Neon Haze

New moon.. Tonight was perfect.

Jacket slid the mask on, giving the voice-mod (which was basically a few metal channels and a hastily rewired speaker) a few tests, and continued putting on his gear, satisfied with the results. Scrap steel. Maybe not enough to stop bullets entirely, but it was better than nothing. At least it would help if any uptight vigilantes came his way.

Unless they were using guns. Actually, no, that'd be...kind of odd given the nature of the more morally righteous heroes.

He shrugged, and secured the metal clasps that protected the woven elastic, and made sure his armor was snug and proper equipped. Tonight was going to be a major hit against one of the larger crystals meth dealers in Chicago: Crystal Snakes. Gang of degenerates and scoundrels, as most were, but these guys seemed to really enjoy getting PCP'd up and going to town, making a nightmare of living a normal life here for the locals. But now Jacket knew where they were...and it was time to start cracking down on the cancer that was slowly festering in Chicago.

Jacket slid the magazine into the SMG until it clicked into place, pulling the knob on the side as he chambered the first round and clicked the slider to 'FULL AUTO'. The first objective of tonight was to kill all gang members. Second, interrogate the bastard leading the bunch, seeing if there's any info to dig up on the competition. Third, collect the cash and torch the place. Leveling the building would have to come later, once he acquired the means to actually do so. Sliding a couple of magazines into his side, he picked up his baseball bat and hefted himself up the ladder, quietly opening up the vertical entrance to the sewers below, crawling out into the alleyway near the gang's hideout. He screwed the silencer on. as much as he hated, tonight was going to have to be quiet until he trusted himself to hold his own against any other metahumans. Cops for that matter too, he didn't want to be seen quite yet.

He slid the sewer's lid back into place, leaving just the lip of it tilted upwards for ease of access later.

Go time.

The walk towards his destination wasn't too long as he came up  to  the back door, kept by a lone guard and the flickering neon light above him. Why they thought it was a good idea to highlight their headquarters with a god damn blinking light was beyond him, but it didn't matter. Jacket approached the guard from shadows, gun raised as he tugged his finger on the trigger. Tap tap tap. The brick wall and the door behind him blossomed with a vibrant red as the guard fell over in mid-draw, scratching at the ground in a feeble attempt to crawl away. Jacket stepped over, and brought his foot down on his neck until it finally buckled underneath his strength.

With the nod of his head, he kicked in the door in front of him, and subsequently the guard who was standing by it just inside the entrance. Raising his bat, Jacket brought it down on the thug's head , painting a grizzly scene in the already decrepit hallway leading into the building. Dust hung in their air as he continued moving forward without a second thought, just like the sickening scent of the poison they were pushing. But soon it would all be in ruin, for the betterment of himself and Chicago...maybe the locals will finally be able to sleep tonight.

Hoots and hollering thundered down the hall as he drew closer to his objective. The smoke was thicker, the lights strobed into and out of his vision. It pissed him off. It smelled absolutely terrible and the music was far too loud. Sure enough, he happened upon the lounge of the the gang's building, all of the current members taking hits off of their own product, their air stabbing at his nostrils as they continued to puff out fumes of the poison that was killing Chicago. He gripped his piece tightly, making sure not to mess up the grip with his strength.

Jacket stepped forward into the light, and just as all eyes swiveled onto him, he dragged his piece across the air, quietly lighting them up his his finger gunned the trigger, the soft taps and the death of the cushions, along with their cries, were drowned out by the pulsing music as he sprayed into their chest and lungs, which for some reason was playing that rising J-Popstar's songs...he couldn't remember the girl's name, nor the band, but he avoided dwelling on the matter for long. He walked over to the two out of the eight people in the room that had managed to survive, arcing his bat straight into the first survivor's neck, then chaining into a second swing as he cracked the wooden club against the second's knee cap, garnering a gargle that was probably him trying to howl in pain shortly before his skull was caved inwards.

The couch fluff finally came to rest on the ground here and there, in the slowly pooling lake of red.

Jacket continued onward, muffled voices coming from upstairs, namely the staircase leading off to his left, the shuffle of feet. Looks like the guards were spooked by the silence...it wouldn't be long before they would find their way down here and see what happened to their friends. He took up his baseball bat...and ran for the steps leading up to the second floor.

