West Boardwalk

July 2nd, 20:00

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It started off innocently enough. They were just finishing up their patrol at the border between Empire territory and the Boardwalk, walking down a sparsely populated street under the setting sun.

Miss Militia had said that Mary would start doing actual patrols into gang territory soon, since she's going to be in the Protectorate proper soon enough.

But she's still a Ward for now, and the Youth Guard ardently rebels against any Wards being put in any real danger, hence why their patrols tend to just be the already policed areas of the city, not allowing them to really accomplish much of anything.

So, given that the closest gang territory was Empire, neither of them expected to have to deal with a Villain attack, even if Mary was secretly hoping for one.

But she was hoping for a very specific situation, such is the nature of hope, really. She was hoping for either a mid-level cape, or a pair of lower-level ones, something easy enough to find in the Empire, and easy enough to use to boost her reputation.

Neither of them expected Lung.

Reputation is an incredible thing. That's all Mary can think as Hannah tenses up beside her, taking two steps back without even seeming to realise it, her hands briefly shaking before her power turns itself into a grenade launcher and she is able to steel her grip by clutching it like some kind of lifeline.

All because a man walked around a corner.

Yes, reputation is an incredible thing.

It's like the whole street just suddenly froze, falling into an eerie silence, all except one man, who merely strolls to the centre of the street before us, the picture of casual.

Dressed in only a simple pair of pants, Lung is a tall man, filled with well built muscles. His entire torso, from the waist to the neck to the wrists, is covered in intricate tattoos of sprawling Eastern dragons coiling around him. His eyes burn a bloodshot red, dancing with flame as they glare out of an ornate steel mask in the shape of a dragon.

In the abstract, it's not all that intimidating sight. Well, it is incredibly intimidating in the conventional sense, but no one who has become intimate with death will be intimidated by mere appearance, and she is plenty experienced with death. Big muscles and an angry stare can be scary, yes, but not terror inducing. Nothing like having a gun pointed at your face, for example.

Not that it really matters what he looks like to Mary, considering that she is still wearing a blindfold, and her specially designed, one-way blindfold isn't set to be delivered for another few days. Though, the scent of the Dragon is unmistakable, even without having met him before.

But then it all comes right back around to reputation. Guns are intimidating because they are a known factor. Everyone knows that if a gun is pointed at you, then you could be dead in the next second. The danger is clear and unspoken.

All it would take is about six pounds of pressure. It's almost laughable really, how simple it is to end a life.

Lung. Lung is the human equivalent of a gun.

To everyone present, a dozen or so people previously enjoying their Thursday night, the moment he entered the street, it was as if a gun was abruptly aimed at their faces.

All except two.

Unlike the civilians, Miss Militia didn't freeze. She backed away. Because she is used to having guns pointed at her face, and, more importantly, she knows exactly what this gun is capable of.

Once again, the comparison has to be reviewed.

Standing before Lung is not the same as facing a gunman.

Standing before Lung is more like facing a firing squad. A certainty of death. Death that can only be avoided if the firing squad decides to spare you that day.

That is the power of reputation.

That, is Lung.

And he knows the reputation he has, flaunts it, revels in it. Which is why the fire in his gut is so pleased when even one person does not freeze or back away.

Because Mary... She steps forward.

Hannah is the first to react, speaking out in a rush, her words coming out in a harsh whisper, filled with scathing and worry both, "Falcon!"

But, uncaring of her words, Lung speaks up, garnering the full attention of everyone present. "Falcon!," his heavily accented voice calls out, mocking and challenge in his tone in equal measure, "I am Lung! You cause trouble with my men! I now cause trouble with you."

It takes her a moment to even recall what he is talking about before it clicks. Just yesterday, there was an incident with some ABB thug. He came at her with a gun, so she couldn't so easily risk a simple detainment and ended up knocking him out with a punch.

It was such an insignificant event, lasting all of twenty seconds before she was on her way, that it had completely slipped her mind. And now it seems that it was not a random event, but one orchestrated to give Lung an excuse to start a fight. Or it truly was an isolated incident, and he's just taking advantage of it.

