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Merc's Metamorphs

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Chapter 3: Demon

Lunch went well enough with Juan and Chance, the former being not-too-subtle about making sure the latter had his weekend clear. As expected, Chance chose burgers for their lunch date and, exactly as Juan implied, the pudgy white boy paid for everyone's. There were certain drawbacks to being predictible, but Chance's easy-to-anticipate habits were not one of those and they had a good time hanging out during their break from classes. As soon as that was over, however, focus went right back to course work-- or, rather, it should have.

Classes couldn't end soon enough for Frank; he had an email to check but it was a carefully curated account and he couldn't pull it up on his spare phone. He drifted through the rest of the day, mind focused on the pending job and frustrated that he couldn't get the specifics until he had a chance to get to his custom secure laptop. He was unable to remember when he'd had to suffer through such a long afternoon.

When his last class for the day ended he was very nearly tempted to take his Metamorph form and choose invisibility just so he could get back to his dorm faster but, despite how impulsive he could be, the young man thought better of it and made due with sprinting through the halls, down the steps (two at a time), across the quad, then up another set of steps (again, two at a time) and then to the elevator. He could have taken the stairwell up to his shared apartment but he was able to put the time to great use in sending out a group test.

The message was simple, sent in the same shorthand as the 'MMWW2M' he got from their prospective employer. Another abbreviated message out to Juan and Chance and Frank was confident that they'd join him as soon as they could; with the mission set to begin Saturday night they had quite a trip ahead of them, and, considering the speed at which they needed to travel, taking 'conventional' transportation would either take too long or provide some tracking of their journey.

It hadn't taken long for Frank to realize that traveling within the system was not a luxury they could afford. Taking a car or bus meant they'd be late for a job that was less forgiving of tardiness than Professor Monroe and the airport would record them heading to the same state as Merc's Metamorphs... too many questions. No-- when he and the boys traveled any great distance it took pre-planning and the right use of powers.

Frank got back to their shared dorm and took the next few minutes preparing his bug-out bag. In the Metamorph industry, being able to travel at a moment's notice was imperative and so having everything packed up and ready to go was imperative. Once he checked to make sure he had everything he finally satisfied the itch: he pulled out his laptop, logged in, and read the dossier. Letting out a sigh, Frank rubbed his forehead, mumbling to nobody in particular. "Fuck... ANOTHER nuke?"

The sale of illegal weaponry was a daily activity. The police, FBI, and occasionally secret service got involved for the lower level infractions and for dooms-day weapons Legendary Unlimited was the usual go-to intervention. For weapons that were 'in-between' such as low payload nuclear weaponry or mildly lethal biological weapons it was not too abnormal for those interested in stopping (or sometimes facilitating) trades to hire Metamorphs.

Stopping the sale of non-dooms-day weapons was a staple of the 'white knight' contracts they took and Merc's Metamorphs had gained something of a reputation for handling things in the United States. Usually those trades went down on one of the coasts-- California, Washington, New York and even Florida on occasion... but the Midwest? Frank sighed again; if they went to LA or Seattle or New York or fucking JERSEY there were options on ways to spend their downtime, but what in the shit would they do to pass an entire day in NEBRASKA?

The door to the dorm opened and both Chance and Juan entered. The former raised two fingers to his forehead and gave Frank a sardonic salute while Juan got straight down to business once the door was closed. "Okay... so... travel. Where we headed?"

Frank looked blandly at the two of them. "Lexington."

Although Chance was still a human, he had a certain expression that reminded Frank of a dog with its ears up, and he was displaying it full force. "Lexington Drive? Over off of Rose Street?"

Still sitting at the computer, Frank rolled his eyes. "Nebraska. Sub-Tactical Nuke sale is going down tomorrow night."

Despite how often Chance came across as stupid, he was actually quick on the uptake, and came to the same conclusion Frank had as well. "I guess all the arm sale busts on both coasts are encouraging folks to move inland."

Juan, who had walked right past the two of them, came back down the hall with a backpack on his shoulder. "Guess we can't do the usual amphibious assault then?"