"I'm telling you, they probably just passed out." A lone gangster called up the stairs as he slowly walked down to check on his fellow gang members below. "Buuuut if it'll keep you from pissing your sheets, I'll g-" Were the last words he spoke before his head ceased to exists as a singular structure, his sentence scattering to the air along with the gore that followed the harrowing blow.

Jacket bolted past and to the second floor, closing the distance between him and the next criminal with in seconds as he made another vicious swing, putting a compound fracture into her leg and sweeping her off her feet, leaving her to shriek in agony as he held out his SMG, giving a wild spray to the meth lab in front of him and anyone working at it or guarding it. Chemical splashed from their bullet riddled containers, leaking out onto the ground and thankfully the fumes were being actively ventilated. No meth lab exploding for the moment. The vigilante jaunted forward as a guard picked his weapon back off the ground, his partner dead or dying off to the side. Rage filled his eyes as he tried to aim and fire, managing to pull the trigger and line the shot to Jacket's gut, but his arms were quickly decimated by the killer's bat shortly afterwards, leaving them to dangle uselessly as he grabbed his face and slammed the back on his head into the dusty and neglected brick.

His ears range. His abdomen screamed. His armor definitely had a hole it...he lifted his armor, breathing out a sigh of relief. The armored worked enough, but the bullet still tumbled up and tore into the surface on its little trip up his gut, leaving itself embedded underneath the skin. He shuddered, wincing as he hooked his thumb underneath the lodged bullet and slowly forced it back up the way it came, gritting his teeth as the pain was jacked up to an almost unbearable level. His relief came as the round dropped out with a ping, covered in a bit of his own blood, leaving him panting a little with the miracle he had just been met with.

There was yelling in the next room over. Right, shit, the gun that guy was using wasn't silent...all the more reason to hurry and get this night over with.

As Naomi ran from the back room, her cries for help would be upstaged by howling of the gang leader as a drill dug into the cartilage of her kneecap, grinding against the bone it was attached to with a soft whine. Connected to the hallway was the leader's office, the leader herself being pinned to the table with all content scattered to the floor, her shoulder weeping crimson.  Jacket's trail of blood lust led from the upper hallway to  and intersection, leading to a door on Naomi's right. The nigh unrecognizable corpse of a gangster was strewn about the hallway, a mish-mash of viscera and exposed bone.

"WHO'S THE COMPETITION?! WHERE ARE THEY?!" Jacket roared as he pulled back on the drill and lunged forward, driving only deeper into the knee.

The screaming intensified, especially as Naomi drew closer, the woman flailing and crying in the most unadulterated form of agony.

"STOP!! OH GOD PLEASE STOP!! IT'S THE JUGGALOS!!! STOOOOOP!!!" She cried, stripped of all physical agency to stop the torture.

Jacket relented, taking his finger off the trigger, gently pushing the drill to the side in a prying motion, threatening to lever her kneecap from her leg her breath catch from the intensity of the pain "SPEAK, or I'm popping it off!!"

"OKAY! OKAY, OKAY...the- uh- RIGHT!! Juggalos! Th-those fucked up clown...people, they started pushing in on our territory! R- AH!! B-boys are sayin' that th' little bitches are taking up the docks in an abandoned wharf by East Chicago, n-NORTH OF HIGHLAND!!"

Jacket fell silent for a few moments...before gripping the the powerdrill, ripping it out, and driving it into her gut, turning it onto full speed as she screeched at the top of her lungs, begging for mercy as he grappled her head and squeezed down with all his might. It was at this moment that as Noami happens upon the open door, running down the hallway, she would most likely catch a glimpse of  the fleeting moment's of the Snake's gang leader, as her head turn cherry red...and buckled violently under Jacket's strength, coating everything in a dazzling shade of blood and grey, and either splattering Noami as she ran by, or a more likely situation, as she was probably standing their in the door way: a lone witness to Jacket's ultra-violent justice.

From there, Jacket bellowed out lungfuls of nothing but the purest rage. Everything on him was covered in red. Red, red, red. Crimsons and dark maroons, rose liquids and spatterings of gray bits. It was only when Jacket managed to wind down from his climax of murder and brutality that he noticed another's presence...no. Another's scent. Not a gang member, no, pure and untainted by drugs. He slowly turned to her his blue eyes visible, burrowing into her very soul with that masked gazed of his.

...A girl. One whose music was playing just earlier. A few questions were answered, but only more popped up in their place. Crazier yet, she wasn't running away from him...no, no she openly greeted him. This was...bewildering.

