Fire, Ice, Blood and Guts

November 29, 2014 Kenway and Azrael track a gang plotting to drug the citizens of Gotham's East End by drone.

Robinson Park

Its a park and stuff.



  • Rocky
  • James
  • Three other thugs

Mood Music:

"You got that stuff man?" The tall one asks. Rocky was his name, slender dude with fists the size of a young womans head. He was starting to form a gang of sorts, a gang that deals in all things technological that would make Batman shit himself if he had his way. No one could tell it, but dude was bulked to the nines, all hidden beneath the thick jacket he wore and the skull cap that crowns his bald head.

Enter James, James was as equally tall but skinny, three dudes surrounding him, all apart of the same gang yet James held significance. He was a shaker and mover of black market goods; he made a way and found a way to get what he wanted and was willing to lie, cheat, and steal just for the top dollar.

"Yeah man, check this out." He pulls out a little remote as he gestures up towards the sky, both hands shaking due to the chill that cuts through the air like a knife, and a drone that flies overhead that carries the same weight. It wasn't loud, it was quiet, hovering above them both until it settles upon the ground at James' urging.

"Awee shit.." Rocky crooned, shuffling a bit in his step as both hands lift to rub together. "That's what I'm talking about. Look bruh, look. I got that stuff. Not that shit that they've been trying to push, but that next level stuff. I'm sayin', this right here?" He pulls out a vial, a dark purple liquid that swirls within the moonlight is within, "..pour that shit into that thing there? Fly it over the business district or somewhere near East End and have it drop little by little, sprinkles and shit. Mutherfuckers are going to pay /top/ dollar for the antidote, and we're gonna be making /bank/."

The men laugh and issue out their 'awe' yeahs, but little do they know?

They were being hacked.

Cue Melody. She looked like a snowman, the oversized coat she wore and thick boots to combat the cold, hat tugged down and hair tucked up as she usually would to hide her nature. Around her face is a partial ski mask, only covering her mouth and nose as her eyes swirl and glow darkly within the night. Those poor boys were about to be in for a rude awakening.

Cause tonight? She felt like misbehavin'.

Jean-Paul Valley had been pursuing the same gang, although he sometimes struggled to do things like this. Azrael didn't understand computers or technology, didn't see the help that Jean-Paul could be. He only knew the sword and the fist. Knew and loved them. Every night he dreamed of fire, and sometimes Jean-Paul dreamed with him.

Sometimes Jean-Paul was the one who burned.

He's carrying a hacked cellphone that he's adapted to track the GPS he'd attached to some of the gang's activity. The cold helped, too, the young man bare-headed, his blonde hair a bit wild, cheeks ruddy. The cold helped him focus, kept him in the real, in the flesh, so he wouldn't fall into the pit. Beneath the coat, though, he wore the Angel's garb, the cloak tucked up, the hilt of his sword hidden in the hood. But he was not yet Azrael. To become Azrael he would need to put on the angel's face.

Wait…there was another signal here. Somebody else was starting to hack the network he'd already hacked…

The gang, they were too preoccupied over their ill-gotten gains to know that the drone slowly moved. It was just a check, a check to see if she had complete and total control over the remote in their hands. "This is going to be /the/ shit!" One of the dudes cried out, jumping and clapping his hands in tandem with his feet landing upon the ground.

"Wait a minute.." Melody murmurs to herself, her brows furrowing as her gaze draws away from the crowd to look afar. She follows the lines, the lines that only she could see, her eyes soon rolling into the back of her head as she uses the ruined pillar that she leans upon for support.

She's riding the waves, dipping herself into the 4g outfitted into Gotham just to see who had already hacked what she just did.

Jean-Paul's phone wouldn't go dead, but the screen would be filled with a digital face for just a brief moment, the light, shocking blue lines soon zeroing out and flat-lining, all just for show.

'You will only get one warning.' The message clear upon the phones surface. 'Back away now, escape with your life. You will die just like the rest.'

Surely, Melody won't kill anyone, but the threat of death usually would scare the shit out of most. Even her.
Jean-Paul Valley isn't a slacker himself, although he can tell this person has a bigger cyberdick than his. Probably shouldn't think of it in those terms. He can feel Father looking at him sternly for it even now, the disapproving line in his brow. Filthy mouthed little pig. Do you not remember that you are made in the likeness of God Almighty?

No. No. Don't. Focus. Cold, so cold. He manages to type simply.

"Death is already here for them." he types back.

