2013-08-15 - Defeated By The Beat

San Francisco...

The city of the sea, of the Titans, of the first major gay community? Ah, whatever. The point is, it's an important city with important things in it.

All seems normal at first today, but in reality, there has been a building whirlwind of dark energy lately. At one of the local colleges, a music major is in great pain and torment. Calling to the dark powers that be, pleading to be given the power for revenge!, he was betrayed by the girl he loved as that beautiful being that was so nice to him before choose a dumb college jock he was helping study to even barely pass to date instead! Right now, on a beautiful date on the boardwalk by the ocean, they are enjoying seafood while he sits alone in his dorm room needing a shower. Raymond Viller has had ENOUGH! His eyes glow darkly suddenly, before he grabs his boom box and takes his leave to begin.

Only two hours later as the newly debuted couple finish their meal, do sea rotten zombies start to climb out of the ocean to respond to a loud boom box of dancing music on the beach. They groan and twitch in rhythm to the beat, their feet pounding with the drums against the surf, and then finally the sand as they head to the boardwalk eatery.

In the meantime...Arsenal is busy trying to look cool as some ladies walk by, "Hey sweetheart." Him and Superboy got conned into doing a charity event on the beach today as Titans, having people pay for photos where the money goes to a local charity. Superboy actually surprisingly didn't get the number of photos with kids as one would expect, as Arsenal seemed to get distracted even from the hot girls by the kids as he told them tall tales and shared crazy stunts and generally, made their parents panic till the kids demanded they wanted a photo with him. As a result...strangely enough, Superboy got the most photos with the hot girls.

As the zombies though are coming up out of the surf, Arsenal then elbows Superboy in the ribs, "Hey, hey man! Look at that," and he points. "Am I seeing things?" It's strange, that beat...like it is pounding in one's skull almost, calling to people.

Cassie is sure to be thrilled. Roy's 'dad' aura is just too strong. What few kids do come up get photos of him holding them up in impossible positions, him insisting to the parents that his telekinesis makes it perfectly safe, even if there's the appearance of a child balancing on his open palm. Of course, some of the hot girls insist on similar, and it's not just kids and girls that come up for photos. This is, after all, San Fran, with a healthier than average concentration of gay men. Photos range from 'what you just did with that girl' to muscle poses.

As Roy gets his attention, Superboy looks around. "Oh, huh, I thought some ambergris had washed up," he remarks, having apparently smelled them before he saw them. "Wait... are they dancing?" he asks, having never even seen the Thriller Video.

Really? Crystal Method's 'Bloodbath' would be better than this beat. But it's catchy. Man... that IS catchy. Warpath was at the skyline, and he had to investigate. So, off he went. There was something in that music. Something he couldn't put his finger on. Stupid superhuman hearing.

There is a man in a black cape that is suddenly near the 'lovely couple', with a large and wide knife. "Well, hello Tiffany! Brutus!" He draws a scream from the girl, and the football guy pales, but tries to move to protect Tiffany. "Oh, why don't you two show how meant for each other you are?!" Suddenly, against their will, the couple start some sort of tango-like dance, as they head toward the beach and the zombies, panic on their faces as Tiffany calls for help and begs, "Don't do this Raymond!"

Arsenal is already tapping his foot, "It is a good beat though. Kinda looks like fun." But then the screaming girl gets his attention, "Umm....Superboy? I think we have a problem. Why is she screaming and dancing at the same time?" He already knows the answer 'magic', he just wants to pretend he doesn't.

That was an unmistakable sound - a scream. A scream for help. Warpath flew faster - not the speed of sound, but still, pretty fast. He didn't draw his knives, but he did focus his superhuman vision. Being in the sky, he had a better view of what was going down - and it wasn't pretty.

Damn that music was catchy. Wait, no, James, think. Focus. Stop the zombies. Save the people. Watch out for the billboard! BOOM! Too late. Warpath burst through a billboard advertising an airline company, and he tumbled through the air towards the beach. He landed in the sand, bouncing twice, and leaving a long rent in the beach before he finally came to a stop right before the zombies. How embarrassing.

Superboy looks over towards the couple, and apologizes to the various tourists lined up for photos, them all starting to sort of subtly boogie to the music. "Duty calls," he says, and takes off to the beat, moving more acrobatically than the situation calls for and landing again to the beat, this time between the couple and the knife-wielding ren-fairrer.

