#sonoftheinfamous

Kurt was walking to the school, getting a few things, letting Sophie get all the affection, before he was walking back home.

Surprised by the car in the front he tilted his head figuring Duncan was probable home once more. Poor old sod; Kurt loved him. Sighing through his nose he was scooping the cat up as he moved to the door. Taking care of her first, harness, cleaning and making sure she was fine he went to removing his suit jacket. “Duncan, leibchen are you home?”

Stephen, once the great Sorcerer Supreme, had passed on from that life when he started dabbling in magic his gifted saviors did not deem to be the holiest when it came to his methods. Now on his own with only a few spell books and whatever he remembered from his years in Tibet, he was on his own, making house calls to whatever demonic presence, or not, that normal humans were facing. Dabbling in the dark arts was no different than the mystic ones, they just required a bit more giving than worshiping eternal gods on the heavenly plane.

His style was definitely less elegant from the Cloak of Levitation and the previous garb now down to jeans, aviators, and a bomber jacket he never let out of his sight. Stephen also had tattoos from nearly every practices on his body, with the symbol of the Vishanti now on his ankle to still show he respected the practice of his Tibetean brothers who now shunned him. It was a heavy thought process to leave, but it was also in consideration once the dabbling didn't stop, to be kicked as the Protector of Magic. Once all his options were laid out, overall, there was nothing wrong with using the dark arts as long as you had a happy medium with the types of magic you used.  Demonic magic was the worst and he hated using it so it was avoided as much as possible.

But, he had gotten called not by some random Joe who thought there was a ghost in his closet, but by the Council of Magic, the one he used to serve on , ordered by Billy Kaplan, former student and now Sorcerer Supreme. When arriving, he was brought with distaste and shoved a job to catch Shadow Man, aka Malik Ataman. He had been spotted in Manhattan recently, so he needed to be brought to justice for his crimes against the French.

Being the little lap dog he had now become with nothing to go off of, he headed back to his apartment to dig up information on the Ataman family and their practices. A family of witches, they went back as far as all the other lines, nothing really special, but Malik liked to thieve and was the main cause of the Crimean War with the Turkish empire. Figures. But upon further research, Malik had someone gained 'immortality' and has been around since the Egyptian era, spawning children and his own tree. Stephen couldn't find any recent children from Malik, so it had to be him.

Setting up a tracking spell that involved hound's blood and a lock of elf hair, a flamed ignited over the map by using what the Council had given him as one of Malik's toys that he stored his energy in over time.He found out that he was somewhere hiding in Central Park at the time, but with such a big city, he would definitely move. The tracking spell stayed on into the night, where around 1 am, the flame on the map darted out of the map to the Upper East Side. Stephen's apartment was now in Hell's Kitchen, so he could get there by teleporting.

Once there with the map in hand, armed with chalk and anti-witch paraphernalia, he lit a cigarette and walked on to his target's location. Stephen whistled as he put an enchantment circle to seal him in (he was hundreds of years old, he could be a demon) and for added measures, he put the string of stones and the witch bottle in the middle of the circle. Now, hiding in the alley, map in hand with the flame coming in his direction, he smirked with excitement. "Come on ya son of a bitch..." Once the flame got to the the trap, he smiled.

From the other side of the corner, he heard the witch's bottle shatter. Yup, something of darkness was definitely running. Hopefully, it was Malik.

“I heard you’re the guy I’d look for when I’m looking for someone. So, here I am.” Frank tilted his head, narrowing his eyes slightly. “What’s the price for a name?”

@sonoftheinfamous

It had been on of those jobs he went with Duncan on as back up. Ones that started out seeming like nothing big, something they were absolutely capable of handling together with no problem. Robbie should have known better. He should have seen the signs, but he honestly thought he’d seen the last of Dr. Zabo, or at least seen the last of his fucking work. He was wrong.

The things these pills did to people was unreal and whether it was a group of them or Mister Hyde all on his own, it was overwhelming. And the times Robbie had faced off against this alone was hard to say the least. Though he’d had Duncan here with him now. While that made a difference, it wasn’t much. The two had barely made it out of the fight intact. Though in the end they’d managed to send Mister Hyde and his creeps packing, leaving them to retreat to lick their wounds.

Honestly Robbie hadn’t the energy to try and pursue them, which led to Robbie cursing and growling a lot. They’d gotten to an old abandoned warehouse, one so off the beaten path that even hobos and delinquents never came around. Both were in such shit shape and needed a moment to breathe and recuperate, but they needed to be alone, no surprises, nothing. It was just something Eli had managed to find, though a part of Robbie suspected it was more familiarity than he was letting one.

Both were worried about the other, adrenaline still running, the reality of near death for one or both of them still clear in their mind, and it just sparked something. It started with them needing to keep in constant physical contact, as if to be assured the other was still in fact alive and close by. Then it became Duncan needing to hold onto Robbie, and in turn Robbie needing to hold Duncan. Then things began escalating, it’s almost like the idea of nearly being beaten to a pulp had gotten them going, but it was more of a reminder that they could still die, one could lose the other, and it just sparked and ignited a flame (literally and figuratively). Groping, fabric tearing, things being singed, biting...

Steve had been in the United States for a little over three days. Natasha had given him some intel on a possible Hydra seed currently trying to bury itself within New York City. With all of the attention from the Accords fall out directing focus onto Stark and Romanoff, she hadn't had the means and opportunity to check into it herself. So with the aid of resources gifted by the King of Wakanda, Steve had snuck his way back into the US of A and proceeded with his investigation.

He had gotten lucky. The faction of Hydra that had been trying to grow was only a six person cell and had been rather easy to clear out. Now he was just waiting until he got the notificiation that his getaway flight back to Wakanda had arrived.

All Steve had wanted was a coffee; just a simple black coffee to combat the chill that the rainy New York City morning had settled onto his skin. He knew he should have just stayed clear of the main streets and headed back to the current safe house he was staying at, but the old coffee shop he had frequented - years ago now - had been calling to him.

“Being good is not as hard as you’re making it seem.” Clea’s heels clicked along the floor with a tea set in her hand. “You just don’t need to feel so guilty for your actions in the past. That is how I overcame mine.” She couldn’t mention her origins in detail to the human, it would scare him out the door. He met the man out shopping, they had a talk, and she invited him over for some tea.  

“My life was terrible and kept giving me misfortune until someone came into my life and helped me. He’s long gone, but never the less, he did help me stand my own feet and get on my way.” Clea monologued as she poured each of them a cup of white tea. 

After the long day of training, Steve was finally hitting the showers at the local gym. Usually Steve never used the showers, but he didn’t feel like upping his water bill, so since he was already at the gym, he thought he might as well. Steve was just finishing up when all of a sudden the curtain moved and Steve’s first reaction was to punch first, ask questions later. Steve spun, letting his fist fly, as he saw Duncan.