[almost put this under fantasy but... it's as much modern as fantasy. Plus comic style.]
The city was back to its normal bustle. The better part of collapsed sewers had been rectified--once again, Emmerich Repairs literally pulled the city from the toilet. Its many, still rapidly growing branches were struggling to keep up with the demand of repairs to the buildings themselves, but for the most part the world was right. A few more broken windows and holes in walls wasn't out of character for the redlight district.
At the onset of dusk, Wraith Beknight crouched on a weather and war-torn sanctum that had once been a few tightly packed stores, but had long since been foreclosed. The boards on the windows had ironically protected the otherwise ratty building from further damages when the reign of mercury and razors befell the locale.
Too many targets had gone missing. It ate at him. One in particular had him gritting his teeth behind his blackened mask. Ivan. He should have just killed him.
That wasn't much like him. He corrected himself. Still, if anything befell Elsie...
And even then, that was just one of a few weights on his ebony, armored shoulders. The gargoylesque figure had lost sight of other perps. Where had Bear gone? The cannibal's mysterious string had ended. Perhaps their warped obsession was finally sated. Perhaps they had already gotten their earned dues. Or perhaps...
He flashed on the many bags packed up by Evelyn, carted out with sudden departure. She had broken her lease, but had paid well to make up for it--she'd only wanted a few months anyway.
The many leads left him searching his own neighborhood. With the departure of Evelyn, the incidents seemed to wane.
No, there was no way one of his own tenants was so evil. You think Batman would miss that?
His eyes refocused to the streets. And... what of the Black Widow? She'd left calling cards for him with her favored marking, but the incidents were sparse at best, and served as little more than challenges. He inspected the last note he'd found hours before, splattered in a touch of blood. And what of the wifebeaters? He turned it back over to see its back side, marked in a red hourglass. With a lazy gesture, he tossed it over the side of the building onto the already well-littered streets.
The gargoyle of a man was unusual in that he didn't read on any level of energy, and even radar tended to boggle in his presence. He seemed to have less substance and energy resonance than simple stone. The concrete of the city still resonated subtly with energy absorbed by passing cars and other influence. The figure perched at the building's edge seemed like a null, as if he weren't even there even when seen by the common eye.
Well, well! The war still rang in his head--well, the event that came a few days prior to it, staring destruction in the face as he circled Wraith and Ophois, The man who looks like me, and the man who is not! How interesting. Wraith still wasn't sure which was which; he did not show to those of the ethereal plane, but his suit was eerily similar to the hellmouth's primary forms. Yet, 'Ophois' was reflective in nature. So which looked like him, and which was not?
Heh. He moved to place a hand over a chest, where armor had been patched from the moment that almost killed him. He had promised Stephen things would calm down by Rosa's birthday. Could he hold to that? It was only a few weeks away.
...And then, the dark, brooding vigilante stared with hollow electronic blue eyes over the streets while trying to ponder what to do for a birthday party/anniversary. How did his holidays always manage to stack into so many events?
Ah, the life of the domestic vigilante.";
The city was back to its normal bustle. The better part of collapsed sewers had been rectified--once again, Emmerich Repairs literally pulled the city from the toilet. Its many, still rapidly growing branches were struggling to keep up with the demand of repairs to the buildings themselves, but for the most part the world was right. A few more broken windows and holes in walls wasn't out of character for the redlight district.
At the onset of dusk, Wraith Beknight crouched on a weather and war-torn sanctum that had once been a few tightly packed stores, but had long since been foreclosed. The boards on the windows had ironically protected the otherwise ratty building from further damages when the reign of mercury and razors befell the locale.
Too many targets had gone missing. It ate at him. One in particular had him gritting his teeth behind his blackened mask. Ivan. He should have just killed him.
That wasn't much like him. He corrected himself. Still, if anything befell Elsie...
And even then, that was just one of a few weights on his ebony, armored shoulders. The gargoylesque figure had lost sight of other perps. Where had Bear gone? The cannibal's mysterious string had ended. Perhaps their warped obsession was finally sated. Perhaps they had already gotten their earned dues. Or perhaps...
He flashed on the many bags packed up by Evelyn, carted out with sudden departure. She had broken her lease, but had paid well to make up for it--she'd only wanted a few months anyway.
The many leads left him searching his own neighborhood. With the departure of Evelyn, the incidents seemed to wane.
No, there was no way one of his own tenants was so evil. You think Batman would miss that?
His eyes refocused to the streets. And... what of the Black Widow? She'd left calling cards for him with her favored marking, but the incidents were sparse at best, and served as little more than challenges. He inspected the last note he'd found hours before, splattered in a touch of blood. And what of the wifebeaters? He turned it back over to see its back side, marked in a red hourglass. With a lazy gesture, he tossed it over the side of the building onto the already well-littered streets.
The gargoyle of a man was unusual in that he didn't read on any level of energy, and even radar tended to boggle in his presence. He seemed to have less substance and energy resonance than simple stone. The concrete of the city still resonated subtly with energy absorbed by passing cars and other influence. The figure perched at the building's edge seemed like a null, as if he weren't even there even when seen by the common eye.
Well, well! The war still rang in his head--well, the event that came a few days prior to it, staring destruction in the face as he circled Wraith and Ophois, The man who looks like me, and the man who is not! How interesting. Wraith still wasn't sure which was which; he did not show to those of the ethereal plane, but his suit was eerily similar to the hellmouth's primary forms. Yet, 'Ophois' was reflective in nature. So which looked like him, and which was not?
Heh. He moved to place a hand over a chest, where armor had been patched from the moment that almost killed him. He had promised Stephen things would calm down by Rosa's birthday. Could he hold to that? It was only a few weeks away.
...And then, the dark, brooding vigilante stared with hollow electronic blue eyes over the streets while trying to ponder what to do for a birthday party/anniversary. How did his holidays always manage to stack into so many events?
Ah, the life of the domestic vigilante.";
[lol! it's alright c: I cant gauruntee my replies will be as lengthy as the starter! Do you want my skype? o3o If you have one, I mean]
Sam sighed, pulling her white dress sleeve up Her eyes darted around--a habit she had picked up from the institute. She counted off how many minutes when by in her head as she walked down the street. The roads were cracked, and it was wet outside. Sam pushed her strawberry blond hair out of her face, and wiped at her blue eyes with the back of her hand. You could see her stele--attached to her arm by a strap, and a sword as well, that was attacthed by a brown leather belt at her hips. It slung lop-sided over her white dress (think GLaDOS from portal.) She took off her black flats, and was carrying them in her left hand. You could visibly see dirty grey transparent wings--only visible to any demon, Nepilim, or angel eyes. She had a strange mark down the side of her face,curlies and swirls curling off from a star at her temple. She had white scars on her neck; as her friend liked to call it, "Marks of the angel Raziel himself." Sam thought that her friend had been crazy when she said that. she's never met anyone who's said that, but there's always a first for everything.
Sam, being the klutz she is, stumbled over something and tripped. She gasped in pain, but it soon went away. She sat on the ground, thinking, staring into space. Her fingers drummed in uneven beats as she schooched closer, under the protection of a shop tent near by that was left abandoned.
Sam sighed, pulling her white dress sleeve up Her eyes darted around--a habit she had picked up from the institute. She counted off how many minutes when by in her head as she walked down the street. The roads were cracked, and it was wet outside. Sam pushed her strawberry blond hair out of her face, and wiped at her blue eyes with the back of her hand. You could see her stele--attached to her arm by a strap, and a sword as well, that was attacthed by a brown leather belt at her hips. It slung lop-sided over her white dress (think GLaDOS from portal.) She took off her black flats, and was carrying them in her left hand. You could visibly see dirty grey transparent wings--only visible to any demon, Nepilim, or angel eyes. She had a strange mark down the side of her face,curlies and swirls curling off from a star at her temple. She had white scars on her neck; as her friend liked to call it, "Marks of the angel Raziel himself." Sam thought that her friend had been crazy when she said that. she's never met anyone who's said that, but there's always a first for everything.
Sam, being the klutz she is, stumbled over something and tripped. She gasped in pain, but it soon went away. She sat on the ground, thinking, staring into space. Her fingers drummed in uneven beats as she schooched closer, under the protection of a shop tent near by that was left abandoned.
[**Warning** This includes a graphic description of murder/mutilation. **Warning**]
Things were returning to normal. He had been gone for too long, having left before the storm. He had not been dormant. There was the need to eat after all. The perpetual hunger that needed to be satiated. The storm was gone, and now the flock needed thinning. And while others might be content to merely watch, he was actively hunting.
