Blackstripe

Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

October 31st, 6:58 PM
Lake Dover, Outskirts of Hub City

As the last of around six criminals hit the shoreline of Lake Dover unconscious, Bruce Phoenix nursed his bruised and aching fists. He was outside Hub City again, here to check up on both his protege The Question and seek out a particular hero on the advice of the Boddhisattva Rama Kushna regarding a massive upheaval in...well, mystic arts were never Bruce’s forte, but he remembered something about a particular proto-afterlife of sorts being in crisis. But on his way, he had seen these fairly suspicious people headed out towards the lake, and naturally they had gone there to dump some poor unconscious fool who had crossed them in one way or another. Well, what was a former hero to do but teach them a lesson and free the unfortunate prisoner?

The dead might be rising in the West, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t time for some old fashioned heroism on his way to clarify the problem.

Unfortunately just as he was about to try and wake the sod these mobsters had so rudely stuffed into a sack and tied weights to, a pretty noticeable roiling and bubbling started at the center of the lake. Bruce had enjoyed the old Hammer Horror and Universal films back in the day, but with all the crazy things he’d seen in his time he never expected Frankenstein to rise up like the Creature From The Black Lagoon right in front of him. Still, that was exactly what it looked like, a BIG zombie rising up out of the lake in front of him.

“You know, I thought my fists were sore after taking down those guys, but you my friend, are definitely going to call for some ice packs.”

Bruce stepped out in front of the unconscious former victim so he was blocking the big zombie as the massive, pale corpse shambled out of the water. The creature took one look at Bruce’s fighting stance and roared, charging and sending an arm like a tree trunk sweeping down at the kung fu fighter. Bruce caught the wild swing, though he had to bolster himself with chi to do it even as he redirected most of the force and momentum of the attack into a throw that sent the undead goliath hurtling through the air. It was unfortunate that whatever was powering the zombie hardly took a second to get back up again, but Bruce was already there trying to strike at the eyes, the nose and every sensitive point he could with chi empowered strikes as the creature rose.

Unfortunately, none of his attacks had any effect, and the nine-foot-tall undead simply backhanded the martial artist before he could realize his attacks were being shrugged off. The force of the blow was enough to not only send Bruce flying through the air, but literally hurl him miles away to Hub City proper as the chi reinforcing his body at that moment kept him barely alive before he crashed into some poor business owner’s unsuspecting storefront.

---

7:04 PM
Silver Leaf Academy Event Hall

“Here you go,” Karen forced a smiled to another student, doing her best to keep her words from coming out in the form of a sigh. Gratefully accepting the punch she had been offered, the brunette returned her smile.

“Thanks! It’s nice to see that hard working immigrants like you can make it into Silver Leaf too!” She replied, waving her off as she returned to the party.

“But I’m not a…” Karen started, her shoulders slumping in a long sigh.

The sooner this party ended, the better. Pulling out her Galaxy X - courtesy of Zoey - and glancing at the time, she mumbled a swear under her breath at the fact that the event would last at least another hour, probably more. All the other kids here were having quite a fun time. A lot of them were discussing their high scores in Polo. Wasn’t that what crippled FDR?

At least she could enjoy watching Maroon Five play on stage. She had to wonder just how much money the school had to shovel out to get them to perform at this thing? These people must be nearly as loaded as Zoey was.

Glancing down at the glass plate that had been wordlessly shoved in front of her, she began to fill it with quiches and other hor d’oeuvres, before filling a cup with punch. The man snatched both away from her without ever saying a word, with the next in line shuffling forward.

“Having fun, creampuff?” Clarissa grinned to her, shoving her punch cup forward.

Karen’s brow instantly quirked at the platinum blonde girl in front of her. She, like herself, was wearing the uniform of a Hogwarts student, but...it was certainly not a conventional one. “Clare, what the hell are you wearing?!”

“What? I’m just getting into the holiday spirit!” Clarissa insisted, shaking her empty cup. “You could’ve been doing the same, if you had the balls to turn people down.”

Frowning slightly as she filled the other teen’s cup with more punch, she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous over how much more accepting the students had been towards Clarissa in comparison to herself, despite them both coming from The Wedge. And despite Clare...well, being Clare. Nobody had even tried to shove something like this onto the deviant artist.

“I hope they’re not going to have something like this for every holiday,” Karen muttered.

“Yeah,” Clarissa agreed, not even waiting a second to take a long drink of the punch. “You’d probably get pressured into serving drinks at those too.”

Karen exhaled, a low grumble rumbling from her throat as her only friend here departed. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for an emergency right now.

Karen got her wish sooner than she might’ve expected, in the form of a grey, nine-foot-tall zombie in tattered, lake-soaked clothes bursting through the wall nearby like it was made of paper. He didn’t roar or screech or ask for brains, in fact now he seemed disoriented by his surroundings, holding his head with one massive hand and looking around as if trying to get his bearings. As if on instinct he had headed toward the city, but he had more or less walked in just a straight line, smashing through or stepping on whatever was in his way up until now. But the decorations and screaming children seemed to give him pause, as if he knew that something was off with his surroundings now, like one odd detail sticking out to give away the fact that what someone is experiencing is a dream.

Diving under the table reflexively when the thunderous crack of the wall breaking sent children screaming for the exit, Karen crawled her way out the opposite side before she was able to really get a solid look at the creature.

It looked a lot like one of those zombies she had been dealing with for nearly two weeks, but it was…big. Both in height and in bulk, like he had been juicing hardcore down in the underworld. But it obviously wasn’t just his appearance that differed: that strength was for real. It was like the wall was made of tissue paper or something!

Noting that doors were pretty packed with kids and teachers alike desperately trying to force their way out, she began chewing her lip nervously. Too many witnesses to transform right now. All the obvious exits were packed with people. That left only the non-obvious ones...namely the one that this mountain of undead muscle had just made.

Swallowing the sizeable lump in her throat, Karen charged to the far end of the event hall and pressed herself up against the wall. As the super zombie moved forward, she quickly slipped out of the hole in the wall. There were still plenty of witnesses outside, though, so this wouldn’t do either!

“Oh shit, I don’t like where my mind’s going,” Karen muttered to herself, drawing in power from the surrounding laylines. Hub City was a rich epicenter of magic, so at least it was always easy here. Forming a little purple ball of light in her hand, she reared back and hurled straight at the back of the oversized corpse’s head. Her spell, naturally, shattered on impact. Hopefully he at least felt it. “...Hey you!”

Karen bent over and smacked her ass through her Hogwarts robes. “Catch me if you can, ugly!”

Dashing as fast as her very human legs would carry her, Karen ran across the campus and into the main part of school. She needed to get to a classroom or something where she could transform without anybody seeing it!

The massive zombie roared and charged after Karen, moving with the graceless speed and inevitability of an undead rhino, or maybe a freight train made of reanimated meat. He slammed through any obstacles between himself and the main school area without bothering to try and maneuver, only knowing that he was now angry at the small thing that taunted him.

Rushing down the main hall at speeds that exceeded anything she’d ever managed to accomplish at the school track & field, she screamed when the monster came smashing through the wall behind her, sending lockers flying across the hall, their sacredly private contents spilling out for whatever poor soul had to clean this all up to find. Arriving at the high school biology class, Karen quickly twisted the nob and dashed inside.

She didn’t need a second longer to consider what her next action would be.

“SHAZAM!”

A blinding flash of light followed by an echo of thunder heralded her transformation, and not a moment too soon. Just one glancing blow from that freak would’ve splattered her across the city.

Drawing a deep breath, Lady Arcana readied herself.

The colossal zombie shouldered his way through the doorway of the biology lab, exploding it along with a good portion of the wall as easily as an angry child kicking over a sandcastle. Unconcerned with the shower of debris he’d created. He lunged forward with all the technique of a rabid animal, trying to simply grab Arcana in two massive mitts and pulp her like an overripe fruit.

“Woah!” Lady Arcana yelped when he came smashing through the wall, rising above his muddy murder mittens in the nick of time before twisting in the air to issue a kick to the side of his head. Since he was - like all the others - a mindless zombie, she didn’t have to worry about taking it easy on him, so she put a considerable amount of force behind it.

She should’ve probably been more concerned about all the school property they were breaking...but hey, they were ridiculously rich.