Although it seemed cliche, the vast majority of the arms deals that Merc's Metamorphs busted were done after hours on the docks in an abandoned warehouse; it made things easy for Bruiser to get close and stay out of sight since he could hold his breath for well over ten minutes, giving the team a skilled and stealthy spy for scanning thoughts. Knowing other plans would be needed, Frank only responded with. "Right. Different tactics."

Chance kicked the lever on their recliner and the footrest popped out. He snaked a foot down beneath it and hooked the strap of a pack hiding there with his toe, pulling it out with a flick of his leg. "Okay... so what's the plan then? Since we're obvious leaving tonight I guess we're doing 'the usual'?"

For Merc's Metamorphs, 'the usual' when it came to travel involved a selection of powers a day before the actual mission. Since Frank could only activate his glove once a day (sun-up to sun-up) it was imperative that he select his powers for the job separately from the day he had his 'travel powers' up. It had taken a few weeks for Frank to perfect the combination of powers when he traveled alone but, ever since getting Chance and Juan their powers, he had created a new method to allow the three of them to move around just as easily.

Using a combination of long distance teleportation with micro-jumps through space, Merc could get his team almost anywhere they needed to go in a matter of hours. The problem with the former ability was that he had to have seen the place where they were going in person; the latter power only allowed him to take his team to another spot within sight. He'd experimented with jumping to a spot he could see via video feed but it didn't work, so he was stuck using both abilities-- the teleport would get them somewhere (relatively) close to where they were going and, from there, it was a matter of 'hopscotch' a few hundred yards at a time.

Once both of his companions got their gear together, Frank stowed his laptop into his pack before putting it on. He was ALMOST ready to skip town but, looking down at his spare cell, he announced "I've been to St Louis before... I think that's closest to where we're going. We're heading across town the traditional way first, though."

Juan adjusted the straps on his backpack. "Why's that?"

Frank grabbed his keys and tossed his spare cell into the empty key bowl by the door. "I still need to get a new phone."

* * * * *

Travel planning had always been an important component to Frank keeping his Metamorph identity secret. Seeing as Merc's Metamorphs worked all over the Western Hemisphere from Alaska to Columbia (and once in Ecuador, but NEVER AGAIN) it was imperative that they be able to do so without drawing attention to their human alter egos. Three college students with travel records that could connect them to all of the scenes of Merc's Metamorph jobs wasn't exactly helpful in the secrecy department-- especially since they'd made a good number of enemies over the months.

Resolving the actual mechanics of travel without car, bus, train or plane was a good start, but that didn't resolve all of the problems. None of the other students at college would think anything of not seeing them around the campus for a day or two and the faculty couldn't care less so long as they didn't miss any classes. Problems arose, however, if they stayed overnight somewhere. Ever since the Patriot Act was put into effect it was all but impossible to rent a room at a motel without ID and a credit card; the few places that didn't require them were probably ones that they wouldn't want to stay anyway.

The most obvious answer was to reach back into Chance's not-so-distant family. Having grown up in the not-so-nice part of New York, Chance's family had a few anti-social sorts with a good number of them placing solidly on the wrong side of the law. Marco, one of Chance's cousins, was a whiz with a computer and worked wonders when it came to fake IDs. It was an easy enough ask considering Chance told him they were supposed to be for buying booze.

Coupled with a prepaid debit card and their accommodations were easy to handle without raising suspicions or attaching them to any activities undertaken by Merc's Metamorphs; as far as anyone knew, Frank, Chance and Juan were still back on campus holed up in their room. In the meantime, that meant the three of them could resume their human forms (in an out of the way area), get dressed, and stroll into town to find the best option for a place to stay. It was easier said than done since, being situated in such a flat, treeless area, Lexington didn't have much of an option for a shift-and-change.

They entered from the south side of town, stopping behind a Walmart to make the change. Keeping their gear with them meant that they wouldn't have to gather it later, but it also meant lugging it further into town, which was quite a walk. Fortunately the three of them were in decent shape (Juan often joked in Chance's case that 'round' was a shape-- it usually resulted in him getting smacked). Fortunately for them, there was a place to rent a room only a quarter mile up the road, right after a McDonald's.

