Singing for His Supper

[Hellbound]

Tony 'BigHorn' watched in mute fury as his faithful button man was tossed aside with contemptuous ease. G.D.'s right hand was as pulverised, shattered and bloody as the gun that feel from it in pieces. Rolling to a crumpled heap on the floor, the ghostly killer curled up and tried to crawl away from the scene in agony.

As Hellbound started to rise, still against the wall, Tony B. threw back his head and bellowed like an enraged bull. His eyes popped wide open and seemed to turn red with blood. Tight cords stood out on his neck above a ruined, white collar. His chest swelled and, more than any moment in his violent life, the thug took on an animalistic presence. The heavy, curving horns which curled from his forehead only enforced this image as he lost himself completely to anger.

Nobody did this to his crew, nobody! The job he was supposed to be carrying out tonight was long forgotten. Let the whole damn bar burn down without paying them a dime, this was too much to let go without answers. Forget having to explain to his superiors how two jokers who didn't even wear spandex managed to get in the way, this punk wasn't gonig to survive the night. If Tony B. had to pop the kid's head from his shoulders personally, Hellbound was a dead man.

Finishing his deafening roar, the mutant charged. His head droped low, horns leading the way, and thick leg muscles strained against finely tailored fabric as he built up speed. By the time he managed to impact Hellbound, he seemed to be moving with all the force of an express train.

Hellbound was waiting for him, though, unafraid and none too happy, himself. One knee came up quickly with perfect timing to smash Tony B.'s nose. Cartilage snapped and blood exploded from the mutant's face, but by then it was too late. The wall behind Hellbound shuddered and gave way as they slammed into it. Plaster and lathe splintered as they crashed into the storeroom beyond.

For one hellish moment, the pair was surrounded with a nimbus of power as they ripped through a junction box that'd been mounted on that wall. Sparks flew unnoticed by both and the bar was plunged into sudden darkness while the fight continued unabated.

[Avenger Assembled]

Maniacal laughter sounded through the darkened bar as the lights fell, the tone menacing, malevolent, and purely murderous enough to cut through even the noise of the fight. Hellbound, at least, and a select few unfortunates among the patrons knew what that laugh meant only too well. "Extortion. Ruined evenings. This demands vengeance." There was a flash of light as Kid Sparks rises unsteadily to his feet, illuminating an overturned table and the dark, hockey-masked figure crouching atop it, one that cut out sharply as Avenger spun on his heel without turning, the crack of leather against flesh audible from across the room as Sparks fell again. "LIGHTS OUT!"

[Hellbound]

The crowd rushed up to the hole they created and brought out whatever sources of light they could find. Keychain flashlights, Maglights and even cell phone screens came to life to illuminate the scene. That, combined with the dim glow of streetlights that came in a small, high window, showed Hellbound swinging a full keg at Tony 'BigHorn'.

The heavy, steel container impacted on the side of the mutant's head and tore itself open on his horn. Beer sprayed out over the storeroom while Tony B. was slammed against stacked cases full of wine bottles. Glass shattered and the heavy smell of alcohol was evident to everyone.

Hellbound then threw the ruptured keg at his opponent, who managed to catch it roughly against his chest and tossed it aside. That slight delay in reaction, however, gave Hellbound a chance to leap again with a punishing left to Tony B.'s jaw.

He managed to keep the mutant off balance as they both traded punishment, but eventually Tony 'BigHorn' managed to trap Hellbound's legs with his own and bring him crashing to the floor. In a heartbeat, he traded positions and began pounding on the hero relentlessly.

Unhappy with the blows, Hellbound reached up and gripped both of Tony B.'s horns in his hands, using them to gain leverage and deliver a brutal headbutt. That, however, turned out to be a mistake. Tony 'BigHorn' apparently had a slightly harder skull than Hellbound.

Seeing stars, now, and not sure which way to turn in order to fight, Hellbound found his neck being gripped by vice-like fingers and dragged towards an exterior door. He felt himself coming off of the floor and crashing into the portal, smashing through the steel security door and rolling into the outside street.

The gathered crowd outside, having been clued into the action close to the beginning of the fight, now rushed over to this new and more public development to watch Hellbound slide to a stop and rise.

