A Mild disagreement (Tag Remedy)

[Harvestman]

* I'm perched on a church steeple... watching as another uneasy calm falls onto the city... the kind of calm you get right before a storm hits... the waves that are calmly lapping ready to rise up and drag everyone under.*

* Hell in a hand-basket is about the only way to describe it... only this time the descent is a lot more inconspicious... like a slow boil. It started small... a slight increase in crime that quickly increased... along with the violence behind it. Robberies, Murders, Rapes... with no rhyme or reason to any of it. The local badges are having a hard time keeping up, and your flashier suits are too busy elsewhere... leaving people like me out here in the trenches, ready to clean up this garbage.*

* No rest for the weary*

* I'm jarred out of my moping by screams... a woman's voice about a block or so over. I sling over to the rooftops to rush over. Doesn't take too long on foot, not like there was anything to sling off of. I make it to the proverbial scene of the crime, surveying the alley below from the fire escape...*

* Can't say I like what I'm seeing*

* Big guy, dressed like a bum with greasy red hair, forcing himself on a woman. He's got her pinned by her neck as, with a single hand, he tears her blouse off. She her clawing and kicking having no effect on him as he laughs... bragging about what he intends to do with slurred words.*

* Doesn't get to finish his little monologue...*

* One well placed line, and I swoop in to separate this thug from the lady, sending him flying head first into a nearby dumpster. A loud clang leaving echoing through the alley as I somersault to my feet, placing myself between this thug and the lady. She's coughing.... gasping for air as she tries to cover herself up with what remains of her work apron. I don't give this fucker a chance to get back up... I draw one of my scythes, the cold steel snapping out with a loud click, as I charge ahead. He's barely starting to pull himself up by the time I reach him.... slashing upward, my blade set to gut him like a fish.*

*... only instead of the sounds of a hungry blade cutting flesh... I hear fabric tear as metal grinds against metal. I don't need my radar going of to tell me something isn't kosher... not like it did any good in the position I was in. Not much to do to keep what felt like a steel hammer from nailing me in the gut, to send me flying back across the alley.*

* Now I'm the one left coughing... pulling myself back up as I get a good long look on this knuckle dragger. The first thing that I take notice of is his skin... his clothes might be the same filthy colors, but his flesh and hair have taken on another color and texture altogether, sporting a weathered metallic sheen, just like the dumpster.*

* oh for fucks sake... not this shit again.*

* He's already on his feet, cracking his neck back into place from my introduction. The impact didn't improve his complexion any... probably broke his nose, and even with his new skin he's still bleeding from his nose. Like Arnold said... if it bleeds, you can kill it. Thing is the expression on his face screams somethings not right... this deranged, wild-eyed look. It screams that it isn't that he didn't feel that... it's he felt it and doesn't care. It isn't helped out when he licks his own blood off of his face, this nasty sneer forming across his face.*

* And I thought tonight would be easy.*

* The freak bull-charges me... surprisingly fast for someone his size, but thankfully not as limber as yours truly. Even with the wind kicked out of me, I'm still able to dodge his punches... a good thing considering how each of them is renovating the alley walls. Each opening I get I go for a hit... with little success. This hit & run thing isn't my style... but I have to keep moving to avoid becoming a bloody spider-smear on the walls, wait until I have him where I want him.*

* where exactly that's going to be, I'm not so sure.*

* The bastard starts running his mouth again... practically giggling at how bad-ass he is, how I'm nothing. If this is supposed to demoralize me, I'm not impressed. The fact he's practically shrugs off every punch or kick that I throw his way, leaving me to feel the sting as my fists glance off his steel body... the fact that he's not slowing down one single bit as I'm starting to feel exhaustions bite... THAT fact can do more than any of the cocky bullshit this little punk could ever spout off.*

