The Therteenth Child

Gwharr put a massive hand over his entire face untill the sudden flare had gone off. He knew how to handle these things, since he had met another one who used them. A man whom he refered to as Mr.Silverpants. A horrible, ruthless man who blew up entire kingdoms with his stupid little toys. However, in some way him and the Red Hunter were very alike. Both where ruthless, and from what he had seen of Red he was probably ready to go extremely far to reach whatever goals he had set for himself. Silverpants was different though, He seemed to have no goals, just pointless, wanton destruction, zany whims and general excitement. Thy both used the same sort of weapons. Sciency throwing-things that exploded, smoked, spread light and whatnot, as well as sharp blades and knives wich they wielded with a certain level of skill. Finally, both of them wore a tight suit for a some reason. They where similar in appearance, but oh so different in motivation and purpose.

Gwharr rushed past Red and two mooks, heading straight for the remaining gunmen. Two of them raised their weapons, One of them even had time to fire a few rounds at the caveman. A rather pointless gesture, since bullets where about as usefull to fight him as a cheese would be to frighten off a raging elephant bull. Gwharr charged into the man trying to shoot him, knocked him over by his sheer weight and speed, and trampled him beneath his mighty feet. He could feel the thug's ribcage being being crushed under his bare feet. Weighing almost half a metric ton had that effect on people. He utilized one of his hands to punch one of the men across the face, with enough force that he flew across the room with a broken neck and a crushed skull, already dead before he hit the wall. Gwharrs other hand enveloped the torso of a particuralrly large, heavily built man wearing a muscle-shirt and a pair of too large pants. He then proseeded to crush the man's torso by clenching his fist.

Gwharr then turned his attention to the large man, who had already dropped his knife, backing away, holding his hands up in surrender, trying to ask for mercy from the two invaders, but due to his panic and shock he couldn't really get his tounge to wrap around the language, and the words came out as mere biggerish, whilst his ears was tearing up. It was obvious that this little man was very, very afraid. Gwharr advanced on the man, who stood against the wall, looking at the hunter, looking towards the door, when he realized there was no escape. With the realization that he with all certainty was going to die here, the poor thug sniffled, closed his eyes and waited for the end to come, praying that it would be quick and painless.

Red holstered the gun he held in his left hand while pointing his other gun at the cornered thug. He walked past Gwharr, gun still raised.

"Where is Brian Felps?" asked Red, his voice emotionless and cold as ice.

It took a moment for the big thug to focus long enough so he could for the answer "He... He somewhere in this hideout."

"Where?"

Tears started flowing in the larger man's eyes "I don't know... I don't know I swear. He always sticks close to the Mistress. She runes this whole thing"

Red was looking around the room. Apart from cages filled with people, men, women and children, there were shelves of various bladed and blunt objects, smaller torture devices one would see in medieval museums and various sex toys. Red took all of this in and then he realized that the man stopped talking.

"Where is the Mistress and how many of you are left?"

"At..at least 25 more. The Mistress....oh god... the Mistress is always in her private quarters with........."

"With who?"

".....With....God damn it, I don't know his name. The Mistress just calls him Slave..." the thug seemed a bit disgusted by what he said. It didn't matter though. The information needed was acquired.

Red took one last look at the "tool" around the room. A large meat cleaver hung on the wall away from the other shelves as if in a place of honor. Red reached out and grabbed it firmly. He holstered his other gun and the, with a sudden move grabbed the thug by the back of the neck. He squeezed hard and dragged him toward the door that lead to the "studio". At the door Red turned to Gwharr,

"Stay here and wait for me. I'll be back shortly. Until then free these people".

Then Red entered the studio and closed the door behind him. For a moment silence was all the came from the other room. Then the silence was broken by bone chilling screams of pain and agony.

