Limited The Chair

[Fang]

”Look, man, Im just saying-“



Nat grunted, the exertion interrupting what was becoming less a discussion than he might have hoped for. Running across rooftops was hardly the best time to carry on a conversation of any kind, even with the spring-loaded heels that propelled him across the hurtling gaps between buildings. He had been the one to initiate the conversation, though, so he could hardly complain.



”It’s not that I don’t want you to go into the field. I made you the armor, didn’t I?” Another pause as he crossed another gap and landed into a roll. ”Armor isn’t enough to protect you completely. I won’t even use my power, but I’ve got to know you can at least handle a regular person before I could consider bringing you in on a mission like this.”



He had been tossing out half-truths like that one a lot more lately, though he wasn’t sure if that meant he was getting closer to finding Cryptid or farther away. It seemed the chase was becoming more desperate at this point, chasing whispered rumors of a man in a horned mask being seen with a group of supposed other shady people with a penchant for costume.



It made sense for the cannibal to be so difficult to find if someone was covering the trail, and from what Nat could gather it seemed as though Cryptid might have found himself allied with possible metahuman traffickers. The reports he had of their collusion were tenuous at best, and the reports of the people involved were shakier even still.



”If these guys are really trafficking metahumans there are probably some in their ranks as well. If it’s dangerous for me then its dangerous for you.” Nat grinned beneath his mask as he slid to a stop near the edge of a seven story building. ”Location is in sight, Den Mother.” Nat pointed toward the garage below with only a soft chuckle that might have been a clearing of his throat.

 

[Wendigo]

“Copy that, Cub Scout,” Todd replied, without hesitation. Of all the names for Nat to decide to get creative with, Todd’s callsign was the most annoying – so Todd had started to annoy back. The banter was probably good for their relationship. “Just remember this is a recon mission. If these people are as dangerous as we think, you need information more than anything. Try not to engage.”

From the safety of the Wolf Den, Todd was watching the area of Nat’s location. The kid had made a risky choice, and it was partly his mentor’s fault. Nat had been looking into gunrunners in the area, and incidentally found what he heard as “metahuman traffickers” by the name of Slate Todd, assuming this would help keep the kid away from Obsidian, at least for a while, had encouraged the information. Metahuman arms traffickers would only get the kid curious, right?

Well. Todd didn’t account for Nat’s negligible survival instinct. Metahuman trafficking only grabbed his attention, and he’d insisted on checking them out on his own. In this case, Nat was actually applying a principle Todd had given him – always check your info, no matter how much you trust your source. At least if it backfired, Todd could frame this as a test, lie about why he was lying in the first place.

“And I told you, Sam’s been training with me – you can ask her how it’s going. I couldn’t ask for a better teacher. Besides, I don’t have to get in a fistfight if I’m under the radar. Sparring aside, you haven’t given me the chance to show you what I can really do.”

Of course, Todd didn’t actually want that chance. There was way too much risk. Either Nat would figure him out immediately, or he’d accidentally give the kid insights into countering his fighting style as Cryptid. Sam was a good teacher, and so was Sulphur; but he still relied heavily on his instincts and heightened senses in a real fight, and he was just as likely to tank a hit and heal as he was to dodge with metahuman speed. Neither was something he wanted Nat to see. Let alone any possible slips on the field – hunting or not, his recent incident with Obsidian… yeah.

 

[Fang]

Nat choked on his own humor, Todd’s immediate rebuttal halting the chuckle in his throat. He had to admit it was fitting, calling a Wolf “Cub” just as it was fitting to call someone stuck in the warehouse “Den Mother.” Both might have been a little demeaning, but at least they were said in good faith. Todd was right, though. Nat hadn’t given him much of a choice, though in this particular instance it was more to do with the comfort of having his mentor in his ear than any doubt he had over his capacity.



”I know, I know, observation only.” Nat snapped back as he dove off of the rooftop, a single cable whirring out from the steel of his suit to slow his fall. He hit the ground silently, and held a hand up to his ear as he continued. “I’m sure Sam has been doing her best,” Nat eyed the garage warily before continuing, searching for signs of movement. ”But even with the best training in the world people can get hurt. People can die.” You could be eaten. He didn’t say the words, though he was sorely tempted to. It had begun weighing on him lately, keeping secrets from the man who had been nothing but supportive of him.



There were deeper issues to consider, though, beyond the possibility of Cryptid devouring Todd in front of his eyes. ”Just ask Sam,” Nat said, echoing his mentor’s own advice. ”I know you’ve dealt with a lot in your life, Todd. Is it so wrong I don’t want to see more added to your grief?” They still hadn’t talked about the weight Nat had seen in Todd’s bearing, the past that he held so close to his chest. Nat suspected that they never would, but he wanted the man to know that he understood. It came with the territory, and with each ally Nat made he knew that same kind of weight would eventually find him.



”I’m not seeing any signs of life inside,” he said quickly to change the subject. ”What are the chances this is a wild goose chase?” He had brought the possible existence of Slate to Todd’s attention a while ago, and his mentor had found little else to support the rumor of the traffickers’ existence. Todd was a much better detective than Nat, so it was entirely possible that Slate was nothing more than just that; a rumor or perhaps a distraction for the Wolf who was doing his best to eliminate crime from the city.

