"Did someone say bigger fish?!"
A blast from a hose shot at the three of them. Betty emerged from the bank, holding the hose and dressed for a cruise. Just then, she spotted her getaway vehicle coming around from the back. It was outfitted to look like a boat, her mooks now dressed like sailors and instructed to tap dance.
"In...olden days, a glimpse of stocking, was looked on as something shocking. But now God knows! Anything goes! Good authors too who once knew better words, now only use four-letter words writing proooose! Anything goes!"
She started to make a run for the boat, climbing up into it. "If driving fast cars you like, If low bars you like, If old hymns you like, If bare limbs you like, If Mae West you like, Or me undressed you like, Why, nobody will oppose....Come on, kid! Let's agitate this gravel!"
Subrubia shook her head. "I go where I'm needed...." She struggled to wrestle her powers against the beast, groping around for its invisible form. "Please....why are you doing this?"
edited 2nd Jul '15 11:52:31 AM by Saturn
As Addisu shot past Hetep-Heres, he faintly heard the "Libyan" bit. I have half a mind to go back and correct her. No, stop that. No nationalism when you're fleeing for your life!
After Addisu felt that he was comfortably far enough away, he slowed down to about the speed of a bicycle. He relaxed and tried to calm himself down a bit... And then he heard the Kettenrad. He turned around, saw the SS troopers atop their motor-tank and immediately thrust out a hand out of reflex, trying to control the Kettenrad and make it flip over and slam into the ground.
“Not a promise, not an oath, or a malediction or a curse. Inevitable." - Taylor HebertJohn resumed shuffling backwards, the headache Hetep's true form had caused fading. Hell, that thing again. Do not engage, Run, too strong The detective shrugged, he had never been accused of making many good decisions. So he whipped out his pistols and fired off a trio of shots at the sorceress as he fell back further. "Don't blame me for being poorly made, your Nazi buddies are the ones who botched the experiment."
-dramatic music ensues-The bullets struck Hetep-Heres' cranium, throwing her hat off her head and leaving the bullets in her cheek, fractured jawbone and under her right eye. For everybody else, such damage would likely be fatal.
She merely sighed in annoyance, rubbing her temple. "Whoever did this sorry job likely is hunted down by valkyries as we speak." She spoke resentfully as she flicked her wrist, magically hurling one of the zombie carriers that suffered the damage from the van smack at Johnathan as she winced, feeling lead on her skin. Removing that would be oh so troublesome.
Regardless of whether the attack was successful, Hetep-heres flung another used corpse... and another one.
Meanwhile, her troopers didn't have much luck either. Although trackbike's construction allowed the driver to not end up face-first in the tarmac, it slowed them down, the distance between them and Addisu increasing. The other dead unlocked the assault rifle and opened fire, spraying bullets in his general direction.
"Okay nevermind!" Gian turned on his heel and stretched his arm out; two of his hands flew for the van and snagged a violin case before heading back for Betty's van. "Cobalt, I didn't mean you, I'm talking specifically the broad, ya get me?!" He threw his empty tommygun at Sonicwoman as he followed his hands. The other two robotic hands kept close by Gian, ready to protect him. "You have a number I can call, Cobalt? I wanna call you next time I do a heist so you specifically fight me, okay?" The violin case cracked open and Gian hauled out a second mask: plain black and round, with a white hand over the face. He swapped masks expertly without revealing his face, a single fluid motion as the hands also closed the case again. "Name's Death Grip. Nice to meet you."
Sonicwoman knocked the empty tommygun away with a causal swipe of her arm. Her rage had cooled but not diminished. She began to approach Death Grip; her muscles tensed for whatever action he would take next.
"You're pretty keen on getting smacked around by masked men. Anything you want to talk about Death? May I call you Death?"
Finally getting to the scene outside, Wyatt was understandably a bit flustered that the villain crew was already getting away so unabated. He was out of ammo (he really, really needed to get some buttons for his pockets), out of breath from running everywhere and back again and out of patience for this painted prostitute's useless bullshit. He honestly was out of options, and he doubted that he'd be able to keep pace with a van on a bicycle.
