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Seven Sins for Seven Brothers (LMS)



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Mon Feb 13, 2017 4:03 pm
haredrier says...



Here's where I'm gonna be posting the chapters to my LMS project. Enjoy!
Death isn't cruel- merely terribly, terribly good at his job.
  





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Fri Feb 17, 2017 8:42 pm
haredrier says...



Chapter 1- 1814 words.

I just might've found a new favorite character to write.

Spoiler! :

10 AM. Sunlight streams through a dirty window and lands on closed eyelids and a mop of short, curly hair. He furrows his brow, and lifts one large arm to cover his eyes as he opens them. The bed creaks as Matt Jacobs sits up and swings his body over to the side of it. He moves one had to the top of his bedside table and picks up a glasses case. He opens it, and picks up a stick of beef jerky from the inside, slowly opening his eyes as he brings it to his lips. Shoving the whole thing in his mouth, he stretches and puts the case back. He sets it down on the edge of the table, wher eit promptly falls, spilling jerky everywhere. He only notices when he feels a piece in the bottom of his boot, and then lets his gaze fall down to survey the meaty mess strewn all over the floor. After removing the strip from his boot, Matt slowly kneels down and collects all of the strips strewn around before walking over to the window.
"Be free!" He mumbles as he opens the window and tosses the handful of stale beef jerky onto the bustling street below. One piece lands snugly underneath a driver's windshield wiper, like a parking ticket or religious leaflet. Matt grins as he walks back over to his bed, pulling out a dark purple breastplate from underneath and sliding into it. The straps fasten snugly, as if it were made for him. It stops just around where his ribcage does. He scratches his belly and heads out the door, picking up his wallet on the way out.

As Matt exits his apartment building and walks out onto the sidewalk, he kicks another piece of jerky out into the street. He crouches and leaps over the full length of the two-way street with ease. Upon landing, his head lands directly in an already bent pole.
"Are you okay?" A nearby man stuck in traffic had leaned out of his window to stare at the large man who had just leapt across the busy road.
“I'm good.” He turned to face the man, his face untouched.
“You should really pay more attention to where you're going, you know.”
“In my defence, the pole definitely saw me coming.” He stretched, slowly moving his head from side to side. And with that, he stuck his hands in hs pocket and strolled down the street.

Martin's convenience store, by all financial accounts, should be closed down years ago. It was in a less than perfect neighborhood, and there was fairly strong competition from the chain supermarket several blocks away. In fact, the only reason it stayed open was because of one single customer. When the government had first approached him, Martin was skeptical. “There's no way you'd pay me this much money just to make sure this Jacobs fellow is kept happy. He ain't even on the hero registry.”

Matthew Jacob's case is... peculiar”, the representative had admitted. “Not only has he never shown an allegiance to crime or various hero groups, we have yet to figure out any goals or strong code of ethics. From what we've seen so far, he has neither.”
“So he's killed people? I don't want a murderer anywhere near my store.”
“That's not what I said. He has commited felonies like bank theft before, but either he'll just keep it in his house or do some unpredictable thing with it. He's even given it back nicely in the past.”
“Then why the hell does he do it?”
“We don't know. Everything about him is a mystery to us so far. All he does is laze around, yet he posesses incredible strength and resilience. As for his actions, they might just be due to boredom for all we know.”
“He sounds like a bad guy to me. Why haven't you guys locked him up yet? You waiting for some hero to come along and do it for you?”
The government worker sighed. “He has no visible weaknesses, and has also helped out heroes in the past when he had issues with evildoers. Aside from his occasional scuffle, he hasn't really gotten the attention of the media. We don't even think Matthew- or Paragon, as some groups call him- is his real name.”

Martin crossed his arms. “I don't like it. I don't want some superpowered lunatic practically living in my shop.”
“I'm afraid you have no choice at this point, Mr. Williams. Do you remember that fight Novix had with the Millipede Master a week ago?”
“Sure do. Took out one of my biggest competitors. It's gonna cost em dearly just to get past health inspections with that mess.”
“That was his favorite store.”