Either way, it doesn't matter. Lung is here now, and she has a reputation to build.

Preferably she'd arrest him, but this is Lung, and even if she is new here, she knows enough that she doesn't fancy her chances in that regard. She's still going to try, of course. If she gave up then her ambition could never be reached, she has no choice but to fight. She can already hear the sounds of the peanut gallery of civvies taking out their phones after having backed away what Brocktonites here must consider a safe distance.

The question is if she can win. And the answer is that it's unlikely, even with Miss Militia as support. Which brings up the question of how to lose without losing. Any civilian casualties will be an irrecoverable black mark on her record, and outright killing Lung, if she even can, would be almost as bad. Of course, if she can make it seem accidental, or...

She has to resist the grin that threatens to split her face as an idea comes to mind. If there is one thing she believes wholeheartedly, it's that there are always more solutions than problems.

And so, she ignores his and Hannah's words both and takes another step forward. She can already hear the older Hero muttering quiet but urgent commands to the comm in her ear for reinforcements.

"Hmph, you are brave to stand against me, Hero. Foolish, but brave." Lung's words don't get so much as a twitch out of Mary, the only sound on her side being the flapping of her cape in the wind. "Kowtow to me and apologise, and I will leave without conflict."

Such a humiliating offer to make. Rationally, accepting it is the numerically best course of action, as it will guarantee that no innocents get harmed.

But she doesn't care about that, she only cares about the public perception of her as Falcon, which means she has to act how they want her to, not how they need her to. And the public does not want a Hero who protects them, they want a Hero who makes them feel safe.

Unfortunately, with the situation he has put her in, she's between a rock and a hard place. If she accepts, the public will never rely on her. If she rejects him, they could accuse her of causing a cape fight. Basically, any way she answers, her reputation will sour.

Which means there is only one response she can give, and that is to simply not engage with a criminal.

Reaching into her belt, she pulls out a pair of cuffs. Flimsy little things as they are, they could never hope to impede Lung, but this is basically politics, so facts don't matter, only presentation.

So, as she brings her hand about, she keeps one cuff in her outstretched hand and drops the other so it hangs by it's chain, and then she speaks, her voice loud and clear, devoid of any wavering of fear or doubt, just a calm certainty. "Lung. You are wanted for several counts of murder of the first and second degree, smuggling and distribution of contraband, soliciting and kidnapping, among other various crimes. Please surrender peacefully, and you will be granted a fair trial within the full extent of the law."

The stunned silence that fills the street immediately following her statement brings a certain level of amusement to Mary, but she makes sure to keep her face locked in stone, the picture of impartial justice.

Predictably, Lung does not surrender. Instead, he laughs, raucously. A full belly laugh, the powerful timbre of his voice making it seem as if the air is vibrating with his amusement.

But then, as his laughter starts to peter out, he starts to grow.

That's not good, Mary thinks, as licks of flame start dancing around his form and he reaches nearly seven foot tall in only moments. Very not good.

"You have nerve, Little Birdy, but I am Lung. And you will burn." As if his words were some kind of divine law, heat fills the street, rushing ever closer by the moment, except this time, Mary fails to hide the little smile on her face as she decides to match him.

Quickly chucking her cane from her right to her left, and using it to stop Hannah from pushing her out of the way, Mary rears her fist back, and all at once it ignites into a burning red fire, and as she thrusts forward to meet the encroaching wall of fire, she can't help but shout out.

"Falcon Punch!"

A cone of fire bursts out of her arm, slamming into Lung's own flame and matching it, causing the fire to spill out either side of the street and dispel into the air.

"Oh? So you have a fire inside of you too?" Lung says, but she ignores him.

Reapplying her mask of indifference, Mary moves her cane back to her dominant hand, muttering quietly to Hannah as she does so. "Nine o'clock, two and four. I think they're ABB mooks. You take the mobs, I'll take the Boss."

