The Shade of Steel City (Open)

The thug charged desperately down the alleyway, panting in fear. "No...Nononono. You...You can't catch me, you freak!  You hear me?! I won't let you!" The criminal spun around, firing a energy pistol at the figure steadily walking towards him. As the 'round' impacted dead center, he gave a hesitant laugh, only to stumble back, paling, as the energy simply...dissipated. "Wh-what....WHAT ARE YOU?!"

As the figure remained silent and continued steadily advancing, he cursed and spun back around, continuing to run. Soon enough, he found the warehouse door he was looking for and burst through. "BOSS!! BOSS, WE GOT A PROBLEM!"  Inside the warehouse was what looked like a decently large amount of crooks and gangsters. It seemed like some sort of meeting or trade was going down. The thug's boss, who was talking with another particularly influential seeming crook, spun around and gave a glare. "What do you mean, a problem? What could possibly be enough of a pain to interrupt this, hmm?" "I-it's the Shade, boss! He's....He's after me, he's on the way now!" "What? How?" "I...I was doing that job you wanted me to do, and he...he just appeared out of nowhere. I just barely managed to pull ahead of him, Boss." "And you thought it was a good idea to lead him here?! You idiot!" With a push, the thug fell back on his backside while the Boss turned back as the other leader spoke up. "Wait, the Shade? As in Detective Shade? Heheheh...Isn't that just a ghost story?" "I'm....afraid not, John. Look, if you prepare your men to help deal with this guest, I'd be more than happy to continue our business afterwards."

John sucked his teeth together in a contemplating sound as he tightened his decorative neck cloth, "Help, you say? Ooo. Could do that. Sounds as if we've found our shortfall in this interaction."

"I said we'll continue business afterwards."

"Funny thing about afterwards. It's better for you, friend. Far as I can see, the iron is hot for us right now."

Stood to attention behind John, Gene cut an imposing figure in his Lorica armour. He was flanked by two clones who were identically attired. They were there to give the impression of power. Professionalism and efficiency. Yet even still, Gene was surprised when the mob boss caved so easily to a little pressure from John.

"Fine. Fine. We'll shake on it here."

John - better known as Thenardier - leaned heavily onto the table as he reached across to shake the offered hand. This was why Gene had gone to the French crook, he was good at deals. He smelt weakness and didn't hesitate to pounce upon it.

That said, Gene wasn't certain what they'd just signed up for. When John turned to him with an unlit cigarette and gave a superficial order to "Best be about that then." Gene snagged him by his double-breasted coat, and leaned close so they wouldn't be overheard.

"What's going on? What's the Shade?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Monsieur." Thenardier replied, with a sudden sycophantic tone to his voice, "Just a ghost story. Every den of coves has them. Dunno what spooked the yank, but it'll be the shadows of a fire. Nothing more."

The local criminals didn't seem to treat it as joke, "There's a lot of truth in stories. How does this one go?"

"Ghost of a dead gendarmerie. Haunting them. Hounding them. Making the good jobs turn sour and the tidy profits slip through fingers. I tell you, Monsieur. You start painting regular police work as something from the book of prophets, you've done half the work for them."

"Look up Batman sometime." Gene let Thenardier go.

"Happy to. I did want to discuss our allotment of time-"

"Later." Someone had followed the thug. Splitscreen wasn't exactly interested in fighting law enforcement - living or dead - but he needed from the mob what they'd just bought. And they couldn't keep their end of the bargain if they were raided this evening. "Let's take this seriously." He watched the first few mobsters take up positions near the warehouse entrance. More secured the vehicles.

As the mobster prepared to 'greet' their soon to be guest, one talked nervously to his friend. "I don't like this,man..." His friend scoffed. "What's not to like, bud? We blast down some so called 'ghost', the bosses make their trade, and we all walk away richer. Easy." "C'mon, I know you've heard the stories, and about how he's come back." "Yeah? And they're just that, stories. He ain't nothing. Just you wait, I'm going to kick Shadey's butt all through this warehouse, all by myse-"

With that and a bang, the lights went out, leaving only the ambient light of the Steel City night to stream in from the windows. The warehouse darkened, and the thugs hollered and glanced around. Suddenly, the door they were guarding slams open, causing another loud bang as it slams harshly against the wall.

"Shit. What was that?" Macro asked.

"Lights."

"Yeah. I got that." The legionary rolled his eyes at his clone companion. He detected a trace of sass in Wayland's tone, "But which twat thought extinguishing those would be a good idea?"

