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Sarah rolled her eyes at Ciro's putting down of Keeya. Of course there would be a problem with it, almost every thing had a problem inside. She also raised a brow at his indication of if they both stood out. "Watcha got in mind? It's not like we can just let the guy go afterwards and watch him go home and not expect him to get backup?"

She gave Writ a strange look as he told her about her 'brother'. "... Oi..." Sarah rolled her eyes again, stuffing her hands in her jacket pocket.

“Because you know I’m totally going to let him get away. Rest assured; he’s not going to be talking to anyone once I am done with him.”

What was it with all these other kids and casualties? Ciro felt no qualms about taking out a blacksuit. As far as he was concerned, these men in suits were just as much monsters as the Gorgons. They had the same intentions, at least. These men were planning to eradicate them, and they did not distinguish from the innocent and the guilty. If you played, you were an enemy. Even Vlad, a newbie, wasn’t given a break when it came to the blacksuits. Killing one only helped all the players of the game. Just like all the other godlings, the government organization behind these guys was an enemy that must be eliminated.

“Well, princess.” Ciro started, his voice caustic in nature, “If we don’t come out of the shadows, neither will they. You can’t gain something without taking a risk yourself.”

His cigarette had burned nearly to the end, and he spat it out with gusto as his hand slipped into his pocket for a fresh one. It was a bit bent, but with minimal effort it was in his mouth and burning.

“So unless you think the four of us can take on the entire organization by ourselves, we’re not going to be able to handle pulling the entire mob to investigate. One or two we can take easy, several hundred trained government employees? Not so likely.”

He sighed, exhaling the smoke and wondering why he needed to explain everything. “We pull one, we learn where their hideout is, and we have the element of surprise. We can ambush them and they won’t know what hit them. That way we take out a few at a time, rather than trying to fight a mob.”

“And if that doesn’t make sense to you two… Then go home, because you won’t be needed here.”

God damn, Ciro was getting annoyed of these kids. Writ seemed to understand the plan just fine without every detail of attack and ambush explained to him, but these girls… He could tell they were jaded, too. Just because he had proved them both wrong, they were now on the look out. Both of them wanted to bring him down a peg or two… But he wasn’t going to let that happen. The fact that they got so angry after such a simple and logical attack only proved his point.

His face was a harsh, disapproving scowl. Had he sight, he would have found a hobo to attack on his own… But considering the circumstances… He felt it just too embarrassing to ask Writ for help. Regardless, he motioned his fellow man over, his voice low as he elaborated a bit more:

“You guys should hide. Reports of more than one mutant… And the guys’ll be all over us. If they think its just one, they’ll probably be a bit less defensive. Besides… That way you can ambush him and knock him out without much of a ruckus. The quieter we are once we got this guy… The better.”






Ciro only had to move a few yards before the smell of old, overripe alcohol reached his nose, and the drifting, droning snores of a displaced. While he couldn’t be sure for certain… He only assumed and hoped that Writ had forced the girls to follow through with his instructions. Worst case scenario, the stupid brats would come bursting out trying to prove themselves, and ultimately get the entire rescue party captured themselves by their delusions of grandeur.

He sighed in annoyance, hell, they were annoying. But eh… It seemed that his next goal would be the perfect act to help vent this newfound frustration. Sure, a small hint of pity went to the poor, helpless, sleeping bum he was about to pummel, but Ciro simply reminded himself that he was one sacrifice in many for the purification of the world.

It was this man’s duty to be beaten to a pulp, because he was helping to save a better man.

And so, without hesitation, his tanned, calloused hand reached out, gripping the man’s old, scraggly collar. His muscles tightened as he lifted the man, who was now waking from his drunken slumber.

“Whuzzat!? Who’re you?!”

Ciro frowned, a sincere, angry, hateful frown, before raising his fist. The man squirmed, but found it futile to resist against such a strange and sudden foe. Were the horns real… or did he just have too much moonshine? The man floundered, coughing and trying to focus, his hands clawing at Ciro’s arm to try to escape. Even while drunk and confused… He knew that this strange horned man meant business.

And then Ciro let loose. One right hook, then a left. It was overkill, he was relentless. Punch after punch. It seemed as though every feeling of rage and frustration was being let loose.

As if beating this man would rescue Abbot.

As if he was the man that had kidnapped his father.

As if he could pretend he wasn’t harming an innocent.

The small, broken, beaten man slumped to the ground once more, blood streaming slowly from his nose and mouth. What was once a scraggly and messy face was now a hillside of purple hills and bloody mountains. A tooth lay helpless and stranded on the concrete ground.

