Old Habits DIE HARD [complete]

[Vigilante]

There were no shadows creeping along the bushes toward the entrance of the United Capitol Bank and Trust building, a sixty story skyscraper near the center of downtown Los Angeles. No cars pulled into the parking garage, other than the ones already there.

Of course, there was an office party going on. The employees of the bank were celebrating a merger in which they'd acquired several thousand house loans which they couldn't wait to foreclose upon. In turn, a larger corporate bank was looking to make United Capitol part of their umbrella of businesses. And none of that mattered to the intruder who appeared in a quiet burst of purplish smoke, a sulfuric odor lingering in the hallway around the dark clothed figure.

Vigilante wasn't out of practice. She didn't need to be here. Of course, she'd never needed to be anywhere. With the Russians largely out of commission on the East Coast thanks to her tireless efforts, she found that killing had become a habit. One that was hard to break.

Luckily, there were shittons of bad guys who needed to meet their Maker on the West coast. Including horrible bankers who had black holes where their hearts should be.

Fortunately for horrible bankers everywhere, they weren't the type of scum that Vigilante went for. She was here for Jurou Morimoto, the son of Makoto Morimoto. Makoto ran the American branch of the Yakuza, and Jurou had recently risen to power in Los Angeles. He was a piece of work, with numerous murders that could be directly linked to him if you knew where to look.

Vigilante knew where to look. And she also knew that his girlfriend worked for United Capitol, and that they were both here tonight. She hooked her bow over her shoulder and walked quietly through the hall on the second floor where she'd 'ported in, looking for the elevators.

[Tom Harriman]

There were supposedly perks to this job. Dahlia had insisted that there were. Unfortunately, for someone who hadn't spent their entire life surrounded by the trappings of corporate high society, Tom had established a slightly different definition of a 'perk' in his mind.

He'd established a different definition of 'party', too. Apparently, this was supposed to be a celebration of some million dollar deal: something that had sounded like a pretty significant to Tom, and thus something that deserved blowing as much of that money on alcohol, and on medical bills for the string of unexplained injuries that would likely be discovered the following morning.

Instead, he was standing around in a room full of stuffy men in suits who were firmly on the wrong side of middle age; their trophy wives; and the high level female employees of the bank, all of whom looked decidedly furious that a pant-suit wasn't considered appropriate attire for this kind of thing. To make matters worse, the only alcohol he'd been able to find was champagne: the only beverage specifically designed to taste the same on the way in as it did on the way out.

"Take it easy," Emma offered with a quiet smile, calm as ever.

Saying that was like politely asking someone if they wouldn't mind not being on fire anymore: a weak-willed understatement, and probably not the best way to get the effect that you were after.

"I'm fine," Tom grunted, downing the last of the fizzy, vomit-smelling fluid from his glass.

Emma's fingers deftly snatched the champagne flute from his hand. "I meant take it easy on the alcohol," she said, a slight edge in her voice that Tom wasn't sure he'd ever heard before. "You're here to make a good impression on these people. We attracted a lot of attention for your research with the press conference; now we've got to convince the people with the cheque books that you actually are as smart and noble as the papers say you are, and not just someone who looks and sounds good on TV."

Tom heaved out a sigh, sparing a glance at his outfit. He had a very different suit that he'd much rather be wearing tonight; but that wouldn't get the job done. "Fine," he grunted, and with a forced smile stepped into the crowd.

"I'm Doctor Harriman," he said, shaking hands with the first person he could find who wasn't already in the midsts of a boring-sounding conversation. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

[Vigilante]

She'd looked at the blueprints for the building, of course, but that only helped her avoid things like walls. Having never been inside, it was best to not teleport unless she had a direct line of sight on whatever decorations and furniture might be in a space. So, after a short 'port through a second floor window, it was a journey on foot to the upper floor where the festivities were underway.

Ginny rode the elevator to the floor below her target, exiting out into construction dust, machinery, and hung plastic sheets. Eying the metal studs around her, she walked through the floor toward the outer walls.

