Pretty nice. Mayb you can have a look at what "The Gang" did in the roleplaying forum a while back. The basic idea is kinda the same. Good work and keep it up!
Two weeks later
"Red! Red, stay with me!"
Hands grabbed the lapels of his coat and he felt Finch shaking him. It felt like it was coming from far away at first, gradually increasing until he stopped feeling so cold and numb.
"Finch
? I don't feel so good
" he mumbled.
"Red! Are you alright?!" Don Gerise's voice was laced with concern. It was rare for her to sound so emotional. Red forced his eyes to move to her, struggling to move his body.
"I think
I think it's in me." His words made both women go pale. Hands grabbed him up. Todd and Alex, his two 'dogs', helped prop him up on his feet.
"Are you okay, boss?"
"I've just been possessed, of course I'm not alright, you great banana." Red forced a smile. In the back of his head, he could hear a malicious whispering. There was something unholy loitering on the fringe of his consciousness.
"We need to get it out of you, and fast!" Finch sounded worried, more worried than she generally ever let herself sound. Red was touched.
She's first. We'll kill her first.
"The doc said I'd find extraction and containment equipment here." Red tried to ignore the whispering in his head as he pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to Todd. Todd handed it immediately to Gerise, keeping his attention on keeping his boss standing. Gerise's icy blue eye narrowed as she glared at the card.
"Then let's get there fast." She turned sharply on her heel and headed down the tunnel to the entrance of the Council base.
"That [censored] set you up!" Finch nearly yelled, her cool completely out the window.
"Yeah
I was just considering that," Red murmured.
We'll kill her too when we're together. Stop resisting, I'll win in the end.
"She'll have to wait. First we get it out of Red's head." Gerise did not stop and look around as she spoke.
The reinforced Council tunnels gave way to bright sunlight. Red tilted his head down so the brim of his hat protected his eyes. He heard Gerise pulling on her stolen Raptor pack and let Finch help him into his.
"[censored] man, we'll meet you guys there." Falcon, Finch's hired muscle, bullied the other gangers away from the entrance. Red just nodded to his 'dogs' as they assured him they'd be waiting at the address for them. He pulled the control sticks around to the front and clicked them into place. There was a thudding whir as Gerise took off. Finch dithered, hanging back to make sure he took off safely. Red activated his pack.
Too slow
Red didn't get a chance to even yell before the world stripped away and black cold nothingness crushed in on all sides. He felt like his eyes were about to pop out of his head and he struggled to breathe. It couldn't have been any more than a second later that he tumbled out of the black nothingness over the airstrip in Cap Au Diable. Before he got a chance to yell for help, he was crushed into the void again. It was like he was being torn out of the world and slammed back into it. He popped back into the world next to Gerise and crashed into a wall, staggering wildly.
"Red, what the hell was THAT?!" Gerise grabbed his arm and steadied him. He coughed, his face an unhealthy pale colour.
"I don't even know
"
Finch landed by them a second later, pulling off her pack and dumping it on the ground. She didn't like Red's colour at all, he looked like that thing in his head was already screwing him up. She bit her lip against the multitude of curses she wanted to impart and instead put her fingers in her mouth, whistling sharply. Falcon and the rest of her boys came running.
"We're ready boss." Falcon gave Red a dubious look. Gerise nodded sharply and helped Red into the building.
"Joker, go ahead and see what's happening," she snapped. Her most muscled goon headed off around the corner without a word. Red smiled as brightly as he could.
"Hey, what's with all the tension. You'd think someone was in serious trouble here." He reached into his pockets and dumped extra clips in the hands of his dogs. Todd shoved them into the pockets of his jeans, making them stand out obviously. Alex checked his guns.
"Can we have cooler names, Red? Like Diamond and Joker?" he asked. Red rolled his eyes.
"Fine, Todd's 'dog' and you're 'wolf'. Ben, you can be 'cat'."
Ben just shrugged, code-names were not something he was particularly interested in. He was only around because he owed Red his life, having bet it on a hand of cards.
"Enough squabbling over names, get in now!" Finch bullied her men through the doorway and half dragged, half supported Red into the building. The clinical smell of the lab clashed with the smell of gun oil and the musty smell of combat fatigues. The Wild Cards all saw the Council soldiers marching towards them at the same time. Dual pistols were drawn, Red's shaking slightly but still raised.
The man at the head of the column smiled coldly, ignoring everyone but Red himself.
"Did you really think we'd let you go that easily? Kill everyone but the carrier. We're taking him back to base." With a flick of his hand, the commander motioned his men forward. Gerise scowled, she did not like to be ignored in these situations.
"Boys, teach him a little respect."
Gerise's goons grinned and lunged forward. They were flanked by Finch's men and Red's dogs formed a defensive line in front of their boss. Bullets flew in all directions, the ground became littered with spent shells. Finch pulled Red down out of the way of pressurised flame from one of the Council soldier's throwers.