The sun had long set. The moon was nearing the horizon. The figure running on the rooftops was nearly invisible. His target was not far. He had located it the day before. The roof edge was fast approaching. As it neared, he jumped, launching himself over and across the street easily. The apartment building approached rapidly. Reflexes kicked in.
Hands shot out, grabbed the railing of the balcony. Legs tucked up. Push down with arms, kick off. Legs find purchase. Launch upward. Arms up to grab the ledge of the floor above. Pull up. It was quick. Quiet. And fast. He was moving up quickly toward the top of the building.
Her name was Caitlin Hayes. She was 23 and lived in apartment 14M. Which meant it was the thirteenth floor… and the thirteenth apartment. People refused to rent it in most cases for fear of bad luck. She'd gotten it cheap about a year before. Her family was wealthy, and had been paying for her expenses while she attended the local college. Unfortunately, her focus had been less on grades and more on the local party scene… and as a result they'd cut her off in hopes it would make her return home to Ireland. Instead, she'd been defiant and took a crash course in real life. On a positive note, her grades were up. Mostly to maintain her eligibility for school, and more importantly legal immigration status. She made ends meet through student loans, and odd waitress jobs where her sunny disposition and good looks helped. She lived frugally, and slept with the windows and doors open vice running the air conditioning. A decision, that while economic, would serve only to solve her problems permanently.
The figure vaulted over the railing and onto the balcony. It was fluid continuation and subsequent end to his climb. He landed in a crouch on the concrete balcony. For the few moments he stayed there, with the pale skull mask, and black on black clothing, he looked exactly like his name sake. He listened to the silent apartment through the open door. The woman inside could be heard snoring, faintly, from within the bedroom.
The Bear stood, and entered without a sound, quickly vanishing into the darkness and shadows.
The sound of breaking glass woke her up. She reached over and tried to turn on the light beside her bed. It clicked. No light. She tried it again. Still no light came. maybe it had blown. Her hand next went for her cell phone. It was missing. Had she left it on the counter in the kitchen? She had done that before. No. Something wasn't right here. Her instincts told her to leave. To get out. And she listened.
As she was climbing out of bed, the woman noticed her closet door slightly ajar. There was doubt, but Caitlin felt it had been closed when she went to bed. Her dresser was beside it. Dressing would have to be skipped; her underwear would suffice. Better alive and embarrassed, then dead and modest. Hell, she'd read about some killers. If that was what this was, then she'd might not even get modest with her death. She started down the hall, trying to keep quiet.
Her foot came down on a broken shard of glass. It caused her to stumble, her other foot came down awkwardly on more glass, flower stems and water. Her foot slid out from under her and she fell forward. The impact knocked the wind out of her. And there was a stabbing pain throughout her torso. Her feet hurt. She was dazed. But she managed to roll onto one side, trying to figure out what had happened. She felt her chest. There were shards imbedded there. It was dark, but she could make out the glass. What she thought were flowers. Water. It was the vase from her living room. But why was it here?
The Bear stood in the hall closet, his backpack and shoes and socks tucked safely behind him. He heard the woman fall. He turned the knob quietly, then slammed the door open. It connected with the woman's abdomen. Hard. If she hadn't been winded by the fall, that would have done the trick. He was on her in an instant.
The door knocked her into the opposite wall. Panic set in as she felt herself unable to breath. Then she saw it. The monster in the closet. The pale bone mask was all she could really make up. Everything was more of hints. Shadows on shadow. Maybe her imagination making some sort of body to match the face she could make out. Fear prevented her from fighting as the… thing set on her. She felt it pin her down. Her mouth covered, nose blocked. Not that she had the air to scream anyway. It takes minutes to die from a lack of oxygen. She was very much awake, and aware as the muzzle lowered, as teeth clamped down on her throat.
Caitlin Hayes felt everything as her throat was ripped wide.
The bear jerked its head backwards, the sound of ripping flesh filling the hall. Chewing. A pause. Then motion was repeated. Arterial blood spray splattered the wall. A third time… the woman was at least dead by now. The bear didn't stop for several minutes. Not until teeth were scraping the bones of neck. Only then would he change his focus.
The bear studied Caitlin's face. It was splattered with blood. He gently opened her eyelids, and leaned in close to study her cold eyes. There was a sniffing sound, then with deliberate speed, he closed his mouth over the woman's right eye, and he ripped the meat from her face. The eye followed. The process was repeated as the bear devoured the woman's left eye as well. The figure froze, still hunched over as it swallowed the second eye. His eyes closed. He didn't move, save for the flutter of his eyes behind the closed lens. The rapid eye movement stopped, and his eyes snapped open. He took a moment to regain his composure before continuing.
He shifted backwards, and assumed a kneeling position, leaning over the body. He dragged it from the wall, and repositioned the body so that it rested flat on its back. By now blood was filling the hall, as gravity worked to drain it from Caitlin's ravaged neck. The Bear unsheathed a knife. It was large, a little over seven inches on the blade. It was sturdy too. He drove it into her chest, to the right of the sternum. There was a practiced care to the brutality.
He shifted to straddle the corpse at the waist, and cut the woman's bra in the middle. He didn't remove it. It was just unnecessary interference. He dug both hands into the woman's chest, were the incision had been made. There was a delay as he positioned his hand. Then with a sudden fluid motion, he pulled the woman's chest apart. Bones separated. Others broke. Flesh stretched and tore, producing a distinct wet ripping noise. With the ribcage destroyed, the lungs and more importantly, the heart, were visible. He reached down, gabbing the heart, and ripped it out. He brought it to his mouth and proceed to tear into it. He ate it all without stopping.
The bear stood, and walked to the closet. He pulled a battered backpack from within, and set it down in the hall, beyond the blood pool. He opened it, and removed a small bundle of butcher paper. He set it down outside the blood as well, before turning back to the corpse. Once more the knife was unsheathed. He crouched down by the body, and with the skill of a butcher, he began to cut the meat from the woman's thigh's and buttocks. He carefully wrapped the cuts and placed them into the back pack. It didn't take long.
Once done he sheathed the knife, put the extra butcher paper into the back pack and zipped it closed. He took a moment to bite another ragged chunk from her upper arm, before standing and shouldering the back pack. He stepped into the closet, and donned his footwear. He jumped lightly from the closet, kicked off the relatively clean stomach of the woman, and landed gracefully at the end of the hall, clear of the blood pool. He exited the same way he had entered, via the balcony. No foot prints. No forced entry. He wiped the blood from his hands onto his vest.
He grabbed the top of the rail, and jumped over, holding on long enough to twist around and face the building. He dropped, straight down, grabbed the railing of the next floor down to slow his descent, then released and dropped again. Grab, drop. Grab, drop. He repeated it for a few more floors, then instead of dropping, he coiled his legs up and kicked down and forward. He launched himself backwards. He twisted in mid air, and landed in a crouch on the roof across the street. He then took off into a full run, heading along a meandering path for the red light district. If observed, straight lines would give away the destination. He jumped gaps, slid under, hopped over, or climbed over obstacles. It was free running. Path of least resistance while maintaining momentum.
Things were returning to normal. He had been gone for too long, having left before the storm. He had not been dormant. There was the need to eat after all. The perpetual hunger that needed to be satiated. The storm was gone, and now the flock needed thinning. And while others might be content to merely watch, he was actively hunting.
The sun had long set. The moon was nearing the horizon. The figure running on the rooftops was nearly invisible. His target was not far. He had located it the day before. The roof edge was fast approaching. As it neared, he jumped, launching himself over and across the street easily. The apartment building approached rapidly. Reflexes kicked in.
Hands shot out, grabbed the railing of the balcony. Legs tucked up. Push down with arms, kick off. Legs find purchase. Launch upward. Arms up to grab the ledge of the floor above. Pull up. It was quick. Quiet. And fast. He was moving up quickly toward the top of the building.
Her name was Caitlin Hayes. She was 23 and lived in apartment 14M. Which meant it was the thirteenth floor… and the thirteenth apartment. People refused to rent it in most cases for fear of bad luck. She'd gotten it cheap about a year before. Her family was wealthy, and had been paying for her expenses while she attended the local college. Unfortunately, her focus had been less on grades and more on the local party scene… and as a result they'd cut her off in hopes it would make her return home to Ireland. Instead, she'd been defiant and took a crash course in real life. On a positive note, her grades were up. Mostly to maintain her eligibility for school, and more importantly legal immigration status. She made ends meet through student loans, and odd waitress jobs where her sunny disposition and good looks helped. She lived frugally, and slept with the windows and doors open vice running the air conditioning. A decision, that while economic, would serve only to solve her problems permanently.
