In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 547):

You check Hard Time's apartment.

He isn't there at the moment.  So you're spared the sight of him in his boxers watching Days of Our Lives.  You do notice the apartment is pretty bare.  It looks more like a cheap motel room with minimal furniture.

There is a safe under the floorboards.  It's treated to be 'sight resistant'.  You get the same vibe from it as you did for the area under the football field.  But other than that, the apartment looks almost too ordinary.

Lydia texts back first.

OK as can be.  Mom is really broke up.  Funeral is this Saturday.  I will be back in school Monday looks like.  Can we get together Tuesday night?

Kevin texts back later

Meeting at the last place we met tonight at 9 PM.  I can call and have you on the line if you can't make it in person.

You would guess Kevin is offering you a way to stay anonymous by listening in over the phone.

Kevin is going to meet whoever at the Wing place.  It is shielded from most forms of metasenses but you could see through the windows.  But it would just be looking through the windows like regular people.

You can go there as well.  Just wanted to give Jack the option of whether he wants to expose his face to an outside party.

Hard Time’s apartment is sort of what he’d actually expected. Being him, he is fully aware that being a stupendously powerful guy has nothing to do with whether they make their bed or like McDonald’s. Though he does expect that having more resources might change things a little. Like if he had a billion dollars, he might hire a maid and a chef, and live in a nicer place.

So his place would be—

Shaking his head, the teen takes a moment to get off that track of thinking, and shutters his billionaire fantasy away for another day. He has things to be doing.

Jack thinks about Tuesday night, and of course, has nothing planned that far out at the moment. But he doesn’t want to schedule something just yet, since he doesn’t know what his near future is going to be looking like as he gets things handled with joining up. So after a moment’s hesitation, he sends off a response to the cute blonde: Do you want me to come with to the funeral? Let’s talk on Monday about whether Tuesday works, I have some important stuff involving that stuff I’d told you about coming up at some point, and I don’t want to cancel with you.

Looking at Kevin’s text, he stares off into space for a second, thinking about what he might want to do as he continues his walk back through Marcy Holmes.

As long as you’re not meeting the former owners, I don’t think I need to be sitting in the room. I’m fine with teleconferencing.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 549):

Lydia texts back quickly.  No.  My Aunt's family wants to keep funeral small.  But thanks.

Talk to you Monday then

Kevin answers back fairly quickly too.

OK.  No.  It is a neighbor who's lived next door for years.  He knows some of the hist.  I'll buzz you around that time.

Anything you specifically want to do before Kevin meets the neighbor?

Jack sends an identical text to both Lydia and the Monkey: Sounds good.

Getting home, he lays out his books for the night and fires up some language lessons at 10x Playback. Listening to those while he cleans a little, scrubbing down the counters and sink, getting the grime off, as well as cleaning out the bathtub down to the grout. He's careful not to damage anything, which means he takes longer than he might if it weren't a concern.

A three minute task turning into a twenty minute task.

With that out of the way, he idly browses the latest in Meta News, politics, and international concerns. Only taking up some idle pop culture consumption after an hour or so of high speed reading. Never one to skimp on being well informed, especially now that he has full access to the web and not the highly filtered medium of his mother's views.

Before heading to the wing joint, Jack waits for aunt Marlene to come home from work and asks after her day.

"So, it's been a few days, I'm curious if you have any more thoughts on what we'd talked about?" he asks.

Wait! Jack forgot to iron the sheets!

Marlene walks in the door, sighing like she usually does.

But when she sees you, she sort of starts a little.  Whether it's because you surprised her because she wasn't expecting you there or because of 'he's a meta' nerves, it's hard to tell.

She shakes her head, snapping out of whatever it is.

"Jeez kid.  You gave me a heart attack.  Thanks for cleaning," she says as she glances at the kitchen as she gets herself a Fresca.

She takes a drink off the can after you ask the question.  You guess she's taking a moment to get her thoughts together.

Finally she rubs her forehead.  "Honestly?  I don't know what to think.  If I'm being completely honest I'm a little angry. Not at you.  But your Dad.  And I guess your Mom.  's like they sabotaged your chance to have a normal life.  But what the hell do I know, right?"

She sits at the table, rubbing her shoulder with one hand.  "Sorry.  It's been a day.  My boss was extra crabby.  The other lady I work with did something really dumb and I hadda fix it.  I got this song stuck in my head and I can't remember what it is.  And the salad I ordered at lunch had the weirdest damn bug I ever saw in it."

