capeandcowllogs | In A.D. 2011, war was beginning.

In A.D. 2011, war was beginning.

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". . .He wasn't kidding. But! But--Sunlight." She points to the sky, forgetting she was holding a weapon and it goes clattering to the ground. "Oops."

The more she thinks about it, the more he's probably not a vampire. Right? He can't be... The gem of amara is gone, and if they managed to make another, he's not wearing it. Besides that, she's getting that weird tingly feeling she tends to get in graveyards late at night.

Still off-put by her methods he couldn't help but feel a little defensive around her. There was definitely a dark air about her... but he would always extend a hand of friendship before deciding she might have to be dealt with.

"Yes, that's why I came." He nodded, trying to hide his feelings a bit. "I'm sorry... it must've sounded much worse than it actually was." He looked at the gravedigger and bride. "You work great as a team. Perhaps I was wrong into thinking you may have needed my help. There were a lot of them. I was concerned." He placed a fist over his chest. "My name is Lion-O. Lord of the Thundercats."

"It's not fine, Peter. You're in shock." Her eyes only widen further when he pulls the arrow out. She would've done that. Fingers edging close to the wound to apply pressure she feels something really really not okay, and it's not a hole through him. How can there not be a hole through him? She backs away, though she's hanging close if he still needs to lean on her for any reason. Though with the uninjured now she guesses he won't. "Nifty."

"Hey, I can play the damsel in distress just as well as the next girl, if I have to," she smirked at him thinking she needed help, but she wasn't necessarily adverse to it, given the situation. "Besides, from what everyone is saying, we're all going to need help. They're angry I made their 'action figures' disappear, I think. Those are dolls, right?"

She almost laughed at his name, managing to cover her amusement with a black hand long enough to stifle the urge. "Lord of the Thundercats. Man...that would make a fantastic band name, you know." She glanced away for a moment as one of the nerds being slowed by the bride got rather close to her. She waved a hand and a black tear tendril lashed out, solidifying into a hard surface and smacking into his chest, sending him sprawling away. She didn't cut the man in half, though...just for Lion-o.

"I am Ophelia," she gave a little mock half-bow as her dark eyes turned back to the orange man. "Queen of the Drowning Doom."

Aaron watches the crossbow clatter to the ground. She seems a bit clumsy with it, and if she heads for the crowds, there's no telling who might be hurt. If it was up to him, everyone, even the instigators, would be alright at the end of things, but he has more than his fair share of experience to know better.

"Hmm." The cuffed nerd squirms a bit and Aaron looks down at him from the corner of his glasses. The nerd catches that disapproving look and winces. Aaron visibly frowns at the wince, addressing the Dracula. "Unlike what you did to my coworker, I don't bite. You will be held for assault of an officer, however."

After another second, he breaths a sigh of relief, and it's laced with amusement from the sheer dumb luck his life continues to bring. "Like I said, it's fine," He offers Buffy up an apologetic smile before turning and looking around himself, still trying to assess the situation at hand. Turning back to Buffy and her dangerous crossbow, this time Peter's just gone back to looking concerned. Partially because some nagging instinct at the back of his mind is telling him that something bad's about to occur behind him, but he ignores it, figuring it's just nerves. "Get any better of an idea of what's going on?"

"They were angry over action figures? That's just foolish.... I understand getting upset over losing a toy, but resorting to violence is going too far." Even when Lion-O was little he just pouted when he lost something. He never pummeled Snarf over it.

Thankfully her personality didn't seem as terrifying as her power. He rubbed the back of his neck a moment, chuckling at her band comment. "I wasn't aware of that. Thank you."

And she was a queen? Inwardly he wondered what kind of place Drowning Doom was, but they were in a middle of a crisis. He had to keep conversation short. "It's... nice to meet you, Queen Ophelia." He bowed slightly, giving her a boyish smile before looking out at the street.

".. How long do you suppose these people will keep attacking us?"

"People can get angry about whatever they want, it doesn't matter. Everyone's angry about something." Ophelia took the long view now that she was supposed to be dead, it seemed. "And violence works pretty well for most problems. It's doing wonders for them so far."

