Ontario: Escrimer

"Sh..shaman?" He asked, wondering what she meant exactly. He could communicate with spirits...but he wasn't much of a medicine man. He ran to the edge of the alley and looked around for a moment before noticing a clinic not too far off. That was it! He could just take her there! But judging by the look of things it didn't seem like she was doing too well by going out in public.

"W..wait here." He said with his tiny voice before running off to the clinic, making his way along the side of the building before strolling in through the back. Stealing was wrong, but this was an emergency, besides it was still being used for the same purpose, right? He managed to scoop up some bandages and what not before starting to head back to the exit.

"What am I going to do with all of this stuff..?" He asked himself. He looked about frantically looking for some instructions or something on one of the posters on the wall. Of course he found nothing of use, but did find an interesting poster of information on oral hyg---

The world around him was glazed in blue and the fog was rolling in. He must have zoned out there. He slowly turned about to notice a guy in light blue scrubs just sitting on the examination table.

"Uh...excuse me..." Baxter started.


Soon he was running back into the alley, carrying the bandages and other tools as he walked right up to wounded woman.

"Hey." He said to her, quite the charming smile glowing from behind that mask now as he went to work on patching her up. He sanitized and wrapped it up quite easily, despite his early worrying about his lack of skill in the subject.

Really, it wasn't that difficult of a task, not for someone trained to do it. Even if he did succumb to an unlimited supply of drugs and didn't show up for work one morning because he was face down in his bathtub.

"I am Neaera. Please, what is this land called? I have seen nothing like it. I last remember being awake for any decent amount of time in Gaul... I would very much like to go back into the dreamer's sleep soon." Neaera is calm as her wounds are treated. She fully trusts the shaman and waits patiently for his wisdom.

Once he was done the spirit left the boy's body, giving him quite the awkward look. As the boy found himself standing rather close to her, he quickly jumped back before looking to her once again.

"W..what?" He asked, not seeming to understand quite all she was saying.

"This is Ontario..." He responded, not having much more to offer her.

"Dreamer's sleep..?"

58664 felt horrid. As if the DarkForce within him was surging at something; the rift inside his body scraping against his being to be free. The DarkForce wanted. The DarkForce was exercising... will?

Agent had to pull off the road into a deserted alley way. He leaned against the rough, brick wall of a building as he made his way to a dumpster, reflecting shortly that these were a more hygienic class of alley than he'd been used to in Eagleopolis, Sustan, or even Harbour.
He crossed his arms over the rim of a dumpster and spit out black bile which glowed with veins of angry purple energy.

He'd avoided aiming into the dumpster as he knew what would happen next; As he sat on the ground opposite the dumpster, a dark taint infiltrated the concrete. What he'd spit out of his body slowly diffused into the ground around it and ate away at it. There would be a pothole in front of the dumpster, which seemed more considerate than a hole inside the dumpster.

58664 sat, breathing heavily. He glanced at a discarded window and noticed something... disconcerting.
The whites of his eyes were blood shot and he had a slight nose-bleed. The dark, purple glow of his blood, even in his eyes, did not bode well.

Neaera eyes the so called shaman with suspicion. He really didn't seem to know much. Perhaps it is a language thing. She is supposed to know the tongue of all creatures, but she is also not supposed to be injured.

"The Dreamer's Sleep, yes. Where all spirits congregate and offer our power to those that are worthy to protect the balance of the worlds." She explains.

Baxter blinked a bit as he looked up to her. Apparently he needed to brush up on his mythology, because it might not be so mythical. Or maybe...maybe she was just a crazy lady?

"Oh...where is that?" He asked, trying not to get too close.

Neaera looks at the man helping her flatly. "You are not the shaman." She states with a dangerous edge to her voice. "You know nothing."

Women were scary enough as is, he didn't need that tone to convince him any more. His eyes shifted from side to side before he decided that it was time to leave.

"N..no need to thank me, ma'am." He said before suddenly hopping up to a fire escape, kicking his legs a bit while trying to pull himself up, before climbing his way up the ladder to head to the roof.

Heights were pretty scary, but the alternative was much worse.

Returning to the same street as they did earlier, Charlie and Eddie returned to the site of the tiger sighting, though this time incogneetus. At the same time, some X's rolled onto the streets to check out the rumors of the big cat. There is no way this could possibly end well.

