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Long days and short tempers


Vith

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Pompadour runs his hands (needlessly) through his hair. His eyes are big and he's breathing a little fast. "Ha. Yeah, baby! wheeeeww! I'm gonna need a lot more practice before that's a smooth ride, but that was pretty good." He doesn't look tired from exertion, just excited. Pompadour takes a few deep breathes and shakes out limbs that are quivering with excitement.

"ok... uh. Costume you say?" Pompadour looks down at what he's wearing and shrugs. "To be honest with you, I don't use an identity other than Pompadour anymore. I mean, I have one... which any six year-old with internet access could access. But, the only name that really means anything to me anymore is Pompadour. I don't see much point in separating the person and the hero. And... uhm... my family changed their names and moved away... you know... when I was a supervillain, so I don't need to worry about protecting them."

He coughs and looks away for a moment. "So, uhm... what's next for the heroing thing?"

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Mercy felt a momentary kinship with Pompadour, thinking about her own parents who'd abandoned her. She'd been much younger at the time and they'd been sure she wouldn't wouldn't remember them(funnily enough they were mostly right. She couldn't recall much about them but she remembered hearing them say that quite clearly).

"Awkward" the heroine thinks to herself, "Well, I think we've done enough for today, why not buy me something to drink as payment?" she asks, hoping he doesn't ask her how old she is.

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"wha-ah-at?" Pompadour seems startled. "It feels like we're just getting started!" He glances at the display on his cell-phone, "and it's not even 10:30... what time does crime call it a night? Or maybe you're saying it's too early for criminals to be active?"

"Tell you what... if it's too early, we can go score a drink, if it's getting late we could still find a bar or something, we'll just take a scenic route. Sound ok?"

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"Fiiiiine" Mercy complains, she didn't need him to buy her booze anyway. That's what fake I.D.s were for! But this was supposed to be her day off! She'd just gotten out of the hospital! "Whatever, let's see if your creepy tentacle hair can keep up with me" she taunts before launching off the roof with a boom that made the building shake.

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An unsuspecting liquor store late at night gets some unexpected guests. Seven 'people' clad in trenchcoats and fedoras walk in unassumingly. In gutteral growl the trenchcoats and fedoras fly off to reveal seven well built red creatures with horns and cloven hooves! The largest one beggins directing the six others then turns to the woman behind the counter, "You not call superheroes, we not take you with us when we done. Understand?" The woman nods in awe and fear, hoping against hope that someone would save the day.

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Pompadour unfurled tendrils of his hair, and chased after the flying heroine. He came to realize that flying had the advantage of not having to follow streets nor rely on finding things to swing off of. Much to his surprise however, Pompadour was able to keep pace with Mercy simply because he could move faster in straight lines than she could.

The downtown streets seemed empty, and he began to think that the night's adventures were over. Then something caught his eye, and he pushed himself to overtake Mercy. Once in front of her, he signaled for her to follow him, and looped back to stop atop a nearby building.

Once Mercy had (crash) landed next to him, he pointed out the liquor store across the street from their vantage point. "I just saw about half a dozen guys in trench coats go in there... and I might be the novice here, but that seems pretty suspicious to me."

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Pompadour does outpace her, much to Mercy's consternation. Just as she was about to 'accidently' clip his hair so she could dramatically rescue him, he landed on a roof. Careening onto the nearby roof, the heroine decides to simply run back, leaping the gap between buildings easily.

"Ha! You just want to get me drunk, admit it" Mercy teases, "Still, it is kinda suspicious. Let's go check it out" Her agreement had nothing to do with the fact that they were all in a liquor store, nono.

Stepping off the edge of the building, Mercy lands easily and walks confidently into the liquor store. "Hey guys and or gals! Silly me, I thought the flasher's convention was next week. Does someone have a camera I could borrow?"

Perhaps not the most dignified or obvious way to check on suspicious activity...

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Pompadour's brow furrowed in manly concentration as he struggled for a retort. Finally, he settled on "If you aren't sober you'll never believe it in the morning." Unfortunately, his clever line is delivered to empty air! Mercy has already sprung into action, and leaped down to the street.

Following suit, Pompadour also jumps down, extending his hair out and down, it acts as a mighty shock-absorber. He enters the liquor store hot on Mercy's tail. A quick glance around tells the tale of what's going on. "Holy Naked Hellboys! It's a Sinister Sausage fest!"

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The large one sniffs the air a few short times and then fixes his gaze on Mercy, "A young one." He smiles and fixes his gaze on her, "You come at right time, young one. We have what you want!" The giant demon cackles as he reaches out and grabs her. She feels her mind distort, as if the thing was trying to get into her mind!

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"Sorry, my mother always told me to avoid horny guys with alcohol!" Mercy quips, sheer revulsion at the intimate contact forcing the thing out of her mind. "Ok, I'll be honest, that's a lie. But I'm sure if she'd stayed around she would have said something like that!"

