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Round One... Fight!; [Open] 1 or 2 others
Topic Started: Jun 6 2012, 05:01 AM (355 Views)
Agent X
Unregistered

Date: Monday, April 15th

Time: 1:30 AM

----------------------------------------------------

The man fidgeted. He was a scrawny, withered looking thing that clearly wasn't used to being out in daylight, which must be why he set up this meeting so late. His pasty skin was covered in blemishes while a large pair of dark, heavy glasses sat on his nose. Maybe he was going for the tough guy approach, though all that sweat coming off his brow was really ruining the illusion. Nestled in a comfy looking chair, he spoke to the man who kept pacing back and forth in front of him. The air was so thick in the room it was like molasses was smeared across the windows. They continued to discuss the issue, a trade off of the newest technical schematics that would rival Apple's first launch of their tiniest iPod in exchange for a cool seventy thousand. The device was said to be the first in a new line of neural emitters that could not only track the whereabouts of the person implanted with it, but also link into the optic nerve and decipher electric currents that passed through them. In other words the whole world could be broadcast that special website you like to visit when you're looking for a little "me" time. It creeped Hayden out. Of course the company was aiming it towards military uses, but they were also pandering it to a select few civilians who had the choke collar around little Sarah and Billy too tight. Of course, the emo kid didn't yet have the schematics, which irritated the fancifully dressed butler to no end. People really do look like giant wads in those suits... It went on like this, the threats, the cowering... for.. three.. hours...

Hayden waited on the rooftop of the adjacent building patiently, or at least as patiently as the merc could muster. Sighing, he'd long since ditched the night vision binoculars and with it the amusement he gave himself by mimicking the various dinosaurs off Jurassic Park. Now, he was laying on his back gazing blankly at the city skyline while a small listening device squawked incessantly at his side. Back and forth they would talk and argue, things flaring up and cooling down in the same roundabout rhythm, Alex had enough time to pick off the last remaining scabs from his abdomen and poke at the angry, new flesh without missing a beat. As time went on, he was given fewer and fewer things to do; his portable dvd died along with his psp, he was sick of reading magazines no matter the amount of titillating pictures held within and he was pretty sure he'd forgot his phone back at the apartment. Sure, he could play peeping tom and eye the hot librarian living four windows over and two up, but she already drew the curtains. Laying there in an awkward heap, a low, grinding rumble tore at his stomach. Damn, knew I was forgetting something. As time ticked by, his body twisted left and right until he couldn't take it anymore. Ditching his post, Hayden made his way down several flights.

A glowing light washed over him with open arms as the patchwork merc entered the 24 hour 7 Eleven. Oh sweet sanctuary of plastic wrapped commodities, succulent, coma-inducing beverages and savory, stale pig snouts. I salute you. Rummaging through the aisles, Hayden had accumulated an armful of various items; a carton of milk and box of laundry soap for Nessa's (he forgot to go grocery shopping again,) a bag of chips, about six of those little Pez Head things, a bottle of Fresca, beef jerky (peppered,) and a bag of skittles. All of this was of course dumped onto the counter as he reached the cashier who seemed to not want to look him in the eye. "And one of your best, spot-light heated hot dogs."

Bing-bong

The doors closed behind Hayden as he exited, carrying a stuffed plastic bag in one hand and a hot dog in the other. He was enjoying his highly processed pig carcass wrapped in a crunchy bun when he almost completely walked by a pasty skinned, scrawny nerd with sweat pouring off his face. Hay.. wait a minute, isn't that...

"Mmf, wha.. Oh, hey, you're right."

Stopping, Alex stared at the dweeb for a moment as it took a few seconds for his brain to register what he was seeing. Unfortunately the prolonged stare only drew the mole's attention, beady eyes behind those thick glasses bugging out the minute they laid rest on the six foot, scar riddled merc. It didn't take the man twice to think as he quickly bolted down the street in the opposite direction. Shit! Agent X tossed the remainder of his half eaten 'dog and drew a gun from it's holster.

Y'see, this is why you order take-out beforehand...

"Shit, shit, shit,

Chasing after someone is always more difficult when you have a bag of sloshing milk trying to take out your knees with every step.

