Irreverence || Open

[John Alexander]

There weren't many places in the city that were both safe and quiet after dark. One of those few peaceful places was the Cathedral a few blocks from John's apartment. The place was lit by candles, and that kept it dim enough that he could go without his shades. It was always refreshing to be able to go somewhere in public without them, even if it was somewhere as ridiculous as this church. He hadn't believed in years, since his parents' betrayal of him. If this god was so loving, why didn't he show it and do something about what was happening in those government laboratories? He'd told the priest as much, and gotten some cock-and-bull story about "trials" and the devil.

All the same, he sat in the back of the dark cathedral, his eyes reflecting only the light of the candles lining the sides of the building and in the front, near the wooden carvings of the apostles. Father Busoni tread back down the aisle, coming to sit beside him as he often did. The older man smelled of burning candles and musty books, and his church garb was worn with age. His receding hairline and deep wrinkles showed his years, and despite how long he had been in America with his perish, he spoke in strongly accented tones. His Italian background was obvious in his sonorous voice.

"Why do you continue to come here if you do not believe, John?" he asked. "You cannot truly be as skeptical as you claim if you continue to submit yourself to my messages."

"Don't flatter yourself, Father," John replied, his gravelly voice low. "I like the silence."

The priest sighed goodnaturedly, resigned as usual. He was grateful that the young man kept coming. Each encounter was another opportunity for him to speak to the young man, and hopefully one day the message would sink in. The reasons for it might not be fully obvious to John himself, but Busoni knew that if the Lord wanted him there, he might provide other circumstances which would bring him. The young man had told Busoni of his troubles, knowing that a priest was bound to keep the secrets divulged to him. He had been through much, and the Father was grateful that John still managed to stay civil. For the most part.

"Don't you have sheep to herd?" the young man asked, sounding vaguely impatient to have the priest leave him.

"I always have the time to talk to you, John," Busoni replied, "whether you appreciate my company or not."

John's only reply was a grunt.

The door slammed open as three men raced in, hockey masks obscuring their faces. They shouted to each other in confused and angry shrieks, no one catching any of the unintelligible babble. It was obvious to everyone that they were on the run, and their likely illegal M-16's reinforced the idea, as well as the sirens that came muffled through the stained glass windows. The Father's eyebrows wrinkled as he realized what was happening. These ruffians were going to hide for their sin in a church, and defile the sanctuary. John almost laughed at the irony.

"Quick, man!" the first masked man barked at the priest. "Where's the back door?!"

"The back door is broken, I'm afraid," the priest replied sternly. "I demand that you leave the way you came!"

"'Demand?'" the second scoffed. "Who do you think you are, old man?"

"One who has the favor of he who holds dominion over this church," Busoni replied. "The servant of the Lord Almighty."

"Forget it, man! Let's just find it ourselves," the third man shouted.

"Tell us!" the first man repeated, ignoring his compatriot. He shoved his gun into Busoni's face.

[mammoth]

Of all the places, this particular one was dark and quiet even at night. For the most part, at least. It could be that villains really were superstitious beings, afraid of what awaits them in the dark. Stories of retribution whether it be divine, mystical, physical or even plain unidentified oft kept the paranoid criminal element from encroaching on certain territories at certain times for fear of this unknown, if not karmic force. Others, however, were wholly unconcerned. Whether they don't buy into the superstition, they think they're untouchable by any force that dare move against them, whether they know of no superstition to begin with or they're just too ignorant of the danger to care, some go bump in the night despite the dangers involved.

"ANCHOVIES, CHIVES, MUSHROOOOOOOOOMS!"the squeaking, mechanical, and vaguely Italian robot squawked wildly into the night, it's wheels whirring madly as it fled from a hulking figure pursuing it, each footstep causing a quite audible thud against the pavement. Meaty hands made swipes at the dexterous machine, and each missed as it weaved madly, sparks erupting from it's chassis like a localized fourth of July fireworks display.

"Stand..STILL!" came the gravelly voice of Baran as each one of his attempt to appropriate the small, out of control robot was met with failure. His fingers grazed the machine ever so slightly, causing it to tremor and shake. Much to Baran's surprise, a small hatch opened on the back, revealing a rocket, which suddenly erupted into a blue flame and propelled it forward at breakneck speeds while it simultaneously roared

"CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE"

And disappeared into the darkness, it's mechanical, slightly Italian voice fading as it got further and further away.

