We Are One IC

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We Are One IC

Post by Squall Reyes on Tue Aug 24, 2010 11:20 pm

The Giovanni mansion. Century City Heights 3 years ago.

Screams.

Blood curdling screams echoed throughout the estate. Screams that seemed to ring from every tree, every statue, every stone and walkway. In fact in just the right place, the screams could almost be made into the most interesting symphony. It was a beautiful sound to the figure that was now walking up the darkened walkway from the front gate. His walk was slow, inspecting the area as he walked up the long walkway as though he himself were the master of the large estate.

The warm night summer air, was typical of the area even so far up in the hills of movie stars and billionaires. An area of criminals, in the mind of the figure as he crossed almost comically out of place piles of snow. In his mind all great businesses, all rich men and women arrived to their position of power exactly like him. A kick of a pile of snow brought a strange sound of something bouncing off the stone pavement.

Finally after what seemed like a small trail hike, the figure reached the door to the grand home. As he approached however the door opened by itself as a figure came out. The figure was whistling a recognizable little tune to himself as he came out the door, adjusting his white gloves. The light from inside the mansion illumined the wrinkled face. He had a wicked though pleased look on his eye as he turned to a human figure besides the door and gave it a small pat on the head. It did not move an inch, as though frozen in place.

Frozen like a sculpture. Except this sculpture had a much more demented processes of creation, evident in the look of an agonized scream on his face. More screams came from inside the building and the figure with the white gloves tipped his hat and went along his way whistling the same tune he had before. A lighter came up from the other figures hand as he approached the door, the light now revealing a cigarette place on his lips.

More screams now, so much worse than before. Charlie waited patiently, he was in no rush and he knew sometime the little vixen liked to play with her food. That or she may actually be trying to reason with the man, but that thought was quickly waved away. Waved away almost as quickly as the shot that was now heard, and the screaming was silenced. Charlie waited patiently as with the silence he could now hear every little sound within the giant home. Echoing deep within the house came a slight giggle which had a tone that made it as much strange as was terrifying. To others, Charlie merely waited as the echoes of heels on hard wood floor came closer.

“I take it negotiations fell through?…” Asked Charlie as the small former prostitute came through the same door as Joe, the older man had come through just a few minutes ago. Candy turned to Charlie slightly surprised he would be seen so close to the scene of a “business deal”. But the questioned seemed tickle something in Candy’s mind as she gave a demented smile. “I would say it was a rather civilized conversation.”


Tamora Tower. Century City. Present day.

It was always so much cooler in his office than it was down at ground level. Charlie liked that idea, he was cool and comfortable while all the other ants below suffered in the heat. He took a long drag of his cigarette as he looked out the window, at HIS city. And he really does mean HIS city because as far as he was concerned he ruled the whole city with an iron fist. It has been for 6 months now, ever since the former Police Chief meet an unfortunate end.

Now with the mobs and government under control Charlie was the closest thing to God in the city, and Charlie knew it. And it gave him a high better than any other drug. So pleased he was with this that he even allowed his oldest employee take some R&R. But his other had very important work to do. After all what was better than power? Answer: More power. There was a super in the city, and he made no qualms about it. More importantly he made no effort to show he was available to the highest bidder, and in pain. Charlie knew he had something this man would give his soul for…and it was heading right his way.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Digital Muse on Wed Aug 25, 2010 1:59 am

GeekWizard:Hack the Gibson!

SHost_Malric: So lame, grow up.

GeekWizard: Ass***

Techno_Mancer;Focus, guys…we’re almost there.

*** morighan joined the treadmill

SHost_Malric: Nice of you to join us. Thought the harridan had got you again.

morighan: She did. The bitch found some tests on my drive and took my laptop. So I took hers. Scores.

Techo_Mancer: Hello sweetpea. Can you get the dogs with Geek? SHost and I are heading to the treasure chest.

SHost_Malric; Yes, let’s away, my darlings. I am hungry and we’ve tarried over long.

GeekWizard: F**k knob.

While the conversation continues scrolling on her laptop screen, Kimiko pads about her tiny efficiency apartment in shorts, a pink tank top and fuzzy slippers. The décor suited an elderly man rather than a 20 something Japanese girl. Old leather recliners covered with plaid throws sagged in the tiny living room and the small 2 burner hot plate in the kitchenette was heating a battered tea kettle. Pouring a cup of hot water so she can make her tea, she continues speaking as if still involved in the online conversation.

As she spoke, however, her words appeared on the screen as if typed by invisible fingers. “OK kiddies,” she murmurs to herself as she spoons sugar into her cup. More windows flash open and line after line of code light up the window. Kimiko emerges from the dingy kitchen, her eyes flick toward the old console television set. It flickers to life and she watches the channels flip of their own volition until she finds one that blasts techno music through the tiny apartment. Kimiko returns to her desk chair, folding herself up into it. Skimming the screens, her eyes narrow in concentration and the files and code become a blur.

SHost_Malric; Patience, my lovely TM. You can only attack the castle with the Army to back you.

GeekWizard: Yeah don’t get ahead of us for f**ksakes!

Techo_Mancer: Hurry up. Security cameras show the evil wizard heading through the lobby.

morighan; ??How do you know that?

Techo_Mancer:

GeekWizard: Here come the security. Get ready.

Kimiko sips at the tea held in her hands. Her eyes flick from her laptop to the TV to closed circuit screens that show approaches to the apartment building nestled square in the midst of Century City’s Little Italy and all interior hallway and exits of the building itself. She spies old Mr. Delmonico, the building super approaching the apartment she currently has taken up residence in. She smiles and evidently with nothing more than a thought, she starts yet another program on her laptop to run along with the 8 or 9 currently being run. A loud drumming of Mr. Delmonico’s knock prompts a recorder to play a synthesized voice.

“Whaddya want?” A heavily accented male voice booms out.

“Richie? Where you been? I thought you was sick?” The super asks.

“ I was. Just got back from hospital. Now lemme sleep, ya rat bastard,”

A chuckle is elicited from the man still in the hallway. “Yeah yeah. Come to dinner when you’re better. Maria’s been worried.”

With that interruption dealt with, Kimiko turns her attention from the digitized voice program to the task at hand. She hadn’t lost track of the task that had brought she and her friends together; an all out assault against the offshore hiding place of the millions made by whaling companies of different countries. To avoid international censure of their illegal activities, these companies hid their money so it couldn’t be seized by international courts. Kimiko scanned the screen and smiled. Setting her cup aside for the time being, she watches as row after row of code flies by. Her friends run interference on the bank’s security while she walzes right into the main databank. She scans the file names with the lightening reflexes hinted at in cult classic movies and picks only four.

In less time than it takes to tell, those four accounts are transferred to another 72 accounts in 16 different countries. Twelve and a half million dollars were sent to PETA, innumerable homeless shelters, universities and hospital and, naturally the accounts of the four adventurers on this particular quest.

As soon as they cleared the bank’s highly secure system, Kimiko winked and all trace of their invasion was utterly erased. Only the severe lack of funds in those four accounts indicated they’d ever been there. Turning from her laptop, Kimiko flicked channels on her TV with a mere thought, choosing a soft blues station instead and moved to the ratty old couch. Flopping into it, a pale orange tabby leapt up to take up residence on her lean stomach. Her slender hand reached up to stroke the demanding tom’s chin. “Well, Gandalf. That was fun. And a decent payday. Salmon for you tomorrow and a those wicked boots I saw downtown for me.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Baker on Wed Aug 25, 2010 11:19 am

The bar had a musty air to it, combined with the stench of alcohol and cigarettes it wasn't the healthiest place in the world. The people inside danced to whatever played on the old-style jukebox, the hustlers played their billiards, while the drunks at the bar well, got drunk. Davis sat at the counter, with his revolving stool leaned back, pouring the contents of a long neck bottle down his throat.

Three men entered the bar, one leading the other two across, pushing their way through people. The barman motioned towards Davis with a bottle, seemingly a warning. Davis let out a small smile, leaning forward and taking the last sip of his bottle. The three men made their way behind Davis, "You're late on your payments Mr. Davis."

Davis calmly sat in his chair, holding the bottle on the counter. "Really now? I was under the impression we already had a deal."

"That deal was bullshit Davis, we have ways of dealing with bullshit like you." The lead man slowly pulled out a pistol, touching the end of the barrel to the back of Davis' head. "Now Mr. Davis, your payment."

Davis smiled, "What do you expect will happen when you pull that trigger?"

The man cocked the gun, "I expect you will die."

"Then you expect too much." Davis quickly swung around in his chair, smashing the glass bottle against the lead man's head, smiling at the other two as they pulled out their guns. "Come on boys, shoot. Let's get this over with."

The men both pulled their guns up to eye level, shooting, and watching with horrors as their bullets seemingly bounced off his skin with only little movements from Davis. They shot again and again as Davis smiled and stood there, watching his skin repel the bullets as they had done a thousand times over.

Davis grabbed the stool and walked toward the shooters, smashing one upside one of their heads, watching as the wood splintered across the room on contact, the blood of his enemy spilling on the floor. Davis then looked at the other man, Davis smiled as he felt the last of the clip unload into his chest.

"Run little puppet, run to your masters, tell them our deal stands, or they will get their payment, in your friends blood." The man cowered as he looked at the bullets on the ground, looking at both of his friends, both of their heads smashed in, then looked back at Davis before turning and running frantically out the door.

Davis smiled, turning and sitting back down, motioning to the barman for another drink. The barman looked at the bodies in a bit of disgust as he put the drink down on the counter. "Davis, how the hell am I supposed to get the bodies out this time?"

