Epoch: Chosen (IC-THREAD)

[Mormarth]

Remember your childhood? Dreams, Hopes, Aspirations of days gone by.

We all had some, didn’t we? To be a Doctor, an Astronaut, a famous athlete, Fame, Fortune, to be that Hero. And you looked up at those images of greatness, and you didn’t want to BE them.

You wanted to be Better.

The Cure for Cancer, the first Man on Mars, to become the Best, to have everyone know your name, to come home to your gold-plated mansion and swim in your pool made of money, to save the princess, get a kiss, and win honor and glory from all the land.

But in time, they grew tiresome, you grew up, and came to terms with why you couldn’t do these things, maybe you didn’t have the drive, the ability, the body, the determination, the money, the good fortune, and you became content with your lot in life, wake up, go to work, come home, eat, dinner.

A life without substance, mediocrity, sounds pretty lame, doesn’t it?

But some people can’t, or won’t let go of those dreams of theirs, they try, with all of their might, to achieve, pushing, further and further, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll reach that pinnacle of greatness, they are the fortunate, born to greatness.

But, what would it be like if you got another shot at those dreams, Champ? To win some kind of Cosmic Lottery or something, and get one last chance for Greatness.

Well, look alive, sport. For while some people are born to Greatness....

Others, are CHOSEN.

Cade Crescent - Tachyon
2nd Avenue, Near 70th Street, Upper East Side, Manhattan
6:45 PM

It’s quitting time for most folks in the Big Apple, and all around you spot taxis, bikes, upscale cars and the occasional Armani-clad business-person on their way back to their dens of choice. Fewer than you’d expect to see in the summer, due to the snow falling gently from the heavens.

Of course, corporate workers aren’t the only soulless denizens walking the soon-to-be cold night. You’ve heard rumors floating around about some wacko culti- excuse me, Alternative Religious folks planning some sort of illicit gatherings, of course, it’s probably nothing. You’re far more interested in the “heinous acts” these nefarious evil-doers must surely be plotting!

For you are Tachyon! Hero of Justice and the Luckiest guy north of Vegas! Or perhaps the luckiest man ever! But you’re far too modest for such a grandiose title.

But I digress, you’ve spotted some “nefarious” gentlemen skulking, well, more like huddling, near a conveniently placed alleyway.

“Duuuh, what’s da meetin place for tonight, Jackie?” One of the evil-doers mumbles, strangely loud.

“I told ya ten freakin minutes ago, ya numbskull!” The other one hisses, bonking his (is it his?) compatriot on the head irritably. “An’ don’t call me Jackie! It’s LORD JAMES SATANUS THE MOST TERRIBLE.”

“Okay, Jackie.” The comically placid one nods, “So where is it?”

The MOST TERRIBLE grumbles for a moment and says, (strangely loudly, doesn’t anyone care?) “It’s THROUGH THESE ALLEYWAYS, in the WAREHOUSE ON 72ND AND PARK AVENUE, now c’mon, we’ve gotta be there quick, I’m freezing my ass off out here!”

Then they sidle off into the darkened alleyway, but as you begin your surveillance, you notice a phone booth, standing innocently in the evening air.

NO TIME FOR SERIOUSNESS, IT’S HERO TIME
============

Klara Grimaldi - Eldritch Girl
Grimaldi Brownstone, Carnegie Hill, Upper Manhattan

A bell rings gently.

You look up from your tomes of forbidden and mind-rending knowledge, just now coming to the realisation, that, yes, you were hungry.

You set down the tome and gently close it, careful not to rend the delicate skin-bindings. Blowing out the candles that “purify the air of discombobulating vapours”, you move with the grace and refinement that your privileged lineage allows you.

You’d just been up for a bit of light reading, but it seems you’ve wasted away almost the entire day. Nevertheless, your maidservants are unperturbed by your reclusive behavior, as it is quite ordinary. You settle down for a brief dinner, to focus your mind upon your goals for this eve.

Your.. cherished friend made snide hints at you about an upcoming event, one you’ve been eagerly awaiting since the moment your powers awoke within you.

And now it seems you’ve stumbled across a lead, by chance, a small gathering of worshipers has appeared in the area, they’re small, and apparently quite incompetent. But, your instincts whisper that something isn’t quite right, and so you’ve decided to go and investigate this group yourself.

According to one of your maids, who’d heard something of them in passing, they’re meeting in an abandoned building in the historic district, a former brownstone.

And so now you prepare for the investigation proper.

NO TIME FOR SAN LOSS, IT’S HERO TIME.
=========

Katie Tressler - Grab Bag
Cardboard “House”, Turtle Bay, Midtown Manhattan
9:28 PM

It’s cold.

You try and huddle in a bit further to the collection of blankets you’ve received from kind transients.

Like yourself.

But, still you’ve got a (fairly stable) roof over your head, and these boxes are pretty thick, I must say. Must be from that crazy cardboard box boom back during the Cold War.

You got a surprisingly good chicken dinner from one of the nearby hobos, apparently they’re all over the damn place, you just have to know where to look. Initially, you were quite disgusted, but it was good, like, REALLY GOOD. You gave some of your leftover salad to Terry, but you’re quite worried about him.

Can turtles live in this cold weather?

You’re shaken from your worried musings by some nearby shouts, you’ve spent long enough on the streets to know the way the shouting’s going, and this sounds pretty bad.

You want to go to sleep, just curl up in your blankets and tune it all out, but you can’t. So you slip into your “gear”, and slip out of your eco-friendly castle towards the disturbance.

What awaits you is a couple of rough-looking fellows trying to manhandle a young woman into the back of a truck!

As you reach for the FORBIDDEN NEXUS OF ALL LOST THINGS, SEEN AND UNSEEN.

Or just your backpack, whatever.

And you produce...

>99

A gleaming Louisville Slugger, smelling of warm grass, cheering crowds, and determination!

It glows with the faith of baseball fans worldwide! Kinda overkill for a couple of scrubs, but what can ya do?

NO TIME FOR WHINING, IT’S HERO TIME
==========

Erica Nyguen - Poison Dart
Katie’s Former Apartment, Turtle Bay, Midtown

You shiver in your apartment, and not from the cold. You’ve spent the last hour or so crying, but your sobs have tapered off into a sniffling gloom.

Why did you do it? Why did you abandon everything? Why did you run?

Why did you kill them?