She glanced out at the nerds. Her gravedigger was menacing at them, but they seemed to be keeping back for now. She held up a hand, snapping her fingers twice, and the vaguely unsettling looking mime came trudging back, the parking meter resting on his shoulder. Ophelia grinned at the title, she rather liked the sound of that. 'Queen Ophelia.' Sure, she fancied herself a queen over the tear drinkers...she was, really. But it was nice to hear from someone else.

"No idea," she answered his question with a shrug. "I guess they'll stop when they blow up the porter building. That's what they want to do, right?"

Buffy tries again, like Aaron is slow or something. "You, vampire." And there's pointing. "That, Sun." More pointing, then she mimes a shrug. "Two very unmixy things and yet... here you are." The kid with the plastic teeth once again leaves her baffled and okay, she has to ask, "You bit someone? Ick."

He tilts his head a little at her, a little annoyed with the tone, but he had ignored her in favor of reprimanding the Dracula nerd.

"Yes, I realize what time it is." He sounds annoyed too, which is rare, but he's had a long morning. Since she's obviously clued into the fact, he doesn't bother to hide his fangs while he talks. "Where I'm from, it's perfectly normal. Most people around here seem surprised by this."

"Thank God he doesn't sparkle, right?" Quips the nerd and Aaron almost rolls his eyes.

He definitely shouldn't be giving her the apology eyes. So she gives them right back, and hard. But his question brings her back to the present, not bothering to reload said crossbow for obvious reasons.

"Freaky people, making grabby hands at the grabby hand machine that brought us here. Um. That's the gist anyway. My bet's on mind control." Oh look, here comes a hoard of nerds now.

Edited 2011-05-19 05:20 (UTC)

She would apologize but he is a vampire. Then again, he's a vampire cop walking in the daytime, and he's not seeming too keen on the attacking of her.

"Vampires don't arrest people where I'm from. They get more with the eating them, mostly." But she seems okay with giving Aaron a chance, and she's getting more baffled the more nerdy guy speaks. "Why would he sparkle? Nevermind. I don't wanna know."

"I see." He does not sound impressed with the kind of vampires she deals with. "I think you'll quickly discover there are a few breeds around the city, and many do not tolerate murder. Of any sort." He glances down at her crossbow on the ground. He's beginning to wonder if it has something to do with her paranoia of his vampirism.

Alex had been celebrating his vacation by...converting his living room into a war room. He had the TV on 24/7, skimming through the news feeds, a laptop tracking social media, and the Abstract open in front of him.

The was a map of Manhattan spread out on the table, where he used the information he was gathering to track the movement of enemy troops. He kept in contact with other imPorts and their sympathizers via a bluetooth headset synced with his comm.

Glancing out the window of his MAC apartment, he could tell things were only getting started here. It wouldn't be long before they tried to bring the whole building down under him.

It was only good fortune and a borrowed hat that saved Zevran from getting attacked just like Mara was the moment he set foot on the street. He'd been showing off his new-found skills with this crafty "electric stove" invention by making breakfast for the man (and secret Crabhammer ally) he'd shared last night's bed with when the television had flipped to this bizarre announcement. One heartfelt plea and several sexual favors later, he'd convinced the erstwhile Crabhammer with whom he'd spent the night to let him go unscathed and borrow a nice fedora as well to hide the giveaway that was his ears.

It's not until a little while after the fighting has started that he comes across Mara, and then he just leans against a nearby window and watches for a while. A lull in the fighting finally brings him out to comment, "I would offer my help, but you're doing so well on your own. Do continue."

Also, his "help" would result in bloodshed and even angrier nerds.

Frank was in a bad mood. The city was in chaos, the creepy nerds where everywhere, and all of this was keeping him from getting to the actual bad guys. The ones that would still be here when this was all over, pimping and dealing. All he could do about it now was to help take down these freaks as quickly as possible and minimize the damage they caused. It was going to be a long night of work.