"Don't worry, Red, I won't let them have you
" she whispered. Perhaps she didn't want him to hear it, but wanted to say it anyway. Red didn't answer her, just in case. He appreciated it though.
Kill them
kill them all
watch them scream. It's such a beautiful sound. You will regret trying to take me.
I'm already regretting it, you demon. Not for much longer though, eh? Either way.
In that, we are agreed.
Red pushed himself to his feet and emptied his clips into a soldier's face. He doubted he could resist the alien for much longer. Dr Percey had said something to the effect that there was a ninety minute grace period, but after that, the alien would have control. Red could almost hear the clock ticking away the precious seconds. His life, no, his very soul was in jeopardy.
How amusing
you are afraid for your soul. You.
I know true evil when I smell it, and you stink of it.
You flatter me. I think I will enjoy taking you for myself. You have interesting thoughts.
If I don't get there in time, I'm putting a bullet through my head. I'm not yours, and I won't ever be.
Oh don't be tiresome. If not you, I'll just take your
sister is it?
You're really bold now you've got some soldiers around trying to save you
They are better trained than you, lowly little human. They will succeed and you will be mine. Let's end this little charade, shall we? There is no escape.
Red tried to ignore the insidious little voice in his head, reloading his guns. The sound of gunfire in an enclosed space was nearly deafening, he didn't hear the soldier break through the line and come at him until the very last moment. He yelled and threw himself backwards, slamming out his hand. Black energy shot from his palm and slammed into the man, throwing him backwards.
"What the [censored]!?" Finch must have seen it. Red remembered the exhaustive training his grandmother had given him. An attack from behind was usually more successful. Red went to jump over the man's head, but the world stripped away and slammed back. He realised that he was behind the entire row of enemies. He blinked and brought up his guns, emptying the fresh magazines into the backs of their heads. Caught in a crossfire, the soldiers went down. The commander fled, only to be brought down by two rounds square in the back of his neck. Finch blew the smoke off the barrels of her Desert Eagles and looked at Red.
"We need to find that extraction equipment."
"What was that
stuff, Red?" Gerise was frowning at him as she marched to him. Red shrugged.
"I don't know, and I don't want to find out."
"Fair enough."
The lab had more soldiers in it, clearly the Council desperately wanted their Nictus back. Despite the foul thing's whispers to the contrary, the Wild Cards gave the troops no quarter and presented less a group of thugs and punks and more a moving wall of bullets.
Finch and Gerise looked over the extraction device they'd found, figuring out how to work it while their henchmen guarded the doorways into the lab.
"Red, lie down on the bed," said Gerise finally, tapping a few buttons. Red took off his hat and laid it down on the side. He trusted his Don to know what she was doing. He pulled himself onto the bed and lay down on his back. Finch pulled a helmet-like pad on an articulated arm over Red's head. He lay still as she positioned it over his forehead.
"Containment field active, power supply good, we're good to do this." Gerise flicked more switches and turned a dial.
"It'll be over soon, Red. Just hold on a little longer." Finch was using her quiet voice again. Red smiled crookedly.
"Not about to let go just yet."
Oh very droll. This is quite sickening. I will almost be glad to leave your weak, human body.
You're just sore because you lost.
For now, Fukkatsu. For now. But I don't forget a bad turn, nor do I forget a smart-alec. I'll come for you one day-
I'm not afraid of dying, Nictus.
You misunderstand, I won't kill you. I'll make you live, thoroughly against your wishes, ninja.
The sudden silence after the Nictus' harsh rebuttal filled Red's head. Blessed solitude. As quickly as the feeling of sickening evil had seeped in, it had seeped out. He pushed the apparatus away from his head and sat up stiffly.
"There, it's all in the containment field. Dr Percey had better be paying you a hell of a lot for this, Red." Gerise made sure the floating mass of black energy was safely contained and turned to him. Red looked over her shoulder at the Nictus. It didn't look so harmful now, just a slowly whirling tangle of energy. He pushed aside the sensation it gave him. The Nictus had prowled through his memories, but just as easily, had revealed itself to him. He didn't want to dwell on what he'd seen.
"Best go and collect then." He pushed himself off the bed and pulled his hat back on, his grin returning. Finch scowled.
"Yes. Let's go collect." Her tone promised pain for the doctor. Red didn't comment, as far as he was concerned, Percey probably deserved a black eye or three. He unclipped the containment jar from the extraction machine and hooked it under his arm.
"Can't keep a lady waiting. Off we go!"
Don't ask me about joining Honourable United, I'm lazy. Ask Captain Cathode.
http://www.onthejazz.co.uk/honu/
"If I had a punch, I would so hit that guy." - Millenium (because drinking nail varnish remover is for real men)
The cell phone rang in his pocket. Red jumped, swearing under his breath as he pulled it out and picked up. He stuck his finger in his other ear to drown out the sound of clanking joints and laser fire as Ada marshalled her robots past him.
"Yes?"
