Weaver: Detroit

[sticky]

​

But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!​

All in all, it was a pretty good plan. As the Phantom Friend cradled Breezeblock's bloodstained head, gripping her hand tight in the performance of a lifetime, the armoured truck rolled to a halt. The driver and passenger got out, hands on their sidearms as they inspected the scene, but were quickly drawn in by the Phantom's charm. Where everything went wrong, though, was when the driver hammered on the wall of the truck's cargo compartment, calling for the medic inside.

For it was not a doctor that greeted them, when the doors swung open, but a butcher. The tall, heavily armoured figure stepped out of the van – the stag's skull mask made of polished wood giving him yet more height. Covered in living roots and protected by heavy wooden panels with cruel, curving spikes, Shrike stepped forth to survey the situation and immediately grew enraged.
"You. YOU!" He screamed, gravelly voice turning to a half-roar as he took angry strides towards them. "I told you, Breezeblock! I TOLD YOU TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CITY!"
Inside, the two on the ground spotted their target – a Tinker holding onto what looked to be half of a bicycle, covered in wires. He couldn't be older than fifteen, they supposed, his slight figure looking mismatched with an outfit that reminded them of old-timey explorers – a kid version of Indiana Jones, perhaps. As Breezeblock grew resigned to her immediate death, however, a miracle occurred.

With Shrike's attention firmly upon the two stuck in the road, he didn't notice the flash of gold above his head. Nor did he notice the grenades falling from the sky, trailing smoke which rapidly filled the street. Chaos quickly claimed the moment, but the team quickly found each other, and managed to regroup by Stoneroller's truck… which was a little odd, considering that they were spread apart. What was more unusual, however, was the new addition to their party – a man in grey robes, wearing a gas mask with a bandolier of smoke grenades across his chest. He held one primed in his right hand, and offered an open palm of peace with the left.

"Saw your plan hit a snag. I'll keep it brief." he offered, looking over to the unfolding chaos within the smoke-filled street. "I'm Smokes – Erie Cabal – and if I hadn't stepped in right there, you'd all be dead. Now, I'm not gonna ask what you were planning with Kid Lemuria and his drill, but I am going to ask that you consider the Cabal when you are counting your spoils – including the valuable knowledge of what's going on in there. You do owe us, after all. Speaking of the Kid, here he comes. I gotta split. Good luck."

Sure enough, as Smokes disappeared, out of the smoke came the Kid escorted by a PRT soldier who promptly evaporated. Suddenly alone and surrounded, he held out a jagged metal spear, coated in copper wire.
"Hey, where'd you go? Who the fuck are you? Oh fuck. I'm so fucked." he stammered, looking backwards towards the armoured van as he clutched his strange bicycle. He looked across the costumed figures of the party, fear welling in his eyes, and spat forth the only statement he could think of. The only thing that might save his life:

"I'm the only one who knows how to use it."

 

[Hecatoncheires]

Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.
You are currently logged in, capewatch_detroit
You are viewing:

• Threads made in the last day OR
• Threads marked as important.
• Thread OP is displayed.
• Ten comments per page.
• Unread messages in private message history
• Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically.

This account and associated accounts are in good standing.

♦ Topic: The Word of the Day Is... 'Excessive Force'
In: Boards ► News ► USA ► Detroit
capewatch_detroit (verified account)
Posted on 13/01/2010:

[embedded media: 'CAPEWATCH: On-Scene Footage of Excess Assaulting Militia Member' (YouTube)]


(Showing Page 2 of 24)

► capewatch_detroit
Replied on 13/01/2010:
Let me stress this again for what feels like the millionth time: Capewatch Detroit does not endorse or defend the militia movement. The Three Percenters and Oath Keepers and all the rest of Westerner's trailer park warriors aren't making this city a better place. These guys are walking escalations, rolling around town like they're US marines in Fallujah. They aren't here to protect, but to provoke.

And it seems one of the people they provoked was Excess. Who I'm sure doesn't need much of an introduction to residents of Detroit, but I know we have some people watching in from outside our fair ruin of a city. So quick primer? The guy punches stuff real hard. Great for a photo shoot when it's walls and metal sheets. Less photogenic when it's another human being.

The above video is an example of what happens when a cape can't keep their shit together. Yes, those three jumped up military rejects were asking for trouble. That's what they do. But that doesn't justify a member of the Detroit Protectorate hospitalising one of them. We're honestly lucky that the punch didn't kill him outright, or else the reprisal from the Westerner and her goons would have been even worse.