The zombie took the kick to the head surprisingly well, digging in hard with his feet to prevent himself from being knocked back and uttering only a low ‘Ungh!’ of sorts as his head was briefly snapped sideways by the strike, apparently even more durable than his smaller kin. Strangely enough the kick seemed to rattle something loose in his brain, as instead of simply trying to grab at her again, he reached out with each hand to grab a biology lab table in each, swinging them at her with unexpected speed for his size in a bid to improve his odds of hitting her with the improvised bludgeons.

Lady Arcana had most certainly not expected him to remain on his feet after that hit. In fact, she had figured it would either send him flying, or knock his block clean off. Not only that, but he was startlingly quick to retaliate against her with a pair of lab tables that he wielded like they were ogi fans. Feeling them shatter against her with enough force to send splinters flying in every direction - to the point where some embedded themselves in the wall, she was sent flying back by the unexpected force.

Smashing through the blackboard at the far end of the room, she emerged in History 1103. Plowing through several rows of desks before she managed to stop herself, Lady Arcana frowned at the towering menace through the hole she had left.

“Alright, I get it. You’re big league,” she muttered, lifting off the ground again.

In a sudden blur of motion she charged forward, drawing back her fist and slamming it towards the side of his left jaw with a slight “hyah”! This time she did something she’d never really done before: she put effort into her attack. Even against Asad she’d tried to be careful not to hurt him...but this guy was already dead, and was mindless to boot!

The super-zombie didn’t have time to react to Arcana’s attack, except for perhaps the briefest flicker of shock across his face before his lower jaw snapped painfully sideways and he was sent flying backward instead this time around, slamming back almost through the holes in the wall he’d created, though his outstretched arms did more damage to the school hallway’s stability as he went past.

It would be tempting enough for Karen to think that he’d been defeated. After all, no opponent so far had taken a serious punch from her and kept fighting and the mammoth zombie had ended up knocked into a pile of rubble with a good portion of his face rearranged. Unfortunately the zombie rose from the detritus as easily as he’d risen from the grave, his jaw and portions of his skull visibly snapping back into place and knitting back together. He picked up the two biggest chunks of leftover building at hand and pitched them at Karen one after the other like baseballs, his movements seeming to become increasingly human as the fight wore on.

”Eh? He’s still in one piec-” Lady Arcana started in disbelief, only to have her words cut short as a piece of her new school came hurting towards her. Swiftly moving to catch it in order to keep it from potentially slamming into somebody, this unfortunately blinded her to the second one as it crashed down upon her. Driven to the ground by this, the wizardess left a series of small impact craters as she bounced along into the playground area.

Shaking her head slightly in disbelief, she placed her hands onto the ground and pushed herself up. That was something she didn’t even believe was possible. She really was trying to destroy him that last time. What was he made out of that he could still be coming at her? Worse, the damage he did take had just healed almost instantly!

Pursing her lips and knitting her eyebrows, Lady Arcana stared down the massive creature. That was finally when she noticed it.

That chill running up her spine. Her ability to sense magic’s calling card. And it was a sharper sting than she had ever experienced before. This thing was far beyond what Asad’s armor had been capable of, and worse, there was...something else about it...a maelstrom of screams that made her head throb. She could feel them now, like a hurricane of tortured souls swirling about this creature, with it as the gruesome eye. How many? Millions? Tens of millions?

”What are you?” Lady Arcana couldn’t stop herself from asking.

The creature actually paused at the question as if taken by surprise and needing to ponder the answer for a moment, briefly hesitating. An answer bubbled up from the roiling, mixing swamp of souls that animated him, a half-remembered name he wasn’t sure was his own.

“Me….Solomon...Grundy.”
With that, whatever personal crisis the mega-zombie seemed to be having ended, and he once again charged Arcana like an undead rhinoceros, tearing up chunks of flooring and earth as he raced across the building and the playground area to try and collide with her again.

Solomon Grundy? Where had she heard that before?

The Intellect of Mnemosyne quickly helped her recall the old Nursery Rhyme her mother once sang to her when she was small. Right, it was an old English poem. Somehow, though, she didn’t think the nine foot tall mass of pain and hatred that was thundering towards her right now was what the poet behind it had in mind when he wrote the thing.

Still, even more surprising was that it had talked just now. No mudo had ever done that before. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he was ludicrously powerful, and still eager to throw down with her. She needed to end this, or the damage to not just the school, but Hub City itself was going to be outrageous!

Lifting off the ground just shortly before she was within “Solomon Grundy’s” immense grasp, Lady Arcana darted to the side in a blur of motion and wrapped her arms around one of his tree-like limbs. Spinning her entire body along with her passenger in an instant, a cyclone of wind immediately blasted the area and made the nearby trees sway violently, with the various slides and jungle gyms the younger children played on creaking in protest.

Finally she allowed her grip to go lax, launching the behemoth of undead flesh not only into the sky, but clean out of the Earth’s orbit. He was like a blazing fireball, in fact, as friction took its hold over him in a vain attempt to slow his ascent. Actually, she was starting to feel like maybe she had gotten a little carried away when a visible mushroom cloud of fire erupted on the moon, causing her to wince.

“Uh...sorry, Mr. Moon,” Lady Arcana muttered.

Lady Arcana then felt a gentle vibration inside of her, recognizing the feeling of her cell phone vibrating from a new text message. Reaching a hand up to the metaphysical conduit in thunderbolt form on her chest, a thunderbolt immediately shot into her hand, the brief light fading to reveal the device.

Holding it up, she saw it was a text from Zoey.

>Was that you or is World War 3 starting?

Karen felt a blush slowly working over her face as she exhaled. Everyone in half the world had just witnessed that, hadn’t they?

>Yes. It was me. I’m sorry, there was...a REALLY big mudo.

Unfortunately, Karen’s embarrassment seemed just slightly premature as before long what looked like a shooting star, or more accurately a small meteorite, was hurtling through the atmosphere. The brilliant streak of light grew larger and larger until it rapidly became obvious that, however impossible it seemed, the mudo known as Solomon Grundy was making a return trip, right ontop of Lady Arcana’s position.

Lady Arcana felt her jaw drop at the sight of the burning meteor that was rapidly heading back towards her. It...couldn’t be, right?

”No fucking way…” She muttered, lifting off the ground.

There was no time to be surprised. If he impacted Hub City at that speed...well, she didn’t even want to consider the damage it was going to do! Without another moment’s hesitation, she rocketed straight towards the glowing ball of hate, slamming into it while it was still in the upper stratosphere.

The resulting crack would be heard across much of the United States, and perhaps even beyond that, a sonic boom of unprecedented proportions. Her arms wrapped firmly around the burning hot corpse as she fell back to the Earth with him at a far less dangerous pace, crashing down into the fields on the outskirts of Hub City with a series of cratering bounces before finally settling off the shore of Lake Dover.

”Nnn…” Lady Arcana grunted, stumbling back away from the towering man before he could potentially rise again…as ludicrous as that thought felt.

This time though, the smoking, smoldering nine-foot-slab of a corpse didn’t rise. He twitched weakly, but didn’t seem to be regenerating like he had previously and had a good portion of his anatomy reduced to ash from the intense heat of rapidly exiting and re-entering Earth’s atmosphere already besides. It was a testament to his freakish durability that there was anything left of him given what he’d been through, but Solomon Grundy seemed as good as dead once more.

Lady Arcana didn’t approach at first, especially as he twitched. It was only after several minutes of staring at his charred, smoking corpse that she cautiously edged closer. Reaching a leg out, she nudged him with her foot. Nothing. Releasing a heavy sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair and let her head sag slightly.

”Man, what was with that thing?” She muttered, lifting off the ground once more. She continued to stare down at it until the sound of distant sirens caught in her ear.

Shaking her head slightly, she raised her hood and flew her way back to the school. The least she could try and do was fix what damage she could there. Maybe, like...awkwardly prop up all those lockers or something…

Halloween was now probably her least favorite season.

Hopefully nothing would happen to ruin Christmas for her, next.

Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

November 4th, 8:48 PM
Marcy Projects

Jermaine Henderson was scared.

That wasn’t an easy admission for the fourteen year old to make. More than anything, he wanted everyone to know just how tough he was. To know that they’d better not look down on him just because he was young.

That was the reason he was still playing GTAVI, after all.