The knife-wielding ren-fairrer is a bit away from the couple, dramatically waving his knife about in an artistic manner, "The time for revenge is here! For all the ills of society, you have ignored the underdog too long!" He even speaks to the beat, "Let the show begin!" He points his knife toward Superboy as the music picks up and the singing starts.

"Under the Catacombs we shuffle, the dust rising up in clouds. Long dead our eyes are gone, but still we see the world's darkness." The slam of the beat seems to vibrate the very sand of the beach! The zombies move as if one, going through the dance moves of long-term professionals as their body parts jerk and bits of seaweed and dead flesh get flung about. The couple are separated and move in puppet-like movements, their heads often bowing, as they jump about and then get on one knee as if in shame.

"Conquered by Kings, broken by taxes, shun by the elite. We are the ignored, the ill, the tortured."

The zombies are now moving about James, dancing away, as if already starting to include him as a 'prop', their movements seeming to get more menancing toward the 'couple'.

"Well, that was...," interesting? Arsenal isn't so sure about that. But he finally starts to move, running to the beat as he then takes a leap into the air as he spins and his boots land on the sound at a dramatic drum beat. His feet then slide shoulder-width apart and he pulls an arrow out to notch upon his bow to the beat as he pulls and then pauses as the music seems to do this long 'Aaaaahhhhhhh' sound of singing with subdued music. "Umm...shoot already arm, umm...hello? Hello fingers. You can let go now."

One of Warpath's hands hit the dirt. Then the other. In tune with the beat. Then he got to his feet, and he stepped through the dead meat. Till this job was complete. Enough rhyming. James was trying to step through the undead to get to the couple, to get to the kid. He was close... so close! And then went that big 'Aaaaahhh,' and his arms rose, along with the vast undead. "What the hell!?"

As much of a showoff as he once was, Superboy's gotten a lot more efficient lately, brutally so. The big Aaaah moment breaks that though, as what was, in his head, meant to be a quick vault to the man clearly controlling the horde turns into a dramatic pose. He moves his arms around, leans back onto his back leg, and strikes a pose familiar to any fan of Kung Fu films.

And then suddenly, the couple is dancing in front of Arsenal as the musical cry ends, and rather than release the arrow, Arsenal flips over to the side in a move that would impress Nightwing, and then gets on one knee, shooting one of the zombies as it suddenly freezes in ice - a zombie that looked like it was about the bite Tiffany's head!

"Till this night, we rise from the shadows, the groan of the stones as they are uplifted. Step by step, the flesh of the living get closer. Our hands raised, we bring an enlightenment." Together the zombies dance about, raising hands once more to the sky as they spin about. One male zombie - well it might be male - grabs the woman while a female zombie grabs the male, and they start dancing together, each strong drum hit seeming to make the next snap of teeth closer and closer to the living fleshie's face!

The leader is dancing as well, still flinging his blade about hauntingly, "It ends tonight my children! No more torment, no more torture! We will all be equal and DEAD!"

There they went, dancing off with separate partners. And James couldn't help but dance. His hands dropped as he stepped in a rhythm, and he grabbed at his own very impressive knives. "Everyone's got a reason to live, kid - even you. You're what? Sixteen? Nineteen? I - nngh," his jaw shut and he kept dancing, his own blades swaying in his hands. And then he threw - he didn't have to put much effort, he had a lot of strength to give. One of those knives went sailing, and went CHOK! embedding into a zombie's head. The zombie that was dancing with the girl. But that's one knife, Warpath only had one left. Which he tried to use by cleaving at zombies in his immediate vicinity, coupled with impressive dance moves. Mostly spins and kicks.

Starting to get the gist of the thing, Superboy calls out. "Booo05:21, August 16, 2013 (UTC) Anyone else smell ham? Get me some pineapple, and we'll make a pizza," he heckles, stomping on the ground as he starts a flip, landing near the couple, and, again to the beat, planting his hands on their dance partners. At the next downbeat, the zombie are launched away, their rotten grip nowhere near strong enough to withstand the force Superboy's telekinetically applying.

The woman screams as one hand with forearm included is hanging from her and not letting go, the rest of the zombie pulled away by Superboy from where it was dropping after getting a knife in its head. The one with the guy gets claw marks on his arms, but the female zombie is also tossed away.

