The Hit [Zenaki/Dusk/Open]

(WARNING: This is a post creating a different take on the bombings, if you are offended I apologize, my heart goes out for the victims and their families and I pray the other man is caught alive but I am honoring the victims in my own way. No one is required t read this)


The Titan woke up covered in a cold sweat, his dreams had been filled with the events of the day before. He was standing in the VIP section of the Boston Marathon, silently clapping as the runners passed the finish line. He had funded the event so it was only right that he be there and it would increase his renown in the city, hopefully bringing new business partners his way. He looked down on his right wrist and checked his Rolex, the time reading 4:09. He looked back up just in time to see the first explosion, feeling the ground rumbling. His mind worked swiftly, protecting him as the chunks of rubble and metal shards flew at the VIP section, his left hand calmly parting them and making it look natural. He had saved the people around him without meaning to and he found himself walking away in anger after the second explosion, someone had rigged this. He watched as people passed him by, missing limbs, one man in a wheel chair with no legs below his knee caps, just shards of bones with fileted sections of flesh that looked like banana peels. A man running next to the chair holding the man's artery closed to stop him from bleeding out.

He exhaled as his eyes shifted back to reality, pulling him back into his room. His sweat wasn't one of fear, he himself had slain nations before but this sweat was one of rage. He stood from where he was sitting on his bed side and walked out of the room, his feet patting against the polished marble flooring as he went, the moonlight form the windows reflecting off of his shined bald head and the piercing studded under his lower lip in his chin.

He walked onward, only barely aware of the goose pimples forming on his bare chest and trunk like arms. He entered his private study and moved to his desk, picking up his private land line, pressing the six button that was the speed dial for his personal assassin. When it picked up he spoke a short sentence, "Be at my house with in an hour, I have a job for you." He said before hanging up without waiting for the response, his voice thick with anger. His right hand grasped the remote off of his desk and he turned to face the tv, hitting the power button and watching the news come on. A smile coming onto his face, they were still looking for the bomber(s) but he had already found them and would get his own justice for them ruining his event.

Peter Edlinds himself was at the Marathon, watching, red eyes looking at the many people that passed. Peter himself flinched when the bombs moved through the air, and a shard of metal had slammed into his forehead. Peter coughed and hit the ground, eyes opened and then blood trickling down his forehead. Peter got up before the last bomb went off and he removed the metal piece from his forehead, and growled lowly, letting the blood move back into his head, his skin closing.

Peter began to walk down the alleyway, and turned his head to stare at a man in the shadows. But who was this? Peter blinked, and within moments he was gone. "How mysterious." Peter turned his head and watched the big man known as The Titan run and push people aside. Then watching him walk past without even noticing Peter himself.

Peter shook his head and turned around. Peter was evil, but not this evil to watch people die. He turned his head and watched as the child then flew forth, running towards the bomb, his sensitive ears could hear it ticking. "WAIT, D-" An explosion of metal and flames exploded through the air, taking away the two children and the mother. Peter gritted his teeth and in pure anger of the ones who had did this, his sharp teeth showed.

With his teeth showing this also alarmed others. So Peter turned around and slammed his right foot onto a brick wall and leaped back, grasping a railing and then turning his head slowly as he slowly then put his black hat back on, then turning his head and seeing someone taking a picture of him. Great, now someone would suspect him. Peter ran away, slamming his hands to the ground and running off on all fours.

The large man soon found himself seated behind his desk, looking at three folders. All of them manilla in coloring. Two of the three held data on the suspected bombers, they were brothers from over sea's, coming form a country thick in rebel fighting and extremist groups. They were obvious suspects and the older brother of the two had been watched by the FBI before, Russia warning America when they came to this land. The other folder though was something quite different, it merely held a series of photos in it of a man at the bombing, a camera had caught the event of a shard of metal embedding itself in his forehead before he pulled it out and the wound closed.

The pictures captured each movement frame by frame, Tang had no name of the man but he had a face and he could do a lot with the little data presented to him. What he saw before him was a mutant that was possibly connected to the terrorist acts and he wanted the man brought before him for "questioning."

He leaned back in his large leather arm chair, his hands balled together, the right hand over his left, the knuckles of his left hand cracking while he sat and fumed, only vaguely aware of the lamp exploding in the far corner of the room, the twisted metal post of it floating in the air on its own accord.