"...I'm gonna kill that midget." he mumbled darkly under his breath, abandoning his running in favor of a faster, though more destructive method of travel....Jumping. His strong legs let him get a good running start, and soon he was airborne, propelling himself forward rather than gaining height. Already he was catching ground on the insidious, taunting machine that he was tasked to capture without damaging (as if he was going to comply after chasing it for a half an hour though) it. Grinning he knew the next leap would land him squarely atop of the annoying robot, and after it was crushed, he was going to crush Gizmo for making a machine that screams the most delicious things out without supplying them. Gizmo would pay for Mammoth's grumbling stomach. However, Mammoth made one slight miscalculation... something he is quite known for. The next leap vaulted him straight into the air, but quite literally he had not looked before he leaped. The machine twittered into an old abandoned building, a church, someplace Mammoth had no interest in until just now. As he was careening headlong into it's walls.

With a crash he easily broke the barrier of the wall and came to a screeching halt in a row of unoccupied pews, sending fragments of wood ever which way as it yielded against his weight and strength. Shaking the dust out of his long mane, Mammoth stood, hardly aware of the fact that there were others in the church at the time, his one mission was the robot... and he thought that he had already smashed it with his impromptu wall bursting antics.

"PEP-PEP-PEP-PEP-PEP-PEP-PEPPERONI!" it squeaked as it wheeled about in a circle of undistorted space in the sanctified building.

Mammoth had been mistaken.

[michibaka]

Gripping onto his controller with squinted ivory optics concealed by translucent emerald tinted lenses, the midget boy began grinding his teeth in sheer frustration at all of this. What in the world went wrong?! HE made it! The one, the only Gizmo who proudly made fun of everyone else for having `crudware`! No, more like HOW could something like this go wrong?! Bah, he didn't have time to drill his brain on such questions, that stupid mistake on wheels...complete with a rocket as well, he had to focus on getting it or something! Well, at least before his buddy Mammoth could or it was as good as destroyed and he wouldn't have a chance to dissect it himself. Either he was going to prefect it or destroy the hell out of it.

Sure, sure...it was one of the very first experiments for toying with A.I, this one was for making pizza so that everyone in the H.I.V.E could just chill in their hide out and simply get groceries to enjoy pizza rather than getting a finger of blame pointed at them. That's absolutely correct, even in this dark night, he still hated it when the heroes showed up with their hands on their hips spouting off false accusations. To attempt saving the hassle so that the annoying typical hero speeches caused by wandering around in public could be more limited to when they could snap back with better insults, it was a good gesture, wasn't it? Of course it was! It would of been a better gesture if it would actually do what he programed it to do, that was beyond the point! His precious creation was getting chased by Mammoth and for some reason the signal was jammed at the moment so he couldn't exactly find the buff teen and his metal Italian contraption right away. Maybe it was a bad, no make that a horrible idea to make and repair things while under the influence of sleep deprivation.

"CRUD! Where the snot crunchers am I gonna find a reject chef robot and a muscle bound food disposal?!" With his jet wings out and blasting him around the creation, a random hobo stared in awe with eyes that almost glistened with a light coating of tears as though the stinky man saw something absolutely beautiful despite it being a hot tempered midget kid who didn't grow in height much at all zooming over with his metallic, technological wings. Of course, the hobo had to just say something, "It's the angel of destruction...THE END OF THE WORLD IS HERE!" Gizmo's simple response to such a statement was an eye brow quirk followed by a slight gag for a very short moment. Oh if only he had more time, then he could insult the stinky geezer who was now running in circles like a drunken maniac screaming his head off. As if that crazy barf bag of an elder was a good luck charm, vooshing by him like a mini airplane piloted by a mad mechanic, the tracking software seemed to be up and running. Question was...would there be any hope for the Italian accented guinea pig of nuts, bolts and amazingly glitchy programming going to be in one piece?

He wasn't about to go hand to hand with his comrade over some stupid failure, but he wasn't going to be thrilled if something he worked on so happened to be smashed into smithereens! Thinking of the poor little machine getting pummeled by the hungry hungry Mammoth, the corner of his mouth couldn't help but twitch as the chibi reenacted scene played within his mind involving different cheeses and types of pepper being cried out as the massive teen kicked its metal, sparking butt. Getting to hone in on his buddy, pressing a quick combination on his controller made it a snap to just set the GPS and his course was mapped out for him just like that! Perfect is what it was! Taking a sharp turn, tilting both his body and the controller, the somewhat pathetic, squeaked out familiar, ``PEP-PEP-PEP-PEP-PEP-PEP-PEPPERONI!`` Stopping in his air tracks, he pushed a button on his controller switching it to the large, mechanical spider legs. If that little bucket of bolts wasn't such a trouble maker for HIM, he really wouldn't mind keeping it as a pet or something. Knocking the door down with one of the legs before making his way in, he couldn't help but yell out, "GET OVER HERE YOU SCUZZ BUFFING FAILBOT!"

