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T H E M A V E R I C K S
| ◼ G M: Hillan, Lord Wraith & Stein | ◼ G E N R E: Superhuman, Near-Future, Cyberpunk, Noir, Slice of Life | ◼ T Y P E: Collaborative Sandbox with Linear Elements |
[IC] The Mavericks (A Threeway between Hillan, Lord Wraith and Stein)
- Superhero
- Modern
- 1x1
- 18+
- Slice of Life
- Small Group
- GM Lord Wraith Co-GM Stein Co-GM Hillan
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Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat
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.....................................................  | The vibration of his phone against the quartz countertop sent a nail through his skull and brought Chuck back to the present as jolted upright. The hot coffee sloshed against the rim of the mug, spilling over and burning his hand. Stumbling forward, Chuck shook his hand, the burn no more than a nuisance but the sudden movement quickly reminded Chuck of the hairline fracture running along his right radius. With a guttural growl, the man clenched his forearm against his chest before he continued to hobble towards the buzzing device. Arriving too late to pick up the call, Chuck watched as it lit up with yet another voicemail from Bryce. That was five now by his count. He knew he was letting their start-up down, but he wasn't any good to them in this mood and not today of all days. |
| "Thanks," He answered, accepting the hand as he stood up, "Sorry about that, I must have tripped," He lied only for Sam to laugh. "I'm pretty sure I saw Bryce shove you, he's kind of obtuse sometimes isn't he?" "He's really not that bad of a guy, he just thinks he's funny," Chuck replied, looking over his shoulder to shoot Bryce a glare while the other teenager responded with a quick thumbs up. "I'm heading to the computer lab if you wanted to walk me to class," Sam smiled as Chuck nodded a bit too eagerly. | .....................................................  ... |
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Hillan I'm a writer - Lying's what we do.
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Seven & a Half
The monitor beeped, and with it a graph sprang to life, a black and white image of something moving.
tu-tump
tu-tump
tu-tump
Those three little sounds making a graph on the screen in front of his eyes made Thomas come alive in a way he never had before. His body reacted in a way different than ever before. Each beat climbed its way to its peak before it fell, leaving room for the next. It made him feel excited, yet scared. He felt a tear well up in his eye as he clutched Tiffany's hand, leaning down to kiss it as the ultrasound device was moved across his wife's exposed belly. He wasn't sure how to handle this kind of challenge in front of him, and he knew there would be challenges, he just didn't know how monumental they would become.
"It's a boy," Tiffany told him with a smile
For seven and a half months they had prepared for it. It wasn't the first ultrasound they had made. But this was the first one that felt so monumental.
"What do we do if the kid is... Special. Like you?" The auburn-haired woman had asked him with a cocktail of emotions in her voice. She was holding a paper from the hospital, conclusive evidence of what they had both known for weeks.
He had dreaded this question since the day the two of them met. Yet he wasn't ready for it, like an uppercut from someone with a weak hook. He had prepared himself for it his entire adult life. There was no maneuver to deploy, no tactic clever enough, and no defense strong enough to create a guard for this kind of emotional struggle. He was unarmored and disarmed.
He rocked back and forth on his heels, hand holding his chin and the other hand fidgeting with the ring on his calloused hand. Tiffany couldn't help but notice and offer a soft smile at the stains on her husband's jeans, motor oil from the car in the garage. Something about it felt nice, normal even. Normalcy she had desperately craved for so long, normalcy she had never known, after all, how could she when she walked in on this same man picking out buckshot from his shoulder like it was corn from his teeth more times than she could count?
"I don't... Know? I think." He was baffled, confused, and unsure. While his intent was on the present, his thoughts were occupied by the past.
"C'Mon Jason, duck!" The man shouted, the wooden stick swinging at the 13-year-old boy's face, who avoided it narrowly with a step to the side, unable to avoid the follow-up strike that swept his legs, landing him on his ass. The man turned around and pulled the same motion onto his oldest son, who had just turned 15. Thomas took a step forward, dodging downwards, the stick swung over him, raising his leg he avoided the stick until it was perfectly lined up under his foot, where he could apply the full weight of his body onto it, pushing it to the ground. As he did, his father, Bruce was surprised. Thomas sprung up and delivered a swift punch to his father's jaw, who stumbled backward before backhanding his son in retaliation.
"We're supposed to be practicing defense today, Thomas."
"And I saw a crack in yours." He responded with a chipper tone that the look in his father's eyes immediately changed.