"Call an exterminator, isn't that how you get rid of insects?" Davis smiled and popped the bottle open, "Just another day at the office" he thought as he took another sip of that long neck bottle.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Ragter the junior greeter on Wed Aug 25, 2010 5:09 pm

I screwed up big time last night, didn't I? Hope thought to herself as she stared at the ceiling; last night had probably been the biggest failure she had ever faced in her short time as a hero. She had discovered a warehouse filled with some children, and roaming about the warehouse had been numerous armed guards. In what she presumed was the main room, she had discovered two men; one seemed to be the leader of the whole thing, and the other seemed to be his right hand man. How'd I screw up so bad? Hope thought to herself, looking to her left as she heard feet approaching her.

The owner of the feet was the only child she had managed to get out of the explosion that had happened; Hope hadn't even been able to pry the girl's name from her yet. "What?" Hope questioned, yet the girl didn't say what she wanted. Hope let a sigh escape her lips as she climbed out of her bed; it was then that she noticed the time. "You hungry?" she decided to probe; that got a response from the child, who simply nodded her head. Despite being a hero, Hope had to resist the urge to vent some of her rage on the girl.

She managed to hold herself back from losing it, and headed downstairs, hearing the girl follow behind her. As she did, her thoughts wandered back to how she had messed up last night. Once she had attempted to free the children, both the man in charge and his right hand man escaped; she didn't see how. The guards had died by the time they had escaped; she had been busy killing said guards, so that probably explained why she didn't see what happened. After killing them, she grabbed the nearest child and led the way out of the building. She had gotten out of the building before the rest of the children; after she exited the building, it exploded.

She remembered briefly using her ability to form a small shield of bone around herself and the child; even that had pushed her back from the explosion some. Soon after the explosion occurred, she ran off, not wanting the press or anything like that to find her there and attribute the explosion to her. She knew that she hadn't caused it; she suspected that the disappearing man and his right hand had managed to set it off somehow.

"Just...take a seat in the living room or something," Hope said to the young girl; they had passed through the living room last night, when Hope had gone through it with the girl to place the girl in the guest bedroom. Currently, she was in a moderately sized house; it wasn't in the rich section of the city, but it wasn't in the poor section either, it was right in between the two. The girl went off towards the living room, while hope proceeded to the kitchen and she began to make the girl some cereal; Hope wasn't that good of a cook. Wonder if the press will be covering that explosion anytime soon Hope idly thought to herself as she brought the girl the cereal.

Hope was glad to see that the girl didn't seem too scarred by whatever had happened to her; she was watching some sort of cartoon at the moment. "Here you go," Hope said in what she hoped was a friendly tone as she handed the child the cereal; obviously, she took it. "I'm going to go upstairs and change; it wouldn't be fitting to be walking around in pajamas, after all," Hope told the girl; she nodded in response. hope didn't find herself annoyed this time, and simply went back upstairs; her cat followed after her. Wonder where Muse was? Hope asked herself, not noticing the cat when she had gone downstairs.

She soon changed into a pair of jeans and a rather baggy shirt; Muse meowed at her, possibly inquiring as to whether he would be following her or not. "Nah, not today Muse. You're going to have to keep that girl downstairs company today; I think she kind of needs it. Who knows? Maybe you'll even be able to get a name out of her," Hope spoke to the cat; some might find that strange, but she certainly didn't, since she believed them to be intelligent enough to understand people. She soon headed back downstairs, Muse running on ahead and jumping onto the couch next to the girl. "I'm going out now. Make sure you don't answer the door for anyone, unless it's someone like a cop. Muse here is going to keep you company." Hope told the girl, who surprised her by speaking. "Alright." was the only word she got, but at least it showed progress. With that said, Hope exited the house, wondering what she would be doing that day. She certainly didn't have any work duty that day.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Inerio on Wed Aug 25, 2010 11:18 pm

One of Candy’s favorite places to be was her bed. Why wouldn’t it be? There was so many things one could do on a bed, you could sleep on a bed, and jump on a bed, sit on a bed, read in bed, and eat icecream in bed. Really, there was a multitude of things one could do with a bed. Wet the bed, burn a bed, throw a bed out the window and on to unsuspecting pedestrians, in Candy’s mind this was probably the most hand piece of furniture ever crafted. Not to mention as far as she was concerned, her bed loved her and she sometimes saw no reason to leave it. The current day in particular was one of those days.

However, the sanctity of Candy’s bed-iverse was ruined earlier that day by the usual call of her boss, Mr. Lango. While most goons would follow Charlie’s orders without question, Candy was of a special breed. That breed being the whiney, but obedient kind. The day at hand was one of those days, in which Candy had been hung up on mid whine to have someone else go to the office. Granted, after being hung up on Candy had figured that disobeying wouldn’t exactly work in the equation. At least not in her favor.

The discovery of her current mission was a pleasant surprise though. Word on the street was that there was some super wandering the streets looking for a quick fix for his pain, not to mention that he didn’t seem to be affected by bullets of anything of that sort. Though, it was the former of the two that caught Candy’s attention, and immediately she knew why she was the one picked for the job. There was no quicker fix for pain than Candy, and in her own opinion she was the very best kind of drug. Besides, it gave her an excuse to wear something aside from a blazer and a pencil skirt. Candy never did understand Charlie’s boring attire, but if he and Joe were going to dress up all spiffy and whatnot she didn’t want to be the odd one out.

The events of that morning had lead Candy to a seedy little bar somewhere in the “bad part of town” well, whatever the hell that meant. She was Candy-frigging-Cane, she didn’t quite worry about the bad parts of town. At least until she got her ass kicked horribly by some street thug, however, that had yet to happen so Candy stood happily atop her pedestal of self importance.

Six inch heels came marching in to the bar, stopping at the entrance to get a good look. The place was far from her scene, which consisted of trendy little warehouses where all the kids would go to pop pills and trip their pretty little heads all the way to permanent brain damage. Normally Candy would suspect that people would have stopped to stare at her with her not being a regular and all, but there seemed to be a little something going on near the bar itself.

A bar fight, how quaint. Candy smirked to herself, weaving through the patrons to get to the other side of the room. If someone was going to get injured, she wanted to see it up close. Getting hit in the skirmish was a non issue for her, so long as she didn’t wind up with a black eye or anything adverse to staying pretty. She would at least want to finish the job of luring the new guy over to her side before she went and got all beat up. Now almost behind the fight Candy’s eyes widened slightly as a gun was pulled out. Guns were a rather unfair instrument of demise when the other person had nothing but their bare hands. Then again, Candy wasn’t exactly above pulling out a gun on an unarmed enemy so she didn’t have much room to judge. Oh well, she would anyway.

To Candy’s surprise(and delight) the bullets bounced off of the man’s skin, leaving not a mark on him. What luck, she’d found just the guy she was looking for. Now, if only the fight would end so that she could talk to him. At least she didn’t have to worry about him up and getting killed, the chances seemed slim to none when put up against some common mafia folk. In the back of her mind Candy couldn’t help but wonder if Charlie had sent them too, or if they’d come from some uncontrolled group. Not that it mattered, she noted dully as they fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, because she was there. After a brief exchange between the man and the bartender Candy took the liberty of sitting right down next to the man, flipping her hair back as the corners of her lips curled into a smile.

“Hey there.” She began, reaching out and cupping his cheek just enough to get a feel for his nerves. There was a slight prickly feeling on the tips of her fingers as she focused her energy on the skin, making it devoid of any feeling; numb. Taking the liberty of resting the length of her fingers on the man’s face Candy continued to focus on numbness. Sure, the act in itself was utterly invasive. But Candy was an invasive person. Besides, it would get his attention. If she was lucky he wasn‘t too jittery of a person and wouldn‘t punch her in the jaw. “Word on the street is you need a better pain killer.”
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Dax on Sat Aug 28, 2010 10:18 pm

“Don’t you move now, my dear. The more you move, the more it might… hurt.”

Joe Williams stood before a queen-sized bed, only his pants and white undershirt on. In front of him was a nude 19 year old, the whore of the village by regular social standards. She looked like she was half afraid, half wanting to fuck something’s brains out, even if it was an old man. “Uhhh,” she moaned promiscuously, “that’s how I like it…” Before she could do anything else to raise the sexual tension any further, Joe pounced, completely flying over the bed and landing on her with amazing agility, grabbing her neck. He lowered his head to her right ear and softly whispered: “Good.”

The seductive, hunter Joe was gone, leaving the all but psycho Joe in this woman’s presence. Lucky her.

She screamed.

A couple hours later.
Joe Williams licked his lips loudly while breathing-in. His eyes were calm and piercing, not moving an inch, frozen on its target. Of course, he did not need to give his prey so much attention, for it could not move. All that was left of it was a very real-looking ice-sculpture. “Mmm, you are… BEAUTIFUL!” Joe collapsed into a maniacal, shrieky cackle. Joe didn’t stop laughing as he spoke on. “My mom had always told me that I was a natural at making sculptures that resembled people, that stupid bitch had no idea what they REALLY were!” Joe suddenly and violently stopped laughing, his face immobile and serious. He looked at the ‘sculpture’ and lingered for a good three minutes on it. “She soon found out why.” He said that calmly, solemnly and looked as if he was slightly sad. He soon shook that away.

Joe got off the queen sized bed. They were going to have to put new springs on that thing, they were slightly worn out. He dressed himself and placed his white gloves on his hands. He took his cane and hat and slowly walked to the window where he gazed onto the city from his rather high position. He placed his cane before him and rested his two hands, superimposed on each other, on it. He sighed softly. It was a cold night, the window was open, and the small breeze was softly toying with his short, white hair. The streets were lit with the rising, orange sun that was hovering low in the sky. It was so peaceful, you could hear yourself breathe an the birds sing. "This is disgusting."

Joe slightly turned his head on its side, taking a look at the dead, frozen young woman. His saddened mood immediately lifted, a sinister smile crept onto his face. The voices were telling him that he had done a good job, that he was the best at what he did and that this was the right thing to do. He believed them. He really, really did. He soon got tired of this dingy apartment and left without a trace. Another perfect execution. At first Joe had been reluctant to follow this 'demoiselle' to her place, knowing that this was not a very bad neighborhood, which would be normally good to normal people. However, Joe was anything but normal. Then again, he told himself to get his head out of the clouds and that he would be able to deal with this 'Sundown', which was his name. The name of the 'hero' or 'super' that lived here, that is.