Unharmed but still somewhat dazed, Hellbound took up a boxer's stance and motioned for Tony 'BigHorn' to come forward if he was still willing to take more punishment.

As the gangster made his stern and deliberate way outside of the bar, it was a little uncertain as to which had taken the worse of the battle so far. Tony 'BigHorn' was a mass of blood from the shattered nose and both combatants were now dressed in the torn rags of their former outfits.

Hellbound, on the other hand, was superficially appearing to be in better condition since he had no visible wounds aside from the scratches on his arm from Mr. Whipcord. Any experienced fighter could tell that he was moving towards the limits of his endurance and still shaken from the ill advised headbutt.

[Avenger Assembled]

Avenger disappeared into the darkness, glad he'd left the bar long enough to change into his combat togs earlier. Jack Faretti defeating a supervillian was potentially a serious hazard to his reputation, but what was strange about a superhero dealing with a supervillian? He reappeared on the street, leaping nimbly over the heads of the crowd, and landed right behind BigHorn. "You have horns. You taste like beef?" Jack made a horrible slurping noise at that juncture that would have been far more disturbing if anyone there had known that he drank blood to live.

[Hellbound]

Hellbound and Tony 'BigHorn' squared off against each other, finally taking the time to fight without brute force savagery. Both were wearing down with the extended combat even though neither were willing to call it quits. Hellbound's greater skill and agility were coming into play, now, as he slipped around Tony B.'s guard and tagged him with a few shots to the ribs.

The bony plates evident under his suit took the blows and he continued fighting. A couple more shots landed square on his ruined nose and he started to take on the look of an enraged animal once more. This night just wasn't going to end and Tony 'BigHorn' was willing to drive himself into a heart attack before he was willing to let Hellbound win.

"Wha...?" The menacing voice penetrated his growing rage and Tony 'BigHorn' turned for only a fraction of a second. That's when Hellbound came up off of his feet to drop a lethal overhand shot to his jaw, driving the mutant's head down and to the side.

Still conscious, though hurting, Tony B. was spun around and driven to his knees before Avenger.

[Avenger Assembled]

Avenger wasn't above hitting a man when he was down; indeed, that was one of his main combat strategies. He avoided the head, likely armored, and kicked the man square in the chest. It was no easy task; he'd hit vampires that were less resilient than that guy! But he hit him again, concentrating on the vulnerable places; kicking him in the stomach and the chest, landing punches so hard that only his armored gloves kept him from bruising his knuckles. What would make this guy go down?

[Hellbound]

Tony 'BigHorn' took the blows and scrabbled to catch Avenger's foot in mid-kick, but the agile crusader was too skilled to let himself be trapped like that. Still, his attacks weren't doing much more than distracting the armored mutant as more punishment was dished out in search of a weak spot.

Hellbound took that opportunity to leap onto Tony B.'s back, straddling him and locking down with both knees. Even as he was securing his place, though, his hands shot forward to lock around the horns again. Using those to secure his grip once more, he choose not to headbutt this time, but rather he hauled back on his opponent's head and exposed a relatively unprotected neck to Avenger.

Pulsing with life, covered with sweat and straining with the futile effort to escape, Tony B.'s throat lay open and exposed. A wildly heaving adam's apple could be seen bobbing as the mutant realized that, for the first time that night, he was in serious trouble.

[Avenger Assembled]

KILL HIM! DRINK HIS BLOOD! The urge was palpable, physical; a delicious promise of pure, sweet satisfaction. No. No more. Avenger grabbed Bighorn by the unarmored throat and squeezed harder than any mortal man could. When he spoke, it was with a growl of murderous promise, of bloodlust barely kept back from slaughter. It was, to say the least, a very convincing imitation. "Run home, little man. Run home and tell your friends that the West End is off-limits. This land belongs to the Knights of Freedom."

[Hellbound]

The muscles in Tony B.'s neck were thick and tough to squeeze tightly, but Avenger managed to cut off a fair amount of his air supply. The mutant reached forward and dug with his hands, but with the painfully bent position he was unable to get decent leverage. The same result occurred when he tried to grasp Hellbound and throw that one from his back.

