Mr. Hell, Mr. Hell! There's someone on your car.

[Frezzik Don Kiplen]

Out on the streets info spread fast and the word was that there had been an increase in werewolf deaths. That in itself was strange after all werewolves could only be killed by curtain means and that meant that there was a hunter out and about. Frezzik enjoyed hunters after all it was only a matter of time before those in the wolfs ranks puts up a contract and that meant a pay check. As such it would mean doing a little bit of research into the killings to figure out what or who he would be facing. Hacking into street cams was easy though quite boring to sift through which ones he needed. Time and time again he would look through the footage until he found something or well a vehicle. A Volkswagon Kharmann Ghia quite rare for this time. It would be days later for Frezzik to map out the routes that single vehicle took after he lost out trying to confirm the visual identification from the traffic cams. It seemed the perpetrator seemed to attend the public school quite often and with this knowledge Frezzik would erase the tapes so no other could get a hold of them.

He would not get around to checking up on the car till Monday. It was strange pulling into a school parking lot after all the last time he had even been in school was nearly half a life time ago. Putting his gloss black 1969 Pontiac GTO into park in an empty parking space he would turn off the seven hundred and fifty horses under the hood. Letting out a sigh he would step out of the Judge, polished black dress shoes meeting the pavement as keys jingled while spun around a finger. Frezzik would be wearing black slacks, black turtle-neck, a sapphire on a cord around his neck, and a black leather jacket. Of course his KA-BAR would be strapped to his right thigh, its handle grazing Frezzik's hand as he deposited his keys into his pocket. His left closing his car door as he looked around. It was nearly three in the afternoon and Frezzik would be taking his time to find that Kharmann Ghia. His slicked back hair and build could easily get him mistaken for a common street thug instead of ex-military.

Finally finding his target Frezzik would plant himself on its trunk as he pulled out a pack of Marlboro red longs from a pocket inside the leather jacket, missing the weight of the M11 and twin spare magazines that he left under the seat of his car. Then again this was to be a peaceful warning and nothing more. Pulling out his lighter he would light the cigaret and draw a lungful of its tobacco. Letting it out in twin puffs from his nostrils as he propped his left foot on the rear bumper of the Volkswagen. It was a nice car, not his taste but still nice, and how the trunk did not dip under the weight of his body only confirmed his suspicions that the body was reinforced. Another puff and it seemed the last bell would ring bringing an old ditty in to his mind. Schools out. Schools out.

"Teachers let the monkeys out."

Putting the cigaret back to his lips he would keep it their as he ran a hand through his hair in wait. Closing an eye he kept his ears open as he leaned back lounging on the vehicle. He was enjoying himself taking the time out to meet a plausible future hit.

[Gideon Hellkelson]

“So, if y equal sin x, then x equals –“Gideon just let the rest of the equation trail off as the school bell finally rung. Behind him there was a visible movement among the students, but out of respect –and past experience- none of them made any move to begin fixing their bags. That had been the bell announcing dismissal time. It was a long day and after seven straight classes Gideon was tired. He dropped the tiny piece of chalk on the ledge before turning to meet his class.

“Well, that’s enough of that crap. We’ll just continue tomorrow.” His class gave a resounding cheer at his words. Gideon had a reputation for being one of the coolest teachers around. He didn’t exactly put much effort into fostering the image. He just taught as he saw fit, and simply made it a point not to forget how it was like to be a teenager. The students began packing their things and Gideon clapped his hands to get rid of the excess chalk dust before attending to his own belongings. He actually didn’t have much to fix. There were just two different sets of papers, the assignment from yesterday and the test papers from today. They needed to be aligned before unceremoniously jammed inside his black messenger bag. Everything was ready, one final check inside the drawers to make sure he didn’t forget anything and he could already go. Gideon was just about to leave when one of his students called up to him.

“Hey Mr. H, some buff guy is sitting on top of your car.” The words entered into Gideon’s ears and seemed to run through an expressway of registering, understanding, then immediate raging anger. Gideon loved his car with a passion. He cared for that car more than he did most people. So, whoever was the brave soul, who thought he could just use Gideon’s Kharmann Ghia for a bench was about to get a gigantic reality check. Gideon rushed out of the room before the student, who had called his attention to the situation, was even able to turn away from the window.