Joe walked the streets as the sun came up. He was only a couple feet from the building where he had his fun. He decided that he had no urge to leave this sector of town yet and walked to the only nice part of this neighborhood; the park. The fountains were just turning on; the street lights were just turning off. There was no one around him. The leaves on the trees were calmly being caressed by the cold breeze. It was the only time of the day when the city had no one on the sidewalks and no cars on the streets. It was truly peaceful and even Joe was enoying it.

Joe made his way to one of the many benches and sat on it. He crossed his arms and held his cane in one hand. His hat was tilted so that is covered his eyes. Joe simply sat there, half sleeping, waiting for morning to arrive. This was, of course, the perfect environment to fall asleep.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Buzzwulf on Tue Aug 31, 2010 12:21 am

Money. In the end, everything in Century ended in money. It was a disgusting, grimy place, where drugs and whores could be bought as easily as candy to those looking for them. Every dirty little gang war, every fraud and fake on the street all came back to the money. The city had been built with love once, but now it rotted from the core. It didn’t sit well with Andy. The big players kept to the shadows, refusing to show their faces, while the streets slowly died.

The raid that Andy was overseeing had been four months in the planning. Much of it had personally been designed by him, with an attention to detail that came only from years of experience. They’d placed RFID tags on nearly fourteen thousand dollars and distributed them in century then, and a large transaction had recently led them to this warehouse. It had quickly been staked out. Eight men guarded the warehouse around the clock, armed heavily and in military patrol fashion. Professionals, not street rats. Somebody important wanted this place well guarded.

Andy cursed whoever it was that was running this thing. The Tribunal was certain that the police force themselves were in the pocket of the people running the operation, so he’d been forced to go by his codename. If felt bad, hiding info from the police that wanted to keep the city safe, but he would rather deceive them than give up the game too early. The kind of organization that could afford the security he saw had deep pockets, and had to be massive beyond belief. And yet, the judges knew almost nothing about it. They didn’t know who ran it, where the money came from, or who the real enforcers were. Even undercover agents hadn’t been able to learn a thing, only that the upper-level guys were “untouchable”. Everyone was too scared to say anything.

Which was the reason the Judges had gotten involved. They were absolutely certain that there were powers running around at the behest of whatever this thing was, and that was their jurisdiction. It wasn’t right that superhumans simply should get to ignore the law, and it wasn’t… fair. That was why the judges had been created: to police the growing ranks of superhumans. As a secret organization, everything they did was quiet and cautious, but they had gotten their fair share of collars.

Twist gave a hand motion, and the SWAT sniper along the rooftop nodded, speaking quietly into his headset. The teams started to take their positions, team one pressing against the garage door and team two flattening to the back door. No one would be escaping the warehouse tonight. They had dossiers on all of them, and at the end of the night, they’d all be in handcuffs. Twist shrugged on his coat, feeling the weight of the bulletproof gel lacing inside it, and stood up from his watching position. They were ready to proceed.

Intel guessed that there was roughly 34 million dollars cached inside the warehouse. A giant windfall for some really rainy day.

Not a bad days work.

He projected beneath him as he walked out into open air from the roof of the neighboring warehouse. Walking along his strings was easy, and just required a little bit of balancing. He made it to the roof of the guarded house easily enough, and waved to the SWAT teams in position beneath him. In precisely two minutes, they would begin. Wasting no time, Twist lifted himself to the tin roof silently, making sure to stay to the edges so it didn’t bow inwards. He wasted no time, quickly heading to the far end of the roof.

Checking his watch, he had roughly forty seconds left. He slipped on his glasses and gloves, then pulled loop of metallic string from his waist satchel. Setting it on a wide path, the slipped the loose end into a small detonator and pressed the red button firmly. The entire metallic loop let off extreme heat, melting a neat hole through the ceiling of the warehouse. He projected and grabbed the piece of falling metal before it hit the ground, staying completely silent.

Inside the warehouse, it was almost completely silent. Three were playing some sort of card game down by the garage entrance, with another two sitting in a large indistinct van. There were two levels to the warehouse, with metal staircases coming up the second floor along the edges. The second floor was open in the middle, and Twist could see three large shipping crates on the ground along with a forklift and a machine repair area almost immediately beneath him. He shared the feed with the other members of the SWAT team outside, and suddenly operation was underway.

The garage door was breached perfectly with explosive charges, the hinges blowing free and the entire door falling to the ground with a massive clatter. As it fell, two smoke grenades were tossed inside, enveloping the opposite side of the room in choking gas. Twist smiled, and whispered “Thermal”, the display in his glasses flickering as it suddenly changed. The team, with the benefit of their own overlays, went to their efficient work. Unhindered by the smoke, SWAT gel rounds thudded into the torsos of the guards with extreme precision, taking out the three playing cards before they could recover. The two in the van suddenly slammed it into reverse, driving through the collapsed garage door. They soon found that their wheels had been popped by the sheet metal they had driven over, and were brought down as they tried to exit the vehicle.

Another two got behind the forklift and started taking shots from cover. The SWAT team, from the cover of the smoke, simply marked them on their shared HUDs. The sniper took the first out through the wall, and Twist projected to the head of the second and slammed him into the forklift facefirst. He went down in a tangle of limbs. The second SWAT team breached the back door, slamming it open with a portable battering ram, and Twist switched back to normal optics.

One final guard was on the top level, and he had grabbed an automatic from a rack once the garage door had fallen. Now he sprayed the entire bottom half of the warehouse with lethal, armor piercing rounds. Twist saw one officer go down, though his vital were still active on the HUD. The teams quickly withdrew to a defensible position.

Twist decided that it would simply be easier if he dealt with the last one himself. Swinging down from the hole, he stuck to the far wall directly behind him with more strings before he could swing back away. Another swing got him just to the base of the stairs, beneath his target. Walking extremely quietly, he managed to make it up the stairs without being detected.

The guard was brandishing his automatic as he surveyed the scene below, looking for other target to take a shot at. Twist simply took out his Colt Manhunter and shot him square in the back, the XREP round delivering 1000 kilo-volts of piezoelectricity through the armored jacket he wore. He went down like a ton of bricks. Twist walked up and carefully took the weapon from his unconscious hands, snapping the safety on as soon as it was away from him. He gave the SWAT teams a thumbs-up and they moved from cover.

The only unexplored items left were the shipping crates. The team breached them carefully, but found no additional guards inside. Inside was everything somebody would need to live for about two weeks, though. There was electricity, canned food, and even a couch and TV. This was obviously not only a money cache, but a safehouse as well. They found more of the same in the second shipping container.

The third held money. Lots of money. It was packet on top of wooden frames, wrapped in plastic wrap. Andy couldn’t even begin to guess how much there was inside as they began to pull it out and tag it as evidence. In a few minutes, the evidence van would arrive, and then Twist could go home and start thinking about his next move in Century.

All in all, a good day’s work.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Lyonesse on Tue Aug 31, 2010 11:24 pm

Today Danny Russell managed to get three hours of sleep in before someone started banging on his door. Sunlight flooded the room, or at least as much as it could through the cracks and gaps between other buildings. Still, it was enough to give Danny the energy to half-fall out of bed. Still groggy, he stumbled across the bedroom, trying to find a pair of pants to cover his boxers before answering. This morning it was Mrs. Kaminski waiting for him on the other side of the door. Her eyes went wide at the sight of him.

“Good lord, Danny! What happened to you?” She exclaimed. It took Danny’s brain a second to figure out what she was talking about, then the ache in his shoulder reminded him. The hits he’d taken last night had started to blossom into colorful bruises while he’d slept.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, ducking back inside to grab a t-shirt off a pile of clean laundry Kate had left for him to fold. “Just a couple of drunk thugs trying to be tough when I threw them out of the pub last night,” he lied as he pulled the shirt on with a wince. “What can I do for you this morning, Mrs. K?” He asked, eager to change the subject.

“The pipes under the sink are dripping again, and it’s not just a slow drip this time, it’s a constant drip-drip-drip-drip. It’s enough to drive me to drink,” she said with a dramatic sigh. Danny forced a smile.

“Well then, let’s take a look at it. Just let me grab my tools.”

Five minutes later he was wedged under Mrs. Kaminski’s sink, his bruised shoulder pressed against her piping as he wrestled with the ancient plumbing. Mrs. Kaminski kept up a running dialogue as he worked, complaining about everything from the pipes and the building owner’s neglect, to all of the other things wrong with Century City and beyond, which was apparently a lot. Danny listened with half an ear, occasionally responding with an “uh-huh.”

The plumbing problem was a simple one complicated by the age of the pipes. They needed to be replaced, but that wasn’t going to happen. Most of the complaints he sent on to Mr. , the building’s owner, were sent right back down with a nasty note attached reminding Danny that he was getting reduced rent to fix problems, not whine about them. He was a cheap, greedy bastard who tried to squeeze every penny out of the rundown apartment building any way possible, but that was usually the norm in Lakeside. Near the turn of the last century the neighborhoods had been solid blue-collar places to live, not fancy by any stretch, but good neighborhoods full of families and people who did honest work for honest pay.

Now those places were all lumped together into Lakeside, Century City’s decaying underbelly, named not for the presence of an actual lake, but because it was divided from better parts of the city by Lake Street. Still, parts of the old neighborhoods remained, often in the older residents like Mrs. Kaminski and many others in Danny’s building. They might gripe and snap to no end, but even while she was complaining, Mrs. Kaminski was bustling around her kitchen, making Danny a sandwich for his help. There was still something worth saving just beneath the dirt, as Kate often said. Usually, Danny poked fun at her unflappable optimism, but really he wanted nothing more than to believe it himself. That was why he did so many of the things he did, from acting as their apartment complex’s super, to working at an old neighborhood bar where the pay was crap and the tips were worse, to using his powers to try and improve the community by scaring the crap out of the encroaching drug dealers and gangs.

