Mutants and Gods, See OOC to join.

[Kl`rt]

Argh! AGAIN. Sorry.

[Justice]

Josiah pointed the Glock over at the other priest and pulled the trigger. Another four or five round spat from the gun in barely a second, the muzzle flash bigger this time, the background strobe more subdued. Still no response from security. That was mildly worrying. Looking back at the still silent, still seated 'priest', Josiah spoke again. "I said, don't insult me with your flunkies. You wanna talk to me, you talk to me. Dig?" A pause, and still nothing. Try another tack. "I think what we have here, son, is a failure to communicate." Not even a movement from the hooded man. "Cat gotcha tongue? Strong, silent type? Or just ain't got nothing to say? I kinda like that. Most of you, I gotta listen about how you misunderstood, or daddy beat you, or momma was a crack whore, all kinda excuses. Well, this is your first, last and only warning. You stay the hell outta Harlem. No recruitin'. No visiting. Not even thinking about it."

[Anzu]

Thirty seconds. It would take that long for the others to get here. His private army: full body-armor of the medieval variety, combined with modern MAK-10s. No one threatened Anzu's avatar - no one. That included trigger-happy linebackers from Harlem. But Anzu didn't need them. He needed only himself. At last, finishing his drink, he pushed his chair back and stood. Still, he said not a word. He just looked at the man. This guy clearly didn't have any idea who he was dealing with.

Ten seconds. They would be here in just ten seconds. He waited, knowing that modern bullets were no match for the finest steel money could buy - three inches of it covering his guards from head to toe. FLAK jackets were strong enough, but medieval armor was ten times better. Of course, modern technology kept the armored priests cool while they wore their suits.

Ah, there they were. They gave no warning, their movement known only by the way they pushed through the crowd to get to Anzu. They were always watching; that was their job, after all. They opened fire, ten pairs of MAK-10s ripping apart the walls and the people near them in an attempt to take down Anzu's attacker. If the man's bullets go through their body armor, Anzu would be impressed. He'd have to have some serious mojo to defeat them. But maybe he was a mutant.

Then again, if he was, would he have used a gun?

[Justice]

Josiah turned when he heard the shouts of the crowd from being shoved. Security? No such luck. Goons in...armor? were pushing their way through. While he liked the Glock, wimpy little 9s, even NATO spec, weren't gonna do nothing against that. He was slightly less worried when he saw what they were packing. MAC-10s, one in each hand. Good for anti-aircraft fire, but no way them chumps was gonna control 'em. Making a decision, he grabbed the chair with his free hand, and threw it across the table at the now standing priest. "Deal with you, later, sucker."

The armored goons were the threat, and not just to him. He didn't care about the crowd, but didn't want no one dying on his account. He upended the table, and ducked behind it as they opened fire, getting low. Damn! The weight of the armor was enough to prevent muzzle climb. At this range, unable to shoot back effectively, they'd simply win with their weight of fire. He fired off the Glock in two bursts, aimed one's knee. Even if they didn't penetrate, the impacts on a joint would mess him up. He reloaded quickly as bullets chewed the spot where he'd poked his head and arm out. Grabbing one of the table legs, he ran, trusting to his speed and even more, his agility. Plenty of guys were big and strong. Some was even fast. But Josiah could put a gymnast to shame, as effortlessly ran, jumped and slid to make his way through the tables. The crowd had mostly vanished, the prolonged gunfire making them run, except some that were either too scared or too stupid to move. The strobe lighting, still low and muted, made the place darker, and Josiah's dark skin and clothing worked for him. He hit one of them, the table leg breaking, the impact knocking the armored man over. The others continued to fire, and tried to run after him, but it was half-hearted.

Nothing wrong with a retreat in Josiah's book. As far as he was concerned, Anzu had just upped the ante. That was fine, because he was gonna pay that mother back with interest.

[Anzu]

Beneath his mask, Anzu smiled. No one challenged Anzu. No one.

Eventually, as the man took his leave, the gunfire began to wean itself off as the sound of sirens popped up in the distance. Time for Anzu to leave. He took up the sword from the dead priest's hand and handed it to one of his guards. They dispersed as a small camera was taken out from within the folds of Anzu's robe. These pictures would prove useful in the media. Soon, none would be able to touch the following of Anzu without being destroyed by the public. The real Anzu had wanted to keep things private, but it was clear now that people knew what was really going on - and were willing to fight back. By the time Anzu was done, they'd be nothing more than rumors if they ever did come to light and those who brought their acts to light would be discredited - in more ways than one.

Needless to say, it wasn't a bad night. And by the time the cops showed up, Anzu and his goons were gone...

[Justice]

One week later

Josiah drove by the Ascension a second time. It wasn't open during the day, but it looked like the police tape was down. Pulling his Escalade into the parking garage across the street, he let the parking attendant take his keys, and handed him a fifty. "Keep it close, man," was all he said. The attendant's eyes widened slightly; usually it was a drug dealer that did this sort of thing, but the man in front of him didn't set off his alarms.

He crossed the street, jaywalking and stopping the middle of the street while oncoming cars passed. Unlike his last time coming here, he was well-dressed, and even wearing a bowtie with his suit. He looked totally different, especially with the non-corrective glasses he was wearing. The doors were locked, and after two minutes of knocking, no one answered. Frowning, he headed back across the street. He didn't notice the bum laying nearby, who pulled out a cell phone and contacted his handler.

"I think this might be the guy."

As Josiah pulled out of the garage, he barely registered the Lexus that pulled into traffic behind him, as he headed back to his mosque.