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April 16th.

It was a cool spring night, no rain, or much of anything else.  Even in the Fens  That was not much of a comfort to the guy on the ground.  Bald, and looking like less a junkie hood, and more a professional in crime, he was still scrambling back, crablike, from the smaller, shadow shrouded, form that was walking towards him.  Acting very unprofessional.  The white of the hockey mask he wore was a stark from the grays and black he wore over the rest of himself.  As he walked, he let the piece of rebar drag and rasp against the brick wall.

"Don't reach for the gun.  It wont stop me, and then I will be upset."  His voice was level, in that deep monotone he had, but dull, dispassionate.  His gait didn't stop, didn't change as he approached the man.  "I want information and you have it.  You will give it to me."  There wasn't a hint of threat or menace, perhaps some implied from his efforts, but that was in.  Then the piece of rebar was moved to aim at the hood, the point right between the man's eyes.

"You... you're sick man!  Sick!  I've dealt with you masks before, this isn't how it is supposed to go!"  The criminal lashed out with words, even as he cowered, and stared at the rebar.

"I'm not sick Lawrence Hardy.  I haven't done anything.  You're the one who is afraid, it's your imaginings that are running wild and filling the empty spaces in your head.  I've done nothing."  Came that dry reasoning from behind the hockey mask.

"I can't help you!  You f***ing psycho!  I'm sorry!  Just leave me alone!"

The masked man man seemed to stiffen a bit, "Lawrence, don't lie to me.  You're not sorry."  And then he lifted the rebar to strike the man.  "Not yet."

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A sudden hiss of motion shot past, the rebar falling to the ground with a thudding clatter that echoed throughout the alleyway. An arrow bounced off the wall and landed on the ground. Roof slates grinded as a presence on a nearby roof suddenly made itself felt, allowing its boots to make a sound once more. A gravelly throat cleared itself as red eyes emerged from the gloom, balefully looming down over the two figures below.

"Well, well, well," drawled the voice behind it, low and raspy. A thick Scots accent slurred the words slightly. "Whatever do we have here?" The black shape raised a large compound bow upwards, an arrow nocked and ready to go. "Let's be reasonable men."

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His head turned with the rebar that was knocked out of his hand.  Slowly he brought his head back to look at Arrowhawk, before his other hand then, and he lifted a gloved had up, and keeping it aimed at the criminal that was kneeling before him.  "I am afraid we are a bit past that point, aren't we?  Or we would be having a civil discussion over tea.  If you don't mind, Lawrence here is going to be divulging information to me regarding such things as the ins and out of some weapon shipments."  That voice never changed it's tone, whether Errant intended it to, or not, he was certainly presenting himself as a bit of a blackguard.

Slowly he turned his head to look back at the man, , "Isn't that right Lawrence, you were going to sing for me."

Lawrence, for his part jumped a bit when Errant was looking at him again, and sensing an opportunity jumped upon it.  "Y-you... this guy is crazy!  He said he is going to enjoy gutting me!  He's... he's a psycho... man saw too many slasher films or something!  I'll go to jail... just... just save me!"  His face dripping with sweat from terror as he looked up at Arrowhawk, pleading.

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Arrowhawk dropped into the alley, cape billowing around him like a great hawk's wings. "Hrm." He looked over his shoulder at Lawrence. "Well, we don't want weapons getting smuggled in. Either way, you're dishing out where and when so it doesn't happen." The archer snapped his head back to look at Errant.

"But there'll also be no gutting, or ploughing a man's skull in with metal. There's not a line between a civil cuppa, and a length of metal. There's a great big bloody spectrum. Around the point you can smell urine, you need to stop snarling so the arseholes can tell you something."

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"I know what I was doing.  Thank you for the criticism. I will take it to heart, but they will always talk to me."  And he moved to go pick up the piece of rebar and he rolled his around between his hands, and he turned his head, with that hockey mask towards Lawrence.  "I was just going to hit his right arm.  You know that one, don't you Lawrence?  The one you like to smack people with.  Your girlfriend, I mean that is just cliche, but there it is.  Go ahead and try to lie to me Lawrence.  Try to run.  I will find you.  You'll have nightmares about me Lawrence.  Tell me where the guns are, and you can go to jail.  I wont follow you there."

