ox cox on the rox

🐂    ⸻    anchorage  did  not  miss  cleaning  the  numerous  nooks  and  cranniess  of  his  weapon.  even  the  briefest  sojourn  between  armoured  vehicle  and  the  fortified  mayoral  office  resulted  in  a  generous  coating  of  blood,  grime  and  guts  across  his  hefty  hammer;  all  eargerly  offered  from  the  horde  writhing  through  the  depths  of  an  endless  night.  shaking  and  spinning  the  weapon  was  enough  to  clear  the  surface  levels  of  sloppiness,  but  he  often  lacked  the  spare  moment  to  do  so  since  anchorage  was  supposed  to  be  sticking  close  to  the  mayor,  somehow  finding  himself  offered  up  for  protective  duties  while  the  rest  of  the  sovereign  seven  were  out  on  the  undead-swarmed  streets.  anchorage  was  supposed  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  figurehead  and  mentor  to  the  newer  members  of  the  sovereign  seven,  yet  found  himself  here  all  the  same.

all  dressed  up  in  the  most  uncomfortable  body  armour.  a  little  something  simple  and  secure.  something  to  hold  in  all  that  extra  cushion  he  was  pushing  around  since  his  prior  retirement,  compressing  the  generous  dad-bod  -  as  his  boys  so  elegantly  called  it  -  into  a  burlier  and  huskier  semblance  of  his  former  herculean  physique.  he  couldn't  wait  until  he  could  lose  the  armour  and  the  helmet  and  the  hammer.

“need  one  of  those  umbrella  things.”  he  muttered  to  no  one,  watching  the  mess  on  his  hammer  dripping  onto  the  lavishly  carpeted  floor.  oh  well,  there  were  more  important  things  than  expensive  flooring  and  anchorage  was  supposed  to  be  keeping  a  close  eye  on  the  mayor  since  he  -  anchorage  -  often  found  himself  ending  up  lost  in  the  simplistic  floorplan  of  the  mayoral  offices.  “you  doing  good?  no  bites?  no  blood?  no  bitching?”

anchorage  slung  the  hammer  back  onto  the  shoulder  holster,  both  hands  reaching  out  now  to  take  a  firm  hold  of  his  protected  ward.  manhandling  the  mayor  with  little  in  the  way  of  formality  as  he  made  sure  he  hadn't  gone  and  gotten  himself  injured.

mayoral  office   ⸻   eternal  night   (  @killertwhips  )

💪🏾    ⸻    rox  would  not  consider  himself  a  malicious  person.  there  was  a  certain  pleasure  that  came  in  watching  his  power  take  effect  on  someone  antagonistic  and  unaware  -  that  brief  moment  of  confoundment  that  came  before  realisation.  there  was  some  satisfaction  had  in  toppling  towering  targets  blessed  -  or  cursed  -  with  miracles  far  more  impressive  than  his  own  using  nothing  more  than  his  fists.  less  satisfying  was  when  rox  was  forced  to  break  out  the  tools  and  weaponry  he  had  been  outfitted  with  before  each  patrol  since  some  opponents  just  didn't  like  to  play  a  fair  game.

the  horde  was  an  antagonising  buzzkill.

“thanks  for  the  save.”  boy,  did  he  not  like  the  taste  of  those  words.  rox  let  out  a  shallow  breath,  slumping  down  on  the  rooftop  with  his  back  against  the  concrete  walling.  “you  know  i'm  pretty  sure  each  and  every  one  of  that  writhing  mass  o'dicks  cleared  the  criteria  for  my  powers.  didn't  seem  to  do  a  whole  lot  of  anything  to  them,  though.”

rox  did  not  make  a  habit  of  mentioning  his  miracle  aloud  -  not  too  smart  to  broadcast  his  capabilities  to  enemies  potential  nor  pre-existent.  but  damn,  he  was  feeling  frustrated  in  his  own  error.  even  dampened  the  horde  still  acted  as  a  river  of  writhing  flesh  and  muscle  without  the  mental  restraint  to  hold  them  back  from  ripping  through  anything  and  everything  they  could  get  their  cold  and  clammy  hands  on.

city  rooftops    ⸻    eternal  night   (  @youmustswearonit  )

