Korbanjaro

The Protectors

SOME TIME AGO - LOWER WEST SIDE, EMPIRE CITY

It doesn't matter if you're a cop or PI, the rules are the same - You don't get anywhere without a lead.

Carter always seemed to go through waves. Sometimes, he really felt like he was making a difference, like when he saved the kid from a burning building last week. That was a clear good.

And then, there was the flipside - Dealing with the dealers all across the Lower West. Drug traffic had no moral compass, no code. It simply went to wherever the money was. The issue at hand now, though, was that that money was becoming more and more difficult for the common folks to get hold of.

With more organized crime hustling in on the area, legitimate businesses were having to face rather a rather simple choice.

Pay protection, or pack up.

As if these people ever really have a choice in the matter.

Over the past year, there had been quite a few rumblings in the underground - The don of the Castelvatrano Family had been killed, and there were rumors that a newcomer was pulling the strings, though the name hadn't really been circulated much, yet.

It was obvious that the organization was somewhat neutered for a bit, which offered too many of these minor crew leaders a chance to "prove themselves."

Little Lords looking for the Kingship, it seems.

Tonight, Carter was just on patrol. He'd heard on the scanners that there had been several homicides in this area over the past couple of weeks which on their own, wouldn't have been too surprising. It was the similarities of the murders, however, that started Carter on making some connections.

Almost always slit throats, put on display. Message killings. The victims almost all had connections to organized crime, which meant that someone was either cleaning house or looking to show off. But Carter wasn't exactly concerned with the murder victims themselves. Wrong begets wrong, after all.

The problem is, even criminals have families.

Whomever was responsible was performing these murders in private homes. They were terrorizing families on purpose - And that was something that could not be allowed.

Carter looked up at the night sky as a couple raindrops fell onto his head. It was going to be a wet night. Standing on the roof, he reached down and hefted his helmet before pulling it onto his head. A couple button pushes later, his internal displays popped up, giving him a readout of police scans in the area. Nothing yet.

Wait for it...

The shout echoed out of the building just below him.

"You fuck! Who the fuck hits people with a bar stool!?"

Carter looked over the edge to see a smaller man barrel out of a red-light bar's back door, obviously in a hurry. He was moving fast, but kept checking over his shoulder, as if a monster was following.

Then the door opened a second time. Carter recognized the red symbol on the man's chest immediately.

Reverb.

This guy had been on the police radar for months, and the underground world even longer - a wild-card crazy who no one could really pin down the loyalties on. He was young, Carter guessed just past twenty. And it was clear he was plenty angry, possibly from the particularly nasty gash on his arm.

The risks of a skin-tight suit, I guess.

Reverb took off out the door, sprinting after the man that had left the bar earlier. He ran at full speed, but Carter noticed that his quarry had actually ducked into an alley just out of sight. The red-and-black vigilante looked like he would sprint right by.

It would be a shame if these two missed each other.

With the use of his heavy grapple, Carter ziplined across the street. He noticed that Reverb's prey was backing away from the street, apparently hoping not to be seen by the maniac in tights. Carter was getting close, and leaped from the zipline, landing with a roll, and grinding to a halt directly behind the man.

His boots slid on the alley gravel before he stopped, and stood, at least two feet taller than his new conversational companion.

"Good evening," said the man in the helmet. "You seem to have lost your way."

The Protectors

@Hellhound

Question - Do you think it would be alright if we made this encounter more like six months ago? It would allow for some possible camaraderie between these two when we rejoin the current timeline. Plus, we could use it to lay out some groundwork for Gambetti's rise, the Castelvetrano family, etc.

If not, that's cool. I can work with it either way, but thought I'd ask, 'cause I wasn't sure how long Reverb had been "active."

Obsidian

I've done a minor update to the character profile. If that's too over the top, let me know. But it made me laugh.

The Protectors

"They deserve it," she said. Her voice sounded educated - It was as if she'd spent her years in some English boarding school drumming the colloquialism out of her speech.

Carter thought on this. Though she was probably correct, he still couldn't bring himself to kill someone if he could avoid it.

A sentiment apparently not shared by Miss Sunshine, here.

"It's probably good that the whole lot of us don't get exactly what we deserve," Carter replied coolly. He surveyed the area, taking note of his surroundings. There was quite an array of paraphenilia laid out across the tables, from pipes to powders, beakers to blunts. It was a regular junkie's paradise.

He leaned on his shield as he reached down, picking up one of the syringes that the woman had been carrying, filled with an amber liquid.

Cocaine.

"Now that's some poetice justice, isn't it?"

"Acceptable targets, yes?" Replied the woman. "Only the junkies will miss them."

"That's not the point," replied Carter. He turned the needle, and pressed the plunger, emptying its contents onto the floor before tossing the plastic container across the warehouse.

"These kinds of raids won't get us anywhere. Not unless all of us are able to find some significant information. Taking out a couple of low-lives, even burning a distribution warehouse like this to the ground... That's just pennies for the Castelvatranos."

