Everybody, Backstreet's Back! Baby, bye, bye, bye.
Summer 2021, Week 3
Sunday afternoon
Henry, The Wards
Blood Bolt
"Shh, shh, it's okay." Bolt ran his hand along her cheek, the woman flinching away as tears poured down her face. With a tsk and standing up, he looked at Greg with a frown. "Didn't I tell you to be nice, Greg? We're supposed to be kind, caring, all that bullshit, yanno?" Flicking his hand, red energy poured from his fingertips into the chest of the bound woman who let out a brief muffled scream before going limp. The blue police uniform starting to smoke from the energy that leapt from her body and into the ground. Three more limp bodies were tied around the same column, each as still, each as smoldering. Walking, Greg forever in his shadow, Bolt spoke to his most trusted Lieutenant, the wonderful teddy bear--if teddy bear crushed skulls--known as his little Greggy poo. "How'd we make out?" In response, Greg simply held out a bag and opened it. Inside was an assortment of guns and ammunition taken from the two police cruisers they had ambushed. The cops were loaded out with AR's and heavier weaponry to take on his crew. Their mistake. Down the street, the echoes of gunfire could be heard a few blocks down. "Paula, sweetie, how they doing?" "Two of ours dead for five more of theirs. We're about to break contact." The buzzcut woman who was following Greg and her boss, and had been since...fuck, what was his name? Jason? Meh. Since that other guy who had her position before suddenly met a few hundred volts up close. "Fantastic. That'll teach those fucking pricks a lesson about insulting us." Insulting me. A freak? A maniac? The fucking gall. They need to be taught... "Don't break contact." He told Paula sternly, stopping his walk to turn and address her. "I want them all dead. And then I want them hung up with signs put around them. I want every piece of shit small timer to get a clear lesson that I--I--run these Wards now. Got it?" Sparks of energy flashed in his eyes as his emotions rose, causing Paula to take a step back into a waiting Greg. When the woman looked up at the giant, he gave a small shake of his head no and set a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Greg was always like that, trying to help the others walk the right path. Such a saint, Greg. "Yes, sir. I'll make sure it gets done." Paula managed to get out. And with those words, the red tinted light vanished and was replaced with a broad smile and held out arms. "I fucking knew I could count on you Paula. That's what I always say. Right, Greg? Tell her that's what I always say. Damn I'm starved. Who wants Sushi? I'd die for a spicy tuna roll right about now."Vasya Solonik
One particular sound resounded out among the cool night air beyond Blood Bolt's own declarations and the distant rapport of gunfire plaguing the Wards. The sound of tires on asphalt coming to a slow crawl and the distinct low squeal of well-oiled breaks. Not far ahead of the trio two long, black vehicles with tinted windows came to a halt, blocking their path forward. The vehicles were distinctly non-descript lacking identifying marks and appearing as vessels to whisk people away in the night never to return. The ferrymen of Styx and their modern accouterments operated like well-oiled machines the vehicles bristling outward as doors came open almost in tandem with one another. Four suit clad criminals of athletic build with stern features and all sharp edges from head to toe and some form of facial covering to hide their identity in some capacity. Each one bearing a strange, glowing cut on their cheek. Most distinct among their attire is the fashion statement of military grade rifles slung across their chests and palmed as if ready to be drawn to fire in a moment's notice. Chief among the lot that took several daring steps forward while two of these impromptu soldiers flanked them and the others used the vehicles as cover was an incredibly tall individual. Wisps of smoke trailing from their lips as they adjusted a golden half-mask against their face, the remnants of a cigarette being snuffed out between the ball of their foot as they stopped many paces away from Blood Bolt and Greg. Vasya, similarly, was clad in a dark uniform far more militaristic in design with a furry mantle draped over their shoulders lazily and hefting an impressive, warped war axe over one shoulder. They looked between Blood Bolt and his companion then beyond them to the smoldering bodies of discarded officers, a drawn out, aggrieved sigh echoing across the distance between them as the Russian's disappointment grew tenfold. "Young blood these days don't know how to take it slow now do they?" They began slowly, their short pink hair bobbing with the movements of their shaking head. Vasya's words seeming to be more directed