That's what fuck ups like this cost us, at the end of the day. Sky rocketing rates of violence, even more angry men (let's be honest, it's usually men) with guns out on the streets, collateral damage and civilians caught up in the backlash. All because Excess couldn't handle some Army LARPer calling him an asshole. The PRT puts these capes out in front of us and tells us that they're well-trained, well-disciplined law enforcement agents, capable of handling the challenges such a job will bring. But if it was a police officer responsible for this demonstration of unnecessary force, there would be repercussions for him. Disciplinary processes. Hearings. Public servants are supposed to be beholden to the public, right?

Yet so far, the Detroit Protectorate has barely even acknowledged the incident. They seem to think that if it's just militia groups claiming one of their own was attacked by a cape, everyone will think they're just spinning bullshit again. Which is the ideal cover for letting one of their own away with what was dangerously close to a murder.

I'll address the PRT sycophants no doubt already hammering away at their keyboards to repeat how releasing this footage will only make things worse. Things are already worse. Between MILF agitators pushing for a general strike and right wing groups piling in from all across the country to rally around Westerner, we are dangerously close to open conflict in the streets of Detroit. The PRT is supposed to be getting this shit under control. That's what all our lovely tax dollars are going towards, right? Safety and control?

But any of you Motor City residents who've been out on the streets lately feeling very safe? Does it look like the PRT are in control? No, of course not. They can't even control their heroes enough to stop them making things worse.

These guys call themselves heroes. I just want them to fucking act like it.

► lionsOfDetroit
Replied on 13/01/2010:
Honestly, heroes can't ever win with you people. If they try to pick their fights and pool their resources, you say they're not doing enough. But if they're out there taking the fight to those militia assholes, some creepy bitch with a camera will be there to make them look bad.

► Yeah_Yeah_No
Replied on 13/01/2010:
"taking the fight to those militia assholes"

It's good to know that cape fanboys can and will defend one of their idols nearly killing someone. That seems like a reasonable position to take.

► noglaaman
Replied on 13/01/2010:
@capewatch_detroit

How the hell did you even get that shot at 01:18? I know that area, there's no possible vantage point you could have been shooting from.

► capewatch_detroit
Replied on 13/01/2010:
@noglaaman

Trade secret, my guy. ;)​

---​

Well, there goes the plan.

Wasn't a bad plan either, truth be told, though I still have absolutely no intention of letting Stoneroller know that. Broad enough that it could be adapted on the fly, simple enough that we all knew our roles. But it wasn't broad enough to have a contingency plan for 'maniac in a stag skull mask hiding in the back of the truck'. Fuck me, it just had to be him. The fucking Shrike. Fuck.

I take a breath, the adrenaline still surging through my ears and making my heart do blast beats. Concentrate on your breathing, I tell myself. Ignore the whispering, this isn't the time. It's probably not real. Probably. And besides that, now isn't the time to completely lose your shit in front of your spooky new crime friends. Having a panic attack in front of them isn't exactly going to inspire confidence in your abilities.

...that's me saying that to myself, right?

Right. I got this. This is fine.

Our bacon saver from the Erie Cabal has departed, leaving us back at Stoneroller's truck with a parting gift. The kid's eyes look wide enough to fall out of his head, at this point, and I don't need to see the rest of his face to know that he's two steps away from completely losing it. Which wouldn't be great, given that he's the one holding our ticket into the Dome. Jesus, this isn't what I thought I was signing up for. I thought we were stealing some fancy-ass drill, not kidnapping someone not even old enough to drink legally. Not that I can either, strictly speaking, but let's not be telling the others that.

I'm no good with kids. Or adults. Or any form of sentient life. People are way easier when you only have to deal with them from the other side of a camera lens. But if one of us doesn't do something to stop this guy freaking out, there's a good possibility he's going to break his weird-ass tinker drill and then the plan's well and truly fucked. No profiteering from the contents of those banks for us, in that case. No footage from inside the Dome for Allie, easily the biggest pay dirt for any citizen journalist in the last few years. No way to pay the Erie Cabal back for their deus ex wizard stunt they just pulled, either.

Nothing else for it, really.

I step forwards towards Kid Lemuria, keeping my hands where he can see them but tilting my head to one side as I focus on the drill through my mask. Hopefully I can throw him off long enough for the others to jump in as well. Just need ol' Phantom Friend to make himself a new bestie, and we're still in business.
"We were told they were transporting a drill. That's a drill? It doesn't look very… drill-like."
"It looks like something out of Mad Max," one of the buildings nearby offers, unhelpfully. I resist the urge to giggle.

Professional, Allie. You're supposed to be professional.

 

[kookyboy9]

Casimir "Phantom Friend" Pangari

Location: Detroit - Street
Date: 2010 sometime.

Interactions: None specific, Kid Lemuria.

