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Dr Archeville

[Musical Vignette] A Pushy Tune

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Takes place on the same day the magic music spell goes through, during a very brief visit to the outskirts of Freedom City by Push, at exactly high noon. ;) Old-school Victorian house's cellar on the edge of town, think...umm...Ashton and Grenville, likely.

The daemon’s blast flew over Push’s head as he rolled, spitting numerous curses he’d learned from Mike while reaching up and firing a blast from his hand. Another dead-end lead, here on the outskirts of Freedom City. Some evil scum, most likely Scratch, had called up this reject from Dante’s Inferno, and it’d been causing some chaos on the down-low. Lucky for the city’s heroes, and unluckily for him, he’d been the one to run into it, after hearing a Daniel Webster had been connected to this old house. Good news is the thing didn’t seem all that strong, beyond being fairly damn resilient. Bad news was that it had got the drop on him, and he’d lost his hammer and hat. His damned hat!

Push kept leaping and firing, the blasts seemingly doing nothing to the monster. It fired back with blasts of pure hellfire, scorching the ends of his coat and scarf. Snarling, he tried to push by yet again, aiming for the hammer that lay on the other side of the room where the beast had thrown it. A wall of flame discouraged that action, and only through some fancy footwork did he barely managed to evade the follow-up shot. Push stood, panting, face ashen. The weight of the two-year-long chase pressed in on him as he and the demon faced off, eyes locked. This wasn’t the first time he’d descended into some dark cellar or hideaway, only to find some infernal “gift” Scratch had left behind. And Push knew that Scratch was always right nearby, probably watching and smirking. The things were never that powerful, usually on the same level as Push himself…but it was a cunning trap, and delaying tactic. Quinn could be a sarcastic jerk sometimes, but he wasn’t cold enough to leave some eldritch beastie around to terrorize just so he could chase down it’s summoner.

Neither of them moved…Push let his hands drop...oddly enough, into a gunfighter’s stance. He felt a strange tingling in his mind, and words began flowing out of his mouth. It was slightly muffled by the scarf, but it was painfully obvious…Push was singing. The words just emptied from him, echoing his mind as it ran over the endless pursuit he was in.



It’s all the same…only the places change…

Every day…it seems I’m wastin’ away…

Another place…the bodies are still cold…

I fly all night…one day I’ll go home…

I’m a hero…through the skies I’ll fly…

I’m wanted…dead or alive.

Wanted…dead or alive.

Can’t get no sleep…dreams keep me ‘wake for days…

The clues I meet...lie cold inside their graves…

Sometimes I wonder why…

Scratch picked me for this fate...

I know I gotta find him…before it gets too late.

Yeah, I’m a hero…through the skies I’ll fly…

I’m wanted…dead or alive.

Wanted…dead or alive.

I’m a wanted man…caught in a perfect frame!

I’ll track down Scratch…and then I’ll clear my name!

I’ll go everywhere…and I’ll still stand tall!

Throw demons in my way, Scratch…and I’ll rock them all!

I’m a hero…through the skies I’ll fly!

He’s wanted…dead or alive!

Wanted…dead or alive!"

Push shook his head as the demon dispersed on the last verse, and he looked about. The hammer was in his hand, and he was standing over where the thing had been when he started the tune. He felt some injuries, a burn here and there that weren’t there when he had started…and why the hell had he been singing anyway?

He slung the hammer on his back, idly kicking the ashes of the demon, then shrugged. Nobody’d heard it anyway. And besides, it had been a pretty catchy tune. Walking over to his downed hat, the kinetic controller checked a piece of paper he’d found in the warlock’s stash. Some shipping company based out of New York. His fist clenched, and the paper crumpled in it. Gabriel Quinn, aka Push, whipped an arm down, sweeping up the hat and jamming it on his head with fresh resolve, as he started for the stairs.

Scratch…maybe not dead or alive…but the two of them were wanted men now. And one way or another…he’d find him.

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