'So this is is the... thing... that killed those civilians...' Marcus could hear his teeth grind together, a cold mote of anger welling up in his stomach. With Lina out of his field of view, he could focus on attacking this monster without fear of hurting his comrades. It would still be best, though, if he could avoid firing through the air where he could, at least for now. He could never control them in humid air, after all.
He quickly checked his power levels, and found them to be at a satisfactory 75%. 'It's a good thing I had that power line take the brunt of that shock. Something that strong would normally drain quite a bit more.' Taking in a deep breath, he extended his hands out and started charging another bolt, this one meant to arc directly at the blob. "Hey! If you can talk, you'd better give me a fucking good reason not to fry you right here!"
Frozen, then shattered, then shouted at. Morph was puzzled why the man with goggles angry? All it had one was to sustain itself, just like herbivores with plants and humans with their hotdogs. Morph could only reply to the man to the only way it could, by responding to the threats to itself and eliminating them. But one emotion crept into its mind, one Morph hadn't experienced since its birth: anger. Morph wanted to burn calories at a rate that would produce enough heat to burn through the ice and burn through the bloodhounds of Seraphim as a show of literally burning rage. But that would put itself at risk, not to mention sewer gas, a volatile mix of hydrogen sulfide, ammonia, methane, carbon dioxide, sulphur dioxide, and nitrogen oxides just waiting for a naked flame to light up the town. There was no point to that approach if the end result was death all round.
It scoured the memory fragments of its creator, looking for another approach, as he appeared to be logical, if somewhat erratic and had a handy database of proteins, the ones that Felix had found interesting still rich in detail. His mind would hold the answers. The problem was weaving through the amount of junk memories, nevertheless that problem went away if Morph concentrated hard enough. And there it was. How was it that fish survived in the freezing Arctic and Antarctic Oceans? Well, they had a protein for that. A protein that gave freeze tolerance, not stopping the freezing process completely but made sure that the biological tissues survived the ordeal. Maybe playing dead was worth the indignity...
Production was switched from acid to producing the AFP [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antifreeze_protein]. Morph let the bundle of amino acids flood its system, in hope to save as much biomass as possible. The man with the goggles looked like he was charging up something, maybe that was where the electricity came from? In anticipation Morph let the flesh under the chitin shell turn into something not unlike the infamous electric insulator known as rubber. However, at this point, Morph had turned to playing it by ear ans wasn't completely sure whether the change would block a sufficient amount of electricity to soften the blow. In a flash of impulse, Morph used a clawed appendage to pin the man to the wall, changing the palm of the sinister hand to a mouth and began to speak.
It seemed to be working, as Persephone broke off the bits that Blizzard had frozen already, and they were big enough for her lasergun to handle. She reached into her holster, using one hand to still freeze the blob, and shot at the bits that had fallen off of it. The laser hit them, and they evaporated into fumes and gases, no longer solid enough for the blob to reassemble with. She probably would have smelled something foul if she'd been close enough when shooting the bits.
The blob grabbed Faraday and said something to him, it seemed. "Sustain, supercede, survive? What in the world are you talking about? You killed innocent people, you don't deserve to keep on going, however you keep on going!" Blizzard froze the "hand" that held Faraday, careful to not freeze him in the process, and the part of it that was connected to the "hand". Or at least she tried, as it seemed to be freezing slower now. "What in the..." she asked herself. This was odd. She wasn't feeling tired after using her powers. So it had to be the blob. "Trying to protect yourself against the freeze? Then have some more!" She increased her power to freeze the "hand" better, then continued to freeze it as best she could. It was still going slowly, but she wouldn't give up.
Marcus nearly had the wind knocked out of him as the blob swept him up and slammed him into the opposite wall. With a sickening whisper, he had his answer: "...Su...sta..in...Su...per..sede...Sur...vi...ve..."
The mote of anger growing his stomach exploded full force, sending a flash of red though his senses. "So that confirms it. You're nothing more than a rabid dog - victimizing the weak for your own gain." Marcus could feel its flesh shift under his skin, turning hard and pliable, like rubber. So, it thinks to shield itself? Seems it didn't pass its high school physics, whomever this... thing happened to be. Everything is a conductor, the only difference is how hot things get when you press the issue.