"You don't let your guard down like that after striking, it allows the opponent to retaliate. That's enough for today." Bruce put away the mahogany staff as his youngest son walked over to him, having picked himself off of the floor.
"You okay Dad?" Jason asked and Bruce nodded.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" He responded and Jason nodded.
The younger of the brothers had wanted to join in on the little sessions out in the make-shift dojo in the barn for years, but it wasn't till a few months ago Bruce had let him. And with Jason joining, the sessions without him had gotten more and more grueling. Bruce was wearing a long-sleeved shirt to cover up the cuts from his and Thomas's practice session with knives from the other day. Thomas was free to wear a T-shirt, his wounds while they had outnumbered Bruces twenty-to-one had all healed.
"Sorry sir, I'll do better next time." The oldest son had apologized and Bruce stoically nodded.
"You better. No one else is gonna hold back on you. Out there every mistake you make can cost someone their life."
"We're supposed to be practicing defense today, Thomas."
"And I saw a crack in yours." He responded with a chipper tone that the look in his father's eyes immediately changed.
"You don't let your guard down like that after striking, it allows the opponent to retaliate. That's enough for today." Bruce put away the mahogany staff as his youngest son walked over to him, having picked himself off of the floor.
"You okay Dad?" Jason asked and Bruce nodded.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" He responded and Jason nodded.
The younger of the brothers had wanted to join in on the little sessions out in the make-shift dojo in the barn for years, but it wasn't till a few months ago Bruce had let him. And with Jason joining, the sessions without him had gotten more and more grueling. Bruce was wearing a long-sleeved shirt to cover up the cuts from his and Thomas's practice session with knives from the other day. Thomas was free to wear a T-shirt, his wounds while they had outnumbered Bruces twenty-to-one had all healed.
"Sorry sir, I'll do better next time." The oldest son had apologized and Bruce stoically nodded.
"You better. No one else is gonna hold back on you. Out there every mistake you make can cost someone their life."
He knew that whatever happened, he wouldn't raise his boy as his father raised him. He wanted to protect his child from knowing the truth about what he did, to keep them away from that life. But perhaps that line of thinking was the easy answer, after all, while the circumstances were different Bruce tried for a long time to hide his past from his sons. The far harsher truth was that Thomas didn't want his son to grow up to be just like him.
He could still remember the cold touch of the rain on the bare skin of his hand. How he felt his friends' fingers dig into his forearm till it bled. The shouting, the alarms. The taste of iron and the smell of smoke. How the broken cowl betrayed the fear in the blue eyes at his mercy. He was fighting Thomas' grip around his throat, blood spat from his mouth as he begged his friend to snap out of it.
Thomas could remember how angry he felt, how instinctually he knew exactly how much pressure he had to put onto Chuck's throat to snap his windpipe. 7 and a half pounds of pressure more than he currently was. That was all it would take to put him out of this misery. A part of him felt like he had killed men with his own bare hands like this a million times before, his instinct was pure destruction. Yet another instinct had taken control, one far more sinister. He didn't push harder, he wanted his friend to suffer. He didn't know why he wanted it, but god damn did he want it.
They peered out through the hole the two had made of the south wall on the 18th floor off of the building they once had called home. Through the haze of anger and pure bloodlust, he managed to make one single rational action. In an act of mercy, Thomas let go, watching Illadvised plummet to his doom in the stormy New Lilith night.
Thomas could remember how angry he felt, how instinctually he knew exactly how much pressure he had to put onto Chuck's throat to snap his windpipe. 7 and a half pounds of pressure more than he currently was. That was all it would take to put him out of this misery. A part of him felt like he had killed men with his own bare hands like this a million times before, his instinct was pure destruction. Yet another instinct had taken control, one far more sinister. He didn't push harder, he wanted his friend to suffer. He didn't know why he wanted it, but god damn did he want it.
They peered out through the hole the two had made of the south wall on the 18th floor off of the building they once had called home. Through the haze of anger and pure bloodlust, he managed to make one single rational action. In an act of mercy, Thomas let go, watching Illadvised plummet to his doom in the stormy New Lilith night.
While he had many times come to resent his adoptive father for the way he tempered him into less of a boy and more of a soldier, he couldn't help but realize that without his fathers many, many lessons it would've been far easier for him to give in to that temptation he had felt that night, and many times since. Truth was that he wanted to give his son the chance to become different than himself. And ultimately, that was his answer to the question his wife had laid out in the room that warm Tuesday night.
