We Are Watching

April 12, 2016:

A disturbance in Metropolis brings out some heavy hitters … and spiderman



NPCs: None.



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Metropolis' Park Ridge is an old neighborhood but in the good way that some places, mostly on the east coast and a few mid western cities, are 'old'. Well kept, beloved by their inhabitents, people with long memories, deep historical ties, and a love of things long past and the hopeful futures they stood for. In Metropolis is this more true then in most other towns. Here the hope remains strong, powerful. "I hate Metropolis." Slade says into his coms as he crouches low, his staff extended to it's full length, gauntleted hands sliding slowly down the shaft in preperation. The living room area at 1414 Hampton Ave. is larger then most of the brownstone like houses in this area likely have, and when he entered it, it was empty and dark. Now it is neither of those things. Men and women seemingly melting from the shadows now surround him, the four women, dressed in street clothes, hold spears and bristle with bladed weaponry, a single glance tells him they know how to use them well. One of the men is floating 6 inches off of the ground and his fists and eyes are glowing of their own accord, and one appears to be a scrawny 13 year old boy with a pair of thick rimmed Buddy Holly glasses on and he's wearing a Stooges t-shirt. "Like the shirt." he says, this time aloud, his distorted voice cutting through the silence in the room. "Iggy's a legend." he nods at the boy who merely shrugs, "I just really like Down the Street." the kid responds, to which Slade nods approval. "Don't suppose this is the sort of thing we could discuss?" he asks curiously, slowly shifting his weight, his fingers continueing their slow shift on the staff's length. The floating man shrugs, "Another time. You know how it is Soldier Boy. Orders." he grins.

Metropolis loves it's history, it's a shame that today will open up with the loss of a portion of it. Even as the blast of power hammers into Deathstroke's chest, firing him like a cannon ball through the two interior brick walls of the three story brownstone, he flicks the power on his staff and a blast of energy takes one of the blade carrying women full in stomach, sending her hurteling backwards through a wall of her own. He finds himself airbourne three stories up and still being pushed by the power eminating from the floating man's hands, the force dies away however a fraction of a second before he smashes into the building opposite, hsi back slamming into the place where brick wall meets rooftop with a sickening crunch of masonry. Perhaps the only good news is that it crumpled enough to leave him wedged in there and he didn't then plumet another 3-4 stories back down to the sidewalk below. "Ugh." he mutters into his helmet, grinding his teeth and doing a quick check. That… that /hurt/. His lips peel back from pink teeth and he reaches out with a hand, placing it on the shingled roof and pushing, breaking some of the brick away. Good. He wants the pain today. Atonement without suffering is useless.

It's not Manhattan, but Metropolis does have a charm about it. Plenty of tall buildings, some spaced a little too far apart for Spider-Man's taste, but he could learn to live with it, if he had to. Fortunately, he's only visiting. And Peter Parker never passes up an opportunity to travel. He doesn't earn enough to travel on his own dime, so these rare opportunities when the Bugle actually sends him are to be cherished. Especially with the way digital photography is going these days. He's already attended the event, got his photos, E-Mailed them, and rather than wander the streets, he's donned his costume and taken to the skies.

After a bit of webslinging, which has taken more of a toll on him than usual. The building's are too far apart, it's thrown him off his game, so he takes a moment to rest up on an outcropping. He sits there, legs dangling off the edge of the trapezoid shaped outcropping, which has an eagle-like beak at the end, and it seems to be holding some kind of a pearl, not that Spider-Man can see it. It was probably put there decades ago. Could be valueable too. But alas, the old spider sense doesn't work that way. He remains oblivious to the opportunity, but does catch the danger. He looks towards the dislodged masonry, "it's a little late for construction, and I forgot my hardhat. I'm sure someone will have one I can borrow." And with a quick thwip of his wrists, a webline is shot out and he's on his way.

Metropolis is not in Fenris' usual line. But it is in his hunting grounds and so he appears. He's not doing anything but looking at the moment. He doesn't look like much either, but he feels like something. Something predatory and vaguely angry. Of course he simply looks like a man in a light spring coat with an oaken rod in his hand.

