[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190701/53b8a0cbe9c18b703e33b3d3cb68c40f.png[/img] [img]https://i.postimg.cc/Qdpj0R8q/houndt.png[/img] [url=https://fontmeme.com/fonts/dirty-headline-font/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190903/498eca35ee85efe45c662849a5747984.png[/img][/url] [img]https://i.postimg.cc/7LpKGgPy/bludportnight2.jpg[/img] [/center] [indent][b][u]January 11th, 7:32 PM Docklands, Bludhaven, NJ.[/u][/b][/indent] [color=orangered]"Well... [i]that[/i] sucked."[/color] The Hound said flatly, exhaustion evident even through the mechanical growl of his voice modulator as he unceremoniously dropped the large, rune-inscribed and just slightly [i]gooey[/i] magitech apparatus in his hand to the ground with a loud 'clunk!' and flopped down on his ass, resting his back against the shipping container with a long groan. [color=orangered]"We've [i]really[/i] gotta stop meeting like this, Detective."[/color] Jericho, for her part, just offered her local costumed weirdo something between a chuckle and a sigh as he sat down next to her, pulling a pack of smokes out of her breast pocket. [color=darkslateblue]"Right? Between the magic cannibal, half the police force trying to murder us and now [i]that—"[/i][/color] She agreed, pointing toward the colossal frame of the blue oni before them, slumped on the ground in a pile, out cold and oblivious to the world, even as the holes in her skull began mending themselves shut with a rhythmic crunching sound. [color=darkslateblue]"Reeeeally starting to think I should'a taken the month off."[/color] A bit of weary laughter escaped the two of them as Sasha lit up her cancer stick. Very nearly dying horribly a couple dozen times in the past week having clearly brought the two past the point of trepidation and straight into a feeling of 'Well, I guess we're doing [i]this[/i] now.'. Constantly dodging death had a funny way of bringing people together, after all. [color=darkslateblue]"So what's with that ugly looking doodad, anyhow?"[/color] The cop asked, thumbing toward the contraption her masked compatriot had so tersely plunked on the ground as she took a drag. [color=orangered]"Some kinda scartech; Far as I can tell it bores little holes into it's host's skull and pumps processed red dust directly into their brain. Saw the same thing on the big red fucker from last week..."[/color] The hero explained, with a tired wave of his hand. [color=orangered]"...Aaaand, apparently if ya rip it out, it puts the big angry oni it's attached too on the ground. Would've liked to have known that [i]last time."[/i][/color] [color=darkslateblue]"Yeah, been meaning to ask about that; how [i]did[/i] you manage to make that big damned block of modern art that's been thawing out in my station's jail the past week?"[/color] [color=orangered]"Magic murder bird."[/color] [color=darkslateblue][b][i]"What?"[/i][/b][/color] [color=orangered]"Nevermind that."[/color] The Hound cut her off with a little wave before she could dig too deeply at that particular landmine. [color=orangered]"The hell were you doing out here anyway?"[/color] Fixing the shorter figure a suspicious glare that wasn't at all hindered by the fact that she only actually [i]had[/i] the one eye to do so with, Sasha nonetheless let the smoke out her lungs and explained. [color=darkslateblue]"Welp, remember what Muller said about The Sardinian showing up in a big damned container ship? I finally had a night where [i]you[/i] weren't around and the whole damned universe wasn't trying to [i]fucking kill me,[/i] so I thought I'd come down and take a look. See if he left anything behind I could get a lead out of."[/color] Said the near-amazon, before pulling the cigarette out of her mouth and waving it in the direction of the massive, blue-skinned woman that had been up until recently trying to murder them. [color=darkslateblue]"Instead I found [i]that[/i] in a container bound for New Orleans— Because [i]fuck my life—[/i] and, well..."[/color] She then motioned to the scene around them, with shipping containers and machinery thrown about the place like children's toys, some of them smashed or in pieces due to the oni's fists. Many of them cut cleanly into halves and thirds due to the pair of massive, magical machetes she'd been swinging around like a fucking lunatic. And a whole lot of them covered in a layer of ice and/or paradoxically also [i]on fire[/i] due to... well, [b][i]a whole bunch of other things that had made their night very exciting.[/i][/b] [color=darkslateblue]"...I think ya know the rest."