Celeste

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

@AbandonedIntel*hug* Best of wishes!

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

New IC post is up! Yay!

I left it pretty much open for anybody who wants their characters to have noticed Condor's mayhem to stumble into him. ^^

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Buenos Aires. Palermo. Puma's Apartment.

One Year Ago. Night Time.

He played his guitar with a special kind of relaxed enthusiasm, the sort that comes with unleashing after an exhausting, stressful fight. He sighed into the warm, dry air of the small apartment, and although he could hear Puma get up from the bed behind him, he was happy to focus on the music alone. He sang softly, with his eyes closed, and let his mind be carried away by the soothing succession of sounds.

"Hubo un tiempo que fue hermoso
Y fui libre de verdad.
Guardaba todos mis sueños
En castillos de cristal..."

Before long his thoughts became a series of melodic, if somewhat non-linear images, smells, tastes and sensations. In his head, he felt the cool lakeside breeze of the black sand beaches in autumn, smelled raspberries and pine trees, and saw Puma chasing him up and down the roofs of Buenos Aires. The big, ugly bruise on his right cheekbone throbbed painfully with the memory of their struggle , and he absentmindedly tasted the dried blood on his lower lip.

At least his stupid boyfriend had come out unscathed from the clash between both meta-humans.

"That song is so boring..." Said the shapeshifter in question as he wrapped his arms around Ludo. There was a rumbling to his voice, and his breath upon Ludo's skin sent shivers down his spine.

"My love... go fuck yourself."

Puma laughed. "Don't you like AC/DC? Metallica?"

Ludo parted his lips to answer, but when he felt Puma's warm breath ghost over the skin of his neck, he could only shudder from the sudden goosebumps. Puma's kisses only made matters worse, and he had to stop playing for a moment, just so he could retaliate with a quick little kiss on the other's lips.

"I should dump you for such blasphemy." He said and chuckled as they parted, giving his shoulder a small shove. Then he turned his eyes back to the strings, and began to play again. "I grew up listening to this song. It makes me happy."

Puma was quiet for a moment, apparently just basking in this singular moment of calm intimacy between them while Ludo whispered the lyrics.

"Te encontrare una mañana
Dentro de mi habitación
Y prepararás la cama
Para dos..."

When the criminal finished, the vigilante spoke again.

"Why don't you dedicate yourself to that? Music?" Asked Puma, burying his face on the side of the other's neck. "Leave Condor behind and just do this. Go to a conservatory, write a few songs..."

Ludo plucked a single string, producing a high note, and did not look Puma in the eyes. He was quiet for a moment, before he chuckled again.

"Because I like being Condor." He said with a tiny, lopsided smile, leaning into Puma's warmth. "I like feeling that I'm making a difference in the world, that I'm changing something real. I think I'd lose my mind if I spent the rest of my life just playing the guitar and painting."

For a while, Puma was silent and motionless, and Ludo could almost feel the other's displeasure.

"We can't do this forever." He said at last, and there was sadness and resignation in his voice. "One day we won't be able to just take our costumes off and go on with our lives pretending everything's alright. Things will get ugly."

Ludo plucked another string, this time producing a lower note, and put the guitar down. He sighed, and twisted in his seat to face the other young man.

"I can't give Condor up, Puma. Not even for you." He placed his hand on the other's cheek, and leaned in. "But I do love you, and if anybody ever hurts you, I'll wreck them."

"Aww, you're so protective of your kitty." Puma gave Ludo a wide smile, showing off a bit of his feline teeth, and pulled him up from his seat and into his arms with a happy growl.

"Mhmm. My kitty." Ludo grinned, kissing him in the lips. "My kitty with really shitty taste in music."

"Those are fighting words."

"Then fight me." He said with a giggle, straddling the other as they fell together on the bed. His voice became a mischievous, sultry whisper as he looked the other in the eyes. "Better yet, punish me, my mighty superhero."

Sex ensued, of course, and both arrived at their classes quite late. It was a lovely summer day, the perfect aftermath for a long night spent in their costumes, getting themselves into all manner of trouble in the name of altruism or amusement, and both of them enjoyed it as best they could.

