Boom! There goes the-! Boom! Ready or not! The song blared in the Ragnarok-member's headphones.

A subway station. A beautiful site for an attack. Mindless violence. Perfect. Disorganized chaos. His cup of tea. He could compose poetry. Broken up as the thoughts in his head. Jagged flow. Chaos. Just like his faction of choice.

It had been too quiet, lately. He needed to shake things up!! A nice little bomb would be perfect for that. High density of population. People would get the message. He didn't really care if he got caught or it. Maybe he'd get famous?

This man was Not Elliott.

---

Elliott yawned. The subway train rattled along. It had been a lazy Saturday. He'd gone to the warehouse to train with Kineta. Megara and Cybele had hooked him up with some information about some things while he'd been around. But mainly, he'd practiced escrima and his own martial arts. Now he was riding the subway home. It was hardly 1-o-clock.

He wore his black leather jacket, Aerosmith t-shirt, red mets ball cap, and blue jeans.

Things were going pretty good today. Little did he know that soon, his own faction would soon try to set off a bomb on the subway train cause destruction, possibly a derailment, and cause some chaos. Without. Warning. Him. The future wasn't set. Maybe it could be stopped. But currently, he was clueless as a newborn babe.

The man was on the train. If Elliott, or some hero, noticed a shifty figure talking to themselves and giving off unibomber vibes, perhaps they could stop things. Change history. But then, maybe they couldn't and whole lot of people would get hurt. Elliott included. Isn't chaos grand?

Normally the Ranger would drive around the city or walk. Subways were normally his style. Today taking the Fordasaurus out would have been overkill and in the rain his bike was not optimal. This left the subway.

Heading just left a gym the Ranger was dressed in a tight shirt, shorts, tennis shoes, and a worn Leupold branded cap. wet from the rain, but not soaked. It was only a little rain.

The Ranger stepped into the subway car and looked around. It isn't paranoia when people have been out to kill you. Mostly it was the normal. There did happen to be one mutant with a visible mutation. Nothing else as he settled in with the rest of the crowd.

Then the feeling that he'd missed something. That tickle in your mind when you saw something but weren't consciously aware of seeing it. A moment later it clicked. Male, by himself. Talking. Some people were just crazy and did that. Acting on his gut, the Ranger moved made his way closer to overhear.

It would have been so simple, so easy, for the muttering to be dark proclamations of plans for destruction and chaos. He had been ranting in his head before, humming along to the most violent tunes~ But things had changed. He had switched tracks.

The muttering was song lyrics, sung under his breath. Dangerous song lyrics. Lyrics about boom! And bodies hitting floors. And an insane clown posse song about effing the police slipped in for good measure. It was all out of order, all blended together in ways never intended. The man had his headphones on, and the music trailing from them was loud enough that if one listened, they could hear discordant music sped up, mixed and remixed into some sort of disorganized mantra.

The man's foot tapped a hair faster than the average foot. The air around him seemed to vibrate with a nervous energy. No. That was him vibrating, like a person stuck in fast forward. It was minor, a small motion blur, but someone with any experience in identifying ticks in people would notice it. He wore a slightly worn brown carhart hoodie and dark blue jeans, with scuffed white and black sneakers with worn bottoms. His hands moved with the music, a frenetic metronome.

It all added up to a picture of a poetic, hyper-paced individual with a creative take on reality. He was weird, off-putting, like an artist with notable quirks that put him just out of line with the herd of society, but it seemed harmless. He had no strange packages or anything suspicious near him, and he wasn't talking of killing people or setting off bombs, or anything you'd call a police officer over about. His muttering was all just song lyrics, mixed and out of order. He was weird, but-- it wasn't anything that would make a sometimes-vigilante independent contractor with a taste for munitions want to call the cops. Or at least, one might hope. Just another loon on the subway in New York. A mutant speedster in his own little world.

The obvious mutant, the one with the green skin, looked up from his phone screen to stare at the man. And stopped. The face was familiar to him. He'd seen it in a warehouse full of very angry individuals. He had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut.

If he had walked over and talked with the man, or if the other person watching him had stopped him, they might have solved it in one minute with a little digging. But things are never as simple as that.

Elliott got to his feet, and gave his seat over to an older woman who had been holding the pole. She took it gratefully. He took a pole near the strange man and another man. He glanced at the other man.

"Hey," Elliott said casually. The guy was tallish, what some might call handsome and buff. And he'd been looking at the same man he had been looking at with suspicion. A good criminal knows the look. It's what gets them moving towards the door. "Crap weather we're having, huh?" He shot the breeze. When he glanced back towards their suspicious friend, he was gone.

"Did you just feel a breeze?" Elliott asked.

