A new face in a big city

The blistering heat of the mid afternoon was a major deterrence for going outside, it was humid and the smog above the city could knock the oxygen out of the lungs of any creature unfortunate enough to fly anywhere near New York City. One newcomer in particular was finding the chaotic traffic, hustling crowds and the constant drone of city life in general a bit overwhelming, nonetheless Cilian Blanc took it up on himself to get to understand his new environment a bit more. It was a far-cry from the peaceful and slightly monotonous French town he grew up in, but certain events changed his base and the well dressed young man found himself wide awake in the city that never sleeps.

As he floated through crowds of New Yorkers he couldn't help notice that not many people seemed to care for his impeccable suit; like a man straight out of downtown abbey or a Louis vuitton runway, he was not hard to miss at all, or even the elegant rapier strapped to his side, its sheen providing a stark contrast with its grey surroundings. The city in itself was a hub for all the weird and wonderful, he had read news of a man who cannot be injured or the hordes of twisted villians who stormed the great expanse whenever they had the chance. Such things didn't appeal to him, sure he went by an alias when necessary and he also held a power unique in its own right, but the thought of bumping into such trouble did bother him quite a bit, with those sorts came trouble and with trouble comes work which at the moment he was not bothered to do...at all.

However Karma does have quite a twisted sense of humour when at that very moment, he heard gunfire in the distance only a few hundred meters away. Coupled with the growing screams of people near the vicinity chaos soon broke out as the surrounding crowds started to flee from whatever terrorist act was being committed. Bewildered at first, Cilian tried to break free from the people scattering in all directions, "Where are New Yorks defenders?" he muttered brushing his way past the panicked hordes of people, surely help would arrive soon.

Although such a thing seemed forgotten when the gunfire resumed, the quick monotonous bursts of bullets were an instant giveaway that these criminals were using heavy artillery weapons. The shooting came closer and soon enough four large armoured trucks rammed their way through any stragglers left on the road, bodies flew under the wheels while cabs swerved to get out of the way as an armed thug holding onto the back of one of the trucks released a rain of metal on anything that moved.

The carnage left behind by the speeding vehicles was an unpleasant site, anyone unlucky enough to not of gotten out of the way of the trucks were either ran over or shot dead, and in that split second of silence right before the pained screams would shatter the morbid atmosphere a sudden jolt of adrenalin rushed through Cilian's veins as he did something he never hoped he would do in the big city.

He gave chase.

Penn had only just stepped onto the streets of New York when the sound of gunfire caused her to run into the nearest alley. She cussed a little and sighed, bringing out her brand new chalks and keeping one in hand as she slipped her mask on. She looked down at her jeans and sighed. "I was going to buy a new pair today... "

She ducked out fom the alley, keeping low. She brought her hood up, biting her lip. She started to run, keeping to the buildings. She didn't know what she'd do. She wasn't usually very good with plans for situations like this. She wasn't experienced enough yet... Her chalk weighed in her hands. Draw something... Draw something? Draw what? An armoured tank? Like she'd have time for that! She ducked behind a car and bit her lip, trying to think.

Hot air and fumes lashed against Cilians skin as his body pumped all of its energy into his legs, sure he could fly but at the moment he didn't want to attract that much attention to himself, he wasn't a hero he just wanted to put an end to this ridiculous carnage. What onlookers would've thought of a man dressed in a suit chasing after a ravenous band of thieves amused him and a grin crept onto his face, though he knew for sure that by the end of this little adventure he would have to invest in a good tailor to assist him in returning his clothing to its once pristine, crease-less form. The trucks swerved around a corner, a biker didn't have enough time to move out of the way and as metal met flesh a splitting 'crunch' could be heard as the vehicles mowed their way through the small obstacle.

Cilian skidded around a signpost, his lithe body dodging an upturned hot-dog stand the trucks seemed to gain speed. Fate would have it that the Black Tie would have to use his gift for the first time in his new home, "Should've used a clone.." he muttered under his breath, his silky tone masking his growing exasperation. As he continued bolting down the sidewalk he raised one hand, a rippling sensation skidded on the very surface of his body starting at the top of his arm and abruptly releasing from the tips of his fingers, black ink shot off from his skin, the dark liquid hovering just in front of his view. "follow them" he muttered as his eyes darkened leaving only black orbs behind, all the while the ink began to splutter and change shape as if it had a mind of its own, and no sooner had he commanded the liquid did it immediately take the form of a crow, its wings flapped vigorously as it flew ahead of him, its black form an omen to the criminals that the Black Tie was chasing after them.

