Welcome Home (Invite Only)

Bishop raised an eyebrow at the gun. They didn't get through most of the time, but...it still wasn't something he liked to try. Still, the girl seemed unusually welcoming once she put it down. From the looks of it, the boy there with her was some kind of stray as well. Fairly obvious in retrospect, given his monochrome jumpsuit.

The girl didn't look like she was going to shoot, and she had given him directions, so he turned and headed up the stairs. He found the master bedroom easily enough, with its adjoining bathroom. He laid his overcoat on the bed and stripped off his shirt. He tossed it in the hamper with a laugh.
No need to be messy...

He stepped into the bathroom and turned on the sink faucet. He washed his hands well, splashed down his face and chest, and scrubbed with some soap and a washcloth under his arms. He selected a fluffy white towel to dry off with.

Then he moved back into the bedroom, opening the closet door. He selected a simple white tee shirt, put it on, and then his overcoat. He looked himself down in the mirror. Black combat boots, black jeans, white tee shirt, black leather overcoat. Simple.
Handsome devil.
He winked at himself playfully in the mirror before heading back downstairs.

When he got back to the dining room, he looked at the girl.
"Alright. I'll be on My way now."
With that, he walked through the house and out the front door. He made it to the end of the driveway before stopping.
What the Hell is that smell?

He searched around, following his nose, towards the trash. He opened the lid. Just trash bags. Experimentally, he opened the one on top. Yep, that was human remains.
Poor bastard.
Bishop turned around and went back into the house. When he got to the kitchen, he didn't address the girl at first. He went to the fridge and grabbed a beer in a longneck bottle. He used the counter to pop the cap off and took a first swig. Then, still silent, he sat down at the small table. He took another drink before speaking.
"I sure hope they take the garbage soon. It's starting to stink," he said. He spoke nonchalantly, as though he were simply discussing the normal tendency of ordinary trash to smell. He wasn't usually one to pry into others' business, but this was hardly a usual day.

Bart heard the knock and shout, but did not reply. The water was too soothing. But after a while it turned cold, so Bart turned it off. He stood dripping for a while before stepping out to towel off. He opened the door enough to reach out and take the clothes from the floor. They were a bit large, but they weren't white. They likely belonged to the now-dead man in the trash can. Bart picked up his old jumpsuit tore it to shreds, smiling as he did so. He left the pieces on the tile floor along with the towel and exited the bathroom. As he entered the kitchen again, he began to speak, "Thanks for the cl--" He noticed the two were having a discussion already, so he pursed his lips and allowed them to speak, for he was used to being punished for interrupting those who were speaking before him.

Bishop nodded at Skylar's words. As she left, he set about getting some food. He made himself a ham and cheese sandwhich and a can of spaghettio's. He sat down to eat, and thought as he did so.

Who was that in the trash? Why was he there? Who was this girl? And the boy who had been here?
He mulled these over as he ate. He heard Skylar call out to Bart upsatirs, faintly. He was just finishing up as she showed up back downstairs.

"Bikers," He answered simply in response to her question. "My turn. Who was in the trash?"

He answered her question about the shoes with, "Okay, a bit tight though..." It came out in a semi-coherent mumble. He was happy to be invited to go with Skylar, for he would not know where to go without her, and would likely have to disobey her wishes and stay in the house until she returned. He followed her into the garage and was fascinated by the old silver corvette, still in relatively good condition despite the busted light cover. After getting in and getting comfortable, he decided to speak. "Thanks for letting me tag along, I've never actually been in a car before. Where are we going?"

Bishop raised an eyebrow at her answer, but didn't comment. He noticed for the first time that Bart was in the room, and inclined his head to him. At Skylar's invitation, he was going to turn her down. But then he thought better of it. He was out here in the suburbs, he'd have to walk back to the city anyway. Why not accept her ride?

He pulled out a pair of black shades that hid his eyes completely and put them on, then followed her out to the garage and got into the silver Corvette. He took shotgun, tossing the words "Sorry kid, I need the leg space," back to Bart. He was going to ask where they were actually headed, but then Bart saved him the trouble. So he just leaned back in his seat and stretched out his legs, awaiting her answer calmly.

Bart had stopped listening before Karma answered, so he didn't hear her tell him to buckle up. He was once again fascinated by his surroundings. He was still unaccustomed to the outdoors. They were moving somewhat fast, but Bart still had plenty of time to admire the bits of nature as they passed, taking mental photos of each tree and bush and flower. He knew the names of most of them from the textbooks he used to read. Suddenly he heard a load roar. At first he thought maybe it was some large, strange animal. It was actually a group of bikers, and they seemed very interested in the man in the front seat, whose name Bart had meant to ask for. It didn't seem important now as the car came to a sudden stop and Karma stepped out, telling him to use his powers if needed. Adrenaline took hold, and he got out of the vehicle with her. He turned his fingers into very sharp claws and stood next to Karma, not taking any particular stance but ready to take on whatever the bikers had. He had just met these people, and he wasn't ready to lose his first acquaintances outside the facility.

Bishop raised an eyebrow at Skylar's words before looking out his window. He immediately saw the bikers and sighed.
This is what I get for leaving a few of them unconscious but alive. There must have been more back at their home base...
Bishop let Skylar speed away from the civilians without comment. It was a smart move; he didn't want witnesses for what was about to happen. As they shot towards their secluded destination, Bishop put on his gloves and adjusted his shades. Then he sat in silence until they had parked.