Gwharr did not like the way that red dragged the goon away into the room with the blood and murder. He would have considered his companion better than that. He had no problems with killing, but actually prolonging the kill was unnatural and pointless. Better to just kill and be done with it. Gwharr wondered if maybe hunting creatures that did this had turned the Red Hunter into something not totally unlike them. "To not do this. To not think it is right" Gwharr growled at the red hunter as he dissapeared through the door, but he apparantly he did not listen. Oh, well. Cest la vie. He probably could have stopped the Red Hunter if he had really wanted too. After all, he was far bigger, far more powerfull, not to mention that the red one really had no way to stop him, but that would have been Wrong with a capital "W". Packmates did not attack eachother in the middle of a hunt, even if they where furious at one another. Such things had to come afterwards, when it would not let down the rest of the pack or cause problems in the hunt.

Gwharr turned to the cages, and quickly started to rip out the doors. At first, the prisoners looked at him with wide eyes, wondering if they were actually liberated, or if they had gotten out of the ash and into the fire. After all, the big hulking beast-man had killed their guards with surprising ease, and his 'handler' had seemingly gone off on his own. However, one brave soul moved out of his cave, looking at Gwharr with her big, horrified eyes. The caveman smiled and nodded at her, and soon the rest followed. The one that had gone out first, a dirty, middleaged woman dressed in what looked like a pair of muddy jeans and a filth-encrusted leather jacket even gave him a hug. Gwharr carefully hugged back, his large arms wrapping around her. She felt so small against him. But then a gain, all of the thinlings where smalled compared to him.

Gwharr sat down, waiting for the screams that their 'captive' was making to subside. He had not thought red to be a torturer, but who knew? Maybe the man deserved it, or maybe hewas just a minion doing his job. Gwharr could not judge, but he hoped in his heart of hearts that he did deserve it. That Red did the right thing, otherwise this might put a strain on their companionship.

The message has bin sent. Red placed his helmet back onto his head and turned away from the bed soaked with fresh blood. He used up all three of his adrenalin shots he carried at all times. The man would live long enough until some one of his friends found him. Or he'll die from the injuries before that. It didn't matter. He saw the man back in the room, guarding all those people with a smile and not a care in the world. The man behind him, cuffed to the bed, sobbed and gargled, unable to die yet. With his lower jaw now torn of, all the sounds he made were undecipherable gargles and silent wails. Red made his way back to the door and opened it slightly, just enough for him to pass through without anyone seeing what's in the other room. He looked around. He saw the people, smiling, hugging one another, even Gwharr, there hope returning. He was fairly certain that most of them were convinced that they wouldn't leave this place alive. But now..... Red felt a warm tingly in the back of his mind. A sensation he fully felt back when his life's path was still clouded in shadows. A little girl, about nine to ten years of age was the first to look at him directly after he shut the door behind him. He looked at her for a moment and then threw the cleaver away, figuring that the image of him holding a blade like that would be unsettling for a young mind like hers, especial after being brought here of all places.

A fairly young man with cracked glasses looked away from Gwharr and his gaze settled on the Red Hunter who was still standing at the door way observing the situation. It took a moment but soon his eyes widened in realization.

"You're the...." he turned to a few others there, including the little girl "It the guy from the news. The 'Man in Red'. He's here too!"

Several people turned to see Red standing there, not moving. Soon there were smiles on almost every person in the room. A few people even walked over to Red. They padded him on the shoulders, shook his hand in gratitude. A little boy and a girl even hugged him around the waist. Red felt uneasy. He wasn't used to this kind of treatment. After all, usually he would be gone from the scene of the crime with the clue or sometimes the perpetrator in hand. He avoided the public eye. He wasn't an attention seeker unlike the guys and galls from the Rain City Superhero Movement. Those guys really annoyed him sometimes. He knew they had good intentions but they were going about it the wrong way. At least that's what it looked like in his opinion. Red quickly and uneasily hugged them back. Then he made his way through the small crowd toward Gwharr. He looked up at the caveman and smiled.

"Good work. We have to move now" he said then he turned back to the people. He considered to lead them out the way he and Gwharr came, but then he would see the faces of the children there. They have suffered enough trauma. Also, the passage was too filthy. The children might be infected by all the microorganisms in the air of the forgotten sewer. There was only one sensible course of action.