Gideon made his way quickly down the halls, it was crowded considering that it was dismissal time but the expression on his face parted the people like he was Moses and they were the red sea. He stomped his way down from the third floor towards the parking lot. As he moved, Gideon rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt at the collar. He didn’t relieve himself of the black and grey argyle sweater vest, just yet though. That would come off when Gideon was sure that the scuffle was really inevitable. Right now his folded sleeves could barely contain his bulging biceps and they would be enough of an intimidation for most people. The walk let him process the situation a little bit more, and he made a conscious decision to go about it with three clicks of diplomacy. Meaning that he’d give the idiot perched on his car three opportunities to get the heck out before Gideon started getting violent. It wouldn’t be a good example for the students if he went ape-shit right away.

He finally reached the parking lot, and he walked straight up to the guy on his car. “Hey!” Gideon shouted the Boston accent on his tongue even more obvious considering how annoyed he was. The man sitting on the trunk looked to be about three-hundred pounds of pure muscle. Gideon wasn’t afraid, but he did begin to accept the fact that those three clicks of diplomacy were going to be used up. When the man turned around, Gideon was already sure.

“Kiplen…” began Gideon. This guy used to be part of the Black Ops like he was, back when he went by the name Glen Iver. They had always been on fairly good terms, but not exactly what Gideon would call friends. If anything, Gideon remembered Kiplen as one of those guys who was actually challenging on the sparring mat. His eyes hovered towards his car, where most of his weapons were kept. Obviously he didn’t bring any guns or knives with him to school, but right now it seemed to be a horrible idea not to. The crowd was steadily growing behind him. The students were heading home, but this parking lot would be filled with them for an hour or so still. Could he really afford to let all of them see their math teacher get into a melee death match with someone who looked like a professional wrestler?

“So, the agency finally found me? I was wondering what took them so long.” said Gideon referring to the Black Ops. “Are you here to take me in Kiplen? I’m sure you remember that I’m extremely difficult to bring down, now even more than before.” Kiplen didn’t know about Gideon’s regenerative powers, when they worked together Gideon didn’t know about them himself. He tried to go through scenarios on how to handle this situation, but so far no epiphany came. His eyes scanned the surroundings; there must be snipers and back-up around. Black Ops never sent a man in alone, especially considering they knew just how dangerous Gideon could be.

[Frezzik Don Kiplen]

Continuing to gently draw in the tobacco smoke of his cigarette he would let it sit in his lungs before he exhaled from his nose. He took his time for that was what he had as he awaited the owner of the car he was on. Then he heard it the voice of a man he had heard before. No way it couldn't be, Frezzik thought to himself as he rolled of the car into a stand to face the oncoming man. The car raising back to its correct height as the two hundred eight plus weight disappeared from on it. Truth be told any other person that looked at him would guess he was nearly hundred pounds lighter however the secret to his weight was density. He had nearly twice the mass of a man his size should have compacted into the same amount of space. If you wanted explosive power in a punch, man did Frezzik have it for with out the added bulk he remained fast if not faster then normal for a man his size.

Sure he had a slight height disadvantage in comparison to, oh now what was his name. Shaking his head he would pluck Marlboro red from his mouth and let the bud drop in front of him. As he took a step forward he would make sure to step on the remains of his cigarette putting it out for sure.

"Well, well this is a site for sure, the people back in the old office thought you were dead. Don't worry I'm out of the accounting business. Started up my own magic show as a matter of fact. Its amazing all the stuff that I can make disappear, all the local clubs higher me."