By now the rumors about the kids in Brooklyn who had been abducted - or worse - had spread to the point where New York-based servers that were once packed had now been closed down by Rockstar due to the high profile abductions.

There weren’t many kids that were brave enough to play a game that might literally result in their deaths. Even if they were, their parents would certainly not permit it.

Jermaine’s sure hadn’t. That’s why he made a show of smashing his CD in front of his mom. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t understand that you could play without the CD. It was on his steam account now, the CD key was in, and so he didn’t even need it anymore.

And so he was playing, behind his mother’s back. It was a bit laggy, as he had to play on servers based outside of New York, but it was still playable. He had told himself everything would be fine. That the abductions had nothing to do with GTA, that it was just the media blaming video games again like it always did.

He wished he had listened to his mother, now.

“Don’t look behind you, Jermaine,” the voice whispered again, it’s chilled breath causing the hairs on his neck to stand.

It was the second time it had said that, and Jermaine was trying desperately to follow those instructions. His eyes were shut tight, his entire body was trembling. He could feel the heat of tears against his cheeks and the chill of sweat on his brow. Every second that passed, he could feel the presence behind him more intensely. He didn’t want to look, but…

...It was as if he was being compelled to do so.

“P-please…please…”

A low, raspy chuckle sent waves of that icy breath against his neck again. “Don’t look behind you…!”

It was like his heart was going to explode. He could already feel his body turning as the pressure became overwhelming. And he knew for certain at that point…

He was going to die.

Opening his eyes, Jermaine’s mouth opened to scream at what he saw. The Kinderfresser.

Rooftops of Brooklyn
8:48 p.m.

He hadn’t been active in almost two weeks. Readjusting to the sounds of the outside world was difficult at first, and the streets below had not yet begun to clear. Through the light yellow slits of the eyes of the suit, Tiger watched over the projects, but not with leisure. Though he was still hurting, it was his intentions that kept him on his feet. Tonight, he would catch the Kinderfresser; tonight, no one else’s children would die because he was injured. He put a hand to the side of the dark grey mask atop his head which capped off the monochrome suit, the latest of his suit’s iterations. Within the stitching of the mask’s mesh, there was a small sensory activated sight module which gave Marvin access to the mask’s built in vision settings: the eyes changed from their light yellow to a deep green--the magic scanner.

Lit were the streets of Brooklyn in a soft hue of a similar shade. A pulsing dim energy flared within the altered visage of the suit; Marvin was staring at traces of mystical energy. A gift from a certain canine friend of his; she wanted those kids out of her castle, he was sure, and so this fine gadget here would speed the process. The Kinderfresser, for all it was, lacked creativity. From the crime scene photos Marvin studied, all the abductions were the same: no signs of forced entrance, usually no blood--a clean disappearance. The Kinderfresser--or rather, the Child Eater--had gotten bold, bold enough to give Marvin just enough; it had left its name. “Kinderfresser” was indeed German, and it was far more sinister than Marvin previously thought.

The string of kidnappings by this ‘Child Eater’ stretched centuries, and it was indiscriminate of sex or color when picking its victims. The one thing Susan McKenzie, Travis Williams, Brandon Plymouth, and Teon Hollins all had in common? They were ‘bad’ kids, none of them were awful children by anyone’ standards but they had been ‘naughty’ in the Kinderfresser’s eyes. Its method of abduction was never the same each time, but there was one constant: every child was abducted while playing a fashionable game of their time. For Susan, hopscotch; Brandon, Travis, and Teon, GTA VI. Marvin couldn’t figure out why they were all taken while playing video games and chalked it up to coincidence. It wasn’t something of great import right now, anyway.

From his perch, Tiger leapt. He had mastered every crevice of these projects’ roofs, and crossing them--even while in pain--was nigh effortless. It helped that he was overall in better essential condition than a normal human, some still healing wounds would not slow him down as it would someone else. In his traverse, he kept his eyes on the trail sussed by the magic sensing technology. The Kinderfresser forged a hard trail to track, its presence left energy residue instead of footprints and it seemed as though it had been busy tonight, aiming to pick the most satisfying prey, for there were several strands of its energy winding into no particular path.

Until the strands of energy conjoined into a single point of entry. That was not good. It meant the Kinderfresser was about to capture another if it hadn’t already--Tiger had to pick up the pace. His usually elegant leaps and soft landings which preferred for the sake of his knees and ankles he traded for wide and arcing bounds, virtual continuous longjumps which propelled him fifteen to twenty feet forward with any given leap. Combined with an upstart in acceleration and an intentional boost in speed, Marvin closed the distance between his former position and where the Kinderfresser’s trail went dead within a few seconds. His heart thudded against his chest, a jackhammer--even with the cooling insulation of the suit, Marvin was pushing himself harder than he had in a long time, he could feel the ick of his own blood as it zipped through his veins. He was in anguish with each move, but he was exhilarated as well. He was hunting again.

One final leap, the dark monochrome grey mesh-weave suit glistened against the white moon as Marvin soared across the opaque background of the night. He landed in a squat, knees bent and never bent too far in front of his toes so as to lessen the impact. Even one with his capabilities was not immune to a torn ACL given a poor landing. He didn’t cease his momentum, his target was right below him! He turned on both heels and darted toward the roof’s edge, his acceleration-to-top speed time was incredible, his twist into a backflip which he sprung after grabbing onto the edge of the roof and bulldozing the metallic lined fiber of the suit’s feet into the glass window where the Kinderfresser and Jermaine were was even better.

After he crashed through the window, he ducked into a roll--he landed on his feet with the deftness of his namesake in miniature form and rose to full height; the bleak grey of the suit knocked against the cold blue night, creating a long and thick silhouette around him which highlighted his freakishly athletic physique. His voice was ice from beneath the mask,

”Enough.”

The Kinderfresser reached its obsidian hand out for Jermaine, preparing to consume him just as he had the others.

This was a time far greater than any that had come before it. In centuries past, it could perhaps harvest a single disobedient child per year, often traveling great distances in search of the ideal prey. The world was once so disparate, with houses often be miles apart. Disobedient children were also far less common, the harsher times making respect for one’s elders virtually mandatory. But now things were different.

Now there were hundreds, perhaps thousands just waiting to be devoured. Packed tightly into boroughs such as this one, the internet offering them an easy outlet for their defiance. It was, after all, a gourmet. If a child’s soul was too dark, then it would gain nothing from it. On a similar note, should it shine too brightly, the Kinderfresser would be driven away. It was the flawed, the troubled that it sought. Those who were tainted, but not yet consumed by evil.

Those like young Jermaine.

Seizing the boy’s torso with it’s long black fingers, it began to draw him towards that mouth of crimson fire that would be the end of his short life of rebellion. And then the shattering of glass did something that the Kinderfresser believed was impossible: surprised it.

Whirling to face the intruder, that maw of fire stretched wider and released an unearthly roar that shook the entire project. It was in this moment that Jermaine at last found his voice and released a sharp scream that surely alerted his mother.

Howling in rage at having its meal interrupted, the Kinderfresser hurled the boy straight at Tiger, before lunging forward and seizing the strangely dressed man by the neck with a supernatural strength and speed that sent the three of them back through the window.

Fast as Tiger was, this Kinderfresser was several steps beyond; all he could do was catch Jermaine by the collar of his shirt before Tiger, too, was sent spiraling through the window with the Kinderfresser’s charge. That same exhilaration he felt earlier still beat through his being, and he would use it to his advantage; curling Jermaine in one arm, Tiger clutched the midrift of Jermaine’s shirt and tore in into a single ribbon. Tiger waited until he and Jermaine neared the top of a streetlight before he unfurled Jermaine from his grasp like a bowler following through the motion of his form and let the sliver of thin cotton strip snag onto the small arc of the top of the light. Jermaine was suspended tight in air, as a kid who is bullied hangs from the flagpole after his antagonists yoke him up.

Tiger, on the other hand, continued to fall, his back smashed into the roof of a minivan; the absorbent material of the suit dispersed the kinetic impact across the width and length of his body, even as he crushed the hood itself beneath his frame. Though the impact was absorbed and dispersed, it didn’t stop his body from slamming into the lined mesh metal composite of the suit itself; for a moment, Tiger was stunned. Tiger knew he had to move, and quickly, because his opponent was descending on him--and not even his suit would protect him from that mystical crimson flame; he rolled off the hood of the crushed minivan and onto his hands and knees, where he briefly crawled before he wobbled onto his feet. His head still rung.