Arsenal is rolling about in the sand, sending it flying as he dodges between zombies, having finally pulled his guns out and gets stuck shooting at each intense drum beat. Luckily, if there isn't a zombie in target range, he manages to shoot into the sand. "I think we need backup, someone that is Deaf!" Though to be honest, they would still FEEL this beat it is so intense. "Wait, tone Deaf might work!" Pun too late.

The zombies are dropping here and there from the bullets, or hopping about to the beat on just one leg before falling over with a dramatic thump as the next intense beat.

Brutus the football player says, "Raymond...we...can talk about this man!" His large body moves to the beat, shoulders moving up and down as his head whips to the side. "I know some cheerleaders!" Well, least he doesn't offer up his date, Tiffany back.

"War! Huh! Good god, y'all!" Warpath shouted to the beat, trying to keep focused as he started playing butcher with the undead, trying to get closer and closer to the necromancer college kid. "What is it good for? Absolutely nothin'!" Then he changed lyrics. "I see the girls go by dressed in their summer clothes! I have to turn my head until my darkness goes!" He started hopping faster as he started trying to combat the beat with his own. "Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours ago-ho-ho, I wanna be sedated!" Get to the kid! The kid! STOP DANCING JAMES AND PUNCH THE KID IN THE BLADDER. ARGH.

"Seriously?" Superboy asks Brutus. "That's what this is about?" he asks, and starts making his way over to the boom box, his dance making it difficult to actually get all that close. He plants his feet, and, focusing, starts screwing with the dial. Hero theme time?

"Ugh! Painful!" Who is that singing?! Arsenal glares over at Warpath. "Stab more, sing less!" That's his suggestion. Of course, suddenly he is jerking backwards as his back hits the sand and is shooting upwards rapidly as zombies try to pile on type of him as the drum beat goes crazy fast and rapid!

But as Superboy works to play with the dial, the kid in the black cloak says, "No one can replace Tiffany! Kill them Zombies!" He meant the zombies to kill the people, not the other way around, but as the music turns to country....wait, how did the radio get turned on, that's not the volume dial! In either cause, those Zombies pause!

They then go BALLISTIC! Like totally. Seriously. No kidding. They start bouncing about like hicks and trying to punch each other, and one goes over to try and pick up Tiffany to use her as a bat! It's a hick bar room brawl everyone! Zombie verse Zombie! With..humans as the blunt force trauma weapons!

As one tries to drag up Arsenal, Arsenal is, "Oh my gawd! Turn it off!" And he head buts the zombie, splatters his face with brains, and makes a gagging sound as he tries not to throw up from the bad smell.

Country punk brawl? This sure ain't Johnny Cash, or even Garth Brooks. Let alone the Eagles, but they're rock n' roll, anyway. Warpath, however, started actually singing along. And this was familiar. Kid from Arizona with a lot of anger issues over a dead brother? Before his big growth spurt, he got into a lot of cathartic fights. And this was just natural. Stepping in with the zombies, ducking under punches and punching THROUGH the undead, he reached out to pluck the arms from a zombie - a zombie that was trying to pluck Tiffany and use her as a bat. "Pardon me, lil' missy," James said, a southwest twang to his voice. "Lemme get you out of here. It's impolite to just fly you, though," so he danced her. Hell, he gave her a right hoedown. Dipping her low so he could smash a batch of zombies. When he was dipped, he said, "Like a guy for his heart, not the size of his pecs or his brain."

"Wrong button!" Superboy calls, apologetically, and starts looking for another station, even quicker as he sees what James is up to. "In fairness, I'm not sure this guy has that great of a heart either. Something about the zombie horde." He finds an oldies station. Disco was probably dead before the song was written, but it still sorta sounds in the neighborhood to the teen. Alright, Ms. Tyler, play us out.

And there are the hip thrusts, and the pointing fingers like the bang, bang, though while holding a gun and...., "This likely isn't safe!" That is from Arsenal who is stuck doing the moves.

The villain, well, he lets out a cry of rage, "How are you doing that?! Stop that!" He tries to race to the boombox to try and fix it!

The football guy is soon getting 'booey wit it' near Warpath and Tiffany, "We...need to run....," he looks at Tiffany, but can't seem to move against the will of the music, his expression pained as he looks at his 'date'. Even though he is a large guy, Warpath still makes him look small.

Arsenal then calls out, "Wait! Superboy! Do...stuff, with your eyes! Look at it....INTENSELY!" He has already tried shooting it a couple times, missing each time. Though the guns are soon put away as they are empty and the knives are brought out, as Arsenal is sliding across the sand as he slits hamstrings and....finds out it doesn't do much on the undead.

