Purge [OPEN]

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Daemon
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Purge [OPEN]

Post by Daemon » Wed May 01, 2019 9:46 pm


Image

NEW YORK CITY

It’s an open secret that many members of urban police squads are severely corrupt. Extortion and bribery are common. Even good cops are at risk, if they buy the notion that they can keep people safer by accepting bribes. They might feel powerless to resist, and let that powerlessness lead them down a bad path.

Flint had felt powerless once, during his SWAT days. Who wouldn’t, contending with men who could break city blocks at will?

But the solution had been right in front of him the whole time.

Feeling powerless? Get stronger.

He was making the police stronger. It was a side project.

They were calling it a one-man war on the cops, vigilante justice that left broken, barely-conscious officers hanging from streetlights with evidence of their iniscretions stapled to their uniforms. Their badges had also been confiscated; Flint was collecting them, working his way through the patrols. Starting with the bottom, then going higher up the ranks, venturing into the safer parts of New York.

The city had suffered too much. It deserved rest.

The Daemon emblem soon began to appear on every street corner. Painted, not by him, but by criminals. A warning. No deals here - these were his streets now. No; its streets.

After all, nothing human moved like that. He was a ghost, a straight cop killed by the gangs, betrayed by his brothers. That’s how he knew their lies. That’s why the night belonged to him.

The national news was beginning to catch on. He liked that. The message was clear:

Nobody is safe.

That was how it needed to be. Soon, all the dust he was kicking up would bring out the supercrime. The guys with real power, who never needed to lift a finger. The guys who had moved in after the Decimation. Once their network of dirty cops had been culled, they were next.

The Daemon was the law now. They’d answer to him.


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Savant
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Savant » Wed May 01, 2019 11:31 pm


Image

Fucking typical. This asshole gets his name on a five-minute CNN clip, and he thinks he's the next Spinebreaker.

Then again, the Spinebreaker was a little bitch. Threw a gun at me and got his ass kicked.


A new predator was stalking the streets of the Concrete Jungle. The symbol of the Daemon was unmistakable. It had taken stumbling across an unconscious cop, and at least five of the spray-painted demon-bat things, for Tobias to decide to get involved. His gunshot wounds had healed, and he was starting to get a hang of the skills he'd picked up during that fight.

After around a week of preparation, scrounging up ammunition, practicing with his new gear, the Virtuoso was ready. There'd only been one thing left to do. The Iron Curtain had shattered his mask in a single blow. He needed a replacement.

The store-bought variety of hockey mask wouldn't do. It worked as a template, to be sure. But it wasn't intimidating enough. So Tobias had widened the eye-holes, and cut a skull-like 'mouth' into it. His hands were steady, the knife moving with surgical precision. And when he was done, the Savant had created something people would remember.

Now, the Prodigy waited. He'd purchased binoculars, and located a rooftop spot adjacent from a police precinct. Looking through his binoculars, he watched... and listened. His radio was tuned to the police frequency. Sooner or later, something would come in. Maybe a Daemon sighting. Maybe gang activity. King's Men, Chechens, or a new player. Either way... they'd be the first people to meet the new and improved Savant.


Image
Looking away from the precinct for a moment, Tobias performed a quick gear check. First, the gun. A Beretta M9. Not liable to pierce whatever armor this demon guy was working with, but there was no doubt it'd put a particularly persistent gangster down. Not a week ago, the Virtuoso had put a bullet in the skull of Yandar Ibrahimovic. And he was more that willing to do the same to more of his thugs.

A police baton and taser were attached to his belt and in a pocket, respectively. The former would be his primary melee weapon. The other, a follow-up to render any beaten opponents properly unconscious.

Finally, literally hidden up the Savant's sleeves... two Volt Knives. His own invention, by way of Recurrent. Throwing knives that conducted a 1,500-volt electric charge on impact. Costly to replace, so he intended not to throw them if avoidable, or at the very least retrieve them if he had to.

Turning his gaze back to Precinct 32, and raising the radio's volume by another notch, Tobias continued his watch.

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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by ODIN » Fri May 03, 2019 1:09 am

D E P LO Y
New York… again? More Chechens?

Negative. A vigilante is out targeting everything that associates itself with crime, goes by the Demon. Cops, criminals, anything.

This Demon, you know him?

I know the man beneath. The name might ring a bell, Arno Flint. Deterrence’s Excelsus, turned vigilante after the liquidation of the company.

Hmm, tried to kill you.

Tried to save me.

And now? Where do you stand?

Despite what you might have heard, he’s one of the good ones.

Don't avoid the question.

I don't follow.

Don't try to dance around this. Not with me. None of this works if I don't know what I'm being put into. So, give me an answer. Am I heading out because you feel indebted, or because this man is important to the Wilde Jagd?

Will that changes your mind on deploying?

It'll sure as hell changes my mind on brutalizing cops for him.

Wilde Jagd
ODIN
A sinner without a past
The Vessel
A machine without a home

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illirica
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by illirica » Fri May 03, 2019 1:47 am

Pressing Charges
New York City, Again
Teja Docesznic was fairly certain she had just done this.

