Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Tin Man 'verse. Nothing and no one. Because (at the moment) I'm playing only with the Sci-Fi original characters.
Zipperhead was the first to spot Central City's outer wall and came to a sudden stop. DG and Furball hadn't been far behind, running up to him before stopping. Cain, who'd been covering their escape, stopped a good yard or two behind and slowly walked to stand behind the two misfits.
It had been over ten years since he'd seen the city, and so much had changed. A once bright and bustling metropolis, it now looked almost like ruins of an ancient place. It felt all manner of wrong, and he was hit once again by mingled sadness and anger. The sorceress was rotting the O.Z., from the inside out.
Longcoats stood clustered around a car, drawing his eye. None were Zero, unfortunately or fortunately as the case may be, just more ex-tin men who'd turned their backs on protecting the innocent and defenseless in their greed for platinum and lust for power. Each one was a reminder of the fact that not all who had followed the old ways had done out of a sense of honor and duty, but rather out of convenience.
Furball saw the Wanted poster first, to Cain's shame. He was supposed to be alert, instead he was distracted by his thoughts of Zero and the past. He'd promised himself he'd make sure DG would make it to the Mystic Man safely. He was already falling down on the job.
Ripping the poster off the board he stared at it. Irrationally the thought that it was rather a good likeness crossed his mind. Then again it made sense that the sorceress would use the O.Z.'s artists against them. She had taken several of the best as prisoners early in her reign, wanting to keep their talent for her own uses, and then killed off as many of the rest as she could. He crumpled the paper up and threw it away in the bushes.
"We're going to need some help."
The words had barely passed his lips when like a sign from the gods the truck appeared. It was blaring Demilo's annoying music he called his 'theme song' and the weasel's voice poured out of the speakers.
What were the chances? He didn't waste more than a few seconds pondering the astronomical odds of stumbling upon a former informant just when in need of assistance in getting inside Central City. With a shake of his head he walked down into the road, blocking the truck's passing.
He hit the hood with one hand, and stood inspecting the various decorations, waiting for the slime that was Demilo to drag his likely half-sober ass out to find out what was delaying his base business. Only when he heard the sleaze insult his hat did he look up, having taken his time to reveal himself to heightened the man's shock.
The look on his face was priceless, lifting Cain's spirits slightly. Unfortunately he could only enjoy it for an instant before he went back to inspecting the truck. Staring at that face for too long was liable to give him a gut ache. Demilo after all was someone only a mother could love without being influenced by some 'medication.' But his vehicle, in all its ostentatious multi-colored glory, would be the perfect camouflage for their group to get into the city.
With glee, or as close to glee as Cain ever outwardly displayed during interrogations, he grabbed the oily man and pulled him down off the truck. And, with the ease of much practice, slammed him against the decorated side of the vehicle. Momentarily he noticed the contrast between painted yellow with designs was an interesting counter to the greasy 'legitimate business man' vibe from Demilo.
He was rather rudely reminded of the fact that he was no longer an official protector, then threatened. He found it somewhat amusing. The former actually worked in his favor nowadays, no paperwork or superior officers to have to explain himself to. The latter was really quite amusing, Demilo had as much to gear from the Longcoats than he did, if not more.
So with a hand at scuzzball's throat, he slammed him once more against the truck. This time with a little more force than was strictly necessary.
With a flourish he played his trump card against the 'business man.' When force wasn't helpful, use blackmail. Demilo's twin mistresses poked their magically youthened faces out of the truck's interior, glaring at the man.
Demilo began to panic, even his lies coming out rushed and ill thought-out. So Cain called the flimsy bluff he was given, offering oh-so-helpfully to ask Zero's opinion on the whole 'I was joking when I slept with your wife' idea. In an instant Demilo grabbed his hand, replacing it back on his throat. And Cain knew he had the little slime dealer firmly by the… britches.
He'd demanded help getting them all inside the city and information on Zero's location. All the while wiping his now soiled left hand on his pants, before placing the hand on Demilo's chest to pin him firmly against the truck. When questioned about his second demand he circumvented answering, he wasn't going to explain his motives to this pompous sleaze.
Demilo refused to help. So, Cain used a little delicate force, pulling on the handy gold hoops on either side of the man's help. What did he expect by wearing those? They were such easy targets, And so Demilo agreed.
Cain released him, patting his force with enough of a slap to get his point across. When Demilo included DG in the 'mutt' category he added a little more force than was strictly necessary as he pushed him aside.
And they all climbed inside.