((OOC: this is set before Elliott met Ambrose.))

The sticks clattered against each other in a discernible rhythm. Each fighter was armed with a footling wooden stick in each hand. They clicked, wood on wood, as they struck at each other, blocking in turn. One swung with, and the other turned their body to parry it with both sticks on the horizontal plane. They swept the sticks up and to the side, to send the wooden stick sailing away. That left the green man who had struck at the woman with one stick, vs two.

The green man bowed to the short haired woman in acceptance of defeat. He flair we his hands to both sides as he bowed.

"That's enough for today," the woman said. "We've got a job for you."

The escrima practice was paused, then. He listened to her carefully as he retrieved his stick.

"We have a package for you to deliver to someone in the sanctuary." She said quietly. He had to strain his interior ears to hear her.

The sanctuary was a place for mutants similar to the mansion, except it attracted human-hating criminal types. It was notorious. He'd have to keep his cover and play it close to the chest.

He didn't ask what was in the package. He never did. "Who am I delivering it to, and is there anything I should know?" Elliott asked.

Kineta nodded at him. "His name is Harley, and he is a werewolverine."

"A what." Elliott stared.

"A werewolverine." She repeated. "He is a humanoid wolverine, bub." Her lips quirked slightly, as if she got some joke that he did not. She told him the rest quickly, then sent him on his way.

He was looking for a hairy man by some golden doors with Golden Arches, one who was fond of cigars and redheads. The man had sharp fingernails to be wary of, and was the lead singer in the band Weapon Sex. He was a Canadian citizen, about 5'5" in height, with fur sideburns and jagged teeth. His name was Harley Hughes. And he was a werewolverine.

The neighborhood around the sanctuary was rough. It was the silent kind of rough where people kept their eyes low and did not pay much attention to what others were doing. People were all polite. Those without power kept walking, and kept to themselves, defeated. They never stayed too long on the streets. Those with the power showed it in their body language. They swaggered like they owned the place. Windows were covered with wood planks, here or there, and the police didn't come by much anymore. They really did own it. The Sanctuary had taken over.

It hasn't been an instant takeover. He'd looked into it briefly. There had been a bloody series of riots and power struggles between the police and people like Isabel Duskmoore, the red brothers, and Aura. He had met Aura once before, and knew firsthand how dangerous and unpredictable she was. Those were the type the sanctuary attracted. Suffice it to say, Elliott was on guard.

He watched his back as he went through the golden doors.

The whole building shook in the wake of the explosion. In an instant, mutants sprang from the woodwork. They came from the hallways, they appeared, they walked through the wall. Five in total, at the drop of a hat, rest to defend their homes. Elliott was mildly impressed.

'Never attack the sanctuary, check... ' He thought. The green man watched as they rushed out the golden doors without a word of communication between them. It was like a hive mind drive to defend the hive. Careful to put several seconds between himself and their exit out the golden doors, Elliott went outside to satisfy his curiosity.

There was a smoking crater in the center of the street. At its center, a man was crouched, crunched in upon himself over the scattered remains of something metallic. His skin was jet black, laced with traces of dark red, like lava cracks in obsidian. Smoke was coming off him, and here and there, a flame danced on his skin. More flames hung around the edges of the crater. Below the waist, a pair of cutoff jean shorts miraculously had survived the explosion. They preserved his shirtless decency for the crowd.

One of the five appeared in front of him, with a space of seven feet between the two of them. He hung back by the lip of the crater, and called down to him. "Hey Ted!" He shouted. "What happened?"

The obsidian man looked up at the teleported. "Robot cop, nosing around. I blew him up." He said sheepishly.

"Something on the ground is beeping, can't you hear it?" One of the five stepped up to stand behind the teleported man. She was tall with soft brown hair, freckles, brown eyes, and ears 1cm too large. Her power was hearing. She heard something. "Distress beacon, most like." She added casually.

The phaser stamped his foot through the ground in anger. "God dammit, Ted! Blowing up one summons two more! They're like a hydra!"

"That isn't how it works," the super hearing girl said. "If they have a beacon and are destroyed but the beacon survives, they call for backup."