He sat quietly and plotted the death of the two terrorists and the future of the mutant while he waited for Ans to make his way to the study whenever he arrived, the assassin knowing where to find the man in his estate.

Peter moved through the forest as the sunlight shined through the air, and rain hit the ground, the area was getting a bit more cloudy. He looked up and slammed his hands onto a tree and climbed it as fast as he could, bullets moved past him and he moved into the shadows, watching the two men in their hoodies hold their guns.

Peter had recently moved into his "Werewolf" state, and he had been caught in it and was thought to be an actual wolf. The two men must have been so excited to catch a big wolf, they didn't think of the consequences, but they would feel it now.

Peter leaped from the tree and received several shots into his thigh and into that of his right leg. He ignored it and gritted his teeth, growling and grabbing the neck of one of the men. The shorter and younger boy dropped his gun and ran, then slammed to the ground when peter snapped his leg with his foot.

Slowly staring down at the man on the ground who had fear in his eyes, He moved his hand back, and moved it down, striking the man's neck and letting his eyes roll in the back of his head and the bright light move in the darkness in his head.

After killing the man, Peter looked at the boy as he picked his gun back up and pointed it at the werewolf. Peter smiled and put his hand on the gun and bent it back, and curled it into a unsheathed whip phase. "Have a nice afternoon." Peter was gone after lightning flashed, the boy could hear footsteps.

Tang saw the red light and heard a robotic voice speak, announcing the assassins arrival. His hands merely shifted slightly, carrying his power with him. The metal doors that the assassin stood outside of quickly unlocked themselves and opened rapidly allowing the man entrance to the house, he would stay seated though knowing the assassin would find the room shortly as all their business when the man came to his estate was conducted within the room.

He looked up to see the floating twisted wreckage of the lamp pole, his right hand pointing at it as the metal unbent itself and landed softly from where it had taken flight. He exhaled pulling his anger back in, his mind on the thoughts of the event. Ans would probably think he was changing his morals once he found out what he wanted the man to do but it was not so. Tang had once slaughtered an entire army of men, women, and children for disobeying him and a few lost lives didn't matter much to him now. What mattered to him was revenge for them ruining what was supposed to be a good day for him. His large meaty fingers drummed on the desk top slowly as he waited for his metallic "henchmen" the thought of it bringing a smile to his face.

Peter walked down the street with his hands in his pockets and looked around as police sirens wailed, the cruisers moved towards the forest where Peter had just killed someone. Looking forth at a hotel known as "The Holiday Hotel" He then walked toward it and opened the doors, hoping to relax for the night, brushing blood off his hands into his pockets, slicking his hair back.

Peter stared at the man behind the counter, and removed about 40 dollars from his right pocket he had gotten all of this from the dead men before a rookie police man came and shined his bright light on the back of his head. He slammed it on the desk and sighed. "Room please."

The lightning and rain had slightly stopped and many people had gone into the houses because of the great winds brushing against that of the windows, and Peter himself was not feeling great, laying in the the dumpy hotel room, E25, with scratchy covers and all kind of unknown liquids on the unwashed, smelly pillows.

He got up and sat on the side of the window and moved his claw against the window and scratched his name into it, bored.

Ansatsu sighed for but a moment, then drug his thousand pound weighted legs reluctantly into the huge mansion.



The clacks of his booted footsteps began to beat against the back of his ears. A sharp echo swallowed the once quiet set of feet as the assassin entered the humongous foyer. The entire place was bathed in bright hues of warm color. Intricately carved designed lined the walls. If one were to look closely, he/she would see tiny Chinese characters made up most of the intricate swirls. There was a lone, extravagant vase standing idly in the middle of the giant room. His echoing strides led him up beside the flower pot. His dainty nose came down to sniff the bright hues of violet and rose. A slight curl in his lips formed as he pulled away.

”At least the brute has good taste in botanicals...,”

The blond headed man thought softly. His head tilted upwards, forcing his long bangs to the side of his head. Ans fiddled in his pockets as he surveyed the expansive stain-glass dome twenty feet above him. The metal man had to rotate himself just to see the whole display. It depicted what seemed to be the story of an oriental man overcoming his slave master and becoming the true ruler in place of him. No doubt some ancient Chinese War tale that inspired the hearts of children at night.

