A smile broke across the cowboy's face as he moved his body to avoid the incoming knives, one getting dangerously close to him and being forced to bring an arm up to deflect it. Thankfully, he managed to catch it against the flat and not the point, sending it off to the side, though not before the edge bit into is jacket and leaving a nice mark underneath. It was a good thing that this was a throwaway coat.

"I'm glad to hear that you're not completely stupid," he says, letting the magazine fall out of his pistol before slamming in a fresh one, sending the slide forward. "Also glad that you're capable of admitting your talents. You got a good arm, but in a war of attrition like this the punk with a gun will always have more ways to hurt you than you him." It would be hear that Mark would change tactics, and instead of aiming center mass he'd start to aim lower, intending to pelt Elijah's legs and force him off balance so he couldn't accurately throw. "Now, is your quirk useless because in a situation like this it'd be useless? Or you just blowing smoke up my ass and looking to do things the hard way?" Mark personally didn't care. The paint rounds, surprisingly, had a shelf life, and if he didn't use them all up it was possible they could go bad. If Elijah kept this up, he'd be decked head to toe in welts and a neon substance that would take a while to wash out; however, if he did what Mark was expecting, and he instead dove headfirst into the ground like a land shark, it'd put him on the defensive.

Based on Elijah's track record...it was gonna be the former.

Elijah

Well, she wasn't shouting and screaming at him, so there was some level of professionalism there. Good. She even set him down, how lady-like! Once he shook himself out (apparently being carried and at high speeds like that was not his style) he held up another magazine, this time full stun rounds as he set it in and set the slide forward. "I'm not exactly used to situations like this. Paint's a special blend, nearly impossible to wash off and gives off a slight glow under UV light. Tried trackers once, they either break apart before they leave the barrel to shatter on impact. Not to mention they take up space in a magazine when I might need something different."

He looked over at her, shrugging. "So long as they don't ditch it, we should be able to find them. They seem pretty amateur, 'specially if some guy with a gun can spook 'em like that. If they had their wits about them they could have done some real damage." He moved over to the edge of the building, looking the way they came. "Safe this way, anyways. The six shooter's for life or death, and the tires would have been the only feasible target. I miss, I could hit an unintended target. Even if I hit, the amount of collateral would've been devastating." He made a mental note of the potholes, shaking his head. "Anyways, this high profile stuff ain't for me. I'm gonna find a way down and get another cup of coffee. I'll consider the offer." A pause. "Both offers. Don't get me wrong, I'd rock your world, but not sure you're my type." He started to walk off, reaching up to wipe more of the blood off his lip. Guess I should do something about this, too.

@niteshade

If there was one thing Mark had to give Tabitha credit for, she was both unique and diligent. While the shop wasn't the cleanest, he had been in places where things were an absolute sty. Besides, it just showed that not only did she care about her workplace but also used it. Good traits, in his opinion.

As she returned with both buckets, he tossed a good casing into the empty one, looking back at the trail she made with the water. "It's a lot harder to do on the road than in a shop like this," he says, moving the bag so that she could start her own inspections. "It's even harder without the right tools. Or even good quality ones. I have an old beat-up thing that at one point in time was really good, but it's in need of some work. Rims the casing, helps replace the primer. Even has a little press on the side. But there's only so much WD-40 and duct tape can do." He plinks a few more cases into the bucket, shrugging. "Didn't have time to find a shop to get it repaired. Was busy with a case. And depending on the state was just easier to buy the ammo I needed. Until Cali, really." He tossed a casing onto the scrap pile, glancing over at her. "So were you a tech head before getting involved in the occult, or did you do witchy stuff before deciding to build gear to trap the supernatural?"

Tabitha Yamamura

It would take him a minute as he went the long way to avoid detection, but after a little while Mark found the back of the bank. He tested the door, and surprisingly found it unlocked. Well, there's your problem, he thinks, slowly pushing it open as he drew the Carry. There were some residual marks on the handle, and after a brief scan of the memories found nothing of particular interest; one of the guards was having an affair with a teller, but that was not his concern.

