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TheAbsurdist

Neon Exposure. (IC)

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Elias kept moving.  Not having a choice, as descending the fire escape at any great speed was proving more difficult, especially as in the mad scramble he was hitting the metal railing and then landing ungainly from leaping from the ladder.  And he was still some distance away, but now... now he had sight on him.  And more importantly he had a feel on him.  Though he wasn't stupid enough to charge them then, and he just didn't have enough time to do that.

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GM

 

"Really kiddo?  That's just sad.  Just go home, I am just collectin' a paycheck, and I ain't plannin' on you stoppin' me.  Looks like I will just have to make sure you wont stop me."  He smiled at  and Omen, and let out a surge of fire at the masked heroes face then.  Not really hurting him, or even blinding him, but it was designed to scare him off.  As he looked at Omen with feverish, hungry eyes.

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Omen didn't flinch at all as the flames came towards his face.  At least outwardly, on the inside he was falling  apart.  The flash of fire brought on memories of his parents when.  Hotheads were far and wide far from Erick's ideal opponents.  He could feel his heart palpitate as it screamed to be set free from his body.  But, Omen would have to put on appearances.  Somehow managing to dig deep and chuckle as he waved off the act of intimidation.  "I'm shaking in my boots.  Really.  Now in all seriousness stop playing with that before someone gets hurt."

 

Omen quickly swung the pair of escrima sticks attempting to knock the man out before he would have to deal directly with the flames any more.  Avoiding them was one thing but a close up view was a bit too unnerving for comfort even with Omen's level of confidence.  Unfortunately his emotions got the better of him and his attack wasn't coordinated properly enough for the pyromaniac to easily swerve his head and avoid blunt objects.

 

Deciding another tact was in order, Omen would begin to holler at the pyromaniac.  Hoping to goad him so as to complete ruin his cool so that an opening to take advantage of would open up.  "Well, then again.  I can see why you wouldn't want me to try and stop you.  With those little itty bitty flames.  You'd end up the laughing stock of your friends.  A burnt out wannabe playing with fire.  C'mon you have to already know how this story ends, you might as well just give up big guy.  I'm after bigger fish than you tonight."

Edited by HG Morrison

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And that was when Elias struck.  The guy was distracted.  His mind was focused elsewhere, and when Elias reached into his mind, it was with a deft touch, not even noticeable until what he was finished.  Then... well then it was too late.  As, the flamethrower quite suddenly, had his senses scrambled, scent mingling with sight, taste with hearing.  And then they were nudged to 11, before Errant just overloaded him with sensory data.

 

Neurons firing off between hemispheres, and the man's muscles going into rictus as he started to spasm and twitch into something akin to a seizure while the data while he was overwhelmed.  It was vaguely unsettling as the overwhelming information surge stopped halted fine motor control, and his muscles kept spasming visibly under his skin.

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Omen took advantage of the opportunity afforded to him.  Lunging forward whilst the fire wielder was a slave to his own brain, Omen would proceed to thrust his escrima stick towards the thug's head.  Defenseless as his target was, Omen wasn't surprised as the metallic weapon bludgeoned its target flush in the man's temple.

 

*BAM*

 

The fire startle's idle threats would never get the chance to come to fruition as he dropped.  Of course unconsciousness often slowed down the rate at which questioning for information could proceed.  But in this case it also slowed down the rate of flames spewing forth in the open.  So a win-win.  "Oh, I should have a quip for this moment.  Eh, looks like he's all burnt up?  That work for you, leaves a little something to be desired if I must confess.  But they can't all be winners when working off the cusp"  Omen called out to Errant.

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GM

 

The man could not respond, could not react, though his eyes focused and moved with the strike, as it connected to his head.  Static upon static fired off in his brain, and head went with the impact of the blow, unable (fortunately) to tense his muscle in an automatic response.  And he slid to the ground nervelessly with the strike falling to one knee hard and then the rest of the distance was evaporated as he collapsed onto the ground proper, unconscious.  The sound of his armor impacting the ground audible as it happens.