The tall, lean, strawberry blonde woman who appears just behind Fenris exudes a similar aura. Dressed in jeans, hikers and long tunic top, Astryd's grey eyes take in the scene. Where Fenris is vaguely angry, there's almost a prenatural calmness to the woman "Well, God-Wolf, this should be fun…"

Deathstroke pries the corner of the brick away from his waist where it's pinning him in place and then plants the end of the staff against the roof behind, "Let the games begin." he says conversationally to no one as he coils his legs beneath him. From the Slade shaped hole in the building almost a half dozen people pour free, one glowy man all golden energy pulsing around his extremeties, two heavily armed women leaping from the hole and absorbing a 3 story drop like it was nothing while two others literally skitter out of the hole along the side of the building as if they were intent on straight up stealing Spider-Man's schtick, and lastly what appears to be a young boy standing in the center of the hole, staring out at the street with a look of intense focus, his skinny arms crossed over his punk rock shirt as he rocks back and forth on his heels.

Deathstroke leaps and fires the staff at the same time, the added thrust sending him vaulting through the air. His back arches and he twists in a move that's shockingly graceful for a guy wearing what must be over 100 lbs in armor alone, and the blasts from Captain Glowstick sizzle the air beneath the mercenary, missing him by scant inches. The staff on the other hand does not miss the glowing man, it's metal end clanging off of the flying man's knee. A hand snaps outward from the assassin and there's a whirling glitter in the air, one of the women clinging to the wall by her hands whips out a long thing bladed straight sword and expertly twists it, sparks fly from it's length as she deflects the incoming throwing knives with realative ease. "Huh." Slade says as he leads with his feet, landing atop someone's Prius hard enough to crumple it's roof in deeply. He absorbs the landing and rolls to the side only a split second ahead of the blast of energy that turns the car into a fireball. For a big guy he's /really/ fast, but it's just as clear these people are no joke. One of the women seems to still be smoking from her midsection where blistered and burned skin can be seen throuh the charred remains of a now midrif baring t-shirt.

How does Spider-Man convey so much emotion through a mask? He should really patent it and licence it. Even in a toy store, it'd probably be worth something. But for now, it's a trade secret. His big white eyes seem to grow in size, and show off surprise. "There's something you don't see everyday." It's not clear what he's talking about, be it the people coming out of the whole, the guy landing on that poor Prius, or any of the other activities, but he'll soon join them as he webs down, letting go of his webline, somersaulting, and landing atop an Elantra. And for the record, there's not a scratch on it. Certainly none that weren't there before he landed. "Hey Deadpool, why the pallet change? It's not talk like a pirate day, is it? Because I've been watching a lot of Black Sails lately and they don't talk the way I thought pirates were supposed to talk. There aren't even any pirates. And nobody's had to walk the plank. Is it just me, or are we being cheated out of our cliches?"

"Annnnnd now they're misbehaving." Fenris sighs. The rod snaps up and the winds begins to whip around the God-Wolf. It's a whirl wind. A whirl wind in the middle of Metro out of clear skies. The ancient hunter pauses to see who he thinks deserves it more…

And then sends it into Deathstroke's enemies. Did he flip a coin? Did he somehow know what was going on? Did he decide he just didn't like the way those non Spiderman wall crawlers look? Who knows. But he's picked a side.

"So I see." Astryd eyes the mayhem and shakes her head, giant grey/black wings appearing on her back. "Chosen a side, God-Wolf?" her words sound so mild as the torc she removes from her throat, transform into a spear and a small round shield appears on her left wrist. "Well, let me see if I can escort some of these …. else where." probably not Valhalla.

Rising into the air, she sets her course, straight for the group of the women bristling with weapons.

Deathstroke lands in the roll, seeming to use the power of the Prius' explostion to force his roll further along sending him tossing across the pavement. At first it looks like he's been sent sprawling haphazardly, but at the last second, just as the two women on the walls leap down, pointy ended weapons leading the way, the staff once more fires into the ground and sends the armored merc flipping up into the air where he meets the two dropping women in a blurring flurry of steel and sparks. The trio lands opposite one another with the armored man snapping his staff up into a guard form against the other two women just as they charge in, working as a remarkable team, attacking in perfect form and keeping the man locked in a blistering defensive and breathtaking battle. The two women that fell from the sky roll to their feet behind him, one grunting and collapsing back down, a look at her leg shows a knife nearly seven inches long sticking through the muscle of her calf. A serrated knife. When it got there is anyone's guess. She growls and reaches down, working at the blade with her fingers trying to find a way to remove it, teeth bared in pain. Her partener lunges at the trio fighting in the street, a pair of whirling swords leading the battle. Did someone just call him Deadpool?!? Suddenly his fighting becomes fevered.