It wasn't long before he found a group of them in an alley trying to set fire to a building. Creeps didn't care if anyone was going to get hurt. Jumping out of the shadows he took down one of the nerds with a solid punch, breaking the young man's jaw and knocking him out. Barreling forward he knocked over another freak, whirling around to deliver a kick to his head. They were screaming and yelling now. Apparently some of them knew who he was. Good, a little fear was always a useful advantage. He was making fine use of it too, when he heard the bombs go off. It was a large city and someone else might have missed the sound, but the low whump was a sound Frank was too familiar with.

His mood went from bad to black. At least now the last qualms he'd had about killing these punks was gone. Too bad for them.

Lion-O sheathed the Sword of Omens in the Claw Shield resting at his side. For now, it seemed their current threat was moving elsewhere. He nodded.

"Right. I think I may just make my way over there... I just hope no one is getting too terribly hurt over all this." He couldn't help but notice some of the nerds still writhing a little on the ground. "...Maybe I ought to bring the injured to the hospital first."

He looked back at Ophelia with a slight smile. "If you don't mind me saying, try to... be a bit more gentle when you're defending yourself, your majesty."

"I think you're probably worrying about the wrong people," as Ophelia spoke, the Grave Digger fell into place behind her, standing opposite where the Bride hovered about looking depressing. "These...people..." she nudged one of the nerds she'd injured with a foot, and he groaned. "Are attacking the entire city. And not just 'imports,' but people from here too."

She shrugged, "you should worry more about yourself, or the people they are trying to hurt in the first place. If you're too busy trying not to hurt your enemy, they'll kill you." She didn't actually care if the orange man died, frankly. But his attitude...bothered her a little bit.

Still, she could at least pretend to go along with it. "I'll...try, though." Yeah, like that would last. "But if they keep attacking me, I am not going to be nice to them."

It had almost been a bad joke at first. A bunch of idiots in bad costumes trying to play bad guys. But the sheer numbers, not to mention the fact that she'd been finding more and more people who had knew what they were doing when it came to hurting people, showed that this wasn't a joke.

She was moving across the rooftops when she heard what sounded like a muffled explosion. Damn it, were they blowing things up now too? She quickly made her way to street level where she found a group of nerds under attack from...

Wasn't that the guy who'd been protecting "King" Norman at the Renaissance Faire? Great, just what she needed, more of his idiot friends.

The whip was in her hand as she moved into the fray.

Meanwhile, Jack was satisfied with his work, panicked civilians notwithstanding. A young woman in green with a bow fired an explosive arrow of some kind at the helicopter and was immediately zapped unconscious. This seemed to mark the end of the enemy attempting to get onto the bridge from the Brooklyn side; scanning, Jack found no further targets. The rest of the mob was taking cover from the helicopter and its zap-rays. The hostile advance into Manhattan had been checked, at least at this location. A brief exchange on the radio established that no riot squad was on its way- the Crabhammers had done a hell of a job immobilizing the City's traffic and transportation.

Then Jack saw what was happening on the bridge. It did not look encouraging. He got on the radio again. "Blue Beetle, what's the situation down there? Over."

Needless to say, Alastair was having a terrible day.

After finally getting his chance to get away from the neighborhood of the Porter, he tried to head home, but the tunnels were blocked with cars and he couldn't get close enough to the bridge to find a way through on his motorcycle. So he turned around and headed back uptown, pausing only to finally get some damn coffee and frantically call Kaiba in the hopes he could get a few card blanks. He could feel the power of the Oricalchos rumbling in his soul, growing stronger the more afraid and angry he grew. He had convinced himself he wouldn't be able to stop from taking souls if it burst out of him again, and so the only thing to do was to get cards to hold the souls - the safest outlet he knew of. In truth, he didn't even know half of what his new power was capable of, and both under- and overestimated the danger. He still had three cards left to him, at least - the original Seal that had appeared in his deck that fateful night, and two spares that he had managed to keep from giving back to Kaiba after last time. So when the argument came to nothing, Alastair knew he would have to use those three cards sparingly, if it came to that.