"...You aren't Tyuki." He was direct in his accusation, but his reasoning was cut short as sirens began to wail in the distance far from the hideout. "...But that doesn't matter. You want to be useful?"

Jacket hefts a couple of...gym bags(?) off from the side, hooking them into his shoulder as casually dumping them into her arms as he pulls from his utility satchel a molotov out of four in total, and a zippo lighter. He lights it and snaps the lighter shut real smooth-like.

"There should be plenty of room to stuff the remaining cash lying around downstairs. Upstairs here is cleared, just needs to be torched. You head down, bag the rest of the money, I won't be far behind at all. We're going to need to bust outta here pretty fast so...I'm going to have to carry you." He gently ushered her out of the room and a safe distance from the door way...throwing as molotov down onto the doorway's floor, grinning a little as the fire springs into being. He turns back to her, being a bit more forceful as he pushed her to the staircase leading to the lounge below. "Come on, get your ASS MOVING!!" He shouted, lighting the next molotov and throwing it straight at the meth lab they had set up, causing it to explode into flames , throwing Jacket off balance as the fire tried to lick him. Seeing all the Snake's product going up in a hazardous smoke, he ran down to the lounge, helping 'Tyuki' scrounge up what cash was haphazardly left unguarded down here, even going as far as looting traffickers' wallets...and they had plenty of money. Not quite as much as what was in those bag, but he'd need all the money he could get for his dietary habits.

"Alright, I'm good on my end, you?" He called out to her, hefting up another bag of cash he had managed to scrounge up, sliding it over his shoulder.

"I'll keep that bit to myself."He noted her actual form...silently. His gaze lingered for a bit. She was...actually fairly attractive. Cute, and attractive. Quietly shoving aside the small bit of rising interest, he grabbed up the rest of his money, sliding a couple bags of money onto his back, holding up to five so far. Running outside, he threw the last of his molotovs into the building, first in the lounge, then in the entrance, and watching it all burn to the soft cries of the sirens.

...Is this what the beginning looks like? He smiled softly, as if he were sitting in front of a fireplace in Christmas.

...It's beautiful.

"Now?"

Jacket's feet touched along the sunken ground of the sewers, keeping a careful eye on the cute girl as he continued down the abandoned lines of sewage.  She could copy the form, scent, and the voice of other people at will. She could fly. Levitate objects...an interesting set of powers so far. Shifter. That's what he'd call her for the moment. Shifter could be an asset to destroying the Chicago drug highway. A damn powerful one. He didn't want to admit it but...he wanted her. He wanted her for the potential she had for removing the filth from Chicago so he could go back to his birth home with an easy mind. And she didn't mind his methods it seemed, but rather admired them.

...It was then that he noticed that her scent. Sweet. Bubblegum and cotton candy trickled into his mind though his nose, and gently kindled his interest. His smile crept onto his face from behind his mask as her scent made him feel...comfortable. At peace.

...Maybe she could make for a good friend, too.

"Now, I turn the cash in for an apartment in one of the high-rises, I keep myself fed with the new money, I buy new materials to make weapons and armor with, buy myself an industrial grade induction forge to make those weapons and armor, and continue killing off the gangs in Chicago one by one. Rinse and repeat until most of them or all of them are dead." He leaned against the wall of the old sewer, pulling an energy bar from his side pouch and shoving it into the mouth of his mask, devouring it rather quickly.

"...Do you need another place to stay?" Jacket looks out her, speaking after swallowing the food. "Pretty sure we have enough to get a two-bedroom apartment. You'd be pretty useful to have for these kind of hits, and you actually seem to like my style. And...admittedly, it's been a long while since I've been looking forward to any kind of interaction with other people. If you're willing to partner up with me, I'd be willing to teach you how to buy weapons and any other blackmarket goodies online without having your IP getting traced. Or, you know, I could make you stuff like a really cool sword."

He nodded over to the bags she was holding. "...You can keep five of those for your help. And there's more where that came from if you're interested."

"...That's smarter, actually. I guess it would be pretty damn suspicious if someone blew their money on a fancy apartment after someone else robbed a bunch of gangs after killing them." He nodded, though secretly wanted to see what her place looked like...and if it smelled just like her? That sweet, candied scent of hers. He could even hear the subtle grind of a lolipop against her teeth...Shifter really liked her sweets, huh?

