Looking for Trouble

[Oleander]

Tier 5, Coruscant. 11 AM.
 
This sucks, Stein mentally groaned at himself. Greg had informed him that this tier was the best for a hero to get some work done, but… Greg had to work! Damn responsibility!
 
Outfitted with micro dash cam rigged haphazardly to a sideways baseball cap’s bill, he was prowling the streets, recording via Bluetooth to the handy dandy Omni-phone in his pocket. The Hero was masked up again, with a new pair of shades, compliments of Greg’s boy. The goggles wrapped around his head on an eslatic band and he had pinned the band to the underside of the hat to keep it from sliding off. It was an odd combination, but it seemed to work well enough.
 
Stein stuck out like a sore thumb. Though his face was covered, like many possible ne’er do wells, his clothes were cleaner and more “higher tier,” a combination that many did not seem to have. Higher-tier clothing was ratty, while lower-tier was manufactured a bit more rugged. Longer lasting, not intended for style as much as purpose. In all honesty, he might be shopping down here, considering his profession. Longer lasting clothes would definitely benefit in the long run.
 
More than once, people moved away from him. No doubt he looked like one of the many gang members patrolling the streets. That was fine, for the moment. Fame was not his highest priority, so he’d happily blend into the crowd for the time being. It might even be to his advantage in the long run, considering what fame did back home.
 
 
 
 


Two hours… Two hours of walking around, peering into the dark alley ways actively looking for trouble… Crime seemed to be avoiding him. He knew that was not true, but it felt like it. That was pretty much how it wound up back home. Stein could not count the number of times he would walk up to a crime in progress and the perpetrator would just groan and leave. Why? There was just no point.
 
It was rounding our three, when something finally happened. It was not a crime, per say, more of an unwanted confrontation. Stein felt a slight tremor up his spine right before a hand landed upon his shoulder. He was turned about and brought face to face with a tall looking man with odd twin tentacles trailing from the top of his head down to his waist. The ruddy red skin and patchwork plastic-looking white armor gave him an odd appearance.
 
“I ain’t never seen you around, pipsqueak. Don’ know what gang yer in, but I think yer in th’ wrong place.” The hand upon his shoulder shifts to grab Stein’s neck, lifting slowly till the Hero’s feet was off the ground. “An’ I don’ take kinly ta record’n in my turf, ya see?” The gangster looks right into the camera as he reaches to grab it.
 
Stein lifted a hand into the camera’s view, blocking the gangster’s path to it. “I warn you, if you continue on this path, I’m going to defend myself.” The hand stopped for a moment and the red-tentacle-headed man laughed.
 
The twi’lek’s grip tightened around Stein’s neck. It seemed to have no effect on his captive. At least his expression seemed too stubborn to change. “Heh… Little boy, do you really think ya have what it takes to—“ His showboating was cut off by a sudden grunt. In the blink of an eye, the red-man was pushed backwards, his hand wrenched free of Stein’s neck.
 
After the Blink Shield, Stein’s hands instantly occupy themselves with two Palm Shields. The little glassy orbs hover above his hands, charging up. “Hello Youtube and welcome to a Point-of-View Heroing Adventure. Let’s get our shields ready!” He held his hands up, showing the palm shields as the orb shatters and reforms into the transparent barriers.
 
“Hey! You cocky little brat, you think you’re gonna walk away from this?” A swing and a miss; Stein did not even have to use the shields to evade the incoming strike. He could tell by the tingle up his spine, that even though the strike was slow it held power behind it. It was still rather wild… Poor guy was all about that brute strength.
 
Stein was almost an acrobat compared to this guy. They were pretty matched for speed, but this fellow was obviously just swinging for the fenses. All power, no control. Stein turned his head with every missed blow to watch the fists fly by him. “And this is why it’s very important to actually practice aim, not just power. This knuckle head is beating my dust to death. I mean, speed. Flurry of punches, but slow, and wild? I mean what am I, a brick wall?”
 
The Twi’lek roared. A powerful crawling seized Stein’s spine as the brute set his left foot and lifted his right in a powerful kick. He maneuvers the palm shields down to deflect the attack to his gut upward and with the mildest lean, the leg soured right over him. Sadly, the upward angle was not something the gangster expected. His grounded foot was no longer grounded, the weight of his attack carried him upwards. The Hero only needed the lightest sweep of his own leg to knock the steel toe boot of his enemy away from the solid floor below.
 