The plan was going well until Shrike stepped out of the armored truck. And then everything went to hell. In hindsight, it probably would've been a good idea to assume that the PRT would send him. He didn't see much daylight, but he was the most known person to watch out for in the city. And apparently he had a bone to pick with Breezeblock.

Fortunately, Casimir didn't even need to react, as smoke grenades began to fall out of the sky. The moment Shrike was out of sight, Casimir took off running, eventually rejoining the rest of the party, to even his own bewilderment. The situation quickly made itself clear, however, when a figure stepped out of the smoke. One of the Cabal. He seemed to be the one who stepped in, and he wanted a cut of the proceeds from the run, plus information about the inside of the dome.

As he vanished, Kid Lemuria stepped out of the smoke, his escort evaporating. Part of Smokes' power? Regardless, he was just a kid. And definitely not a combatant. No way in hell Casimir was getting him caught up in this shit. That'd make him no better than those vigilante fuckers. They needed the fucking drill, but he wasn't going to use his power on him. Not unless he absolutely needed to. Maybe he could convince the kid to tell them how to operate it? Or he could copy the kid's ability and try to figure it out to tell one of the others? "Fuck this, he's a kid. And he's obviously not a PRT goon. I don't care about us risking ourselves, but I'm not getting civilians caught up in this."

Breezeblock stepped forwards, commenting on the drill. Casimir took the opportunity to take a deep breath, then turned to look towards Kid Lemuria. "Look, we - or at least I - don't want to get you caught up in all this mess. If you can teach us how to use the thing, I'm more than happy to let you go..."

Like hell he was using his ability unless the kid looked like he was going to try to smash the drill or he was going to try to run. Or he attacked the group, but that didn't look very likely.

 

[sticky]

The smoke was still billowing down the street, but the wind was slowly carrying off the cloud of army-issue smog as the sound of vicious splinters carving up the nearby storefronts rang out in the distance. As the nearby buildings chuckled at the party's predicament and/or spat pained curses, it was the road that impressed a sense of urgency upon Breezeblock the most.
"I-94 NORTHBOUND. DANGER. M-39 NORTHBOUND. EXTREME DANGER," it rasped, the tar in its construction giving it the sound of a lifelong smoker's voice. The burnt out 7-11 across the road concurred, but added that it thought that the road was a fucking pussy. Buildings, man. They were ever so opinionated.

In the land of the living, however, the Phantom's natural charm (as opposed to his supernatural charm, naturally) gave the Kid something to hang onto. At least he didn't immediately threaten to murder him, which was nice. The Kid slackened his grip on his bicycle, but kept his spear pointed to the party, still keeping a defensive posture.
"Teach you? Uhhhh…" he murmured, before handing the contraption out to the Phantom. "Sure, I can try, I guess..." he replied, the raised eyebrows and uncertain tone a sure indicator that he did not expect the attempt to be successful.
"Okay, so what do you guys know about quantum tunneling? Wait, no… what do you guys know about quantum science in general? Fuck, no… do any of you know anything about physics higher than middle school level? I think that's our starting point." The Kid wiped at his brow as he looked over the capes of the Five Elements, eyes flickering between the villainous crew as he tried to rank them by likelihood of murdering him. "Oh, you'll need this to get it to work. Here," he added, passing Stoneroller a handful of what looked to be bicycle spokes, if for no other reason than the burly fellow seemed to have a lot of spare carrying capacity.

"And I'm not a kid, I'm fourteeeeen, which is old enough to be in the Wards."

 

[foodforpigs]

Rhapsody had told himself that he needed the money. He had temporarily closed his dance studio, having paid the collectors from the Ironworker's Union for the month beforehand, but he had to start digging into his savings. He told his clients that he had family business to attend to before leaving. His clients were sparse for the last couple of years, Hugh Spencer conceded. With the descent of Simurgh in 2008 and the emergent economic and existential crises, it was difficult for people around Detroit to consider that taking time to relax, to play, and to stay fit was important for physical and mental health; Hugh certainly thought so. He didn't tell the collectors he was closing, of course, should they decide to destroy the building because they felt like it. He hadn't joined the Union, but he had inherited the trash that came with it all the same, when the Union had supplanted his previous loaners and found his name somewhere.

Now he was standing in the middle of the street tapping rhythmically with his fingers at his sides, having been deus ex machina saved from the Shrike encounter by Smoke. Rhapsody didn't recall from the briefings that the drill was half a bicycle. He stood back while others were talking to him, not wanting to swarm him, especially since he was one of the ones the kid had seen during their botched attempt. When the kid started to talk if anyone of them knew physics, Rhapsody lowered his head slightly - as a high school dropout he would have nothing to add. All that he had to go on was half-bicycle-wire-thing seemed to be a drill without having the same shape as a regular drill.