His face started to turn red and his eyes began to roll back in his head. Tony 'BigHorn' kicked with his legs, bucking at the infuriating situation but his was done for. Slowly, slowly the strength was draining from his limbs. Already pushed farther than he'd had extend himself in years, Tony B. slipped further down the path of exhaustion. His muscles were already starved for oxygen and his lungs straining against a tight grip that showed no mercy.

Eventually he had to admit defeat. Avenger could see the light of resistance fade from his eyes. Hellbound could feel it, as well, as the man stopped fighting against them both. Still, he waited an extra moment or two before finally accepting that the battle was over. Somewhere off in the distance could be heard the approaching sounds of police sirens.

Slipping from the mutant's back, Hellbound rolled into a sitting position on the ground. He was tired, beaten badly and exhausted on his own. But he'd won with a little help from his friend. With shaking hands, he reached inside his ruined jacket for the ever-present silver matchbox. Miraculously, it'd survived the titanic struggle even if none of his cigars had.

"What took you so long?" He asked in a breathless and jovial tone of Avenger. Examining the cigar he'd selected, and noticing that it'd been smashed beyond all usefulness, he discarded it in disgust.

Blood hissed and burned in midflight as he spat at the pavement and then felt at a loose tooth somewhere in the back of his mouth.

"Hey, your friend Jack was in there. Last I saw he was mixing it up with a couple of real bruisers. You might want to go check on him."

[Avenger Assembled]

"Faretti's capable. Knows when to call in a superhero." Avenger popped his neck, looking with approval at the broken cigar. "Shouldn't smoke. Not a prude," he added with a snort. "Not good to be addicted to anything. Man should have his own vices." Cocking his head at the siren, the dark vigilante added, "Better to get out of here. Think we've made our mark."

[Hellbound]

"Yeah, but I look so damn cool with a cigar." Hellbound protested, still seated on the ground.

he turned towards the approaching cops along with Avenger, but elected to stay behind to deal with the official aftermath. Someone had to stick around and make sure all the thugs made it into lockup, and who better than the bottle-throwing punk that started it all?

"You take off. I'll handle the paperwork. Besides, I still have a set to finish out."

He then looked towards the darkened bar, only a few exterior lights and security illumination still working at the moment. There wouldn't be any more singing tonight, but he still wanted to step up as the official superheroic presence of the event. He was, after all, one of the Knights of Freedom.

"Oh... no, I guess I don't. Ah, well, it was a hell of a good gig while it lasted. See'ya around, V'ger. I'll give you a buzz if I need bail money tonight."

[Hellbound]

Eventually the cops did show up, complete with armored prisoner transports and a host of support cruisers. The emergency calls that brought them here had been placed with enough detail that it'd been clear metahumans were involved. In this town, that meant there would be no taking chances. Even though the participants weren't immediately identifiable by reputation alone, the damage that they were causing warrented precautions.

A lot of onlookers escaped into the night when they showed up, but most wanted to watch the show to the bitter end. Though actually picking up and hauling off the mutants was far less exciting than the actual battle. There was a lot of standing around, talking, considering and checking for priors before the industrial-war-machine looking transport van was loaded.

They managed to find the Brick Brothers, Kid Sparks and Mr. Whipcord all where they'd been left, but G.D. Badman seemed to have vanished. He had been, after all, the only one of the crew left conscious and capable of escaping despite his injured hand. The rest were picked up and checked by experienced medical teams before being marched into their awaiting chariot.

It took a little fast talking on Hellbound's part to convince the police that he wasn't one of the bad guys. Despite his appearance, he actually did belong to a real superhero team and this was all in the line of duty. Eventually he was instructed not to move while his story was verified, and fortunately it checked out in the end. Hellbound was who he said he was, which owing to the oddball laws of meta-activity in Freedom City meant that he was free to go. Even after causing so much damage to one of the better bars in the city, he was given a pass to his violent activities.

After all, Captain Thunder alone tended to cause more destruction on a regular basis. At least Hellbound hadn't gone around putting holes straight through any skyscrapers. Of course, the Thunderer tended to battle more world-menacing foes than the Mutant Mafia, but it all fell under the same set of legal circumstances.

