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It had been a hunch. As one of the city’s “basic” heroes, you know? The ones who are street level, lack an organization or a super team? He did not have the information web they did. He could not make the contacts they did. So, he set himself up in a highly busy and prominent location, under the expectation that after the heck that was yesterday, the bads would pull something stupid and flashy today. Somewhere public. Lo, and behold: stuff!

The black visor of Cheshire’s motorcycle helmet caught the sun as he stared down from where he was, attached to the side of a building directly above the giant sets of screens in Time’s Square. Above main sets of screens you always see. With various monitors, one above the other above the other. Waaaayyy up high. He could do that, cling to walls? His power. Part of it.

He hung there, and looked down on the square as portals opened. One big one, then more and more all over the area. At some point in-between the extra portals opening and the primary one’s appearance, bad guys had started hurting people down below. From his vantage, he could not have responded in time to save the initial victims. And he had also been busy.

Yeah, it’s stupid when superheroes have cell phones. Unsightly bulges and the ability for people to track you. Usually he did not keep one with him. But as bads had begun appearing, and he had pulled it out with a free hand, Cheshire had been glad to have packed one.

He dialed a SUPER. Surely, one call among dozens would not get singled out. He put on speaker phone, and cracked the visor so he could be audible. Then he began telling the people on the other end of the line what he saw.

Portals. Times Square. People dressed like out of The Mummy, attacking people. He said he thought he saw one of the local heroes in the area earlier, and hoped that idiot would pop in because he himself? Yeah, he felt in danger. What was his name? Holy shit that guy has a giant sword and he’s cutting a cat in half I gotta go!! Please send help soonest!

Elliott, AKA Cheshire, the green guy in the smiling motorbike helmet, hung up. Then, he began climbing down the building to engage.

Old power profile, for record keeping. First post in this thread will be updated for mini power growth/power edits:



Individual



Character's full name: Elliott Thomas
Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: October, Ell.
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Date of Birth: 10/31/1992
Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Roswell, New Mexico
Nationality: Unknown. "American."
Ethnicity/ Cultural Heritage: Unknown. "Alien."


Appearance



Hair color and style: Bald. Two black antennae sticking up from his head. 
Skin Tone: Lime green.
Eye Color: Black.
Height: 6'2"
Build: Elliott has a runner's build.

Visible mutation:


Elliott has an alien appearance. He has green skin and pointy little fingers (3 of them), good for poking things inquisitively. Elliott has two toes on each foot. He doesn't have toenails. His eyes appear red, but only sometimes. His eyes have a third eyelid (a nictitating membrane), that is transparent, but filtered red. Beneath this, he has humanoid eyes that appear normal. They’re blue. If you get in too close for comfort, you can almost see the dot of the pupil beneath the red. Most of the time, he will keep his nictitating membrane up. He only brings it down if he wants to look more human. Switching between the two seems to bother people, and they seem to respond more to the blue eyes, so… he keeps the red up most of the time. Screw people. Although, if the right person asks... he might show them the baby blues. He doesn’t have visible ears. The sides of his head are flat. He can hear sounds around him similar to how many ear-less reptiles do: through his skin. His body is entirely hairless. Instead of a protruding nose, he has two vertically-slitted nostrils. Elliott also has two black antennae. He has a smile like a zipper that all the ladies love. On each hand, he has a thin line like a scar that cuts horizontally from near his thumb to the other side of his palm. When he wills it, they open up to reveal mouths. These mouths house the last element of his mutation, prehensile hand tongues. See mutation section for further details.


Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: No scars, tattoos, or piercings.
Other features: A thin line across both palms. It looks kind of like a scar, but it isn't.


Everyday clothing style: Elliott wears band tees, striped shirts, and blue jeans. He likes leather jackets, hooded jackets, and hoodies. When it's cold out, Elliott might wear a stocking cap. He wears hats and hoods, and tends to keep his head covered. Style is a mix between classic punk, indie, and whatever the hell he wants. Not. A. Hipster.
Uniform: No uniform. He isn't a superhero.
Sleepwear: T-Shirt and shorts. Maybe he doesn't even change after a hard day.
Miscellaneous clothing: Red scarf. Leather jacket. Black hoodie. Combat boots.