Martin had gone pale, dreading what he knew was coming next.
“As it stands, you are the closest convenience store to his home address.” She peered down at her file. “Standing at exactly 1 block away from him, it's only inevitable that he'll come in here. At that point, you need to make sure he falls in love with your store. If he stays true to one store he'll be easier to monitor, as well as keep any possible damages to a minimum. Of course, you will get a monthly pay from the government for cooperation, as well as reimbursement for any damages that might happen due to Mr. Jacobs.”

In the end, Martin had been left with no other option. And it hadn't been as bad as he'd initially thought. Even though he'd been surprised at some of Paragon's requests in the beginning, he'd gotten used to him. He was so easy to predict and judge, Martin had wondered why the government didn't see it sooner. The key to understanding him, Martin guessed, was realizing he's not much more than an overgrown child that could probably demolish your whole building in less than half an hour if he wanted to. He hadn't told his sponsors this, of course. If they knew he was relatively harmless they might cut his funding, or stop it altogether. Then no one would be happy.

Martin waved as his cause of funding walked through the door. Around the same time as every other day, Martin thought. He had prepared.
“Hey Martin!” Matt called out. “What's on the menu for today?”
“A delightful chinese inspired medely of flavors. With a dumpling on the side.”
“Sounds great. To mix things up, I'll throw in something on the side. Let's see....”
Matt bent over a bit so his face was on eye level with the shelves, and began to slowly pace up and down the aisles. Martin turned his head to look back at the person he was ringing up. The kid was sporting a nose ring, both hands tucked into his hoodie. He looked slightly confused.
“I didn't know you do food here.”
“We don't.”
“Then what was...”
“It's just leftovers from takeout yesterday, mixed into a bowl and microwaved. Only for special customers.”
The kid looked confused, but didn't seem to want to argue about it. “So how much is that?”
Martin looked back down at the items next to the register. “18.99”.

The kid pulled out his wallet and looked inside. There was very little in there. He slowly slid his arm back into the pocket of his hoodie. Martin had a bad feeling about this. He turned his head to look for Paragon in the aisles, but the moment his eyes left the kid here was the cold barrel of a gun pressed into his neck.
“I'm a little short on cash right now, so would you mind doing me a favor and trading me? I won't shoot you, and you'll let me take these bags, as well as whatever's in that cash register.”
Martin felt like he should be more scared in this scenario, but looking back down at the troubled youth he just felt dissapointed. His most faithful customer robbed banks and broke into top secret bases before using nothing but his durability and carefree attitude. And the one time he gets robbed? They're probably not even out of highschool yet. Despite being underwhelming, they still had a gun. Martin moved to put the items into a shopping bag, going as slow as possible to keep his attacker from firing.
“Hurry it up”, the robber said. Suddenly, there was a shadow looming over them both. The kid turned, startled, and fired one round point blank into Paragon's chestplate. It ricocheted and hit the floor, doing no damage except scratching the flame decal on the armor. The kid realized his mistake and aimed higher, firing another two rounds at Matt's head. The bullets seemed to stop at his face, smashing into the skin and flattening instead of going deeper. Matt did not seem to appreciate it one bit. With one arm, he picked up the guy by his sweater and tossed him into the glass door with so much force that he flew through it, shattering the glass and landing in the middle of the street.

“I think I broke your door”, Matt admitted. In his other hand, he was clutching a bag of sour worms. Martin was not surprised. He picked those out almost every day. Martin had picked up on this a while back and now saved a significant amount of money by buying them in bulk.
“Don't worry about it. That kid had it coming. I'll go get your food.”
When Martin came back with the steaming bowl of assorted leftovers, Matt was still standing calmly in front of the cash register.
“That'll be twenty dollars.” Matt didn't seem to have a good grasp of how much things generally costed and he had started receiving a mysterious paycheck regularly, or so he told Martin. Probably a good call, Martin admitted. Costs less to just mail it to him than have to pay for repairs to bank safes.
Paragon fumbled in his pockets. “Whoops, looks like I forgot my wallet at home.” He picked up the cash register and stck a hole through the back, punching through the metal and retrieving a handful of bills. He picked out a twenty, and shoved the rest back into the hole.
“There you go”, he said. Handing Martin the bill, he took the food and headed out of the store, glass crunching under his feet.
No problem. Now, he'd be able to get the whole place repaired for free.
“Hey!”
Paragon turned around, the dumpling already halfway into his mouth.
“You do know you forgot your other shoe this morning, right?”
Paragon slowly looked down.
“Hmm”, he said, mouth full of dumpling. And with that, he walked through the broken door and casually stepped over the kid still lying in the road. Martin figured he should probably call an ambulance.
Death isn't cruel- merely terribly, terribly good at his job.
  