"So destroying the beacon drops the call?" Someone asked.

"Yeah!" she replied.

For the record, the person who asked the question was Elliott.

He took a running start, then kicked the beacon with all the power of a battering ram. While the others had been talking, he had been searching for the beacon. Now, it was sailing away like a field goal over the nearest building, with the power of common sense.

He turned back to the lot of them, and crossed his arms. Now came the lecture. "You guys were so distracted talking about the beacon, nobody thought to actually get rid of it. Sheesh," this wasn't even what they paid him the big money for. "Now, it's gone. We can go about our daily --" He had wanted to say business, but business suddenly changed in an instant. A pair of robots flew in from the North.

The two mutants from the sanctuary who hadn't displayed their powers yet chose this moment to display their powers. One of them burst into a brilliant imitation of Burning Man, and one of them jumped high, high into the air, and became... a rock. It landed on top one of the Metabots like a falling meteor. They now had two craters. Ted's friend Rocky was clearly in the same league.

Elliott sighed, and put a hand on his forehead. "Well, at least that one is paper thin and won't be calling for any reinforcements."

"But his friend will." The brown-haired ear girl chimed in dreamily. "My name is Wanda, by the way." Because calling her brown-haired ear girl in his head was getting tiresome.

The Metabot turned on his megaphone and made an announcement. "You are all under arrest!"

Great. Just great. It had all been so simple. He'd been minding his own business, and then wham! He'd helped some people, and it had backfired like sticking a banana in a tailpipe. That showed him.

"Nice to meet you, Wanda. Really. We need to kill this robot before he gets more friends and ruins our day." Elliott's voice was strained as he tried to figure out the best course of action.

Rocky had already crushed Metabot 2. Metabot 1 was hovering with his jet boots. He felt a little tired after that first kick, but another super kick would work super. He started running at the enemy, picking up speed.

Another mutant cut in ahead of him, flying via flame jets. It was Hotpocket, Ted's other friend. Buddy of Rocky, Wanda, Boots, and Bamf. He gave the Metabot a flaming uppercut that burned its outer casing, and made it rock back a step. It returned fire with a punch of its own. Hotpocket sailed to the earth, another blazing comet. The city street outside the sanctuary was starting to look rather pockmarked. The city wasn't likely fixing it any time soon, without threat of harm.

He started running again. Hopefully someone else wouldn't run and interrupt his attack. And like clockwork, Boots and Bamf did a duo attack. Bamf teleported himself and the phaser up to the Metabot, and Boots kicked and phased through it, to damage the circuitry in its jet legs. It went down with a shower of sparks, and landed in a standing position. The duo teleported to land safely on the ground at the last second, and Elliott slowed his strides.

Well, that was pretty cool. The Sanctuary had some talent. He would remember that. Elliott noted he also needed some mutant buddies to tag team robots with. But that would involve fighting robots, and that wasn't really his style, so he decided that thought was dumb and abandoned it.

He started running again. This time, he was able to give the robot a super kick. It hit it like a battering ram, and sent it flying back five feet. It also left a nice dent. But the robot was still in working order, and now his legs were starting to hurt.

The green man glanced over his shoulder. Now would be a great time for someone to toss in an extra attack and help him out here. No? He turned back. The Metabot had TASER fingers pointed at him. Well. Eff.

Rocky dropped rock on the robot just in time. It crunched in the most satisfying way.

"Crush it again, Rocky!" Wanda shouted. "I still hear beeping!" So the guy's name was actually Rocky?

"Yeah, Wanda! Buddy, teleport me up there again!" Rocky sang. Buddy, the teleporter, rushed to oblige. He ran, though. Elliott supposed teleportation took energy, or had limited charges, and he was saving them up.

He was aching and exhausted by the time the final set of six meta bots flew in. Elliott let out a bitter curse that was matched by the others.

"They just keep coming." He muttered.

Wanda looked at him grimly. "I'll go with the others and find the beacon you kicked. It's probably still active, and close enough they find us every time." There were no accusations in her statement, but the tone was scathing. He hadn't come here to make friends, but it seemed he'd lost favor for doing the smart move.