For a time, their lives were full of fun, love and shenanigans.

---

New York City. Slums of Hudson Valley. Abandoned warehouses.

Present Day. Late Night.

Condor exhaled a small puff of white smoke, closing his eyes as the herb-scented cloud faded into the nocturnal air. His ears were filled with the sound of that same song he had once played in his guitar, and that song that Puma had dared to call boring. He hummed along with it, and the happy memories of loving bickering in between nights of costumed action monopolized his thoughts.

After five hours spent assaulting police officers known for their excessive use of force, using the money he stole from them to give a few homeless people a nice warm meal, and hanging out with some prostitutes and marijuana dealers while he protected them from police and vigilantes, it was nice to take a short break to smoke and think. Besides, he had some important stuff to do, and he knew he would probably feel guilty if he spent the entire night getting distracted from his main goal. Specially since Colin had pretty much handed him his next target on a silver platter.

So here he was now, sitting on the rooftop of a very old apartment building, holding a blunt between his talons, and watching the dilapidated complex where the next link in the chain of Zepeta's arms supply line awaited.

Maybe it was because he was a bit of an amateur on the topic, but Condor failed to see the brilliance in using abandoned warehouses and docks in the slums of New York City, of all places, as the front for an arms smuggling operation. It felt painfully obvious, and he could not help but question the logic of it. Perhaps the American and Colombian agents were staunch believers in the 'hiding in plain sight' philosophy, although that hardly explained the conspicuously well-equipped people patrolling the place.

If his goggles' thermal imagery was anything to go by, within the buildings were two dozen armed agents, a very cute stray dog that kept them company, and an awful lot of rats. They had not yet loaded their shipment onto the old freighters docked behind the complex.

"Hey, man, pass me the blunt!" Said Beaumont, one of the dealers he was protecting, reaching out to him without much fear now. Undeniably a teenager, despite his tough guy attitude, he had claimed that he sold marijuana to support his ill mother, which Condor thought was probably a load of crap. He did not judge him for it, though. And besides, Beaumont seemed like a cool person to hang out with, well worth taking some asshole hero hostage for.

The wounded meta-human moaned a plea behind them, muffled by the gag, as he squirmed in his bindings. He had called himself "Lieutenant Maverick" or something, and had the ability to turn almost anything into a projectile. He was also a major dick who blamed all drug dealers for his cop father's death, and so took it upon himself to kill or maim even the youngest small-time marijuana dealers. Condor had definitely enjoyed blowing him from window to window.

He gave the vigilante a nonchalant glance, then handed the blunt over to Beaumont with a nod. "I thought dealers couldn't use their own stuff."

"Not my stuff, though. I bought this one from Laverne down the street." Said Beaumont before sucking in. He let out a small laugh when he exhaled. "My stuff is shit, dude."

"Hey, have some self-esteem." Condor said, patting him on his shoulder, turning his eyes to Lieutenant Whatshisname as the vigilante moaned again, louder. "Cut it out already. I didn't break a single bone in you. I double-checked."

He spared another look at the warehouses. The agents were still there, still moving crates full of arms around and generally acting like nobody would ever catch them in the act of sending weapons to an infamous populist dictator under the American government's sponsorship.

Now, Condor hated being angry, because anger was not a nice, pleasant emotion, but that stuff made him angry. And not just because the whole scheme reeked of a repeat performance of the same bullshit South America had put up with in the decades before his birth. It angered him, because these people probably had no idea, no sense of the consequences of what they were doing in there. They were partially responsible for whatever had happened to Puma, his Puma, and they did not even know it.

He swiftly pulled the blunt from Beaumont's fingers and took another drag, filling his lungs. It made him a bit dizzy, but he liked it. He felt like it added a spark of kinetic energy to the tension within him.

After a long sigh, he gave the blunt back to Beaumont and got on his feet with a jump. "Alright. The little bird has to go hunting."

"What are you doing with this guy here?" Asked Beaumont, nodding towards his still squirming hostage.

