Less Thunder in the Mouth More Lighting in the Hand

[viruswithshoes]

Amidst a pile of deactivated mines and improvised explosive devices an entertainer of children dressed in all black severed the right arm of a respected businessman.

Tetsuo Gene, a mere four hours prior to being drugged and subject to an amputation procedure was trying to run off a street performer and his array of puppets. One passionate conversation about cybernetics later, the weapon merchant became entranced with the idea of becoming one with his own creations.

The puppeteer talked of human evolution and the melding of man and machine with such infectious enthusiasm that Tetsuo's spiritual conversion soon led to a physical one.

The bearded, black-clad machinist smiled throughout the procedure and chatted with his patient who was only under a local anesthetic released, oddly enough, by the puppet user's snake puppet. When Tetsuo awoke not only was there no puncture wounds from his arm from the puppet's fangs but there were no arms.
"You seem nice so I decided to throw in the other arm for free."

Tetsuo, normally a cold, laconic man bearing a great amount of post surgery pain wrapped his two new metallic arms around his doctor's neck, acting as something between a hug and a death grip.
"Guns. I need guns. How many guns can you fit in these."

The seller of weapons pointed his fight index finger toward Toulon and depressed his thumb as if cocking the hammer of a gun. What emerged was merely a flame. Not a stream of incendiary death but something more appropriate for lighting cigarettes.
Toulon sighed and gently pushed his patient's finger tip shut in the same way one would close a zippo lighter.
"Obviously, I didn't weaponize you. Would you sell someone a loaded gun?"

The doctor-mechanic greeted the world's newest cyborg with what Tetsuo considered his most odd and awkward hug to date. It was then that the man with the new metal arms saw that his doctor had four of them. A flat, black finish made them more subtle than the shiny chrome ones he had just installed.

"Use them as much as possible but don't overdo it. If you feel pain in the shoulders, stop what you are doing and take a rest. Your body is still trying to knit together the metal and meat. I suggest hiring someone to do your lifting. One heavy box might mean both arms being ripped off."
Toulon chuckled and straightened his slim, black tie, turned his back on newest patient and whipped his long white coat over his back, hoping to disappear into night like some sort of friendly specter.

In order to manipulate his puppets, he built his little friends with ports magnetically connected to the wires that came from Toulon's cybernetic fingers. His black, cybernetic fingers twitches and bent in odd ways which amused him. He could feel Tetsuo Gene flexing his cybernetic muscles. Before he his metallic strings could reach their limits the cyborg master of puppets retracted them back into his own hands like spools of fishing line. He'd catch that fish later.

[Tlilecuahtli]

The air stank with the smell of survival. Ferocity layered the decomposing city in a thick stream of roots and vines that clawed and cut into stonework with methodical care, not too different from a snake relishing its feast. From atop a barely held together house, Aguila laid flat, a colourful display of tans and browns adorned ripped clothing as a great feathered headdress filled in the spot of bird's old nesting grounds. He listened out from his nest, the sound of crickets and rodents infected the underbrush while the sound of great beasts rummaged in the gar off distance.

But of course, the rodents didn't cackle with squeaks, they didn't nibble at electrical wires with cruel ferocity. They crushed squeakers beneath their boot, they built electrical wires to zap and kill and cruel ferocity was their primary nature. His features were tortured and strained as he slipped against the hobbled roof meeting in a strange union as the rodents moved back and forth, a rivalled dance as Aguila stripped himself from the rooftop and peeled through a corner to catch a glimpse of the group.

His vision was cut and blurred in the haze of night, illumination from small candles was the best that his glimpses were allowed as passing figures moved in dark blots, carrying boxes of food and coin. He wanted to try his hand at a fight, Aguila pressed his hand against the strap of his shield, from the number that passed there was at least seven of them and Aguila wasn't prepared to start fights alone.

Instead, he looked around, he put landmarks in his mind, his words only left in his mind to prevent the prying ears of rodents from scampering with his secrets. Look for the great Vine that chokes itself. He thought to himself as he slunk away in the dirt and the mud, passing around as he made his way back to their Boat to discuss plans and if they were even to get themselves involved.

[viruswithshoes]

The doctors that made up most of the crew of The Black Cross looked miserable and haggard, more akin to pirates than medical professionals. It was a small crew but sailed upon a vessel tiny enough to cause more than a few accidental elbows to the ribs. The fact that they were docked in a dreary port outside of Stetson Majora, a "city" only in the loosest most ironic sense of the word pleased no one.

