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 Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 8:40 pm
The Big Apple. The most iconic US city, save perhaps Hollywood. And for some reason, a major attraction site for supervillains and the like; there's always some kind of city-wide crisis going on. Definitely a good place to be if you want some action, but beware; many people here harbor anti-Numan sentiments. Even if you save them, you probably shouldn't expect much thanks. An angry mob is probably closer to reality.
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Posted: Tue Oct 02, 2012 11:10 pm
He was cold. Wet. And his Armani suit was more or less completely ruined, thanks to this figlio di puttana calling the meeting in an old abandoned warehouse on the docks- "Il Macellaio had better not be wasting our time," the old Italian grunted. It might have been a stereotype- Italian and in the mob- but somebody had to know how to get s**t done around here, and the rest of the goons that'd been hired were next to useless.
That's when the sound of footsteps echoed eerily down the hallway. "Gentlemen, please." The figure halted for a moment as the goons whipped around and pointed guns- then he chuckled mirthlessly and walked on. "You and I both know that the most heinous crime one man can commit upon another- save take his very life- is to waste his time..." Another of the chuckles that could give even Chuck Norris the willies, as the pallid yellow figure turned his gaunt face back to the mobsters. He was tall and lanky, not particularly impressively dressed- a white shirt and sweatpants with various stains, and every visible inch of skin was bandaged except for his face, which had various scar lines running the length of his ghastly visage. He almost appeared to be a poorly constructed jigsaw puzzle.
Some of the goons appeared surprised at the man's shocking appearance, but the old Italian man remained stoic as he stepped forward. "Mr. Graves. You promised us-"
"And all promises will be kept, mio amico. The lost shipment's already been paid for. Continue as planned- and tell your boss that I want to call in that favor he owes me. Got it? Hai capito, amico?" He stepped towards the man, a menacing glare suddenly growing on his face. Those yellowing eyes suddenly came alive with a raging fire, yet remained totally devoid of a soul- and sparked fear in the elder man's hart.
It was true, what they had said. This was no man they were dealing with. E 'stato il diavolo. He swallowed his fear, a deep-seated will to keep his soul intact suddenly rushing to the surface. "Sì. Sì, ho capito." The man gave a harsh gesture to his underlings, who hurried after him. Except one.
"I don't get it," the fool said, frowning. "What's the big deal? Why's everybody so scared of this punk-a** lookin' fool? We should be the ones scarin' him off, right? He's just a guy, after all. A bullet'll put him down, just like any other!"
The man known to the city and the world as The Butcher smiled at his words. "Is that so?" He turned to face the man, opening his arms wide. "Go on then," he offered, stepping closer. "Shoot me. I dare you, ******** man didn't even hesitate. His glock flashed in the artificial lighting as it swung up, popping off a solid round right into Mr. Graves' guts. The bullet hit, and struck- a thick, black ooze seeped from the wound. Already-coagulating blood thickened around the shirt, drying it to his skin in seconds; a process that should have been impossible on its own was now over, and the man stood up with a smirk. And spit the bullet on the floor. "My turn."
The man didn't even get a chance to react. Before anyone could pull another gun out, Graves had thrown himself at the man, twisted black blades of bone protruding from either wrist as he impaled the poor man through either side of his ribcage. As he held the man in the air and let him sink further onto the bone-spikes, Robert Graves looked into the eyes of his most recent victim... And smiled. "Little man with a big gun," he said quietly, chuckling to himself as the man began coughing up blood. Punctured lungs. He'd be dead in a minute or two. "But it just wasn't big enough." A drop of blood leaked from the man onto Graves' cheek, which he licked off with relish. The man slid further down towards The Butcher's face, flesh peeling and bone meeting bone in an odd, crunching squelch. He gasped uncomprehendingly for a few moments, before sudden realization struck him- and all hope, as well as life, faded from the man's eyes.
Just before it was gone completely, the man holding him up gave a push; the body flipped effortlessly into the air, at which time the first blade swung up to meet it as it descended. The man was cleaved down the middle, while still alive- he attempted to scream, but his blood-filled lungs only managed to produce a harsh, gurgling tone. "Hm? What was that? I couldn't quite hear you," Robert said, putting a hand up to his ear. "Try speaking up?" At that point his hand had been wrapped a few times in the other man's exposed intestines, as he pulled the stringy entrails up to the man's neck and tied a noose around it. He yanked suddenly, and pulled up a bit further, lifting the man's torso completely off the ground and swinging it around with ease.