The figure vaulted over the railing and onto the balcony. It was fluid continuation and subsequent end to his climb. He landed in a crouch on the concrete balcony. For the few moments he stayed there, with the pale skull mask, and black on black clothing, he looked exactly like his name sake. He listened to the silent apartment through the open door. The woman inside could be heard snoring, faintly, from within the bedroom.
The Bear stood, and entered without a sound, quickly vanishing into the darkness and shadows.
The sound of breaking glass woke her up. She reached over and tried to turn on the light beside her bed. It clicked. No light. She tried it again. Still no light came. maybe it had blown. Her hand next went for her cell phone. It was missing. Had she left it on the counter in the kitchen? She had done that before. No. Something wasn't right here. Her instincts told her to leave. To get out. And she listened.
As she was climbing out of bed, the woman noticed her closet door slightly ajar. There was doubt, but Caitlin felt it had been closed when she went to bed. Her dresser was beside it. Dressing would have to be skipped; her underwear would suffice. Better alive and embarrassed, then dead and modest. Hell, she'd read about some killers. If that was what this was, then she'd might not even get modest with her death. She started down the hall, trying to keep quiet.
Her foot came down on a broken shard of glass. It caused her to stumble, her other foot came down awkwardly on more glass, flower stems and water. Her foot slid out from under her and she fell forward. The impact knocked the wind out of her. And there was a stabbing pain throughout her torso. Her feet hurt. She was dazed. But she managed to roll onto one side, trying to figure out what had happened. She felt her chest. There were shards imbedded there. It was dark, but she could make out the glass. What she thought were flowers. Water. It was the vase from her living room. But why was it here?
The Bear stood in the hall closet, his backpack and shoes and socks tucked safely behind him. He heard the woman fall. He turned the knob quietly, then slammed the door open. It connected with the woman's abdomen. Hard. If she hadn't been winded by the fall, that would have done the trick. He was on her in an instant.
The door knocked her into the opposite wall. Panic set in as she felt herself unable to breath. Then she saw it. The monster in the closet. The pale bone mask was all she could really make up. Everything was more of hints. Shadows on shadow. Maybe her imagination making some sort of body to match the face she could make out. Fear prevented her from fighting as the… thing set on her. She felt it pin her down. Her mouth covered, nose blocked. Not that she had the air to scream anyway. It takes minutes to die from a lack of oxygen. She was very much awake, and aware as the muzzle lowered, as teeth clamped down on her throat.
Caitlin Hayes felt everything as her throat was ripped wide.
The bear jerked its head backwards, the sound of ripping flesh filling the hall. Chewing. A pause. Then motion was repeated. Arterial blood spray splattered the wall. A third time… the woman was at least dead by now. The bear didn't stop for several minutes. Not until teeth were scraping the bones of neck. Only then would he change his focus.
The bear studied Caitlin's face. It was splattered with blood. He gently opened her eyelids, and leaned in close to study her cold eyes. There was a sniffing sound, then with deliberate speed, he closed his mouth over the woman's right eye, and he ripped the meat from her face. The eye followed. The process was repeated as the bear devoured the woman's left eye as well. The figure froze, still hunched over as it swallowed the second eye. His eyes closed. He didn't move, save for the flutter of his eyes behind the closed lens. The rapid eye movement stopped, and his eyes snapped open. He took a moment to regain his composure before continuing.
He shifted backwards, and assumed a kneeling position, leaning over the body. He dragged it from the wall, and repositioned the body so that it rested flat on its back. By now blood was filling the hall, as gravity worked to drain it from Caitlin's ravaged neck. The Bear unsheathed a knife. It was large, a little over seven inches on the blade. It was sturdy too. He drove it into her chest, to the right of the sternum. There was a practiced care to the brutality.
He shifted to straddle the corpse at the waist, and cut the woman's bra in the middle. He didn't remove it. It was just unnecessary interference. He dug both hands into the woman's chest, were the incision had been made. There was a delay as he positioned his hand. Then with a sudden fluid motion, he pulled the woman's chest apart. Bones separated. Others broke. Flesh stretched and tore, producing a distinct wet ripping noise. With the ribcage destroyed, the lungs and more importantly, the heart, were visible. He reached down, gabbing the heart, and ripped it out. He brought it to his mouth and proceed to tear into it. He ate it all without stopping.
The bear stood, and walked to the closet. He pulled a battered backpack from within, and set it down in the hall, beyond the blood pool. He opened it, and removed a small bundle of butcher paper. He set it down outside the blood as well, before turning back to the corpse. Once more the knife was unsheathed. He crouched down by the body, and with the skill of a butcher, he began to cut the meat from the woman's thigh's and buttocks. He carefully wrapped the cuts and placed them into the back pack. It didn't take long.
Once done he sheathed the knife, put the extra butcher paper into the back pack and zipped it closed. He took a moment to bite another ragged chunk from her upper arm, before standing and shouldering the back pack. He stepped into the closet, and donned his footwear. He jumped lightly from the closet, kicked off the relatively clean stomach of the woman, and landed gracefully at the end of the hall, clear of the blood pool. He exited the same way he had entered, via the balcony. No foot prints. No forced entry. He wiped the blood from his hands onto his vest.
He grabbed the top of the rail, and jumped over, holding on long enough to twist around and face the building. He dropped, straight down, grabbed the railing of the next floor down to slow his descent, then released and dropped again. Grab, drop. Grab, drop. He repeated it for a few more floors, then instead of dropping, he coiled his legs up and kicked down and forward. He launched himself backwards. He twisted in mid air, and landed in a crouch on the roof across the street. He then took off into a full run, heading along a meandering path for the red light district. If observed, straight lines would give away the destination. He jumped gaps, slid under, hopped over, or climbed over obstacles. It was free running. Path of least resistance while maintaining momentum.
Sam could be seen hugging her knees to her chest. It was cold. She had no jacket; no protection from the wind or rain. Where she was now, there was no Ice, no water on the ground. She swiped her blond, stringy hair back in one fluid motion, and her wings curled in further towards herself to protect her from the icy wind. she exhaled a shaky breath as she rubbed her arm slowly. A shadow passes behind her--she can visibly see it because she just crossed paths with a streetlamp. The shadow flickered in front of her, and she coughed lightly. "W-what do you want, Rustan?"
"Simple, what's a Nephy like you doing out right now?" Rust had a smirk on her face as she stopped herself in front of her, her short white hair splayed everywhere messily, her black-purple eyes amused, and her attire...Fitting, for a shadow-shape-shifting-demon.
"I have no where to go, now leave!" She hisses, pulling out her swords. Rust simply stands there, not affected by the display.She finally sighs, and continues to walk. "You know, around this time i know plenty of shape-shifties who come out to play with little nephies like you~" she giggled; a high pitched squeeling she didn't like. Too cocky.
"Simple, what's a Nephy like you doing out right now?" Rust had a smirk on her face as she stopped herself in front of her, her short white hair splayed everywhere messily, her black-purple eyes amused, and her attire...Fitting, for a shadow-shape-shifting-demon.
"I have no where to go, now leave!" She hisses, pulling out her swords. Rust simply stands there, not affected by the display.She finally sighs, and continues to walk. "You know, around this time i know plenty of shape-shifties who come out to play with little nephies like you~" she giggled; a high pitched squeeling she didn't like. Too cocky.
Wraith watched the goings-on motionlessly above. It was part of how he kept his own standards, part of his sanity, part of his time. People were intended to resolve their own issues. No one man can solve the world's problems, he can just help them along; it takes their own initiative.
He stared through a display screen taking different energy readings. Her wings were nearly invisible to him; he was only a god of his own reality and body, and elsewise entirely human. The most he could read was a display of an odd energy signature extending behind her, but in a nexus that was common enough. He similarly moved his studies to the unstable, shifting energies of the others, but was unable to make any positive ID.
Well, unless things heated up there, he would be the unknown watcher to their events.
Bear's trip was unnoticed until then. Happening to break his vision from the bickering pair and just depend on audio, he looked over the streets. His sensors missed the first roof-leap, and his eyes dismissed it as a trick. It was the second time the maniac crested the rooves that the motion was captured, only vaguely identifying something some several blocks off. He squinted, and it vanished again, indicator disappating over the next building.