That was certainly not the smartest thing he had ever done.

Kinderfresser was in truth surprised by its own power. While the taste of tainted children was a strong preference by it, the reality was that it had - for the longest time - simply been too weak to go after most adults. But since a year ago - almost exactly! - it had felt so much stronger than before.

The laylines had flowed with power, and creatures such as it reaped the benefits. Now it feared no mere human, including this beastman standing before it. While it may not enjoy him nearly so much, it would gladly consume his soul as well so that he would never interfere with its dinner again.

Stretching its mouth further still, an unearthly howl filled the streets of Brooklyn as the devourer of children fell upon the vigilante, long dark cloak blending almost seamlessly into the night sky as it whipped about its form without any aid from the wind. Reaching out to grasp at him with those serrated fingers, the Kinderfresser attempted to draw him into its form.

Tiger’s senses came about him again, for a moment he was seeing double! In that time, the Kinderfresser had both descended and closed the distance between itself and Tiger; but now, the Child Eater was in Marvin’s world. He countered the Kinderfresser’s outstretched arm with a quick roll of his head beneath its right arm and he leaned his body low, carrying his entire frame toward the Kinderfresser’s side. One strong hook--hard enough to test the durability of this Kinderfresser, but not enough for Marvin to expend too much stamina; he would have to save that for any possible blitzkrieg, but Tiger knew he would also have to end the fight quick lest the Kinderfresser begin to utilize his speed advantage.

Alongside the powerful hook, Tiger went to throw in a knee. He jolted the upper portion of his thigh into the same area he had just tried to hit; first in Tiger’s array of styles, Muay Thai, a form which generated enough force and power behind its individual movements to fell most corporeal beings who were not named Superman, Harris, or Lady Arcana.

The first impact against the Kinderfresser’s ghostly form embedded deeply in its robes, pushing it to the side. The kick that followed likewise pushed it further away, infuriating the creature. It wasn’t used to its prey fighting back. Most couldn’t even react when it came for them. This human was clearly going to make a nuisance of himself.

Flexing its massive claws, the Kinderfresser once more lunged at Tiger with deadly speed and precision. Slicing across the vigilante’s current position, the moment of its strike carried on into the vehicle the human had crashed into only moment’s before. Slicing deep into it with little fanfare, gas began to leak from the punctured tank.

Spinning in midair to face him again, the Kinderfresser unleashed a series of claw strikes aimed at bisecting the beastman. Even if it didn’t get to consume his soul, it would be content to have him gone.

Tiger had--against his intentions--pushed the Kinderfresser away from him and given the Kinderfresser space to use his speed again; when the Kinderfresser closed distance the second time, the first of the claw swipes severed Tiger’s mask along the front, the serrated edges of the creature’s tarsals cut deep into Tiger’s skin. Tiger wallowed in the initial pain, never had his suit been ripped open. In the back of Marvin’s mind, he had (foolishly) begun to think his invention infallible. Of course he was--as was typical of late--wrong.

Muscle memory was the only reason he wasn’t bisected by the second set of claws, his years of boxing training cued his body to evade after being hit, no matter the pain. Half his face exposed, with the tatters of the mask dangling by a thread off his jawline and blood--which quickly began to coagulate--escaping down the side of his face and trailing down the bodypiece of his suit, Marvin had to think of a new plan fast. Then he saw it, the gas leak! The only problem was that he lacked a lighter.

Somehow, he had to make one, and all before the Kinderfresser realized its own mistake. Tiger had to buy himself some time; keep the monster enraged so he would slip up: something told Tiger that this creature was taken aback by new prey that would not merely bow to it. Something told Tiger that this Kinderfresser, for all its legend and the fear it struck in the hearts of children across the centuries, was, for the first time in a long time. . . scared.

That was all Tiger needed.

Tiger had to keep the pressure on, occupy the Kinderfresser’s mind with what was in front of it, force it into tunnel vision. To this end, Tiger took the offensive, he sprinted toward the Kinderfresser; the back of Tiger’s mind fixated on the streetlights surrounding the projects and providing the lone source of light barring the few lit windows of patrons who were watching television. Some had even begun to open their windows after hearing the commotion.

The Kinderfresser howled again at the nimble feline when it managed to avoid being cleaved in twain by its claws. He wasn’t even as a beastman, as the creature had initially presumed, but rather a mere human wearing a costume of some sort. For such a pathetic being to dare and defy it for this long...this incensed it to its very core. Humans were meat, their souls a mere savory nectar that its continued existence demanded.

Charging to meet the foolhardy man, its claws at the ready, the Kinderfresser released an ear-piercing shriek as its claws began to weave an intricate pattern through the air with their continuous swipes. Any one of them would be enough to end costumed vigilante if they landed firmly, but this man somehow managed to be far quicker than any the creature had ever encountered before.

But it was swifter still. Swifter than any mere human, to be certain. The whistling of the air as it cut through it was proof enough of this.

“They are mine...” The Kinderfresser’s voice rasped, seeming to carry farther on the wind than it had any right to. “All of them!”

Tiger’s aim was not to meet the creature head on; he would assure death that way. No, it was to give the gas enough time to seep forward and set itself within the various cracks of the surface below. After Tiger had gathered enough momentum, he slid low between the creature’s legs--no fancy fighting technique, something he learned when he was a kid himself and played baseball with his father at the park. Tiger kicked up onto his feet as the creature’s bellowing shriek ricocheted off the buildings and shattered the streetlights in front of the Kinderfresser. As the bulbs popped, small torrents of heat danced toward the ground and sparked the gas into flame!

It didn’t take long for the flame to trail along the fluid and ignite itself as the belly of a snake slithers its owner across surface. Marvin heard it ignite and continue to forge its path toward the Kinderfresser--and if the Kinderfresser dodged--himself. Tiger once again leapt up, this time atop the single piece of the minivan that was left before he quickly changed terrain and latched himself onto a window ledge. As though his body were a thing out of Tetris, he contorted while one foot was on the window ledge and burst himself atop the same streetlight Jermaine hung from. Tiger’s breathing was now rapid; the unhealed injuries began taking a toll on him. He was unsure how much he had left in him while in this state.

Without hesitation, he leaned over his perch on the streetlight and expended more of his strength in order to burst its bulb as well, sparking a more stout stream of flame which fluttered the Kinderfresser’s way and had began to spread at a rapid pace. Screams from the highrises emitted and were carried by the wind below and into Tiger’s ears; they already rung from the reverb of the shriek, these other screams did not help his predicament.

The Kinderfresser had been surprised when Tiger had dived beneath its form, not expecting him to risk being any closer than he had to be after seeing the speed at which it could strike. Still, it had immediately turned to face the nimble human and pursue him, only for a trail of flames to erupt along the path to the minivan and catch the edge of its cloak. For the first time in its centuries long existence, the creature experienced true pain as its cloak was set ablaze. Thrashing about in an effort to put out the blaze, it slammed into the minivan - a panicked mistaked - just as the vigilante broke yet another light above it.

That was when the streams of flame converged onto the minivan, and in a flash that briefly cast away the night, the vehicle erupted in flames. Flames that consumed the Kinderfresser.

A truly ear shattering screech filled the air, windows shattering in both homes and nearby cars as the once pitch-black Kinderfresser burst from the fiery remnants of the minivan and began to hysterically slam into the walls of the nearby projects. Like a ball of fire it streaked through the air, continuing to scream as glass shattered in its wake. Higher into the night sky it flew, its pain echoing on the wind for miles even as it fled the city.

---

“There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter,” Nimrod spoke the words of Ernest Hemingway, the scope of his Cheytac M200 Sniper Rifle zooming in on his quarry as it sat perched on a street lamp, hunting the the strange spectre.

It was be easy to end him here, to place a bullet between his eyes...but The Tiger was not yet healed completely. That much was clear to him in the way he moved, a certain stiffness that he strived to overcome. Most would not notice it, but he did. That hint of extra tension in his well-defined musculature that he had flawlessly mapped over the past week.

No, he would not kill him yet. He would merely leave him with...a warning.