"I want to give him the chance to be different." He stated and Tiffany's eyes lit up.
"Different how?"
"He should have a different life than I did. Unlike my people before me. A better one." The alien spoke, and perhaps in that wish for a better life for his children, he could feel truly human.
This wish for a better life was ironically what pushed him away from his wife and unborn child for 7 weeks and four days, traveling to places he had known existed but never dared to visit.
In an underwater cavern off of the coast of Norway he had always known it was here yet never entered its halls. A library filled with secrets. Entering that well of knowledge would solidify one thing for him; it would never matter what mask he wore or what the press would decide to call him. He would never be one of them. He would never be human. He decided that for his child he was willing to accept that so that his baby would not have to walk the path alone as he had.
His hell on earth. His celestial home. The remnants of the ship his escape pod that a young couple had found in a lake in America's mid-west had been sent from. Bruce's closest translation of the data from the spacecraft had only yielded one name for the craft that had crashed on Norway's coast.
Fifteen Divided By Two.
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The smell of vomit quickly overwhelmed the stale air of the boiler room beneath the apartment building the Mavericks had called home since uniting against the criminal underworld of New Lilith. Breathing heavy, Chuck braced him against a nearby pipe, the cool metal was soothing against his forehead while his stomach fought the urge not to produce a second expulsion of bile. Beside him, Makarios stood silently, the footage having left the other Maverick rendered speechless. From his other side, Chuck felt Thomas radiating with anger, the larger man's hands balled into fists as he stood, burning eyes locked on the static image. The monitors in front of three young men sat paused on the final frame of the video message.
The displayed picture sat frozen as it was magnified across the wall of linked screens Chuck used to coordinate the team and strategize before patrols. But tonight, the screens showed their now former teammate, Gecko; his limp body leaned forward in a wooden chair, slumped lifelessly against the restraints around his wrists and ankles. Behind him stood the hulk of a man known as the Behemoth, his hands having only just released Nathan's head from between them. The head that now sat twisted at an unnatural angle.
"They're going to regret this," Chuck began to mutter as the colour returned to his cheeks. "Locke is going to pay for all the blood on his hands, I don't know how they got a hold of Gecko but we're not going to let our friend go into that dark night without giving his murderers hell."
Pushing off the pipe he had been using to hold himself up, Chuck allowed grim resolve to replace horror as the Maverick leader began to bark orders to his two closest confidants.
"Makarios, rally the others, I don't care if they're in the middle of patrol, get them back here now." Turning towards Angel, Chuck opened his mouth to speak but realized it was wasted breath. Thomas had succumbed to his grief and his rage. Gecko had been like another brother to Thomas and often Thomas had mentioned how much Nathan reminded him of Jason.
Turning the monitors back to their usual live feeds, Chuck watched Angel cut across the sky heading towards the source of the video message. They had already lost one teammate tonight, he could only hope Angel's decision wasn't about to cost them another.
Lightning lit up the New Lilith skyline illuminating the hooded figure moving swiftly across the city's rooftops through the downpour. The scalloped cape billowed about behind him as IllAdvised moved like a ghoul through the night. Stopping atop St. Hillian's Cathedral, he leered about the streets below from atop one of the old church's numerous gargoyles. New Lilith had changed since Locke's fall from his unholy throne. The way the city breathed was more laboured, not used to functioning without a vice grip around her throat. Without Locke's iron fist guiding the city's rudder, it was in turmoil.
But turmoil bred conflict and right now, conflict was all IllAdvised had to thrive on.
Sirens were a constant sound in New Lilith, but they were scarcely headed toward where they were actually needed. More often than not, you followed the sirens to get away from whatever lawbreaking was being carried out. Which meant the quietest, darkest corners of New Lilith were where crime started and grew until it was all-consuming.
Retracting the cape, IllAdvised lept from his perch, bat-like wings extending from either side of his armour carrying the vigilante across the alleys below. The coordinates sent to his phone had been for a central part of town. Using a combination of grapple and gliding, IllAdvised traversed the eccentric architecture that made up his home. From Art Deco to Victorian, from Colonial to Neo-Gothic, the skyline was a smorgasbord comprised of an architectural pissing contest. Every era had left a distinctive thumbprint upon the city, some for the better and some better left forgotten.