Skylar and Bart got out of the car and took up positions, but Bishop brushed past them and spoke for the first time.
"Stay back. This conflict is Mine, and I don't want you kids involved unless you're forced to defend yourselves."
Skylar certainly looked ready. He saw her stance, certainly military, and like recognized like. Sure, he had more experience, but he didn't doubt that she could handle himself.
As for Bart...well, smart money was on Skylar. But then, as he manifested claws, Bishop re-evaluated. He seemed fairly untrained - that much was clear from the way he stood and carried himself - but there was something to be said for having knives attached to one's hands.
Bishop himself strode forward confidently, oozing lethality like a jungle cat.

The guy in charge - not Sir Mutton Chops, who just had a big mouth - strode forward to meet him. They stopped about twenty feet from each other. With a sneer on his face, the biker overlord spoke.
"So, 'Warlord', you think you can just come into our house and steal from us? Oh, right, it wasn't stealing, my bad. It was destruction. You got drunk and decided to destroy our whole fucking supply of coke! Do you have any idea how much money we were gonna make off the Hammerskins? Easy money! I got news, pal...nobody fucks the Outlaws and gets away with it. Nobody."
He pulled out a .38 special and fired three shots at Bishop.
Bishop winced.
Three bullets fell, crumpled, to the ground.

As the head of this particular Outlaw chapter stood there dumbfounded, Bishop crossed the space between them in three strides and hit him with a straight jab to the head. His whole face collapsed in and he flew back. Then the battle was truly joined, and the bikers rushed him. There were at least thirty of them, maybe more. At a second glance...yeah, definitely more. In one smooth motion, Bishop - or, as these people knew him, Warlord - drew and extended his two nightsticks and began laying into those around him. He struck with finely-honed precision; almost every strike was immediately lethal, or very near to it. If it wasn't, it was followed by one that was.

One industrious and cowardly biker, seeing the setruction that Warlord was causing and deciding that he wanted to live but didn't want to be seen as a fleeing coward, shouted "They're with him!" and pointed at Skylar and Bart. He and a dozen more rushed them. Bishop saw them moving towards Skylar and Bart, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get to them in time with the knot of people closed around him. Those fighting him now had developed a system - a ring around him, just out of his range. As one of them ventured into his range for just a moment, another would strike from another angle - usually behind. They weren't really doing any damage, and Bishop could do this all day, but he was beginning to get very bored with it. At the next feint, he pretended to follow it before turning and cracking the skull of the biker behind him who had planned to attack him.
The his stride carried him further out and another two fell before they could react. The rest rushed him in a great melee. To their credit, they were so close that they rendered his nightsticks useless. So he dropped them and begin to unleash a brutal mix of Krav Maga, Sambo, and good old-fashioned Boxing.
Before long, he was surrounded only by corpses.

Bart was worried as the three shots rang out, but as he looked at the man apparently called Warlord, he found he was not the only one here who could take a bullet. The shocked bikers slightly amused Bart. They didn't know what they had gotten into, the poor bastards. He watched as the crowd descended on Warlord, attempting to injure him with their distract-and-attack strategy. Bart wanted to help, but he knew it wasn't necessary, as Warlord thwarted the bikers' plan and began piling corpses. Suddenly Bart noticed a smaller man, along with a dozen or so others, charging toward himself and Karma. He smiled as the adrenaline pumped through his body.

Two of the bikers approached Bart with blades drawn. He let them get close, then as they both attempted a stab, he grabbed their wrists and squeezed hard with his claws, cutting off their hands. As they fell in shock, another three men came at Bart, attempting to surround him. Again, he let them get close. This time, he dug his claws into the head of the man to his right and turned, knocking down the other two. More bikers ran toward him foolishly, and he threw their friend at them, knocking them to the ground as well. Bart shook the blood from his hand. No more bikers were coming to him, not after that. Time to go on the offensive. He went to the area where Warlord clearly needed no help, but asked anyway, "Need a hand?"

((Sorry for shortness, not much time but didn't want to leave you guys waiting.))

Bishop glanced at the kid.
{b]"I''ve got it covered,"[/b] he responded somewhat sarcastically. He thought about going over to help Skylar, but decided she was fine on her own. He would go in after she had subdued all of them and kill any that she left alive, though. They weren't walking away now, especially since they'd seen bullets crumple against his skin.

Skyler was quick and precise with her blade. She made simple slashes and used the brass knuckles to knock out the opponents. She was moving so elegantly, though, as she knocked the men to the ground. She would not, however, kill a man unless he deserved it. She narrowed her eyes and stood up to Warlord, her fist catching one of his punches while she kicked the man that was about to get his face knocked in. Yes, catching the punch hurt. But, because of her healing power, she healed instantaneously. Her hand would have been shattered if it weren't for that power of her's. She gave Warlord a devilish grin. "No more death to be dealt today. Let the survivors remember your face and fear it. Get out of here!" She cried out to the remaining thugs and bandits. The few with smarts ran, the others helped the living peel themselves off of the pavement. "We part ways here, Warlord. You're on your own." She let go of his fist and rolled her wrist, it snapping back into place and then the blood that had soaked her arm staining there, but her skin healing itself before Warlord and Bart's eyes. She smiled toward Bart and patted him on the back while she sheathed her blade. "Let's go, eh?" she said, motioning for him to come to the car. "You get shotgun, now." She sat in the front seat of the Corvette and cranked the car, her eyes on the rear view mirror, looking at Warlord. 'Til we meet again, I suppose..'

(Hey, Warlord, you're not kicked out of the thread. But this will buy you some time to take a break from posting. (

Bart twitched at Karma's touch, still pumped up on adrenaline. He waved to Warlord, "Um... bye." He didn't really want to leave him there alone. He knew what it was like being alone. He knew he was capable of protecting himself though, and Bart grew excited at the thought of sitting in the front this time. He opened the car door and climbed in, still not thinking to put on his seat belt. He looked over at the woman in the driver's seat, "So... where to now?"