A Night in New York

Bulwark sat on a nearby rooftop watching the exchange. He didn't care if he was seen, from what he had just seen he wasn't the only person with unusual abilities. He wasn't sure what to make of the person's actions. At first it seemed what most would call heroic, then it got dark quickly. The girl had seemed more frightened of her savior than of the thugs. It wasn't unusual for that sort of thing to happen, a girl being harassed by a group of men; but to see someone help was an unusual sight indeed. To top it off this wasn't the usual type of fellow.

Like Bulwark himself this person seemed not to believe in what most people call good and evil. There are things that are and aren't and how people perceive them. Bulwark jumped from the roof to see how the man would react to his presence. He allowed his kinetic barrier to absorb some of the energy and allowed his durability to account for everything else as he landed. He wasn't so far from him but not so near that the man could instantly attack him either.

"That was an interesting display. Why not take those men to jail as most would rather instead of killing them as you did?" He glanced at the corpses of the men who had just been taken down.

Bulwark was prepared to fight if he needed, allowing to supply him with a great bit of kinetic energy. This man, however, seemed like something his style might turn out to be useless against. He wasn't smart enough to know how pure kinetic energy might react to this man's abilities. For once he felt a rush of excitement from the uncertainty of whether or not he would win a fight, but he really did not plan on fighting; at least he was not going to initiate it. He saw no gain to a fight with this man, possible losses went all the way to the lose of his own life.

Bulwark didn't notice that he was being made fun of. His helmet, while a little bulky was more akin to a motorcycle helmet than an astronaut's. The reason Bulwark wore it is than in most cases it worked like a one way mirror. He could see out but all they would see is themselves. His costume might have needed some work but he made it himself and that really wasn't a talent of his, but it was functionally fine and quality stuff it just might have looked quite odd. To Bulwark this man looked like a pimp wearing a ski-mask, all he was missing was a cane. His axe seemed to replace that specific piece.

"Yours as well." He was neither sincere nor insincere, merely extending a pleasantry. His tone, however, was entirely sincere. He approached with his hand extended, intending on shaking Phase's hand. "Bulwark." He introduced himself. "However, wouldn't it have been better to deal with all but one of those men with that kind of thinking. Sending one to jail with tales of what you did would probably get word around to those kinds of people, it might be more effective in the long run."

He was ready for any trickery when they shook hands. Even the slightest indication of mischief would raise a flag, although he was hoping for a decent outcome to this meeting.

"Boredom mostly. I could ask you the same thing." Bulwark replied casually, the loss of human lives unrelated to him meant nothing to him. "Why kill cops if you are one of the good guys?" He put extra emphasis on the word good, more to show his distaste for the word if anything; but how this Phase would interpret it he didn't know. The fact that this man had put away his axe was a good sign, but his abilities didn't mean there was no longer the threat of a fight. This man may think of himself as good, but he wasn't very heroic; Bulwark knew that if it came to a fight the man wouldn't merely injure him he would go for the kill. Bulwark also figured leaving him alive might turn out to be a mistake as he might have to watch his back for this Phase guy, and having someone with those kinds of abilities as an enemy didn't seem like a good idea. It might have been best to leave, but this man made Bulwark somewhat curious.

It looked as if the night was just getting started.

Silas and his partner, Keith, had been heading back to dispatch to re-up on supplies; a domestic with 3 injuries had really emptied the stores in the back of the ambulance. Luckily, the child involved didn't suffer much serious injury.

"Man, the more I see the less I know" mused Keith. "How you goin' to go upside your kid's head over a boxing match on the TV?"

Silas had shared this sentiment once; it has a very civilian flavor to it. He thought about the things he had seen when he was enlisted. "We're animals, man." he retorted. "We're like dogs with bones or gorillas with bananas. Someone threatens something we like, we snap. Seen it happen over flags, grain, hell I patched up 15 AK wounds over a pile of scrap metal once. These guys had... HEY!"

