~New Orleans, Louisiana~ (CV22U)

@darkchild:

"Five foot two, eyes of blue

But oh, what those five foot could do

Has anybody seen my girl?"

The singer rolled his syllables and wove a lyrical tapestry that caught the attention of even the hardest drunks. But those with business to attend to had less interest in the affairs of mortality. Mephisto shuffled the deck and dealt the hands, his own permanent grin somewhat twitching at the dissonant display of ink. It meant anything to Gen, however. He didn't know the Devil's tells, and the Devil wasn't telling any tales.

"I'm delighted that my presence to these little parasites has been reduced to mere whispers and fanciful misinterpretations. It gives me plenty of room to find exactly where I need to be," he tapped his nose.

"The greatest lie the Devil ever told is convincing the world that he isn't real,"

He leaned back into the booth with a wink. His dark glasses reflected nothing from in front of them, and his slicked-back hair did little to conceal the black horn-like cowlicks poking through across his brow. His pallid skin seemed more like a corpse, and if not for his lively red eyes he very well may have been confused for one. His Shadow emerged from the dark corners of the booth, grinning mutely at Gen. It even bowed its head politely and started to deal the cards they would measure their hands against.

The 2 of Hearts flipped over.

"As for your other question... that depends on which of your lives you're referring to," he tapped the table with his knuckle, passing his turn and giving Gen the opportunity to place a bet.

@thisisgonnahurt:

@thisisgonnahurt:

Cards were not Gen forte and he truly disliked the fact the shadow creature would not be swayed no matter how hard he tried to compel the living shadow.

His hand had a single ace and nothing but low numbers, he folds and tossed the cards acting much like a spoiled child as he scoffed answering the Lord of lies "I believe he was once Judas Iscariot but you lot called him Genesis, or perhaps Gen Esis. That spark of me inside everyone of my other half, believe Doctor Who made the best description...I am a fixed point. One which all others spawn...but that one couldn't decide if he wanted to perch in trees like a bird or kill himself. Glad he just faded..." Gen body language was screaming annoyance before he started talking. Something his company would have noticed, especially since he is now calmer.

Snapping his long fingers the compelled waitress came and left another drink.

"I can locate every version but it's tiring and above all else boring. I need something or ..someone to keep my attention. That's why I am here, I was exiled long ago and now more..." Disgust in his voice as he continued "Human than what I once was, I do not wish to go to Hell, but I do seek something that dwells within it, so my real question is." Leaning into the table he whispered "What will it take for you to give me passage in and out without too much hassle?"

Gen was something else compared to his more...stable selves. He was truly mad, if he actually thought the "devil" before him would grant him anything without something tremendous in return. He had plans...but they were all bloody.

@darkchild:

The Jackal of Jazz won the hand by default, but gestured for his Shadow to refrain from dealing a new game. He watched Gen intently, curious about everything he represented and believed. Through the madness, he certainly had merit.

Mephisto tapped his chin. A murmur rattled from his chest.

“That's quite the tall order,” he replied at length with a sinister snicker.

“But it's manageable,”

The Man with the Long Shadow tapped the clawed fingers on one hand along with the band on stage.

“You're certainly a special case, my dear friend. You'd need a soul to guarantee safe passage between life and death like that… but the one you have is like a key that's broken up into a thousand tiny pieces. Even if we put it all back together, there's no telling what would happen,”

Mephisto's cruel smile widened.

“Is this request of yours worth the risk of the unknown? I can help you start, of course,”

He curled the cards on the table together and closed his hands around them, turning them into dice in a puff of smoke.

“Beat me in a game of your choice. If you win, we'll see what happens. If I win, I'd want something of equal value to whatever you're looking for down back home. Deal?”

He extended his hand for a shake.

@thisisgonnahurt:

"If I knew games was going to be part of a deal I'd of brought an actual clown." Gen eyes the shadow creature who's dealt them their hands. "I hate actual games, I'm more akin to physical demonstration. But I am also no fool in knowing you have many tricks at your disposal so how about simply rock, paper scissors. I have nothing currently I would hate to lose, only to gain so..."