[Tom Harriman]

Tom was networking. He felt dirty just thinking the word, and held it in the same low regard as he did paperwork, taxes, and laundry: the sort of thing that you'd need some sort of serious mental problems to genuinely enjoy.

He was grinning and bearing it though; or rather, flashing his most charming smile, laughing politely, and doing a surprisingly good job of not punching anyone or shooting them with arrows. It was a decidedly strange way to spend the evening, he decided, and not one he particularly felt like repeating. Idly, he wondered how many past crimes and immoral acts were rattling around like skeletons in the closets of these particular people, and whether or not they deserved a little of the vigilante treatment himself.

After letting out a forced chuckle as the seventh consecutive person made the hilarious suggestion of injecting a little mutant superspeed into their computer, his attention was drawn to Emma who, instead of closely chaparoning him and smoothing over his accidental faux pas - a task Dahlia had put her up to, no doubt - was clearly distracted by something quite somber.

Excusing himself from the truely rivetting company - rivetting in that it was about as painful to endure as a rivet through your hand - of the bank's senior tax specialist, he stepped over and placed a hand gently on her arm, startling her enough in the process that she very nearly leapt out of her clearly expensive and surprisingly flattering dress.

Tom frowned at her, considering the almost shellshocked way she'd been clutching her handbag. "Bad news?" he asked, guessing that she must have checked her cell.

She looked at him blankly, taking a few seconds before managing to pluck out his meaning from the front of his consciousness. "No, not that. It's just -"

Emma frowned, her gaze sweeping across the crowd. Tom couldn't ever remember seeming so troubled. "I can't work out what with all the noise and stray thoughts in my head, but something isn't right, Tom." She fixed him with a scared look. "Someone isn't thinking right."

As if her words had somehow given him new powers of prophecy and perception, Tom too began to scrutinise the crowd, hoping for some danger sense alarm bell to start ringing in his mind. He saw nothing, and felt nothing, save for Emma's frightened hand tightening around his arm.

He looked back to her, and offered him his most reassuring smile. "Don't worry," he said gently. "You're at a party with a superhero. What could possibly go wrong?"

[Vigilante]

Working out a way to the floor just above her wasn't too hard. There were bathrooms here in the back, and above her as well. Additionally, they were facilities that were far enough away from the party above that any guests would be using other toilets on another area of the floor. It was reasonable to assume it was going to be empty, but just in case she readied an arrow on the string and held her bow ready as she 'ported.

Empty, just as planned. She caught sight of herself in the mirrors, red hair pulled back into a sleek pony tail, black baseball cap, compound bow (http://www.aimarchery.biz/limbsaver-dz-36-compound-bow/) in hand. Her quiver was fastened securely to her back over her zipped up leather jacket, black feathers sticking up by her head. For a moment she was mesmerized, as though she was looking at someone else, and then it passed and she was out the door.

Music was playing elsewhere, no doubt pretty loudly at the actual party. Vigilante walked quickly down a hallway, and took a set of stairs to the offices above. There was a balcony that looked down over the central area where the people were, and it was there that she'd take her shot.

Approaching from the rear through the various offices and conference rooms, Ginny was pleased to find a break room with a door that opened to the balcony that she could enter from a second door in the back off another hallway. Sliding in she walked carefully to the front and eased the door open a bit. The music was loud, and she sighted out from the break room, looking for her target. The way people were milling about, it was just a matter of time before he came into view -

And there he was, on the far side of the room by a stroke of luck. Ginny had an arrow in place and the bow pulled taut in an instant, moving the door open wider to accommodate. She exhaled softly, and released the arrow, already reaching back for another, just in case.

[Tom Harriman]

Time turned slow.