Seeing the new mask in the crew, he could tell by the nicest suit out of all of them as the lead robber from earlier. "You've got a lotta nerve calling yourself anything besides wop, Grip," he shouted at the masked man, exasperated. "If you want to get beat again, just call for Silver Light, I promise you I'll be damned well prepared next time!"
edited 2nd Jul '15 1:21:10 PM by wikkit
The undead queen was not to be deterred by mere explosives. Well, they would probably deter her greatly, somewhere around the block, and she had no time for that.
Throwing another used zombie to retaliate and make the one stuffed with a grenade explode prematurely she huffed, drew her own firearm - a trusty Walther - and pulled the trigger. It wasn't a mere bullet that was fired though: upon contact with any hard surface, it would release the hex hidden within it and explode into fist-sized explosion of fire.
Silas stood there for a moment, a bit surprised at how Death Grip had acted. Maybe the phrase honor amongst thieves wasn't too off after all.
As for Betty, he turned to the odd getaway boat and fired the pulse cannons, explosive rounds flying straight for it. Should put a end to that crazed Cartoon's escape.
"Uhhh..." Death Grip watched the pulse cannons come after his precious payday—Betty. She went down and this whole operation was busted. Calzarettas wouldn't hear the end of it. Mama Lucia would probably lose her investment on The Rabbit Hole. Dammit. Things seemed to slow down for him. He needed to just chill... he had six hands to work with, and he needed to delegate. Like a good boss.
First, delineate threats: the man crashing towards Betty, and the woman coming for him. The woman was therefore secondary—she wasn't targeting the objective. So he needed to stop what was clearly a high-yield weapon because he could actually take the hit.
He took a deep breath. Two hands opened the violin case as Death Grip went into action. Two more grabbed Death Grip's chestpiece; his legplates, the last of the case's contents, tumbled to the floor. Death Grip leapt between Betty and Cobalt as his hands placed the chestpiece on him. The two previously holding the case went to his back, ready to help him fall safely. The explosive smashed straight into his chest, knocking the wind right out of him. The hands pushed and shoved Death Grip as he tumbled backwards, trying to protect his head from any serious knocks.
He flew out the door and landed at the base of the boat in a disheveled heap. His ears rang and it hurt to breathe, but he stopped the shot. Death Grip slumped some more, head lolling up... to see some fourth super descending upon Betty. He pointed, eyes wide, and tried to speak, but all that came out was a high-pitched wheeze. No air in his lungs to talk, and hard to get air in there with his ribs like they were.
Jerry landed right on her head, and squished her down, flatting her under his feet. With all her momentum and strength, she launched him back into the air, her body springing up into an accordion shape.
"OW! Jeez, that hurt, you jerk! I'm starting to get UPSET! Hey, you goons! DECOY OCTOPUS!"
Two mooks wheeled out a cannon, pulled the rope, blasting out live octopuses at Jerry, trying to knock him right out of the sky.
edited 2nd Jul '15 8:45:18 PM by Saturn
Sonicwoman watched Death Grip's display with a raised eyebrow. This robbery must have meant quite a bit to him. Perhaps if he had put that commitment somewhere more constructive he wouldn't have wound up on the wrong end of those pulse cannons.
She gathered her thoughts and began to concentrate for several seconds. She wasn't exactly sure what was going on, who the new guy was, or why Betty used octopuses as projectiles. What she did know was that they were not getting away and she could leave quite a dent in a boat. Sonicwoman shot forward at breakneck speed, intent on smashing the getaway... boat with her body.
Death Grip was down, but only mostly out! He propped himself on one elbow, took a deep breath, and kicked out a leg in an attempt to trip Sonicwoman. He also held out his hands for Der Greivier as it attempted to head back into the museum, skittering along the floor on a quest for his leg plates. "C'mon..."
Sonicwoman shot forward like a bullet from a gun. Her eyes were glued to the cartoonish criminal's boat with every intention of smashing it. When she was right on top of it, she suddenly flipped over as her legs were knocked out from under her. The next thing she knew was a face full of boat and an ear full of the sound of shattering timber.
edited 4th Jul '15 12:05:43 AM by Elyzian
Sleep? Sleep?! Sleep is for the weak!Jerry bent his legs with the impact and sprang away, lithe as a leaping cat.
