Closed RP A Kidnapping in Pittsburgh

[Slate]

Sam smiled a little and raised an eyebrow, thin and delicate. Her gold eyes flashed as she started to take small steps forward. But she froze, mouth open to give a witty retort, when she heard her partner and soulmate speak up. Rhodonite? She paused for a full second before she shook her head. She let the confident smile take back over her face, but the assassin would have seen the moment of genuine shock.

“Sorry, mommy, but no can do. Our associates can handle each other, but you and I have some business to handle now.” And with that, she darted forward, swinging out to drive her hand into Flora’s stomach. She didn’t want to genuinely hurt the woman, despite her still damp clothes, but debilitating her wouldn't hurt.​

Rhody laughed as she continued her onslaught. She went in harder, her body loosening up and starting to flow into an almost dance as she moved. Weaving, feinting, striking. Weaving, feinting, striking. She kept herself unpredictable by changing her motions and her direction and her intent like water flowing downstream. Always in motion, always moving, always flowing. She would catch him off guard in one of her random movements.

Just to break up the fury of her blades, she spun, arching her leg high enough to knock him upside the head and maybe take him down. She did it in an almost ballet-style pirouette, keeping her body on her toes. Then, she pulled back sharply, straightening out to her full height and swaying slightly. She pointed one of her blades at him while she flipped the other one over in her offhand.

“Obsidian didn’t send me. Though I’m surprised you know who I am by name. Do you have plans to kill us all, or do you just do your research into the people who want to kill you?” Her voice carried a faint accent on its soft and low tones. Something midwestern.

She stopped swaying and brought her hands together in front of her, slowly lowering them from her face to her stomach as she breathed out. Her eyes flashed toward the crates that blocked her view of his partner and the assassin that Rhody had hired to lure Cryptid here. But, for just half a second, she was sure she’d seen a swing of red curls, more orange than scarlet.

Then she heard a muffled voice, the voice of the assassin she'd hired, Flora. Did she- did she say Walsh? A soft and feminine voice responded and she flicked her eyes back to Cryptid. No. No, there was no way. Walsh wasn't an uncommon last name, and surely the hair she had seen was dyed that color.​

 

[Ban Bean]

Flora didn’t move. It was almost too easy. The second she saw Sam move she let her atoms disassociate and the woman’s fist went right through her, sinking through nothingness. A good ability to have in this line of work.

She kicked at Sam, to force her back, and teleported a safe distance away. There had been a temporary moment of panic on Sam’s face, and from what Flora had seen of her powers, and now with Cryptids involvement, it was quite time to leave.

She gave Ms. Walsh a smile from underneath her gaiter, still horribly annoyed, but she knew it would drive the canary insane. “Sorry baby girl. Maybe you should go take care of Daddy before it’s too late.”

and Flora vanished.

 

[Wendigo]

His lips twitched just a little as he overheard the scraps of conversation behind the crates, but he had no space for distraction. Rhody came at him hard in a flurry of steel that even with his speed, he couldn’t completely evade. It caught twice on the edges of his coat. He couldn’t afford to back down, however. There was too much on the line. Sam was on the line, as was his identity. Even if Sulphur knew it, he couldn’t rely on the rest of their mercy.

“I think it’s in my rights to take some preventative measures.”

He had to think fast. If they struck up banter, the truth was going to come out. And he’d seen her eyes flash to the crates. Without her costume, there was no way Rhody wouldn’t notice the signature red hair. He had to keep her distracted.

Distracted himself, he was just a little too slow when she switched to the kick, catching the side of her foot on the side of his head. It didn’t knock him down, but it did stagger him enough to slide back and instinctively fall on his boxing stance. His dark eyes narrowed under the mask, but his balance was back almost as soon as the hit fell away.

He remembered the first time he’d met Obsidian. When he’d been bent on scaring Slate out of Pittsburgh before they could send anyone to recruit him. Obsidian had wanted a monster then, he’d been sure of it. He’d fallen back on the behavior of a monster to emphasize the point. It hadn’t stuck then – but predatory mimicry was all about meeting expectations.

Under the mask, he grinned. Something in his throat caught as he let the predator start to bleed into his movements, as he loosened from the boxing stance and started to circle around as Rhody moved to center herself. Or something. He didn’t do yoga.

“I’ll admit it helps the problem keeps dropping itself on my lap,” he added, and as Sam disappeared from his view, he let a purr enter his voice. Like he’d been putting on a show just for her. “I have been wondering how long the rest of you would hold up. I had to take three of Jasper’s fingers to get him to peep a word about all of you, and there’s still so much I don’t know.”

He shoved thoughts of the hunt out of his mind. He focused, instead, on Sam, on the sound of her behind the crates, her breaths and voice and movements. He focused his eyes on Rhodonite, on the blades, on the smooth movement of her body, still desperately trying to piece together what she did before she could hit him again.