She seemed to agree. "Gambetti will just be annoyed."

"Exactly. Thing is, if we start striking all on the Family at once, they're going to realize they've got a problem with us 'unlawful lawfuls' - They'll start peeling off masks faster than a masquerade prom night."

Carter walked his way over to the unconcious guards, and grabbed the first by the back of his collar, lifting him up, and over to one of the walls. The second one, he did the same, leaning them both side by side against the wall.

"These low-level mooks, they don't know anything. We need to bait a hook for something a little bigger."

He reached over to his pack, and removed a small device.

Let's just hope you talk to someone interesting.

Carter placed the device underneath the second man's collar, securely attached, but out of sight.

"There's more to be gained from leaving these scum alive than dead. Dead men tell no tales, as it were. But live ones... They tell all kinds of stories."

He stood, and faced her again, offering a brief salute before extending his hand.

"These dirtbags call me Riot, which is a good enough name as any. You?"

The Protectors

@Hellhound

That could be interesting - backstory in the making. Alright. I'll put up a post and we'll see where that little scene takes us. I'll get something up tomorrow.

And please, please. Korbanjo is my father. You can call me Korby. <grin>

Obsidian

RECRUIT REPORT OBSID-LAT40.LON-111
DATE - [REDACTED]
RECRUITER: J. O'HARA
Comments Updated by Someone Who Knows Me Better Than You Do

Potential Recruit: Paul "Polo" Phillips, Jr. CODENAME: ALTER (You know, the good-looking one.)

Age: 25 27

Power:

POST-PROCEDURE UPDATE

Post-procedure, Recruit has shown a remarkable capability to manipulate countless forms of technology, increasingly building more and more complex devices and weaponry. Has been key in improving Obsidian systems security, as well as equipping operatives with custom tools to augment and improve their abilities.

As per combat reports, Recruit has been shown to be very capable, especially through the use of his custom "Auto-Lock" armor, which he stores on his person.

PERSONAL NOTE

Since you guys can never seem to get this right - I'm a Biotech. I can manipulate about any tech that you throw in front of me, and I can graft it to work with organic matter. (Just ask Jasper about her improved Pacemaker sometime - Oh wait, that was a straight-up heart graft. Cause I'm awesome. Bam!)

I make all the coolest toys, the best weapons, and I make you guys all look good. It's who I am. (Cause I'm a giver. Lol.) Oh, and I can hack into these computer systems. I am the Ghost in the Machine. Boo!

Appearance:

Recruit stands at approximately six feet tall, with a sturdy build, and rounded stunning features. Sandy hair (cropped short), green eyes, rather pale skin. Though pale, Recruit is of a pan-Asian heritage, and that history can be vaguely recognized in the features of his face.

Personality:

Recruit is often cautious and contemplative, but also brash and bold when in the midst of competition.

True, true.

He seems to always be continually observing, organizing, and evaluating his surroundings, Adapting to varying situations quickly after determining the proper course of action.

Recruit also has a remarkably witty sense of humor.

Recruit is particularly adept at analyzing and understanding new and complex systems, be they a computer system or even weapons and tools. This talent must be encouraged, however, as Recruit has a penchant for quickly becoming bored with a system that he readily understands, and will move on to a new pursuit.

Why keep hitting the flint when you've already got a fire going?

This tendency for "constant challenge" has drastically hampered his connections with others in his pursuit to improve himself.

But it's a self worth improving, eh O'Hara?

Though Recruit's social sources have confirmed he is regarded as intelligent and capable in many respects, Recruit seems to have difficulty connecting well with others on more than a superficial level.

They just never understood my GENIUS!!

Recruit is known to be trustworthy, always willing to follow through on his word, but along with that trust comes a reluctancy to make too many promises.

With the right push, this individuals talents and skills could be turned to be extremely useful for Obsidian.

Strengths/ Weaknesses Future Strengths:

Remarkably strong in body and mind. Able to quickly adapt and learn new skills on the fly. Extremely analytical and adept at understanding complex systems.

Rather stubborn (I prefer "complicated"), has difficulty relating easily to others, possible superiority complex.

Not a complex if it's true.

History:

Recruit was born Paul Phillips, Jr, the oldest son of the Phillips family. Raised in a middle class home, with a distinct physical propensity owed to him and his brothers. Though Recruit excelled in multiple pursuits throughout adolescence, he never had the motivation to pursue any specific path, instead engaging in multiple courses at once. These included hockey, football, boxing, and water polo, though Recruit did not often stay with any specific activity past the time it took to understand it.

Graduated High School at 16.

Recruit's family took vacation to Europe during recruit's third year of University, and as such, recruit was unable to attend. Vacation ended in tragedy as airliner returning from Paris to United States met in disaster (See RPT-LUFT-00726).

[FURTHER RECORDS NOT FOUND]

Recruit was sole heir to a modest inheritance, completed University degree, but is currently dissatisfied with his work in the field of Computer Engineering.

Notes:

Though Recruit seems rather ordinary, it is highly recommended that Phillips be considered for procedure 32-C. Well duh, O'Hara.

