Epoch: Chosen (IC-THREAD)

[Verg Avesta]

Cade Crescent - Tachyon
2nd Avenue, Near 70th Street, Upper East Side, Manhattan
Abandoned Warehouse
6:50 PM

"Oh this is just great, isn' it?" Tachyon muttered to himself as he softly touched the TACHYONs at his shins, making them hum. "Not only are they cultists, but they're cultists so bad they cannot afford a proper set and props? Why do I always have to deal with third-rate villains and crooks..."

His grumbling wasn't, of course, completely honest. He was more than happy to beat up a bunch of purse-snatchers or swoop in to apprehend a car-thief. The sort of thing that could be done in a couple of hours so he wouldn't miss his latest talk-show appearance or a dinner with this month's cover girl. Even if he did all this "heroic" stuff, he was still a man with a life of his own. And he was quite popular, so he had many obligations to fulfill.

Crime-fighting was just one of them.

"METIS, could you cancel my appointment with that reporter this evening? Just to be sure," Tachyon softly said, careful not to alert the cultists to his presence. At the same time, he softly clasped the TALONs at his wrists together, making them hum. "If these guys scatter to four winds, it's going to be a pain in the ass to hunt them all down."

"Done. I have informed him that you have stated you never want to see his ugly face within three feet of you," METIS stated matter-of-factly. "Should I also cancel your appointment with Miss Wayland?"

"No, let that--"

"I already have," METIS informed him, sounding almost like she was gaining some sort of enjoyment out of this. As she most likely was.

"Goddammit. Now I have to... *sigh* Never mind, I can't stay too mad at you, babe," Tachyon said and chuckled, which made METIS emit an electronic groan. If she had had eyeballs, she would have rolled them all around the sky. "But... let's focus on important stuff first... like these idiots!"

Slashing his hands from up to down like a swooping hawk strikes with its wings, Tachyon let all the energy gathered by the TALONs in his arms out in two waves of sharp, fast wind. It shot downwards, towards the cultists in a whirlwind of air, ripping apart cables jutting from the ceiling with its sharpness. However, the wind was not meant to take down the cultists themselves. It wouldn't have enough power to do so for all of them. Well, maybe few of them would trip because of it and hit their heads, but that all depended on his luck.

Tachyon grinned at the thought.

No, what was the true aim of his released pressure-air blades was the crudely drawn circle at the center of the room. When the air hit the dead center of it, the two blades dispersed in a ball of pressurized air that expanded everywhere, sending the items flying about the room, thus disrupting this strange party of the robed fellows. In other words, the aim of this attack was to catch the attention of the cultists by completely screwing up their little shindig.

What followed was the real attack.

Jumping backwards on a sort of moonsault, Tachyon activated the TALONs at his shins, spinning around and launching the air blades from them when his feet had reached their apex above him. The well-aimed attack was sent streaking across the ceiling, aimed at large enough area as possible. The aim of those projectiles? It was very simple: destroy all the lights (the few what remained in this decrepit place) illuminating the warehouse, or at least this area. The ominous darkness may had been approaching thanks to the ritual, but with the lights gone, the friend of all people who preferred sneakiness took over.

In other words, while the cultists were still in shock from the disruption of their ritual, the warehouse was plunged into utter blackness.

All this in span of just three seconds.

Tachyon grinned as he landed on a lower level of his vantage point, on top of the various large boxes that had been gathered in the room.

"Good evening. I hope I'm not interrupting anything here, gentlemen?" Tachyon asked with a slightly loud voice, before moving to the side. The darkness might have masked his location, but the cultists could still find him by his voice.

It was time for heroism.