Gen extends his hand to Mephy as he's taken to calling him inside his mind. "Game of chance in lieu of rock paper scissors. I win I get a open entrance and exit out of hell, and if you win ill give you....well only thing equal importance as to wish i seek is...me." confidence exudes from Gen as even if he loses access and reputation being in league or service of such a deity would open doors normally closed

@darkchild:

That fact that Gen seemed curious about his shadow did not elude the Devil, nor did it distract him from what he had to do. The table was set, and the board was chosen. It was one of the simplest games ever devised and yet, much like many other games of chance, Mephisto stood to lose and gain quite a bit. The same could be said for the man in front of him, but someone who has lived as many lives as Gen Esis could count on one thing:

He'd get what he wanted eventually.

"Very well then," Mephisto agreed as he shook the hand of the man who walked the world alongside Adam.

The feeling of his skin was tense and rigid, more akin to stone albeit pliable. Mephisto did not surrender his grin for things of greater circumstance and he did not allow it to face in the midst of what could be described as a monolith. Gen possessed great power, but what concerned those who knew him was rather the staggering potential within the coarse flesh and sublime blood. Gen knew a great deal despite what he could or could not immediately recall.

The fact that his mind was so shattered was testament to how much some higher powers wanted to keep him in check. Mortal or not, these forces beyond mortal imagination were slowly and surely losing their tenuous grip on the reality that Gen embodied. Sooner or later, he would be free. That was a future Mephisto envisioned with quite the growing enthusiasm.

"Best two out of three," Mephisto parted their embrace and sank back into his seat.

His Shadow slid behind him, gripping his shoulders with long dark talons as it gave Gen a sinister smirk. Mephisto held up his fist, cupping the bottom with his other hand.

"Ready?"

As soon as Gen would mimic his motions, the Man with the Long Shadow began the countdown.

3...

2...

1...

@thisisgonnahurt:

Touch....his hand nearly enveloped Mephistos, he found himself interested in its foundation in an instant he found himself tinkering with his insides and yammering away the entire time. Forever immortal these types are, undying...a hell in itself I'd one wad alone. But soon he would not be alone, his other half returned to his side....so he gripped hard and smiled to the old demon.

One touch...and a staggering amount of information filled Gen, he'd absorbed a miniscule amount of his energy, enough to...duplicate all for a brief moment...if he chose to....which he did not returning the energy, his body's instincts took over, but now he's in control. He wishes to actually win this game.

His hands moving alongside Mephisto and he stopped on..paper. (groaning in his kind at such a simple games got him ready to implode with anticipation.

@darkchild:

Mephisto's clenched fist awaited Gen. He tilted his head and his Shadow applauded for his opponent.

"That's one," he replied with a hiss, not actually wanting to lose of course. He started the second round almost immediately afterwards.

There wasn't a reality in which he didn't desire Gen's fractured soul. The powers within were terrifying to behold, rightly locked behind a shattered consciousness. Madness might have ruled him now, but once he regained the faculties to gather the pieces once more and bind them together the possibilities were endless.

The simplicity of the game he chose struck Mephisto as interesting. It relied on strategy and cunning in the split second between decision and reveal. It had nothing to do with luck. Instead, it was a game that lived and breathed depending on physical cues and guesswork.

It wasn't something that a mind as broken as Gen's most dominant personality could stomach for long. Perhaps someone else, deeper inside, was pulling the strings.

Their decisions were made and the countdown began again.

3...

2...

1...

@thisisgonnahurt:

Scissors is what he landed on oppose to Mephistos rock, he feigned a low growl trying to make it seem that he was getting frustrated. Years of life have proven that all creatures take advantage of the weak or at this point in time someone who appears to be such.