Focusing his mind with that of his creation, a birds eye view of the speeding vehicles seeped its way into his conscious, a shared link allowing him to track the vehicles down if he were to lose him. However, focusing too much on what the crow saw was a definite distraction to anything in front of him and suddenly the figure of a girl appeared crouched next to a car, although it was too late to halt his speed and in what appeared to be slow motion both made eye contact as their body's collided. His momentum had been ruined..

Penn gasped as something- or rather someone- collided with her. She glared at the guy. Her jeans were even more ripped now, with a gaping hole on her left knee. "Watch it!" she growled. She stood up, not thinking that could be dangerous. She had half a mind to kick the guy but where would be the point in that?

A bullet whizzed past her, making her drop to a crouch again. "Run," she growled to the guy. Another bullet made her yelp in surprise. "And maybe I should run too... But I really want those new jeans..."

Ignoring her momentary rant Cilian faced her"No You must get out of here, its not safe for children" he said between gritted teeth, brushing gravel of his shirt, an unsightly tear near his sleeve. Bullets whizzed overhead and Cilian stared at the girl, who appeared unharmed though definitely irritated. Why was she not safe inside..and why was she wearing a mask, ridiculous questions seeped their way into his mind when he should've been focusing on the task at hand.

"Look, I want you to stay down and out of sight. Try not to trip anyone else over as well" He said trying to hide a smirk, the girl by now seemed very unimpressed. She was probably 15 or 16, old enough to know that safest place to be at the moment was inside and here she was muttering about clothing. As she flinched at resounding shattering of class across the road she instantly began to fiddle with some chalk and started drawing on the sidewalk in a rushed manner.

"Uhh, this is no time to draw up any gang signs you know..." Cilian spoke slightly amused at what this strange girl was doing. First he was chasing maniacal criminals and now he was stuck talking to a possible schizophrenic..

"Ain't no gang sign," she murmured, conectrating. The chalk seemed to move her hand, never mind ehr move it. She was drawing on auto. IN fact, she had no idea what she was drawing. But something had clicked and now she needed to draw. She growled whenever he moved towards her, warning him in a primative way to stay away from her image. "And if you call me a child again, I'll hurt you... Unless you buy me some new jeans... Then I'll be cool..."

She kept her voice down as she drew. Lines and arches... Chalk on the pavement. Circles and squares and all basic shapes in between. She drew until she got it right. "And I'm going to get those jeans today. No stupid gunmen are going to stop me from getting y new jeans! And if they even attempt to ruin my shoes.... Oh, there will be Hell to raise. Done," she said and leaned back against the car, watching her creation come to life. "So that's what I was drawing. Odd how adrenaline works..."

Cilian was rarely ever dumbfounded,but at this very moment the foreigner was completely bewildered at the strange young teen and her ranting. He understood her need for new clothing, but at the moment it was slightly unnecessary to be craving new jeans when a gang of killers was on the loose, maybe she's on drugs.. he thought to himself all the while giving the strange girl an awkward grin.

Maybe it was the summer heat or the current situation at hand that got the female obstacle to act so strangely, she was drawing with pieces of chalk, quick defined lines intersected against basic shapes and patterns, quite impressive for a 30 second drawing although still elementary in detail. For a second he had to question himself as to why he was still hanging around the girl when his creation was tirelessly tracking down the gang, although all thoughts were seemingly put on hold for what happened next.

The simple chalk drawing quivered and began to move, "Oh you, you're special too.." he whispered in a surprisingly casual voice all the while keeping his eyes on the ever-growing chalk drawing, it was a strange sight to behold, the girl on the other hand looked slightly smug at her display of supernatural prowess and gave a raised eyebrow at the amused frenchman.

Finally the figure took shape and Cilian had to bend his neck to properly understand what the creature actually was, for a moment he recognized it as one of Picasso's abstract depictions of woman but after a few seconds and further inspection it finally assumed a more fluid and natural form. "Wait, that can't be what i think it is," he muttered a raised eyebrow confirming his surprise.