She stops and looks at you, then nods at the chair across from her.  "Jack.  Lemme be blunt here.  The more I think about it, the more I think you got a raw deal.  There's so many things you ain't probably gonna get to experience.  Or at least not like regular folks will get to have 'em.  Maybe that's not all bad.  Maybe I'm just..."

She looks away, taking a swig off the Fresca.  "Maybe I'm just jealous.  I always was jealous of your Ma.  She could do anything.  I mean anything.  It all came so easy for her.  But she ended up stuck out in the middle a' nowhere.  And now she's crazy or a drunk or both.  I dunno."

Marlene gives you a sideways, kind of sad, smile.  "At the end of the day, I just want you to live a life you don't have any regrets about.  If that's possible for anyone that is.  Do whatcha gotta.  Don't worry about me.  I'm gonna be okay. "

She waggles her eyebrows at you. "I mean...someone's gonna have to post your bail to getta out jail, right?"

Jack sits on the couch and quietly listens, sipping on his FRESCA, idly wondering if there is some sort of power being exerted on the locals to make them drink the stuff. It’s everywhere! Even the alien drank Fresca.  As she goes through her thoughts, he has an impulse to jump in at a few points but holds back. Not wanting to break her train of thought until she has finished what she has to say.

Only when she has spoken her piece does he nod a little and respond, “Thank you for taking the time to think about it. It means a lot to me that you are concerned about me. In case things go poorly: I’m going to be taking steps to do what I can to make sure that you have a safe way of getting out of Dodge, and a place to go to, with all the stuff you’d need to live comfortably for a while.”

The comment about bail makes him laugh.

“I’ll be honest with you, Marlene. If someone decides to arrest me, and somehow manages to take me into custody? They aren’t letting me out for a handful of cash,” he says and takes a swig off his Fresca.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 553):

"Well that makes me feel better..." she says when you respond to her 'bail' comment.  She chuckles herself though.  "Don't worry about me kid.  Okay."

She stands up, clapping her hands.  "That's about as sappy as I wanna get.  Go.  You look like you're gonna go do somethin' right?  You always get that look when you're about to go out."  She mumbles under her breath.  "Same look as your Dad..."

---

I'm going to assume you are watching the Wing Joint from above somewhere to start with.  I will let you correct the vantage point as you like in your next post.  Thanks

Kevin has a new car.  It's another truck.  And it looks like he bought it off one of those No-Credit-Checks-EZ-Money-Down! places that pop up every few blocks or so.  He drops his keys, but you bet he's just using it as an excuse to check the lot for prying eyes before he stands up and heads inside.

About ten minutes later, another old banger of a car shows up.  An older man, probably in his sixties, gets out.  He's wearing some concert t-shirt from the eighties and some jeans.  A moment after he heads inside, your cell rings.

Kevin doesn't say anything when you answer.  Looking through the window, he doesn't have the phone to his ear.  It's simply set on the table, in a manner so the other side of the table can't see it is on.

The old guy is at the counter.  He turns away, holding a tray with some wings and a soda, and ambles over to Kevin's table.

"Howdy," Kevin drawls.  "Thanks for meeting me here.  My associate is on the line,"  He nods towards his phone.  "He won't be able to join us. But like I told you, we're looking at that house."

"No offense.  But your...'job'...seems a little..."

"Morbid?"  Kevin finishes the old guy's sentence for him.  "Well.  It is kinda off putting.  When I first got into it, it felt really weird.  But flipping houses is legitimate work.  And 'murder' houses need to be flipped too."

That must be the alibi Kevin is using.  The two of you are looking to purchase the house to flip it.

"Thing about these kinda houses is...well.  You have to know a little about the history.  Because buyers can freak out about these types of things.  'You sold me a murder house' sort of thing.  So we've learned to tell them up front and give them the real story.  Not what some gossip down the street will tell them a year after."

"Aren't I a gossip like that?"

Kevin laughs. "Are you?  You didn't really wanna tell me much over the phone."

The old guy sighs.  "Well.  When it all happened, lotsa people were nosing around.  All these morbid types.  It's not something you wanna really talk about."

"House has been sittin' empty for how long?  No one really takes care of it.  Must be bringing the values down."

"Ain't that the truth."

I'll stop here for now.  Let me know if there's anything you want to change about Jack's level of interaction here. Otherwise, I'll post up the rest of their conversation this weekend.

Thanks

Floating a block off and looking straight through the front of the building, Jack is hovering over a barbershop when Kevin shows up. He notices the truck, but at this point he has thoroughly checked on the Monkey to the point that even if he had a plethora of weapons on him, the young cape-to-be wouldn’t bat an eyelash. In fact, he sort of expects that the well built college student is sporting at least a few weapons under his casualwear.

Pulling out his phone when the call comes in, he clicks it on and then puts it back into his pocket so that his face isn’t lit up by the screen. Relying on his superlative hearing to listen in.

The old man gets a deeper look, but without the ability to penetrate the layers of the concert tee and the jeans, he has to settle on simply examining every shadow. Looking for signs of a weapon secreted on the old man’s frame in all the obvious places.

He doesn’t spot one. Kevin would have clocked something obvious, himself, and at the end of the day, a badass meta like the Monkey most likely won’t need his help even if this guy is the serial killer and pulls a Hannibal with a quick cut or something.

Between the bits of conversation, he does check the cars in the lot, trying to piece together which might be the neighbor’s. Checking that for anything interesting, as well as checking the street for signs of drones or FBI watchdogs.

The feds are investigating the house, so it stands to reason they might be tailing this old goober.

Tuning back into the conversation a bit more acutely, he hears the bit about ‘when it all happened.’ Was the old guy saying that this was a known thing that happened? How hadn’t they found the bodies?

As he’s thinking about this, he decides to give the guy a closer look. Lowering himself in the little side lot by the barbershop, he walks the distance to the Wing Joint. Getting in line for a large soda, he pays with a bit of cash. Idly looking around the place like he’s bored while he does, and then exits with his drink in hand. Going back across the street to loiter. Like a teenager.

While he’d been inside however, he’d done a deeper check of the man’s garmentry. Looking for anything hinky.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 555):

The guy seems to be just an old guy.  The most dangerous thing about him is breath.

You find his car easy enough.  You saw it pull up.  A quick looksie indicates this guy's name is Joe Stalwart.  His address is across the street and three doors down from the murder house.  He seems to be retired, from what you don't know.  He's got a birthday card for his granddaughter in the passenger side seat.  It's pretty innocuous.  He seems on the up and up.

Kevin leads Joe into the story slowly, going through the details, asking a few follow up questions.  But the story that emerges is this:

That house used to belong to a family named Grady.  But in the early 90s, they left town suddenly.  Their immediate neighbor smelled something while doing his yard and called the cops.  It seems the Grady's had killed their youngest son, age 7, and left his body in the basement.

They were eventually caught in Indiana. Mr. and Mrs. Grady were given jail time, and as far as Joe knows, they're still in jail.  He mentions their other two kids were put in foster care.  And that was the end of the Gradys.

"Ever since then though, that house just hasn't been right.  And it...well.  Stuff keeps happenin' there.

"A couple moved into it a few years later.  But they hated the place.  They just up and left.  I talked to the guy.  Uh...Manzchek I think his name was.  Somethin' Manzchek.  He said his wife always felt like she was bein' watched.  And that sometimes she felt someone was grabbin' at her.  He said he had felt it too a couple a' times.  Then she pregnant and things seemed to get worse.  They just walked away from the mortgage and left the house before the baby was due.

"After that, the old lady who used to live on one side of it would call the cops about once every coupla months.  Says she saw kids climbin' into a basement window.  Or heard people shoutin' over there.  Once she said she saw some a' them cultists hangin' around."

Kevin raises an eyebrow. "Cultists?"

"You know.  Those kids that look like they stepped outta an old Brady Bunch rerun."

"You mean the BEs?"

"Yeah.  Them.  The cops would go by and not find anything.  The old lady died and the family that lives there now say they never hear anything.  Of course that was until a week ago.  Then there's that shout. And then the Feds show up.  And they dig up all them kids.  I've been interviewed three times now.  The cops.  The Feds.  That weird guy from the supers people."

"Weird guy?"

"Yeah.  One of them Guardstar people.  That guy.  I can't remember his name.  He was kinda...weird."

Jim doesn't know much else that sounds of interest.  Kevin thanks him and they wrap up.

Kevin gets in his truck, drives down about a block, and parks behind a closed Subway shop.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 23:16, Mon 26 Oct 2020.

Jack’s takeaway from all of this:

1. The BEs are really needing to be looked into. They keep cropping up all over the place, and that whole gun business has him wondering. He’d like to know what their plans are for that many weapons. That said, they haven’t done anything outwardly aggressive in his vicinity, and in fact had refused to meet violence with violence with the bullies. But they need to be looked into.
   
2. This needs a Wizard or whatever the meta equivalent is for a spiritualist/exorcist. Someone who whether via psychometry or the ability to speak to the dead, investigate what actually happened, get the ghosts to move onto their final rest and catch any outstanding villains.
   
3. This hasn’t clarified much for him, save to verify that weird shit has been happening for years.

Landing beside the truck, he slides into the passenger seat.

“New truck, huh? Hopefully this one doesn’t explode. I didn’t really get anything out of that, just renewing my interest in the BEs—who by the way, I saw grabbing a bunch of gun parts out of storage lockers the other day,” he says as he gets in and shuts the door behind him, balancing his still half-full Dr. Pepper on his knee while he glances around.  Checking nearby shops in a passive way. Looking for signs of watchers and drones.

“How about you?” he asks.

Listening to whatever Kevin might have to say, he sips at his drink a bit more.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 557):

Kevin blinks.  "The BEs have guns?  Like one or two?  Or a bunch?

Kevin sighs.  "When it rains..."  He taps the steering wheel.

"Yeah.  I needed a new truck.  But if you ever call it the 'Monkey Mobile', I'll run over your foot with it.

"Okay.  Let's dissect things then.

"The old guy said someone from Guardstar interviewed, him, right?  And he was 'weird'.  That makes me wonder if it was Omen."

Kevin rubs his chin.  "I don't know much about Omen.  Well.  I don't know much about any a' 'em.  But I've at least met Gut Shot a few times now.  Whether it's Omen or not though, I'm kinda curious why they'd stick their nose into it.  They don't usually look into anything lower than a four-wave event."

He clicks his tongue, thinking.  "If I had to guess...they may not be here for the house.  They may be here for the shout."

Kevin turns his head to look at you.  "You being recruited?"

“Well, depends on what they were doing with the parts. If they were putting them together for ‘personal’ use? They have more than a bunch,” he confirms, not getting into the exact details of what he’d seen being moved. “They were moving them out of the U-SAV-LOTS over near Maple Grove on the north side.”

Looking around at the truck, he snorts faintly at the joke about it being the Monkey Mobile.

“Omen would be my guess,” he confirms. “They need someone with abilities outside of the sort of things I can do. Psychometry, exorcism, spiritualism type hoodoo? That sort of thing for a chunk of it, might also make sense of things. Figure out who did what.”

He shrugs a little at the implication that it was the shout. It’s not a stretch, but he can’t know what their reasoning is. Though Kevin seems a bit more on the pulse with the other Capes and how they act.

“The girl who happens to be a friend implied that they were notified of a new recruit soon, and I expect Omen would be the sort who could foresee it. And I’ve been considering it very heavily, in fact, I’d say it’s about 99% chance I go find one of them tomorrow. Though I’d been hoping to pick up a new outfit before I met with them. So that I could claim it was done before I met with them, if they ever found out,” he mentions.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:40, Tue 27 Oct 2020.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 559):

Kevin chews on that, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel like he's drumming.

"If they haven't approached you...I don't think they'd assume you'd join.  The newbie must be someone else.  Is my guess."

He shrugs. "For what that's worth."

Kevin sighs.  "If you think that you can gain from joining, do it.  Just be careful.  And don't mention me.  I'm not exactly on the outs with any of them at the moment.  But...well.  You know the story.  There's history.

"You know...I wasn't gonna mention this.  But.  Since you brought up moonlighting while in that program.  I think one of the students in that program is doing just that.  I've seen someone around.  I mean other than you.  They seem to be doing the cowl thing.  She's got a nifty little costume too.  Very Party City.  It's not your girlfriend.  But anyway.  Just keep in mind they probably won't be thrilled about moonlighting while taking their prep courses."

He gives you a very level look.  "And they are gonna shit themselves over you.  I just have that feeling.  So be prepared for it."