Chance had some-joke-or-other to make about Mc Donalds and Walmart in every small town, but Frank shrugged it off, more interested in getting a chance to relax; unlike the two of his boyfriends, he'd exerted himself that evening teleporting then making numerous jumps over the course of the next hour and a half. It may not have been as taxing as running the whole way, but he was more than ready to call it a night. Paying for their room turned out to be an ordeal as well, especially when the 40-something woman with curly red hair, coke-bottle glasses and too much lipstick looked at the three of them like they were still in their Metamorph forms. "We only have rooms with a king or two queens left."

Frank tensed up, almost expecting a snide comment from Bruiser, but Juan was much more reserved in Human form, so a comment about 'adding two more queens' never came. Instead, Chance just rested a hand on either of his friends' shoulders. "That's fine... I'll just take the couch if there's one... there's a couch, right?" Frank knew that Chance was NOT going to sleep on the sofa, but there was no sense talking about their polygamy to a 'civilian'.

The woman, whose name tag identified her as 'Mindy' nodded, obviously bored with the whole affair. "Extra occupancy means there's another $50 charge per night."

More worried about getting to rest and less concerned for the cash, Frank offered his card again. "That's fine."

The moment they opened the door to their room Frank dropped his gear and took a flying leap toward the closest queen bed, doing his best to immitate one of his better bounds in kangacobra form. He hit the comforter and he laid there, happy splayed out, face down as Chance and Juan got situated. It wasn't long before they had set down their own gear and came to attend him; he felt four hands, two on each shoe as his two boyfriends began stripping them followed by socks. Frank let out a happy groan as he felt two firm thumbs pressing into the soles of each foot. "Ooohhhh... there we go."

It was an unspoken agreement among the three of them that, whenever Merc had to make an extended trip, Frank got a foot rub. Such massages invariably progressed to 'something more' but, in that moment, he was just glad to have his sore legs attended. Juan was incredibly skilled when it came to such attention and what Chance lacked in technique he more than made up for in eagerness. Frank jumped in surprise when he felt a thick, broad tongue replace the fingers on his right foot. He chuckled, rolling over so he could look down at the enormous Pit-bull kneeling at the foot of the bed, worshiping his toes. "Guess you just couldn't help yourself, huh, Demon?"

Although Frank's glove could only turn them into their Metamorph forms once per day for a maximum of two hours, certain levels of excitement or strong emotions could push them back into it, presuming the full two hours hadn't been used; that night their trip had taken just over an hour, and Chance, ever the fine connoisseur of feet, couldn't help himself. The enormous Dog let out a rumbling growl, accompanied by a very emphatic "Fuck yeah."

Juan's grip on Frank's left leg changed as well and, as Frank looked, he saw Bruiser gazing down toward Demon's crotch; it didn't take a genius to see what had the Orca so worked up. Chuckling, Frank just lowered his head back to the bed, staring at the ceiling as Demon continued to lavish attention (and lots of drool) onto his toes while Bruiser switched to only a single hand working on his foot-- the other created some slick, rhythmic sounds at the foot of the bed.

Letting out another content sigh, Frank chuckled. "Honest to god, Demon... you coulda waited until I took a shower at least."

The Dog let out a happy yip, tongue digging into the grooves between his toes; such a thing used to cause Frank giggle, but his tickle response had dulled over the months. Aside from happy rumbles and puppy-like whining, the Pitbull managed to mumble out "Nah... this is better... and baths beat showers." Considering the verve with which he licked and suckled, the Dog was obviously not talking about a traditional bath.

Bruiser finished with the foot massage first (while Demon had almost the entirety of Frank's left one deep throated), at which point the Orca reached up and unbuttoned Frank's jeans. "Don't worry about Demon... you're overdressed..."

Although he didn't need the help, Frank didn't object when Bruiser helped him pull his pants down; things got more difficult when Demon growled when the descending clothes threatened to get in the way of him worshiping the slobber-covered foot. Bruiser, as usual, already had a plan. Pulling Frank's pants and underwear off of his free leg, he then addressed the Dog. "Got a fresh one over here for you if you want to trade, big guy."