Character

Personality: Elliott is a nice guy, but his time as an orphan has left him jaded and slow to trust. He might be paranoid in certain situations. If he trusts someone, he'll do what he can to help them. If he doesn't trust someone, he may steal from them or get them in trouble. He's usually focused on doing things in his own best interests. Elliott has a criminal past. He's stolen, and he's sold stolen and illegal goods. He's a thief and a pickpocket, but Elliott isn't a mugger. He isn't a murderer. Elliott will protect someone if their life is in peril, though he might not do it in the most heroic fashion. Rather than fighting to save a life, he'll work to preserve it. If an employer wants someone killed, he'll argue against it by touting past usefulness, or the foolishness of murder. Murder is bad for business. It attracts unwanted attention, and you have to put in extra effort to do it right, so they don't live through an attempt and so it isn't traced back to you. Elliott is fairly neutral when it comes to good and bad, but he leans towards good. In Dungeons and Dragons terms, the man is a wishy-washy neutral good.

Hobbies/ Interests: Elliott practices parkour, Free-running, Capoeira, and Taekwondo. He doesn't practice Muay thai, Savate, or Brazilian Kick-boxing, but he's interested in them. Martial arts are one of his interests and hobbies. Elliott also likes skateboarding, reading science fiction and fantasy books, and listening to music. New York gets some of the best concerts. He also thinks robotics kits are incredibly cool.

Job or part time job and description: Elliott has a criminal history. He's been a pickpocket, a thief, and a purveyor of stolen goods. Currently, he's working as a "runner" in New York. A Runner is a sort of delivery boy who makes sure things get there on time, with the least possible attracted attention.

Fears/ phobias/ concerns: Elliott fears the worst of humanity. He saw what happened with the Registration acts and the camps, and he has read enough history to see that humanity isn't always the most accepting. As an alien, he's concerned he may never meet his people. He may be lumped together with mutants, and humans will treat him differently because of it. Elliott also has a healthy fear of New York Law Enforcement and the dangerous criminal element he works with. He does not ever plan to make enemies.

Special talents: Elliott has spent a lot of time free-running and practicing parkour. His job requires him to run, and he's good at it. He has practiced Capoeira since he was 10, and started training in Taekwondo off and on after the age of 17. He isn't a martial arts master, but he's talented enough in both. He didn't train in them for self defense. He trained to help learn balance, both emotional and physical. His foster parents at the time thought it was a good idea. On the streets, Elliott has picked up some sleight of hand. Also, pickpocketing and knowing how to handle a knife (Pro tip: Pointy end goes in first). He can pick some locks, and carries his own set of lockpicks.


Morality


Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: Elliott has lived in a world of greys. He's done many things to survive. While he isn't one to kill, he'll defend himself, and thievery and selling stolen goods aren't things Elliott is opposed to. In D&D terms, he'd probably be closer to neutral good than chaotic neutral. He does have a code he abides to. While he might betray someone to save his own skin, he isn't one to happily let people he likes take the fall for him. Elliott also has a chauvinist side, in that he doesn't like seeing women get hurt, and might intercede in certain situations where he can be of use. He'll also do silly things like hold open doors and pay for dinner.


Mutations


To summarize, Elliott is a Mutant Alien Grasshopper Frog Man.

Alien Appearance and Physiology - Enhanced Legs and Hand tongues.

-- Super Kicks, Super Jumping and Landing, Increased Run Speed. --


Mutation description:

Elliott looks like an alien. See his appearance section for a description. His mutation based his physiology off that of frogs and grasshoppers. Grasshoppers have antennae that have a sensory function. Grasshoppers and frogs both share the trait of keen jumping skills. Grasshoppers can land if they jump from on high. Elliott's legs are strengthened for both feats. His legs and lower body have been enhanced to improve his speed, strength and durability. He can run faster than most humans. He can jump farther and survive greater falls. He can kick very hard. Finally, much like frogs have a tongue that they can use to catch flies, Elliott has two prehensile hand-tongues, with one housed in each hand. It's an alien twist on an old classic.