He crawled a few feral paces towards his roof's edge, awaiting a re-emergence, but it wasn't as immediate.
He glanced to the man and woman alone as he methodically rose to stand. Two metallic fists clashed together, and it seemed the impact and turn of the wrist combined launched a supressed pair of wings from running along his arm, formerly looking like dangerous ridges. The loud clang might alert someone to his presence. "Leave her alone." The voice rasped darkly, almost animalistic if it weren't for the vaderish metallic echo as if speaking into an epic can. Or perhaps demonically, if the hazy glow coming from between metallic teeth in his grin, or his dead, glowing blue eyes told anything when partnered with his twisted mask's expression or his complete absence of detection from any plane but physical.
With that warning, a jet-like sound escaped him underneath his feet, partnered with a flash of light. It partnered with a surge of energy which actually was detectable by the sensitive. It was just long enough to catch him an extra meter of air as he jumped forward, arms spread to initiate a glide from the wings. It was enough to cross the street to a higher-standing building, the last floor still grappled to climb across. He moved on walls with lizardine proficiency, courtesy of his good old multi-purpose designed gloves, grips, and accessories! It was entirely the gloves and practice that motored him now.
He glanced back to detect the state of bickering between the pair, but dismissed that he would come back as soon as he could. "I'll be right back. Be kind." He warned, in a less than kind vocal. With a few more leaps and glides, he crossed towards the street a few blocks over that was in question, diagonally traveling in the general direction movement had incurred--but still likely behind.
He took a few lower-level leaps, grappling around a building thoroughly once before peering up over the rooftop again for any sign of the other rooftop-dwelling oddity. He was certain it wasn't Ophois--his system should have alerted him if Ophois was online, much less in the vicinity, and Ophois probably didn't know how to fully shut down those systems lately.
That still left a variety of psychotic enemies that enjoyed the roofs. Does Bear pop back up again? He might have been late enough to lose the trail.
He stared through a display screen taking different energy readings. Her wings were nearly invisible to him; he was only a god of his own reality and body, and elsewise entirely human. The most he could read was a display of an odd energy signature extending behind her, but in a nexus that was common enough. He similarly moved his studies to the unstable, shifting energies of the others, but was unable to make any positive ID.
Well, unless things heated up there, he would be the unknown watcher to their events.
Bear's trip was unnoticed until then. Happening to break his vision from the bickering pair and just depend on audio, he looked over the streets. His sensors missed the first roof-leap, and his eyes dismissed it as a trick. It was the second time the maniac crested the rooves that the motion was captured, only vaguely identifying something some several blocks off. He squinted, and it vanished again, indicator disappating over the next building.
He crawled a few feral paces towards his roof's edge, awaiting a re-emergence, but it wasn't as immediate.
He glanced to the man and woman alone as he methodically rose to stand. Two metallic fists clashed together, and it seemed the impact and turn of the wrist combined launched a supressed pair of wings from running along his arm, formerly looking like dangerous ridges. The loud clang might alert someone to his presence. "Leave her alone." The voice rasped darkly, almost animalistic if it weren't for the vaderish metallic echo as if speaking into an epic can. Or perhaps demonically, if the hazy glow coming from between metallic teeth in his grin, or his dead, glowing blue eyes told anything when partnered with his twisted mask's expression or his complete absence of detection from any plane but physical.
With that warning, a jet-like sound escaped him underneath his feet, partnered with a flash of light. It partnered with a surge of energy which actually was detectable by the sensitive. It was just long enough to catch him an extra meter of air as he jumped forward, arms spread to initiate a glide from the wings. It was enough to cross the street to a higher-standing building, the last floor still grappled to climb across. He moved on walls with lizardine proficiency, courtesy of his good old multi-purpose designed gloves, grips, and accessories! It was entirely the gloves and practice that motored him now.
He glanced back to detect the state of bickering between the pair, but dismissed that he would come back as soon as he could. "I'll be right back. Be kind." He warned, in a less than kind vocal. With a few more leaps and glides, he crossed towards the street a few blocks over that was in question, diagonally traveling in the general direction movement had incurred--but still likely behind.
He took a few lower-level leaps, grappling around a building thoroughly once before peering up over the rooftop again for any sign of the other rooftop-dwelling oddity. He was certain it wasn't Ophois--his system should have alerted him if Ophois was online, much less in the vicinity, and Ophois probably didn't know how to fully shut down those systems lately.
That still left a variety of psychotic enemies that enjoyed the roofs. Does Bear pop back up again? He might have been late enough to lose the trail.
Sam shuddered and huffed a breath, sending a small white cloud in front of her face. She blew a strand of hair out of her face, trying to keep herself calm in front of this demon. the demon in front of her stopped and looked back, then turned around fully. She looked at Sam indifferently. "Hmm, you're seething with raw anger, I can tell."
Sam only glared at her and swung her pale hands-now turning white with her grip- with the steel dagger and sword towards the Shadow demon. However, she merely disappeared and chuckled. "Try and kill me all you want." Sam turned around to have her there, and as soon as she swung her white hands forward, she jumped back cockily. "Tsk, tsk." Escaped her mouth, which only aggravated Sam more. She continued to swing; light dripping off the cool, metallic, blade of the swords, threatening to burn and scar the demon's skin. Sam eventually got one major slice in. Rustan felt her purple blood slipping out through the gash in her arm, and only laughed. Sam stared on in disbelief and shock. This girl really was a Sadist.
Sam only glared at her and swung her pale hands-now turning white with her grip- with the steel dagger and sword towards the Shadow demon. However, she merely disappeared and chuckled. "Try and kill me all you want." Sam turned around to have her there, and as soon as she swung her white hands forward, she jumped back cockily. "Tsk, tsk." Escaped her mouth, which only aggravated Sam more. She continued to swing; light dripping off the cool, metallic, blade of the swords, threatening to burn and scar the demon's skin. Sam eventually got one major slice in. Rustan felt her purple blood slipping out through the gash in her arm, and only laughed. Sam stared on in disbelief and shock. This girl really was a Sadist.
Bear was oblivious to the demons fighting. And frankly, if he had been aware, he wouldn't have been concerned with it. Wasn't his fight. Wasn't his business. Nor was he aware of being spotted. Or the attempts to track him.
He had no energy. He had no power source. Just living flesh. Blood, bone, and muscle. Dressed in deliberately dark clothing. In addition, the blood soaking the clothes left large, darker, nonuniform splotches. It acted like a camouflage, helping him blend into the night's shadows. His footwear was clean. That was a precaution always taken. Don't leave tracks. Move fast. Be quiet. As far as scent… there wasn't much she could do about that. That relied on the winds, which seemed to be picking up.
His trail is rapidly growing cold. Impossible to follow? No. Just very difficult. Fortunately, her meandering path was taking him down town. The buildings were taller, the lights more frequent.
Flying through the air. More like gliding. Only, he had no wings. His lift and distance came from momentum brought from brute strength and cat like agility. Target? Billboard cutting across the corner of a building. Land on the metal walkway at the bottom. Roll to feet, maintain forward momentum. Wall run. Kick off at apex, about halfway up, and halfway along. Launch off, up, over the street below. Disappear into the shadow of the darkened building kitty corner. Exposed for a handful of seconds, the bright attention grabbing colors contrasting his dark outfit.
He didn't reach the roof of the new building. It wasn't his intent. It was a darkened office building, still under construction, but mostly complete. Tall, and modern design of steel and concrete. Thick non-moving glass windows, lined a wide window ledge. At the end of the ledge he launched himself off again.
Up and over the concrete walkway below. Land on an exposed I-beam several floors below. The significantly less complete sister to the previous building. The construction site was dark. The workers home for the night. It was a giant jungle gym for a sociopath. Though mostly a steel skeleton, the surrounding city cast crisscrossing shadows. Construction materials, and even the building itself served only to obscure movements within. He could move freely to any floor. Leave by any side.
He had no energy. He had no power source. Just living flesh. Blood, bone, and muscle. Dressed in deliberately dark clothing. In addition, the blood soaking the clothes left large, darker, nonuniform splotches. It acted like a camouflage, helping him blend into the night's shadows. His footwear was clean. That was a precaution always taken. Don't leave tracks. Move fast. Be quiet. As far as scent… there wasn't much she could do about that. That relied on the winds, which seemed to be picking up.
His trail is rapidly growing cold. Impossible to follow? No. Just very difficult. Fortunately, her meandering path was taking him down town. The buildings were taller, the lights more frequent.