"And you know what we do with rabid dogs here in New York?" Marcus still had the potential he'd built up earlier. With the monster touching him, this voltage should be more than enough. With a deep breath, he readied to release it all in one burst...
"We PUT... THEM... DOWN!" With a flash of light, he released his stored potential into the monster, the smell of melting rubber filling his nose.
Morph was definitely sure that the answer given was not the answer wanted as the bloodhounds barked even louder this time. The ice woman blabbed on about 'innocents' which got a laugh out of Morph, the victims were far from innocent; muggers, murderers, paedophiles, rapists, you name it. Morph was certain that the stream of memory fragments it saw while it rested was not those of people who led 'innocent' lives. It came to be conclusion that these people just called people 'innocent' so they could save them, as superheroes only save the 'innocent' citizens that are dragged into this. The ice woman continued to sent a flurry of cold to the hand, fine let her, let her drain energy into this fruitless task, let her freeze her comrade in place, let her be hoisted by her own petard. Its cells would survive the ordeal thanks to the AFPs.
The barking was accompanied by a jolt more painful than the last. It refused to scream out, the last thing it wanted was its prey to see it as weak. Morph hadn't factored in dielectric breakdown and found the 'hand' and other parts of itself melting with the heat, both ice and the rubber-like flesh withering away under the heat. Some parts even shattered, revealing even more of the rubber, heated so much by the jolt it was almost liquid. but that was just like the discarded skin of a snake. Morph was sure that even more would replace it. Rubber oozed, trying to escaping the chitin, the proteins denatured and the heap of biomass rendered to just of a lump of flesh. Morph let the rubber pour through, encasing the man in goggles in something that looked between tar and rubber. Morph was sure to stop the electric man this time.
Lina had taken careful note of the situation, not one to be easily distracted by monstrous talk. She'd fought enough things running off the need to be better than everything and all of creation to be distracted by it's talk of surviving, and surpassing. Lina was too busy seeing that Blizzard wasn't nearly as effective as she was earlier, and that Marcus seemed to have a better time melting it than electrocuting it.
Great, it can change it's weaknesses. She thought. The best idea she had that came to her mind was to switch elements on her sword. Distancing it from her body a bit, Lina had to take the extra time to force the sword from arctic frigidness to scalding heat. The sword was bright with heat and glowed with the power of it. Turning the bladed end of her sword towards the preoccupied monster, she bent down a bit more and let out a cry of battle. "YeeaaAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" The furious warrior woman leaped towards it's side, cleaving the scalding hot sword though about half it's mid-section, but not bisecting it. She had noticed that the beast could feel pain as well, and if she couldn't much destroy it, maybe she could drive it to submission.
"Come on, just freeze, damnit..." Blizzard cursed as her freezing wasn't doing as much as she'd wanted, even with increased power. It probably didn't help that her team mates were using different elements as well, since her ice got melted thanks to the electricity from Faraday, and now Persephone was using heat against it. Heat slashes, but it was all the same.
She was about to get furious when she got an idea. Wait a minute. Heating it could actually benefit me. Maybe if we heat it enough, freezing it will work better, making it crack and harden. It wouldn't necessarily be frozen in ice, but it would still be hard enough to not reform after having parts of it broken off. "Keep at it, guys! New plan! Heat that sucker up so that I can freeze it better! Faraday, keep doing your thing with electricity! And Persephone, continue to slash at it with your heated sword! Just remember to switch to ice once we're done heating it up enough." This plan had to work, because she didn't want to spend any more time doing this than she had to. The sewer water stayed frozen as it was, since Blizzard had used a fairly low temperature to freeze it.
Marcus could feel the monster bristle as he let loose the charge, but whether or not it did any lasting damage didn't seem to matter, as it simply picked him up and tossed him to the ground. Dazed, he looked up to see the monster's appendage morph again, this time to excrete a thick, tarlike ooze.
Before he could react, it was upon him, pressing down on him like a ton of bricks. 'Shit! If I let this thing keep going, it'll bury me alive!' Looking to his HUD, it relayed he had chewed up most of his capacitance in that last attack - he was down to 22%. 'Fuck. FUCK. That's not much to work with, not at all. Unless...' His thoughts briefly turned to a metal cylinder in his overcoat pocket, gently thrumming, pulsing with electrical potential...
