Limited The Chair

This RP is open, but with limitations.

Fang

Active member
”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.
 
“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.
 
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