These questions echo in your mind, like an endless loop, you eye the bathroom, longing for sweet release, and your arms throb.

You’re about to start crying again when you hear a noise, a scream in the night.

It’s coming from the alley straight down from your apartment window.

“GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY!”

You shift slightly, and rise up from your bed, looking towards the fire escape.

Of course, maybe you’d just make things worse, after all, nothing you’ve done has gone right, have they? Maybe you’ll jump down there and they’ll ship you off to some freakshow. Maybe she’ll scream about the murderer.

So you stand there for a moment, petrified, and find your eyes drifting towards the bathroom again...

“GET AWAY FROM MY BOY!”

Well, shit, now you’ve GOT to help them.

You turn abruptly, and spring for the window, opening the loose exit easily, and slipping silently to the fire escape.

You spot what is presumably the woman you heard, shielding what looks like a baby from some roider fucker, but she’s on a two-way alley, and a guy is sneaking up on her with a tire iron!

NO TIME FOR ANGST, IT’S HERO TIME!
===========

Martin Gladson - New York 505
SoHo, Lower Manhattan
11:45 PM

Man, what a day. Three meetings and a presentation, gah.. But hey, it’s the weekend, now you can kick back, listen to some tunes, and just chill for awhile. You flip on the radio and kick back, almost closing your eyes.

You rock about for a bit, careful not to spout off the lyrics too.. energetically, we don’t want the “War Pigs” incident to happen again, right?

You warm-up with some light exercise, getting ready to head out on the town.

Earlier this week, you overheard one of your fellows, er, “discussing” a new “doctor” in town. Supposedly his medicine is some sort of steroid, but the way he described it was... odd. He didn’t mention the exact location, but you managed to track down where the salesman was frequenting.

Looks like this is your chance for a good first impression to the NYPD, Mr. Gladson, a nice “victory” for the “War on Drugs”. You stretch for a moment, then cross the flat briskly towards the wardrobe, opening the false cover to reveal your (admitedly, somewhat gaudy) costu-, er, “disguise”.

Retrieving your belongings, and feeling somewhat giddy, you’re played out of your home by the fading sounds of your radio.

One day gonna make it to the Top!

NO TIME FOR CHILLING, IT’S (JUKEBOX) HERO TIME.
==========

Gabriel Gates - Mr. Fixit
Dark Basement Apartment, Flatiron District, Lower Manhattan

In a darkened room, lit only by a computer screen, you sit, arm cushioned softly on your imported “mousepad”, you scroll idly on the KUTE KLUTZY KAT-GIRL KARNIVAL forums, the signs of your passion for this most honored of animations clearly visible in your apartment.

It’s smaller than you’d like, true, but at least you’re out of your Mother’s basement, you’d never forgiven her for violating Nyanko-chan’s beautiful visage with rogue bleach “on accident”. You must’ve been so angry, with that scar running down the image.

Still, you managed to repair it with hours of loving work, quite a lofty accomplishment.

Suddenly, your scrolling ceases, bile gurgling, eye twitching, teeth gritting in righteous anger!

SOMEONE HAS DEFILED THE PURE ESSENCE OF NYANKO-TAN WITH AN UNJUST INSULT!

Your jimmies rustling furiously, you write your cunning retort to this infidel, picking out each and every point they’d made and rending it with your crusading fury. The tapping of keys like a rain of hail in the dark room. But as you are about to deliver your finishing blow...

The police radio you’d fixed up crackles to life, a tired young woman’s voice emerging.

“*krsh* Car 1146 reporting what looks like Public Intoxication, corner of 5th an’ 23rd, couple of jokers out for a quick high, looks like. Takin them in for th’ night, over.”

The radio trails off for a moment, the faint sounds of the car in the snowy streets in the background. A door opening and closing, what sounds like raised voices, heating quickly, you hear a loud swear in the background as something slams against the car. The radio crackles to life again, a different, slightly younger woman’s voice emerging, sounding badly frightened.

“C-Car 1146 again! Reporting Battery of an Officer! D-due to this, L-l-lethal force is authorized!”

The woman, no, the girl on the other end of the radio sounds like she’d hyperventilate within seconds, you rise up from your office chair and reach for your wrench.

NO TIME FOR E-RAEG, IT’S HERO TIME.

====================

Doug Wang - Dionysus
Your Apartment, Meatpacking District, Lower Manhattan
11:45 PM

Another day passes as you look at the ceiling of your bedroom in your cozy, one bedroom apartment. You contemplate the ceiling popcorn as today’s events zoom past in your head. Once more you found yourself under the merciless hazing of your classmates and senior co-workers. Their stares and whisperings of your awkwardness and weird aura. You had gotten used to such things, but that did not mean it did not affect you.

You take a deep breath as you try to fall asleep on your comfy bed, but to no avail. You feel a melancholic sorrow take over as a past memory claws its way out of your mind. You bury it but feel the helplessness you felt at that time.

Getting up from your mattress, you approach your closet and open it. Pushing aside all of your clothes you find a certain piece of clothing.

You feel a pang of sadness as you feel the latex material in your hands.

You had promised yourself to never wear this again.

You promised to never think of her again.

But every time you touch this, behind all the sadness and pain, you vaguely feel the warmth of her touch. The warm sighs and moans that escaped her lips as the both of you came together in bliss.

One night...what harm could that do?

--------------------------------------------------

The New York night air flows over your latex covered body as you step outside your window and onto the fire escape. You breath the air as if it were the first time in months you had been released from the dull, depressing life of Doug Wang.

The cold air fuels your hardiness as you nimbly swing down from the old fire escape into the alleyway with the aid of your ropes. With barely a sound, you touch down in the alleyway.

Without anytime to gain your bearings, you hear a scream of pain from behind you. You smile underneath your mask as you hurry toward the source. As you draw near you hear more yells and crashing and clanging. Whatever was causing it was making quite the mess; you could hardly contain your excitement.

Rounding the corner you see the perpetrator of the ruckus. Some homeless and random civilians were strewn about in various conditions and all down for the count. Trash cans and other debris littered the alleyway and the street it emptied into. And in the middle of the pile of trash and bodies was a young man holding up a badly beaten victim in his grasp. His eyes were bloodshot and some foam was gathering at the corner of his mouth. He was clearly out of his normal state of mind.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, ASSHOLE? HUH!? SAY SOMETHING!” The poor man in his grasp could only whimper and gesture in futile surrender.