Kimberley Ming AKA "Soldier of Fortune" was enjoying the warm weather in New York City. It was a day for high street shopping, five star dining, and spa treatments. All the comforts the life of a world renown mercenary afforded. It had only been about a month since she made her way to the greatest city on earth. It was a change from the battlefield of Africa, the gang wars of Asia, or the employ of a benevolent Middle Eastern tyrant. In short, it was why she did what she did. Sure she could be a trophy wife to a wealthy businessman or athlete. Her exotic eastern looks lending her to a place on the catwalks of the cities many fashion houses.... But she enjoyed the action.

And New York City had action in its own right... Perhaps not columns of T-62 tanks hurtling down the street. But action none the less, it was just less visible.... For the most part..... Every so often the city would resemble the streets of Mogadishu, exploding with incredible violence at the blink of an eye. However that was why she was here. The city was corrupt and violent.... And both sides of the underworld would pay for her services. Pay her handsomely..... And what more could she want?? A high paying assassination job and not having to pay for shipping on her Saks 5th Avenue orders. It was a girls dream!

"Soldier of Fortune" was never one to shy away from a fight...... As long as it paid to fight.... However as she was exciting a Starbucks, Cinnamon Dulce Latte in her newly French manicured hands, she was compelled to fight... Not because of money.... But because the fight found her....

No sooner had she pushed the door open and began pushing into the hustle and bustle of New York, did the crowd immediately scatter as gunfire erupted. "Soldier of Fortune" immediately quick drew both of her HK USP's from the costume made concealed holsters on the sides of her form fitting black Versace catsuit. As the mob ran and screamed in seemingly ever which way away from the gunfire, "Soldier of Fortune" moved forward. Bullets cut down people all around the skilled mercenary... It was a bloodbath.... "Surely whoever responsible for this didn't enjoy anything resembling stealth....." she thought to herself.

She wasn't a hero..... This wasn't her fight..... But.... She had a life of bad karma to make up for.... And now seemed as good of a chance as ever to gain some good karma for a change... She pushed through more of the mob yelling "Keep moving idiots!!!". Finally she caught a glimpse of one of armored cars and fired her pistols at several of the machine gun wielding thugs atop it, downing two of them immediately.

They soon however turned their far superior weapons to bear near "Soldier of Fortune" and she knew she was outgunned. As several passing pedestrians were mowed down to her right. "Soldier of Fortune" made a break for the alley to her left, where she saw what had to be the "Hero's" of New York forming..... A well dressed man and a young girl.

Penn nodded, feeling truly like her taken name. She was the Illustrator, all right. She was the Illustrator, grinning madly and still thinking about her jeans. Her mind was the type that always asked what was in it for her. "Yes, it is," she said. She looked up and saw yet another person. "Don't you people ever run? It's bad enough that- ow!"

A bullet had ricocheted and hit her in the shoulder. She blinked and looke at it, thinking quickly. She cussed as she worked, covering her wound with her hand. She looked at her creation and sighed. "Shoulder is just meat. You can't really die. There's no vital organs. Oh man, I'm insane! I still want those jeans."

For a second the Frenchman actually thought this could be one elaborate prank, setting up the super powered foreigner with an exceedingly peculiar girl whilst armed thugs roamed the bustling streets of New York, it sounded like something only a comical mastermind would come up with and for the most part Cilian hoped it was true, for he simply wanted to indulge in the luxuries of America rather than get involved in anything consisting of crazed criminals or little girls with superpowers. He involuntarily started snickering at the blatant naivety of his own mind, he had simply been tossed into the ever-shifting tug-of-war between society and the more corrupt.

Just as he was about to question the effectiveness of the strange dinosaur-tank hybrid that the girl had quickly drawn a tingle went down his spine; he wasn't sure if it was his tattoos reacting to an unknown presence or simply his conscious telling him that he was no longer just in the company of the girl. Swiftly turning around he made instant eye contact with an attractive but equally lethal looking Asian woman, she was holding two guns and before he could unsheathe Balizarde a bullet sped right past his face and ploughed its way through the young girls shoulder.

"Merde!" he swore in french as blood seeped its way through the fabric of the girls shirt. Even though she put on a brave face he knew that it would've hurt regardless, a high calibre bullet such as that would've removed a fair amount of flesh from her shoulder. Before he could give assistance she had already crudely bandaged her shoulder leaving behind quite a bloody mess. She did look a bit pale but otherwise still conscious.