"Hey, stop!

Yeah, like he's about to do that with a disfigured crazy running after him, guns blazing.

"I'm not disfigured!"

Not realizing he'd said that out loud, they had turned into an alleyway where the man's ankle twisted in a corroded pothole, bringing him down like a sack of potatoes. Groaning, he slowly flipped onto his back and held up his hands, babbling out a series of pleas as Hayden approached. Holstering his weapon at the massive show of pathetic, Alex almost felt bad for the dude. "Alright, alright, I won't shoot ya. Just an old fashioned beat down like I promised. Oh, by the way, I hope you have medical because I hear hospitals are pretty pricey."

Ffffsht!

Sploosh!

Something wet exploded on his leg accompanied by the tell tale pop and spray of a bag of chips. Glancing upwards, only now did X notice the opened steel door with several goons stalking out of it like a bad action movie. In front was some jerk with a pistol raised.

"Well that's just rude."

A few buildings down, an old lady quickly dialed 9-1-1.
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Overkill
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Kinetic Energy Manipulation
Millionare, playboy, hard partier, single, adrenaline junkie, Blake was all of these things. Which is why at 1:30 AM you wouldn't expect to find him at an all night supermarket picking up bread, orange juice and multiple packets of potato chips. But here he was, all eight dollars and twenty cents of groceries in hand. He had just got the last bit of proof he needed for a case, getting some photos of a dodgy second hand car dealer and a tow-man together. Not together of course... The tow-man was just dropping off another set of busted cars to the dealer who would get them cut and shut and then sell them off. And with that he was done with the case which meant it was time to go home and play xbox.

He strolled happily out of the supermarket and off down the road, he had parked a little further away but in a far safer spot, as one did when one owned a very expensive car. The night wasn't so warm as the hot day before it had been and with the clear sky above it wasn't so bad to be talking a walk. Of course, as per usual the universe was on hand to wreck anything nice. He got to the car and unlocked it throwing his bag of goodies in behind the seat when two guys ran past full tilt and if Blake wasn't mistake one had a gun. With a curse he threw the car door shut and remotely locked it as he tore off after them. He was young, damn fit and a decent;y fast runner so even without his powers he was gaining on them fast. He didn't want to boost straight in, after all you never knew when you were going to get the wrong end of the stick.

He rounded a bend and found the two of them nearby, the man with the gun holstering it inside his jacket as he stood menacingly over the other. Was it time to step in? He really didn't know the situation, but part of the hero gig was not letting people take ass-kickings while you stood and watched. Obviously the gun was a concern, even if I was unlikely to be able to do Blake any harm. Slowly he took a step out from the corner and made his way towards the two, overhearing something about a beating. That was it, it was time to go in. But he was going cold, disarm and control he told himself. Then there was the creak of hinges as a band of light spewed out of an opening door down the alley. Blake's eyes shot up at once and he saw the sillouhette of another gun in hand on its way out of the door, closely followed by a group of angry looking chaps.

Now he was in a real bind, there were now guns on both sides, and he didn't know who was in the right. Although soon it was going to be like that old saying and it would be about who was left instead. The question was who to go for first, because regardless of who he tried to deal with first he would give the other an advantage. Then the hand of inspiration gave him a push and with a smile cracking slightly onto his features he hammered home the last few steps to the chasing man. Once by his side, Blake reached around and whisked the pistol from its holster at the man's side, and hence one was disarmed. Or at least that was what he thought.

He continued rotating as he spun to face the men coming out the doorway. The Desert Eagle was in his right hand, held by the slide and with the handle pointing towards his left. His left hand wrapped around the handle, hitting the mag release and pulling away the magazine from the gun in a motion almost like pulling the pin from a grenade. With that done the weapon wasn't going to be shooting anyone. Then his shoulders rotated as his right arm cocked back and his eyes narrowed at the front man by the door. A second bullet whizzed by as Blake released, his eyes giving a green flash as he shoved a dose of kinetic energy into the gun and threw it at vicous pace. It whistled through the air and struck the gunman right between the eyes, knocking him unconscious on his feet and putting a few cracks in his face from the impact.