towards themselves in their exasperation than fully addressing the men before them. "It makes me wonder if Ragnarok is rolling in his grave to see us reduced to thugs preying on the weak that suffer as we do than those that deserve it." It was then they fully looked upon Blood Bolt, tilting their head to the side and regarding them with a chilly expression their eyes drinking in the postures of both men before them. "You've made quite a mess young man, you know that? To think I'd been taking my time and fostering growth for some pup to start drawing eyes towards us and getting the government involved. They're even getting our kind to work against us 'cause you had to be sloppy." Rolling their shoulders, they unslung their axe from their shoulder and pressed its strange axe head into the concrete, leaning on it like a walking stick. "I figured we'd do something about the gun fight but imagine the surprise when I saw you here. Seems destiny has a strange way of working, don't you think?" In spite of the strange Russian's words, none of the assembled mobsters raised a weapon towards Blood Bolt and his companion, merely keeping an eye out on their surroundings and watching the other two keenly in case they made a move. "I could go on a rant about who I am, but I expect you know nothing of me and don't care. That's good, because I'm doing my job right then. Regardless, I am here for you. I could be angry, but I can't find it in my heart to do so. You have spirit, ignorant spirit, but spirit nonetheless. A fire that can't be quenched but one that can certainly be shaped. The point is, I would prefer if you abandon this... Quest of yours and join me. I'd have uses for a man like you, and you could learn quite a bit from an individual like me." Vasya's head inclined towards the pair as their eyes crinkled as if they were smiling, "I will make this offer only once, so do think carefully as to how you respond. I'd rather this not become a war, especially since I am not keen to losing any more ground than I have already." Despite their cool demeanor, their muscles tightened with anticipation as their mind flickered with the possibility of a brawl. Blood Bolt was hot-blooded, that much was evident from the news reports and his presumed actions against those officers beyond, and so Vasya was ready for this to turn sour quickly.Blood Bolt
Bolt had his two companions seemed to watch the group get out and take positions with a universal What the fuck face on all of them. As the man spoke, Bolt seemed to be unusually silent, most likely shock by the brass balls swinging on the man. When the address was done, he looked around between Greg and Paula with a wide-eyed expression. “Who the—Greg, who the fuck is this? Greg! Answer me damnit!” Greg held up his hands and shook his head, the action seeming to calm Bolt down and a frown settled on the man’s face. “Oh, shit, you don’t know? Sorry for raising my voice then man, my bad. Paula? Any idea?” The other woman shook her head with maybe a bit more fear in her eyes than the impassive Greg. Turning back to the man and his group, Bolt spoke slowly, the words starting lighthearted but growing hotter as he continued. “No? Well, shit. Okay, second question then for Mr. Eurovision over here. Why is someone no one fucking knows talking to me, let alone insulting me? Came someone riddle me that?” Blue energy leapt from nearby streetlights to Bolt’s body, wreathing him in a soft blue glow. Putting his hands out to the side, red arc started to leap across his fingertips. “Because for the life of me I don’t understand why this boy band dressed mother fucker and his backup dancers all in matching outfits is gonna roll up on me out of the blue and talk to me like they know shit.” Bringing his hands closer together, more concentrated energy rippled between his hands with a soft crackling, the blue hue replaced with a dark red light that lit up the night, the streetlights now dead in their immediate area. “See, I also take issue with the one time offer sort of shit. It just screams ‘punch me in the face.’ So now I’m inclined to skip the whole war part and instead blast a hole through your chest so Greg here can wear you like a fancy blinged out hat. How’s that sound?” Pausing, the man dropped his hands and the energy cut off. “Wait—do you understand me? Do I gotta switch to Spanish? It sounds like you speak Spanish, or whatever that fake language is called. Got that funny little accent and shit. Eh, fuck it, you’ll get it once your heat is missing.” His hands started to come up until Greg put a hand on Bolt’s shoulder. The boss looked up in irritation, but saw Greg looking over towards a building, the sidewalk in front of it covered in shadows. But Bolt could see a cherry tip light appear, and without even needing to ask anything he knew. Fucking