Your heart fluttered at the sight. Maybe this man could be the one to fill the void? Only one way to find out~

No time for waiting, it’s Hero Time~ <3

[Bloble]

Gabriel Gates - Mr. Fixit
Dark Basement Apartment, Flatiron District, Lower Manhattan

It's hero time.

Gabe grinned. How long had it been since he'd gotten a chance like this? Someone to save, and a cute sounding girl at that! Yes, likely a rookie police officer by the sound of it, fresh from the academy and looking for the guiding hand of a seasoned hero to teach and guide her.

"Sorry Nyanko-tan, but a hero's work is never done." Although the words themselves were at least partly heroic, any sane person looking at Gabe's expression as he said them would have called the police to report someone who would definitely be a molester one day.

With a grunt of effort, Gabe rose from his seat and shuffled over to his closet. He threw on the nearest copy of his superhero costume. The brown shirt was slightly stained with grease from the previous night's pizza, and the goggles could've used a good dusting, but that was good enough for the lazy Mr. Fixit.

"Heh. Sounds like a bunch of punks." Gabe scooped up his wrench in one hand and an old keyboard missing a third of its keys in the other as he wedged open the window and struggled through, grunting like a hippo the entire time. He made his way down dank street, miraculously managing not to trip over himself on the way. As he ran, he nudged the useless keyboard with his wrench, making little changes here and there without even understanding how.

"Duty... *hah* calls." He said weakly.

A few hundred feet away, some no good looking drunk fellows were approaching a police cruiser, preparing to smash its windows open.

"HEY, DOUCHEBAGS!" Their heads turned as one, confused by the new voice.

"YEAH, YOU GUYS. I KNOW YOU'VE GOT AT LEAST ONE BRAIN CELL BETWEEN THE DOZEN OF YOU, SO CLEAN THE WAX OUTTA YOUR EARS AND LISTEN UP!" The voice, artificially amplified by a hastily constructed megaphone, rang in their ear drums, bringing annoyance but little else. Oh yeah, they'd be out for blood.

Mr. Fixit limped around the corner, his wrench tucked into his belt pocket and a lumpy shape in his hands. "You, *hah*, picked the wrong, *hah* neighborhood to mess with, punks." He gasped, sounding less heroic and more like someone who'd been forced to run more than they had in their entire life. "Now get outta here Mr. Fixit will 'fix' you until you can't move anymore!" He yelled with as much force as he could muster. He glanced at the police cruiser, and frowned when he couldn't make out the shape of the definitely cute girl officer who had called for help.

The drunkards looked at the greasy, chubby, man before them, clothed in ridiculous overalls and wearing goggles that looked like something out of a video game, and started laughing, a few approaching menacingly.

Mr. Fixit grinned, and presented the object in his hands.

The group of goons suddenly found themselves face to face with the barrel of what appeared to be a genuine P90.

"So tell me." Mr. Fixit said as he disengaged the gun's safety. "Do you feel lucky, punks?"

[Verg Avesta]

Cade Crescent - Tachyon
2nd Avenue, Near 70th Street, Upper East Side, Manhattan
6:45 PM

"*Sigh*"

Cade Crescent shook his head at the sight of the two idiots sneaking into the darkness of the ally. It looked like that what could have been a sort of interesting case had turned into nothing more than yet another disappointment. He never had any luck when it concerned this. Maybe he should just start searching for real criminals, like corrupted government officials or something.

"Might as well do it, though," Cade mumbled to himself.

With a nary care in the world, he strolled over to the phone box, before stepping inside. First of all, phone boxes were a rare sight in this day's New York, what with everyone already owning a cellphone. Second, finding one so conveniently placed was a definite plus. Thus, Cade could expect that it would not end there. Giving a slight smirk, Cade took off his jacket and shirt, revealing the blue costume hidden under it. Silver lines cut through the dark blue base of the costume that covered his whole body. It made his movement stuffy when all the normal clothing was worn over it, but that was the price he had to pay.

Taking a set of silver "wrist-guards" and "shin-guards" from the bag, Cade attached them to their proper places. Sliding his finger across the panel of one of the silver weapons on his wrist, he saw them slowly start humming, coming back to life. Energy-levels started to fluctuate and rise, indicating the amount of how much it could warp the particles it caught from around Cade. These were Tachyon Armament and Long-distance Orbital Neuron-armor, his pride and joy. The orange holographic screen jumped up momentarily, showing the statistics of the machines. Everything running A-OK. Last night's late testing had really done it, and now the performance rating was up by 7%.

Maybe one day he could finish this prototype.

Suddenly, a voice started talking in the phone-booth. And it wasn't Cade. No, this was a very uncanny, cold, female voice.

"TACHYON-equipment Initiated A.I. Morphing Grid activated. Calculating... Calculation complete. Ready to proceed with the mission," the voice spoke without a care. There was a slight pause, before it continued. "Good evening, master. Here are the test results for the evening: You are a horrible person. This is a fact, that is what we found out. It shall not have an impact on your ability to catch those two meat bags of questionable intelligence. But I simply thought I should inform you. You know. About that fact. The fact that you are a horrible person. And that you smell bad. Oops. That was an opinion, was it not?"

"You seem to be awfully cranky today, METIS. Did I fix your circuit-boards wrong last night?" Cade chuckled as he put on an orange visor that covered most of his face, and allowed him to view different aspects of what he saw, and their information.

"Go die," METIS answered with her unfeeling robotic voice. "Possibly on a shallow grave. So I can dig you up and remind myself that you truly are dead, if the need be."

Snickering to himself, Cade exited the phonebooth. Just like he had predicted, nobody had seen him switch his clothes or exit the thing. Keeping it up, he headed to the nearby alley that the goons had disappeared into. Allowing the equipment warm themselves up, he activated them in the straight run, taking a leap towards the fire-stairs that he could see close-by. There was a flash of orange light at the base of the silver things, and suddenly Cade zoomed through the street with an incredible speed. He caught hold of the fire-stairs, using the momentum to land on it. There was only few flights of stairs before the rooftop. Grinning to himself, Cade jumped to the side-rail, adjusted his vision so he could count the trajectory, and then jumped upwards, into a freefall.

The TACHYON hummed once more, and so Cade was shot straight to the rooftop, from where he could survey where the goons had gone. Walking up to the edge of the roof, he peered further into the alley, trying to find the two.

The superhero called Tachyon had finally arrived to the scene.