* Bastard tries to head-butt me... easy enough to work to my advantage by spring-boarding off his head and letting him fly into the nearby wall. He's left with his head stuck in the concrete while I'm trying to catch my breath, perched up near the alley light, waiting for him to pull himself out. And like the musclebound chump he is... he falls right into it.*

* You can armor about any place on your body... but eyeballs ain't one of 'em.*

* I go for the head... planning to drive my blade right into his cranium. Not much of a chance that some measly piece of tinfoil can stop a blade like this. I feel the blade grind... but this time it doesn't glance off. This time I actually get a reaction... his screams echoing through the alley as blood begins spraying out. You'd think this is a good thing.... it's not....*

* The aim was off... his sidestep was enough to save his miserable life... but not enough to save his eye. My radar barely has time to warn me before a knee to my gut sends me flying into the wall.*

* I'm coughing, trying to get up... only for him to grab me by my throat and slam me into the wall. My scythe seriously fucked up his face... taking out his eye and tearing off of his nose like the lid off a soup can. All the blood makes this shit head look like a horror movie reject. He growls, like a wounded animal, as he starts trying to choke the life out of me. I try to get this fuck off of me... but my efforts to kick him off or pry these vice-like mitts off my neck can't do squat! All the while I hear this freak start back up with the gloating.*

* Gotta act fast... can't black out... I reach down... feeling around in my pouches... gotta find it... can...t... wast....e...*

* The ground hits me... hard... gasp out, desperately trying to get wind back in my lungs... that... that monstrous freak staggers around... choking on the foam pouring out of his mouth. Like... like I said before... you can armor about any spot on your body... eyeballs aren't one of 'em...*

* neither is your mouth...*

* If the bastard... wasn't so intent on running his mouth this... this never woulda worked. Stinger refills... shoved right into his mouth.... one bite down and it's game over. Venom doing what my fists couldn't. Even now... pumped full of toxins... he still doesn't want to go down... his body shimmers for a second... his powers clicking off before he slams into a dumpster... then falls down... painfully twitching in the shit lining the alley floor.*

* I'm hunched over... popping my neck back into place before leaning over to pick my scythe back up. It's not until I stow the damn thing I realize I'm covered in that Skell's blood.... not helping out things when I look over toward the lady, still crumpled in a shock-induced heap in the alley. Her hands trembling as she fumbles with a can of mace, screaming at me to get away from her. Typical gratitude... I just save her and this is the thanks I get.*

* What next?*

[The Remedy]

With the full force of his diaphragm, "Hey, you freak! Get the hell away from her!"

It had been a typical, atypical night for Bruce. He was, again, roaming the streets at an Olympic pace, unsure of where he was going or why, but inevitably finding all the car crashes, bar-fights and broken hearts the harsh city's night had to offer. Although he hadn't yet figured out why he consistently wandered so aimfully, he figured it had something to do with the white skin-suit that manifested on him from time to time.

It did not explain why his strength had increased by a factor of nearly a hundred, but it did bring some additional quirks when it deigned to appear. Like some kind of bug, he found he could climb up a sheer surface like it was flatland; he seemed to have go-go-gadget arms when he needed them and his skin suit might as well have been kevlar for as tough as he was when he was wearing it.

Good thing, too, because he felt he would be needing some toughness right about now. Whatever it was that drew him towards scenes of high emotion had pulled him like a magnet to this simple alley, with it's dumpster and it's fire escape and it's hysterically screaming woman with the maniac standing over her. Bruce did not expect words to sway him, which is why he was about to land foot-first on the scumbag as he had surely done to the poor schmuck unconscious in the corner.

Bruce knew what the problem was, and he was the Remedy.