Jean-Paul has no fear of death himself. Not anymore. But he can put the fear of God into a person. He reaches a trembling hand into his coat and draws out the mask, looking down at it. Part of him hates Azrael, hates him, wishes he didn't exist. But the wicked do need punishment. And Azrael -was- punishment. Azrael was judgment. Azrael was death.

Melody snaps herself out of 'the ride' with a loud shrill of breath. Loud enough to gain the attention of the gang who immediately quiets to look into her direction. While they can't see her? They know that someone is there.

"Yo.. you hear that dawg?" Rocky said, immediately springing into action, his stride steps carrying themselves into her direction.

"What the fuck was that? Dude.. is someone there?"

"Shut the fuck up.."

Melody usually snaps out of her ride quick enough, this time was no different. She had to orient herself with a shake of her head, along with a peek around the pillar to see…

A large hand reaching for her face.

"Come here you bitch!" Rocky growls out, grabbing Melody by the hood and yanking her out of her hiding spot. She covers her face immediately, stumbling as she's thrown to the hard, cold ground with a slight roll, only to stop when she lands at the other fours feet. "Fuck."

She couldn't put herself on the waves just yet, she had to be in the here and the now to protect herself; for if death was coming for those men tonight? She had to be ready and aware to get away without actually being seen.

Azrael shrugs off the coat, his face in place over the mewling boy's shivering face. His teeth cease chattering instantly, the cold put away in another place. Pain means nothing to Azrael. Cold means nothing. Only vengeance. He shrugs off the coat and begins to walk towards the gang's gathering place, at first with a leisurely pace, feeling the wrath growing in him, the justified purity of rage that sears his soul, that makes him that Burning Sword of Dumas. He comes around to find the men grabbing at Melody and, seeing the woman being victimized, there's a metallic clack as three foot long blades snick from the backs of his hands, "Release the woman, sinners, and face your doom like men! The Judgment of the Lord is upon you!" he cries in his ragged, horrifying voice and, as he does, the blades jutting out from his hands burst into flames, sending a palpable heat that cuts through the cold.

"Dawg, she tiny. She look like she'll be a lot of fun. Grab that fuckin' coat. My sister need something this thick." Rocky orders. He was the leader, after all. Two of them bend and begin to grab and wrestle with Melody for her coat.. was she seriously being robbed?

The answer to that? Yes.

The coat was taken from her easily, leaving her with just a mask that was soon ripped from her face, her bare hands pressing into the cold ground to try to skitter back and away, but they still followed her every move, laughing and occasionally kicking at her legs to get her to flatten to the ground. All the while? Melody was crying, such a pitiful sight. Superhero business and villainy was not in her future. She doesn't have the cajones

"Take her clothes too. Let's watch the little bitch freeze to dea..—-"

Their words were soon cut off by the appearance of Azrael, Rocky, the leader, steps in front of the fallen Melody and the four, his hands raised in a.. 'What you gonna do' stance.

"Are you fucking serious dude?" Is all he says, his hand immediately reaching for his belt to retrieve the pistol, which is soon aimed sideways at.. well, Justice Jesus.

"You done brought the wrong thing to a gun battle." Rocky intones, intending to shoot soon enough.

Azrael moves fast. Faster than he could, as fast as a human could move, certainly faster than punks like these had ever seen. Azrael had been engineered, bred, designed over a thousand years of manipulation, breeding, tampering. He was everything a man could be and more.

Which is Rocky finds himself with a cauterized stump at the end of his arm, his hand and the gun falling uselessly to the ground, unfired.

The Avenging Angel shoves him aside, following up into the others with a casual, efficient brutality. Striking and slashing with a precision and grace which can seem almost beautiful, especially with the flames alight and the backdrop of the falling snow. If only those dance moves didn't end in screams of horror and pain. If only one in particular didn't gut a man, his emptied carcass falling onto a steaming pile of his own guts.

Rocky he leaves for last, the others demolished so quickly, it almost seems impossible. How could this happen? SIxty seconds ago, they were on top of the world, laughing, about to have some fun. Now only Rock's left alive, his hand lopped off. Azrael turns back and looks at him.
Azrael says, "You brought humans to an angel fight.""

Rocky pulled the trigger….

Rocky pulled the trigger…

Rocky pulled the trigger..

"What the fuck!" He shrieks out. He was so focused on shooting at Azrael, that he missed the deaths of his comerades, missed the fact that his hand? It was gone. Missed the fact that where his hand should have been?

