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[indent][b][u]January 1st, 08:40 PM
Back Alley, Caernarvon District, Bludhaven, NJ.[/u][/b][/indent]

It was the same old song and dance Jimmy Lau had been at for just shy of two years now; making his twice-weekly trek back to that same old alley, the frame of his dad's old alice pack clicking with every step along the way. Yeah, that'd be about right— Two years since that (very literal) ogre, [i]Bloodtooth,[/i] and his goons showed up at his dad's restaurant one night right at the start of February looking to [i]gently coax[/i] them all into giving their fair share for [i]'The Development of the Neighbourhood.'[/i] Two years since his old man, having not been prone to taking a lick o' shit from [i]anybody[/i] in true ranger fashion, giant or not, responded by promptly knocking down and making a cool half-dozen of 'em regret a whole lotta shit via the end of his bowie knife when they didn't respond well to the words 'Fuck off'. Before the big green asshole managed to grab a hold of him and rip his fucking arm out of it's socket, before slapping his big sister around a bit and carting the girl off over his shoulder as a trophy. Two years since he was running for his life, scared absolutely [i]shitless[/i] with the big bastard's goons hot on his heels.

...And two years since they chased him down this particular alley and ran into a fiery eyed [i]nightmare.[/i] One who was [i]very unhappy to see them.[/i]

Now, he didn't see much. Not in the dark, and [i]certainly[/i] not while hiding behind a dumpster, hands over his ears to drown out the gunfire and all the panicked [i]screaming[/i] and trying his level best not to piss himself on the off-chance that whatever the hell was in that alley with them would smell it. But what he [i]did[/i] see, once all the screaming and sheer noise abruptly came to a stop, was the masked figure that approached him soon afterward, crouched down beside him even as he flinched away, put a hand on his shoulder and asked, in some deeply mechanical facsimile of a man's voice—

[color=orangered][i][b]"Are you alright?"[/b][/i][/color] 

It was at that moment that Jimmy realized he had just met The Hound. Not some horrifying monster or vengeful demon sent to punish the wicked those kooky little urban myths made him out to be; but some guy in a mask who'd just saved his life. 

To be fair, though, he wasn't exactly sure [i]what[/i] expect when it came to the Bludhaven Bogeyman.

[i]...Well, someone a little [b]taller,[/b] maybe.[/i]

They talked for a bit... or, it'd be more accurate to say the masked vigilante patiently asked him questions while he bawled his fucking eyes out, before he was led to the front door of a coven of White Witches (the concept of which was met by yet more terrified bawling which was only finally halted by a firm smack up the back of the head and a curt [color=orangered][i]"They're good people. [b]Stop that."[/b][/i][/color]) and the man simply vanished when he wasn't looking.

Two hours later, he was clinging to his sister like she was the most precious thing on the face of the whole fucking world while those white witches he so feared were in the next room putting his dad's arm back where it was supposed to be. 

And though the local outlets never spoke an ounce of it, word-of-mouth over the next few days said that Bloodtooth had been found embedded a foot into the street, ass-first, having apparently been defenestrated from fourteen stories up. Very much alive, but doomed to never walk again without the aid of the kind of healing magics the super-max prison he was headed to was definitely [i]not[/i] going to be giving him.  

And so it was, that Jimmy Lau had been doing this same old song and dance for just shy of two years now; making his twice-weekly trek back to that same old alley, the frame of his dad's old alice pack clicking with every step along the way to change the batteries in the little wall-sticking lamp they'd got at a hardware store fastened above the mural of a dog's head his sister had painted on the wall in honour of the man they'd met that night. Taking it in shifts with his dad and the girlfriend he'd met at that coven back then to pick up any stray bits of trash around the place and to make sure that it, and the smattering of thank yous, well-wishes and even a few runes for luck scratched and painted around it from those who'd learned of this place and had such nights like theirs would never be obscured in the dark.   
           
[i]'Least we can do, pal.'[/i] 

He thought with a tiny smirk as he pulled off his pack to get to work.

Because while the rest of the world could laugh it's ass off at the very concept of such a thing existing in this city, in this tiny corner of it, at least...

...There was [b]hope.[/b]

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[indent][b][u]January 1st, 8:45 PM
Factory Floor, Smithwick Textiles, Bludhaven, NJ.[/u][/b][/indent] 

[color=darkslateblue]"Oh, shit, that's right! Yer still [i]new here, [b]ain't cha?"[/b][/i][/color] Sasha managed, finally reigning in her raucous laughter enough to regain her composure [color=darkslateblue]"Ya haven't heard that one yet!"[/color]

"By all means, [i]enlighten me."[/i] The Sardinian deadpanned in response. Somewhere between 'Curious' and 'Just about done with this shit'.

...The little half-snort he got in response severely slid that scale towards the latter. The continued [i]shrieking[/i] through the radio wasn't helping things either. 