Knowing that Hannah would argue against her decision, she doesn't wait for a response, leaving her no choice but to follow the plan, lest she put Mary in danger. Well, in any more danger.

Taking another step closer to Lung, she flicks her hand up, chucking her cane in the air slightly, where she can catch it at it's base and flip it over, holding it out slightly to her side, hovering above the ground.

Then, she flicks a small mechanism, and the cross guard-esque handle of the cane abruptly falls to the ground, a rapid clinking of chains following it. As she continues walking closer to Lung, the handle stays in place for a moment, before the chain connecting it to the cane pulls taught, and the grating sound of metal being dragged across concrete fills the air, small sparks following her cross-tipped chain whip.

There are a lot of things she wants to say, a number of one-liners desperately pushing against her lips, but she holds them all back, conscious of the cameras trained on her. Taunting one-liners don't fit the persona she is trying to build, something that she is now regretting slightly, but oh well.

Instead, she simply hones in on the sound of Lung. His breathing is heavier than most, not because he is tired, simply because his lungs are more powerful. Not that it's all that hard to find him if she simply allows herself her sense of touch.

The heat radiating off of him is like a beacon to her, enough that she wants to keep it.

Three senses sacrificed means an eight times boost, leaving three more to actually fight with. Sounds fun.

And useful, she learns as she feels another burst of flame coming her way before she hears it, and her whip snaps out, flame of her own travelling down it's length fast enough to ignite it fully by the time it starts cutting through Lung's attack.

The nature of the whip makes it fairly easy to disperse Lung's flame, and this time she pushes the offensive, snapping out again with her whip, the resulting sonic boom incredibly satisfying to her hears. The tip wraps around his ankle despite his futile attempt to dodge it, and the cross at the end digs in slightly, drawing blood.

Then, with a full body heave, Mary yanks the unreasonably heavy man off of his feet and crashing into the street.

The whip is pulled loose and Mary rushes to approach his fallen form, hoping to land a solid blow to his head to knock him out. Normally she'd have to worry about brain damage and control her strength, but he can heal, so who cares?

Unfortunately, she forgot who exactly it is that she just tripped.

The moment before she is within lunging distance, Lung's fallen body moves.

Far faster than he has any right to, he launches himself at her, foot burying itself into her side, breaking all the ribs on the right side of her body at the same time. The only thing that saved her chest from carving in entirely being the boost she managed to give herself right before the impact, making her twice as durable again than she was before.

She barely even notices her shot flight, only realising that she is suddenly half buried in a collapsed wall, with heavy steps approaching her. Closer to eight foot now, maybe nine by estimate, three-fifty, four hundred pounds. 

Big.

Shaking the cobwebs out of her mind, Mary climbs to her feet, pushing bits of rubble away with ease even as she gives up her sense of touch, the dull pain in her chest disappearing, leaving only her hearing and sense of balance.

Lung is only half a dozen paces away by the time she gets back to her feet, and she hears the roaring of flames crashing down on her and chooses to ignore it. She might not be immune to fire not her own, but she is incredibly resistant.

So instead of focusing on the fire, she simply twitches her weapon, too experienced to actually drop it. She doesn't feel the fire wash over her, but she knows it's there. Instead of focusing on that however, she whips her arm out, and barely hears the sounds of clinking chains wrapping around Lung over the sound of the fires.

But when her weapon finishes wrapping around him, she hears an odd screeching sound, like metal grinding against metal, and as she pulls her whip taut, she abruptly remembers something.

Lung's power makes him continuously grow stronger and larger over time, and at a certain point, he starts to grow scales.

Lung has reached the point where he's started growing scales.

Which means...

Clank!

The sound of her weapon shattering is oddly crisp, but she has no time to think about it as her hearing and more importantly, instincts, warn her to dodge to the side, just in time to hear the whistling of wind and the rumbling of the earth as Lung's fist presumably buries itself into the ground.

With him so close, she tries for a counter attack, aiming a kick at his centre mass, only to hear a sudden bang! Followed by the whistling of wind and a feeling like she's floating.