Barely a second passed between Emma's whispered, headache-addled murmer of "Upstairs," and Tom's gaze settling on a shady-looking figure on the balcony above; but the arrow had already been loosed. The arrow was fast - not as fast as one of his ability-assisted shots mind you, but still too fast for him to make any significant difference. He barely had time to react at all, and when his powers did lash out, it was mostly instinct and reflex.

At best, all he managed was a small nudge; the arrow still tore through it's intended target, embedding itself deep into his suited and shirted collarbone.

Jurou Morimoto staggered; people didn't even register anything was wrong until his body collapsed beneath him, depositing him on the floor amidst a crowd of his peers. Shouts of surprise, shock, and panic sprang up instantly from the crowd. The instinct to run kicked in for those close enough to see what had happened, but with no idea who had fired, no one had any idea where to run to. For others, curiosity was the emotion of the moment; the crowd convulsed as those wanting to escape and those wanting to get close enough to see what was going on shoved against and past each other.

Tom didn't watch them. He didn't react. His gaze was firmly locked on the figure on the balcony, hands searching his pockets for something - anything - to fire back.

[Vigilante]

The arrow sprouted from Jurou's chest, but not where she'd aimed. It was too high: most likely non-lethal. The Yakuza boss crumpled to the ground and was lost to view. The people around him screamed and looked every which way, but only one person looked up, and directly at her. Ginny forgot about trying for another shot, slid her arrow back into the quiver and slung the bow across her back.

She dropped a playing card with a gloved hand... by the time it fluttered to the ground she had disappeared in a burst of purple smoke. Of course, she 'ported to the hallway behind the break room, and sprinted for the stairs. 'Porting to the main level, bypassing the stairs entirely, she strung together a series of jumps that put her back toward the bathrooms she'd used to enter.

[Tom Harriman]

That was... unexpected.

This woman, whoever she was, was not the first teleporter she had witnessed. He'd seen the creepy, bald-headed Hurucan pull a similar disappearing trick once before. What struck him was the difference; while Hurucan looked as if a lightning storm was collapsing in on itself, this woman's disappearence had a decidedly more magical look. For the briefest fraction of a second, he mused at the scientific possibilities of what that might be.

But now, of course, was hardly the best time.

Tom's eyes turned to Emma. She met his gaze and nodded, mouthing one simple word: "Go."

Slipping out through one of the doors that led out into one of the building's main corridors, Tom broke into a run. Vague flashes of memory led him through a quick a string of turns, and past the elevators - too slow - to the fire escape. The building was vast and expansive, and while he had no idea how far, how fast, or how often this mutant could jump, there was only one direction worth travelling in: down.

He faulted over handrails, a combination of his abilities and sheer physical resiliance flinging him from flight to flight like a human Jacob's ladder. Each impact made him wince a little more than the first, but each one moved him closer and closer to the ground. Floors shot by too quick to count; but finally, he reached the bottom and burst out, sprinting through the lobby and into the street beyond.

[Vigilante]

Her escape plan left a lot to be desired. Of course - she wasn't expecting to have been spotted so easily. And then there was the matter of her aim being off.

Her aim was never off.

The man who'd seen her was a telekinetic, that had to be it. Or something. Ginny ran to an outer window, ripping down the construction plastic, and 'porting out into the open air. Gravity pulled her down, and she clutched at her bow, holding it tight so it did not fly off from around her body.

It was tempting to close her eyes against the wind as she plummeted, but not at all practical. The floors of the building whipped by, her hat flew off almost immediately, and she quickly 'ported again, momentum lost in the miliseconds of transit time. Ginny popped back into the air ten feet off the ground and dropped lightly to her feet.

Taking a deep breath she looked around just in time to see a figure in a suit running out of the lobby. It didn't take a genius to recognize the same man who'd stared at her at the party. Ginny 'ported again, gaining thirty three feet, and then again, trying to put as much distance between them as she could before she exhausted herself.

