[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/F85HdZb.png[/img]
[color=254f28][u][b]Location[/b][/u][/color]
💀 Brookside.
💀 Warehouse 9.

[color=254f28][u][b]Time[/b][/u][/color]
💀 Evening.

[color=254f28][u][b]Interactions[/b][/u][/color]
💀 None.
[/center][hr]

It had been a pleasant evening which proceeded down a path of increased frustration. What began with a trip to the store, thoughts of a cold, refreshing beverage circling the mutant’s mind, had now brought him towards the evening’s ultimate act. Leaving Doctor Viven behind wasn’t something Azhar could easily forgive himself for, either. He had abandoned good company, and delicious food, all the result of a villain’s schemes. They were neverending, and one would be forgiven for believing that the rise in Heroes demanded balance in increased crime. Where those with powers stood against injustice, there were individuals who sought to challenge the notion. It wasn’t always due to a contradicting ideal, but sometimes the mere notion of clashing with fire and steel was in itself a call to arms. 

Exiting his car, Azhar gently closed the door. A sleek, black vehicle afforded him by HERO. It paid off, as they said, to be a high ranking soldier, but as Zee’s foot felt gravel brushing against its sole, the young crime-fighter’s gaze turned towards a large, red title. Warehouse 9, text which indicated his location in an assertive display, each letter twisting and folding across a ribbed wall. 

It was an inconvenience but certainly expected. Seeing metal coating every surface removed the element of surprise. Azhar was required to enter the building through a door, where he much preferred a less obvious approach, there was little else that could be done. Circling the warehouse, Azhar paused before lowering himself to a knee. Hidden behind a large gathering of crates, the dark Hero peered ahead. Pistols and assault rifles, hostile targets had made sure to maintain care. They were guarding the loading bay, indicating that a shipment was imminent. The presence of trucks parked along a wide stretch further strengthened this assumption. 

Yielding to patience, Azhar waited. He had to be considerate, and most definitely careful. Astral tinkered with mind-control. His drugs afforded him slaves, and a bracelet rendering the young Hero’s powers non-lethal was not enough to allow for a chaotic approach. They were still innocent human beings. However, no plan ever survived contact with the enemy, and Azhar was prepared to improvise. Forcing innocent individuals into unconsciousness for a handful of hours was preferable than putting them in the line of fire. 

“Alright, let’s get this done,” came a masculine voice which trickled across the silent evening air. It was soon followed by several boxes loaded into a truck. A closer look would reveal that this manual labor was performed by individuals dressed in everyday clothes, with no weapons, nor notable trinkets available for combat. Further inspection indicated lifeless eyes, staring ahead dimly as each movement mimicked a routine. 

[color=254f28]"Astral’s using his drug-slaves as workers?"[/color] Azhar pondered, before moving from his position. [color=254f28]"I need to stop that shipment,"[/color] he decided. Turning his attention towards the driver’s seat, Azhar noticed how the window was open, with a man smoking a cigarette, and blowing the puffs out from the truck. [color=254f28]"The first puzzle piece."[/color] Hiding behind another crate, the boy focused on his target and conjured forth a spectral force. The ghostly, emerald presence licked past its victim, following a cigarette that fell onto the asphalt, as the driver slumped forward. [color=254f28]"That’s one,"[/color] Azhar frowned, turning towards the remaining two guards who stood by the entrance. 

“Alright, we’re done here. Get moving,” a gangster commented as he motioned ahead. There was, however, no response. Neither was there movement. “The fuck?” An annoyed sighed escaped the man’s lips before he ventured across the loading bay and approached the truck. “Dude!” He exclaimed. 

[color=254f28]"That’s two..,"[/color] Azhar whispered, as Necrotic Force breathed itself into existence around the man’s shape. A mere moment later shifted his state into unconsciousness. [color=254f28]"And three,"[/color] the deathly mutant smirked, lifting his hand towards the third guard to mimic the very motions from before, preventing a reaction which would have given away the boy’s position. 

Approaching a fallen guard, Azhar reached into the man’s pocket and produced a keycard. So far, the mission had proceeded smoothly. Patience was a virtue, truly. Raising the card towards a scanner, he noted a sound which was soon followed by the color red turning green. This allowed for Azhar to press a large, circular button that slowly lifted a cargo door. He made sure to open it just enough, before quietly slipping inside. 

As he had previously expected, several civilians worked in packaging drugs. If he knew anything about these setups, every tightly wrapped block carried one kilo. Following the progress already started, Azhar continued to rely on stealth. Indeed, he could combat these guards easily enough, as long as he relied on cover from their bullets, but allowing that chaos to take place would instead result in the risk of innocent people dying. A mere look into the warehouse would indicate their presence. 

[color=254f28]"Now, where is Astral?"[/color] Came a thought as Azhar continued to move through the massive interior. He did come across more guards, however. Luckily, silence lingered, and he was able to neutralize them without noteworthy complications. Turning towards the metal stairs by a corner wall leading towards a second floor, Zee fluidly moved up those steps until he finally found himself in a corridor. Several doors stretched across its narrow shape, and as Requiem delved deeper, he soon stopped. 

“You took your time,” a voice struck at the boy, earning his attention before Azhar carefully opened a door which allowed sight of a decorated office. “My guards would have just let you come and see me, you know.” On a chair sat a man clad in what could only have been defined as an elegant suit. His short, blonde hair was styled, and a cigarette rested between his lips. Piercing blue eyes peered ahead, and Azhar’s focus found itself transfixed. “Please, have a seat,” the man who went by Astral offered, motioning towards the comfortable chair in front of his office desk. 

[color=254f28]"You knew?"[/color] Zee asked, stepping inside before he closed the door behind him. 

“Of course,” Astral tapped his temple, “knowledge is my trade, my boy,” a small grin made itself known upon the man’s lips. “Besides,” he continued before standing, “a fight with you wouldn’t exactly end well for me, would it?” Astral chuckled, opening a wooden, mahogany cupboard and produced two glasses, followed by a bottle of whiskey.

[color=254f28]"So you invite me over for a drink?"[/color] The deathly mutant raised a brow, spectral energy now dimly emanating from his frame. [color=254f28]"You can save your speech."[/color]

“Come now,” Astral poured them a serving of golden brown liquid, “we both know what you look like, so why not take that mask off?” He exhaled a small puff of smoke, “this meeting will end at your behest, so the least you can do is entertain a conversation, no?” 

There was a slight pause, before Azhar eventually pulled his hood down, followed by his mask. Zee had no secret identity, and as far as he was concerned, the whiskey wasn’t poisoned. Astral had taken a sip himself. [color=254f28]"How proper of you,"[/color] the boy offered, his claws clicking against the glass which had been offered. 

“With a thought,” Astral began, “I can lay unconscious on this here floor,” he motioned towards the carpeted surface beneath them. “And perfectly good whiskey would simply.., soak in,” came a sigh. “You know this, so I do appreciate the mercy,” Astral took another sip. “You’re not a savage, Azhar. It is uncommon for Heroes to present.., civility.” 

[color=254f28]"Because trusting villains with a conversation tends to end well,"[/color] Zee managed a dry joke, and raised an eyebrow. [color=254f28]"But I can’t very well enjoy a glass of whiskey while they’re ripping your fingers off in Coldwater,"[/color] Azhar brought the glass to his lips. [color=254f28]"So you have until I finish this drink."[/color]