"First thing's first...need to get the blood off." He strode off to the left and towards a little nook where there was a spout within reach, probably used for the power-washers that used to be brought down here.  There was a small hose attached at the moment. "...Unless you can levitate the blood off of us." Jacket spoke with a bit of mirth in his voice as he glanced over to her.


Whether sopping wet, damp, or completely dry, Jacket would have brought them up to the surface, well into the dead of night by now. He'd reached down and gently clasp  her hand, helping her clear the exit along with the bags of sweet, sweet dosh. "...Name's Jacket by the way. Nice to meet you, Shifter." He realized just after that he had called her by the mental alias he had assigned the girl, but he didn't bother correcting himself. It was a good name: ambiguous, and potentially misleading if it turned out her powers were apart of something else entirely. Plus, it just sounded cool. Shifter.

"Lead the way, just try and keep us away from any traffic or pedestrians if possible." He gestured her towards the buckled pavement of the alleyway, starting a soft walk with her as he though of a way to keep the conversation going. "...Thanks for letting me stay at your place. Mine's kind of a dump, even with the paycheck I get...most of my money goes straight to food. I'm kinda surprised, to be honest. Even if you do like the way I do things, I wasn't really expecting you to accept me so readily." Jacket scratched the back of his head...or tried to. His mask was still on.

"...Why were you disguised as Ty...Ty..." He scrunched his face in minor annoyance. "...Teyaki? Whatever her name is. I heard you screaming for help down the hall with her voice. I'm guessing you were trying to put a nice dent in her reputation?" Jacket cracked a grin out of amusement. "I might be a bit nosy, I just don't see any other reason for you to be playing the damsel in distress in her form...I'm pretty sure  she's capable of holding her own."

Jacket smiled softly under the bloodied mask as the smell of mint pervaded. Mint, and candy...if he didn't know any better, he might accuse her of trying to swaddle his mind with positive smells, manipulating him into associating her with positive memories and feelings. Well, at least she liked the name she gave him. But he wondered...what kind of life was she living that she'd put her own life at risk? Just to get back at some J-Pop broad? The motives...they weren't there quite yet. This person was a puzzle, that was for sure, one that he couldn't help and try to crack.

His alertness came back to him as he realized Shifter was going of on some kind of tangent about the idol. Knew her name off the bat, seemed pretty livid about him not knowing, even going as far as to criticize him a little. She said Tyuki was an innocent flower...maybe in some aspects...but he held his suspicions. These days anyone could be anything and everyone would be none the wiser, it wouldn't surprise him if she was something more than some cutesy blonde...or whatever her hair color was. More to the point however, Shifter was a fan. That much was clear...but it only made her motive much more muddled. Confusing. Then again...things don't always have to make sense. Maybe it's some kind of love-hate thing? He couldn't say for certain. He would have to put some research into this Tyuki, scour the internet...maybe even go a step further. No doubt some creeps on the blacknet would have a private shrine dedicate solely to her with all kinds of info, on someone like her. One way or another...he'd dig up something, something to shine some light on this mystery.

Leather. A small haze of cigarette smoke, and a tinge of perfume here and there. Expensive. High quality. This wasn't your regular apartment, not the kind you'd have roomates for unless they had plenty a cash and a nice job to boot.

"Miss Wells."

Wells.

He almost snapped his undivided attention to the bell hop, as the name bounced around in his head. Wells. He knew that name. Recognized it. Jacket knew it from somewhere, but he just...couldn't recall where. The killer shook his head. No matter. He knew that this girl already had it going on in her life, she was going places. No doubt about it...he just had to figure out where.

He was silent. Jacket was silent.


...It was beautiful. The beginning. The beginning of something great.

The wind combed his fingers through his naturally swept, sandy brown hair. The moon brought the deep sea blue of his eyes to life, dancing in the color and glimmer of his azure gaze. He took a shower with everything on, set it all out on the balcony to dry off. He'd have to treat the shower later, erase the DNA evidence, maybe work the whole house. For now, he was in his usual outfit, biker jacket and the works, staring out into the ocean. Don't get him wrong, he liked the city, and it's dazzling lights but...it just couldn't beat the ocean. It reminded him so much of Miami. And the sight was...gorgeous. Romantic. He loved it so much, the way he felt when he watched the moon dance upon the shimmering saltwater. The way it reminded him of home. And the smell, good god the smell of the ocean breeze, almost made him want to sleep out on the balcony more than the bedroom itself.

