World's Potential Ruler! [Viktor/Dusk]d

Posts : 35

"Hey, boss. You can uh.. lift metal things, n' what not. Mind helping us out?"

All of the other workers hunched over in their black hoodies, sweat trickling down all of their foreheads as they had shared the same fear with one of their co-workers, that decided he was tired of lifting these big wooden boxes and metal objects off the ship for a fourteen year old boy.

"Boss?"

Just silence. Rain slid across the wet pavement and the mask of the one that adorned a green hoodie, sitting on a home-made throne that was emanated out of old wooden floorboards from the dock and pieces of rusty metal. But still, it seemed to hold his light form up. You could hear the loud, ominous sound of the "cling, cling, cling" his metal fingers made as they made an impatient rhythm against the throne's arm. The floorboards underneath them shook, and the waters rippled for a second. A spike of Earth spiraled from the bottom of the water, its thick, wide, rocky form shoving itself RIGHT through the man's chest, and out the back.

"I don't appreciate or tolerate foolishness. We have until dawn. WORK."

Some of the big, beefy men were silently crying, letting their tears mix in with the cold rain running down their pale faces. But they didn't let their emotions stopped them. They continued to work.

Viktor closed his eyes, and let the bumping sound of the rain hitting HIS Earth be music to his ears. A lot of things had happened this month. He had gained weight, as him and his sister had been eating good with the money his goons had snatched from the various banks around Chicago. His sister ate more than him, the little thing never seemed to grow an inch or a pound, even after eating all of that candy. That thought made him laugh. The small 'humph' sound that escaped his lips had frightened the big workers moving boxes. They breathed in and held their chest and began working faster.

"All done, boss." One of the men shouted up the rusty steps that lead to Viktor's throne. "We got rid of the Captain's corpse. We've already opened a few of the boxes to confirm we've got what you were looking for. All of the guns are there."

Viktor said nothing. They flinched and jumped back from the water as it rippled again, sending mini tsunamis onto the wet, black walkways. Spikes of earth equivalent to the one used before ascended and tore the empty boat asunder, sending its pieces sinking to the bottom of the sea. As the spikes descended back into the water, the waving waters caused the pieces of wood to sink underwater, hiding evidence.

"We're ready, then."

-------

T h e N e x t D a y

World's Potential Ruler! [Viktor/Dusk]d Tumblr_m7162zLulm1qa07aro1_500_zpsastpmeri

"Can we go to Disney World, vikky, vikky, pleeaaaaseee?"

Viktor sat back in the comfy chair of his, staring out the titan-sized windows in the huge room that was at the top of the five star hotel. Amber turned around, putting her hands behind her back as her dress swished around from her movements that went back and forth. Viktor smiled lightly and shook his head, rubbing his chin.

"Not today, Amb. We have to go again. Big brother has to handle some business."

"Again?" Amber frowned, her curly brown hair bouncing as she pouted and stood up on her toes.

"Its okay. I won't be long. I have to handle something now, actually.. But i'll make it up to you."

Viktor's right hand patted the pouting girl's hand, and he rose from his seat, turning to look up at his two huge goons.

"Watch her. If anything happens? I'll have your head."

- - -

Viktor stood on top of the hotel, just to catch some fresh air. He watched all of the lights of cars and houses and buildings flicker in front of him. The music in his ears bumped, and he raised his arms.

World's Potential Ruler! [Viktor/Dusk]d MF_DOOM_by_micronaut_zpstxnnrtly

"This city will be mine."

Posts : 189 Location : Lake Hylia

                Overcast. The usual….

Wind drifted through his tattered cape like cave waterfalls.

                Always at night…

An entire shipment from the United States government was traveling via naval passage. Ironically, the weapons were supposed to be supplied to the rising National Guard population within Detroit city. The agency had recently been in bed with the Detroit Police Department, the good sects of it anyhow. A hyper aggressive approach had been proposed by Mayor Church and since then, it was as common to see a badge and uniform as it was to see someone heavily loaded from the higher ups alongside them. Church was no nonsense. He had been long sick and tired of the disgusting state of the Motor City, and would stop at nothing at restoring that name to honor, even at the price of alienating the citizens who comprise it.

                It was the damned Army of V that started all of this in the first place. Vermillion and his psychopaths… gave a new meaning to the term gang warfare. The whole city was a battlefield, ushering out the usual Bloods and Ms13s in place of mask wearing inspired youth. The troubled teens borderline worshipped the freak.

                Borderline… I’m just being generous… Closer to a damned cult.

                Ruthless hyenas, scavenging territory disputes and coming out on top. The bad blood between all the old gangs was keeping them from forming together against the common enemy. The conflicts had become split, all sides trying to cover the usual territory as well as Vermillion’s fanatics. The fools aren’t generals as the exploits have been proven. He remembers when it was just an old band venue overrun with rowdy misfits without a home.

                Now… now they were… Monsters.