He needed to learn to kick harder. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he also needed to work on his stamina. Men usually didn't last the kick he'd dubbed 'super', but he hadn't been fighting men. He wasn't sure he would be able to deal with the recoil if he used it a third time. It was a risk.

He crouched and leaned on one leg to stretch it, then stretched the other in turn. He stretched his arms against his chest as the others assaulted the two robots. Wanda had gone with the teleporter and the phaser, so Boots and Bamf were missing. It was down to Ted, Rocky, and Hotpocket.

Hotpocket threw fire at the robots. Ted joined him in raining death. Bits of fire splashes off the metal, landing all over the area to cling like patches of napalm.

Things were on fire. Rocky was rushing all over, stomping fires out. His human form was nearly as craggy. He didn't wear shoes, so his rocky feet dented the concrete and caused potholes with every helping hit.

The meta bots were charred. Bits glowed red. Still, they came. They stomped towards them with one hand raised, finger tips flipping up at the ends to reveal uncapped gun barrels. Somehow, Elliott had thought that they were always supposed to be equipped with non-lethal weapons.

"Special models," a gravelly voice said. Elliott hadn't heard the voice before but he knew who it had to be, all the same.

"We need to end this, Rocky. If they keep coming, the sanctuary will fall." Elliott said gravely. He wasn't a resident and he had no investment in the place, but he didn't want it crushed by robots, all the same.

Rocky scoffed. "Never happen." He said. "Look. Help has already arrived."

Elliott turned. A group of twenty mutants were walking towards them. Twenty. All rallying to defend the sanctuary. The order might have been silent at the moment, but that didn't mean the sanctuary was gone. At the head of the charge was Harley the werewolverine, on keytar. He was playing guitar and keyboard simultaneously, a banner man to the cause. Everyone was amped. A pair of mutants behind him carried his power source and speakers. Behind them, a drummer marched and a violinist played. It was hard to imagine the type of music the rest of the instruments could create, but the majority of the crowd carried them like weapons. And it was strident and beautiful. Weapon Sex had arrived.

---

A chorus of angels came down singing on high. Their amps went up to eleven. The sanctuary's angels played with every ounce of heart they had. And the meta bots stopped in wonder to watch the encroaching marching bands discordant parade. And Weapon Sex destroyed them all.

Instruments flew as they were discarded, their owners rushing into the fray. Harley got launched by a huge mutant that looked like a solid version of the genie from that Disney movie. His claws tore through exposed wiring, and he tore off a robot's head.

Another mutant ripped open the meta bot's "mouth", and vomited fire down its "throat." He followed it up by kicking it away so a mutant with cannons on its back could shoot a steam of high pressure water. Another lobbed a seven foot long ice shard through the robot's chest. More attacks happened, more varied and sundry. Elliott stood back and watched it all.

At one point he thought he saw a Japanese man with a katana slice through a robot whole, accompanied by a tall black man with flaming eyebrows. The black man laughed, ha ha ha, and turned into a weird bird. The bird hauled both chunks into the sky, and threw them down with thundering force.

There was a panda bear hug, followed by a heart shaped laser beam. Three little girls flew around raining death and destruction. They laughed all the while. To sum it up, the robots never stood a chance.

Harley played Toto's Rains in Africa as the final robot fell. The whole band joined in. Elliott brushed something from the corner of his eye. He wasn't crying. Shut up. It was just a fleck of shrapnel. He was lucky he hadn't lost the eye.

The group led by Wanda returned. "Thanks for the help, everyone!" She shouted. "Three cheers for Weapon Sex!!"

Hip hip, hooray. Hip hip, hooray. Hip hip... She had broken from the crowd. she was in front of Elliott. Her voice was soft, apologetic. "I don't know you. You don't live here. Why?"

"Delivery boy," Elliott replied.

"You didn't have to help us but you did, so--" she cut herself off by giving him a great big kiss. He was so stunned, he returned it. It had been a while since he'd been kissed. She broke it off before it got heated. Someone out there wolf whistled, the bastard. Green skin plus a red blush equals a brown flushed face. Elliott's face was brown.