[Tom Harriman]

Tom was already having trouble getting air into his lungs; not the out-of-breath wheeze of a fat kid chasing and ice cream truck, but considering the number of stories he'd just leapt down, he could hardly be blamed for being a little bit out of breath. He could feel the acid starting to build up in his muscles and joints, too; he'd push through it if he had to, but his body wouldn't be happy about it.

His eyes swept the street; through the darkness, they settled on the stuttering and intermittant sight of his quarry fleeing into the night, disappearing and reappearing every - how far was that, ten meters? He felt a pang of envy at the bow strung across her back; unless the assassin was extremely lucky with her timings, there'd be no way a powers-assisted shot wouldn't manage to take her down.

Alas, none of the stashes for his vigilante gear were nearly close enough; not with the speed that she was moving. If he were armed, and if he chased after her right now, there was a slim chance that he'd maybe stay close enough for long enough to slow her down...

A growl escaped from his throat as he dug his cell phone out of his jacket. "Superman suit," he muttered to himself, punching the speed dial for Treadstone's ambiguous Business Process team. "Collapsable bow and a costume under your clothes: that's what you need."

The phone was answered quickly, a familiar voice coming through from the other end. "Hamilton," he replied, eyes still watching the vanishing shooter. "It's Tom. Please tell me you've got surveillance in place right now over Downtown..."

[Vigilante]

After a few minutes she was certain there was no pursuit, so Ginny slowed to a walk, smoothing her hair back into place. Wearing a bow and quiver was not exactly a good way to blend in downtown, but unfortunately she was pretty far away from where she'd left her Harley. Perhaps people would think she was cosplaying.

However, it seemed that she was in an industrial area, and there was no one on the streets this time of the evening. Ginny pulled out her phone and looked at Google maps, figuring out where her motorcycle was in relation to her. Two miles away to the west. She pocketed her phone and started walking in that direction, eyes alert for anything out of the ordinary.

[Orion]

It hadn't taken Tom long to make the necessary outfit changes to become his nocturnal alter ego: Treadstone Tower had only been a block or two away, and his lab contained spares of everything he needed.

It hadn't taken long for Hamilton down in The Basement to find what they needed, either; while the legality of his access to the city's network of traffic cameras might have been dubious, there was no denying how useful it could be in a situation like this. He'd managed to follow her stuttering trajectory to a cluster of warehouses and industrial buildings not far away. Unfortunately, that was where the cameras stopped and, much to Tom's wannabe Jack Bauer disappointment, there wasn't a conveniently-placed satellite over the city that they could make use of. Still, an approximate area was better than no area at all.

It hadn't taken long to get there, either; while Tom wasn't exactly thrilled about clambering into a helicopter with Frank Toussaint behind the controls so soon after the mishap that had taken place last time, he couldn't deny that swiftness was of the essence.

And so, given an extra push by the down-draft of the rotor blades, Orion dropped gracefully from the helicopter and, with a little burst of his powers to soften his fall, landed in a crouch on the rooftop with his bow already in hand.

[Vigilante]

Helicopters over Los Angeles weren't unusual, so Ginny didn't even pay attention to the noise until she realized how loud it was getting. Curious, she looked up, trying to see if it was a police or news helicopter. It was flying fairly low over the warehouses, but the street lighting was bad in this area and she couldn't get a good look at the chopper.

It didn't have a spotlight, so apart from the unfortunate coincidence of it showing up right after she'd tried to kill someone, she thought that it couldn't be the cops. Especially not so soon. They were probably only just now responding to United Capitol. Ginny's eyes watered as she stared at the helicopter, and then it banked to the east and flew away.

She frowned, filed it under weird, and quickened her pace. Her motorcycle was only a few blocks away.

[Orion]

There were many advantages to warehouse districts, both for Orion and the people he hunted in them. Most were largely deserted at this time of night, which made them ideal places to engage in untoward activities without too much risk of being spotted. It also meant that background noise was kept to a minimum; and with the accoustics that such regularly-shaped buildings could offer, it made even cautious footsteps much easier to detect.

