It didn't take long for Galahad to don the Knight armour, not with Aaron's intelligent design making the whole kit as simple to slip on as a pair of comfortable old jeans, but it still felt like it took forever. Maybe that was because he knew that every second wasted was just one more that Deadshot had those hostages at his mercy, or maybe it was just apprehension for the nights activities. After all, its not everyone that can boast about getting into a gun fight with the worlds greatest sniper, though there might be a reason for that.
He could hear Dr Kitchell fussing in his 'Smithy', the portion of the abandoned underground station that he'd set aside for his lab and survey equipment. A set of beeps and whistles sounded, indicating that the direct link between Aaron's lab and the Knight armour was initiating. Galahad was fully decked out now, and about as ready to party as he was likely to get, so he stepped up to the raised blasting pad which would allow him to egress from the base.
"Open the hatch," he ordered. Despite the fact that this was Kitchel's operation, Kitchel's suit and Kitchel who was bankrolling the whole thing Galahad just naturally assumed a leadership role, but then he was accustomed to having his orders obeyed in his last life. Aaron tapped a few buttons and a hatch above Paladin's head slid open, revealing a metallic tube that would lead all the way up to a fake sewer grate in the East End.
The Armoured Vigilante was preparing to jet off when Dr Kitchell began to cough awkwardly, obviously desiring his attention. Paladin swung his head round, willing the Docter to be quick.
"So, uh, Deadshot huh? He's supposed to be good. Real good. The best, or so a lot of people say."
"Uh-huh." responded Galahad. It had become a small tradition of theirs, for Aaron to voice his fears of the coming mission, and for him to dismiss them with casual nonchalance. Galahad had come to realise that it gave Kitchell some measure of peace.
"Do you think he's the best?" Aaron looked about as worried as his friend had ever seen him, which was impressive because Aaron always looked worried about something.
"Are you asking if I think he's the best, or if I think he's better than me?" Aaron merely bit his lip at that, but Galahad could tell he'd hit the crux of the matter. He smiled, knowing that it would never show through his helmet.
"Well I guess there's only one way to find out." And with that Paladin blasted off with Dr Kitchell watching him a mixture of cold dread and grim respect.
Paladin had traversed the sky with the easy grace of someone who had been born to fly, dodging news and police copters like they were static. Though he wasn't trying to create an urban legend about himself he still didn't see the need to announce his presence to the world, especially when he'd made so many enemies in the past.
He was coming up on the building Deadshot had chosen to take his hostages in now. Aaron was right, Deadshot wasn't called that for irony, he really was the best shot in the world. Galahad was good, damn good, but he doubted even he could take the infamous Floyd Lawton on in a straight up shooting match. No, he'd have to mix it up with this one, and hope he was better of the two in CQC.
"Blacksmith, have you located the target?"
"Easier said than done, but not impossible for someone like me." Bragged Aaron, a red reticule flashing up on the HUD onto the side of the high rise building, indicating were Deadshot should be standing. "By the way, I'm getting reports of another couple of 'capes' on the scene. I'm trying to pull up some info on them, but they must be some new players in town because I can't find a darned thing."
"Good work Blacksmith. I'll deal with him if he gets in the way. Now you might wanna close your eyes, I think I'm about to void the warranty on your suit." He could hear Kitchell's panicked demands for what was going on, but he chose to ignore them as he accelerated. The suit picked up speed at an alarming speed, so he had to slow it some to get it back under control and aim himself straight for the red reticule. If this worked then he would torpedo straight through the plate glass windows and cannonball Deadshot off his feet. If it didn't then he was likely about to get a whole lotta people killed.
Himself amongst them.
An Outsider
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A Glorious Failure
STATUS: Ever had that moment were you've just lost a battle of wills with your dog and think to yourself, "maybe I should be the one sleeping on the floor"? I have. It's oddly liberating. 8 yrs ago
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Ever had that moment were you've just lost a battle of wills with your dog and think to yourself, "maybe I should be the one sleeping on the floor"? I have. It's oddly liberating.