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Fri Feb 24, 2017 7:31 pm
haredrier says...



Chapter 2- 1098 words. Setting up the plot more in this scene, as well as introducing a great character to contrast Paragon.

Spoiler! :


Captain Martha Sullivan stepped into the elevator and hoped she wouldn't have to deal with him again today. She straightened her tie with one hand, there was no way she'd let the force see their superior officer in a state of disarray. She took a long sip of coffee- black with little sugar, just how she liked it. She took a deep breath, and the elevator doors opened.

Let us take a moment to study Martha Sullivan a bit. After graduating with flying colors from the police academy at 21, she was generally considered by her peers and superiors to be, in a word, overqualified. She had a knack for police work, and worked her way up in the ranks faster than her peers. Despite the world being filled with the supernatural and superhuman beings, she's managed to keep busy. Officers like herself were what kept the police from being obsolete, keeping close tabs on things under her jurisdiction and not being soft on people with powers. She quickly earned a reputation for being a down-to-earth, no nonsense cop with strong morals and devotion to the force. She had hoped to make officer, and to finally make a difference in places where it mattered. Unfortunately, when she was promoted to captain the precinct she was assigned was, for lack of a better word, a dump. She had managed to boost productivity, keep criminals off the streets and even renovate the precinct. That was when her worst nightmare showed up.


At the time of our story Captain Sullivan has already had the misfortune of meeting our protagonist on multiple occasions. Many, many more occasions than she would have liked. So, when she saw the chaos in the precinct on this particular morning she was not too surprised. Rather, she was hit by a wave of exhaustion and disappointment. Before reading her reaction to the cataclysmic mess that awaited her, keep in mind that she was, first and foremost, proper in all ways. Her subordinates had never heard her use slang, and she'd rather be caught dead than caught with a grammatical error. With this in mind, one can only imagine the disaster that met her eyes which prompted her to use such uncharacteristic language.


"Bruh", she mumbled to herself, looking out over the office in shambles.


To say it was a mess is like calling a terrorist attack a minor inconvenience to those involved. It looked like Santa Claus had attempted to train a tornado powered by holiday cheer and it had crashed into the station and then self-destructed. There was even a hole in the side of the building where it would have entered from. Baubles of all shapes, colors and shards of them were strewn on all visible surfaces, and tinsel dangled like broken spider webs spun by some massive, very festive spiders. In the center of it all the disaster was an oversized man with a santa hat covering curly hair, sporting a breastplate with a flame decal on it. He was standing with one foot on a desk, holding a massive cardboard box and throwing white packing peanuts all over the place. The moment he saw the captain's face his grin vanished. He got down from the desk quickly, looking guilty and mildly embarrassed. Sullivan's squad clamored out from underneath desks and tables to see what had saved them from more of this madness, and rushed to salute her.
Captain Sullivan took another long sip of coffee and stared disapprovingly at Paragon. She kept the silence alive for a good ten seconds, her gaze fixed on Paragon. This was her precinct, leaving them in suspense let them know it. It didn't matter if people had super strength or could jump through a wall as easily as walking through a sheet of paper, this was her domain. At last she broke the silence, if only to make Paragon stop sweating nervously.
"I don't think I want to know what compelled you to do this." She kept her steel gaze on him, the same gaze that had made hardened criminals confess in tears.
He tugged at the collar of his breastplate, as if that would help at all. "Haven't you heard of Christmas in July?"
She narrowed her eyes even more, causing him to instinctively flinch. "It's March. I'm going in my office. This had better be cleaned up in the next ten minutes."
"Come on Sullivan, where's your holiday cheer?"
She glared at him again. "That's Captain Sullivan or Sir to you. And if I see so much as a single packing peanut after ten minutes you won't like the consequences." Dealing with Paragon was slightly different than the normal people she dealt with. Ordinarily, she could make a very specific and precise threat, with enough detail and precision to make anyone squeamish. Naturally, a change of tactics is needed when dealing with someone who doesn't even flinch at a gunshot to the head. She was pleasantly surprised when she first found her attitude and a healthy helping of vagueness worked like a charm.