Once Kevin finishes his thoughts, Jack takes a split second to organize his response and then replies, “My guess was that Omen, being able to see the future, knows that someone who is going to ‘make them shit themselves’ is going to be showing up. But a hazy vision of me maybe isn’t enough for them to figure out exactly who I am, either because my meta abilities confound his visions, or because his power just doesn’t give him exact names? Maybe I’m wrong. You could be right, it’d just be interesting timing that we’re both showing up.”

Thinking about the description of the other girl doing Cowl work on the sly, he scratches his head in thought.  It doesn’t really fit for what he’d heard about Mia, it isn’t Darja and obviously Ronald isn’t going to cross-dress just so he can use his powers on the sly.

“Party City, nice. I can guess who it might be, if it is her, she’s a bit of a bitch and I wouldn’t put it past her to be aggressive with you. I’d approach with caution, if at all,” he advises, not wanting Kevin to get mangled by Odelia, assuming that’s who it is. Not that the Monkey can’t handle himself, but he has no idea what Odelia can do.

He doesn’t seem to  have any real comment about them shitting themselves, or about mentioning Kevin as part of his induction. He just nods in understanding.

“Any other advice?” he asks and takes a sip from his Dr. Pepper.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:18, Wed 28 Oct 2020.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 561):

"Would ya listen to me if I had any?" Kevin laughs.  He's being sarcastic.

"Not really man. Just watch your six."  He frowns.

"I am worried about Ron.  He should have made a move by now.  Also...things around town have gotten kinda weird.  Minneapolis usually isn't this...meta."

He shrugs.

"Year and a half ago, it was just me and the odd super thief type.  Anyone with real powers is gonna head where the money is.  That ain't here.  That's why I was goin' back to college.

"But starting this year? Boom.  All of sudden we got B listers like that guy we tangled with popping up.  The training program restarts.  That house.  I dunno.  The timing is just..."

He's quiet a moment.  "I'm gonna keep digging.  Will let you know if I find anything."

"I always listen."

The younger man nods his head at the suggestion that he watch his back. "I was assuming they snatched him with those headbands you mentioned, something actually going the right way, for once. That, or they made it clear he could be nabbed with them, and scared him off," he replies.

Hearing the thoughts on the local happenings, he thinks for a second.

"I have had thoughts on that, but at the end of the day, it doesn't change what I should do. Even if I'm being manipulated into doing it, refusing because I'm being manipulated is unacceptable to me," he tells the other man.

Finishing the last of the soda, he works the handcrank on the old window. Levering it down and throwing the drink sixty feet into an open dumpster, he then starts to crank the window back up. Sealing off the Minnesota fall chill.

"Going to snow within the week. I get that feeling."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:06, Thu 29 Oct 2020.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 563):

"Show off.  Did-"

Kevin is cut off by his cell.  The ringtone sounds like some old 80s New Wave song.  He frowns and glances at the screen, then sighs.

"Duty calls.  Sorry.  I gotta go do Monkey stuff.  Shit I hate that name."

I'll let you decide if you want to tag along with him.  If not, we will move on to the next morning.  Thanks

Jack thinks about it, and while he is inclined to join in, he figures he might be up to his neck with Cape business once he joins the group with Darja. Or maybe not. In either case, it's happening soon and he doesn't need to jump in on every task as they appear.

But just in case it's something he could help with in a quick way.

"You can drive there, tell me what's going on on the way? Chances are I'll split, but if it's something I can help with quickly, maybe I can help," he offers.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 565):

Kevin shrugs  and turns the key in the ignition.

He heads towards the interstate.  Apparently he is going across the river.

"You remember helping me at the hospital?  It's related to that.  People are getting sick, usually high fevers and flu like symptoms.  Except while they're sick they turn into terrorists.  I thought Faust was behind it.  But even after you took him down, situations are still popping up.

"What's really go me concerned is that it's being kept under wraps.  Have you heard anything about it on the news?"

You haven't.  Kevin takes the on ramp onto the bridge.  He is going to southern Minneapilos.

"I would expect the powers-that-be to not publicize the violent episodes.  But you can't even hear anything about a flu outbreak.  The hospitals aren't on any kind of emergency protocol either.  So the CDC isn't involved.  Which is weird.  Any kind of suspected meta-related illness gets a high priority from the CDC.

"Anyway.  I took some of the records from Faust's computer and cracked 'em.  He owns a lot of abandoned properties all over town.  I set up monitors in 'em.  Just to let me know if someone was moving through 'em."