Goldstein Family Trusts and Funds was one such building. A tower imitation of the famed acropolis of Greece, its walls were stained with colonial blood masquerading as faded limestone. Landing on the adjacent rooftop, IllAdvised surveyed the front of the building. Subtly was rarely actually required in New Lilith when neither the cops nor Locke were going to retaliate. With H.E.L.P. having necessitated the Mavericks going their own ways, even the pettiest of crooks had grown bolder.
"I counted five inside," A feminine voice broke the constant din of the pouring rain. IllAdvised only nodded in response, the pooled rain falling from atop his hood, crashing onto the ledge beneath his feet. Turning his head, the horrific visage beneath the hood, locked gazes with his informant.
"Route them to me," He ordered, the mask's voice modulator turning it into a throaty growl.
"The ol' put the fear of God in them, then?"
Beneath the mask, Chuck couldn't help but allow himself a small smile.
"There are no gods in New Lilith," He retorted while standing. "There's only a Demon."
The displayed picture sat frozen as it was magnified across the wall of linked screens Chuck used to coordinate the team and strategize before patrols. But tonight, the screens showed their now former teammate, Gecko; his limp body leaned forward in a wooden chair, slumped lifelessly against the restraints around his wrists and ankles. Behind him stood the hulk of a man known as the Behemoth, his hands having only just released Nathan's head from between them. The head that now sat twisted at an unnatural angle.
"They're going to regret this," Chuck began to mutter as the colour returned to his cheeks. "Locke is going to pay for all the blood on his hands, I don't know how they got a hold of Gecko but we're not going to let our friend go into that dark night without giving his murderers hell."
Pushing off the pipe he had been using to hold himself up, Chuck allowed grim resolve to replace horror as the Maverick leader began to bark orders to his two closest confidants.
"Makarios, rally the others, I don't care if they're in the middle of patrol, get them back here now." Turning towards Angel, Chuck opened his mouth to speak but realized it was wasted breath. Thomas had succumbed to his grief and his rage. Gecko had been like another brother to Thomas and often Thomas had mentioned how much Nathan reminded him of Jason.
Turning the monitors back to their usual live feeds, Chuck watched Angel cut across the sky heading towards the source of the video message. They had already lost one teammate tonight, he could only hope Angel's decision wasn't about to cost them another.
Lightning lit up the New Lilith skyline illuminating the hooded figure moving swiftly across the city's rooftops through the downpour. The scalloped cape billowed about behind him as IllAdvised moved like a ghoul through the night. Stopping atop St. Hillian's Cathedral, he leered about the streets below from atop one of the old church's numerous gargoyles. New Lilith had changed since Locke's fall from his unholy throne. The way the city breathed was more laboured, not used to functioning without a vice grip around her throat. Without Locke's iron fist guiding the city's rudder, it was in turmoil.
But turmoil bred conflict and right now, conflict was all IllAdvised had to thrive on.
Sirens were a constant sound in New Lilith, but they were scarcely headed toward where they were actually needed. More often than not, you followed the sirens to get away from whatever lawbreaking was being carried out. Which meant the quietest, darkest corners of New Lilith were where crime started and grew until it was all-consuming.
Retracting the cape, IllAdvised lept from his perch, bat-like wings extending from either side of his armour carrying the vigilante across the alleys below. The coordinates sent to his phone had been for a central part of town. Using a combination of grapple and gliding, IllAdvised traversed the eccentric architecture that made up his home. From Art Deco to Victorian, from Colonial to Neo-Gothic, the skyline was a smorgasbord comprised of an architectural pissing contest. Every era had left a distinctive thumbprint upon the city, some for the better and some better left forgotten.
Goldstein Family Trusts and Funds was one such building. A tower imitation of the famed acropolis of Greece, its walls were stained with colonial blood masquerading as faded limestone. Landing on the adjacent rooftop, IllAdvised surveyed the front of the building. Subtly was rarely actually required in New Lilith when neither the cops nor Locke were going to retaliate. With H.E.L.P. having necessitated the Mavericks going their own ways, even the pettiest of crooks had grown bolder.
"I counted five inside," A feminine voice broke the constant din of the pouring rain. IllAdvised only nodded in response, the pooled rain falling from atop his hood, crashing onto the ledge beneath his feet. Turning his head, the horrific visage beneath the hood, locked gazes with his informant.
"Route them to me," He ordered, the mask's voice modulator turning it into a throaty growl.
"The ol' put the fear of God in them, then?"
Beneath the mask, Chuck couldn't help but allow himself a small smile.