Meeting up with the other members of the team was becoming a blur. He had come up with the team name, The Five Elements, and it narrowly won over the other nomination. Their alliance over a shared interest in money was fragile at best, but Hugh was thinking too much of the payoff to let himself have second thoughts, until now. He had packed for three days, more so if he rationed well, for what was to be an in and out mission. There was nothing in the briefing about abducting a kid, even if that kid was fourteen, and even if he paid off the loan from the IU, what was stopping them from harassing him anyway?

The universal rhythm soothed him and he hummed its mysterious tune aloud, partially muffled by the mask. He allowed Harmony back to the forefront of his mind. The situation was only bad if you let it be so. He pulled out one of the water bottles from his backpack and walked towards the kid only when the kid looked at him, as to not alarm him further. He gestured with the water bottle in his hands in a kind of shrug towards the kid as a kind of offering. Rhapsody wasn't going to tell the kid to take a deep breath, though it would likely do the kid some good. He was being given enough instructions as it was by other people.

 

[Amaranth]

Breathtaker hadn't expected to be standing in front of a kid that didn't look old enough to be taking part in such an important mission, holding the most pitiful excuse for a drill he could ever had imagined. The plan was going well; he was ready to walk in to 'save' Breezeblock until the truck's door opened and Shrike — because, of course, it had to be the worst of them — stepped outside. At that moment, he was ready to accept the group would die before it even had a chance to actually do anything. But after lots of smoke and running, they were dealing with a child instead of a pissed off Shrike.

He definitely wasn't about to question their luck, even though they also managed to get involved with the Cabal. All that, and they hadn't even got to the dome yet.

Well, the important thing (in the moment) was that they had access to the drill. Breezeblock and Phantom thankfully stepped forward to deal with the kid, and Breathtaker kept himself out of it until Lemuria started whining that he wasn't a kid. Ironic, considering it was in his freaking cape name.

"You gotta be kidding me," he muttered as low as possible under his breath, adjusting his mask and sending nervous glances to the area around them. He was all for keeping a teenager that seemed completely frightened out of the mess they would probably get into, but he was also all for not lazying around until Shrike called the PRT for reinforcements. Breathtaker waited for Rhapsody to offer a bottle of water to Kid Lemuria before clearing his throat. "Look, kid — man, we don't need to understand the reason why your drill works; we just need to know how to use it. I don't think we have time for a physics lesson, so just explain it, and we'll try to follow along."

 

[Asmodeus]

Everything happened, and it was great.

Stoneroller threw the armful of bicycle spokesorwhateverthefuckthatbetacuckhadgivenhim across the concrete, forming a beautiful fan of wreckage. Then he re-equipped the same hands with a +1 Kid. "How does it work?"

He took Kid Lemuria by the scruff and slung him around, a full one-eighty, before releasing him into the side of his truck. "HOW DOES IT FUCKING WORK?"

His roar was lost under the sound of the Kid denting his side-door. So Stoneroller gave him another chance. "You gon' fucking talk now, y'hear? YOU GON' FUCKING TALK!"

He lunged at the Kid as he slid down the side of the truck, and boot-pinned him by the front wheel. "HOW DOES IT WORK? HOW DOES IT FUCKING WORK?!"

Stoneroller drew his pistol, waved it around a bit, then shoved it under the Kid's jaw. It was okay, though - it wasn't loaded. "Here's how it works, Motherfucker: I say explain the drill and you explain the drill. You get me, friend? Ol' buddy? Ol' pal?"

He pistol-whipped Kid Lemuria with the unloaded gun, squeezing the trigger so he had a good grip on his bludgeoning weapon. "EXPLAIN THE FUCKING DRILL!"

The pistol went off, the bullet ricocheting much like the Kid had earlier, bouncing around the wheel arch in a white-hot flash.

Stoneroller stopped abruptly, let go of the Kid, and straightened to his feet.

Stoneroller looked at the others.

The others looked at Stoneroller's pinky.

The pinky spurted blood, the stub below the one remaining knuckle smoking from the bullet wound.

Stoneroller looked at everyone again. If they freaked out, he would freak out.

 

[sticky]

The Kid, evidently mistaken by the initial friendliness displayed by the Five, coughed at the scent of cordite in the air. Rubbing his injured head, he used his spear to lift himself to his feet with bleary eyes and ringing ears.
"Oh my god." he murmured, looking at Stoneroller's injured hand. "Are you okay?" A pregnant pause followed. He took a look at the 3%er reject, then to the others, taking a few measured steps back towards Rhapsody. "Uh, I mean… good. You deserved that." Taking the proffered bottle of water (presuming that it was still up for grabs), the Kid leaned his spear on his shoulder and used a little of the liquid to splash his face.