He figured on trying to get to StarkTech if he could, because that building was likely to be safer than anywhere else right now. He'd be late for work, but he could still get there. Or so he thought. As he pulled up behind a line of traffic some three blocks or so from StarkTech, he realized the crowd of people thronging the intersection was more of the same. The conflict was spreading. A jolt of fear went through him, and it was last straw. No one in the cars around him could see the green symbol rise and flash to life on his forehead - his helmet covered it. But Alastair sat trembling on his bike while the power surged through him and awakened. Anyone who crossed him now was going to find out what the innocuous-looking young man could really do.

"You're sure? All right, thanks." Jack flipped his cell phone shut and turned to Seras. "We've got confirmation, the store's been evacuated. Gas them."

He picked up a gas mask and put it on, tightening the straps, giving himself a moment to adjust to seeing and breathing through the thing. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. "Once the gas spreads, I'm going for the bomb. I need you to cover me."

The intent had been a noble one, anyway. Sanji had spent most of the first day holed up in the MAC, feeding his dwindling crew and anyone else who trickled in hungry, not really interested in the fight outside. If they were going to send everybody home, he was not going to interfere. But it was clear by this morning that "sending the imports home" wasn't happening, either by design or by chance. And now they were attacking his friends - his lady friends. Sanji was not about to sit by and wait it out while that happened.

He had taken to the streets at a dead run, having to punt a few roving attackers out of the way of the MAC doors (thankfully they hadn't gotten in there yet), and headed in the direction of Rikku's. Shortly after noon found him nowhere near her workshop, or anywhere in particular, his way continually blocked by bands of nerds about as organized as any cadre of Marines - which meant more organized than one random pirate. He had no problem kicking their asses, and steadily did so in order to make his way to where people might need his help, but then a little car zipped up and haphazardly parked along the curb, a skull-and-crossbones sticker in the back window. Three girls tumbled out, wearing plaid skirts and toting cute backpacks as well as baseball bats. The guys currently attempting to hold this street and keep Imports from getting to Midtown yelled at them to go home, but one shouted out, "Don't you know his weakness? He won't hurt girls! Let us stand in front and he won't be able to do anything!"

Sanji straightened up and blinked. Wait, how did they know that about me? It was the truth, but he wasn't about to let on that they were right. For the moment while the girls argued their way into position, he stood back casually and lit a fresh cigarette, keeping his eye on the Crabhammer crowd. This was going to be a problem. He had to keep moving, he had to get past those guys who thought they were really tough, but they now had a wall of cute women in front of them. "Oi, oi," he warned them when he could get their attention. "This isn't a game, kids. If you want a war, you'll get one, with all the consequences to go with it. Don't get into something you can't handle."

One of the thugs in back giggled. "Dude, I think she's right, he won't attack the girls!" he stage-whispered. Sanji scowled even further; they had started it, and he would finish it. If he could just get those three ladies out of the way without hurting them!

Jack didn't hesitate to take advantage of the interruption, putting the car in park, throwing the door open, and jumping out. One of the stunned attackers lying on the ground decided it would be a great idea to try to kick Jack in the crotch. Jack caught his foot in both hands and held tight as he twisted the ankle in a direction it was never meant to go. The attacker screamed and went limp.

Looking up, Jack saw the source of the lightning and his rescue. That eyepatch was a welcome sight. "Geddoe!"

Jack greeted the Rossum CEO with a nod, his face impassive. Every time he encountered private military contractors, it seemed they were trying to kill him as part of some labyrinthine terrorist conspiracy. And Rossum did not have the best reputation in the City.

"Mister Langton, I appreciate the offer but the C.P.D. doesn't employ mercenaries." He looked at Boyd and his bodyguards. "If your people are going to help respond to this crisis, they'll be doing it as volunteers." Langton wasn't Norman Osborn, but Jack still didn't trust his motives.

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Page 3 of 17

In A.D. 2011, war was beginning.

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And now you're a slayer Peter 8D Have fun with that.

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He will okay X(

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he better ;; it was her gift to him, just like an arrow through the middle

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OPEN

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Open

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OPEN, also Kiryu get in here

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OPEN!

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