Strengths: Elliott can run the 100 meter dash in approximately 9.6 seconds. He can long jump nearly 30 feet from a running start. From a standing position, he can long jump 12ft 2 3/4 inches. These numbers are all slightly better (or equal) to Olympic athlete records for the sport in question. The only one that Elliott exceeds is the standing high jump. The record for that sport was 1.65 m (6.23 feet). He can jump upwards 20 feet from a standing start, thanks to his mutation. His body has been strengthened to allow him to land better, and to stand up to the increased power of his kicks. Elliott's legs and back can handle falls from heights of up to 60 feet. If he falls further, he will hurt himself. His average kick is equivalent to that of a fully-trained taekwondo master. A grazing kick will hurt like hell. Greater speed equals greater power. If he has the time and distance to build up for a Super Kick, it'll hit like a battering ram. Spinning while he does capoeira might also allow him to build up a super kick. A Super Kick is strong enough to send people flying. It may break a bone or two if he gets a good kick in.

On each three-fingered hand, Elliott has a mouth. These mouths have jagged teeth around the rim of them, and contain his extending tongues. Each tongue is 12’4, twice his height. This tongues extend, and can be moved in the air like extensions of himself. They can even carry things. And drool on them. And taste them. Yeck! The tongues can function like grappling hooks, and are strong enough to haul Elliott in. If he grabs a ledge and gets a good grip, he can pull himself up.

Hand-tongues are immune to most germs and diseases.

Weaknesses and Limitations: Olympic Athletes operate on what some might consider a "super-human" level of speed, but compared to mutants with actual super speed, Elliott is on the low end of the grading curve. His average kick is well within human levels. A super kick requires some speed to build it up. It's a dangerous blow, but it's also predictable. Super kicks tax his body. He can only do that move two or three times in a given day before he needs to rest. His jumping is super-human, and requires enhanced leg strength. His leg strength is super human, to allow for those jumps. He has enhanced durability to help him in the event of a fall. This doesn't make him immune to fall damage. It protects his legs, and his spinal column. The rest of him is still vulnerable. And the rest of him doesn't have any enhanced agility or strength. The super strength is just in his legs. He doesn't have infinite stamina for running or jumping. Eventually, he does tire out.

Hand tongues carry only as much as Elliott can carry with his arms. He can't use two at the same time with the same dexterity as he could with one. Grabbing things requires him to wrap a tongue around the object. This shortens his effective range. Bigger objects require him to be closer to grab.

Hand mouths cannot eat anything. There isn't any connection to any sort of stomach. They can bite, but  since they can't digest, anything they bite, they have to spit up.

Hand-tongues are immune to most germs and diseases, but they're not immune to poison or food poisoning. He also tastes everything he grabs. Also, they're great big targets that heal just as fast as a regular tongue... so if they get cut off, they aren't growing back any time soon. They're a little more durable than a human tongue, to help protect against such a fate, but its still a definite possibility. He won't be tongue lashing any samurai sword masters. He also won't be sticking his tongue in any light sockets.

Growth description:

Wall-Running


Elliott's hands and feet have an ability similar to that of grasshoppers. He can cling to surfaces using his palms and feet. He can use this ability to hold on to objects, or climb solid surfaces, such as walls, glass windows, or even large objects like mutants. The cling is strong enough that Elliott is capable of running on walls, in addition to walking or climbing them.

His feet have also gotten tough as leather.

Strengths:

Elliott's core muscles and legs are strong enough to support him upright while standing on solid surfaces, even if the surface is the ceiling or a wall. He can stand upright, parallel to the ground. He can also crouch for hours, if need be.

Elliott can climb buildings, and stride across the surface of skyscrapers. There is no time limit to how long he can do so.

Walking on walls opens all sorts of possibilities.

If he falls, he can use his downward force to add power to his kicks. He can potentially boost them to super kicks. Previous weaknesses and limitations still apply.