Turning around once again to face the newcomer, Cilian sighed theatrically as he unsheathed Balizarde, the beautiful black metal rapier seemingly impressed the woman as she raised an eyebrow. He ignored the constant muttering about 'new jeans' behind him and slowly took his place between the armed woman and the now injured girl. "I have no idea who you are beautiful lady, but those guns do not look friendly..are you perhaps part of the band of lunatics running around town?" the casual tone in his voice mixed with his soft accent could easily be taken as a joke, but one thing was for certain the Frenchman was being utterly serious as his eyes immediately transformed into black orbs. He could feel the tattoos on his body contorting as he waited for the woman to answer..

Seemingly before she could even collect her thoughts from her mad dash to the alleyway, "Soldier of Fortune" noticed the teen girl go down, hit from a stray bullet. The girl seemingly immediately went about working on her wound. Not being one to sit around, "Soldier of Fortune" did the unthinkable... She took the black and white leather Chanel belt off of her cat suit and handed it to the teen girl. She certainly felt a great deal of empathy for her as she looked down at the bloodied girl. She spoke to her in her nearly British accented English saying "Buckle the belt tight... From your shoulder down to your arm pit... It will stop the bleeding... Your lucky.... Looks like a flesh wound...".

She then turned to the very well dressed Frenchmen, hoping to ease his clear unease. She smiled an uneasy smile at him, then said "Just a girl out for a coffee.... Happened to bump into these clowns the minute I stepped out of the cafe... Dropped my coffee....". She looked at his black metal rapier, then at the strange dinosaur-tank hybrid taking shape. She certainly felt a bit less..... Unconventional in her weapons.... But she was certainly confident, that confidence beaming after she downed two of the unknown thugs earlier.

She turned and looked at the wounded teen and said This thing work....... pointing to her strange creation. She certainly hoped it did, as they would need some serious firepower to dent the armored cars they were arrayed against. The beautiful mercenary just couldn't help but wish she didn't leave RPD Machine Gun at her penthouse..... Or even better yet her Anti-Material Sniper Rifle.... She had what she had though..... And she was one of the deadliest people on the planet with any type of gun in her hands...

Upon getting assurances from the girl it would work, she turned to the Frenchmen and smiled a coy smile, saying Shall we????.

Manfred was in a rather foul mood tonight, and unfortunately it was likely that it would get even fouler before this thing was over. Normally he would not even bother with this sort of thing. He was in no way anything even remotely resembling a hero, but unlike most other villains he usually shied away from causing murder and mayhem on such a massive scale. He was out for adventure, cheap thrills and profit, not the sort of dull old "rule of the world"-scheme or "Psychotic killing spree"-thing that these blundering dunderheads that he were usually shoved into the same category with seemed to find so irresistable. In his mind being a villain did not nessecarily have to involve killing and mayhem, Heck for half of his colleagues 'killing and mayhem' were a goal in itself, but for him notoriety and class was the ultimate proof of success.

Even so, he did not usually interfere when his "colleagues" started trouble, that was the job of the "Competition", or as most new yorkers seemed to refer to them 'The heroes' Ah, yes. Those half-insane dudley do-rights, thinking they are so righteous and precious with their tights and their capes. Still, being a villain wouldn't be any fun without someone to pit your skills against now and then.

However, this time he was going to interfere, but it was not because of 'professional' reasons, this time it was personal. Apparantly these people had made the mistake of shooting a few of his 'aristocrats' One of the members of his little gang. He would not have these bullet-spewing leadheads damage the already somewhat tarnished status of his gang of fabulously dressed miscreants and thieves. This was the only reason why had been watching the battle for a minute or two from the rooftops, observing the goings-on below him, including the rather random appearance of a strange trank-reptilian hybrid and whatall. Even though it had looked both formidable and strange he was not discouraged in the least bit, after all, he had fought stranger things in his day as a Dashing, Dazzling, Dastardly Daredevil.

Still, if he wanted to get involved in the combat below, he would need weapons, and quite a few too. More than enough to counter the Devilishly Deranged Deviants that roamed the streets below him. Although, as usual, his power to turn any useless old object into a nigh-unstoppable weapon of mass destruction faithfully stood him by. Utilizing his power to harden his glove to avoid causing damage to his finely manicured hands he leaped from the rooftops, his cape flowing around him dramatically in the wind, no doubt making him look like a top-hatted, monocled phantom flying throug the night from the street-levels- Unfortrunately none of the evildoers seemed to noticed. He stopped outside of an apartment-building around the fifth floor, smashing a window casually, quickly collecting some of the larger pieces of broken glass, when a little old lady lady looked at him in disbelief. She was dressed in a fluffy pink bathrobe and hideous bunnyslippers. Gentleman sighed theatrically. "Terribly sorry about this miss. I did not mean any sort of offense, and I will hope that this small token of my sincerity will go some way to appeasing your annoyance at my actions." he said, leaving threehundred dollars on the windowsill. The little old lady did not seem to budge in the slightest, her mind seemingly trying to work out just how this man managed to stay aloft whilst standing on nothing.