Shadows were also highly useful. While the intermittant security lightning created unlit pools on the ground, their downward aim left the rooftops mostly in darkness. It was up there that Orion moved, swift and silent, leaping from vantage point to vantage point in search of his prey.

He almost didn't see her; even without trying she moved with surprising stealth, and he couldn't help but wonder where she might have learned those skills. Was there military training in her past perhaps, or something more untoward?

Now was hardly the time to muse such things, however. A hand reached behind him, plucking an arrow from his quiver. Many of his projectiles had now been modified, replacing lethal steal arrowheads with blunted and rubberised alternatives: more than enough to do damage to their targets, but without as much risk of lethal consequences. After all, he roamed the streets at night trying to save lives, not to end them.

This time however, the arrow he retrieved was not so harmless; the tip was a reinforced pyramid, strengthened to withstand the kind of impact velocities that Orion's abilities allowed his arrows to reach. Knocking it on his bow he drew back and, after aiming along a course that would make the arrow pass within inches of the failed assassin's head, sent it soaring through the air to bury itself in the masonry of the warehouse behind her.

[Vigilante]

She felt the whisper of air as the projectile flew by her head, and then an arrow was imbedded into the bricks just behind her. Ginny teleported almost before she got a good look at what had just missed her, her mind sorting through the visual data as she reappeared between two warehouses a short distance away.

The angle of the arrow meant it came from above, and the way it had buried itself into the wall meant whoever had shot it meant business. To shoot an arrow with such velocity meant strength. Perhaps a crossbow. Perhaps another mutant. Ginny craned her neck to look at the roof lines that surrounded her, then 'ported to a puddle of shadow and then onto a roof. She nocked an arrow to her bow, fingertips caressing the fletching, but still couldn't see the shooter.

Arrows meant she wasn't dealing with one of the many gangs of the area. Arrows most likely meant they knew who and what she was and they were trying to take her out with her own weapon of choice. Arrows could mean this was very personal. Ginny looked over her shoulder to another warehouse, and disappeared in a burst of displaced air and lingering smoke, only to reappear on the other roof.

She narrowed her eyes, laying low on the roof and scanning the area for movement.

[Orion]

She was fast; too fast to keep tabs on, especially with all the shadows around. And while her abilities apparently weren't silent, there were too many echoes around the district for him to suss out where exactly she was. At best, all he could do was count, and guestimate what sort of distance that translated to in her ten-metre-ish hops.

"I don't know who you are," he called, careful to aim his voice into as many echoes as possible, changing his position after every few words to avoid giving his position away. He ran, vaulted with his powers, and hurled himself onto a neighbouring rooftop. "But you got sloppy today. Missing your kill shot, and letting someone get a decent look at you? Not very impressive."

He moved again, keeping low behind a set of roofing ducts until he found solid cover. He dropped to a knee, a hand delving into his pouch to retrieve a small matte-painted metallic cylinder. He plucked an arrow from his quiver - a non-lethal one this time - and ran through the surprisingly swift process of mounting the strange cylinder into one end. He knocked the heavyweight arrow on his bowstring, and moved yet again, fingers taking up the slack, ready to strike again at a moment's notice.

"How much would you have got paid if you hadn't fluffed it?" he baited, ears peeled for the sound of more teleport jumps each time there was a break in his words. "Or did Mr Morimoto do something a little more personal to piss you off?"

[Vigilante]

This joker had a lot of opinions. Ginny shielded her eyes from the security lights below, searching the rooftops as the one-sided conversation went on. There was a flash of movement between two warehouses, and she quickly 'ported sideways, hitting the next roof running. Another teleport took her to an adjoining warehouse where she again laid low, trying to spot her attacker before he was done talking.

When he fell silent the best she could guess was that he was still on the roof she'd seen him jump to, but she didn't have eyes on him. Ginny didn't even debate answering his accusations - getting baited into giving away her position was a rookie move. Instead she picked up a rock and chucked it as hard as she could in a random direction, waiting for the clatter of it hitting and wondering what he was going to do.