Ansatsu had always respected Tang for maintaining at least some of his oriental heritage. It had been something Ans had always wished he could do himself. Hell, the young man had no idea what his heritage exactly was. To his knowledge, he may have been Chinese. When he was young, he had heard his father speak of how he had moved from Shanghai over to Tokyo looking for work. That's where Sogeki would meet his soon-to-be wife Maria, an American intern researching overseas on a senator scandal report. Ansatsu knew he was only half Chinese and to make matters worse, he had no idea how far back these traditions went. He knew there had to be some epic story unfolding in a past time. While training Ans, Sogeki spoke of how the martial arts of the ninja were in his blood. Did he come from a long ling of ninja warriors? Or was he just Bsing to look badass in front of his son?

The poor man would never know. His father was a wicked soul, blackened deep down beneath the very brief fatherly love Ans had received. There was a darkness within his father that he'd never understand. Sogeki was always so determined and focused. The man had withered with some unknown glory days from the past. This had driven him off the deep end, burying all his frustrations and anger down upon Ansatsu, especially after Maria died. The brutal man ended up deciding that Ans would be the perfect ventilation for his dreams of being infamous again. All the endless days of training... Ruthless barking... Evil punishments... they took a toll on the spirited boy's heart.

But the spirit never broke. Sogeki got his wish, he'd turned his son into the perfect killing machine. So much so, that the boy had become a legend amongst the western world with his precision and infamous calling cards. It wasn't long before the young Ans had grown rich and prosperous. While the boy smiled, the father scowled. A burning fire ignited within Sogeki. He had made a spitting image of something he once was, but realized then, that no amount of ventilation could bring back his old days. He had only created a carbon copy of himself; no glory would be brought to the name Sogeki Sha.

The gasoline filled fury that followed scarred Ans for life.

The young man shook his head, realizing his memories had gotten the best of him again.



”Dammit... Get a hold of yourself Ans, you are getting all mopey again!,”[/] He cursed himself for showing slight emotional weakness. His blond mat of hair flapped around the side of his face as he arced at a ninety degree angle and proceeded down the hallway.



He strode down the brightly lit hallway, barely taking time to notice the brightly colored, oriental flower painted walls. Ans passed a ancient grandfather clock, ticking forward and backwards as he passed. The ticking and his echoing footsteps seemed to be the only sound in the entire mansion. It was as if the whole world outside the mansion had died the moment the assassin walked in. It made him shiver in his coat.

His emerald eyes adverted down the nightstand beside the large, pale white double doors. He had spotted the ash tray Zenaki had left especially for him. The warlord was never a fan of the boy's smoke stuffing up his beautiful rooms. Ans didn't either, but since when has he cared about anyone except himself? If he wanted to smoke, he'd smoke all the hell he wants. The big man could suck it.

However, a sting of icy fear jolted through him at the though of the brute tearing him limb from limb and quickly planted the cigarette into the ashtray. Without a second though, he swallowed his fear and opened the left door steadily.


”..Hello Fearless Leader, Who pissed you off today?,”[/ Ans lightly chuckled in an exhausted tone.

He smiled when the assassin entered, not a look he usually wore. He treated the metal child with such disrespect most of the times to detach himself from but he knew he would always "care" for the boy just a bit as he had the child's mother. He held a certain level of respect for the boy as well but he kept it hidden from him so it wouldn't go to his head. The boy sure knew how to keep his cool on the surface whenever he was around the Titan of Earth but he had tells that gave away his nerves, like his cigarettes and the way his eyes moved just a little bit too fast for someone so at ease.

His large left hand rose up to his bottom lip, rubbing the onyx orb implanted in his jaw, this was what he did whenever he was in thought. "I have angered no one, but at least two men have angered me. The Boston Bombers ruined the event I was sponsoring, I have three profiles here that has their current location marked down to a small suburban block in watertown, look at all the houses that are for sale first before you sneak into people's homes. These two are trained killers and I want them dead, also we have a photo selection of a mutant who was at the event, he took a metal shard to the skull and survived. I am not sure if he is linked but I want him found as well, you're up to your own devices on finding him. Now get out of my house, you stink of tar and smoke." He spoke, his voice deep yet smooth like a river. His head turning back to the television, pretending to ignore the man.

(OOC I will rp the bombers for here out))

Peter closed his eyes and then moved through his memories as he always did, on how long he had been living, the things he had done with his pack that was in the small town of Greenwater. Where he was young, discovering his true form when he was about 16. He really didn't want to kill at first until his family had to then force him to make his first kill.

