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 Shotdown [TheDusk/Carter/Open]

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TheDusk

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Location : Lake Hylia

PostSubject: Shotdown [TheDusk/Carter/Open]   Wed Mar 04, 2015 9:08 pm

The harrowing nose of church bells clang of the brains of many. Rain and wind are one in a patient gliding force across the long grass of the cemetery. The scarring wind cuts into his pointed ears like knives. Through the stinging pain, he can hear the preacher murmuring to himself as the holy man stumbles through the empty halls.  A lone car drives by on the soaked road not too far off. Water splashes up onto the curb as he looks onward.



                Two young boys died tonight, just a block over. The boys were nothing but kids, fourteen and seventeen only. The duo were suspected to be in with the Bloods, though he personally thought they didn’t fit the memo. Stupid kids were looting the house of a family of four. Some families weren’t here because of crime. Sometimes it was situational, like a position being eliminated at work. Others, chose to take a way too risky gamble at a casino. The list of reasons could go on forever. Neither side of the fence deserved what happened. The only television a family had was smashed, and two boys were shot fleeing in the act.



                The creature clung to the steeple, allowing the gentle rain to patter across the top of his horns. His torn and tattered cape drifted peacefully in the night’s graceful wind. His usually vibrant glowing white eyes became narrow slits, hung with mourning for those who had been murdered. The ghost’s keen ears listened to the low hum of vehicles in the distance. Part of his hearing was capturing the whispering wails of the world so closely overlapping with their own. He dully moved his head, looking out across the shanty neighborhood.



                The avenger could hear it all from here. A stubborn drunk screaming at his frightened wife. A drug deal going down successfully over to the right somewhere. Two girls offering themselves on a street corner somewhere to the left. It was so far away, but it sounded so close to him. There was so much going on at once. All of these tragedies were happening simultaneously. How could he stop all of them at once? No matter how much he seemed to try, he could not bring himself under the potential to shield everyone he cared about.



                It was why the two boys laid dead six feet under on this night. The Dusk thought he was doing right by stopping the knife and rape of a teenager on her way home from night classes. He swore to himself he had helped the city just an inch more. He could hear it. The home invasion wasn’t too far away. The Dusk heard the boys panic, the sirens approaching, all of it. How could he have stopped it while dodging knife shots from a tattered drifter looking for a sexual fix? The brutal truth of the world was there wasn’t a damn thing he could do. No matter how much he loved and cared for his family, the people he walked by every day in the rough town of Detroit; he could be there for them all at once.



                The drunk husband has now struck the wife. The Dusk removes his depressed clutch on the white, rusted steeple and begins to move. His horned ear twitches as he hears the grave news of a rip off and a gun being pulled. His angled head arches the direction of the clicking gun as he hears the shrill scream of one of the young prostitutes being yanked into a gurgling old car. The Motor City avenger shoots his head left, right, forward. Which one should he go to? Which one should he stop? They are all happening at once and there is only one Dusk for all of the city of Detroit. This is only this small, broken suburb. The city was much further north. So much happening in such a little space and The Dusk cannot even begin to fathom how to handle this tiny of a situation.



 



                Suddenly, he hears a voice call out. Someone is actually standing up to the drug deal to the East.



                The Dusk makes the split decision, the tough call. A man willing to stand up to those who poison those he cares about, that needs to be upheld and protected at all costs. The ghost’s figure arched his legs and shot himself into the air. His gnarled cape comes up across his fists and the cloth becomes wings as he soars into the night towards the deal gone wrong.

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Zenaki
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PostSubject: Re: Shotdown [TheDusk/Carter/Open]   Wed Mar 04, 2015 10:08 pm

It wasn't that Zander cared to stop drug dealers, he didn't view himself as a caped nut job righting the worlds wrongs one at a time. He was a soldier through and through, maybe not the typical breed of soldier but still a warrior. His leather jacket hung tightly on his broad shoulders and toned arms as he walked down the streets, he was in town on a lead. One of the pricks who pieced him together in a test tube was supposed to have been in this part of town selling secrets. Secrets Zander wanted, secrets he needed to figure out why the hell he was created, why he had a twin of himself flying around shooting lasers out of his eyes. His mind jumped back to his little invasion on the government base hidden in the deep bush of Alaska. How he'd tracked the place down, due to a fellow soldier named Logan whom he shared a little more than he liked with, only to run into a mirror image of himself that could fly and took bullets like they were love taps.

But the lead he had hunted ended and he felt like he was now on wild goose chase, he found the abandoned church the deal was supposed to go down in but the place was shelled out, burnt to the fucking ground. He knew why though, cover the scent. He could track anything for weeks on end with no rest if he had just a faint scent but the fire stopped that. Now he walked back down the sidewalk, passing two hookers who offered him a good time. He was tempted to take them up on their offer by he caught a wiff of something not so fresh and his nose cringed while he suppressed the urge to shiver and hurried down the street. His boots pounding off the sidewalk and down the ally ways as he went, walking through crowds of misguided youth, not giving a damn what insults they hurled at him. They were ants to him.