That didn't help ease the mental suffering of Morley's manager, however. As he sat alone in the darkness of the damaged bar, casually pouring a measure of strong scotch into a glass on surviving elements of the furnishings, he considered how much cheaper it would have been to just pay the protection money.

Granted, that would have made them a future target for the racket, but at least he wouldn't have to explain to Moira why they needed to find a master craftsman to fix their antique, mahogany bar. C'est la vie, he considered. If a businessman couldn't handle a few metahumans battling it out from time to time then he really didn't belong in Freedom City in the first place.

As he went through these depressing considerations, though, there was yet another figure watching the events roll through outside. A dapper man; well dressed, tall and fashionably thin was taking everything in and considering the results. It was a little odd, though, in that he managed to remain standing alone and not one soul near him reacted to his presence.

Though he did nothing to protect his own position and moved not one inch, nobody took any notice of him nor did they seem to think his dark, dangerous stare was anything to be concerned about. It was almost as if he weren't really present, a fact clearly denied by his actualy standing there and glaring at the officers arresting his boys.

Tony 'BigHorn' Shapela was a strong lieutenant, and not just physically. He and his crew were one of the best that the Mutant Mafia could field. They were experienced, controlled and tough as nails. A good combination of obedience, discipline and ingenuity had always made them one of the more valuable assets to the orginization and made Tony B. a rising star in the meta-mob.

But now they were being arrested and carted off downtown. High priced lawyers were already being dispatched to ensure their quick release, but this was going to be both expensive and embaressing. The dapper man was going to have to go into the next council of dons and explain how his best lieutenant and the people working under him had been thrashed badly by a couple of punk superheroes.

Worse, the one that'd seemed to have done the most work wasn't even well known. A nobody that'd come out of the woodwork like some cockroach. He didn't even have a costume even if he did claim to be some Knight of Freedom, whoever the hell they were.

No, the next council meeting was going to be bad. He could already imagine the dissapointed stares of the Cappo and his consigliere. Drawing one, long hissing intake of breath through clenched teeth, the dapper man relaxed his concentration and slowly faded from the seen as if he'd never even been there in the first place.

[Hellbound]

The following morning found Hellbound rising late. After all of the gangsters had been hauled away, the revelers from inside of Morley's had been reluctant to go home. It'd been a fantastic evening as far as they were concerned, and most of them believed that more excitement was yet to come.

In response, those who ran the bar decided that an impromtu block party was in order. Surviving tables, crates and stands of any random variety were brought out to line the front of the building. Though the lights were out inside, the street was still well illuminated by the sodium streetlights above. The night air wasn't as warm as one might hope, but for early April is was better then one could expect. After donning a few jackets and moving about vigorously for warmth, the crowd was ready to keep things swinging until the early hours of the morning.

It was a wonder that the cops hadn't been called out a second time just to quell the noise. Apparently, after successfully vanquishing Tony 'BigHorn' Shapella and his infamous crew, Morley's was getting a free pass tonight. Investigators had been trying for months to bring them to justice. Now it looked like they were going to have a pretty tight case against them. The appearance of a gun at the crime scene only helped make the case against them, even if the actual gunman had managed to flee the scene.

Hellbound had managed to find the energy to get back out in front of the band and continue his singing engagement. Working outlets had to be located along with enough extension cords to cover the new, exterior venue, but where there was a will to party then there was a way to power the amps.

Thus it was that when Hellbound did finally come to the next day, he was several hundred dollars richer than the night before. Sitting up in his narrow, creaking bed and taking in his crappy hotel room with bleary eyes, the hero tried hard to remember all of the action. He was hurting, sore and stiff in far too many places, but it'd been a great fight. No better way to blow off a little steam, in his opinion.

Shifting painfully from the edge of his bed to the cold, dirty floor underneath, he made his aching way towards the bathroom.

[Hellbound]

Hellbound stood and tried valiantly to fill the proceline bowl with a long stream of urine. Somehow, though, the water level never did seem to rise. Ever. He wondered why that was, seeing as how the thing had to have its limits. Yet, no matter how much used beer he spilled into the device it never changed.

Weird and pointless, but those were his thoughts on this late and hung-over Saturday morning. At some point he'd have to come up with a plan as to how his day would be spent, but at the moment he had greater concerns on his mind. One of them was in regards to the color of his flowing stream and whether it was always like that, or if this time it was as the result of minor internal bleeding.