"Oh, yeah. Him." Said Condor, grinning. "He's the bait."

He and Lieutenant Whocares stared at each other for a few seconds, until the other let out a whine that was an almost heartbreaking blend of confusion and terror.

"Now now, that's not a very manly sound." He said, giving him a small kick to the side. "I promise you'll be relatively fine by the end of this. And if you behave really well, I'll even leave you at the nearest hospital."

Condor then gently pulled the vigilante up on his feet, and placed a small device around his neck. Once he was finished with that, he adjusted his own headphones and hummed along to that same Sui Generis song as it looped. Satisfied with the state of his bait and equipment, he tied his long brown hair back and paused the music.

Feeling as ready as he could possibly be, he pushed his hostage towards the edge of the rooftop and bumped fists with Beaumont one final time. "Thanks for the company. You're a great guy."

"No problem, man." Answered the teen, grinning. "I'll look into this floriculture thing you talked about."

Condor grinned back. "You do that. I really liked the look of those jasmines you were growing."

And then Lieutenant Whatever was sent flying through the sky by a sudden gust of wind, dozens of feet above ground, and glided towards the supposedly abandoned warehouses. More specifically, he glided towards the large, mostly broken windows of the top floor, and then went right through those with a loud crash.

A cacophony of confused shouting, heavy steps and objects being pushed around filled the air in the following seconds, providing the perfect cover for a darker, bird-like figure that, much like a bird, flew elegantly over the downtrodden streets of the slums and into a gaping hole in the nearest warehouse's roof.

The inside of the warehouse was darker than the night outside, but Condor still landed deftly on the dusty and broken cement floor. His feet did not make a single noise, although that would not have been much of a problem, given how loud the sudden chaos in the next room was.

There was an agent inside with him, but from the sounds of it he had been taking a strongly needed bathroom break, and so he did not notice Condor's arrival until it was too late. Namely, until he was thrown out the nearest window with a bit of old cloth stuffed in his mouth to keep him silent. He would certainly live, although Condor did for a moment wonder what sort of life he would have after falling from an abandoned warehouse with his pants down.

Through the thermal imagery of his goggles, he saw that almost all the other agents were in the adjacent room already, forming a circle around the bound and gagged figure of a costumed hero. In the floor immediately below, the bulk of the arms shipment awaited, guarded by one particularly cold-looking female and the cute stray dog. Colin had told him about that one agent: a Colombian cryokinetic, charged with keeping an eye on the American agents, making sure that their government was not double-crossing Zepeta in some way.

Condor turned his attention back to the gathered agents beyond the rusty door. They had taken off his bait's gag, and begun to shout all manner questions, threats and orders. All his bait could produce were frightened and baffled half-sentences, none of which came even close to revealing why he was there. That exasperated the agents, and their threats became more explicit. They now pointed their guns at him with murderous certainty.

It was time. And to be honest, he was looking forward to this.

He closed his eyes for a second as he put some music on. He had never liked the Rolling Stones, but Puma had. "Paint It Black" had always been his favorite song, and that was as good a reason as any to make it the soundtrack of what was coming next.

"I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black..."

He walked closer to the door and reached under his cloak, pulling out a small object with a button at the front. His finger ghosted over it for a second, and he took a long breath and shuddered.

"Ready?" He whispered to himself, and opened his eyes with a nod. "Yeah. Ready... and angry."

He pressed on the button with a smile, and it made the softest click.

An explosion of noise suddenly drowned out the shouting in the other room. A blast so powerful it shattered the lightbulbs hanging above the people within into countless pieces. It caused so much pain to their ears that many fell to their knees in the darkness as they clutched their heads and cried out. It likely left Lieutenant Whosis deaf, since it all came from the device around his neck.

"I see a line of cars and they're all painted black
With flowers and my love, both never to come back..."

The iron doors swung open, and Condor jumped in, followed by an explosion of air that blew them all back with great force. He landed with a barrel roll, not stopping for an instant as he kicked a recovering agent in the head and tore her rifle from her hands. With it, he delivered a single shot to another agent's leg, then hit another in the groin with an upwards swing. Leaving it behind, he reached for his boleadoras and threw them at another that was running towards their own weapon, making them trip headfirst into a pile of rubble.

"Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black..."

The lack of light did not deter his targets from firing at him, and a pair of shots missed him by an inch, which did wonders for his mood. He blew the culprit through the windows and into the night sky, but not before stealing a grenade from him and throwing it at a trio of his peers. The explosion overwhelmed the thermal imagery of Condor's goggles, which gave one Colombian agent the chance to land a very painful hit to his jaw with the butt of a rifle.

"If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes..."

Condor staggered for a moment and took another blow to his stomach. He groaned in pain, and in his exasperation he dispensed with good manners and threw the asshole to blame into a fragile-looking column with another surge of air. The column predictably fell, and the asshole was soon buried under piles of broken concrete.

Someone else tried to attacked him from behind with a rusty pipe, but Condor quickly retaliated with a series of kicks, and took the pipe from the other's hands. He definitely broke something upon hitting the other's face with it. And with that same pipe he tripped and broke another's leg, which he immediately felt a bit guilty about, although not enough to keep him from using that person as a human shield against a barrage of poorly aimed gunfire.

"I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes..."

Over half of the agents were still standing, which meant Condor had to get creative quickly. And that was where his whip finally came into play. With it, he got one of the unconscious agents by the foot, and used him as a very heavy morning star against the others, aided by the ever helpful air. Another he caught by the neck, and with one strong pull his head struck the floor.

And then the real fun started.

Condor became a flurry of movement, unrestrained and enthusiastic. He jumped, pirouetted and swung his way through the remaining agents, and the wind dealt with those that his talons and weapons could not subdue. A series of explosion, courtesy of a few grenades, rocked the building, but they did not halt his advance. If anything, they encouraged him, and he responded with explosions of his own, bursts of air that sent even heavy objects flying. As he came across boxes full of grenades, he turned them into improvised demolition charges, destroying a large part of the shipment and making the warehouse tremble.

That was when the Colombian cryokinetic appeared, with the floor beneath him collapsing as giant spikes of ice broke through it. All just when "Paint It Black" ended, and a song he actually liked started playing.

Condor regained his senses as quickly as he could, which was not quite fast enough to avoid being hit by a blast of icy air that threw him against a crate. Once he got his footing, he grinned and bowed. She did not seem impressed.

"Enough! Surrender now!" She growled as she threw a rather intimidating ball of ice at him. He evaded it, barely, and struck back with a gust of hot wind. It was not intense enough to make her lose her footing, but it distracted her enough for him to draw his pistol.

"Sorry. I don't answer to fascists." He said as he aimed and took his shot.

He missed her by a few inches.

The cryokinetic had been prepared, and she responded by charging at him with ice-covered fists. They clashed in the midst of what remained of the once vast shipment of Israeli arms, much of it set on fire by falling debris from the top floor. Condor was glad to take advantage of this and blow the crates towards her as he tried to dodge her attacks. That was easier said than done.

As soon as he thought he had the upper hand, she created a very strong shield of ice that withstood most of his blows, and one mighty punch of hers sent him flying across the room. He landed with a loud thud, and his nose bled, but he got back on his feet and struck back. He applied a bit of parkour, moving through the warehouse with agility as she threw every ice trick she could at him, turning half the dilapidated building into a frozen wonderland. With a high jump from one of the taller crates he pounced on her, kicking her in the chest and throwing her into a collection of fuel barrels. Just as he was about to get up, he shot one of them, its contents flowing onto the floor and beginning an inevitable journey towards the still raging fire nearby. That gave her pause.

"Enough. Surrender now." Said Condor, smiling.

She smiled back. "Where are you from? You sound Argentinian."

"Yes, I'm a South American brother of yours."

"And you think you can stop what the Supreme Commander has begun? We're the future of South America. We're going to stand up and..."

Condor shot another one of the barrels.

"Honestly, I don't give a shit about your ideology." He said, turning his gun towards her. "But you are done using the Americans to help you massacre your own people."