The plorp sounds of octopii fired at him caught his attention. He twisted his body away from the first squirming projectile and batted away the second with an easy kick. The second octopus hit a window with a splat and began crawling away as fast as it possibly could.
He hit the ground in a roll, coming to his feet smoothly and with his arms wide like a gymnast at an exhibition. He turned towards the pancaked Betty, a tight grin on his masked face.
"Now was that an entrance or was that an entrance?"
"Dammit shit! Yeah, my bad!" Death Grip took both the bruise and Silver Light's kick. The kick at least got softened by his battered chestpiece, but god damn his leg was gonna smart. Of course, there was one ray of hope: Der Greivier, returning with the leg plates. Hovering behind Silver Light, the hands swung for his head, using the plates as an improvised club. Death Grip just fell back and winced, playing up his injuries. The other two hands lifted him up just a little, into a sitting position.
While his toes smarted a bit from landing on metal, Wyatt's anger overrode the want to clutch at his foot in pain. He really, really wanted to put this guy in a hospital for as long as he could.
He lifted his foot up again for another haymaker blow, but before he could properly do so he felt an extremely sharp pain at the back of his head, like if Babe Ruth had just used a frying pan as a bat and his skull as the ball. In his last moments of consciousness, he reflexively tried to shift away to anywhere but his current predicament, but before his face even landed on the pavement he was out cold.
Johnathan dodged the next corpse and managed to come back up right into the path of the bullet, which impacted with his shoulder and ignited it. He hissed in pain, he flesh shuddering in a wave as he tried to bat out the fire. "Come get me you Nazi Harlot!!!" He yelled as he retreated back into the shadows of the museum.
-dramatic music ensues-Hetep-heres clicked her tongue as her eyebrow twitched, watching that mongrel retreat into the shadows. No doubt he was backing into an area he was more comfortable with.
But she was a queen. A powerful ruler that was Apophis' favorite and ruled her land the best out of all rulers that were after her, impeded only by meek-hearted.
She gave the signal to the remaining trooper and the driver to hit the road and go with what exhibits were loaded into the van. The white vehicle's tires screeched as it sped up into her hideout to be investigated later. She meanwhile made her way after him, slowly. One remaining zombie carrier to be flung and Walther in one hand, she stepped into his area of familiarity. Even if the insults were far from her true roots, she would not let any half-made spawn belittle her like that.
Meanwhile, the two unfortunate troopers, now unabated by Addisu's powers could finally get the Kettenrad functioning properly. Although a fair distance away from the wheelchair-bound man, bullets from the rifle were still flying; however inaccurate they were. That said, the earlier use of power from the black man did hamper the engine, causing the distance between two parties to gradually increase.
Alone at the Fairgrounds (Joviality) - Vyvaen Nhailu
Passing by the roller coaster, not even looking at the ferris wheel, Vy frowned as she looked at her fair map, wondering where to go.
Ah, the freak show. That sounds like fun; crowds of people coming to gawk and laugh at the handicapped and pat themselves on the back for how normal and civilized they are! Kind of like asylums, except open for public visit! Now, uh, where is it...
The Mirandan glanced around; she hated how the map failed to be in proportion to anything, and they didn't even show the entrances to things. Spotting a pair of stand out gentleman watching passersby, Vy hopped on over and gave them her good ol' smile.
"Pardon me, but would you happen to know which way to the freak show?"
The first guy perked up, took a look at Vy, and grinned before nudging his buddy. "Whaddaya talkin' 'bout, I'm lookin' at the freak show right 'ere!"
Vy's plastic smile didn't move as she eyed the two men. Striped suits. Trilby hats. Odd accents and sleazy expressions on their faces. Mobsters couldn't be more obvious if they tried. Well, maybe if they had tommy guns... Maybe one of Lucia Calzaretta's? There's an idea!
"Not that I mind gettin' a little freaky with ya, if y'know what I mean!"
"Is that an invitation?"
"...what?"