And it didn't, for upon seeing the Xs roll in, Charlie and Eddie, being unarmed except for their arms, opened fire. They shot and injured one of the four rival gang members, though his kevlar body armor provided him some life insurance. As in, it insured the continuation of his life. Nonetheless, he succumbed to his knees and doubled over in pain.

In retaliation, the three faceless mooks still on their feet opened fire with their Knights Armament M4 MWS. They are better than Charlie and Eddie's submachine guns, is what I'm trying to get across.

Diving for cover behind a car, Eddie manages to clear his body while Charlies is shot once in the ankle and twice in the shin, rendering his left leg totally useless. Eddie quips about a rehab clinic in Lake Huron and retaliates with a six shooter, unleashing the last 5 shots he had in that gun, managing to hit another in the shoulder, temporarily decommissioning another. Looks like Pomme's men are boned.

Hearing gunshots, 58664 slowly lifts himself up and waltzes into the street, little remembering that he's in gear.

A shot whizzes past his ear before he realizes that he's being targeted by some with heavy weapons.

"Fuck."
Agent rolls for cover behind a car and gets readies for a confrontation.

As he runs out of shots, Eddie ducks behind the vehicle with Charlie as two of their assailants stop firing and approach. Charlie breathes very heavily in an attempt to keep him from going into shock. Eddie, seeing the man take a knee besides him and seeing his armaments, frantically asks him to shoot the four gang members firing at them.

"Y'gots ta help us, buddy. Youse gots guns, use 'im! My friend and I 'ere are too young ta die, youse just gotta help us out here! Eh, buddy, I'll owe you one! C'mon c'mon, here dey come, oh boy! Charlie, makes peace witcha's god or what have ya."

"I...I'm...a Buddh...," Charlie ekes out between breaths, still wracked with pain.

Panting, Baxter made his way to the rooftop, falling down onto his face as he was out of breath. Moments later he quickly scrambled to his feet at the sounds of gunshots. He scurried his way over to the edge of the roof, peeking over to see the gun fight below, where that strange woman in the alley presumably came from.

He kept low and looked about before spotting the degenerate looking man. Was that..the one he saw earlier? That black form? All he knew now...was that homeless people were really magical beings from another dimension. He pulled out a notebook and jotted this down before putting it away. Finally he found criminals to thwart.

But...now what..?

A strange Canadian started blathering on at 58664 about shooting the people who'd shot him.
An odd thing to ask considering Agent had been shot at and was therefore already involved if only to save his own skin.
Still, these boys seemed to know about the goings on around here, it wouldn't be right to let them die without learning what they know.
3 guys in Kevlar, all with heavy guns. A simple manner for the DarkForce, but not worth the sickness.

Agent shooed the cowards behind him as the armed men approached slowly. They were wary of any nasty surprises, Agent had to hand them. When they were within 10 feet of him, he vaulted over the car to a hail of ill-aimed (as they had expected an attack from the corner), and jumped at the man closest to him. He grabbed the man's head and spun around his neck, 58664's body weight providing enough force to sever the spine. 58664 then threw the limp body to the side, dove forward and down, using his left (thankfully gloved) hand to push the gun's barrel away as he moved into the mook's space. 58664 snapped the man's left arm, dislocated his right shoulder, grabbed hold of his heavy gun, and held the mook as a human shield.

He faced the last man and yelled "Who are you and what is going on? Qui etes-vous et qu'est-ce qui se passe t'il ici?"

He hoped the man would chose discretion as the better part of valour as he did not trust his ability to aim a heavy gun while holding a struggling man.

Eddie cheered from behind the vehicle while the faceless mook ran for his life, leaving his three comrades in the lurch and dropping his weapon as he did so. Charlie was struggling to stay awake while Eddie frantically tried to help him, and at the same time he flailed his arms vigorously to get the strange man's attention.

Again, most civilians had run for their lives by now, but if it were possible to see a figure hiding in the dark alleys observing, one would see a figure in a dark alley observing the situation, provided they looked for him.