The Ranger made his way closer to the male he had single out. Moving close enough to hear the man he listened. Muttering things that sounded like trouble, but after a short while the Ranger could tell they were song lyrics all jumbled up. Those exact songs are common among those who've recently been in the military. Especially infantry. While the man may not be saying anything out of place, he did seem to have some odd quality to him. A weird blur. A mutant?

Not seeing anything which immediately threw a red flag the Ranger decided to wait and see if anything happened. He trusted when his gut told him there was trouble.

A moment later the mutant with a visible mutation he'd seen earlier was near and speaking to the Ranger. "Hey." The Ranger replied without turning to look at him.

"Crap weather we're having, huh?"

The Ranger spared the green mutant a glance. "Ain't that the truth." The Ranger looked down at his still rain wet shirt. "I like it, mos' times. Just not right now." He was close enough the man couldn't get away without him noticing. Entertaining this newcomer wouldn't be an issue.

"Did you just feel a breeze?"

"Yeah, probably just the..." The subway hadn't stopped so the doors didn't open. The Ranger looked around to see where a breeze would come from. The man was gone. Ranger kept looking. He didn't see the man anywhere. "Did you see..." He cut himself off. No need to express what may just be paranoia.

Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap.

"Did he have a backpack?" Elliott tried for composed, calm, cool, collected, moderating his tone so it rose slightly at the end, like he was just interested. Just casual. It probably went over like the Hindenberg. "A cool one? Really cool? Thought I saw a neat little keychain thingy, I was going to ask him about and this really isn't believable, is it? Listen. Did you see where that guy went? I smell trouble." He hadn't even bothered changing his tone from one extreme thought process to the next. He really was not good at juggling emotions and acting in situations like these. Pickpockets don't have to act.

Had the man seen them acting suspicious? The missing man? Was that why he'd vanished? He knew now that he himself was acting suspicious, but hell. He knew who that guy liked to associate with. And they had not told him they were going to do something extreme like blow up a subway train. Why would they? They killed their own on reckless whims. It scared the crap out of him. He still wasn't sure why he hadn't stopped associating with utter chaos.

Highly unprofessional, utter chaos. Bad for business. And too violent. Have a habit of causing unnecessary collateral damage... even in kidnappings with little pigs. He shuddered at the memory, "Ugh," and made a bleh face.

"Did he have a backpack? A cool one? Really cool? Thought I saw a neat little keychain thingy, I was going to ask him about and this really isn't believable, is it? Listen. Did you see where that guy went? I smell trouble."

And like that things became the bad kind of interesting.

"What are yo' on about? The Ranger looked around again. "No, I didn' see where he went. What's the situation?" He said in a quieter voice.

This mutant seemed to know something. Though he was a little excitable. The Ranger lamented the fact he was dressed for working out. He only had a Ruger LCP on his waistband, but in this subway car he would likely have to stick to hand to hand.This had better not turn into another Brussels of Saint Petersburg. The Ranger liked not being exploded.

The man's reaction was anything but panicked pedestrian. The smooth way he went from going "what the hell are you talking about" to "what's the situation" made Elliott think this wasn't the man's first rodeo. He hadn't said 'what the hell', but with his Texan accent, it felt like the rough equivalent. Off-duty cop? Ex-military? Or maybe he had the rarest skills of all, a cool head and common sense. Which reminded Elliott, he needed to calm his own ass down.

He took a breath and composed himself, then opened his eyes to look the man firmly in the face. He was good now, he could be cool. It was weird how he had cooler head fighting Triad than dealing with potential terrorist attacks. It must have had to do with personal comfort levels. Upfront fights are easy. Unlike the unknown.

"I've seen the man before. The last time I saw him, he was trying to kill people." Elliott said. His voice was restrained, like the man's, loud enough the two of them would be able to hear it, but quiet enough to avoid causing a panic. "I left... I think he might be up to no good." He frowned, and shook his head to clear it. Then he continued on, voice slightly strained. "He's connected to this Terrorist faction, Ragnarok. They're basically dead, but... he sure doesn't think so. Their MO is bombs. Hence, backpack. I didn't get a good look at him to see if he was carrying one..." Elliott trailed off.

He was being truthful, though selective about what he shared. He had held back only his connection to the man.

Either the Southern man would balk, or he'd maintain the calm he'd handled so far, and continue to impress. Elliott had not pulled any punches. Terrorist faction. Violence. Bombs. It was enough to scare most people away. At the very least, the man would have the presence of mind to tell him to call the freaking cops. What he hoped for was someone who would actually stand up and help in the situation, so he wasn't alone with a dangerous person on a train. It was highly unlikely this man had heroically suicidal tendencies, but you never know. Some people run away from the sound of gunshots. Some run towards them. Some just piss their pants. Time would tell the dryness of this Texan man's pantaloons.

The green mutant seemed to have a better hold on himself as he provided information on the situation. He'd seen the man before trying to kill people. Connection to terrorist faction. Ragnarok? Was this a group of angry Norsemen? They use explosives. Lovely.