Flying through the air. More like gliding. Only, he had no wings. His lift and distance came from momentum brought from brute strength and cat like agility. Target? Billboard cutting across the corner of a building. Land on the metal walkway at the bottom. Roll to feet, maintain forward momentum. Wall run. Kick off at apex, about halfway up, and halfway along. Launch off, up, over the street below. Disappear into the shadow of the darkened building kitty corner. Exposed for a handful of seconds, the bright attention grabbing colors contrasting his dark outfit.
He didn't reach the roof of the new building. It wasn't his intent. It was a darkened office building, still under construction, but mostly complete. Tall, and modern design of steel and concrete. Thick non-moving glass windows, lined a wide window ledge. At the end of the ledge he launched himself off again.
Up and over the concrete walkway below. Land on an exposed I-beam several floors below. The significantly less complete sister to the previous building. The construction site was dark. The workers home for the night. It was a giant jungle gym for a sociopath. Though mostly a steel skeleton, the surrounding city cast crisscrossing shadows. Construction materials, and even the building itself served only to obscure movements within. He could move freely to any floor. Leave by any side.
What typically served as a strength for the Wraith made for disadvantage following Bear: His mask, which protected against gasses and other offenders with its filter, stifled the putrid scent that may have elsewise given the other away.
He was uncomfortable chasing the trail much further; he was uncertain just how out of control the original pair he had been watching would get, and he wasn't even sure who he was following. Still, he pursued over a few more rooftops--just long enough for the increasing lights to define the shadow of a figure ahead springing with the sort of proficiency only his suit could achieve for him. The billboard's bright advertisement served as enough contrast for him to identify the bulkish shape, eyes widening. Might it actually be? His eyes widened, even if his helm kept a cool exterior.
Back at the original Sheol, a metal gear solid call sound rang off on the large screen, hailing for his assistant's attention. < Revenant. Can you get a beat on my location? >
Already nearby. Quite a chickfight going on where you just left.
< Dammit. Are they killing each other? > Audio failed to escape his grinning devil teeth, keeping a private communication as he did his best to follow in Bear's steps. By the time he even made it to the billboard-sporting building, the other had disappeared into the muddle of construction.
Trying pretty hard, by the looks of it.
< Well, as enthused as I am by you actually girl-watching, I need you to lock on my location and then focus on this construction. I think I just saw Bear. >
I thought they were gone.
< Guess not. I guess they waited for the whole end of the world thing to blow over before resuming eating people. Guess Mercury poisoning doesn't taste so hot. Give Ophois a call. Like, now. If the suit gets no response, try his cell, six out the number, he should get what it is. > Yeah, when you get a call from 6-666-666-6666 it's not exactly normal.
Ugh. Alright. Watching by ASE, but I can't see anything from here. Dialing him up. Send him at the girls, I take it?
< Yeah, now keep an eye. Just tell me where you see motion. > He ordered as he landed on the rails, himself. It gave a metallic report, possibly alerting Bear of another's presence.
Right there! At the top!
< That's me, stupid. > Hearing the clang himself, he hunkered into a crouch and stretched himself along the beams before flipping to hang on the underside, using the cover of shadow to his own advantage and hitting cue to turn off his helmet's lights, turning into a thorough shadow while creeping slowly along the bottom.
Well gee. I love you too.
A series of blinks and eye-based drag and drops shifted his lenses--the turned-off lights of his own mask allowed the night vision to activate, but the adjacent lights caused glare in the corners of his vision. < Ugh, I can't fucking see anything. >
That makes two of us, but I'm watching from like a million miles away. What's your excuse?
< Don't forget I write your paycheck. And house you. And feed you. And your gaming addiction. >
Right, boss! What sudden respect!
< Yeah, that's what I thought. Let's just hope the others don't shred each other before I can get back to them. Anyway, let's go quiet so I can actually listen. Only report if you see something. >
Roger.
He was uncomfortable chasing the trail much further; he was uncertain just how out of control the original pair he had been watching would get, and he wasn't even sure who he was following. Still, he pursued over a few more rooftops--just long enough for the increasing lights to define the shadow of a figure ahead springing with the sort of proficiency only his suit could achieve for him. The billboard's bright advertisement served as enough contrast for him to identify the bulkish shape, eyes widening. Might it actually be? His eyes widened, even if his helm kept a cool exterior.
Back at the original Sheol, a metal gear solid call sound rang off on the large screen, hailing for his assistant's attention. < Revenant. Can you get a beat on my location? >
Already nearby. Quite a chickfight going on where you just left.
< Dammit. Are they killing each other? > Audio failed to escape his grinning devil teeth, keeping a private communication as he did his best to follow in Bear's steps. By the time he even made it to the billboard-sporting building, the other had disappeared into the muddle of construction.
Trying pretty hard, by the looks of it.
< Well, as enthused as I am by you actually girl-watching, I need you to lock on my location and then focus on this construction. I think I just saw Bear. >
I thought they were gone.
< Guess not. I guess they waited for the whole end of the world thing to blow over before resuming eating people. Guess Mercury poisoning doesn't taste so hot. Give Ophois a call. Like, now. If the suit gets no response, try his cell, six out the number, he should get what it is. > Yeah, when you get a call from 6-666-666-6666 it's not exactly normal.
Ugh. Alright. Watching by ASE, but I can't see anything from here. Dialing him up. Send him at the girls, I take it?
< Yeah, now keep an eye. Just tell me where you see motion. > He ordered as he landed on the rails, himself. It gave a metallic report, possibly alerting Bear of another's presence.
Right there! At the top!
< That's me, stupid. > Hearing the clang himself, he hunkered into a crouch and stretched himself along the beams before flipping to hang on the underside, using the cover of shadow to his own advantage and hitting cue to turn off his helmet's lights, turning into a thorough shadow while creeping slowly along the bottom.
Well gee. I love you too.
A series of blinks and eye-based drag and drops shifted his lenses--the turned-off lights of his own mask allowed the night vision to activate, but the adjacent lights caused glare in the corners of his vision. < Ugh, I can't fucking see anything. >
That makes two of us, but I'm watching from like a million miles away. What's your excuse?
< Don't forget I write your paycheck. And house you. And feed you. And your gaming addiction. >
Right, boss! What sudden respect!
< Yeah, that's what I thought. Let's just hope the others don't shred each other before I can get back to them. Anyway, let's go quiet so I can actually listen. Only report if you see something. >
Roger.
Gabriel was all ready to have a nice quiet night in with Asa when he got a phone call on his way home. He'd blink stupidly at the number before grumbling, "You've gotta be kidding me." He'd answer the phone with a slightly annoyed, "Hello?" And he was likely given the information on what was going on by Alfred. "No, no worries, I can take care of it." He'd end the phone conversation and then he's heading over to the apartment complex, and letting himself into his old apartment, which he and Asa had decided to keep, fully furnished to boot.
From there it's down to Sheol and into his suit, which was as far from the Wraith suit as it could be. It was shaped more in a wolf form, with a wolfs head mask, and a tail. Once the helmet is on, he can patch in and speak to Rafe, "Ophois here, why exactly am I stopping a cat-fight?" He can probably check the coordinates with Alfred or Rafe, and then he can be using the sewer system to head in that direction.
From there it's down to Sheol and into his suit, which was as far from the Wraith suit as it could be. It was shaped more in a wolf form, with a wolfs head mask, and a tail. Once the helmet is on, he can patch in and speak to Rafe, "Ophois here, why exactly am I stopping a cat-fight?" He can probably check the coordinates with Alfred or Rafe, and then he can be using the sewer system to head in that direction.
Rustan shrugged off the cut as the purple blood oozed down her arm. Sam slanted her blue eyes at the demon. The other girl simply sauntered backwards, teasing the Nephilim girl. She sighed deeply, then slowly advanced towards her. Suddenly Sam disappeared, simply a light-literally light- in her place. A small wind shifted over them as Sam let the light drift upwards, and she was suddenly on the rooftops.
"It's been nice talking to you, shadow." She mumbled towards the demon; she knew fully well that Rust could hear. The girl in question looked up and smirked, crossed her arms and kept walking. "As it has been with you, Samantha." She huffed and rolled her eyes at the shadow demon, and kept walking along the rooftops. Soon it turned into a run, as Sam felt the need to burn out unnecessary energy. She jumped lithely along the rooftops.
Something felt up. She could feel the presence of someone watching her at last; she hadn't paid attention to her surroundings. She felt odd.