It takes her a moment to turn her sense of touch back on, and immediately a burning pain floods her mind from every inch of her body. Yet, before she can even whine about it, her back impacts the ground and the air is forced out of her lungs. Her body doesn't stop there, bouncing two more times and tumbling over itself before crashing into a wall.

Groaning, she tries to right herself, stumbling into a seated position as every inch of her skin throbs painfully, a dull sort of detachment clouding her mind, making her thoughts come to her slower than they should.

A hand comes over her face, and it takes her a second to realise it's her own.

Idly, as she drags her hand down her face, she feels a small tear in her blindfold, and with her rapidly clearing mind, she doesn't hesitate to return her sight, peaking through the small hole to check on the situation.

The first thing she notices is fire. Everywhere. She supposes she couldn't feel it over the throbbing of her skin that she is going to choose to ignore for now. She's sure that is she could smell right now, her nostrils would be filled with the scent of ash and smoke and pork.

Shaking the thought away, she focuses on what matters. Fires are the responsibility of the fire brigade, not her. She sees Lung, standing tall and proud in the centre of the street. His arms have turned into silver-scaled claws all the way up to the bicep, same with his feet to his thighs.

There are more scales growing over his chest, back and up his now elongated neck. His head is the real change, no longer even looking human. His face has stretched out, mouth opening wider than it should and filled with razor sharp fangs as his newly draconic features pan about the street, eyes full of Pride and Wrath.

It doesn't take her long to figure out why he isn't pursuing her, as she can see three more capes standing opposite him, immediately recognisable as Empire capes, if only by virtue of not being a Hero.

The three of them are all wearing matching black suites over white dress shirts, with a tie and everything. Their faces are covered by simple black full face, blank masks. One has brown hair, the other two blond. The only thing that really stands out about any of them, is the black mist wisping around one of the blonds.

Then, off to the side, there is Miss Militia, her costume mostly unruffled, valiantly aiming some stocky looking gun forward, bravely ignoring just how outmatched she is. Though, she's probably counting on everyone teaming up against Lung. He has no friends here, and only one cape to support him, yet there is no sight of the soulless teleporter.

On the bright side, with the escalation of combat, there don't seem to be any civilians around anymore, which means no cameras, which is just a huge relief, really.

Still, best not to let them have all the fun without her.

Thinking as much, Mary forces herself back to her feet, getting rid of half her senses again, though choosing to keep her sight for now.

She must have looked quite the sight, because the moment she was back on her feet, the eyes of the other capes present seemed to all zone in on her. Unfortunately, her bones feel too heavy for her to bother making some kind of remark about flattery.

Instead, she just takes a few steps to join the encirclement of Lung, glancing briefly at the three Nazis before cracking a knuckle with her thumb and giving Lung a smile.

"It's not too late to surrender, Lung." She surprises herself with her own voice, not having expected it to come out so wet and scratchy, but in hindsight it's to be expected, really.

If their chuckles are anything to go by, the Nazis liked her joke, yay, but Miss Militia didn't seem to appreciate it much, as she is much more interested in staring at me with something akin to horror, maybe a level or two down from that.

She really does have expressive eyes.

Lung however, visibly dislikes my little suggestion, if the way his neck twists so he can pin me with a burning glare that would surely terrify anyone who still feared death.

Unfortunately for him, he doesn't get the chance to give any kind of scathing rebuttal, as his head suddenly snaps to the side, and less than a second later she knows why, as she can hear a roaring sound rapidly drawing near.

It only takes another second or so before the others pick up the sound, clearly being limited to boring human limits.

In the end, it doesn't really make a difference, as none of them were prepared the building they were collectively looking in the direction of to suddenly explode outwards, a woman charging into the scene with all the subtlety of a bull in a China shop.

Debris follows her like a cape as she screams out, "CHOO CHOO MOTHERFUCKER!!!", and promptly slams into Lung, a delayed shockwave blowing all the dust in the street away just in time for them to see ten foot of Lung to be folded over an exaggeratedly large axe, another shockwave bursting from the impact as she follows through with her blow, launching Lung away like some kind of a baseball.