Thinking about his powers, Danny found a solution to Mrs. Kaminski’s pipe problem. He quickly stuck his head out from under the sink to see if she was looking, but she was absorbed in piling deli meat on bread and giving a monologue about the evils of the latest fashion trends teenagers were following. Danny wedged himself back under the sink and wrapped a bare hand around the leaking section of pipe. He was still tired after last night and he hadn’t spent enough time sleeping in the morning sunlight to really recharge, but he had enough power left to heat the metal to the point where it bent easily under a little pressure from his fingers, the leaking section fusing with its neighbor in a watertight seal. It wouldn’t be pretty to undo or replace, but it would keep the Kaminskis water flowing through their tap, not beneath it.

“All finished,” Danny said as he squirmed his way out from underneath the sink. Mrs. Kaminski’s frown lines changed shape with the smile that blossomed on her face. She made him sit down and eat the sandwich at her kitchen table while she continued to talk, albeit about more pleasant things now. By the time he managed to get away he’d given up on getting more sleep. Instead he grabbed a light hooded jacket and started off downtown. Kate’s shift ended in less than an hour and he could meet her at the diner and then they could…do whatever really. Danny wasn’t really picky.

The day seemed to have other plans though. Danny was still deep in Lakeside, watching the neighborhood buzz with life. Even if the people here didn’t have a lot, a community still existed and it was an active one. People were chatting on their steps, lingering in storefronts, bustling down the sidewalks. The streets weren’t too busy since a lot of the people here couldn’t afford cars. That was what allowed one car to screech around a corner and floor the accelerator as it roared past Danny. What felt like a cannonball dropped into Danny’s gut as he saw two men in masks lean out the passenger side windows of the car, raising guns and taking aim at Rourke’s Corner Store before unleashing a spray of bullets that tore into the windows and everything else in their path.

Just a few months ago Danny would have frozen or dropped to the sidewalk like everyone else, but now he moved without thinking. One hand shot out and a blast of flames burst from his fingertips and hit the back tire of the car as it started to speed up again. The driver jerked the wheel in panic, sending the car careening into a telephone pole. Behind them Danny swore under his breath as he jerked the hood of his jacket up to hide his features as he let an aura of bright flames burst into life across his body. Were a few hours of peace and normalcy really too much to ask? Apparently, he answered his own mental question as he stalked down the street toward the dazed thugs trying to extricate themselves from their smoking car.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Baker on Wed Sep 01, 2010 4:17 pm

Davis instinctively grabbed the hand that touched his skin, but he felt a release before he did, some sort of numbing feeling, the pain was gone. The pain he had lived with for twenty years was gone and he wasn’t even drunk yet. “That’s a nice trick you have.”

Davis turned his head towards the woman that had sat down next to him, smiling with a bit of courtesy along with a bit of sarcasm. “You don’t look like the kind of girl who would just be willing to throw it around for someone like that.”

Davis let go of her hand and grabbed his bottle, taking a sip. “You working for those little bastards or you working for someone else? And in either case, what do you want?”

Davis was amazed at the release of pain. He hadn’t gone one sober second since the age of eight without constant pain, but he couldn’t let the girl know of his amazement, especially if she wanted something like he suspected. He had to keep the leverage, that’s how this business works. Whoever has the leverage has the advantage, even if they had to fake it.

The client needs to act like they can live without whatever the buyer wants. Though in this case, Davis found it particularly hard, it’s hard enough resisting a pretty young woman, but one that can take away the one thing in your life that had hindered you the past twenty years? Almost impossible.


Well, so far it was all going swimmingly to Candy who was elated that she hadn’t gotten punched in the face. The streets were filled with way too many knee-jerk reactions and uppity supers for her taste. Still, she didn’t let her guard down as her hand was in his grasp. She’d want to stay focused on numb in the event that he had a change of heart and tried to break her wrist. Oh the joys of working for Charlie Candy couldn’t help but think as she remembered her outsourcing days.

“Those jackasses?” Candy asked, titling her head towards the bodies that were being moved off the floor. “Nah, don’t put me in the same category as them, it’s insulting.” For a moment Candy absently looked down at the man’s drink, wondering if she’d do the job as well if she were inebriated. However, Charlie always made it clear that she shouldn’t be doing much of anything on the job aside from her job.

“I work for the guy up there.” Candy grinned, pointing her index finger up at the ceiling. “Well, no, sometimes he’s down there.” She corrected, pointing at the floor. “And sometimes he’s all the way in downtown. . . . but that’s not often.” She added, waving her hand dismissively. “It doesn’t really matter, what matters is, I work for the guy who rules this city.” She added in a bit of a whisper. “And he’d like to employ you, I’m just a. . . party favor.” She rested her elbow on the bar, tilting her head slightly as she wondered just what was going on in that man’s head. (She suspected it was probably something along the lines of “I need another drink”) “The name is Candy by the way.


Davis smirked a bit more and looked up at the barman, “Another drink please.” He then looked back at the pretty woman. “The name is Davis, nice to meet you Candy, I hope.” Davis took a drink from his bottle, “So, you work for the ruler of this city huh? Well, a man of his power must be able to pay well…”

Davis got up to stretch his legs, walking around the bar for a minute, but immediately felt the rush of pain in his body, he tried to not let it show, staggering around a bit pretending to be drunk. “And how am I supposed to leave a place like this? I mean, the fantastic odor, the delicious drinks, and the clean, unmolded walls." Davis raised his bottle, "Hell, don’t make me show you how great the bathroom is.”

Davis sat back down on his stool with a thud, spinning in it and facing Candy, “Well, I suppose that all depends on the kind of party favor you are.” Davis took yet another drink from his bottle, examining his recruiter, or that’s what she claimed to be.


Candy watched as the Davis stumbled around the bar, absently taking his leftover bottle and shaking it to see if there was anything left inside of it as he rambled about the conditions of the place. Obvious sarcasm, the place was a total crap shoot. For a moment Candy’s mind wandered to how on Earth someone like Davis even moved without being under the influence of something. Candy knew that she barely functioned with supporting her own addictions, and those weren’t all that essential to her survival.

“The kind of party favor I am?” Candy raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little. “Now don’t I feel special, your joining the crew hangs in the balance of little ol’ me.” Really, Candy wasn’t all too surprised by this at all. In fact she’d expected it. She simply wanted to verbalize her thoughts, since the idea sounded even nicer when she said it out loud. Davis was providing excellent fodder for her ego. Hell, even if it wasn’t institutional Candy would take what she could get. It wasn’t like she could pull compliments from anyone who knew her too well, otherwise they’d turn out like ”you’re the nicest whore I know.”.

“Well, name your price and I’m sure we could work something out.” Candy began, reverting back to lines from a prior profession. Once again she grabbed Davis’ hand, and then wrapped another around the same wrist, squeezing tight. It wouldn’t matter if it looked like she was hurting him, the more pressure she applied the more the numbing effect would spread. “You could always take me for a test run. I mean, you shouldn’t buy the car until you drive it right?”


Davis looked at his wrist, feeling the effect of Candy’s powers going up his arm, relieving the pain. He moved his arm back and took another drink of his glass. “Normally when I get into a car, I just hope it doesn’t have a breathalyzer.”

He looked over to the barman, “Well, looks like I’ll be leaving, so, leave a cold one in the fridge for me, because I may be back.” The barman nodded and Davis got up from his chair, heading towards the door, bottle in hand.

“Well, Candy, I’d the keys to that car so we can get the hell out of here?” He smiled and took another drink. “I suppose you can say I’d like a test drive.”


Candy liked a lot of things, like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain. . . Or was that Rupert Holmes? Whatever the matter, she quite liked the fact that things were going her way. If she brought Davis to Charlie, which would make him happy, and that in turn would make her happy. Especially since she wasn't too sure if Charlie had forgiven her for vomiting in a decorative vase while she was high as a kite at the office. In her defense that was her day off and she wasn't supposed to be called in, in his defense she probably shouldn't have vomited in a vase with more monetary value than herself.

"Well then let's go." She grinned, hooking Davis' arm with her own and sauntering out of the bar. Keeping track of his nerves was getting easier, especially since he wasn't resisting. Still, any other person probably would have taken his personal space into account. However, personal space was a foreign concept to Candy. Or rather, a rule she generally ignored out of convinience.

"So here's what I think we should do." Candy began, walking outside to find her rather shocked to consider the air considerably fresher. Then again, she was just in a place that oozed out the stale scent of booze and shame. "I'll take ya to the boss since he doesn't like to be kept waiting, and then we can go have fun, and by fun I mean sex. It's what all the kids are doing nowadays." Candy babbled tactlessly, dragging Davis down the street as she thought of ways to get him to HQ in the most disorderly and complex manner possible. Sure, she could always blindfold him and put him in a cab but that would seem a bit too suspicious even for Candy. She didn't want this one to get scared and bail out on her.


Davis listened to Candy as he took another swig of his bottle, wondering where he was going. He didn’t care much to know as long as it paid, but it was still a thought that crossed his mind. He looked down the street, watching the crack dealers do their work, and watching the hookers getting ready as the afternoon would turn to night soon.

Davis soon shrugged the thoughts off, listening to the pretty girl that had his arm. He couldn’t remember the last time a girl walked out of the bar with him unless she was one of three things, drunk, stupid, or Davis was too drunk to realize how ugly she was, Candy sure wasn’t any of those, yet. He then turned his head as she finished. “Quite frankly, I think the kids today are doing the right things then.” Davis smiled and tipped the last of his drink down his throat. He looked at the bottle, and then tossed on the ground, watching it shatter against the pavement.