[Katie]

Katie Tressler - Grab Bag
Cardboard “House”, Turtle Bay, Midtown Manhattan
9:28 PM
Thoughts#SAVE THE TURTLES #BATTER UP BITCHES #Boxes are great #ALL AMERICAN HERO

"Terry, I'mma be back, just gotta clean up some thugs with this... wonderful thing." The turtle didn't even respond, a worrying sign. Quickly, she changed into her (retardedly poor) costume and escaped the Fortress of Boxitude, ready to take town chauvinist thugs in a split second.

She looked at the precious bat, and only two things came into mind; one, it was a shame to beat the fuck out of them with such a nice tool for America's pastime, and two, the person who lost this was a retard. Such a precious bat, that deserved to be loved and cherished and certainly not used for caving in skulls.

Racing outside, she grabbed her handy golf bag on the way, and the person known as Grab Bag was complete.

"Hey, you!" She yelled at the men trying to force the woman into the truck. What was it now? Prostitution, rape, something like that. They could at least come up with more creative plans, even if they were filthier than the hobos they shared the streets with. "I'm talkin' to you, dipshits."

Taunting always got people angry, and now that they had their attention on her, glorious Grab Bag of the people could now become the diplomat.

"You see this nice bat here? Leave the poor gal alone, and I won't crack your skulls open with a precious thing like this. Ignore me, and I promise I'll take away for your ability to have kids too, you hear me?" She slowly walked towards the group, waggling the bat in the air.

And as soon as they started to move towards her--

Well, the sound of air whooshing past the bat she was swinging said it all. She wasn't going to let those bastards get away scot-free, after all.

[Suncofold]

Erica Nguyen - Poison Dart
Katie’s Former Apartment, Turtle Bay, Midtown

I’ve stopped crying. For now. But I can’t banish my demons. Why did it have to be this way? Why was I such a coward?

They crawled beneath my skin: these questions I couldn’t answer. For everything I had gained on that fateful day, none of it had been worth the price. Mom...Dad... I hiccupped, fighting tears once again. I shouldn’t do it. I shouldn’t try again.

But despite all my self-hatred, I couldn’t stop my eyes from drifting towards the bathroom. It would be so easy. To fall into that darkness once again, to feel nothing but the pain. I would never have to think about it again. I could free myself.

Because I killed them. I killed them, and I ran. I killed them, I ran, and I left him behind.

“GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY!”

Dragging a fist across my eyes, I pushed myself up to sit on my legs, staring towards the apartment window. Should I?

...No, I shouldn’t. I’ll just make everything worse. Again. A freak like me can’t do anything right. Maybe they’ll shove me in some freakshow somewhere. Wouldn’t that just be a fucking laugh. Ladies and gentlemen, give a round of applause to Frog Girl.

Besides, who wants help from a murderer?

I found my attention wandering back to the bathroom. No one would miss me, right? My fingers drifted across my arm, feeling lines that I couldn’t see in the darkness. Not like the loss of a murderer would be a big blow to the world. Should I...?

“GET AWAY FROM MY BOY!”

Lucas. His face flashed before me - the sun-kissed hair that he got from Mom, the slim stature and angled eyes that he got from Dad...

Shit. I couldn’t let this go now. I shoved myself up before I could second-guess myself and slipped through the window. A woman is down there, with a baby cradled protectively in her arms. Some roider fucker is all pressed up against her, but what the woman can’t see is the second guy sneaking up behind her with a tire iron.

There wasn’t time for me to change. All I had was my sodden handkerchief, which I wrapped around the lower half of my face. And then, with nearly all my skin exposed save for a too-small t-shirt and panties, I leapt without hesitation from the fire escape.

Fuck, I was a stupid bitch sometimes.

A four-story fall was a long way to fall, but I landed easily on all fours behind the guy with the tire-iron. The stupid bastard didn’t even notice, too focused on the screaming woman and his own stealthiness to hear my, well, admittedly soft landing.

I tapped him on the shoulder, and when he bellowed in surprise and whirled, I gave him the biggest bitch-slap I could muster. “Nighty-night, bitch,” I said sweetly as he dropped like a rock.

I turned my attention to the roider fucker and yelled, “Back off and leave the woman alone! Or I’ll kill you just like your friend here!”

Guess I can add lying to my list of sins.

[Blackdeath6031]

Doug Wang - Dionysus
Outside Apartment, Meatpacking District, Lower Manhattan
12:00 PM

Lightly stepping toward the perpetrator, Dionysus scanned the scene, floating his finger effeminately as he sought the various crimes.
Hmmm...let's see...



"Guilty for...rough handling of the stage, multiple subs - and not too mention leaving them on the floor, oh my gawd, abandonment play as well as bad mouthing and downplaying? Ooh, what a bad, bad boy you are...!"

Finally reaching the man, he fluidly brought his finger and used it to circle the man's back.
"Look, hun. You've already had so many subs on you, surely you can take another, right...?"

Gliding the finger across his back and neck, Dionysus slowly hugged him from behind, before finally noticing that his hands were full.

"Aww...seems like you're busy right now, sir."
Letting out a disappointed sigh, the latex man lifted his arms and gave a peck on the man's cheek, moving swiftly enough to avoid been seen directly by him nor attacked until he had taken a few steps back.

"But I'll be waiting, okay? Just. For. You. <3"

After all, it had been awhile since Dionysus had witnessed a dom with such great potential...!

[SeiKeo]

Martin Gladson - New York 505
SoHo, Lower Manhattan
11:45 PM

It'd be ironic that a financier of all people was going to try and knock around a fancy designer drug designer, thought Martin as he made his way out of his apartment. After all, nearly every single one of the blockbuster trades he'd seen were made by someone juiced to the clouds on cocaine.

At least he could say he was blameless in that - blameless, and poorer for it, but what can you do? At least when the crash came - probably when the DEA finally got Columbia figured out - he'd be on the side of the 'good guys' instead of up against the wall.

Hopefully, at least. He doubted that dealing with fake roids would earn him much sympathy outside the gym clans, but, what the hell. He had nothing else to do, and it's always good to know what your colleagues are offering you. Save their ass, might get a few hundred thousand to play with for a week.

