Disappearing Act (Open)

Albert awoke to the sound of gunfire. He was asleep infront of a barrel that was on fire, a small hut made of garbage above the barrel, and two other homeless men occupying the garbage hut on the rooftop, next to the exit leading to the stairs. The two ignored the first couple shots but then grew worried when the sound of machine gun fire sounded off. "What in the hell was that?" One of the homeless men, Steve the Ugly, said as he looked to the entrance. Now Albert was standing up when he heard the sounds, holding his blade in his hand.

It was sheathed, but a slight glow of red was shining through the top of the sheath. His killing intent was growing and the sword was glowing with it. He moved toward the exit, stepping outside as he pushed the cloth that was covering it. "Take care of my things if I die. I'm going to go see what's going on."

"Whatever man, we'll take them anyway." Tomas the Drunk Tank said, joking of course. These two men had earned their names through their personalities, Tomas being a stubborn drunk and Steve being just plain ugly. They called Albert, Isenstein the Mean, which meant as it said. He was a rotten ass%#!$ to most people he met. Steve and Tomas were his budies, helping him hide out from cops and heroes, villains and gangsters. He was on their death list for killing plenty of their buddies, both the heroes and the villains included.

He was four rooftops away from the action, his eyes only seeing a pink figure fighting black figures. He ran down the rooftop, kicked off the edge, jumped, and landed on the first rooftop. Then the second and the third until he could see the action. From a distance, if someone were to see him, he would look like a ragged, patch worked, teenager with a trash bag as a cloak and hood. He looked ahead with a dulled expression, trying to examine the battlefield ahead. It seemed like something from a cartoon, a purple looking gundam fighting a bunch of gangsters. He had a feeling Tomas had given him some alcohol or something, cause he would of had to been drunk to see this strangeness. He ran toward the four roof top and was then in mid jump to the fight. He unsheathed his sword, but unfortunately he hadn't anticipated the robotic thing to have jumped toward the roof top behind. They collided in mid air and began to fall toward the alleyway bellow.

He had dropped his sword, the blade falling into darkness as he was. He looked down at the alleway, there was a garbage bin full of trash. He had to make his move or else he would be killed if he hit the ground. He kicked off of the robot girl and was on the right course to the garbage bin. He landed hard but he was cushioned thankfully by the garbage bags. He sat up, quickly recovering from the fall, now standing on his two feet on the ground. Luckily his sword had landed close, sticking out of the concrete like Excalibur in the stone. He yanked it up, heading for the robot girl. Whoever she, or it for that matter (him not entirely sure about robotic gender and figuring that the thing that was in front of him was a robot) what it was, he was ready to kill it as it seemed like a hero to him, having fighting what seemed to be gangsters wasn't all that villainous to him. His sword began to glow red, the aura reaching out and moving like flames to a forest fire. Except it wasn't roaring. He swung his blade up, grabbing it so that the blade was toward the ground, and then thrusting it toward the robot looking girl.

Avenge the men? Isenstein was far from the notion of avenging gangsters. He would cut them down sooner rather than avenge them like some caped crusader. He had backed up when the smoke was dispersed and was somewhat unsurprising when the robotic thing was on the rooftop again. He sheathed his sword, the red glow dyeing out when he released the handle. He wasn't going to let it escape, not when it seemed that it was a villain when killing the men in suits. Even if they seemed villainous, the purple robot needed to be killed in order to avoid anymore bloodshed. And the men in suits too would have to be killed. People didn't find his goals to be very clear when it came to fighting crime, but he found them to be understandable. He ran up the wall, then jumped off and landed on the opposite wall, proceeding to jump toward the other wall until he reached the rooftop where the robot was all in an almost inhuman speed. He unsheathed his blade in mid air, but also reached into his trash coat.

He took out a carton of spoiled milk and tossed it at the robots face, cutting the carton in mid air, the molded solid milk would disperse on her helmet and hopefully both blind her visor and create a foul odor to distract her. He slashed downwards and when he landed he began to attack with a furry of cuts, the blade no longer glowing. His goal right now was to find out what this thing was before he killed it.

That thing was good with sword play, making it somewhat difficult to land a blow and to avoid one himself. It would have created worries for any normal hero but for Isenstein, who was grinning the whole time, it was pure entertainment. When it pushed, he took a step back. Anyone else would have stumbled, but Isenstein was excited and with his excitement came his fighting spirit. Isenstein's hood hid his eyes and a big wide grin crossed his lips.