The incident with Meshindi had barely reached its conclusion, and now there was another vigilante running around in New York City - and again, she had all too good of an idea who it was. This time it was cops and not Chechens, and the perpetrator was leaving his victims alive. That made a difference, she thought. She wished Meshindi had been able to do the same... but that was then and there, and this was here and now.

They called him the Daemon, and she wondered where the extra a had come from. The general undercity of New York wasn't inclined to erudition. He had an emblem now, painted on buildings by people he probably shouldn't have wanted the respect of, but he had it anyway. Maybe something was better than nothing, or maybe it was all just incidental.

He wasn't hard to track down. Maybe he'd have been harder, if she'd not gifted him with a Society watch recently, but the watch was all too easy to track. Surely he knew that. He'd chosen not to leave it behind - which provoked more questions. Maybe, just maybe, it meant he was willing to answer them.

Last time, she'd had Noctua accompany her, uncertain of what she'd find. This time, more certain, she came alone. She'd still gone with Valence Shell equipped, less because she expected a high tier fight and more because it was what Arno Flint - D(a)emon - was most familiar with. He was the sort of man who respected strength, and if she came underequipped, he would have considered it an insult. She'd left the armor in partial-form, though, the helm plates flattened against her back, as well as some of the other defensive plates. A bit more personable, but everything was still there. Just in case.

Arno Flint was a man who would appreciate preparation in others. She'd dropped herself not too far from his current location - just a couple meters, in fact - and gave him a wry "Busy night?" as an opening line. Teja wasn't sure she actually wanted much of an answer to that, so she continued, "I brought you a present." Her hand extended, offering a single sticker, still on its wax-paper backing: Hi, My Name Is:

She had helpfully drawn in the Daemon sigil below it. It seemed like something he could use.

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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Daemon » Fri May 03, 2019 5:03 am


Arno was careful, strictly selective in his brutality. No inflicting compound fractures - they were needlessly disgusting, for one, and more importantly, the media would never print those images. You get too gross with your targets, and people start to sympathize with them, no matter how bad they are. Instead, he applied a variety of potent holds, bruising blows, and bone-cracking kicks to the most deserving enemies. The Spinebreaker, the one who had gone after Chechens, was strictly objective-focused. Arno was running a war, and that included winning over peoples' hearts.

That was big picture. Small picture was putting Lt. Scumbag here (Hell's Kitchen Special Patrol) through a wall.

A mighty heft forced the panicking, sweaty mass into the side of a building. He was out cold, with the evidence of the deals he'd been making clipped to his disheveled uniform. He was bloodied, hurt, and full of enough fear to guarantee he'd leave his house after eight o' clock again.

Arno crouched over him for a brief second, then rose, bronze badge in hand. The badge that so-called cop didn't deserve, now a prize of the Night's Watcher. A prize, and a reminder.

He smiled, and his teeth were red, and pointed.


INCOMING SOS SIGNATURE DETECTED, his Widget informed him.

Could be good or bad.

It was Recurrent. Neutral, he decided, raising his hand to his mouth. The false fangs were removed in an instant, the mouth-guard slipping out in his gloved fingers before he stashed it away in his belt. A touch of extra horror, to bring the legend to life.

"Cute," he said, accepting the sticker with a mild smirk. She'd remembered, and maybe even shared his sense of humor. He half-wondered if she was here to help him out, or to ask him to stop. Ever since the SOS had replaced Deterrence as the main peacekeepers of the planet, they'd been tied down to its desires. The UN served the interests of individual states just as much as it did the collective, and the noise he was making in New York would eventually be enough for them to call in a favor and have him taken care of.

Maybe. Could just be paranoia.

But then, where was 'Meshindi?' That was the name Recurrent had used before, when referring to the other black-clad man hunting Russian mobsters. No way he got taken out by a stray bullet. He'd ask.

After the small talk, maybe. Ally talk. Don't bring up the UN.

"What's new?"


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illirica
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by illirica » Fri May 03, 2019 12:44 pm

Apparently the Daemon had edgy cosplayer fake vampire fangs to go with the edgy name. Recurrent raised her eyebrow at him judgmentally as he stashed them away in a pocket, but still refrained from commenting on the matter. He'd just tell her it might be strange (mentally, she substituted ridiculous), but that it worked - and he was right about it, too. He was at least getting his local publicity, though she didn't know if he intended to move beyond the local scope at any time.

He took the sticker. She thought it amused him, which was... probably a good sign, that he still had a sense of humor. "What's new?" - an opener as relatively bland as hers had been. There was still enough Midwesterner in her that the urge to complete the circuit with "Oh, nothing much, and you?" popped up, but she doubted either one of them really cared about inanities. Teja looked over to the man that the Daemon had disabled - he wasn't in great shape, but he'd live to tell the tale some day - and he was unconscious, which meant he wasn't listening.

She leaned back against the wall, folding her arms and sighing. "Meshindi started killing people who were in his way," she answered. He'd have noticed the other man's absence already: they worked in the same area, after all. And he had a right to know - or maybe she just wanted to tell someone, to keep herself accountable. "I had to take him out. He'll live, but... it wasn't pretty." She shook her head, still not happy with the situation - with any aspect of the situation, really. "And Michael has a space prison, now."