His eyes gazing across the crowd, of course he was speaking in code really. Keeping thees bystanders out of the know such a mundane task. Yet he could not help himself as he shrugged off his jacket he would whip it around himself so that after it passed the light would bend around him causing him to become invisible, sept for the jacket which he put back on. Doing so would make the jacket appear to be floating in the air draped over well nothing. Such a mundane trick but it was good practice after all to bend the light around himself completely was a piece of cake but to keep the jacket visible while he did it, it would definitely get the kids in the crowd talking and further lead them astray into believing his "magic show" however for the owner of the Volkswagon Kharmann it was just a show of just how dangerous he could be. Invisibility and the KA-BAR on his hip was enough to assassinate almost anything, hell he could have decapitated him in front of his last class if he really was after him.

His voice would come from were the leather coat floated," Any way," his body slowly fading back in to the world as he slowly let the light filter back to normal," I was thinking maybe we could get together some time, talk about this school's extracurricular programs and such, what is it anyway, basketball or track season?"

The fact of the matter was that he just could not talk blatantly in front of all thees witnesses it just was not his style and it would be just plain rude to out someone specially in front of those that have that persons trust, if only for sportsmanship like conduct and all that.

[Gideon Hellkelson]

"Well, well this is a sight for sure, the people back in the old office thought you were dead. Don't worry I'm out of the accounting business. Started up my own magic show as a matter of fact. It’s amazing all the stuff that I can make disappear, all the local clubs higher me." said Kiplen.

The words sort of hit Gideon like a truck carrying a hundred tons of nostalgia. The Accounting business, that had always been their code for the Black Ops, and Kiplen seemed to remember as clearly as he did. Whatever caused Kiplen to leave the agency was beyond Gideon. He honestly thought that Kiplen was one of those do-everything-I’m-told-because-I’m-not-intelectually-competenet-enough-to-be-capable-of-individual-thought kind of people. The more that Gideon thought about it, the more he was deciding that he didn’t like Kiplen after all. They may not have butted head at the agency but that was probably because they weren’t on the same team and most of the time they were both on missions abroad. But had they been in each other’s proximity Gideon could now easily imagine the sparks that would have been flying between them.

Kiplen suddenly made the choice of turning himself invisible. It caught Gideon by surprise but not enough for him to allow it to show on his face. He was trained not only to fight but to resist interrogation, his face betrayed absolutely nothing and he merely stared through where Kiplen’s head was supposed t be. Okay, so the other guy picked up his own tricks along the way. It didn’t matter. The other man exuded violence like some tangible aura, Gideon could pick up on all the tell-tale signs that this guy came prepared for a fight; he probably had an array of weapons hidden about his person right now. Gideon wasn’t scared; weapons did little good to him. If they were effective, then he probably would have just stuck to his day job. He even went as far as to give a snort to show that he was unimpressed. The students at the back took notice, but half of them thought it was a magic show, the other half must have seen stranger stuff living in a city like this.

“Any way, I was thinking maybe we could get together some time, talk about this school's extracurricular programs and such, what is it anyway, basketball or track season?" continued Kiplen as he made himself visible again. Off far into the background, Gideon heard a couple of students mutter stuff about mirrors and Vegas, but Gideon was really only half-listening to them.

“Combat sports, you know wrestling and shit like that,” said Gideon as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was getting testy and just wanted to get Kiplen as far away from his car and his students as possible. “Do you really wanna talk about it, or maybe I can just give you a demonstration.” Said Gideon, by now he wasn’t even trying to hide his animosity anymore.

[Frezzik Don Kiplen]

"Demonstration you say," Frezzik replied with a smile and a raised eye brow,"Oh kay then, but first give me a moment."

Heading back to his car his fingers would remove his necklace first before he pulled off his shirt and jacket in one go. Unsheathing his KA-BAR he would fold it into his cloths as he looked back at the "teacher" as he opened the door and deposited his stuff in the muscle car along with his cigarettes odds and ends until he was left with just his keys at which point he closed and locked the Pontiac GTO. He made it a point to not duck into the car, giving a show that he would do this unarmed. Clad in a black tank that was tucked and belted he gazed at his soon to be opponent as he laced his fingers behind his head.

"Right so teach, what are the rules for this little demonstration? Oh we should also remind the kids that this is a demonstration between two consenting adults, after all a full on fight on school grounds would be a bad example. I got it how about..." Unlacing his fingers and holding up three on his right hand,"... three shots a piece, strikes or kicks only. No low blows, neck or head shots. No dodging or blocking, and lets try to be civil."

