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Post by acathala on Mar 1, 2020 21:44:00 GMT -5
Kitchen was likely connected to the club, so the kitchen he goes.
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 1, 2020 21:55:52 GMT -5
Tom steps into the kitchen.
It's, uh, a kitchen. One of the nice things about modern environments is that I don't have to really get into description. This particular kitchen is long more than wide, and a handfull of cooks work furiously to deliver food. By the looks of it, the food didn't really have any special theme. He sees a lot of fries (chips for you, I guess), burgers, nachos, and all of that stuff.
The music has also greatly increased in volume since he arrived in the kitchen. Every time the exiting door swings open, hard rock rifts blast the kitchen. It might explain why the cooks don't seem the least bit disturbed by the shooting in the adjacent corridor. They don't pay much attention to him, either.
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Post by acathala on Mar 1, 2020 22:12:47 GMT -5
Whilst tempted to take a bite to eat, that isn't why Tom is here. He races to the other doors. Time to put a stop to this.
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 1, 2020 23:27:37 GMT -5
Tom quickly makes his way through the kitchen. He reaches the doors to the club floor where a woman carrying a serving tray pushes through and passes him without so much as a blink. He steps through the doors.
And is greeted by a colossal wall of sound.
Roaring explosions. Flashing pyrotechnics. Wailing guitars. It may be a night club, but the band on stage is performing like it's an outdoor concert. Tom can feel his ear drums melting away from the attack of sound. Thankfully, they will regenerate, but the same can't be said for the rest of the club's patrons. And now he understands why the serving woman didn't bat an eye lash at him. The club is full of punk rockers: from neon haired mohawks to people dressed in full body leather, and all the weirdness in between, Tom fits right in. Mostly.
Tom slowly shakes his head. The crap that gets passed off as good metal these days.
The music doesn't fit with the feel of the club. There is some kind of naval theme to the club. There is netting on the ceiling, boat steering wheels, a fish tank, and related paraphernalia, but a lot of it looks worn and run down. The punk rockers gathered before the stage have kicked aside and knocked over any table or chair in their way, and there is a lot of dirt and food on the floor. The servers seem to be doing their best to keep their cool, but Tom can see the stress on their faces as they serve food to people only to have it thrown back in their faces.
Something is off about this place. It was clearly much nicer in the recent past.
"What's my name?" the singer on stage suddenly screams into the mic. His mohawk is bigger than anyone else's. At least two feet high and glittering with bright red LEDs woven into the hair.
"WAR COCK!" the crowd screams in unison.
"That's right, motherfuckers!" he spins his guitar. "And what's YOUR name?" The singer points.
Directly at Tom.
A series of spotlights suddenly illuminate the ninja.
The crowd goes quiet. They turn to face him. The music dies.
"What? You think I don't get reports while I'm on stage, asshole?" the singer explains. "You think I'm going to run? You think I'm going to hide? You think I'm a...chicken? Cock-a-doodle..." He finishes the familiar phrase with a sudden strum of his guitar. The explosive riff triggers another pyrotechnic blast.
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Post by acathala on Mar 2, 2020 5:09:29 GMT -5
There is such a thing as loathing at first sight. Although metal is only a minor music like of Tom's, he knows enough to know the guy is just plain awful. "I'm the White Dragon, and I'm going to kick your ass so hard, your dad won't need to spank it for the rest of your life, you fake ass bitch." Tom moves to the guy.
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 2, 2020 13:45:53 GMT -5
The singer introducing himself as War Cock puts a hand to an ear as Tom talks. "Did I hear you, right? Did you come for a war? He came for a war, folks!"
There are more cheers of "WAR COCK" as Tom approaches the stage.
"Give'em what they want," the singer says with a laugh.
His right arm suddenly elongates into thrice its original length, gears and sparks popping where all of the joints are, and then whips the guitar at Tom. He easily dodges it, of course, but the guitar smashes into the crowd with a deafening screech. The crowd finally takes the hint and begins to flee.
War Cock grabs a mic stand and jumps to the ground. The stand spins in the clearly robotic arm as he drops, striking the ground with a sharp crunch. His cut jeans rip a little as he settles on the ground.
"Time to suck it!" he shouts. He directs a pelvic thrust at Tom.
SUPER BATTLE (sort of): WAR COCK
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Post by acathala on Mar 2, 2020 14:55:48 GMT -5
"You were already sucking before I got here." He said to guy. "Shame you couldn't program the arm to actually play guitar." Tom goes for the beatdown, keeping to the side without the robot arm, dodging as he needs.
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 2, 2020 18:14:46 GMT -5
SUPER BATTLE : WAR COCK
Tom begins to close with the villain, but War Cock starts things off by lashing out with the robotic arm. Between it and the mic stand, it stretches a good 15 ft. Tom neatly ducks it and keeps closing. The arm then whips back, then the momentum carries into a sweeping strike that knocks away tables and chairs before him. This time Tom gets a little lazy and misreads the attack: the hand of War Cock spins the mic stand as it passes by and Tom is expecting a straight, level swing. It's not. It bounces off the top of his skull (-1 HP).