"Well hello Red, you sound like you've found yourself a warzone." A languid voice on the other end sounded amused. Red pulled a face.
"Uh
hi."
"Red, who the hell is calling you right now?" Finch yelled at him, jogging down the street, Falcon a bare step behind her. Red forced a grin.
"That woman from last night I was telling you about."
"Woman?! I BEG your pardon, Red
" Lieutenant Whithers sounded insulted, which was fair as Red had just called him a woman. Finch glared at Red.
"Oh. Wrap it up fast, we have a job to do here, in case you'd forgotten." She stalked off, Falcon giving Red a reproachful look as he kept up with his employer. Red sighed inwardly. Finch could be so prickly about his dealings with the fairer sex.
"Why did you tell your trigger happy friends I was a woman?"
Red turned his attention back to the voice on the phone, feeling awkward.
"I have my reasons, let's just leave it at that." He cursed his decision to go out drinking last night. He'd mistakenly told Gerise and Finch that he'd had a great night with someone, a meta who seemed to have the power of making people feel really good. When pressed for details, he'd realised that it would seriously harm his reputation as a lady's man to reveal he'd been seduced by a male meta. Incredible powers of invoking bliss or not, a man was a man. He still wasn't sure Lieutenant Whithers hadn't spiked his drink, as he didn't remember drinking enough to think that going home with a meta was a good idea. It generally took alcohol poisoning before he started thinking that.
"Fine, babe. Whatever protects your little feelings of masculinity. I have a job for you, actually."
Red blinked, then waved irritably at Alex. He slapped three fresh magazines into the punk's hands and pointed over to where Gerise was terrorising a Longbow operative. Alex trotted off, slinging Todd one of the fresh clips.
"What kind of job?"
"One that's right up your alley. You'd like to stick one to all those [censored] metas in Paragon, right?" Lieutenant Whithers sounded sibilant, his lovely voice making Red's hair creep. Red frowned, Whithers had to have spiked his drink, as he wasn't in the habit of discussing the metas of Paragon City and his feelings about them.
"I repeat, what kind of job?" His frown deepened when he heard Whithers mutter something to the effect that this would be easier face to face.
"I need you to get me into Paragon, do you remember what we talked about last night?"
A few memories dredged back up and Red's eyes went wide.
"You were serious about that?!"
"Serious as castration, babe. Are you in?"
Red turned his head to watch Ada kick one of her robots in the back of the head for insubordination. Beyond her, he could see Gerise holding her arm, in obvious pain but trying not to show it. Finch was already applying a field dressing to the burn, but he should return to them quickly.
"I'm in. Meet you at the Dirty Duck."
"See you then." Whithers hung up and Red pocketed his phone, running over to Gerise and taking out a flask of his 'good' poison to treat her wound.
The Dirty Duck should have been called the Dingy Dive. It was a small, smoky place tucked around the back of the warehouses in Port Oakes. Hellion graffiti tags sprawled across the walls and bins stood around the entrance. Red had never come here alone before, as his 'dogs' had introduced him to the place. It had something of a reputation in the port for it's generally meta-free clientele. Except of course, when Lieutenant Whithers walked through the door. Red frowned starkly, gripping the chiv in his pocket. It was just a small knife, but if you plunged it into someone's neck with the right attitude, it was deadly.
He slammed his fist against the door a few times until the eye slot opened. The doorman glared down at him.
"Red Coat? Fine." He opened the door once he'd recognised him. Red walked past him, taking off his hat.
"Evening Joe. What's the room like tonight?" he asked. Gerise Snr, may-he-rest-in-peace, had always taught him to be polite and civil to the staff. Staff, he used to say, knew things. Keep them sweet and watch how the benefits unfold.
"That meta *******'s here again. Was lookin' for a quiet night an' all." Joe sounded surly. Everyone sounded surly when Whithers was around. Throwing him out was out of the question. As soon as the doorman tried, he'd find himself slumped on the floor in a state of total bliss, disinclined to do anything at all but enjoy the buzz. Red pulled a face.
"Terrific."
To his surprise, Joe caught his arm in his meaty hand, giving him an unusually intense look.
"You shouldn't go near him again. He likes the way you look. No good's comin' from that one, he's bad news."
Red handed Joe his hat.
"Unfortunately he's offering me a business dealing I can't turn down. If I start acting stupid again, call this number and tell Finch I'm in serious trouble." Red flicked his fingers and from his sleeve, a business card appeared in them. Joe took it, looking like he still had reservations. Red clapped his shoulder, grinning in a carefree manner.
"If he likes the way I look so much, he's not likely to mess up my face at least, right?" he chuckled and walked down the short entrance hall into the 'room'.
The Dirty Duck had some card tables, a bar and was mostly sitting and lounging about space. A few people looked around and nodded to him as he entered. He was not an unknown here. Red nodded to them back, running a hand through his jet black hair to loosen it after so many hours under a hat, surreptitiously looking about for his contact.