"Listen to me everyone!" his voice, distorted and deep demanded silence. The chattering and sobbing of happiness ceased. "You'll have to barricade yourselves in here. My friend and I need to finish the job. The moment it is done we'll come back for you and take you out of here.

The people started rustling about and talking to one another. They seemed very not pleased with the idea of remaining in that god-forsaken place a single second more. Some demanded to be take out the way Red and Gwharr came in. Some pleaded for any solution just not to remain there any longer. Anger, fear, sorrow, all mixed up into a stream of frightened voices and pleads for help.

"Enough!" bellowed Red, he hated crowd control "You must stay here and barricade you self in. This place must be cleared. When it's cleared, we'll come for you" the people, still frightened and angry, looked at each other, exchanging looks of confusion as if trying to find answers within each other. "I know how you must feel and I'm sorry that I'm asking this of you. But it's for your own good. It will be over soon, I swear to you" said Red while trying to sound as decisive as possible. The truth was he wasn't all that sure what would happen. Oh he knew that Gwharr would survive this ordeal, no problem. But, unlike Gwharr, Red was still only human. True that his humanity was buried under all that armor, that gear and the training he endured ever since he was twelve, but it was still there. This was a situation where mistakes weren't allowed. Too much was at stake and Red knew it.

Gwharr looked at Red as he came back into the room. He was dissapointed, and it was obvious. The smile that had formed on his lips as he recieved the hug soured slightly at the sight of his comrade, the blood on his clothes told the story of cruelty, and the suspiciously gurgling, shrieks of pain that still occasionally came through the doorway did not make Gwharr any happier. Another thing that made him somewhat annoyed was the fact that everyone in the room decided to gather around the Red Hunter as he made his triumphant return, loudly expressing their adoration at him for freeing him. Gwharr couldn't help but to feel a wave of bitterness rising as the woman that had so briefly thanked him, instead ran off to join the crowd forming around his companion. Gwharr sighed to himself whilst looking at the gathering. They had taken equal part in the rescue-mission, yet they adored him Red and shrunk away from him.

He had made a mistake in letting the woman get to him. Oh, how he regretted it. If she hadn't hugged him, he wouldn't feel so bitter at the moment they all had turned to his companion. He had forgotten that he was not one of them. That those who would have adored him for his rescue had died out a long time ago, even before this city was around. Before there was even such a thing as civiliation. The one act of kindness had tricked Gwharr into thinking even for a moment that these people would accept him and look to him for protection, like they had done in the olden days.

Many of the heroes that had perched themselves on a rather high perch of the ladder of morality would have said that you did not do it to get thanked, to be loved or to get rich and famous, but Gwharr was not that high on the moral ladder. He could handle not being loved, or even recognized for his action. This would not have felt so harsh to him, if it was not for the way they fawned over red hunter. He sighed and looked to the door. He really couldn't stand the situation anymore. It made him angry and bitter, and a part of him felt like leaving these wretched ingrates to their fate. However, he could not abandon The Red Hunter. They where packmates, and packmates did not do that. However, Gwharr couldn't stand to remain here anymore, so he quietly went into the sideroom where Red had been. The few former prisoners that stood in his way hurriedly got out of it, giving the large, seething caveman nervous glances as he passed. He knew Red was caught in his little crowd of admirerers and therefor would not be able to get out to stop him . . . Heck, even without the admirerers, Red couldn't stop him. Red might be in charge, but Gwharr wouldn't let anything slide, and in his bitterness, he thought that this might be a good time to remind his partner of that fact.

He went through the door, no problem, and immediately located the prisoner. The site of him made him feel pain in his own jaw. He remembered the time that the man he refered to as "Silver-pants" almost blow his lower jaw clean off. He remembered how he had felt when it happened and he remembered just how much it had hurt. However, he knew that these men would not grow back their lost bits, and even though the man was an enemy, he didn't wish that much pain on him. Eternal pain. For the rest of his life.