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His mind, it's fingers still brushing, coaxing, and manipulating the awareness/senses of the man, recoiled at the blow, and Errant rocked back on his heels.  A hand jerked up, grasping at the edge of his hood, pulling down on the front of it as he separated himself from the crushing weight of an unconscious mind.  Breath came, as he remembered it had not happened in a few moments, a ragged gasp.  Once his composure locks back into place, he hustled towards Omen and the insensate man.  

 

"Hrm.  Priority to quips is generally low."  And then lowered himself down on his knees next to the body.

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"You and I have far different priorities then."  Omen replied keeping an eye on Errant as he seemed to be taken aback by whatever connection the teen shared with the man being severed.  Or at least that was the conclusion Omen had come to with the events that just occurred.  A mental assault was a bit too subtle for the blonde to get the full gist of at a glance.  "Hey are you alright?  You're not going to take a little concrete nap like our buddy here are you?  I would have given a softer blow if I knew."

 

Omen immediately put his escrima sticks back in their holster clips.  For now it seemed there was no longer any reason to be quite on guard.  It also gave him the opportunity to pat his face making sure there wasn't any leftover perspiration from his too close for comfort encounter with the flames to his face.

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"I am fine."  His response was terse, and he was... more or less.  He moved to the man then, and he frowned as he looked over him.  "This makes it harder."  He slowly dipped into a crouch, forearms resting on his knees as he looked down at the inert form.  He closed his eyes and reached out.  There were preliminaries of him starting to sync with the flamethrower, a small hitch happened, as both gasped, and and left Errant rising up and shaking his head, as he felt the unconscious mind fighting off his efforts, and as dazed as he was from the the connection during the strick drilling into the man's head, he almost succumbed to the draw of it.

 

"I... hrm, can't touch his mind."

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"We could wake him up if you want?  Even do it the old fashioned way if you still can't 'touch his mind'.  Personally, I wouldn't complain about changing our location when we go about something like that.  In case he's still a bit hot headed.  Hands tied and all that good stuff."  The idea of having to bring this guy up and about wasn't exactly ideal to Omen.  He was enough trouble conscious once, he doubted they'd get much cooperation just because he joined the realm of consciousness a second time.  The blonde ran his fingers through his hair taking a moment to feel his forehead.  "I don't do well with flames.  Personal reasons and all.  So I might not exactly be the nicest guy come interrogation time if it comes to questioning."  

 

Omen contemplated how much of his explanation was actually just info that was being rehashed.  Talking to a person who always knew more information than was being given through esoteric means wasn't a new situation.  Even if the details were a bit different.  But it was still unnerving just the same, it wasn't as if Errant and himself had years of rapport as a foundation.  Working together still required some level of faith, so it wasn't an issue that Erick would open up for discussion.  Especially when one of them was looking a little worse for the wear after their psychic pincushion went to sleep.

Edited by HG Morrison

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Looking at Omen, he nodded quickly.  "Getting him somewhere else would be the wisest choice."  He slowly stood, and straightened, looking at the people around them, as after the fire stopped there was going to be lookers and the like who were interested in aftermath of a might.  It was just how it always was here, apparently.  "Come on."  And he moved to grasp at one of the man's wrists, and then looked back to Omen.  He could sense the innate distrust or rather the lack of familiarity.

 

He couldn't force the matter, and he wasn't necessarily the strongest person around, but this had to happen, and they needed to do it sooner, rather than later.

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Omen took to the other side of their unconscious pyromaniac without a second thought.  Ready to aid in hauling the man off, the blonde vigilante would begin to visually scan the bystanders.  Suffice to say the decision to leave came rather quickly.  Tilting his head to the side Omen would begin to whisper, "Well I don't know about you, but I think somewhere a little less public works best."  Prompting his fellow hero into movement, Omen would take his first step forward in the hopes that the two of them could get right out of dodge.

 

There was a time and place for mental probing insecurities.  And neither of those were in the middle of the forming crowd.  Besides, in this career a little leeway had to be given for those watching your back.  "If you don't think you can carry your half, just hand him over to me completely.  I can't even imagine how tiring whatever it is just went on is for you.  So I don't want to push you too far on a school night."