"You're just another stupid kid, thinking that you can have peace without men like the Supreme Commander." She said defiant, rising to her feet. Her hands began to take on that pale blue glow again. "South America needs us... not you!"

She cast a wall of freezing air and solid ice, and when he fired his pistol, the bullet was stopped and swallowed by the ice. It grew larger and larger, covering every inch of the warehouse, suffocating the fires and leaving only Condor untouched by its deadly cold. Her entire body began to glow that same pale blue.

Condor had no time to think or to run, but his emotions, chaotic though they were, swiftly took over his powers. And to the wall of cold air and ice they responded with a tempest that beat it back. The cryokinetic's attack lost momentum, then stagnated, and then it began to succumb under the countless air currents that now joined the tempest from everywhere nearby, until it felt like a hurricane would be born within the warehouse's walls.

With one final push, the ice crumbled, and the cryokinetic was thrown back, pushed off her feet and towards the wall. She hit it with a groan of pain, and fell back on the floor, unconscious.

A few seconds of silence passed. Then, with a long sigh, Condor took off his headphones, and untied his hair.

The Argentine meta-human took a long look at the warehouse, ruined beyond repair, and Zepeta's shipment all but destroyed. All in two songs. It felt... pretty damn great.

The neighbors had probably heard the whole thing too.

He sighed again. "God, I think I deserve some tea."

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Well, I have the day off. Time to post again. :P

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Sorry for the inactivity, folks. I'll be working on another IC post.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

I've been a bit busy with college, but I'll try to get a new IC post going over the next couple of days.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Here goes nothing. **coughs and clears throat, patting microphone a bit until everyone can hear her** This thing on? Good. Ahem.

Calling every HERO/WALK THE LINE character within New York area!

Alright. There’s something I actually want to do in regards with all the heroes and walk the line PCs that are within the NY area, and that’s establish brief contacts or meetings during the search for Ben during this chapter (too small to called an arc). When Ben goes wolf in two nights in a row, there’s a chance for his friends to encounter and briefly meet other PCs within the NY area during their search. Any players interested in having a brief interaction with them, state over the OoC, PM or contact me in some form to make this happen.

I figured this would make it possible for other PCs to call in aid from Ben’s pack, or individuals involved with it, to either help with their own arcs or get involved in the Pack’s chapters/arc without feeling random. So anyone interested?

@Fallenreaper

Interested.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

First IC post is up.

Could be worse.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Changing feathers

Patagonia. Nahuel Huapi Lake. Northern shore.

Two weeks ago. Midnight.

When the night sky was clear, and the lake below was perfectly still, it was hard not to lose oneself in the spectacle of stars that was reflected on the surface. It reminded him of the pictures he had seen of space growing up. He was going to miss it.

"I don't want you to go." Said Iván, the only fellow Celeste he actually liked, the sullen look on his eleven-year-old face confirming his words. He stood before the kneeling Condor, helping the former villain put on his mask despite everything. Condor could not help but give his baby brother a small, sad smile, and pat the back of his hand as he finished with the mask.

"Think of it as a vacation." He said softly, and a leaping blue trout many feet into the water was the only other sound in that place. The night was cool, the air sending shivers down his spine as it touched his face, but there was no wind. Not a single one of his cloak's feathers was moving. "Vacations are short, and people come back from them with nice memories and tons of pictures of landscapes."

"Why do you have to leave?" His brother insisted.

Condor sighed, and his smile faltered. For a long moment, he did not speak. When he did, his whispering was filled with uncommon but strong emotions.

"Remember when we talked about the last military junta? Of all the horrible things they did?"

Iván nodded.

"There's a man out there. A monster in uniform." He said, tightening his gloves. "Puma can't get to him, and the Americans won't touch him. But if we let him, he's going to do the same despicable things to his own people, and others will follow his example."

There was silence for a time, and then there was chuckling.

"Listen to me, all moralistic and stuff." Said Condor, tying his hair back and putting his headphones on. "If I ever get really boring, please hit me with my guitar."

Iván's sad expression faded at once, and he hugged his older brother with all his strength. "Can I play it? Your guitar?"