"It's been nice talking to you, shadow." She mumbled towards the demon; she knew fully well that Rust could hear. The girl in question looked up and smirked, crossed her arms and kept walking. "As it has been with you, Samantha." She huffed and rolled her eyes at the shadow demon, and kept walking along the rooftops. Soon it turned into a run, as Sam felt the need to burn out unnecessary energy. She jumped lithely along the rooftops.
Something felt up. She could feel the presence of someone watching her at last; she hadn't paid attention to her surroundings. She felt odd.
The noise did carry. In and of itself it wasn't enough to distract him at first. The city was full of noise after all. Man made noise, associated with technology and machines. Metallic noises wouldn't be out of place, especially in a construction site. Of course, those things made noise by design, or by flaw… and loud metallic noises typically should have repeated. Especially from within a construction site, had it been a machine left on. That was what got him. It was close, and it didn't occur again.
A slight shift in path. He aborted the jump he was planning. One that would likely have been detected by the eye in the sky. Instead he ran up a steel girder, expelling most of the momentum he had behind him. Last step, jump. Aimed slightly out. No sense in head butting a cross beam. Left arm up, hook bottom of said cross beam. Body jerks to a stop. Legs swing out and up. Release. Half twist in at peak. Land on on cross beam of developing floor above in a crouch. Still a floor or two above of metal frame work. Likely impossible to spot movement that tight to the steel beams. Not to mention the short delay.
His costume was light and mostly cloth. His metal items were sheathed or insulated. Rubber soled shoes. No noise on the landing. He took a moment to study the construction site more closely.
The building was nearing 20 floors tall. Judging from its more complete twin, it still had five or so more to go. The builders were working along multiple paths. While the steel frame was being constructed ever upward, the lower floors were being worked on as well. The bottom been had been completely enclosed, with the internal walls at least mostly erected. Likely the lower ones were near done, while floor five was just fine metal skeletal work. Floors five through 11 were less complete, with the reinforced concrete floors being the most significant development. Floor 12 was directly below him, and the floor was mostly just a network of criss crossed rebar, with some further construction tools and neat stacks of materials; Mostly concrete, cinder blocks, and more rebar. Two cranes were set up kitty corner of each other to raise the steel beams to place. A construction elevator was temporarily installed on the front of the building, and from floor 12 down, the stairwells one of the stairwells had been completed. Scaffolding climbed up the outside of the building on all sides to the fifth floor. The yard below was composed of packed dirt and a menagerie of construction materials and a few vehicles.
The sound had been metallic. His attention turned upward, studying the beams. If he was being followed, he had a good idea of who it was. He recalled this city had one of those masked crusaders of good. They'd encountered before. He he found him again? He couldn't make out anyone above. But the noise had been real. There still hadn't been any repeat. He debated his next move. He tried to remember what their last encounter had been like.
His mind settled on a single thought. The protector of this city wore a mask. A full mask if he recalled correctly. The bear hunted by sight. Sound. Smell. His own senses. But… the self proclaimed hero of this city wore a full mask. It would muffle sounds. Prevent smell. Limit vision. Those were draw backs that would have to be accounted for. But how? Most humans loved technology. Normal hunters used high tech optics on high powered rifles to take down a simple deer. Fancy scents to cover their own. Sci-fi movies always had futuristic weapons that removed the burden of relying on your own perceptions. Smart guns, and auto-targeting systems. People liked those ideas. Then military units had been employing infared and night vision technology for years.
He doubted there was any heat sensing involved. The ranges were limited. The lights and machines of the city would confuse it. Plus, he'd have been taken by now for sure. He had nothing to mask his body heat after all. That left the other possibilities still. Time to put theory to practice. His attention shifted to the building materials below. He'd need something large. The bags on cement. Roughly 80 lbs. bags. It was his best bet. And besides, if he was wrong and there wasn't anyone hunting him, well, the construction company would just get blamed for negligence.
He lowered himself down of the beam. Stealth. That was key. He stuck to close to the beams, and shadows. There was a lot to work with. The surrounding building lights cast multiple, long and crisscrossing shadows from each beam. Not to mention of varying shades… and it was night as well. The numerous cross beams and vertical supports would make it hard for tracking systems to lock on with the constant breaks. He watches his footing. A left out hammer, or some wrenches. Even a random piece of rebar. All things that made noise. A single misstep could be his undoing. He makes his way to the pallet of dry concrete mix.
A few minutes pass. His moments deliberately hard to follow. Then suddenly, a large shape hurtles through the air. The arch on it was low, but the distance was still good. It could easily have been mistaken for a person sprinting for an edge to jump from. Then it was gone, over the edge, and falling rapidly. It continued on its path outward. 12 floors is a fair way up. There was a loud impact, muffled by distance. It was still distinguishable as a car crash. Bad luck for the owner of a dark sedan driving down the street bordering the building. It looked new, and possibly expensive before. Hopefully it hit the engine, not the windshield or roof. Honks of horns. Tires screech. A second and third collision. Karmic retribution for following to closely.
The bear was crouched against a vertical beam, on a thirteenth floor cross beam and looking up. Watching, waiting. He had the presence of mind to move away from the pallet before throwing, and then to move again afterward, ensuring to change floors to further hide himself, should the point or origin be traced.
A slight shift in path. He aborted the jump he was planning. One that would likely have been detected by the eye in the sky. Instead he ran up a steel girder, expelling most of the momentum he had behind him. Last step, jump. Aimed slightly out. No sense in head butting a cross beam. Left arm up, hook bottom of said cross beam. Body jerks to a stop. Legs swing out and up. Release. Half twist in at peak. Land on on cross beam of developing floor above in a crouch. Still a floor or two above of metal frame work. Likely impossible to spot movement that tight to the steel beams. Not to mention the short delay.
His costume was light and mostly cloth. His metal items were sheathed or insulated. Rubber soled shoes. No noise on the landing. He took a moment to study the construction site more closely.
The building was nearing 20 floors tall. Judging from its more complete twin, it still had five or so more to go. The builders were working along multiple paths. While the steel frame was being constructed ever upward, the lower floors were being worked on as well. The bottom been had been completely enclosed, with the internal walls at least mostly erected. Likely the lower ones were near done, while floor five was just fine metal skeletal work. Floors five through 11 were less complete, with the reinforced concrete floors being the most significant development. Floor 12 was directly below him, and the floor was mostly just a network of criss crossed rebar, with some further construction tools and neat stacks of materials; Mostly concrete, cinder blocks, and more rebar. Two cranes were set up kitty corner of each other to raise the steel beams to place. A construction elevator was temporarily installed on the front of the building, and from floor 12 down, the stairwells one of the stairwells had been completed. Scaffolding climbed up the outside of the building on all sides to the fifth floor. The yard below was composed of packed dirt and a menagerie of construction materials and a few vehicles.
The sound had been metallic. His attention turned upward, studying the beams. If he was being followed, he had a good idea of who it was. He recalled this city had one of those masked crusaders of good. They'd encountered before. He he found him again? He couldn't make out anyone above. But the noise had been real. There still hadn't been any repeat. He debated his next move. He tried to remember what their last encounter had been like.
His mind settled on a single thought. The protector of this city wore a mask. A full mask if he recalled correctly. The bear hunted by sight. Sound. Smell. His own senses. But… the self proclaimed hero of this city wore a full mask. It would muffle sounds. Prevent smell. Limit vision. Those were draw backs that would have to be accounted for. But how? Most humans loved technology. Normal hunters used high tech optics on high powered rifles to take down a simple deer. Fancy scents to cover their own. Sci-fi movies always had futuristic weapons that removed the burden of relying on your own perceptions. Smart guns, and auto-targeting systems. People liked those ideas. Then military units had been employing infared and night vision technology for years.
He doubted there was any heat sensing involved. The ranges were limited. The lights and machines of the city would confuse it. Plus, he'd have been taken by now for sure. He had nothing to mask his body heat after all. That left the other possibilities still. Time to put theory to practice. His attention shifted to the building materials below. He'd need something large. The bags on cement. Roughly 80 lbs. bags. It was his best bet. And besides, if he was wrong and there wasn't anyone hunting him, well, the construction company would just get blamed for negligence.
He lowered himself down of the beam. Stealth. That was key. He stuck to close to the beams, and shadows. There was a lot to work with. The surrounding building lights cast multiple, long and crisscrossing shadows from each beam. Not to mention of varying shades… and it was night as well. The numerous cross beams and vertical supports would make it hard for tracking systems to lock on with the constant breaks. He watches his footing. A left out hammer, or some wrenches. Even a random piece of rebar. All things that made noise. A single misstep could be his undoing. He makes his way to the pallet of dry concrete mix.