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9 yrs ago
My Lit Lecturer used Matt Fraction's Hawkeye run to display the effect of narratology in class today. It's the first thing he's spoken about all term that I've actually read.
9 yrs ago
How good is the Punisher in Netflix's Daredevil series? "Just some guys who are about to walk into a diner for the last time." That line is so manly it could make a toddler sprout a beard.
9 yrs ago
The Justice League trailer is giving me mixed emotions. On the one hand, I desperately want to get hyped. On the other, Snyder and co have burnt me too many times in the past. I'm a conflicted mess.
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9 yrs ago
What? The Lethal Weapon tv show isn't utter garbage at all, instead being an enjoyable watch. What the fuck is the world coming to?
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Bio
For all you know I'm handsome as hell. Let's keep it that way.
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Lord Wraith said
I'm going to talk Bane's ear off lol
That's a grim punishment, even after he broke Bat's back.
Right, I'm thinking I'm a gonna go wail on Deadshot, unless anyone has any problems with that. . . which I'd probably ignore and go wail on Deadshot anyway.
“And so she said. . .” Corraich was cut off before the punchline as a serious looking fella in armour approached the group and hailed Yohn. The armoured man introduced himself as Arthur Garskull, the Chief who's group Corraich was to join. By Northern standards Garskull didn't look like much, but he mighta been more impressive to a Southern eye.
The Northman pushed himself to his feet the easy grace usually possessed by a born athlete. At his full height he towered over Arthur, so perhaps his description of him being a 'beast' was quite apt.
“Way I hear it I'm gonna be at yours. You need to hear my pedigree before taking me on, or are you happy to go on chance that I know what I'm doing?” Northmen were always insanely proud of their 'pedigrees', a list of battles fought and foes vanquished that they would boast of to any one who would listen. Corraich was quite proud of his, as it was one of the most illustrious in all the North's history, but if he was going to be living under an assumed name then he would have to live under an assumed pedigree too. Shame really, as those things weren't easy to come by. Had to do a lot of foul deeds to get one like his.
The Northman pushed himself to his feet the easy grace usually possessed by a born athlete. At his full height he towered over Arthur, so perhaps his description of him being a 'beast' was quite apt.
“Way I hear it I'm gonna be at yours. You need to hear my pedigree before taking me on, or are you happy to go on chance that I know what I'm doing?” Northmen were always insanely proud of their 'pedigrees', a list of battles fought and foes vanquished that they would boast of to any one who would listen. Corraich was quite proud of his, as it was one of the most illustrious in all the North's history, but if he was going to be living under an assumed name then he would have to live under an assumed pedigree too. Shame really, as those things weren't easy to come by. Had to do a lot of foul deeds to get one like his.
So are we all supposed to be answering the call to either fight Bane or Deadshot?
"You sure this is the most prudent course of action?"
"Uh-huh."
"But those guys have guns. You could get hurt!"
"Too late to change my mind now. Already put my evening wear on."
The two men speaking were Dr Aaron Kitchell, an engineer of superlative skill and Galahad, a man who's skills were better left unspoken. Kitchell was currently in the safety of his underground bunker, a repurposed subway station terminal that was thought to be lost during the No-Mans land crises while Galahad was deep within the confines of the Bowery, one of Gotham's most dangerous neighbourhoods. The reason he was there was simple. Dr Kitchell had received a tip from one of his paid informants that a group of illegal gun runners operating in the city were using a loft in the Bowery as a safe house. As he wasn't the most 'physically' inclined of individuals it was left to Galahad to perform the wet work, something he seemed to relish with a near savage glee. To help in these evening jaunts Kitchell had developed and built the Knight Exo-Suit, a set of hi-tech armour that would keep Galahad ahead of even the most prepared of criminals.
So when Galahad, dressed in the Knight armour and calling himself Paladin, kicked the front door of the gun-runners hideout open and swaggered in with all the confidence of a man who owned the place its little wonder that the rogues were more than a little surprised. One man, slouched on the couch in the front room, could barely believe his eyes.