If the old bearded...ninja? turned around toward Eddie:

Spoiler:

If he sensed the strange observant:

Spoiler:

58664, distracted by the man trying to get his attention, does not notice anyone else.
As he lets go of the dis-armed mook and adrenaline starts to fade, a searing pain springs into being. 58664 has been shot thrice in the leg. As he lacks any medical training, he can only hope the wounds are not severe.
He collapses to the ground, gritting his teeth and swearing like a sailor under his breath.

>"Hey! That was some fancy footwork, but ya gotta help my friend here! He's too young to die!"

Agent looks incredulously at the fool.

"I'm no doctor..." he says slowly, "Your friend needs a doctor, and I figure I do too."

58664 reflected that his armour was useless against large arms. Perhaps it had become time to discard the relic of a life gone by...

"Right, right! Think Eddie, think."

And think he did. tearing off a pants leg, Eddie fashions a tourniquet for Charlie's shoulder, which he probably should've done a lot sooner. He does the same and bandages the old man's leg.

He carefully walks over to one of the downed X's and confiscates his cell phone, then kicks him once in the throat and twice in the solar plexus for good measure. After dialing whatever the Canadian equivalent for 911 is, the three men are whisked away to an infirmary, though Eddie is notably displeased by the fact that the paramedics felt the need to rescue the three X's. Meanwhile, the medical personnel are not at all intimidated by Charlie and Eddie's appearances, for they merely appear to be some unlucky passersby. They do not know what to make of the old man; he is armed, yes, but doesn't appear to be affiliated with either of the gangs. Peculiar.

The St. Key hospital is situated over near the bay, which lets out into the Great Lakes. The city used to see traffic from the nearby Orchid Island but it had recently come to an abrupt halt for whatever reason.

Charlie's wounds are treated in another room as he rests while Eddie pokes his head into the room of the old man and looks around.

"Well..." he says sheepishly. "That coulda gone better."

"A lot better," mused Chett Manstachio... or at least that's the name he'd given. The hospital personnel had, luckily, not needed any blood yet, but the faint traces of purple in his eyes were very odd and they insisted that he stay longer than he was comfortable with, as well as poking around his bodies more than he was prepared to allow.

His guns had been cause for concern, but the lack of any suitable ammunition anywhere in the vicinity as well as on his person along with no evidence that the gun had been fired recently had given some credence to the bluff that they were for show and protection.
His armour lay on a table in his room; he would need to dispose of it soon enough. Turning it to ash with DarkForce bullets seemed prudent to avoid being traced.

"So, now that we're all blood-buddies, mind telling me what in the blue blazes is going on in this town? What the hell are Canadians doing with that type of hard-ware?" 58664 felt a few answers were in order.

"Oh, yous must be new here. Well we usedta have some relationships wit some of the other towns but den Orchid Island sort dropped off the map, y'see, and with that Justice guy disappearing and everything there was a...I dunno, casket of effect, y'see? Then bing bang boom, we're here in dis joint with dis crazy Apple chick and this Fetta Tree person. I dunno what dere beef is but dem's some pretty scary dames."

"Okay buddy, now you tell me-where'd you learn to move like dat, hey old timer?"

"Ballet school. Lot's of people want to kick your ass when you're a male ballet dancer, so it's either put up or get beat down."
For all 58664 knew, this was the truth.
"Then you got no job because ballet's all you know and there are no jobs for male ballerinas. So you end up on the streets and," Agent nods to his armour, "you'd be amazed what you can find in the right dumpster."

"Oh, dang..."

Eddie cautiously backs away from the man. He did not know what to make of the situation, and didn't know what to say. Luckily, a nurse came in to check the man's vitals and see if the patient was conscious and ambulatory. He was the first thing, yeah, and the second thing, check.

"Oh, hi there Mr....I didn't catch your name, sorry. I'm your nurse, you can call me Nurse Winifred. I see you're awake; anything I can get for you? Hungry? Thirsty?"

"Yeah, I'll have a diet Pepsi, if'n ya don't mind."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

"I'm fine, nurse," offered 58664 as he rose from the bed, "just go get that boy his pop. He and I must talk alone for a bit."