The terrible singer withdraws the arm. He glances over his shoulder at the band. They're watching the fight in awe.
"Hey! Who told you to stop playing?" he yells.
The band immediately launch into an ear melting song.
The cocky one head bangs in approval. "Yeah! All ri...OOF!" He stumbles back from a crushing blow to the the face (-2 HP). Blood runs freely from his nose. "Hey! No hitting when my head is turned. Just for that..." He launches into a series of whirling strikes with the mic stand. Tom quickly gets the impression the stupid rocker act might be just that, but now that he is taking the fight more seriously, he maintains his concentration and neatly evades the strikes. He counters with a spinning back kick, but is surprised when War Cock's robotic arm grabs his foot mid-kick. The terrible rocker then whips Tom by the foot into a table, but Tom neatly curls up, spins, and kicks off the table to land safely on the ground.
War Cock stares with a shocked look on his face. "Fuck! Are we in the matrix or something?"
WAR COCK: -2 HP
TOM -2 HP
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Post by acathala on Mar 2, 2020 18:27:17 GMT -5
(Question, are there immovable objects Tom can dodge around to entangle the robotic arm?)
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 2, 2020 18:35:50 GMT -5
I'm envisioning this night club as having a large, open space, so not really, plus Tom can see the arm is very dexterous and snappy, so it's unlikely to get seriously caught.
He could aim for the arm directly though.
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Post by acathala on Mar 2, 2020 18:48:56 GMT -5
Tom changes tack and goes for the robotic arm. He doesn't think the guy is going to be much of a fighter without it.
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 2, 2020 19:03:38 GMT -5
As Tom thinks, chants of "WAR COCK! WAR COCK! WAR COCK!" go up around the club, but everyone ran away. Geez, did this guy actually record people cheering for him?
"Crap, this guy is slippery," the cock singer says. He removes something from his ears. "Hey, basist! Give him a solo."
The guy on the base guitar spins a dial on his guitar, then hammers the chords.
The music was ear melting before, but the note that follows really does split Tom's ears. It's like getting struck on both sides of the head at the same (-1 HP; Dazed).
"Yeah! That ought to even it up," the terrible singer mouths. Tom can't hear anything. He launches the arm with the mic stand again. Despite feeling a little unbalanced, Tom still manages to roll away just before the mic stand crashes into the table. Tom then, from his knees, springs at the outstretched arm, knee first. He hammers directly into the arm at one of the upper joints (-1 HP). The fingers immediately go limp. and the mic stand drops to the floor. There is a loud squealing noise as the arm retracts.
"You asshole! Do you know how expensive these things are?" the singer whines. He points the arm at Tom and begins pressing at something around the bicep. "Fuck this, shit! Show's over, dickwad."
Parts and pieces suddenly launch themselves from the arm, reducing it to its basic hydraulic parts, and fly at Tom. They spread out all around him before exploding in a series of fragmenting blasts more akin to a nail bomb. Bits and pieces of broken metal cover every table and chair.
Tom emerges from behind a table with a few bits of torn steel in him (-1 HP), but he mostly avoided the lot of it. He kicks the table away and resumes approaching the villain.
"You gotta be fucking kidding me," War Cock cries, his robotic arm now significantly less intimidating. He begins backpedaling. "Somebody waste him!"
WAR COCK -3 HP
TOM -4 HP, Dazed
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Post by acathala on Mar 2, 2020 19:23:44 GMT -5
"To all you up there. Be smart. Run away. I've taken out all his security. No one is coming to help. Don't get between me and him." Tom warns. Keeps going for the robotic arm.
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 2, 2020 19:39:09 GMT -5
The band members exchange glances, then run away.
"Aw! You guys suck! And not cock!" the punk singer yells after them. With his arm significantly reduced in strength, he settles on grabbing a chair and throwing it at Tom. His head still ringing from the music earlier, he stumbles and gets hit by the chair (negative factor on 2; but rolled a 1).
War Cock laughs. "Finally! Okay, guess you've finally slowed down a bit." He charges Tom and delivers a punch. Tom's balance waivers and, amazingly, he gets smacked in the nose (-1 HP).
"Ha! You ready to suck my..." is all he gets out.
Tom counters with a helicopter kick. The first foot strikes the cocky one across the face, spinning his head to one side and dropping him to a knee, while the second foot twists him like a top, sending him spinning to the ground (-4 HP).
War Cock, now crawling across the ground, slowly tries to drag himself away from Tom.
"You mother fucking..." he stops to spit out a tooth, "Asshole! What the hell is your problem? You didn't even touch the money or the drugs."
Tom has to mostly guess at what the punk rocker is saying. That's probably the gist of it.
TOM -6 HP
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Post by acathala on Mar 2, 2020 20:24:24 GMT -5
Tom doesn't answer the guy. He kicks him in the side. "Who's your boss? Who supplies you?"
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 2, 2020 20:29:24 GMT -5
"Ouch! I don't know the details! Some Indian guy named Dhanevy hired me to pretend to be the boss. I'm not really the guy. I'm just muscle! Fabulous muscle. I'll do anything if you pay me enough."