That hand shake allowed for Gen to take a peak inside Mephistos thoughts, he would need full contact for ten seconds to attempt to compell him. But he stopped it to make sure he was not a cheat. This game they were playing was more than just that, for Gen it meant his literal slumber for the last fifteen years did not make him rusty.

His hands came together in preparation for the third and final game, in a fraction of a second his mind fracture within and those within his mind had a discussion.

Gene who was the Child of darkness during the original slumber, he was impatient and suggested willing the shadow creatures to slit Mephistos throat, Nan who was a variant who lived in a universe where everyone had died in a colossal war 400 hundred years into the future spoke up with quite the interesting idea "We've his DNA now, let me have control and even if we loose I'll have a way to..." all the voices were cut off as Gen stomped his foot within his mind shushing them instantly, they knew with his age he knew ways of rendering them obsolete and give them no chance at reclaiming their bodies or becoming more than a singular person.

Back in reality his hand moved into a fist then at the very last moment it was flat, paper was his last choice.

@darkchild:

Mephisto knew better than most that what he dealt with on a daily basis was dangerous, to say the least. Offering evil things to evil people merely created more problems... but not for him. He got exactly what he wanted regardless of how he involved himself. He chose to partake for as long as he needed to in order to stir up a proper amount of chaos and then he departed for a luxury view on the sidelines. He was cognizant enough to know that whatever Gen wanted from him couldn't have just extended to their particularly lofty deal.

His Shadow whispered to him in a voice only he could hear. He suddenly knew things, uncovered secrets, and kept them close to his chest. His smile tightened as the second round dissipated into his victory. The meaning of the game did not escape him in the intoxicating drama of an upcoming third - and final - showdown. Instead, he decided to make the most of this chance.

He said nothing. Gen Esis was already preparing for that last draw. The Man with the Long Shadow chuckled. The sense of disappointment would be palpable as they both revealed their choices.

Paper - the two of them.

Mephisto kept the momentum of the duel, reading Gen's body language and matching his frustration with curiosity and - quite frankly - a dry, rattling laughter. Again and again, they played the same cards and butted heads. Perhaps Gen could feel his grasp on victory weakening. Perhaps Mephisto tipped the scales. His mastery of illusion caused many to follow aimlessly into his control. The Devil spoke many languages, after all. It was a certainty that luck would be one as well.

"You're sweating," Mephisto pointed out.

Whether or not Gen actually could, and whether or not he actually was, were completely up to Gen to decide for himself. But the Devil's words wormed their way into his ear. Mephisto could see the decisions becoming more erratic. The sundered psyche of the man who walked with Adam would soon become that of he who walked with Satan. He couldn't contain his excitement any longer, his eyes rippling into black pits where brilliant and hungry crimson suns glared out in anticipation.

Again. Again. Again! The game kept racking up a nervous, feverish anguish. No winner had been decided. No winner could be decided. Either way, they were damning the world to some different Hell.

"Come now, oh great Book of Abraham!" Mephisto commanded, shifting his gaze for a moment towards Gen's brow and into the depths of the many souls seeking his destruction.

They hated him. They despised him. To consume him wasn't enough. To destroy him until not even dust remained was enough. He cackled at their hate. He drank their spite. He wanted more, for it would be the water for a new Babylon built upon the backs of a billion broken souls. He could see the gates of Red Haven opening. He could hear the trumpets calling every last sinner on Earth back home...

But that's when he slipped.

In his hubris, he threw down rock.

He was met with paper.

Mephisto's theatrics dissipated with a hissing flash of anger and sundered pride, and he leaned back into his seat. His smile never faltered nor faded. He had no reason to frown. He found neither pleasure nor pain in the gesture. He cradled his fingers together, cascading them in a ladder of slender bone and flesh.

The only measure of his annoyance could be accounted for in a slight facial twitch under his eye.

"Fair game, Gen Esis. You've won your way into Hell," he muttered with a slight chuckle. "Congratulations."