"Look, I'm real sorry, guys. I think your man here just accelerated any timetable you guys have, because Shrike has some keen ears. If you want me to sit you all down and explain it, class time is going to be interrupted by the big guy himself. Either you take me with you to operate the drill, or you scrub the mission. Live to fight another day, yannow?" The Kid tightened the cap on the water bottle, passing it back to Rhapsody before offering his hand to shake. "Thank you, sir. They call me Kid Lemuria back at the PRT, though I'm working real hard to ditch the 'Kid'. I did think that this whole scheme would advance my standing in the good books… but… welllll..."

In the distance, the sounds of combat were becoming the sounds of organization, of boots off the ground and into the back of trucks. One could only hope that the other villainous organizations had not smelled blood, too.

 

[Hecatoncheires]

Should have listened to the whispers. Bringing some Westerner reject along on the job? Not a great call. Bad call, in fact. 'Dumb bad stupid not checking the chamber even though I'm a gun nut' tier bad call.

There's a first aid kit in my pack, and I'm almost about to tell Stoneroller that he absolutely cannot use it when the whispers come again. Hate when that happens. Distracting. Throws me off, makes me think that maybe some new threat's just stepped into the scene before I realise that I'm the only one hearing them. At least I think I am. No-one else reacts when the 7-11 starts muttering, at any rate, and that would probably get a bigger reaction from everyone if they heard it.

"Guys. Guysguysguys. Incoming from south, yeah? Very bad. Need to move. No time for Bill Nye Jr, gotta go. Bring the kid. We can be like, the Six Elements or something. Make a new element. Just like that."

Motor mouth getting to me again. The adrenaline's hitting. The 7-11 points out that you can't just make a new element. I resist the urge to tell it to fuck off and mind its own business: it did let us know that the PRT were on the way. Instead I ignore it and step towards Stoneroller, starting to usher him towards his van. "If you promise to never ever ever do that again, I might patch you up okay? But only if you promise. Pinky promi--"

I pause mid-sentence, staring down at his bloodied hand.

"...thumb promise?"

 

[kookyboy9]

Casimir "Phantom Friend" Pangari

Location: Detroit - Street
Date: 2010 sometime.

Interactions: Stoneroller, Kid Lemuria.

Casimir reached out to take the drill and was about to chime in that he had a high school education when Breathtaker spoke up about the lack of need to understand the device. And he personally quite agreed. "Sorry, but we really don-"

Stoneroller decided that this was apparently the time for excessive use of force, and Casimir was so shocked at first that he just straight couldn't process what was happening... until the man accidentally blew his pinky off trying to intimidate the kid. And then he was just straight up pissed off. "What the fuck!? He was already cooperating, so why did you feel the need to beat the shit out of him!?"

Casimir took a deep breath. Much as the man was infuriating, he was obviously here for a reason. Much as he hated to admit it, they needed Stoneroller. So he'd give him the benefit of the doubt. But he'd better get an explanation for this. And it better be a good one. If it wasn't... well, he did need a first person to try. And if Stoneroller did this sort of thing on a regular basis, he'd be an excellent first subject.

He reached a hand out to Lemurian kid to help him back to his feet, but he seemed to have already gotten himself back up, so Casimir went over to pick up the spokes that Stoneroller had flung to the ground, ignoring whatever commotion may come of the gun nut's now-missing pinky. Hopefully the spokes weren't damaged. And he was never letting Stoneroller hold anything he wanted back.

Lemurian Kid and Breezeblock also had good points about getting out of here before Shrike and the PRT goons could return. And the kid seemed willing to come with them. Casimir didn't particularly like the idea, but it didn't look like they had much of a choice at this point. Finishing picking up the spokes, he looked back at the group. "I agree that we should get out of here. But who's driving? Our primary driver just blew his finger off."

 

[Amaranth]

There was a moment of silence after the explosive sound of Stoneroller's gun, and Breathtaker fixed his eyes on the blown off pinky — or what was left of it — and counted until ten on his head before rubbing his eyes.

"For fuck's sake, you gotta be kidding me." He muttered under his breath again. He had seen worse in the emergency room, of course, but he wasn't expected to work with anyone who freaked out over their own uvula.

Opening and closing his hands a couple of times to reign in the desire to punch someone, Breathtaker not so subtly walked between the Kid and Stoneroller. He placed a hand on the kid's shoulder and gave a firm — but somewhat gentle — push towards the direction of the truck.