Lieutenant Whithers was sat on his own at a wall table. He might as well have been floodlit he stood out so much. He wore khaki fatigues and under them, leather armour. His face was hidden under the peak of a military cap, blast goggles and obscured by an ornate tribal tattoo and scar. Red happened to know for a fact both the latter were purely cosmetic. Whithers suffered from the same disadvantage of good looks that Red did. When you were handsome to the degree Whithers was, and his Eurasian mixed heritage made him outstandingly good looking, you did everything you could to put off the attentions of the bigger and stronger. Red would have sympathised with him if Whithers wasn't a manipulative *******. Just like so many other metas, he just took what he wanted, using his strange powers of persuasion to get his own way.
"Red, babe, don't just stand around gawking, come sit down." Whithers looked up when Red approached the table. Though half his mind was telling him to turn around and run away, Red did so, sitting opposite Whithers. The other man put his elbows on the table and laced his heavily gloved fingers under his chin.
"Did you tell your gang you were meeting with your 'lady' again? Hmm?" His smile was wicked and in some circles could be called cruel. Red didn't let it fluster him, instead he leaned back and rested his elbow on the back of the seat.
"What's the job? Talk fast or I'm out of here."
"So abrupt after all we've done together, lover?" Whithers drawled. It made Red want to be sick. He didn't even like men in that way. It didn't bare thinking about, he was just trying to distract him. Joe had not removed his guns. It wasn't generally done in the Dirty Duck. Red pulled one Desert Eagle out and pointed it between Whither's eyes in a single fluid motion.
"I'm not noticing any fast talking."
"I've always considered men who carry such big guns to be compensating for something." Whithers reached his hand out and traced his fingers along the raised edge of Red's hand, over his thumb-knuckle. The effect was instant. Red could feel the warm, delicious feeling rising up his arm, sending shivers and goosebumps through his body. The gun wavered and lowered. If he shot Whithers now, the feeling would go away. Whithers kept his fingers on Red's hand, sliding around the seating to be next to him. He rested his chin on his shoulder, his lips a bare whisker away from the skin of Red's neck.
"What I need you to do, lover, is take me to Paragon. There's a boat waiting for us in the docks. There is a part of the city accessible from sea, where the war wall has been broken. You may have heard of it, it's called Siren's Call. Arachnos has been using the weak area as a staging ground for trying to take the city."
The whispered voice made the skin of his neck shiver with excruciating pleasure. Red closed his eyes, drawing a little breath, trying to keep from melting entirely to the sensation. He just wanted to lean into the body next to him, curl up in those arms and drift in this sea of ecstasy.
"Alright. So I take you there. Why can't you just take a flier. Don't the spiders like ferrying people over there to cause trouble?" he murmured. Whithers drew himself up slightly, hooking one arm around Red's neck and silking his hair between his fingers, his other hand resting on the hand that still clasped the gun tightly.
"I could, but that would make the second phase of my plan just so much more difficult. You see, about the time we will arrive, there will be an empath on duty there. A very specific empath." he said quietly, nuzzling Red's ear. Red just made an affirmative noise to show he'd heard. Words were slightly beyond him right now. He didn't see Whithers smile.
"I will take the empath's clothes and ID, and I will leave you and go into the city and you will never see me again. You will take the empath with you on the boat. Half-way back to the Islands, you will put a bullet in his head and drop him over the side of the boat. Simple, no? Think you can do that for me Red? My precious one?"
To be called precious by someone who made him feel so good made him feel loved as well. Red nodded. What wouldn't he do for Whithers?
"Easy as pie
"
Don't ask me about joining Honourable United, I'm lazy. Ask Captain Cathode.
http://www.onthejazz.co.uk/honu/
"If I had a punch, I would so hit that guy." - Millenium (because drinking nail varnish remover is for real men)
SinghMC put his sword down beside him as he sat on a pile of rubble to catch a short break. He blew out as he tipped his head back.
"Hey Singh, still holding off the forces of Arachnos single-handed?" A voice above made him look up and he grinned.
"Well hey there Muse. Don't often see you around here," he said. The empath touched down next to him, wearing the armband of a field medic.
"That's because normally you're not in the hospital. I do duty shifts in there to keep you guys fighting the good fight." Muse was holding a brown paper bag which he offered out to Singh. The swordsman took it and unrolled the top, peering in curiously.
"I brought you lunch, figured you'd been here for hours and forgotten to eat again." Muse grinned as Singh reached in to snag the sandwiches.
"Thanks, I'm starving." To prove it, Singh wasted no time in stuffing one of the corners into his mouth and biting down gleefully. Muse put his hands in his pockets and looked around.
Torn-up tarmac and twisted girders littered the area, half collapsed buildings shed a few bricks even as he watched. Apparently some hero had lost control of his power here and exploded, tearing open the mighty War Walls and laying this whole area to ruin. Closer to the Steel Canyon Gate, the buildings still stood, particularly the hospital. But out here, it was like a warzone. Influxes of Arachnos troops did nothing to dispel that idea.