Taking a breath the Ranger's mind flew as he looked around himself. The odd man was a bomber. Part of a domestic terrorist organization. Ideally the bomb would go off when the train arrived at the station. Hurt more people and those who survived would have a horrific story to tell. Spreading terror.

"By the time the police could respond the bomb will have gone off." The Ranger looked back to the green mutant. "We need to find it without promoting a panic and without making it to obvious what we're doing." It wouldn't do to have the guy detonate his bomb early.

"Do you know anything about the construction of his previous bombs? Materials, mechanism, are they just a blast or are they chem, bio, or rad?" Depending on what the bomb was it would help in locating it.

That was a good point about the police. He hadn't considered. Random passerby had a good head on his shoulders. He was handling this whole thing well.

No causing a panic. Find the bomb. If there was a bomb. Without looking obvious. "Yeah." Elliott agreed. "And we need to find the guy. If we can." He was fast. That would be hard. But he'd be good information on where things were.

The man asked him what he knew about the guy's bombs, and-- Elliott had to figure out how knowledgeable he wanted to be about what he wanted to share. What it really boiled down to was did he want to be blown up for holding back. No he did not.

"I think they use C4." Elliott answered the guy. "Haven't heard anything about chemical or biological... simple mechanism probably, they aren't into training their members. Disorganized. They wanted to bring about the end of the world through chaos, like that mythology, I think... you're oddly cool-headed, man." He lowered his voice and leaned towards the guy, hanging off his pole. "Are you ex-military? Off-duty cop?"

If they were working together, he needed a name. It wouldn't hurt to give his own name either. His real name? "I'm Elliott," Elliott said.

Having to work with someone who just came up to you is never optimal. At worst they are actively working against you, at best they are exactly as they appear. This meant most of the time things would go poorly.

If the mutant was right he had to act or no one was getting off this subway.

The mutant thought they used C4. No knowledge of chem or bio components. Simple mechanisms. This emant it would likely be easier to deal with when they found the explosives, but other than it being a plastic explosive would not lend any qualities that made it more detectable.

"... you're oddly cool-headed, man. Are you ex-military? Off-duty cop?"

"Military. I worked counter-terrorism." No sense trying to lie. It wouldn't be believable. Leave the details sparse though.

"I'm Elliott,"

"Michael."

The interesting thing about plastic explosives is that they are detectable by observing reflections of infrared and ultraviolet light off them. Worked better than scent based detection most departments utilized.

The Ranger could see both.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them again he was in a world of wild light. His eyes were taking in only infrared light. He was observing the world in shades of heat. This also meant if someone was moving around a bunch generating a bunch of heat, he could follow them.

Military. Counter terrorism. Well, that made sense. Likely he'd have some experience with explosives... boded well for the both of them that they both had experience... though his was a practical study in application. He regretted that.

One name lead to another. Michael. Like the archangel. Elliott had zero religion, so he didn't know if having an angel nearby was good or TERRIBLE. Well, guardian angel, avenging angel, someone who would judge him, or random guy on the subway, it didn't matter. If they both failed and he was right, they'd wind up seeing angels, regardless.

Elliott had no idea what Michael was doing on the mutation level. To him, the man was standing still. He closed his eyes then opened them, and didn't do much more.

There were several good places one could set something up at, but most would be near places people would be or where they could cause the most damage. Like in the engine area, the linking areas, or by the conductor himself. When the speedster had fled, he had aimed for the control room of the subway car, but he'd left one of his three tiny explosives in a connecting car too. It was the car between where he'd been and the direction he was going, and luckily, it hadn't had any witnesses to bother dealing with when he'd dropped the bomb! The remaining two were with him. He wasn't running hard any more. Plenty of time to set them up. Number one was already armed. He strolled into the next car at a leisurely pace.

Elliott looked at Michael. "Hey Mike. I'm worried he'll target the control room or the engines." He said, then added a slightly defensive explanation for why he'd say such a thing. "It only makes sense." It wasn't like it was something he would have done or anything. Sheesh. "We should probably check," Elliott added insistently.

He didn't know Michael was already at work. He just knew they needed to do more than stand around.

Viewing the world by heat was an interesting experience. He could make out things like faces well enough, but unless there was enough contrast to affect heat absorption he couldn't read anything. All glass and water also became mirrors.

Were Elliott not so unique looking he would still be able to loosely recognize him. As it was, his antennae would make him stand way out in heat vision world.

As the Ranger scanned the subway car Elliot said that he was worried about the control room and the engines."The axles have electric motors. He'd have t' set it under the floor." Just in case he avoided saying bomb. "Setting up by the conductor or where it could tip the cars as we pass another in the tunnel. Maximize damage."

His vision was sensitive enough he could see where people had recently touched. Not so helpful at the moment with people everywhere touching everything. If a panel had been removed though, somewhere that there were less people, he'd notice.