His father had taken him to the mountains, last week his father had heard that this day would be the day these hunters would schedule to be killing mountain lions. But they would find more than a simple mountain lion. Peter's father looked at Peter himself, and stood there with a dark trench coat and a dark hat over his head.

"Son.. these people have guns."
"I know that, dad."
"Then you must be careful. Your healing factor is not as advanced for bullets yet." Peter's father looked down at the man hiking up the mountain, holding rifles.
"Kill them." Peter's father then turned around, and when Peter looked down at the man and back, his father was gone.

Peter knew this was going to change his life forever, and he knew if he didn't come back home with blood on his hands he would be scolded by the whole family until he did.

Peter closed his eyes and let his heart beat go faster than usual, then slowly opening his eyes and looking toward one of the hunters, and leaped through the air, slamming into a tree and barely moving it, his eyes glowed yellow and he breathed hard, inside him was the wolf, that was indeed done waiting to kill and eat.

Peter slammed his foot onto a branch and leaped up, and slammed to the ground behind one of the hunters and slammed his claws into the neck of the hunter, and then covering the mouth, slamming the body into the dark side. Peter turned his attention to the 5 other hunters, the hunting part.

Climbing the mountains with ease, he ran across it and looked down at the hunters, and slowly rose up and was about to strike, until he slammed to the ground after slipping off a rock, slamming in front of the five hunters.

Immediately they noticed the blood all on Peter's hands, and they stared at him, one pulled a rifle up and fired. Peter was sent back, but the bullet hit the ground and he healed once more. Peter was surprised, but was not in awe, just amusement now.

Pete then slammed his hand onto the neck of a hunter, and snapped his neck. Two bullets came and he ducked under them, and finished all three of them off with several slices.

After Peter came home with the blood all over him and smiling, they then congratulated him. But Peter still had the bloodlust, and seeing that he was this powerful at this age, Peter then challenged his father and mother for alpha of the pack.

The family laughed at this joke, whilst Peter stayed serious, hands twitching. Peter attacked his father and slashed his throat in, and his mother dived, Peter ducked to the side and stabbed both of his whole hands through her back, killing her and letting her fall on top of the back of his father. Peter turned and let his two brothers run off.

Peter's father turned his bloody face, his eyes yellow in anger and teeth sharp, it seemed he was proud, and was chuckling with fluttering eyes. "You have.. done well.. but the weight of the world will come down on you soon, when you are older, you will see how much of a dumb choice.. you have made." Peter's father's eyes closed and he breathed his last breath, and died.

The words and the bloody face echoed as Peter sleept, into his dreams. "You have done well, but the weight of the world will come down on you soon."

Peter woke up with a start, and looked around, sweating.

The assassin turned to the side, holding his hands in his pockets so he could hide his clenched fists. His wild blonde hair hung over his face as he attempted to hold back the fire igniting within him. The leather of his gloves squeaking was just barely hidden by folds of the long black coat.

”Gotchya boss..,” Ans chirped with a half smile. His mind ventured elsewhere as a sidestep took him towards the tall white doors. He made sure to close the door behind him with ease. With a quick gesture, a deathstick appeared within his hand. A swift flick of fire from his finger tips lit the cigarette in his mouth. One deep inhale soon followed. When the exhale came, he puffed out the ashen smoke with a heavy scowl.

”Oh please... Shove it down your throat you fuckin' shit head.. I'd love to knock your sorry ass down a peg or two...,” Ansatsu quietly grumbled through the brown and white tar between his lips. His boots began the loud echo as they had before as he made his way back to the lobby. Something caught the young man's eye.

His emeralds passed down to bright, colorful roses that sat idly in the middle of the humongous foyer. Ans stood in trance with the beautiful botanicals for a few long minutes. He forced a smile and continued his slow strides.

The flowers died as a quick slice cut them from their stems. A second hand caught one of the gorgeous bulbs and crushed it into dust. Ansatsu re-sheathed his Sogeki blade back and walked out the intricately crafted mahogany doors. He didn't care to close them behind him; that asshole could get robbed for all he gave a damn. His quick feet danced down the stone steps and into the courtyard.



The sudden taste of tar and gunk hit him like a ton of bricks. Ans made an audible “bleugh” and tossed the cigarette from his lips. It dropped and rolled across the pavement. The roll was stopped by a merciless boot that annihilated it from existence.