[Orion]

Orion heard the distinctive... he wasn't quite sure how to best describe the sound of her teleportation, but that was the sound he heard. Maybe something worth practising in the bath, trying to get the acoustics to match the echoes of the warehouses; but not for now. Frustratingly, it was too vague and wispy a sound to discern any kind of direction, but he strained harder, trying none the less.

A stuttering, stumbling sound dragged his attention in a totally new direction, conveniently soon after the last transport sound. His string hand twitched, but he managed to stop the knee-jerk impulse to shoot at wherever the sound had landed. Maybe lady luck had stuck out her foot, tripping his prey and giving him exactly the kind of sound-signal that he was looking for; or more likely, she was smart enough and tactically minded enough to try and throw him off with decoys.

Two could play at that game, he decided, easing off the draw on his bow, and fumbling around for something he could throw. He pulled out a Swiss army knife and, after a moment spent assuring himself that he wouldn't desperately need one in the next few minutes, tossed it lazily onto the roof opposite, sending it skitting across the corrugated metal. He paused for just a second and then, redrawing his bow, loosed his club-headed arrow towards the place it had just landed.

Tom's eyes squeezed tightly closed as his head turned away, but even through his eyelids, glare-reducing sunglasses, and the thick fabric of his hood, he was still aware of the searing burst of light as the flash-bang exploded.

All he could hope was that his prey had been looking in the right direction, and wasn't quite so prepared.

[Vigilante]

Something small hit the roof about twenty feet away from where she was lying, and Ginny twisted her head to look toward the noise. It wasn't a person, or much of anything, from what she could see. Probably Joker using a rock just like she had. Backtracking from there, if her new friend was the source of it, meant that he was -

An object flew into her field of vision, faster than the eye could track, and it landed on her roof in an ear shattering explosion of blinding light. Ginny clutched at her head, 'porting away much too late. She landed awkwardly in a courtyard between warehouses, an enormous pile of gravel shifting under her feet.

She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out, but the gravel pile made enough noise that it didn't really matter. Blinded by the flashbang grenade, her ears ringing, Ginny tucked into a ball and rolled down the hill, guessing that she was putting it between herself and Joker. However, she was disoriented and her sense of direction was more than a little confused. For all she knew she might have been headed back the way she'd come.

[Orion]

Gravel. Sliding. That was a much harder sound to fake.

His hand already reloading his bow - a rubber-tipped arrow this time - he rose to his feet, keeping low as he raced to the edge of the rooftop. The skittering sound of the gravel pile was enough to give him a vague direction, but it still took a few seconds for his eyes to settle on the cloud of dust that the assassin had kicked up.

He squinted, eyes trying to pierce the gloom. He saw a tumbling glimpse of his quarry, too small and moving too much to get a clear shot. He took a few steps back, bow and arrow gripped in one hand, the other empty; and with a few sprinting strides hurled himself to the next rooftop.

His landing was hardly silent, and he silently cursed at himself twice: once for the clatter he'd generated, and once for not having devised some sort of arrow-propelled bolas for apprehending escapees. Or perhaps a net.

Not that it would help with a teleporter of course, he supposed; readying his non-lethal arrow again, he let it fly, and hoped that the assassin's abilities needed her to see where she was going.

[Vigilante]

Eyes still trying to recover from the blinding light they'd been subjected to, Ginny could just make out enough of her surroundings to see that there was a building or something large in front of her. Clutching her bow she rolled up to her feet, sprinting toward what she hoped would be cover.

Something hard slammed into her left shoulder, sending her stumbling to the ground, her arm half numb. Ginny blinked furiously, the bright spots still dancing in her vision as she staggered to the wall, ducking into a shallow doorway and pressing herself against the metal door.