'NO. I can't use that thing here. I have no idea how it would react in an environment as damp as these sewers.' He turned what little of his body he could to face Blizzard, and summoned what little breath he was able, the ooxe starting to restrict his breathing. "Blizzard! Persephone! A little help before this thing buries me alive!?"
Name: Mark James Robinson and Talsper Rekuhai Hero Alias: None. Gender: Male, Male Age: 26, 634
Appearance: Mark is of Caucasian origins, standing at 5'8" tall. He is underweight for his age, and has green eyes and dark brown hair. He can usually be found wearing lightweight clothing: a plain T-shirt and shorts, plus a pair of sports shoes. When out on a run he will wear a fairly thin pair of athletics gloves. The only really distinguishing feature of Mark's appearance is that he wears a pure gold ring on the ring finger of his right hand. The ring is engraved with a single line of inscriptions in an alphabet not seen on Earth. It roughly translates to, "I am the Warden of Talsper Rekuhai, Mage of Eniadan".
When Talsper takes over, Mark changes noticeably. His eyes turn the same gold colour as Mark's ring, his posture drastically differs, and he speaks in a different voice. But for the occasional word, phrase or sentence that is native to Talsper's home plane, his speech could be considered Shakespearean.
Inside Mark's mind, he sees Talsper as a tall, white-haired man with a long beard, wearing full-length robes that seem to subtly change colour as Talsper speaks or moves. He wears the same ring that Mark wears in real life.
Personality: Mark is a very quiet individual, tending to keep to himself unless spoken to. Modest, gentle with his words and friendly to those who wish him no harm, he enjoys conversation as long as it's on a subject he likes and knows well. Otherwise, he doesn't say much, and if he doesn't want to talk, it'll show. If Mark wants to talk to someone, he goes to Talsper before anyone else: just because they share a body doesn't mean they know each other's thoughts. Some people might mistake him for a person who does a lot of thinking before doing an action: in reality, that's just him talking to Talsper before making a decision.
Talsper is considerably more talkative than Mark, eager to help with the problems others are having... and then realising that ordinarily he would be able to solve their problem with a snap of his fingers. Still, it doesn't stop him from trying. Sometimes Mark has to remind him that his actions can be seen as Mark's. Talsper is prone to acting theatrically both in combat and out of it.
Alignment: Superhero
Superpowers: Mark has one power to speak of. It took the better part of a year, but he learned a spell from Talsper which draws on the Aura surrounding the magician's ring. With it, Mark can conjure a smallish orb of fire, ice or lightning: Mark can choose which one he conjures. This orb, roughly a foot in diameter, hovers above Mark's hand and attacks targets that he points out, using the element of choice as a weapon. Mark can dispel and re-conjure the orb to use a different element, but it takes time to do so and is therefore impractical to rapidly change in mid-battle. The orb is dispelled when Mark switches places with Talsper as detailed below.
While not considered a superpower, Mark is also a traceur: he is fairly competent in the sport of parkour. He can navigate most obstacles with relative ease, as long as he can reach ledges, handholds or footholds.
The gold ring Mark wears is enchanted to contain a human mind and the superpowers that go with that person. A magical artifact from another plane of reality, the ring allows the person inside it to see what is happening at all times, and they can communicate with the person currently wearing the ring via telepathy. Talsper's mind and magical powers are contained within the ring. Mark and Talsper are both aware of each other's presence, and each can relinquish control of their shared body to the other. They do this by utilising Talsper's ring, which always contains one of the two minds.
In terms of powers, Talsper holds the better hand. When in control, he is capable of considerable feats of magical power by tapping into his connection to the Aura. Before his imprisonment, Talsper's spells were intended primarily to be used in battle against other mages. With Mark's help and suggestions, he has adapted the three that he now possesses to better suit Mark's world.
Talsper's spells are as follows:
Stronghold - He can produce a shielding dome of Aura energy that stops or hinders incoming ranged attacks, but in order to maintain the shield he has to be still and focused.
Aura Gust - Talsper throws streams of ethereal Aura from his hands, bypassing the armour or defenses of anyone caught in the streams. Aura Gust inflicts burns, frostbite or electric shocks depending on his choice.
Healer's Hands - Talsper lays his hands on the injured and channels the Aura into their body, repairing their wounds up to and including broken bones. Both Talsper and the subject of his healing must be uninterrupted for the spell to work.