As she left the room, Agent told the boy, "Sonny, the way I figure, you owe me for saving you butts back there, and here's what you can do for me: I need a set of clean clothes. Nothing fancy, just a shirt and stuff. After that, it seems to me that your under a powerful employer fighting some maniac with guns. If I can help... speed up the resolution of these affairs, your boss will also owe me, right? Right! And being a criminal organization, you boys must have access to information others want hidden, right? I help you and your little gang out, you tell me whatever I want to know, deal? Or do you need to call someone?"

Agent wasn't sure how honest he was being or how much he could honestly expect from some 2-bit gang, but he really COULD use new clothes.

"Oh, yeah, I could hook ya's up wit some new threads; that ain't nothin'. A nice tie and a bowler mayhaps? Ehehehe. But about dem other things, I'd think my boss'd like dat, but you shoulds go ta her, ya feel me? She'd probably wanna see ya's skills first hand and what not and make sure ya ain't another vigilante; we don't needs another o' dem Robin Hoods o Batmen runnin' around."

"Vigilante? The other people are lawful and you guys are crooks? If they're crooks too, then what's the difference who I take out?" questioned 58664. He sat back down on the bed before continuing, "Listen boy: those bastards shot at me and that's not the type of behaviour that one should just overlook. I don't give a flying rat's ass about you and your gang, honestly, but I am in a bad mood right now, and taking it out on people who fucking SHOT at me seems like the best course of action. You follow? Now, go set up your meeting or whatever, just warn your boss that I do plan to be out of this god-forsaken town in the next 7 days, so I don't see there being much time to jump through hoops for him... or her... or 'it' at this point. Now... I'm feeling a little dirty, do your Canadian nurses give sponge-baths?"
Agent guffawed at his own joke, oblivious to the fact that the other man was, quite likely, not joining in.
He didn't know why he was acting so recklessly as of late, his mind just seemed drawn towards the more 'wild' solutions now. In a brief moment of clarity, he wondered if this was a side-effect of DarkForce use, but that notion was quickly put aside as he thought up ribald just and chuckled to himself.

"Woah, easy buddy. I'm on your side, and in your age and leg shottedness you should just slow your roll there, eh buddy? You just rest up witchas wounds and what nots and I'll catch ya in a bit. Here's my card."

Eddie tosses the man a business card, for whatever reason. What a vain group of people. It reads something about Eyes and has some arbitrary phone number and other business card things. You don't seem to be entirely interested in the clever Eye themed motif and witty tagline "We've got eyes all over." Also probably something about thinking differently. You don't seem to care.

Eddie leaves and takes a beverage out of the incoming nurse's hand. She looks mildly annoyed as he turns down the hall, but then begins to check him out. Typical nurse. She wheels the man's oxygen tank out of the room and another nurse takes her place after twenty or so minutes and inquires if the man was feeling well and/or needed more painkillers.

Surely the problem of the man's insurance would eventually come up, for neither the paramedics nor hospital staff could verify the man's identity or citizenship.

by the time that midnight rolled around, 58664 knew the jig was up. There were too many questions being asked. Slipping out the front of the building wouldn't work, but, thankfully, most people don't seem to care if you head deeper into the hospital and therefore away from the exits.
He would escape via the roof.
Having convinced a nurse to let him have his (empty) guns for an hour as he was an old, pitiable soul and they comforted him, 58664 stuff his armour into a trash bin one part at a time and, making sure that no one else was around/awake, destroyed it using DarkForce bullets.
He surprised a lone smoker on the roof, but a quick explanation to the tune of 'needing some fresh air' relaxed her. He sat and chatted with her about recent events a bit before she had to get back to work.

With the coast clear, Agent sighted a likely landing spot.
"It's just a few seconds, it's just a few seconds" he repeated to himself.
Black flames enveloped his body once more and he sped off to the landing spot in a flash... well it would've been a flash if once considered a black streak against a black sky to be a flash.
As he landed and extinguished the flames through an act of will, 58664 felt the familiar queasiness welling up inside him, but thankfully it was only gas this time.
Dressed in little more than a hospital gown, 58664 headed for the nearest payphone and placed a call to his new associate.

"I need a pick-up and new set of clothes. I'll be in an alley just pass the corner of X ave. and Y blvd. Sooner would be better than later."

He had been seen by a few people and the possibility that one of them alerted the authorities was very real, but 58664 did his best to hobble back into an alley, make his way to the meeting point he'd set, and hide.