Captain Sullivan walked into her office and shut the door behind her. She had seen other officers get medals for outstanding police work when dealing with superhumans, and wished that dealing with the overpowered nuisance that is Matt Jacobs would qualify for something along those lines. We present Captain Martha Sullivan for the Flame Decal medal, for dealing with an unstoppable annoyance for months on end. Something like that, at least. As she sat down at her desk and got to work, she could at least say she was thankful that Paragon wasn't dangerous in general. He might rob the occasional bank or hang around the precinct far too much, but at least he wasn't actively killing or terrorizing the general public.


Miles away, a sound tears through the sky as reality is torn. A hand plunges out of thin air, covered in purplish armor. There is a sound like a war shout coming from everywhere and nowhere, both far away and right next to you at the same time. Finally, there is a tall man standing there. His arm disappears under a long dark crimson cloak. He peers around himself for a moment, his face covered by a hood. Finally, he sets off towards the towering city with a determined pace. Something about him gives off an air of aggression, as if he'd strangle you if you were to so much as speak to him. Before all this is over, he will probably do more than that. So, so much more.

Death isn't cruel- merely terribly, terribly good at his job.
  





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Fri Mar 03, 2017 3:04 pm
haredrier says...



Week 3- 1062 words. Setting some more stuff up for next week. Things'll go down.

Spoiler! :

Ten minutes later, Captain Sullivan heard a timid knock on her door. She looked up from her computer to see Paragon sheepishly peering in at her through the glass.
"Come in", she sighed.
Paragon opened the door and took a seat in front of her desk, in a chair that was far too small for him.
"I cleaned everything up."
Sullivan took her eyes off her work once more to peer at him. He had a few packing peanuts lodged in his curly hair. Behind him she saw the bullpen through her window. The gaping hole in one side of the wall was still there, but aside from that it looked relatively clean. She needed to put some tape over that before someone slipped and fell off the building. At least there were no more Christmas decorations around. Sullivan couldn't stand when people started decorating in November, much less March.

"As a keeper of the peace, I have to ask if you did anything illegal again today."
Paragon looked at the ground and squirmed a little in his chair. "No?"
She glared at him again, and he put his hands up as if she were about to attack him. "Okay, okay. I might have thrown someone through a glass door, but they started it."
"Are you sure they attacked you and it wasn't like the thing with the Jehovah's Witness again? Because I do not need another case like that on my hands."
"He was pointing a gun at a storekeeper and then shot at my head. I guess it might've been a misunderstanding though."
"Was this at Martin's?"
"Yeah. I just wanted breakfast, and he shoots me. Those things are loud, you know."
"Alright, go to Officer Morrison and let him take your statement."
"I don't like him. He smells like horseradish and deceit. He complains a lot too, all the 'Please get off my desk' and ' please don't hurt me'."
Captain Sullivan tried her best not to smile. "Just go and get it over with. If you do, I'll give you money to use the vending machines."
Paragon's eyes lit up and he quickly got up and headed out of her office. He liked vending machines, but didn't seem to realize that they don't accept bills larger than 5$. She didn't see the need to tell him though- he knew stolen bank money wouldn't work and it was a good way to make him do what you wanted.

Sullivan watched through the window as Paragon sat hunched over Morrison's desk, watching him slowly type out the report while sweating with fear. Paragon kept stealing glances at the vending machine, and then looking back at Morrison as if he was not to be trusted. She turned back to her work. Superheroes or not, she had work to do and so did everyone else on the force. She heard a squad car start up its sirens and drive out of the parking lot. She absentmindedly wondered what was the emergency this time. Her mind wandered to mysterious strangers with mystical powers flipping police cars like in action movies, and then dismissed it. After all, when that does happen there's generally a bigger announcement. It happened more often than she'd like too- there were so many wannabe villains vandalizing police property just to seem tougher. It just led to too much paperwork.