He hands you his cell.  It's showing feed from a camera.  Men in hazmat suits seem to be unloading equipment of some kind from a truck in a loading bay.

Jack listens to the explanation. He’d thought they’d taken care of that, that Faust was the primary actor and that by taking him out they’d stopped it from happening. A win. Hearing that they haven’t is a bit disappointing, though he does his best not to let that reflect too much on his face.

“I feel like I should have my suit for this,” he admits. “I can watch, but I don’t know if I should do any more direct intervention with this one without one. It feels like there might be eyes on it.”

Peering at the cellphone, he looks at it for a long moment, studying it before he starts to peer out through the window in the general direction of the neighborhoods on the southern side of the cities. Looking for neighborhoods with the proper loading docks. They’re sort of everywhere. The back of every Walmart has one.

But he’s looking for a business or factory that doesn’t have other activity ongoing.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 567):

"If you need to bail, don't sweat it.  I think it'll be okay."

Kevin glances down at the camera feed as he signals to change to the right lane.  He must be meaning to take the exit up ahead.  "These guys don't look...shit..."

You glance along the buildings using the upcoming exit as a starting point.  From there, it's easy to find the warehouse with guys in hazmat suits.  You also see what caused Kevin to cuss.

Odelia's outfit is indeed 'party city'.  It looks like she took a set of biker shorts and a leather vest, used glitter and sequins to outline various animal silhouettes on them, and wrapped a leopard print scarf around the lower part of her face bandito style.

She has leapt into the middle of the hazmat suit guys.  They seem to be as surprised by her as you might be about her outfit.  She suddenly morphs into a black panther and launches herself at two of the nearest men.

Kevin slams on the gas.  "You can drive, right?"  He takes the exit at a pretty high speed, swerving to quickly merge.  You are both about two blocks away now.  "Take the wheel," he says.

"I'll probably stick around to watch you and Party City futzing around," he mentions, trying not to act superior, but probably managing it despite his best intentions with his vocal intonations. In fact the slight hesitation might make it seem intentional.

Jack watches Party City as she morphs into a panther, and at least in his estimation, her outfit isn't quite as necessary as his might be. Where he might be concerned about lookin' somewhat presentable, her whole schtick is changing shapes—that and her mask is vaguely similar to his own, seeing as his is a ‘bandito’ style using a torn off sleeve. In fact her mask might be better than his.

She just hasn’t had a chance to steal a wad of cash from some villains and use that money to buy a serious sidework cowl outfit.

No judgment.

Looking over at Kevin’s reaction, he rolls his eyes and considers trying to make alternative proposals. In fact, he runs over what he considers the best proposal in his mind. Instead, he just says, “I understand the principles and have rather good reflexes,” and lets the Monkey handle his own business.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 569):

Kevin shoots you a look at the 'futz' comment, but he is too busy getting fuzzy to say anything.

He turns into a parking lot and says, "Okay.  Grab it."

He then opens the driver's side door without stopping and leaps out.  You slide over, getting the truck back under control as Kevin leaps over to a light post, swings on it, and launches himself to a window at the warehouse.

The end of the parking lot is coming up.  Assuming you stop the truck.  But you can slow it down, turn around, and head back to the street.  Inside the show is going on.

Odelia manages to grab one of the guys arms in her mouth and swings him, tossing him aside.  She seems to be taking an 'iron age' approach.  The guy's arm is bleeding pretty heavily.

She launches into another one while two of the guys bring odd looking rifles up to bear.  Kevin lands on top of one of them, using his tail to knock the other one's rifle aside before he delivers a kick to the guys face.

Odelia turns and stares at Kevin with her panther eyes before growling.  But one of the other hazmats pokes her with some kind of shock rod.  She quickly twitches up, reverting back to her Odelia form as she does so.

Kevin sighs, whipping his tail around like a...well...whip...and knocking aside the shock prodder.  He's already launched himself into one of the other guys at the same time.

Odelia coughs and starts to get up.  There are five guys left, but at the current rate you would guess Kevin will have them mopped up in around forty three seconds.

Outside the loading bay, someone is getting out of the driver's seat of the truck.  He's also in a hazmat suit, but much bigger.  He pulls off his hood.  His skin is bright orange and he has yellow eyes.

Probably a meta.  You get that feeling.

Kevin wouldn't know about him yet.  But you would guess he'll see Orangey coming.