Proudstar let the woman go so she could dance with her beau - that is, Brutus. At least the meat heads are too dumb to get jealous or vengeful... usually. James then Electric Slid over, getting up to the boombox, Superboy and finally to the Dark DJ. "Excuse me," he said, spinning on a foot in the sand before dropping and doing the splits, rising up with disco fever. "You're grounded." He drew his fingers over his eyes in those V-shapes, before swinging a quick jab towards the Nerdomancer's face.

"Putting things on our terms first," Superboy says, and smiles a bit as the song starts to pick up. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to run with sharp objects?" he asks, the knife starting to glow hot in his hand. "DOWN!" he calls, and, as the music swells, he sweeps his head, beams of pure heat cutting through the undead horde. THAT does something, even if it means there's now some burning half-zombies.

The knife gets hot in the music geek's hands as he tries to fight with the boombox, and he screams, dropping it! A real high pitched, girly sound...actually more girly than Tiffany's scream sadly. Then Warpath is throwing a beating punch to Raymond's head, sending it flying back and landing with a THUMP on the sand which jerks the boombox even as zombies splatter and burn to a crisp thanks to Kon's head vision to a new beat.

Arsenal drops flat, almost spread eagle and his face almost in sand as read heat vision flies over him, and then rolls over and kicks his legs and snap to his feet as an blues song is now playing. Arsenal moves almost lazily, his body moving back with a smooth look to it as he slithers toward the boombox. "You missssssed Konnie boy," his voice having deepened like an old-time blues singer.

The 'couple' are now dancing away from each other, and then back together, shaking and jiving to the blue's music. The remaining zombies are moving about to try and surround the couple to menacing approach them in a dramatic manner, forgetting about the heroes as their original programming takes place with their 'boss' taking a sand nap.

Nothing beats for the blues like Muddy Waters, and James' sways and dips back away from Raymond. "Turn the daaaaaaamn thing off! Ohhh, I got them boombox blues!"

Superboy does a little shimmy, more at home with early rock and roll (specifically a certain Hawaiian cultural hero) than blues, but, mid shimmy, he hits the power button on the boom box again, killing the music. He rushes the zombies, then, bound to make quick work of them when in full control of himself.

Ah, Arsenal knew he had another loaded gun tucked someone! He pulls one from a bit as he bends over backwards looooow, and when he shimmies back up, he then shoots the /damn/ thing, /repeatedly/! Like a /whole/ bunch! Even as Superboy turns it of of course. "Alright...I did that for sadistic pleasure."

And then silence after Arsenal spoke. The zombies seem to stare at the frozen couple, the frozen couple stare at the frozen zombies.

The couple screams, the silence broken.

And then the zombies movie to EAT LUNCH!

Arsenal then whips his gun around and starts shooting, blowing up heads, blowing out kneecaps and always conscious of his aim and where the couple is located. But at least without the music, finishing them off shouldn't take any time at all.

Oh, crap. The zombies are still animated, even with the necromancer down and the magic music box destroyed! James joined the fray! Chopping and punching - till he got to the Final Dead zombie that had his other knife through it's head. Now fully armed, he got to work along with Arsenal. He was like a salad shooter from Hell.

Between the julian fries and gunpowder, Superboy finishes off the zombies pretty fast, and looks at the boom box. "Come on, man, Arsenal, that was harsh," he says, and quickly looks around, making sure everyone's alright and alive. Well, the people that were alive when they got here. "Where the heck do these zombie guys always find so many?"

The couple is soon running, very fast out of there. Arsenal calls after Tiffany, "You change minds on boyfriends, just let me know sweetheart!"

Course, he is splattered with zombie guts, there is a mess on the beach, the police are coming, and the villain is passed out cold out on the sand.

Arsenal then says toward Kon, "It made me mad," he says, almost seeming to sound like he is pouting at Kon. Though then toward Warpath, "Hey man! You can't sing worth anything, but you got some nice moves with the knives. What's your name?" He moves to offer his own zombie splattered fingerless gloved hand, "I'm Arsenal." Obviously.

"Funny. I'm Warpath," he said, taking the gloved hand in his not-so-gloved hand. He was huge. "Think I should buy you a beer. You a friend of Superboy's? Friend of mine, then."