The gentleman flew on, wrapping himself in his billowing cape as he flew down towards the ground, saturated the normally unprotective cloth with his special brand of power, making it bullet-proof, just in case some of the little warlike muppets down there decided to turn any attention his way. However, when they finally lay eyes on the Monocle-wearing, Marvelously Magnificient Mastermind, it was already too late. He was hovering barely an inch from the ground when he hurled the pieces of glass towards them, following the offensive act with a theatrical battlcry "Have at ye, you uncivilized curs!" .

Normally this would have been a fairly pointless gesture, since even though glass was sharp, it was inherently brittle and usually not enough to kill a grown man like this, however, the Gentleman had imbued it with his special kind of power, causing it to become virtually unstoppable as well as unbreakable. The glass-shards flew through the air, almost like bullets, slicing through the flesh of the ruffians, as a hot knife through butter, passing through them, flying onwards throug hthe crowd, grazing some, killing others and maiming a few. However, this was more than enough to turn their attention towards the gentleman who had already wrapped himself in his temporarily protective cloak, and flewn of, hoping to take cover behind the car where he knew the other heroes were. When he finally reached his destination he was underfire, and although most of the bullets bounced off his cloak, he was quite scared about a stray bullet hitting any of his exposed, fleshy bits. It was the problem when "faking" being bullet-proof with his powers, the opponent could get lucky if he got sloppy. Still, this time he made it unharmed.

He quickly glanced at his new companions, smiling graciously at them "Good evening to you, dear fellows. It seems that we've all ended up in a little spot of bother, what with the shooting and atrocities and what-all going on, eh?" he said in a rich, somewhat theatrical voice, speaking as if the gunfire and violence around them where were nothing but a light drizzle that had inconvenienced them during a picnic.

Penn used the belt and used it well, tightening it. She nodded at the lady. The dino-tank thing would work. She'd yet to draw something that didn't. The lady seemed friendly to her. The frenchman seemed like an oddity. A rather cool oddity with a cool suit. And who was this guy, talking all posh and such?

Penn started to draw again. Something more simple this time. Just a shield, something bulletproof. She watched it form then took a hold of it, lifting it to take a look. "Shoot... Those jeans are going to have to wait... Wait... Who am I talking to? Damn. Now is so not the time to go insane and talk to myself... I can do that later."

Using th shield to protect herself, she got up and ran. She got to a turned over bus and looked back at the older "heroes" and then over the edge of her shield. Okay, Penny, she thought to herself. Don't freak. You have seen other special people before. It's the wound making you think like this. Everything will be ok.

Staring at the strange scaled tank Cilian could not help but chuckle,it was equally ridiculous as it was startling and this 'girl out for coffee' mentioned boarding it, as adventurous as that sounded he wasn't too keen on getting his clothing wrecked by chalk. Looking over at its creator, the teenager, who was now properly bandaged up thanks to the efforts of 'coffee girl', Cilian exhaled, scrunching his brow as he strode over near the chalk drawing, it had the appearance of a Triceratops however instead of horns there were what looked like cannons. Obviously conjured from the mind of a child he thought to himself smirking at the similarities of the teenager's style to his own when he was younger.

Before he could answer the armed woman, the gunfire resumed and it sounded to be much closer than it was before..as if the criminals had come to them. Cilian had no idea how the thugs knew of their hiding spot but on the arrival of a particularly curious fellow, one who literally popped out of nowhere, Cilian knew that the pompous sounding man was the one attracting their attention. Such attention could be excused as well, for the attire of the man almost made Cilian cringe, such an outdated style of formal wear was always a pain to look at,who on earth wears a cape in the 21st century? he thought to himself staring at the fellow in a perplexed manner. Both the woman and the teen were obviously not expecting the arrival of the monocle wearing superstar, but instantly regarded him as an ally joining in on their current job.

