|
|
Post by Matt Davis on Dec 30, 2013 22:27:19 GMT
Gotham at evening was not a nice place to be; but today had proven to be even more dangerous than usual. As if the sky was in agreement, sheets of rain poured down on the streets of Gotham City, drenching Matt in water. Pursuer had tracked a truck carrying military-grade weapons to the docks of Gotham. Dixon Docks was indeed the perfect place to ship illegal goods, such as arms or drugs. The hero was in his military urban camouflage, as well as his body armor. A black hood and a dark gray mask covered his head and mouth. He heard hushed whispers from the shadows. He lay in wait for his Prey to come into sight, his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched in anticipation. Then, thugs came into view as they carried wooden crates to some boats. Men with guns stood on the boats, ready to shoot anyone who came near.
Pursuer decided that the best course of action would be to neutralize the armed goons first. He crept around a crane and managed to slink into one of the boats unnoticed. He then grabbed his target from behind, pulling him out of sight. He then flipped him over his shoulder and clamped a gloved hand over his mouth to prevent him from calling his comrades. As the man passed out, Pursuer quickly leaped out of the boat and back into the shadows, hidden by the darkness.
"Hey...where did the other guy go?" One thug asked.
"You're right. He was here, wasn't he?" Another one asked. "With a gun and everything. Called me an idiot, the nerve-"
"Shut up, you two..." A third one interrupted. "Something ain't right here..." The goon clambered into the boat and swore. "He's out!"
"That means that someone's here, lurkin'..." The second thug growled. "Think it's the Bat?"
Pursuer smirked to himself. Criminals nowadays...clueless.
|
|
|
|
Post by Vincent Olson on Dec 31, 2013 0:37:54 GMT
Rain. So calming, so graceful, so beautiful. They say that in the rain, the world is reborn, like Noah discovered centuries ago. All the pain and suffering of the old days were washed away by the thick drops of water pounding on the ground below.
As nice as it sounded, he still really HATED the rain.
He's always hated the rain, he remembered as he dropped down on a nearby rooftop at Dixon Docks, quickly taking to the shadows. After all, it was raining the day his parents left on that mission so many moons ago. The very day that they walked out of his life forever. The day that the bright, cheerful child vanished into a mist of doubt, uncertainty, corruption and violence. It was raining the day that he took his first life, the day that the savage, bloodthirsty, monster within him was born. It also happened to be raining when he slaughtered Jose Martinez in front of his five year old son. The image on the boy's face upon seeing him standing there, the blood of his beloved dad on his hands, would be ingrained on his soul for the rest of his life.
While the mind of Vincent Thomas Olson toiled over the sins of his past, the body of Falcon darted through the stormy night, making his way towards the docks. He needed to clear his head, he told himself as his wings folded back into their compartment. He couldn't sit in his rundown poor excuse of an apartment while his past sins haunted him.
He ducked down on a roof towering over a few boats. Movement on a few of these boats caught his eye, causing him to automatically move to a decent vantage spot. The rain against his body as brown eyes peered down. Several men stood on the boats, one of them carrying what appeared to be an M-16. Curiosity sparking, Falcon ducked down low towards the loading bay of the dock, using the rain and shadows to his advantage. If they were gunmen involved, then there was going to be trouble.
Slinking off towards the armed gunman, Falcon was able to get a better look at their clothing. They were all dressed in a similar ragged attire, the lead rifle carrying man in question was wearing some sort of bulletproof vest over a heavy rain jacket.
Staying hidden in the shadows, Falcon over heard the men talking about one of their guys going down. The rest of the conversation was drowned out by ear-shattering thunder and a bolt of lightening, illuminating the area around them. Knowing that the sudden burst of light would alert them to his position, Falcon darted silently into the boat, directly behind the gunman. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he beheld the sight before him. This men was keeping watching over some sort of crate on the dock. A crate with a Queen Industries logo imprinted across it. A company, Falcon knew, that made its profit by selling weapons and munitions. So they were trying to smuggle dangerous weapons out of the city so that some other organization could get their dirty hands on them. And once that organization obtained these weapons, they would hand them out to a bunch of murderous bastards.
It was more then enough to satisfy his urge to kill.
While the rifle carrying brute was distracted by the crack of lighting, Falcon reached into his bandoleer to retrieve one of his knives. Acting quickly, Falcon moved forwards, wrapping a strong arm around the man's head, causing him to drop his gun into the bottom of the boat. The man's eyes widened in surprise as he tried to struggle against his unknown assailant.