Silas slapped Keith in the arm and pointed out the window. Dashing down the street was a young woman; Jackson Pollock style bloodstains smattered her clothing and face. Instinctively, Keith whipped the rig to the side of the road. Either this girl needed serious help, or knew someone that did.

After getting the girl calmed, she explained to Silas what she had seen. The gang, the 'snake man', and the messy meeting of the two. "Freakin' supes" expressed Keith while cleaning a brushburn on the girl's leg. "Gang bangers are bad enough without people throwing dumpsters an' stuff"

"True enough; not all bad though." said Silas absentmindedly as he stuffed various medical supplies into his personal backpack. "I'm changin' into my streets; punch me out when you get back to the station; And give the little lady a lift, won't you?"
Silas put a hand on the girls shoulder, allowing a small jolt of pain to run from her into him. "Don't worry, my main man will take good care of you."

"And what are you going to do, man?" asked Keith.
"Triage" said Silas flippantly. He headed in the direction the girl had come from, Pulling on his watch cap and feeling his jeans irritate his newly acquired brushburn.

((ooc: this bit will take some time compared to y'alls convo, skip Till Further Notice; not long i promise!))

Bulwark wasn't moving. He couldn't smell Phase's breath very strongly, by the time it got to his nose through his helmet. He knew a fight was about to become inevitable. It wasn't the outcome he wanted, but one thing he actually disliked was chaos. There was a certain order to the criminals and thugs around here, but someone else with powers that was this crazy was just an incalculable estimate; a probable liability. It would do good to take care of him, a slight grin passed over Bulwark's face. If he could somehow take him in alive to jail it would almost be the definition of irony.

"Who do you answer to then?" His muscles were tensed, ready for anything that would come so he hoped. "I'm here because I haven't thought of anything better to do yet." This man no longer intrigued him, no, he reminded Bulwark of a rabid dog. Most people considered putting down such creatures as a good thing. This would not be so easy.

Silas stuck close to the buildings as he re-traced the girl's steps. He stopped a moment to sash his bandana around his face and assure his watch-cap was pulled down to just above his eyes. He took one last moment to steady his mind; Silas was momentarily no longer. He focused on his chosen name, reminding himself to be careful moving headlong into the unknown. There was now only Painstake.

Taking to his feet and hunching a bit, Painstake tactically advanced while keeping to shadows. He came upon an alley with what looked like a trail of bloodied footprints exiting. Moving to just before the mouth of the alley, both the synthetic light of orange halogen and the scent of misting blood washed from it. Staying low, Painstake leaned and peered into the alley.

It was an abattoir.

Bodies and various parts of bodies littered the alley. Nearest him, there was a mangled pile of flesh scarcely recognizable as once human. Eying the mess, Painstake realized that there were an odd number of arms. There was enough meat for two normal humans; was it the body of a super? Hopefully he could find out.

Further down the alley, two rather imposing figures were having what seemed to be a civilized discussion. The girl had not mentioned the darker armored figure, but the figure the helmeted one spoke with was clearly from the story. The axe-like weapon on his back was still gore-slicked. Whatever the method, this was clearly the girl's savior. Although his actions made him a good-guy, Painstake was not sure the armed and not-quite-shaped-right humanoid was a nice guy.

Four bodies, one possible super. One further down cleaved in twain. one man was blacked out against the far wall near a clean spot, clearly where the girl had been. He looked as if he may still be in one piece. Painstake needed an in, and decided to play it cool. He stood erect and strolled casually into the alley. Painstake heard the axe-weilder say the words 'anger issues' as he approached the ambiguously humanoid pile of meat.

"Clearly" announced Painstake. He pointed to the meat pile, and steadied his voice to seem merely curious.

"Was this one dude or two?"