Barking out those words like some kinda disgruntled genius dog, death glaring at the poor `special` robot as soon as it got in his sights and even bearing his pearly whites for a moment. Up until he realized there were more people...including a priest...? What was he in, a church or a convention? Having a blank look possess his features, allowing his narrowed eyes to just get round with confusion. Er...with a cross that big, it had to definitely be a church. With a bead of sweat sliding down the back of his bald head, he couldn't help but quizzically blurt out, "What the hairball...?" Did those guys actually have guns in this place for real?

Something about guns in a church didn't quite compute right away since it was always portrayed as a place of peace in the media. Odd thing is, he didn't mind kicking some butt if these guys wanted to start something with him, not even in this holy place! Blinking a couple of times, he slightly tilted his head toward Mammoth, still keeping the goon squat...and other two guys who didn't look so goony before mumbling in a slightly obnoxious tone, "Who are these snot for brains anyway?" Something the kid genius didn't know, what a surprise! Admittedly, he'd probably be amusingly irritated if he took more notice to the glitchy creation wheeling around and about in a circle as though that was the best thing it could do aside from poke fun at the orange haired teen's hunger pains.

[batman]

You must become a terrible thought! You must become an idea!

It was easy at first to become such an idea, to be such a terrible thought. Ironic, really. But as the Batman went from being urban legend to vigilante, criminals began to become more familiar with the Dark Knight. Starting out, he was an entity. Maybe not even that. He was more of a force. A mindless, blameless, disembodied, unstoppable force. Much like the hurricane is a force of nature, he was a force of justice and criminals saw him as such.

But now, he was more of a man to them. Albeit a very powerful and very dangerous man, he was still a man. A mortal. He was no ghost or half human half beast thing lurking in the darkness. He didn't drink blood. No, he himself bled and he himself could be killed. But there was still that certain awe that never left. Criminals hated him, but they still feared and respected him, even after he'd gone through three Robins and a Nightwing.

At first, fear and respect was due only to him being such a wild card. Such an unknown, such a terrible and wicked force. Now it was due to his unrivaled prowess. Batman had withstood the test of time, so far. One of those traits that granted him such a privilege was his keen detective work. He developed gut instincts, almost like a sixth sense, about crime. One thing he'd learned was that seemingly small things were sometimes symptoms of a larger problem.

Jump City, outside the city limits of Gotham. The H.I.V.E., something more appropriate for Robin to deal with, rather than him. But there was something about it. Something that drew his attention. They way they escaped. Yes, there was more to it, but Batman didn't see it all yet, hadn't found all the clues yet.

Sometimes the direct approach worked, but sometimes when you do things correctly, people wont even be sure you'd done anything at all. Batman figured subtly would be much more appropriate for this situation. Even if he could grab a member of H.I.V.E. and even if he could interrogate them, that would only give away the fact that they and whoever or whatever was responsible for their newfound freedom had garnered his attention.

And it wouldn't do at all to let them know that.

So he followed them, trailed them, studied them from afar. Tracking them wasn't too hard either. They were sloppy, careless. One could say they were too young and cocky to keep themselves hidden. Or maybe that was the point? Maybe they were supposed to distract from something much bigger and much grander?

He'd find that out, maybe even tonight. After all, finding them wasn't hard. The brawny one chased after some mechanical automaton and the brainy one followed. They both made quite a ruckus, giving their whereabouts away.

The darkness helped to conceal the Batman has he gave chase over the rooftops, leaping and bounding, his cape flapping and swaying violently behind him, making him look all the more phantom like and ghastly, rather than a mortal man. Then his quarry came to a halt. He too had to come to a halt, standing and looking down over the edge of a building that overlooked the church they'd went into.