Several blocks away, the mysterious hooded figure roamed the streets. His head stuck up over the crowd, and his eyes darted from side to side. He didn't like the big crowds everywhere, there was too much jostling. Underneath the cloak he reached behind him and felt something wrapped up attached to his belt. He patted it to ensure it was still on there tightly, and went back to surveying his surroundings. He knew he'd have his vengeance soon.
Ahead of him on the street he spotted a white and blue car with lights on it. One of the men next to it looked like they were in some sort of uniform, and definetely were armed. So this was what the authorities looked like here. The armed man had another person pinned up against the car, his hands behind his back. The hooded man figured he could probably take the officer in a fight. He walked up and stopped directly above the two men at the car, looming over them. When he spoke it sounded grim and filled with murderous intent.
"You." He pointed to the policeman, who had just finished cuffing the other man.
"Well hello there. What can I do for you today?"
The hooded figure was taken aback. He had expected the officer to act quicker, to be on his guard. Then again, this kind of casual attitude wasn't surprising. Not when it came to him, at least.
"Where is your leader?"
The policeman looked mildly surprised, but kept a friendly smile on his face. "Pardon?"
"He means the mayor", said the man who was currently being arrested.

The hooded man wasn't sure what a 'mayor' was, so he tried to confirm they were talking about the same person.
"This man is the epitome of sloth in a human shell."
The policeman and the criminal exchanged a look.
"Definetely the mayor", said the man. The policeman nodded.
"Alright, you go about three blocks that way", said the officer, pointing as he spoke, "and then you take a right and go up another few blocks before you reach the mayor's office. You can't miss it."
The hooded man felt like there was something strange about the man. He was too polite for someone that has presumably executed criminals before.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," Said the officer, sticking the other man in the back seat of the car, "I have a purse snatcher to process. Have a good one!"

The tall figure watched the officer get into the front of the car and start it up, only to pull out of parking and get stuck in traffic a few feet away. He decided that the man must have lied to him. He was probably going to warn him right now. Who knows what trap the man had told him to go into.
And so, the hooded man began to follow the car as it crawled through rushour traffic, thinking of nothing but his revenge that was soon to be.
Death isn't cruel- merely terribly, terribly good at his job.
  





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Fri Mar 10, 2017 11:18 am
haredrier says...



Week 4- 1078 words.

Spoiler! :

A loud crash echoed through the police precinct. Through her window, Captain Sullivan could see Paragon standing next to the vending machine, which was lying glass-first on the floor. He turned to see her glaring at him, and quickly set it upright again and began shoving fallen snacks into the broken glass by the handful. She turned back to her computer and opened a new report that had been sent in late last night. Paragon crept into the room with the grace of a hippopotamus, and pulled up a chair behind hers. He held a tiny bag of chips, and began to eat it as he watched her work. Finally, his curiosity got the better of his fear and he piped up.

"Is this one any good?" He asked sticking his oversized hand into the miniature bag.
"Crimes aren't good, as a general rule. That's why they're illegal."
"Oh. Right."
They sat in silence for a little while, as Paragon leaned in to peer over her shoulder. The sound of his chewing loomed right next to her ear.

"A murder?"
"This is classified information, you know."
"I won't tell anyone", Paragon replied.
Captain Sullivan sighed. It's not like she could really do anything about it.
"Aren't there normally more pictures?"
"What?"
"In the thingy. There's usually more pictures, with broken stuff and people lying everywhere. This one's only got the one."
"That's the only evidence we have. Officers on the scene think that it must be what's left of the body."
"Where's all the legs and arms and other bits?"
"If their hunch is right, it's all there. They guess he was disintegrated."
"Huh."
Sullivan thought for a moment. "You wouldn't happen to know anyone who can do that, would you?"
Paragon sat in silcence for a couple seconds before responding.
"I don't think so", he said. "It seems like a lot of work, and you'd probably be worn out after."
Sullivan made a mental note to contact a hero organization and follow the lead, just in case. Matt Jacobs wasn't necessarily the expert on these matters, no matter how many bank vaults he could headbutt. If anything, he was a case in himself. She'd known him for a while now, much to her chagrin, and she still knew next to nothing about him. Could he only use his powers sometimes? Was there anyone else like him? What's with the breastplate? If not for the flame decal slapped on the front of it, it might looks fairly menacing. All she needed to know, she told herself, was that he was an annoyance and yet she had to keep him around. Otherwise who knows what he'd do. And all the work he'd cause her.