In a heap now, the red-toned man stared up at Stein, seething. “Why don’t you FIGHT ME?” His hands balled into fists, slamming against the alley’s cracked cemented ground.
 
“Do you think you could keep up? Maybe I should just use my killer move then?” Stein slowly brought the two Palm Shields together. His eyes closed and he began to hum a low, rumbling note.
 
“Wait, wait, I ain’t ready to die!” The hero smirked. Twice. “What do ya want? Name yer price, man, common!” The Twi’lek  was downright pathetic, his imagination obviously running wild with him.
 
Stein’s hands parted, the shields remaining as they were before, though they seemed to shimmer a bit more now, purely visual effects, of course. “How about a little information? Know where any action is? Maybe a good drug deal or a little organized crime?”
 
Thick, hairless brows furrow. “What? Ya just want in on some action?”
 
“Something like that…”
 
For almost a solid minute the grounded man was considering his options. Stein took the time to look around the alley. It was pretty devoid of life for the moment, passersby on either end, but no one really walking through the gap with two, seemingly gang affiliated guys duking it out.
 
“I heard Berzek was selling at that ol’ mansion… Set up shop where he could live like a king, ya know? He’s been up there for a couple of hours by now…”
 
Absolutely perfect. “Directions, please…”

[Jack Darby]

Little did the criminal that had been mentioned know that the mansion he was inhabiting was home to someone who wasn't going to take the fact he was there very well. Not very well, at all. In fact, one might say it was going to have consequences for the individual should the current owner and defacto landlord of the property who was asleep at the time in a cave located beneath the manor find out that someone had intruded on his property. When a loud noise of some items being moved around was heard by Matthew, it startled him out of the bed that he had made. The bed was a king sized one, and had sheets that were silk with an abnormally high thread count to them, somewhere in the 500s or so, but he had just wanted something high quality when he had made the bed. Noticing the ragged and worn appearance of the costume he had gone to sleep in,  Matthew decided a change of costume was in order. Who should he look like during his outing today to investigate who was in his home without permission? Red X had been done, and so he didn't want to abuse that identity too much because he didn't want people to figure out that he was Red X. Thus he needed to think of someone new to mimic the costume of. Batman was out, because he was not like the wearer of the costume, whoever that happened to be. Therefore he needed to think very carefully about who he could impersonate today. 

Deathstroke the Terminator might have been a good choice, had he not been a villain or criminal. Still, the chances of anyone knowing about the existence of such an individual here in the Omniverse were slim. Perhaps he could get away with wearing that costume. In any case, Matthew was unwilling to take the risk of wearing such a costume, as he didn't want to piss off any mercenaries. Hmm. Perhaps he could simply design his own costume? Now there was an idea that did possess merits. Not only was it something he could do, but he'd need his own costume at some point anyway, an identity that was truly his. 

First and foremost, the outfit had to be lightweight and flexible. Full armor like that worn by Batman, or Slade or similar was impractical, at least with his current body and level of skill. Since that was the case, he needed to come up with something lightweight, but that was still durable enough to withstand the blaster pistols and other weapons used by the criminals, and the white clad soldiers of the Empire. In short, he needed a lightweight armor.

[Oleander]

While Matthew was busy considering what outfit he would confront the intruders in, someone else showed up with no fucks what they wore. Stein did not even knock. The man let himself in, palm shield already in hand and a grin hidden behind his bandana. “Honey, I’m hooome!” Mistake…
 
Somewhere over a dozen men were instantly raising. Many had been sitting on the stairs, while chairs and even a couch had been dragged from other rooms. “Yo, who da fuck is dis?” Scronny little tan skinned dirtbag, right on cue. His mop spewed from underneath a grimy, never-washed beanie. “Whatchu doin’ in up in my crib yo?”
 
The jeers from all the others fell on deaf ears. Currently Stein was measuring each individual up to see just how difficult this would be. General consensus? Very difficult – he had not planned for so many thugs to be hanging around a crack house. That was a mistake. “Chill, chill, just trying to score a few grams of the good stuff.”
 