Eventually it ceased to be a concern, however, as his bladder managed to empty itself without setting anything on fire. Presumably, if he was urinating blood then it'd behave exactly as any other time he bleed and produce those smokey flames.

Wandering from the dingy bathroom, Hellbound scratched himself in a most un-heroic manner and made his way to the kitchen area. Living in an efficiency as he did, there wasn't much space between the refrigerator and the toilette which sometimes had proven itself handy in the past. Unfortunately, this morning he seemed to be out of beer so no breakfast for Hellbound.

Closing the appliance with a measure of dissapointment, he then tried refocused his mind on the day's future events. There was always the option of crawling back into bed, but somehow that didn't seem as productive as he'd like to be today. Not that there was anything that absolutely had to be done, but sleeping all day just didn't seem like the sort of thing a Knight of Freedom was all about.

His clothes from last night still lay in a heap on the floor, slightly separated from the 'clean' pile and not looking too healthy as far as fashion went. If, at some point today, he was going to do more than just hold fond recollections of how they became so tattered and destroyed, then he was going to have to get dressed. Unfortuately the garments which supposedly hadn't gone through an historical bar fight weren't in much better condition.

Hellbound considered that for a moment. He had some new cash in his pocket after having gotten paid for last night's gig. He'd still earned his keep even in spite of the damage that'd been caused. Apparently Morley's was well insured against such things, much like any wise business in Freedom City.

So here Hellbound stood with cash in hand and not much of note to wear. Apparently it was time for him to go shopping, and this time it would be a place with a little more class than the Salvation Army.

[Hellbound]

Midtown.... the last time Hellbound had been here it was during that fight at the ice rink. He could still remember the panicked screams and the reporter's words reagarding the injuries. in a number of ways, he still didn't consider the entire debacle to be his fault, but that didn't clear him completely of guilt.

Still, to this day he didn't know who it was that he fought or even why. The damn thing had just vanished into smoke at the end and, so far, had never shown his face again. Hellbound would always remember those pale eyes, though. That dry, wicked smile and inhuman grace would be something he'd never forget for as long as he lived.

But that wasn't really important, just so long as the 'thing' didn't show up again today. This was a day about self-improvement, Hellbound considered, or at least as far as his wardrobe went. Maybe he'd even get a haircut, though it was pretty tricky actually coming up with a pair of scissors tough enough to get through his mane. Just like every other part of his body, his hair was inhumanly durable.

Eventually the bus arrived at the Millennium mall and began to disgorge its passengers. So far so good, no demonic entities had leaped from the shadows and started stitching holes in the vehicle's roof. Perhaps today would just be a normal day after all?

I mean... come on. Hellbound was only buying some new clothes. What's the worst that could possibly happen?

[Hellbound]

As the milling throngs of bus-riders passed him by, Hellbound had to consider the lot of so many of them. A lot of the passengers were clearly employees here at the mall and he knew they'd be going home smelling of french-fry grease, stockrooms and polyester uniforms. What sort of life was that?

Hellbound tried to imagine himself in their place and simply wasn't able to do it. He didn't have to be one of the working wonderless of the world. He was special, one of the new gods. He couldn't be counted among the mortal merchants and unremarkable underlings. Even if he made the attempt at passing himself off as nothing special, he knew that it couldn't be done.

Oh, sure, more powerful people than himself had managed to pull off secret identities and play along with the insignifiant ants of the universe, but it just wasn't inside of him to run that same game. It was more than just being bullet proof and stronger than an industrial crane, there was something lurking at his core that wouldn't allow him to rest.

Hellbound couldn't stop fighting. At best, perhaps he could hide who he was for a few hours. A massive application of will might have him acting the undermensch for days, but eventually he'd have to open up and express who he really was.

Just like last night, the raging warrior that drove his entire being would not be satisfied with a common life. Just being here today, for example, walking along with the consumer cattle got on his nerves. It wasn't so much that he felt 'superior' to them, that he considered himself to be above the common man in light of what he could accomplish, but rather he just felt... different. 'Outside' might be a good way to describe it.

