RPM
Captain Uni
xVampire3go
Antlers
Master Bruce
Eddie Brock
Sep
Moon Child
CabbageAngel
Earlier...
Icon and Lyger both looked to Iron Knight and his passenger. Icon nodded in acknowledgement to his statement but wasted little time in going after Nightmare, while Lyger looked to end things with Bathory. The last time Lyger had met this woman, he had been hesitant to hit her, however, due to the new allegiances she has formed since their last meeting, that would no longer be an issue.
The bloodthirsty young woman focused on the shattered remnants of her demonic metallic constructs, and as she did so, the shards began to levitate and take on the same demonic shapes as the previous constructs. However, before she could direct them at any targets, Lyger bounded toward her, landing a hard right hand across her jaw, knocking her to the ground. She hit the ground with a thud, and with her mental connection to the constructs broken, they fell harmlessly to the concrete.
“Stay down.” Lyger told her as he bound her hands with a set of cuffs, then set out to face off with the skeletal figure known as Cannibal King.
Dennis, feeling somewhat overwhelmed and underqualified for this fight with only limited training in his role as the next Aquilifer, decided to focus on keeping the crowd safe from the powerhouse fight that was beginning to break out. Using the Golden Rod he scooped away bystanders with basic energy constructs and attempted to lend a hand with brief shields and blasts where he saw necessary.
This was tough enough for him. It turns out superhuman fights happen extremely fast, and his reflexes still weren't fast enough that he could lend an efficient hand instinctively.
“Aquilifer?! I thought you died?” One of the people asked as Dennis, unaware that he was referring to his brother. The Golden Rod had always had a way of protecting the identity of its wielder.
“I got better.” Dennis mumbled back.
“What was that?”
“Don't worry about it.” He said, as he dropped the citizen off behind cover and flew back into the fray.
“Freeze it there…”
The image of the Aquilifer soaring across the Lost Haven skyline to re-engage the Nightmarish foursome a few months ago held on the courtroom tv screen, static crackling at the edges of the frame.
“Officer Walsh, can you identify the man currently on screen?”
Officer Walsh moved uncomfortably in his seat, looking for a way out, before thinking of an answer.
“No. I can’t make out the person’s face.”
The defense attorney smirked, “Cute, Offi--”
“Ms Paulsen,” the judge boomed, “this is an appeal, we can do without the grandstanding and editorial, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, your Honour. I apologize for my response to Officer Walsh’s clearly evasive answer. The video clearly displays the Aquilifer, who was the victim of the initial charge. You’ll note the timestamp on the footage, which along with news of this specific metahuman altercation we can pin down to occurring in the last few months… considerably more recent than the few years prior date my client was SUPPOSED to have murdered the victim...”
“Your honour he’s not dressed the same and you can’t make out--”
“OFFICER WALSH! I trust you don’t need to be reminded of the rules in this court…”
“No, your Honour--”
“Good. The court finds the appeal valid. With the initial murder victim alive, that charge will be dropped and the remaining charges pertaining to lewd public conduct will also be dropped on time served. Ms Paulsen, your client is free to go.”
“No!”
A remote clicked and the television went black.
“NO! This isn’t right!” Dennis repeated.
“I know. But that’s sometimes how the law is for people like us, it seems.” Alan reassured. His aging face wrinkled even further in contemplation.
“We catch them, they go to court, they go to prison, they get out, we catch them all over again…” Alan mused.
“Don’t!” Said Dennis. “Don’t act like this is the same. Now that she’s out on appeal, you know the other two won’t be far behind… and don’t act like they’re just the same as any number of costumed bank robbers that you dealt with back in the day.”
“Well, they were trying to rob an armoured van.”
“None of your costumed clowns murdered you and publicly sodomized your corpse with sex toys on live television.”
“I know what they did…” Dennis’ grandfather fell quiet.
“None of your rogues had that little ‘gimmick’ going for them. Who the hell does that?”
“Apparently Miz Demeanor and the Fel-honeys do that. I know it’s a far cry from anything I used to deal with, but it does play into that whole S and M, dominatrix sex gimmick thing they have going for them. The question is, how are we going to get you to stop them before they wreak too much chaos again.”
Dennis looked horrified.
“They KILLED Sean! You want me to go after them when they killed Sean! Have you not noticed that Sean was a Hell of a lot better at this than me?”
“They did. He made a mistake and they did. He underestimated them, and before he could turn the tables on them, they had too much control of the situation and they killed him.” Alan said.
“But think about what they’re doing to other people now that they’re free again. You know their temperament. Can you see the three of them fading quietly away into law-abiding lives.”
“...no.” Dennis replied somberly.
“No. They’re too big, bold and brash to ever go quietly once they’re out in the world. So we have to figure out where they’ll next strike and bring them down once again.”
“We didn’t bring them down last time…”
“I know.” Said the old man.
Dennis went into sullen thought.