It was no contest; Demon cleared Bruiser as if he were a hurdle, pouncing Frank's yet-to-be-slobbered-on foot, immediately going full-on french kissing his middle toe, suckling on it as if he were trying to pull it off of the foot with force of will alone. He froze, however, and let out a yip. Pulling his muzzle off of the toe with an audible pop, Demon shot daggers at Bruiser. Based on Bruiser's smug grin and where his free hand was hiding behind the Dog, it didn't take much imagination to know what was going on. "Hey! Watch it back there, Whale-face."

Bruiser inched up beside Demon, large maw whispering into the Dog's floppy ear "Relax... just want to make sure you're all ready for Frank... I'm thinking of a Pit-bull Sandwich tonight... gonna keep objecting, or you good to go with it, pup?"

Demon snorted, speaking quickly before going back to his 'footsicle'. "Just be fuckin' careful... you know how I feel about ass-stuff."

Chance (and Demon) greatly preferred to top, and only tolerated switch situations so often-- considering Frank was still a Human and both of his boyfriends were in Metamorph forms, Bruiser had obviously selected that moment to seize the day; the Dog was much more accomidating when taking a human cock rather than something like what Merc sported. Judging from the faltering focus on his feet, Frank had a feeling that Demon was almost ready to move on to the next step... and he wasn't wrong.

Demon rose up, revealing his stiff, pink shaft bouncing in time with his rapid heartbeat. Merc had been on the receiving end of the monster on more than one occasion but Frank knew it was not meant for him that night. Almost as if reacting to the unspoken thought, the Pit-bull grabbed hold of one of the Human's ankles and dragged him to the edge of the bed, offering only a simple explanation of "I want you at a good angle."

Frank was provided no time for clarification as the Dog sat down right onto his lap; despite not bottoming on a regular basis, Demon's aim was perfect. The Human let out a his as his cock was immediately surrounded by an inferno of warth, the Dog's slick passage accepting him to the hilt, which left Demon's rather significant weight resting right on Frank's pelvis. He let out a groan, but it was more than just from the strain; Demon felt good.

Reaching up to rest his hands on either side of the Dog's hips, Frank knew that there would be no chance for him to properly thrust; Demon weighed way too much, meaning he was completely at the Pitbull's mercy or, as the case was in that moment, all but forgotten as Bruiser settled down between the Dog's thighs. Frank hissed through his teeth as he felt Demon's insides tighten around him the moment his flesh disappeared into the Orca's eager maw.

It wasn't long before Demon had his hands wrapped around the back of Bruiser's head, pulling the Orca down as he thrust up, simultaneously lifting his hips up and off of Frank's pelvis, and rocking them back, stimulating the Human more as an afterthought than anything else. A moment later, however, as if to remind Frank that he wasn't forgotten, Demon rotated his head back to glance at him. Tongue flopped out of the edge of his muzzle, the Pit-bull announced "By the way, If you don't cum before I do I'm not gonna hang out for you to finish."

The statement was light-hearted and, Frank knew, completely untrue; although Demon was not a fan of catching he was even less a fan of leaving his boyfriend high and dry. The Dog wasn't above giving head, and he was actually really good at it, but, unlike his lust of dirty feet, he was definitely not keen on going anal-to-mouth. Rather than bring to words the thoughts going on in his head, Frank just patted his boyfriend's furry side. When he spoke,his words were interrupted by the Pit-bull's vigorous movements. "Just keep do-ufh-ing what you're -ngh- doing and you w-uh-on't have to w-oh-orry about that."

As it turned, out, Frank was correct; even though his hips were straining to accommodate the Dog's massive weight, it didn't take long at all for the sensations to start building up. Whether it was from the immense head of Demon's insides or the way they clamped down on him every time Bruiser did 'that thing with his tongue' on the Dog, Frank found himself gripping fistfuls of the bedding as his body tensed up. It was Demon's own pending orgasm that pushed him over the edge.

