Club Inferno- Villains Lounge

@grift3r: Very silent and controlled grunts echoed from the glass dome of the Puzzler as Gideon laid out his moves, finally bending over and clutching his stomach from what seemed like the final blow but a kick was going for his calf. A game changer however, Puzzler literally melting away into the purple smoke quickly to make Gideon's stance falter from an unconnected kick. From the smoke behind Gideon stepped out Puzzler, this time with his arms crossed and dome glowing. "Steady breathes Gideon, steady..The gas that surrounds us is considerably not good for the senses.." Puzzler informed Gideon of the smoke's sense nulling nature while uncrossing his arms and thrusting his open hands outward, blinding lights coming from both hands along with the glass dome upon his head in an instant.

The energy, the vibrations, the laughter, streams of alcohol, dancing and everything in between. It's almost as if Higgins had been possessed by all the sinister delights the club offered, a paradise for the world's villains from every walk of life. Petty crooks, mad scientists, dominatrix assassins, this place had them all jumping up and down on the dance floor like some sort of ancient ritual, and he was in on it. The bass was so intense he could feel it through his padded suit, the occasional touch and bump from a winking mistress, or a glaring rock villain with a spilled drink.

What made this intensely enjoyable was the fact that they welcomed POW! with open arms. For to them, this was not Terrance Higgins, they assumed it was the one and only Willis Lincoln under that mask partying hard. All of this, made it so much harder to remember who POW! was under that mask, he was a sheep in wolves clothing...But what was stopping him from stopping and smelling a few of the flowers?

There they were, the fearsome four as the tabloids would call them after their successful heist. The four sat on the lounges couches, all of them just staring up at the ceiling, using their massive amounts of stolen cash as pillows and back rests.

"...Be right back guys.." POW! set down his champagne bottle and got up half asleep, stumbling to the bathroom. Once the door was said and locked, the villain removed his mask, staring at his own face in the mirror.

After a few moments to remember that he was still Higgins, the criminal pulled out his cellphone and selected Kurt's name.

@pyrogram

Hey duder, we should hang again soon alright? -Higgs

@agent_higgins: You guys are gonna get it when my homies find out what you did.

@antonia: "Oh! It's just you Higgins! Did you see where that POW! guy ran off to!?" Says Quintus to the totes cowardly Higgins :P

@agent_higgins: MHA is gonna throw you under the bus when I catch ya!

@agent_higgins:

"Where...." Kurt sounded distant. Still too frustrated having learnt of recent events "Sorry, I mean. Sure, where do you wanna meet?" He tried to sound happier.

@pyrogram: "Why don't I just go over to your place for once? I think if I have another milkshake imma burst lol" Higgins texted back while sliding his mask back over his face.

@antonia:

You think the M.H.A is going to affiliate with Higgins if he is caught!? It's an undercover operation! They'll just be like. "Welp, throw him in supermax"

@agent_higgins:

Kurt replied back "Hmm...I don't exact "have" a place....you know my usual hideout in the Gothic Harbors?...how about there?".

@agent_higgins: Yeah, that's throwing you under the bus.

@pyrogram: "Sure! Outta costume though, I'll bring some beer!" POW continued to type while grabbing his large black bag of cash, slinging it over his shoulder. "See you guys tomorrow night!" He waved to his crew mates who weakly waved back, some tired, some drunk.

"Paul.." POW gave a nod to the massive doorman, getting one in return before taking his leave.

@antonia: Well for some reason I thought you meant in a literal sense o_o

@agent_higgins: No, that's Kurt. He's going to literally throw you under a bus.

They'll be your trucks (inside joke).

@antonia: Don't you dare incarcerate anybody else with a truck. That's the ultimate evil....

I'm going to Jesus and asking it to be made a sin.

@agent_higgins:

Kurt sat in his abandoned warehouse simply awaiting his partner. Feeling angered...frustrated and overly hateful. A red cloth mask simply spewed across the ground. Kurt currently sitting on the floor his back pressed against the wall, his legs outstretched.

After his unexpected escape from a Gothic institutional lockup, the psychopathic Faust had been left wandering the streets. Still dressed in a pair of now bloody scrub bottoms and a riot vest decoratively flared with correctional badges taken from his victims. A virtual time-bomb, it was only a matter of time before the defense cerebral walls subconsciously broke down and released the true uncontrollable demons of mental marination.