"There are no gods in New Lilith," He retorted while standing. "There's only a Demon."
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"Ain't you worried someone'll come?"
The nasally voice sliced through the thick fog of silence that hung over the main foyer of Goldstein Family Trusts and Funds. The whiny pitch seemed to bounce between each of the columns supporting the vaulted, cathedral-like ceiling. It caused a wince among the small group of individuals. Each individual adorned with an animal mask, an attempt at an intimidating motif.
“Corpo-capes ain’t worried about shit like this,” Another voice replied, coming from behind a wolf-like mask that concealed the identity of the athletic framed man.
"They'd sooner let the bank's insurance sort this out than they'd risk us killing a couple o'hostages in a confrontation." Wolf laughed before continuing, "And we all know, the Bull over there is on 'Lilith's PD's payroll, so they ain't showing up tonight either."
Glass suddenly rained down on the marble floors of the bank. Falling freely from nearly the full height of the pitched ceiling, IllAdvised braced for the impact with the hard floor. Pneumatic augmentations built into his armour let out a sharp hiss, the pistons decompressing upon the vigilante's landing. The sound of the mechanical components was lost to the cracking of the once glossy floor beneath his boots. Enveloped in the long black scalloped cape, IllAdvised looked like every incarnation of death poised to rain hell down on the Grimm Gang.
"Y-y-you said Corpo-Capes ain't worried 'bout this shit!" The Fox masked individual cried to the Wolf mask.
Feral landed softly beside IllAdvised, in a crouched position. Compared to the younger vigilante, Feral barely made a noise. Feral leaned to one foot and checked his claws for dirt clearly not deterred by IllAdvsied's lack of acknowledgement. “Lemme see your moves, akuma.” Feral gave a sweeping gesture to the other set of masked men.
"Those look like a fuckin' corpo-capes to you?" Wolf retorted while motioning towards IllAdvised. "That's fuckin'-"
The words didn't make it from his snout before the end of IllAdvised's three-section staff caught the Wolf across his chin. The reinforced, titanium-alloy sections arced through the air before collapsing back into the former Maverick leader's hand only inches from Feral's face. The elder Maverick didn't even flinch, even leaning slightly forward to whisper.
“Ah yes—wasted movements. Cute,” before smirking and taking a step back to allow Chuck free reign for making his point.
“At the very least, let me join in.” He placed his cowl over his eyes. “Can’t leave a gal all dressed up with no one to stomp, now can you?” He poked Chuck on the shoulder and leaned over. “Besides, maybe you’ll be able to walk away from this one unscathed,” he teased. Though—Chuck’s shift away and pervasive silence told Maki that may have been a touch too soon.
Feral shifted his hands to his hips, “Ah, so it’s like that?”
Behind the dark sockets of the Oni-inspired mask, Chuck ignored Maki's prodding whilst scanning the five gang members spread out in front of him. The one in the wolf mask was on the ground, it wasn't likely that he'd be getting up again. That left the cowardly fox, the bull, the hedgehog and the raven. Based on his cowl's scans of their HZEs count, every one of them was a Hyperhuman.
This was the fight that Chuck had been hungering for.
Beside IllAdvised, Feral rolled his eyes, noting the slight hunch the younger man took. He now knew they were Hypes. “Oh come on—don’t give away how much you want it now. They’ll think you’re easy.”
Maki had smelled their power when the group first saw the Oni-inspired IllAdvised. The scent flooded his nostrils in response to their heightened fight-or-flight sense.
“You missed an opening.”
"Oh, fuck this, fuck this!" The Fox suddenly cried,"I'm out, I didn't sign up to deal with whatever the hell that is."
"It's the Mavericks," The Bull replied calmly before cracking his knuckles. "I was hoping to get this opportunity."
“No—‘Maverick’. Singular. Just the horned one,” Feral waved away the ‘Bull.’ “You’ve still got no opportunity, or chance though.” His eye caught a flicker in the group, and Feral melded into the shadow, like ink returning to its pool of ichor. “I’ll let you tucker yourself out.”
"Ain't just going to sit and wait my turn," The Hedgehog suddenly piped up. Raising an arm, he clearly winced under his mask as small needle-like protrusions punctured through his skin. "I'll turn him into a fuckin' Christmas Tree."
Feral spoke into the comm link, behind the group of thieves, crouching sideways on a pillar. “Get ready for ‘em.”