Ciro paused, waiting, listening. There had to be some sign of someone coming. If this didn’t work… Hell, he could go beat up more hobos… But he knew this was his one chance. Should this fail… There was no way his team was going to let him continue to plan.

And he needed to be in charge. He needed to know that Abbot was safe.

He hoped, nay, prayed, that a blacksuit would hear. He needed to be caught.

He needed his new prey.

"Well then, better leave Uncle Ciro to his work, eh?" Writ looked at the two newbies, "Fire spreads, and I don't think we want to be in the way."

Writ touched his ears, and felt them soften into putty. It's been a while since he had used this power, but he still knew how to make a "Normal" face and ears without a mirror. His ears were round and his eyes were slits when he finished. He had a feeling that a Blacksuit wouldn't place him with the others if he looked relatively normal. That's something he needed for this new plan formulating in his head. Writ heard footsteps coming this way.

"Well ladies" Writ whispered, "If either of you have mad ninja skills, you better use them, because hiding seems good right about now." He grinned, "Be right back."

He ran off.

"Help!" Writ said in his best panicked civilian voice, going over to the source of the flashlight. It was a man, and judging by his looks, a Blacksuit.

Perfect.

"Hey!" He ran up to the Blacksuit, and in a convincing stutter, he went, "Th- There's this guy, he's got horns and s**t, he's beating up some old guy!" Writ pulled the Blacksuit's arm over to the scene of the ruckus. His voice was growing louder, alerting Ciro, "I tried breakin' them up, b- but the horn guy just keeps going at it, y- you gotta help me out here!"

When Writ smelt the burning alcohol, he figured something was up.

Come on Ciro, don't lose it. He thought, you don't have to burn them up, just beat them up. His ears caught the sound of footsteps towards them. Something struck Writ. How was that blind b*****d going to know who to attack? Well, too late to figure that one out.

Writ kept himself from pulling out his ax and going for the man himself. It was best just to keep it nice and subtle for now. He'll take this trick nice and slow until things start heating up. He heard Ciro's heavy footsteps come this way. A moment later, horn boy was right in front of them.

"That's him!" Writ said, letting go of the Blacksuit's arm to point at Ciro, "That's the guy who was beating up that hobo!" He ran behind the suit, "He's kinda scary." Writ whimpered, "But you're strong, you can take him." He gave the Blacksuit a timid push forward.

Writ resisted the urge to smile.

Keeya, thankfully, looked normal and untouched by any "mutations" with her hood up around her head, however she was lost as to what she was to do since there really was no place to hide.

Poor communication skills... Boys, ugh. Even if you don't talk often, make use of what little you do say, seriously.

She kept her lips sealed however, unsure of her role in this performance. It wasn't her scene, she was just a supporting character in this scene.

Finally, something sparked in her green eyes and she moved between the blacksuit and Ciro, blocking the flames from their targets view and grabbing his arms: this was risky, but its not like the Blacksuit could tell she was touched, nore really the fact that she wasn't even the same nationality of the hobo, not with her skin covered and the dark of the night, "Please! Stop hurting him! Let my dad go! Please! We're just passing through, please. Please!"

Her voice was filled with raw emotion, loud and clear, but it quickly dropped to a low, harsh whisper for Ciro's ears only "Hit me. Knock me over. Anything - I'm just a girl, right? Maybe pull some heartstrings for mister blacksuit here."

She grinned broadly under her hood, though it was covered by the cloth as she raised her voice again, tugging at Ciro's sleeve, her voice shrill -- even though he had not touched her, she sounded as if she was in pain. It sounded so real, looked real, but she barely even moved the other Godling. Keeya pulled back, trying to make it look like she was trying to escape, and let her knees buckle slightly as she squealed in her supposed pain, born for the theater, baby "YOU'RE HURTING ME - LET ME GO! STOP! PLEASE!"

Junior Agent Leroy Jenkins acted tough, but he was, in fact, a coward. This guy was a genetic deviant! But why was he beating up some hobo and some hobo's kid?

And who the hell was that tall? Leroy was average height for a suit, and even he wasn't that huge! He was just about ready to crap his pants. He gripped the mag-lite and took a fighting stance. He was sworn to protect the City from the punks in the Game, after all.

Even if hobos were the scum of the earth.

"Let the girl go, Freak," he said.

Her eyes clenched together as she heard scene beyond her. Keeya's screams sounded real, and even though she knew they were fake, she felt a shiver down her spine. Another shiver went down her spine when she heard a loud crack, and then a thud. Sarah shot up, looking a bit more relieved as she saw the Blacksuit on the ground. The girl stuffed her hands in her pockets, observing Writ and raising her brow.