[whistling] Approaching the back entrance, the notorious underground hangout for the World's more....lackluster villains, had seemed an interesting prospect. Deciding to pay the establishment a visit, Fabiano approached the door. Before an exiting vigilantly who's late night escapades had reached an obnoxious level recklessly shouldered him on his way into the alley.

"Watch where you're going bitch." the uniformed drunker stammered. "Oh oh, my bad my bad. I was just...." Faustus began, trying to offer an apologetic verbal disarmament only to be rudely interrupted. "I dont give a fck about your bad!" the agitated continuous of ignorance bringing an alarming grin to the Depleted Dragon's face.

"You seen my fruit-cup?.........."

Several minutes Faustus made his way through the ambient setting of Club Inferno,

@fabiano_faustus: POW was having a drink at the bar, sipping on a white Russian with his mask slightly rolled up until he noticed the target themed man walk back into the club. "Didn't that dude just leave?" He asked out loud to himself before rolling his mask back down.

"Oh yeah? Wellz I heard some merc from.....one of those banana eating countries kick started da whhhhhole thing. Bull...some'n or other. Ran up on Gothic like motherfckn gangbusters, sprung em all." grunted one of the many inebriated patrons of the underground night spot known as Club Inferno. Surrounded by an assorted collection of nefarious villains, the menacing motormouth continued. "Damn near every freak with a mask and a gun is on the lose there. I hear some of them are even being recruited by the guy." the man's embellished story captivated those in attendance. "Yeah but aint he worried bout the heroes?" questioned a theatrical attired fellow. "Whats to be worried about? That nut job who dresses like a bat turned fetish perv? Please. Aint no...." his words trailing off as the establishments lights inexplicably went out.

Crashing through the window and cinematically somersaulting across the floor, the Dark Arashikage wasted little time. Constructing a stylish series of foundational maneuvers that inherently linked one another and built upon unprecedented anticipation. Operating on a level of combat precognition customarily reserved for the superhuman. Masking the impressive ballet with a timely explosion of concealing smoke, allowing the masked crusader to sweep through the club virtually undetected. And by the time the visually choking smug had evaporated, the True Arashikage was gone. And so was the loud mouth criminal."WHERE.....WHERE AM I?" he screamed. Hanging upside, suspended several stories above an unassuming warehouse. The cracking of the partial masked Knightfall's neck redirected his attention."What...WHAT DO YOU WANT?" he pleaded."I want the location of the one they call, Brahma Bull....."

@the_dark_arashikage:

"You were absent during Gothic's fall", an anomalously deep voice of menacing audibility echoed, the aromatically cultivated presence of the Brahma Bull's petrifying vocal interruption eerily adjacent to aurally accumulating footsteps of quaking generation. Under the unbearable weight of preternatural muscular mass, the ground quaked with intimidating subtlety. "Let us rectify that", the Militant Mammoth's lexical declaration signaling his forthcoming appearance. Amid the ambient darkness, emergent eyes of baleful, vermilion luminosity jointly accompanied the compiling loudness of perpetual footsteps. Pausing his hulking frame before the bat-themed Knightfall, the Brahma Bull inquired, "Shall we?".

Exercising relative cerebral premeditation, aware of his opposition's tactical pedigree and practically implemented combat intellect, the Guerrilla Goliath anticipated an encounter with one of the globe's greatest practitioner's of combat-oriented, methodical dissection.

I didn't even know Fruit Cup had shown up here! I should've known. And I'll see him.

@brahma_bull:

As if the simple mentioning of his name had opened hells gates and allowed the Combat Colossus entry into the World, he appeared. Muscle compacting flexion morbidly illustrating the veins and tendon fibers protruding along the hulking militants defined arms. An impressive physical display of extraordinarily achieved bulk, the likes of which the Knightfall Polymath had never witnessed before.

A verbal retort would have been an exercise in futility as both gladiatorial protagonists fully understood the magnitude that such an epic clash would bring, and its inevitable confrontational conclusion. With this in mind, the need for theatrical fabrications of identity concealing administration were useless. As such, Quintus snatched the scull warming winter cap off his head while concurrently rolling his shoulders backwards letting his dark green military jacket slip to the ground. Leaving behind a simple white t-shirt tucked beneath a yellow special ops utility belt and trademark of the Dark Arashikage.