"Alright, congratulations and welcome to the group; now hop into the truck and let's go. Tell me if you feel any dizziness." He didn't bother trying to soothe his voice, not when he was in such a rush. Turning back, he positioned himself at Breezeblock's side.

"Here, I can help you with him," Breathtaker offered as he rummaged through his backpack, pulling up the small first aid kit. He extended his hand to Stoneroller.

"Gimme your hand. It'll hurt a bit, but try not to move, or it'll hurt even more." The words were spoken out of reflex, as he was sure the bigger man could shake this off with no problem, considering he had, well, just blown his own pinky off.

Breathtaker huffed as he quickly cleaned the wound as well as he could without proper equipment. When he was relatively satisfied, he wrapped a gaze around the stub, pressing down slightly for a few seconds, hoping it would be enough to stop the bleeding. "Keep your hand raised for a while, be careful not to restart the bleeding." And hope it doesn't get infected. But he kept this bit to himself.

"You wanna drive, Phantom? I don't think I can drive a truck." Breathtaker finally addressed the question as he shoved the first aid kit back on his backpack. Maybe Stoneroller could drive with just one hand, but he definitely wasn't going to be the one suggesting that. "Regardless of whoever is doing it, we really should get going. Like, right now." He was certainly ready to get away from Shrike and the PRT as fast as possible.

 

[Asmodeus]

Stoneroller had long dismissed Breezeblock and ignored any attempt to be ushered towards the truck. Reporters could suck his dick.

But Phantom? That fucking guy? Well...

"Hey!" he shouted over at Phantom, gesturing with his hand. Blood sprayed in Breathtaker's face before he could get hold of the wound. "Now I don't need to tell you, that that little prick was resisting. You got some kind o' spear-blindness, boy? Some little dipshit runs around with a spear in the Big D, he better sure as shit be ready to use it."

He yanked his hand away from Breathtaker, lashing blood in Phantom's direction. "And another thing! Co-operating? This your idea of co-operating?" He glared at the Kid, who was already climbing into the truck, in a very co-operative manner. "If you don't think he's about to run, then I got some one-dollar houses downtown that I can sell you. Fuck..."

He looked at Breathtaker, shrugged, then motioned to Phantom with his bleeding hand, tearing some of the gauze in the process. "You believe this guy, Doc? Too many fuckin' vaccines, you ask me."

He chuckled while scratching his nose with the bleeding hand, tearing the gauze some more.

"My mom was a teacher," he informed Phantom, loudly, making sure that Breezeblock and Rhapsody heard too. "I know kids like this. They need a firm fuckin' hand. Little shit would'a speared us and hauled ass if I didn't beat SAID FUCKING ASS. Look at him now..." He pointed at the Kid with his bleeding hand. "Learned some fuckin' respect. HEY, WATCH THE SEATS!"

He was about to berate the Kid some more, but then Breathtaker pressed down on the wound.

"AAAAGH, YOU FUCK! I'LL... I'LL... OH...."

He did what Breathtaker told him to... and raised his hand... above his head....

"I CAN FUCKING DRIVE!" he then yelled at the doctor, while holding his arm up in a crisp, perfect salute.

 

[foodforpigs]

Rhapsody accepted the handshake from Lemuria, singularly impressed by his decorum despite being physically assaulted by Stoneroller, and parsing through the events that had quickly transpired as he offered the water bottle. Stoneroller had forcibly shoved Rhapsody aside in his singular focus and physically cut in front of Breathtaker for follow up questioning. He remained unshaken despite the sudden amputation of Stoneroller's thumb and the rush to get it re-attached as the universal rhythm of Harmony was already smoothing out the fortissimo of Stoneroller's violent interjection.

"Rhapsody." he replied, after shaking Lemuria's hand. The situation was quickly developing after he got that single word in with the sounds of the enemies converging towards them. Stoneroller didn't know Hugh Spencer took what he shouted personally. The teacher Stoneroller referenced was just like the ones Rhapsody knew all his young life, thinking that abuse was necessary to foster a culture of respect. He had lived the waning days where hitting a child with a ruler or publicly shaming them was acceptable. Hugh knew full well that didn't foster respect, only trauma. There was only one teacher Hugh respected, his grade 11 gym teacher; that teacher was the first one to not yell at him into compliance or talk down to him.

While the rest of his team seemed scramble to get mobilized, Rhapsody effortlessly glided towards the truck in due time. Rhapsody reflected that he should've brought his own car, but he didn't let the regret touch his soul, knowing regret wouldn't change the now. It had been reasonable to limit how many vehicles headed towards the site. When he hummed or tapped his fingers on the way here, Stoneroller just turned up the volume for whatever was on. His truck, his rules. Rhapsody didn't object. The sound the radio made didn't drown out the music inside him.