Captain Glowstick watches from on high, his body tilted slightly to the side, holding the side of his knee, his face an angry mask of pain. He sees the trio of women engage Deathstroke and grins maliciously before raising both his hands towards the man… right before his shot goes harmlessly off into the sky as a gust of powerful wind sends him ass over teakettle through the air, tumbling our of control for a hundred feet or more before he rights himself and turns his glowing gaze back down onto the street level. He appears nothing if not brighter.

The woman with the twirling twin swords turns at the last second, just before Astryd's charge would lead her into the group, and focuses down on her. Hard. The swords land on shield with super human strength and the way the woman moves is preternaturally graceful. No one but no one in this fight is baseline human. Not even close. Sparks fly from Deathstroke's armor as a snaking spear tip slips past his defences and a small spray of blood splatters across Astryd's cheek. The mercenary doesn't make a sound when the wound comes, merely adjusts his defense accordingly.

"Oh. These assholes. Astryd. With me." Whomever these people are, Fenris clearly doesn't approve of them. He also got incredibly more serious because he's not just hurling wind at people now. He doesn't even mess around with going for his sword. No, perhaps a bit to Slade's surprise it's a black wolf the size of a Bradley that bonds in right at 'Captain Glowstick' with a leap that'd do pretty much anything with leaping ambitions proud. He still hasn't really realized who Slade is. The man isn't on his radar. These guys though… or, something about them…

Leaving Astryd to fend for herself, Fenris snaps with jaws that can crush steel like rice paper.

The woman may be fast but so is Astryd and she's been trained to this from … the crib. "You know them, God-Wolf?" she pants slightly as she parries blows, swinging her spear trying to knock the swords clear, even as she kicks out with a booted foot.

Not noticing the spatter of blood from Deathstroke, the Valkyrie moves… almost poetry in motion… using her wings as weapons as well.

The thing about open bitey maws is that they make great big targets. Glowstick hurteling back into the battle thrusts his firsts forward and roars his defiance as he suddenly brightens to blinding levels of lumens and unleashes a torrent of energized particles straight into Fenris's jaws as he bravely flies into them with the apparent intention of flying /through/ the wolf like a glowey bullet.

The woman facing off against Astryd clearly knows her stuff as well, and she's well versed, unlike most people, in defending against a spear. As Astryd closes the distance to get a kick in, the woman rolls in even tighter, ducking under the length of the spear and using a drum roll of sword strikes to push it higher over her shoulder while her body rolls over Astryd's leg, allowing her to duck in close enough to drive an elbow up towards the woman's throat in a vicious lethal strike. The only that that saves the warrior from the skilled attack is the woman's unfamiliarity with wing combat, the hard bridge of the wing snapping down across the assassin's shoulder, turning a lethal neck blow into a bruising strike to Astryd's shoulder instead, and sending the woman bouncing away across the pavement, one of her swords skittering off over the asphault. She climbs back to her feet and grins a feral pink toothed smile at the spear wielding and lunges forward again, pulling a heavy fighting dagger from a sheath on her back to help her in her attempts at closing the fight back in tight.

Deathstroke on the other hand is not faring so well against the two women, they're no match for him alone, that's made clear enough, but the perfect unison in which they work as a team and possessing strength and speed equal to his own is taking it's toll. Blood leakes from a pair of small creases in his armor where snaking blades have found chinks, while other bits of armor show wear from blocking the razored edges of the swords. The women constantly circle, improving their angles and footing, and they're very good at using Slade's blind side against him, which is impressive as it is almost never a weakness for him. When one of the women manages to snake a sword under his helmet's lip and leave him a cut along his jaw he growls and flurries the staff in a tight circle, buying himself a fraction of a second of space, "I'm done playing." and his hand comes up from his hip with a machine pistol. The gun makes a burping sound and one of the women, the one making a quick lunge for him simply lands at his feet, the majority of her face simply gone, hammered to pulp by the sudden expenditure of rounds. A normal person wouldn't even have a face anymore, which means these ladies are tougher then they appear. The remaining woman screams in rage and pounces at him, forcing him to throw the smoking gun at her face to buy himself the time to roll to the side and reset his staff defence.