When two minds are exchanging places, the ring produces a prominent gold aura that surrounds the hand of the wearer.
Weaknesses: Even with Talsper in control, Mark's body remains in the same human condition it always is. He's not indestructible while Talsper is in control. And despite being fairly strong, agile and tough due to his parkour training, he has no experience in real combat, hand-to-hand or otherwise.
Talsper's spell-casting is extremely limited compared to his original powers. Having one's mind trapped in a binding ring with only scraps of your natural talent left with you, and the ring cast out of its home plane, will do that to you. In addition, Talsper being able to use magic relies on him being in control of Mark's body. The exchange of control via the ring takes a while to properly complete, and can be interrupted. And if the ring is not on Mark's finger, Talsper and Mark cannot trade places at all: they will be trapped.
Talsper can be forced out of controlling Mark's body, most often by receiving grave injuries or sudden shocks. The spells worked into Talsper's ring can be overpowered by the aforementioned. Some of the duo's previous enemies have used this to their advantage.
Biography:
Mark Robinson lived a somewhat normal life for a New Yorker of his age. Born to a single mother, Janine, who received child support payments from his father - Janine never enjoyed talking about the man - the young Mark fared more or less okay in the earlier years of his education. As high school rolled around he found himself less and less interested in the subjects the teachers were blindly feeding him.
This disinterest in classroom studies led to him experimenting with more physical activities. He often saved up to try an introductory course in a martial art, dancing or gym training. It was in this way that at age seventeen, he discovered free-running and parkour. Mark's light but wiry build proved itself useful in the latter, and he began to practice whenever he could, vaulting ledges or jumping and rolling past flights of stairs.
Mark's interest in parkour earned him a lot of bruises, cuts, grazes and scrapes: in his earlier attempts at it he sprained an ankle and had to undergo treatment for the injury. By the time Mark was out of high school he had joined up with a small club at his local gym that focused on traceurs - parkour practitioners - and training to improve the skills of the members.
Mark elected not to attend college, feeling that his low grades and general lack of interest in high school would only hinder his efforts to study further. Instead he continued to train, aiming to make himself into a fitter, stronger and faster person. Out of the dozen or so people in the traceurs' club, he found himself spending time with the newcomers most often: he enjoyed coaching them, giving them instructions or hints and watching as they tried to imitate his actions.
The being known as Talsper Rekuhai is from another plane of reality, as is the ring Mark wears. Talsper comes from the plane of Eniadan, a world of magic where many seek to harness, understand and learn of the mystical forces at their command. Talsper was a great mage in his time, master of many schools of the arcane. In Eniadan, all magic is derived from the Aura, a natural force that pervades everything and everyone.
Enchantments, curses, hexes, primal power, charms... no spell eluded Talsper's grasp for the first five hundred years of his life as a magician. Until the fateful day when his reputation was ruined. His apprentice was murdered in the middle of the night, and evidence falsified to implicate Talsper in an assassination attempt on the life of the Chaliset Kinntara (Empress Kinntara). He was swiftly convicted of the crime despite proving his innocence, and the court sentenced him to banishment. Not just from his home city, though. From Eniadan itself.
Talsper was stripped of a good portion of his magical talent, demoted down to the rank of Noviat - the lowest of the low - and his mind was severed from his body and bound within a Ring of Containment. This ring, enchanted specifically to hold the mind and magical ability of a mage, was cast forth from Eniadan in a ritual only ever performed in time of need. Being torn from his body was one thing for Talsper... but his magic, too? It was inconceivable.
The magician could watch the ritual being performed, but was powerless to stop it. He felt himself being catapulted into the Void Between Worlds, where he saw only pinpricks of light. Gates to other planes. One in particular he found himself hurtling towards. The next thing he knew, the ring was crashing through Earth's atmosphere, straight into the water with a splash.
Talsper's ring washed up on the western shore of Long Island, where it lay unnoticed for a good month or so. Until Mark just happened to pick it up while out on an extended training run. Fascinated by the strange markings on the gold band, he investigated where it had come from and to whom it might have belonged. Lost property notices went unanswered, and jewellers wouldn't buy it from him. Each one said that the inscription rendered it unsellable.