                Graves had learned long ago why the Family was different from the thugs down below. The Family had the Steel code, no one cracked on anyone. They would much rather buy out someone in the way instead of killing them or someone they loved. Not that the Family were saints in any fashion. It was a den of thieves, hitmen, and mobsters. Terry, his father, others wore suits instead of chains and it made them above them in some confusing, non-established way. In his age, Graves had come to accept that the Family were simply honorable, and that it did not make them an ounce better than the drug dealer on the corner. Their hands in legitimate business and shyness to shed blood did not mean they did not violate either. Gangs and the Mob were one in the same coin.

                However, a shipment of guns arriving in Detroit would not affect the Family because they had their own, legitimate methods of obtaining what they needed. Gangs, whether it be Vermillion’s or the standard lot, could spell the spark that could ignite a real wore. The murderers would be tripled and violence would ensue in the Dusk’s blind spot.

                Something… I can’t afford…

                Even the Family wouldn’t have been safe it Vermillion’s army had gotten a hold of that entire shipment. A war of the worlds would break down with thousands of lives in the crossfire. It would be a true nightmare.

                To Dusk’s surprise, the entire shipment was somehow re-routed to Chicago. At first, this was blessing news and Terry was able to sleep tighter at night. However, that next morning, there was news of the crew being murdered and the entire supply being stolen. Shockwaves echoed through the blood and veins of the young ex-mob member. Terry had cold sweat beating down his face, thinking of what Vermillion was capable of. Despite is rabid insanity, Vermillion was terrifyingly cunning. He could convince the President to step down if he ever got into a room with him for a week. A master of Stockholm’s Syndrome and a benevolent abuser, Vermillion’s methods were cruel and horrifyingly successful. He’s convinced thousands of young men and women to follow him on the sole basis that he “loves” them when no one else would. In reality, they are pawns to his cause and mean as much as the dirt he walks on. The vile creature has killed many of his own to further his cause, but by convincing the youth that it was their own failure that causes such instances, they place the blame on themselves and they continue on in his service. Treacherous and disgusting practices that only a demon could indulge in.

                If he… if he thinks that he can send the shipment to another city and pick up the shipment there… He’s a fool. I am Detroit’s son, but moving his plan elsewhere does not mean I will not follow him… I will do ANYTHING… to protect them.

                His folded his torn cape in the evening wind, circling it around his fists to form wing shapes. It soars past the roaring lights around him. The shadow narrows his glowing white eyes, facing troubles with his usual flight. Chicago was built like a wind tunnel and the turbulence was throwing off his efficient way to fly. Whether it was the wind whipping around the buildings or the currents off the lake, he truly didn’t know. The beast stuck to the shadows, becoming one with them as her caressed the dark side of the world. He moved with it like the Grim Reaper in dance with life support. From building to building, the Dusk was shrouded in darkness. The bathing red sun let out bursting crimson across the land. The dying light only allowed the black ink of the shadows to completely absorb the Motor City Avenger.



                It hasn’t been out of Vermillion’s MO before to venture out of town to get what he wants… It’s the men who believe they are doing good that are the most determined...

The Dusk flows into the docks of Chicago, his long gnarled cape enshrouding him like a living being. His claws grasp the concrete, knowing eyes looking into the sky as clouds aim to absorb the sun. His glowing eyes narrow, looking to the left at where the ship once sat in the bay. His slim but compact form moves low, a hunch prevalent in his stature. His torn cape drags far behind him, illuminating its true indigo color off the pale clouds now blotting out the once beautiful sunset. The wind buffets again, throwing his cape to the east. His long vampiric collar whips against his cheek horns as he growls with irritation.

                This wind will take some getting used to…

The Dusk sighs heavily, looking at the barren wasteland around him. Whenever the good ol’ United States government is involved, they call in the best. The team was so thorough that it looks like not a single thing was even hear. The scene was more unreal than settling. The… whatever group they used… FBI, CIA… took not just the ship in questioned, they also took all the other ships surrounding it. It was quite bizarre to see a randomized blotch of nothingness amongst the full harbor. Nothing but the cold gray stone and anchor spots lay in remain. Whatever any normal criminal investigation the Dusk could have used was erased by whatever government organization swooped through and seized all evidence.

                The news said that the arms boat had been discovered at the bottom of the bay here… any evidence must’ve been underwater…

                The Dusk leapt into the water, his wild cape swirling down after him. The water smacked him as he submerged deep into the murky water. Suddenly, all sound had become nonexistent, instead replaced by the dull whir of water flow. His white glowing eyes served as a somber illumination as he swam down into the darkness. Fish evaded his presence like the wrath of god. The suit ventilated for him, ensuring he had the oxygen he needed at every step of the way.

                After a while, the Dusk began to see the muddy dirt of the bottom. As he expected, the shadow found no trace of the ship he was tracking. The mysterious government agency had wiped this place clean of the ship and any weapons it had left. The murky bottom was nearly featureless, just a barren slope of light brown and integrated greens. Another bizarre instance as there is no polluted items in this area. Usually there would be trash or the stereotypical lost boot, but not an ounce of garbage or refuge was in this specific area. A low grumble bellows from the lungs of the dark creature.