And then...Superboy whines about how dirty he is, and goes flying off to get a shower. "Wait, the...cops...," and Arsenal sighs, before shaking Warpath's hand. "Sure. Though we might want to at least use the beach showers to get the worse of this stuff off after I speak to the police and get the proper charges filed." He looks...soooo excited to do that - ya right.

The man had a point. "Wouldn't a report take hours, though? Or a statement? Or something?" The masked Native man frowned. "So. Where are those showers? I'd use the ocean but I don't want to stink like saltwater."

Arsenal points to the stone area with the showers, course it is fully open for all to see. He then says, "Na, about thirty minutes." He then heads off to the police to get the much needed statement finished.

James was fast - he dashed quick as he could to the showers, kicking up sand. He had to get the stuff off of him and his clothes, so he showered dressed. Full bodysuit and all, even if his big, meaty arms were exposed. He was thorough, too. Zombies are gross.

About 30 minutes later almost, Arsenal is soon in the showers as well to get the worse of it off, and try to clean his gear more carefully so there are zombie waste parts hiding in pockets are his quiver. Good thing the glue on his mask isn't water dissolvable, right?

James only had to worry so much about his knives - get the gunk off them, and Vibranium didn't rust - and he cleaned off the rest of the way just fine. He was waiting out of the stalls for Arsenal. After all, he promised the guy a beer.

Dripping wet, Arsenal finally appears. "I still smell bad, but at least I shouldn't make anyone faint," he says. "Run down bar likely be the wisest choice," he confesses. "Just not one I've roughed up before for information." A lazy grin suddenly appears on his face then. "Well, hope the charity people don't mind that Superboy and I bailed early, don't think anyone would want photos with us right now anyway."

"I'm not in it for the publicity," Warpath said. "But let's go to the seediest bar we can get to that won't prove a fight. Not that I'm tired, but y'know." One fight was enough, for now.

"Ughs." Arsenal does at least go to reload his guns and tuck them away as the empty clips are put in a pouch to be reloaded later. He sighs, "I'm really going to have to carefully tend all my weapons when I get back." But then toward Warpath, "You don't sound like a local," as he heads down the boardwalk as he does know where the seediest bars are.

"Then maybe we should go somewhere you can clean your guns properly? I'd hate to have you put your tools to misuse. I know I need to care about my knives all the time." He smiled. "And yeah. I'm from Arizona."

"Wait, what? Seriously?" There is a pause from Arsenal as he stares at Warpath, really STARES at him. And the he says, "Shit, Navajo, you grew up on the reservation too, I can tell by your accent." And then a grin spreads across Arsenal's face, "Which Earth are you from?" He sounds really excited for some reason.

"Apache, Navajo... neighbors, we're all still the People." James gave a rather pleased smile. "Which earth? Oh, right. I'm from my Earth. Uh... icons, my Earth didn't have Superman. My earth had the Avengers. Tony Stark is one of our leading geniuses, not that Lex guy. Seriously, who names their kid Lex?"

"Cousin too if I remember right, likely branched from the same tribe," Arsenal says. He then nods, "Ah, right. And it's actually Alexander, but he goes by 'Lex', but don't ask me, not my supervillain who is apparently now found innocent, go figure." He rolls his eyes at that. "But likely why I don't recognize you. I grew up on the Navajo reservation." Not something he would normally share so soon with someone, but....he connected with Warpath as a reservation kid. "Now, getting this beer sounds more fun than just a 'drink cause I got splattered by zombie guts'." He looks more cheerful.

"Which one?" James asked. "There were a bunch, let alone all the Pueblo land." And the variety of Pueblos. "But... really? MAN!" He clapped, excited. "Oh, man, it's good to meet a brother!" He slapped Arsenal's back with a smile - perhaps a bit too firmly, but he was excited. "Oh, man, if John were here, he'd be happy to hear this." He smiled, sadly. "John was my big brother. He was a Marine. A hero. He died." No tearing up now, James. "So let's go get those beers." So it's beers, now. "You know the city better than I do, lead the way."

A bit of a grunt at the slap, Warpath is...pretty strong. Arsenal may not be Navajo by blood, but he was raised by a Navajo Medicine Man, and he considers himself often kin to them. But Arsenal then nods, "I wish I could have met him. It was just me and Broken Arrow in the household," actually sharing the man's name now long dead. "He...well, he was the one that raised me." But Arsenal then says, "Sure. We can cut across," and he gives the crazy directions that includes roof hopping. "We just need to go down a block past the end of the boardwalk."