stalker ass micro-manager. Lowering his hands, Bolt seemed to take a moment to breathe deeply, before looking back at the Russian. “Look, old man, I don’t fucking know you. What I can tell you is that I’m already in a partnership, one with someone who is far beyond your little N-Sync band you got here. So, I’ll make a counteroffer. Stay the fuck out of my Wards, and we won’t have any issues. You can deal with the backlash on your own. Do a little dance and sing a little song. Now get the hell out of my face before I change my mind.” Pulling out a phone and looking at the screen, his face scrunched in concentration while his voice was still a mix of his light weighted hotness. “I’m not here to impress a dead guy or do anything for you. Best to remember that. I’m here to rule shit, and if you can’t handle the heat, it’s probably best you hop your little Backstreet Boys out of the kitchen.”Vasya Solonik
Stood without flinching as Blood Bolt railed and harped at the Russian about their own reputation. Their eyes remaining steely in the face of such disrespect and adversity. The only sign of any irritation being the tension pooling between their shoulders as the man to Vasya's right glanced over towards the taller individual before back to Bolt himself. The glowing wounds upon the cheeks of the mobsters began to intensify in response to Blood Bolt's own wanton display of force and potential violence. It was only after Bolt's display that Vasya cut through the tension with a hot knife, an amused laugh bubbling and echoing out of their throat and cascading across the surrounding area now bathed in darkness. Their eyes hadn't missed the minute reactions of Bolt as Greg grabbed his shoulder, nor did it miss the Manipulator's own change in body language. "You have a colorful imagination, but I should have expected this! You are not a ruler, but you are a dog on another's leash as it stands. It’s a shame to hear such fiery talent wasting away at the end of another's rope, but such is life I suppose." Their eyes flickered over to Greg, staring at the man for a moment before looking towards Blood Bolt. "Rulers have councils, not babysitters, but it seems that you are just a child with an overblown ego eager to get his rocks off by smearing his shit across my city." Reaching down Vasya hefted the axe up and let it rest over one of their shoulders, their stance shifting partially to that of one ready to pounce should the need arise. The crime boss' mobsters were on edge as they waited for the final pen to drop as they eyed up their opposition. "And I assure you, Bolt, I understand English perfectly well but hope that before your final hour you might attempt to gain a modicum of its mastery beyond ignorant insults." The sound of Vasya's tongue clicking against the back of their teeth carried well across the dark, empty space between them. After a moment their lax expression sharpened as they pulled a pistol from their belt and aimed it towards Bolt, "As a courtesy to the individual you work for, I'll give you the option: hand the bag over, leave those officers to us, and we'll go about our way. Or you can show me how you killed those children at that shiny new school they've built." There was a brief moment as the Russian looked out of the corner of their eye, "Paula, was it? I recommend you get out of here. I'd prefer as little collateral as possible if our protagonist feels the need to earn some stripes beyond a child killer’s badge." As if on cue the other four of the mobsters raised their weapons, fingers along the trigger's housing as they fixed their aims upon Bolt and Greg. "My patience for this disrespect is growing thin by the moment, so do make your decision quickly or better yet have your owner make it for you. It makes no matter to me." Vasya was quite aware there was likely another individual in the area based on Greg's reaction which had stemmed Bolt's impotent tantrum.Blood Bolt
“Ex-fucking-cuse me?” The phone stayed balanced in his hand for a moment before he slowly set it in his pocket. “First off, I’m unsure whether you really do understand English since your boy band is still here not performing a song and instead just running those pretty little mouths of yours. Well, I assume they’re pretty. Its dark. Paula, maybe go see how pretty their mouths are.” The phone was stored away, and the man’s tiny tangent seemed to wash away as rage took back over. “Now, what the fuck did you just call me, JT? I don’t give a shit how many Platinum you have, no one calls me a dog!” His hand flew up and red power flared with a bright light as the electricity flickered in his eyes. “Let me show you how long of a leash I fucking ha—“ In the same moment, two things happened. A run-down looking speedster rushed in and shoved both of Bolt’s hands into the air, the sky lighting up with bolts of blood colored lightning that came from the ground rather than the clouds. The next moment, the sound of a safety being released was heard right behind Vasya. “Sorry boss, he told me—“ The speedster convulses and drops on the ground, and Bolt glares past Vasya and to the man behind him. “I had it handled, Dallas. Get out of he—“Dallas Lock