Davis thought about this for a moment, “So, what kind of work does your boss have in mind? Will it be such things as throwing out the trash like back in the bar, or does he have some real work?” Davis looked down the street again, making sure that nobody from that little group from the bar was around, then turned his attention back to Candy. “I’m guessing if he’s looking for someone like me, there’s only two options, he wants violence or he wants protection, and to tell you the truth, I don’t really think he needs the second one.”


“Mmm, wrong there hun.” Candy chuckled, leading Davis down yet another street. This one, honestly, didn’t look all too familiar. Besides it wasn’t as if Candy had been living in the God forsaken city her whole life. The only places Candy had ever really been around when she visited the city were whatever places Charlie had deemed headquarters at that time. All in all, that didn’t allow her to get to know the city all too well. Oh well, that’s why GPSs had been invented, right?

“The boss doesn’t want violence. He wants power.” Stopping abruptly for a moment Candy read the street signs. By normal standards, she should start walking right. However, considering she was going to make this a complicated journey then three lefts would suffice. “Of course, he wants everything done quietly.” This sentiment the woman almost sighed out. “So boring, but the boss isn’t exactly the life of the party. Brilliant? Yes. Fun? No, he’s all business.”

From under her metallic silver trench coat Goosebumps formed due to the ever abrasive breeze. “But I suppose that’s why you need people like me around. You know?” She stopped again, musing over where to go now that they had reached the third block. “All work and no play don’t make this city enticing, and you have to keep raking people in.” And with that Candy dragged Davis into the street, crossing diagonally so as to cut through a large multi-floor parking lot.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Digital Muse on Mon Sep 06, 2010 7:19 pm

It was breezy today; almost too breezy to be sitting outside at the little sandwich shop on 5th Avenue and Dexter. But, dressed in her coat and half-finger gloves, Kimiko was quite comfortable and she had the entire outdoor patio to herself. Her cat Gandalf, sat on her lap, leash dangling from his collar. In each of the other chairs at the table, were piled shopping bags and boxes along with her backpack and a suitcase. She’d relinquished Richard Giovanni’s apartment as it had been 30 days since the man’s death of massive heart failure at St Mary’s. His Social Security and rent protection would end and her presence there would be investigated.

Her sticker-encrusted laptop was open on the table next to her empty lunch plate and a plate with raw salmon still on it. Today, she didn’t use her powers overtly to control her computer; typing away on the keyboard while her mind ran numerous strings of code and searches automatically. Speculating aloud to Gandalf, who was doing his best imitation of a muff, Kimiko, murmured “Well three new apartments just opened up, Gandalf. Upper West Side, one in Little Russia and one right down town. What do you think?” The tabby merely blinked his eyes slowly at her, then yawned widely. Her slim fingers picked up some salmon from his plate and passed it to him to nibble while she continued. “Well, the Upper West Side is pretty far from all the best shopping. The one downtown likely will have business partners or a Mistress involved. So, Little Russia it is.” She smiled brightly, having made the decision. “How’s your Russian?” The search had revealed a woman named Katrinka Kasamarov had died mere hours before with no family and an apartment in a rent-protected building. This meant she could get in and use the place as she had Richard Giovanni’s and countless others before him.

Her new living arrangements in order, Kimiko turned her attention to her other activities. She entered an address and opened a window that looked like an ordinary chartroom one might see everywhere on the net. But this one was behind many, many layers of encryption. Only a select few were able to hack their way inside and each 2.8 minutes, the encryption changed. This was not only for the security of those that gathered there, but it was also a game to see who could beat who. Kimiko was always sure that she dawdled so she never won with fastest time cracking the room. As she’d expected, her ‘Army’ from the raid on the offshore bank were not present, but one of her rare contacts was. A mere thought brought up files on the information she’d passed to him that had resulted in the raid made on a particular warehouse by the Police of Century City. They’d found the money. She idly wondered what else they’d found.

(SailorMoon) had logged in in 8.9 seconds. Ranked 3.

(theMachinist): Ha! Too slow kid. I gotcha by a full 3 seconds.

(SailorMoon): Next time, Machine.I will beat you, I swear.

(theMachinist): Not in this lifetime. You’re just not that good.

(theMachinist): That info you passed was good stuff. Confirmed what we already knew.

This, Kimiko knew that to be a lie. Simply watching the deployment of officers and surveillance videos told her that. She smiled gently, but, gave nothing away.

(SailorMoon): That’s good. I’m glad you weren’t hurt.

(theMachinist): I still want to know where you got that info. SM

(SailorMoon): I told you. I heard these guys just talking.

(theMachinist): Bullshit. I know you’re lying. Like I know what school you’re at.

(SailorMoon): Quit

Kimiko chuckled gently, then fed Gandalf the last of his salmon. Let Mike think that she was a terrified schoolgirl on the East side. He wasn’t even close, but her logging out suddenly would feed his belief. Scooping Gandalf from her lap, she packed up her laptop and hailed a cab. Time to get to her newest digs and settle in making it as secure as her last place.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Lyonesse on Tue Sep 07, 2010 12:36 am

Her name was Rachel. It was hardly a unique name. In Century City alone there were probably hundreds or even thousands of Rachels, but this one was special enough that everything about her was matchless, right down to her name and even the plastic nametag that told the world her name was Rachel. She turned her head as he pushed the front door of the diner open, and she smiled. She pushed a few stray strands of red hair away from her face with the pen she was using to take orders and she smiled at him. Brian gave her a timid smile in return and slipped into a booth.

He waited a minute while Rachel ran the orders she’d taken from an older couple to the kitchen. The other waitress working, her name was Kate, smiled at him as she carried plates full of eggs, bacon and pancakes past him. They all knew him here at Betty’s Diner, but they knew a lot of people here. Regulars kept the tiny diner in business and Brian had been coming here almost every morning for nearly eight months now.

“How’s my hero this morning?” Rachel said as she stopped in front of his booth. Brian flushed just a bit whenever she called him that. He’d been called a hero more times than he could count, but those were different. All of those other times he’d been in a costume. He’d been Captain Titanic, not Brian Jones. The only person who ever called Brian Jones a hero was Rachel. That was because eight months ago he’d missed his bus connection going into the city to work one morning. While he was waiting for the next one he’d headed around the corner toward a diner when he stumbled across Rachel on her way to work and a teenage gangbanger with a knife demanding her purse. All Brian had done was yell and the would-be mugger had taken off running, but Rachel had sobbed and thrown her arms around his neck. She’d dragged him into Betty’s and told the cook to give him anything he wanted to eat, on the house. When she’d brought him his breakfast she’s smiled brilliantly and called him her hero. Brian had been hooked ever since.

“I’m good,” Brian said a quietly. “Busy day ahead of me.” He wished he could tell her what he had planned, but he couldn’t. Rachel only knew Brian, not Captain Titanic, although he wished he could tell her about that too, but he couldn’t do that either. He didn’t want to put her in danger, and if he was being honest with himself, Brian had to admit that as much as he liked Rachel, they didn’t have the sort of relationship where he could rationalize telling her about his secret identity. Maybe someday though.

“Ooh, sounds exciting,” Rachel said with a wink. She knew he worked in accounting and no busy day of accounting could honestly be considered “exciting.” She was just being nice, but he appreciated it and smiled back all the same, especially since he wasn’t actually headed to the office today. The briefcase he’d come in with wasn’t full of files and his laptop, today it held his costume and his busy day would actually be exciting. “So, the usual then?” Brian nodded and Rachel gave him another brilliant smile before heading back to the kitchen to deliver his order. They got in a few more snippets of conversation while he ate and Rachel waited on other customers, but all too soon the food was gone from Brian’s plate and his timetable for the day’s activities was rapidly approaching. He left twenty-five dollars on the table, which left about a twelve dollar tip for Rachel, and slipped out without saying goodbye. She was busy as the breakfast rush really began and he didn’t want to distract her.

Leaving the diner with his briefcase clutched tightly in one hand, Brian caught the next bus headed downtown and rode it for a few stops before getting off and wandering the streets before he found what he needed: a narrow service alley with no security cameras and no one paying attention to what was going on there. Brian gave a the alley a quick look over anyway, just to be sure before using his powers to quickly fly to the roof of one of the buildings. Up there he hurriedly changed out of his work clothes, revealing the majority of his orange and teal costume already in place. Carefully folding his ordinary clothes away, he pulled his boots, mask and cape out of the briefcase and put them on. The clothing change prompted mental changes in Brian as well. The awkward man who’d blushed at a waitress’s attention faded away as his confidence grew and a daring grin blossomed on his face. Captain Titanic wouldn’t have been afraid to ask Rachel out on a date, but he never would. He had too many enemies who would jump at the chance to hurt him through a girlfriend.

Captain Titanic tucked Brian’s briefcase away behind a satellite dish near the corner of the roof and took off, soaring into the skies above Century City. He resisted the urge to do a quick patrol over the city to check for any crimes being committed right then. Today he had important plans, because today most if not all of the heads of the old organized crime families of Century City were meeting to negotiate dealings on an arms shipment from overseas. Or that was what his mafia informant had told Captain Titanic in a frenzied rush while he’d dangled the man by his ankles half a mile above ground. He never would have actually dropped the man, but most of the time reason and clear-thinking abandoned people when they were so perilously close to such a great fall.

Cape whipping in the wind behind him, Captain Titanic changed his course and headed straight for the building in Little Russia where his informant had claimed the mafia heads would be meeting. The building in question was a strip club called the Magic Garden. This early in the day its neon “LIVE NUDES” and “GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS!” signs were turned off, but a good number of expensive black cars were gathered in the parking lot. As he flew closer to the building, Captain Titanic pushed his fists out in front of him and picked up speed. He aimed for the brick wall around the back of the club that his informant promised led straight into the room where the negotiations would be taking place.