[Harvestman]

* God DAMN it... I have got to stop asking that question...*

* I don't even get a chance to compose myself before the alarms start going off. It's not like I exactly needed them this time... what with the battle cry giving away the position he's coming at me from.*

* extremely sloppy work if you ask me.*

* It's easy enough to dodge this, hell... pushing the acrobatics I could get some licks in at the same time... but considering the shape that gorilla left me in, I'm not up to anything too spectacular. All I do is drop down, twisting down to all fours to crouch over the filth and gore, and simply letting that yahoo in the white pajamas fly right overhead.*

* And now... it's my turn.*

* See... at this moment, he is vulnerable... with nothing to stop his momentum (namely, myself), he's been left airborne for a few seconds longer. A window of opportunity that leaves him wide open, and I intend to make good use of this.*

*I spring ahead, making a mad dash towards where he's going to land. I bridge the gap in no time, and with all of the arachnid-strength in me... my fist reels back before I and thrust it foreword in one mighty gut-punch.*

* This one will be over before it even starts.*

[The Remedy]

It is is amazing how much visual clarity one gains by simply being knocked completely windless. Is it because time seems to slow down when your body goes completely unresponsive, or is it because the eyes are the only part of the body that seems to still be capable of sending information to the brain? Regardless of the reason and regardless of information reaching (or not reaching) the command center of the body, Bruce's legs were still obeying and they remained under him as he stumbled. His arms were also listening, apparently, as they instinctively came up defensively, hands high and elbows together.

In his staggering he decided distance was a good thing and what started as a stumble ended up as a tactical backpedal while his lungs filled up again. He shook off the blow while some part of him in the back of his mind marveled...it should have taken much longer. At least in all this time, his black-veiled eyes had never faltered and remained locked on his clearly superhuman opponent. He would have to approach this guy with a lot more respect.

[Harvestman]

* I can feel my fist connect with his midsection... feel the impact ripple across his body... hear the gag-like gasp that escapes his mouth along with with last few breaths... hell... I wouldn't be suprised if his eyes where practially bugging out of his skull right now.*

* He's left staggering backwards, still reeling from my attack. By all accounts, he should be falling flat on his ass after that one.*

*He isn't*

* Matter of fact... he's taking a more defensive posture... arms coming up to defend his vitals, as he tries to get some distance in between the two of us.*

* Something that I have no intention of letting him get*

*Even after that tussle I was just in, I have no intention of backing down. Not now. Not ever. I keep pushing the offensive... bridiging the gap between us as I start whittling down his defense... throwing one punch after another for each step he takes like a boxer in a ring. Then, when I got him backed where there's nowhere left to run... mix things up a little. My body goes through the motions, a quick spin, my leg rising up to his center, my leaning in to it to give this puppy a little extra 'oomph' as it comes screaming towards his torso.*

* He won't be so quick to get up after this one. Even if he does block it, even if he keeps it from connecting his vitals, there's no way for him to stop the force behind it. That's what I'm counting on.*

[The Remedy]

The onslaught was nearly overwhelming. All Bruce's new-found quickness was put to the test as he attempted to ward off the superhuman fusillade of punches coming from the psycho in red. Bruce kept giving ground to keep his chin safe, but room was fleeting and soon enough he felt his heel against the wall. Apparently, this was the gambit in play, as Bruce's opponent had clearly been keeping a supersonic roundhouse kick on standby for just this situation. Bruce couldn't get away from it, and so he readied himself, gritted his teeth, and took the full brunt to his forearms.

It occurred to him, in mid-flight, that soccer balls were also black and white like him. He was doing a faithful impression of one, hurtling through the air after a tremendous punt and in no direct control of his flight path. At some point he collided with something very hard and solid, head and shoulder first. As he slumped to the ground, he felt the world going dark.

And as he felt the world going dark, he felt the world growing bright again. Somehow, in the extremely brief time he had been down, he found himself steadying himself on his feet. His eyes scanned for the red psychopath, fists already clenching as his rage boiled. He had underestimated his opponent, come in much too hot, but his heart was steeling and his blood icing over. Even his living costume seemed to be seething, exaggerating his muscle mass and stature...exuding dozens of sloppy tendrils flailing from his skin...

Round two was going to be a whole new ballgame.