Suddenly the Raven vanished from sight, causing IllAdvised to hesitate. It left long enough of an opening that the Bull began to charge towards him. The HZEs count on his HUD spiked, whatever the Bull was doing, he was using his abilities. A shower of needles came from IllAdvised's left, penetrating the top layer of his arm but ultimately doing little to actually impede the vigilante.
“Never fully lean into the very first move, it’s usually a feint. Hm. Thought you knew that.”
"Glitch," IllAdvised growled, "Attack pattern Eta."
From where Feral was hanging, a whir suddenly filled his ears as IllAdvised's cape detached from his armour's collar. Flying through the air towards the Hedgehog-masked Hyperhuman, it suddenly expanded before snaring the man and carrying him towards a pillar in the middle of the bank's foyer.
Feral slid down from his inverted position on the pillar, turning to the ensnared man and comm link. “Kinda liked the old Eta better. This one’s just a move. I could have handled Porcupine.” He patted the man on the mask before noting a rustle and launched himself to another pillar. He warned, “Beware the air.”
"Two." IllAdvised snarled before snapping his weapon toward the ground. The sections of his staff came together just in time to vault IllAdvised over the charging Bull. He failed to anticipate, however, the intervention of the Raven.
The female gang member had turned invisible seconds after the Bull and Hedgehog had launched their coordinated attack. Flying through the air, she interrupted IllAdvised's vault, knocking the demonic-looking vigilante against the floor. Hitting the marble hard, IllAdvised groaned as a Feral let out a smart remark.
“And the Raven doth cry, ‘Nevermore!’” Feral chuckled over the comms. He was now leaning against a pillar to IllAdvised’s 9'o clock.
"My turn." He grunted, the Raven's power flowing through him as the Maverick vanished from view.
“Don’t get personal,” Makarios warned the younger Maverick. Turning his HUD to infrared, IllAdvised spun his weapon around, the sections separating again before he swung the staff through the air. Coiling around the Raven's leg, the Demon of New Lilith yanked hard, pulling the Raven from the air and cracking her skull against the once smooth tile.
“Lil’ excessive,” Maki commented. He quelled the nauseous feeling in his stomach.
"TESSA!" The Bull's angered cry echoed across the cathedral ceilings. Turning to face the charging Hype, IllAdvised let out a bored sigh and raised a pointed wrist. Tightening his fist, two prods fired, sinking into the Bull's chest before he lit up with ten thousand volts. Dropping to his knees, IllAdvised crooked his head to the side, before squeezing his hand and zapping the corrupt police officer again.
The Fox-masked man eyed Feral from behind, having muted his presence with his abilities. This one must’ve been coaching the demon-faced guy from the shadows. Which meant he was probably the weaker one. Fox lunged for his attack.
“Necessary?” Feral questioned, he was closer to IllAdvised now.
"Hm?" He leaned forward before taking a quick step to the right and spinning on his heel. The Fox-masked man came down on empty air and the spin from Feral was enough to throw him off balance and he scrambled forward to catch himself.
"Four." IllAdvised snarled. Suddenly, he raised a fist towards his shoulder, the armoured knuckles colliding with the Fox's face, as the other man stumbled towards IllAdvised. Falling to the ground with a final timid squeak, the Fox raised his hands to surrender all while holding his wrists to his broken and bleeding nose.
"Five."
“Congratulations,” Feral told him.
“You took out five—four and a half— Hypes with minimal property damage using some of the worst form I’ve ever seen from you.”
Feral looked at their skyward entrance, “You done pissing? Or should we square up so you can get this out of your system?”
The nasally voice sliced through the thick fog of silence that hung over the main foyer of Goldstein Family Trusts and Funds. The whiny pitch seemed to bounce between each of the columns supporting the vaulted, cathedral-like ceiling. It caused a wince among the small group of individuals. Each individual adorned with an animal mask, an attempt at an intimidating motif.
“Corpo-capes ain’t worried about shit like this,” Another voice replied, coming from behind a wolf-like mask that concealed the identity of the athletic framed man.
"They'd sooner let the bank's insurance sort this out than they'd risk us killing a couple o'hostages in a confrontation." Wolf laughed before continuing, "And we all know, the Bull over there is on 'Lilith's PD's payroll, so they ain't showing up tonight either."