There was a small flash of pain as his fists collided with the brick and it gave way beneath him, but it was barely noticeable. The bricks themselves crumbled and a huge chunk of the wall came down with them, revealing a large storeroom filled with cases upon cases of liquor. Today it was also full of a dozen men in suits and a few crates full of guns and ammunition. Most of them had ducked for cover as bits of brick and drywall had exploded inward at them, but a few were recovering quickly, shouting and grabbing for guns. Grinning broadly, Captain Titanic waded into the middle of the chaos, the metal barrels of guns twisting in his grip and thugs flying into walls as he threw punches. Today a lot of very bad men would be going to jail, getting exactly what they deserved and the streets of Century City would be a little bit safer than they had been before. And just maybe, halfway across the city in Betty’s Diner, the radio station that cranked oldies into the diner’s kitchen would stop the music and report on what had happened and Rachel would stop for just a second and smile at what he was doing.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Dax on Sat Oct 23, 2010 5:20 pm

Wow, screw this. Joe’s mind started racing. He was cold, still tired and pigeons were mistaking him for a damned statue.

Joe looked from under the rim of his hat and stared and the passer-bys who were starting to litter the streets. It was the time when Century city started waking up from a night most probably filled with murder, theft, rape (This, of course, made Joe a big and joyful contributor to the insecurity of the city) and general violence. Some say the city was decadent, some say that it had never been any better and is therefore not getting worse. To Joe, however, it was simply paradise. It was at that moment where Joe was lost in his thoughts when something that usually never happens, well… happened. Joe’s cell phone rang. This was essentially rare because, very simply, Joe’s phone was never turned on. Call him old fashioned, and he was a lot of things, but one of those was slightly paranoid around the edges and he had heard something about the waves coming from those contraptions that could potentially damage his brain and overall health. He was not going to take a chance, especially if his demise would mean the end of his gift to all gorgeous young women in the city. That would simply make him a monster… or at least more so than he is now, which, as everyone wonders, is even possible.

Joe reluctantly reached for his pocket and took out the old, crappy piece of junk that was still miraculously working. Joe had no idea who was calling due to his innate inability to check caller ID and he thus let the phone ring a bit before answering. “Yes, dearest? How may I help you?” That was a very common and typical opening line for him.

Joe only heard a stern cough from the speaker. And the cough wasn’t because its user was sick or had the flu; it was because the user was slightly annoyed. Joe thought on who this could be. He immediately pulled the phone away from his ears and looked at the lighted screen. It simply said: ‘Bossy’ on it. Oh shit. Charlie was calling. So that’s what caller ID was…

“I mean boss.” Then Joe let his eerie smile creep up his face again. “Bossy dearest, how may I help you?” Joe could almost hear Charlie sighing in discouragement. What an idiot, he must have been thinking. What a complete idiot. But that didn’t bother Joe all too much. He knew his boss thought he was batshit crazy, and he really did not care to hide it anymore. Charlie’s voice started booming out of the speaker.

“Listen, Joe, I have something to tell you. I don’t have all day so be attentive for once, dammit.” Joe smiled. Charlie sounded slightly angry, and he didn’t think it was because of how he had greeted him via the phone. “Last night while you were out… gallivanting, something went down in my city, something that I did not authorize. That something was a raid of some sort. That isn’t good, you understand? I already made sure that the police chief’s agenda was… cleared, so I am telling you get over there yesterday and get to the bottom of this bullshit…” Charlie paused. “What are you doing still on the phone?” With that the phone went dead. What charisma, thought Joe.

Joe stuffed his phone, still open, into his pocket and stood up. He flipped his hat onto his head and put his left hand behind his back. He started walking towards the police station whistling while gently swinging his cane back and forth. He looked like a gentleman taking a morning stroll. He looked. That was the key word. He had to look normal. He had to look like he was a model citizen.

It only took about 10 minutes until Joe arrived at the police station. It was an old building. There were two big pillars on each side of the doors and the door itself was thick and wooden. He never did understand why people wanted their damn police station to look nice. It was a police station. It was to be shot at. Then again, this building dated back to… the 19th century, he thought. People were different then. More refined. Much better than the modern filth that litter the streets today. Immediately after thinking about filth, the name Candy came to his mind. He just smiled at that thought. He was on the same boat, after all.

Joe climbed the outside stairs two by two and got to the massive door. There were bronze lion heads on both of the doors, each with a huge nose ring. Odd. People way back when may have been classier, but they had weird taste. Lions with nose rings, preposterous. He looked closer to inspect the statuettes. From afar, he would look like an odd fellow randomly bending over to the doors of the police station, squinting at its ornaments. Closer, he was just look like an odd fellow.

After a good three minutes, and many annoyed officers later Joe suddenly and explosively burst through the doors of the Police Chief. “Morning princess. I am here!”

If Police Chief Garret was a animal, he would almost certainly be a rat. He was well on his way to looking like one. A fat one. And right now he was a scared one, as Joe's joyous entrance was the last thing he wanted. He had a look of a guilty man, he knew Charlie was sending someone after the events at the warehouse, it was only a matter of time. But he didn't know what this manic as here for. Was it intimidation? Or...The next thought made the fat rat gulp as he sat back down. "Hell..hello! J..Joe wasn't it? What...what can I do for you?"

Joe gave a hardly laugh, though it sounded more like nails on a chalk board as the doors closed behind me and he sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Come now Garret! Loosen up, do I looked angry to you?" Joe couldn't help but notice the slight look of relief flashed over the crooked cops face.

"Oh well very good then. So your employer isn't all that concerned with..."

"Oh well I said I wasn't angry. I had a rather magical night, boss letting me off the leash a bit you see." Joe said interrupting Garret as he put his feet up on the grand oak desk, trying to get more comfortable. Such awful chair's this man had put into the office since he was last here. You'd think that going from Vice to Police Chief would afford a man more comfortable chairs. Joe's eyes flicked to the Chiefs chair, "My employer on the other hand, oh he's mad. Off the chair please." Joe said as he got up and moved around the desk.

Maybe it was the fact this mad man was coming around his desk, or maybe it was the news that whoever it was who sent him was mad. Whatever the reason, Garret had nearly leapt from his chair. "But I didn't know anything about what happened until this morning! Then some government pricks came in and dropped the file on my desk. And started talking nonsense about a new branch of law enforcement and judges and some..."

Joe had held his hand up, and garret had shut his mouth. Joe was looking down adjusting the seat, swerving it about before finally settling on a height and angle before putting his feet up once again. Joe waved his hands over to the chairs in front of the desk. "Please take a seat." Joe said with a satisfied grin, as he leaned back on the chair. "Ahh..I can get use to this. Now...if you please Princess. Start from the top."

Hours later Joe was walking down the street. A skip in his step and much to tell Charlie.

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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Lyonesse on Wed Dec 01, 2010 4:49 am

The telephone pole proved to be more resilient than the gang members’ car, the front of which crumpled around the stout wooden pole, throwing one young man—barely more than a teenager—out of the driver’s seat onto the pavement. Danny felt a quiet relief that the driver was still moving, groaning and clutching his face. He didn’t want to kill or really even hurt anyone. He just wanted to scare them straight in his own way. On the other hand, the other two in the car seemed to have fared much better, maybe they’d been wearing their seatbelts, because they were both cut and scraped a bit, but able to get their doors open and stagger out, still holding their guns.

Damn.

Danny carefully drew in the flames wreathing his body, making sure he minimized heat damage to the street around him while making the outline of his body glow through the spectrum from reddish orange to blue until he was burning white hot. It made looking at him almost as dangerous and dazzling as staring directly into the sun. They both flinched away from the light, but one of them pulled out a handgun and fired blindly in Danny’s general direction. Thankfully his aim was either very good or very lucky because it flew straight, and, rather than hitting one of the scrambling civilians behind Danny, it struck him straight in the chest.

Only by that point it wasn’t a bullet anymore, it was more of a wet slap of molten metal that burnt straight through his t-shirt and hit his skin with just enough strength to bruise before liquefying completely and burning into vapor an instant later. He wasn’t actually bulletproof, but he’d learned very early on that everything had a melting and boiling point and took advantage of that to give his powers a defensive aspect.

The first bullet was followed by three more, one of which hit low on his right forearm, the other two hitting the pavement around him, their ricochets slowed by the waves of heat. The thug risked a squinting glance over his shoulder to see if he’d hit anything. What he saw sent him scrambling away as Danny slowly stalked forward, the bullets not even breaking his stride. The crash had left him rattled enough that he stumbled and knocked over his friend before righting himself and turning to fire off a few more rounds. He never got that far though.

Danny’s hand wrapped around the gun barrel and a second later the gang member screamed and dropped the gun, which Danny flung away before the gunpowder inside exploded. There were blisters rising across the thug’s palm around the skin that varied between cherry red and chalky white-gray. Some of the burns were second-degree but most were third-degree or even fourth-degree burns. Serious injuries that would require serious medical attention if the young man ever hoped to use that hand again.

Right now he curled on the sidewalk in a fetal position around his injured hand, sobbing and screaming. His eyes were still closed against the burning figure Danny created, pleading for mercy between cries and shuddering breaths. For the moment Danny counted him down and out, injured enough that he wasn’t going to make trouble. Instead he turned his attention to the final gang member on his feet, who was doing his best to get the hell out of dodge. Like his comrades he was dazed and it was easy enough to knock him off his feet with a blast of heat. It left the back of his jacket singed and smoking as he tumbled ass over elbows along the sidewalk.

Danny followed after him, pulling the flames away from one foot enough that when he kicked the gun out of the gang member’s hand didn’t burst into flames. Still he left it hot enough to leave a few burns behind. The man howled in pain and stared up at Danny’s fiery form leaning over him. “Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease…” He whined a breathless mantra.

“Shut up,” Danny snapped, his own voice turned into an unidentifiable hiss as it passed through a mouthful of flames. Even the remnants of his Texan accent were lost in the fire and his careful enunciation. He reached down, the flames vanishing from his right hand as he grabbed a green bandana off of the young man’s head and let it ignite in his hand before crumbling back into ash on the gang member’s chest. It was a gang sign for the East 29s, named for the territory they held east of 29th street in Lakeside.