He cracked his neck as he rounded a corner and spotted his bike, a double headed fat boy chopper from the second world war propped on its kick stand with some dirty pecker headed bastard leaning on it. His baggy pants low showing his red boxers underneath and a shitty nine mil strapped to the inside of his waistband. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the tips of his claws began to poke through the skin between his knuckles making tiny droplets of blood drip to the pavement before he pulled them back in.

Exhaling he walked over to the kid, "Mind getting our grubby ass off of my horse before I break my foot off against your skull?" he asked calmly, the kid looking hard at him with his mouth slightly gaped like he didn't understand. Finally a light went off as he replayed the words in his moronic brain and he stood up straight rolling his shoulders and puffing his chest while he put his right hand on his crotch over his gun. "The fuck you say to me you back wood inbred piece of dog shit?" The kid mouthed, looking tough, 'This is my street, I run it, I own it, I own everything on it, this is my fucking bike now bitch. Get to steppin' before I put holes in you." he threatened showing his gun.

A dimple played on Zander's right cheek when he smirked, the boy wanted to play and Zander was still pissed off enough from earlier that he was willing to play back. He stepped forward and the boy aimed the gun at him, he took another as the kid unloaded. He moved in a blur managing to side step the bullet, the projectile embedding itself in the brickwork behind him. "Shitty aim kid, my turn." He growled while he walked forward, dodging another burst before his hand closed over the gun and the barrel caved in from the force he imparted on it. His free hand, the left one balled into a fist and came across the boy's cheek, Zander remembering to hold back so he didn't cause the kid's head to cave in from the blow. It was still enough to shatter his jaw and send him sprawling across the pavement. He shrugged an knelt over the kid going through his pockets and finding many baggies of pills. His head shook as he frowned, a fucking drug dealer. Finding what he wanted most he pulled the fat wad of bills from the kid's wallet and stuffed them into his pocket before he collected the drugs and opened the bags, dumping the white pills down a storm drain. "Get a real job" he said before spitting on the knocked out thug.

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TheDusk

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PostSubject: Re: Shotdown [TheDusk/Carter/Open]   Wed Mar 04, 2015 10:36 pm

A roaring sound, like the thwacking of a racket to a wet blanket, echoed through the air. Rain was sliced aside by a bolting shadow cutting through the sky. The precipitation moved for him, as if God knew he needed a straight path. The black figure stroked its wings. The bat out of hell with its narrowed white eyes descended upon the scene.

                It landed upon the treasured bike, without so much as budging the vehicle. Despite its gnarled and empowering presence, its balance was maintained perfectly on the bike. The sound of runoff rain bellowing down the storm drain seemed to cutoff any other noise between the two. The shadow stayed low, hunched over on its vehicular perch. A corner lamp light was the only useful light source for the whole block. Not even it aided in the sight of the ghost that had just appeared before Zander. The mutant could barely make out his silhouette. He could see spikes on the shoulders of the thing. It also appeared to have long, obtuse horns on the top of its head.

                The vampiric looking monster crept down from the bike, huddling close to the pavement. In the passing illumination, Zander saw what he believed to be claws instead of normal fingers dashing its hands. It, whatever it is, stayed hunched over the criminal youth, stretching its narrow arm across his body. Two of its claws came to rest on the boy’s throat. The beast’s glowing eyes narrowed as he studied the fallen thug for what seemed like an hour. For a moment, there was nothing but silent rain between the three. The thing, whatever it was, seemed to pay little to no attention to Zander. Instead, the shadow descended over the boy and concerned himself with the defeated slob’s health.

                After a dreadful silence, the horned head angled up to Zander, piercing him with hollow pale eyes.

                “You’re lucky he’s alive…,” It spoke in a creeping whisper, as if three people had exhaled in a bass tone in unison with it.

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PostSubject: Re: Shotdown [TheDusk/Carter/Open]   Thu Mar 26, 2015 2:10 am

He was still bent over disposing the street dealer's product in the storm drain when he heard the slightest ruffle of fabric and the dull padded thudding of something landing on his bike, the suspension creaking ever so softly from a weight pressing down. A deep growl emitted from within his chest, like two stones rubbing against one another. He wanted to appear frightening because he was at a disadvantage, whoever was behind him saw the wreckage he had created in less than five seconds and was most likely a friend of the dispatched thug and would have a gun. As fast as Zander was in his crouched position and not knowing which way to turn before a bullet riddled him would slow him too much to avoid a shot to the back. He didn't want to blow his cover though and "suit up" but given the situation he was in he felt he had no choice.

