The Dragon of Kyushu, Lung, snarled as a crossbow bolt slammed into his shoulder, somehow managing to hit just between the scales so that the hit was solid. That made one on each of his shoulders, hips and hands and Lung was getting pissed off by it.
Did his enemy really think they could beat him like this? With weak little bits of steel-tipped wood?
He glared at the figure of his enemy, a genderless figure swathed in white robes and wearing a black mask that looked like an eagle's head, especially with that pointed hood over the rest of their head. The Cape was otherwise loaded down with weapons, an impressive arsenal Lung had to admit. A sword sheathed at the waist, a second sword hidden at their left hip, a crossbow; a hidden gun mounted inside one of the gauntlets, grenades, throwing knives and even a set of bolas, although that last one had been used against one of his men earlier on.
Still, nothing in the arsenal of his opponent could actually hurt him. The quarrels from the crossbows stung, but he just snapped them off. The gun was worrisome, but not too much so. The grenades were irritants, nothing more. He was going to enjoy beating this little shit into the ground.
If only they would stay still! Whoever the white-robed Cape was, he was as agile as any acrobat Lung had seen in his lifetime and very quick. No matter if it was fire or his fists, he couldn't land a blow! The white robes weren't even scorched.
Lung roared in frustration and felt his wings emerge. Flaring them instinctively in an attempt at a display of dominance, he charged forwards, talons extended to cut the white clad Cape to ribbons.
The robed Parahuman drew a remote of some kind from a pouch at his side and pressed a button. Lung growled as he felt something being injected into him from the arrowheads inside of him.
'Sonofa…! Remote activated poison injectors loaded inside the arrowheads?!' he thought in disbelief. The first wave of the poison hit him just then, waves of dizziness making him stagger. He didn't have to worry about dying from it; only a specific cocktail of drugs known only to the PRT could disable his regeneration factor and it would take an overwhelming amount of poison to do more than make him dizzy.
"You can feel it now, can't you?" a voice, a female voice, came from the white-robed Cape, "The poison coursing through your veins, your body weakening and failing…much as you have caused Brockton Bay to weaken and become corrupt over the years."
"'uk 'ou!" Lung snarled and straightened up. A female Cape had done this to him? Had fought him, alone and unsupported, longer and dealt greater damage to him than any other being, save for Leviathan?
Impossible.
The female Parahuman sighed and hit a button on the side of her crossbow, causing the weapon to collapse into a block of metal, before sheathing it over her shoulder. She then drew the sword at her hip, the fires started by Lung glinting off the polished length of steel.
He had to admire the craftsmanship that had gone into the weapon. It was a falchion, a curved sword similar enough to the Dao of Lung's homeland of Asia to be recognisable. The edge was razor sharp and Lung knew that to feel its bite would be painful. He would take it from her beaten body as a prize.
"Allow me to introduce myself, Dragon of Kyushu." The robed figure said, twirling the sword in one hand before falling into a ready stance, "I am Altaïr, the Flying One, and I am here to cleanse this city of the taint of villains such as you."
With the roar of a challenge accepted, Lung stampeded towards his enemy. He didn't care that she was female or not Asian. She had challenged him and would suffer the consequences as a result.
Surprisingly though, or rather it wasn't a surprise that she tried to dodge him, but that she succeeded, Altaïr dodged to the side and sliced her blade across his right arm. Many had tried this and had been rebuffed by his scales, so imaging Lung's shock when a sizable wound appeared in the wake of her cut, blood fountaining out as pain struck him, much more intense than anything he had ever felt aside from injuries from Leviathan.
"'ot 'id 'ou 'o?!" he snarled.
"The drugs inside you are not poison, not conventionally, at least." Altaïr replied as she spun her sword and stabbed Lung through his hand, making him howl in pain, "One part acts as a pain nerve enhancer, tripling the sensations you receive from any injuries you receive, while the other is a regeneration inhibitor mixed with a strong hallucinogenic compound. The more you move, the more the drug will infiltrate your system…can't you feel it?"
The troubling thing was, Lung could indeed feel it. Every heartbeat sent the foul drugs further throughout his body. Making him weak…making her victory come ever closer. It was a little-known fact that Lung's regeneration was almost completely geared towards physical injuries; cuts, impacts and the like. This left very little to deal with burning out foreign substances from his body. Oh, it would burn it out eventually, but not nearly soon enough.