He continued to swing the figure around as he sucked up the blades with ease and turning to face the others. They stood, awestruck, at the scene- the man they'd just seen murdered. Death wasn't new, to any of these men- but such a gruesome death, in such a grotesque way- they were stricken. The eldest made the Catholic sign of the cross and whispered, "Salvaci..."
Robert Graves turned to the man and laughed, throwing his head back in a full, near-hysterical laugh. The rest of the man's body fell to the floor with a thick, bloody thump. "God can't save him, not anymore. And He won't be saving your asses, either, if you don't get the hell out of my sight," he growled, waving dismissively at them. "The money's under the silver Buick. Now get the hell out."
((Long intro post is long. And yes, the POV switches occasionally between Robby and the Italian guy... deal with it.))
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Posted: Tue Oct 02, 2012 11:38 pm
Some blocks away, a sleek-looking motorcycle roared through the packed Manhattan streets, weaving in between cars and not being pursued by any cops; they knew who she was, and for some reason she didn't care about they decided to ignore her. Whatever; it just made her job easier. Her outfit was black, and form-fitting; it looked like a simple leather catsuit, but was in fact a highly-advanced bodysuit that she used to fight crime, specifically that kind of the Italian Mafia and the other organized crime rings that had grown back to prominence in the aftermath of World War III and stayed that way for the past decade. The Italians, the Yakuza, the Triads from Vietnam... They and a few others were turning Manhattan into their own playground, and she would have none of it.
"You're approaching the docks. Satellite imagery's got a fix on the meeting place, but I'm not sure if it's about to end." came a voice in her ear.
"Got it. Should I stop here?"
"Yeah. Try and get the jump on 'em like you normally do. Good thing it's dark out."
"You know me. I like to hit 'em from the shadows..."
She slowed her bike a few buildings away from the meet, and pulled into a dark, silent alley. Nobody would know her bike was here. She stopped it and stepped off, taking off her helmet and shaking the rich, shoulder-length brown hair from her face before reaching into her utility belt and pulling out a high-tech domino mask that she wore to conceal her identity when on missions; which was really all she ever went out for anyway if she could help it. She moved silently, moving to the abandoned warehouse; there was some dim lighting inside from what she could see through the grimy windows. The power switch for the place was close by, she knew; probably around at the back of the warehouse. She moved to it, still totally silent, and reached into her utility belt as she opened the casing for the electrical switches and planted a remotely detonated electromagnetic pulse bomb on it; one of her favorite tactics.
She moved back to where the windows were and looked inside; the door was closed to the room and it was empty, so far as she could tell, so she went with the most simple route and punched through the glass, her bodysuit protecting her from the shards of glass, and her face and neck safe due to the glass not flying toward them. She made a big enough hole and slipped in with the stealth and grace of a cat, and landed in a crouch.
"EMP ready," she muttered, her fingers pressing the earpiece on the side of her head.
"Detonating in three. Two. One..." came the voice of Robbie Turk, and a moment later the warehouse went dark-- and the night vision in the woman's domino mask activated automatically, though her domino mask only showed this with a brief, dim flash of green before returning to normal.
"Go get 'em."
"I shall..." said Black Dove, and she moved for the door, opening it and moving through the halls, alert for any and all danger.
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Posted: Tue Oct 02, 2012 11:54 pm
The second the lights shut off, Robert Graves was moving. s**t was about to go down in a big way, and if he had to be here, the money at least was going to be safe. He shoved his way past the group of men towards the aforementioned Silver Buick- which was parked next to a few other cars still sitting on a transport truck from decades ago- and grabbed the suitcase. One of the men immediately began to fall- the old Italian, bleeding from the point of contact between him and The Butcher. Not all bone-knives were brutally apparent, gruesome weapons of torturous death.
"You... You're a monster," the man coughed between gasps, looking up at him. "We had a deal..."
"Deal's off. Don't take it personally, it's just business. Tying up potential loose ends, that sort of thing. You just know a bit too much, and if whoever just broke in here decides they're in an interrogating mood... Well, we can't let you spill your guts like your buddy did, can we?" He laughed as he nodded to the disemboweled, mangled corpse he'd strewn about the floor earlier; with a laugh, Robby gave a swift stomp and crushed the man's skull. The immediate crunch was followed by a sloshing sound, as the man's brains splattered across the floor. The men on either side of him quickly pulled their guns and fired, with little effect; sure, the bullets hit him, but he was already too busy healing from the wound to care. The gunshots would only draw attention to the other men, and thus away from him; he'd use that opportunity to stash the cash in a safe place. Then he'd come back just as the last mobster bit the dust. Make a scene, kick up a little dirt, freak a few people out... Then vanish. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.