Her tone spoke more about what she thought about that than anything else she might have said - that, and her phrasing. Michael has a space prison. Technically it was a Galactic Society thing, but Teja wasn't claiming any part of ownership over that place. She was realistic enough to acknowledge that one was probably needed - but for people like Surgath, like the Executioner, like the Pardoner. Not for people like Meshindi.

"Truth be told, between that and the Empyrean, I'm half waiting for him to decide he's too good for Earth and head off to space, maybe come back once or twice when there's a catastrophic event, but otherwise ignore things. Just like Nicholas. Just like Rust." She shook her head, then gave him a wry smile. "Sorry, Flint. You probably don't need to hear all this. What's going on with you? This the new norm?"

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Daemon
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Daemon » Fri May 03, 2019 2:27 pm


Meshindi killing people wasn't news. But space prison. That was interesting.

Arno could tell from her tone that she didn't approve. Or, at the very least, she had her reservations about it. The way she'd segued into talking about it after mentioning Meshindi suggested a link. Another vigilante, one he'd seen in action, one he was practically emulating. Not because he didn't know how to 'fight crime,' but because the dent that man had made in the Russian mafia seemed to be doing tangible good.

"Funny how that worked out."

There was nothing cathartic about watching someone slip, no satisfaction in what he'd predicted months ago finally coming to pass.

He needed more information. Another gamble, with no harm in being wrong.

"Is that where Meshindi is?"


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illirica
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by illirica » Fri May 03, 2019 2:57 pm

He asked the question with the subtle air of someone who didn't expect an answer, or expected he'd need to trick one out of her. Teja wondered what that said about him, that he figured a straight question wouldn't work. She wondered what that said about her. She answered with a nod, which was answer enough. "UN sanctioned it, so it's above board and all. And honestly, something like that needs to exist, for people like Surgath. I just don't think we need to be putting everyone there. We ought to take care of our own problems here."

Maybe he understood, or maybe he didn't. "There wasn't really time to discuss it. He was in pretty bad shape when I brought him in, and the sooner we could get him stable, the better the recovery prognosis was going to be." She pushed herself off the wall, standing up again, "I guess when it comes down to it, I'm still trying to save him." Still trying to believe he can turn this around, that he can be the better man he used to be. Still trying to think Meshindi had a chance.

Still trying to prove that Invictus' damn idea of death as a last resort had merit. Still trying to convince herself it wouldn't have been more merciful just to slit his throat.

Meshindi probably would have preferred it.

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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by Daemon » Fri May 03, 2019 4:03 pm


The vigilante was locked away in deep space, then. Arno's brow knit. Talk about inhuman. Something itched about sending a man that far from his home. Prison was one thing, but prison somewhere that might as well have been a whole new dimension...it was chilling. Not for any rational reason - space apart was space apart. Location shouldn't matter.

Reasonably, it shouldn't.

But in an animal way, it did.

"Hey. Saving people's what we do, Teja," he replied, sensing a subtle change in Recurrent's posture. It didn't even feel forced to say. It's what he'd been doing with the Company, and it was what he was doing now. A reassuring shoulder-squeeze would be a bit much. She was a soldier.

Instead, he turned, glancing down the alley, then sighed.

Arno remembered the back-and-forth between the Spinebreaker and Invictus. Carter's jabber, Meshindi's telling him to shut up. One's preoccupation with righteousness, and the other, with saving lives. He remembered that.

"I never met the guy. Ran into him once, though, when Mike and I were having a little tussle. Meshindi and I...would probably get along. I know he cares about others. I've seen it."


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illirica
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Re: Purge [OPEN]

Post by illirica » Sat May 04, 2019 1:17 am

"He does care about others. He cares so much he can't think of anything else, sometimes." The woman he'd loved, who he couldn't save. The woman from Detroit, who he couldn't save. He probably had a list somewhere of all his regrets, all the people he hadn't been able to save.

They probably all did.

"He cares about others so much he forgets who he is." Who he meant to be. That everyone was someone's other, really. "'I have no guilt in killing these-... The only regret I have... is not killing more of them.'" She still remembered every word. She'd omitted a few of the more flavorful descriptions in that particular line, but she hadn't changed the context.

"He shot someone up a stairwell, while we were fighting. Didn't even turn around. It could have been a friend, it could have been a child. He didn't even look. He's not who he used to be. And I don't know if he's going to come back, or if that's just going to be one more loss to mourn."

She walked away a little bit, crouching down by the cop he'd downed - still unconscious, bleeding, but superficially. Beaten, not broken. "Don't be the next one, Arno." It could have been spoken as a warning, but it wasn't. Instead, it was spoken more as a plea - or a regret. She didn't want to have to take him out - to add him to the list of superheroes she'd brought down when they'd stepped over the line.

She'd thought that leaving the government would have been the end of that. If it hadn't been me, it would have been someone else. I knew Meshindi.

He deserved, at least, for it to be someone who knew him.

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