Inhuman would be better.

Hellbound could look at all of the working schlubs going through their day and feel... what? Pity? That wasn't the word. He had no pity in him, nothing even negative to reflect his vision of those so much weaker than himself. They were fine. They were the world. He was the... alien here?

The hero brought himself to an unconscious halt at the thought. That honestly felt right. He was the alien here, himself and all the other superbeings running around the city. It was almost as if they didn't belong among the common folk, the finer people who kept the world running daily simply by being a part of its functions.

Hellound was something standing to the side of that, watching it and waiting for something to go wrong. When that happened, when something threatened the smooth turning of the worldly gears of mortal people, it was his job to step in and see to it that nothing was interrupted.

He shook his head, shaggy hair flying around his face as he attempted to throw off the maudlin nosense. Hellbound didn't even know where the hell those thoughts were coming from. He was just here to by some new pants, man. Not analyze his place in the universe.

[Hellbound]

Inside, the mall was a teaming cross-section of humanity. People from all walks of life and financial straits made their way from store to store or just took in the chance to be out and about with others of their kind. Some of them were here to simply socialize while others shopped for the latest must-have trend. The fact that their lives weren't actually considered incomplete until they'd even heard of it really didn't change their need to spend hard earned money on it. Whatever it was.

Regardless, the constructed monument to capital excess served as a gathering point for many citizens of Freedom and beyond, which made the whole thing a haven for 'people watchers'. Those who simply enjoyed observing others as they went about their baffling business always managed to find both subjects and objects on which to exercise their hobby.

Hellbound wasn't really a 'people watcher', but he was fascinated by the bustling life that surrounded him right now. Normally a night person, he was more used to darkened climes and people who kept very tightly to themselves. At three in the morning, there weren't a lot of individuals who wanted to broadcast their activities to anyone.

Here, though, it was almost like the shoppers took some strange thrill in taking notice of being noticed. It was, in a way, almost refreshing.

He wasn't sure where he should go to do his shopping. This wasn't his normal thing and it would have been better if someone had come along to show him the way. What stores had the best prices and most durable clothes? There was no chance of Hellbound chasing after latest trends, meaning he'd pick the styles that fit him rather than anyone else, but he didn't want to waste his money on anything clownish.

[Hellbound]

Movement from his left caught Hellbound's eye, drawing him out of his shallow, internal revelations. For a moment he thought it might just be a reflection in the glass of a storefront, but closer examination told him otherwise.

While, yes, he could see people moving in the background of the mall, that's not what drew his eyes. Apparently he'd wandered past a local Animal Rescue League center and the antics of a few furballs had caught his attention. Various cages were on display, each with one or two young foundlings preoccupied with either playtime, naptime or foodtime.

"Huh. Those are the big three, aint they?" Hellbound asked after bending his knees before the window. "Eat, sleep and keep yourself from going nuts. Dudes, I can so relate."

One kitten in particular, a white shorthair critter with a single smudge of grey on top of its head, cavorted over to where the hero was watching. Tiny paws pressed against the glass while the animal opened its eyes wide to see who'd shown up.

Hellbound noticed that one of its shining orbs was green while the other was blue, with that one having a slightly distorted and misshappen pupil. He tapped at the glass and moved his finger back and forth a bit, surprised that the kitten was able to follow it despite the obvious ocular defect.

"You're kinda allright, aren't you?" Hellbound asked even though the animal probably couldn't hear him, and of course wouldn't be able to reply even if it were otherwise.

[Hellbound]

The small, happy white kitten made a few attempts to trap Hellbound's moving finger before letting out a small cry of frustration. There was a half-carried tone part way between a hiss and a growl in its voice as it complained, but the animal didn't seem unhapy with the temporary diversion. Life within a shelter was hardly ideal, despite the easy access to food and playmates, so the creature wasn't about to let a chance slip by if it meant new people to meet.

Suddenly, the cat's attention was drawn sharply to something just beyond Hellbound's shoulder and a moment of fear overtook it's eyes. The kitten's pupils went wide and attentive as something had it deeply spooked, more so even than the chubby security guards wandering around with their flat-top hair and polyester wedgies.