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Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2012 12:07 am
"Gunshots," Dove muttered. "Whatever deal there was, it just went bad."
"That happens a lot when you're around them, I've noticed," Robbie said cheerfully into her ear. Dove didn't smile; she hadn't let out a real, genuine smile for quite some time now.
As she moved to the front of the building, one thing that struck her as somewhat odd was that there weren't any more Mob guys around to guard the place; they knew she was around, they knew she worked during the night, and if they were going to have a meeting did they really not think she'd know about it? Idiots...
She moved out to the front of the warehouse, watching the Mafiosos shooting at someone that was just not going down; a few cursory glances around showed her that there was gore strewn over the area, and the Mob couldn't have done it, not to such a scale. So was it... whoever that was?
It didn't matter. They were distracted, which meant she could surprise them. And do so she did, trowing a few smoke pellets their way, and she pressed a finger to the side of her mask to cycle to thermal vision to see them clearly as she rushed forward and proceeded to subdue these guys quickly and efficiently. Moments after the smoke pellets had been released and the guys were down already. A little too easy, but hey. Dove looked out toward the silver Buick and quickly sent a shuriken into either tire on the side she could see to flatten them; she knew a possible escape vehicle when she saw one. Satisfied with that, she stepped out of the smoke, stoic and grim as ever, as she cycled back to night vision and looked to The Butcher.
"You're not going anywhere," she said simply.
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Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2012 12:26 am
It the time it took for the woman to throw the pellets, take down the guards, and slash the tires, Robert had already stashed the suitcase filled with money. It was as much as it was supposed to be- 50k, cold hard. Straight hundreds. The Butcher had funds- he wasn't your average serial killer. But he was going to play that way, at least for a while. See if he could play on the unknown- the greatest source of fear for most people. And while he might not be able to outright scare anyone, shaking them to their core with enough creepiness was just as fun. Even just making them squirm internally could be entertaining. And this woman- so bold, brave- strong, he felt, looking at her now. He smiled a bit, a calm, friendly look. "Going anywhere?" He gave an innocent look around, raising an eyebrow. "Where would I go? This is where all the fun is happening," he said, gesturing vaguely around him.
His white shirt, still stained black from the gunshot wounds, was painfully visible even through the now-thinning smokescreen; soon enough his full countenance came into view. His pallid yellow face was stretched thin in a gaunt smile as he turned to face the woman, greasy hair falling over his eyes in thick strands. He licked his lower lip as he stepped forward calmly, the smile only growing as he approached. "You... I know you," he muttered suddenly, eyes lightening with excitement. "You're the one they're always going on about. The Nut-Cracker. No, wait. What are you call- The Dark Dove? That'd be funny. Those are certainly double-D's," he commented off-handedly, shrugging to himself. Then he snapped, and grinned as sly eyes returned to the woman. "The Black Dove. You're one of those vigilante types, because revenge is sweet."
He chuckled to himself, taking another tentative step towards the woman. At this point, his eerie smile had grown to nearly Cheshire Cat-like proportions, eyes unblinking as they watched her warily. He seemed unstable just by looking at him; one could feel the tension tearing him apart. The feeling he gave off was that of one observing a caged animal- he was wild, unpredictable. The lackluster sheen over his eyes would disprove that, even while they were wide-open in the typical maniac way; he looked quite the part of a crazed murderer. "So. Since you're a vigilante like myself, there's no doubt you enjoyed my... Handiwork," he muttered, gesturing to the gut-strewn mess behind him and the curbstomped pile of brains smeared across the concrete behind her. He chuckled a bit- a hollow, bitter sound. He took yet another step forward; they were close enough for one to throw a punch without much effort now. "Or was there anything... Wrong with it? Please, be honest. I'm a sucker for a good critique."
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Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2012 12:44 am
"I'm a vigilante. You're a killer," Dove said bluntly, looking up at Robby without a hint of fear in her expression; her face was as stoic as ever. "I'll be honest, I've never seen this much gore, so spread out, in a single place. So, kudos for that, I guess."
She was tense, but not nearly as nervous as The Butcher seemed to be; she wasn't sure if he was just acting or not, but it ultimately didn't matter to her anyway, since this was likely to end in a fight no matter what his state of mind was.
"Thanks for the compliment on my breasts. All natural, too," she continued, her tone deadpan, and Robbie Turk made an odd choking noise into her earpiece; the channel was encrypted and masked so that no-one apart from Dove herself could hear his voice. She ignored her old friend's reaction to the comment, however, still looking up at Robby without a hint of intimidation or fear; or anything really.