With one swift motion, Falcon swiped his knife across the man's throat, severing the shooter carotid artery and jugular vein. The man let out a shrill gurgling sound as the blood jetted out of his neck, giving Falcon his cue to get out of there. As he jumped back into the shadows, the gunman's body dropped into the boat, a crimson river deluding the brown canvas surface of the boat. The assassin's dark eyes watched as the others began to move, his right hand hovering just over the hilt of another knife on his belt.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sokuuf'oren Rutela on Dec 31, 2013 0:59:56 GMT
There were times where she would stare up at the sky, watching the stars gleam and glisten far above her. They did not have views like this in Atlantis. It was one of the things that Sokuuf'oren found herself enjoying about living on the surface. She would count the lights above, thinking of how she would one day tell Zai'ten and Kaldur'ahm of their beauty.
But this was not one of those nights. The rain was dancing on the water's surface and coating the upper half of her body, the half that was out of the water. Blue eyes watched as men loaded shipping crates onto a ship, studying the weapons some of them carried. Sokuuf didn't know what was in the boxes, but it was a threat to someone somewhere if they needed weapons to move it, that she was sure of. She didn't move, however, wondering silently if she should wait until they were at sea and then capsize the whole thing. She'd save the men, of course, and leave them to the police. The cargo would be different, but there are many ways to dispose of that.
Just when she had decided that waiting was the best option, a figure, cloaked in shadows, leapt out and made quick work of one of the guards before disappearing. Sokuuf's eyebrows rose beneath the mask she wore at the sight. Things had just gotten far more interesting. Who was this person? It couldn't be the Bat who protected the city, for he did not seem very Bat-like. Sokuuf had heard rumors, whispered to her, of other vigilantes, but she had assumed that they were all simply that: rumors. But now she couldn't stand idly by. Her original plan may have been destroyed by this person's heroics, but she could adapt to the new situation.
With a deep breath, Sokuuf rose silently into the air, eyes and tattoos glowing as the water lifted her up into the shadows on the boat, obscuring her from the armed men's view. The glow faded as she landed gracefully on the deck, but by that time she had already started forward, in search for a better view, her cloak billowing behind her.
Sokuuf'oren quickly stopped as a coppery smell hit her nose, despite being diluted by rain. She ducked behind a few crates as she heard people approaching, her eyes fixed to the corner where someone was destined to turn and see her. Barely, she could see another shadowed figure moving off the boat. Her jaw clenched as she stood slowly, peering at the men who had gathered around a dead body. The shadow had killed him.
Sokuuf turned away from the sight and made her way to the other side of the boat. Before her was a guard, weapon pointed into the shadows around.
"Where ARE YOU?" The man yelled, frantically turning every which way. Finally his gaze landed on her, causing him to point the gun at her chest.
"Lower your weapon, sir," Sokuuf'oren told him gently. "I do not wish to harm you."
"What the-?" Sokuuf sighed as she removed her trident from her back and swung it, the light blow connecting with the startled man's head. He crumpled to the ground, allowing Sokuuf to kneel down and check to make sure his heart was beating. She straightened, frowning at him.
"Of course, I cannot have you give away my position if you are doing illegal activities. I am sure you understand." With that Sokuuf started forward, trident in hand, intent on finding the next armed guard.
|
|
|
|
Post by Matt Davis on Dec 31, 2013 2:59:19 GMT
Pursuer watched as a nearly imperceptible shadow quickly dispatched the second gunman, leaving a pool of blood behind. A lump of anger expanded in Matt's throat. Someone had just taken an innocent man's life with brutal efficiency. That individual would not get away. Pursuer scanned the docks for any movement or silhouettes, to no avail. The shadowy figure had vanished, leaving no evident trail behind. This guy - whoever he was - had to be good. Only a highly trained individual could have taken to the darkness that quickly. Pursuer waited, watching as a thug on the boat screamed in a moment of desperation and fear. He then saw the thug fall to the ground quite roughly. Matt could perceive a faint silhouette crouch next to the unconscious goon. The individual seemed to be holding something, a weapon of some sort. A staff, perhaps? He squinted, but still couldn't make out anything more than that.
Pursuer then dropped into a crouch and fluidly moved through the shadows, dispatching a thug with a spinning kick as he did so. Other thugs turned towards the shadows in surprise, obviously thinking that someone had gotten the jump on them. Pursuer narrowed his eyes and decided to end the theatrics. It was time to take these guys out for good. The hero rolled out into the light and drew his steel katanas in a single motion. He drove one katana through a thug's AK-47, rendering it useless. He used his other hand to spin the other katana in a circle, causing the thugs to step back. The element of surprise would only last so long, though. He needed to act before these goons could react.
Matt had no fancy gadgets, no weapons other than his katanas and his fists to do the job. He would have to be crafty. The vigilante sheathed his katanas and knocked out two of the thugs by knocking their heads together. He then leg-swept another one before backing away into the shadows again. Gunmen fired at his position, bullets penetrating the metal inches away from his head. Pursuer then took cover behind a metal shipping container.
He would wait for the other individual to show up. He wasn't sure whether or not the two guards that were taken out were neutralized by a single person, or two separate entities, actually...Only time would tell. And with all the chaos the gunmen were causing, someone would surely show up.
|
|