[/color] To that, the Hound could only respond with a quiet nod and leaned his head back against the container behind them; it'd been one hell of a night. But not so much that it'd keep him quiet. [color=orangered]"Speakin' of 'leads', now that we've got a minute alone where we're [i]not about to die,[/i] you finally wanna tell me what the Aquila wanted with ya?"[/color] Detective Jericho frowned a little at that, she [i]had[/i] promised to fill the little weirdo in a mask in about all that, but she really would've preferred [i]not to,[/i] as some part of her took the whole scenario just a [i]little[/i] personally. Even after he'd spent the past week on a seemingly endless cycle of saving her ass. She sighed. No getting out of it now. [color=darkslateblue]"There's... a P.I. down in the Melville district, a guy named Maxime de Caen. We served together in the marines."[/color] She started, just a little hesitantly. [color=darkslateblue]"Vanguard hired him to poke around the Aquila's shit. And I guess he must have found something, because not long after that, the Sardinian's goonsquad started trying to get me to put him down. Guess they figured our... [i]history...[/i] would make it easy."[/color] [color=orangered]"You were close?"[/color] Sasha shot the so-called hero a little glare. [color=darkslateblue][b]"We were [i]married."[/i][/b][/color] She gave a satisfied little grunt when that shut him up. Or at least stopped him from prying any further into her personal life. He wasn't the only one allowed to hold secrets after all. [color=orangered]"So... where's this guy [i]now?"[/i][/color] [color=darkslateblue]”Well, after you went ahead and saved me and my… [i]our[/i] son, I swept by Max’s agency and took him into protective custody— Probably going on remand for that, kicking down my ex’s door and hauling him into the back of my car after the mob tried to get me to kill him and all.”[/color] She continued, looking just a [i]tad[/i] displeased by the memory of it all. [color=darkslateblue]”...That lasted a good three days before one of Muller’s boys tried to strangle him to death in his cell and wound up on the ground gargling around the remains of his jaw instead. So my bosses—through gritted teeth, mind you— handed him off to the GCPD for [i]better[/i] protective custody.”[/color] Tiredly, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Trying to ignore how the figure seated beside her seemed to stiffen at her words as she carried on. [color=darkslateblue]”And [i]that[/i] lasted until this morning, when one of their [i]own[/i] dirty cops had the dumb idea to put a knife in his belly instead of his throat. [i]That[/i] guy was lucky a less dick-headed cop heard him screaming from the hallway and managed to pull Max off of him.”[/color] She continued, having the decency to look away from the hero who had gone dead silent by now. All but glaring a hole through her skull with those glowing eyes of his. On some level, she [i]did[/i] feel a little guilty about waiting until [i]now[/i] to tell him all this, and could understand just why he'd be a bit pissed off about the whole deal, but, well... there wasn't any changing it now. So she bit her lip and kept going. [color=darkslateblue]"After that, Commissioner Jasper had him moved to an off-the-books safehouse and around the same time, Vanguard looked in on this immense tapestry of failure that is both our Departments and started petitioning to bring de Caen into their own care."[/color] She finished, casting an uncharacteristically timid glance back the vigilante's way. [color=darkslateblue]"...Rumour-mill has it that he's to be moved to their HQ within a week, once the paperwork clears."[/color] For his part, said vigilante wasn't screaming or cursing the woman out... just [i]glaring[/i] at her in silence. Though a sudden, sharp inhale from the smaller figure let her know that that was about to change [i]really goddamn fast.[/i] "Itai..." Ah, but just her luck, there was a big blue oni waking up with a bunch of holes still in her skull to distract the hero from giving the chewing out she was both too tired for and just [i]might[/i] have deserved. ...Wait, hold on. Suddenly realizing what was wrong with that statement, the woman's head snapped right back to her front to lock in on the sight of the not-so-unconscious-anymore killing machine on the ground before them... which suddenly looked a whole lot less like the brutal engine of death and destruction she had seen not too long ago and more like... a kid who just woke up on the cold ground with a bunch of [i]holes in her head[/i] as she whimpered, curled up into a ball and began to [i]cry.