Glass suddenly rained down on the marble floors of the bank. Falling freely from nearly the full height of the pitched ceiling, IllAdvised braced for the impact with the hard floor. Pneumatic augmentations built into his armour let out a sharp hiss, the pistons decompressing upon the vigilante's landing. The sound of the mechanical components was lost to the cracking of the once glossy floor beneath his boots. Enveloped in the long black scalloped cape, IllAdvised looked like every incarnation of death poised to rain hell down on the Grimm Gang.
"Y-y-you said Corpo-Capes ain't worried 'bout this shit!" The Fox masked individual cried to the Wolf mask.
Feral landed softly beside IllAdvised, in a crouched position. Compared to the younger vigilante, Feral barely made a noise. Feral leaned to one foot and checked his claws for dirt clearly not deterred by IllAdvsied's lack of acknowledgement. “Lemme see your moves, akuma.” Feral gave a sweeping gesture to the other set of masked men.
"Those look like a fuckin' corpo-capes to you?" Wolf retorted while motioning towards IllAdvised. "That's fuckin'-"
The words didn't make it from his snout before the end of IllAdvised's three-section staff caught the Wolf across his chin. The reinforced, titanium-alloy sections arced through the air before collapsing back into the former Maverick leader's hand only inches from Feral's face. The elder Maverick didn't even flinch, even leaning slightly forward to whisper.
“Ah yes—wasted movements. Cute,” before smirking and taking a step back to allow Chuck free reign for making his point.
“At the very least, let me join in.” He placed his cowl over his eyes. “Can’t leave a gal all dressed up with no one to stomp, now can you?” He poked Chuck on the shoulder and leaned over. “Besides, maybe you’ll be able to walk away from this one unscathed,” he teased. Though—Chuck’s shift away and pervasive silence told Maki that may have been a touch too soon.
Feral shifted his hands to his hips, “Ah, so it’s like that?”
Behind the dark sockets of the Oni-inspired mask, Chuck ignored Maki's prodding whilst scanning the five gang members spread out in front of him. The one in the wolf mask was on the ground, it wasn't likely that he'd be getting up again. That left the cowardly fox, the bull, the hedgehog and the raven. Based on his cowl's scans of their HZEs count, every one of them was a Hyperhuman.
This was the fight that Chuck had been hungering for.
Beside IllAdvised, Feral rolled his eyes, noting the slight hunch the younger man took. He now knew they were Hypes. “Oh come on—don’t give away how much you want it now. They’ll think you’re easy.”
Maki had smelled their power when the group first saw the Oni-inspired IllAdvised. The scent flooded his nostrils in response to their heightened fight-or-flight sense.
“You missed an opening.”
"Oh, fuck this, fuck this!" The Fox suddenly cried,"I'm out, I didn't sign up to deal with whatever the hell that is."
"It's the Mavericks," The Bull replied calmly before cracking his knuckles. "I was hoping to get this opportunity."
“No—‘Maverick’. Singular. Just the horned one,” Feral waved away the ‘Bull.’ “You’ve still got no opportunity, or chance though.” His eye caught a flicker in the group, and Feral melded into the shadow, like ink returning to its pool of ichor. “I’ll let you tucker yourself out.”
"Ain't just going to sit and wait my turn," The Hedgehog suddenly piped up. Raising an arm, he clearly winced under his mask as small needle-like protrusions punctured through his skin. "I'll turn him into a fuckin' Christmas Tree."
Feral spoke into the comm link, behind the group of thieves, crouching sideways on a pillar. “Get ready for ‘em.”
Suddenly the Raven vanished from sight, causing IllAdvised to hesitate. It left long enough of an opening that the Bull began to charge towards him. The HZEs count on his HUD spiked, whatever the Bull was doing, he was using his abilities. A shower of needles came from IllAdvised's left, penetrating the top layer of his arm but ultimately doing little to actually impede the vigilante.
“Never fully lean into the very first move, it’s usually a feint. Hm. Thought you knew that.”
"Glitch," IllAdvised growled, "Attack pattern Eta."
From where Feral was hanging, a whir suddenly filled his ears as IllAdvised's cape detached from his armour's collar. Flying through the air towards the Hedgehog-masked Hyperhuman, it suddenly expanded before snaring the man and carrying him towards a pillar in the middle of the bank's foyer.
Feral slid down from his inverted position on the pillar, turning to the ensnared man and comm link. “Kinda liked the old Eta better. This one’s just a move. I could have handled Porcupine.” He patted the man on the mask before noting a rustle and launched himself to another pillar. He warned, “Beware the air.”