"Got it."

Jack slides over into the driver’s seat and shuts the door once the Monkey has taken off toward the warehouse. He doesn’t do anything dramatic with it then, just slows it to a stop and leaves the parking lot.

Out on the street he makes sure there are no surveillance cameras on the vehicle, gets it parked facing away from the building so that the Monkey can jump in and go. He turns off the truck then, leaving the keys in the ignition.

The odds of someone stealing it, if he has to run off, are so remote in a suburb like this that he doesn’t even register it as a problem for a few moments. So he can just leave it for Monkey to grab on his way out.

Sliding from the driver’s side, he glances around to check that nobody is watching: wary of drones, seeing as the recent brush with them, he floats up a few hundred feet into the sky. Outside the reach of ambient street light, a faint dark speck at sky-scraper heights. He watches.

Seeing the guy he nicknames ‘The Cheeto-Man’ he debates whether to intervene, but decides not to for now. If nothing else, Kevin can regenerate, and that gives Jack the time necessary to swoop in and punt the guy, if things start going sideways.

He isn’t sure Odelia has the same power, but as long as he can keep it from becoming lethal, it would be best if she learned to stop diving into things like this half-cocked.

Kevin can regenerate, right?

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 571):

Cheeto-Man walks into the loading bay fairly matter of factly.  It seems Cheeto Man don't need no stinkin' stealth.

Kevin blinks at the guy and mumbles, "Chester?"

Then Cheeto is running at him.  Kevin avoids him, but just barely.  Cheeto is faster than he looks.

One of the Hazmats grabs Odelia.  She struggles for a moment.  Then turns into a gorilla and suddenly she's the one doing the grabbing.

Kevin has pulled something from his back pocket.  As Cheeto tries to take a swing at him, Kevin takes the punch.  He could have easily avoided it.  But he seems to have wanted to the opportunity to grab Cheeto's fist.

Cheeto flings Kevin off and then screams.  There's a distinct electrical zzzzzzz sound.  The device Kevin attached to Cheeto's hand is shocking him.

Cheeto has to stop and try to get the device off.  Kevin has flipped over in mid air, landing feet first into one of the Hazmats before launching himself at one of the others and taking him down.

Hazmat Four smacks Gorilla Odelia in the back of the skull with a fire extinguisher.  She staggers, catching herself, while rubbing the back of her head.  She looks back at the guy, growls, and launches herself at him.

Cheeto gets free.  He roars as Kevin, who is taking down Hazmat Five.  Kevin glances at him and pulls something else at of his back pocket.

The two start running at each other.  Cheeto pivots to one side.  Kevin feints, and manages to dodge under Cheeto's grip and scramble up his back.

The item he got out of his pocket looks like a clear plastic bag.  Kevin slaps it over Cheeto's head down to the neck and pulls.  He's trying to choke Cheeto out.

Cheeto runs backwards, obviously planning to swat Kevin up against the wall.  Kevin's tail drifts upwards and snags around a beam.  It then pulls Kevin and Cheeto up.

They hang there.  That bag must be cutting edge polymer, because it isn't tearing.  Kevin dangles Cheeto from it, who is now getting desperate.

Cheeto tries swatting at the bag, poking a hole in it, and finally tries grabbing at Kevin's arms in back.  His feet are kicking all around as he does.

Kevin seems to be trying to pay attention.  He probably wants to choke Cheeto out, not kill him.

That's when Odeila gets involved.  She has turned into a panther and leaps across the ground, landing full weight onto Cheeto.  There's enough momentum to tear Cheeto out of Kevin's grip.

The two sail across the floor, Cheeto skidding into the far wall.

"Hey!  Don't play through!"

Odelia spins around at the sound of Kevin's voice and roars.  She tries to leap at him.

Kevin's tail draws him up out of the the path of her leap.

"Hey! I'm on your side!"

She roars again and pounces.

"You've gone feral, haven't you?  Please tell me you haven't gone feral."

She leaps at him again.

Kevin sighs.  "Yeah.  You've gone feral.  Great.  Sure.  Why not."

Cheeto shakes his head and gets up, scrambling towards the loading bay doors.  He seems to have heard the sirens.

Four cop cars are heading this way.  Two from across the bridge.  One down the main street here.  One coming down a side street.  The closest one will be here in a minute twelve seconds give or take.