Stetson Majora had one appeal to it to Toulon, Captain of the Black Cross, and only because of several vague rumors regarding the area. The bearded surgeon with the extra cybernetic limbs liked to think of himself as a man slow to anger, but that never included his natural enemies, weapon makers.

Creating limbs for a dealer of weapons made the non-cybernetic skin of the bespectacled man in the greasy white coat crawl. The fact that he could easily attach strings to him and manipulate him eased the feeling somewhat.

Several of the doctors under Toulon's command gave him sour looks for not only taking them to such a desolate hellscape but also for asking them to explore it for something "Odd" nothing of which was found.

"I swear after this we'll go some place fun."
He faked a smile behind his two-forked, braided beard and bent his head toward his winged first mate Aguila and lowered his voice.
"You'd tell me if there was going to be a mutiny, right?"

There was a loud clang when the four-armed cyborg clapped his mechanical hands together in a fake show to enthusiasm.
"Great news! Tomorrow we're all going to the city." The hesitant Captain then gritted his teeth and sighed. "Where I'm going to need some volunteers to...kinda, sorta, well, mug a guy?"
The group of professional savers of lives emitted an aura of justified murder.
"After that I'll need you guys to lie low in the city." Enthusiastic hands suddenly shot up.

"Aguila, you'll swoop in like a guardian angel and hopefully ingratiate yourself with the local mafia while I do the same to this scumbag weapons dealer."
There was more to Toulon's plan but he'd seen enough war and treated enough soldiers to hear the saying "No battle plans ever survive first contact with the enemy."

The doctors of the crew seemed pleased with the prospect of going somewhere less desolate even if it meant bending their Hippocratic oath. Aguila, on the other hand, Toulon had yet to learn to understand.

"You mind?" Toulon asked his first mate and barber while gesturing to his face. The man had eyebrows that threatened to turn into something like a two foot long caterpillar without daily grooming and a beard that he could trip over if left unkempt for too long.
"I ask a lot of you, don't I?"

[Tlilecuahtli]

Aguila turned to the Captain, eyes wide with deceit as he spoke, "Oh, was I meant to tell you the plan?" He remarked snidely, letting the Captain soak in worry for a little bit before shaking his head in reassurance. Before looking over the crew, a dark eye drawn along them, if the Captain couldn't instil fear Aguila surely could, his back feathers unfurled and shook a little, a hand drawn to his Obsidian laced weapon as he cocked his arm on its handle as the Captain spoke.

Aguila's eyes contorted and twisted, his head still pointed straight at the crew as panicked filled him, he couldn't' exactly undermine his captain in front of the crew, but he ran his finger along the handle, spelling out the words, 'What the actual hell?' as he internally screamed at his Captain for the ludicrous request.

"As Always Captain. Your plan is flawless." He replied, the sound of a clicking tongue resonating at the request though hiding behind his disdain at it all. "But, with such a plan I think it is a good idea if everyone here gets some sleep. I will run through the plan with Captain so we are all on the same page." He continued, clapping his hands together once with a far less impressive impact, after all, who can follow up a four-armed mechanical clap? Surely not Aguila.

"Oh no, of course, I don't mind. You know, ingratiating myself into a cable of slavers with my saviour being primarily based on a group of doctors. Yeap. All good on my end." He replied sourness filled his words, eyes narrowed and threatened to pierce the Captain's heart if he had the right fruit, before withdrawing a small razor blade. He again wasn't sure why the captain trusted him with doing this. He sincerely was not a Barber, just took the title of it to avoid responsibility. "Oh, no Captain you don't ask too much." He replied, pulling a small thing of shaving butter and slapping it against his captain's face and ran it down his beard, they hadn't even made it to the chair, mainly because, they didn't have one. Or they did and Aguila simply wasn't able to tell the difference between it and a normal chair. "Asking too much would be to ask me to not attend my wedding." He continued as he drew the razor blade down along his chin, a heaping of hair dropping to the ground with a soaked thud. "What you ask of me Captain is the world." He drew the blade once more as time passed, rolling the blade against brow and beard until the Captain was somewhat better trimmed. 

-----

After he finished his work on the Captain, letting the crew retire to slumber and sleep, Aguila put his plan into action. He hadn't the most experience with the criminal underworld, gambling was the furthest he dug. But he had done work for people before, he knew that when they were low they didn't ask questions. They hired, and lucky for him, he knew straight where to go.

Past the brambles and thickets, threw the dilapidated houses the sound of an offbeat banging sounded itself int eh distance, a Scy'Kadian with unfurled feathers and dark and gloomy glares passed the empty streets, lights that flickered from bio-luminescent bugs were all that poxed the land beside the unnatural flame of a torch that tore apart the darkness gave away their location as Aguila approached, there weren't too many of the crooks, but he saw what looked like bags scored with different objects, dully glistening in the torches light as they slowly moved to grab clubs and guns. Aguila was not amused. He wasn't happy about this. His wings curled and rose, feathers dropped as his eyes burned with glistening anger at the Slavers as they slowly approached, his Macuahuitl brought down low and fast as obsidian shards tore flesh and spurted layers of fresh blood. 

Gunfire erupted in scores, Aguila's clothing battered and ripped as his own flesh was stripped and scarred, he ran fast and he ran hard, his Shield blocking shot after shot as his Macuahuitl cut and cleaved through the next, his leg brought low as the ground became a mired puddle of his own fresh crimson before the last of the trio raised his gun, pointed at Aguila's Shoulder as bullet met metal and metal scrapped and screeched the bullet to a hold before he brought his Macuahuitl up high, cleaving halfway through his body before momentum and the laws of Physics stopped his charge. He spat at the three corpses, looked around and went to find some water to wash himself down of blood before 'joining' the cabal of crooks and criminals.

[viruswithshoes]

It seemed that Aguila shared the same radioactive hatred for slavers that Toulon did for weapon dealers and other war profiteers. While Toulon glared at his target from around a corner made from crumbling stone.

Some of the older doctors of the Black Cross looked embarrassed trying to come across tough in what costumes their Captain could find cheap, fast, and with few questions. What was supposed to be a gang uniform ended up being old team uniforms from a local baseball team patched with what looked like orange fur from whatever mascot represented them.
Most looked like they had to convince them-self that some downtime in the city away from their captain would be worth the humiliation.

"Okay, while Aguila is making nice with the local mafia you'll be menacing one Tetsuo Gene as The Baseball Furries, Stetson's latest and probably most flamboyant gang of toughs."
"I have a question," said Doctor Sax, the oldest of the Black Cross crew as well as the least likely to question Toulon's orders.
"What's your question?"
"This is stupid," said the middle aged general practitioner in the catcher's mask and the furry orange chest of a mascot.
"Noted. Hands in, everybody!"

A collection of hands, some lined with fur others covered in baseball gloves stacked atop one another as the Black Cross took on the fake name of their fake gang.
"Go, Baseball Furries!"

Tetsuo Gene, local weapon dealer and new owner of two prosthetic, cybernetic arms walked along the cobble stone streets like a man who was not about to be accosted by garishly dressed doctors and that suited Toulon, the man behind the Baseball Furries just fine.

The doctors poorly masquerading as Stetson Island's least intimidating perpetrators of gang violence. To Toulon's astounding shock their fist and last victim was intimidated.

Tetsuo Gene, the weapon's dealer with the new cybernetic arms raised them in surrender and suddenly the pants-wetting tide turned when from those two arms sprang two revolvers which Tetsuo slowly lowered to the gang of poorly led doctors.

In retrospect it seemed obvious but in the moment Toulon was watching the man attempt to shoot his crew he thought that Gene did not immediately shoot them a miracle.
Later, out of the moment, Toulon would reflect that of course the weapon dealer wouldn't be able to move his new arms much, given how little time he had them.

Both the armed dealer of weapons and the healers posing as harmers paused and wondered what to do.
As Tetsuo lowered his arms in pain Toulon took the opportunity to say something clever and look like a hero.
"Step!"
Mispronouncing "stop" killed any momentum any wit from exiting the alleged hero's mouth at that time.

Toulon prayed that Aguila was having better luck ingratiating himself to the local mafia.

[Tlilecuahtli]

He ran his body through a stream of cold water, splashing and slapping it in great scores over his wounds. Probably a bad idea, the blood never closed and scabbed over but he wasn't too worried, mere flesh wounds left seeping wasn't going to be the death of him. No, he was confident that right was reserved for Captain Toulon.

