thercnncr:
Once a week, Atticus liked to push himself to the limits around the city. He always chose Tuesday nights - it was the most likely time in the week he wouldn’t be tracking people down to go to the bar with him or sniffing around for something to smoke. He was nowhere near qualified to join the Hero Squad, on account of his innate laziness, but he still wanted to be in the best shape he could be powers-wise so that if the time came to run, he’d be good to go. He wasn’t necessarily trying to run faster - something told him he’d outrun a decent percentage of the city - but doing what he liked to call “crash course” - finding abandoned buildings or whatnot, usually in Lompico, and running through or into something to see what happened. Helmet on, he started at his apartment by the hospital, ran around the city a few times to get his body warmed up, then really started speeding until he found the bright blue X he spray painted beforehand, bursting through the brick with a loud clatter, falling onto the concrete floor. “Holy shit!” he shouted, on reflex, taking off the helmet and starting to stand, before stumbling back down onto his side with a shake of his head. Getting his bearings and shaking drywall out of his hair, he finally stood and noticed the other person standing in the room. Atticus cleared his throat and, with a lazy salute, said, “Good evening.” @wotnastarters
Very little surprised Leo at this point in his life, but he had to admit that this was a first. Some scrawny boy blasting through one wall of his garage? Thankfully it wasn’t a load bearing wall, but it pissed him off all the same. Once he had gotten enough drywall and dust out of his eyes to see properly, he stomped over to the young man and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Sei fuori di testa cazzo? You have left your head and your ass in the wrong places, yes? That is the only explanation I can see for throwing yourself through my wall.” Leo spat, grease covered nails digging into the younger man’s shoulder as the dust began to settle. Settling into the wrong places, like the engine he had been overhauling before the little bastard had shown up. “And that is all you say? Good evening? Fottuti Americani, you are all ridiculous.” Oh, and he was smiling. Of course he was, that was just Leo’s luck. Some elfin looking bastard who thought it was funny to use what he could only assume was some kind of Metahuman ability to crash through brick. Well, he wasn’t letting go until he got answers. “Who are you? Why are you here? Are you with the CARMA?”