His feet are as tough as leather. He can go without shoes.


Weaknesses:

Skin-to-skin contact is required. Palm to wall. Foot to window. He cannot wear shoes while using this power.

Elliott's normal human strength levels determine how well he can carry things when he's using his power. If things are too heavy, or what he's wearing is too heavy, mobility is impeded just how it would be on solid ground. Light things are easy to carry while standing still, or while running. Heavy things are not.

It is possible to get stuck on things, if he isn't paying attention.

Rain can wash him away.


Physical Abilities

General Physical Capabilities: Elliott is faster than the average joe, thanks to his mutation. He has stamina for running long distances. He's practiced some martial arts. From these things, he's gained strength, speed, reflexes, flexibility, and mental and physical balance.

Fighting Style: Capoeira, Taekwondo.

Fighting Style Pros/Cons: Both capoeira and taekwondo are martial arts that focus on kicks. Taekwondo puts emphasis on speed and agility. Force equals mass times acceleration. One philosophy in the martial art is that greater speed equals greater striking power. It was observed to improve strikes far more than greater mass did. Elliott's strong legs help with both of these things.

Capoeira can be unpredictable. It is seen by many as a dance. That's how he sees it.

While Elliott has two martial arts that he practices, his main combat philosophy is the flee and live to flee another day. Fighting is bad for business.

He recently started learning about Escrima (AKA, Arnis, or Kali). It's the national sport and martial art of the Philippines. It focuses on weapon-based fighting with knives, blades, and sticks.  It also has some hand-to-hand, joint locks, and grapples. 


History Of Your Character


From the day he was born, Elliott knew he was different. Well, technically, he did not know. Because he was a baby. Babies do not know these sorts of things. His parents told him, yes. They told him they told him. But he did not actually latch onto the complex concept until he was older.

Green-skin, antennae, ruby red spheroids not entirely similar to eyes… and a completely normal, no-questions-asked, why-would-you-even-think-there-were-questions visible lack of ears were just a few of the ways that Elliott was different. He also had three fingers on each hand. Well, two, if you wanted to count that third finger as a thumb. Your loss, if you did.

His parents told him he was different. His parents told him he was special. Because Elliott, as you see, was not human. Nor was he the divergent offspring of the human worm-babies. No. Elliott was an alien. From Space. Of course, this was entirely untrue. They never told him the truth of his hatching. He came from the sky. They didn't know how or why. On the day of his birth, his mother, a giant red phoenix shifter, dropped an egg down over a field in Roswell, New Mexico. She didn't care about the egg. She hated the eggs father, and as far as she was concerned, the egg could get cracked and used in a cheese omelet. The egg was black and glassy like obsidian, and it burned as it fell. When it hatched, he came out. They adopted him, and fled the scene. No, they never told him that story. It would have led to too many questions, and attracted too much attention if he started telling it to government folk. Instead, they told him another story. Elliott was special, yes. Elliott was a mutant. He didn't come from the stars. His mother hadn't been abducted and impregnated, though that would have been damn good excuse. Mutant. M U T A N T. Elliott couldn't believe this load of crap. One day when he was 9, he went to a local library and researched the day of his birth. That was the day he discovered that on his birthday 9 years ago, a mysterious hollow black meteorite had been discovered. It was hollow. Almost like it had had something in it. Like maybe, him. He never told his parents that he knew. He let them lie and tell him he was a mutant. His own world view was superior to their crap. Regardless of how his parents treated the wonder of his birth, the little green baby was still their son. He just needed extra… love. And a little tutoring, here and there, on how to deal with other people (as well as his powers).

When he was in kindergarten, his hand tongues first manifested. He was playing with blocks and wanted to reach one. He didn’t think anything of it. Elliott just whipped it out and got the block… with the tongue… on his hand… from his hand mouth located there. The teacher, on the other hand, had several different emotional reactions to the scene. He got a new teacher, the next day. He kept on playing with blocks!