🧠    ⸻    rules  were  often  difficult  to  follow.  but  there  had  been  a  certain  strictness  in  the  cadence  of  his  father's  instructions  when  ox  received  them  -  hugh  forcing  him  to  endure  a  video  call  with  poor  camera-work  on  his  old  man's  side.  protect  catalyst  the  nerd  and  do  not  -  under  any  circumstances  -  touch  anything.  one  should  ignore  the  fact  he  has  almost  unintentionally  compromised  the  same  experiment  no  less  than  three  times  in  quick  successions;  attentions  repeatedly  drawn  toward  a  carnival  of  colourful  concoctions  bubbling  and  brewing  beneath  the  glossiest  sheen  of  glassware  ox  somewhat  recognised  from  his  father's  own  personal  laboratory.  though  ox  could  not  help  but  notice  the  personal  collection  often  proving  much  less  polished  and  perfected  than  what  had  been  laid  out  around  him.

“what  does  this  one  do  again?  this  blue  one?”  ox  questioned,  brow  furrowed  deep  as  he  reached  out  to  point  and  restrained  himself  from  taking  hold  of  the  burbling  beaker.  instead  he  distracted  himself  with  another  thick  dollop  of  greyish  paste  onto  his  outstretched  tongue,  the  expression  that  followed  nothing  short  of  unpleasant.  “and  the  snacks  you  got  here?  suck  bad.  i've  eaten  protein  powder  dry  that  tastes  better  than  this  stuff.”

 think  tank  was  far  from  his  usual  crowd  -  the  building  brimming  with  big-brained  nerd  types  -  but  ox  was  far  from  a  bullying  type. 

think  tank  laboratories    ⸻    eternal  night    (  @hero-ish  )

meme  found  here.

🧠    ⸻    one  whole  day  of  unavoidable  honesty?  this  shit  is  easy  when  ox  barely  has  the  capacity  for  dishonesty  in  the  first  place.

“you  know  they  put  the  ernity  into  fraternity,  because  bros  are  forever."

meme  found  here.

🧠    ⸻    don't  tell  anyone  but  ox  is  insanely  good  at  cryptographs.  sort  of  a  surprise  for  someone  whose  whole  ass  power  is  weaponised  stupidity.  and  while  he  doesn't  fully  understand  them,  but  something  about  the  stupidly  complex  layered  clues  rub  the  bumps  of  his  brain  just  right.  watch  the  way  this  frat  boy  pours  over  a  paperback  book  of  puzzles  with  his  eyes  glazed  over  and  tongue  hanging  out  of  his  mouth.

“maybe  i  take  after  my  dad.  he's  crazy  obsessed  with  puzzles." 

note;  his  dad  is not biologically  related  to  him.  probably.

🐂    ⸻    no  love  for  owing  favours.  time  enough  had  passed  for  hugh  to  consider  the  debt  gone  and  forgotten,  having  the  audacity  to  think  himself  in  the  clear.  of  course  the  mere  moment  he  had  pushed  the  debt  from  the  mind  was  the  same  moment  it  would  be  called  in  for  collection,  souring  the  older  man's  disposition  and  ruining  the  lukewarm  cup  of  coffee  he  had  been  nursing  for  the  last  half-hour.  he  supposed  it  was  penance  for  having  an  iron  resting  so  long  in  the  fire  when  he  typically  preferred  to  have  his  debts  and  favours  repaid  within  the  week.

now  he's  stuck  on  training  duty  -  not  even  the  usual  routines  he  threw  his  sons  through  multiiple  times  a  day.  these  routines  hit  a  little  closer  to  home  as  the  kid's  powerset  held  some  subtle  similarities  to  his  own  old  array  of  abilities  -  namely  the  density  related  shenanigans.

not  that  hugh  was  here  as  anchorage.  he  was  merely  a  convenient  assistant  with  a  copious  amount  of  information  sifting  through  the  tablet  he  had  brought  with  him,  graphing  and  scoping  even  the  most  minor  information  when  it  came  to  colos-saul's  miracle  manifestation.

“do  it  again,”  hugh  nodded,  barely  peering  up  from  his  tablet  as  he  paced  along  the  edge  of  the  training  room.  “but  faster.  big,  then  small.  i  want  to  measure  the  heat  displacement  when  you  go  back  and  forth.”

kickstarter  training  room   ⸻   late-afternoon   ( @better-call-colos-saul ) 