So one day, Mark experimentally tried it on. Strangely it was a perfect fit... and then the ring began to glow and the traceur found himself in another place, another time. He stood before a tall, white-haired man who wore long robes: the colour changed whenever he glanced at it. The stranger introduced himself as one Talsper Rekuhai... he sounded like Mark should have heard of him. He hadn't.
In the ensuing conversation, Mark learned of the existence of other worlds. Planes of reality, Talsper called them. The old man came from a plane named Eniadan. Unfairly convicted of a crime he did not commit, his mind had been contained within the ring Mark now wore. Perhaps this was his sentence, to be exiled from his home and left stranded on another plane.
Talsper went on to explain the presence of magic on Eniadan. The Aura, as he called it, was everywhere, which allowed him and his people to perform their spells. It sounded a lot like a concept straight out of science fiction or fantasy to the initially disbelieving Mark, but there wasn't really any other way to explain how the man's mind was trapped within a simple gold ring, or how the magician was over six hundred years of age.
Over the next four years, Mark carefully introduced Talsper to Earth. It took careful guidance for him to understand human customs and general conventions that ordinary people took for granted. Electricity, the internal combustion engine, aircraft and many more besides were all alien to the extraplanar man. And in return, Talsper taught Mark the workings of his ring. The two learned to exchange places, to let Talsper take control of Mark's body, and they mastered telepathic communication with one another.
It took the better part of a year, and a sizeable amount of damage to an area of Central Park, but Talsper also taught Mark to use what he thought of as a simple spell. With Talsper's magical talent - limited as it was - and Mark's parkour skills, the two became a crime-fighting duo. Mark would chase down a pickpocket or mugger, let Talsper take over, and the mage would prevent the target's escape with his Aura Gust spell.
Notes: Due to the enchantments placed upon it, Talsper's ring is completely indestructible without dispelling the magic surrounding it. The ring is also enchanted to adjust its size depending on the wearer.
"Stop! Thief! Someone help!"
No sooner had the scream left the panicked woman than a man of twenty-six was bolting after the culprit. He gave a hurried order, "Call authorities," as he passed the victim. Mark Robinson dodged and weaved through the crowded streets of Manhattan, his quarry roughly shoving people aside in attempts to run from the scene. Moron. By doing so, he only made himself more of an obvious target.
The man in the black hoodie turned into an alley after a minute or so, skirting a large dumpster. Mark, however, sprang upwards, one gloved hand catching the edge, and twisted in mid-air to vault over it. Landing lightly, he continued his pursuit with almost no change in the distance between the hunter and the hunted. Lamp post at the corner. Out shot a hand to grab it, and Mark pushed off from the ground to swing around his temporary axis. He was gaining on the would-be thief, ever so slightly.
Now? a familiar voice prompted the familiar question in Mark's mind. Talsper was still guessing about the right time to make the exchange. Mark didn't blame him: guessing wasn't easy. His method of pursuing a target was, by nature, freeform and improvised.
Not yet. I'll let you know when you can take over, Mark answered silently, knowing his friend would hear him. Just remember to keep running.
Jump up. Catch the ledge. Over. Fall. Roll with the landing. Back on his feet in a heartbeat. A familiar sequence, performed countless times prior to today. It was far quicker than taking the stairs down as the thief had done.
[hr]
Two Minutes Later
Thief on the streets, grabbed something he shouldn't have, got caught, made a break for it. Broad daylight. Being pursued by... someone. She was unspecific. Find and detain the thief. Shouldn't be a problem. Those thoughts ran through the mind of the Seraphim agent known as Justicar as she took to the skies on her wings of white and teal.
She had taken the call, redirected from police to Seraphim, and assured the victim that the organisation would handle it. There was no need to call for backup: Justicar could handle a petty criminal on her own, with her considerable skill as a martial artist and her natural ability to chase down her foe. Flying was faster than running.
Kurt jumped from rooftop to rooftop as he tried to keep up with the flying drone. Although he was completely invisible, he kept a safe distance so he could calculate his route accordingly. The machine flew overhead at a constant speed, making very few course adjustments. Its path seemed to be a slower, more roundabout one, as opposed to a straight shot back to wherever it came from. A sound decision.
Suddenly, the drone took a sharp turn downwards into an alleyway while Kurt was in mid-leap. He was unable to change his course and ended up landing on the next rooftop and crashing to the ground. He cursed silently as he got back up and looked around for the drone. It seemed to have finally shaken him off.