In a quick dash Quintus sought to close the distance. Hopping across the roof utilizing an alternating right,left gallop propping hip originated momentum enabling the Perennial Polymath to unsheathe a modified switch-kick, targeting the Brahma Bull's knee before instantly transitioning high and seeking out the side of his head.

@the_dark_arashikage:

Ominously submerging his person in maliciously conveying silence, the Brahma Bull consciously readied himself for the most martially prominent of his confrontations, intent on unleashing graphic pictorial violence, undeterred by socially constructed phenomena such as mercy, or the ingrained moral fiber which serves as the ethical foundation of one's humanity. The gargantuan terrorist's sanguine-hued oculus menacingly met Quintus' with escalating indignation, the sight of a healthy human being before him, it incited disgust, the Knightfall's skeletal system, its structural fragility, wordlessly pleading to be broken by the Bull.

Incapable of contending with the Living Weapon's grandiose physical rapidity, the vehement Goliath found his mammoth frame speedily antagonized by his opponent's virtuoso assault of potent martial exemplification. An impeccably executed switch-kick thrust towards his knee, narrowly snapping it back, the only deterrent, the Goliath's unaccounted for herculean strength and imposingly durable bone structure. Subsequently, Quintus' following side-kick was enabled by athletically chambering his leg across the body, linearly extending his leg towards Brahma's exposed head while simultaneously flexing his abdominal muscles for immaculate execution. Pulling his toes back, the Dark Arashikage's heel viciously collided with the side of Brahma's unprotected jaw, an audible thud accompanying the cinematically showcased strike.

"You strike quite hard for a little man", the Brahma Bull taunted, his head having tersely jerked sideways upon violent impact with Quintus' side-kick, the prevention of unconscious due to the stubborn hardness of his bones and freakish power of his neck muscles. Lightly rubbing his attacked jaw in a concise moment of dulling pain, the Guerrilla Goliath quickly proceeded with deceptive rapidity, absurd for one of his hulking frame. Shooting his colossal arms forwards, Brahma's hands sought to grip Quintus' heads by both sides. Upon potential success, monstrous strength would be implemented as his fingertips would be barbarously squeezed into the Knightfall's skull, violently applying ten points of pressure of torturous agony. Additional squeezing of Quintus' temples via the violent pressing of his carpals against them would be utilized, intent on lowering Quintus' standing position under the compiling pain and pressure.

Concluding his assault with an attempted, abrupt lowering of Quintus' head, Brahma savagely thrust the front of his knee towards his opponent's chin, intent on impacting with abnormal strength.

@brahma_bull: (stellar stuff)

@the_dark_arashikage: (Just keeping up brother)

Hehehe.

Go easy on him. If he's put out, I'm out of a job.

@antonia: :P

@brahma_bull:

Quintus' vision began to tunnel, not of focus, but rather of shock. A look of disbelief momentarily taking hold of his contorted facial orchestrations while his body remained unimpaired. Instant recoil of muscle marination allowing for stylish conversions and rapidly alternated postural transitions. But it made little difference. The athletic excellence compiled within the crowning physical apex he now faced was all but overwhelming. In an instant the Dark Arashikage's head was caught in the monster's vice like grip, the constrictive force violently perverting the body's natural flow of fluids causing Quintus to bleed from his eyes, ears, and nose.

Disparately, he locked onto the Baneful Bull's wrists in a mad attempt to break free only to be dismissively handled, his face brought down to forcefully be introduced to the Brahma Bull's knee. The result of which was a cataclysmic collision that witnessed the instantaneous shattering of the Modern Day Kennedy's jaw. The monumental force alarmingly disbarring any sense of footed position, ejecting the barely conscious crusader into the air and along the roof.

Eventually tumbling to a stop, Quintus staggered to a visually cognitive base. Crouched and profusely bleeding, he shockingly smirked before raising his hand allowing the Terror Titan to optically register the recently removed silver grenade pins dangling from his fingers. Their explosive cylinder housing resting along the Brahma Bull's footed position. Banking on the assumption that the human juggernaut's evolutionarily extreme durability would allow him to survive the impending implosion, the Knightfall Polymath however would make no apologies should the herculean destroyer fall, and never rise again.