The full moon shown brightly behind him. It hid the details of his features. Only the form of his silhouette could be seen. A tall, intimidating humanoid-like mass. Pointed ears and wings or a cloak or something draped all about it. Tendrils of cloth flutter and stuck out at the bottom of his cape, which hung all about his body and completely masked what was underneath. He surveyed the scene with all the cunning of an apex predator. His keen mind, sharpened to perfection, took in the reality of what was happening.

A church. His quarry. Trouble? Probably. Thugs and police sirens. Maybe it was time to blow his cover and intervene? Maybe, but then again maybe not. Instinct told him to stay at bay, at least for now. Wait, watch for the right chance, and then act.

[John Alexander]

While he might not have liked the priest's company, John had to admit that the old man had guts. He was staring down three armed criminals, and John was fairly sure that Father Busoni had nothing to back up his cheek, no training or weapons. It fell to him to keep the old man from being gunned down in his own sanctuary, and the irony wasn't lost on him. Shaking his head, John stood and stepped in between the robbers and Busoni. Startled by the sudden movement, the robber fired the gun, and it caught John on the shoulder, ricocheting off to bury itself in the stone walls somewhere out of sight.

"--the hell?" the robber grunted, his eyes wide. "What are you?"

His reply was interrupted as a series of very strange events took place in a very short time. As if the robbers weren't spooked enough, a wall crumbled explosively, revealing what appeared to be a robot shrieking pizza ingredients being pinned by any overly hairy teenager who was reminiscent of a Neanderthal. It seemed fortunate for the priest that the wall was one of the wooden additions to the original stone, considering how much harder it would've been for them to fix the damages otherwise. The father was fixated a bit more on this problem than John, who was wondering about the reasons for it. Who was this guy, and what on earth was going on?

Then the parade continued, with the arrival of some midget with robotics all over him and a fondness for green. This town was so full of crazy freaks it was a wonder that the APA didn't quarantine the place. John replaced the goggles on his face and turned his attention back to the robbers who had taken off on foot when the wall became a new door. They were heading to the offices, but confused as they were, they couldn't find the exit. John wondered whether or not the priest had lied about the door, and as he heard shouting, he realized that Busoni had been telling the truth. How unfortunate for them, because John could hear the sirens of the police cars now.

That wasn't especially good news for him either, considering that the government owned the lab he was running from, and if his name came up on any documents, the Slayers would come looking for him, and he had just managed to give them the slip in Los Angeles. Who would've thought that a church would be the setting in which all that he had built in the last few months would be undone because of some heroics he hadn't anticipated on committing.

"Looks like your church has had it," John intoned to the priest, jerking his head toward the wall.

"John, you have to get out of here," the priest whispered, ignoring his words. "The police will be here any second."

"Tell me something I don't know," he growled back.

[mammoth]

The 'Neanderthal' blinked a bit lazily at the scene. He'd heard a gun fire, but at this point that sort of thing hardly fazed him. After all, most bullets wouldn't do more than bother him as it were. His stark white eyes took in the scene with a sort of detached bemusement. He was standing in what used to be a pew, before her had barreled headlong through the wall and into it, and before him were a few interesting specimens. A man in a coat, some guy with a gun, and a dude in a dress? Robe. Kind of like Brother Blood... and that only brought back bad, bad memories on that count. If there was anyone that gave him the massive willies besides a certain magical lady eligible for a senior citizen's discount, it was their former headmaster. He would have been stuck in his reverie for awhile were it not for a certain mechanical abomination that had decided to chirp once again.

"Pineapple" it remarked rather sagely about the dire situation it was in, perhaps with it's A.I it was keenly aware of the danger a man with a gun, an enraged Mammoth/Gizmo combo, and two unidentified strangers that it had either the poor or fortunate luck of whirring into their business. If it had any of these thoughts though, they were well hidden under it's cold, glitchy shell. With it's jet engine already exhausted, it only barely managed to slip from under the wood that pinned it in spite of the massive weight that Mammoth idly applied. The silence that followed, perhaps only a split second of it was ruined by the small 'Poot poot poot poot' the drained rocket made, each accompanied by a puff of smoke as it merrily returned to it's circles.

Frowning deeply, the hairy teen swung over to eye his arriving comrade and grunted his displeasure. "I dunno who these jerks are, but I do know that if you don't grab that thing I'm gonna see how many times I can step on it before it gives."[/color] he jerked a thumb to the aforementioned 'jerks', that being the priest, the one gunned man, and John himself. He gave a lazy kick at the machine who luckily avoided the devastating, if not lethargic blow with all the style and aplomb that only a malfunctioning robot could muster. He was about ready to resume the pursuit/execution of the abominable robot when a shrill, unmistakable sound hit his ears.