"Shit..." Kurt mumbled as he looked down on the bustling street below him. Somewhere among the mass of humanity was their target, safely out of their reach. The drone was his only lead and that managed to escape. Not a good way for his first mission with Seraphim to end. He reached for his phone to contact Waldemar and Arlana, and stopped when he noticed something. One of the taxis driving by seemed a little...off. Kurt couldn't but his finger on it, but there was something peculiar about that vehicle. It was almost as if it was skipping frames...
'Just like the hologram outside the clinic...'
Kurt withdrew his phone. "Spectre here. I think I might have our man."
'Think is the operative word.'
He jumped from the rooftop, aiming himself towards the "taxi." Dropping his cloak, he focused energy to cushion his descent and landed somewhat roughly on a nearby vehicle. He immediately took aim at the suspicious car and fired a blast of ectoplasm toward it.
The flesh blistered as the woman with the sword sliced through it almost like a hot knife through butter. But that didn't matter, the man in goggles wasn't angry anymore, in fact he had the look of a rabbit staring off into the headlights of the car that would crush it. More words were said, but they didn't matter, Morph was retaking ground in the fight and the rush of adrenaline, despair, anger and hate gave it one hell of a rush. The man knew he was finished and Morph would make sure of it. He focused on crushing the man before his comrades could help him or before any last stands or desperation attacks could happen, letting a wave of ooze inch closer and closer to the man's face. Hastily thinking of Faraday's imminent defeat, Morph was joyfully that one more annoyance would be stopped. It regarded the man as below its creator, especially after the 'rabid dog' insult. Morph would show him, as a rabid dog only mindlessly attacks and Morph would take him down with thoughtful, albeit on the fly, strategies. Fire, frost or lightning, it didn't matter, Morph would endure and eradicate.
"Marcus!" Shouted Lina, hurrying to her companion's aid as he was being smothered by the very large tendril. This would have to be fast. Twisting around to face Morph again, she took of at a dead sprint with her weapon. She ran her way behind Morph and raised her sword high above her head, the flow of battle leading her movements. She hacked and hacked repeatedly at the tendril that ended at the large mass that was about to smother Marcus with great speed, burning through with every cut. She was going to chop this thing to bits if it took all night and every single swing brought from her an angry grunt, like one of those female tennis players.
This blob wasn't about to give up, it seemed, as it was attempting to smother and, as far as Blizzard thought, devour Faraday. "Oh no you won't! It's enough that you got those people on the streets, you're not going to get him too!" Persephone stepped up to try and cut Faraday loose, but was having some trouble. Lets try and help with that...
She began to shoot icicles at the blob and the part of it that held Faraday. Hopefully this would work, because otherwise, they'd be one man down and a blob who not only would devour people, but would be able to control electricity like Faraday did, and that was not something Blizzard was about to let happen. She kept at it with her icicles, not stopping until Faraday would be free. "Hang in there!" she called to him. "We will get you free!"
Between Lina and Blizzard, even the blob couldn't keep its grip - in no time, the tendril was severed cleanly in two. Marcus took this opportunity to scramble to his feet, still covered in an ooze roughly the consistency of motor oil. It reeked of blood and burnt rubber.
The trauma of their assault seemed to finally be taking its toll, however slight. As the tendril came loose, the monster let off what Marcus assumed to be a growl. Whether of pain or annoyance, he couldn't tell. 'If it's hurt, we should take this opportunity to put it down for good.' Rushing behind Lina, he touched his hand to the power main and readied himself for another draw.
The bolt of ecto-plasm sizzled past Red Coyote's head a slammed into the gurney. It burned a gaping hole through the blanket and into the pile of medicine. Shit! What in the hell was that? "B.O.B. trace the shot." He commanded, did his best to limit the damage. Meanwhile, his Battle Observation Bot program examined the video feeds from the SPD's and found the trajectory of the shot. It alerted Red Coyote to the origin of the shot. Doesn't seem to be anyone there. But that wouldn't be the first trick of the light today. {/i} He switched his Glock to full auto. Dis-engaged the taxi hologram, aimed at origin of the ecto-blast, and sprayed. In less than a second his magazine was empty. He took the brief moment of confusion to get off the road an into an alley-way. He checked his computer, the rest of the SPD's would be here in three minutes. Stall for three minutes then I should have enough SPD's to brute force an escape. He took cover behind a dumpster and holstered his Glock, retrieving the G3 that he had strapped to his back. He steeled his nerves for what would come next, but first he had to buy as many seconds as he could.