Paragon got up and headed for the trash can near the vending machine. As he dropped the empty bag of chips inside, the elevator doors opened and an officer strolled into the bullpen, criminal in tow.
"Hey, Matt!" He said cheerfully at the sight of Paragon. Officer Matthews was one of those people who are genuinely friendly to most everyone they meet, and one of the few people who seemed to tolerate Paragon. He had met Paragon the first time he had enetered the police station, and had bonded over the fact that they both had 'Matt' in their names. Since then, he'd always been cheerful towards Paragon and made a point of greeting him whenever he saw him. Paragon seemed to like him too, since Matthews didn't seem to mind when he used 'cop talk' he saw on TV.
"What've we got?" Paragon asked, assuming a serious tone that might've belonged to some grizzled detective on late night television.
"Oh, nothing serious. Just a purse snatcher here." He nodded towards the handcuffed man in tow.
The man flashed a wicked grin. "You pigs can't keep me. I'll be out before you trash have time to say 'You have the right to remain silent'."
"YOUHAVETHERIGHTTOREMAINSILENT!" Shouted Paragon as fast as he could. He looked down at the man expectantly, and then his expression dropped.
"Well that's no fun", he said. "You're still here."
The man glowered. Paragon looked dispassive. "You know what I meant."
Paragon shrugged.
"Everyone in this stinking precinct is a filthy pi-"
The man was cut off by Paragon's hand, slamming into his face with lightning speed. Paragon glanced around nervously.
"Shhh, " He whispered, crouching over the man. "She'll hear you."
His eyes darted to the Chief's office, and he noticed her glaring at them through the window. Paragon darted behind Officer Matthews, looking like an elephant trying to hide behind a telephone pole. Matthews seemed unperturbed, and continued to escort the man into a holding cell.

"By the way", said Officer Matthews, "I saw one of the grumpiest people I'd ever seen this morning. This guy saw him too", he said as me motioned towards the purse snatcher now in the cell. "Asked for the mayor's office, of all things."
The man in the cell grinned again. "He's gonna kill him", he said. "You could tell by the look in his eyes. He's out for blood."
"Well I don't know about that", said Matthews, "But he was strange one. He was even taller than you, I think."
Paragon stopped making faces at the man in the cell and stood straight up, looking shocked.
"Was he blonde? Maybe had some purplish armor on his arms?" Paragon asked, in the most serious and quiet tone anynone in the precinct had seen him use.
"You know, I'm not sure. There was this big crimson claok, so i couldn't really see. Now that I think about it, that's fairly odd too. Although I do think I saw a bit of a blond-ish goatee peeking out from under the hood. Couldn't say for sure.
Paragon said nothing, but turned and ran headfirst into the wall, smashing another hole in it and leaping down five stories. Sullivan came out of her office and sighed.
"He could've at least used the hole from earlier", she said.

Paragon landed in the alleyway behind the police precinct, and after looking around him he began to walk around the building towards the street. He rounded the corner, and nearly jumped back ten feet as he spotted a tall cloaked figure looking at the police station. The man turned to him. It couldn't be. It was. Paragon went pale. The man slowly began walking towards him.

"Finally."
Death isn't cruel- merely terribly, terribly good at his job.
  





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Fri Mar 17, 2017 9:00 pm
haredrier says...



1037 words, 6089 total.

Spoiler! :

Paragon put his arms up as the hooded man continued to walk towards him.
"After all this time, I've finally found you again. You can run, hide your nature, live under a false name. But I have found you."

As he spoke, he moved his hand behind him, and pulled the parcel off his belt. He tossed it to the floor along with the cloak. The sides of his head were buzzed, and on the top there was a wild patch of blond hair that matched his goatee. His right arm was covered with armor, from his knuckles to his shoulder. It looked old and has a purple tinge to the metal. There were spikes on the hand and the plates came up at the end, sharp and cruel. A thick leather strap ran from the shoulder piece and looped around his body. A heavy looking piece held the strap and one that ran opposite tight on his chest. Just under his left shoulder was a metal ring that held wrappings in place, and under that was nothing at all.