A few minutes pass. His moments deliberately hard to follow. Then suddenly, a large shape hurtles through the air. The arch on it was low, but the distance was still good. It could easily have been mistaken for a person sprinting for an edge to jump from. Then it was gone, over the edge, and falling rapidly. It continued on its path outward. 12 floors is a fair way up. There was a loud impact, muffled by distance. It was still distinguishable as a car crash. Bad luck for the owner of a dark sedan driving down the street bordering the building. It looked new, and possibly expensive before. Hopefully it hit the engine, not the windshield or roof. Honks of horns. Tires screech. A second and third collision. Karmic retribution for following to closely.
The bear was crouched against a vertical beam, on a thirteenth floor cross beam and looking up. Watching, waiting. He had the presence of mind to move away from the pallet before throwing, and then to move again afterward, ensuring to change floors to further hide himself, should the point or origin be traced.
Hanging like a bat, minus the appropriate form of suit, it didn't take much for the lens-swapping vigilante to take notice of the large object moving through the air. There was an abrupt turn of the head, and in a moment the wraith spun about to be mounted atop the beamer he had been stretched out beneath. It made movement a lot easier, prowling with surprising speed for the large, metallic additions to his arms, made for weight and follow-through. That, sadly, announced him with a series of clanging noises, so by the several seconds it took to reach near enough to building's edge, and see the hefty impact below, he'd been thoroughly announced. All motion was swift at best, low and almost feral in pursuit. Just similarly, the figure pulled in to squat.
He cursed to himself inside his helm, quickly looking about from his new posture; be it flight or fight, either a random and unusual event had unlikely occured, or someone had noticed him following. Well, so much for him thinking he was wrong. Initially, he glanced up. He hadn't seen exact trajectory and it seemed more logical for someone to even try to chunk it from above. But his glances went round, jolting down and behind himself, rising to a hunched standing stance, combative pose hidden beneath grotesque features and inhuman structuring -- almost seeming decrepit, in its posture.
"Okay. So you're good." He fished--if he wasn't first attacked; that seemed a bit unlikely though, considering the hidden, sneaking nature of his unknown opponent. Apparently it wasn't a mask, it was an entire helmet. The voice was thoroughly distorted, sounding something like the echo of darth vader, and an inhuman husk... echoing through a bit of a tin can. < Watch the outside of the structure for movement. > He cued his overseeing eye.
You mean like... aside from the people checking out the crushed car? That was pretty wicked, what is that, like 200 lbs? where'd it come from?
Keen eyes were already trying to assess the situation, spotting partner bags--they were often stored together. < Eighty. Still... >
He cursed to himself inside his helm, quickly looking about from his new posture; be it flight or fight, either a random and unusual event had unlikely occured, or someone had noticed him following. Well, so much for him thinking he was wrong. Initially, he glanced up. He hadn't seen exact trajectory and it seemed more logical for someone to even try to chunk it from above. But his glances went round, jolting down and behind himself, rising to a hunched standing stance, combative pose hidden beneath grotesque features and inhuman structuring -- almost seeming decrepit, in its posture.
"Okay. So you're good." He fished--if he wasn't first attacked; that seemed a bit unlikely though, considering the hidden, sneaking nature of his unknown opponent. Apparently it wasn't a mask, it was an entire helmet. The voice was thoroughly distorted, sounding something like the echo of darth vader, and an inhuman husk... echoing through a bit of a tin can. < Watch the outside of the structure for movement. > He cued his overseeing eye.
You mean like... aside from the people checking out the crushed car? That was pretty wicked, what is that, like 200 lbs? where'd it come from?
Keen eyes were already trying to assess the situation, spotting partner bags--they were often stored together. < Eighty. Still... >
Bear tracked the metallic clangs, watching the would be hero. The ruse had worked, granted Wraith was now on the defensive. All in all, it was worth it. Know thy enemy. Now the question was what to do with the info. Fight or flight.
There was the meat to consider. There was time yet. Maybe a couple hours still before it spoiled. Time was precious here. Any further delays would likely cost him his prize. And a second hunting trip to make up for this one would be required. Likely tomorrow or the next day. It was a tight time frame, and one he was uncomfortable with. Too little time between kills. Not enough time to select the next lamb for the slaughter. Could result in tainted or sub-standard meat.
Not to mention the likely hood of getting caught would go up. The city would be on edge. More observant. More secure. Time was needed to let people forget. Forget to watch the shadows. Forget to lock all the windows... no... fighting now would not be an option.
He waited, until his hunter was looking else where before moving. A light jump, and quiet graceful landing on the last cross beam, marking the edge of the building. A brief look down, assess the drop, surroundings. His form would be visible against the back drop of city lights, especially if viewed from above. It didn't matter. He stood, turning his focus toward the masked vigilante.
A pause as he found his voice. Then he called out.
"This is my hunting grounds. The people of this city my prey. Are you their shepherd?"
It wasn't quite yelling. But the words were loud enough to be heard. The voice itself impossible to place. It seemed to reverberate. If someone managed to record it, and break it down, they would find something almost unfathomable; a blend of 500 voices. A mixture of accents, inflections, and vocal manners from across the world... and the past 100 years. It was like listening to a crowd of men and women all speaking as one. There could have been more. But he was selective of the ones called forth. Especially mindful to not use one in particular.
"Why do you seek to stop me? I kill for food. Something man has done for ages. Were these lambs of any consequence to you? Their lives of significance? Or do you do all this out of a sense of moral right and wrong? Consider your motives..." He moved to the center of the crossbeam as he spoke. A quick subject change. "I already payed a visit to an unlucky soul today. Ivy Terrace Apartments. 14M. Thirteenth apartment on the thirteenth floor. I found that a bit amusing."
He threw his arms out, and held them parallel to the beam on which he stood. "Rush to save a life... or try to follow me." He leaned back and fell off the beam... off the building, and down. Continue slow backwards flip in free fall. Pass couple floors, then stretch hands out. Catch passing ledge. Legs snap down. Release lip of the floor. Propel self onto floor.
Actual floor is finished. No walls being built yet. Land on floor, roll to feet. Sprint for opening in buildings far side. Unfinished exterior wall facing one of the cranes. Launch from the edge. Aiming for the angled metal cross beams forming the rising base of the crane. The distance was far, but the so was the drop to the ground below. It looked as if he would make it, though no normal human would have.
There was the meat to consider. There was time yet. Maybe a couple hours still before it spoiled. Time was precious here. Any further delays would likely cost him his prize. And a second hunting trip to make up for this one would be required. Likely tomorrow or the next day. It was a tight time frame, and one he was uncomfortable with. Too little time between kills. Not enough time to select the next lamb for the slaughter. Could result in tainted or sub-standard meat.
Not to mention the likely hood of getting caught would go up. The city would be on edge. More observant. More secure. Time was needed to let people forget. Forget to watch the shadows. Forget to lock all the windows... no... fighting now would not be an option.
He waited, until his hunter was looking else where before moving. A light jump, and quiet graceful landing on the last cross beam, marking the edge of the building. A brief look down, assess the drop, surroundings. His form would be visible against the back drop of city lights, especially if viewed from above. It didn't matter. He stood, turning his focus toward the masked vigilante.
A pause as he found his voice. Then he called out.
"This is my hunting grounds. The people of this city my prey. Are you their shepherd?"
It wasn't quite yelling. But the words were loud enough to be heard. The voice itself impossible to place. It seemed to reverberate. If someone managed to record it, and break it down, they would find something almost unfathomable; a blend of 500 voices. A mixture of accents, inflections, and vocal manners from across the world... and the past 100 years. It was like listening to a crowd of men and women all speaking as one. There could have been more. But he was selective of the ones called forth. Especially mindful to not use one in particular.
"Why do you seek to stop me? I kill for food. Something man has done for ages. Were these lambs of any consequence to you? Their lives of significance? Or do you do all this out of a sense of moral right and wrong? Consider your motives..." He moved to the center of the crossbeam as he spoke. A quick subject change. "I already payed a visit to an unlucky soul today. Ivy Terrace Apartments. 14M. Thirteenth apartment on the thirteenth floor. I found that a bit amusing."