“OK. But on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I never again have to hear you say the words ‘S and M’, ‘dominatrix’ or ‘sex’...”
* * * * *
Last week...
The Aquilifer soared across the Lost Haven skyline clutching the Golden Rod, his leather flight jacket rippling in the wind. Far below an alarm sounded and three figures ran out of a bank in distinctive dress.
Dennis hovered in the air for a while, as if making up his mind, before making his rapid descent.
“Put the money back, ...harlots?” He called out, less than convinced with his own choice of words.
The three stopped running and turned around to face him.
“Harlots?” Miz Demeanor called out, putting a hand on her hip in irritation, her long red hair flowing as the wind swept down the street. The three were dressed provocatively in leather and PVC, with ample flesh showing in between. The henchwomen wearing blue and yellow wigs.
“Yeah… that called for another word in there. I wasn’t too happy with how that just sounded, myself. Probably a bit too close to ‘whores’’ in retrospect... ‘Charlatans’ maybe, then? But that sounds a bit belaboured and you’re not really defrauding anyone…”
“We’ll have to do you for that...” she smirked, a sly grin crossing her face as she sold her double entendre. “Right, girls?”
“I’m up for that. How about you, Felon-A?” called the blue-haired henchwoman.
“Sounds good, Honey-B…” replied her yellow-haired counterpart.
“Ah Hell…” Muttered Dennis. As he used the Golden Rod to take off and try to gain an aerial advantage.
The women piled the bags of ill-gotten cash and took up stances in the thoroughfare. Onlookers scurried away to what they felt was a safe distance, many took out phones.
“Well, I’ll be able to share death and graphic public humiliation with my brother… we’ll at least have something awkward to not ever talk about between ourselves in the afterlife.”
A vibrator whistled past his ears - well, less whistled and more hummed like a bloated sick bumblebee - before exploding behind him. The blast sending him surging forward.
“Geez Dennis, focus. Alright… what are we going against here. What did Grampa say? They’re moderate metahumans. Stronger than they look, and you, but they probably couldn’t pick up a car. They mostly rely on tech and gadgetry. And the sum of their parts is a greater threat than any of them individually. They’re a proficient team…”
So separate them and watch for surprises. Easier said than done, but OK.
Dennis swooped down and fired a bolt from the Golden Rod at Miz Demeanor. It connected, almost to the Aquilifer’s surprise, but as he went to soar back up he felt his feet pinned together and held back. Both of the Fel-honeys had managed to crack whips around his feet, and furthermore Miz Demeanor was getting back to her feet as well.
“Ah crap. Crap-crap-crap!” Dennis tried to fly harder, faster. He called on the Golden Rod to do whatever it could.
And that’s when one of the Fel-Honey’s heads exploded. Red mist through a blue veil as the wig fell to the street.
The sound of semi-automatic rifle fire ventilated the atmosphere. Miz Demeanor and the remaining Fel-Honey screamed. Dennis looked on in shock.
Men in black dress quickly took to the street. They had recently announced themselves as a group known as the Hounds of Humanity. A few bystanders and on-lookers cheered. Many more looked as shocked as Dennis and the two women.
A second bout of rifle fire jerked Dennis from his state. He threw up a shield with the Golden Rod and then looked to the two remaining women. Miz Demeanor had already started to run, she’d abandoned the money and jumped on a motorbike, using one of her toys to get it started. The yellow-haired Fel-Honey though, was still in a state of shock, looking at the dead woman as blood poured out on the asphalt.
Before he could think, Dennis wrapped a construct around the woman and took to the sky. Bullets ricocheting off of his constructed shield. The men in black gave chase. Dennis wanted to soar high and make sure bullets wouldn’t hit anyone in the surrounding buildings, but he couldn’t get the Rod to take him any higher with the way he was carrying his passenger. He swept through a side street and then down an alley and back onto another side street. He knew Lost Haven like the back of his hand. He started to hear sobbing from underneath him, and could tell she was starting to come back to the real world, far from the horror show they just left behind a few streets ago. A van jerked out in front of them and more men in black poured out. He cut down another alley and saw a parking bay full of Harleys in the distance.
“Do you have the same toys as the others?”
More sobbing. He couldn’t see her face.
“Hey! Listen! DO YOU have the same things as your sisters. If I put you down near one of those bikes can you get away?”
Suddenly, the woman peeked out. Tears streaking her make-up. She nodded. “Yes.” She spoke softly.
“Good. But wait until they’ve gone.” He put her down behind some dumpsters, and unencumbered he swept down main roads and alleys at a far greater speed, before suddenly bursting straight up into the sky, far above the city. Far beyond the range of rifle fire.
The woman crying behind a dumpster looked up and saw something beautiful, something she’d never noticed before.
A man soaring into the sky over the city, clutching a small bar with an eagle on it which shone brightly in the sunlight, as if holding a lantern in search of justice over the city. As much a man as a guardian angel.