[/i] "Itai... Itai... Itai..." Oh, shit. That [i]was[/i] a kid, wasn't it? She felt her face drop to her palm as that one hit her. [color=darkslateblue]"...Christ."[/color] A moment of... [i]almost silence[/i] passed between the two erstwhile heroes as the big blue girl just sobbed there on the pavement, until the Hound's shoulders visibly relaxed and he finally spoke. [color=orangered]"Don't suppose you know any Japanese, do ya?"[/color] [color=darkslateblue]"I, uhh... a [i]little[/i] from my time in Oki, why?"[/color] [color=orangered]"Good."[/color] The flak-clad hero very [i]nearly[/i] growled out as he got to his feet and carefully made his way over to the very scared, and still very large and [i]freakishly strong[/i] teenager before him. [color=orangered]"Mind saying something to [i]calm down[/i] the big blue non-human that could still turn us into hamburger meat [i][b]by accident?"[/b][/i][/color] [color=darkslateblue]"Wait, yer not mad?"[/color] [color=orangered]"Fucking [i]livid,[/i] actually, but we kinda got other things to deal with right now."[/color] [hr] [indent][b][u]January 18th, 11:32 PM Vanguard Plaza, Gotham, NJ.[/u][/b][/indent] Gotham was... [i]different,[/i] Malcolm had to admit. And he wasn't entirely sure he liked it. Then again, this [i]was[/i] the first time he'd ever actually ever set foot outside of his particular [color=#5566db][b]'hub of urban decay'[/b][/color], as a certain [i]magic murder bird[/i] he knew often called it, so he guessed a bit of culture-shock was inevitable. It was the little things that got to him the most; Gotham was... a whole lot less [i]grimy[/i] than his home on the other side of the Avalon— Not to say it was particularly [i]clean,[/i] mind you, but it did remind the boy just [i]how much[/i] the roads of his town could use a bit of paving and the buildings some serious rehab. And on those buildings, the sort of Neo-Gothic style that dominated the local skyline was a far cry from the glowing holosigns and improvised, disorderly urban sprawl he knew and loved, where magitech had been so widely and somewhat [i]forcefully[/i] adopted out of necessity that it turned the whole place into something that'd make a cyberpunk enthusiast wet in the pants and a city-planner's eyes bleed just served to further reinforce the notion that this simply [i]was not home.[/i] But that wasn't the weirdest thing. No, that honour went to the fact that, while you couldn't take a piss on a Bludhaven street without hitting at [i]least[/i] three different species and a gaggle of mages, Gotham was... somewhat [i]barren[/i] in this regard. Very literally, for the former, simply having [i]less[/i] in the way of demons and non-humans as far as he could tell, with those that actually [i]were[/i] in town either hiding away in backalleys or dressing themselves to hide their otherworldly features as they ducked their heads and tried to keep a low profile. The latter? Well, he'd been here two days now and hadn't seen a [i]single[/i] mage openly walking around in their traditional attire— Though honestly, it was a little harder to tell if that was just a fashion thing or them trying to keep mum about their true nature. Either way, he figured just walking up and asking would be a bad idea. And only [i]partially[/i] because he could be thrown into the back of a squad-car under suspicion of [i]being up to something[/i] if the wrong person caught his accent. The boy sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose a little through his mask, quietly freezing his ass off on a rooftop by his lonesome, as he had done the past two nights, across the plaza from Vanguard Headquarters waiting for... [i]something[/i] to happen, before quietly pulling his face-cover up a bit and finally opening the box of pizza sitting beside him that'd been doing nothing but getting as cold as he was the past fifteen minutes to grab a slice. He got about a bite and three chews in before he had to stop and just [i]stare[/i] at the bloody thing between shivering and mentally dunking on this whole city. [color=orangered]"Wait, sherioushly?"[/color] The Hound managed, almost sounding [i]pleasantly surprised[/i] around a mouthful of Gotham pizza. He didn't have much time to think on that though, as he caught sight a column a GCPD cruisers pulling into the Vanguard parking lot, evidently unmolested by whatever designs the Aquila might have had for it. Honestly, it was the only good thing Mal had seen in two days... discounting the slice of pie in his hand that is. But then the power abruptly went out. For the whole city block. And the back up generators he damn well [i]knew[/i] Vanguard had, simply [i]didn't cut in.