"I'll check the control room." And he set off. Slowly, casually, making his way through the car on his way to the front of the train.

The logic rang with the sound of truth. Those places would be devastating. Maybe the guy was smart enough to figure them out. It certainly wasn't anything Elliott had ever considered. That was why they paid the military man big bucks.

Michael set off for the control room, and Elliott almost chased after him, not wanting to be left behind. He caught himself after a step. Splitting up meant better chances at finding it, and even better chances if there were more than one bomb. The last thing he wanted to do was lower their odds. That was probably why Michael had split away from him. Probably. Or else the man simply didn't like his face. He could have at least said something like "bye" or "good luck"! Hmph.

Elliott most certainly was not pouting over being ignored in a dangerous and life threatening situation, by a man he had literally just met. Nope. That would be silly. And ridiculously needy. To hell with military guys who are entirely too prepared with their grace under fire. And their dope Texas accents.

Who says dope these days?

He'd casually strolled along in another direction as he thought his stupid thoughts, mind on autopilot, checking for any disturbances in the force or in the floorboards as he went.

On Michael's side of the equation, he'd find a nice recent heat signature on a door handle to a supply closet not too far from the control room of the subway train. He'd also find a heat signature on the edges of a bit of floor paneling. One of the two was likely hiding a treasure trove of trouble. The other might've just been related to a recent spill on the floor. Or maybe it was both? He would just have to check.

As a side note, the bomber had held three bombs in his bag. It now contained one. If he'd hidden both in the same location, super, but it was far more likely the evil speedster had not put all his eggs in one basket.

Elliott passed through a doorway between cars, stopped, blinked. Speaking of speedsters... the man from before stood right in front of him, holding a bag by his leg as he stalked the car. What to do, what to do?

Move quickly, but avoid raising suspicion. A very fine line to walk and not ideal when your lifer was on the line. The Ranger's career was built on calm under literal life and death pressure, he could manage.

Past the crowds to the control room. No, wait. Door handle that someone had used recently. Quick check, no one looking his way. The Ranger opened to door to what appeared to be a supply closet. A brief examination of the closet and it was clear only a mop had been moved recently.

Near the control room a panel had been moved though. The Ranger could see where fingers had grasped the edges of the panel to move it. He whipped out a knife and quickly pried the floor paneling up. There was no mistaking it, that was Composition-4.

His vision returned to normal and he inspected how the explosive device was designed. C-4 is a very stable explosive. Not much can set it off. It requires extreme heat and a shockwave. Easy solution was a military blasting cap. He carefully searched until he found it.

While the Ranger wasn't EOD he understood the basics. Explosive, detonator, trigger. To disarm the explosive you could disable the trigger or remove the detonator. With C-4 it was easy to just remove the detonator. He slid the blasting cap out then took his knife and sliced through the wires so he could pocket the blasting cap. He had no where to put the explosive so he returned it to where he found it and placed the paneling back over it. It couldn't detonate now and this way the guy who placed it wouldn't know it had been taken out of play.

Back to infrared vision. One explosive down he would need to back track the other way to find any more.

((Occ sorry about the wait.))

Brash moves would get him killed. The man probably had explosives in the bag or on his person, and it was entirely possible he had an insurance plan in case things went pear-shaped. Elliott did what came naturally to him: something stupid. He picked the man's pocket. As he approached, Elliott pulled out his cellphone, eyes locked on the screen to distract him, and keep his face from being too green and familiar. Fat chance on that last one. The important thing was that it gave him cover for the moment he bumped into the man as he passed him in the confines of the car. His other hand dexterously slipped into a pocket and came out with a wallet as he apologized fervently, over and over.

The speedster eyed him, then sighed and shrugged it off, humming to himself. He was just too stupid and self-absorbed to care. With his sped up lifestyle, fleeting things like physical contact were meaningless. He'd largely been desensitized to it. He didn't notice the missing wallet at all.

Elliott walked a few more steps, considering things. Yes, he had the man's wallet, likely his ID, so he could point him out to others, but that was hardly useful if he exploded prior to getting off the train to do that... his quick reaction had evaded head-on detection, and had gotten him past the man, but it did nothing in the long-run to prevent him from setting off the bomb. So, he did something brash and reckless.

"Hey dude," Elliott called. The man turned. "I think you dropped you wallet. Mr. ..." he paused, and read the man's ID. "Michael Bay. Really?" He stared at the man, dumbfounded. What a weird coincidence.

The man blinked at him, then extended his hand for the wallet.

Elliott went to hand it to him, but as he reached forward, a tongue slid nonchalantly out of the mouth on his palm to wrap itself around the man's hand. Around and around.

Here was hoping Michael showed up to back him up, because he was officially tongue-tied to a speedster. What a drag!