"Don't get up pal, I'll show myself around." stated Paladin before calmly shooting the crook in the leg, who could only scream in response. He'd heard that Batman had a 'thing' about guns, but Galahad had no such restrictions. In fact when you were as good with guns as he was it would be almost a crime not to use them, or at least that's what he told himself. He could hear Aaron gasp in shock, probably stunned by the brutality of the act. That was why he was sat behind a monitor in his safe place though, and Galahad was out here doing the wet work. Some men just aren't cut out for the hard stuff.
Paladin could hear a commotion from the back room, sounded like another two gun-runners getting ready for a last stand.
"Suit, switch to heat vision." the suit's visual readout snapped into obedience, the room becoming a colourful blend of blues, greens, reds and yellows, all indicating different heat sources. And there, just behind the walls of the next room and armed with assault rifles, were the other two gun-runners. Sometimes it was just to easy. With easy grace of someone who'd done this more than once he raised his arm and shot the two through the wall, careful not to kill them though. Maybe he didn't mind using guns, but he was trying hard not to have to kill anyone. He entered the room with the two smugglers and disarmed the two in amongst their groans for mercy.
"Who are you man?" asked one when it became apparent that Paladin wasn't gonna kill them outright, though if their wounds weren't seen to soon they run the danger of bleeding out.
"Just a concerned citizen. You found those guns yet Blacksmith?" Dr Kitchell had insisted that Galahad called him Blacksmith whenever he was in the field, which was just about the worst call-sign he had ever heard.
"The suits scan is indicating they are in the floor underneath you. Floors just normal timber, shouldn't have any problem getting to it. Will I call the police now."
"Them and an ambulance too, these fella's are gonna need it." Aaron had highlighted on Paladin's HUD just were the guns were, under the floor not to far from him. It didn't take much to stomp his armoured foot through the floorboards, revealing a sizeable treasure trove of guns and ammo. He idly thought about just how much money all that hardware could earn before shaking his head. He'd leave the guns for the cops to decide what to do with, which meant that they'd more than likely end up back on the streets in about six months in the hands of some new group of hoodwinks. That's Gotham for ya. He crossed back to the two crooks, who he hog-tied with a length of filament cable from his belt. By the time he was done he could hear the sirens getting closer. He waited until they sounded like they were right outside before pulling open one of the windows in the main room and swinging his legs out. The cops were banging up the stairs when he engaged his boot thrusters and kicked off into the night sky.
"Another good nights work." Aaron said, his happiness apparent even over the commlink.
"Yeah, a good nights work." Replied Galahad. A couple thousand more like that and maybe his conscience would stop weighing so heavy on him.
"Uh-huh."
"But those guys have guns. You could get hurt!"
"Too late to change my mind now. Already put my evening wear on."
The two men speaking were Dr Aaron Kitchell, an engineer of superlative skill and Galahad, a man who's skills were better left unspoken. Kitchell was currently in the safety of his underground bunker, a repurposed subway station terminal that was thought to be lost during the No-Mans land crises while Galahad was deep within the confines of the Bowery, one of Gotham's most dangerous neighbourhoods. The reason he was there was simple. Dr Kitchell had received a tip from one of his paid informants that a group of illegal gun runners operating in the city were using a loft in the Bowery as a safe house. As he wasn't the most 'physically' inclined of individuals it was left to Galahad to perform the wet work, something he seemed to relish with a near savage glee. To help in these evening jaunts Kitchell had developed and built the Knight Exo-Suit, a set of hi-tech armour that would keep Galahad ahead of even the most prepared of criminals.
So when Galahad, dressed in the Knight armour and calling himself Paladin, kicked the front door of the gun-runners hideout open and swaggered in with all the confidence of a man who owned the place its little wonder that the rogues were more than a little surprised. One man, slouched on the couch in the front room, could barely believe his eyes.