Blake grinned as he beheld his own success.
"BOOM! Did you see that? That was to'ally fuckin' ninja!"
He yelled with a laugh. +10 awesomeness points for sure. The pack of goons barrelled their way but one stopped to pick up his buddy's gun. Blake swapped the magazine from his left to his right and let fly again, striking another clean and powerful hit.
"GOAL! Is that 'ow you mess some twats up Blake? Yes other Blake. Yes it is."
Then he turned his attention to the inbound muppets charging his way. Chances are the chasing guy had legged it when he had that lot running at him and no more gun, but Blake was sure he could finish this lot up and catch the guy afterwards.

He glanced across and saw the guy still there, which was a problem as he could potentially get out flanked here. He turned a little, making himself more side on to the incoming attackers for a better view of the other guy. With that he raised his fists infront of himself, all he could do was play it by ear and do a little of what he did best.
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Agent X
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The tell tale pop of four separate knuckles in a row could only mean that the merc meant business as he took yet another step towards the downed, pile of babbling loser in front of him. He wasn't lying, a pang of guilt indeed washed over him as he watched the nerd whimper, but hey, a job's a job. Maybe Hayden wouldn't be too hard on him, enough to send the mole to the hospital with a clear warning from his employers, nothing else. "Might as well do this. I want to get home before American Pickers comes on. You know that your old desk lamp could be worth ten grand? Serious."

Ffffsht!

Sploosh!


"Well that's just rude."

X had in fact been keeping track of the lingering shadow growing longer and longer behind him, though momentarily forgot to check the front gate. As a shot tore effortlessly through the plastic bag, an explosion of food, milk and cleaning supplies mixed together and splattered as a god-awful sludge onto his lower pants leg. Gunna be hell to Shout that out, "Sonuva.." X had been so focused on the shadow that he hadn't noticed the rectangle of spill across the pavement and a mob of goons march out in the dweeb's defence. Things were finally about to get fun. Shifting into a defensive stance, Hayden was just about to rush the crowd when a gust of wind took him off guard.

With a swift, upwards sweep, the right side of his jacket billowed out and was quickly followed by a mechanical click. Glancing down, X was now left with an empty holster which swung slightly from his shoulder. Tracking the movement, his eyes then rested on the guy suddenly standing in front of him. God dammit.. Didn't think the heroes would respond that fast. Geez, don't they have anything better to do? Go save a cat or something. Clenching his teeth, Hayden waited a moment as a goons gun looked to have backfired, clipping him square between the eyes. Wait a minute, this could work.

Reaching down, his fists closed around the man's collar and lifted him up in one fluid motion. "Stay there!" Swinging him around, the would-be mole shrieked a girly shriek as he went flying into a nearby pile of trash cans with a clatter. Without another moment's hesitation, a metal lid from one of the cans went careening past Blake and smacked a thug clear in the throat. The goon's eyes bulged as he doubled over clutching his neck, every manner of sickly gags chorusing through the night air while the rest surged forward.

"Here we go!"

Winding back, his knuckles connected with the gut of the first thug that rushed past, conveniently winding him long enough to land a boot to the head. Staggering sideways, the thug landed on the pavement where Hayden would back-flip with a foot smacking him in the chest, forcing out any last bit of air and hopefully rendering the man unconscious. Kicking off from that spot, Hayden continued through the onslaught of approaching hostility, taking a few bullets to the arm in the process. "Argh!! Sonuva--!" Before leaving the ground, his hips turned sharply, just enough to be able to bicycle kick one attacker against the bottom of their jaw and use the spinning momentum to hit another in the shoulder, forcing them to lose grip of the gun. Landing, X clapped his hand against the back of the remaining thug's neck and threw him fast first into the cement, a wet, disgusting crack signalling that his nose had been broken. Alex loved it.

There was still the issue of his interloper, however.

"Hey, heads up, man. You got two incoming... Amundo!"
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Crystal
Unregistered

Crystalia was far from nocturnal, far from a night owl. In her time in the Royal Court, she had lived for a very large portion of her existence within a regiment of extreme scheduling, and the freedom presented by her new residence on Luna's neighbor had originally been of no trouble. But as stresses and restlessness grew, her hours grew erratic, and with the departure of many of her friends, such as Wanda, Alex, Lorna, they had progressively gotten even more so.