Obsidian

I think that this could be interesting - If it's alright, I'll put together a profile.

If I could ask, what sorts of "powers" would you be looking for? Kind of "street-level superhero" kinds of stuff, or something more substantial?

The Protectors

@HellHound

Would have loved to, but Riot is currently standing in front of Wisp at the docks. Unless we want to make Reverb's bar fight a "last week" kind of thing, we may have to wait for their meeting. <grin>

The Protectors

Four muggings - Four hospitalizations. Two robberies, three attempted murders, and twenty-eight drug deals - forty-two incarcerations. One attempted rape...

One massive jaw reconstruction.

Typical week in Empire City.

For every crime stopped in this city, it felt like there were three more in progress. While Carter never felt at a loss for something to do, it seemed as if he was less of a barrier, and naught but a boulder in the river, adjusting the tide, but only temporarily. He needed to fix the hole in the dam.

There was only one name that consistently sprung up throughout the past few months, all over the Lower West Side. - Tony Gambetti.

Honestly, Carter hadn't a clue who the man was personally, but he knew the name was important. Gambetti was the new don of the Castelvetrano family, who themselves were looking to become the unseen hands of Empire City, flipping the switches in the dark, and making sure that everything was flowing smoothly.

Anyone with half-a-brain knew that the mayor, hell, even the entire Empire City Council - They were nothing but figureheads. Puppets. Public faces for the city's true governors.

Tony Gambetti, Empire City's newest political marionette.

Ever since the "disappearance" of his predecessor a couple years back, Gambetti had really tightened his grip, especially on the Lower West.

This made perfect fiscal sense, of course - With the reins of the shipping harbor strictly in his control, the family would control not only the majority of Empire imports and exports, he'd also have straight access to the surrounding states, and access meant more shipments, more shipments meant more control, and more control meant more money.

It was clear, at least to Carter, that anything that may, at the least, slow Gambetti down... That was a good thing. But he had to make sure that it wouldn't severely cripple the surrounding industries as he went about it. That meant that high explosives were out of the question.

While the Castelvetranos had fingers in just about everything, their staple export was the supply and distribution of cocaine, among other substances. Carter had been monitoring Dock 160 throughout this month, one of his perps having tipped him off that there may be something worth looking into there, in exchange for Carter not punching the fellow's teeth down his throat.

I'll have to remember to send that punk a thank you card.

Carter had climbed his way onto one of the containier cranes, watching the dock from above. It was surprising to him how arrogant the mob could be, that they didn't seem to ever look up through their series of skylight windows.

When you already think you're invincible, it's then that the cracks in your armor start to appear.

In the past year, he'd been able to be nothing but a random nuisance, a thorn in the sides of criminals throughout the West End, but not focused on any one group in particular.

Last year, they'd started calling him "The Walking Riot" - The name still made him chuckle, but it seemed to fit. If the criminals were the ones in charge, then it was clear enough to Carter.

A Riot was exactly what was needed.

It was nearing late afternoon, but Carter hadn't yet seen anything worth pursuing. Sure, he could leap down and bust a bunch of minor distributors, but that would only alert the Castelvetranos that he was targeting them specifically.

Instead, he needed one of the lieutenants. He needed someone that he could really get some genuine information out of, instead of relying on just heresay and second-guessing. Carter just kept an eye out as the sun continued to dip lower over the horizon.

Night's coming, I've got to get out of here to go help the kids play nice.

And then, he saw something new.

Garbed in black, brown and gray, a masked figure made its way towards the Dock 160 warehouse. Carter focused his binoculors, and watched this person - A woman, stealthily sneaking to the back door, before cracking open the lock and slipping inside. She made short work of the distributors inside, knocking them out with what looked like little but a baton and a taser.

Now that's impressive.

With her opponents down, she deliberately wandered towards one of the stacks, and picked up several syringes. She turned away, and Carter couldn't get a look at what she was doing, until she turned back, a syringe in each hand, a thumb on each plunger.

Aw, damn it. She's going to kill them.

Checking his grapple line, Carter unclipped a heavy red smoke grenade from his belt, along with a flashbang. After one more pull, he tapped the side of his full-mask helmet to check the seal, pulled the pins, and tossed the two grenades down, directly through the skylight, landing them at the woman's feet.

As the two explosions sent smoke, light, and concussion through the warehouse, Carter leaped, gripping his grappel cord and sliding towards the roof. His boots shattered glass, and he landed on his feet, his shield impacting concrete directly in front of him, facing towards the woman in the mask.

"Now, now. I think there's plenty enough killing without your help, don't you?"

The Protectors

Question for Nonsequitur -

Would you be open to a "misunderstanding" between Wisp and Riot? I'd like to have him mistake her for just another criminal hustling in on the Gambetti's operations, so he sees it as a "two birds, one stone" kind of thing. I think it could be an organic way to create some conflict, introduce the characters, and get some things started.

If that works, I'll throw up a post on that. If you've got some other plans, I'll think of something else.