Lacing his fingers back behind his head,"Out of the kindness of my heart I'll even let you go first."

He really did not want to roll around on the ground after all he would end up getting grass stains or road rash and his shoes would get scuffed for sure. He liked his shoes. The rules he set out though worked in his favor even if Glen did not know and even if the other ex-black op. did, would he really loose face in front of all his students before he even landed a blow by backing out of his own challenge. So fun, he liked the fact that the crowd was here now. His muscles were a near perfect armor, after all he could stop bullets from even penetrating him, blades only could go skin deep to as just as long as he was flexing. Tightening up his already dense muscles and imbuing them with the magical energy around him he knew any damage Glen would try to make would only be skin deep. Not only did that shift things into Frezzik's favor but Frezzik was a masochist. Pain for him was pleasure. A trait that was forced into him though combat exercises since one could not simply ignore pain he embraced it.

Frezzik could feel the excitement build as he kept focus. Knowing that if Glen ended up taking the bait, bones will be broken. If Glen did not do it to himself with a power punch then Frezzik would do it when he landed his own blows to Glen's ribs, even if it meant fueling his already heavy hitting blows with the magical energy around him, sure doing that was a double edged sword with the strain on his muscles but he did not mind.

"Ready when you are."

[Gideon Hellkelson]

Gideon didn’t really mean what he said; at least if anything it was a veiled threat. But Kiplen was over-eager and took him up on his words literally, putting on a show of macho-bravado that just kept inching Gideon more closely to wanting to punch his teeth out. Gideon watched with a smoldering gaze as Kiplen walked away to his car. At any other day this would have already come to cuffs, and Gideon really wished that it could. But there were so many of the students just standing there and watching, if Gideon got into a fist fight in the school parking lot he would never hear the end of it in the next PTA, heck he might even end up losing his job. Whatever delusions Kiplen was functioning under, Gideon was not about to lose his day job over a trigger happy chowdahead.

Trigger happy...that gave Gideon a pretty good idea.

He moved to his car as well, checking the hood for any dents before opening the front door. Thankfully there weren’t any; that was good because seeing a dent would have made him even angrier and he probably wasn’t going to be able to control himself. In all honesty he had no idea how poor Suzie managed to take all that weight from Kiplen, Gideon seemed to remember that the other man had some sort of muscle dys-something-whatever that made him weigh more than he looked. He ducked so that his upper half could enter the car. Over the driver’s seat he started rummaging around his belongings to find what he was looking for. Oh damn, there were some vampire teeth on the floor, those must’ve fallen from the heads he lopped off last night. They had been hidden under the seat so they didn’t turn into ash yet. Gideon rolled them over the side and with a sharp hiss of something burning the teeth disintegrated into nothing as sunlight touched them. A couple of empty magazines that used to have silver rounds, nope he didn’t need that either. There was a little crystal globe he lifted from a mage a few weeks ago, he didn’t know what it did yet but sometimes he heard voices coming from inside. Oh, and here were those surprise quiz papers which he thought he had lost, he just told the kids that their average was high so he bumped them all up to As. He was still going through his belongings when Kiplen had returned and had his hands clutched behind his head. Gideon grimaced; the other man was practically leaking testosterone from his pits. Gideon was in pretty good shape himself, but he didn’t go around flashing his muscles trying to get people’s attention.

"Right so teach, what are the rules for this little demonstration? Oh we should also remind the kids that this is a demonstration between two consenting adults, after all a full on fight on school grounds would be a bad example. I got it how about three shots a piece, strikes or kicks only. No low blows, neck or head shots. No dodging or blocking, and let’s try to be civil. Out of the kindness of my heart I'll even let you go first."