Muse shivered.
"You're sure this area is clear?" he asked, looking at Singh who was drinking the bottle of water enthusiastically. The swordsman nodded, putting the bottle down and swallowing.
"Arachnos don't usually come where I am and I haven't seen one of those 'Destined Ones' for hours."
"Well, can you blame them? Saying your name in an Arachnos base has about the same effect of saying 'Oh look, there's Jakey K' in Oranbega." Muse laughed, as Singh's retaliation against Arachnos could almost be called a crusade, if Singh was the kind of man to crusade against anything. He grinned back.
"It's nice for a few minutes peace, I'll say."
As the two heroes chatted, two villains were lying flat on their stomachs in a tiny cave under the folds of tarmac. Lieutenant Whithers was frowning darkly, his hand on Red's shoulder. Red, for his part, was having trouble focussing. Everything had taken on a sort of dreamlike quality, the buzz had been going on so long.
"He's with SinghMC. We hold our position. I've heard about him." Whithers looked aggravated. Red just grunted, as nothing quite mattered right now. He couldn't hear anything, but that was fine. Whithers had everything under control.
"Did you make your sedative?" Whithers looked at Red with an intense focus. Red nodded, patting the pocket of a utility belt around his waist.
"He'll be sleeping like a baby."
"Right up until you shoot him, then he'll be sleeping like the dead." Whithers grinned. If he hadn't been so wholly consumed by euphoria of Whithers' touch, his grin would have chilled Red.
"Hmm." Red was about to say something when Whithers shushed him, tilting his head to listen intently.
Singh pushed himself to his feet and rolled up the now empty bag, handing it to Muse.
"Another hot spot just flared up. I better go see to it and you'd best head back to the hospital. Take care and fly high, alright? I'd to even imagine what Venji would say to me if you got hurt while I was around." Singh clipped his sheathe back to his belt and gave Muse a firm look. Muse waved it away.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm not stupid. See you later, Singh." He kicked off the ground and soared upwards as Singh hopped down the tarmac to stroll over to the hot spot, whistling jauntily.
Whithers grinned and scrambled out of their hiding place.
"Time to get into position. Red, brush that off, it's dirty." He scowled at Red as he crawled out and stood up. Red just smiled a little, in his own little world of happiness.
"Yes boss, sure thing." He reached down to brush dirt off the rubber body armour with the end of the cape. It was decorated with typically heroic things like stars. Red thought it was very uncomfortable. He wouldn't be wearing it at all if Whithers hadn't been so emphatic.
They skirted into the less damaged part of the zone, avoiding the clusters of gangers who stood around being a nuisance. Whithers found an appropriate alley and pointed to the floor.
"Lie down there and sound injured."
Red did as he was told, shoving some broken bottles and empty packets out of the way. He hesitated for a moment.
"How do you sound injured?"
Whithers made some unintelligible comment under his breath and straddled Red's middle. He grabbed his neck, hauling the top half of his body up.
"Like this." He rammed his fist into Red's face without any warning. It was excruciating, more than it should have been. Red yelped. Whithers did it again, then with both hands around his neck, slammed his head back onto the concrete. Two feelings were warring in Red, the incredible bliss that he could still feel rolling off Whithers and the sharp, savage pain that drilled into him from his fists.
The feel of concrete on his back and hands around his neck, hemmed in on both sides by the dark walls of the alley sparked off a chain of memories Red would as soon forget forever. It was just like back in the Zig, when the warden had 'accidently' put him in the meta-block. The same feeling of total helplessness, of overwhelming despair and fear. The remembered pain.
He screamed, his body struggling like a wild animal. Not again. Never ever again. He could dimly hear Whithers grunt when his fists started slamming him. He could feel nothing but pain.
"Hey! Don't worry, I've got you!" The voice bounced off the alley walls, Red barely registered it. What he did register was a new feeling burning through him. Cleaning, strengthening, calming. He remembered the job, remembered he wasn't in the Zig any more. He threw Whithers off and surged to his feet, ready to stick the boot in for making him relive that. Whithers was already airborne though, aiming straight up.
"[censored]!"
He connected with the man floating above, ramming his fist into his stomach. The other man folded around his arm. Whithers pulled his fist free and then clasped them both above his head and slammed them down onto the man's exposed back. He dropped like a stone, hitting the tarmac hard. Red fumbled for the sedative, running over and jabbing it into the man's neck before he could even twitch. He stood back, panting slightly.
Whithers landed neatly beside the fallen hero, switching on his charming smile. He gave Red a warm look.
"Excellently done, Red. Didn't know you had such a flair for the dramatic." His smile should have stripped away Red's objections once more, but the cool, pleasant feeling of the other man's touch still lapped in his skull. Red just folded his arms.
"Let's get this over with before someone comes." He looked about nervously. Whithers nodded and started pulling off his clothes. Red looked away immediately, staring hard at the end of the alleyway.