The man looked at gwharr, gurgling softly, his eyes pleading, and Gwharr instinctively knew what he was pleading for. He put a hand over what would have formerly been described as his mouth, and pressed hard on either side of the man's head, blocking the bloodflow to the brain. Much more humane than mere strangulation. The gargantuan caveman knelt down, softly and comfortingly stroked his hair, whilst softly humming a soothing melody so ancient it had not even have words. Or a name. In a way, the caveman acted somewhat like a mother caring for a sick child. It did not take long for the thug to stop moving, dying a surprisingly calm death after all the Torture.

It did only take a few minutes, and when Gwharr walked out through the door, he gave red a defiant look. He wanted Red to know he had mercy-killed the man, and that he stood tall and proud for doing it, and that no discussion or blaming would change the fact. after that he looked at the people in the room and snorted, He hoped they wouldn't be captured again, because next time the caveman would leave them where they where. . .

. . . Or not. He simply wasn't cold enough to do such a thing and he knew it. If he stumbled into this situation again he would do the exact same thing, But the thought comforted him somewhat.


((Sorry for the emo-ness, but I kinda felt like writing Gwharr a bit angsty today!))

Red waited Gwharr to return from the 'studio'. The people all around him gathered materials from the broken cages and anything else that might be useful in barricading the room. He managed to gather several loos floor boards. He placed them in a pile where all the other material was placed. Gwharr came through the door. He seemed down a bit. Red tilted his head slightly with wonder. Gwharr was looking at him with a look that said a lot of things. It was defiant and disappointed at the same time. Red knew well what happened in that room. He smiled. At least one of them was still 'human'. He looked behind Gwharr. The people had already started barricading the door that led to the 'studio'. Good. He looked at Gwharr,

"Ready to go?"

Gwharr casually ambled over to the biggest of the cages, grabbing ahold of it and tearing apart, quickly reducing it to iron-bars wich could be used to barricade the doors after himself and the Red Hunter had left the area. Besides, in an emergency the bars could probably be used to knock a few teeth out and break a few bones, in case someone decided that the prisoners where better off locked up in their cages. He also used a leather strap to tie a few of the bars together and hang them from a hook in his belt, to use later as a weapon. Who knew, maybe it would prove usefull to have a few ranged weapons later on.

looked at the people working to barricade themselves in the stinking, filthy prison that had been their home for who knows how long. Even though he still harboured resentment at them for snubbing him in favour of The Red Hunter, he still felt a little bit sorry for them. They where finally freed, and their would be liberators simply told them to stay put. However, they would at least have some weapons to defend themselves against any and all of the minions if the so called 'mistress' decided to send any of them their way. A few of the men had already picked up the rapid fire deathsticks (also known as "assaultrifle" to those who don't speak caveman) holding them nervously as if they where serpents that could bite them at any moment. They might not be proficient with the deathsticks, but since the thugs would all have to step through a simple doorway, it wouldn't be that hard for the men to hit them. Gwharr knew that sometimes an untested warrior would find it hard to kill another human beeing for the fist time. Hesitation and whatnot, but with the anger and pain he could see in the faces of some of these men, he suspected that it would not be a problem this time. They hated their foes with all their hearts, and would rather die than to be put back into those cages. Gwharr figured they'd be alright.

Gwharr nodded visibly as the Red Hunter asked him to go, and quickly took point. From here on he might as well go first, since there was at least twenty-five goons left, and most of them where probably armed. Whilst he had no idea if Red's armour was durable enough to deflect bullets, he did know that his body was more than tough enough to take bullets and then some without causing Gwharr any discomfort. And even if something did manage to stick a hole in his flesh, he would heal within seconds. Judging by the scars he had seen on the Red Hunters face earlier his companion did not have that ability either.