Never one to react slowly to signs of danger, Hellbound remained in his crouching position and pivoted in place. One hand went slightly before himself as if to protect from an incoming attack while the other cocked backwards in preparation of striking.

Nothing was there, however. Behind Hellbound was just more expanse of marbled and polished shopping mall. Being on the second floor, Hellbound was close to a glass railing that surrounded an opening which lead to the level below, but nothing was rising up from this balcony-bestowed, open-air view.

Even the heavy crowds seemed natural and non-threatening. Kids and adults both were going about their business just fine. If something were about to attack, explode or make the walls bleed, then Hellbound couldn't see what that might be.

Returning his attention to the A.R.L. window, he could see that the kitten had retreated far from Hellbound's position.

[Hellbound]

Hellbound leaned back and crossed his arms, considering the small, white ball of fur huddled in a far corner. He could see that it'd been spooked. Not really afraid, or at least not in a 'cowarding' sort of way, but there was an element about the scene that had thrown it into a protective mode.

It was almostl like the kitten had gotten a whiff of his burning blood, but Hellbound was pretty sure he'd cleaned all of that off. The only place where he'd been cut last night was his left forearm, and that was barely even showing scabs. If there was any fumes coming off of him then it was unlikely the cat would have caught it through the plate glass window.

Besides, none of the other animals were reacting in the same way.

"Paranoid little fragger, aint ya'?" He asked, pointlessly. The kitten simply watched him with wary eyes that continued to shift from side to side, almost as if it were trying to see around the hero rather than directly at him.

Just to be sure, Hellbound took one more look over his own shoulder. Still, there was nothing he could see which might be spooking the kitten. He slowly extended an accusatory finger and jabbed it solidly against the glass.

"Shouldn't be so jumpy. It's bad for your nerves."

Having had his fill of watching the young animals cavort, Hellbound decided to move on and finish his shopping expedition, but for some reason he didn't shift his position. The hero kept watching the kitten and wondering at its reactions. There just seemed something so different about this one, something that set it apart from the others.

The rest of the pets were still playing around, oblivious to anything in their environment besides what they could immediately touch. Direct interraction, that's all they understood, but this white one seemed to have a greater understanding of the world it lived in.

Hellbound stood for a few minutes more, just watching. A difficult expression crossed his face, shifting this way and that as it seemed a mental struggle took place within his mind. Eventually he muttered the immortal words of 'fraggit' and went inside the A.R.L. outlet.

[Hellbound]

As he entered the adoption center, many of the animals caught immediate notice of him and began clamoring for attention. There were, indeed, many puppies and young cats all of whom had grown tired of the Shelter life and were ready to find new homes. Most looked happy and healthy, but Hellbound just had to wonder what he was doing there, anyway.

He was a rough, tough, blood letting superhero. He cracked skulls, knocked bad guys through walls and in general played the badass of Freedom City just by being Hellbound. The last place he'd have expected to find himself was in an Animal Rescue League getting ready to ask about a damn kitten.

A kitten, for frag's sake. Not even a puppy, maybe some mastiff or pitbull that he could train to act mean and run at his side during missions. Something tough and manly, something he could be proud to say was his as it intimidated the bad guys into freezing in place. One well timed growl could do wonders to end a fight before it even began...

But a cat? What kind of loser superhero owned a cat?

As he scanned the animals, deliberately pretending not to notice the strange white kitten who was still following him with its eyes, one staff member came up to him.

She proclaimed herself to be Stephanie and asked if he was interested in the animals Though there was certainly a hint of trepidation in her gaze at his appearance. He didn't look like the responsible type that'd take good care of a pet, but she'd learned long ago that appearances could be deceiving.

"Yeah..." He began, giving up on the pretense of manliness and directing a finger towards the front of the store.

"The white one up there? The kitten with one blue and one green eye? What's the deal with that guy?"

[Hellbound]

The staffer looked towards the front window and considered the animals on display.

"You mean the Russian Blue?" She asked. "It's a she, actually, and probably the sweetest kitten we've had in years."

A confused look crossed Hellbound's face as he tried to correct her. He was referring to the white one, though he hadn't actually noticed if there were any blue cats cavorting about the store.

