"'It really is quite a beautiful day. Tell me, my boy, do you like a sunny day? I've found that some are the type who thrive in a more dreary atmosphere. You strike me as one of that shape; hot or cold?"

He'd been asking similar questions all day, which may have been unsettling, considering the grim properties of their work so far; They'd taken it upon themselves to make today a busy day for New York's men in blue. Their objective was to make it so certain people had to work overtime; in order for this plan together, certain shifts had to line up.

So far, they'd set fire to a few dumpsters, broken in several store windows, threw bricks from a rooftop into an anti-mutant protest, and last but most certainly not least, drowned a homeless man with a "kill all the mutts 'fore they kill us" sign in a back alley before tossing him out into the street.

He was quite proud of himself for that last one, though he wasn't so sure his compatriot had the same tastes. He stopped in the middle of an alley just outside of the scene of their next big scheme. It was a large warehouse, long taken up by those less favorable in the eyes of society; no, not mutants, though they seemed to occupy a similar slot these days. This was a hovel for those lower forms of life who'd become slaves to substance, and thus it was frequented by flashing red and blue lights.

A stop here would seem perfectly routine.

The giant cockroach leaned against the wall of the alley. "Still not even four O'clock. What a productive day! One of my children will be arriving soon... Such a shame..." His voice reflected a spectrum ranging from joyous to solemn in moments, and he turned his blank compound eyes on his companion. "Do you believe the ends always justify the means?"

Even as he spoke, a shadow appeared in the alley, heading slowly their way, though pausing every few steps to stare at something, or pick up some miscellaneous item. Once it drew near it would be quite clear it bore some relation to Roach; it appeared less developed, though... both physically and mentally.

"Jimmy, young one, do come and join us with haste, it is nearly time."

’I love this kind of weather, actually.’ Dorian’s words hung in the air on an invisible markerboard.

It really was a beautiful day. The meteorologist on channel three said that the conditions were right for a tornado to whirl through town. The rain never got worse than a light drizzle, but the wind was still blowing trash around, and when lighting wasn’t lighting up the sky, it was so dark it might as well have been nighttime.
Dorian was still a little bit upset about what Roach did with the homeless guy.

Not the drowning part. He had that one coming, and Roach’s ability to drown a man with so little water available was downright impressive. The MRC would probably assume a water manipulator was involved; Dorian should have taken notes. But leaving the body in the middle of the road? Dorian could think of ten better things to do with that body in as many seconds. If only Roach had waited before chucking it into the street. At least there was enough time for Dorian to draw angry-looking puppies all over the man’s soggy cardboard sign.

’Hold up let’s frame the humane society.’ He’d written this on a scrap of paper from his notepad and passed it to his partner in crime before clarifying the man’s warning about mutts. His unnatural mime-laugh was drowned out by a well-timed thunderclap. It was hard to tell whether Roach shared his amusement; he didn’t know how to read the expression on an insect-face. Either way, no reason he couldn’t make his job entertaining for himself.

Now they were waiting in the alley for one of Roach’s “children.” Dorian wasn’t sure he wanted to know how his insectoid friend would, err, make a child, but the mime just couldn’t stop his mind from wandering down those dark corridors, bumping into the thought that somewhere, some woman was into that. Eugh.

Unless she wasn’t. Double eugh.

Did he believe the ends justified the means? ’Usually,’ he wrote. He wasn’t about to tell Roach that double eugh was justifiable, if that’s where this conversation was headed.

Oh, hi Jimmy. Not knowing what else to do, Dorian gave the less-refined cockroach a friendly wave. His poker face was holding up admirably.

He always took the mime for the stormy weather type, though he wondered if he ever had trouble with his make-up running. He then wondered if he could pull off a mime get-up... Nah; he'd apply too much red. Then again, if he could manage to drown someone in a two inch alley-way puddle, perhaps he could do anything he aspired to; ahh, dreams.

Framing the humane society was a funny idea. It really was a shame his companion couldn't actually speak; writing messages out took time, and ideas moved faster than words. Shucks! "You're creative, I'll grant you that." He paused for a moment, and looked at the cardboard sign at their feet.