The other kids, as a rule, didn’t play with him. They tended to avoid him. This continued on through grade school, and for the majority of his life with mom and dad. When he was 9, he found out about his egg. He loved his parents, but that lie was something he just couldn't forgive. They had never told him the truth! Before he ever got the chance to confront them about it, they died suddenly in a car accident, and he was absorbed into the system. He became an orphan.

Elliott's first foster parents were hippies in New Jersey. They wanted Elliott to find his center and be free. Part of their way of helping his soul cope with the loss of his parents was to introduce him to capoeira. It was this really cool dance you could do. Some people called it fighting, but the movement was really freeing, see? And it made one feel exhilarated. He kept up the capoeira for several years with that family. They also taught him to express himself in a number of other interesting ways. He went through grade school, and fell into some trouble. Got involved with the wrong sorts of people, and picked up some bad habits. One of them was selling his parents personal herb collection at school. It wasn't like he'd used the vile Earth herb. That probably wouldn't have even worked with his anatomy, anyways. The trouble got him suspended... and got him taken away from his foster parents. He got a new set in Washington, DC. He was 14.

The Washington DC parents were garbage. One was a lawyer, a real class act. A defense attorney who stood up for vile criminals and wanted to get Elliott involved in some sort of program to help him become an upstanding citizen. The other one was his 'dad'. Dad did a lot of cooking and cleaning. Dad wanted to become a professional caterer. He had the talent. If Elliott had stayed, maybe he'd have seen the man become truly happy. Instead, he ran away.

DC is a good place to live if you're looking for crime. Murder capital of the USA, Washington DC is. While he was on the run, Fall 2007 happened, as did the Mutant Registration Act and the camps. He was 15 at the time, without any narc parents to rat on him. He saw people vanishing and he saw the giant robots. He saw the writing on the wall.It was frightening, so he ran and he hid. He made contact with several mutant and human criminal elements, and started working on bettering himself and learning a trade. At the time, he still enjoyed practicing his little capoeira dance. One of his friends said he seemed like a martial arts sort of dude, and thought he'd like taekwondo, so he introduced him to it. Elliott liked taekwondo. He liked it a lot. He also liked thievery. He became a thief.

Years passed. Elliott stole and sold many things. Elliott learned how to take care of himself. He got drunk on his 21st birthday, and met a lovely lady who thought parts of his mutation were awesome. He ran with her for a while. Then, his group decided to move to Vegas, and he wasn't really into Vegas. He headed for New York. “New York seems to have a grand convergence of mutants,” Elliott thought. “Further research required.” He was an alien, yeah, and people were pretty cool with that. But those mutants were the closest thing to aliens at the moment. They were a step above stupid humans. He had no real connections to anyone in his group. New York was a fine change of pace.

Roleplay

Where did you learn about this site?: I was shown the site by a player who no longer plays on MRO. They played Arielle and Dominic.

Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: I used to play several characters. Tetsuya Shinbo, Lenna, Aurum Mellitus, Amelia Mellitus, and Ashton Drake.

Sample RP:

Dear Diary.

Puny humans. Worthless. They mock, they point. Do they not get it? Do they not see? Many wear four eyes. Four. Yet for those with eyes even numbering in fours(!), they can be so blind. Those fools. Those silly, bigoted fools. If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we NOT DIE? … Results uncertain upon the last. Further testing required. Need willing test subject. Sadly, I appear to be the only one.

Diary, diary. I am the only one. Did you forget? Did you? How could you? I thought we were friends. When my parents found me, I was alone. They made it such that I wouldn’t feel it. But they could only do so much. As I sit here with pen in hand, writing my thoughts, I can only shed a tear over my lack of tear ducts with which to shed tears regarding my plight. Of the entire planet, the closest one might come to locating a decent lifeform similar to my species would be to look upon the mutant race. Homo Superior, some call them. Still inferior to my race, of course, but… Subjects show promise. Moreso than humans.

Must think upon.

End log.

---

Signature is by Firefly. Thanks, Firefly!

Making his way down town.