Lawrence for his part stared up at Errant, and then shivered, growing more pallid.  "They're... they're in an old panel van.  Three blocks south parked at the bar..., the meet up was supposed to be at one in the mornin'..."  His words almost a sob, and he was almost curling into himself supplicating himself towards Arrowhawk, hoping the other hero would get the creepy guy to stop.

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Arrowhawk rolled his eyes and sighed. "Well, this is happening now." He rolled on Lawrence and bent low, so close the crying man could see his stubble and the discolouration of his teeth. "I don't do good cop. Spill anything else you have, and this ends. We call the cops, you confess to them, this ends. We go smash up this little gun smuggling ring. That ends.

His voice came out low and soft. "Anything. Anything at all will help." Recent events hadn't made him soft. But maybe it was time to show some compassion sometimes. Maybe.

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Lawrence screamed back in response, snapping at Arrowhawk in the way that panic might make someone  "I don't know man!  I picked them up and drove them out here... that was it.  They reached out to me, through my parole officer, gave me a burner phone, offered a couple grand to move it there and help unload it.  That's it..."

As he spoke Errant grabbed the man's arms and pulled them behind his back, so that he was facing Arrowhawk more, and he used a ziptie to bind the man's wrists together, before he swiftly moved to pulling out tape, and covering Lawrence's mouth.  "Can't have you screaming when they show up.  Sleep well Lawrence."  And then he drove his elbow against the back of Lawrence's head, and the lights went out, Errant easing him down onto the ground.

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Arrowhawk shouldered his bow. "Right. Then we go and stop the shipment. Take down the people doing it, and find their source." He turned to stare the other cape straight in the eye unflinchingly. "And while it will involve force and violence, it will be the appropriate amount for some wanna-be hard men. Save the hitting with rebar for actual metahumans. I'm not the Silencer. You won't be while I'm here either." He whirled on his heels and glided down the alley, cape whooshing out behind him a little with his fast pace. Up close, it was apparent he was favouring one side more than the other, one leg struggling to match the other's pace.

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To his credit Errant didn't back down from that stare.  So he might get points for that.  If he or Arrowhawk cared.  What did show through was the bone tiredness of the younger hero.  When the older hero moved Errant worked to keep up, though it was clear he was not as physically trained as the other.  Given the non-outfit, and a mask more associated with the horror movie character and not a hero, it would feel that Errant was more a rank amateur.

 

"That will be a comfort to me the next time I am shot at."  Came the delayed retort, or the sarcastic aside, it was hard to say with his deadpan voice.

Edited by TheAbsurdist
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  • 8 months later...

GM

 

 

They made their way through the snarl of alleys to where they were to go, coming to a convenient place where such dark meetings tended to happen, the back end of some shops and an abandoned industrial building.  There was vans, and they were parked in a manner that was easy for them to pull away, but also a defensive crescent with which to protect themselves.   Like... in a situation such as this.  Light streaming out from the headlamps of the cars, and the overhead lights from the buildings for the various loading areas, forms moved behind the cover to the vans, certainly visible, though indistinct thanks to the brights aimed at where the heroes are coming from.

 

As Arrowhawk and Errant rounded into the lot there was a bit of a shout.  "Hey!  Hey a**holes!  Do you friggin' mind!?  We're tryin' to do some bidness ova' here!"  Came the booming Jersey-ite voice from behind one of the vehicles.  The l

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  • 1 month later...

Arrowhawk shook his head, and let out an exasperated sigh. Really? Playing the tough guy act on him? He didn't break stride, but simply turned sharply. A professional would have just shot him, not called the two obvious capes 'assholes'. He nodded to Errant to follow him, and nocked an arrow, holding it loosely, pointed just towards the ground, so he could pull and fire in a split second. 

 

"Yes," he hissed in a low tone. "Yes, we mind, boy." He slowly tilted his head up, letting the red light of his lenses come into view. "Drop any weapons and merchandise. That'll be the easy way." Arrowhawk cocked his head to one side, waiting for them inevitably not to take it, and for them to come out shooting. 

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