🐂    ⸻    hugh  did  not  love  roaming  around  the  headquarters  for  the  sovereign  seven;  too  many  memories  and  semi-familiar  faces  on  the  cusp  of  recognising  the  out  of  shape  and  past  his  prime  moustachioed  man  managing  to  get  himself  lost  in  the  corridors  of  a  building  he  once  knew  like  the  back  of  his  hand.  never  failing  to  look  short  of  slightly  dishevelled  as  he  mad  his  way  towards  what  he  thought  was  an  elevator,  but  upon  closer  inspection  was  definitely  a  janitor's  closet  fitted  with  a  completely  different  door  -  the  cleaning  supplies  held  within  were  also  another  solid  clue.  he  would  have  made  quite  the  detective  in  another  life  -  add  it  to  the  long  list  of  careers  and  odd  jobs  he  had  picked  up  over  the  years  both  before  and  after  his  time  as  a  miracle-blessed  hero  leaping  over  buildings  and  taking  down  threats  to  halcyon  city.

“i'm  telling  you,  kid,  i'm  not  anchorage,”  he  huffed,  sharp  exhalation  of  air  animating  the  bushiness  of  his  moustache.  should  have  known  he  couldn't  make  it  both  into  and  out  of  the  building  without  someone  in  the  sovereign  seven  recognised  his  unmasked  mug.  “i  don't  think  I  look  a  thing  like  the  guy.”

would  be  more  convincing  if  hugh  hadn't  been  caught  in  this  conversation  standing  right  beside  the  overbearing  statue  of  his  enlarged  likeness  -  albeit  likeness  from  over  a  decade  ago.  no  matter  how  much  he  denied  it  the  resemblance  was  uncanny,  the  craftsman  working  the  stone  doing  a  phenomonal  job  of  replicating  he  burliness  of  his  hefty,  muscular  physique  that  felt  a  lot  more  hefty  and  a  lot  less  muscular  these  days.

sovereign  seven  headquarters   ⸻   mid-afternoon   ( @capedauthority ) 

💪🏾 ⸻ halcyon city felt different today. the air felt heavy and the clouds blocking out the skyline ached and swelled with a sense of doom and gloom that had almost been forgotten for a time. nothing better to remind the citizens of their own mortality than the loss of two of the most well known heroes around - if the best of the heroes could fall then no one knew who could be struck down next. no one wanted to say it, but it was undoubtedly what everyone was thinking. it was what rox was thinking while he hopped casually from rooftop to rooftop, his gaze drifting occasionally to the communicator held lax in his hand as he read another message from his old man behind the screen.

[ anchorage : incoming message ] headed to city hall. [ anchorage : incoming message ] don't forget. family dinner tonight.

rox almost didn't notice his company until he was one step away from landing on top of him; letting out a sharp inhale of breath and a half-muttered curse word as he catches himself on the edge of the building and comes to a sudden and unwanted stop. damn. he had almost made it a whole ten blocks without stopping - perhaps a touch evident from the sweat dripping down his brow and the heaviness of his breathing.

"geez. warn a guy," he huffed, stepping off of the half-wall and landing down on the damp concrete of the rooftop. had it been raining? never quite sure where he was supposed to stand when it came to fellow vigils - equal chance one could turn against him than aid him or leave him be. but then rox was just as bad, or worse. "here for trouble, big guy, or just enjoying the view?"

🧠 ⸻ ox hadn't wanted to attend the funeral. funerals? his father had been the one to suggest his attendance - no matter how brief - at such a respectful even would be beneficial in the long term and that it would look good for an active member of vibecheck to make an appearance. but rox wasn't going. and their father wasn't going. and it was no secret that ox found himself more than a little uncomfortable when forced into one of his more formal tailored suits stubbornly smothering his skin and clinging to every last curve and crevice of his marble-sculpted physique like an unwanted second skin.

now he was far from dressed for a funeral. no chance he could be forced to attend after ditching the mournful black attire and instead dressing something a little bit more suitable for sparring - bouncing from bare heel to bare heel on the padded floor of the kickstarter's training room. it felt unusual to be using the training facilities of an enemy- no. opposing- no. weaker- no. of another team. almost like he was cheating on the training room at home - and he already had the side piece training room at vibecheck headquarters to worry about.

"are you sure you can train with that?" he asked, eyebrow cocked as his gaze fell over his sparring partner's arm cast. ox had opted to dress himself in one of his favoured low-cut tank tops, a comfortable dark blue number with straps barely bothering to cover more than a single inch across of his perfectly plushed and polished pale pectorals. his shorts were barely more decent - vibecheck logo stretched across his muscular thigh meat like the rest of the poor strained fabric. "because i don't want to get in trouble for wiping the floor with kickstarter's new resident mop."

said with love, of course.