Lowering his aim, Nimrod zeroed in on his left knee. With a squeeze of the trigger, the most powerful sniper rifle in the world released a bullet from over 1.4 miles away, instantly clearing the distance.

---

There was only white, searing torment. A shot so sudden, so perfectly placed, Marvin didn’t have time to scream. In an instant in time, Marvin lay sprawled atop the lone piece of the minivan as sun colored flames howled mere inches below. For all the fine tuning, refining, and failsafes placed in his latest suit, Marvin had nothing in it which could withstand a caliber beyond .50.

An err that this day the Brooklyn mask rued.
In the dark of unconsciousness he lie: vulnerable, weak. Prey.

--

“Do not disappoint me, Mr. Hayes,” Nimrod whispered, standing over the prone body of The Tiger, his silver mask reflecting the fires that burned around them. “I am seeking something far greater than the money of some petty crime lord.”

Reaching into his pocket, Nimrod tossed a bloody ear onto the chest of the unconscious Tiger. “This is a hunt between you and I, and Nimrod shall brook no interference, even from the likes of Carmine Persico.”

Turning away, Nimrod raised his hat slightly, eying his prey over his shoulder. “I suggest you recover quickly, they will be coming for you, my hunter. Wipe them out.”

---

Sirens blared throughout the projects: some from police cars, others from firefighters, the last group from paramedics. The firefighters got to the business of trying to put out the flames; the paramedics aided Marvin and threw him in the back of their vehicle. Marvin Hayes had unwittingly endangered the innocent denizens of Marcy; and this would likely be the last time they saw their masked hero. There was word that the Marcy projects itself was being condemned; despite the severe drop in crime, there was little even Hayes could do to improve the conditions of the projects themselves.

When Marvin next awoke, he stared at the ceiling of the paramedics’ van, a masked ET stood over him; and like before, he was hooked to IVs and tubes. Behind the paramedic van was a police car and a patty wagon.

If October was a long month for Tiger, November would feel as an eternity.

Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

October 31st, 6:32 PM
Silver Leaf Academy Event Hall

"Right, here you go!" Karen offered a pair of plastic cups to a couple of older students dressed as Walter and Skyler White. Filled with green punch, it was her assigned job to offer drinks and food to all the other students here at the school Halloween Party. It was an event open to students of every grade, so you'd think one of the teachers could fill her role tonight, but...

...No. She honestly wanted to say that it was strange that she would be asked to do this before any of the faculty, but as the only Hispanic student in an otherwise snow white private school, she really couldn't claim to have been too surprised when the event coordinator had asked her to fill the role.

He had apparently thought he was doing something really nice for her too.

Still, it isn't like she had anything better to do here. She had simply went dressed as a Hogwarts student...a little in-joke that only she would get. And hey, maybe if she kept smiling and being friendly, the other students would actually warm up to her a bit. Dare she hope for the possibility of actually making a new friend?!

Heh.

Well, at least she got all the free punch and snacks she wanted, so long as she kept everyone else filled up. Plus, a front row seat to whoever ended up winning best costume of the party! She really cared so much about that! But this was all the price of being too damn soft to ever tell anyone "no". Clarissa always told her that it was her fatal flaw. Given all the gross fanart she'd been coerced into to looking at, the other teen might've been onto something there.

...Was it wrong that she was secretly hoping that Samantha would call her with some emergency?

One Piece: The Romance of Blackfin (OPEN)

Siobhan and the old man both flinched when the crack of the gunshot filled the open air, echoing briefly into the distance.

"Well done, ya maggot," Her eyes darted to Kailani in mild irritation, though she nevertheless smiled when the other girl expressed her enthusiasm at having obtained what was surely something new and fascinating for her. It was easy to forget that she came from an island that had been cut off from the outside world for no telling how long. For her, just about everything would be a new discovery, a new adventure!

It made the halfbreed just a little jealous.

"What in the hells is her problem?!" The old man rubbed his ears, seeming to have been briefly shocked out of his melancholy by the sudden discharge of his weapon.

Returning her full attention to the geezer still sitting on the blackened floor, Siobhan offered him a light shrug of her shoulders. "She's an odd one, but I'd appreciate ya answerin' her question."

The old man shifted his ever suspicious eyes between the two girls for a moment, but ultimately sighed in resignation. Slumping forward even further, he raised a hand to gesture at the devastated town. "Blackwell. The King of Batotoi wouldn't pay his 'tax', so he unleashed a damn monster on this town to make him reconsider."

"Monster?" Siobhan cocked her head to the side. "What kind of monster?"

Releasing a bitter chuckle at her words, the man's dark eyes flickered up at her. "It was that demon swordsman, Mushuro Takeuchi! He wiped our defenses out before we could even really know what was happening...but I served in the Marines for nearly twenty years, and I got a good look at him: a pale-faced God of Death he was, just like in the posters that've been going around."

Siobhan's eyes seemed to instantly light up like a pair of emerald suns, her hands lancing out to seize the old man by the scruff of his shirt as she brought him up to eye level. "Seriously?! Where did he go after?!"

Maybe this trip wasn't such a waste after all.

"W-what in-" The old man stammered at her enthusiastic response. "W-why would you ever want to know where he went, 'less it was to stay away from him?! He wiped out this whole town, and would cut you to ribbons in a heartbeat if he caught sight of you!"

Siobhan shook her head frantically. "I need to know, cause that's my future swordsman!"

The old man stared at her like she was insane for what seemed like half a minute before releasing a heavy sigh. "Whatever, girl. It's your life."

One Piece: The Romance of Blackfin (OPEN)

Siobhan's eyes shifted to Kailani, a brow quirking at the sight of a silver coin and the other woman's apparent interest in it. It was hard not to laugh at how she had stowed it away as if it was something precious. "A hundred beli coin. Guess they didn't get everythin'."

Despite her sarcastic tone, however, she had to admit that Kailani was right. They had pretty much wasted their time coming here...but then, that was also part of adventuring. Not every island they landed on was going to be interesting or useful in their journey, but that just means that they'll learn to appreciate those insane and unpredictable experiences all the more when they do happen!

"Righto, let's head back to the-" Siobhan's words were abruptly silenced when she felt the cold barrel of a rifle press against the temple of her skull.

Her eyes slowly shifting to the side, she was able to take in the visage of the battered and bandaged old man who was holding the gun against her in his ever-so-slightly trembling grasp. "Don't move a single muscle, girl! I won't hesitate to shoot you, even if you're a woman!"

Meeting his gaze with her own, Siobhan noted the mixture of fear and absolute hatred that had consumed those weathered eyes. Her lips slowly turned downwards into a frown as she drew a measured breath to speak. "Oi gramps...if ya don't put that rifle down, then one of us'll get hurt."

"Oh?" He gritted his teeth, those eyes burning with both fury and resolve. "And just who do you reckon that'll be?"

Siobhan's gaze turned cold, her jaw clenching tightly as her knuckles cracked. The old man's trembling became more apparent as his fear reasserted itself. Still, he did not falter as she turned her head to fully face him with emerald eyes marred by webs of red veins. "Me."

"Y-YOU?!" The old man gasped out, his body spasming for the briefest instant, just enough time for Siobhan's hand to lash out and snatch the rifle from his grasp. "O-oh shit...!"

Tossing it casually over to Kailani, the fishwoman incognito smirked to him. "Relax, gramps. We're not with the lot that did this."

The geezer glanced between them suspiciously, his breathing now erratic...likely from having his weapon stolen. "T-then who are you?!"

"I'm Grace D. Siobhan, a pirate!" She introduced herself. "But since there's not much left to pirate here, ya shouldn't be worried."

"Pirates?!" That hatred the man held flashed in his eyes again for another brief moment, before it seemed to vanish as he seemed to deflate. Collapsing to his knees in defeat, his head slumped to the ground. "I...I don't even care anymore. Just do whatever you're here to do."

One Piece: The Romance of Blackfin (OPEN)

Siobhan's nose crinkled at the distinct smell of burning flesh in the air, her eyes briefly darting to Kailani when she expressed her disdain for how overcooked everything was. She could just be so weird! "I like the charcoal taste, it's got that extra punch to it!"

Stepping further into town, the redhead surveyed the devastation of the once bustling settlement. Whoever came through here was pretty thorough when it came to making sure this place would never recover. There wasn't even a single building left standing that she could see! That meant getting information here was pretty much a lost cause, since the there was clearly nobody here that wasn't a burning corpse not even fit for a cannibal's lunch.