Martin stepped out into the cold night air, raising the collar of his large overcoat. He would have preferred to take the Maserati, but, a car like that wasn't precisely something that people expected to have drive into a back alley of Manhattan, nor one they'd forget. Whereas, a middle-aged man wandering into a druggie's alley? Probably just someone trying to impress the ladies with little effort. Martin would have resented the implication, but it would have been accurate. Whatever this roid was, it probably at least had a good base - and it's not like the police would know how much was lying around anyways...

About half an hour of walking brought him to the dark canyon where this doctor was supposed to be hanging out. It was just like all the poor alleys, really; scatterings of trash littered the ground, in and out of bags. Water and oil mixed in slicks on the ground, and a faint smell of damp old buildings permeated the area.

Walking into the alleyway, he fingered the vintage radio microphone in his pocket. No need to go knocking just yet, was his assessment. If this guy really was a dealer, he should be accustomed to people not needing to say hi. And if he wasn't, well - time to break out the metal.

[RacingeR]

Klara Grimaldi - Eldritch Girl
Grimaldi Brownstone, Carnegie Hill, Upper Manhattan

Klara couldn’t contain her giddiness anymore. She giggled freely as her maids worked in equipping her with her costume. Long, blonde hair dyed auburn, check. Extremely elaborate, heavy looking black gothing lolita dress, check. Black, featureless mask with eldritch symbols painted in gold, check.

Everything seemed perfect for her first day on the job. She exited her chambers, leaving behind the worried looking maids. She knew they did not approve of... well, a number of things, but she couldn’t give less of a fuck, and they were very loyal to her. No, they wouldn’t betray her. Even on last instance, they would fight for her.

Still, she disliked that they worried for her safety. As someone who had spent her entire life alone, the mere thought was... annoying. Klara could feel her good mood vanishing, and decided to stop dwelling on it.

“Ito!” She called, entering the big courtyard at one side of her mansion. Immediately, a ghastly sight materialized at her side. It was a big, semi-transparent creature, a blob of near immaterial darkness, one of the thousand spawns of some demented black god, who probably couldn’t even bother to notice the creatures it was giving birth to. The strange creature moved towards Klara, making screeching noises that one maybe could call happy, and the girl hugged the deform monster, before managing to somehow get above it.

“Are you going now, milady?” A snide, sarcastic voice, yet one that managed to emanate enough class to not be out of place even in the fanciest palace of the world rang in the empty courtyard. Advancing from the building, there was a creature whose mere sight was unnatural. Despite it being humanoid, there were clear signs that betrayed it’s true identity. The blood red colored skin, the strangely shaped limbs, the horns hidden under a fancy hat, and the red eyes spoke of its nature as a lesser demon. A lesser demon in an expensive looking butler outfit, but a lesser demon at the end.

“Yes, Hadol. The reunion is tonight. If I want to spy on them, it must be now.” Klara stared towards her friend. He and Ito were the only ones she called such.

The butler snickered at Klara’s words, evidently finding her enthusiasm funny. “Well then, milady. For this time, I’ll accompany you. You are still... inadequate for what awaits you. I wish to observe how you’ll actually fare in the job, before stepping towards more... risky matters.”

The girl growled towards her butler, before relenting under his stare, and reluctantly making space for him on Ito. Hadol jumped above the ghast, before it finally took flight, elevating high in the night air, before floating at a good pace towards their objective.

She had waited for too long. It was finally time for her to fulfill the meaning of her existence.

[Mormarth]

IT'S ALIVE AHAHAHAHAA IT'S ALIIIIIIIIVE
=======================

Mr. Fixit - Flatiron District, Lower Manhattan
11:45 PM

The small group of street toughs, stared dully at you, probably on something, until one of them grunted, eyes focusing on the firearm in your grasp. Some of the thugs, apparently more lucid than the others in their group of about 7 or so, backed off, possessing enough of their brain functions to realize not to mess with a dude with a gun.

Still, 3 remain, and they don't look to happy about having a gun pointed at them, and so, with a chorus of angry growls, they lurch towards you, eyes agleam with drunken madness.

SCENE START

MR. FIXIT VS STREET THUGS (3)
TAKE 1
ACTION!
==========================================
Tachyon - Upper East Side
6:45 PM

Having finished your overly-stylish suit-up sequence, you leap to the roof easily, spotted the two hapless members of "Alternative Religion" skulking down the alleyways towards the warehouse they mentioned oh so conveniently, after several minutes of 'humorous' banter between the two, they approach the warehouse entrance, knock in a sequence, mutter a password, and enter, doubtless to do nefarious deeds within.

OBJECTIVE GAINED: ENTER THE WAREHOUSE

wat do
======================
GRAB BAG - Turtle Bay, Midtown Manhattan
9:28 PM

SCENE START

GRAB BAG VS KIDNAPPERS(?)
TAKE 1
The kidnappers eye you up and down, snickering to themselves, and barely within your hearing you hear very quiet footsteps from behind you!

[HOOLIGAN INTERRUPT]

However, it appears that what you have grasped possesses a mind of its own, and with a sound like a roaring crowd cutting through the air, it lands its home-run strike directly into the stomach of an approaching goon with a CRUNCH.

He sails through the air haplessly, crashing into some trash cans a couple dozen yards away.

ACTION

The three remaining kidnappers approach, but you've got this all handled as that old familar tune starts up in your head.

Take, me out to the baaaallgame~

A knife clatters to the ground-

Take, me out with the crowd~

A good strike to the knees-

Buy me some peanuts and crack-erjack~

That ambush guy came back-

IIII don't care if I never get back~

But you've got him handled just fine.

Let me root, root, root for the home team~

He sails over the wall this time.

If they don't wiiiin it's a shaaaame~

Time for the finishing touch.

FOR IT'S-

Crack to the head of the one on the left

ONE

Another homer to the ribs of the right guy

TWO

And a quick grand slam right on the ball.

THREE STRIKES YOU'RE OUT AT THE OOOLLLD BAAAALL GAAAAAME

SCENE END
FLAWLESS VICTORY

And as the groaning piles of what could be identified as adult men curled on the ground, you quickly walked across the pavement to the truck where the bound girl is waiting, eyes wide.

You release her from her bonds, and she collapses onto your slightly emaciated frame, almost knocking you over completely, bawling into your shoulder.

"It-It was horrible! They said they were going to take me to this guy they called the Master and then he was going to do something really bad and they kept laughing about it and i was so scared and and and!" She babbles wildly.

The roar of the crowd in your ears dies down, and the almost-glow around the bat fades, looks like that trick only works once. Still, you hang onto it for a moment.

So, what do you say to this sobbing girl to sooth her, oh Hobo of Justice?
========================
Poison Dart - Turtle Bay, Midtown

The sound of your landing is accompanied by a short scream off in the distance, along with a loud series of clatters.

The touched thug collapses to the ground, as the other thug whirls around to the sound of your threat. The woman's eyes widen at your long fall, and dispatching of the other thug with little effort.

He stares at you, eyes dull with anger at his partner's supposed death, and he hurtles at you with speed greater than what you expected, "Bitch! Don't fuck with me!" He swipes at you with his crowbar and readies another, face twisted in madness.

SCENE START
Poison Dart vs Thug (1)
TAKE 1
ACTION
=========================
Dionysus - Meatpacking District, Lower Manhattan

"Whargh?"

The fellow in front of you was clearly in a state of quite high agitation, and he was quite clearly on something. Steroids? But it didn't matter at all~

You were up for a bit of aggression play anyhow~ It just made it all the sweeter.

"Back off ya fuckin fairy, or I'll knock yer teeth out." The big man growled.

Oh, how romantic~ He was really getting into the scene. You swooned at the threat.

He took a swing at you with those hams at the end of his arms, bashing you across the head, and your world ~swirled~. Basking in the sheer sensation of being struck, the big man howled with pain as the blow seemed to have struck him.

Perhaps you should give him a taste of what it's like to be on the bottom~ Turnabout, after all, is so sweet.

Recovering from the blow, and still a bit confused, the big man took out a length of chain and wrapped it around his fist, rushing at you with a howl of berserk rage.

SCENE START
Dionysus vs Roid(?)Rager
Lewd rating: p fukkin lewd
TAKE 1
ACTION
===============================
New York 505 - Back Alley, SoHo
11:45 PM

You stroll into the alley as casual as a person in a thick overcoat with a silly outfit underneath can be. And there he is, the "street doctor" dressed in fairly decent looking clothes, looking like any joe-shmoe off the street, along with pleasant-looking glasses. If you didn't know any better, you might think he was actually legit.

You lean up against a wall and observe the Doctor handing out a "prescription" to a too-lean-to-be-healthy fellow in a well tailored suit. He spots you quickly enough, and finishes up the deal with his customer quickly. The scrawny fellow shuffling off down to what's probably a ritzy car.

"So, what can Dr. Feelgood help you with today, my good man?" The street doctor gazes at you expectantly. He clearly knows what to expect, but how do you respond to his query?
================================
Eldritch Girl - Outside Abandoned Brownstone, Carnegie Hill, Upper Manhattan
6:45 PM

You arrive with your entourage outside a deceptively innocent-looking brownstone, old and stately. But, your finely tuned arcane senses keenly pick out the faint aura of Black Magic in the air itself, in fact, it smells a bit like your own house does, but.. different.

Soiled, in a way. Earthier, perhaps.

In any case, the source of the pathetic excuse for Black Magic emanates from the brownstone like a particularly foul emitting of flatulence, how do you wish to approach?

[SeiKeo]

NewYork 505 - Back Alley, SoHo
11:45PM


“Ey,man.” Half a Jersey accent rolled out of Martin's mouth as heshrank away from a puddle. “Yo, my wife, ah...” He leaned inlike a conspirator, mumbling. “My wife ain't happy, ya know? Gotanything good for... that?”


Hewasn't terribly surprised by the doctor's appearance: most drugdealers weren't awfully trashy in any case, not the ones that madeplenty of money – and this one apparently was. But the titledoctor, with the suit? Maybe he made the goods himself.


Andin that case, Martin was looking forward to a fair bit of sleep. Nopoint in taking drugs to stay awake to deal with drugs.

[Bloble]

Gabriel Gates - Mr. Fixit
Flatiron District, Lower Manhattan
11:45 PM

The bluff worked about as well as he had expected it to. Using the power of his almighty cunning intellect, the dashing and heroic, but also slightly overweight and less than athletic hero brandished the fake gun in his hand, waving it around so the thugs could get a better look. He was secretly glad that it was almost midnight; it would prevent the criminals from seeing that the P90 in his hands was mostly plastic instead of metal.

Most of the gang ran off, leaving the three ugliest, nastiest looking ones to advance on Mr. Fixit with glowers that could burn rubber.

He gulped. The adrenaline that had borne him this far suddenly evaporated, and the self proclaimed hero suddenly realized that the weapon in his hands was most definitely not a real gun, as much as he wished it was. It wouldn't be able to shower his enemies with bullets, as much as he wished it could.

Then again, it could do other things.

"Say hello to my little friend!" he roared without any embarrassment whatsoever, and squeezed the trigger.

The gun barked, discharging its ammunition at a rate of 300 rounds per minute. It was roughly a third of the gun's actual RPM, but it was the best Mr. Fixit could do with just a messed up keyboard and a bit of junk as material. In any case, that was more than enough for him to pray and spray away, the gun chattering away at a volume much lower than that of a real weapon.

It was sheer luck that he hit them at all. Sheer luck and a bit of magic he didn't even know existed.

Keys from his keyboard smacked into the three thugs. On the first, they sunk into his face, spelling 'SCRAM'. The second had the '3DPD' in a row, even though there was only a single 'D' on every keyboard in the first place. The third, amusingly enough, had been hit with the most letters, spelling out 'MAI WAIFU' all over his shiny forehead.

Normally those pieces of plastic wouldn't function as bullets, but with a muzzle velocity of over 500 meters per second, they were more than enough to incapacitate.

Mr. Fixit spun his gun and blew away some imaginary smoke. "Oh yeat, that's what I'm talking about. Too bad, idiots. Just be glad I didn't have to use THAT."

[Blackdeath6031]

Dionysus - Meatpacking District, Lower Manhattan

Aww shit man, Dionysus hyperventilated. What was that Gigi D'Agostino remix called again?

Lamenting that he only remembered the lyrics, Dionysus started to blurt out what came to his mind.

"Well I, " affected by the battering and the elation he felt, his voice was likewise high. "I set my sights on you." In his head, a chorus echoed, making his enjoyment rise to its limits. (and no one else will do) "And I" Trying to straighten himself and be prepared for the enemy, he looked as though he was one of the living dead. "I've got to have my way now baby~."
Elation hit max guage, and Dionysus cackled sinisterly, as he swayed from left to right, humming parts of the song. "Open up your lovin' arms," raising up his arm as he made a stance and remained swaying, Dionysus made a 'come at me' gesture. "Watch out here I come~!"