 

[Slate]

There weren’t many boxes left. Hematite had checked thirty -two boxes since he had arrived at roughly five that evening. Honestly, it wasn’t terrible work, and he could move at his own pace as he shifted through the latest order for Carmen, one of the many connections Obsidian had made in the city since arriving. It was to their benefit to help her eliminate all of the higher-tier crime in the city– or at least bring it under her control. That left large swathes for them to claim as well. Between the two of them, things were falling into place.

The new order was far more extensive than the previous one. Lots more of the rifles previously discussed and the explosives she had requested. All in all, everything had been as expected, and Hematite had merely checked things off his list as he moved on. The list he was working off was simple– it listed, quite literally, Product A, Product B, and so on. There were numbers associated with the letters, and those numbers were memorized by most of Slate as identification numbers for their weaponry.

He hummed as he worked, before checking the time. God, had it really gotten that late? Wait, he was supposed to be working on not using God as a term. Damn. Rhody was trying with him, but if Hemie was being honest, he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the religion thing. Maybe he was just too angry to accept it. After what had happened with him and his sister, it was hard to have faith in a higher power. Maybe he would eventually get past Rachael’s death, but it wouldn’t be today.

With that thought heavy in his head, he set the clipboard down and made to leave the warehouse for a minute. He hadn’t had a break since he arrived, so he was due to go stand outside in the crisp winter air. It was long past nightfall, so he snatched up his corduroy jacket as he passed it and tugged it on over his violet and green geometric t-shirt. The beads in his long dreads rattled against each other as he stepped outside, taking in a breath of crisp, winter air.​

 

[Fang]

”Hold that thought.”



Nearing the exterior wall Nat had heard… something. He wasn’t certain, truly, of what had given him pause. A shuffle, a thump, or perhaps simply an instinct that told him something or someone was moving inside. There were some few windows to peer through, and though they were clouded with age and filth he could just barely see the moving shadow of a human figure while peeking over the edge.



”Looks like someone is inside.”



Without waiting for direction from Todd Nat rounded the building’s front, toward the bay door near where he had seen the silhouette. He darted from boxes to barrels, footsteps silenced by his careful tread and the use of his power to hold the steel of his armor in place. The space around the door had been cleared, with nowhere to hide beyond the stack of crates where Nat found himself stuck as the man stepped outside.





”Might be a worker of some kind.” The hope in Nat’s voice was clear, cover for the boundless doubt he gave no voice to. For a moment there was silence, breath held as thought ran faster than lightning to weigh his options. A sharp exhale marked Nat’s decision.



”Lets see if he’s friendly.”



The tension seemed to melt away as Nat stepped around the piled crates, straightening and making his presence explicitly known as he raised his hand in an awkward wave.



”Hi there! You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a group called Slate, would you?”

 

[Slate]

Just as Hemie was getting comfortable in the cool air, a voice broke the night. He slowly turned toward where it had come from, staring blankly. Was this… was this really happening? Did this young vigilante(?) just ask him if he knew anything about Slate? Was he being punked? Hemie quickly looked around for any sign of the Pack. This felt like the kind of joke Lapis would pull on him. It wasn’t quite Onyx’s style, nor did it fit his wife, Rhody. Obsidian and Sulphur didn’t play jokes.

“... I’m sorry brother, did Lapis send you here to mess with me?” His Chicago accent was thick as he spoke, his lips quirking up at the edges. There was absolutely no way this was a real child vigilante. He was definitely being punked. “You can go tell her I bought it and get paid, okay? No need to drag this out, aye?”

He pulled the collar of his jacket up to protect his neck from the chill. Late December was hardly a time to be as dressed down as he was, but sifting through the boxes had kept him warm enough. He wished he had the scarf that Rhody had made for him, but he’d survive until he got back to the Rover and could warm up.​

 

[Fang]

Nat’s eyes narrowed slightly behind his mask; a tentative note taken in the back of his mind. He still wasn’t certain whether the man was involved with the matahuman traffickers or not, but any information could lead to the next step in the Wolf’s investigation. Lost behind the masks Nat smiled politely anyway, expression lending credence to his friendly tone.



”I’m, sorry, I don’t know who you’re talking about. And I’m definitely not getting paid for this.” What would you even charge for vigilantism? ”You see, there are rumors floating around that the group called Slate is responsible for the disappearance of a number of metahumans.” Nat paused casually to examine the man’s response.



”Even if it were normal people disappearing the group would definitely be a cause for concern, but when you add the unpredictability of superhuman powers to the mix,” Nat spread his hands out in a shrug as he stepped around the crates toward the man. Non-threatening, openly displaying that though he was armored he held no weapons. In many ways Nat felt like he were trying to approach a wild animal, though.



”We are just trying to keep people safe.” Todd had been oddly silent, which Nat assumed meant he was probably okay with the way the conversation was going. Either that or he was having a panic attack.



”If you know anything that could help it would be greatly appreciated.”