@the_dark_arashikage:

Veiled, reactionary facial indignation met Quintus' smug visage, incited ire and compiling irascibility dictating the Brahma Bull's disposition, atmospherically charged animosity settling between both combat instrumentalists with prominent tangibility. Awarded no opportunity for physically plausible escape, the resultant incendiary eruption enveloping the militant terrorist's colossal frame with a densely packed cluster of ebony smoke, collateral damage environmentally manifesting as disheveled concrete and distorted cracks aimlessly populated the isolated rooftop. Gradually dissipating, the emitting smoke glided across Brahma's gargantuan frame.

Imminently unveiled injuries showcased via the Guerrilla Goliath's lowered frame, dropped to a single knee, panting with elevating respiratory intensity, severely sustained incendiary wounds and punctures from violently projected collateral fragmentations, the Brahma Bull lamely rose to both feet, superficially and internally impaired, the afflicted damage highlighted by dangling flesh and graphic lacerations pictorially populating his body with alarming gruesomeness. Growling in instinctively harbored infuriation, blood trickling and gushing from open wounds, Brahma offered a lexical reminder of his unrelenting endurance. "I commend your efforts boy", he began, "Mas eu vou partir esse teu corpinho (But I will break that little body of yours)", he savagely threatened.

Barbarously bringing his fist downwards, aiming towards the concrete surface underneath their feet, his right fist smashed against it with controlled force, frenetically quaking the damaged rooftop, accumulating the excessive quantity of cracks, the solitary purpose of the abruptly executed maneuver, to disrupt Quintus' equilibrium. Subsequently plowing his hands into the concrete surface with monstrous force, Brahma's virtuoso display of herculean strength was forthcoming. Verdantly hued veins frantically surfaced beneath his skin, mammoth muscles bulged as a gargantuan crack jointly accompanied by an audible break signaled the titanic terrorist's intentions.

Breaking off an enormous concrete segment of the rooftop, a vibrant upwards swing of the arms incited the broken segment's hurl into the air, a gaping opening on the rooftop into the infrastructure's interior visible as Brahma panted, having exhausted his energies in a severely injured state, hoping that along with the aerially launched portion of the rooftop was Quintus, tossed an indefinite distance into the elevating horizon.

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

We were supposed to roll up all dynamic duo style, but he left when I was in the bathroom. Now he's gonna get killed without me.

lmao

@the_dark_arashikage said:

@brahma_bull: (stellar stuff)

hahaaa

@brahma_bull:

The Pathological Powerhouse quickly recovered from the Knightfall Legend's histrionic employment of masquerading explosives. Savagely pile-driving the ailing surface with a jackhammer punch that expeditiously extrapolated the faltering structural integrity of the roof. Throwing the martial arts mongoose off balance with the sudden shock-wave of coercive destruction, imposingly integrating a pantheon of skill, intelligence, and strength. With superhuman strength the combat colossus initiated a jaw-dropping divorce between the foundation and a segmented portion of its enervated gambrel (roof). Hurling it, as well as the true Arashikage, off into the star-lit sky.

A few hours later:

"Master Quintus, please, you have to remain still." petitioned the helpful Mr. Cambridge as he finalized the last stitch. "You should let me examine your head, at least use the CT scan. There is no telling just how much dam...." the Englishman's persistence quickly halted by a single hand gesture. Its author stubbornly transfixed on a holographic projection of analytically collected data pertaining to the Guerrilla Goliath and any available information in regards to his origins. The beast who had single-handedly ripped the lid off Gothic City was all but a mystery, an enigma. "I'm missing something." mumbled the brooding Knightfall. "The tactical caliber this man exhibits requires extensive training, extensive knowledge. He's is, or was, military. South America perhaps." pausing. "Get a hold of Antonia. Ask her to research the Os Bois....." Offering a compliant nod, Mr. Cambridge departed. Leaving the bruised hero alone to contemplate a strategical counter measure that would allow him to confront the Brahma Bull.

@the_dark_arashikage: Badass brother. Was fun ;)

@andres_knightfall:

likewise son

An old man once said "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." He should have been talking about Club Inferno, and it was bouncing tonight. Why? Cause POW just bought the entire club rounds for the night, with the money he stole from his grand return heist. The very same one a mouse failed to prevent.

With his mask rolled up a bit, he downed gratuitous amounts of champagne straight from the bottle while being held up by fellow costumed villains. They all cheered his name, gratitude for the man who just bought everyone their evening's intoxication.

"I'M BACK BABY!" The kinetic criminal cheered, complimented by the cheers of others.