Sirens were echoing between the buildings. Even if no one had had the guts to call the police someone must have dialed 911 for the fire department after seeing Danny. Either way he didn’t want to be there when someone came looking. He sure as hell wasn’t on the side of real criminals, but Danny shared any Lakeside resident’s deep distrust of authority, especially the police. He’d found more than his fair share of dirty cops rubbing elbows with the gangs and dealers he’d taken down.

Reaching down, he grabbed the thug by the shirt and jerked him off the pavement, pulling him close to the flames that covered Danny’s face. He flinched away from the heat and squeezed his eyes shut. “You tell your friends to cut this crap out or they’ll be taking their own trips to the burn unit before heading to prison.” A small burst of heat through his fingers crumbled the shirt and any of Danny’s fingerprints away, unceremoniously dropping the gunman to the ground, jarring him even further.

Danny took off at a run, crossing the street and hitting an alley. Halfway down it he leaped toward the wall, pushing downward with a blast of heat that turned his jump into a bound that took him up two and a half stories. He hit the wall with his feet and palms briefly pushing off and upward again, bouncing between walls of the alley twice more before tumbling rather ungracefully out onto a rooftop. He’d made the discovery that if he threw high intensity bursts of heat and flame backward it could produce enough thrust to launch him upward somewhat. It was a far cry from flight or levitation or anything of the sort, but it was useful in getting out of places quickly and subtly. He never failed to be impressed by how often people failed to look upward, even in a city that was home to Captain Titanic, who could actually fly.

He ran four blocks across rooftops letting his armor of flames die away except for when he needed the thrust to get from one building to another or across a street. As far as he could tell, no one ever looked up. When he felt he was a safe distance away he let the flames die completely and paused on the edge of the roof of an office building to catch his breath. He pushed back his hood and turned his face toward the sun, soaking in the rays to help him recover some of the energy he’d just spent.

In the distance he heard several sirens wailing but he didn’t feel more than a hint of curiosity over what was happening down there. Chances were good the gang members would get arrested; there were enough bystanders and evidence to get that far. Who knew if they would actually get all the way to jail, but even if they didn’t they were all hurt and two of them would have burn scars to remember their experiences today. That was what he really counted on, not the justice system but fear. Not the highest of all possible goods, but good enough for the real world, especially when it produced results as it slowly seemed to be doing. Crime in Lakeside was down according to the papers, especially gang and drug violence.

Bolstered by the morning sunlight, Danny relaxed a little and looked himself over, trying to judge if he was fit for going to the diner. There was a hole in his t-shirt where the first bullet had hit over his left ribcage. That could be hidden by zipping up his jacket the rest of the way. The hole in his right sleeve wasn’t so easily, but it wasn’t so obvious either. He probably should have gone home and changed, but at the moment all he wanted to do was see Kate.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Ragter the junior greeter on Wed Dec 01, 2010 7:56 pm

As it turned out, Hope indeed had nothing to do at all; which was how she found herself wandering the streets, and it wasn't long before she found herself in a bad neighborhood. Still being relatively new at the whole superhero thing, she didn't stop to wonder if going into an alley in Lakeside was a bad idea. Common sense dictated that she shouldn't go in one anyway, but her mind was far too preoccupied at the moment; she was thinking about how to help the girl she had rescued. The thought crossed her mind that if she did manage to find the girl's family...then what? Hope didn't want to be discovered until she had some sort of costume or at least a code name; if she was discovered now, everyone would find out who she was.

So that was how she paused in the alley upon hearing footsteps coming towards her, and as she kept a wary eye on the area, she berated herself for not paying attention. She could have ended up walking right in front of a car, for instance, with the kind of inattentiveness that she had; sure, she could have healed any broken bones, but the little problem of internal bleeding would have been a problem. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind though, and instead concentrated on the present; luckily, it seemed it was only one person, though he seemed to have a gun. Not wanting to risk anything, Hope made sure she thickened her bones while she walked towards the man. Just as he pointed the gun at her, he would find it knocked out of his hand; by what, he couldn't see due to the fact that it was so dark.

Just a moment later, he tried to strike at her and let out a yell of pain when his fist met hardened bone. A minute later, said hardened bone, propelled by enhanced strength, met with the man's right arm. The intense pain of it caused him to black out almost immediately and, after a moment of hesitation, Hope rushed off. Her instinct had been to call the police, but...it wasn't as if they would miss him. Besides, he had tried assaulting her; for what, she had no idea.

She briefly wondered if she looked like the rich type before she noticed something...a fire. At least, that's what it seemed like it was; instead, it seemed to be coming from a man...and in fact, she couldn't stare directly at him. It was just like staring straight into the sun, so she averted her eyes from him; that's how she spotted the thugs he was fighting. She was fairly amazed at how well he handled the situation. She, herself, would have probably put herself at a lot more risk; she wasn't sure, but bullets could probably penetrate even toughened bone.

From her perspective, it seemed like whoever this superhero was, was doing a fairly good job at fighting these thugs. Again, she couldn't keep her eyes directly on the man, but she did manage to watch as he grabbed one of the guns and chucked it; a minute later, the gunpowder exploded. This, coupled with the seemingly apparent sun coming from him, indicated what his power was. From what she could tell, he had control over how much heat surrounded him; it made her somewhat curious as to how he himself didn't get burnt by it. Then again, it was a superpower, so that could explain it; they often didn't have to explain such things.

She noticed that the man who had the gun wasn't looking too good with his hand; it looked really charred and blistery. Now, she wasn't really on the side of the criminals or anything, nor was she a professional at what she did, but...burning a man's hand like that seemed to reek of villainy. Still, she didn't know the full story of what had happened, and instead tried her best to stay out of sight as he approached the second one who was fleeing. Not wanting to miss out and not see what was happening, she quickly ducked out of the alley to watch as whoever this fireman, if that was his name which would be ironic if it was, followed after the fleeing criminal. Without much of a choice, she was forced to step out of the alley and follow after the two of them, hoping they didn't get too far.

She then heard someone pleading, probably for his life judging from what she had just heard. If she had been in the man's position, she definitely would have thought that fireman, as she had decided to call him, was going to at least seriously injure her. Just as she thought that, she spotted the two of them again, and this time watched curiously as fireman grabbed the bandana from the man. Now, unless he was trying to find the group that this man belonged to, he would have no reason to suddenly grab the bandana; she frowned some, trying to remember last night again. It certainly had been orchestrated by someone who knew what they were doing...perhaps some sort of gang.

Still, she didn't remember any green bandanas, so maybe not; even so, it would probably be helpful to speak with this fireman. Just as she was wondering how to approach him, she realized that she was hearing sirens; she again reminded herself to pay attention. By the time she looked back, the thug had been pulled close to the fireman; she frowned some, watching. She didn't really want to, but if he kept this up, she might have to intervene. As bad as they were, the thugs were still people, and he wasn't being really careful around them; she thought it likely that he would end up burning them alive.

Then again...she had no idea how long this superhero had been doing this; for all she knew, he had been doing this for years and could easily trounce her in a fight. Luckily, all this fireman did was give a warning to the man before dropping him to the ground; she was surprised when he suddenly started running. After a moment's hesitation, which she noticed she was doing more often, she chased off after him, preparing to use her ability. After all, he probably wouldn't risk anyone actually being able to follow him, and would probably find some way to flee.

As it turned out, her suspicions were correct, for the instant she arrived in the alley, she spotted him just barely, just as he got onto a rooftop. A long length of bone shot out from her, racing to the closest place it could go without letting her fall when she pulled herself up on it. This happened in the form of it latching onto a loose railing, probably from some sort of fire escape, and a moment later, she was being pulled upwards, the bone going back inside of her body as she went up. Once she was close enough, she grabbed onto the railing and the bone went inside her body again. Just a moment later, a long length of bone shot out from her a second time and this time dug its way into the actual building; she soon found herself up on the roof.

Off in the distance, she could see the man running across rooftops...occasionally using his ability to get across. With a small groan, the girl chased after him, using bone to replace rope and get across the buildings that way; it was quite useful, being able to eject bones from your body. She was getting tired just as she arrived at the last gap; something, however, happened this time. Just as she was in the middle of the rope replacement, it cracked, and a moment later, she found herself plummeting downwards. She stifled her urge to cry out and instead panicked by waving her arms around.

It didn't take too long for her to reclaim her composure for just a minute and let a bit of bone come out of her and dig into the building that she had been trying to get on top of. I'm tired she realized to herself; it wasn't often that she had to use her power in such...succession. Luckily, she still had enough energy to have the bone saving her from certain death pull her up onto the roof. She took a few, deep breaths, laying down on the rooftop before she got to her feet. Just as she thought, he was right there; she made sure to avert her eyes just in case.

She was positive that he had heard her already, considering how professional he seemed. She took a few steps forward, hoping she didn't look too...odd, keeping her gaze away from him; still, he'd probably understand if he realized that she had seen what had happened. "...Hello, fireman," she said, wondering if that sounded childish. Oh well...now wasn't really the time to think it was childish, "I know that you're another superhero, and I want you to help me." she added, making sure not to let it out that she was a superhero too; what she said could imply that she had met two superheroes, after all.
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Re: We Are One IC

Post by Digital Muse on Fri Dec 03, 2010 1:34 am

A co-post between Lyoness and Digital Muse
The cab pulled along Strazinski Avenue slowly, looking for the specific number of the apartment building Kimiko had directed the cabbie to. Gandalf sat primly on Kimiko’s lap watching out the window in disdain at the people on the busy sidewalk. Kimiko was bobbing her head to the tune in her ear buds. As they pulled up adjacent to a store front a block from their destination, gunshots rang out and the cabbie jammed on his brakes, throwing Kimiko, Gandalf and her luggage forward in the vinyl-covered back seat. All three ended up on the floor.