This… is going to be interesting.

Fenris is not invulnerable and the burn and sting and pain of the energy bolts against him reminds him of that. He's been hurt badly enough to be forced to regenerate in the past. It's debilitating and quite painful. So no, this God-Wolf isn't immortal in that sense.

He is not, however, an ordinary wolf, even an ordinary giant wolf and the interior of his biology is, should Glowstick Man attempt it, bewildering at best and likely quite hostile. The attack he's just taken would have killed anyone else he knows save perhaps his own fellow Asgardians and certainly he finds it rather unpleasant, but still as the man darts toward him he brings his paws up to trap and simply bites.

"Oooofff…" Astryd is sent skittering, landing hard on the concrete. Pulling herself to her feet she squares off against the woman again. That last attack had hurt and it's likely going to bruise … fortunately she's tough.

At the feral grin from the woman, Astryd … growls. She's going to stop pulling her punches. Rising into the air, wings beating down strongly, a fog starts to creep up around the Amazonian-knockoff … and then she dives, holding the spear at an angle … aiming to drive it into the woman and stop her.

Glowstick, or whatever his name is, reaches up to try to fend the paws off, but strength isn't one of his gifts and his arms quickly become entangled with the wolf's limbs. But he has other gifts. As the jaws snap forward power surges from the glowing man's eyes and mouth, blasting outward straight into the open maw until there's a sickening crunch of flesh and bone and the screams of defiance silence once and for all. The pair, wolf and glowing man, tumble from the sky, the glowing man's torso, now the tallest part of his body, falls free, the light flickering and fading from him before he hits the pavement with a wet splat.

The woman is only caught off guard by the sudden fog for a second, then she's rolling to one side, assuming the next attack would come from on high. With big ol' wings it's not hard to suss out one's likely tactic. She's only /just/ not fast enough to avoid the strike in it's entirety and the spear sinks into the meet of her backside and crunches into the street with a heavy sound. The woman screams as she's pinned in place by the spear, and her arm flashes out over her head, sending that heavy fighting dagger hurteling at the flying warrior's face.

The single remaining opponent Deathstroke faces spins on him, her eyes narrowing in hatred and rage, and her spear whirls around, the point flicking out in repeated jabs at his body, which he seems to deflect with a minimum expenditure of effort. "I offered to talk this out." he points out to the woman, "But no. You had orders." his staff spins a tight circle, pushing the spear tip down and he lashes out with a foot, slamming it down atop the spears shaft and shattering it a full two feet from the back of it's dangerous end. The woman pulls back a much shorter broken stick and tosses it aside, opting for her swords, "That's why I don't take orders from anyone anymore. Never know the whole story that way." the woman merely snarls, "Then you are a warrior without purpose, without code. You are renegade like a mad dog." Slade just grins behind his mask, "No. Now I merely choose my own purpose," the woman lunghes while he talks and he raises a forearm to swat her blade to one side while the other is deflected by the the edge of his staff. He slams his helmeted head forward, crushing her nose across her face and causing her to stumble back. A spinning leg sweep drops her to the ground before she can recover and the butt end of his staff slams down on her cheek as his foot comes to rest on her chest, pinning her in place, "and my own code." he states before the staff lights up and a the area around him is suddenly full of the smell of cooking flesh. When he looks up he's standing over a headless corpse with a cuaterized neck wound.

Fenris hits the ground heavily. He's not out of the fight by a long shot (though he's hurt) but he's feeling the edge of his mantle call to him. The power of the Destroyer Wolf. That he definitely does not want to come into play here or there won't be a city left when he's finished. Instead he pants and watches, growling to see how things turn out with his companion and the strange orange and black suited man as he tamps down on that power and temptation. Not today. Not today.

Astryd chides herself mentally as she nearly misses. She's grown sloppy being here on Midgard so long with only dwarves and frost and fire giants for practice.

As her spear bites deep and the dagger flies, one grey/black wing wraps around acting as a shield … the dagger bites deep, embedding itself in the spines. The Valkyrie doesn't cry out though, simply snarls at her captive as she places a booted foot on the womans throat. "Yield."