The wind caressed his skin, and his eyes fluttered as he continued to gaze. He did it. Jacket finally made it. He now had the chance to start taking down the drug trade in Chicago...maybe even the whole nation, if he had enough people at his back, and he got around to it.

...He heard footsteps.

"I'll be moved in by tomorrow. Got food coming over tonight. A lot of it. If you end up seeing me eating...don't worry too much. It's just...somethin' I have to deal with." Jack shrugged, standing up, turning around, and leaning back against the balcony railing. "...And uh...knock before you come in. I got some habits, none of which you probably want to snoop in on, unless that's your kinda thing." The guy chuckled softly, trying his best to be friendly. It wasn't too hard, given that he actually liked Wells so far but he didn't...really know if he was very good at socializing or not. It has been a long while.

"Hey. Thanks again for letting me stay. Let me know if you need anything from me, and I'll keep you informed on our next hit." He cracked a genuine smile, and with his half lidded gaze...he looked extremely content. At peace, almost. Perhaps he was.

"Doing what I want is exactly what I'm best at." He mused with a grin, turning back to the ocean view, giving it a few more seconds of his time before turning back and heading inside with her. "Roger roger, I'll make sure to by some chemicals to treat the showers and...everything else with. Just because the red isn't there doesn't mean the DNA isn't. Gotta be thorough."

He watched her go, checking his watch. Food should be here soon. Four orders of jumbo fried shrimp, four orders of sesame chicken...he was going to eat like a king, and all in the comfort of his new and lavish living space. Jacket couldn't let go of the big, goofy ass grin on his face. He was far too excited. He was gonna watch some anime, adult cartoons, maybe a sci-fi flick, man, Jacket was just gonna go-...

...No foot steps. His heart quickened, eyes snapping to his door. He didn't hear footsteps. They did quite a bit of walking, he knew that her legs were probably tired, but she had also been using her powers an awful lot...maybe they weren't tied directly to her stamina like his was. Maybe he was just overthinking things. Wouldn't be the first time. He shrugged heading into the dining room and to the kitchen and padding about, wad a bills in his hands as he waited for the delivery guy to get here. His stomach gurgled angrily, his hand shook and twitched, his mind was starting to feel hazy. He had to eat soon. Thankfully, it wasn't long before her heard the 'bing-bong' of the doorbell.

He exchanged a few polite words with the bearer of delicious Chinese food, sending him on his way with a nice tip as he hauled his feast in. His stomach almost spoke to him now, like some independent entity, whispering into his mind that he must devour all that he sees in those food containers. That he would, dear stomach. That he would. Hefting the food onto the kitchen counter, fiddling with the plastic bags, it was then that he heard it. A loud thump from Shifter's room, followed by a muffled breath, and silence thereafter. Without a thought, Jacket bolted from his food and into her room, barging in. If the door was locked, the locking mechanism and the door handle were probably wrecked by the strength behind his urgency.

And hit him. Time slowed as the scent crawled into his mind, hand slowly reaching out to the bathroom door of Shifter's room.

Paint. Graphite. Sketch paper. N. K. Wells.

Gym bag. Different from his in scent, but definitely was in the hit tonight. Not with the others. Cargo is different. Special enough to warrant hiding from him. Why? Possible minor rogue element. Something to prove?

Wheelchair...used often, bathed in her scent. Paraplegic? Would explain her reliance on floating, and her...thighs. Complication, changes original power set. What's it all tied to...how is she capable of so many things? Can't nail it down solely to telekinetics, she can do more than that, a lot more. At will, even...

...

Jacket wrenched past the bathroom door, running over to her and shutting off the water, scooping her up into his arms. He didn't take much time to admire her body, though her eyes caught him for the smallest of moments. Chocolate brown, was it? Fitting. His stomach growled louder, stabbing him with a bit of pain and pulling him from his thoughts as his mind fogged up again, almost causing him to bust through the wall and into her bedroom as he rushed out. He didn't really think, simply setting her on her side on the living room couch as he rushed back with an ice pack. He placed it firmly against the goose egg that was now form on her head. He whipped out his smartphone, looking up the symptoms of a concussion. Unequal pupils was the first and most readily testable in her given state.

He shined the phonelight in her eyes, trying to perform a quick check up on her, make sure that symptom was not in face present.