall asleep.
Took a while, but the first post for Jonah/Ghost Rider is up. It, uhh, ended up being a good bit darker than I initially thought. Lemme know if it's too much, and I'll revise.
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