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Post by acathala on Mar 2, 2020 20:33:28 GMT -5
"Where do I find him?" Tom demanded.
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 2, 2020 20:56:50 GMT -5
Cocky shrugs. "No idea. I just show up to work. He pays me. I run around barking orders like I own the place. He took off when you broke through the door in the garage."
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Post by acathala on Mar 3, 2020 5:20:26 GMT -5
"Nighty night, don't let the bed bugs bite." Tom says as he knocks out the guy. He looks for a phone on the guy and uses it to call the police. He tells them about where the drugs and money are. Tom then leaves, nabbing a burger from the kitchen as he goes.
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 3, 2020 13:53:15 GMT -5
"Wait, wait, wait!" cocky dude insists. "I'll do anything for money! Swear it! You want me to rat, beat up someone, whatever! Just pay up and I'll do it. I have a website. Just go there and..." he trails off.
Tom notices it, too. When the flames went up and the place began to get warm, Tom just figured one of the pyrotechnic displays had went off or perhaps set something on fire. But then he notices it getting brighter and brighter...and hotter and hotter. Tom spins around.
There is a fire spreading all throughout the club, but it didn't start from the stage. It starts from the entrance, to the tables and bar, from...
"Shit! Not that guy!" the punk rocker squeals in fright.
There stands one tall, athletic looking man wearing a red leather jacket. A fire burns brightly down one arm.
"You again," Corvus states darkly.
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Post by acathala on Mar 3, 2020 14:40:20 GMT -5
"Me again. I'm guessing you're here for this guy. Don't waste your time. There is enough drugs and drug money to put him away." Tom moves between Corvus and the drug dealer. He isn't in any shape to fight the guy, but if Corvus burns down this place, he's killing several people Tom knocked out and left defenceless.
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 3, 2020 15:50:18 GMT -5
War Cock isn't a drug dealer.
Corvus gives the cocky rocker a disgusted glance.
"I don't know who that is," he replies. "If what you say is true, then let it burn. I don't care one way or the other. I just want the rest of Jet's crew. Jet said Ripper is here."
The one-armed cock raises a hand. "Hey, yeah! I know Rip! Pay up and I'll tell you all about him."
Idiot. Drawing the attention of a crazed vigilante.
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Post by acathala on Mar 3, 2020 16:02:44 GMT -5
"He isn't going to pay you. More like torture you with fire until you tell him. So let me do the talking." Tom turns back to Corvus. "I'm not in the mood to fight you. So if he talks, I'm going to need you leave without burning anything. There are actual innocent people in the building."
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 3, 2020 16:21:56 GMT -5
Now that the rocker has Corvus' attention, he completely ignores Tom.
"Where is Ripper?" Corvus demands threateningly. His other arm lights up.
War Cock grimaces. "Shit. We really are in the matrix. He was hiding out here until this asshole broke in," cocky replies. He gestures to Tom. "Then he ran off to Jet's place."
"I was at Jet's place. He's not there," Corvus replies.
"No, not that place. His safe house!"
The crazed firefighter takes another threatening step towards the rocker. "Where is the safe house?"
"How the fuck should I know? I've never been there. I just heard him say that is where he and Dhanevy were going. To their respective safehouses."
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Post by acathala on Mar 3, 2020 17:08:03 GMT -5
"Did you hear anything else?"
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 3, 2020 18:21:41 GMT -5
"Only that Rip wanted to grab a Metric Ton burger on the way, so it's gotta be near there," cocky replies.
Corvus nods slowly. "Great Canadian Grill. Near the suburbs. The guys and I would go there."
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Post by acathala on Mar 3, 2020 18:39:03 GMT -5
"Great. You have what you need. Let's all not burn this building or people to the ground." Tom said to the firestarter, twisted little firestarter.
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 3, 2020 22:29:34 GMT -5
Corvus arches an eyebrow at Tom. "Are you planning to stop me?"
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Post by acathala on Mar 3, 2020 22:44:17 GMT -5
"I'm not in any condition to stop you." Tom said bluntly to the guy.
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Post by TG Barighm on Mar 4, 2020 0:40:47 GMT -5
"Smart." Corvus glances at War Cock.
The broken rocker grins back nervously.
The fiery vigilante gives Tom one last look before turning away. The fire on his person dies out. "See you later, ninja." He heads towards the exit.
"Hey, what about this fire?" War Cock calls after him.
The sprinklers suddenly kick in. Water showers heavily all over the night club.
Tom watches the doors of the club close behind the vigilante. Off he goes to further his revenge while Tom looks on to his next target. One door closes, but there will always be another.
As Tom thinks, War Cock achingly climbs to his feet. He limps up to Tom.
"So, uh, you want to go get a burger?" he asks.
GANG DISRUPTED! Their operations in this area have been halted. Leslie will be pleased.
WAR COCK ADDED TO YOUR CONTACTS. He's not much use in a proper supervillain fight, but at least he's something else for them to shoot at, and he's not half bad against regular opponents. He expects payment, though.
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