”Fuckin' dick head is gonna' get me killed.. Cocky son of a bitch is the only reason I'm into that shit anyways...,” He growled down at the smoldering ashes, ”Eh... I guess I'm just making the outside match the inside...,”



Ansatsu stood for a brief moment, studying himself. Beneath the clothes, was stainless steel robotics that made his life extraordinary. However, beneath that, was a body almost entirely covered in severe burns. The assassin hadn't seen what his real body looked like in almost three years now. He didn't mind much considering the last time he did; it looked as if he had come straight out of a Freddy Kruger film. There had to be robotics merged with his body in order to cover the scars and retain his stamina and skill. They seared and stung like millions of killer bees assaulting him from the neck down. It was a relief that he no longer had to endure this agony. However, the troubles of dressing from head to toe just to look presentable was greatly annoying. But even Ans had to admit,

His robot body was pretty badass.
Ansatsu leaped through the open window of his expensive Camero. He took a brief moment to make sure he didn't look too pissed in the mirror. A half smile marked his satisfaction with how he reserved he looked. He huffed and put the sports car into drive. As he veered out of the slender driveway of the estate, his finger activated the radio that he loved oh, so much.



He smiled widely, hearing the familiar guitar riffs of the great Motley Crue. Ans paid no mind to the speed limit as he peeled onto the road. He tapped timidly, trying to rid himself of that oppressive fury he had within Tang's mansion. The mission was barely on his mind. The Eastern Executioner couldn't work pissed off. He had to cool down first.

”Sir, Your Heart Rate is currently....AVERAGING...: 76 bpm. Your Average This Morning Was: 52 bpm. His car suddenly vocalized to him over the roaring vocals of Vince Neil. He scowled and looked down at the heartbeat info scrolling across where the song information SHOULD have been. The frustrated assassin ran a rough hand through his wild, flying hair.

”Woopifuckindoodah Orenji! Would you like a medal? Why the hell does my heartbeat being high matter?,” Ansatsu snarled at his built in computer system. His elbow came to rest on the window sill, using his knuckles as a place to rest his head. The wind off of his Camero going sixty miles per hour made his hair float. The metal mercenary drove one handed, trying to take the stress of as much as he could with the useless computer bantering with him.

”Well Sir. This Could Be A Multitude of Scenarios: 1.) You Have Become Out Of Shape In The Course Of Eight Hours. 2.) You Have Had A Spike In A Particular Emotion. 3.)You Have Endured Strenuous Exercise. 4.) You Have Endured Sexual Activity.

His blonde eyebrow raised at the fourth option.


”Man, I wish,” Ans chuckled to himself.


”You Wish You Had Endured A Loss Of Your Shape Sir? I Suggest The Box Of Twenkies In Your Left Panty Become Your Main Diet and Create An Account On The Website Named 'Tumblr.'.

Ansatsu lifted from his comfortable position in the window sill and looked oddly at his computer system in the dashboard.


”Orenji...,” He calmly spoke.

”Yes Sir?”. It called back to him instantly, awaiting its next command.




”Stay off the Meme Sites.” He calmly spoke.

It was going to be a long drive to Boston.

The larger man ordered his brother to open his side door on the car and his brother obeyed, thinking his older brother was going to throw a home made grenade out the door but he was wrong. His brother slammed the brakes and pushed the smaller, longer haired sibling out of the car in a dark ally while the helicopter wasn't on them, giving the small boy a window to escape. Dzhokhar screamed at his brother, "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!? WE'RE IN IT TOGETHER!" But his words went un-heard over the squeal of the tires as the car sped off with the older brother.

The older brother wanted to buy his brother time to hide so he might make a chance of escape, he knew he was as good as dead but his young brother might have a shot at freedom from this hell hole....

Peter packed his small things in his small bag that went onto his back, fixing and tightening the straps, he slowly moved his hand to the door knob of this motel room and opened it, not knowing his own strength right now, the door snapped and cracked. He was obviously still shaken up from the dream.. from what he had done.

He whiped sweat from his brow and walked down the hallway, pushing a couple of college idiots out of the way who were on Spring Break, and then he moved down the steps and towards the door. The man behind the counter, a bit plump, fat at the neck, chin, and stomach, stared at Peter with small little eyes hidden behind the bulging cheeks. "H-hey mister, you okay there?" Peter slowly turned his head and stared at this man, eyes red and his sharp teeth bearing.

The man behind the desk screamed, and dropped to the floor out of surprise, he had feinted. He let his eyes turn back to a blue color and teeth move back to normal, he set the motel dorm key down to the desk and walked off, on to the way of traveling the world.. once more. Or maybe even the city? But he had a feeling not today would be any ordinary day for him.