"Well, shite," Siobhan muttered, resting her hands upon her hips. "I was lookin' forward to some proper food. Still we should probably give her a once over just in case they missed somethin'."

And at the very least, there was plenty of exploring to do!

Making her way through town, she searched the remains of any store or house that looked even remotely promising. Ultimately, however, the redhead found herself at a burned out tavern. Sifting through the debris, Siobhan noted the charred remains of wooden chairs, tables and the desperate townsfolk that had tried to hold the line here against their attackers. Judging by the number of corpses gathered here, she would dare to say that this was where the town made its final stand.

Still, something was off. Something that brought back that familiar tingle on the back of her neck.

There weren't nearly as many bodies as there should be. This was a pretty large town, a port settlement. It would've enjoyed quite a bit of trade, and thus should've been rather prosperous. Yet, she had counted just a bit over a hundred corpses during her time here. There's no way the town could've had a population that small, so where were all the others?

Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

October 27th
Primorski Krai

There were few things akin to the biting chill of the Russian wind against his bare skin, that cloud of chilled air that puffed from his mouth with every breath. His heart pounded, struggling to warm his body by pumping fresh blood through his veins…but he was not concerned. He would not freeze. The spirit of the hunt flowed through him, warding off the chill.

No, his eyes remained firmly focused upon his quarry: a maneater, feared throughout the region. Eight hundred fifty pounds, a Siberian tiger known simply as “Ghost Claw” by the locals. He could see those eyes, that savage and predatory gaze that had him firmly in its sight. There was no fear in this beast, only hunger.

Removing his utility knife - the only “weapon” on his person - and tossing it to the ground, he crouched close to the ground and spread his arms wide. “Come, beast.”

Reacting in a blur of motion, the tiger charged forward with nary a sound. Paws spread apart in a deadly embrace aimed to pierce his flesh with five inch claws so that he could not flee from those bone crushing teeth as they closed down upon the back of his neck.

Ah, but he would be no easy meal.

Pushing off the ground as the great cat loomed over him in that breadth of a second, he wrapped his arms beneath the animal’s own upper limbs, tucking his head firmly in against its chest as he allowed the animal’s far greater weight to continue to carry him forward. A subtle motion of his feet - a turn - would alter their course and find the beast landing onto it’s back.

A flicker of surprise filled the cat’s eye for the briefest of moments, well honed instinct allowing it to linger no longer. Yet it was in that minute interval that he had struck, having released Ghost Claw before its back had even touched the ground. Lunging forward, his arms snaked around the beast’s neck as he tucked his shoulder in tightly beneath its jaw.

Muscles rippled along his arms as his grip suddenly tightened, his legs shifting beneath him as he twisted with a low grunt. As he felt the animal’s claws begin to sink into his back, he was at last rewarded with a sickening crack, those knives piercing his flesh withdrawing as the beast’s body went slack.

Allowing it to fall to the ground with an impact that resonated through the forest, Maxim Zirov stood above his latest kill, his lips turning into a subtle frown.

“...Too easy,” he muttered. “Far too easy.”

Even after abandoning all of his tools, all of his weapons, it seemed as if there was no prey worthy of Nimrod the Hunter. From the cold of Siberia to the scorching heat of the Sahara, from the Everglades to the jungles of Rajasthan he had searched for any remaining challenge to his skills.

There were none.

Stepping towards his discarded knife, he retrieved it from the snow before returning to his former prey. Though a disappointment, he would still honor its sacrifice properly and not leave it to rot and be devoured by carrion.

Setting himself to the task of skinning the creature, he would ensure that he wasted nothing...not even the bones. To do otherwise would be to disgrace the spirit of the hunt that coursed through his veins even now. Even in his growing melancholy and dissatisfaction.

“Nn…?” Zirov finished stripping the pelt free when he felt a subtle vibration against his outer thigh. Stabbing the knife into the carcass, he retrieved his phone and glanced at the text that flashed onto the screen.

He smiled, ever so slightly.

---

October 28th, 6:00 p.m.
Brooklyn, New York

Marvin’s wounds were healing faster than bullet wounds should. He could only hope the depository shrapnel from the bullet’s entrances didn’t lodge themselves into his bones or lance any tendons. He was still in his hospital garb, and he hadn’t bothered to shower. He couldn’t; moving was too anguishing a task. How he was awake eluded him. Alone Marvin sat amongst the soft blue hum of his large computer monitor which stretched across a decent portion of the warehouse’s second floor western wing. There was nothing of import on the screen; in any other situation and concerning any other matter there would be. Tonight, old pictures danced across the long monitor.

One was Marvin dressed in a karate gi when he was eight, another of he and his Aunt Veronica in matching barbershop quartet overalls succeeding some musical performance Marvin had that night. What it was, Marvin did not readily remember; maybe it was no musical performance at all? Maybe it was a play? Odd. He may have to investigate later. That was part of his problem now! Anything--innocent or not--Marvin had to be sure he knew all the facts. To let something rest as it was could no longer be, it had become something of a paranoia. If he was being honest with himself, it began to unnerve him, this necessity with unveiling every footprint stamped on his life. If an assassin had found him, there was no telling who knew how much about him. Prior to the shooting, Marvin was the watcher; now he was the one being watched!

How many eyes were fixated on him, he would never know. His soul knew it, too. No gadget or contingency could cease that great revolution: the hunter becoming the hunted. It was nature and her finest display of passivity; someone was always watching and waiting for the biggest cat to be a little slow or a little late, and then they would take their shot. Swiping through another set of pictures with a few clicks of the mouse, Marvin switched to the street cameras; in small and separate sections along the monitor there appeared a bird’s eye view pan of every major street and alleyway in Brooklyn. The city was quiet.

Through his mind ran the discussion with the detective from a few days prior. He hoped his plan was going to work, there was only so small a window of time he could buy to stave this mysterious kidnapper. And there were only so many contingencies one man could make; soon enough, he would have no time to plan and would have to face his enemies on their own terms. It seemed this kidnapper, whoever or whatever they were, was a better chessman than Marvin--there had been ten kidnappings, and Marvin nor the FBI had any leads on any of them. How was the kidnapper hiding? Who was helping him? Why here of all places? The thoughts ached his temples, he pressed two fingers on each side and rubbed them softly.

Then there was the matter of the assassin at the hospital. A job undone usually meant death for the perpetrator. Broken memories of the attack brought back memories of well shined dress shoes that Marvin sussed while hiding beneath the hospital bed. The only people who sent their messages through men with shined shoes were the Mafia kingpins. Marvin--The Tiger, rather, was city-wide, but he didn’t bother the other mob bosses much. If Marvin’s guess were right, given the pattern of his vigilantism, the kill order likely came down from Don Colombo. Then again, anyone who was a thorn in the Five Families’ side was an enemy of them all. Secretly, it began to wear him down; the constant requisite defense of the people of his borough from threats which were all beginning to become too numerous and too great--even for a predator like Marvin.

---

October 28th, 8:17 PM
Dyckman Projects

Brandon Plymouth smirked as he ran his clanmate over in his 1998 BMW 540i, the body ragdolling as it bounced off the hood. Laughing to himself as Charlie began to rage over his mic about being on a mission, he sneered.

“Good, I hope you fucking lose all your goddamn money trying to do it, bitch!” Brandon cackled in reply.

More raging, this time from some of his other guildmates. He probably wasn’t going to be with this group for much longer, in truth. His time in a guild never last long, after all…once they figured out he was just there to troll their stupid asses, they’d kick him and he would move on to the next group.

“Fine, fine,” he threw his hands up in mock frustration. “Hold on, Charlie, I’ll drive you to your mission.”

“How about you help me do it, like an actual fucking member of the clan?!” Charlie raged back.

Snickering under his breath, Brandon’s smirk broadened. “Fine, bitch, calm down. Jesus!”

It didn’t take long for him to zero in on Charlie’s position. There he was, waiting for a pickup. Flashing the whites of his teeth briefly, Brandon pressed down on the acceleration and with an audible crunch he sent Charlie flying for the second time that night.

Erupting into laughter, he Brandon threw his head back as Charlie’s rage filled his ears again. HIs other “clanmates” were raging as well. Man, he really loved GTA VI.