"So tell me, what are you going to do to me if you catch me?" He asked, attempting to gauge or at least locate his adversary, he had no idea if his last barrage if did anything, but he knew others would be coming soon.
Despite the concentration of Morph's effort on trapping the electric man, his team-mates managing to cut him loss and it was looking like Morph should be thinking of cutting its losses right about now as one of its many tendrils was cut off. Morph, not able to keep the pain inside any longer, let loose a haunting howl. The man slumped away from the wall to the wires with gritted teeth and looked at the power main with vigour. This man was out to get Morph and Morph wouldn't have that.
If the man wanted Morph, he would have Morph, and so would the others. It would enjoy this little challenge. Stretching itself into a long coil of flesh, Morph twisted itself around the the Seraphim bloodhound in reach, namely the electric man and the swordswoman, constricting them like a python. They would suffer, then if luck would have it, their windpipe would break and with one final twist, so would all those arteries in his neck. Time to finish this.
Cars screeched to a halt and pedestrians fled as the weapon's report rolled through the city blocks. Kurt started to move when he saw the gun, but still ended taking several rounds in the chest. His kevlar vest caught them, but the impacts were enough to knock the wind out of him and cause him to stumble backwards. The masked man took off into an alleyway as Kurt regained his balance. Although a bit shaken, he gave chase. This man was a clear threat to public safety that had to be neutralized as soon as possible.
"So tell me, what are you going to do to me if you catch me?"
The voice came from the alley. From what it sounded like he was taking a stationary position. And likely armed. Kurt engaged his cloak and peeked around the corner. Just as he thought, the man was taking position behind a dumpster, behind the sights of an assault rifle. The kevlar vest worked fine against smaller rounds, but that rifle would tear Kurt to shreds. Getting rid of that gun was top priority.
Taking a deep breath, Kurt channeled ectoplasmic energy into his hands. Had he not been cloaked, they would have been glowing an extremly vibrant purple. He could feel his hands getting warmer as more energy found itself gathering into his palms. Using this much energy at once was a good way to fatigue himself, but he had to hit hard enough to stagger the man and disarm him.
Let's go.
Kurt swung around the corner, unleashing the twin bursts of energy as he charged forward. The dumpster took the hit from one of the blasts, the kinetic energy denting the metal and scorching the green paint around it. The second hit the criminal square in the chest, which forced him back and threw his arms out. Seeing the opportunity, Kurt dropped his cloak and hit the man in a running tackle that knocked the rifle out of his hands. He shoved his opponent away so he had enough space to throw a left hook at him.
The criminal was knocked flat against the wall by the first ecto-blast. The right shoulder of his coat caught on fire, as he tried to pull the sleeve off Kurt tackled and disarmed him. Spectre pushed him back before the fire could burn him and as he lined up his punch, but the criminal laughed. He drove the pointed snout of his helmet into Kurt's fist, and then crouched. Before unsheathing his knife and diving upward at Spectre, he slipped the blade in just under his vest. As Spectre crumpled, the criminal did not miss a beat as he stabbed him two more times before leaving the knife in the wound.
"So I guess that was a rhetorical question. Well then, keep the knife, it's dirty now. Also," He reached in his pocket and retrieved a cheap, pre-paid cell-phone. He typed in "911" and handed it two Kurt, "I dare you to dial them! By the way I'm Red Coyote, I apologize for not introducing myself earlier, frankly my manners are abysmal now a days."
Then the dark corners of the alley seemed to spread, grow, and meld together. The darkness flowed over Red and what remained of the gurney. The it receded, and Red Coyote was gone.
The back-up SPD's had arrived, and after orchestrating his grand exit he handed the gurney off to two of them. With their claws they grabbed the frame and took it off into the sky, disguised as an errant cloud. Meanwhile Red continued to run through New York city, using the SPD's to remain hidden. Finally he approached the water-front. Stole a boat, and sailed back to his lair.
