07-23-2004, 04:12 AM
Inside the one time home of Dr. Stephen Strange, Tessa moved her gaze from her unruly teammates to the insides of her specially made tech-glasses. She proceeded to bring up different menus, searching for anything that might help their situation. Deciding that two heads might be better than one, she brought up the comm link menu and selected Hankâs name from the screen. Instantly, she was connected to Hank via their glasses, but what she saw was not anything close to what she expected. It was like she was looking through Beastâs eyes as he hurtled himself through the night sky toward his attacker. It took Sage no time at all to order her teammates into action. The ones within range of her voice heard her verbal command, and those who found themselves out of earshot heard the same command by way of Tessaâs telepathy. Either way, each and every one of the team heard the same order, âTopside, now! Beast is under attack.â
And sure enough, above the decrepit old brownstone, Beast was indeed under attack. Having luckily dodged the first two arrows that had been shot at him, he was now flinging himself directly into the line of fire, intent on confronting and hopefully subduing his attacker. As the archer readied and fired arrow after arrow toward his rapidly descending target, he quickly determined the identity of his prey. He was far bigger, not to mention greener than the last time they had met, but he was still able to recognize Beast easily. âI wouldnât call you innocent, McCoy! And weâre not exactly strangers. Iâve had to clean up after you too many times!â The anger that filled the archerâs voice was obvious. Beast could tell that he was a man on a mission that had seen entirely too many vampire filled nights.
Once Hank had landed on the rooftop, the archer took a second to survey the damage that he had caused. Five shafts, each of them one inch in diameter, stuck proudly out of Beastâs gamma-irradiated hide. They were causing him some discomfort, but he could tell that none of them had penetrated far enough to be anywhere close to lethal. Realizing that he must have missed the green furred vampireâs heart, the shadow shrouded vampire hunter tossed his bow aside. He decided that he would need a less subtle solution to his approaching problem. From the twin holsters that he wore over his chest, he drew two 9mm Beretta pistols and leveled them at Beastâs chest. To anyone observing the scene, wielding a couple of hand guns in the face of a would-be vampire might seem ridiculous. Only the hunter knew of the blessed crosses that had been carefully carved onto each of the bulletâs tips. He held his position, waiting for Mad McCoy to make the next move.
Across the street, the rest of the Watch emerged onto the roof to see Hank, riddled with arrows, going after a man who could hardly be seen beneath the looming shadows cast by their teammate. It was only due to his immense size that they could make out Hank so easily. But the other man was almost completely hidden in the blackness of the night. Only now as he got closer to the man could Hank make out his attacker. The man had jet-black hair which was unobtrusively slicked back against his head. He had weapons of all shapes and sizes slung about his person, each of which obviously meant to take down creatures of the night. He wore military style pants, with pouches and pockets up and down each leg, no doubt containing even more ordinance. His shirt, which was tattered, torn and stained from countless nights of battling hell spawn was emblazoned with a stark white stylized skull. But as Hank looked the man over, one thing stood out amongst the rest. For even though it was tarnished and dented in a few places, there was no mistaking the Eye of Agamotto that hung at his belt.
And sure enough, above the decrepit old brownstone, Beast was indeed under attack. Having luckily dodged the first two arrows that had been shot at him, he was now flinging himself directly into the line of fire, intent on confronting and hopefully subduing his attacker. As the archer readied and fired arrow after arrow toward his rapidly descending target, he quickly determined the identity of his prey. He was far bigger, not to mention greener than the last time they had met, but he was still able to recognize Beast easily. âI wouldnât call you innocent, McCoy! And weâre not exactly strangers. Iâve had to clean up after you too many times!â The anger that filled the archerâs voice was obvious. Beast could tell that he was a man on a mission that had seen entirely too many vampire filled nights.
Once Hank had landed on the rooftop, the archer took a second to survey the damage that he had caused. Five shafts, each of them one inch in diameter, stuck proudly out of Beastâs gamma-irradiated hide. They were causing him some discomfort, but he could tell that none of them had penetrated far enough to be anywhere close to lethal. Realizing that he must have missed the green furred vampireâs heart, the shadow shrouded vampire hunter tossed his bow aside. He decided that he would need a less subtle solution to his approaching problem. From the twin holsters that he wore over his chest, he drew two 9mm Beretta pistols and leveled them at Beastâs chest. To anyone observing the scene, wielding a couple of hand guns in the face of a would-be vampire might seem ridiculous. Only the hunter knew of the blessed crosses that had been carefully carved onto each of the bulletâs tips. He held his position, waiting for Mad McCoy to make the next move.
Across the street, the rest of the Watch emerged onto the roof to see Hank, riddled with arrows, going after a man who could hardly be seen beneath the looming shadows cast by their teammate. It was only due to his immense size that they could make out Hank so easily. But the other man was almost completely hidden in the blackness of the night. Only now as he got closer to the man could Hank make out his attacker. The man had jet-black hair which was unobtrusively slicked back against his head. He had weapons of all shapes and sizes slung about his person, each of which obviously meant to take down creatures of the night. He wore military style pants, with pouches and pockets up and down each leg, no doubt containing even more ordinance. His shirt, which was tattered, torn and stained from countless nights of battling hell spawn was emblazoned with a stark white stylized skull. But as Hank looked the man over, one thing stood out amongst the rest. For even though it was tarnished and dented in a few places, there was no mistaking the Eye of Agamotto that hung at his belt.