“Some shit... Not being able to enter the city... Im lucky that Im incredibly talented or else I'd be sitting out there still...,” Ans murmured to himself as he made the slow climb up a water pipe. His head cocked left with a sigh.



The agile assassin spilled beneath the metal railing onto the side of a fire escape. He slowly began to prove he was the parkour master as he leaped from level to level. Using his magnetic boots, Ansatsu sprinted around the side of the railing and hooked the ladder.

“Sir. The Local Law Enforcement Did So In Order To Prevent The Escape Of The Subjects That You Are In Pursuit Of. This Escalates The Probability Of Success On Your Mission.” Orenji spoke in his ear-bud with a bright, robotic chirp.

Ans grumbled with lowered eyebrows.

“Well it's still rather inconvenient if you ask me.”

The robotic merc took a quick leap and landed on the gravel rooftop above. He skidded to a halt then quickly scanned the skies.



His emerald eyes locked on to the police chopper about five blocks away from him. A warm smile of satisfaction spread across his face as he placed his hands firmly on his hips.

“There we go, right on schedule!” Ans chipped happily. A gust of wind blew his wild blonde hair as he unsheathed his sword.



The young man stuck the long of the blade between his teeth and knelt down. He knelt down and slid around the Dragonov rifle from his back. The Eastern Executioner went down to one knee, bringing the zoom up to his eyeball.


“But Sir, Your Target Are The Three Men Involved In The Bombing; Not The Police Chopper.” The animated system chirped in confusion.

This only forced a sly smirk from Ans. He dug through his pockets until he pulled out an object. It was a metal circle with several triangles around the edge. Ansatsu folded down the triangles and stuck it within the chamber of his rifle. In a fluid motion, the gun was cocked and Ans aimed down the sights with precision.

A silenced shot fired the strange bullet at the chopper. It landed in the back of the vehicle, just below where the tail began.



“Yes! That was a tracer Orenji. Wherever that chopper goes, we know about it. Right now, it's just scanning the skies. But as soon as that baby makes a suddenly jolt one direction, I'll know where those bastards are!” Ansatsu proudly asserted.

“Now we sit and wait...,”

Dzhokhar dipped into the shadows, his tactical vest biting at his neck line and forcing his sweating hands to drop his rifle and adjust it. His hands shook the whole time while sweat stung his eyes even though it was late at night in early spring. He sat behind a dumpster, jumping at each noise, his gun now back in his hands. His nerves were shot and his reflexes showed it easily.

His mind raced at each shadow, thinking it was some faceless police officer or something else. He sat in the ally for a good hour before managing to collect himself enough to stand up and walk out onto the street a few feet, ducking behind each car for cover as he went. His mind soothing a bit once he made it past the first street. He rounded the corner onto the second street and walked right into a man who was outside waving a shotgun despite the warning to stay in doors. Dzhokhar wasted no time, his M14 coming up and three rounds burying themselves in the fat balding man's chest, killing him. He smirked, thinking it fitting that the bullets found their coffin by creating something that would need a coffin. His moment of triumph was short lived, a white light blasting him from above, the whirling noise of blades and gusts of wind shocking him, he had been seen by a helicopter. His feet reacted before his brain could, chucking him into the building the fat man had stumbled out of. He ran through the town house and out the back door, climbing over a fence and sprinting toward another yard, kicking he back door in before running out the front door and into a street a block over.

His eyes went wild, sweating pouring off of him as he looked for a hiding place, he saw a truck parked on the street, the cab lifted just enough for him to roll under, he dove over to it and rolled awkwardly just as a white light washed the road and passed him by, not aware of his left foot sticking out.

Peter heard gun shots and his head slowly moved about, ears twitching. He sighed and shook his head. He had no need to run like the pitiful humans moving through the streets like wild animals. This mutant simply walked through the streets, turning his head and looking at the firetruck.

He saw a shivering left foot sticking out. Peter slowly bent down and moved his hands on the firetruck, lifting it up, but not completely, letting it lean back on the ground as his claws dug in to the metal, turning his head and gritting his teeth, eyes flashing red and blue. Peter thought he could get a new meal.. but he was wrong.

Seeing the gun he had, he squinted, and moved his right hand toward the man, but instead his right hand slammed next to his head, hovering above him, and showing his teeth. "I.. remember you."