Most of the mafia hotshots in the Magic Garden had gone down fighting, but they’d gone down quickly. The problem was a few of them hadn’t stayed to fight. Fyodor Polzin, the head of the Family in Century City took off in the middle of the chaos. Bullets had been flying, men screaming and shouting and throwing punches and, while his men fought for him, Polzin wriggled out of the hole Captain Titanic had blasted through the wall and ran. Out of the corner of his eye, Captain Titanic saw the large mafia boss slip away but he was stuck in the middle of a crush of Polzin’s bodyguards who had to be taken down before he could get to their boss.

Outside of the club, Polzin stumbled out of the crumbling hole, swearing in Russian and trying to brush the brick dust off of his Armani suit with his free hand. The other hand held the gun he’d been examining right when the costumed superhero had burst into his deal. Luckily he’d put a clip into it, so when he got to the street—checking compulsively over his shoulder for Captain Titanic—he was armed, angry and scared more than anything. His car was around the front of the club, but he didn’t have the keys anyway. No one in his position would drive himself when he had dozens of people to do it for him. Half stumbling to the street he turned a circle to get his bearings and noticed a cab stopped in the middle of the street.

“HEY!” Polzin yelled. He ran toward the cab, brandishing his gun in the face of the cabbie.

“Hey! What’s the deal?” Kimiko yelled as she rose from the inelegant heap on the floor of the cab to see a terrified driver with eyes as big as saucers having the side of his face pushed in by a very large hand gun in the fist of a very large businessman. Out of habit, she assessed the suit, $3500.00, special tailoring. Gun, Glock .50 caliber Golden Eagle. Safety off. Man; Sweaty, wild eyes, brick dust, mussed hair. Running. Hypertension. But she didn’t get much further when she realized she was in a very bad place.

Polzin stepped to the back door and flung it open, keeping the gun swinging between Kimiko and the back of the cabbie’s balding head. “Drive or I’ll blow your head off!” He barely spared a glance at Kimiko, she was a little bit of a thing and no threat in his eyes.

Kimiko threw her hands up as if to ward off any bullet the big man fired at her. It was a useless gesture really, but instinctive. In her fear, she stammered in Japanese, then remembered and added in English, “No! Don’t hurt me…just let me out. OK?” Gandalf was less impressed and leapt back up to the seat to watch the man curiously. He was ignored.

“Shut up!” Polzin growled at her. The kid and the cabbie would have to die, of course. They’d seen him. But he didn’t much care. He ordered the cabbie once more with a poke to the back of his head with the gun barrel. “Drive damn you!”

A minute later Captain Titanic burst back through the wall of the Magic Garden Strip Club, going half through the hole he’d already made but taking another chunk of bricks with him. A roomful of mafia thugs and broken guns lay behind him for the police to clean up. Now he needed to find Polzin and complete the set. A quick scan of the area revealed a few panicked civilians but no Polzin, so he took to the skies. Flying upward in a quick spiral gave him a 360 degree view of the neighborhood branching away from the Magic Garden. He searched for Polzin’s expensive suit but didn’t see it anywhere. What he did see was a cab driving quickly and erratically away.

“Call it a hunch,” he murmured to himself as he dove back down. He zoomed straight over the cab and landed in a crouch in the middle of the road thirty feet in front of the cab. He caught a quick look at Ponzin in the back seat and smiled. The cabbie slammed on his brakes but he was going too fast to avoid hitting the orange and teal-clad superhero. Captain Titanic reached out his gauntlet covered hands and grabbed onto the hood, bringing the cab to a violent stop. He kept in mind that there were civilians inside, the cab driver and a young woman, but he wanted Polzin dazed.

Once again, Kimiko and Gandalf were thrown to the floor of the cab when the brakes are stomped on. Instead of a skid, this time the cab jerked to a halt with the sound of crumpling metal. Kimiko rapped her head against the hard seat back and her vision was swimming while Gandalf complained loudly from beneath her somewhere. The cabbie slumped sideways in his seatbelt, out cold from smacking his forehead on the steering wheel.

Polzin was thrown against the partial plexi-glass barrier between him and the driver, but retains the grip on the hand cannon. A few shots ring out through the windshield at Captain Titanic’s massive chest; the sound deafening in the enclosed vehicle.

Kimiko’s shrieks add to Gandalf’s incensed yeowls further jangling Polzin’s nerves. He swings his arm around to point the gun toward her, screaming, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Under ordinary circumstances, Kimiko would have been able to disable the gun in Polzin’s hand with a mere look. However, when faced with her own mortality, all thoughts fly from her head and she cowers before the mafia leader in abject fear.

“It’s over, Polzin!” Captain Titanic shouted, hovering a foot off the ground, arms crossed over his chest as bullets flew toward him. He was tough, he had to be to withstand his own powers, but he wasn’t actually bulletproof. Still, he showed no fear in the face of Polzin’s gun, not even flinching as two bullets hit him in the stomach. He was tough, but so was his costume, which included Kevlar across his chest and back as well as a few plates down his arms and legs and some thin plates of next-gen body armor built into his mask and cape. The bullets thudded dimly against him, barely registering as painful.

It wasn’t his own safety that Captain Titanic was worried about though. Polzin had a moment of clear thinking and turned the gun away from the superhero to aim at the young Asian woman in the cab next to him. The hero’s hands clenched into fists. No one was going to hurt that girl.

“You’re already going to jail, Polzin, don’t make it worse. Let the girl go!” He ordered. For the moment he kept still, levitating in place as he glared and waited for the mobster to make a move.

Somehow that statement gave Polzin hope. He reached out and grabbed Kimiko by her long hair and dragged her to him. Clumsily, he exited the cab, holding Kimiko in front of him, the gun barrel against her temple. A snarling smile was pasted on the Mafioso’s face. “See? What’s gonna happen is you’re gonna get the hell out of my way of this little bitch dies.”

Kimiko went limp in Polzin’s arms, forcing him to half carry and half drag her toward the read of the disabled cab. Without thinking, she reached up to try to ease the painful pressure of the gun barrel against her temple. The moment she touched the cool metal of the Glock, her ability flared unconsciously causing the entire gun to disassemble itself in Polzin’s startled grip. Pieces of metal and the clip clattered to the ground around Polzin and Kimiko’s feet leaving them both staring rather stupidly at them.

Captain Titanic’s mind was reeling. He couldn’t let Polzin get away, not after all the harm he’d done to Century City and the world. That man needed to be judged and punished for his crimes and locked away for the rest of his life. He couldn’t just let a criminal walk away, but he absolutely couldn’t let him hurt an innocent young woman either. It was an impossible situation, especially considering he absolutely could not trust Polzin’s to let the girl go even if he got away. “If you kill her it’s all over,” Captain Titanic tried to reason. His voice didn’t show even a hint of fear or turmoil, even if it was raging deep within his mind. “I won’t let you leave with her, and if you even give her a bruise I’ll make sure you regret it!”

It was a slow stand-off as Polzin tried to haul the girl away and she made it subtly difficult for him while Captain Titanic held his ground. He was trying to gauge whether threats or reason would work better on Polzin when suddenly his gun seemed to fall to pieces. For a moment no one moved. Captain Titanic stared at the gun, dumbfounded. What in the world had just happened? Then, like water bursting through a dam, he realized that didn’t matter for the moment.

He leapt into action, flying straight at Polzin and his hostage. Weaponless and startled, Polzin still had a good grip on the girl, but he released her and screamed as Captain Titanic got a grip on him, squeezing his arm until the bones were close to breaking under his gauntleted hand. Captain Titanic jerked Polzin away from his hostage and straight up into the air, dangling him by the one arm. The sirens were closer now, probably at the club. He would need to return Polzin there. All in good time though, first there were a few matters to clear up. “Are you all right, Miss?” He asked the young woman, genuinely concerned.

Kimiko knelt on the street stunned as she looked up at the Mafia man dangling in the air from Captain Titanic’s grip. She nodded at the dynamic superhero above her. “I…I think so.” She found it hard to meet the man’s gaze in her shyness. Her voice could barely be heard because she whispered. “Y-Yes.” She shot a glance up to Captain Titanic then away immediately. “I think…yes….” She fidgeted. Uncomfortable under his intense gaze. She didn’t want him to remember her. Not ever. She was a ghost, had to be. It was how she did things.

Kimiko tottered to her feet and leaned against the cab. “Yes. Please go…I’m….yes I’m fine.” She still tried to hide her face from him where she could.

Polzin was alternating between whimpering and snarling what Captain Titanic could only imagine were very nasty things in Russian. He even threw in a few insults in English that caused Captain Titanic to shake him a bit. It wasn’t polite to say such things in front of a lady, especially one whose life Polzin had just threatened. “I need you to stay right here, ma’am,” he requested politely. “The police will need to ask you a few questions so we can help put this scum in prison for a very long time.” He flashed her a bright, reassuring smile, the kind he always flashed when they wanted to put his picture in the paper.

“I’ll be back in just one minute and I can escort there.” With one final smile he got a firmer grip on Polzin and flew back up, passing above the height of the buildings before crossing back down to the Magic Garden. The strip club was now swarming with police cars and a pair of ambulances and all of their personnel. There were a few gasps as Captain Titanic descended. He smiled and held Polzin out to a pair of police officers. “You were probably looking for this,” he said. “Not only were these men all involved in an illegal weapons sale, the remnants of which you will find inside, this man in particular held a young woman hostage with a firearm.” He hovered back upward. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment I’ll be right back with the young woman in question.”

While Captain Titanic streaked off into the sky with his prey. Kimiko threw open the door of the cab, snatched out her suitcase, laptop bag and Gandalf. Running on weak legs, Kimiko closed in on the apartment she’d planned on residing in for the next 30 days. Her mind raced as she covered the distance, fearing the super hero would return before she could hide herself away once more. Should I move on? Can I find something so fast? She ducked into the covered doorway to the apartment and pressed against the hallway, cathing her breath. She hated attention. She was a ghost. She was invisible. Oh gods….he scared the shit out of her.
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Re: We Are One IC

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