[Orion]

Orion fought the urge to unleash a victory fist-pump; while he'd managed to score a solid hit, at worst his arrows were going to piss her off. That wasn't necessarily a good thing. For now she was fleeing and running evasive, which gave him and his ability-accelerated arrows the advantage.

If her tactics changed, he might not get so lucky.

Pressing his advantage, he prepped another one of his custom arrows, pulling a pin before drawing back and firing. Smoke tumbled from the projectile's wake as it soared down into the alley below; slowly counting off a few breaths, he lept down in it's wake, landing in shrouded silence as the cloud of smoke expanded.

[Vigilante]

The smoke filling the yard pissed her off. Ginny blinked, spots still dancing but her vision considerably better, and pulled an arrow from her quiver. Her left arm was still tingling from the hit, so she slung her bow across her body, holding the sharp tipped arrow in her right fist.

It would only help if her pursuer was stupid enough to come in close, but with all the smoke he would have to in order to get eyes on her. Ginny jogged silently along the wall as the cloud expanded toward her and swallowed her up, senses on alert for anything that would indicate where he was.

[Orion]

Idle curiosity drifted through his mind as he wondered what it would look like if the teleporter tried to use her abilities in the cloud. Was it merely the solid matter of her body that moved from location to location, or did she take a bubble of air with her? Would he see a gap open within the fog as she vanished, and whisps of smoke trailing behind her as she reappeared?

Perhaps he'd find out; though at the moment he doubted it. The compounds he'd mixed together in the grenade arrow were more potent than he'd expected; rather than an obscuring mist he'd buried the alley beneath almost solid white. Enough to slow her down he supposed, especially if her abilities required her to see where she was going; but that was of skant help, since his vision was just as obscured.

He made a mental note to search the Treadstone Archives for any thermal imaging equipment that he could convert into something portable and fashionable; in the meantime however, he would have to simply make use of the resources at his disposal.

Slinging his bow over his shoulder and returning the readied arrow to his quiver, he plucked the hunting crossbow from his hip and loaded a bolt. Wielding the weapon like a soldier with a 9mm, he drew in a careful breath and then pushed out with his powers, clearing the cloud from around him.

"This running thing is starting to get old," he quipped, eyes and ears still peeled for signs of movement. "How about we stop sneaking around, and talk this out, mano a -" He hesitated, wincing in advance of what he knew his mouth was planning to say next. "- womano?"

[Vigilante]

Of course he had to talk. The thick smoke baffled the sound, however, giving her only a general sense of the direction. Ginny didn't want to stay put until the smoke cleared, but she didn't want to wander around blindly when her opponent might have a way of spotting her in the soup.

Keeping a hand on the wall, she walked toward where she'd heard him talking. And then there as a thinner area in the smoke and she smiled. 'Porting to just the other side of him she said, "You sure like the sound of your own voice." As he whirled toward her Ginny 'ported above him and kicked at his head.

[Orion]

This was exactly the kind of scenario Tom had hoped to avoid. In fact, teleportation head-kicking was number three on his list, right behind getting shot and getting stabbed. He let himself fall backwards, a hand snapping off a quick up-thrust of power towards his assailant before catching him before he reached the ground.

"It's more that I hate awkward silences," he grunted back, swinging his crossbow arm around to snap off the loaded bolt in her direction. Now useless - until he found the time to reload it, at least - he tossed the weapon aside, letting himself fall back against the concrete before unleashing a powers-assisted Arab spring that hurled him back to his feet.

Dropping into a cat stance - weight balanced equally between both legs, ready to strike out with whichever limb was closest to the assassin when she magically reappeared again - he let his eyes narrow, and spoke again.

"Your mother clearly did a terrible job at teaching you manners," he baited, trying his utmost to block another barrage of blows that appeared out of nowhere; she vanished before he had the opportunity to strike back.

"Aren't you at least going to tell me why? I'm pretty sure this is your cue for a reveal-all evil villain monologue."