"No, the white one is a Russian Blue." Stephanie smiled. "See, a local breeder has been trying to establish a white color variant of the breed even though T.I.C.A.'s not been very open to the idea. I don't think C.F.A. has even been introduced to them, either, and there's good reason... hold on, let me go get her out."

A lot of what Stephanie had just stated went over Hellbound's head. He didn't know squat about associations, cat breeders or cat breeds. All he knew is that there was something special about the one that'd caught his attention.

In a few seconds, the staffer was back with the proper animal. The white kitten was looking up at her with curiosity, though her feline gaze would occasionally sweep the room.

[Hellbound]

"Unfortunately," Stephanie continued, "It took a fair amount of inbreeding to produce the proper results. That breeder already had a pretty bad reputation for just that reason, and this really isn't helping her cause."

The white cat made a playful attempt at climbing onto her shoulder, but gave up as its attention span quickly shifted to other things. Hellbound was examined in detail followed by nearly every other moving object in the room.

"White cats already tend to have problems with both hearing and vision, so you can imagine that the inbreeding didn't help. Tigho, here, is completely deaf. We're pretty sure she can't hear at all."

So the kitten finally had a name, though Hellbound wasn't sure what Tigho was supposed to mean or where it came from. For some reason, however, the strange name seemed to fit. She actually looked a bit like a 'Tigho', whatever that might be.

"Blue eyes don't help, either. Put them both together and you're almost assured to have some health issues. Russian Blues are supposed to have green eyes, but Tigho came out half-and-half for some reason.

"Weird thing is, she seems to be able to see just fine. I mean, you can tell that she has to be able to look at something to know about it and that hasn't slowed her down one bit."

Stephanie held the cat up just above shoulder height and, indeed, Tigho swept the room with her gaze continuously. It gave her the air of a creature that held boundless curiosity and tried to satisfy it non-stop.

[Hellbound]

"Deaf?" Hellbound asked. He didn't know that much about cats to begin with, let alone ones with hearing problems.

"So... like what kind of special needs does a deaf cat have?"

Stephanie listed out some of the problems that a hearing impaired animal might run into. Primarily, there wasn't any way for the cat to know when something was sneaking up on her, so she was easy pickings for predators. That meant the cat should never be allowed to go outside otherwise it could be caught and killed by stray ferals.

That was good advice for any cat, however. Some people held the belief that such animals were only happy if allowed to roam freely and get into trouble. But that only led to infections from wounds gained by fighting or other sorts of trouble. Granted, farm cats were a different story as they were part of pest control, but any example of the species living within city limits were better off staying inside.

Aside from that, there just wasn't much to hold the cat back. Normally they never came when called anyway, so what was the point in Tigho not being able to hear her name? She would learn to keep a close eye on her food dish over time and eventually grow into an established schedule of fresh meals being provided.

As the staffer spoke and gave Hellbound some information, Tigho began fighting her way out of Stephanie's grip and over to the previously super-macho superhero.

[Hellbound]

For someone who's blood could start forest fires and send most animals running in fear, Hellbound certainly failed in spooking Tigho. Despite his 'tough guy' exterior and even his fiercest 'back off' glare, she wasn't in the least bit intimidated. Even the startled reaction she'd had earlier was gone.

Granted, that seemed to be caused by something witnessed over his shoulder, but whatever it'd been the thing was now gone. Tigho was happily purring and padding both front feet against his chest as she gazed upward. There was something odd about the way she alternated between left and right legs, almost as if her sense of rhythm were off. Rather than the even, balanced way that cats had of pawing things to display ownership, this one managed a happy, clumsy way of dancing instead.

Hellbound kept her supported with one hand as she stamped against him, though he himself was held absolutely rigid. The kitten just seemed so small and delicate, as if one false move on his part would snap her in half. Given his inhuman strength, that was entirely likely.

Still, something about her just seemed to radiate absolute joy. There was a common aspect missing in her personality, something that most other animals just carried as a background thing. It was the lack of fear, he supposed. Where another kitten might be spooked by the loud noises and strange people that moved through the shop, she was absolutely oblivious.

Apparently there was an advantage to not being able to hear, at least for a pet. Where sudden sounds and quick movements might intimidate others, Tigho had no concept of ever encountering such discomfort.