"Good. It's good to roof-hop on my feet again. I'm a little embarrassed at flying," he said a bit sheepishly. "I'm still not sure how I do it. But... I probably should. I'm kinda heavy, and my boots thumping on rooftops probably isn't good for the structure of a house." He laughed, and then he lifted about a foot off the ground. "So, lead the way. I'll keep pace."

Arsenal nods and chuckles, "Better than the Hulk I bet though." He is lithe on his feet and quick, he moves with ease of practice. He knows the city well, and seems to recognize even the shadows. When he finally leads you to where he means, it is a place one has to go down concrete stairs on the outside to enter. He opens the door, to a smoky room. Illegal to smoke in bars these days, but doesn't stop this place. He coughs a bit and brushes some smoke about, "Damn Tiny, turn on the fan."

A gruff sound from a dwarf-like man behind the bar, "Ah, fag off Arsenal! I'm not causing no trouble today!" But the ceiling fans are soon turned on to at least get rid of some of the smoke as Arsenal leaves the front door propped open with a chair so the smoke can escape. Not like there is must air conditioning in this place anyway to escape.

"I'm here for some beers. You are pretty much the only shit hole I know that doesn't water it down. Now stop being so pissy, and serve me and my friend. We had a rough day and had to take down a bunch of zombies at the beach. Hopefully if I drink enough, I'll forget magic is real."

Tiny snorts a laugh at that, "Until it zaps you in the ass again." He then glares up at Warpath who can almost hit his head on the ceiling fans when standing up. "Damn, you brought in a big 'un. Where you find that one? Popped out o' a giant?"

"Biiig growth spurt," Warpath said to Tiny. He had to stoop to stand. "Sorry there wasn't more to go around." Ouch. Poor Tiny. "Actually, y'know what? Got any Patron?" he said the name with a distinct Spanish accent. He was asking for tequila. "Think we should share a little taste of home. Otherwise it's Coors, and that's shit. Or Corona and Tecate."

Tiny grunts, and hides his smile beneath his heavy mustache. "I'll think about not poisoning you, Giant." But Tiny then nods, "Ya, ya, I think I got some Patron, but you are carrying that dumb ass home," he points to Arsenal. "Can't hold his liquor, and last time Starfire busted up some guys in my bar trying to get Arsenal home."

Arsenal sighs dramatically, "That wasn't my fault! One slapped her ass, and she thought they were attacking her! Then it became a bar room fight! I think I ended up hit with a chair, but I'm not real sure," he says honestly.

"You did, in the head. You weren't conscious when she carried you out over one shoulder. I also think your head hit the door frame on the way out again."

"Oh...well, that might explain the memory loss," Arsenal says, without seeming to care overly much. But when the glasses and liquor are set in front of the two of you and the bottle poured, Arsenal reaches for his own glass and raises it up into the air. "To brothers of heart and soul, and to fallen heroes, whose memory lives on through us." If Warpath is willing, he will tap his glass to his new found friend's and knock back a drink of the tequila.

"To friends, old and new. To family lost and gained. To worlds apart, and worlds together. And..." Warpath paused, clinking his glass to Arsenal's. "To the future." And down the shot glass went, and he hit the glass on the bar - gently enough, mind. "Ahh." He refilled the glass. Good, clear, Patron Silver.

Arsenal did not knock as much back as Warpath did, knowing if he comes home too drunk....his daughter will lecture him! "Mmm...Family lost and gained...that is ironically fitting," thinking of Cheshire and Lian. He rubs shakes his head, "Man, we shouldn't be allowed to toast," and actually laughs. "Where you operating at of right now anyway Warpath?"

"I'm pretty mobile. I came here to visit Supergirl again," he said. "I'm sort of on a lull from my, uh, mission. Depending on others, right now. Sorta personal, but, hell, I've already got others involved. Opposite coast, though." He sighed and smiled - it was a hard one. "So I operate... wherever I wake up. I'm not on any teams, don't have a base of operations. I have friends that help me with the basics, like laundry. Other than that, I get food from stores, or when I need to hunt." At least he keeps his hair and face clean.