The attitude in the room changed. The crowd turned towards the man that spoke, waiting on his response. Seems these are HIS goons… “Aight, aight… Whatchu into, son? I got a li’l of errything. You lookin for a high? I’m yer guy!” The dealer thumped his chest proudly. That grammar was going to give Stein a migraine. At least the man admitted he was a drug dealer.
 
They did not seem to pay much attention to the camera attached to his hat. Maybe because it was so obvious, they discredited it as a wire? Or… maybe they were just too damn confident? Stein liked to think it was the latter option. “How much? Mind you, I’m strapped for cash. How about a few knuckle sandwiches and five to ten behind bars?” Rage instantly filled the room, along with far too many yelling voices.
 
“AYAYAY!” The filthy dealer shouted, shutting up the crowd for the most part. “Stop yell’n at ‘em and go rip his fuck’n head off! Don’t bloody those shoes, they look just my size.” Hoarding shoes? This guy was born for prison.
 
The first wave was filled with a number of eager brawlers, but Stein could hear the clicking of guns being cocked. He could not help the smirk his bandana hid. Perfect. Men and their guns. Stein turned sideways, his left hand rising to keep that small shield between him and the attackers. Before the brawlers could arrive, that shiver ran up his spine. Three guns fired one after the other.
 
Pain ripped through his chest, quite like the bullet that caused it. The other two meet the Palm Shields, a hand for each, and ricochet back at the approaching fighters. Two of the five men fell to the ground, holding bullet wounds across various parts of their body and howling in pain. The advancing men stopped and then slowly backed away. They had just witnessed a man deflect bullets that moved faster than they could blink, needless to say it was intimidating. Ignoring a bullet in his chest gave Stein that much more credibility when it came to badassitude – a Stein speciality.
 
“Keep firing, bastard can’t block ‘em all!” He’s not wrong. Stein spotted the slight movements of fingers and prior to the flying of lead he appropriated the shields. More men had drawn guns. Instead of one volley, it was a continuous stream of lead, a constant number of people to keep focus on to predict their fire.
 
A few bullets make it past, but few really sink that deep. Some do not even break the skin. On the other hand, those that he managed to predict and deflect find new homes, pummeling the few who dared to rush him a moment before. Some of the shooters stopped, but they were quickly reprimanded by their boss. Obviously, he saw the trickle of blood as a sign of victory. He did not see the way Stein continued advancing, headless of the damage.
 
“If you do not surrender now, I will be forced to attack.” The hero used his I mean business tone, again trying to scare his opponents into simply giving up the fight.
 
The wannabe kingpin laughed, “Do yer worst, asshole!” Seems he could not win with a bluff this time.
 
“This is your fault.” So calm, so in control, Stein was definitely trying to up the fear factor. Cracks were forming in his shield. They would not last forever under this assault, especially with a few of the gunners apparently packing sizeable heat. “Better luck in the afterlife.”
 
There was just the hint of fear the moment before Stein changed his tactics. The hero was absorbing damage left and right and he was not feeling too great, but it was clear how to win this fight. After chewing through the first wave, the constant spray of bullets was turned on the ringleader. At this range, a number of them go awry, but out of the dozen deflected, almost half hit home before his palm shields shatter like broken glass.
 
The bullets stop, and all that remains are the groans and choked cries of pain. “And that, children, is why you don’t play with guns – try a physical sport. Exercise and self-defense are both key ingredients to a happy, healthy and safe life. I’ll be back next week with more butt-kicking!” He reaches up to press a button on the camera, to end recording.
 
“Fuck, are we on youtube?” One of the thugs ask another, and then face Stein to include the actual recorder in the question.
 
Stein nods, tossing a few finger guns at the still standing pistol slinger. “Right-o! Trying an educational take on the whole heroic business, instead of JUST awesome asskicking of the righteous degree; what do you guys think?”
 
“I think,” a beer-bellied short man  steps forward, stowing his pistol in favor of a knife, “your video has been flagged for removal…”
 
“Ooh, nice wordplay, did you hurt yourself?” Stein smirked, even as he summoned another pair of shields. “Why don’t you just leave the witty banter to me, alright? Shields do SOOO much better than a knife to cover up insecurities, you know?”

[Jack Darby]

"Or how about you all leave? You're trespassing, and I want you off my property."  