"Yes." He answered, grinning at the boy and hugging him back. "And if you haven't broken at least one string by the time I'm back, I will be disappointed."

The two parted, and Condor began to walk away, towards the water. He shrugged and shuddered, trying to clear his senses and concentrate on his powers. Iván's voice interrupted him.

"I think... I have powers." He uttered so reluctantly that Condor almost missed it. The older male turned his head slightly.

"This wouldn't have something to do with that ugly ceramic vase of mom's that suddenly disappeared, would it?"

"It turned to sand when I touched it."

"Oh, granulation." Condor said, and turned his head a bit further. His grin widened. "Neat."

With a flick of his hand, a strong wind suddenly burst through the black sand beach and into the lake. Condor ran after it for a few feet, jumped on with his winds spread, and with one long flap he was soaring into the night sky.

The young former villain let out a small chuckle as he flew higher and higher. The cool air that surrounded him completely, and separated him from the earth and water below, filled his whole being with exhilaration. So many years had passed since his first flight, and yet he still felt liberated every time he did this, like nothing in existence could bind him.

He picked up speed and pirouetted, just because he could, and soon he was thousands of feet high above, laughing out loud. He passed by the snowy mountains, high above the lakes and forests and fields, and only the occasional birds kept him company.

As he flew beside the indomitable Andes, only the sounds of the wind and the music from his headphones filled his ears, and his fears disappeared into the air for a time. In their place reigned enthusiasm, and it drove him to go faster and faster, until the cold winds stung just a bit, and his wings became difficult to move. It became an almost animalistic impulse, to just push himself harder, higher and faster, as if slowing down or gliding down would be the death of him, yet he embraced it wholeheartedly.

Thus Condor left Patagonia, his home, and set out to do something profoundly stupid.

Far, far away, on the other side of the vast American continent, New York awaited.

---

New York City. Midtown Manhattan. CIA Agent's Apartment.

Present Day. Morning.

Puma, like the lovable idiot he was, had sneaked into Colombia four months ago with the intent of fighting Zepeta's regime head-on. In the same spirit of lovable idiocy, he had contacted Condor to tell him about the Israeli weapons that Zepeta's forces were using against dissidents. And not too long after that, he had began to organize a meta-human resistance group, despite knowing for a fact what Zepeta did to rebellious meta-humans.

In short, Puma had been begging to disappear in suspicious circumstances. And disappeared he had, leaving behind just enough evidence of the American government's involvement in Zepeta's atrocities for Condor to make it his life's purpose to rain hellfire upon the tyrant's enablers. Since he could not literally rain hellfire upon anyone, he had decided he would make do with his wind, his guns, and his boleadoras.

Condor was not some sort of brilliant strategist, but he understood that Zepeta could not be defeated as long as he had American support. If South America's meta-humans wanted a fair fight, they needed to cut off his supply lines. And that meant doing the one thing most South American heroes were uncomfortable doing: inconveniencing the American government.

Flying to the other side of the continent and into the United States had been reckless and he knew it. It left no paper trail, however, which meant that it would be a lot harder for the government to connect the dots between Condor's arrival and an Argentine tourist called Ludovico Celeste entering the United States. Even if he failed, his family would probably be safe.

Once in New York, he had searched for people who had information about the Israeli arms, and occasionally gone after masked vigilantes and police officers with a penchant for excessive use of force. In his spare time, he had gone to see Hamilton and visited the Stonewall Inn.

All in all, they had been two very entertaining and productive weeks, and his antics had bore fruit. Namely, they had led him to an apartment near the top of a luxurious skyscraper, and to the CIA agent who lived within it.

From the other side of the apartment's large windows, the young man had looked rather intimidating, tall and muscular. And he carried a gun at all times. Attacking him from the sky in broad daylight, bursting through the windows in his Condor costume, seemed like a potentially stupid idea.

Fortunately, an alternative had almost miraculously appeared, courtesy of the Stonewall Inn. As it turned out, the agent, called Colin, was a discreet but frequent patron, and had a somewhat offensive fetish for Latino men. He also liked to play Queen at full volume while trying to woo his hook-ups. The Universe was nice like that sometimes.