@darkchild: @thisisgonnahurt:

@backstabber: @thisisgonnahurt: Stabs thank you, but it's only gonna get more interesting. I'll have something up today for sure.

@darkchild:

@thisisgonnahurt:

Gen laughed audibly at the irritation that exudes from Mephisto, and with his laughter he followed with "And exit for three. We can enter anywhere but Lucifer or whatever he's going on as nowadays. I do not wish to converse with him whenever I'm their he's still pissy about the whole Jesus thing and in doing so with that hate cursed me to never return.... I'm in need to retrieve a single creature from the pit. " for first time in a very long time Gen spoke with truthfulness.

"The last schmuck said you were considerably stronger than most demons top side, I need your abilities but I also know your nature..." He sliced at the skin he wore tearing a piece free showing his true Visage.

One of the original creatures born after the creation of lucifer jail, his species went by many names but in each reality that glimpsed a heaven or hell they were on constant, hells death dealers. Parasites....

"You're curious of anything that's interesting, you come with and make sure we return topside, my ilk is your price rewards. Of this still living, you will know where they are. " ready to betray not only every demon in hell but his own species.

something about the aroma....

@darkchild:

"Lucifer?" Mephisto tilted his head towards the Abrahamic Amalgamation.

A low, raspy laugh erupted from deep within his chest but dissipated as soon as it escaped.

"My dear Gen and Company! You may call me all manner of vile things, but don't mistake me for cruel," he snickered at his own words.

He stood up from the booth, twirling on the balls of his heels and the tips of his toes. The music surrounding them became a swirling sensation that exceeded human comprehension. They were no longer aware of it, but they were playing his song. They were chanting his name. They were praising his power, and exalting his existence. The intoxicating rhythm made for a decent enough start to how the Man with the Long Shadow was to provide Gen with his wish.

"I would never dream of voluntarily sitting through another one of Lucy's torturous board meetings. They almost always turn into pity parties anyway. He never did get over disappointing Father,"

Whether or not this was the truth he spoke seemed up in the air. His eternal smile and boisterous tone pointed to sarcasm, but he moved and spoke with such confidence and bravado that... it all seemed rather possible. He stopped with one foot in front of the other. His heels clicked and his arms were outstretched. Once Gen claimed to know him, to know his nature, Mephisto curled his body around in a contortionist's worst nightmare. His bones became a spiral and his neck turned in ways that didn't seem real.

He still smiled. He still stared into Gen's eyes, even as he revealed parts of himself that only the skin could properly conceal. The droplets of blood collecting on the table were of no concern to him, nor to anyone. Time stood still for them. They were locked in an illusion Mephisto conjured to keep their more infernal business from attracting unwanted attention. To the outside observer, they were sitting and relaxing as usual. But as soon as Mephisto lost and swore to Gen's bargain he felt as if he needed to be more... theatrical.

And so, that is what he did.

"Your ilk? Your children and descendants, as old or as distant as they come?"

His carnivorous teeth parted in a sinister cackle. He straightened his body back into what could be considered humanoid if not for his uncanny features. He laughed. The lights flickered. Men still sang and danced around him. Women still sang and danced as well, dreadfully blind and deaf to the laughter. Flesh phased through him. He laughed as his illusion collectively haunted their minds. He laughed as the demonic bloodline promised to him for this hellish task stretched on. He laughed, and did so without hesitation.

He laughed because that's all he could do, because that's all he felt like doing, and stopped only when he decided to. A few seconds had passed. He cared not, for it was all theatrics.

"It's a deal, Gen," he snapped a hand out and a cane appeared within his grasp from a cloud of red smoke.

With one tap on the floor, a portal opened behind him. The wish Gen desired came to fruition as the landscape of Hell itself swallowed all hope and replaced it with despair. Terror devoured the weak. Mephisto's coattails flapped in the blazing breeze but he never broke eye contact with Gen, or whoever dominated the psyche now.