[Vigilante]

She had 'ported away as soon as her foot had hit him, the crossbow bolt passing harmlessly through the purple mist she left behind until it imbedded itself into a wall. A second teleport brought her back within range, and she punched at him with the arrowhead sprouting from her fist. He seemed to be wearing body armor that did a decent job of protecting him.

Not that she wanted to hurt him, but he was determined to stop her and she was just as determined not to be caught. Ginny 'ported away before he could hit back.

"Monologuing is a fools game," she replied. "You like it so much, why don't you just keep it up? Although," she 'ported to his side, "Are you sure you're not the villain?" Ginny whipped the arrow across his face, holding onto it by the fletching.

[Orion]

Orion barely dodged in time; he could feel the sharp edge of the arrowhead tearing a slash through his hood. An extra surge of adrenaline pumped through him as he realised that it could have very easily been tearing through his face instead.

"Lets examine the evidence, shall we?" he muttered, swinging his leg low in an attempt to sweep her legs out from under her. He found himself kicking air, and had to fight the urge to saccrifice the power and precision his strikes normally posessed and merely flail blindly in frustration.

Another swing of her arrow tore a chunk through his sleeve; he didn't have time to check if it had gone any deeper than just fabric. "One of us is using lethal weapons, while the other is not."

He used his powers to throw himself up in the air, aiming a sharp kick at where he hoped her head would still be. It wasn't. "One of us spent their evening skulking around in shadows trying to commit murder, while the other did not."

"And one -"

His foot scraped through the edge of the gravel pile that their fight movements had carried them towards; Orion's boot raked up as much as he could and flung it in the assassin's direction, his powers turning a half-hearted sprinkle of pebbles into a high-velocity spray.

He landed heavily on the offending foot, preparing himself to strike again; but he stopped. "One of us doesn't want to fight you, but really isn't being given much choice."

[Vigilante]

She didn't see the gravel coming until it was too late to teleport out of the way, the rocks smacking into her a scant second before she 'ported. Ginny landed on the gravel above him, feet sliding slightly as she gasped from the pain of being hit.

"You're the one who is following me!" She put her hands in her hips, noting that the smoke was much thinner higher up and was starting to dissapate. "If you started something you can't finish, that isn't my fault."

[Orion]

"Starting something you can't finish seems like the theme of the evening," he shot back.

At least she was staying still; and she was talking. That was progress. Not nearly as much progress as he would have liked to have made, considering the effort and ordnance he'd already expended; but it was likely the best he'd manage, giving her frustrating ability to avoid getting hit.

"You teleported into a skyscraper," Tom pointed out, a little bemused at finding himself stating the obvious. "You fired an arrow at an unarmed man, into a crowd of civilians -"

He shook his head. "If I hadn't managed to deflect that arrow at the last second, you'd have left a dead man bleeding out back there, rather than a pissed off guy with a fractured collarbone."

He nodded a head toward the bow she clasped in her fingers. "That's not a weapon of opportunity, and you don't handle yourself like an amateur. So come on, spill. Convince me that you're not some homicidal sociopath or amoral mercenary. Tell me why that guy deserves to die, and why you had to do it in front of so many innocent witnesses."

[Vigilante]

Ah, just as she'd imagined - this guy had thrown off her aim at the party. His logic was pretty bad, still insisting that somehow she'd forced him to stalk and attack her. Poor, stupid man.

"You've got me all figured out," Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Please, let me tell you all my deepest darkest secrets." She teleported up and away, landing on the roof he had hidden on previously. She called down to him, bow still slung across her body. "He wasn't unarmed. And he isn't innocent."

[Orion]

Orion felt his shoulders slump heavily. For every step of progress he made, she teleported a dozen or so further ahead. He'd never catch her at this rate; not without finding some new way to give himself an edge.

He turned, drawing his eyes away from her triumphant silhouette on the rooftop, her final words echoed inside his mind.

"Maybe not," he admitted with a sigh, his voice little more than a mutter meant for the benefit of himself alone. "But neither are you."