Ansatsu laid along the edge of a building with his arms tucked behind his head, listening to some music in his earbud. It was certainly a cloudy night in Boston. Perhaps not even the gods wanted to look down at the terrible tragedy that took place so recently. Seemed fitting if you were the poetic type. Ans never saw himself as such. He just figured he'd listened to so much music that stuff like that just came to him. It sounded like some epic metal ballad. 'And the darkness cast down and I was there to see, the gods wouldn't look at the horror of us, not even me!' Typical epic war song BS that seemed packed in a lot of the songs he listened to. Why was everyone so gloomy all the time anyways? Tragedy happens. There's nothing you can do about it so why let it ruin your life? The Easter Executioner never found a good answer to that question. On many days, that kept him going.

Sir I Must Advise You That The Chopper You Traced Earlier Today Took A Sudden Forty Degree Angle. I Took The Liberty Of Tapping Into The Speaker System Of The Helicopter And They Believe They Have Spotted A Suspect.

“Yeesh! Took 'em long enough!” Ans chirped back at his computer system. He kipped up to his feet on the ledge, a little bit of loose pieces of stone falling below him. The robotic mercenary leaped from the side of the building to the side of the fire escape. He descending quickly by jumping from level to level. Once in the alley below, the blond crouched and made his way to the opening. He stuffed his back against the wall and peered around the corner.


“Look at 'er Orenji, ain't she a beauty?” Ansatsu spoke fondly of the bike he had coveted earlier that day out of boredom.

Sir You Know I Cannot Compute Beauty

It was in a blur that the assassin was straddling the seat. The clever blond placed his trusty silencer over the muffler of the bike and sped off into the night. He quickly shut off the main head light and trusted Orenji to guide him through the darkness. He was no fool; he made sure to take as many back alleys as he could. Lucky for him, Ansatsu was used to veering through alleyways to avoid being discovered. He attentively dodged heaps of trash bags and avoided trash bins.

Sir This Is Not A Road.

“Is now.” He calmly answered, a cool tone overshadowing his cheery one. Ansatsu Sha slipped into the shoes of the profile many gave him, The Eastern Executioner. Like a lion on the prowl, his pride mane blew in the breeze of his high speeds. He eventually hit a metal trash bin and cursed himself. It was fortunate no helicopter was near his location to see or hear the event. A hobo eventually was found huddling near a large green trash bin. He yelped and dove out of the way of the speeding reaper. Ans quickly dug through his pocket and tossed a hundred freely out behind him. The dirty man quickly coveted the bill and smiled wildly at the mysterious man as he veered off into the distance.

Sir We Are Close To The Location Of The Chopper.

“Yeah I know Orenji. I ain't deaf ya know.” He remarked, hearing the chopper's whirring. Ans quickly brought his motorcycle against the side of a dark alley. He turned off the engine and activated his chameleon hexagon camouflage. Little tiny hexagon squares appeared around Ansatsu, forming to the image of the surroundings around him. The robotic mercenary sat attentively on the bike, awaiting the the helicopter to veer over the him and off into the distance.

They Appear To Have Lost Him Sir.

“I won't.” Ans confidently reassured his computer assistant as the roaring chopper blades passed over his block. Even if the chopper pilots had looked into the alley where he resided, all they would see was a parked bike. This made him smile as a warmth of invincibility overcame Ansatsu. This could be both an amazing and foolhardy feat of his. His confidence gave him the strength to do all he could muster without any doubt. However, his overconfidence may one day be his undoing. Not like the oriental assassin really cared. Death had to come some time, maybe even sooner than he planned. It would come when it wished, but he made sure to live it up as long as he drew breath.

The blond hopped off his bike after a few minutes of wait and creeped over to the edge of the wall to see the oddest thing he'd ever seen.

“A Werewolf lifting a firetruck eh? No wonder they got the city on lock down!”

Sir That Isn't Your Target. Your Target Is About To Be Devoured By The 'WereWolf' Inquestioned.

“Oh shit, I better do somethin' then!”Ans exclaimed, yanking a smoke grenade from his pack and throwing it between the two. It would explode, covering the area in an ashen gray fog. Ans clicked a small button on the side of his visor, switching his sight into infrared. He saw the blinding color of the cold ash coming about, but faintly saw to heated signatures together. Ans quickly lifted his arm and fired a cable from beneath his wrist at the smaller of the two signatures, aiming to hook him and pull him from danger.