Her prayers to Luna an Attilan aside she decided to take a flight, one that carried her over the skyscrapers on a gentle wind. The casual pace lead her to reflection, to day dreams of homecomings that would likely never come to pass, false imaginings of bygone days and loves lost.

The Hellicarrier, still miss-positioned after the attacks leveled against it by its Thunderbolts, sat awkwardly close to the Statue of Liberty in the bay. For a long time, she rested there, atop the statue's head, before she awoke suddenly from her reverie. She checked the time, not so late that she felt tired, not so early that she felt spry. She stood, eyeing the silver disc in the sky, thinking of friends she'd not seen in nearly a year now, if not more. She stepped towards the edge, wind again picking up on the oddly calm night, lifting her, and she caught it, sailing wide.

Pulling the cowl over and up mid-flight to combat the cool of rushing air, she soared back over the city proper, considering for a moment a trip to the movie gallery, the late one with the gray-films about love and loss. She decided against it, and instead her boots touched the sidewalk outside a jewelry shop. She stood there, admiring the beautiful works just beyond the glass, hand propping against it. Down in front sat a false hand laden with rings, one a gold band with a deep scarlet gem, another a silver band lined with emerald. It evoked memories of friends and forbidden love.

A sigh escaped her lips before a flashing light caught her eye.

Crystalia stood, looking down the street as a duo of police cruisers shot by. Stepping forward, she pressed a finger to her ear, the communicators provided by the master artisan Box latching on to the nearest emergency frequency, Police broadcasts streaming into her ear.

She had an address. The Wind kicked up. She was gone.

She beat the police there, handily, and as she approached wind began to bluster through the alleyway. As she came across the fight in the alley she dipped fast and low, and no sooner had the man in question placed his victim in the garbage than she had plucked him out, flying him up to the rail of a fire-escape and setting him down.

An orange glow bloomed around her as fire erupted into existence, the Princess of Attilan dropping slowly on the ebbing gusts as they died out, boot clicking to the dirty ground behind him.

The site of the only other man still standing surprised her, orange glowing eyes widening at first.

"Blake... I will assume this is coincidence." Her voice ushered forth, the essence of calm.
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Overkill
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Kinetic Energy Manipulation
Things moved slower than usual as Blake's senses went into overload from the adrenaline hit coursing through his veins. He felt the wind picking up, sweeping his hair around as a dustbin lid rotated gracefully through the air and into the neck of one of the oncoming goons. As he collapsed to the ground his friends fanned out, coming for their two enemies. At least on the upside it seemed like the guy who's gun he had borrowed was on his side for now. And it was that person who struck first, landing a solid punch and following it up with head kick and sprawled the enemy flat. Blake's fists drew upwards to guard his head as he turned slightly to face the oncoming force that was coming after him, confident that his 'friend' could take care of himself.

One guy out front led the charge against Blake, and in a moment the Englishman took stock of him. He was bulky, probably over two hundred pounds and given the tattoos Blake could see a stint in prison at some point was almost certain. A shining band of steel adorned his knuckles and a sneer adorned his face. He was a career criminal no doubt and coming in with bad intentions too, but he had picked the wrong fight. The knuckleduster swished through the air, turning in as it did so until it impacted Blake's arms that shelled around his head. But the blow, which would have disabled the arm of a normal man and likely stunned him too merely nudged Blake's arm thanks to the mutant's kinetic buffer.

With eyes awash with green glow the cockney wrapped his defending arm over the punching arm of his enemy and reaching out with his other arm managed to get a grip on the side of his opponent's head. With a burst of his powers to spin him hard and faster he threw the man viciously to the ground. Blake landed his his knee on the man's stomach, and from the comfortable top position he threw a series of lightly powered punches which battered aside the man's raised defending arms and struck him unconscious. As he stood and turned back towards the action, Blake heard the warning go up, two more headed his direction. His head shot around faster, sighting the front one of the two and Blake jumped. In the air his abilities spun him at inhuman speeds and his outstretched leg slammed into the enemy's side, breaking ribs and sending him tumbling out of the fight like a rag doll.