"Hey buddy, it's been a while", said Paragon, slowly backing aways and raising his arms. "I like what you did with your arm. It was sure nice to catch up, huh?"
"Nice?" He clenched his fist and growled. "You left us. You betrayed Father. You will pay for your betrayal dearly. And that, that will be nice."
And with that, he charged.

The one armed attacker threw himself at Paragon, coupling his charge with a wide swing. Paragon jumped back, and the man's fist shattered the concrete of the street underneath it. He straightened up and lunged for Paragon again. Paragon put his arms up to protect himself, but the man threw a punch in between them and hit him directly in his breastplate. There was a burst of energy, and The attacker reeled back from the shock. Paragon went flying for several feet before crashing in the concrete. As soon as Paragon got back up, the man was already walking towards him again.
"Look man, we can talk this out", Paragon pleaded. The man either did not hear him or did not care. He clenched his fist once more and his nostrils flared as he swung again. Paragon staggered back to avoid the swing, and then crouched. He leapt in an arc over the man. With one swing of his arm, the man grabbed Paragon's leg midair and swung it downwards, smashing Paragon into the pavement again. He kept his hold on Paragon's leg, squeezing it in his palm.

Flinching, Paragon kicked him in the shin with his other leg. The man loosened his grip and inhaled sharply. He swung down towards Paragon's legs, but he managed to move them before impact. The man's fist emerged from the pavement, leaving a hole just about the size of it in the solid concrete. Paragon scrambled backwards, trying to distance himself from his attacker. The man kept heading towards him, taking a swing every once in a while.
"How did you even know I was here?" Paragon asked, still scrambling backwards on the ground.
"I followed your pitiful excuse for a lawkeeper. I thought that once you ruled this world you would at least be somewhat competent. But once again, you dissapoint and mock us."
He swung downwards again, this time catching Paragon off guard and landing a hit to the face. Paragon reeled backwards, head planting firmly in the ruined concrete. Paragon's nose seemed a little off now, and a small trickle of blood flowed out from somewhere near his hairline.
The man was now on top of Paragon, placing one knee on his chest and putting all his weight on it. The already tall man now towered over Paragon even more. The fire in his eyes blazed brighter, and a look of pure hatred and rage was painted on his face. He raised his arm again, clenching his fist as he wound up for another punch.

A gunshot rang out, and the man atop Paragon grunted in pain and looked down to see a bullet in his chest, to the left of the crisscross of straps. It didn't seem to have made it past the skin, but it did seem to have hurt him somewhat. He looked back down at Paragon, and the anger on his face only seemed to grow stronger. As he swung down, another bullet flew at him and hit him in the side. The impact seemed to have turned his torso ever so slightly, and his fist punched through the pavement beside Paragon's head. He looked up to see Captain Sullivan standing several feet away with her gun trained on him. Behind her were a handful of other officers with firearms trained on him. Matthews hurried out the precinct door with a riot shield, and crouched in front of the captain.
"I'm going to have to ask you to get off of him", Sullivan said. "Please comply or we will be forced to open fire once more."
The man glowered at her, and Paragon tried to sit up. He put his hands on the man's leg and tried to move him. The man's gaze darted back down to Paragon, and Paragon saw the hatred in his eyes. The man moved his arm behind him and leaned backwards ever so slightly. His weight shifted ever so slightly off of Paragon, who managed to move his leg. The man lost his balance and toppled backwards. Paragon took this opportunity to rush backwards, closer towards the handful of officers trained on his attacker. The man growled as he got up onto his knees.
"This is far from over. I will have my vengeance soon, and your pathetic guards will not save you."
He flung a massive slab of broken concrete towards them and started off in the other direction. It shattered on impact with Paragon, raining bits of rubble on the police behind him. He didn't seem to notice the concrete, but still looked incredibly shaken up. Sullivan had never seen him look that shocked or concerned.
"Are you alright?" She asked.
Paragon nodded, eyes still fixed ahead.
"Who was that?"
"My brother", Paragon said.
Death isn't cruel- merely terribly, terribly good at his job.
  








The thing about plummeting downhill at fifty miles an hour on a snack platter - if you realize it's a bad idea when you're halfway down, it's too late.
— Rick Riordan, The Son of Neptune