The pinned woman grins up at Astryd, blood pooling around her pinned hip, "You first." She growls out as Astryd feels cold steel slide up under her chin and an arm snake it's way around the base of one of her wings, pinning it at an angle that makes flying impossible. "You are good." hisses the woman who until a few moments ago was out of the fight with a large knife through her calf, "We're better." she says, the knife is sharp enough and made of something tough enough, that Astryd can feel it part her skin just a little bit, a single drop of blood running down her throat, "Now release my sis-" the words are cut off in a gurgle as the woman goes instantly still and then slides from the winged warrior's back, limply. Deathstroke lets the woman slide off the blade that severed her brainstem with a sickening sucking noise, "I'm the best." he informs the corpse as she slides to the ground. The woman under Astryd's boot screams and begins to thrash, apparently no longer feeling the pain from the pinning spear as she pulls a pair of small slender blades from her boots and tries to lash out at Astryd's pinning leg, going for crippling tendon strikes with alarming precision.

Fenris's landing does a number on the sidewalk, which is all crackly now with impact marks. This is not a good day for the Metropolis Historical Society's balance sheet.

Fenris gathers power around him, green and glowing, looking at… well looking at everyone like they're pieces of meat. That power stills for one perfect moment and then lashes out raw and terrible at everyone in front of him that isn't Slade or Astryd. God-Wolf is done playing now.

Astryd grunts as the second blade is driven into her wings. That's twice … and the Valkyrie is annoyed. She can feel the warmth of the blood as it runs down her throat. She's not concerned though, she'll heal.

Expecting retaliation from the woman on the ground, Astryds shield crashes down on those blades, hitting a wrist as she does. Hopefully it breaks… badly.

And … then there's the God-Wolfs power.

Wings hanging limply, she can't furl them so they'll disappear, the strawberry blonde pants a little before raising her eyes to Fenris. "Destroyer?" and then to Slade "My thanks."r

Deathstroke moves the instant the energy comes up, flowing over and past him, the staff whirling in a circle and it's ends glowing to life as he turns to face the new potential threat… which… doesn't appear to be… hurting him. Huh.

The shield slams down, snapping the woman's wrist cleanly and she cries out, lashing up with the other blade, trying to drive it into the arm holding the shield. Say what you want, there's no quit in these women. Then the wolf's power washes over her and she screams, her body jerking once, twice, and then flopping limply in the breeze as bloody tears leak up from her eyes and run upwards over her scalp in reverse mockery of more ordinary tears.

Then the power passes and there's silence on the street, corpses literal the ground, most of them missing their faces in one form or another, one a look of horror and rage locked onto her bloody eyed features, her body broken and pinned beneath old weapons from older warriors. He eyes the Valkyrie evenly, the gaze is flat and assessing and after a moment he nods once, the orange and black deathshead bobbing facelessly in acknowledgement of the thanks. Should she try, should she be looking for it, she'll sense it quickly. This man is all but beyond her reach. Death hangs on him like a cloak, a cloud that follows him where ever he goes, but it does not touch him. It … cannot touch him. If he is not one of the immortals, he's the very next best thing and there isn't a hint of magic on or in him.

The helmeted gaze then turns up back towards the open hole in the building and the little scrawny boy that remains there, watching through the thick rimmed glasses, "That was… impressive." he says, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. "I think we would have had you had you not found allies." he looks back and forth between the two mystical beings, "Allies who's presense has been noted and, frankly, is curiously vexxing. Higher war has come to this world and you choose to do battle with it's champions." the boy shakes his head, "Him," he motions to Slade with a wave of his hand, "I understand. He is a man of complexity looking for simplicity, for answers to questions he can't help but ask. But you two… We expected better."

"I live here. Plus this is my backyard." Almost literally. The tri-city corridor isn't a small amount of land and Fenris allows (partly out of necessity) a great deal to happen in it but when you get right down to it so far as he's concerned it's his. His little corner of the universe, at least for now. "It seemed more effective than shaking a stick and shouting 'get off my lawn'."

Astryd does check… a look of sorrow on her face. Letting her magic snake out, portals open … and the spirits of the fallen are drawn towards them. They will find whatever rest they can through them. "Be well, Sisters." a fitting benediction "You were worthy opponents."