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He nodded and started moving, he was clearly not in the same physical league as as Omen.  But that didn't seem to stop him at all as he carried the man with Omen.  He fell easily into synch with the other hero, but that was aside effect of his power. "I will make it."  It was heavy, but he would push himself as needed.

 

Errant could feel their eyes and their curiousity.  It made him angry, or at least wanting to snap at them.  He could recognize the urge was not helpful, so he worked on just carrying the man with Omen,letting the older guy take the lead on it.

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"Back before Big Al took control of most of the mob's presence in the Boardwalk  this place was completely under Roman's thumb.  Well before my time, but the boss man certainly remembers.  Anyways, if I'm right and I know I am we can make it to abandoned property.  I don't specifically know of any, but around here just about anything that looks like it's falling apart most likely fits the bill."  The statement said something about the endless criminal presence in the city.  Despite all the super powered disasters and all the good that has swept the city.  There was still this cancer that would not cease to persist.  They may as well take advantage of that fact for once.

 

The costumed investigator readily took the lead while supporting his half of the pyromaniac.  Having absolutely no qualms with the spotlight Omen wasn't bothered by all the eyes upon them.  Being comfortable didn't preclude rationality so his quick decision to depart was one he was easily willing to stand by.  If not only to delay handing their friend over to the proper authorities before the duo got the information needed.

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It helped that Errant's face was shrouded, even if he was wearing modified street clothes, his emotions weren't immediately apparent.  Though his flat, distant expression tended to showcase pretty well.  "Just have to get far enough off the strip.  Not too used to this part of town yet either,"  came Errant's laconic response in the tone of voice of someone who was focusing on maintaining a grip on something he was moving.  Shifting and adjusting his grip to make sure that he wasn't losing grip and dumping the guy on his head.

 

Fast forward five minutes and some hustling later, and they were bringing the inert body of the man into an abandoned seeming warehouse.

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Omen didn't try to support their hostage's weight any longer than he had to.  So there was no struggle to support him up any longer when entering the warehouse, as Omen all too readily made room for him to drop far from comfortable to the ground.  Taking the opportunity to visually inspect the empty warehouse.  To confirm there weren't any surprises waiting inside, as well as scoping out the area tactically.  The last thing they needed was to run into some old villainous playpen that wasn't cleaned out all the way.  "So.  I don't suppose there's any brain tricks you know to wake him if he takes too long to stir.  It may be bedtime for those of us who pull normal hours, but when you start spurting out flames int he middle of the streets for the sake of your job.  Well, that's probably the point you need to give up some comfort."

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Errant was mute the whole time, apart from his breath, and the effort it took to keep moving with the man.  Dumping him when Omen released the man, he rubbed his hands on the front of his pants, and frowned a little bit and taking a few steps away.  His attention drifting, he felt out their surroundings, in case there was something lurking here, or the like.  Then his attention returned back to his impromptu partner and nodded a little.  "Mm, yeah.  Kind of.  I can't promise it will work, unconscious minds tend to do... their own thing.  Touching them is tricky."  Turning to look back at Omen, "I don't feel anyone around us."

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Omen looked over Errant pensively.  The notion wasn't without risks, normally he'd be fine with such a course of action.  But he wasn't going to volunteer risk on behalf of another.  Even if Errant was willing to go through with it.  It still gave Omen a sense of responsibility on the matter seeing as he put forth the suggestion in the first place.  "All right, we can call that plan B then.  No need to have you lurk inside a mind if it's tricky.  The last thing we need is to cause you undue misery on account of this guy."

 

He would awake eventually the night was young.  More or less.  There was absolutely no need to surrender proficiency for the sake of expediency.  Taking a look around the room out of habit Omen gave a swift nod.  "Good to hear.  Undue guests would provide for an awkward atmosphere to the party.  Though I'd be slightly impressed if we could get someone's eyes off the read of the boardwalk."  