There was no blood.

He falls to his knees, bellowing loudly, knees slicked with the blood of his friends and ears filled with the sobbing cries of a woman.

The woman that is Melody, who was covered in a mess of blood, guts and gore. Some even gotten into her mouth! GAH!

Rocky lurches himself forward upon the ground, knees slipping and sliding as he tries to elbow crawl away, his good hand? Clasping at the stump which sizzles against the chill of the air. "Fuck me! Oh fucking shit! What the fuck?! Oh fucking god.."

Those words were repeated over and over, he did not want to look at the Angel who smote him, only wanted to look forward towards the path of freedom.

Melody on the other hand? She was in complete shock. Sure, she's seen people being killed before, third party, but this? This was too fucking extreme.

Fuck this. She quits.

Azrael cocks his head at Rocky. The terror, the broken mind, the way his soul seems to have splintered inside him, shards twisting his sanity into wreckage. Azrael deals death, although Jean-Paul has tried and tried to control him. Still tried, even now, although not as much once he saw Melody. THey deserved death, for what they intended. Pigs.

Azrael considers Rocky, looks over his work and finds it good. This one will remember him. This one will spread the word.

He turns back towards the girl and now Jean-Paul does push forward, fighting with Azrael. The angel isn't averse to victim-blaming, considering the girl little more than a w hore herself for putting herself in this situation. But Jean-Paul won't tolerate the medieval attitude of the angel and, in this, Azrael relents. The blades are withdrawn, Rocky's babbling ignored as the angel kneels down.
Azrael says, "There is a shelter down the street. Food. Comfort. Shower. I can escort you there. You have nothing to fear from me, girl. The Lord's mercy is upon thee.""

Rocky gets away. He manages to stand upon the now dry grass and shuffle off into safety. He's going to check himself into the hospital. He's going to be taken care of. Fed the best drugs state insurance could buy, and then he was going to be released. He's going to lay in his comfortable bed, sleep like a king, wake up to eat the best breakfast he's ever eaten…

And start attending Sunday School. No one walks away from that shit and comes back untouched.

Melody however?

Actually. Let's freeze frame this a bit. While Melody was scared, covered in blood, ready to run and probably still crying, she's got the mouth of a sailor who had balls big enough to back it up.

A few minutes ago? She was being kicked and crying.

This is where it all goes down hill.

"Wha..?" She manages to say, snapping out of that little shock full of tears and whatever type of snot that came out of her nose. "You mistaking me for a hobo?"

And.. the reasons as to why she usually gets her ass kicked and is called Rant will come into play in


"Hey fuck you! I ain't no damn hobo! I got money! I can make it on my own!" She reaches over to grab her coat, which is soaking wet with blood.. and is promptly dropped onto the ground with a low.. 'eeeuugh..' That sound? Half cry, half ew.

"Do you even know what the shelters are like? Retard?! They beat women, they /rape/ them, they steal their stuff. NO ONE IS SAFE IN A SHELTER!" Yes, all of this is said while crying. "You see that coat? It was triple down before you came around.. and I had it! I had them wrapped right around my finger and I would have took them if you didn't get all Jesus Juice."

She sniffs loudly. "Swear to god.. did you have to kill them? That was so /mean/."

She's backwards too. Highly emotional.

"And I don't appreciate you hacking into stuff before me, that was so not cool. This city is my stuff to hack, you need to find your own gosh dangin territory."

And she's ungrateful.

The angel is, frankly, at a loss. Women just didn't talk to Azrael that way. He'd been mostly exposed to nuns in the convent of St. Dumas and even Sister Lilhy, their most brazen and forceful, had been more modest of speech and less demonstrable in emotion. The teachings of Dumas said women bore the curse of Eve, madness from the poisonous fruit passed down generation after generation, the sin that blossomed and bled between their legs.

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP - Jean Paul howls inside his skull, wrestling with the angel. He takes the body and reaches up, pulling the mask from his face. His breath comes intensely, huffing, blowing cool air in puffs.

"I'm…I'm sorry, he…Azrael doesn't…they were going to…" he stutters, and, when he looks up, you can see he's a boy, barely out of high school himself, his wide blue eyes still half glassy as he regains control of his limbs, the angel within him receding back in disgust at Jean-Paul's compassion.

"And you know what? Your mask is /totally/ creepy. You can't just creep around here in your creepy mask doing all that creepy.." PTHEW! She had to spit out a piece of flesh upon the ground, she was starting to get sick.