Gideon rolled his eyes. Did he really think that Gideon would fall for such an obvious and stupid ploy? First of all, Gideon was Black Ops; they were an elite group of soldiers who didn’t try to just power-through everything. They were expected to change tactics and adapt when necessary. Training dictated that with superior fire-power you didn’t take it head-on, you fired from the flanks, wearing down the enemy. Second of all, when Gideon wasn’t out killing supernaturals, he was here, molding the minds of the next generation. He had always been pegged as a cool teacher, but he made it a point to teach his kids to make the smart decisions.

"Ready when you are." said Kiplen, and with that Gideon moved from out of his car, with a high powered tazer gun pointed straight at Kiplen’s face. So far, few occasions had called for him to use non-lethal force…since always tended to end in a very “lethal” way. But this situation seemed very apt for it.

“You better back-off Kiplen. Leave my school before I shoot a thousand volts straight into your brain.” Gideon was confident of his shot, even if Kiplen moved Gideon had years under his belt shooting down werewolves, vampire and other fast mother fuckers. It was all about shooting in the path of their movement, not where they were currently standing.

The students were beginning to move back, things obviously had gotten serious. Kiplen might be unnerved at Gideon suddenly pulling out a gun on him, even though it was non-lethal, but in the students mind the legendary stories of that time when Mr. Hell saved the school from armed thugs resurfaced. It had been a couple of years ago, some gang members had it out for a couple students who belonged to a rival gang. They came into PS118 with guns expecting everybody to cower and hide. Obviously Gideon couldn’t have any of that, so he did something about it. The gang members were put down, it was pretty easy once they were shocked with Gideon tanking all of the bullets they blasted into his chest. He relieved them of their guns and clonked their heads together for good measure. The students began retreating to the safety of the building, or their cars as if they expected Mr. Hell to prove for a second time how much of a badass he was; besides Kiplen looked the part of a cliché villain from the 80s down to the pony-tail.

“Hey Willie!” shouted Gideon from across the black top, where a stunned old janitor suddenly realized he was being addressed. “If this schmuk doesn’t leave within the next ten seconds, I want you to call the cops ayt.” His Boston accent became thicker as he fumed. He really didn’t like Kiplen anymore, it all started from seeing the puts sit on his car, then the hate just snowballed from there. If Kiplen wanted a fight, he could very well have it…but not here.

[Frezzik Don Kiplen]

Kiplen could only smile as the tazer was pulled on him, after all they shot at a lower velocity then common bullets and both pins had to hit to deliver a good shock.

"Fine then be that way."

Over all its stopping power was iffy at best, and you could find videos of people needing to get hit by several to finally come down. If Frezzik was in the teachers shoes he would have gone with oleoresin capsicum. Chemicals were so much more of a bitch then shock treatment. After a tazers only brought the pain for its few jolts. OC spray on the other hand burned, messed with breathing, and lasted even past it getting washed off.

The tazer on the other hand was just pathetic. Turning around after a eye roll he would start to head back to his car only to pause and look at the back side of the Volkswagon," Hmm, interesting. You should take care of your car better."

Oh how he was tempted to kick in a tail light, but he would do nothing of the sort as he continued to his car, leaving the teach to wonder and work himself up into a paranoia over what Kiplen could have seen. Of course there would be nothing to find but that was the good thing about messing with peoples minds. Getting in he would turn on the Chevy big block letting the seven hundred and fifty horses purr as the torque caused the body to rumble as he taped the gas before he shifted it out of neutral and into reverse. Putting and arm over his seat he would back up. With a quick shift into first he would ease forward as he rolled down his passenger window," We really should get together and have a talk sometime Iver."

Tossing a business card out the window to the teacher, he would make sure the road was clear before he would take off full throttle. Nearly three fourths from the end of the parking lot he would give the wheel a quick adjust to the left then cranking the turn to the right out of the parking lot causing the black muscle car with its orange pin striping to pitch and slide due to the shift in weight through the turn as he hit the Zex Nitous Oxide system. He would slide out of the parking lot as though the Muscle car was something out of a video game.

The only thing that seemed to be on that little card, if it was picked up, were the words "Heat Me Up" in black ink. The rest of the card was white thus keeping what ever was on it hidden and could only be read after heating up the card.

((OOC: There are links.))