Gwharr took one of the iron-bars in his hand as he opened the door into the next room. It was an empty, rather small room, apparantly used as a laundry-room sometime long ago, it was now empty, except for the rusted husks of a few washing-machines from the sixties or early seventies that had been stashed away in the corner, under a stairway leading up. alongside the east wall. However, there was something far more interesting in the room. Five thugs, seemingly out to investigate the noise from the lower levels. One of the was still standing on the stairway. He was armed with an assault-rifle. The others where armed with various hand-guns, but only one of them had theirs drawn. They looked rather surprised to see the door open. Obviously they had not expected intruders to come through this way.

Gwharr quickly threw his iron-bar at one of the thugs, impaling him against the wall, instantly killing him, he then rushed forwards, managing to use his size and strength to body-slam two further into the wall with such force that their poor ribcages couldn't handle it, crusing their insides, leaving them to die quick but agonized deaths. The man with the assault-rifles quickly started shooting at the charging caveman, but the other thug seemed to have a cool head and instead aimed for the red hunter. . .

Red quickly ducked behind one of the old, broke down washing machines when the thug opened fire. He waited for the first burst to end and then he leaped out of cover and charged at the thug. He was in the process of placing another extra clip into his gun when he saw the Red Hunter running straight for him. He pulled the slider back to chamber the first round and raised the gun only for it to be tugged out of his hands before he could pull the trigger. The next thing the thug knew was a sharp pain in his nose brought upon by Red slamming the rifle's butt against his face. Next came the ungodly pain in his gut and a hard, sharp object poking at his bowels.

Red pulled out the blade from the thugs gut and turned around when he heard noise from the other side of the room. Four other thugs came bursting in, presumably drawn in by the racket. Two had hand guns and one, a tall and very muscular fellow, was clutching a rather large machete. The last one had a double barrel shotgun. Red emptied the clip into the two pistol men while rapidly closing the distance between them. The thug with the shot gun pulled the trigger and the powerful hunting round connected with it's target. Red suddenly staggered back loosing balance. The armor was think enough and the gun man was far enough, so the bullet bounced off Red's chest armor. But it sent a powerful shock wave through his body, knocking him off his balance. The thug pulled the second trigger to fire the bullet in the guns other barrel, but this time Red was ready for him. Before the shot could be fired, Red reached back and pulled out a small throwing knife out a special vertical belt that housed nine more knifes. With a flick of his wrist, Red threw the tiny blade and it imbedded it self in the back of the thugs trigger hand. The thug cried out in pain and dropped the shotgun, holding his now bleeding hand. Red, now back on his feet fully, ran toward the thug, his blade pulled back to strike him down. Suddenly, something in his peripheral vision moved toward him and some one was yelling. Red ducked at the last moment to see the machete swing right above his head. The big man with the machete was swinging at him. He was yelling in psychotic fury slashing wildly, trying to land a blow on Red. It didn't work though. Red dodged every swing with great speed. The man was big but was also slow and with every swing he was getting slower and slower with exhaustion.

With one last painful rug the smaller thug pulled out the small knife out of his hand and bent down, picking up the shot gun. One shot was left and the thug pointed it at Red who was still facing off against the big guy.

Gwharr swore in his ancient, unnamed caveman language as the next squad of goonies appraoched. For some reason he suspected that they thought they would be able to finish off the annoying intruders if they just threw enough men at the pair at once. Gwharr snorted. No matter how many of these second-rate thugs they sent down, He would beat them all! And then he would come for this 'mistress' of theirs to rip her to pieces. The man with the assault-rifle started to howl orders at the the newly arrived bruisers as they started waving various weapons around, but Gwharr did not understand what he said, even though it was in english. The caveman decided to end it, and threw a punch at the man who dodged in underneath it, seeming to have expected this attack. He was barely an inch from the caveman now, and with a triumphant shout he quickly pressed his gunt pu against Gwharrs face and fired. . .

. . . To no effect, he emptied what was left of his clip at point-blank range straight into the cavemans brutish face, and it had done nothing but annoy the great beast. There was a mixture of disbelief and fear in his face that Gwharr felt was quite approapriate due to what was going to happen next. This time Gwharr grabbed the man in a bear-hug, lifted him into the air, and with a disgustingly 'wet' sound he ripped the poor thugs throat out with his teeth before dropping his limp, profously bleeding body on the floor to die.

He then proceeded to rush towards the newcommers, quickly realizing that Red Hunter was in serious trouble. Two of the men where sitting back trying to take potshots at him with their death-sticks whilst the the third, who was pretty big for a thinling was fighting him using a blade. The caveman snorted as he grabbed ahold of one of the washing-machines, throwing it towards the pair of thugs, trying to take pot-shots, Due to the fact that the gun-wielders where so busy trying to put the Red Hunter out of their misery they did not even see the amazing flying washing machine before it hit one of them, crushing him against the wall, killing him instantly.

In the meantime leapt forward, past Red and the man he was dueling with, landing between them and the remaining shot, thus preventing any and all bullets from bothering red, letting him fight his battle in piece.

Red has had enough. The big man was now very tired and his swings were much weaker, slower and less frequent. Signs of condensation were now visible on the man forehead. He rose the machete and brought it down one last time at Red. This time Red caught him by the wrist and slammed his fist in his elbow, thus bending his arm the way it shouldn't. The man cried out in pain as his now broken arm hung limply, bone fragments pocked out of the skin. Red picked up the machete the man dropped and raised it high above his head. The man's face was a combination of deference and hatred. He wasn't like those other thugs he fought. He was not afraid. It didn't matter though. Red brought down the machete with such force it cut into the mans skull and nearly split his whole head in half. The thug twitched once and then collapsed to the floor, the machete still in his head. Red watched the man for a moment as the pool of his own blood spread across the floor.

Gwharr snarled at the remaining gunman. His hand was injured. This was presumably the handiwork (a-haha, such a delicious pun) of The Red Hunter, a theory wich was strengthened by the fact that one of Red's knives lying at his feet, covered in blood. He raised his gun, rather awkwardly since he was now using his left hand to work the trigger, something he was apprantly not used to. However, due to the point-blank range he had no trouble due to using his secondary hand. He quickly took aim at the primitive primate and fired, the swarm of small metal pellets did nothing but bounce harmlessly of the gargantuan caveman's rather ugly face in a rather anticlimactic manner. Gwharr grin a broad, toothy smile at the man, and it was not a kind smile. It showed too much of his uneven, bloodstained teeth to be considered anything other than vicious. The man whimpred slightly, dropping his gun to the ground, raising his hands upwards uncertainly, apprantly giving up. The death of his comrade. The last remaining gunman who was currently cowering behind the bannister dropped his gun aswell, comming out peacefully as he saw that Gwharr made no move to kill his surrendering comrade. After all, it was better to live in prison than end your days being ripped apart by a psychotic vigilante and his pet cavemonster, right?

It seemed as if Red Hunter was finishing off his own opponent. The one that seemed to be the leader of the pack. He was the only one of the remaining three that had not given up as they realized they couldn't defeat the pair of goody two-shoes that had invaded their lair. Although, unlike his two companions, he had seemingly been determined to go down fighting. Gwharr could not help but to admire the thugs courage and dedication, although he did not really admire the way he was prepared to figh to the death for another. Loyalty was a good thing, but fanaticism was taking it more than a little bit too far.

Gwharr Herded the two seemingly docile thugs into the storage-space beneath the staircase, Immediately took out a few of the iron-bars that he had gathered earlier. He wrapped two of them around the second gunmans torso, and one afound his shins before pushing him over. There was no way he was getting out of his restraints without a friend with a blowtorch. Gwharr nodded in approval, repeating the process on his other captive, the one with the bloodied hand. It did not take long. Both of them had decided that it would probably be alot less lethal to go along with the cavemans wishes, especially considering the way he and the Red Hunter had slaughtered their colleagues without so much as breaking a sweat. When both of them where restrained, Gwharr looked over at his companion, motioning for him to move onwards, making sure to stand between the Hunter and their captives. There was no way he was letting him kill unarmed, tied-up minions. After all, they where only hired help, the ones that deserved to die where the ones giving the orders.