Before Cilian or 'coffee girl' could give out a coherent plan of attack the teenager had already bounded into the fray holding a shield and immediately going on to hide behind a bus. "What an eager little girl.." Cilian muttered thinking to himself. He looked over at the armed woman who was gazing at the chalk creation, she must've actually been serious about wanting to ride it and Cilian had no problem with someone manning the reptilian tank...as long as it didn't wreck his suit.

Finally glancing at the newcomer, whose particular vernacular left Cilian a bit confused, he grinned at himself, this situation was getting more and more troublesome the longer it dragged on and now they had a fanciful peacock attracting more attention than necessary, "Excuse me, but I think it would be best to actually assist us in dealing with these crooks rather than sitting around looking pretty," Cilian said biting his tongue so that he wouldn't laugh at the absolute comedy that the man in front of him was providing. This city was never low on surprises it seemed.

"Soldier of Fortune" and her new band of compatriots were just about to rush back into the fray, when the newest addition to their group quite literally swooped into. The quite formally dressed, caped man, flew down to the ground below. His nice trick with the glass shards quickly proving to "Soldier of Fortune" that this newcomer most certainly had "Super" abilities.

The newcomer most certainly new how to make an impressionable entrance.... Something the unknown man shared in common with "Soldier of Fortune". The "Lethal Jade" AKA "Soldier of Fortune" being as much of a showman, as she was a highly lethal mercenary. The notoriety from her showmanship being all the marketing she needed in the word of mouth world of soldiers for hire, to make her one of the highest paid mercenaries in the world. It was her amazingly difficult trick shots, fearless demeanor, cocky attitude, and killer looks which got her to such heights. Anyone could kill a man...... Not just anyone can get paid for it... In order to be a true professional, one needed to be able to do more then simply pull a trigger.... An African child soldier could do that.... No a mercenary of "Soldier of Fortune's" class had to earn her lofty paycheck by more then simply squeezing off a round..... They had to become fear..... A single mercenary, a single precise, brutal killing of a leader could stop a war.... Or start one... This wasn't truly "Soldier of Fortune's" concern however.... She was just an employee to an employer in her mind. Showy? Yes..... Flashy? Yes..... Unquestionably lethal? Yes..... However impersonal? Definitively..... Yes... And that fact made her entrance into this fight on a seemingly "Pro bono" basis..... Practically shocking....

As much as she liked this new face's entrance.... She had to take some points off for the cape.. When it came to gear and costume, "Soldier of Fortune" was all about practicality and functionality.... Well as practical as $20,000 Fendi leather pants were, often pairing them with equally "Functional" $10,000 Dolce and Gabanna boots. Still...... She was always happy to meet a kindred spirit.... Someone who knew their was more to superpowers then simply bashing someones head in. That was all well and good, and "Soldier of Fortune" wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. Knowing just as much as strength made a "Super".... So did style, intelligence, personality..

As the new man drew nearer "Soldier of Fortune" realized much to her surprise that she "Knew" the man.... Well "Knew" loosely... She had heard of him on the news before.... "He was called "The Gentleman" or something like that...." she thought to herself. She stepped forward, ignoring the Frenchman's comments to "The Gentleman" and addressed him saying "Quite an entrance..... Couldn't have done better myself.... Well.... Screw modesty.... Yes I could.... Anyway.... You must be "The Gentleman?", "Soldier of Fortune" said in her British accented English, speaking to her roots being in the former British Protectorate of Hong Kong.

Born to peasants, she used her superior intelligence to giver herself a classical education. While her super powers gave her the means to provide all the wealth she could want.... No doubt the reason she was wearing $20,000 leather pants. Few things made her truly happy.... And money was first on the short list... For it she had traveled to nearly every corner of the world, fought for republics, dictators, corporations, and gangs.... And killed without question, so long as the clients check didn't bounce... It was as she always said "Everyone is ultimately dirty..... Money however..... Money is clean....".

However noticing out of the corner of her eye the teenager bounding into combat, she couldn't help but feel her heart race a little. She shook the strange feeling off saying to herself Ugghhh.... Stop it..... She's just a street girl..... Don't get all hero on me..... Next thing you know I'll be protecting Red Cross convoys...... Despite her goodwill to the girl, she wouldn't let a teen show her up.... Jumping onto the creation of the teenagers mind, a hybrid dinosaur/tank "Soldier of Fortune" looked at the two well dressed men and said [color=red][Well you're not gonna let us girls have all the fun..... Are you????/color].