                Damn… Those bastards wiped this clean.

The Dusk stopped for a moment, narrowing his eyes before lifting his claw gently up through the water. He observed the small particles flowing between his fingers. The shadow studied it closely, determining which direction the water was flowing. As in the bay, there was little to no movement. However, there was a slight drift out east into open water.

He nodded to himself before drifting through the water, almost gliding across the harbor floor in the direction.

                What are these…?

The Dusk echoed in his mind, noting sudden deep imprints in the ocean floor.

                It looks… cut.

He grazed his claws across what appear to be… stumps.

                But it couldn’t be? This is the harbor... not a forest. It almost feels like… rock. The same rock the bedding of this place is likely made of. Was there something here that the government cut out? It’s almost as if… the ground sprouted upward from a single position.

Stranger things had happened in Dusk’s life. However, it did not make any instance like this even remotely normal. The Motor City avenger grumbled, knowing that despite the interest in this spot, it didn’t bring him any closer to finding out what happened to the shipment of arms. He would bookmark it in his mind.

                Nothing is trivial…

He moved into the east, stumbling upon garbage and debris once more. The sight was actually a good sign to the Dusk. Maybe some sort of evidence of the crime scene had drifted this way. The shadow made sure to continue drifting through the water, as any immediate evidence was most likely picked clean. He had to go much farther in that direction if he wished to find evidence. The Dusk’s wild cape had been tamped by the calming flow of the water as he traveled deeper into the bay.

                There…

The Dusk catches a glisten in the darkness. He seizes it between his barbed fingers. The glistening object is brought up to his face for closer examination.

                A bullet of some kind… Could’ve fallen off before the incident even…

The bullet was gold under dirt, slender in the middle and becoming ovular near the end. It seemed sort of unique in make. It definitely appeared to be military.

                But what good does that do me? I KNEW that there were bound to be bullets in the shipment… This doesn’t get me any closer to Vermillion… Or if this is even his work.

His keen ears, horned in nature, pick up the sound of an engine turning off in the distance. It must be from the direction he came from, up on the empty dock. The Dusk narrows his eyes in a scowl beneath his mask. He turns and swims the direction with ferocity, aiming to find the source of the commotion.

(Can be whoever you’d like).

Posts : 35

Three black cars slowly, but surely made their way up onto the empty dock. The ones inside of the black tinted windows knew that they weren't alone. Which is why they were there. The first car's door opened, and a black Timberland boot moved out, crushing an unsuspecting cockroach that was just passing by at the wrong time. A hooded up figure adorning black slowly stepped out, a curved scimitar sword sliding out of it's sleeve, as the figure's comrades released their own weapons, their boots hiking their forms up on top of the cars.

World's Potential Ruler! [Viktor/Dusk]d D.1.8_antisocialbehaviourHooded%20shadow_iStock_5413496_620x240px

"Dusk. Hero of Detroit." The voices all spoke at once in the same pitch of an alto. "You are in a restricted area. By orders of our master, you must leave."

Posts : 189 Location : Lake Hylia

Dusk’s horned head turned with a jolt, the murky water whirring about him.

What… How did they know it was me down here in this mud water?

His gnarled cape drifted gently in the eastern drifting current. He raised his arms up, claws extended in preparation for fierce battle. The shadow crept across the obscure muddy harbor floor. Idle particles peeled away from the oncoming demonic figure. All aquatic life in the area had since vacated at the arrival of the strange men calling out to the Dusk.

Something strike the Dusk as odd about these men. They had spoken is such a strange tone. That isn’t even taking into the account the fact that they automatically knew that there was presence beneath the loch. Furthermore, they knew a dark hero from at least two states away had suddenly shown up in their city. There was something dramatically wrong here.

The Dusk slithered across the bottom before reaching the stone concrete of the dock. He pressed himself tightly up against it, sticking close to the wall. His sharp claws ticked against the unmoving rock as his dim glowing eyes gazed up at the mysterious men.

Hoods? No way is this the agency that covered up the incident.

He narrowed his eyes into slits.

It’s too dark to see if these men have the V Army masks on…

The Dusk shivered in the cold water. He shook his head, thinking of all the atrocities the group had committed. No price was too high for Vermillion and his psychopathic misfits to pay. The Motor City Avenger had seen so much from the group he wished he would never have to speak of. He’d seen boys and girls, no older than fourteen, kill themselves for the cause of the twisted cult leader Vermillion. Who could have actually believed that a monster like Vermillion could make someone feel loved? Yet it was him who had convinced an entire army of young, lost teens to his cause just by making them feel accepted. He had blinded them to morality. The Dusk holds a bit of vomit remembering the children they’ve killed, the lives they’ve ruined, the city they stole from him.

The shadow slowly slid up the concrete of the dock, inching cautiously closer to the dark figures standing above him. He eyed them closely, doing everything in his power to observe them closely.

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