 

[Wendigo]

”Looks like someone is inside. Might be a-”

The line dropped. There was a crinkle of static, like he’d found a rare dead zone. Maybe it was an intentional dead zone. Either way, Todd’s heartbeat spiked as he turned to the next monitor, rewinding the traffic footage to try to catch a glimpse of what his student had seen.

“Cub Scout, come in. Do not engage. I repeat, Wolf, do not engage!”

He hoped that went through, but he wasn’t picking anything else up. Nat had a tendency to talk to himself when working. He really wanted to sit this out, to wait. He watched the camera run in reverse –

And then hit the spacebar when a figure came on screen. He stared at it for a second, and then sucked a sharp breath. He fast-forwarded to the present with one hand, and pressed his comm with the other, hoping to whatever might be out there to hear him that the signal outage was one-way.

“Wolf. Wolf, if you can hear me, withdraw. Get out of there right now.”

Hematite. This wasn’t supposed to be a Slate warehouse. Todd had tried to keep track of those on his own patrols, more for steering Sam away from them when he could. There wasn’t any audio on the feed, either, so he had no idea what was happening on that end, but Nat had apparently stopped in the cold spot. Off-camera, based on where Hematite was facing. Shit. Hemie would probably take it easy on the kid – until he realized that the kid wasn’t going to take it easy on him.

There was a chance this didn’t turn into a fight. Maybe Hemie would talk to Wolf, try to get him to stand down, maybe even recruit him. Then again, that might just piss Nat off and trigger an attack. The chances of this not turning into a fight were actually getting lower and lower. He’d have to watch the cameras, and keep his comm on, but there was enough of a chance of this going badly in a district fifteen minutes away by motorcycle that he’d have to get suited if he wanted to go. The Malibu was parked down the street – he could go for his claws, for his whole duffel, really, but for right now he was going to start by heading downstairs to the mannequins, the one in blue and grey. It might take a minute to get the flexible armor on for the first time, and there wasn’t enough time to spare. He just had to hope things got settled before he could commit to his current plan.

 

[Slate]

For a second, all Hemie could do was look at the kid. He was being serious? He was being serious. That was odd. They hadn’t had much trouble lately with vigilantes, much less child vigilantes. He looked around them, then frowned and thought about what he was actually being asked. After a moment, he smirked and held up a hand, one finger raised.

“One. I’m with Slate, brother. Name’s Hematite.” A second finger went up. “Second, we don’t do human trafficking. That’s beneath us. We don’t have to traffic metas– we just have to tell them that we can lead them to a better way. You’re barking up the wrong tree, brother.”

Hemie shrugged and pulled the jacket tighter around him, crossing his arms. It was much colder when he wasn’t moving, but that was December for you. With a sigh, he looked back toward the warehouse. He really needed to finish crosschecking, but he couldn’t do that with this kid here. No, mask needed to be dealt with first. Either scared away or subdued, whichever proved to be more convenient. The dark-skinned man cracked his neck, his dreads falling over his side shave to cover it. The beads and rings tinkled like little bells as they clanged against one another.

“You’re better off looking into anyone else in the area. Or maybe not. Maybe you should just go home, brother, before you get hurt. I’d rather not see a kid getting injured on the news because he wanted to play hero, you feel me?”​

 

[Fang]

Nat had learned body language younger than most. He attributed the skill to his bullies, a subtle way to turn the unpleasant experiences they offered him into something useful to grow upon. The dreadlocked man looked around himself and Nat knew he had stumbled onto a villain, the air turning from tense to electric as his response was given. Nat’s fists clenched slightly, his feet shifted as Hematite cracked his knuckles, and beneath his masks Nat’s jaw clenched.



“We don’t have to traffic metas– we just have to tell them that we can lead them to a better way.”



It may as well have been a confession. Arguing semantics with a villain was pointless unless you needed time to breathe, and Nat was fresh as a summer breeze. He had come to find Slate, the supposed cause of meta disappearances. Whether they considered it trafficking or not was a problem for the police and therapists.



”I’ve got to be honest, brother,” Nat’s voice was remarkably steady and hid the tension in his body well. ”You don’t seem like the kind of guy that watches the news.” Inside Nat was practically squealing. If Hematite hadn’t been an enemy he would have ran over and hugged him, thanked him for his classically delivered villainous lines. Nat had been active enough in the past several months that he had hoped such an exchange would only be a matter of time.



The steel around his wrists slid forward with a muted clang, surrounding the knuckles of his clenched fist neatly. ”Let’s find out who’s playing.” The internal squeal reached its apex; finally given another chance he had managed to deliver heroic banter naturally. The satisfaction was palpable, giving fuel to his burst of motion a moment after his line was delivered.


Bolstered by his power Nat moved in a flash to cross the distance between himself and the professed member of Slate. Crates served as launching pads, cracking under the weight of his heavy footfalls before he hopped to the next. His right fist swung wide, the weight of his armored suit granting extra force as he aimed for Hematite’s jaw. It was enough to break bone, and hopefully knock the muscular man out. Once he was incapacitated Nat could haul him back to the Den and show Todd his prize.



Together they could come up with a plan to get more information on Slate from him. Let them see how if feels to have their people disappear.