". . ." He reached down and grabbed the man's marker, writing out a hasty- down with the pedigree elite!

And then they were off!

Later, in the other alley way, Jimmy wandered on up to them, and looked about vacantly. At least he did up until Dorian waved at him, and then he had a switch blade out faster than Bob Ross could paint a happy tree. "Wachu lookin at, foo? I kill peeps! I makes em bleeeeed!"

Roach let out a long, dramatic sigh. "He's the first of my more complex experiments... Sadly, his was a failure, and thus, he is flawed."

"Yeah, main! I'm a failed esperiment and stuff, I cutchu! Hellz yeah!" The smaller cockroach replied, drawing an even longer sigh from Roach.

"Did you cause a disturbance as I asked, Jimmy?" Asked the more intelligent giant bug.

"Hecks yeah, gramps! I stoled! I stoled a lot!" He pointed to the end of the alleyway, where a hot dog cart sat in plain sight.

".........You stole a hot dog cart." Four palms found their way to a face. "Well... I suppose that will get the job done, though I imagine they'll be more confused than anything else. Come, we must make haste into the warehouse. Dorian, I trust you can hide sufficiently? Remember, when they enter, we will have to disable them quickly and quietly, with no permanent damage."

Roach turned and approached the side-door into the building they had taken a rest next to. He easily pushed the door open, breaking the lock in the process; it had to be evident there was a forced entry. "Come, Jimmy... It will all be over soon."

"All over, Home skil! Make you bleed all over!"

"Yes, Jimmy... All over."

Sirens were already approaching in the background.

Dorian’s poker face failed him the moment Jimmy opened his mouth. He was trying very hard not to smile, but… the pride with which that little guy proclaimed himself a ‘failed experiment’ just brought him over the edge. He covered his mouth and started making unpleasant, scratchy wheezing noises. This was his laugh, and it only intensified when the hot dog cart made its way into the conversation. With any luck, he might have been doing a decent job of playing it off as a coughing fit.

There was some speculation to be done about the nature of those “experiments,” but Dorian could think about that later.

When Roach started talking to him again, he managed to bring the poker face back and nod at him. Although his mutation didn’t seem to immediately lend itself to hiding, he had come up with a few tricks over the years. Most of them involved suspending himself somewhere you typically wouldn’t expect to find a person.

Once Dorian entered the warehouse, he looked up. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he climbed an invisible ladder along the wall next to the door. Soon, he was standing on an invisible platform just above that doorway, leaning against the wall, waiting for the cops to show up.

This usually worked. He hoped it would work this time, too; he would feel really silly if it didn’t.

The little roach skittered into the warehouse as well, and Roach followed, staring at Dorian as he chortled. "Do you need some water or something?"

He was not in the mood to laugh, it seemed. It was pretty obvious what was going on here... To everyone but his child, that was.

"My boy, do you know what a scapegoat is?"

"Main I go beast mode on a goat, fer reel."

"I'm sure you do. Stand here, when the cops come, put your hands up and tell them you mean them no harm."

Roach watched as Dorian went about his business, and even gave a little bit of a golf clap when he got into place. He then started scaling the wall slowly, just as the sirens got close.

Once he was in place, the curtain came up; Two officers approached, hands on their holstered guns. So far only a strange theft had been reported, no need to shoot anyone, right?

"PUT YO HANDS UP, FOO'S! I MEAN YOU HARM!"

Right...

Their guns were now out, and the other two cops rushed in quickly.

Oh well... He couldn't say he hadn't prepared for this. What he didn't prepare for was one of the cops moving around the corner at the entrance to smack right into an invisible ladder. This ladder then invisibly pitched over, and smacked another officer in the back of the head.

"The... hell?!"

Roach dropped down silently, landing behind one of the men as they all looked away, and covering his mouth with a rag. The man struggled for a surprising amount of time... Dorian had mentioned chloroform wasn't really very effective earlier... He'd wanted to use it so badly, though!

The man fell limp, but all of the other cops had noticed. Well, the two that weren't knocked out by luck and chemicals.

"Some help."