"Don't get up pal, I'll show myself around." stated Paladin before calmly shooting the crook in the leg, who could only scream in response. He'd heard that Batman had a 'thing' about guns, but Galahad had no such restrictions. In fact when you were as good with guns as he was it would be almost a crime not to use them, or at least that's what he told himself. He could hear Aaron gasp in shock, probably stunned by the brutality of the act. That was why he was sat behind a monitor in his safe place though, and Galahad was out here doing the wet work. Some men just aren't cut out for the hard stuff.
Paladin could hear a commotion from the back room, sounded like another two gun-runners getting ready for a last stand.
"Suit, switch to heat vision." the suit's visual readout snapped into obedience, the room becoming a colourful blend of blues, greens, reds and yellows, all indicating different heat sources. And there, just behind the walls of the next room and armed with assault rifles, were the other two gun-runners. Sometimes it was just to easy. With easy grace of someone who'd done this more than once he raised his arm and shot the two through the wall, careful not to kill them though. Maybe he didn't mind using guns, but he was trying hard not to have to kill anyone. He entered the room with the two smugglers and disarmed the two in amongst their groans for mercy.
"Who are you man?" asked one when it became apparent that Paladin wasn't gonna kill them outright, though if their wounds weren't seen to soon they run the danger of bleeding out.
"Just a concerned citizen. You found those guns yet Blacksmith?" Dr Kitchell had insisted that Galahad called him Blacksmith whenever he was in the field, which was just about the worst call-sign he had ever heard.
"The suits scan is indicating they are in the floor underneath you. Floors just normal timber, shouldn't have any problem getting to it. Will I call the police now."
"Them and an ambulance too, these fella's are gonna need it." Aaron had highlighted on Paladin's HUD just were the guns were, under the floor not to far from him. It didn't take much to stomp his armoured foot through the floorboards, revealing a sizeable treasure trove of guns and ammo. He idly thought about just how much money all that hardware could earn before shaking his head. He'd leave the guns for the cops to decide what to do with, which meant that they'd more than likely end up back on the streets in about six months in the hands of some new group of hoodwinks. That's Gotham for ya. He crossed back to the two crooks, who he hog-tied with a length of filament cable from his belt. By the time he was done he could hear the sirens getting closer. He waited until they sounded like they were right outside before pulling open one of the windows in the main room and swinging his legs out. The cops were banging up the stairs when he engaged his boot thrusters and kicked off into the night sky.
"Another good nights work." Aaron said, his happiness apparent even over the commlink.
"Yeah, a good nights work." Replied Galahad. A couple thousand more like that and maybe his conscience would stop weighing so heavy on him.
Hey folks, sorry I haven't posted yet, its been a heavy weekend. I'll get an opening up smartish.
One quick wash and change later - Luckily Tommy had brought his spare costume, years of getting his butt kicked by bad-guys had taught him that his outfits rarely lasted long – and they were standing outside one of the most imposing buildings Volt had ever witnessed. Americans. . . Always over compensating. The bright and the beautiful were out in their droves tonight, making the Lightning-Slinger feel remarkably under dressed. In all honesty he had never even seen this many Super's in one place, but then he'd never really gone in for the glitzy or social lifestyle that seemed to have sprung up around many heroes. Still, it was a sight to see.
Sonja traversed the crowd like a seasoned pro, save for bumping into a few paparazzi. Volt did the opposite, stumbling awkwardly into ever second person he passed yet giving the paps a wide berth. He'd never been on good terms with their kind, reckoning that a sure fire way to loose his secret identity would be to pose for one too many photo's. That and they never get my good side. That said, it'd be hard to photograph something that ain't there. The bouncers waved them in easy enough, making Volt wonder if they'd been pre-warned that the newly minted League members were on their way earlier. As they entered Sonja started to snicker as she revealed tiny reels of film and SD cards, apparently stolen from the creatures outside. Hi-Voltage couldn't help being impressed. Neat trick, I'll have to ask her how its done. Though I reckon I should probably be showing more concern at her casual pick-pocketing, since I'm now part of the worlds première superhero group.