The skin along his spine began to itch and burn as it hardened and turned to the color of cool brandished steel, spreading outward in all directions like a wild fire while he stood up and turned, his shirt tightening from the outward expansion and his jacket making the slightest of straining noises. He turned to find himself face to face with a costumed freak who began to threaten him by saying Zander was lucky the thug was still breathing. He laughed in the guy's face, even his white teeth shining a polished silver, "Buddy Halloween was a couple months back, I suggest you get your shitty suit dry cleaned and go home before you piss yourself." His voice sounding like metal being bent with incredible force as he stared at the caped freak, not wanting to show anymore of his talents. His hands burned as the bones grew outward ever so but he held them back from the blades coming forth, might as well save a few secrets in case it came down to a brawl.

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TheDusk

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PostSubject: Re: Shotdown [TheDusk/Carter/Open]   Thu Mar 26, 2015 12:40 pm

The Dark Avenger knelt at the assailant’s unconscious body. The shadows narrow white eyes seemed to soften in their glow for a moment. A heavy sigh bellowed out from the depths of his lungs.

“Just a boy… Couldn’t be more than sixteen…,” His hollow voice spoke, stammering a bit.

The Dusk shook his head drearily, placing his clawed hand over his forehead. He lifted the defeated teen up onto his shoulders like a bag of luggage. The Motor City Defender walked with weight, stepping up onto the curb. Softly, the beast deposited the boy up against the speed limit sign, out of the street where he could be safe. He let out a gruff huff of air as he watched the blood trickle down the side of the dealer’s forehead. His gnarled hand reached down to a dangling bandana in the boy’s back pocket. Seizing the cloth, he instrumentally began tying it around his wound tightly to cut off the bleeding.

The white bandana began to soak a crimson color at first, but slowly stopped. The Dusk cupped the boy’s face in his claw, examining his face for any other marks or scars. His eyes softened at the chubbiness still prevalent in the teen’s face. The glowing daggers trailed down to his chest, observing his moving abdomen.

“Still breathing… Good.. He should be fine then,” The Dusk spoke again, his voice a low hum.

The words the leather head was speaking to him fell upon his ear as clear as day. However, his reaction was the exact opposite. He seemed to move and focus on the boy as if the man behind him were merely a myth. Despite the harsh and threatening words emulating from his mouth, the shadow paid no mind to the aggression. He released the boy, letting him lay limp against the post.

The rain had stopped by now. The wispy clouds had paved way for half of a white shining moon’s rays to be cast down on the dark night. The Dusk stayed in the shadows, now stronger in the backdrop of the moonlight, leaving nothing but two white eyes for his detail. The streets were damp, puddles strewn about like liquid paint splatters. The echoing of water leaving downspouts cut the silence between the two.

The ripping of leather caught the attention of the beast. For a moment, he made his silhouette available, glaring from the corner of his eye over at the aggressive man beside him. The man had seemingly morphed himself into some strong variation of metal. Even in that revelation, the Dusk stayed only half turned towards the aggressor, not giving him the time of night. His words pelted Dusk like pebbles on a brick wall. They were not as provocative as perhaps the man hoped, but it did garner the attention of the shadow before him.

The creature, whatever is was, scaled the nearby streetlamp, hunched over. It looked like a bat, using its arm strength to do most of the world, his gnarled long cape still almost touching the pavement. The beast hung atop the light, his cape blotting out the light and enshrouding almost the entire pole.

In a moment’s notice, the light from the lamp suddenly faded away. The light from all the houses around them were no longer emitting light either. All electricity in the near area had seemingly gone dark, leaving only the moonlight, which was half obscured by dark clouds. In that moment, the world fell silent. The echoing downspouts had stopped emitting their harmonic tones. The runoff rain dumping into the sewer had ceased humming. Not even the wind whipped in their ears. The area around the two men had become entirely mute.

It was in that moment, that a dull, faded cyan fog began to lightly roll up from the grass. It started thin and spread out, only able to cover the ground immediately above it. However, it only grew worse. Like a great flood, fog began rolling out from behind the suburban shanty houses. It obscured the road, the sidewalks, fences, and half of the lamppost the creature was perched upon. The metal man had been all but engulfed by the mysterious smoke now blanketing the entire neighborhood. The temperature was fiercely dropping. What had been a crisp spring night had become a winter freeze. The breath of the two was now suddenly visible, bellowing out into the air. 

The Dusk’s torn cape drifted gently in the wind like a horror metronome. His gnarled claws digging into the metal as if it were aluminum foil beneath his hands. What sounded like the whispered noise of a snake hissing broke the silence. A female, and a male, exhaling for at least a minute joined the noise. The Dusk’s white glaring eyes carved into the head of the steel man before him.

“You have my attention… little man.”

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