This was said by Matthew who had come out through a lift, and had finally made a decision as to who he was going to dress as this time around. The outfit now worn by him was a green outfit reminiscent of a certain ancient archer. Of course the costume was not that of the ancient archer, but that of a hero from Matthew's universe, but one without a bow and arrow because he did not at present own one. A problem he was going to have to address,  in the near and foreseeable future, when he got things taken care of. A scowl was on his face as he glared and each of them. 

The would be King Pin and his minions were first on Matthew's list of who was about to be pounded. No one shot up a home he had slaved over, and worked on ceaselessly to make into the perfect place for himself. No one brought fights to it either, when he went to great trouble to keep this place off the radar. Matthew didn't want the Empire down here, and he most certainly didn't want other vigilantes here either.

As he examined the bullet holes in some of the walls, and furniture his right eye began to twitch.  "Wrist Guns,"  He commanded. Seconds later they appeared on his hands. "Energy Blast Attachment."  The guns would reconfigure, and he'd fire the energy blast attachment of the guns at the King Pin.  

"I believe I have stated to you clearly what you are to do. However, if you have not understood I shall make the point painfully clear to you. You are NOT welcome here at my home. Kindly vacate the place, before I am forced to resort to levels of force I'd rather not use." 

Matthew then fired an energy blast at the Kingpin's knee, to try and bring him down so he could start to reclaim his home. Remodeling the place and repairing it was going to be a tedious task. Every bit of furniture upstairs was going to be replaced by him, because he wanted to be sure that there would be no defilement or drug smell or anything like that. These morons were truly idiots. 

"So what will it be? Do you leave the easy way, or do I drive you out?" 

Matthew switched from the Wrist-Guns to a bo-staff.   "You have five seconds to decide." 

"4."   His bo staff would be used by him to give the Kingpin a blow that if it connected would hit him in his crotch, and would be one he'd never forget.

"3."  Matthew swung the bo-staff in an arc, trying to whack the Kingpin upside the head. 

"2.."   An attack with the bo staff was made at the Kingpin's shoulder. 

"1."  Matthew once more went for a blow at the lower regions. 

"What have you decided?"

[Oleander]

The leader was unconscious after the brutal assault. The poor man had only managed to stand up when Matthew arrived, riddled with bullet holes Stein had deflected back from his own men. As he crumpled to the vigilante's feet, a number of eyes flit from the Hero to the Vigilante. 

Needless to say, it was a scramble. The thugs and lowlives rushed past Stein towards the door. With a smirk hidden by his bandana, he tripped one up. Just for fun. They grunt at the landing, then continued to scramble towards the magnificent front door.

The few that were left were incapacitated. Two of the first wave were on the ground, bullet wounds in the legs, while the head dealer was outright unconscious with numerous bruises and bullet holes. Poor guy probably would not make it through the night in his condition. Poor life choices; had he only told his men to stop firing, he would have lived.

"So... Nice place." Stein was still standing, but he had three or four times more bullet holes in his body than the kingpin. Blood pooled in his shoes and matted his clothes to his body, though Matthew might notice only a few of his wounds had actually drawn blood. Some holes in his clothing revealed bruises and a slight trickle of broken skin instead of outright gashes in his hide. The man had very tough skin. "You have a lot of balls?" He snickered. Balls for the classic dance featured in a manner, or balls as in cahones - take your pick. Wordplay!

The Hero dropped his mask, showing his face finally - primarily in respect to the home owner. "My bad about the house, I was told this place is supposed to be abandoned." After unclipping the camera from his hat, he removed that too. He ran a hand through his blonde locks to rid himself of the dreaded hat hair. 

"Name's Stein. A-class, rank-1. Erm... not that you'd know what that means..." The last bit was mumbled. He still spewed information from the old world. It might be obvious that Stein was new; just another clueless hero looking for his own niche in the Omniverse.

[Jack Darby]

"Matthew Mcginnis. In my world, I wasn't exactly what you'd call a hero. I was the one who was sent in when heroes failed to do the job, to fix the problem, permanently."  It was true. Those were the types of missions that he had been sent on by Amanda Waller, and by his other handlers at Cadmus. For the missions were ones that heroes wouldn't normally go on, because of the permanence of the solutions needed to stop them. It was also a reason that Matthew did most certainly dislike the remaining drug dealers and especially the Kingpin who had brought them to his home. If dislike was a country,  Matthew would be Emperor with how much he loathed the existence of the men. Noticing the battered and concussed form of the Kingpin, Matthew decided he was going to do something he hadn't done in a while, show some compassion. To be exact, he went over to the secondary, and started using Omnilium to patch his wounds. Growling when he realized that healing the sap was going to take far too long, Matthew contemplated simply putting the individual down. It was a mercy, and one he could gladly extend to the scumbag who had attempted to take control of his home. 