"I don't mind you watching, Red," Whithers drawled. Red resisted the urge to kill him. His guns were back on the boat. There was nowhere to hide them on this ridiculous outfit anyway. Unarmed and without back-up, Red stood about as much chance taking down Whithers has a butterfly had turning back a storm.
It seemed a long time filled with the sound of fabric rustling and zips being fastened before Whithers coughed.
"So, how do I look?"
Red looked around, almost grudgingly. With his tattoo and scar pealed off and dropped into a little bag, wearing a uniform jacket and shirt and tie, Whithers looked harmless. He flipped a broad-brimmed hat in his hands before putting it on his head.
"You best take him off to the boat now." Whithers took a card out of his pocket and looked at it, then grinned and popped it back in. Red started to pick up the man who was now dressed in Whithers' khaki.
"So this is where we part company forever, right?" he asked lightly. Whithers nodded.
"Try not to miss me too much in the quiet of the night," he laughed at his own joke and waved. Red watched him kick off and fly away. He bit back against any number of sharp things he could think to say and heaved the man over his shoulder. He snuck back to the bay, hidden from the eyes of the Arachnos base by the two large rigs and skirted around the ruined War wall. The boat was riding anchor behind it and he threw the man into the dingy, pushing off from the rocks and paddling out to it.
Once on the boat, he tore off the stupid costume and weighted it before throwing it overboard. He felt much more human when he pulled on his trademark red coat. The weight and shapes of the jars of poison capsules bumped against his chest and sides. It was familiar and welcome. He ignored his prisoner for a moment, the man wasn't going to wake up any time soon after all, and walked to the aft end to take up the anchor. That done, he returned to the cabin and turned on the engine.
He was an hour out to sea before he looked back at the man, still slumped out on the deck. Red reached his hand into his pocket for the .22 calibre pistol. The smooth, cold metal was grounding. Let the other villains parade around the value of a higher calibre for killing people, the .22 was a professional hitman's choice. Gerise Snr, may he rest in peace, had taught him everything he knew about guns. The .22 had the force to penetrate a skull only once. The slug would enter the brain and ricochet off the opposite side of the skull, tearing the precious organ to shreds as it bounced around without the energy to exit. For quiet, efficient killings in back alleys, nothing beat the old school approach.
He drew the pistol out of his pocket as he walked back to the unconscious man. He levelled it down at the side of his head and hesitated. Nowhere in his mind was the thought that killing a Hero was worse than killing a cop. You could only imagine the firepower that would be levelled against you by a Hero's associates.
If he killed this man now, like this, he would be doing what Whithers told him to do.
Red clicked the safety back on and put the pistol away. It would be a cold day in Hell when he voluntarily did what a meta told him to do.
He dragged the man below decks and left him on the carpet there so he didn't have to look at him and wonder what he was going to do with him. He settled back at the wheel and checked his navigational equipment. Don Gerise was going to be furious when she discovered he'd brought a meta home.
Don't ask me about joining Honourable United, I'm lazy. Ask Captain Cathode.
http://www.onthejazz.co.uk/honu/
"If I had a punch, I would so hit that guy." - Millenium (because drinking nail varnish remover is for real men)
Author's Note: Just a story about totally 'normal' human gangsters trying to make it in a meta-filled world. The story will deal with adult themes and not a little violence, so count yourselves warned. The easily offended should probably find something else to read.
[u]BREAK OUT[u]
Shouting outside the cell was the first indication that not all was well in the Zigurski Prison. Red sat up from where he'd been lounging on his berth, listening to the guards yelling frantically. Their voices held a note of panic he didn't often hear. A smile curved his soft lips. He was sharply handsome with a trim beard and well tended hair, handsome enough to have problems in the all male wing of the prison. Over and over again, he'd blessed his grandmother teaching him a variety of highly unpleasant ways to jab someone with your fingers. He got hassled, but nobody had dared go through with their crude threats or suggestions. Not yet, anyway.
"The Longbow squad is inbound!"
Red watched as a prison officer ran past his door. A moment later, a man with black armour and a distinctive helmet ran past. Out of Red's sight, he heard a meaty smack sound. He got to his feet, slipping his hand under the pillow where he kept a large, razor-edged shard of glass. His dark, slanted eyes narrowed as the armoured man came back, holding what looked like a mace. The end of it crackled with red energy. The man turned his head to look at Red. The fang-like prongs at the front of the helmet and row of beady red 'eyes' caught Red's attention.
A soldier of Arachnos. Curiosity called Red to his feet, but the soldier left. Red drifted to his cell door and craned his neck to try and see down the walkway where he'd gone. A moment later, his cell door hissed and slid open. Red snapped his hands back and looked at the door dumbly for a second. Then every nerve-ending seemed to turn on and his heart raced. He felt alive again after months of being as the living dead.
It was time for a jail-break!