"An invitation." Vy's smile twisted, peppy cheer breaking way for an insidious, silky smooth tone. Framing her cheek between her fingers as she smiled, she whispered, "Saw the Tunnel of Love just a little ways back, if you wanna follow up on those words..."
The mobster gulped and looked over at his friend, who shrugged. "Uh, sure. Tony, wait here for me, will ya...?"
That's a good boy~
Fairground Entryway (Joviality)
Having had her fair share of fun and excitement for the afternoon, Mayor Burke stepped out of the front gate, having called an aide at city hall to come pick her up and bring her back to the office. But, off to the side, just outside the gate, a man in a thick coat was waiting, glancing around to make sure no damn hero would get in the way. The coast seemed clear... And from his coat, the man shot out four thick, metal bracelets, clamping them onto the mayor's arms and legs before anyone could react.
"Over here, sweetie!" snapping his fingers and throwing off his coat, the handcuffed mayor was dragged on over to man, holding up his now revealed tommygun and spraying it into the air to scare off the gathering crowd. He wore a snazzy suit that seemed oddly bulky, metal plates fitted right beneath.
Great, another kidnapping. With a would be mobster, no less. The mayor did her best to make sure he didn't see her rolling her eyes.
"Now who out there thought it was a good idea to let the dames handle things while the men were gone, ey?! Ain't no dame gonna order ME around, not this floozy mayor right here or that broad Lucia! Y'HEAR THAT, LUCIA?! OLD PAULINE'S GUNNIN FOR YA!"
"...Really? Pauline?"
"YOU SHUT YO FUCKIN MOUTH! Now then, where'd I put that list o' demands...?"
The Skies Above Civility
The afternoon sky still had a light haze of cloud cover, but there was no worry about a chance of rain. However...
HRRRRRRRRRRRNNNK HRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNKKKKK
The thunderous horns roared up above the museums and art galleries of Civility, and descending down from the misty skies was a jet black train of lightning incarnate, electric rails blazing a path through downtown, smashing along the rooftops of buildings unfortunate enough to be in its way.
'HRRRRNNNK HRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNKKKKKKKKK
Its lone passenger sat at the driver's seat, engine car, fiddling with dials and knobs and so forth. "Hmm, what to play... let's start with something simple, something even the simpletons of this city would know..."
Swiveling in his chair, the man set down a vinyl, gently placing the needle as the flying train smashed against a corner of the World History Museum.
"1, 2, 3... aaand... set."
The music boomed in the ears and minds of all those the train flew past, speakers flaring on all sides of the train. Pushing a switch forward, the train sped up. The man cleared his throat...
"LOS CIELOS!!! YOUR CITY HAS BEEN A BLIGHT ON ALL GOOD SENSE AND COMMON DECENCY FOR QUITE TOO LONG NOW!!! YOUR INFERIOR BACKWARDS CULTURE SHALL BEGIN ITS PATH TOWARDS DESERVED AND INEVITABLE OBLIVION TODAY, STARTING WITH... uh..."
The Conductor glanced over at his checklist. "...THE MUSEUM OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN!!! WHAT SORT OF MONUMENT TO YOUR COUNTRY'S LEADERS HAS ARTIFACTS OF PASTORAL GOAT FORNICATORS OF TIMES LONG GONE BY!!! I, THE CONDUCTOR, AND HIGH CULTURE, SHALL STAND FOR NONE OF IT!!!"

Cobalt Reaper laughed, "Blood on my hands? I haven't supplied the weapons, I was more than willing to let you go without hurting anyone, but one wrong turn. One slip of the trigger when something in you plan went wrong. And you start shooting. It wasn't even that, Betty shot her between the eyes first..."
He marched forward, the guns retracting into the forearms as two gun barrels folded over his shoulders, "Go on! Assert that it wasn't your fault! That you weren't the one responsible for the death of innocent people. Deny the fact that when your plan messed up, you panicked!"
"Explosive Bullets loaded Sir," Miss Mari stated over the radio, Silas smiled underneath his masks, the visor of his armor flashing red as he targeted the joints of Gian's fancy new mechanical arms.
"You have one chance now... surrender and end this. We have bigger fish to deal with... Betty for one..."