The smell of the drugs that the individual had brought in did not help the mood of the young Mcginnis, in the slightest. What he wanted to do was purge this place of any and all traces of what had been produced, and sold here. How dare they invade his home, and make the stuff here. A man's home was his castle, and he should not have to worry about people doing something like this. As much as he wanted to do it this way, however, lethal force was not an option. 

Stopping patching the wounds,  Matthew decided he'd simply throw the men out of his house, and let what happened happen. When the comment about balls was made, Matthew said. 

"There's never been a cotillion here, yet. And as for the other meaning, I won't dignify that with a response." 

Matthew then went over to one of the thugs who was still alert. "Do you want your boss to survive?" 

"If so you will tell him when he comes to,"  said Matthew, creating a set of bandages. "If he survives. I doubt he will, but... you're welcome to take over provided you abide by my rules. Don't sell to children,  stay off my lawn, and stay 2 blocks away from this place at all times. This area is a drug and arms dealer free zone. If you agree, I'll try to patch you up." 

[Oleander]

The first of many bullets was rejected from his body. It lands on the tile floor with a high pitching ting, leaving a small red splotch behind as it bounced. "He'll be fine, the wound's too high to hit an artery. Might've clipped a nut though, poor guy." What Stein was trying to say was he was incapacitated by pain alone. The ricocheted bullet had clipped the man's inner thigh, but for the most part he was otherwise unharmed. The same was true for the second thug. In fact, only the drug dealer himself seemed to be in critical condition.

Matthew had introduced himself as the man sent in when heroes could not finish the job. Had he not arrived, this particular hero would have had the job covered - and he did not even have to attack. Of course, Matthew probably had no idea exactly how Stein did it, unless this place was wired to record him. The man had no guns, no swords, no weapons of any kind. He just seemed like the average Joe, complete with more bullet holes than all the G.I. Joes combined.

"Or just give up your evil ways and be a valued and productive citizen..." There was an option, right? Stein was not judging, but... Matthew looked to be a bit softer than his words implied. He was allowing them to continue selling? Even with stipulations, that was not in the job description of a hero. "If I catch you guys again, the sequel won't be fit for Youtube. I think they have a rule against gore." The threat factor had been upped at this point. The thug Matthew was coercing was already cringing. The other was on the verge of passing out from pain - but he heard well enough.

Turning his focus back on Matthew, Stein's just... sighs. "Why are you being so nice to them? Possession with intend to sell, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, breaking and entering, trespassing... squatting." He was not a lawyer, but that was quite a list. "Your house though. You do with 'em what you like."

Considering he was not invited, Stein realized that he too was trespassing. Jaw shifting, he decided it best he take his leave. Not that Matthew seemed the type to kick him out. Nice guy, really, but he definitely had a higher tolerance than Stein did. "It was nice meeting you, dude. Sorry for the mess, I'm sure baking soda will buff that right out." The hero lifts the bandanna back over the bridge of his nose.

"I'll keep a look out now and then to make sure no one else makes their mistake." Matthew's allowance of crime showed that he was not exactly what Stein would recognize as a hero, so he treated the man as a citizen. The offer of a patrol was just something he did back in his C-class days. He might as well bring it back, since he was basically a C-class hero here anyway.

[Jack Darby]

"I appreciate your offer of patrols around this place, and it would be very much appreciated if you were to do so. The reason I am allowing them to continue to operate is so that I can later use them for intelligence, in case something big goes down, like a new gang muscles in and tries to take this place again. Knowledge is after all, power. And since I am not as powerful as the one whose DNA I was made from,"  sighed Matthew, as he thought ruefully that he had been made from the DNA of Batman. Only he didn't remember who Batman was. Matthew did know he had been made to replace the Batman should he fall. With Coruscant not possessing a caped crusader, perhaps he was worthy of the bat-suit, after all? Matt didn't know if he was or not. 