Placing his leg on the big, deceased thug's shoulder for leverage, Red tugged out the machete lodged so deep in his head that it reached his lower jaw. He twirled it and examining it, getting the feel of the gardening tool/murder weapon. He turned to Gwharr who herded the two remaining thugs into the small storage. He eyed the two prisoners discreetly. Then Gwharr stood between him and them. Red raised an eyebrow beneath his mask. It took a moment but he understood the point Gwharr was getting across. He saw what Red did to that man back in the studio. He obviously felt that the same action wasn't necessary with the two new prisoners. Red chuckle in amusement for a moment then looked at Gwharr more directly.

“You know, at first I wasn’t sure, but now I see that you really are the ‘better man’” his smile broadened slightly as he spoke.

He then flipped the machete in his hand, its blade pointing down, and drove it into the wooden floor boards few inches beside his feet. He walked up to the entrance to the small storage and looked down at the two men gazing in fear back at him. After a few moments of mere staring, Red grabbed the edge of the old wooden door and slowly started closing it “Have a good nigh gentlemen”. The two men started struggling in their metal bind. Then the door closed shut and the last speck of light from the outside died out.

“Come on” said Red as he made his way to the stare case, ignoring the muffled cries from the storage beneath it. He stepped quickly up the creaky, wooden stares and saw another, better maintained door at the top. He reached the door slowly and tried to listen in. Nothing for a moment. Then the sound of someone cocking a machine-gun was hired. More armed henchmen Red guessed. He considered bursting in and taking on whoever was on the other side, but he knew that would be suicide. Instead he took his last flash bang of his belt and pulled the pin. He counted silently to three then quickly opened the door slightly, just enough for the stun grenade to pass through, tossed the flash bang into the room and closed the door. It all happened in one second.

The flash bang went off in the other room and Red could here men yelling and cursing. A shot was also hired. Then another. Panicky shooting. Red opened the door and rushed in.

Gwharr followed his companion up the stairs, his small, pig-like eyes alert and constantly backing back and forth in search for signs of trouble. After all, the crooks already knew they where here, that much was obvious from the rather impressive attack down below from totally nine crooks, seemingly the thought behind the assault was along the lines of "the more the merrier", however, the attack had failed miserably, so now they had probably either set traps, and ambushes, or barricade themselves in some small area. Gwharr did not think that they would try to escape, since they whould leave so much valubles and whatnot behind. You didn't get a multimillion operation like this started by being the sort that runs away from trouble.

Gwharr snorted as the Red Hunter threw in the gas-bomb. He did not approve of such tactics, since he thought them unnessecary. He could rush in there and simply stand around untill they had fired off every round in their silly little deathsticks. However, if his companion thought that smokepoofs and flashbangs where the way to go, then who was he to argue. He rushed blindly into the room, waving his massive fists around, untill he hit something. He quickly grabbed ahold of the man in his right hand, using the left to carefully try to examine him. His hand immediately found the rather large death-stick. Yup, this guy was not a hostage. Gwharr quickly neded him with a nasty punch with enough force behind it to break his neck.

The other men in the the room, six of them, turned around to see Gwharr slamming his fist into there college's face, nearly knocking his head clean off. They scrambled to aim there rifles, still a bit blinded by the flash, when a red form appeared from behind the big cave man and was charging at them with incredible speed.

Red made it to the first stunned gun man and drove his fist into his gut. The man gasped in pain and loss of air and collapsed onto his knees, dropping the gun. Red rammed the sole of his boot into the side of his head. Not even bothering to make sure that the thug was down, Red moved on to the next one. He quickly grabbed the nearest thug and stabbed him in the side with his wrist blade. Noticing that the other thugs have fully recovered and were aiming there guns at him, Red didn't let go of the thug he just stabbed. He instead wrapped an arm around his neck and turned him to face the others, using him as a human shield. The men opened fire, disregarding there injured comrade used as a shield. Just as Red expected. There was no honor among criminals.

Red could feel the thugs body he held, jerk and jolt as bullets struck it over and over. Red moved, not braking eye contact with the thugs from behind his shield. He felt a sudden streak of pain in his arm that held the now dead thug. One of the bastards managed to land a hit on him. He ignored the pain, knowing that it was time to act. He grab hold of the M16 that still hung from his meat shield and pointed it's barrel at the thugs. He opened fire.

As he heard the smattering of gunfire and smelled the peculiar, salty yet metallic scent of gunpower Gwharr was uncertain what was going on. It was only a second or two later when he looked down to see the bullets ricochet off of him that our preoccupied primordial primate actually managed to realize that the thugs had indeed decided to open fire on him! The nerve! The Temerity! He snorted loudly as he looked back up at them, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he looked at them, wondering how long it would take for them to realize that their little metal bullets wouldn't be able to even dent his skin, much less draw blood. Heck, they felt a bit like when a fly sits down on your bare skin, but only very briefly. He actually had to concentrate to feel the individual impacts.

He couldn't help but to grin ever so slightly as he saw the desperation in the faces of his opponents when it dawned on them that their continual fire did not even inconvenience the monstrously massive caveman in the slightest. he slowly spread his hands wide, as if he was going to hug someone, then quickly slammed them together, causing a very noticable shockwave, more than powerfull enough to disperse the smoke. One of the smaller thugs even staggered backwards whilst the rest of them held their ground. Now he had a clear fielf of vision. Now it was time to deal some damage.

As a certain other, very trademarked hero would say in a situation like this:'It's clobberin' time'

However, Gwharr barely had time to take a step forward untill his vastly quicker companion had leapt into the fray as if he was some sort of knight of old. The Red Hunter quickly managed to grab ahold of a weapon after using its former owner as a literal human shield to soak up the fire from those thugs clever enough to realize that their guns was alot more usefull against Red than they had been against Gwharr. Red utilized the stolen weapon to mow his opponents down with surprising efficiency. Gwharr couldn't help to wonder if he aught to get one of those things for himself. Who knew, they might turn out to be useful.

"To think it good fight. To say you'se good warrior, even if weak. To move on now!" Gwharr said, patting his colleague on the shoulder. All of the the thugs here where dealt with, and now it was time for them to move onto bigger fish. . .

All the thugs were down accept one. The wounded thug, a skinny man with a round head and a swastika tattooed on his bald head, cluched his bleeding kneecap. Red released his grip on his human shield and the now dead thug fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. He approched the injured thug and, grabbing him by the arm that cluched his missing kneecap, lifted him on his feet. The thug cryed out in pain as the sudden preasure on his leg sent such pain through his body that he felt like could pass out right there and then.

"Where is your boss" Red distorted voice rang through the room.

The thug's bottom lip quivered as he struggled with the disigion of eather being defiant or cooperative. Red felt the need to help him in the desigion.

He slammed his boot to the side of the thugs wounded leg and shatered it. The thug screamed even louder then befour as a bon fragment stuck out of the skinn f his shin now.

"Do not make ask you again, I beg you" said Red, his voice filled with dark promise.

"Alright... alright... oh god..... The Mistress's private chambers are at the end of the corridor through that door" a shaking finger pointed at a door on the other side of room "She spends most of her time there when she come here to check up on us. Th-there also that guy..... big guy in S&M gear. She always keeps him around when she's here."

The thug looked at Gwharr "He's almost as big as your caveman pet".

Red has heared enough. The guy had the balls to call his companion "pet" when Gwahrr showed that he was more human then him in a lot of situations during there little endever. Red's hands shot up and grasped the thugs head between them. With one quick twist, the thug's neck snaped and he fell dead to the floor.

"He's not my pet. He's my partner" he spoke to the thug even though he knew he was capable of hearing him anymore.

He turned to Gwharr and gestured for him to come "Let's get moveing" he said and started for the door to the corridore.