The moment the Dog's tail went stock-still, Demon's inner walls clamped down, accompanied by a low, dull growl from the slack-jawed Pit-bull. His hands clamped down around Bruiser's head, and he began shaking his hips, making little jackhammer thrusts into the Orca's waiting mouth and, at the same time, the Dog began to cum; Frank, who had just given over to his own orgasm, was pushed even higher by the rhythmic convulsions of Demon's insides gripping him so tightly it almost hurt as much as the weight on his hips.

In the end, Frank came down off his plateau first; Demon usually ejaculated for more than a minute. Giving his canine boyfriend a 'let me up' tap on the hip, he quickly rolled over and out from beneath the enormous Dog, who was apparently content to let him escape, focused instead on holding Bruiser's head right where it was as he finished emptying himself into the Orca's maw. Frank also didn't miss that Bruiser had finished himself off, and a cascading curtain of Orca jizz had painted the bedspread where he'd been kneeling. Rolling his eyes, the Human decided he'd leave the clean-up for later; he really wanted to see about that shower.

* * * * *

When Frank originally selected the room with the two queen beds he'd figured he'd probably spend the first part of the night with one of his boyfriends and then join the other at some point (waking up in the early morning was a habit for him). Instead, the three of them ended up crowding in together on a single bed. Rural America could be such a pain; if they were in a more progressive area nobody would think twice about their relationship but they had to keep a low profile so 'freedom of expression' wasn't exactly on the menu. Still, Frank enjoyed the closeness with Juan and Chase... even if they didn't have the extra space a king sized mattress would have provided.

Having slept through the entirety of the night (apparently a long set of empowered mini teleportation jumps followed by giving it to a several-hundred pound Metamorph Pit-bull could really take it out of him), Frank awoke to the sound of a text coming through his cell. Struggling to get to the nightstand (resulting in Juan letting out a strangled cry of pain as a knee got dangerously close to a crotch), Frank picked it up and checked the message. "Looks like we are a go. The deal's going down tonight."

Included with the text was a file. Familiar with the employing agency's methods of operation, Frank sat on the edge of the bed and downloaded it. While he inputted the four digit code to undo the encryption Juan and Chase cuddled a little longer behind him. He waited to interrupt them until he could open the file and relay the information. "Yep-- subtac... just like I thought."

The term 'subtac' was shorthand for a sub-tactical nuclear weapon that usually carried a smaller payload than a strategic nuclear weapon-- the kind that were used far away from the front lines of a war because of their large destructive power. That was something of a mislabeling in Frank's mind since sub-tactical nuclear weapons were plenty destructive in their own right, and he should know since he'd survived one. Merc had been lucky on that day, having been under the effects of two different kind of invulnerability powers; ever since then he made it a point of using the same ones whenever they encountered subtacs.

Chance and Juan crawled up to join him at the edge of the bed, each peering over one of his shoulders at the screen of the cell phone. He was fairly sure that they couldn't read the small writing at such odd angles, but he didn't mind their proximity. He relayed the info. "There's a cold storage warehouse on the east side of the main drag going through town... looks like the deal is happening there tonight."

While Juan continued to peer over Frank's shoulder, Chance got up and grabbed his own phone. In a matter of seconds, the computer science major had found a lot of information. "Okay... well our usual scope-out plans won't help that much-- there's a whole chicken processing plant blocking the view from the road, and there're no restaurants anywhere around the area."

The 'usual scope-out plans' Chance referred to involved just that: get a table at a restaurant and find a way to hang out there for a few hours while keeping an eye on the target location where deals were supposed to go down. Juan, who was still resting his chin on Frank's shoulder, reached forward and pressed on the cell phone screen they were both viewing. It didn't take long for him to pull up a map of town. "Looks like there's a burger joint on the corner... I bet it'll give us a view of the roads leading around to the back."

The discussion continued as to how they'd adapt their plans while the three of them dressed. It was important that they remain nondescript and fit in, making no major scenes and avoiding calling any attention to themselves. Although Juan specifically enjoyed nice clothes, none of the three of them were exceedingly flamboyant and they didn't go out of their way to buy designer clothes so they didn't need any special, out-of-the-ordinary gear to follow through with their plans.