"You truly do not know what lies in the shadows, hmmm? Do you think there are just mere heroes and villains in this world. There are much worse people and those people have an obligation to squash you like an insect." As he said that, he charged toward her, seemingly attacking from the front. He took out three black marbles and threw them at her feet. The marbles broke and a large puff of smoke surrounded the two.

He was no longer attacking from the front, or from the rear, the smoke dense enough to hide his attacks until the very last second. Isenstein was now behind the robot, in mid vertical strike towards her head, his blade barely glowing when it entered the top of the helmet. He didn't cut deep enough to injure her, he had other plans that didn't involve killing her. He hid the smoke again. "Tell me, do you know the gloriousness of the absence of heroes, of villains? It brings absolute and distracted peace." He said, his voice seeming to be to her front, but he was going to strike her visor, hoping to break through with his magical sword and force whatever it is inside it to reveal itself.

Quote :

Godmodding is the term used to describe typed out actions by individuals that makes other characters do or say things that's unlike them, and/or without their consent. You are not allowed to force any character you do not own to perform any action without their consent. Per example, if Emblem was fighting Krious, I would not be allowed to let Krious say things ('Rainbows make me cry') or be automatically hit by my attacks.

OOC: Godmodding is kind of annoying. I'll let that auto-attack slide, but yea...

(Thanks for the...warning?)

Isen was for once having fun with his prey. He loved the cocky attitude that was given as he stood by at a distance, his eyes closed as he listened to the woman blab on about making him a trophy. As she was talking, he was cutting. Not at her, cause he seen how his magical blade that could cut through anything was useless to a supposed ghost, but around her. The ground to be exact. He knew this apartment complex was weak and warn out over the years and it showed, for when they fought he could feel the ground weaken. It just needed a little motivation to break. The smoke blew away and there, at the edge of the rooftop, stood Isenstein, his blade dug into the ground.

"I stay both to teach you a lesson on skills versus gadgets. I wanted to kill you, but seeing how you fight so sloppily when not using those mechs has left a bad taste in my mouth. You leave targets minions alive, you flip and jump about assuming you have your target, and you are arrogant because of your gears abilities." He said, his eyes fully open. He released his sword from the ground and placed a foot on the rooftop. The moment he added more weight to the now fragile and cut roof, it collapsed. If she escaped from here, he would have no trouble finding her. He intends to teach her a lesson. He was now in front of her, having charged ahead along with the debris dust which was thicker than the smoke hiding his movement. He made a thrust, preparing to counter another attack with a block.

"Such a sad little girl," Isenstein said as he sat down on the edge of the rooftop, taking out a piece of bread. "Fights with her greed and not her heart. Well, I'll tell you what, a little secret you'll surely %#!@ your pants when you know." He took a piece of the bread and threw it in his mouth. He knew it would be "difficult" to find the girl, but that sour milk had helped him earlier with locating targets. "I'll give you some motivation to fight me and then I'll tell you the secret. My head, currently, is worth 500 mill to the Stallonie family in New York. I killed the head of the family a while back and the new head was his son. He placed a hit out on a hobo with a black cloak. It was 50 mill but that was because I disrupted their trading practices with other families which resulted in fourteen of them placing hit out on me. I believe it was two mill a piece. Now that your interest is perked let me point out another thing."

He took his sword and placed it on his lap, placing two fingers on the flat part of his blade. "'Your sword is cracked. Center area, noticed when you blocked my strike, its small but it tells you something doesn't it. Before you divulge yourself with questions of how this old looking blade could do such a thing, I'll answer simply with this. My blade is blessed with magic and an alien element thought to be steel. It can cut through and brake anything, even stabbing Superman in the chest." He stood up, looking exactly where she was. Only a fool would think they could easily hide from a student of Ra's Al Ghul greatest apprentice and a master of ninjitsu.

"Will you actually fight with everything you got. Or are you going to make me fight with a quarter of my skill. Frankly, I was going easy on you just to have some fun and thinking that your skills were limited." He was honest, only a small amount of his skills were being used. Why end a fight so quickly, he thought earlier, assuming that was her limit when they fought back there. Now that he knew it wasn't, he was excited to see how she will fight with the truthful prospect of money. He jumped over to the next rooftop and stood in the center, holding his blade out to the side, taking his stance and readying himself for the attack.