He darted out of the cell without looking back. His clothes would be in the locked storage room. He didn't have to worry about how to get through the door though, as another escapee was already ripping the door off its hinges in a display of inhuman strength. Red hung back. That must be one of the 'super' villains he'd heard so much talk about, the ones that lived in the special wing. Red was no fool, he stayed well clear until the powerful man had gone in and taken what was his. Once he was gone, Red slipped in and looked around the storage room. Huge racks of industrial strength shelves stood at regulated intervals. It was very boring and ordered. Red found the box with his own affects finally, in the 'F' shelves. He took the clothes and looked around. The corner of the room looked like it offered enough privacy to get changed. He nipped into it and started pulling off the bright orange coveralls that constituted the prison uniform. He knew this was a dangerous time. The chaos of a prison break could serve as cover for any number of foul deeds and settled scores, it was a time of anarchy and natural selection.
As if his anxious thoughts summoned them, a gang of older men burst into the room.
"Get your [censored] and be quick about it, you [censored]. We're getting out of here." The speaker sounded breathless with excitement. Red hoped it was his imagination, but he thought he could smell blood. The sound of rummaging and clatter of boxes didn't cover the chatter of the men.
"Gonna bag me a Longbow. Those bastards got it coming!"
"I'm gonna find Officer Norbert and break his head."
Red pulled on the coat that was his trademark and gave him his name. It had been a gift from Gerise Senior, the only father he'd ever known. He grabbed his hat up and stuffed it onto his head.
"Hey!" The rough voiced leader's voice made Red start. The man hurried around the corner of the shelves and blocked off Red's only exit. His smile was small and brutal, "Don't you look dapper?"
Red drew himself up, his Japanese parents had granted him none of the height required to be imposing.
"Get the hell out of my way," he said sharply. The man's smile widened a bit and he cracked his knuckles. On the left breast of his vivid orange coveralls was the icon that placed him in the meta block. He was a meta-human. Red was not.
"Who's going to make me, princess?" The man eyed him with the look of a man who'd been inside so long that anything concave would do. Red flicked his hat up slightly and gave the man an amused smile even though a feeling of dread was welling in his stomach.
"Didn't you know? Lady Luck works for me."
"Does she now?" The man looked honestly amused, prowling closer. His hands started to flex and Red could feel the concrete under his feet shift. He snapped his eyes down and swore. He tried to lunge away, up onto the shelves, when the concrete burst and briars snapped up and lashed around his lower legs. The thorns bit in through his trousers and Red grabbed onto the shelf, trying to pull free.
"I think she's favouring me right now, she's a fickle one," the man drawled. He thought he had the advantage, which to be fair, he did.
"What is it, boss?"
"[censored] off and meet me in the yard, you [censored]-eating losers. Something's come up and I want to see to it." As the man barked at his subordinates, making them scatter, Red closed his mouth tightly and tried to work up some saliva. As he did so, he muttered something in Japanese.
"Saying your prayers?" The man was unzipping his coveralls as he came closer, looking eager. Red opened his eyes, letting him come within touching distance. He felt the wall slam against his back as the man shoved him into it. As their bodies pressed together, the man's hands groping down his sides, Red lunged forward and bit the soft skin where his neck met his shoulder. His fury was enough for his teeth to break the skin, letting his saliva into the wound.
The man screamed as the wound flared with white hot pain. The thorns raked Red's legs and he had to lock his arms around the man to keep him from pulling away. The poison in his saliva worked its way through the man's body and the briars loosened, falling away. Red dropped the man with contempt. When his body crumpled onto the concrete, Red rearranged his coat huffily and wiped his lips.
"Yes, actually. Next time you get horny, don't pick a poison ninja as your victim." Red took great care to stamp on the man's face as he left. There was always one who thought he could take whatever he wanted. Metas were just about the worse for it. If they weren't a 'Hero' and beating you up for 'justice', they were some bullying *******. Red hurried out of the storage room and ran towards the infirmary. He didn't want to have to go around biting anyone else who gave him grief, not just because people left a funny taste in his mouth he would rather do without. As he rounded the corner of the infirmary, he saw a tall, red-headed woman in a white suit. Even if she'd been looking away, he'd know her just by her stance.
"Don!" He broke into a smile as he ran over to her. The tall woman blinked and looked down at him, her one remaining ice-blue eye looking him over.
"Red." As if they'd not been separated for months, she looked over the chaos of escaping prisoners with a distant expression, "have you seen any of the others?"
"No, heard we were all split up into different prisons," Red said. Don Gerise turned a small canister over and over in one hand. The motion of her fingers made the tattoos on the back warp and twist. She nodded sharply.
"We need to get out of here and start over. Any ideas?"
Red thought fast.
"The Rogue Islands. We can probably blag a lift from the nice gents who are breaking out the metas."
Don Gerise frowned tightly, her finger hooking itself into the ring on the canister almost of its own accord.
"Isn't that where Arachnos makes base? I have no intention of grovelling to that one," she said. Red nodded.