As his body demolishes another building, Challenger finishes her swing by hefting her axe onto her shoulder with one hand, despite it matching her in size, and giving them all a glance, her eyes stopping on Mary, whereupon a grin lights up her unmasked face.

"Damn, really fucked you up, huh?"

Heh, that's one way to put it.

"I totally had everything under control," Mary returns, feeling free to banter now that she's confident there aren't any cameras watching.

Her words only get a boisterous laugh from Challenger, before the sound of moving rubble brings their attention back to what is swiftly growing into a pretty significantly sized problem.

"Well," Challenger exclaims, laughter in her voice and seemingly not at all bothered by the threat of her foe, "I hope so. It'd be pretty fuckin' gay if you went an' died to the first fucking Villain you fight!"

She's not wrong.

That would be pretty lame.

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𝗦𝘂𝗯𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗧𝗶𝘁𝗹𝗲: Challenger

𝗦𝘂𝗯𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗡𝗮𝗺𝗲: Tanya Harrington

𝗣𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: Brute 7, Striker 6 (Sub: Mover 4)

𝗔𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: Hero

𝗣𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗥𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲: Brockton Bay, New Jersey

𝗗𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗕𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵: December 9th, 1983

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: Active, unmarried

𝗛𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁: 5'11

𝗪𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁: [REDACTED]*

𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗦 𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁: No

𝗔𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲: Dark hair, green eyes, pronounced chin, physically fit, one-eyed, aggressive demeanour

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗔𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁:

Grew up in an orthodox Christian home and rebelled against the strictness forced on her. Had a long delinquency record by sixteen, whereupon she triggered (See: Page 2). Started fighting Villains and other assorted criminals before being brought into the Wards after excessive property damage.

Disciplinary training has born little fruit, though she noticeably calmed down somewhat after the loss of her eye (See: Page 3). Was then transferred to Brockton Bay by personal request. Likely because of the high Villain to Hero ratio of the city.

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆:

Brash, abrasive, confrontational and utterly uncaring of collateral damage. She enjoys physical activities, such as combat and sexual interactions, and is willing to peruse these pleasures to the detriment of those around her.

Doesn't respect authority, but does hypocritically believe that other people should.**

A general thrill seeker. Enjoys heavy metal, and hates jazz music.

𝗣𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀:

Challenger can generate explosions from her body, either selectively or entirely. By turning herself into a bomb, she can demolish an area of roughly thirty metres in diameter. By using explosions from her back in conjuration with her general Brute rating, she can propel herself at high speeds, including the capability of flight.

𝗔𝗱𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀:

She likes her motorbike and drives like a maniac, and frequently has her pay cut to cover reparations for her actions

*It's rude to ask a lady her weight, if anyone un-redacts this, then I'mma break some bones

**Will not let people off for breaking the law, but frequently breaks it herself

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A/N: He~llo! Dear readers!

It would also be incredibly funny.

I wrote that ^ before adding the profile, and now the flow's all messed up :'( I'm going to try to remember to do profiles every now and then.

Who knows, maybe Suzuya is the main protagonist and this is just a way to giver him some motivation or something. 

It's not, but in hindsight, that would have been pretty funny... I should have kept Party Trick around to do that :(

Ah well.

Anywho, I'm still mad that this isn't slice of life, it feels so weird to start things off with a fucking Lung fight. Anyone who knows anything about Worm knows that if you're doing a wormfic, then Lung is like a Boss and you only get a good Lung fight in the latter half of the fic.

Exceptions being when the fight is incredibly short, like in canon.

On the bright side, paralleling canon by fighting lung right at the start is kinda cool, even if it's ruined by the fact that Lung is going to put up a much better showing.

Also, I really need to stop making overpowered characters. I'm going to do my best to keep things mostly street level for a while, but idk how long I can last without just unconsciously writing in someone who can level city blocks with ease...

(5)Advanced chapters on pat.reon, link in description and profile. Also, join the discord with this invite code! Pj3Dttwses