Their day consisted of checking out (no sense in reserving the room if they'd be out of town that evening) and going for a walk around town. Since they were limited to walking on foot, and the main road south of town was the highway, they had to remain mindful of traffic but it was easy enough, especially with large green spaces of empty fields on east side of the street, and wide asphalt parking lots on the west.

They found a variety of different stores to pass the time in, including an animal feed store (no pets, and livestock wasn't really suitable for a college dorm), a hardware store (Chance knew his way around electronics, but not so much mechanical devices), an auto parts store (not much of an appeal, since none of them owned a car) and a vape store (none of them smoked). In the end, the hours passed with them scoping out the area. Toward mid-afternoon they even caught sight of a taqueria. Chance, of course, had to call attention to it. "Hey! They have a taco shop... think this is close enough?"

For any random passers-by who would think the statement was not PC and bordering on racist coming from a Caucasian traveling with two Latinos, Frank didn't entirely agree. It WAS funny that the lone white-boy in the group would point out tacos as well as be the most gungho to pursue them but, to Frank, it was a run-of-the-mill occurrence; he and Chance had grown up in Brooklyn, which had some incredible taco joints.

Juan, on the other hand, having come from a first generation household who had come to the States from Columbia, tacos weren't really a staple, and he was more than happy enough to call Chance out. "This is the American Midwest... I don't like tacos; I bet they wouldn't have arepas... and, besides, this isn't close enough anyway."

Despite Chance pouting, the three of them made their way southward along the road, heading back toward their starting location until they arrived at the fast food joint. Being college students, none of the three were novices when it came to drive-thrus but they were on foot, and the point was to use the place as as a stake-out spot. Chance's mood also improved once he had a chance to order a #1 combo meal and another burger on the side; Frank knew few things could turn his boyfriend's sulking around like a good hamburger.

Although most patrons of a fast food joint were usually in and out in no time, the three of them sat at a table by the front windows, eating their meals slowly while nursing their drinks. Free refills (plus Chance ordering a third burger) helped them stretch out their stay until it was just starting to get dark. Facing east, Frank couldn't see the sunset, but, judging from the stars appearing on the eastern horizon he was able to tell that the sun was slipping down and out of view and that was when two nondescript vans pulled off the highway, taking the utility road past the chicken processing plant. Standing up, the young man gestured to the exit. "Looks like it's 'go time'."

The trip toward the target location included a walk down the main road and to a slight dip on one side surrounded by empty field. It was after closing time for most businesses and, with few options as ubiquitous as a phone booth, they had to make due. Just as Frank was trying to figure the best place to get naked out in the open, his attention was called to a section of ground where larger, bright green bushes were growing. It was Juan. "Hey! Frank! Culvert!"

The term 'culvert' wasn't one that he heard regularly, but it didn't take the young man more than a glance to see the enormous pipe sticking out of the ground beneath the road; it was easily foor foot in diameter. Gesturing Chance in that direction, the two of them joined Juan, who was already stripping. The three of them wasted no time in doffing their clothes and storing them in the backpacks they brought along. Glancing to his boyfriends, Frank held up his gloved hand. "Ready, boys?"

Waiting just long enough for each of them to nod, Frank willed his glove into action. The three of them were experienced enough with the changes by that point to spread out and drop down to their knees so that their rapid growth wouldn't squeeze them against the low 'ceiling' of the tunnel. Frank felt a powerful itch spread up his arm from the glove, then across his chest. He could tell every time one of his bones broke and reformed; the first few times he'd cried out in surprise more than pain-- with months of experience he didn't even feel the need to make a sound.

Demon, on the other hand, greatly enjoyed his transformation and Chance's voice went several octave lowers as he growled out his approval of his body expanding, skin rippling like a disturbed pond as black fur erupted from his pale skin. "Oh, there we go... about fuckin' time."

Bruiser, ever the mindful one, settled onto his knees as he balanced himself, long, broad tail expanding out from his spine. His telepathic abilities already manifested, the Orca took the opportunity to broadcast his thoughts. "This is a long, metal tunnel-- sound carries, dumb shit."