The thief was fast, for a change. He'd gotten himself into a building and had begun to take the stairs up. Mark was still on his tail, not bothering to waste breath on yelling at him. Within ten minutes the hunter and the hunted were on the building's roof. The thief was starting to tire: Mark was not. He was in his element.
[hr]
Two figures on a roof nearby, one running towards the building's edge, the other emerging from the roof access doorway. Justicar noted that one of the two was dressed in black, just as the woman on the phone had described. She dropped a little in altitude to get a closer look.
[hr]
The thief was at the edge of the roof now, looking towards the building opposite. It was lower. He could make the jump. Maybe.
Mark stopped short a few metres from the guy. Now was the time to speak. "Don't do it, bud. You'll break something. Just give me that purse, and then I'm turning you in. No-one has to get hurt."
The thief didn't move for a short while... and then he jumped. Mark shook his head almost immediately. Without a run-up, there was no extra forward momentum to get you across. The guy was lucky: he landed almost exactly on the edge, executing a badly done roll away from the edge as soon as he landed. He'd hurt himself, though. When he got to his feet, he winced visibly and began limping away, favouring one leg.
Mark backed up a short way. He wasn't getting away any time soon. Taking a deep breath, he made his approach run, building up speed as he moved. One foot on the lip of the building, pushed off without a hitch. An almost perfect landing. He ended up rolling a different way than normal, but was back on his feet in no time.
[hr]
Fascinating. Seems people have no qualms about jumping from building to building these days. Justicar was watching intently, soaring above the scene. She would intervene if the thief got away.
[hr]
Now, Talsper. Almost immediately Mark's right hand began to glow a bright gold. The thief, amazed that his pursuer had followed him across the gap, performed a double-take at the sight of the glowing hand and the change in Mark's posture. He had drawn up to his full height, giving the thief an imperious look with his now golden eyes. Talsper was in control.
"Desist in thine efforts to flee, vagabond, or I shalt personally ensure that thou dost yield," Talsper ordered, raising his hands in preparation of a spell.
"The fuck did you call me?"
"Didst thou not hear me?"
"Y'know what? No. You back the fuck up, right now." The guy pulled a pistol from inside his hoodie. Talsper immediately performed a swift flick and released a red wave of heat from one hand. Caught in the surprise attack, the thief's gun-hand was burned. A snarl of pain and the clatter of metal on the roof was the result. Talsper closed the distance between himself and the thief, drawing on the Aura within his ring to conjure twin orbs of flame.
"I shalt reiterate. Desist and yield, or suffer further."
Cowed, the thief tossed the stolen purse on the ground and began nursing his burned hand. "Ahh... God, that hurts. We good? Can I go?"
"No. You can't." A woman's voice interjected, coming from Talsper's right. Justicar landed lightly on the building's roof and strode towards the two. "Agent Justicar of Seraphim. You're under arrest on charges of theft, bucko. I'm handing you over to the police."
Talsper smirked at the thief's reaction: his face had fallen at the sight of the winged woman. Justicar shot a glance at him as she pulled out a cellphone. "You seem capable enough. I'll speak with you later. For now, watch him," she ordered as she stepped away to make a call.
That thing with the gun was too close for comfort, Mark commented. We haven't had to deal with weapons all that much.
She might not have been able to freeze the tendril that broke off, but Blizzard was quick to draw her laser gun and shoot with it at the tendril, vaporizing it into nothing like she'd done before with the frozen clump. However, now they had another problem as the blob began to coil around Faraday and Persephone like some kind of snake. Why it didn't include her, she did not know. But she had to get them free.
What could she do, though? The blob was resisting her ice attacks, which was the only way she could deal damage. She could always shoot more icicles, but that left the possibility that she'd shoot her own teammates, and she wouldn't have that happen. What were her options?
Hmmm, she thought. Perhaps if she were to splash water on it... but she'd frozen it earlier, and even if she hadn't, Faraday ran a risk of losing control over his electric powers if he got wet. And her laser gun only worked on smaller parts...
She'd have to do what she could do, though. She focused her powers on the humidity inside the sewer to compress it into a shape near her. She held her hands in a ready position to grab whatever she shaped the ice into. A weapon formed, and she was holding a claymore of ice. Thick enough not to break immediately, but not too heavy for her since she wasn't as strong as Persephone. She charged at the blob with the claymore raised, intending on cutting them loose.
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