"Two." IllAdvised snarled before snapping his weapon toward the ground. The sections of his staff came together just in time to vault IllAdvised over the charging Bull. He failed to anticipate, however, the intervention of the Raven.
The female gang member had turned invisible seconds after the Bull and Hedgehog had launched their coordinated attack. Flying through the air, she interrupted IllAdvised's vault, knocking the demonic-looking vigilante against the floor. Hitting the marble hard, IllAdvised groaned as a Feral let out a smart remark.
“And the Raven doth cry, ‘Nevermore!’” Feral chuckled over the comms. He was now leaning against a pillar to IllAdvised’s 9'o clock.
"My turn." He grunted, the Raven's power flowing through him as the Maverick vanished from view.
“Don’t get personal,” Makarios warned the younger Maverick. Turning his HUD to infrared, IllAdvised spun his weapon around, the sections separating again before he swung the staff through the air. Coiling around the Raven's leg, the Demon of New Lilith yanked hard, pulling the Raven from the air and cracking her skull against the once smooth tile.
“Lil’ excessive,” Maki commented. He quelled the nauseous feeling in his stomach.
"TESSA!" The Bull's angered cry echoed across the cathedral ceilings. Turning to face the charging Hype, IllAdvised let out a bored sigh and raised a pointed wrist. Tightening his fist, two prods fired, sinking into the Bull's chest before he lit up with ten thousand volts. Dropping to his knees, IllAdvised crooked his head to the side, before squeezing his hand and zapping the corrupt police officer again.
The Fox-masked man eyed Feral from behind, having muted his presence with his abilities. This one must’ve been coaching the demon-faced guy from the shadows. Which meant he was probably the weaker one. Fox lunged for his attack.
“Necessary?” Feral questioned, he was closer to IllAdvised now.
"Hm?" He leaned forward before taking a quick step to the right and spinning on his heel. The Fox-masked man came down on empty air and the spin from Feral was enough to throw him off balance and he scrambled forward to catch himself.
"Four." IllAdvised snarled. Suddenly, he raised a fist towards his shoulder, the armoured knuckles colliding with the Fox's face, as the other man stumbled towards IllAdvised. Falling to the ground with a final timid squeak, the Fox raised his hands to surrender all while holding his wrists to his broken and bleeding nose.
"Five."
“Congratulations,” Feral told him.
“You took out five—four and a half— Hypes with minimal property damage using some of the worst form I’ve ever seen from you.”
Feral looked at their skyward entrance, “You done pissing? Or should we square up so you can get this out of your system?”
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“Congratulations,” Feral told him.
“You took out five—four and a half— Hypes with minimal property damage using some of the worst form I’ve ever seen from you.”
Feral looked at their skyward entrance, “You done pissing? Or should we square up so you can get this out of your system?”
Chuck knew full well that even with the mask still concealing his face, Makarios could see the glare the former Maverick leader was directing his way. His body was still tense from the fight, his hand tightly wrapped around his weapon as he sized Makarios up. Thomas had always been the strongest physically of the three remaining Mavericks, but that mattered little when one had the speed that Makarios had, let alone his versatility. While Chuck's suit helped to even the odds, it would only delay the inevitable in a one-on-one fight against a man who knew his every move. Even Chuck's unrivalled pragmatism in a room full of Hypes whose powers were his for the borrowing couldn't help him win this fight.
"Another time," IllAdvised growled, sheathing his weapon before recalling his cape. "NLPD will be crawling all over this place in a matter of minutes, they won't hesitate to summon a H.I.T. Squad on us if we're still present." Raising a hand to the side of his cowl, IllAdvised tapped two fingers to his head.
"The situation here is handled. Go home and get out of the rain." He ordered Bliss over the commlink before turning to Makarios again.
"Our turn to leave," IllAdvised stated briskly, grappling upwards to the same opening he had crashed through previously. "Then you can tell me what brought you back to this Hellmouth."
"Another time," IllAdvised growled, sheathing his weapon before recalling his cape. "NLPD will be crawling all over this place in a matter of minutes, they won't hesitate to summon a H.I.T. Squad on us if we're still present." Raising a hand to the side of his cowl, IllAdvised tapped two fingers to his head.
"The situation here is handled. Go home and get out of the rain." He ordered Bliss over the commlink before turning to Makarios again.
"Our turn to leave," IllAdvised stated briskly, grappling upwards to the same opening he had crashed through previously. "Then you can tell me what brought you back to this Hellmouth."
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