But he hadn't time to worry about that, instead, he lounged, taking up some comfortable 'seat' and letting the hours tick and pass by, watching until finally, a group of new Slavers came to inspect and discover what had occurred. It left discussion and discourse, and in the end, they collected the bodies and a new group of three finished up their otherwise cut short work. Aguila gave it another hour before sliding down the familiar slick of a cobbled and dilapidated roof, landing on the ground with a soft 'spat' before following along the trails mired in bush and muck.

It didn't take long, Slavers liked ease and the path was beaten down enough that Aguila simply hurdled and dashed his natural Sky Islander makeup alleviating problems like getting tired from such a simple run before coming up upon some hobbled mess of a house. Thirteen. He counted, numbering how many slavers were stuck up in the building, moving back and Fourth before Aguila turned, his wings furled up, coiled behind his shirt. He knew Sky Islanders were worth a pretty penny, so he put down his Shield, his Macuahuitl and overly large Feathered Headdress. No need to draw any more suspicion.

And with that, he strutted from the undergrowth like a man reborn, he got the odd call, but he moved with determination, pushing aside the smaller boys as he pushed in the door to the big bad. It might very well have been his biggest gamble to date. He strutted in unarmed, pushed some guys over and went to the boss and said,

"I work for you now."

Then there was a classic pause. Eyes strewed across the room in confusion, some men reached for swords and guns, either stunned and an old man in the corner simply chuckled. But those shifting feet and eyes didn't matter. At the head of the table sat a man in a formal suit, a big flail sat at his side and he narrowed his eyes and stared at Aguila. He looked for fear, nervousness, terror. Aguila refused to show any, he hid contempt, rate and hatred beneath a permeable layer of apathy before the fateful words rolled out.

"You are in."

Aguila reluctantly offered a hand, the man took it in kind and they shook. He pointed to the old man, "Go with him. The two of you will replace our Stock Zone. He'll run you through the names." Aguila turned, the old man arthritis riddled and aged with tire and sick peeled himself from the seat and lead Aguila down the familiar beaten track back to jewels, gold and gems.

[viruswithshoes]

Tetsuo Gene, a simple weapons dealer and native son of Stetson Island had been having something of a mid-life crisis.
He was noticing more aches in his body in place of strength. The soldiers, of fortune and otherwise, that frequented his shop were getting younger and younger making him feel older and and older.
Then he saw a man with jet black hair and rimless glasses outside of his shop drawing a crowd. Gene was never one for puppets but he was enchanted by the dancing geisha and snake made of wood outside his shop.

The single, family-less man with the salt and pepper stubble spent a moment confused at how the odd man outside his shop could manipulate two puppets while playing the shamisen with two hands. Toulon's extra two arms made of black steel almost took Tetsuo Gene's breath away. The next thing he could recall the puppet master had talked him into two prosthetic arms of metal encased in wood.

That same man who kindly upgraded his failing body then emerged from the shadows like a dark hero and stepped between danger and the frightened weapon dealer.

Gene could not clearly see the gang of oddly furred, baseball-themed gang once Toulon, the four-armed master of puppets pushed him down.
Given the trouble his newly acquired arms were giving him he could not properly get up off of the ground or see his hero with the twin-braided beard and the gang communicate with confused looks and gestures.

Toulon shrugged and awkwardly punched the gang member in the catcher's mask with the force of a friendly tap. This caused the man to dramatically fall nearly a second later and mutter softly "We really should have rehearsed this."

The hero in the dirtly white lab coat threw that same grease-smeared cloth over the man he intended to save, totally obscuring his vision.
There was only darkness and the sound of a cyborg fighting off an oddly old and out of shape gang of toughs.

Toulon's fist hit the palm of his hand with a clang.
"Take that!"
"Ah! A nasal fracture! How dare you!"
"Dial it down a little, Sax," Toulon told the overly dramatic leader of the gang in a hushed tone.

After a few more sound effects and medically accurate descriptions of wounds not actually sustained Stetson Island's newest gang The Baseball Furries disbanded and vanished into the night never to mug again.

Toulon reclaimed his dirty medical coat draped over the potential victim and gave a few labored breaths.
"I told you not to strain your new arms too much." The fakest hero on the island stretched out an artificial hand to the man he "saved" and helped him up.
"I should take responsibility for this since I made your arms. Until you heal I'll be your arms."

The look absolute gratitude that Tetsuo Gene gave Toulon made him feel slightly guilty but not enough to derail his plan to make the weapon merchant utterly dependent on him.

"I can replace your legs too if you want," The scheming cyborg decided to add to the conversation on the way to Tetsuo's home.