"Smell that fire and brimstone. It smells like... home! Come now,"

He placed one foot through the gateway to prove that it was safe.

"It would be a terrible time to get cold feet,"

@thisisgonnahurt:

Glee now wrapped itself around Gen as he stepped through the portal smelling the brimstone and knowing it was where he needed to be.

The energies of the portal felt like the static one would feel touching an old television screen, but all over ones body in an instant. It felt weird to the former demon, as the trip out of hell never felt so bland and banal.

The moment the hellish landscaped air touched his skin it burned away the meat suit he had been exiled in. His true appearance in all its glory. He resembled a swarm of insects melted together, with bits and pieces of other bodies. Standing nearly eight feet tall he was a giant compared to Mephisto. Being brought directly into hell broke the curse and the sigil that had wrapped his body keeping him out dissolved and we're gone.

A four feet wingspan unfurled from atop his shoulder blades he was massive, Gen leaped from the rocks that they had entered and fell straight down. The bottom the front door to the very last circle of hell, where his beloved had been held. He cared not for his ilk that he promised Mephisto...."oh sh!t...where'd he go?" Gen looking back as he flew downwards. Wondering if he would follow, given a chance to screw over Gen as he would think the king of lies would do exactly that, leave him high and dry to burn.

@darkchild:

Fire and brimstone, lakes of blood and burning oil, it all went this way and that, curling and coagulating in all sorts of corroded and malignant castles and architecture. Some seemed modern, while others were older than even mankind could remember. Mephisto never really much cared for most of it, especially after the very short and sweet few decades at the turn of the 20th Century. He adored the fascinating songcraft and being able to tug at the heartstrings of so many starving musicians. Their souls were, by far, the sweetest in his collection.

But it took a while for him to appreciate mankind before, and especially since. He hadn't grasped much interest in the more manufactured sounds. It seemed that corporations did his work for him and left his contracts in the metaphorical dust. He felt a twinge of irony in the thought as it passed through his mind. The Jackal of Jazz, replaced by shareholders investors. Him, a devil possessed of a tyrannical tempo, forgotten in the wake of new and heartless mortal despots.

He barely registered Gen's newfound freedom while in their shared homeland until the creature returned from his soaring display of power.

"Hm?" Mephisto chimed in, raising an eyebrow and meeting Gen's gaze once more.

"Oh, I was lost in thought. Don't mind me, my friend," he chuckled, sweeping a hand back and forth dismissively.

"But here we are! Isn't it wonderful? The screams, the shouts, the wails, the howls!"

The theatrics of the Musical Maestro never failed, not even here. He tapped and swirled as if he were on a stage. Everywhere could be one if he so desired, if he had the capacity to do. Perhaps one day he could have someone wish for Red Haven to become a reality. Perhaps one day he could turn the entire mortal plane into the world he desired. But for now, he relished in the pain around him. He danced to it, hummed a song to it, plucked a beat from it and a rhythm from the core of suffering deeper than any could hear save for him.

His musical meanderings had merit. There was a mysterious charm to it, clinging to the walls of mind and soul. It was the crux of creation, albeit rooted in destruction. If creation had free reign, there would truly be nothing new, nothing exciting, nothing worth celebrating. But here, in the heart of oblivion, he could string along whatever he wanted in the crucible. The furnace down below meant only a new instrument for him to manipulate.

He stopped along the edge of the cliff they inhabited. Further still, perhaps a mile or more, the fires churned with the forsaken. Their additions to his song, however inconsequential, were important - perhaps only important to him, and perhaps they would never know. He clutched his cane and sauntered back over towards Gen, never breaking eye contact. Even as he stepped away, Gen could feel the eyes of something that Mephisto represented following him. The Man with the Long Shadow always watched those he held special interest of, even when he wasn't looking directly at them.

"I am a man of my word," he playfully replied to Gen's hard and unrelenting gaze. He wanted to have his objective completed and to leave in short order. It was understandable, and Mephisto gestured for him to lead the way.