“Silence him, Greg.” The man’s calm voice said loud enough for the entire group to hear. Greg set a calming hand in his boss’s shoulder who tried to shrug it off to no avail, also stalled in his rage at the command of the man. Dallas held a pistol in his hand by his side and was standing right behind Vasya. There was no sound or notice to explain how he got there, but he suddenly was. Taking one last puff of his cigar and dropping it on the ground to stomp it out with his polished shoes, he spoke calmly. “Mr. Solonik, you’re on my list of people to visit. My name is Dallas Lock. Let me apologize for the behavior of my partner here but let me also suggest that you tone down your antics and come off that high horse of yours so we can have a proper chat.” The man walked around Vasya to stand in front of him and in-between Bolt. He was wearing a black suit this time, well-tailored and pressed and totally unruffled. He moved as if it was a part of his skin, and he had a disarming thin smile on his face. “I would have expected someone like you to have the ability to ignore petty jabs. The fact you can’t doesn’t give me much reassurance that you’d be of any use to me. But I’m not one to judge by first impressions.” Looking around at the mobsters, he looked back at Vasya, a clear command for them to lower their guns communicated with the stare. While his features were friendly, the eyes were something else. Not angry, cold, or anything like that. Just dangerous. “Threaten my partner again, Mr. Solonik, and we will have a problem. I suggest you leave and return to your lands. I have an agent tasked to visit you soon, but I’ll adjust plans and meet with you myself, later, when temperatures cool down.” “If you stay intent on this path of antagonizing or interfering with this operation however, I will end your ability to effect my plans right now.”Vasya Solonik
Had been rattled partially by the sound of a safety clicking just behind their head more so than the burst of electricity that screamed through the night air. Not because the sound was unfamiliar or sudden, but because of the lack of warning that came with it. It became impossible to focus on the dog just ahead of them, now being partially restrained by their own compatriot and the presence a certain Dallas Lock just behind the crime boss. The presence of the teleporter caused the entire team of mobsters to bristle, but the well-trained guns did not fire early. Instead, some leveled their weapons on Dallas while others kept their attention onto Bolt, at least, until the disarming gaze of Dallas fell upon them. Had it not been for their boss' life being on the line, they wouldn't have complied. Yet this disobedience ruffled Vasya more than even Dallas' sudden intrusion into the altercation but following in the footsteps of their hired guns they lowered their own weapon to look full upon Dallas in all his dark glory. A low, rasping laugh more like a growl bursting from their throat. "The jabs are of no consequence, but you must understand that his actions speak volumes as to what both you and he might stand for. If I were another, I might have just drove by and left your associates filled with lead for their transgressions but here we are." The Russian explained simply, their gun wielding hand coming up in a partial shrug. "If he is your partner I might be led to question your control over him, but I will leave that for... Civil conversation at a later date. He walks a dangerous path and draws too much attention to our kind too early. We've spent so long in the shadows we are starting to forget the light, and I struggle to allow myself to let a young blood like him stain Ragnarok's dream. My dream." After elaborating they took a step back from Dallas and glanced towards Bolt then back towards the man who held the power in this altercation now. It wounded Vasya to step away, but it was clear that they were outnumbered, and Dallas' strength was currently beyond what was safe for them to fight. It had taken only a breath for the man to arrive here, and it was impossible to pinpoint his origin, so they put their gun away and waved their hand through the air making a decisive motion with it. "I am no man, Dallas if he speaks your name true. If you know of me already, merely call me Vasya, I would prefer to be addressed correctly if you hope to discuss matters further at a later date." Rather than risking their own life and the lives of their subordinates, the crime boss ushered their people into the twin vehicles at the edge of the darkness before loading in themselves. Not seconds after both vehicles disappeared into the night, leaving the scene in the dust behind them.Dallas Lock