"So. Should you make the first move, or should I?"
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Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2012 11:15 am
"Vigilante, killer... We're all the same at some point," Robby said, a manic grin rushing gleefully across his already smiling face. He looked unwell, and not just mentally; the color of his skin, the pale, yellowish tone- it seemed he might have been dreadfully ill. In reality, he was simply getting a bit... 'hungry'. The healing of the gunshot wounds, as well as the bone-blades, had taken a bit out of him; and having nothing with which to replace it, he was beginning to need sustenance. Nutrients. Food. With a grin, he leaned forward just a bit. "Oh, you've killed someone, at some point. And even if that's untrue, it's coming like a freight train. Someone's going to die, and it's going to be your fault. Your responsibility... I wonder, though," he said, pausing suddenly as the malicious intent in his words became audibly clear.
"How much will your conscience react? Will you feel a pang of regret at ending a life- ruining a family, making an orphan- or will you enjoy it?" He chuckled at that- a dark, empty sound that could shake even the most iron of wills. This was a depraved creature, indeed.
When the question of who was to make the first move came up, he cackled again. "Oh, dearie me. We've got ourselves a scrapper today," he said, leaning forward just a bit further. His yellowing eyes dilated suddenly for no apparent reason- in reality, the bones in his face had just become about as dense as industrial steel, and his neck had reinforced itself with a similar tactic- and added support from bone growths. "Tell you what, sweetie. You go ahead and take the first hit." He turned his head just slightly to the left, sticking his jaw out as if to make it a prime target. At this point, punching him anywhere in the head or neck would be more or less like attacking a solid steel wall. The rest of his body was tense, and his bones had thickened slightly of course- but the primary defended area was from the neck up. It was bait. And it'd be fun.
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Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2012 4:31 pm
She'd never admit it, but the guy's laugh had unnerved her a bit; it only showed in a subtle shift in her facial expression, where she clenched her jaw slightly. The guy leaned forward, offering for her to hit him, and for some weird reason she had a feeling he was doing this to mock her. So... She'd make the first hit, sure.
"Okay. Sure," she said, and she threw a punch-- that stopped millimeters from the Numan's face, and at the same time kicked Robby as hard as she could in the testicles; hey, he hadn't said where to land the first hit, despite him wanting to have her punch him in the face, and she was a pragmatist. Having significant leg strength, this particular attack would hurt Robby far more than it normally would. After the kick, she casually took a few steps back, away from Robby's reach.
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Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2012 5:09 pm
He watched the fist incoming with a smirk, but when the rush of wind below revealed her true intent, he almost didn't have time to brace himself. A rush of ecstatic adrenaline coursed through him- his face contorted in a horrific sneer of a grin as he fell to his knees. After a moment of silence and a few ragged gasps, he rolled his eyes out of the back of his head- where they'd been since the impact- and he began laughing. The chuckle from before had nothing on this- a bone-chilling, inhuman cackle drenched in madness and the tears of children. He staggered to his feet, stepping towards her.
"Do it again," he hissed, spittle flying as he shook towards her. "Do. It. AGAIN!" He threw his head back, loosing another cackle as he spread his arms out to either side. He slowly began walking circles around him, rocking slowly in an erratic rhythm that never kept time with itself; his head cocked to the left slightly, and his eyes widened. Now they twinkled almost hypnotically as he grinned, and opened his fists. Palms exposed. And the sudden surprising emergence of his weapon from before may have been startling, sure, but this one was just plain creepy.
His hands twisted and went limp as a bulge began protruding from midway down either of his wrists. The skin stretched only so far before it began splitting, muscles snapping like guitar strings as two spikes of bone protruded from his wrists. They flattened before her eyes, becoming true blades in the cutting sense, and the blood spilling freely from his arms quickly darkened to brown, then black. The crusty, coagulated coat of dried blood cracked as he rolled his wrists- a squelching sound echoing slightly in the hallway. "Mmm," he hummed, examining the blades for a moment. After scraping one along the length of the other, he smiled up at the woman. There was nothing in those eyes, a blank hollow stare with a distant, burning hatred that was aimed at the world in general; there was nothing special about this woman to arouse such hate, it was simply there. This man was broken. He giggled hysterically, head cocking to the right as he took another step forward.
"Let's dance, b***h."
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Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:34 pm
Dove's stoicism was momentarily removed with what the Butcher had just done. Seeing bones stick out of the man's arms... Gave her flashbacks to when her legs had been broken; in all that unbearable pain, she could see them poking out of her skin and shattered. This guy could do that whenever he wanted... And liked it.