"I guess you're stuck with us now, Lemuria." Rhapsody said quietly, knowingly leaving out the 'Kid' part. It was already a tight squeeze in the truck with its original occupants. He put his foot on the bumper and slinked into the cargo bed, already deciding to giving up his seat in the truck.

 

[sticky]

With Stoneroller at the wheel and Breathtaker sitting beside him in a (possibly counterproductive) attempt to salvage his hand, Kid Lemuria was caught between Breezeblock and the Phantom. The early morning streetlights were beginning to switch off as the sun rose, though even that didn't make the chilly streets much warmer.
"Yeah, I suppose so. There's gonna be a lot of paperwork at the office, that's for sure, and Red Tape is gonna be utterly delighted that she gets to break out her Sherlock Holmes impression." The Kid sighed a little, adjusting some of the screws on his spear. "Not to mention Shrike... ugh, he's gonna tear everybody a new hole. You seem to have met before...?" He gave Breezeblock a glance, then tightened the scarves over his face. Rubbing at his injured eye, he looked out at the empty streets ahead.

 

[Hecatoncheires]

Is this a kidnapping?

I feel like this is a kidnapping.

At least Kid Lemuria is being pretty cool about the whole possible kidnapping thing. Or as cool as you can be, when Stoneroller is screaming about discipline and firm hands (both highly ironic choices of words) and you're stuck in a car full of C-tier villains. Not exactly covering ourselves in glory so far. I turn my head to look at the boy as he continues speaking, tilting my head slightly when he mentions someone by the name of "Red Tape". Should probably know that name, it rings a bell but I can't seem to place it. Maybe something to text the production monkeys about, assuming we don't all die on this job.

Then he goes and asks about the Shrike.

I don't like thinking about the Shrike.

I especially don't like that we just met the Shrike again, and he's clearly been thinking murder thoughts about me.

Turning my head slightly to regard Kid Lemuria through my mask, I shrug.
"We've met. Doesn't like my movies." Then I have a brilliant idea. "Also who the hell's Red Tape? Pretty sure bureaucratic processes don't do Holmes impressions, so I'm guessing you're talking about a cape? A friend? Boss? Some manner of authority figure who's gonna be mad with us too?"

I'm talking too much again. Goddammit. Nerves are dialled up to ten already, and we've only just started.

 

[Amaranth]

"Can you stop moving your hand for a fucking second?" Breathtaker all but screamed at Stoneroller, forcefully grabbing his wrist with one hand and wrapping gaze and micropore around the wound somewhat tightly, to the point where the curative was thrice as large as it needed to be. Perhaps not the best idea, but as long as the man wasn't spraying blood everywhere, it would have to do. Stoneroller could go and die of an infection after the mission was over. "There. Now new challenge — salute for twenty full minutes. Prove your discipline to your mom's soul. I'm sure she's watching you right now, so make her proud!"

Breathtaker could barely believe he was actually spewing those words; they didn't even make sense to him, but if he could keep Stoneroller's hand still for just enough time for it to stop bleeding...

Otherwise, yeah, he gave up.

Twisting his body around when a name caught his attention, he looked back at the trio on the back.

"Red Tape is PRT, a cape as well, but Breezeblock has a point," Breathtaker chimed in, thankful to avert his attention from the loose cannon at his side, for the time being. "We don't hear much about her. Why is that? Is she someone we should worry about?"

 

[Asmodeus]

"AND WE WERE TRYIN' DIFFERENT THINGS. WE WERE SMOKIN' FUNNY THINGS!
MAKIN' LOVE OUTSIDE THE LAKE TO OUR FAAAAAAAOVURITE SONG!
DRINKIN' WHISKY FROM THE BOTTLE, NOT THINKING 'BOUT TOMORROW,
SINGIN' SWEET HOME ALABAMA ALL SUMMER LONG
AWOOOOOOOOOOOO! WEREWOLVES O' LONDON!
AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"​

The doc had said a lot of bullshit. But one thing stuck. Momma was looking down on him. And that was pretty swell.

Stoneroller drove with the window rolled down, and his hand stuck out of it. Gotta keep that shit above your head, the doc said. So he drummed it on the roof as they drove, making fat thumb-gauze percussion for his boy Kid Rock. Damn, that dude was a genius to come up with a song like this. Rhapsody didn't have shit on Kid Rock.