Dallas simply let his eyes follow Mr. Solonik as he made his way back into the car along with his men to drive away. Watching the red taillights vanish around a turn in the distance, he turned to look at Bolt and his companions. Eyes ran over each of them, the kind smile slowly slipping away as one mask was replaced with another. "Is there some sort of irrefutable force that rages inside you which commands you to piss off everyone you meet?" Taking another slim cigar out of this case he cut it, letting the ends fall on the ground before he popped it in his mouth. Taking out his lighter, he waited for Bolt to answer.Blood Bolt
A finger gun and a small pop of electricity later, and the end of Dallas' cigar--totally lame by the way, where the fuck is the Cuban? Crime bosses smoke Cubans--was lit. Pursing his lips to blow on the tip of his finger, Bolt's wide grin also fell as he took a few steps towards the man. "First off, you're welcome. Second, did you bring enough for the whole class? Greg loves a good smoke, don't you Greg? Of course he does. Paula--well, fuck. Paula! Do you like smokes?" He didn't wait for the answer as he kept closing the distance. "But you, you fancied dressed prissy boy, I had that shit handled. And now, because you decided to step in, some two-bit JT knock off, can't have it his way little bitch thinks that I'm some sort of a dog." He stopped a few feet away, smart enough to not press Dallas to some sort of edge but anger coiling inside him just as the energy he drained to face that random Spanish speaking conquistador--or was he German?--energized him. Heh, I made a pun in my head. God I'm good. "And worst of all, you let him and his cronies moon walk their happy ass away. So, I got a question in the form of two words for you. The. and Fuck?"Dallas Lock
All the man could do since the cigar had been lit was to take it out and stare at it with an expression--a genuine no mask wearing expression--of shock. Bolt's approach and tone shook him out of the moment but did nothing to serve to smooth things over. "I highly recommend you step back to your friends over there, Lucius. And I'd tack on if you speak to me like that again, tonight won't end well for you."Blood Bolt
"And I highly recommend you answer my fucking question, Dallas." It was one of those moments again where the joviality fled the gangsters voice and was replaced with that cruel hot rage that seemed to permeate the color of the energy coursing across his hands. "Real god damn quick. Or I might be forced to scuff those pretty little shoes of yours as I shove them up your--"Dallas Lock
One second Dallas was a few feet away, the next his fist was in Bolt's gut, the man bending over to wrap around his hand before the stability Dallas' body provided was gone, and now there was a kick to the back of his legs that collapsed Bolt to the ground. And then suddenly, he was there again, kneeling down in front of Bolt. "Or you'll what, Lucius?"[x2 Minor, -2EP]
Blood Bolt
Breathing. Is. Hard. Gasping in air and trying to hold it, Bolt looked up and met Dallas' eyes. Fuck this prick. He thought as his eyes glowed with energy before lightning shot from them and at Dalla--where the fuck did he go? "Ugh." Standing up quickly, tripping and stumbling, he saw Dallas behind him and lit up both of his hands as he wheezed. "Come on, handsome. Let's see if those shoes are made for dancing." Hands splayed at his sides, Bolt let energy pour out of them haphazardly. Or so it seemed.[x2 Normal, -6EP]
Storyteller
Greg, loyal, loveable Greg, was himself not an idiot. He was actually very educated for a gangster, having his ASN in Nursing from Victoria Tech. See it helped to know how the body worked when you were a regenerator. Now Greg had been with Bolt for years to many people's surprise when they found out Greg was not in fact a giant dullard. What these people were themselves not aware of is that Greg knew Bolt was not an idiot. Eccentric, yes. Crazy, oh god yeah. An Idiot? No. Bolt did not make a gang of minor Evos when he himself was a minor Evo in one of the largest cities in America during a time when Evos were hunted by being dumb. All this went through Greg's mind as he picked up Paula and carried her back away from the battle as arcs of energy seemed to shoot out randomly. They were, in fact, random. Because as great as a teleporter may be, you can only usually dodge what you can predict. This was proven when one of Bolt's strands hit Dallas as he reappeared and sent him sprawling on the ground.Blood Bolt