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Errant nodded, and shifted a bit, as he looked away, focusing on... something else.  Not that Omen knew that to be normal, but he could readily get the feeling that it was.  After a few moments of silence he responded, "No one's followed us."  Arms folding across his chest, and he frowned under the mask he had over his lower face.  The costume he had on tonight was a bit of a pastiche of things, it was clear that Errant didn't care too much about his appearance, other then could he blend.  Which given that he didn't seem particularly strong, that made sense.

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GM

 

 

The groan came first, after what felt like forever.  The man had no weapons, though he did have a light, flexible body armor under his loose fitting clothes.  And despite his shabby appearance, it was clear that was more artfully adopted than the reality.  Still, no matter how much of a professional superpowered heavy one might be, when that person woke up from such a solid blow to the temple, it tended to make you a little bit a crybaby with the headache lancing through every square inch of skull.

 

Rolling to his side, he curled into the fetal position and groaned again, louder, and longer.  As he registered that he wasn't arrested, though that didn't necessarily mean anything positive for him at the moment.  Though the events that led his here were a little... foggy for him at the moment.

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"Wakey wakey.  You have to be a good boy and answer some questions for us.  Or else.  Well let's not discuss the or else's.  They could hurt a lot."  In fact, Omen had absolutely no plans to harm the dazed thug.  He was defenseless as he came to and there was no merit to attacking someone that wasn't posing a threat.  It was counterproductive to the whole hero gig.  But the large flame enthusiast didn't need to know that.  The less he knew about the reality of how safe he really was the better.  Or at least that was Omen's rationalization.

 

"C'mon big guy you and I are about to become good friends right?"  Erick began rhythmically tapping on the ground with the edge of his eskrima sticks.  There wasn't a deeply researched psychological component to the act.  He was just being annoying for the sake of being annoying.  Trying to make sure the man stirring awake had a perfectly uncomfortable rise.

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GM

 

There was a moment, as he brought his hand up to his head, where it was clear he was still shaking off the cobwebs of him returning to consciousness.  That ended the moment he pressed the heel of his hand to the temple that Omen had struck.  The pain lancing through his head brought him back to full consciousness in a hurry.  Turning his head towards the voice he saw, his eyes narrowed, no entirely from anger or hate, there was plenty of sensitivity to what light was there.  His lips curled up in a sneer then as he looked at him.

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Errant let Omen take the lead, which made sense, all things considered.  The other guy was a bit more intimidating than Errant was.  Sure, he could scare the pants off of the guy, but that way was far more invasive.  So he just folded his arms across his chest, and kept his head turned, feeling out his surroundings still, not entirely trusting his first sense of them being largely alone.

 

He felt an urge to simplify the matter, but that was... unhelpful and invasive.

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Omen pursed his lips. "Good, you're attentive. Alright buddy.  And trust me you want to be a buddy right now.  Let's start with the basics. Why don't share with us what you meant by you're just collecting a paycheck. Who's reaching out of pocket for you to start sparking up in the streets and where can we find them to show our appreciation?"   He didn't expect the man to just turn over on his weapon dealing friends.  But that's why Omen would have to be persuasive.  Which meant toning down the cheery and pumping up the dark and broody.

 

Bonus points for holing up in isolation.  It all should have gone a long way to adding to the creepy factor for a guy that was still out of it after being knocked out.  "Of course if you don't want to be helpful.  I could leave you alone with my partner here.  You too are acquainted from earlier.  He could reach into your mind leave you babbling like a kindergarten student as we walk out with your memories."  Omen didn't know if any of his bluff was real.  It didn't really matter as their flame throwing interviewee was the only one who needed to be convinced otherwise.

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GM

 

"You're... slow, ain'tcha?"  The man's eyes narrowed a little bit as he looked up at Omen.  His hand still pressed, if gingerly to the swelling over his temple.  "S'what I said.  I got paid to shoot up with that stuff, and then make a scene.  Would get paid more if I didn't get caught."  Closing his eyes and wincing, as he scooted up and leaned against a pillar there.  "Huh... oh, crap this hurts."

 

"Worked for him before.  Money is dropped into an account, I go show off.  I leave.  We don't have beers or anything.  Normally he just goes by Ambrose.  And fifty thousand means I don't ask too many questions."

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