She was babbling and she knew it, managing a half-hearted swing at the 'leader' even as fear forced her to dance back defensively. Things were trying to get into her brain. She didn't like things there. "Don't let him touch you!" the heroine growled to Pompadour. 'I hope it's just touching anyway'

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Mercy's swing goes wide but the other demons take affront to having their leader supposed leader being taken potshots at. With a voice the sounds like a cross between an Alien and a Gremlin, one of them shouts... something. The six of them rush at the two interlopers swinging bottles of alcohol with wild abandon.

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Pompadour recoils from the storm of cheap hooch. However, the beer demons are relentless. A tendril of hair knocks one of the demons swings wide, but the other two that have attacked Pompadour connect! What should have been a stunning blow strikes Pompadour's head, but the blow seems to be dispersed by his hair. The other bottle, swung low catches him across the bottom of the ribs, and Pompadour lets out a gasp of breath.

"Back off, winos!" Pompadour brings strands of hair to bear against each of the demons who struck him, smashing and tangling them up.

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Pompdour's hair is just too much for the demons to handle. They fall limp in the locks as he grabs at them and quickly lets them go. The boss demon pays no mind as he stares deeply into Mercy's eyes, "Come child, don't you want the alcohol. It is your friend. It loves you." Thoughts of nothing but happiness try to enter Mercy's brain at that moent remembering all the alcohol she has ever consumed.

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Mercy easily dodges the bottle-wielding demon's attacks, almost seeming to ignore them as she concentrates on the one that's speaking english.. or as he concentrates on her.

The young heroine staggers as she relives a life-time of booze-filled parties and lonely nights that combined together, leaving the foulest taste in her mouth. "Yea well.. hnngk!" Mercy's retort is cut short as she gagged and doubled over, barely managing to pull herself together.

Wobbling as she straightened, eyes a little glazed behind her mask she focused on the lead demon again, spreading her arms wide and slamming them together with a giggle as displaced air shot forward, causing bottles and doors to explode in a shower of alcohol and glass.

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Pompadour's hair drove the first two beer demons up against the roof, crushing them there, and he felt them go limp in his hair's brutal grasp. While distracted, the 3rd imp darted in from the flank. The Beer Demon's bottle smacked into Pompadour, with all the effect of a rolled up newspaper against a Kodiak bear. Pomp dropped the first two demons he'd vanquished with a dual flop, and turned a baleful glare at his assailant. A massive coil of hair formed above Pompadour, swelling into the shape of an anvil the size of a small pony. The unwieldly lock smashed into the unoffending tiles of the store, as the imp skipped out of harms way.

Pompadour snarled in frustration, and backed away from the demon, extending his hair defensively.

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The head demon cackles at Pompadour's and Mercy's misfortunes. "Silly fools batting away like children." He grins at Mercy, "You would know. Wouldn't you, kid?" Snatching the woman from behind the counter, he pulls her over it with one hand around her neck. She struggles in vain as he squeezes. All of a sudden, he demon disappears. Falling to the floor, she picks herself up. Instead of the frumpylook she had before, she now looks more like the most beautiful woman Pompadour and Mercy have ever seen. "You like," a demonic voice comes from the woman. "Damn right I like," the woman says with slurred pride. "Good. Take out heroes. We go have fun after this." The woman takes an offensive stance towards Mercy and Pompdour. The demonic voice speaks again, "You have to go through her to get to me."

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"Just frikken peachy. Real smooth Merc" Mercy muttered to and at herself in annoyance, arms lifted away from her sides as the alcohol soaks into her costume and her hair, "I smell like a kegger" she complains loudly, the fact that it's her fault just seems to make it worse.

"Dude" the heroine turns her attention to the possessed woman, "Bullets bounce off of me, what could you possibly do to me in that body? Aside from charge me for all the booze" Which could be a real problem. "As for going through you? Not really. All I have to do is pin her down." as she spoke Mercy was quietly digging the bolas out of her utility belt.

With a quick, underhanded throw the weapon flies from her hand, whirling through the air, missed the possessed woman by centimeters and slamming into the top shelf stuff kept behind the counter, making an even bigger mess.

"I hate you" Mercy muttered at the lead demon, glare hidden behind her soggy mask.

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"You little shits are boring me." Pompadour's hair snakes out in a two-pronged arc, and snatches them up. "Time to cash you in for your deposits." There is a resounding *crack* as Pompadour drives the heads of the two bottle-toting Imps together. As Pomp drops them to the floor, the champagne bottle one of the demons is wielding pops its cork, spraying a white fountain of booze into the air.

Pompadour steps over their prostrate forms. "Did you hear that Mercy! I quipped! I'm getting the hang of this hero stuff!" Glancing back at his partner, he frowns. "You OK, babe?"

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