The T. rex roared as it ran towards whatever it had spotted. A van, maybe? Bigger than a car. He felt it, on a personal level. Like the sub-sonic tower of a tiger. It would have gotten to him, even if he had been completely deaf. It made him stagger for a moment. But the grip of his feet and his power kept him from falling off. Even as the dinosaur beat feat down the street.

“Froggy feet, I love you.” Cheshire said. The green motorcycle helmet smiled the painted on smile. His leather jacket flapped in the wind caused by T. rex motion.

He had to stop the dinosaur. Had to— but how?! How do you solve a problem like tyrannosaurus? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? This creature could throwing a whirling dervish out of whirl. Unpredictable as weather, flightier than a feather. Many a thing he’d like to tell it, many a thing it out to understand… but how did he make it stay, and listen to all he could say?! How could he keep a wave upon the sand?

He felt pretty confused, out of focus and bemused. How could he keep a moonbeam in his hand— frack!! Elliott surged forward, to snap at the tyrannosaurs eye. He tore at it with his green hands, trying to jerk the creature and direct it else where. To steer it. To… keep a T. rex in his hands.

It was hard work. Trying to direct a T. rex, and keep the situation “in-hand.” The thing was strong and powerful and outweighed the world by a lot. Being an annoyance, but not enough of an annoyance it would try and headbash him off its skull, or buck him like a bronco, up up and away.

Cheshire, nee Elliott, roared at the T. rex eye and shouted “Stoooop!”

What else would it do? It couldn’t reach up and grab him, or punch at him to knock it off. Baby arms.

“Big and annoying. I didn’t even check if you’ve got feathers. Are we Jurassic park, here? Or something more scientific.” As if it could answer.

Maybe he needed to just kick it.

It was not far to the bus stop. But the bus was not there yet. He waited.

Some time later, Sirens wailed. Elliott went to find a place to change clothes.

—-

Let’s jump back several minutes, to get to the point right before the sirens.

The line Rex was in moved at a glacial pace. Someone several people ahead of him was already in position. That was Paulie. Done up in disguise. They seemed taller, with aquiline features, thinning hair, and a pointed chin. Be different than their usual alpha Chad appearance. That was thanks to Hannibal, mastermind of this operation. He’d done up almost all the crew. Made them Seem different. It was all illusion.

The infiltration had gone swell. Morph had replaced a worker. Bound and gagged in a closet, they had assumed the identity. A woman in their thirties. Blonde. They were the only one Hannibal had not touched. When Paulie got to the register, they would be making a very large withdrawal. Several big bags. They had the bag of holding. They could carry it all in one bag. That was not their power. It was someone else’s power. Their power was ropes.

Burdock was the artificer. They made the items. Not mutant. Magic. Not every crew member had mutant powers. Some were more magical. Like be Hannibal and their illusory stuff. Him, and his creations. Stay tuned…

Hannibal was on overwatch, listening to radios. Tee was distractions. Together, they were a team. They all worked together to avoid the lame daylight hostage situation robbery angle that drew in idiots in ski masks. ‘Wouldn’t be caught dead in a mask like that…’

Everything was going great. Tee was stationed outside, looking like a heavyset middle-aged man in a blue collar shirt and khaki slacks. He was there in case things went south, to step in and cause a distraction.

Hannibal heard police radio chatter. Someone had noticed the money sack pass and triggered a silent alarm. He told them all to get out of there, and told Tee to tee one up.

Tee stepped in. He picked a random, some guy in ‘tucked-in flannel shirt with rolled up sleeves and his customary jeans.’ Once Morph was clear out the back, and Paulie out the front (to join Burdock and Hannibal in the van, no doubt), he took aim at the target and used his power.

Polymorph. Basically. He turned whatever his target was into something. ‘Something that wrecks’, that was the general MO. That was what they always requested, and he had made his name wrecking things this way. As a distraction. People always said “Tee wrecks.” Today, he wanted it to be literal. So, he focused on jeans and flannel, and used the power. To turn the man into a tyrannosaurus Rex. Then, he ran to the van. They pulled away, just as sirens began to wail and all hell broke loose.

How’s that for a heist gone sideways?