"Go on! We shan't be long here, if you know where you're going of course my friend."

The X-01 Tank is a custom-designed armored vehicle developed by the IMP Criminal Organization, based on the Russian T-90 chassis with significant modifications. While it retains the same main gun caliber and shell size as the T-90, its increased size allows for a larger ammunition capacity, extending its sustained combat capability. The X-01 is twice the size and features double the armor of a standard T-90, enhancing durability against both kinetic and explosive threats. On the left side, it is equipped with a miniaturized six-barreled surface-to-air missile (SAM) turret for short-range air defense, while the right side houses an active protection system (APS) capable of intercepting high-velocity missiles. Internally, the tank features an integrated network with increased automation, enabling a single operator to function as both driver and gunner if necessary. Additionally, the expanded interior provides increased onboard crew transport capacity.

Why does this matter?

Because 30 minutes ago an aspiring city crime boss had purchased it from the organization as a birthday gift for his son, but in his excitement of owning an AWESOME tank things gotta a little out of hand...

Magazine Street

“Hahaha! I’m unstoppable!” seventeen-year-old Toni Lazuto shouted gleefully as the vehicle plowed through parked cars and trees with reckless abandon. Panicked screams alerted store owners to his arrival just before the four friends riding on the outside of the tank jumped off as it slowed down to let them out.

His friends, all around the same age as Toni, were dressed in ordinary street clothes—nothing unusual for a group of punks. Their only disguises were ski masks, and they carried nothing more than handguns for the robbery. Yet, as they rushed into local stores to empty the cash registers, not a single person entertained the thought of resisting. The sight of a tank barrel aimed directly at them was more than enough to keep everyone frozen in fear.

Jeff, the biggest and most physically imposing of Toni’s group, turned to look at the tank. “Hey, Toni! You think this is such a great idea? I mean, robbing these registers probably won’t even pay for the gas on that thing.”

Before Toni could answer, a smaller man—clearly the brains of the group—smacked Jeff on the back of the head, his thick Louisianan accent cutting through the chaos. “You couyon, don’t use our real names! And to answer your question, it’s not about the money—it’s about sending a message.”

As he spoke, a trio of cop cars, sirens blaring, came speeding onto the scene. Toni immediately shifted the barrel of the tank toward them, and the cars screeched to a halt. The officers, clearly not expecting to encounter a main battle tank in the middle of the city, shouted a string of expletives almost in unison before throwing open their doors and sprinting away as fast as their legs could carry them—just before Toni fired.

KABOOM!!!

"THIS CITY IS MINE!!!" Toni shouted in his tank as he power tripped.

@i_m_p_:

Andrew sat in his reading room listening intensely to his radio Police scanner, and he could not believe what he heard. Just a few miles away, in a shadier part of town, local general stores were being held up by of all things... a Tank! It was by far the craziest thing he had ever heard of, but none the less it was a crime he had to stop. Wasting no time, he quickly dawned his costume, and as soon as he opened an upstairs window, two extra long bat wings spread out from under his cape and he took flight. First he flew up straight into the sky where the dark night could conceal his presence, then from there on he soar through the sky like a bullet, flapping his wings with attitude. Although he was several miles away from the crime scene, with just a few flaps, he managed to reach it. But not in time. Sadly he was just a few minutes late and already the gang had taken out all three of the police cars on the scene, and had robbed the nearest convenience store of all it’s cash, cigarettes and as much beer as they could carry.

By now the police had fallen back, hiding behind whatever they could, while wasting bullet after bullet against the Tank’s hide, as one of the kids still hanging on to the outside of the metal beast continued shouting “Hit them again! Hit them again!” AsAndrew’s first concern was to help the police, that were clearly out of their league, he swooped down just enough to get a better look. Unfortunately as he did, another member of the gang, soon to be called ‘The Tank Tops’ took notice and immediately shouted, “Heads up boys, we got us a hero trying to save the day!” followed by a slew of half drunken laughter. But before Andrew knew it, one of the other gang member, took aim with the Tank’s surface-to-air missile, and after getting an official lock, sent one flying!

