Disclaimer: I don't own Victorious or any of it's characters. Schneider's Bakery and Nickelodeon do.
Think of this as a form of interlude, just proof that some things are happening in the background as I get the rest of my ideas out. Honestly, just a couple of loose ends to tie up, but until then, enjoy.
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A scared girl, all of thirteen, huddled in the corner, worried she'd never again see the very parents she'd been trying to avoid. Sure, they beat her, but that was far better then what these men seemed to have planed for her. The whole setup screamed porn, from the camera's to the rough looking men to the very real fact that no one had bothered to ask her what she wanted. Just one other woman was there, the one who'd lured her near enough for the snatch, and she looked ready to get paid and leave.
"You sure you don't wanna stay?" One of the men, an older, heavyset man, asked. "Mommy love breaks up the monotony of the multiple rape scenes. Girls only gonna scream and cry so long."
"Once she's broken, you sell her." The woman spat, not caring to be around these men much longer. "Once she's here, I'm done, and just want to get paid and go. I have other kids on the hook."
"All about money for you, isn't it?" Someone asked in a deep, resonating voice. The man in charge turned to find out which of his "Actors" had spoken out of turn, only to see an odd mist poring in under the door. Seconds passed as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, time enough for that mist to solidify into the tall, muscular form of Achilles Junior. "Guessing you should have run, cause my street contacts, they told me about this place, about what goes on here." His smile at the woman faded as he glanced around the temporary set, setup in the back of a gentleman's club. "Funny, you guys usually drug the girl and work out of high end hotels. But this operation, you guys are even scummier. Guessing that's why you use a place like this, huh?"
"Bad news, hero, we have you out numbered a dozen to one." One of the so called actors called out. "Plus, I do snuff films on the side, have me an axe."
Robbie had to use his acting skills to hide his smirk as the would be director facepalmed. 'Someone knows how boned they are. Just be thankful I was the one to find you, thanks to that tip from Dices. Guys, you shouldn't have taken that girl from his class, cause boys vengeful as fuck, and knows how to find guys like you. Still, won't be long before Phantom shows, and then you guys would be in for some hurting.' Mentally shrugging, he addressed the gathering. "Okay, thanks for the confession. The rest of you, you wanna just surrender, or should we get this farce over with?"
The large, intimidating man who'd promised an axe withdrew three steps to gather his weapon, producing a large two handed headsman's style axe. Robbie watched him out of the corner of his eye as the other ten men rushed him, hoping to take the hero by numbers alone.
Rob often relied upon his strength. However, his reflexes in this form were human maximum, and easily shifted to take them in smaller groups, avoiding being possibly overwhelmed by their combined mass. His first move was to close in on one at the side, slamming his knee into the mans midsection. The force was almost enough to take the rapist out of the fight, but Robbie wasn't taking chances, hefting the man and using his body to bludgeon the others, driving them back a step as he shifted to face the one with the weapon. 'No time to play. Take out the axe, then I can deal with the others. Otherwise, they might get seriously hurt.'
Rob pushed the gathering off to the side, enjoying the power his body held. However, as strong as he was, nine men together were stronger. Once they found their balance, they'd be on him.
Robbie closed on the axe wielder, and hardened his skin to near stone level. The axe, quick as it was, would have a hard time digging too deep into his body. Rob never needed worry, his reflexes, slowed down by the increased density, still allowed him to catch the axe and pull it from the mans grip. A quick strike with the weapons shaft stunned the thug long enough for Rob to toss the axe aside and grab this man for a slam, putting him down for now. Robbie immediately shifted to start striking the others as they again tried to use their numbers to crush him. Elbo's and knees struck true, and while he took a lot of blows from the gathered, his hardened skin made it impossible to do real damage.
There were only eight when they managed to get a hold of him, using the combined strength of half a dozen to hold him as the other two started pummeling him. The axe wielder had gotten to his feet and retrieved his weapon, obviously hoping to use it to do some damage.
Robbie just went misty, letting himself slip out of the collective grasp, and repositioning himself to where he could deal with the axe wielder once and for all. This time, he lifted the man and slammed him down, hard. Then he tossed the axe to the side, and rushed the others. No longer willing to play with his opponents, Robbie got serious, using the martial arts he'd been taught to start whittling down the numbers. Before he knew it, he'd managed to render the last of the would be rapists unconscious, nerve strikes and hard blows having taken their toll. 'Filmmaker and the woman both rabbited while I was fighting. Too bad for them I have backup…'
Outside, covering the back door, two police officers were holding the man and woman for questioning. "Achilles, you did have probable cause, right?" One of them wondered. Normally, vigilantes had broader freedom to search and enter, but Achilles was technically police, and needed to follow the rules.
"I had a tip." Rob informed the officers. "It's in the report, the one where I requested backup. Come on, guys, you know I wouldn't be asking if I didn't have something solid." He showed them his current prize. "Now, this axe, put it in evidence, and be careful. One of the guys claimed to use it in snuff films."
"And you got your fingerprints all over it." The woman who'd lured the girl in noted.
"Nope." One of the officer said, seeming far too happy. "Achilles here doesn't have fingerprints. Don't know how or why, but it's true."
The big hero, however, had gone back into the club, retrieving the girl and escorting the nervous barely teen back out. "You okay?"
"Think so." She said, not crazy about going home, but figuring it was probably safer then life had been of late.
"Okay then, why don't you tell the nice officers everything." The hero instructed. "Including why you were on the streets in the first place."
}
Cat wasn't sure why she'd agreed to visit this particular dock, only aware that she'd been promised, by someone who knew someone who knew Sam, that it'd be worth her while. 'Of course, they didn't think they were talking to Cat, just someone who could help. I wonder, why don't they ever paint these warehouses fun, festive colors. This one would look darling in yellow, or maybe something more vibrant, to offset the dreariness that sometimes comes with being so close to the ocean.'
As Cat was watching, her mind far away, her symbiot was warning her that she wasn't alone. "So, this is the person who's been asking about things they'd best not ask about." A very male voice said. "And I thought we'd just be dealing with a snoop. This, it could be fun." Stepping closer so she could clearly see him, he addressed her. "So, little girl, how many of my men do you think you can handle before your begging us to just let you die? If you survive us all, we'll let you work for us. You may even earn yourself some forgiveness for asking questions you shouldn't."
"Okay, before we continue, what do you mean by handle?" Cat asked. "Cause I'd like to avoid violence is I can." Her field had been down, to avoid too much attention, so she'd been relying on a perception filter and an overcoat. The latter provided two functions, both protecting her from the colder evening air near the docks, and covering her jumpsuit, so as to draw the least attention. Also, she felt it made her look like a cool private investigator, to the point where she'd been pretending as she walked towards the warehouse. However, with her field down, and jumpsuit covered, she looked like a petite young girl, and not Bastion, the physical powerhouse of Project Redemption.
"Make us all happy, and we can." The man, a tough looking individual, not that old, but definitely not a kid, said.
"By like, singing?" Cat asked, smiling at the chance to perform. 'Better sing in a different register, or they might be able to connect me with… What now?'
"They mean sexually." The symbiots explained.
"I mean, you start by blowing me, and then, we see how much your little pussy can take before your screaming for mercy." The man snapped, his hand swinging, slapping her across the face. Immediately, he regretted that action, as his hand now hurt. It had only taken a heartbeat for the symbiot to raise her field. "Owe… What the…"
His men, the ten or so he'd brought with him, all felt like they were needing to prove something, so when their boss seemed hurt, they moved to grab the girl and start punishing her for defying them. Only problem, Cat now had the strength of a thousand men, and they lacked even the ability to knock her from her feet.
Cat wasn't kidding when she said she'd hoped to avoid violence. Only now, she was committed, and so started doing what she could to bind these men so as to avoid using her strength to actually strike one of them, possibly ruining their faces with her raw power. Instead, she bounded from point to point, finding whatever to wrap them up, preventing them from getting away before she found out just what they were trying to protect.
"IT'S BASTION!" The call came far too late, Cat's speed and power was more then a match for a double handful of thugs. Some ran, others went for weapons, but none of them made it far. Before they could formulate a plan, they were all bound or shoved into something and locked away.
Cat then checked the warehouse, finding it held very little of interest. 'No crimes here. So why'd they try to hurt me?'
"Because they were being paid to deal with someone getting to close." The symbiot tried to explain.
'No, cause then they'd have sent someone more professional.' Cat reasoned. 'These were guards, meaning something of value is here. We're just not seeing it.' She activated her radio, calling in the police, to both collect the baddies, and if they could get a warrant, search the warehouse. However, before the dock patrol arrived, she'd already found what they were hiding. "Okay let me amend my earlier call. These guys are dealing in animals. Not sure if these are going in or coming out, but their all exotic, and probably worth something to the right persons, so… Call a zoo?"
"Animal control is on the way." Came back.
'Already knew that.' She thought bitterly as she eyed the gathered toughs. "So, did you use the same holes in security to get here? Probably not, cause this isn't part of the port of Los Angeles, just a smaller warehouse that lacks international port privileges, meaning odds are there's an illegally parked ship near by." She was smiling now. "Gee, thanks for being so helpful. I'd have never thought of the ship if you hadn't been so nice. Stay here a while, while I fly up and find me the smugglers..."
Cat wouldn't find the right ship before she was forced to deal with the police, having to admit most of the docks around there were for wealthy people and their boats. "Thinking they're exporting, not sure where they're getting the critters. Some, like that one, are kinda cute. Others, thinking it's for private hunting and the like. Meaning, they're just holding for someone else, and the buyers, they sail right up, near by, like in one of this list of berths, and load up the animal they want. So, check the logs, see if we can find out who was using those berths, and lets find us some cute and fuzzy friends who are being abused."
The police were just happy to have the arrest, even though not one of their officers had even thought about the possibility of this crime being committed in this neighborhood. After all, while the warehouse was poorer, the docks were middle class and up. The thugs, who lived in the upper part of the warehouse, mostly operated at night and in the evenings, staying just out of sight enough so as to maintain the image of an upper class neighborhood, and thus, crime free. Venice of America was now a touch safer, with this crew, who had been robbing apartments and dealing with collections as side hustles, now out of the picture.
"Which of these idiots decided to get rough with Bastion?" An officer asked as he started ferrying the bad guys to the waiting wagon.
}
The evening air was disrupted, again, by the sounds of violence. Two gangs had been feuding, and now, with drug sales and territory on the line, they were exploding into violence. Hand to hand would soon escalate to shooting, and the casualties would mount. Bystanders in this nice, lower middle class neighborhood took what cover they could to avoid the impending slaughter.
"Okay, you have one chance to stop, before things get nasty." A voice called out as a woman dropped from her hovercycle to the ground. Warpath had arrived. 'They have guns, and while my skin is fairly bullet resistant, and I'm wearing that new chiz Lenard said would help protect me, still not cray cray about getting shot be an assault rifle. However, too many innocent bystanders around here, so…'
"Warpath!" Someone called out, and for the first time in who knows how long, they considered putting their differences aside and facing off against this common enemy. Only, old hatreds ran deep, and the two sides couldn't work together, even on something like their freedom. So, an odd alliance of sorts did form, with those with guns opening up on the newcomer, while the others went back to trying to use the distraction to win the day.
'Learn something every day…' Trina thought as the "Improvement" Lenard had put into her cycle came into play, a shimmering field of energy slowing the rounds aimed at her. One by one, the bullets dropped to the ground, their inertia fed into reinforcing the field, all the while protecting the people around her far more then the hero before them. 'Okay, got to stop this madness before it gets worse. Only, wait a second, cause they'll just keep shooting until they run low on ammo. Annnnnd… Go!'
Trina covered the distance in a heartbeat, the body of Warpath moving with inhuman speed. Her strength and power more then a match for most of the kids present. However, her goal, starting, were those assault rifles. Not bothering to try and disarm, she simply bend each barrel to render them useless. 'Maybe they're clubs now, but at least it's hard to hit bystanders with clubs.' She reasoned.
Her biggest problem now was numbers. 'Maybe thirty per side, and about a third of both sides had long arms. Betting there's a lot more guns hidden someplace near, but mostly, they're letting the newer members, those without weapons, fight it out hand to hand. Yea, this is bad.'
Her body was more then resistant enough to deflect the buckshot as it slammed into her, making her smirk. "You know, slugs would have had more penetrating power. Then again, still wouldn't have stopped me. So, you gonna keep up this foolishness?" Her hand easily crushed the twin barrels of the shotgun.
From there, it was more paint by numbers, as she went after anyone with a gun fist, then other weapons. She didn't bother chasing down most of the runners. Anyone who didn't use a lethal weapon wasn't worth running down. Even those with knives were being arrested far more quickly then she'd have guessed. 'The police like to sit by and let the gangs fight their shit out. Only, so many guns, not something the officers on the scene wanted to deal with. Lucky I just happened to be near, and could help out. Gonna need someone to repair my outfit, cause unlike my body armor, or my skin, my outfit didn't like the shotgun blasts, or anything else I had to deal with.'
She turned to face off against some kid with a hand gun. "Ever see the old Amazo-man TV series?" She asked. "George Reeve played him, the TV version. Funny thing was, always the same scene, where some thug shoots him in the chest, always the chest, until they run out of bullets, and then they throw the gun at him, like that would make a difference. Only, and you have to watch to see it, George never wanted to be hit by the gun. The blanks, those were fine, not gonna hurt, but the gun, that might, so he always dodged the gun. Kinda ruins the illusion when you're not afraid of the bullets, but the gun worries you. So, given that your hand cannon isn't gonna stop me, or even leave welts, you wanna just drop it, maybe make nice for the police so I can get back to my date? My man isn't gonna wait forever for me."
The boy looked on, nervously holding the gun like somehow that was a threat. It, was, just as long as he pointed it anywhere but her. Only, like the Amazo-Man baddies, he wasn't able to think of using his weapon to threaten anyone, just to ward off the hero who stood before him. No hostage to shield himself with, just a menacing mass of muscle and power who had already proven to be far faster and stronger then he'd believed. Stepping back, he looked around, hoping to find some escape. Only, Trina had already pegged the frightened kid and a lieutenant, one of the shot callers of this operation. 'Too young to be the one in charge, but defending territory, no problem, that's this jerk. And don't be fooled by his youth, cause he's what, sixteen, seventeen? He's been in the gangs for years now, and this, it's just a day in the life for him. No, the reality is, he's about to get caught, and that's when reality hits, and he admits he's scared. Only, survival, for him, it's showing toughness in the face of fear, and not letting anyone just take him.'
The boy quickly regretted looking aside, as she covered the distance, over ten yards, in less then a heartbeat. Her hand covered the barrel, not letting him get off a shot if she could avoid it, and she disarmed him with her wrist strength alone. Her other hand snagged his shirt, and pushed him to the ground, rendering him helpless. "Look, no bodies on this guy, you probably get off with juvie. Betting you've been there before." She tried.
"Relax, we got this." One of the officers assured her. Trina, raised and nurtured in a police family, had no patience for that officer.
'They were happy to let people in this neighborhood die, just to protect themselves. Forget the gun, legit enough threats, I know many of these guys won't risk a knife. Dad, why'd there have to be so many bullies who become cops, even if the rules kinda force them to be on the side of the angels?' Trina thought, taking in the officers and deciding which one's would have stepped in, taking the risk to keep the community safe, and which were just there to clean up after. 'It's okay, I was here, this time, to make sure the locals were safe. Man, makes it had to stay strictly part time…'
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Lots of ground covered in this, including some opinions that might not always be popular. Just, enjoy a few random acts of heroics.