"Oh yeah, Red Tape. I know all about Red Tape," he declared, shouting over Breathtaker again. He looked over his shoulder at his teammates, making prolonged eye contact with each of them. "One of those bitches from the bitch squad, yeah? We seen 'em up at that place, with the kids, all shifty-eyed and shit. Bitch like her, with a face like that, you just know she's up to somethin'. Anyways, time'll come when Red Tape and all her fuck-nugget friends are gonna get what's comin' to them. Her and all them liberals and trans-fats and globalist shit-bags. You know what I'm sayin'?"

He looked back at the road, swerving a little to avoid a school bus. "Shrikey's okay in my books. I tell you what, man - guy wears a pair of antlers: you know he fucks. I heard this one time, he was at a drivethrough, and ... heh.. heh.. that's funny, Ma."

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped against the wheel, a mouthful of diet coke splattering into the footwell as his jaw went slack.

The truck veered violently towards the barrier of the roadway, where a half-frozen lake made ready to receive them.

 

[kookyboy9]

Casimir "Phantom Friend" Pangari

Location: Detroit - Street
Date: 2010 sometime.

Interactions:

Casimir was about to respond that, yes, he would indeed quite prefer to drive, when Stoneroller exploded into motion, shaking blood everywhere and screaming at him. Spear blindness? Was the man fucking blind? The kid wasn't going to use it. He'd already given up when Stoneroller rolled him into the ground. He'd definitely be a prime candidate.

At this point, he'd given up trying to reason with the cape. He was spouting some new form of logic that only he could understand, and Casimir didn't have the energy to deal with it. And he insisted on driving. Hell if Casimir was going to interfere there. He should've just brought his vehicle instead. This whole mission had been a mistake, but it was too late to pull out now. The payout from this job damn well better pay enough to accomplish his goals.

He climbed in the back of the truck with Lemuria and Breezeblock, placed the spokes on the floor of the truck, and they started cruising down the road. Stoneroller was doing a remarkable job of driving... for someone who just blew his pinky off. Until he decided to chime into the conversation about Red Tape. As he went through the group, making solid eye contact, Casimir felt suddenly much less secure riding with him in the driver's seat. "Keep your eyes on the road if you want to drive!"

Sure enough, the gunshot eventually caught up with their intrepid driver, and he passed out, Casimir lunging for the hand brake to at least try to prevent an accident, but failed to account for the sudden locking of the seatbelt preventing him from actually reaching the handbrake. Fortunately, Breathtaker was under no such restraint in the front, and he was able to stop the truck before it went into the lake or hit anything.

As the truck skidded to a stop and the full situation made itself obvious, Casimir had a sinking feeling that they didn't have the time to deal with this. He rolled down the window so that Rhapsody could probably hear some of what was going on in the cabin if he had managed to stay in the bed of the truck. "Crap. Breathtaker, he still breathing? We're going to need to switch drivers. I don't think we have the time to just sit around and wait for him to come to. And we should probably shift seats to get you next to him to treat him. We're going to need him if things get ugly."

Casimir was already reaching for his door to start making good on his words, minus any interjections of disagreement or yet unseen events.

 

[foodforpigs]

The truck came to a halt. Rhapsody had considered using himself as an emergency anchor were it necessary, but was relieved not to ruin his boots, but this whole plan had already taken a nose dive off a cliff. At this rate Shrike and his goons would be on them.

"MOVE!" Rhapsody yelled. He tried to consider his options, but only one stuck out in his mind. It didn't matter how the truck switched out. He just had to trust that it would. He readied himself by flipping down the truck bed door, and planting both his feet on the sides of the truck to fix himself in place. Once the truck started moving again, Rhapsody could see the vehicles pursuing them. He hadn't told them the plan; he didn't have the time.

With Harmony, he dangled from the truck bed door, directing his hands to strike the road. With Disharmony, he let the resonant force from his fists to tear up the road trailing them, sending up chunks of concrete behind them. Rhapsody ramped up the power of his strikes, risking that their truck was fast enough to avoid getting knocked off course by what Rhapsody was doing.

 

[sticky]

The Kid grit his teeth and stabilized himself as the truck juddered and slid, and seemed none too happy about the heavy lump of patriotic meat, bristling as he was squeezed in further. Quietly, though, making hardly a sound, he drew Stoneroller's gun from its holster, engaging the safety before sliding it down the back of his waistband. Behind, the sounds of cracking and splintering asphalt covered his subterfuge, great spikes of road providing a barricade to protect them from their pursuers.

Adjusting his coat to hide his theft, the Kid spoke up. "Hey, if you guys don't have much time, you should probably get the drill fired up. Charge it by opening the water-bottle looking thing mounted under it, there's a power switch in there." He sat back, eyeing Stoneroller with a level of disdain. "Red Tape, though? She's one of our analysts. Not a combat cape."