“Brandon Plymouth…” A voice whispered out to him over his headset, it was deep, unfamiliar. “Can I tell you a story?”

Brandon ceased laughing instantly, slumping forward in his chair. “Who the fuck is that?”

“What are you playing at now, asshole?” Charlie snapped.

“There once was a boy, age thirteen,” the voice continued to speak in a hoarse whisper that sounded like he had been gargling shattered glass. “He often enjoys smashing bottles with a wooden bat after school. Sometimes, he even turns over garbage cans for fun.”

Brandon’s jaw dropped for a moment, his face growing slightly pale. “What? What the fuck?! Who the fuck are you?! How do you know me?!”

“Man, shut the hell up!” His clan leader shouted in irritation.

“C-come on, you don’t hear this shit?!” Brandon shouted back.

The voice continued. “He didn’t care about his grades. He didn’t care about his future. His parents were so disappointed with his wasted potential.”

“Bitch, you want me to call the fuckin’ cops on your creepy pedo ass?!” Brandon shouted back.

“I’ve been watching you, Brandon,” the voice claimed, “watching you at Midwood High School, watching you on your way back to your home at Bedford Avenue.”

Brandon felt his blood run cold at this, his heart pounding in his chest. “M-man, you shut the fuck up before I call the cops! For real!”

“And Brandon...I’m still watching you,” the voice continued, a low inhuman chuckle resonating from his mic. Brandon instinctively looked out his window, but didn’t see anything. “Oh, I’m not outside the window, Brandon.”

Brandon felt his eyes tearing up at this point as he began to tremble. “W-where…”

The teen suddenly found himself consumed by darkness as the lights were shut off, a horrified scream ripping its way from his throat. “FUCK!! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

And then it spoke again, but the voice did not come from his headset.

“Don’t look behind you.”

---

Aaliyah Plymouth bolted to her feet at the sound of a scream after the power had suddenly blinked off, her concentration on the television having been broken. The power quickly returned, and her eyes darted to the room to her left, her heart fluttered intensely.

That scream had come from Brandon’s room. That had been her baby screaming.

“Brandon?” She stepped to the door, pounding on it. No answer. “Brandon! Boy you’d better open this door!”

Again, she received no response. Lowering her hand to the knob, Aaliyah turned it - it wasn’t locked - and stepped through.

“Bra-” She froze in place, her eyes wide. The chair in front of his computer had been overturned. The computer monitor was still on, and his headset was laying on the floor...but there was no sign of brandon.

At least, not until her eyes shifted to the far wall and saw the blood, still glistening red. Stumbling back before falling to the ground, her eyes watered at the unfamiliar word it spelled out.

---

October 29th,
3:30 a.m.

Sergeant Michael Bloom and Forensics Officer Felix Martinez arrived on the scene some hours after the abduction-homicide had been called in. The dead of night, the heart of the graveyard shift, a shift given only to the sturdiest of men. The Sergeant brought with him a handful of rookies and deputies, few of whom had experience with a case such as this. On normal occasions--occasions when the city’s higher ranking officers with supple field experience weren’t tied up in murder cases or retiring en masse because they were tired of being overworked and underpaid--Bloom would have shovelled the rookies to walking the beat in the nice neighborhoods, the NYPD had already lost too many recruits by putting them on foot patrol in the seediest parts of the boroughs. Inside the Plymouth home, Forensics Officer Martinez was swabbing the blood from the wall and collecting loose hair samples. Sergeant Bloom was consoling Aaliyah Plymouth, mother of the most recent victim,

“My baby! They took my baby!” Aaliyah wailed,
“Ma’m, we’ll get your son back. You trust me, eh? We’ll bring em back to ya. Swea ta gawd.” his accent was thick, one could smell the pork roll he had eaten steaming from his breath, he was a Jersey man through and through,
“Don’t look like it to me! We sufferin’ out here and y’all still done nothin’! Nothin’!” her tears had dried as if by magic, the throttle in her tone shifted to anger.

Martinez was examining the scene: the tipped over chair, the headphones, the unpaused fetch quest on the television screen which sported GTA VI, the blood on the wall. KINDERFRESSEN is what it read, this was not the first time the kidnapper had left their insignia after a catchl, but it was the first time it left its insignia sprawled in a victim’s blood.

“Kinderfressen. Indo-European language family… Dutch? German?” Martinez made a note to have a translator investigate once the crime scene had been properly combed and its contents sent back to the forensics lab. At least now there was a lead, there was no way of telling how far along this lead advanced the investigation, though.

Brooklyn
4:00 a.m.

Marvin had fallen asleep in the fluffy leather computer chair. A snore erupted from the stunted intervals of his breathing loud enough to dance across the wide halls of the warehouse. Tonight’s dream was the calmest he’d had in years:

A kid again, watching his favorite Saturday morning cartoon, The Looney Tunes which ran on syndication. His favorite character, Tweety Bird, had once more outsmarted the wily Sylvester the Cat, duping him into stumbling into the very same mouse trap Sylvester had set up for Tweety himself. In his oversized bowl of cereal were Froot Loops, he sat cross legged in front of the antenna television, the pasty colors of the trademark Hannah Barbara animation lit up his slim, chocolate face; big green eyes settled unwavered on the screen. Behind him, his mother ran a pick through his curly hair, unraveling the kinks in his afro so it blossomed to its full breadth. She blurted out, suddenly,

“James!” no answer, a pause,
“James! You hear me talkin’ to you!” finally, James Hayes emerged from his room upstairs and peered over the railing,
“What?!” he shot back. Marvin’s mother, Yvette, only careened her head slowly toward her eldest son and Marvin’s eldest brother for James to realize his err,
“Boooooy! You already know good and damn well not to be talkin’ to me like you grown! Bring ya ass down here.” James huffed under his breath. Yvette heard it, but she let it slide (this time). James’ long feet pattered down the beige carpet which coated the stairs and the living room floor, one’s steps were always silent when traversing the downstairs area of the house thanks to the thickness of the carpet.
“Go to the store and get me some cigarettes.” Marvin, James, Tianna, and Cecilia Hayes’ mother was a heavy smoker, two packs a day was child’s play. James’ expulsion of a rebelling sigh marked his disdain for the simple task; as the eldest brother and heir to the Man of the House title, he had to do things he did not want to do; this was, after all, a mark of manhood. His reluctance subsided when the $20 bill graced his tan palm for it meant more than just cigarettes; it meant candy. Lots of candy. Marvin’s eyes lit up as he watched his elder brother go and retrieve his coat and even beneath the weight of his mother’s hands--delicate as they were heavy--he zipped his neck around to face her, a shock of pain shot through the base of his neck as the pick tore from his afro and nearly tore a piece of his soft ebony bundle of follicles from his scalp.

“Ma, can I go? Lemme go, please!” Marvin pleaded,
“No, it’s gonna be dark soon, you know you don’t go out after them streetlights is up.” a sensible retort, the same one Marvin always heard though
“Then why you lettin’ him go? I don’t never get to go! I ain’t gone do nothin’ bad, I swear!” Marvin tried again,
“I said no! Now turn around and let me finish.” Yvette made sure the matter was dropped,
Marvin sighed. His mother popped him near as quick!
“Ow!” Marvin moaned,
“S’what ya ass get, now shut up and let me finish.” Yvette remarked,

The door to the upstairs bedroom opened, out stepped a man donning a white dress shirt with a collar that was all the way unbuttoned, underneath lay a white t-shirt, some jeans and some black socks. At 6’5, the lengthy chocolate-peanut butter hued man had to duck as he exited the bedroom reserved for his wife and himself as the other half of the heads of the house: Marvin’s father, Reginald Hayes. Reggie for short, he was an early balder, his shoulders wide and his neck thick, as a young man he had worked construction--calloused hands bore the years and the scars of his work within their folds. He leaned over the bannister and called out, voice smooth and baritone--honey,

“What’s all that commotion I hear? ‘Vette, you messin’ with my son again?”
“Ain’t nobody messin’ with that boy!” Yvette spiked back with a small grin,
“What he wanna do anyway?” the sound of a phone ringing broke the stream of the dream and Marvin awoke, present day, the outside of the Plymouth residence with all the police cars singular and fixated on his screen. Back to reality, but oh, how badly Marvin wished he was dreaming again.