Immediately Andrew went into action, dipping low as to dodge the initial strike, but just as soon as the missile flew by, it quickly altered it’s trajectory, and came back again ready to strike. It was then to Andrew’s dismay he realized this was a heat seeking missile and it was tracking him! In less then the time it took him to wonder “where the hell are these kids getting these weapons?” the missile was closing in on him fast. By now he had preformed several of his best stunts to lose it, but every time the missile would readjust it’s heading and come back for more. It was then Andrew decided to play it smart. In a last ditched effort, he tucked his wings by his side and nose dived straight down towards the cop cars, still burning bright from the Tank’s shells. Then just as he was about to touch them he aggressively flapped his wings again and shot back up into the sky. In the mean time, the heat seeking missile, confused by the heat signature, collided with the cars, causing another huge explosion, that lit the night skies on fire with a huge roar!

But as soon as the deafening roar came to an end, Andrew stayed there hovering in the sky after making a once over to make sure the police officers were unharmed. It was then time to put these criminals away, dead or alive! Unfortunately the brains of the outfit, Scott, the smallest of the gang, was prepared for the arrival of other meta-humans and as such had taken a hostage. While Andrew was preoccupied with the missile, Scott made sure that they took the store owner, an elderly Vietnamese male, and strapped him to the side of the Tank. Then with a cocky voice Toni shouts out through a megaphone attached through the inside of the Tanks, “Listen up fly boy! Were going to make it real clear, so you can understand!” At that point another gang member riding along on the outside of the Tank, waves his gun around then places the barrel right against the old man’s head as Toni goes on. “You follow us, or hell we even see a wing bird in the sky, we kill the old man! This goes for you too pigs. We see one blue light and it’s goodbye!”

With no other choice then to agree to their demands, Andrew flew back a few paces then touched down next to the other police officers, who were still fumbling around wondering what to do next. But as soon as Andrew landed he began telling them how it is!. “As much as I hate to say it, we have to let them go..” followed with a short pause, “..for now! But don’t worry there are very few places a Tank that size can hide.” He then takes in a huge whiff in through his nose collecting all the scents in the air and after filtering through all the smoke and debris, he picks up the Tank’s scent and memorizes it. “Plus I know how to track them without them ever knowing it!” Unfortunately the Cops were in no mood to take orders from a masked Vigilante, and as such the lead officer aimed his gun at him and began barking orders. But with no time to waste, in an impressive move of speed and skill, Andrew reached out and grabbed the gun before he ever knew it. Then as he throws it to the ground and takes flight, Andrew gives them one last stern suggestion. “Just stay the hell out of my way andmaybe I will be able to do your job for you!” And with that he was gone!

@steelclaw:

"Heya guys, how we gonna stop these cops from following us? Any suggestions or bright ideas?" Toni asked, gripping the tank’s controls.

Inside the cramped compartment, his crew sat among the stolen cash, stacks of bills littering the floor. In the corner, their hostage—a frail Vietnamese elderly man—sat silently, bound and watching the criminals with wary eyes.

"Why don't we just destroy the police station?" Jeff suggested.

Smack. Scott hit him on the back of the head. "That's a dumb idea," he grumbled. "I have a better one. My uncle told me about a fireworks factory owner who owes him money. The guy built his factory right on top of a massive sewer system. We get there, blow the place up, and drive the tank underground. No one would expect it. I’ve seen the schematics—it's more than big enough for this tank to fit through."

Toni raised an eyebrow but nodded as he adjusted the controls. "Sounds like a plan. But what about the old guy?" He gestured toward their hostage.

Scott shrugged. "He’s still good as insurance until we make a clean getaway. I don’t know about you, but I saw some flying acrobatic ninja dodging rockets back there. I ain't taking any unnecessary risks."