[color=darkslateblue]"Oh, just... some kinda [i]infernal creature spawned from the depths of hell itself to punish the wicked.[/i] If local legend is to be believed."[/color] Answered Jericho, with just a [i]bit[/i] of a shit-eating grin and a little shrug, too. [color=darkslateblue]"Y'know, ravenous, utterly ruthless, inescapable. That kinda thing. Nothing yer powdered and pampered Tim Burton fever-fuckfest-spawned ass can't handle, I'm sure."[/color]    

Sasha had never actually bought into any of that crap, truth be told. And in her mind, this was, best case, either that power-armoured jackass from the other side of the Avalon coming down off their high pedestal to bother to give a shit about the city that was about a fifteen-minute's drive over a bridge from their own, or worst case, some [i]actual maneating[/i] species of monster and/or demon that would soon kill them all anyhow.

The latter, most likely. This was [i]Bludhaven[/i] after all.  

No, the only thing she could really be sure of in this particular moment was the fact that she was tied to a chair by some creepy old man who was in the habit of waving a magic friggin' cleaver in her face. And honestly, with her son in captivity and thing's looking increasingly like she was about to become the next meal of this outsourced Hannibal Lecter, she was more than happy to have something stupid going on in the background she could use to put the fucker's attention off of her and hopefully buy her some time and figure a way out of this. [b]Preferably [i]before[/i] the afore-mentioned 'something stupid' made it's way to her and put her in it's stomach.[/b] 

Fuck this factory, fuck these guys and fuck [i]this guy in particular. [b]Her boy needed her.[/b][/i]

For his part, that guy in particular just [i]scoffed.[/i]

"A [i]demon who punishes the wicked?[/i] I knew people from this city had a problem with education, but I did not think you were [i]that[/i] ignorant."

If Jericho took offense to that, she made a point of not showing it; She had shit to do after all, like finally taking a few experimental tugs at the rope binding her wrists to the back of this chair now that there wasn't anyone else around who might see her do so.

[color=darkslateblue][i]'Silk. 'Course this fucker'd go for the weird bondage shit.'[/i][/color]

[color=darkslateblue]"Well, if ya don't believe me, you could always ask your friends about the police reports they had to file about an ogre taking a fourteen story swan-dive a while back."[/color] Jericho responded evenly now and leaning forward slightly, eliciting a long and loud [i]'Creeeeak!'[/i] from her seat. [color=darkslateblue]"Oh wait, [i]you can't.[/i] Because he's on [i]every single channel ruining their collective shit."[/i][/color] 

Despite the abruptness of her tone, Sasha was grinning on the inside— The loud protests of her involuntary throne, both in her ears, barely heard over the pure pandemonium coming in over Amadeo's walkie-talkie and felt through her arse via the wood beneath it as she subtly shifted from side to side told her many things she wanted to hear about it... Namely that it was an old, termite-ridden piece of shit they probably pulled out of an old storeroom somewhere in here where it'd most likely been sitting since the seventies.    

Even if she couldn't break the rope, she could sure as shit break this chair if she got a minute of not being menaced by a big magic cleaver.

She wasn't exactly a dainty flower of a woman, by any means.

[color=darkslateblue]"And you've got, what, twenty-something channels on that fucking thing? Little uncanny, innit?"[/color]

Now, her only real problem was getting this whackjob to turn his eyes from her and give her an opening. And [i]that[/i] there would be the tricky part, as, with few exceptions, he'd been pretty dead set on staring at her with that big creepy smile of his the whole goddamn time they were here— Something she could still see [i]quite[/i] clearly, even with the power out, those stormclouds outside blocking out the moonlight and the only real source of light in here being the red glow of the big fuck-off knife he fully intended to carve her up with. 

Well, not right now, though. Now he just looked [i]pissed.[/i]

"I'm getting [i]awfully tired[/i] of your incessant rambling, Miss Jericho." The Sardinian said lowly and outright [i]murderously[/i] as he did the exact opposite of what the bound cop needed him to do and stepped [i]forward,[/i] raising that knife of his again. "I only [i]barely[/i] tolerated your piddling attempts at wit earlier, and now I simply [i]don't have the time.[/i] So if you do not mind, I think it is about time for us to part ways."

[color=darkslateblue][i]'Well, shit...'[/i][/color]

Okay, now she [i]really[/i] needed to think fast. And God help her, in that moment she was [i]trying,[/i] but coming up rather alarmingly blank— More insults clearly weren't gonna do the job, and trying to [i]talk down[/i] with a cleaver-armed psychopath sounded like it'd go about as well as fucking in the name of virginity. And if this guy was even [i]half[/i] as quick on his feet as he was apparently strong, if she even [i]tried[/i] what she wanted to do, she'd get a mouthful of cleaver before she even hit the damn ground. 

The detective didn't want to admit it, but shit was starting to look a little grim... and, now that she thought about it, [i]quiet.[/i]

...The hell happened to all that screaming, anyway?

