Chapter 2: 1-2
Tobi's footsteps echoed softly as he turned another corner. He held a flashlight in one hand, running the beam across the street as he walked, nervously scratching at his neck with his claws, just lightly enough that he didn't break the skin, using the edge rather than the point. They were as sharp as razor blades, and he'd learned many a time how easily they could draw blood.
So far, nothing had happened, which he was once again conflicted on. While it was good that nobody was in danger, at least not in his immediate vicinity, it also made for a dull and tense night out.
Every morning, Tobi read the news, hearing about the rising crime rate that currently plagued Metrowick. According to that, everything was in disarray. The Militant Pure were getting bolder, and a dozen other small gangs and organizations struggled against them, trying to remain relevant without drawing the Militant's attention.
Now that he thought about it, superpowered neo-Nazis were the very last thing he wanted to encounter tonight. They were a fairly new group, only having shown up two years ago back when he was still in school.
To think that in the modern era that a group like that could get such a deep foothold so fast was at the very least concerning, and quite telling. Radical societal statements aside, Tobi began mentally sifting through the various bits of information he'd learned about the local villains.
Unfortunately, the only ones with detailed information about them were the big guns, the type that could turn Tobi into paste without a second thought, even if he pulled out all the stops.
So that left him with shoddy information about the lower end villains. Butcher was one, and it was speculated that his power had something to do with blades, given that his main weapon of choice was a straight razor.
Stormtrooper was a known member of the Militant, but the only information on his power was that it had something to do with duplication, though despite his numerous public appearances, no one had managed to see him in action.
Tobi sighed. Life would have been so much easier if the New Guard would just update their websites, as the two sentences about each local villain powers that consisted of "x has x power. Contact the New Guard if encountered." were far from useful.
Fan boards while certainly capable of providing useful information, were just as likely to feature entirely false information made up by some kid that wanted to be cool. With such little information assessable to him on the web, Tobi was left with little choice but to patrol and hope to meet a friendly super that also happened to know a lot about the local villains.
Talk about a shot in the dark. Tobi sighed and rounded another corner, preforming a quick sweep of his new area, only to suddenly stop as he heard the sound of voices.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing on my territory?" The speaker's voice was calm and without any notable accent and clearly male. It came from around the next corner, so Tobi put all his effort into sneaking closer to the voice, his progress painfully slow, only moving when the man was speaking.
"Relax, mate. I'm just passing through, be out of your hair shortly." The other speaker was also a man, equally calm, and with a very sharp british accent. Tobi didn't know enough to guess the region, so he didn't bother, instead using this man's voice as cover to move closer.
"Just what I'd expect from someone like you. Obviously, I don't believe you." The first man said, practically spitting the words at the british man like venom.
"Now what's that supposed to mean? Someone like me? Sounds awful racy to me, mate." The british man retorted, though there was an edge to his voice, something between offense and amusement.
"I'm not your mate! Go back where you came from and get the fuck out of here before I make you leave." The first man was clearly angry now, his temper flaring as he practically shouted the first phrase at the trespasser.
"Listen, Bismarck. I was just passing through, but your hospitality is convincing me to stay and have a longer conversation with you. Perhaps you could fuck off for a few minutes and let me about my business, ay, mate?" The british man said, emphasizing that last word, solely to bother Bismarck.
Tobi stopped dead in his tracks, just around the corner, that anxious pit in his stomach tripling in weight. Had he just said Bismarck?
Bismarck was a member of the Militant Pure, low ranked enough to not be a high priority target, but high ranked enough to hold a small amount of territory.
The only information on his power was that he was a ranged fighter that used heavy projectiles. Tobi didn't know who the other man was, but he began to gather his courage. He knew a fight was brewing, had known since he'd heard the first exchange.
Tobi took a deep breath and let it out. He tapped his claws against the wall lightly, not loud enough to make a noticeable sound. Whoever the other guy was, he had to either also have powers, or be a very, very brave individual. Or stupid. Both were equally likely, honestly.
After a second's hesitation, Tobi turned the corner, his hand out stretched, index finger pointed at Bismarck in a finger gun.
"Bismarck! Hands in the air!" Tobi shouted, his voice calm and confident, shocking himself. Where was this confidence in his daily life?
Bismarck was a large man, easily six feet tall. He wore a red sleeveless shirt, black pants and boots and a kevlar vest, along with a spiked World War I era helmet and a pair of black sunglasses. A large utility belt hung around his waist. He was white, and strawberry blonde hair poked out from under his helmet.
The other man was black and of similar height. His hair was tied into dead locks that were roughly shoulder length. He wore a white venetian half mask that covered the top half of his face, and a green trench coat with what was by far the loudest, and ugliest Hawaiian shirt Tobi had ever seen. The man wore zebra print pants and solid black boots.
Both men turned to look at Tobi. A smile crossed the british man's face, while Bismarck's face twisted in disgust.
"Who the fuck are you, pipsqueak?" Bismarck spat, glaring at the thin boy before him. Tobi wanted to turn and run, but now he'd made himself known. He remained silent for a second before he trusted himself to speak again.
"Thorne. Local Vigilante. And I won't ask again." Tobi said, trying to regain his calm and confident demeaner from before, though he was almost entirely sure he'd failed this time around.
"You're new. I'm gonna teach you a lesson about confronting the Militant, you stupid fuck." With that, Bismarck reached into he belt and pulled a heavy metal ball from the pocket.
Before he could throw the ball, Bismarck ducked an attack and skipped away from the british man, who twirled a straight razor in his fingers.
"I'm hurt. Weren't you gonna make me leave, mate? Come off it! You're really going to ignore me over some scrawny kid? You're lucky I telegraphed that one for you, Bizzy." The british man shouted, sounding annoyed for the first time since the conversation had began.
Tobi sighed. He should have figured it out sooner. The man was british, and wore one of the worst outfits Tobi had ever seen. Of course it was Butcher.
On one hand, he'd gotten lucky encountering villains that were more in his wheelhouse. On the other hand, making an enemy of the Militant on his first night was already bad enough, but being faced with another territory holding villain simultaneously made things even worse.
The fight hadn't even begun, but Tobi was already wishing for the boring and empty alley ways he'd just left behind.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone