Warmach1ne32: Vergil should maybe do some Sleep Drug Resistance Training. It would be a waste since the Nanosuit will do most of the work in the field, but it may be great to have out of the suit.
NeoNazo356: Definitely something Virgil will look into now that this has happened.
Specter343: Once again another fantastic chapter. Also, will Virgil have some more interactions with the Young Justices?
NeoNazo356: Now that is the question I've been getting asked a lot.
Obviously, Virgil wouldn't be meeting any of them in NYZ; not when the entire area is under Military Quarantine; nothing goes in or out, and the bodies of water around New York are the only things keeping the "Mercer Virus" from spreading to the mainland like Turbo Herpes.
Virgil almost crossed paths with Batman, but he wasn't skilled-enough to deal with that brand of crazy, so that's why Carolina cut him off at the pass. He befriended Artemis, but at the present, he doesn't have the skill-level necessary to "have any business" actively crossing paths with DC's young heroes on their terms. The Nanosuit may make him a force to be reckoned with in an ambush scenario, but in a straight-up fight anyone with more skill would be able to compensate the difference. Virgil is still a diamond in the rough, needing polish, but once the "bevels" get put in, then he'll be able to safely cross paths with them and the villains they face without putting the "Nanosuit Zero" at risk.
Once Virgil's skills, and confidence, grow, he'll be more-willing to actually interact with them as opposed to carrying out missions "100% Stealth" where no-one knows he's there. Virgil might have a screw or three loose, but that doesn't mean his self-preservation instincts aren't still intact.
It's his human decency that causes him to get involved with others.
LuckyShadowWolf: And apparently Vegas hates Virgil too! No only did it somehow conspire to try and keep him from arriving via terrorist hijacking. When that failed it tried to distract him with a "Hangover" adventure only to revert to having him get involved with Zatana getting kidnapped when he washed his hands of the whole mess! And finally he's ko'ed courtesy of the Royal Flush gang via sleeping gas grenade.
NeoNazo356: Well, the RFG is really ostentatious between their "Playing Card" mooks and the giant flying playing card.
Blaze1992: Does anyone know what is going on cause I am lost.
NeoNazo356: You'll be given the answer more-directly here.
Supreme King of All Kings: Prays to God for some peace.
Get thrown under the bus and dealing with superhero shit either way.
I wonder, would there be any boost, if he wore his sneaking suit and nanosuit together?
Great to see you back
NeoNazo356: That'd be a negatory on that one; "the one" being there being any boost to Virgil wearing the Sneaking Suit and Nanosuit in tandem.
The Nanosuit at the minimum is capable of doing everything the Sneaking Suit can, but with the benefit of being able to use Armor, Cloak, and Speed and Strength augmentation to greater degrees. Also, it'd be really cramped inside that thing if he tried wearing both, like bundling up too many sweaters at the same time.
Of course, the major drawback is that the Nanosuit is infinitely more-expensive than the Sneaking Suit, and the Nanosuit itself is still in development, so someone skilled-enough with the Sneaking Suit, like Snake, or any other competent member of FOXHOUND, would still be able to get the drop on him.
OmegaDelta: Wonder if you will include axton, maya, salvador, zero, gaige, and krieg in this story? Also virgil win some money for moxxi to expand the bar? keep up the good work.
NeoNazo356: I've already shown the original Borderlands cast, so the possibility is definitely there. As for the second thing, Virgil's too young to gamble for money in Vegas, so no to that idea. As for expanding the bar, I don't envision a need for that since "for Bludhaven", or more-specifically, "for the bad part of Bludhaven", Moxxxi's Red Light is the perfect size for what it needs to be.
TheLichEmperor: You keep surprising me with how well your backstory creating is, also, love the story to bits.
NeoNazo356: Thank you for the compliment. Unlike A-to-B crossovers where you can predict everything and it gets less fun, I'm making this Multi-Crossover because like DC or Marvel, there's so many adventures to be had with so many diverse characters.
*WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS*
Las Vegas, Nevada
November 16, 11:46 PT
The next time Virgil regained consciousness, it was fleeting. What had jostled him from his drug-induced slumber was the bumping of car wheels against uneven ground.
Shaking himself awake as best he could, he blinked his eyes as he tried to take in as much light as he could, only to find none, sans a minute crack of light running horizontally in front of him.
His hands bound behind his back, he felt carpeted floors and bumped his head into something almost-immediately overhead.
'I'm inside a trunk… Great…' Virgil groaned.
Scooching himself over to one corner of the car trunk he now found himself in, kicking out with his feet as best he could, the tail light gave way, clattering out of its mounting into what appeared to be the Nevada desert, white sand stretching out as far as the eye could see.
'And not a road in sight… Damn.'
Whatever they'd hit him with must've been military-grade, because as soon as he'd attempted kicking out the door, his stamina was sapped right out of him, and consciousness fled him once again.
*WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS*
The next time he came to was in response to a coarse, burning sensation spreading across his face.
Opening his eyes, he immediately regretted doing so, because the glaring desert sun bore straight into his retinas, his eyes clamping shut as the fierce rays stabbed into his eyes, the desert sand cooking at his skin.
Even closed eyelids offered no respite from the burning orb 93 million miles away from him.
"Hey guys, the prisoner's coming to," a voice said, a silhouette stepping to stand over him, momentarily blotting out the sun. "Should I put a round in him?" he then asked, the familiar sound of a round being loaded into the chamber of a firearm sounding in his ears.
"You idiot, bullets leave rifling marks!"
"So? It's not like anyone will ever find him out here."
It was at this point that Virgil noticed the sounds of sand being disturbed by shovels.
"Nooo… But what do you think the Queen will do to you if you get blood-spatter on these white outfits?" the other questioned. "Now shut up and help us dig. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get out of this sun. I'm cooking alive in these black onesies."
"Ugh, fiiiiine…"
The shadow looming over him retreating with a whine, the momentary reprieve from the sun vanished, leaving Virgil to bake in the sun once again.
'So… this is how it all ends…' Virgil lamented. 'Thrown into a hole in the middle of the desert to rot with my hands behind my back,' he sighed as he rolled away from the sun. 'My only regret… Okay, one of my regrets, is that I died a virgin.'
At that thought, Athena's smiling visage appeared before his mind's eye, the scorching desert momentarily leaving focus as he thought back to all the good times they'd shared together.
How he'd never see her again.
'Damnit. Some Snake I turned out to be. First time I run off out-of-state unsupervised, and this happens,' he growled to himself. 'God… If I make it out of this… I swear I'll take the initiative… and ask Athena to be my girlfriend for real. No more pussy-footing, no more bullshit, even if it is old-fashioned, I'll ask her to go steady, so please… throw me a bone, will ya?'
Of course, part of him doubted god really cared about him.
With monsters like Mercer still running around, Virgil couldn't help but wonder if supervillains were just God's way of punishing people for their sins.
He certainly wouldn't put it past the guy with what he'd let fly in the past. Like John Wilkes Booth. Or Adolf Hitler. Or reality television.
"Hey guys… I think I see a chopper."
"Quick! Throw a tarp over the body! If we're lucky, they're just sightseeing!"
"Think it's the police?" one voice asked worriedly as Virgil was suddenly smothered by darkness.
"Don't think so. The colors are wrong."
"So we wait for them to pass us by then?"
"Seems like the smart thing to do," the voice hummed, the sound of a chopper passing by overhead sounding in Virgil's ears very faintly before moving off into the distance.
'Well… So much for that idea…' Virgil grumbled.
*FWOOOOOOM!*
"AAAAUUUGH!"
"The hell…?" Virgil asked confusedly as a wave of heat suddenly threw the tarp off from over him. The scent of cooking meat and singing clothing filling the air, Virgil blinked as much of the desert sun from his eyes as he could as he looked up to behold some kind of… fiery hawk…?
No, wait, not a hawk. Just a person with flaming wings.
' . . . I have been in the sun waaaaay too long,' Virgil thought to himself as the sounds of fist meeting flesh and firearms going off met his ears. From what he could tell there were four guys total, one of which just shot the other as the fiery hawk just… disappeared.
A moment later and the chopper from before swept back around, a muscular figure rappelling down and angling himself so his feet struck another one, bones not the rappeller's own breaking from the force as the landing pad crumpled to the ground like a wet sock. The muscular and fiery hawk-like figures both striking the third guy in the face with a coordinated blow, the remaining "playing card" threw down his weapon and raised his arms in surrender.
While the muscular figure forced the surrendering man to his knees and bound his limbs behind his back, the fiery hawk's wings disappeared, the lithe figure moving over to him before he felt his bound arms being raised, a knife slicing through fibers until his wrists were freed.
"Virgil… Virgil, can you hear me?"
"Lilith…?" Virgil murmured, blinking his eyes and raising a hand to his face to block out the sun.
"Good. Good, you aren't too damaged," the red-head sighed in relief. "I'm glad Athena gave us all those trackers, otherwise we would've never found you."
At that, Virgil could only nod.
In all the haste he'd actually forgotten about the "supplies" he'd been given before his walk. They may've taken his gun from him, but they obviously didn't think to destroy the innocuous button-shaped device in his coat pocket.
Maybe that was all God's plan?
If not that, then purely coincidence.
'Guess that means they've found Mordecai too…' the teen thought. "So where was Mordy?"
"Baking on the roof," Lilith answered. "Unfortunately for him, since we didn't know the altitude he was at, he'd gotten a little sunburned by the time we finished checking every floor for him," the woman chuckled. "He isn't burned too badly, what with that mask he's always wearing, but he's going to have some awkward tan lines."
"So… You wanna tell us what's going on here?" Roland asked as he finished binding the last of the guys' hand behind their backs and applying a tourniquet to the guy that'd gotten shot.
"Before you tell us, we should probably tell Brick and Mordy they can stop looking into the backup tracker," Lilith hummed, going for her phone.
"No! Wait!" Virgil spoke up. "Don't give that order!"
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I'll tell you on the way. But first…" he said turning to the "playing cards" that had held them captive. "I think it's time I had a little heart-to-heart with my would-be murderers."
At that the color drained from their faces.
Not that anyone could tell since they were wearing masks.
*WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS*
Now freed of his drug-induced stupor, likely due to the Medical Nanotech in his system, Virgil was able to put the screws to the guys who were going to leave him out in the desert to die.
It took a bit of doing, what with having so-few tools to work with, but if there was anything he'd learned in New York Zero, it was how to get a lot of shit done with too few tools.
Once he got the information he needed, he recovered his firearm, sent the playing card schmucks into la-la land, and got in the chopper.
One call to the state troopers later after the thugs were tied up, and they were wheels up.
Well, skids up technically.
Moving on.
"Alright, so let me see if I have this straight…" Lilith began a few minutes later after Virgil told his story. "You save a legit magical girl from a bunch of performing arts schmucks, walk her back to her hotel, and get ambushed by some guy riding… giant playing card?"
"In as-many words, yes," Virgil answered. "I was able to learn those guys are hired hands for the Royal Flush Gang and that they were ordered to bring in the girl alive, but that's as far as they were informed. They don't know the why, what, or where, but my spare tracker checks off the last box. So glad my rampant paranoia paid off," he sighed happily.
"And if the tracker wasn't needed?" Roland asked.
"Better to have it in place and never need it than not have it in place and really wish I had," the teen answered. "Besides, I could've always asked for it back later," he chuckled before he got his mind back to the topic at hand. "The fact that the tracker is still intact means they didn't expect her to have a piece of super-tech on her person, which means it's less likely the Royal Flush Gang aren't expecting a rescue operation."
"You assume we'll stick our necks out for some girl you barely know," Roland hummed.
"Zatanna, has her whole life ahead of her," he asserted, "I have money," he added thinking to the nest egg, "and you made me your accomplice to a wake-crashing," he listed off flatly. "Oh, and the fact that you dragged me all across Vegas in a drunken stupor doesn't help your noncompliance much, either. All that on top of using me as live bait and you owe me!"
"Man, you really know how to go for the jugular, huh kid?" Lilith asked.
"I just want her to be safe," Virgil sighed. "That girl… She's the same age as Tina. Maybe that's part of it, or maybe I just find her genuinely interesting in a completely non-sexual way. All I know is, if I weren't there for her, she might've wound up dead, or worse…" he trailed off, "and if I'm not there for her now, she might wind up dead after all this is said and done."
"You really think Zatara can't rescue his own kid?" Roland asked.
"Not as long as his little girl's in danger," Lilith answered. "Whatever they want his compliance for, they went straight for the jugular. Heroes usually can't fight back when family is taken hostage, but at the same time you don't mess with family unless the payoff is huge; because messing with family has made plenty of once-clean vigilantes break 'the one rule'. So, whatever the Royal Flush Gang wants, its worth must be quite substantial."
"Speaking of which, where is Zatanna's tracker?"
"That would be the Royal Road casino and hotel, a former competitor with the Mandalay Bay," Mordecai's voice spoke up from Lilith's phone, which she'd put on speaker so they'd all be in on the conversation. "The place failed a couple years back after the owner was arrested for felony tax evasion, and it's scheduled to be demolished in a month."
"And you're sure the Royal Flush Gang are in there?" Roland asked. "I don't want a repeat of what happened the last time we went to Santa Prisca."
"What happened in Santa Prisca?" Virgil asked.
"Basically we were hired to rescue a VIP with a tracking implant, but the kidnappers carved it out to lure us into a trap," Lilith answered. "The rest of these big babies couldn't stop hurling after I Phasewalked all of us out of there, so I had to burn that place to the ground all by my lonesome."
"Yeah, I guess that'd be pretty bad," Virgil nodded.
"I had Bloodwing run recon with the bird-cam. They tarped most of the windows closed, but I was able to pick up a few of them on the roof and a few vehicles," Mordecai answered.
"Also, them dragging Magic Man into the place a minute ago was a pretty big clue," Brick saw fit to add. "And I mean a literal minute ago, they just dragged him in there."
"Then it seems our window of opportunity is closing," Roland hummed. "They'll likely kill the hostage and Giovanni once they have what they want, so unless the man can stall, our window of opportunity might close before we even get there."
"Let's pick up the pace a little, then!" Lilith shouted to the pilot, the man giving a thumbs up before the nose of the chopper angled downward, rotors carrying them faster, the city of Las Vegas growing larger in the distance.
"Not that I doubt your abilities and all, but do we have enough firepower to mount a rescue against these guys?" Virgil asked. "From what I know, the Royal Flush Gang have been going strong for a long time from generation to generation. This isn't really something I'm confident tackling with what-little we were able to get past airport security with Roland's air marshal permits."
"Don't worry, we can scrounge up some guns from a pawn shop that owes us a few and be ready to storm the place before sundown," Mordecai answered.
"Don't worry, kid. We'll save your girlfriend," Brick chuckled.
"Gross, she's like, thirteen," Virgil retched.
"Ah, yes, the good ol' half-plus-seven rule," Mordecai hummed.
"Yeah. That and she's Tina's age, so there's that too."
"That must ruin thirteen-year-olds for you, huh, Virg?"
"Mordecai… How much have you been drinking to even ask such a thing?"
"Too much. Maybe not enough?"
"Look, I'm not sticking my neck out for this girl because I want to get into her pants. I'm doing it because I want to save her from something really, really terrible," he said as his eyes turned downcast, the smell of the Cascade High chem lab coming back to memory.
"Your eyes turned really dark for a second there," Lilith hummed. "You wanna talk about it?"
"Not really… Not right now at least."
"Well, if you want our help, that's the going price."
"What?!"
"Virgil, you look like you've been holding something impossibly-heavy in for a while, and that look you got in your eyes… I don't like it, which means whatever your hiding can not be healthy," Lilith argued. "You want us to help you save this girl, then you have to agree to spill the beans on what the hell would make a kid have that kind of look on his face."
"What look!?"
"The look of someone's who's seen and done something unspeakable," Roland answered with crossed arms, the cabin going silent apart from the spinning of the rotors before a tired sigh passed the brunette's lips.
"Okay. Fine. I'll talk."
"You swear?"
"I swear," Virgil sighed Lilith's way. "By the way, should we really be having this conversation when the pilot can listen in on it?" he asked as he gesture to the grizzled old pilot at the yoke.
"Don't worry, he's an old friend of ours," Lilith assured.
"Well that's convenient," Virgil hummed as he readied himself for what was to come.
*WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS*
Las Vegas, Nevada: Royal Road
November 16, 14:37 PT
By the time Roland, Lilith, and Virgil rendezvoused with their forward team, the sun had already passed its zenith, but was still well away from setting. The fact that the Royal Flush Gang was still dug-into the Royal Road meant whatever they wanted out of Giovanni, they had yet to get out of him.
That or they'd already gotten what they'd wanted and had slipped out from under Mordecai, Bloodwing, and Brick's noses.
Only one way to find out.
"Report," Roland began, the group now hiding within a nondescript white rental van; the sort one would associate with a police listening outpost.
"We've been watching the building for the last couple hours, and for whatever reason, these 'Playing Cards' have been coming and going in completely different directions, bring really weird shit back into the building," Mordecai summarized.
"Really weird, how?" Lilith asked.
"You know. Weird magic shit," Brick shrugged. "Dried animals. Shrunken heads. Monkey's paws. Weird candles. A bunch of weird stuff."
"Hmmm… Whatever the Royal Flush Gang wants Giovanni for, I guess magic is involved, otherwise they wouldn't need to bring in so many reagents," Lilith hummed in an experienced tome.
"Either that or he's stalling, but we won't know more until we get inside," Roland hummed. "Any ideas on the numbers?"
"Discounting the ones that Virgil and his little friend left in the dumpster, and the ones out in the desert, we counted a dozen or so," Mordecai answered.
"It helps that they're wearing easily-identifiable uniforms," Brick said holding up part of a deck of cards and spread them out across the floor. The Royal Flush Gang's known lineup was King, Queen, Ace, Jack, and Ten (of Spades), with a few cards of varying suits between two and nine assembled to illustrate the estimated number.
"Assuming they have goons themed after the other numbered playing cards of two through nine of each suit, that's roughly 32 assuming they stick to their theme," Mordecai hummed.
"And if we remove the nine that we know to be incapacitated, and take into account how there has never been more than one King, Queen, Jack, Ace, or Ten, that takes the number down to 23," Roland hummed, getting a good estimate of the numbers.
"Were you able to scrounge anything up?" Lilith asked.
"I managed to pull a few strings and get us a heaping butt-load of tranquilizer rounds and small arms, as well as some kevlar. Other than this and what we were able to get into Vegas ourselves, I couldn't get anything else," Mordecai said gesturing to a large duffel bag, the Fortune Hunters gathering ammo and weapons while Virgil simply gathered more ammo, as well as a belt of tools.
"Also, we managed to get floor plans for the building," Mordecai said rolling out a large stack of blueprints. "However, since the building's been falling apart for a few years now, there's no telling how fucked-up it'll be on the inside."
"So, how do you want to get in?" Roland asked aloud as everyone studied the lay of the land.
"I doubt the RFG would let us in through any of the doors, so my best bet is the sewer," Virgil spoke up. "My sense of direction's pretty good, so it should be easy to get us into the basement."
He omitted the fact that his "sense of direction" in this case was only as good as it was because he'd spent a month traipsing through the sewers like a rat.
"Or!" Lilith interjected, "We take the path less-gross and I Phasewalk us all in there. As long as they don't have any Dimensional Buffers in place, nothing should go wrong."
"That… also works," Virgil acquiesced, realizing how much of a game-changer having someone who could traverse the gaps of space-time was. "Still… How do we know they don't have Dimensional Buffers in there?" he pondered aloud.
"If they did, there'd be rolling brown-outs up and down the block. Messing with space-time chews up a ton of power, especially on this planet," Lilith answered.
"What, you've been to alien worlds?"
"No, but alien tech comes here, and our human infrastructure can't handle the energy draw of the universe's more… exotic novelties," the woman replied.
"That also makes sense," Virgil acquiesced.
"Then we're in agreement. We go in Lilith's way," Roland cut in. "But first…" he said handing a stack of quarters to Virgil. "Fill the meter. I don't want to need a getaway vehicle only to find out we've been towed or booted."
"Yeah, I guess that is equally important," Virgil realized.
Even something as-pedestrian as a spent parking meter could spell disaster in urban warfare.
He was also happy that they were all relaxed-enough about the coming mission they even thought to worry about something so pedestrian.
*WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS*
The five of them getting into the basement of the Royal Road via Phaseshift without anything going horribly wrong was nothing short of a miracle.
Less-miraculous was how they -mostly Virgil- spent the first ten minutes of their mission dry-heaving in a corner.
Once the youngest among them assured them he was okay, everyone checked their ammo and their Kevlar before sneaking their way upstairs. Since there wasn't any actual entrance to the Royal Road from the sewer, the Royal Flush Gang didn't feel any need to post sentries there, making their insertion all the better.
The Royal Road was a casino/hotel blend, but because it'd been out of business for a while, all the sound like one would find at other hotel/casinos was completely absent. Instead, when they got to the maintenance level, it was an eerie silence. Looking down both ends of the hallway to ensure they weren't spotted, once they learned for a fact that their insertion had been successful, the team decided who would go where and why.
"Mordecai, you're with me. We're going to make our way up to the penthouse before you rendezvous with Bloodwing on the roof. Take care of any sentries you can find and meet back with me," Roland began. "Brick, you'll take Virgil towards the other tracker before breaking off to cover more ground. No offense, but Virgil's more-stealthy than you are, so he'll be better off trying to rescue the kid if you aren't stomping around like a bull in a china shop. Lilith, you'll be sweeping the wide-open areas. Only reason I'm sending you off along is because-"
"Because I can Phasewalk out of trouble and get to any of you guys," Lilith finished. "Yes. I know. Moving on, the RFG doesn't know we're here yet, so let's keep it that way as long as possible. The best-case scenario is that we hit all the pips with tranquilizer rounds before catching the Royal Flush Gang by surprise. Try to get the drop on as many of them as you can, and try not to raise the alarm. If they're on-guard, infiltration will be harder on the rest of us."
"Suffice it to say, your live ammo rounds should be a last-resort only. Only use them if you have no other choice, or if someone else dropped the ball," Roland explained as he spread the Royal Road's blueprint on the floor. "Study the map once more before we move out, but just remember that some of the structure might've deteriorated in recent years."
Everyone nodding, the gang got one last look at the map, double-checked their gear, and then fanned out across the Royal Road.
*WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS*
Stealthing his way up to the penthouse suite with Mordecai, after getting the jump on a couple of pips taking a smoke break in the stairwell, the two split off, Roland catching another four more by surprise on the penthouse floor alone. With this many of them in one place, it was fairly obvious that at least one of the hostages was present.
Tiptoeing his way through the top floor, he came across another pair of pips, this time flanking one of the penthouse rooms, one looking bored while the other remained attentive.
It didn't matter how many rooms a building had or how-well you were trying to hide something if you kept a couple of armed guards standing in front of it.
Grabbing a nearby door handle and turning, the old hinges gave off a loud *Creeeeeeeak* that echoed down the hall and around the corner.
"Hey, did you hear something?"
"It's an old building. There's always something."
"Well check it out just-in-case. I'll stay here."
"Why the hell do you get to stay here?"
"Because you need to get the blood pumping. Remember what happened to the last guy caught sleeping on the job?"
"Yeah… Poor Kenny."
The pip drawing the short end of the straw acquiescing, he broke away from his partner and went down the hall, disappearing from sight of his compatriot.
Unknown to his compatriot, the guy he'd just sent off got ambushed by Roland the moment he'd rounded the corner, the man gagging him with his gloved hand before putting a tranquilizer round into his neck, easing him to the floor before pulling a reinforced mirror from his pocket and peering down the hall once again.
Seeing that the element of surprise had not been lost on him, Roland lined up a shot before firing once more, catching the remaining pip in the neck and causing him to fall back against the wall. Sliding toward the floor, Roland hastily tip-toed his way around the corner and caught the man before he could hit the floor with a louder noise, lowering him down before pressing his back to the wall.
Pressing his ear to the wall, no elevation in noise was detected. If-anything, it meant all the room's occupants had "heard" was someone leaning against the wall.
The alarm scarcely raised, Roland opened the door a crack, put his mirror to the floor, and panned the room. A cursory glance revealed two figures, one of which was the hostage's father, Giovanni Zatarra, and the other, the leader of the Royal Flush Gang, the King of Spades.
Giovanni at the moment was huddled in front of what looked like a large black cast iron safe with gold filigree on it. A number of what one would assume to be magical reagents were scattered about, an exaggerated magical circle etched into the floor with chalk, the carpet torn away to make room. Between bouts of safe-cracking, Giovanni would do some magical hoopla that Roland had no way of knowing whether or not was genuine.
"How long is this going to take?" the room's other occupant, King, obvious-enough by the golden crown atop his head, demanded. His attire consisted largely of a white bodysuit, over which he wore gold-edged black armor over his arms, chest, and legs, a gold sash slung across his torso and a gold belt with a red waist cape around his midsection. His face was covered by a skin-tight white mask with red eyes and a distinguished golden beard the same color as his hair. Hanging from his hip was a thematically-colored sword with an ornate cross guard with an Ace of Spades symbol prominently upon it.
"Like I told you before, every inch of this safe is woven with magic to keep exactly this from being done," Giovanni answered in turn. "Amos Fortune took the combination with him to his grave, so the only way to open it up now is to undo each and every charm I put onto it. If even one charm remains in place, no mundane safe-cracking method will be able to open it."
"If I hadn't watched Ace almost bust his hands trying to tear this thing open, or Ten trying and failing to blow it open with military-grade explosive, I might not be inclined to believe you," King replied. "Keep working."
'So that's why the Playing Cards have been scampering around Vegas all this time,' Roland hummed as he watched Zatarra make a complete and utter fool of himself with the random odds and ends from all over. 'They need his magic for something, so he's stalling. Clever man.'
"As for me… I have company to entertain," the self-styled King said turning his attention to the door. "You there. Come out," the regally-dressed man ordered, turning on his heel.
Realizing the jig was up, Roland had no choice but to comply.
Raising his hands and sidling his way into the room, closing the door behind him to show he wasn't giving all his ground, he and King faced off against one another in the confined space, Giovanni's pace slowing in the background.
"So… It seems we have a little rat scurrying around," King said haughtily, eyeing Roland up and down.
"Tch. Racist."
Roland didn't really mean that, but if it'd get a rise out of the super-criminal so he'd make a mistake, all the better.
"What?! That is not racist!" King screamed frantically.
And apparently the ruse worked.
"Sounds pretty racist to me."
Even in the midst of his incarceration, even the hostage was lively-enough to chime in.
"Zatarra! Get back to work!"
"Well, what do you expect? He is white after all."
"ENOUGH!" King raged, drawing his sword from his waist before slashing it across a nearby chair, bisecting it cleanly in two. More-cleanly than any normal blade could've. "I don't know how you got past The Deck, but I'll make amply-sure to punish them. After I'm finished with you!" he shouted as he lunged forward, aiming to bisect him scalp to groin with a single downward swipe, the man bringing up a knife from his belt.
The next moment, a horrible *SCREEEEEEECH!* filled the air, sparks flying off the two blades.
"What?!" King gaped as Roland's knife held.
"You're not the only one with a High-Frequency blade," Roland said with a smirk as he pushed King back, his larger frame domineering Kings as weapons of equal might clashed.
"Heh… Perhaps you will make for a fine challenge after all!" King proclaimed as he reeled his sword back before aiming for a swipe at his flank, only for Roland to once more intercept the wannabe's HF Blade. "Rgh! You're better than I gave you credit for, but it's only a matter of time until I get the killing blow. You're only delaying the inevitable."
"I never said I was trying to 'win'. All I needed to do was stall you."
"Stall me? For what?"
"NOW!" Roland shouted, eyes turned to the space over King's shoulder.
The man whirling around with blade in hand, casting a beautiful arc at chest-level, instead of striking an unseen foe, he instead only struck air.
Eyes widening at realizing his error, those eyes soon rolled up in the back of his head as a high-frequency pommel strike hit him in the back of the head, blackness spreading across his vision a moment later.
*WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS*
Elsewhere in the Royal Road…
Sneaking her way through the Casino, the most-open part of the Royal Road, as was to be expected, none of the slot machines, roulettes, or card tables were in operation. The place had really gone to hell since the Royal Road shut down, dust and debris everywhere, but that much was to be expected.
The only source of noise came from the room's sole occupants, three of the Playing Cards, and the Queen of Spades. At the moment, Queen was being waited on hand and foot, a pair of somewhat-less-masculine goons doing the woman's nails while a third brought in takeout from an upscale restaurant, the woman herself watching TV on an improvised entertainment center.
"Aaaahhhhhh… It feels so good to have the floor to myself," the woman sighed. Clad in the same white bodysuit as King, the rest of her attire consisted of a black headpiece with a flaring gold band around the shoulders and a red sash around her hips, her face covered by a red mask with full red lips, long golden hair spilling down her back. Resting in her hands was a golden scepter with a red sphere on the end, which rested lazily against her chair.
"That it does, my queen," the one with the food replied evenly, bowing at the waist to bring his boss her food, happy he was taking one of the easy jobs.
As long as he got paid, he didn't have a problem serving on her hand-and-foot, even if she did treat him like a dog.
*Chew*
"Rrgh," the man flinched, feeling something at his neck before he keeled over, two similar darts taking out the goons doing Queen's nails before the woman in question flung herself out of her chair, dodging the final dart meant for her.
"Who's there? Show yourself!?" the woman demanded as she grabbed her scepter and blasted a slot machine into oblivion, chunks of plastic and mechanical parts sent in all directions.
'Crap. I missed,' Lilith swore as Queen sent her scepter out in a wave, a barrage of crimson blasts fired. Any ordinary person would've been caught up in the debris and killed, but Lilith had the power to pass through "the space between spaces", vanishing into that dimension before returning elsewhere in her original dimension in a massive plume of fire.
"You!" the woman raged, eyes wide with recognition. "I won't have you get in the way of our big score, Fire Hawk!"
"That's not my name anymore!" Lilith growled, her tattoos coming alight before she lunged at Queen, dodging the next blast sent her way before she punched Queen in the face, sending the woman reeling.
"You struck me!?"
"Yeah, no shit, Einstein," Lilith smirked, Phasewalking away from another energy blast before reappearing behind Queen, the mercenary's signature flame burning at the woman's back before a fist struck her in the kidney, causing Queen to wince horribly before swinging out her scepter at Lilith's head, only for the woman to duck down low and rise up in an uppercut.
Queen, sent flying back-first onto a roulette table, screeched horribly as her burned back struck it, the woman flailing out with her scepter wildly forcing Lilith to Phasewalk out of range as everything around her was blasted into oblivion. Lilith, re-appearing on the other end of the room was forced to duck away from another blast sent into her telltale flame, the end of her hair coming alight from the close call. Clamping her hands down on her crimson locks, the freelancer hissed as her gloved palms smoked, staying low as Queen continued to blast the area she'd been moments before until her scepter's energy cells were depleted.
"King! KIIIIING! SAVE MEEEEEEE!" the woman shrieked as she turned tail and ran, only to get a tranquilizer round in her shapely ass for the trouble.
"Count yourself lucky I'm letting you live, bitch," Lilith growled angrily.
*WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS*
'So… Other than that Jack of Spades guy, we've got three other mooks up here,' Mordecai thought to himself as he peeked out of the doorway to the roof, all eyes on the surrounding cityscape with none towards their backs.
The mooks were unimpressive, but Jack at the least seemed competent. Clad in a white bodysuit with black pants, black boots, a red jacket with black accents and red belt, his skin was painted white, and he had a black-gold crown secured by a black chin strap atop his head. From what he could catch of the guy from ground-level without being observed in turn, the guy had a cybernetic red eye in the left socket, a red contact lens in the right. The man also carried a powerful-looking sniper rifle in his arms.
Now, he could've taken Jack out with one shot of his sniper rifle and been done with it, but the three mooks accompanying him on the three opposite ends of the roof had similar rifles, and his own weapon was far from subtle; silencers did not make it completely impossible to be heard, just less-obviously.
Plus, if Jack had some kind of countermeasure on hand to stop that exact thing from happening, he would've been wasting his only ambush shot and be quickly overwhelmed.
Sure, he trusted that his team downstairs would make sure he didn't get ambushed from below, but they wouldn't be in much of a position to help him out at a moment's notice if he got into a bind.
'Gotta play this carefully then,' he said chugging a beer and sliding the bottle into his belt. Taking out a hand mirror and peeking out the crack of the door, Mordecai was able to see that a number of old air-conditioning units were able to serve as cover, albeit, very-limited cover. If they were corroded in any significant fashion, a sniper round would punch through it quite easily, meaning a laser rifle would be no issue either.
Staying low to the ground and crawling in a circle, Mordecai began to draw a map within his head consisting of their targets, the location, and their locality. The maintenance entrance to the roof was in the middle, an old communications antenna to the right, a large water tower to the left, and a few AC units. The sniper-wielding mooks were scattered in the four cardinal directions, one atop the old water tower paying more attention to his phone than the ground below. Jack was standing at the side of the roof across from him with an overly-confident stance, as though the people on the street down below were insects to be toyed with at a moment's notice.
Map drawn out, Mordecai rigged a small noise-maker to the comm tower before stealthily moving toward the water tower, disabling a trip wire along the way. Getting up onto the roof of the water tower, he saw that the mook was busy watching some kind of sporting event; so-busy in fact that he didn't notice the garrote wire until it'd tightened around his neck. Cutting off the mook's airpipe before he could scream, Mordecai ended the man's life after a brief struggle, laying the corpse down at his back as he took position for the next part of his plan, pressing a small remote trigger.
The explosive charge he'd planted on the comm relay making a loud *POP* sound, as Mordecai ducked down behind the body, Jack whirled around and scanned it with his cybernetic eye, detecting no-one there, the AC units obstructing his line of sight. Making a hand signal and barking out an order, one of the mooks on ground level trudged over to the source of the noise, while the other headed for the water tower.
"Hey, Mark, the boss heard a noise just now. Watch our six, will ya?" the mook on the ground asked, never realizing he was talking to a dead body.
The next moment Mordecai poked the barrel of his sniper rifle out over the lip of the roof and sent a high-velocity round right into the guy's heart through his body armor, dropping him to the roof.
The mook by the water tower jumping at the source of the noise, running over, the man wasn't aware of the tripwire Mordecai had placed until his ankle had tripped it, a flash bomb going off in his face and blinding him before everything went black with another sniper shot, grey matter scattered into the Las Vegas air.
"The fuck was that!" Jack swore as another body dropped, throwing himself behind one of the AC units after the auto-polarizing lens of his cybernetic eye saved him from the flash. Hazarding a glance around the side of the AC unit he was hiding behind, his cybernetic eye was able to detect two heat signatures atop the water tower, one steadily cooling, ducking back from the laser sight that passed through where his head was.
Drawing a device from his belt the size of a deck of cards, running his fingers over the controls, his cyber-eye lit up as he primed his laser at maximum output, disengaging the safeties as he leapt out of cover and swept his gaze across the steel beams holding the tower up, a crimson photonic blast melting the semi-corroded steel, causing the struts to weaken and collapse.
Making his way to the tower, weaving through cover as a tide of stagnant water splashed over his heels, Jack deactivated his eye laser after depleting the battery. Arriving at the base of the tower, Jack discovered a badly-damaged body, but instead of his attacker it belonged to one of his goons, the signs of garrote wire around his throat telling the tale.
The hairs on the back of his neck standing up, Jack whirled around and whipped up his sniper rifle at his attacker, the two standing on opposite ends of the roof, long-range weapons drawn.
The world around the two of them growing silent as everything else fell out of focus, with no deception or comment, just the murderous intent to kill, the two sniper fired their rounds simultaneously
Mordecai didn't even flinch as Jack's round cracked his scope and grazed his leather facemask before flying off into the Vegas skyline.
Jack on the other hand wasn't so lucky, as the bullet directed his way not only shattered his scope completely, but ricocheted up into his cybernetic eye.
All that saved the Royal Flush Gang member from having half his head turned into a red mist was that his skull and blood vessels had been modified when his cyber-eye had been put in, localizing the damage as he was thrown onto his back, dead to the world.
"One shot, one kill," Mordecai said coolly, Bloodwing coming to roost on his leather bracer once the fighting had ended.
*WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS*
"Man. Being stealthy sure is hungry work," Brick hummed aloud as he stomped through the Royal Road, making no attempt to conceal his massive frame as he made his way through the ground floor, OHKOing any of the Pips he came across, none of which had even readied themselves for combat at his approach.
What Brick didn't know was that his stomping-around, and the stomping-around of the Royal Flush Gang's mechanical muscle, Ace, sounded almost completely identical. Hence, why no-one raised the alarm until it was too late.
Of course, Brick wouldn't learn about this little tidbit until… ever, in fact, but that was a story for… right now actually.
Back to the narrative.
Taking out around 5 of them, Brick eventually made his way into a kitchen that was markedly cleaner than the rest of the building, evidence of recent use scattered about. Striding over to the fridge and opening it up, Brick began to raid it, piling loads of food into his tree trunk-like arms before stepping back and kicking the door closed. Turning to the kitchen counter, intent on making a Dagwood Sandwich fit for a mountain of a man like himself, a scarred eyebrow quirked upward as a lumbering figure as large as himself trudged into the room.
Standing roughly his height if not a tad shorter, by the smallest of margins, was a large combat android as-broad in shoulder as he, completely naked in appearance save for an all-white synthetic skin coating, a large black Ace of Spades symbol emblazoned across its chest. Its eyes were colorless, lips drawn into a thin line, its limbs humming with tremendous power courtesy of various hydraulic, pneumatic, and cybernetic systems and a robust German construction.
" . . . I'm not sharing," Brick pouted as he dug around his pile of pilfered food for some bread.
The next moment Ace stepped forward and delivered a powerful one-two hit to Brick's exposed head from across the counter, the man's head snapping left and right before the man's gaze turned back up to the android.
"Heh heh… That tickles," Brick chuckled, a look of confusion crossing Ace's face as the blows that would've pulped most-other humans outright failed. "My turn," the mountain of a man said donning large brass knuckles before delivering a one-two of his own, metallic teeth flying and synthetic skin tearing as the combat android reeled under the superhuman might of Brick's blows, staggering away from the counter as its CPU rattled.
Ace's targeting systems needing a moment to reboot, the chevron around Brick, currently classified as [Threat], upgraded to [Hostile], the combat android rushing forward with an axe handle in an attempt to destroy the obstacle in its path.
"Ah! My foodstuffs!" Brick cried as the counter, and his food, was utterly ruined. "Oh, you're gonna pay for that!"
The hulk of a man diving at Ace and bringing him to the floor with a massive *THUD* that caused dishes and cutlery alike to shake and clatter, Brick laid down a flurry of blows to Ace's face before the android grabbed a frying pan that fell nearby and struck Brick in the head with it. The man sent rolling to the side, clutching a bleeding ear, Brick hauled himself up to the nearby counter, his fingers leaving indentations as he rose before ripping a spice rack from the wall and throwing them in Ace's face, a multi-colored cloud of cumin, paprika, sage, and other spaces filling the air in front of ace. Cleaning fluid spilling out of artificial tear ducts and cleaning the cyborg's eyes, after blinking the blinding cloud free, the cyborg was then greeted by the sight of a serving cart striking it in the face, reeling back a step while the cart itself contorted to the shape of its head. Ripping the cart free, Ace was tackled by Brick around the waist, the two smashing into the walk-in fridge where they struck one another with the nearby shelves before Ace got a foot up to Brick's stomach and kicked him back into the kitchen proper, skidding on his back until he hit a far wall, the contents of an overhead shelf rattling free before quite literally falling into his lap.
"Hey, cheese balls!" Brick said happily as he pried the lid free and downed the remaining processed cheese snack. Brushing the cheedle away from his face with a nearby cloth napkin, Brick looked up to see Ace charging toward him.
The man holding his ground, waiting for Ace to hit him, at the last moment Brick stepped to the side and held out his leg, catching Ace at the ankle and sending the combat android smashing through the wall he'd stood before only moments prior, stepping into the room Ace had crashed into.
"OOOOH…! I do not envy the guy that has to clean this up," Brick winced as he strode into the back room, the combat android rising from the rubble it had made, cybernetic eyes adjusting to the dim light as it locked onto Brick. "Well? Bring it on, Rock'em Sock'em Robot!"
Whether or not Ace responded to the taunt or the provocation was irrelevant, the combat android getting up and charging at Brick once more, the man nimbly dodging despite his massive girth.
"You know, for a robot whose job it is to punch things, you're really bad at this," Brick chuckled as he bobbed and weaved like a pro boxer, the man's monstrous stamina holding out for many long minutes until Ace worked him into a corner, the man's massive back striking a metallic box, his boots splashing into a puddle of water from a pipe that'd been busted minutes before.
At that moment, Ace made his move, disregarding all Limiters to push himself beyond his mechanical limits.
*WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS*
The sound of battle echoing through the rest of the Royal Road, Virgil was sure that one way or another, things would be coming to an end soon.
Sneaking his way towards the location his secondary tracking beacon indicated, the rear of the facility on the far side of the complex, his adrenaline was pumping, senses alight as he took in every minute detail. There was a weird tingling feeling across his face, and rubbing briefly at it, the next moment everything in front of him was perceptible in a greater image quality. As though he were seeing HDTV for the first time in his life.
The feeling in his face abating, he came upon his first obstacle; a large iron door that said Maintenance Only.
However, instead of opening it wide like a complete idiot, he opened it just-a-crack, and looked up.
Good thing he did, because the door was rigged to a bouquet of grenades whose pins would've been pulled the moment the door had been opened too wide.
Reaching into his belt and grabbing his tools, pressing his feet up against the walls and raising himself up, he awkwardly put his arms through the crack of the door and cut the trip wire connecting the pins to the door, before lowering the grenades themselves.
'Since the Royal Flush Gang believe in the possibility Giovanni has legit magic, I doubt they'll let his kid keep her magic, so they'll probably have that magic-nullifying pendant around her neck again. If I want to save her, I can only rely on myself to do it,' he thought to himself as he sabotaged the pins of the grenades so they couldn't be pulled free, before snake-crawling his way down the maintenance corridor, wary of any ankle-high tripwires put in place.
Strange as it was, other than the perimeter defenses he'd already disarmed, for a good while there wasn't actually much else in the way of traps. No tripwires, no cameras, no motion sensors. The only form of security there really was were the four mooks he encountered on the way to the farthest-back region of the maintenance tunnels where the tracer he'd slipped into Zatanna's pocket was leading him, and with the element of surprise on his side he was able to tranq all but one of them in a single shot. The last one needed two, one in the shoulder when he'd missed the neck, and another in his thigh, because he'd moved at the last second and was being a little more attentive than the other three who shuffled about lazily on what they said was "an easy job".
The last of the goons taken down and tied-up at the wrists and ankles with large zip ties, Virgil finally arrived at the room Zatanna was being held in. Peeking into the room from down-low with a hand mirror, Virgil was able to spot the hostage in the corner, tied to a chair with a familiar gaudy magic-nullifying amulet draped around her neck.
Standing across from her and twirling a revolver around herself Revolver Ocelot-style with a bored expression on her face was the one who'd gotten him with the sleep grenade back at the Bellagio. A young woman with blue eyes and white-blond hair in a military cut, her uniform was identical to the pips from before, though the 10s on her shoulders and the large spade across her chest denoted a higher rank; especially since the highest number on any of the playing card-themed goons was 9. Other than the fact that her face was largely exposed apart from the red visor over her eyes; probably to stop muzzle flash.
At the moment, Zatanna didn't appear to be too beaten-up other than a couple cuts and scrapes, but all that could change in an instant if he did something stupid.
So now the question was… How to get to Zatanna before Ten could leverage her against him?
To be continued...