[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/vLd6wmB.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][sub]Interacting with [@Cerces22][@MegaOscarPwn][@Utrax][@Lauder][@LordOfTheNight][/sub][/center]

Frederick was unhappy with the situation. This was a [i]hell[/i], for him. Powerful creatures and machines of all various makes and models and purposes and builds. Most of them were significantly more powerful than he, and at least one of them could input direct control over him. The girl with the ice wasn't too troublesome, and the speedster could be managed, but the dark looking human-suit would be more than problematic if its operator thought to push its will hard enough against Freddy's own. 

When the Speedster had left, he had grabbed the stranger by the shirt and chest, pulling them up over his shoulder. The man wasn't unconscious, though his confusion and daze were keeping him largely manageable. Didn't matter. As soon as the man was over the Fisherman's shoulder, the shoulder became bristled in small spines that pierced the clothing and skin gently, before shooting up and out. By the time the stranger even had the ability to consider protesting or reacting to the pain, his central nervous system had been mangled beyond function. The process of pumping air into the man's lungs to mimic panicked breathing while the man's insides were slowly torn apart and reabsorbed into their base chemicals was quick but being done on an insignificant scale. 

Slow, of course, but it was a process still. He ignored the commotion and slowed. 

Since the Speedster was making small talk with the maniacs that ruled the place, he dipped into an alley and lost form for a moment. While obscured in shadow, it consumed the stranger whole. It remained in its natural state for just a moment, letting the broiling surface of eyes and mouths and teeth and claws and protrusions feel around the alleyway. It was calming, for him, to return to his birthed state every so often. 

Once it was done with enjoying its food, a process that in the end took less than twenty seconds, it returned to a more decent state. Frederick chewed his nails as he stepped out of the alleyway. An actual Demon and a [i]pretender[/i] Demon were playing about while a robot and a fast man busied themselves with existing and feeling inferior to their compatriots ([b]respectively[/b]). Great. He wouldn't risk the suspicion of leaving just yet, but he'd be careful. No need to risk throwing his established cover off.

"[color=92278f]Perhaps we should actively consider [i]not[/i] making a show of this and moving on with things. We should really split up and stop congregating in one central area where we're all easily destroyed by something as simple as an orbital laser or a well cast spell calling on a Great Old One or by some high-powered Death Squad beyond even our own instantly destructive abilities and what have you.[/color]" The way he said [i]instantly destructive abilities[/i] was certainly a mocking one. Either he was making fun of himself or making fun of the others. "[color=92278f][i]Hell[/i], one of us is easily defeated by earplugs and basic magical warding. Damn foreigners is what it is. How many of you are actually [i]Americans[/i] in a proper sense anyhow? I hate Ireland. I really do.[/color]" His grumbling drifted into the profuse whinings of someone who knows far too much for their position and understands all too well why their position is a bad one to be stuck in.