And she found herself backing up, eyes wide behind her mask, and she hurriedly activated her earpiece. "Info. Now," she muttered, and Robbie was on the case, using facial recognition to find the guy's info. He gave her the rundown: Who he was, the powers he was suspected to have, and his reported penchant for... rather grisly deaths. As he did this, Sarah was moving to get some distance between herself and The Butcher,, and she threw a single shuriken at him first for distraction; a shuriken that was primed to explode non-lethally.
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Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2012 7:21 pm
The darkness made it difficult for Robby to see, but he thought he managed to catch the gist of it. She had backed up considerably, before making a sudden jerking motion- the whoosh of air caught his attention, and he brought up his hand- in time for a ninja-star looking thing to stick into and through his palm, missing his wrist-blade by mere inches. Rather than cry out in pain, he observed the wound with a bit of interest- before pulling it out from the middle of his hand, and pushing it into the side of his neck. An ill-fated attempt to further disrupt the otherwise very stoic would-be hero. "Thanks so much for the jewelry, darl-"
The explosion threw him off his feet, tossing him like a ragdoll a few feet from where he stood. The skin around the area of impact had been flayed back and burnt to the bone, revealing a bunch of squishiness that quickly began covering itself back up. As soon as his throat was sufficiently repaired- which was about five or six seconds- he began laughing. It started as a croaking sound, gagging in blood, but quickly escalated to a hysterical pitch as he sat up. "That was fun! Do you have any more of those?!" He cackled to himself again as he sat up, rolling his neck quickly. "Alright, little birdy... Time to see what you're really made of. Literally, I mean. I bet I could tell you what color your organs are," he said loudly, looking around in the darkness. The dark, while certainly not the best of lightings to fight, wasn't utterly encompassing; the little light shining in from the boarded up windows afforded him some semblance of at least figures as far as vision went.
But it wasn't enough. If he was going to actually fight, he needed to see. And he had an idea of just how to accomplish that. With hesitant, cautious steps, he began making his way to the cars on top of the transport truck. "Come on now," he cooed as he made his way. "You can't make it too easy! That takes the fun out of it!"
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Posted: Thu Oct 04, 2012 4:59 pm
When The Butcher had been thrown back by Dove's shuriken, she had taken the time to move to the second level of the room they were in, hiding above him along a catwalk. She needed to think... Pain just made him happy, and it looked like he had a regeneration factor going on... Damn. She probably couldn't defeat this guy... So all she could do was get the Hell out for now.
She waited, and as Robby moved forward she pulled out a flash pellet from her utility belt and, aiming carefully, tossed it so that it would bounce off a wall to Robby's right and come down from that direction so that he'd think she was on that side of the room. Once he was blinded, she'd slip the Hell out and escape. In fact, the moment it went off she was moving, silent as a shadow as she slipped out of the door and moved back the way she came.
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Posted: Thu Oct 04, 2012 5:33 pm
The sound of the thing hitting the wall did in fact catch Robby's attention; however, he'd made it close enough to the cars that it wouldn't matter. The blade from his left arm grew just a bit longer, and he swung it down with a mighty heave and tore the hell out of the front of the nearest car. The alarm immediately went off, blaring loudly and the lights of the car began flashing at intervals; truly not the most effective way to see, but definitely better than complete darkness. Of course, that was when the flash-pellet went off. Not entirely as effective as it was hoped to be, considering he wasn't looking directly at it. The world became blurry, and blue spots quickly filled his vision; but with the flashing lights, the spots soon faded and he searched the room for any movement. Granted, it had taken him a few moments to recover... If she were close enough to an exit, escape certainly wasn't impossible.
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Posted: Thu Oct 04, 2012 6:00 pm
And escape Sarah did, utterly silent as she moved out back the way she had come, retrieved her bike, and was already well on her way back to Turk Technologies HQ in another part of the city. It took her about an hour to get there, where she parked her bike in an underground garage where her and Robbie's vehicles were kept. She sighed, and shook her head. ******** psychotic Numans... There was a reason she avoided them...
She took a nearby elevator up to one of the top floors of the building, reserved for her, where Robbie was waiting.
"So, you just left, huh?"
"What the Hell was I supposed to do? If he's got a healing factor, there's not a whole lot I have in my current arsenal to deal with that, and I'd rather stay away from a psycho like that..."
"Sarah, c'mon--" Robbie said, but she just shook her head, walking toward the area where she changed her clothes. He sighed, shook his head, and took the elevator down a few floors to one of his R&D labs.
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