"It wasn't our side." Gene jumped as the door slammed open. Guns were levelled but nothing presented itself as a target by filling the doorway, "They cut the power lines." Or something, "This is tactical. Mark the faces of our allies." They didn't want to strike the wrong people. The situation would quickly get volatile.

"Fair call." Macro agreed in a hushed voice, "Only, I can't see a bloody thing."

Torches. Gene should have asked Cubber to install torches on their battle-suit. It seemed so obvious now. Unforgivably obvious, in retrospect. He wished he could blame the mechanic for not suggesting it, but as head designer, it was as much his fault. Now they would have to do without.

"No one's coming in. Walk along that side, Macro. Use the heart monitor on the wall."

"Right." Macro's face creased. He didn't like getting to grips with technology. Gene had run through the simple detector several times with him, but he still took to it about as well as an ancient Roman would. Jabbing the touch screen rapidly and harder when it didn't work the first time, "What about Wayl- wha- Oh for fuck sake. Where's he gone now? Absent on duty again."

Gene left Macro to walk the right-hand wall. If there were heartbeats close outside, he would find them. Splitscreen himself took his monitor to the open doorway, after gesturing for the mobsters to stand back and keep silent. The majority of them had taken out torches on their phones to see by. He took the device and used it to scan for life-signs either side of the door. If he didn't find any he would step outside and try to sight the perimeter for foes.

It was dark in the warehouse now, something that the more superstitious mobsters didn't like at all. They were noticeably nervous, and as they cast their phone lights around, they stuck as close to what light remained as possible. However, despite their fear, it was calm...for the moment. As Macro tried to detect a heartbeat on either side of the the door, he would fail to.

However, when he stepped out, he would be greeted with a small bolt of eerie green light flying in front of his face. If he turned to look at the threat, he'd see the very same Detective Shade that had the mobsters scared, lurking someway down the alley. He was, frighteningly enough, nothing more then a void filled figure. Granted, said figure was in the shape of a noir detective, but a flat, menacing void nonetheless. There were no details that picked up the light, and in fact the only light that came from him was two pinpricks of that same eerie green light that had flashed infront of him just a second ago.

Said pinpricks peeking out from what seemed to be the barrels of revolvers, ones that had been dipped in the same void that cloaked the rest of his form. They seemed to grow slightly as the Shade fired again, before transforming into bolts of light as they fled the barrels, and the figure started steadily walking forward. Depending on the range of his heartbeat scanner, he just might pick up one from the figure, but said beat would...calm. Perhaps a little faster than normal from excitement or other emotion, but calm nonetheless.

Splitscreen realised he'd gone night-blind when the first bolt shot passed. Its sudden intensity in the pervading darkness caused him to blink and look away. When he looked again he couldn't make out anything. Not even outlines. Just the small beads of light that the gun unleashed as it shot again.

The Lorica armour hadn't been made to tank energy weapons. That wasn't something his team had acquired the equipment for. The blasts stunned him as they were intended. Splitscreen fell down, but the metal frame in the roman-styled armour took the brunt of impact. No one rushed out to help him.

He was able to move his fingers enough to tap into his internal communicator - "First assailant. Front door. Weapon beats armour. Armed to stun. I'm down." Macro would know what to do next. In battle he would rally the troops. And if they refused to take his orders, Thenardier could pacify and appease. Together, they might win a useful response from the mobsters.

In the meanwhile, he moved his arm more by the power of the mechanised exoskeleton and grabbed an empty metal beer barrel nearby. 7.5 gallon size. With a slight whirr of his motors his arm flung the barrel down the alley where the shots had come from. But it'd been several precious seconds since then and he still couldn't see the cloaked assailant at all in the dark. He was swinging blind.

As Splitscreen fell down, Shade paused his firing, then strode forward, reloading his revolvers. The figure's shoes tapped against the pavement as he approached the armored man. As he heard Splitscreen murmur, he paused, then resumed walking, though more cautiously. As he saw the barrel flyring towards him, Shade drew back and glanced over at a window nearby.

Meanwhile, the thugs had heard the reports of Shade's revolvers or seen the flashes of light. Some of the more skittish ones were starting to get twitchy. As one of the cocky gangster from earlier turned towards the window, he saw a dark shape crash through. As the shape rolled upright, revealing itself to be Detective Shade, he staggered back. "Oh sh-" The curse was cut short as Shade let out a swift kick, sending the thug falling back. Whirling, he let out rapid shots before fading into the nearby darkness.