Ebon liked Talon. He really did. Even before the whole Big Bang mess he'd thought she was pretty cute. But now he was around her all the time…and even the feathers were starting to look pretty attractive. He wanted her sooo badly. There was just one thing that stood in his way. One big, stupid thing that had a tendency to produce an intensely irritating amount of light when he confronted him.
Hotstreak.
Sometimes Ebon wished he'd never even recruited him. But the feeling was mutual. Hotstreak and Ebon had spent so much time fighting that they both wanted out. But if they were to ever take over Dakota, they needed each other, and they both knew it. So they tolerated each other. Barely tolerated each other. Just barely. Sometimes, many times, this threadbare tolerance boiled over into heated fighting.
It didn't have to just be over Talon. It was over anything. Ebon believed that his hot-headed comrade had contributed to the failure of many of his plans. Tonight had been the last straw. Ebon, coming out of his lair to retrieve something had caught them on the couch in a very compromising position. He'd practically dragged him into a screaming match that had every ear in the house listening. It had ended with Hotstreak beginning to blaze so brightly that Ebon could no longer be in the same room with him. He'd roamed the shadows of Dakota for hours, trying to regain his strength, until Static and Gear had caught up with him. In his weakened state, he preferred to slink away rather than risk a fight, so he soon found himself back at their hideout, and stayed in his lair, trying to figure out a way to get rid of a certain thuggish Heatmiser. And now, he thought, he might finally have it.