Raising his fist to punch the mirrored, chained fist of Rager, Dionysus started to drool. His excitement and tension wiped away worries of his fist being crushed by his own attack as he stepped in and initiated his own, preemptive, suicidal attack.

[Suncofold]

Erica Nguyen - Poison Dart
Turtle Bay, Midtown

Roider Fucker stared at me as his douchebag friend slumped to the ground. I grinned at him, emphasizing my teeth as much as possible. Hopefully he’d back off, right?

Fuck, guess not.

He ran faster than I thought he would, spouting curses and insults as he approached. The first swing he made came up short, but he was quickly readying another blow at a range too close for comfort.

Still, he was pretty high, and I was able to duck under it and leap to the side, sticking to the alley wall. Stupid dumbass left himself open with that swing, so I used all the power in my legs to push off the wall, flip, and slam my feet into his temple.

Unfortunately, life wasn’t like a comic book, so we ended up tangled up on the ground instead of me landing gracefully.

[RacingeR]

Klara Grimaldi - Eldritch Girl
Outside Abandoned Brownstone, Carnegie Hill, Upper Manhattan

Klara frowned slightly when she looked at the brownstone, and the magicks that emanated from it. If this could even be deserving of such a name. As a professional in the field, Eldritch Girl was extremely disappointed with what she was perceiving from the seemingly abandoned mansion.

Her ghastly entourage floated in the air, slowly descending towards the floor. Both Eldritch Girl and her butler jumped out of the Ghast, and looked towards the entrance of the mansion.

“What now, Hadol?”

The red-skinned butler sighed slightly at the demanding and somewhat childish tone of his mistress. He took a look at their empty surroundings, then shrugged. “Now, we infiltrate their meeting, in the subtlest way possible.”

“Understood. Ito, go float in the air and keep watch, tell me if something relevant approaches.” The monster took flight instantly, ascending high in the air, and finally hanging on it like some kind of weird as hell star, barely visible to the human eyes from such height.

“Hadol, you are with me.” Having finished giving orders, Eldritch Girl strode towards the front of the house, her butler in tow. Hadol now stared at her with increasing curiosity, wondering how she would proceed with the infiltration of the house.

Eldritch Girl arrived at the door, took a deep breath, and.... pressed the bell. The sound reverberated on the night, and Hadol’s palm met his face.

It was now very obvious that nobody had teach Klara Grimaldi about the meaning of subtletly.

[Hyarion]

Outside Abandoned Brownstone, Carnegie Hill, Upper Manhattan

...

...

...Silence.

And yet, something was there to hold one's attention, an almost physical presence that had slowly begun emanating from the brownstone -- a silent siren's song enticing one to step closer, ever closer...

Without warning, the presence flared into something unsettling, consuming. The unlit lamps around Klara seethed with blue flame. Behind, a single word was whispered, quiet but unmistakable:

---leave---

A figure flickered on the edge of vision, and... as suddenly as it had come, it was all gone. The warning delivered, all was as if none of it had ever been.

[RacingeR]

Klara Grimaldi - Eldritch Girl
Outside Abandoned Brownstone, Carnegie Hill, Upper Manhattan

“...”

“It seems we are not welcome here, Lady Klara.”

“I told you, call me Eldritch Girl when we are working!” Something on Klara’s tone sounded strange, prompting Hadol to turn towards, shooting a curious look towards her face.

“Oh, no...” What he saw in Eldritch Girl’s face made the lesser demon tremble in his finely tailored suit. Klara Grimaldi’s eyes were shinning like a little kid’s, and a radiant smile had appeared under her mask. He could tell what would happen next, and he readied himself to lead with the outpouring of idiocy that would follow.

“Oh, yes.” Klara answered her butler’s words of dismay with an enthusiastic exclamation of her own. Then proceeded to kick down the front door of the brownstone with a resonating crack, and penetrated the house smiling all the while.

Hadol had no other choice but to follow her.

[Verg Avesta]

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

"What? Really? A warehouse...?" Tachyon sighed and offered the sight of the disappearing backs of the goons an amused cringe. "What's next? Will they yell "Kali!" and start ripping hearts out hapless victims? What is this city coming to...?"

It must be taking lessons from you. You know, in how to be tacky and cheesy. METIS quipped. It is your specialty, after all.

"Oh, shush sweety. Frowns give you wrinkles," Tachyon chuckled before using his visor zoom into the warehouse, scanning it and its surroundings. "Now, let's see... what to do, what to do...?

Tachyon studied the warehouse over nonchalantly, barely paying attention to the details. They weren't that important to him, anyway. This was more akin to a procedure he was told he was supposed to do in order to pass. Like writing down the calculation and its parts instead of entering the answer straight on the paper. Oh god, how he had hated that in school. Were the teachers so daft that they couldn't get how his mind worked!?

"Wait, focus, focus..." Tachyon scolded himself and stood up on the roof. "Here goes!"

Having said that, Tachyon sprinted and jumped, straight out of the rooftop. From there, he activated his TALON-armament, lighting up the night momentarily with orange glow as he glided down from the roof, straight towards the warehouse. With a speed that made him nothing more than a short flash overhead, he crossed the distance with wind howling in his ears. Then, showing surprising agility, he landed straight on the roof of the warehouse and rolled to stop his speed.

"Like a glove," Tachyon murmured with a self-confident smile.

Are you referring to your landing as smelly and full of sweat? METIS asked, snark almost oozing from her robotic voice.

Tachyon smiled chuckled and brushed aside the comment, focusing on silently moving across the roof of the warehouse. There had to be a window somewhere in here. There always was.

At least for him.

[Mormarth]

EPOCH IS BACK, BABY
#SWAG #HAPPENING

LAST TIME: ON EPOCH

CADE CRESCENT, otherwise known as the flashy, bashy, techno-centric hero with the devil's luck, TACHYON, had set off in pursuit of a pair of dastardly fellows clearly up to no good, tracking them to an abandoned warehouse, the courageous young hero seeks an entrance to gather intelligence and enact JUSTICE.

Luckily, (that seems to be a thing with you) a window is just within reach, and you easily slip inside, marking an easy vantage point, dark and shadowy and all, overlooking what appears to be...

Some kind of phony-looking ritual, black robes, candles hoods, one guy, who you assume is the leader, even has a mask, blank featured and white.