The real information he got out of the memories was the layout of the bank. Sure, lines on paper told you the layout of a building, but it paled in comparison to someone else's experiences. The hallway he had opened up to was to the back offices, hidden and out of the way of the average customer and only in use for the real pencil pushers of the place. And the security office, and essentially all facilities for the workers when not in front. He slipped through the halls and stopped outside an archway to take stock of the situation, the lobby being on the other side. Right out the gate he didn't like this. He had eyes on five of them, but nothing on the other two suspected. It was possible there was only five, but Mark didn't feel comfortable taking that chance.

The better question was, what was the play? They were focused on the front entrance, and everyone in the middle was bound and gagged together. That was extra as hell, unless these guys were worried the people would rise up against their captors. He clicked his teeth for one second, and determined the action that needed to be taken. As soon as the big guys went back into the vault he rounded the corner, firing his first smoke round at what he perceived to be the ringleader, then at the two keeping lookout, then the last at the vault itself to lay down a decent smokescreen. The remaining rounds in the gun were stun, and with his first move completed he did a scan for any of the remaining two villains as he started to make his way to the hostages.

@niteshade

The sudden appearance of a new pro wasn't surprising to Mark. There were too many of them that made a big scene on arrival that, in his opinion, made the job that much harder. Then again, he did what he could to look like an average joe. Made his life that much easier, unassuming. Granted, his luck in the dating pool was abysmal because of this but he could live without that.

This pro, though. Titanomechia. That there was a character. And unfortunately any surprise that was to be had was now gone. But this did mean he didn't have to do all the heavy lifting now. As she approached he would sip his coffee, giving her a smile at the veiled insult. He was tempted to fire back with, Can't say the same, but if he did she might storm off out of spite. Pro heroes were almost like actors in that regard. He'd be quiet throughout the briefing, taking in the conversation as he studied the map. Oh, how nice it would be if he could glean any kind of information by touching it! Knowing all the lines on the paper was one thing, but knowing the layout of the place was another...

"Doesn't matter if they know I'm here or not," he says, taking a long and obnoxious sounding sip of his coffee. "That entrance of yours no doubt tipped 'em off that pros are on the scene. Don't matter if they're amateurs or pros, they're going to be on edge." He set his cup down on the table, drawing the Carry from his jacket and releasing the magazine, stowing it in a pocket. "Invisibility, telekinesis. Any other suspected quirks? Mutation with eyes in the back of one's head, tremor sense, cheese constructs?" He locked in a fresh magazine, one where the first few rounds were smoke. Even without help from Titanomechia this was going to be difficult, and now he had to worry about things becoming a show.

@niteshade

Can't have a peaceful day, can he? It made him miss the small towns and random haunts he used to visit back home, the home cooking and the laid back life most people had. Japan wasn't awful, but the city he was stuck in made his life as unfun as possible.

He couldn't help but look on at the scene unfolding. Police barricade, what he could only assume to be a hostage situation, and request for hero support. After a good minute Mark let out a loud sigh, shoulders slumping as he took a sip of his coffee and stepped towards the line. As he approached one of the officers held up his hand, beginning to explain that this was an ongoing situation and that civilians weren't supposed to be there. That was pretty standard for Mark, as he didn't flaunt his status as a hero. That and he didn't dress the part. Pulling his license out and flashing it to the officer he'd look beyond as he began to formulate what might be going on. "Take me to someone in charge. I might not be for much, but at least I'm another body to block bullets for you fine men in blue." There was a level of sarcasm there, but it couldn't be helped.

With a grunt the officer indicated to Mark to follow, and after a few moments he found himself at the command post. "Isn't this outside your forte, Lone Wolf?" the lieutenant asks, eyeing Mark up and down. For once he had spent a sleepless night grading papers that he had been putting off and putting off, but they needed to be in before the end of the week. Better to get them all done all at once.

"Look, just give me a sitrep and I'll see what I can do. Maybe give an opening to your swat boys or something like that."

@niteshade