His train of thought stopped dead though, at sight of the otherworld he had stepped into. Volt had heard stories about the fortress, but even his wildest dreams hadn't come close to the reality. The sounds, the lights, the smells, the people, all of it was so far out of the norm that he thought he must slipped, hit his head and gone to hell. And it was a hell to the Lightning-Slinger, this garish temple to superheroes was his own special form of torture. He spotted a poster of himself hanging up on one of the walls and he nearly blew up. Daniel would have loved it here.
Before he embarrassed himself by making some kinda scene Sonja grabbed his hand and dragged him to the bar, offering to get his drink, and any other League member that walked in tonight. Usually he'd refuse to let a lassie get the first round in, but right now. . . A drink'll help wash the bad taste outta my mouth, and maybe this place'll look better when I'm half-cut.
“Uh. . . I'll have a beer please.” he said, for which he received an incredulous eyebrow raise from the bartender.
“What kind of beer would you like?” Asked the barman, a good deal more smarmy than Volt felt the situation called for.
“One in a glass.” He growled in return, his accent a good deal more pronounced now he was getting angry. The day he had and the place he was in conspiring to foul his mood something awful. The bartender realised that the Scotsman wasn't in a mood to argue any more, so served him the closest beer that came to hand. Volt drank half of it in a swallow, before realising how churlish he was being.
“Uh, cheers Sonja.” he was about to reply to her question about the restaurant when he was interrupted by an unknown speedster. A speedster with no social decorum.
“Why you asking, you interested in me too?” Deadpanned Volt, jerking his head at Sonja as if to say 'Who is this guy?'
Sonja traversed the crowd like a seasoned pro, save for bumping into a few paparazzi. Volt did the opposite, stumbling awkwardly into ever second person he passed yet giving the paps a wide berth. He'd never been on good terms with their kind, reckoning that a sure fire way to loose his secret identity would be to pose for one too many photo's. That and they never get my good side. That said, it'd be hard to photograph something that ain't there. The bouncers waved them in easy enough, making Volt wonder if they'd been pre-warned that the newly minted League members were on their way earlier. As they entered Sonja started to snicker as she revealed tiny reels of film and SD cards, apparently stolen from the creatures outside. Hi-Voltage couldn't help being impressed. Neat trick, I'll have to ask her how its done. Though I reckon I should probably be showing more concern at her casual pick-pocketing, since I'm now part of the worlds première superhero group.
His train of thought stopped dead though, at sight of the otherworld he had stepped into. Volt had heard stories about the fortress, but even his wildest dreams hadn't come close to the reality. The sounds, the lights, the smells, the people, all of it was so far out of the norm that he thought he must slipped, hit his head and gone to hell. And it was a hell to the Lightning-Slinger, this garish temple to superheroes was his own special form of torture. He spotted a poster of himself hanging up on one of the walls and he nearly blew up. Daniel would have loved it here.
Before he embarrassed himself by making some kinda scene Sonja grabbed his hand and dragged him to the bar, offering to get his drink, and any other League member that walked in tonight. Usually he'd refuse to let a lassie get the first round in, but right now. . . A drink'll help wash the bad taste outta my mouth, and maybe this place'll look better when I'm half-cut.
“Uh. . . I'll have a beer please.” he said, for which he received an incredulous eyebrow raise from the bartender.
“What kind of beer would you like?” Asked the barman, a good deal more smarmy than Volt felt the situation called for.
“One in a glass.” He growled in return, his accent a good deal more pronounced now he was getting angry. The day he had and the place he was in conspiring to foul his mood something awful. The bartender realised that the Scotsman wasn't in a mood to argue any more, so served him the closest beer that came to hand. Volt drank half of it in a swallow, before realising how churlish he was being.
“Uh, cheers Sonja.” he was about to reply to her question about the restaurant when he was interrupted by an unknown speedster. A speedster with no social decorum.
“Why you asking, you interested in me too?” Deadpanned Volt, jerking his head at Sonja as if to say 'Who is this guy?'
Lord Wraith said
Yeah it is pretty sweet, but now I want to be team grump haha.
Don't worry Wraith, I'll have the team grump covered.
And were did you get that appearance pic from Ri? It's one of the first I've seen that I genuinely don't recognise!
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