Slade gets a curious look but she wasn't looking for him. That death surrounds him and he is untouchable, is … curious.

The bespectacled boy gets a snort from the woman "Who is /we/, child … And you really should have done your homework better." Maybe she could be forgiven, she's in pain.

Looking to Slade, the Valkyrie inclines her head "I am Astryd. And you are ….?"

The boy shrugs, "We were here first." he says simply to the wolf, "Everything was ours before it was yours. You claim what you have no right to." he pushes his glasses back up on his nose, "But you suit our purpose so we do not remove you from the board. All," his gaze tracks from one to the next, "of you suit out purpose. Whether you know it or not. Only one of you," the gaze locks on Deathstroke, "is actively seeking to remove purpose from his exsistence. Why? Why will you simply not do what comes natural? Why will you not discover the threats that populate your world, why will you not merely erradicate them? You are the most efficient weapon of an entire generation, and yet you buck against a guiding hand that would only point you towards what you wish to do anyway. It… isn't logical." the kid sounds honestly confused by all of this.

Deathstroke stares up at the kid, the blood that was leaking through his armor has stopped leaking, which means the wounds have clotted or they're just filling the armor like a wet suit. Disturbing either way you look at it. "I've been used by others in the past. I'm no one's weapon but my own." his voice is firm in this. The boy stares curiously for a long while, then sighs, "A weapon is only as good as the hand that wields it and no weapon can carry itself. You are a soldier without an army, a warrior without a mission. We offer both to you and you rail against it. We don't understand you, your /need/ for control when we offer purpose in it's place. You are counter to everything we understand of your kind, and yet you embody the nobility we so admire. Contradiction in form."

Astryd earns a glance from the boy, "We know of you Valkyrie, all about your kind. You do not even know our name. You are so limited in your understanding of the grander reality, closing yourselves off in your golden city with your petty squabbles. Nine realms." the boy seems insulted, "Small minds." and then he's reaching up to touch his ear, "My time here is done, I am recalled to serve elsewhere. We will meet again soldier, for your sake I hope it is not in battle. Impressive as you are, you've no idea the forces you toy with, and you are just to /useful/ to be cast aside. Becareful you and your team do not tip the balance from minor annoyance to actual threat. You would not like our responce."

The boy seems to flicker once, twice, and then he's gone, just in time for a bullet from a large handcannon pistol to pass through the air that once held the bridge of the boy's nose, the smoking weapon held in Deathstroke's hand. "Dammit." he mutters softly, shoving the weapon back into it's holster with an angry motion.

Fenris snorts which rather eloquently conveys his feelings about that. The large wolf turns into a lean faced man who puts his (oaken) rod away and makes sure his shirt and coat are in order. "Well fought." He presumes Deathstroke will speak up if he wants to say something but this man seems rather laconic and it's possible he just wants to be on this way.

That being the case, Fenris will be on his.

Astryds wings can't furl and she limps to the God-Wolf's side, fatigued and in extreme pain. Not that it shows. The hard, lean, planes to her face … just more so.

Ignoring the boy as he fades, she looks towards Deathstroke "Shoot faster next time." Then to Fenris "We are done. Let's depart."

Deathstroke turns to eye the wolf and offers his own nod of acknowledgement to the … animal man thing. He dosn't respond in kind, but it's not like Fenris isn't aware of how stoicism works. The staff in Deathstroke's hand snikts down to a smaller size and he snaps it into place over one of his shoulders, opposite the hilt of an impressively sized sword he never drew during the fight, "Deathstroke." he says through the mask's vocal distortions, offering the name to Astryd who asked earlier. Then he nods again, "Plan on it… unless he feels like monologuing more." there's faint amusement in his tone, as if he enjoyed listening to the boy talk, was gleaning something from it. He doesn't thank them, because clearly that's not who he is, but neither does he attack them. As they go their way, he turns his back and takes off at a run in another direction, covering ground at a fairly decent speed for a biped.

He hits his coms, "Peabody," he says softly into the mic, "I figured out what those coordinates were in the Searchers Inc files. Cell locations. I think we have the locations of some of those cells Lux was telling us about. We need to begin heavy surviellence and a few field missions. I think we're about to be pulled into something big and I don't know about you, but I'm done being someone's pawn." there's a short pause before a grinning responce carries over the commsn, <Yes, sir.>

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