"There is also another reason. I am not fully as I was when I was back home. So if they were to get their bosses to send more men, I would rather not have an army shooting at me, if you catch my drift." 

This made the prospect of doing something less than moral to the individuals very tempting. After all, they couldn't be allowed to spread word of who lived here, or by any means to bring more of their ilk down on him. They had squatted in his property, and broke in and entered. 

"You are free to stay here, Stein if you wish. If you don't,  please take the thugs with you. Even if you do, could you help me move them outside? I can't carry them all on my own."

[Oleander]

Matthew said a lot of things that stumped Stein. Made from someone else's DNA? Sounded like that one mad scientist from his world... In any case, it seemed the man was in something of a funk. On top of that, the hierarchy of crime he believed the thugs to be involved with was also a little presumptive.

"I doubt they're part of a bigger syndicate." He did help grab one of the men, but he did so by the wounded leg. As he tugged, the thug yelped and moved with him, greately reducing his effort needed. "Reason A; he was doing the dealing as head honcho... If he was employed by a crime boss, he'd be dead by now. Reason B; squatters don't scream big time crime lord... Reason C; I think they were making it here, meaning there's probably not a very long chain of production to sales - we probably snuffed the whole process one go." Sass aside, he seemed to be pretty logical when it came down to brass tax.

Matthew revealed a bit about himself, so... maybe he was looking for reciprication, a bonding moment - Stein wasn't quite sure. Still... "I've been doing this a while, and when I started out it was with low-level crime like this. We can't all start out stopping world-wide disasters." He chuckled a bit. Once at the door, he rolled the man out onto the stoop and dusted his hands, as if that was some heavy labor. "I'm pretty sure these guys were trying to make a name for themselves... thus why they chose a mansion. Presentation, you know? Stroke the ego and all that jazz."

The Hero leaned upon the door frame, arms crossed. About this time another bullet is ejected from his hide, dropping to the floor. It was clear Stein had a healing factor. Already some of his bruises were beginning to lighten. By this time tomorrow, he might just be covered with a number of scars where today he had what should be critical wounds. "What do you think? I'm open to counter arguments."

[Jack Darby]

The logic of the argument did make sense. The individuals likely didn't have the means to do an arrangement bigger than this. They also probably weren't part of a group that was larger, or as Stein said they'd be dead. In any case, that allowed a sigh of relief to escape the lips of Matthew. Going over to one of the thugs who had a bow and arrow strapped on his back,  Matthew examined it. Rubbing his eyes, to make sure he wasn't seeing wrongly, he'd open them again and stare at the bow and arrow for a moment. 

"Just where did you get this?"  asked Matthew. The bow and arrow in question was one that had belonged to Green Arrow, or at least appeared to be a high quality replica. In any case, it was a weapon Matthew was most definitely adding to his arsenal. Sure he had his wrist blasters/guns, and a batarang, but he needed more weapons for Ranged Combat, if he was to be able to survive out there. As the bullets popped out of the side of Stein, it was then that Matthew started wishing he possessed the healing factor that Stein did. It was an ability that most vigilantes, and heroes wanted. 

Superman probably had one, though Matthew didn't remember much about most of the heroes of his world. It came in bits, and pieces, like when he had seen that bow and arrow, he knew it was a weapon that was from his world. He also knew that the weapon was one he was definitely not allowing the idiot to keep. After all he needed more than just a few pieces of home, to help keep him grounded here. 

"I agree with your argument. Now, Stein. How would you like to stay here?" asked Matthew.

[Oleander]

As Matthew rogued the thug's weaponry, Stein took a moment to peer around. Live in a mansion? Kind of gaudy isn't it? Even as an A-class hero, he lived in an apartment, sharing the floor with the common masses. It was not his style to spend tons of money on high society, or to try and fit in with the elegant and rich types. It was a nice offer, and it was obvious this place needed a few more bodies to fill it... Sadly, Stein was not into this lifestyle.

With a polite shake of his head the hero said, "I think I'll pass. I'm probably just going to get an apartment on the second tier. People up there seem pretty nice, and shopping doesn't involve keeping my wallet up my ass for safe keeping." Third tier was not that bad, but it was not good either. Thus why he picked this tier to work with, it was a good starting region. "I can pop by now and then, but I like to keep my work and social life separate if possible. Ancient proverb says 'Don't eat where you shit,' you know?" That might not have been entirely accurate, but it worked.