The unsteady voice of someone who is clearly not used to doing something this comes from White-mask, "S-so, did you bring the required materials for the ritual, Lord... um."

"LORD JAMES SATANUS THE MOST TERRIBLE, and yes I did." The fellow from earlier pipes up helpfully, handing over what is clearly a bag from some sort of department store.

"Er, yes. Thank you." The head of this gathering rummages around in the bag, lifting a stuffed animal, a chimp, from the look of the tail.

"...I asked for a proper simulcrum, not a stuffed monkey."

"Well, f'one thing, s'an ape, dun got no tail, see? An' it's a primate, we're primates, it should work okay, right?"

"I- er, well, I suppose..."

The stuffed chimpanzee is set in the center of some sort of circle, varying shapes intersecting the main circle, varying items dotted around the points of intersection.

"A-hem, alright, on the count of three, one... two..."

The weekend cultists start up some sort of chant, members fumbling with the words here and there, but if you look closely, the warehouse, which was already quite dark to begin with in the late January night, seems to be growing...

Darker.
======

When last we left MARTIN GLADSTONE, otherwise known as the Hard-Rocking hero NEW YORK 505, he was beginning his investigation into some shady new drug hitting the streets of south Manhattan and plaguing the corroded hearts and pitiless souls of innocent(?) white-collar workers.

You let out the faux-accent easily, the high-pitched drawl of Joisey an easy sound to recognize on the street, even from your high-class boardrooms, you still heard it.

The street doctor smiles kindly, "Sure thing, always good to help out a lady in need."

He holds up a finger, the easy sign for 'wait here', it made sense, who'd expect the dealer to actively have something on him, quick way to get caught, but as he turned to go, he stopped, and turned to look at you over his glasses thoughtfully.

"Say, you're looking a little down yourself, man. Can't say I blame you, high-power jobs a good way to get stress fast. S'like American Psycho, y'know? People always like to hate on the rich man, but you look like you're hurtin, like your wife, but I got something for that."

He shuffles around, "You interested?"

Smells like a lead.
=======================
The only contact to a dark power, KLARA GRIMALDI, after arriving outside an abandoned brownstone where she had tracked a faint trace of DARK MAGICS, was accosted by a strange SPIRIT FROM BEYOND, affronted at this ghostly dismissal, ELDRITCH GIRL made her violent entrance into the abandoned household.

You flick your eyes left and right as you step past the threshold, your hangers-on flanking you as you did so, you've entered into a large open area, you wrinkle your nose as you pace over the bare floor, your steps echoing through the vast empty building.

Alcohol.

"Hey-ey-ey! Yo-You can't jus' come in here, this's privaate property, yeah, an' an' you just just buzz off with your fuckin bodyguards you squirt."

A figure shambles into view, clothed in rags, a transient, a bottle of some unknown substance in his hands.

The magic you sensed from earlier is coming off of him.

"N'who do you think youuu are, comin into my house like this, like yourrr some-kina bigshot, bustin doors down and walkin in all big'n bad."

The transient takes another pull of the bottle.
=====================
When last we left GABRIEL GATES, he was bravely rescuing two lady officers from an aggressive crowd of ruffians, clearly out to difile their innocent bodies with their crude hands, now, the valiant MR. FIX-IT, receives his just reward for his heroism!

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to put down the gun and put your hands in the air."

An unamused, yet admittedly rather pleasant-looking officer stares you down levelly, her hand slowly moving to her waist.

"Aliciaaa, this guy rescued us! Clearly he's a good guy."

A much cuter lady officer pops up from behind the squad car, the voice matching the call for help that you intercepted, her eyes shining with idealism.

"Rules are rules, Officer Bates, and didn't I tell you not to call me that! We're on duty, not out at a bar."

The girl at the car, now identified as Officer Bates, pouted.

The officer addressing you sighed, and softened her gaze, "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, and it looks like those guys were just knocked out, so I'm going to give you a warnin-"

"Ali- er, Officer Hunter! Weird guy! Look out!"

One of the guys you'd shot to the ground is stumbling to his feet, snarling, 3DPD emblazoned on his forehead, he looks a bit shaky, but he's up and he's fighting mad.

He runs at you, yelling like a lunatic.

[Katie]

Katie Tressler - Grab Bag
Cardboard “House”, Turtle Bay, Midtown Manhattan
9:32 PM
Thoughts#i don't know how to talk to girls #wait The Master?????

I dig through my bag, pulling out a wide variety of objects before settling on a towel to wipe the bat clean. As I do so, I think about what she said, you know? The Master and all that. And how to calm her down. I’m not sure what to say about that. I’ve never been too hot on public speaking, usually nearly killed my grade every time.

“It’ll be alright, ma’am. I’ll make sure nobody touches ‘ya, alright? Just stay calm and tell me what happened so I’ll make sure it won’t happen again. M’kay?”

I don’t how to talk to people, Jesus Christ…

[Bloble]

Gabriel Gates - Mr. Fixit
Flatiron District, Lower Manhattan
11:45 PM

Most people would've been too worried about the thug charging them to do anything about a few police officers with questionable ability.

Mr. Fixit wasn't most people.

"I surrender!"

The gun dropped immediately. Gabriel raised his hands, kicked the gun-board away, and tried to look as defenseless as possible. Given his current choice of outfit, that didn't work too well. Also, he hadn't let go of the wrench.

"Oh, right. That too." Casually, the man tossed the wrench, letting it smack the gun on the way down. "Is t-that good enough, officers?" He tried not to stare, but it was difficult. Boobs! Actual boobs, albeit ones covered in cloth and forever closed to him. The taller policewoman wasn't moe at all, but the younger one had some potential, even if she was 3D. "W-want me to take off my clothes too? I could be hiding w-weapons and stuff." As if to punctuate the stammered words, the pants that were on the edge of tearing groaned and creaked.

At this point the lunatic had almost reached the oblivious hero. One more step and Mr. Fixit would be broken to bits.

Then the gun fired.

Only it wasn't a gun any more. The keyboard was now a spring-powered crossbow trap stretched to the limit. The moment the vagrant stepped on the trigger, it fired.

Most of the keys had already been spent on the first salvo, leaving little to do with what remained. In the end, there was only one projectile remaining.

A lone space bar, worn down by constant use, shot upwards like a bolt of light towards the unsuspecting thug's chin.