"Oh, shit man. Did I get your face? I never meant to go for the face, that's the money maker." Strolling closer, he reached out to drain whatever juice was left in the area to finish Dallas off. Sorta went too far to bitch out now. Bringing his hands closer together he felt the energy form into a condensed ball of death plasma that shown in the beautiful hue of red. "Let's see if this helps buff that out. Hail to the real King of these streets, baby."Dallas Lock
Vanishing from the ground, Dallas appeared behind Bolt launching an elbow strike into his side. Appearing on his other side he sent a jab to his face and kicked his knee out. Again, and a hook to his jaw. A strike to his gut. An uppercut. Kidney shot. Each time he appeared a steady shout that turned into a roar could be heard as Dallas kept vanishing and appearing with strikes launched on the crime boss who had fallen to the ground at this point, the energy dissipating. "Learn." Hit. "Your." Kick. "Fucking." Strike. "Place!" With the last strike there was a soft crack of a jaw being broken and Dallas finally stopped. Breathing heavily, he ran a hand through his hair to smooth it back and tucked in his shirt before grabbing the front of Bolt's and pulling him to a standing position. Setting a palm flat on his chest, he spoke loud enough for Greg, Paula, and Dennis--the speedster--to hear. "One little force of will and a knife appears in my palm. With it pressed up against you like this, well, can you guess what will happen." Pulling Bolt in, blood bubbling as breath pushed it out from a broken noise. "It'll force your organs to move and rip apart. Just like I will rip you apart the next time you dare try and challenge me you piece of shit. We are 'partners,' yes. But don't forget who I am, not for one second. Or the next time, I won't be so kind as to give you this." Pulling his hand back, a syringe appeared in it and Dallas stuck it into Bolt's chest and plunged the contents inside. Right after, he dropped the man unceremoniously to the ground. "I'll have an associate be joining you all in a week or so. By that time, I expect you to have a better attitude towards me and mine, Lucius. Do not make me have to come back here." Walking past the man who started to squirm and then scream, Dallas looked at Greg and Paula. "He'll be fine. I got it from the Clinic. Tell him he owes me a pretty penny for that, it's not cheap. Also, clean this up and get back underground once the Lostmen are dealt with. All this racket and someone will be knocking on our doors soon." Without waiting for another word, he was gone.[x1 Strenuous, -15EP]
Blood Bolt
Writhing on the ground for what felt like an eternity, Lucius could feel his body knitting itself back together. Eventually the pain grew to be too much and in its place was blackness. A nothingness like he felt all those years ago. The same dark box they locked him in. 'Come on, battery, we plugged you in. Why aren't you working.' The laughter of children, snickering of some adults who just stood by and watched. The victory they had in their faces when he finally was allowed to crawl out. Soon, just like back then, the blackness was replaced with a soft light as his eyes opened. Wiping his hand across his face he saw it was red. I still have some juice? Oh, no wait. That's blood. My blood. Sitting up and then rising to one knee, he saw the shadow cast in the moonlight standing steady by his side. Holding out a hand, Greg reached down and pulled him up in one move. "Thanks, Greg." He almost mumbled. Looking around, he didn't feel the need to tell Paula a lesson. Dennis though...no, he needed the kid, traitor though he was. "Wrap things up and let’s get back to camp. Cops will come down soon after not hearing from those three." Greg followed him as he walked to their car stashed in an alleyway nearby. "Stupid." A deep rumble of a voice said when it was just the two of them. "Pfft, you think? Dude kicked my ass." Lucius shot back as Greg unlocked the door to the SUV. "Why fight him? What's the point?" "To let him know that I would fight him. Guys like that, Greg, they have no use for weak dogs. Shit, JT was right, I am on a leash. We all are, including him 'cept the fact he doesn't know it yet. But I plan on being the best dog in the kennel. Cause that's how we work our way into the house. And once we're there." "We can get the master when he's sleeping." "Bingo. Or maybe we find out how nice life in the house is. Either or, Greg my man, we need to remind the butler that this dog bites and gets shit done." "Hmm." Greg pressed the starter and the car turned on. Bolt pulled out his phone and opened his music app. "I don't know about you, but I need some Backstreet's Back. Sound good?" Greg just scoffed as he pulled out of the alley and onto the road.
Type
Record, Historical
Medium
Digital Recording, Text
Authoring Date
July 4, 2021
Authors
Comments