After the vigilante stripped the criminal of his weapon, Stein repeated the previous process, dragging the wounded man to the door and rolling him out without kindness. It was not the easiest task, but he had cleaned up most of the garbage, right? That should count for something. "Sorry about all the mess. To be fair, they did most of it." Except the bloody footsteps. Every step he made came with a wet squish of his ruined sneakers.

[Jack Darby]

The proverb that Stein had quoted actually made sense. Honestly,  Matthew wanted to move his home to a higher Tier, but here was where he was needed the most. The crime down here never slept, and so it made sense for him to have a place where he didn't have to take an elevator to the action. Of course once he discovered how to teleport again, that could be easily rectified, and he wouldn't need to worry about it.  "Having you stop by every now and then to patrol and discourage individuals from trying to take this place by force is good. We'll start from there, Stein. I'd like us to team up more often. The mansion honestly is just a front, as my actual base is hidden below the mansion itself, more of a lair than a base for crime fighting, but it does the job." 

He sighed for a moment as he looked at Stein. The individual had been somehow able to deflect every bullet. It was a mystery as to how he had been able to do, a mystery that he planned on discovering at his earliest convenience. Of course, certain things just had to come first. One of those certain things was more of a chore than he cared to admit to himself. It was the lonesome, and boring task of repairing his house. In retrospect, he should have made the walls out of bullet proof materials. In the future he was definitely going to invest the time to find a mix of materials that if not bullet proof, would make it harder for him to have to spend time repairing the place, as the place was going to stay in one piece. 

"You're free to go whenever you want,  now that those scumbags are no longer in my house. I'll have a lot of repairs to do on the place, and a lot of cleaning. It's going to take me weeks just to get the smell out of the place, if I don't cheat and use Omnilium."

[Oleander]

Stein had not deflected every bullet. Even as Matthew spoke, another bullet was forced from the hole it had made and fell to the floor. He had over twenty left lodged in or past his dense flesh. 

Stein peered around at all the damage. "If I had my full power, I'd help. I used to have repair spells meant specifically for repairing damaged inanimate objects. Sadly, since coming here, most of my magic has been lost. I haven't forgotten them, they just don't... come as naturally. Like muscle memory has been forgotten, but not actual memory, if that makes sense."

He glanced at the door. It was still pretty early in the day, just barely past three. He could get a few more hours of heroing in, though he had taken quite a bit of damage. Food sounded great though... he could definitely eat. Maybe he could grab a bite in the Second Tier before apartment hunting? "Team ups are fun. Should warn you though, I'm crap in a fight." Matthew might have reasons to doubt that, but Stein adds in an explination. "I focus most of my skills towards defense. People either tire themselves out or... well, they shoot at me like idiots. No one expects the ricochet, you know what I mean?"

He had inadvertently hinted at his skills, but he made it sound casual. He did not care if another crime fighter knew his fighting style, he doubted Matthew would go blabbing and reveal his secrets... not that they were very secret in the first place. "Though I could probably play tank, if you can swing DPS." Gamer terms, maybe Matthew would know what he was talking about.

[Jack Darby]

"You go rest and recover. I'll repair the place on my own, it's how it should be. I should do the repair work on my own. After all, I have to learn to be self-reliant, some of the time. Your help was valuable back there. Had you not taken most of them, there was a 25% probability that even with my talents, I would be dead." 

There was that, and the fact that Matthew didn't want to rely on anything more than his own labors to repair the place. A man's home was his castle, and so he was going to repair his on his own. After all, no one else lived here, and Stein had refused the offer to live here.  "Perhaps sometime in the future we could perhaps align ourselves with one another if the need should arise. I for one, know that I could use your help on my next raid in this area, to expand my territory. There's also a few criminals I could use your help with. Of course, I will have to teach you some about fighting." 

The individual had a lot to learn. Helping him get to the door,  Matthew practically escorted him off the property. Once Stein had left,  Matthew went inside and began the slow process of fixing everything that was wrong with his mansion. First and foremost, he started with the bullet holes, plucking the bullets out of the wall. This was of course, not easy and did more damage than it did fixing, but he was determined to fix his home on his own.