All rights, images, characters etc owned by DC. This is a work of fiction.
CRACK!
I just realised that I don’t actually know when my birthday is?
CRUNCH!
Doesn’t really matter.
WHACK!
Just odd that it’s something I don’t know.
THUMP!
Midnighter stopped. Blood trickled off his knuckles. Covering the floor, and embedded into some of the walls, were the bodies of three dozen bikers. It was complete overkill, like putting a great white shark in a paddling pool of retarded toddlers. He looked down at the corner of his trench coat.
“Which one of you MAGGOTS ripped my coat?!”
He rolled his eyes back in his head as he replayed the fight through his head and within milliseconds had the answer. Midnighter walked over to a pile of bodies tossing several aside before he hauled out an unconscious biker, blood soaked into his bushy beard.
“Wake up!” He shook the man roughly. “I said WAKE UP!”
The bikie slowly jarred into the land of the living, coughing up bile and teeth as he did. “I give man,” he whimpered “You win.”
“Oh this isn’t over for you tubby,” Midnighter growled as he lifted him up like one would a child. “You know how much this coat cost me? How long I’ve had it? What we’ve been through?”
“No…” cried the bikie. “P-please don’t kill me.”
Midnighter smiled as he lowered him back down “Oh I’m not going to kill you, but you’re going to wish that I did.”
SNAP!
**
Midnighter sat in his sewer bolt hole under the city. He’d been here about a year; living rough and lean between missions Bendix sent him on. It was good. Nothing to distract. The mission then quiet. Well as quiet as a sewer could be but the constant dripping was soothing and helped him sleep which was rare and short.
Bzzt! Bzzt!
Unlike the hum of his pager. But a page meant a new mission.
-Good job on the distributors. Now eliminate the suppliers. Tomorrow you end Nueva Familia Tijuana. Coordinates to follow. B-
Midnighter smiled and began packing.
Maybe today is my birthday?
**
<No!> snarled Martino Nueva, the second in command of the Nueva Familia cartel, at the group of men pointing AK-47’s and Uzis at him from across the car park. <You put down your weapons?>
<You must be kidding me? Right?”> laughed Ramon Revella, leader of the Azteca Eagle Clan who ran Nueva’s drugs out of Tijuana and into the States. <You put your guns down! Then we talk.>
Midnighter casually stepped out of the shadows. “I don’t speak much Spanish but I’d suggest you keep your weapons, you’re going to need them.”
The two groups of hyped up Mexicans turned their attention, weapons and eyes to the lone man in black smoking a cigarette who interrupted them.
<Who is this idiot?> snapped Ramon.
<He must be with you.> chuckled Martino “You lost gringo?”
Midnighter took the cigarette out of his mouth. A sneer ran across his lips like a wave. “This is almost too easy. I know what moves all of you are going to make. I’ve fought this fight in my head a million different ways. I can hit you all without even looking. You are all about to very, very dead by the time this cigarette hits the ground.”
Like a twirling baton, the cigarette sailed into the air. All eyes fixed upon it. The air shimmered followed by the weird smell and then area was bathed in bright light and heat as if the sun hovered over the car park. Then exploded!
FSSZZAK!
The light burnt intensely and seconds later it was dark again with Midnighter standing alone in the car park surrounded by piles of ash.
What the &^%$?
“What the ^%$#?!?” spat Midnighter as the cigarette bounced onto the ground. He looked up at the man with a yellow glowing nimbus around his head. “Seriously, what the ^%$#?!?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
How the hell do I fight that?
“You…” Midnighter watched him, he was mesmerising. His brain was running scenarios over and over and the results weren’t looking good, even though tall, bright and handsome was.
Concentrate!
“I was told to come here by B,” he said as he glided down to the ground “I got a page.”
Midnighter smiled as the battle scenes in his head started panning more and more in his favour. “What?”
What the actual ^%$#?!??
“My name is Apollo.”
Midnighter fought his face as it tried to smile “I don’t…just show the page before I tear your head off.”
Apollo unclipped a similar ancient tech pager like he had and handed it over as the sullen vigilante snatched it up. Midnighter read the message before tossing it back. “I don’t need help. I had this.”
Apollo raised his hands in surrender, smiling “I’m sure you did. I’m just doing what I was told. Sorry to step on your toes.”
Did his teeth just sparkle?
Choom! Choom!
The pair looked over at a large cybernetic gorilla with a man’s head and arms that were howitzers covered in chainsaws that landed a few feet from them. Apollo’s eye lit up, literally, but Midnighter placed a hand on his chest “My turn sunshine. Watch and learn.”
Stop feeling him up!
<I am Monkalez! Ape-borg enforcer fo…” A black gloved hand slammed into his throat followed by a severed wrenching that pulled his lower jaw clean off. Midnighter leant in and whispered into its ear.
<Don’t die too quickly; I’m trying to impress a boy>
**
-Well done. One vein of the drug trade closed. Return state side. B-
“Should we get that?” panted Apollo as he prised his lips off Midnighter’s mouth with a liquid pop. A black gloved hand grabbed his chin, fingers pressing hard against his solid jaw tilting his head back and cracking the brickwork of the alley.
“In a while.” Midnighter whispered as he returned to kissing the golden man.
Maybe today IS my birthday!
End Part 1...
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