"Oh god.. I'm going to throw up.."

This is how Rant says thank you!

She was clutching her stomach, doubling over and spitting, missing the fact that the mask came off and.. a guy was just underneath. Different voice, different mannerisms, all drawing her head to a slight turn and a frown as she examines the boy with a shake of her head. "Wow."

She has seen some stuff in her day, but nothing this bizarre. Okay, something this bizarre.

"Who's Azrael? The guy who got away?" She leans over to look, the figure gone but.. ugh. She was starting to get cold, a little too cold and a little too quick.

Azrael just watches, dispassionately, although he turns his face away from some of the vomiting. Jean-Paul always was a little bit sensitive, sometimes. He explains it, in the simplest way possible. "Azrael is the angel that lives inside me. It's a long story. He doesn't really…understand humans. Or mercy."

He offers a gloved hand to help her up, "H-h-he really only suggested the shelter 'cause it was the closest shower. I mean, other than mine and…and…I've never…no one…" he says, and his face scrunches up a moment as the voices hit him, for even talking to a woman, much less a woman in any state of undress. He closes his eyes.

"Whatever you want. I c-c-can protect you…well, he can…if there's any more trouble."

It was Melody's turn to be completely speechless. She just watches the young man with a raised brow of wonder and.. reaches out to take his hand to allow him to help her up. "Thanks." She mumbles out, her arms soon wrapping around herself and rubbing the blood into her arms as an unwitting attempt to keep herself warm. Her teeth were even starting to chatter.

Just because she was practically overdosed on nanites, doesn't mean that she still isn't human.

"No shelter showers, filled with mold and stuff. I'd have to walk in there barefoot and bleh. No one wants to deal with that stuff."

Even though blood was initially warm, it was starting to freeze, stick to her and.. East End was a little bit of ways away. Could she make it? Probably. Did she want to walk in all bloodied? Probably not.

"Okay. Let's go to your place then. I think you killed all the trou.. well.. he did.. okay.. you said he was an Angel?" She closes her eyes, then brings her hand up to the top of her head, "Guh. Tell that guy I am sooo sorry. I didn't.. I get emotional and I really appreciate his help."

Azrael blinks and nods, forcing the voices into silence as he starts to lead Melody through the park. It was a few blocks to get to his 'lair', not much more than an old church that he'd bought, converting the basement into something suitable for his purposes. But it did have a shower, no doubt.

"It…it won't matter to him. He doesn't…feel things like people do," he says. "He is very, um, intense, he usually scares people. I was surprised you were able to…to talk back to him. You're very brave," he says simply.

He can feel the cold again now that the angel has receded, and starts to shuffle a bit faster. Plus, leaving behind a crime scene is always a good idea before the cops arrive, especially if you've left bodies in your wake.

"Ooh.. wait.." Before they left, she rushed over to snag the remote, stuffing it into her pocket as the drone lifts itself up and flies high ahead. It would be following them until they reached their destination.

She picks up the pace now, following close behind, she was cold as well, attempting to remain silent until they reached their destination. She didn't see herself as brave, in fact, she wouldn't dare admit that she was scared shitless, and would have evacuated everything if she hadn't gone to the bathroom before leaving the house.

"Very little scares me anymore living here." That was a damned lie. "I was almost eaten by some living darkness once." And she still suffers from PTSD from it all.

Azrael nods, "Gotham is a city of darkness. Azrael's says it's damned, but…he says that about a lot of things. Gotham. New York. Muslims. Whoopi Goldberg. He…he has a high standard," he says.

"I've been through a lot, too. I'm just lucky I had…I'm just lucky I made it through," he says. Does Jean-Paul believe in God? Absolutely. But he's learned not to babble about it to other people, at least not until he knows them better. Plus, he and Azrael had…theological differences.

Finally, they reach the church, which looks abandoned on the outside. Jean-Paul looks about furtively and then leads Melody around back to the security door, pulling out his key and unlocking the place.

"Well yeah. The sun rises and you don't even notice it because of the smog clouds. I think this place is just filled with pollution. I blame the Waynes."

The crack about Whoopi Goldberg, causes a teeth chattering chuckle. "You should let him out so we can introduce him to Lil Wayne." Hah.

Though, once the entrance was reached, she went ahead and pushed the door open after it was unlocked, eager to get inside, get warmed and cleaned up. More importantly? Get warm. Tonight, admittedly, was foolish of her to try to play the hero, but once again, she wasn't going to admit that to anyone but herself.

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