"Ahs. Well, don't feel you have to live that way forever. When you finish your mission, let me know Warpath. And if you just need a place to hide out for a bit and recoup, I still have some contacts at the reservation, even a former superhero friend," Arsenal offers. "I didn't know you knew Supergirl thought," and he takes another deep drink of the tequila. He...tries not to think about Kara too much, better that way. He smirks a bit into his glass, "She's a good woman, and a good hero. I think she will do some great things in the future, and good to know she's getting around and making friends."

"Apparently she has a day job... sometimes," Warpath said. He laughed. "She's pretty good. And she's kind of scary. I mean, I know I'm strong, and pretty much indestructible, but damn. She's..." He shrugged. "Your world outclasses mine in almost every way. Pretty scary." He grinned. "Thanks, man. Any help is good help." He rose a brow. "Your reservation's from your world, so I'm glad it isn't mine. Um. I'm all that's left. That's why I'm on my mission." How grim.

"I wouldn't say that. She's not even 'of this world' exactly. She's an alien Warpath, though personality wise and emotional wise, Supergirl is no different from your everyday human girl. She can be scary, ya, but....well, she is also there to pick you up when you need it." There is suddenly a very pronounced pauses.

When Arsenal speaks, it is quietly, "I'm sorry," his tone very sincere. "I know what it's like to lose your entire world, though mine wasn't quite so 'final' as yours even if it felt like it at the time." He shakes his head at that. "Don't forget that we are all a community. My Earth, your Earth, it doesn't matter. Superheroes are a community all of their own, and we help each other when we need a pick-me-up. After all, if that gets forgotten, that's when we fall and don't get back up." Arsenal moves to graps the bottle and pour another glass for himself. Apparently he has been picked up more than once, or at least once from one really bad fall.

"I'm in the process of picking myself up. I'm... not sure what I'm gonna do after I accomplish my mission, though." Warpath knocked back another glass, and gave a grunt. Strong stuff, even for him. "My whole community was killed. My parents, my neighbors. The whole reservation, down to the pets." His brows furrowed - he was angry. "I don't want vengeance, though. I want... *they* want... justice." Apache justice. But justice all the same. "I know a little about the Superfolks. They're Bosons, right? or... Kryptons? I dunno, some kinda thing from the periodic table."

"Kryptonians. Krypton is the Krytonian dog's name. Though Kon is half human, that's Superboy. That's the guy that helped us fight the zombies." Arsenal takes another drink of his liquor, before he then finally says, "Well Warpath...I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you...whatever happens, make sure you can look yourself in the mirror the next day. Regrets are killer in more ways than one. Also, seriously. When it's all done, come see me. We can take a trip to the reservation together, and...I don't know, guess do something Broken Arrow would approve of, meditate and see the spirits and stuff. Anyway, I've never gotten around to taking her down there yet." Her being his daughter, but he keeps that vague for now in public. "I think it be good for both of us. And after you reboot, then you can decide the next step. No rush."

"Half-human? Is he Superman's son with some lucky lady?" Warpath asked. "I sorta know him. Well, we've met. Superboy and I. Thor punk'd him," he said with a laugh. "And I will. We can hike the canyons or the desert. Should be fun."

"Umm..sorta, it's kind of complicated." And seriously? Arsenal is totally /not/ going there. "Punk'd him?" He then nods, "I'll show you some of my old hunting grounds and target practice areas when I was a kid. The land my old little house is on is technically community owned, but they never mind me using it since...well, they don't." He tilts his glass toward you a bit, "And Thor better watch out. Superboy is my little buddy. He has babysat me while I went out and partied in clubs and got trashed, and hit on tattooed girls. He's a good guy to have at your back, real sincere too. He's like...I guess he's kinda like my little brother I guess. Still, guess I shouldn't get too mad, he punk'd me before, coming to me to ask about sex and stuff knowing I would freak out some. He didn't mean his questions, just wanted to see how I'd react."

Warpath shrugged. "Thor just offered Superboy his hammer. Ain't nobody can lift that thing except for Thor. Or whoever's worthy of it, or some magical goofiness." Warpath grinned. "Made Superboy drop with it. Nobody was hurt though. Just a little prank." He rose a brow. "Thor asked you questions about sex? Gross. And far as I can tell, Thor's on the level, as he's saved my world quite a few times."

"No, no! Superboy did! Geez. He has a girlfriend...actually, I don't want to think about them having sex or not. But wait, what makes someone worthy? I mean, Superboy is one hell of a guy." He then nods, "Hey, we got a cartoon after us." A pause and then, "Please don't watch it."