Painstake watched the axe pull, and dove for cover as it came in his direction. Unfortunately, he dove directly into the path of it. As the axe cleaved it went... through him? Painstake's guts tensed for impact which never came. He glanced down to see the implement sticking out of him but not harming him at all. Painstake mustered all of his ex-military bearing.

"Ah... two then. Well, answer for an answer is only fair."

Painstake set his watch to stpowatch mode and pressed the button, holding up his arm for the axe-weilder to see the time.

"On patrol, I ran into a little girl smeared in blood. I cleared up her minor injuries and got her calmed down. I had her transported under protection to her home. She spoke about you and about this... mess. Knowing someone could be injured, I backtracked her walk to check you guys out for myself. When a little girl is crying on the street scared out of her wits and splattered with gore, I can't just let it go. As for my first question, I saw an odd number of arms in the pile."

Painstake stopped his watch... 00:19.845. He made short work of the explanation; this guy has anger issues after all (and breath like boiling a dead rat in a dirty sock). Crossing his arms, Painstake began rocking back and forth on his heels with a sigh.

"So are you going to leave it there the whole minute? I kinda want to check on Mr. blunt force trauma over there."

Painstake pointed to the ganger slumped against the far wall.

Looking to the other figure, Painstake called out "Hey helmet, Can you check to see if that guy is still breathing for me?"

Bulwark had allowed Phase to touch his shoulder without hindrance, but he was very ready to do something at that put; Bulwark had been surprised when someone else entered the scene. Then watched Phase respond in his personal fashion to the intrusion. This man was either very brave or very stupid. He decided it best not to say anything, rather observe the situation unfold. It seemed Phase had a new focus for his anger, and now Bulwark saw a chance to turn him into a potential gain. An ally if you will. But if this man was as brave as he acted could he have powers as well? Or did he have some misguided since of justice. If he had powers what were they? Bulwark had seen what Phase could do, but he wasn't even sure this guy had any. He had to stay cautious. If this guy did have powers could he still beat the two of them if it came down to it? Or would it be more beneficial if he sided with this guy to take down Phase. It might not even come to a fight at all, except it seemed Phase was hellbent on causing one, and perhaps he could make twice the gain this night that he had originally hoped for.

Bulwark stayed ready for anything, but turned his head more toward the newcomer; expecting an answer. He didn't let Phase leave his line of sight though, that could be a terrible and final mistake. He was getting slightly annoyed at the constant negativity toward his costume though.

Painstake took a step back as the axe flew and removed any doubt as to the ganger's state of health. These guys meant business. Phase had obviously been reared in or become part of some sort of warrior culture. The other he called Bulwark seemed more of the imposing, silent type. were these guys partners? Painstake was pretty sure these guys would leave no criminal living in their wake.

"I'm called Painstake." he said, moving slightly to better be able to address both parties. "I'm in the business of life. I'm much more adept at putting people back together than taking them apart." Painstake kept eyeing the various piles, lumps and puddles in the alley And gave Bulwark a visual once-over. It looked like he was potentially wearing some sort of super-suit; it had a neo-gladiatorial feel about it. "I'm more of an assist the helpless kind of guy. I really only crack skulls when i have to, and that's usually to make a hole for evac."

Painstake glanced at the still-impaled body and back at Phase. "I try to use only enough force to annul the threat; no more." He wasn't sure if Phase would get his meaning, but Painstake was pretty sure that a more direct opinion would likely lead to unpleasantness.

Painstake looked to the Helmeted figure and noted a lack of blood on his outfit. He guessed that Bulwark may not have been in on the minor massacre. "So, Bulwark, What's your policy?"

"I don't really have a policy. Things either are or aren't. I don't think there is much more to it than that." He said flatly.

From the name of this guy he figured he had some powers too, or he was one of those music people who didn't make much sense to him. Either way he wondered how useful he would be, his words were too cryptic for Bulwark to get much out of. Was this guy a healer of some type maybe? That would be very useful if there were enough of these super powered people around.