A bit of temporary black hair dye and a pair of cheap glasses were all the disguise he needed to enter the agent's apartment. And with a bit of bad dancing and horribly racist innuendo, he had Colin right where he wanted him: half-naked in the spacious and blandly decorated living room, with the blinds down and loud music in the background.

There truly was no situation that Freddie Mercury's heavenly voice could not improve.

"I'd like for you and I to go romancing.
Say the word your wish is my command..."

Right at that moment, Ludo blew him through the room and into an annoyingly empty bookcase. He landed on the floor with a bewildered grunt, followed by a bestial growl as he reached for his gun.

Ludo was way ahead of him. He moved swiftly, delivered a sideways kick to Colin's head, and threw in an elbow strike on the nape of his neck for good measure.

Colin recovered faster than Ludo would have liked, however, and hit back with inhuman speed and precision. He evaded far too many blows, and delivered one breathtaking punch to his stomach. The young Argentinian staggered and fell to his knees, but before the other could bash his head in with an ugly lamp, he quickly caused another burst of air, which knocked Colin down.

The song kept playing as Ludo pounced on the other and got kicked back. He answered with a flurry of bad capoeria he had learned from Puma, all feet and low blows. It gave him enough time to focus on the air around him for just enough time to do something he felt he was going to regret.

"Hey boy where did you go
I learned my passion
In the good old fashioned school of lover boys..."

The swirl of wind within the living room pulled Colin in and swept him off his feet, and kept him in the air for a few seconds while Ludo pondered what to do next.

A minute later, Colin landed back on the hard floor with a groan of pain, and Ludo took the opportunity to jump on him and pin him down. He was careful not to break any bones as he twisted the other's limbs into place, because he was not a cruel asshole, but he did punch him in the face twice for that previous punch to the gut.

"Why the fuck...? Who...?" Asked Colin in between gasps and groans. The last punch had broken his nose, which Condor felt a bit guilty about. Broken noses sucked, and Colin's in particular had complemented his features.

"Okay, I know this looks bad, but I wouldn't be attacking people in their own homes if it wasn't necessary." Answered Condor without pause, his accent quite noticeable.

"I'm here because of Zepeta, and I have it on good authority that you are one of the people who help him get his Israeli toys."

The man's expression changed suddenly. It was full of sincere anger now. "Are you stupid? You actually want to get involved in that shit?"

"Yes and yes." Condor answered. "Now, please, talk."

"No."

"Look..."

"No. You'll get yourself killed." Colin interrupted this time, and the anger had a tinge of concern. Weird. It reminded Ludo of all the times he had fought with Puma.

"If you don't tell me, I'll go after the Colombian consulate." He said, and the mischief in his voice was worse than a threat. "Then you'll have a diplomatic incident in your hands... and with Zepeta, no less."

That changed Colin's tune substantially. He spoke without any need for encouragement, and Ludo was happy enough to thank him with a kiss.

"What sort of vigilante are you?" Asked Colin as they parted.

"Just a hippie in rehab who hates authority." Joked Ludo, before standing up and walking casually to the kitchen. He returned with a bit of ice wrapped in a towel, and handed it over to Colin as the agent tried to sit upright.

"By the way..." He said as he dusted himself off and picked up his jacket from the couch. "Just to clarify, I'm not here legally and my name is not Paco."

Other meta-humans with his abilities would have flown away after that, but Ludo was a bit tired and wanted to walk the bruises off. So instead he walked out through the front door like a normal human being, all the while happily humming "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy".

Making progress in his non-villainous schemes felt good. Strange, but good. By the time he reached his temporary new home, a small apartment that probably had an obscene amount of lead in its walls, he had a grin on his face, a mind filled with ideas, and enthusiasm aplenty.

Condor had definitely arrived in the United States of America, and he was bringing winds of change with him.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Oh, the Colombian storyline is finally a thing? Neaaaaaaaaat. Now Condor has a specific motivation. My first IC post woes are solved. :3