First, someone shouted Freeze. And then, someone hit him! Hit HIM. Him, who was helping. Who had helped take down the bad guy. The one who had thrown one woman out of a building, and had raced up the side to try and hurt another? Yeah, that him.

Cheshire, Nee Elliott, was pissed. This was why he wore a helmet. The blow with the lamp had connected with the motorcycle helmet he wore, the one with the big smile? And he wasn’t smiling about it, but he was conscious.

The lights came on, and Cheshire fumed.

>> "What in tarn-nations is going on here?" A female voice asked. There was one visible woman present, and she had not been the one to say that. She had been the ‘freeze’ girl. Whoever had hit him, it had not been her. Invisible? .

“Yosemite Sam called,” Cheshire drawled. “He wants his bit back.”



He could be loopy with the invisible woman. His eyes were still focused on the one who had shouted freeze. He was not even looking for someone who was not there.


>> "I got him right?" The same woman asked her friend, little miss Shouts freeze at the hero. Again, still invisible. But deferring. The freeze girl stood there, processing, and did not immediately reply.

“I think you got the right idea and the wrong person,” Cheshire sighed.

He recovered his mentality, and turned back to what he had been doing before he had been clocked. He kneeled on the bad guys back, and proceeded to zip tie his hands behind him. He tried to ignore the two women, it wasn’t as if either had a gun drawn? That he could see… And he had made no moves towards them that they could construe as threatening. Which didn’t always count for cops. But oh well.

The guy was zip tied.

>>  "What do we do now?" 

He glanced towards the woman who had not said that. She was looking to her friend for advice, but he still could not see her. Sensed the general direction of her voice, yes, but… he stared at the one seemingly calling the shots.

“I’m Cheshire.” He said. “Hello. This guy is tied up, the second woman is hiding in the next room over. I told her to get inside a closet.”

He made quick work of the remaining foes. His extending batons went snicker snack, and — well. It was all too quick and violent to show in good lighting. But suffice it to say, whoever he’d been fighting soon followed the crates into the water. One even landed atop a crate, with a solid crunch.

Cheshire turned to face Juniper.

“Good idea! That’s one way to—“

Had he suggested it? He couldn’t removed. Ah well. People came up from below decks to object. Two people, both women, both twins with black raven wings. They flew at juniper who was doing heavy lifting.

Elliott shouted watch out!! Then remembered it was juniper and she’d probably let them crash through her form and hit each other like a slapstick comedy act.

He walked towards her. All casual like.

A trap? Perhaps. But then, maybe the old man had simply seen the error in his ways and had chosen to move on with his life.

Yeah, right. Elliott had been around enough bad people to know a Tiger does not change its stripes. They can, however, behave with honor. Maybe. For a predator. He had not really been around tigers very often. Maybe that one time?

Nah.

Juniper wanted a holy man and some holy water.

Tez said he was a holy man, of some hokey made up religion. Which put him up there with the pope as far as Elliott was concerned... buuuut he couldn’t bless water because he was also a scrub.

Something better? Elliott paused dusting himself off to look at Tez.

Hot liquid. Ew. Smithers did not look pleased. Even as they watched, though, the burned skin healed itself. It was disgusting and fascinating to watch. Like time lapse videos of... stuff.

As Tez, nee Hezekiah, wandered off, Smithers growled: “I was here first, little pup.”

Elliott stomped up to the old man. “So you got medical staff back at the mansion?” He asked. “Doctors. To see to our friend?”

Phones, he left unsaid, to call the police.

Smithers grunted an affirmative. By now, the hot chocolate burns had healed completely. “Not for me, mind you. But my butler was an army doctor back in the Great War.”

“... so. Hacksaws. Leeches. Yey.” He waggled his arms.

Smithers sighed. Then paused... “little girl. Much as I like this arrangement, can you please get out of me? And my man has kept up with the times. Please. Do not lessen him by comparing him to primitive hack jobs.”

He smiled a little at his pun. Elliott smiled too.


((OOC permission to god mode us to the mansion for whoever wants to progress the scene so we can get my man Eisen out of ball space.))