The Pitbull didn't even miss a beat in crafting response, but at least he did so with his mind. "Bite me, Fish Boy."

Smirking, and finishing his change, Bruiser winked. "Just can't wait to have my mouth on you again, eh, puppy?"

Merc's change took longer than his companions, but he couldn't help but add to the conversation mentally. "Nobody can resist that mouth, sexy."

With Demon and Bruiser completing their shifting of forms, they moved to keep an eye out as Merc's concluded. In addition to combining a kangaroo and cobra into one humanoid body, Merc was also in possession of three powers rather than his companions' two each. That, and he needed to select them, which was one component of his shift. One nice benefit he'd learned was that he could manifest a third if he only chose two, but his shift couldn't conclude without selecting a pair right away.

Far too familiar with interrupting arms deals, it was an easy choice for what powers to select. After surviving a nuclear blast, invulnerability was far too good an option to pass up, which was his first selection. Considering the fact that most mid-grade arms dealers tended to have firearms, he figured having something offensive would be a good option. The sound of a rat squeaking far down the tunnel came echoing into him with all the power of an exhaust backfire and, in that moment, he knew what he was going to choose: Merc added Sonic Amplification as his second power.

It was one with which he'd gained some experience. Though he usually saved it for the flashier jobs, there was a certain thrill that the power brought to him when he thought about knocking down a group of gunmen with a thunderous clap, or shaking a gun apart with a well aimed hiss, or making an opponent wet his pants with a deep-throated growl. There was a real artistry when it came to using sound as a weapon, and Merc was nothing if not a showman. Two powers selected, the Kangacobra finished his shift into his Metamorph form, saving his third power for later.

With Bruiser connecting them telepathically, they crossed under the highway using the drainage pipe to stay out of view while concocting a plan. The Orca brought up the first problem. "So... with no water, where am I supposed to hang out?"

Demon went for the obvious answer. "What about just hang out in here?"

Bruiser didn't like it. "My Mental Scan can only go so far... this culvert lets out just beyond the highway, and that's way too far to be of use."

They continued to consider options as they emerged, mindful of the lights on in the chicken processing plan parking lot. Merc led them through the shadows a good distance, which meant a round-about circuit of the property. Demon took the opportunity to speak up. "Couldn't we just go invisible? You didn't chose a third ability, right, Merc?"

The Kangacobra shook his head. "I wanna save it. Besides, the invisibility would only affect me. Let's just stick to the shadows. Bruiser, keep scanning for thoughts and give us a heads up if anyone's coming or looking toward us."

The stealth meant that it took awhile for them to get within sight of the cold storage facility; by that point it was evident that all of the unmarked vans had unloaded since they were all parked and their back doors were open. Demon pointed out "Hey... at least they're too dumb to have anyone playing lookout."

Bruiser wasn't so optimistic. "That, or they're watching from cover. I think I should probably get up on the roof."

As usual, the Orca took a few moments to make a visual inspection of the area. Chance was far more head-strong. "Okay... so... Merc can shrink you using his third power and jump you up there?"

Merc scowled. "What is it with you ahd wanting me to choose power three so soon? No... I don't need to throw him; there's a freaking fire escape."

Chance smirked, elbowing the Orca as he addressed the Kangacobra. "I just wanted to see him duck and roll again."

With Bruiser's position identified, Merc quickly came up with the rest of the plan. Seeing as he was the face of the group, and nigh invulnerable, the obvious spot for him was the front of the infiltration group. Considering every wall was a door for Demon, he would come in second from behind. "Okay... Bruiser on the roof; I'll go in through the door near the vans and Demon-- we're doing a Maryland play."

The group hadn't had many jobs in Maryland, but, sadly, Demon chose the wrong one. "Maryland? I don't see any planes around."

Merc sighed. "That was Annapolis, and had nothing to do with arms dealers, Demon. I'm talking about Baltimore."

The Dog's eyes brightened as he grinned, little wisps of flame appearing at the ends of each claw of each paw. He chuckled in a deep, foreboding tone. "Oh... I liked Baltimore."

With the plan set, the three had nothing to do but wait for the buyer to arrive... and they didn't have to wait long.