Roaring angrily, Lung swiped at his tormentor again and again, she avoided him. It was like she was a precog, able to see all of his moves in advance! It wasn't; it was that she was just that fast and that agile that his strikes, as powerful as they might be, were simply too slow to hit her.
'No more kid gloves!' Lung snarled to himself, 'Mess with a dragon and you get burned!'
He called upon the power of his rage and flames blossomed in the palms of his hands, growing ever hotter and larger as he fed his anger into them, until they were pillars of flame three meters tall in his hands.
"BURN!" he bellowed and blasted the fire at his foe, sending it at her in a wave that meant no matter where she ran, it would hit her.
Instead, he gaped as Altaïr gracefully leapt over the flames in a casual double flip and charged at him once again, sword cutting and slicing at him, leaving great streams of blood falling from his wounds and searing pain burning across his nerves. His vision was actually surrounded in red for a moment! That hadn't happened in years…not since he had Triggered!
"'amn 'OU!" he roared and started swiping again, gouts of fire bursting at irregular intervals from his hands as he tried to hurt her, hell even trying to so much as graze her. Nothing worked. It was…impossible to win.
After a few minutes more of being cut up like a side of beef, Lung did what he should have done once it had been revealed he had been drugged…he turned tail and ran. He made it three steps before Altaïr's sword severed his tail and sent a paralyzing wave of agony across his entire body that made him black out.
With Altaïr
The robed figure of Altaïr gazed down at Lung's unconscious figure as it slowly reverted to human form. When it became obvious that the Dragon of Kyushu wasn't playing possum, she withdrew a cloth from one of the pouches at her waist and started to clean her sword of the blood it had coating it. She had just finished when a motorbike screeched up nearby, mounted by an armoured figure that everyone in Brockton Bay knew; Armsmaster.
"Hero or Villain?" he asked gruffly as he dismounted.
"Vigilante." Altaïr replied coolly as she sheathed her weapon, "Do not bother with suppressant drugs for Lung; he's already swimming on a cocktail of my own design that have rendered him useless for the next twelve hours, plus there's no telling what mixing the drugs will do to his regeneration."
"Irrelevant. Standard PRT and Protectorate procedures require Lung to be brought in after being injected with a special suppressant drug designed for him." The Protectorate leader stated emphatically.
"I am shocked by how much of a fool you are." The robed cape scoffed, "Very well, upon your own head be it."
As she turned to leave, Armsmaster said, "Wait. We should talk about who gets the credit for taking down Lung."
"I care not for credit; do as you please." Altaïr replied tersely, "All I care about it getting scum like this off the streets and in prison where they belong."
"I need a name for my report." The Tinker stated.
"Altaïr, the Flying One." The cape said before raising her hand and firing a grapple line to a nearby warehouse that was miraculously unscathed aside from scorch marks from the flames. When it pierced the roof, the internal auto-winder pulled her up and onto the roof. After disconnecting the piton from the roof, Altaïr vanished in a flash of white across the rooftops of Brockton Bay.
Leaving one irritated Protectorate leader behind her.
Always wanted so see this particular crossover. I like it. Please start one up someone?
Tinker: 3 (Specialty: Assassin's garb, equipment, tools and weaponry) (Able to create a variety of different devices to assist in the process of assassination.)
Brute: 3 (Tinker devices and armoured clothing grant resilience to most forms of attack. Enhanced physical condition grants strength, stamina, durability, vitality and endurance beyond that of the peak of human physical condition. Minor healing factor.)
Thinker: 9 (Possesses Eagle Vision: the ability to instinctively relate to those around her and sort them into four categories; uninvolved, ally, enemy and target. Able to see through walls using this ability. Able to track someone 'tagged' with this ability within a few kilometres of herself. Can even predict where those who are her targets will go with minor precognition. Objects that are of use to her are also highlighted in her vision. Has enhanced instincts, memory, senses and marksmanship as a result of enhanced physical and mental condition. Is able to master any physical action after close observation and is able to master the use of almost any weapon, including Tinkertech weapons, within a short period of time.)
Mover: 2 (As a result of enhanced physical condition has enhanced agility, athleticism, dexterity, jumping, flexibility, lung capacity and reflexes.)
Stranger: 2 (Is able to suppress all sound from self while in movement, including the sound of stepping on anything that might cause noise.)