---

October 29th, 5:33 AM
Marcy Projects

This was where it had started, the Tiger’s hunt.

During the riots that had engulfed New York, he had appeared to quell them...but this was only the beginning. His eyes had quickly turned to the three-pronged head of New York’s underworld, and like the apex predator he was, he proceeded to hunt them down. Sometimes one by one, sometimes in entire groups. Either way, he would dispatch them with precision and grace.

“I can still feel it,” Nimrod whispered through his helmet, his voice metallic and deep. Running a hand along the claw marks that remained etched in the dirty brick wall of the alleyway, he closed his eyes. “Yes...your heart beats strong, hunter. This is your jungle, one of concrete and steel. They seek to hunt you, but they will fail because they do not understand you. Only a true predator can understand how another of its kind thinks.”

Yes, he could feel it. In his bones, that rush of exhilaration he hadn’t experienced since he had tracked his very first bear as a child. His heart pounded, his pupils dilated...for the first time in so long he felt alive, for he knew he had at last found a worthy prey.

But he would not strike yet. No, he was still wounded, surely. He did not come half way across the world to slaughter an already injured beast. He would watch and wait for him to once again take to the streets, observe him in his full glory as King of this jungle of man. He would not be satisfied unless he claimed his pelt while he was in his prime!

Turning from the alleyway, Nimrod’s gaze ascended to the metal staircase that hung above him. With a deep crouch of his knees, he launched himself nearly ten feet vertically into the air as his fingers grasped the edge of the stairs. Effortlessly he pulled himself up, before once again leaping, repeating this until his feet touched the rooftop.

While he waited for him to reappear, Nimrod would busy himself studying his newest quarry...and mastering the terrain of his hunting grounds. The fools who hired him did not understand that you could not truly defeat a predator in its home unless you learned to live as it did, to see and move as it did. If you could comprehend these things, then you could devise counters perfectly suited to your chosen prey.

A gunshot, distant shouting.

Yes, a stirring of conflict. A mugging? Gang warfare, perhaps...he did not know all of the workings, so he couldn’t say. But he would understand soon enough. Until The Tiger reappeared, he would hunt these petty thugs as he did, and through this he would become one with his prey.

Shifting his eyes to the warehouse that stood across from the building he was now perched on, Nimrod the Hunter removed a bouquet of flowers from his brown hunting jacket. Hurling them across the chasm, they slammed against the side of the warehouse before falling to the pavement below.

“Get well soon, Marvin Hayes.”

---

October 30th, 8:48 PM
Marcy Project

“Come on, man, don’t do me like that!” Teon begged his friend over the mic. “This is the last one I need!”

He almost had enough to unlock the 2017 Lexus RX 350. It had taken him months of grinding this out every day, and now he was almost there. Of course, if he could afford the thirty dollar price tag, he could’ve just bought it from the online store.

Man, when were they going to learn? Didn’t they remember what happened to Overwatch 2 when Blizzard put all balance-related patches behind a pay wall?

“Can’t you wait till tomorrow, Teon?” His friend whined. Peter live in the UK, so he was ahead quite a few hours, and was clearly exhausted. “I’ve got school in the morning.”

“Please man, I’m beggin’ yo-”

“Teon Harris, can I tell you a story…?”

One Piece: The Romance of Blackfin (OPEN)

"Well, ya'll find yourself in short company then," Siobhan replied to her comment about her fin.

Not many humans had really complimented her on it before, for obvious reasons. Actually, now that she thought about it, it probably wasn't particularly obvious to Kailani why anyone would have a problem with her hybrid features. Considering they were about to drop anchor, it would probably be a good idea to give her a quick rundown on how things worked in the outside world.

Offering a lingering glance to the approaching island to make sure they were still on course, she turned to face the jungle princess. "On that note, just so ya know: most humans don't like fishmen...and that includes hybrids like meself. So...if ya'd make an effort to keep my secret here, that'd be grand."

Hopefully that would be enough to keep her from starting a riot. Not to say that riots weren't fun at times, but she was on a mission right now and needed a bit of information from the locals here.

...Though as their trawler drifted closer, she had an inkling that her plans were about to be once more derailed.

Smoke was now clearly visible as it slowly ascended into the sky above the coastal town, and and with her eyepiece she could now see that the docks were deserted. No sign of ships or workers. Further up, all she could observe were the burned out husks of various types of structures. Homes, shops, it didn't matter. Everything had been put to torch.

Frowning slightly, Siobhan lowered her eyepiece. It seemed some other pirates had beaten them here...but why wipe out the town like this? Normally, pirates would have their way with the place and then leave, hoping that one day the port would recover so that they could do it again. But this? This was wholesale slaughter. There were no future pickings to be had here for anyone.

And yet something about it seemed chillingly familiar.

"Your cake just might have to wait, Kailani," Siobhan muttered, taking the wheel of The Coral Skipper. Steering her into the blackened port, she quickly fled to the wheel in order to drop the anchor before they collided with what remained of the docks, though she dare say their vessel would easily win that contest if it came to it.

Now adjacent to the charred pier, the redhead offered a final glance to her sole crewmate before taking a quick leap up onto the dock. The blackened boards beneath her feet creaked in protest, but thankfully held.

It was time to find out exactly what happened here.

Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

October 28th, 4:09 PM
Hope Springs, West Virginia

Bubba Blue was glad he had been able to finally whump the stupid bug man who had hurt his beloved Pa. That hit should have knocked his head plum off, though. It'd have turned anyone else's to jam...but not this mean ol' plant monster. He was standing right back up, even after flying through a tree, and not a little one, either!

Nobody had ever survived one of his whumps before, especially after he'd gotten angry. This was confusing. He didn't know how to deal with somebody that didn't stop moving when he whump'd them.

"Pa! What does I do when they keep movin' after ah whump em'?!" Bubba turned back to where Pa Buford still laid on the ground. He gurgled slightly, mumbling something incoherent. Whatever it was, though, the younger Masterson couldn't understand it! "Gosh durn it, Pa! I's glad yous alive, but--wuh?"

Twisting on his heel, Bubba's eyes grew wide when he saw the creature on a stump, holding that entire tree he had been whump'd into earlier in his big green arms! Before the last remaining Masterson could respond, however, the beast shot towards him and swung the massive trunk straight down like a club!

Bubba had never really given any thought to dodging. Nothing had been able to hurt him much this past year, and he'd always been bigger than most things. When the tree trunk slammed down on his skull, his malformed eyes crossed and he was driven to his knees. The great trunk cracked and split at the point of impact, and before he could completely lose consciousness he saw it break in half. Chuckling lightly to himself, he couldn't help grinning.

His head was harder than a tree. That made him happy.

He then slowly fell forward with an audible thud...and all within the forest of Hope Springs went silent.

One Piece: The Romance of Blackfin (OPEN)

Two Days Later

"Land ho!" Siobhan shouted in glee, lowering her eyepiece. A broad grin was etched across the redhead's face as she pivoted on one heel to dash to the opposite end of the fishing trawler. Skidding to a halt right in front of the hammock that had been strung up for Kailani, she flipped it upside down in a single motion. "Rise'n'shine, porcupine!"

They had made pretty good time, too, all things considered. With her - naturally excellent - navigation skills, the little boat had arrived ahead of a storm that looked to be coming in. This was good, as The Coral Skipper wasn't built to endure harsh weather out at sea. After having just sailed through The Devil's Tempest with Kailani, she was in bad need of a storm free week for once in her life. She certainly wouldn't be getting one once they made it back to the Grand Line.

Practically bouncing on her feet, Siobhan slid her brown jacket - now thankfully dry - over her shoulders. If some of the things she'd read were true, then Batotoi Island was famous for its excellent tiramisu! She couldn't wait to try some! That was the fun part about being off the radar for once: you could just sail in without issue!

Nobody here in West Blue knew her face, and nobody would certainly think much of a fishing trawler drifting into port. She had even caught some fish to trade if they needed to!

"Ah, better cover up," Siobhan reminded herself, snatching her scarf and wrapping it around her neck to hide her gills. Likewise, she - with an audible grunt - forced her fin to lower down into her back, merging with her spinal column. All that remained was a slit in her jacket and shirt...nothing too eye raising for anyone that wasn't looking for it. "Phew! Right-o! Let's make our way to the docks, then!"