"We don't have to. I know a guy we can talk to. We could do worse than being a small fish in a big pond for a while. Build up our man power again, recruit among the Rogue Islanders, safe from crazy vigilantes." Red was rewarded by a rare smile from his leader. Gerise might have been beautiful if it wasn't for the livid scars on the left side of her face. 'Formidable' was a word that better described her, but to Red she was family.
"You know a guy everywhere. Very well, let's get our pieces and blow this lousy joint."
"Sure thing."
It was not even ten minutes later that Red Coat and Don Gerise were running down the length of the prison exercise yard. They didn't stop for a moment, even though other prisoners were breaking out all over the place. Prisoners, high on the taste of freedom, came lunging for them every so often, to be brought down by four handguns. Red ducked when a man swung a piece of piping at him, rolling forward as Gerise fired both her pistols into the man's face. She grabbed his arm and helped haul him to his feet, running on.
A pilot for one of the Arachnos fliers was screaming orders at the milling confusion of metas and his troops. Red slipped through the mess and found the pilot.
"What's the hold up?!" he asked. The pilot turned to him in irritation then looked him up and down. Whatever he saw, it seemed to be enough for him to answer Red.
"I can't take off without my co-pilot, Jenkins. The idiot was supposed to be blowing that radar dish so we can make a clean getaway."
Red turned to look where he was pointing. Gerise caught his eyes and nodded slightly. Red looked back at the pilot.
"We'll go see what's taking him so long if you take us to the Rogue Islands, me and the Don."
The pilot gave a ghost of a smile.
"Sure. Just knock out that dish and drag my co-pilot here kicking and screaming if you have to."
Red resettled his hat and nodded to Gerise. She backed away from the metas, glaring at one until he thought better of arguing with her and just got out of the way. Red slipped after her. They reached the radar station easily and Gerise grabbed the back of Red's collar when he opened the door.
"Red, just remember you don't just represent yourself."
"Yes Don." Red grinned up at her. She lifted one eyebrow, the eye-patch covering her missing eye rising with it.
"I mean it. You are often hasty when you should stand back," she said. Red nodded. It was a fair assessment of his disposition, but things were different now it was just the two of them. Gerise let go of his collar and entered the station. He hurried to follow her.
Inside, the station was quiet but for the hum and blip of machinery down the corridor. Red unholstered his twin Desert Eagles and ghosted close to the wall, Gerise a step behind him. Voices close by made him frown and crouch by the corner, turning his head to listen.
"Who are you here to bust out? Talk!"
"I'm a trained Arachnos soldier, I could eat you two for breakfast!"
There came the sound of a rifle being prepped.
"With a side of pineapple fritter."
Red straightened and cocked his guns. He looked back at Gerise and nodded. She half smiled and they both broke cover at the same time. Their guns spoke simultaneously. One of the two Longbow sergeants went down, grabbing at his chest impotently. Gerise threw one gun up and grabbed something off her belt. She brought the canister to her mouth and tore the pin out with her teeth, lobbing it in time to catch her gun again. The home-made grenade exploded, smothering the remaining Longbow with a cocktail of polymer strands and resin glue. He swore and tried to scrape the muck off him as the two gangsters opened fire.
The Arachnos soldier peered down at the two fallen Longbow.
"[censored] that was quick."
"Are you Jenkins?" She looked to Red when the man nodded, "check him over."
Red approached Jenkins and found he had several bruises on his face from a rifle butt being slammed into it. He reached into his pocket and took out a vial.
"Here you go, some good poison to pick you right up." He squirted the slightly gooey substance onto his hand and rubbed it over the bruises. Jenkins flinched and blinked at the tingling feeling on his skin.
"Who the hell are you guys?"
"The ones saving your [censored]. We have a bomb to set, let's go." Gerise strode off, her guns still out. Red hurried after her, grinning.
"I see they let you near a work bench for two minutes." He nodded to the small canisters hanging from Gerise's belt. She smiled crookedly and glanced down at him.
"Where did you get a chance to mix up your poisons?" she asked.
"I volunteered to play 'nursie' in the infirmary." Red grinned wickedly. Gerise chuckled, ignoring the Arachnos soldier who tagged along behind them.
"They clearly didn't know us very well."
"And they deserve everything they get tonight because of it," Red said. They entered the control room and four pistols and a shock mace flattened the three security guards in there before they had a chance to even reach their own guns. Gerise holstered her matched Desert Eagles and took out a cigar. She lit it as Jenkins wheeled a barrel of flammables into the control room. Red tweaked a timer on the side, but to be honest, most of the work had already been done. He attached it to the barrel and set the time.
"Alright, time to get the hell out of Dodge."
"Excellent." Gerise followed them out, flicking the cigar back over her shoulder as she went.
Don't ask me about joining Honourable United, I'm lazy. Ask Captain Cathode.
http://www.onthejazz.co.uk/honu/
"If I had a punch, I would so hit that guy." - Millenium (because drinking nail varnish remover is for real men)