[/i] And then the ground began to shake. And there, sitting way up on his rooftop perch, Mal heard something that made him freeze even more than he already was. [b]"CHUGGA-CHUGGA-CHUGGA-CHUGGA-CHUGGA-CHUGGA..."[/b] [color=orangered][b]"Awww, [i]hell..."[/i][/b][/color] [hr] Isaac McKinley was... not having a fun time. Which in itself, was kinda odd. Usually a night out in the marauder with the boys and his boss, Styx, the legendary [i]Arcane Cowboy[/i] was a simple little adventure. They did their job, got their take, got their pay from the Don, then maybe had a few beers and went the fuck home. Sometimes with a few laughs along the way, sometimes without, but it was always an easy, efficient operation. No it was the... [i]extra baggage[/i] this time around that was causing him such concern. Well, him and everyone else in that damned armoured truck, if how his boss's hand had been on his revolver as he kept his eye on the extra body in there with them the whole time through the rearview was any indication. Though between the [i]quadruply-possessed[/i] girl in the back who kept rapidly alternating between snickering, muttering curses, crying and just generally foaming at the mouth as the four demons in her head went at eachother like ravenous dogs, and the out-and-out power-armoured monument to [i]derangement[/i] that was the big red guy running in front of their vehicle, tearing up the street beneath his heels and screaming [i]train sounds[/i] at the top his lungs as her charged toward their destination... he felt just a bit justified in that. And was [i]really[/i] starting to understand why the so-called [i]Fearsome Five[/i] always seemed to do their level best to stay as far away from eachother as humanly possible. Still, unlike the rest of his crew that opted to suffer all this in silence, he, to his own horror felt his mouth beginning to move. "What the fu-" And nigh instantly, he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder from the passenger seat. "Son..." Came the familiar Texan drawl of his boss. "I [i]strongly[/i] recommend you do [i]not[/i] finish that sentence." It didn't take Isaac very long to figure out why, as every fibre in his being screamed in protest as the deranged-looking blonde that had been strapped in at the far back of the vehicle was suddenly leaning over his shoulder and breathing into his ear through four mouths that, though they occupied the same place, were not at [i]all[/i] synchronized. "Lllaaaaanguage, Miiister McKiiinleeey...." And that was about was about when four separate prehensile tongues a varying thickness and texture began snaking their way along his neck. "Eyes on the road, Son. [i]Eyes on the road."[/i] [hr] [b]"CHOO-CHOOOOOO!"[/B] And not a second after those words echoed through the Gotham air, did the titanic frame of Bludhaven's Red Terror come slamming through the solid concrete walls of the Vanguard building and into the main lobby, arms behind his head in a classic 'Mr. Universe' pose as he skidded to a stop before all the armed Gotham cops and Vanguard security that'd been hiding in cover, guns drawn when they saw and heard him coming from half a damned mile away. [b]"DADDY'S HOME, KIDS!"[/b] The armoured maniac cried out to absolutely anyone who would listen in a sing-song voice. Either not knowing or just not [i]caring[/i] about [i]how much[/i] firepower was pointing at him at that moment as he began thrusting his hips in the general direction of everyone involved. [b]"NOW WHO'S READY FOR SOME [I]LOOOOOOVE~?"[/I][/b] In response, he only got three words out of whoever was in charge there. "Fuck him up." And enough firepower to damn near [i]evaporate[/i] everything around him, though it all merely bounced off his magitech hull as he stood there polishing his armoured fingertips with a silken rag. Clearly not giving a damn about, or even feeling [i]any[/i] of it as it failed to even scratch his race-car red shell. In fact, as the gunfire slowly came to a stop, he opted to laugh instead and wave his now [i]very shiny digit[/i] at them chidingly. [b]"NOW, NOW, NOW, KIDS... IF YOU START ACTING LIKE [I]THAT..."[/I][/B] He giggled out, slowly closing his mechanical which began to come apart and change shape. [b]"DADDY'LL HAVE TO [I]SPANK!"[/I][/B] And just as his fist seemingly reached it's final shape, a Vanguard scientist hiding behind one of the lobby's many columns poked his head out and quickly came to a bonechilling conclusion. "That's a wave-motion gun... [i]that's a fucking wave-motion gun! Everybody! [b]RUN!"