His life of crime had inured him to the sound, making it easily identifiable even on his worst day. It was the siren call of the JSPD. Once more craning his head, he looked out the hole he had just made and saw the telltale flashes of red and blue that accompanied the sirens and gave a snort of irritation, casting his glance once more at Gizmo, his annoyance was palpable from his very tone, even though it was still a deep, gravelly one reflecting his size.

"Great, ya lead the fuzz right to us ya twerp! Now we gotta bust 'em up all because of your stupid robot!" Mulling over the thought for a second, he brought his hands together and loudly cracked his knuckles. "Guess I should thank ya. Been boring just sittin' 'round watchin' that trans..whatchacallzit over an' over. YOU GUYS" he turned without prompt and pointed a large finger over at the previously unattended group and exclaimed menacingly at them, figuring them for a bunch of jelly-spin-ed normal human folk. "You all sit tight and Giz and I won't have to whoop ya, got it!?" he grinned after his statement, almost daring them to try something, as it was quite obvious the brute was spoiling for a fight and was just waiting for the police to make the first move.

"Saus-aaaaaage."

How the Failbot knew this was going to end badly was anyone's guess.

[michibaka]

A bit of free entrtainment was displayed by the typical robber thugs, running around like headless chickens. How tempting it was to ready his controller and fire little laser beams at them to see if it would make them pee their pants or something like that. But no no no, he didn't seem to do such a thing aside from a slight snicker breaking that `wtf` look of surprise from his face. A sagely spoken topping word graced the air as though to share its sweetly tangy wisdom. What it could of meant, not even the genius knew that one! But then it started to putt around again in happy circles once more followed by poof puffs of smoke clouds like an old car or something. There went a small part of the ozone layer, helping out with the global warming issue!

Not like Gizmo cared despite his love for the color green! Energy effeciant things sucked for what he built the most anyway! When that gruff tone hit the air, he listened to how his buddy that would be able to portray the best, most hungry caveman ever didn't know who these `jerks` were as he pointed to them for a moment with his abnormally large thumb. On top of that response, he was gonna smash the robot expressing itself in various toppings and make it fit for robopizza! It could probably stand a bit more than a car seeing that as glitchy as that contraption was, after all, Gizmo was obsessed with using the best materials he could get his mitts on. As if now would be the perfect moment to be surrounded by a red background with a bunch of angry cartoony veins all around him, he grit his teeth looking as though he was about to go on yet another temper tantrum rampage. Mostly about how if anyone's going to destroy the robot, he should just dismantle it for the better of future creations!

Before so much as an incoherent grumble could pass his lips, he heard the approaching sirens and stopped glaring a bit. Slowly turning his attention to where the irritating sound was coming from, one may have so much as found it odd that he didn't screech out to run. Especially because he was a midget of sorts. Listening to his fellow H.I.V.E buddy not only blame him and his Italian-tastic Failbot for the po-po being on their merry way to where they were! Ooooh but that wasn't all the big lug had to say, it seemed like he was thanking him for ending his boredom rather than sit around. Go figure, it was a surprise to the boy genius that someone like him could actually sit still in class even when there's no food to keep em' still, always seeming like the sort to get out there and do something or at least beat the crap out of whatever there was to pummel. Those doofs as he liked to think of them even got orders from Mammoth to just sit tight and let them handle the police!

Awesome! This was going to be like playing video games, except the level would feel easy since to him, the cops were pretty much push overs. Sure, his focus wasn't mainly on the goggle wearing guy and priest man who could of been buddies with Brother Blood for all he knew, but he did catch a slight bit of how the church has had it and some more stating the obvious about the shrilling sirens. Instead of running or crying like a baby, he let out a miffed grunt before grumbling out, "Hey! I didn't even hear those siren snot idiots earlier AND no one's gonna smash up MY scuzz buffing failbot aside from me, mold muncher!" Flailing his controller up and down for a moment, he took the time to allow a mischievous smirk laced by fragments of annoyance cross his lips thinking how he could give the fancy badge flashers a taste of what happens when you follow a member of the H.I.V.E. Yeah, Gizmo was one to switch gears a bit, no doubt about it! Smug amusement laced his tone while beginning to speaking again as he waited for the cops to get in ear shot so he could not only torment the poor piggies but to also throw a flurry of insults their way, "Heh...yeah nosewipes just watch the fireworks or you'll get to have your brains scrambled too!" When he finished that quick comment and heard that ``Saus-aaaaaage.`` comment, his smirk flattened followed by a slight twitch of the eye beneath the lenses of his tech goggles. How in the world was he able to see?