Toni nodded in agreement and focused on the road. The tank rumbled forward, carving a path through the city. Minutes later, they reached the factory. Without hesitation, Toni rammed through the entrance, metal screeching as steel doors buckled under the tank’s weight. Inside, they scanned the warehouse for the largest stockpile of fireworks—the key to their escape plan.

Then, the radio crackled to life.

"How are you boys doing? Enjoying the tank your father bought, birthday boy?"

Toni scoffed and pressed the transmission button. "Yeah, it’s a nice thing. But why you talking to me about it?"

Their mysterious benefactor in a suave voice replied through the speakers. "I convinced the police commissioner to turn a blind eye to your little adventure. But his dirty cops just told me there was a vigilante at the scene. If he comes for you, I can't do anything about that at least not right now."

Toni smirked, eyes locking onto rows of massive crates, stacked high and packed full of fireworks.

"Ain’t nothing to worry about. We’re about to cover our tracks."

(Steel Jaw X sends 2 steel jaw spies Darksteel and Carnage to earth to inspect the planet for invasion)

@darklordqimir:

@i_m_p_:

With the flapping of his wings, Andrew took flight. Frustrated with the police’s incompetence, he proudly left them behind, and upon reaching up high in the sky he sniffed in again to pick up the Tank’s scent. Luckily, despite it’s massive size it does not move that fast and within seconds Andrew found it. Roughly one mile ahead, heading north, Andrew flapped his wings harder to make up for lost time, while always keeping a safe distance in order to not be seen. Along the way, as he flies over all the carnage “The Tank Tops” left in the wake of their massive machine, he ponders whether or not to kill them. But even though he flies over crushed cars and demolished road signs, he couldn’t find it in himself to gut a few misguided teens. Fortunately, in mid flight, he soon notices that the scent had come to a halt.

With a quick check of the area beneath him, through the aide of his heightened vision, he notices the trail of destruction rolled right up and into a plus size factory. At the same time he notices an abundant scent of gun powder in the air, leading to a variety of outrages scenarios, but luckily he then noticed the giant “Fireworks” sign painted on the side! After taking a brief sigh of relief, he then flies over to a window, for some quick reconnaissance. The Tank was parked barely inside, with all but two members inside it or holding on to the Tank in some way. The other two surveying the area, while making crude remarks about shoving fireworks up the butts of anyone trying to stop them. Unfortunately the hostage was still strapped to the side of the metal beast, but by luck he was not closely guarded. And with that Andrew had something to work with.

Hoping to use distraction as his greatest weapon, the first thing he did was to snip the power line into the building with his nine inch retractable claws. Immediately the factory went dark, and with it being late late into the night, there was no light shining in from the giant gaping hole the Tank made on it’s way in. But Andrew wasn’t done yet. Back at the window, he pulled a zippo lighter out of his utility belt, and before the “Tank Tops” knew it, he lit it on fire and hurled it inside. Hoping at this point the gang members were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, as planned his lighter landed on a giant cardboard box and within seconds, burned through it and lit the fireworks inside… a blaze!!! From then on the fireworks would ignite on to other boxes, lighting them up and so on and so on, until the whole place was burning alive with different colors exploding everywhere.

Now it was time for Andrew to make his move. With saving the hostage his number one priority, he flapped his wings hard again and nose dived in, right through the hole in the wall. Ignoring all the explosions going on around him, as well as whatever the gang members were screaming, he shot straight forward to the hostage, and in mid flight, cut the ropes that bound him to the Tank, then proceeded to snatch him up and fly right back out where he came in from. All that was left now would be to drop him off someplace safe and let the “Tank Tops” either burn to death or run outside. But plans never work as planned. So many things could go wrong, Maybe he over estimated the gang, and the fire works did not distract them, or maybe one of the members hanging on the outside of the Tank saw him coming in. Either way he swooped in, in order to save the hostage and no one could know what exactly would happen in the process.