Her answer came in the form of a knife suddenly plunking itself directly into the back of Amadeo's shoulder. Eliciting a chorus of screaming and, for the first time that night, [i]swearing[/i] as he whirled around on his heels looking for whoever threw that. And perhaps more importantly, [i]not at her.[/i] 

[color=darkslateblue][i]'That'll do.'[/i][/color]

Without further prompting or thought, she summoned up all the strength she had left in her beaten body to heave her and that shitty old chair she was in into the air to land on her side. Grinning ear-to-ear and cheering in her own head as the damn thing came apart. Something that didn't go unnoticed by the Sardinian who quickly turned on her again, blade raised and bloody murder in his eyes... just as the familiar 'clack!' and reeling of what she registered as one of those early grapple launchers some of the rangers were running around with during the war rang in her ears. 

And something vaguely [i]human-shaped, with glowing orange eyes[/i] slammed into the crazed old man's back, knocking him over her and out of her view.

Not that she was complaining about that, not in the [i]least.[/i] Even as she growled and hissed out every profane thing that she could squeeze out of her teeth while trying to work her bound wrists under her feet in an impressive act of gymnastics that probably would've been a lot easier without a bunch of cracked ribs and a shattered orbital bone. She wasn't sure what it said about her that she actually had an easier time focusing over all that scuffle and insanity going on just out of view, but she didn't really have the time to dwell on that right now. 

The cleaver that whizzed by her head when she finally managed to get her hands to her front and sat upright, however. That gave her a moment of pause. Even moreso when it stopped in the middle of the air just passed her and went whipping back the way it came... Something that, despite everything she'd been through that night, still put a dumbfounded look on her face as her one good eye followed it all the way back to the fight she could only barely make out in the dark; looking more like one red streak trying really, [i]really[/i] hard to catch a pair of floating orange orbs in this light. So much so that it was perfectly willing carve straight through anything that got in his way, old machinery, concrete pillars, a wall or two when it was doing it's boomerang impression again. The works.

It was at that moment that Sasha realized she [i]just[/i] might've been in way over her head with this shit.   

So caught up in all the pure pandemonium was she, in fact, that she actually had to [i]remind[/i] herself that she should be running away now.

[color=darkslateblue]"Okay Sasha..."[/color] She growled, willing with all her might to peel her gaze from the demented lightshow before her and actually get to the all important business of [i][b]getting the fuck out of dodge.[/b][/i] [color=darkslateblue]"Time to go... [b]time to go..."[/b][/color] 

She heaved her battered body off the ground and, to her credit, made it about two steps... before falling back down on her face with a muffled chorus of swearing. With all the adrenaline that'd been coursing through her that night, it was only when her chin smacked off the concrete floor that she fully registered just how badly these people had fucked her up.

She didn't have much time to ponder that, however, as a blood-curdling scream suddenly echoed off the walls of the factory floor... followed by something that sounded like an odd combination of meaty and metallic landing at a roll and coming to a stop by her head... followed by a loud 'CLANG!' and then, nothing.

[color=orangered]"Hooooly [i]fuck[/i] did that suck."[/color] A low, modulated voice came from behind her, followed by what she recognized as the clicking of handcuffs and the cadence of boots on approach. [color=orangered]"How the [i]fuck[/i] does a guy that old [i]move like that?."[/i][/color]

And like some terrible cliche, the clouds outside finally parted just enough for the light of the full moon to shine in through the big windows of the old textile mill allowing her to finally see what the hell was going on. 

...Starting with the severed finger, bearing a rune-encrusted iron ring laying on the ground right in front of her goddamn face.

[color=darkslateblue]"...The [i]fuck?"[/i][/color] Came her immediate, gut reaction as she instinctively lurched herself away from the disembodied digit.

[color=orangered]"Yeah, sorry about that."[/color] Came that voice again, sounding almost [i]casual,[/i] despite it's mechanical growl. [color=orangered][i]"Scartech—[/i] Let him boomerang his big fuck off cleaver back every time he threw it, so I had to get rid of it."[/color] 

Rolling over onto her back, Sasha cast her one good eye back in the direction that had come from, finding a black-clad, mask-wearing figure in a flakvest approaching her with a knife in one hand, and what looked like a lead pipe he was lazily dropping on the floor with the other.          

Her gaze fell upon the symbol painted onto his chest, broken only by singular horizontal cut clearly left by his previous opponent. And then rose to his eyes. 

It took a solid half-minute for her brain to break out of it's incredulous haze to connect the dots. 

[color=darkslateblue]"Holy [i]shit,[/i] you're [i][b]real...?"[/b][/i][/color]

To her surprise, that actually got a little snort out of her apparent saviour as he knelt down to start cutting the bonds at her wrists with his knife.

[color=orangered]"Yeah, I get that a lot."[/color]

Which was just as well, because the woman was clearly too stunned in that moment to even [i]try[/i] to supress the exact next thing that came to her mind.

[color=darkslateblue]"...I thought you'd be taller."[/color]

[color=orangered]"That one too."[/color]