Night vision, handy thing it was! How did he mess up on that robot? He was gonna try to get the answer to that one later! ...and how long did it take to have the cops arrive? The chrome dome boy wasn't sure, really, but he gripped his controller ready to fight off the coffee guzzlers! In a way, this was gonna be an unlearned lesson to those cops for giving them trouble when they're actually not doing something wrong! ...ok so they kinda did but really! It wasn't like they were stealing from the bank like they used to for Brother Blood!

[batman]

Although the Batman has super intelligence and super wealth, he didn't have super senses. He could hear bits and pieces without the aid of any gadgets or listening devices, but that wasn't enough. Fortunately, the Batsuit had a plethora of built in instruments. Things like a listening device.

In the old days gone by, Batman used listening devices that he had to mount on his utility belt or carry with him. Some were clunky but as time went on, he made them more streamline or able to be folded up and put out of the way. No such problems now.

His arms emerged from his cloak, he left hand going to touch the side of his temple. He had to give it a good firm push to activate the built in radio in his mask. His right hand, however, he reached out, pointing his index and ring finger toward the scene of what was happening down below. A built in microphone, one in which he was able to use to hear what was doing on down below.

At first, he couldn't quite make sense of it. There were tiny mechanical noises and something shouting out what sounded like pizza toppings. A split second later, he deduced this must be the robot the big one was chasing. Then he flinched and cringed up, barely noticeably though. The loud gunshot, very clear from this distance, was painfully amplified in his ear.

Over the ringing in his ear that followed, he could hear them talking. Various threats and it looked like things were going to get heated. But why hadn't he interfered yet? The logical thing to do would be to turn off the mic the moment he heard the gunshot and go investigate. But those instincts of his, those finely sharpened gut feelings, they told him not just yet.

Best to remain a wraith for now, especially considering the police had just rounded the final corner. They so close in fact that one could hear their tires rolling over the pavement. If it kept playing out like this, the Batman couldn't afford to remain a shadow on the wall for much longer....

[John Alexander]

A frantic argument sounded from the deeper parts of the church, and it was obvious to anyone listening that none of the robbers had found a way out, and that they were starting to panic. It wasn't surprising, really. The police had just screeched to a stop in front of the newly renovated church, and the sirens were piercingly loud. As soon as the sirens were turned off, the slamming of car doors echoed in the otherwise silent church. Blue and red lights streamed in through the stained-glass windows and the hole in the wall.

"Go through a window!"

"None of us could fit through there!"

"Well, think of something! The police are almost here!"

"I'm trying, man!"

John examined the exits unobtrusively, knowing that his best chance to escape would probably come when the police stormed the place. The problem was that no matter the course of action, the priest would probably get caught in the crossfire. The police were probably after those punks who ran in with the guns, but they hadn't planned on encountering two superpowered teenagers, and those kids seemed intent on fighting. Given what the larger one had done to the wall, they were far tougher than they looked, and the larger one looked pretty tough to begin with, albeit tough with the brain of a broccoli. The little one was obviously the brains of the operation, though what operation that was was unimportant to John.

"This is the police!" a voice came from a megaphone. "Put down your weapons and surrender! We have the place surrounded!"

John grimaced. This day was just getting better and better. Personally, he could've done without the excitement, and it was a little ironic that this was the place that he had chosen because it was the peace and quiet that he needed. He turned to look as their favorite hooligans came running back into the room, angry panic clear on their faces. The corner of John's mouth twitched in amusement, but he said nothing. He was aware that this was the most dangerous point of the operation for the bystanders, considering that the perps were desperate and there was no knowing what they might do.

The ringleader ran up to the priest and grabbed him by the arm, pointing the gun at his temple while the priest stared him down. The expression on Busoni's face was like one of a teacher staring down a misbehaving child, but the robber ignored him, planning on taking him hostage.

"I want out of here!" he shouted to the police. "If I don't get out of here, I kill the priest!"