[/b][/i] [B][I]"YEET!"[/I][/B] And that's about all the warning they got before the world became both very bright, and [i]very loud.[/i] [hr] Styx and his boy's entrance to what was left of the main lobby of Vanguard HQ was a lot less... [i]thematic[/i] than the Red Terror's- The whole place now laying abandoned as whatever resistance there [i]was[/i] had either been vaporized by the armoured psychopath or had retreated further inside with him hot on their heels, if the distant, but unmistakably familiar maniacal laughter and occasional tremor that rocked the whole place was any indication. "Well then, can't say this is [i]un[/i]expected." The Arcane Cowboy observed with a low whistle as he adjusted his hat. "Not [i]exactly[/i] what we're actually here for, though, ainnit?" "LaaaaFayette drifts cloooser to perfection by the daaaay..." Came the... [i]also[/i] not at all unexpected response from his erstwhile teammate...s "Iiiit is a beautiful thiiiiing..." Styx just clicked his tongue at this and unholstered his weapon. "Well, be that as it may, Quartet, Some of us actually have to [i]work[/i] for our money." He said, just a bit of an edge working it's way into his voice. "So I don't suppose y'all'd mind fanning out and havin' an eye for anybody not invited to our little party? I'd rather not have to deal with anyone wearing a [i]leather jacket or dog-shaped armour[/i] right now." True to fashion, Quartet was on him in an instant, hovering before him to be just above eye-level and close enough to be nearly nose-to-nose and to push up the brim of his hat slightly. Apparently angry enough that all four instances of her mouth were finally moving in sync... though the four distinct voices that made up her warbling tone remained. And three more rows of eyes suddenly opened up on her face. "And just [i]when[/i] did we start taking orders from [i]you, [b]mortal?"[/b][/i] "Why, when Firefly [i]said[/i] ya did, [i]ladies."[/i] Styx responded, not missing a beat. "Now [i][b]git."[/b][/i] That seemed to do the trick, as the amalgam being known as Quartet snarled and complied; dividing and firing off her essence to the three other cardinal directions of the building in a flash of light. ...And also leaving one remaining blue-skinned demon in that spot their amalgam had been before, floating awkwardly in place while pushing the man's hat up with her now undisguised demonic forehead. "I, uh... [i]like your hat,[/i] Mr. Styx." "Why thank ya, Darlin'." The masked man chuckled as he took a step back and turned to leave, motioning for Isaac and the rest of his boys to follow behind him. "Don't let yer sisters hear that though, it'd make 'em right angry, right quick." "I'm really sor-" "That neither!" [hr] The Hound could only grimace as his night went from bad, to worse, to [i]holy fucking wow[/i] in absolutely record time. Though he was, in some reptilian part of his brain, just a little [i]astounded[/i] by what he was looking at; The Fearsome Five, as individuals, rarely did anything out in the open anymore. And the last any of them actually [i]got together[/i] to do something like this, they were [i]conquering Bludhaven.[/i] Yet now, here three of five were, absolutely [i]wrecking[/i] Vanguard's shit. [color=orangered][i]'Just what the hell does de Caen [b]have[/b] on these people?'[/i][/color] That thought aside, a long exhale escaped the boy as he shook his head, stood up, pulled down his mask, and at least [i]attempted[/i] to psyche himself up for the pure [i]balls-out insanity[/i] of what he was about to attempt— [color=orangered]"Fucking [i]hell..."[/i][/color] He growled, raising his arm and firing off his grapple line toward the Vanguard complex. [color=orangered]"I guess we're doing [i]this[/i] now."[/color] Taking on the Fearsome Five. With not much more than a grapple, a few knives and a handgun. It didn't need to be said that this was probably [i]not going to end well.[/i] Hell, he was very likely going to fucking [i]die[/i] here. But even in the midst of all that, there was one other prevailing thought in the back of his head that now screamed like a klaxon and just wouldn't [i]shut the hell up[/i] until it aggressively forced it's way out of it's mouth the moment where his feet left the rooftop he'd been camping out on. [color=orangered]"...Goddamn, I miss my magic murder bird."[/color] And with those final words, Malcolm Talhaiarn plunged directly into what was most assuredly going to be the toughest fight of his life.