He threw his arms out, and held them parallel to the beam on which he stood. "Rush to save a life... or try to follow me." He leaned back and fell off the beam... off the building, and down. Continue slow backwards flip in free fall. Pass couple floors, then stretch hands out. Catch passing ledge. Legs snap down. Release lip of the floor. Propel self onto floor.
Actual floor is finished. No walls being built yet. Land on floor, roll to feet. Sprint for opening in buildings far side. Unfinished exterior wall facing one of the cranes. Launch from the edge. Aiming for the angled metal cross beams forming the rising base of the crane. The distance was far, but the so was the drop to the ground below. It looked as if he would make it, though no normal human would have.
Ugh. He hated the chorus of voices. Somewhere inside, his skin crawled. It couldn't be attached to the whole... Ragnarok event he'd only narrowly survived, could it? The voices felt eerily familiar.
The moralistic questioning didn't externally phase the dark sprite. Inside, he kept a similar calm, if only through trained effort. The same extensive training that made him a magical null also stood in potential to make him nearly an emotional one, when in mindset within the suit. "Want to eat?" He belatedly gruffed past steely echo and demonic warble, "Try being a vegetarian." Because that... seems like a totally fitting message from a giant demon man.
The alternate route drew a graveled rumble, as he pondered. It could be a ruse; one who hunts to eat, if the claim held any weight at all, did not kill simply for the fun of it; the victim could already be dead, if it was even real. A small series of blinks muted the audio output of his helmet without audio of visual cue. 'Rev-- 911 -- civilian line; use the old payphone.' he routed quickly. Watching the other's descend, he momentarily lunged but held himself back for the moment, watching the trajectory before taking off in a sprint himself. Taking the open end of the building, he lept, thrusting back his elbows as if almost trying to touch them before abruptly straightening them. The fabric stiffened between now extended rods, replicating wings. The Bear may be capable of enduring the leap, he didn't want to see if he was and would rather glide in close parallel while internally delivering a message to the dispatcher.
With his best normal, undistorted voice, he reported, "I heard screaming next door. I think it was 14 M. Ivy Terrace Apartments." With Revenant already trained in this sort of affair, he knew well enough to be googling the address of the complex to give direction; placing it in a corner of the screen for him to stutter out. "I... I think someone sees me. I have to go." Panic wasn't unusual in a call, after all; even if they said to stay on the line, he clicked off--all the more reason to investigate.
Ultimately, he was finishing his call a few seconds after landing. Annnd player has to go because ragamuffins are splashing in the computer's direction.
The moralistic questioning didn't externally phase the dark sprite. Inside, he kept a similar calm, if only through trained effort. The same extensive training that made him a magical null also stood in potential to make him nearly an emotional one, when in mindset within the suit. "Want to eat?" He belatedly gruffed past steely echo and demonic warble, "Try being a vegetarian." Because that... seems like a totally fitting message from a giant demon man.
The alternate route drew a graveled rumble, as he pondered. It could be a ruse; one who hunts to eat, if the claim held any weight at all, did not kill simply for the fun of it; the victim could already be dead, if it was even real. A small series of blinks muted the audio output of his helmet without audio of visual cue. 'Rev-- 911 -- civilian line; use the old payphone.' he routed quickly. Watching the other's descend, he momentarily lunged but held himself back for the moment, watching the trajectory before taking off in a sprint himself. Taking the open end of the building, he lept, thrusting back his elbows as if almost trying to touch them before abruptly straightening them. The fabric stiffened between now extended rods, replicating wings. The Bear may be capable of enduring the leap, he didn't want to see if he was and would rather glide in close parallel while internally delivering a message to the dispatcher.
With his best normal, undistorted voice, he reported, "I heard screaming next door. I think it was 14 M. Ivy Terrace Apartments." With Revenant already trained in this sort of affair, he knew well enough to be googling the address of the complex to give direction; placing it in a corner of the screen for him to stutter out. "I... I think someone sees me. I have to go." Panic wasn't unusual in a call, after all; even if they said to stay on the line, he clicked off--all the more reason to investigate.
Ultimately, he was finishing his call a few seconds after landing. Annnd player has to go because ragamuffins are splashing in the computer's direction.
The jump carried him forward. The distance was good. But with his experience at this, it always was. His body impacted with one of the angled cross beams that supported the skeleton frame of the crane. He rode the momentum, letting it spin him around the support, dispelling what was left, and preventing any damage from the fall. He had fallen with the jump. Gravity did not sway for anyone... well... it did not sway for him anyway.
He fell to the next beam below, landing with a casual cat like grace in a crouch. It was a tower crane. The structural design relied entirely on triangles for support. A fairly common design, given the inherent strength of a triangle. In this case, it meant the support he was on was fairly level. He glanced back at the building, looking for his... associate. He hadn't really expected him to just stay there thinking, so his attention shifted upward to the sky.
Given the weight of Wraiths footsteps, he knew the suit was heavy. To follow this far suggested more at work then just muscle and bone driving it. Technology wasn't his strong point, but he did enjoy the moving pictures of the day. Especially sci-fi. He'd seen technology advance drastically in his life. He might not be a master of how to use things, but he could at least appreciate the results that came from it.
The city lights helped him find his target. Wings. Figures. At least the crane would likely hinder an impromptu landing. Next question. Were they to glide? or was there a means of propulsion? A glance down. Still several stories down. Glance up. Over halfway to the top. Crouch. Jump. Momentary hanging. Drop. Balance. Slide down an angled support. Begin a rapid descent, moving in a spiral pattern and down the various cross supports with the same ease as if it were a ladder. Sudden stop.
Another look for Wraith, then begin the ascent. More rapid. Wall kicks, pull grab with hands, hoist up. Kick off sides. It was an erratic, though far less spiraled climb. Faster then the descent, and within a couple minutes, was up onto a small catwalk behind the operators cab. Quick kick to break the lock, the door explodes inwards. Casual walk in.
On the small scale, turn of a key, then random levers start getting pulled. Buttons pressed. On a grand view, a momentary pause before the crane came to life. Hook drops. Trolley moves along the working arm, first away, then back, then out until it reaches the end furthest from the center. Hook comes back up, then starts dropping all the way to the ground. The entire crane begins to rotate, first clockwise then counter-clockwise away from the building. It continues to swing. Such a massive structure did not move quickly.
The front of the cab exploded outward, the glass raining down to the construction site far below. Bear moves out through the opening, then up onto the top of the cab. He climbs onto the working arm, then starts running for the far end. Below, the hook has hit ground, and is starting to drag. Likely going to make a mess of the site below.
He fell to the next beam below, landing with a casual cat like grace in a crouch. It was a tower crane. The structural design relied entirely on triangles for support. A fairly common design, given the inherent strength of a triangle. In this case, it meant the support he was on was fairly level. He glanced back at the building, looking for his... associate. He hadn't really expected him to just stay there thinking, so his attention shifted upward to the sky.
Given the weight of Wraiths footsteps, he knew the suit was heavy. To follow this far suggested more at work then just muscle and bone driving it. Technology wasn't his strong point, but he did enjoy the moving pictures of the day. Especially sci-fi. He'd seen technology advance drastically in his life. He might not be a master of how to use things, but he could at least appreciate the results that came from it.
The city lights helped him find his target. Wings. Figures. At least the crane would likely hinder an impromptu landing. Next question. Were they to glide? or was there a means of propulsion? A glance down. Still several stories down. Glance up. Over halfway to the top. Crouch. Jump. Momentary hanging. Drop. Balance. Slide down an angled support. Begin a rapid descent, moving in a spiral pattern and down the various cross supports with the same ease as if it were a ladder. Sudden stop.
Another look for Wraith, then begin the ascent. More rapid. Wall kicks, pull grab with hands, hoist up. Kick off sides. It was an erratic, though far less spiraled climb. Faster then the descent, and within a couple minutes, was up onto a small catwalk behind the operators cab. Quick kick to break the lock, the door explodes inwards. Casual walk in.
On the small scale, turn of a key, then random levers start getting pulled. Buttons pressed. On a grand view, a momentary pause before the crane came to life. Hook drops. Trolley moves along the working arm, first away, then back, then out until it reaches the end furthest from the center. Hook comes back up, then starts dropping all the way to the ground. The entire crane begins to rotate, first clockwise then counter-clockwise away from the building. It continues to swing. Such a massive structure did not move quickly.
The front of the cab exploded outward, the glass raining down to the construction site far below. Bear moves out through the opening, then up onto the top of the cab. He climbs onto the working arm, then starts running for the far end. Below, the hook has hit ground, and is starting to drag. Likely going to make a mess of the site below.
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