The others stared in shock, but John's jaw tightened in irritation. This annoyance was getting out of hand. Slipping behind him while the others were fixated on the police, John wrenched the gun away from the robber and bent the barrel easily with his bare hands before shoving the robber away. He flew fifteen feet away, landing against the wall and dropping like a sack of rocks. The other two shouted in shock and outrage, turning their weapons on John and firing a burst. Maneuvering so that he could protect the priest with his body, John took the shots unflinchingly. In the pitch black night that surrounded them, there wasn't a human alive that could hurt him. His clothes, though, were shredded by the impact of the bullets.

"This is my favorite coat," John growled.

[mammoth]

Mammoth was largely unconcerned with the robbers, the priest, or the man with the jacket. ... Or the police for that matter. They were all small fries in his mind, and it was already evident in the past that the police weren't capable of stopping him or his comrade Gizmo, that's why the Titans were around after all. In a display of almost comical disinterest he watched without comment, save for the nonvocal boredom on his face as the police asked them to 'surrender their weapons'. He was slightly confused at that, as he had no weapon to speak of, though Gizmo was armed to the teeth whenever he was in that green suit of his, so maybe they were talking to those two? Seemed unlikely still, as the man shouted back something about shooting some old guy if he wasn't let out. He couldn't quite tell as it was hard to pay attention when there could be fighting to do, but he wasn't going to blindside the police just yet. Despite his large size, strength and general disreguard for the well being of himself and others, he wanted to coordinate his strike with Gizmo for an overall better ass-kicking experience. Despite the Little Guy's..well, little-guy-ness, he was actually quite handy to have in a scrap, and when his machines weren't irratating Mammoth he thought they were pretty cool... so long as they were used on someone else. His attention was grasped however when the coated man, John, made his move. He was expecting to see either a dead old guy, a dead guy in a coat, or both, but instead John bent the barrel of the gun quite deftly and SHOVED the other fifteen feet. Raising a hairy brow, he watched the cascade of bullets fly and meet their mark... only for the man to comment that was his favorite coat, completely unharmed himself. Mammoth had to admit, he could empathize at times.

It was apparent by this point that Mr. Wears a coat wasn't a normal human. Maybe a mutant or a cyborg or an alien, or whatever else is only mildly annoyed at hot lead. It didn't matter now though. To Hell with coordinating with Gizmo! He wasn't going to get shown up by a scrawny little pipsqueak like Mr. Ruined coat! In a blur of action he reached out and grabbed one of the remaining undamaged pews and effortlessly hefted it into the air. Instead of coming to the defense of Mr. Ruined Coat however, he turned and hurled it through one of the stained glass windows the red and blue lights had given life through light. He grinned when he heard the panic from outside, and even laughed when the crunch of glass made him realize he had just sent it through the windshield of one of the police cars. He'd forgotten how much he liked tangling with the police, even if the best was yet to come. At the very least, now that he'd had his fun he would at least warn Gizmo of his next actions.

"Hey green bean. I'm gonna welcome the new guests... and by welcome the new guests, I mean I'm gonna beat up the police..know what I mean?" he added shortly after his first statement, as though the implication he'd made would have been lost on any of those present without his following words to clarify. Mammoth seemed awfully proud of himself that he'd even come up with such a cool way of making the declaration. Without waiting for a real response, he took a small running start and leaped for the window once more! ...Only to miss it by a good foot and crash through the wall of the renovated church like a large, hairy, disgruntled kool-aid man. The sound of gunfire rang out once more, though this time it was from the outside of the church, and was followed by screams of panic, and oddly, the loud creak of metal.

Unless someone took a look outside, it would probably be unbeknowst that Mammoth, in all of his wisdom, had decided that throwing one of their own automobiles at them had been an excellent tactical decision. Unfortunately he had been too quick on the draw, his reflexes took over when he felt a slight bullet impact on his back, which caused him to turn and hurl the half ton of plastic and metal directly at the church. Normally he wouldn't care, but it happened that Gizmo was still in there, and he was not comfortable with the thought of smashing his little buddy with a misplaced hurl.

"INCOMING!" he turned and bellowed out, his hands cupped around his mouth as though he needed to focus the sound when his strong lungs could have carried it just fine. The quickest to react may have surprised some, but by this time, not Mammoth.

"Olives!" the Failbot remarked in alarm as it screeched to a halt, a tiny cannon poked out of it's chasis and immediately began to opening fire upon Gizmo with...olives. Each one was accompanied by a little 'poom!' as though they were being expelled from something much more antique. The impact of each wouldn't be something to write home about either, as they were only expelled hard enough to reach their target of a far up Gizmo.. specifically his cheek.