That left one who was standing back up, the gun which had shot Blake's ally recovered from the ground and in his hands. Blake's arms tucked in tight to his sides, fists still raised in front of his face. His eyes lit up a little brighter as his buffer shot up in front of him. There were a number of sharp cracks as the man emptied the pistol at his target but each bullet was pushed against by the mutant's buffer, each coming to a stop and hitting the pavement with a clatter. As soon as Blake heard the click of the empty handgun he shot forwards, his knee protruding and winding up in the gunman's gut as his hands gripped the goon's collar. The man's legs went weak on him and he half doubled over, held up by the Englishman's grip on his shirt. Allowing his powers to settle to nothing Blake planted a series of short punches into the man's face.
"Shoot! A! Gun! At! Me?! Fuck! Y-"

He was cut off by a voice behind him, a familiar one. Crystal made her statement from out of his sight range and Blake turned slowly and sheepishly to see her standing just as graceful and undisturbed as ever. He looked awkwardly from her down to the bleeding man he was holding and back up.
"Uh... No actually. I'm auditin' you on your response time."
He replied. Then worrying his jest may be lost on her he clarified and let the half conscious thug fall into a heap at his feet.
"Nah you were right, just coincidence. And also, funnily enough, not what it looks like."
He glanced around at the small army of ruffians strewn around the area.
"They started it."
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Agent X
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Using his training and uncanny merc instinct, X took mental notes as he studied the kid's moves. He was quick on his feet and force seemed to have no effect on him. Blows and punches glided off as easily as.. well.. Something that glides. A brow raised on the merc's face as he also noticed the bullet seem to bounce off the little punk and roll across the cement, while Blake recovered within a heartbeat and barely lost his stride. It was almost as if the wanna-be hero had some sort of shield up, though Hayden couldn't spot any sort of generator device. No Stark technology. So.. What then? Was this a telepath? Telekinesis? Please, God, no.. No. C'mon, my luck can't be THAT bad.

A gust of wind whipped up his jacket and drew his attention, glancing back at a second interloper as she set down from the sky. Sonuva fackin' g'damn mutan-- Flying... though judging from the pick up in wind, she at least wasn't a mental cue-ball. Some sort of environmental manipulator? Like Captain Planet, maybe? Man.. Captain Planet was so lame, though at least he looked like the guy from Reboot. Blue dudes tend to look alike. The guy from Reboot was cool though. Reboot was fucking awesome.

Something was wrong.. Where was the dweeb? Eyes darting towards the trash cans, he noticed a considerable lack of cowering and pleading for one's life. Looking around, he completely ignored the conversation the two muties began to have and tried to pin point his target until a barely audible, metallic clang drew his attention. Twisting his neck, he spotted the man racing up the fire escape and disappear into a nearby window. A million voices flooded Hayden's brain at once.

Great. Can't lose him. You're gunna have to do another stake out. I hate doing stake outs! Bad for business if he gets away. Don't let him get away. Get up there. Nessa's couch is soft. I wanna sleep, have we slept? Ka-Blooey!

"Well this has been oodles of fun. I'll just leave you two love pigeons alone. Y'know, don't suck face too hard, you'll pop a zit."

Reaching into two of the many pockets adorning his baggy cargo pants, Hayden pulled out two small scale explosives and tossed them in either direction.

"Ka-Blooey!"

Turning on his heel, X used the distraction of raining bits of debris and exploding fire balls to run point blank at a wall. Kicking off the pavement, he then used his momentum to run up the side and tag a bulky air conditioner propped out a window. Twisting his body, he timed himself just right to launch off and leap to the adjacent wall, latching onto the metal railing of the fire escape and pull himself up. It was a race now, he had to find this guy and do his job so he could buy twenty packs of frozen corn dogs for next month. Plus, he had a reputation to up-hold. No one was gunna hire a merc who couldn't do this one itty bitty thing! Quickly, X disappeared into the same window and landed inside a shady apartment complex.
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