Meeting of the Misunderstood (R)

Archard sat on a booth at Mel's, a place he visited not so often, but still came by once a month. Why? It was peaceful. It was one of the few places Archard didn't really feel like destroying. Still, it could use some remodeling. The waiters were fine, even though Arch had only spoke with one of them. The only waiter that had spoke to him thus far. 

And that same waiter came to him today, "Heya 'Killer smirk'!", she greeted him, as Arch glanced out the window, "Hey, again," he answered, as the waiter took out a pen and a block of notes, "What'll it be today?" she asked, with a grin, as Archard cleared his throat, "A Mel-tastic burger and a coke," he answered, and she winked at him, before walking away and shouting his order.

Glancing out the window once more, Archard wondered where Eris was. He hadn't spoken with her in a while now. Finding Dragon would lead him to her, but finding him wasn't an easy task either. Now Niko was off god knew where too. And Nat was locked in her room. What the heck was Arch supposed to do if all of his friends were either hiding or just not traceable...Cause Chaos!, Archard thought with a wide grin.

Neal sat down at the Diner, his hand circled around his mug. He couldn't believe himself out here in the open, with only a hood to hide his face, and he was alone. He wasn't drunk but the room was spinning, and he laid his head on the table, half hoping he could drink himself into caffeine poisoning. Maybe then he could forget the fact that everyone in the world, except for Aphrodite Calor, hated his guts.

Neal knew what he was feeling but he was afraid to admit it. Neal stared into his white mug, and saw his own reflection. His jaw was set, his hair was slightly damp with sweat, and he wanted nothing more than to throw his hood off and drink himself down into a hole, but he knew that to pull his hood off would be death. Cops and M.R.D. were after him. He had posters up everywhere. He was wanted and people wanted to find him, and either kill him.

What really sucked about the whole situation was like sex, his misunderstood feelings remained a big taboo in many people. Since it was the source of all his problems, he was dealing with it quietly and not let other people know about it. He was dismissive. How unbelievably cruel it can be to tell him to snap out of it. Like the common cold, his misunderstood feelings spared no one. His feelings could attack anyone, severely, suddenly, and prolonged.

Pain flung through his body, and he had to clutch at the table, his hand emitting little sparks. At one point a waitress noticed, and came over worriedly. "You okay sir?" He growled, but Neal ignored him and so he walked away, going to another customer to ask their orders.

The Waitress brought Archard his meal, and just so she wouldn't think he had forgotten about their little deal, he tapped her ass while rolling his eyes. She giggled, and left to go to other costumers. Archard simply did that, because if he did so, the waitress would let him walk out, without wasting a dime. It had been so for two months now, and the members of the staff had seemingly not noticed. How perfect, Archard mused.

Chomping down on his burger, he glanced outside. A strange looking van stopped at Mel's, and three armed men came out. They entered the diner, and sat down at the last booth, and ordered meals for themselves. Archard recognized one of them however. The M.R.D... he thought, correctly. One of the men got up from his seat, and started to dance, calling the other customers.

Archard lifted a 'brow at this. Clearly, the man wasn't in his right mind. Well, he showed what he was doing soon enough. Holding a waitress, the men pulled out a gun, and pointed it at the waitresses' head, while the other men each took out MP5 SMG's. "I want everyone on the floor, and LOCK that door!" the man holding the waitress yelled. 

Many customers instantly got down, but Archard didn't. Instead, he continued to eat his burger, and drink his coke, while the men spoke with the others. "A man named Sabretooth has been here. He was spotted some months ago. He is wanted by the M.R.D! Do ANY of you know where he is?" the man asked, and expected a member of the staff to answer him. 

It was unusual for the M.R.D to act like that, but in a way, Archard understood why they were doing that. It was Victor Creed they were talking about. No ordinary mutant. But still, Archard was curious as to why they had yet to notice he was there. Well, he didn't have to wonder for long. "Wait, sir, isn't that..." the man said, pointing at Archard. Oh great, he thought, before lifting the table and turning it, making a shield before bullets came for him.

They couldn't pick another day to notice me!

Even he was not glancing around, Neal knew immediately that there are people who had a thing against him was in the room. He heard someone was threatening the customers, and he felt himself smiling. He heard a woman's voice, and heard people yelling and screaming, waiters and diner's staff ran inside the kitchen, customers had ducked under the tables.

Neal didn't move, a long with other man who some guys seemed to recognize. He could hear the shots in the air before bullets hit the table that the man used as his shield. He let out a shout and fell off of his chair, landing hard on the floor.

Neal smirked and slowly pulled himself up, using the table in his counter. He slowly turned and looked behind, a scowl written across his handsome face, his hood falling off, to reveal ruffled brown hair, and made his scowl look even more deadly. "Can't a man just sit here and enjoy his food?" He slurred, his eyes finding the faces of the guys finally. "Oh! Hey! M.R.D.'s!" He laughed.

"You got a problem with Sabretooth?" He asked, his scowl replaced by an amused grin. He held out his arms to them and laughed, his arms sparked, a goofy grin on his face. "He's not Sabretooth. I can guarantee you." He laughed, and looked at the M.R.D., his grin fading. "You gonna kill him?" He asked, a frown replacing his laughter.

The bullets rebounded of the table, as Archard sighed on the other side. He was looking for one day of piece of quiet. One day without something that would get on his nerves. God really did have a sense of humor in those things. The M.R.D just couldn't pick one other day to mess with him. 

Soon, Archard noticed the shadow of one of the officer's weapons, and extended his arm, using the shadow. He started making it climb up the man's trousers, and soon enough, the shadow was on the man's neck. The moment Archard was gonna 'pull the trigger', by clenching his hand, a man fell of a chair, and Arch's focus was lost. What the...

Archard glanced up, as the man spoke. He was speaking to the M.R.D. Whom had weapons. If he was a mutant, the situation could probably worsen. If not, maybe Archard would have to kill him too. But that shouldn't be necessary.

"That's Ackerman!" He heard one of the officers shout. Ackerman?, Archard asked himself. He hadn't ever heard of such name. "He's not Sabretooth. I can guarantee you." He heard the man say, and he clapped sarcasticly, "Found that out on your own bud?" he questioned him, before the smirk returned to his face, "Kill him? No. We're gonna capture him. And you. Miss Hawthrone will definitely be pleased." The officer spoke to Neal, and in a way, to Archard as well. Arch shrugged and threw the table at the three men, not bothering to worry about the women they still held hostage. "Fine! Capture us!" he teased them, while crossing his arms.

Neal was not in the mood of fighting. Did they not know this went through his head every day? That the bullets they would possibly thrown at him was nothing compared to the horrendous pain of remorse that had settled over his body like a veil, blocking his mind, and clouding his thoughts. He couldn't even get his enjoyment out of torturing humans like he used to, and at this point, he'd rather be left alone, left in his room in the Mansion, with no way to get help. But of course, this would only last for maybe a couple of hours. Later, he would feel whole again.

His mind was clouded and it wasn't until he heard the man clapped and spoke, as well as a shouted name at him that he was brought back to his senses.

Neal rolled his eyes when an M.R.D. guy spoke. "Capture us?" Neal laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "I haven't decided yet to be captured. Though, I really do want to see if that mutant guy standing over there can take pain from you or if he's just a one trick pony." He looked over at the mutant who just threw the table at the M.R.D. guards.

Neal crossed the room and picked up one of the chairs that had been knocked the floor in the customers’ haste to leave. He lifted it over to where the M.R.D. officers were standing and put it down in front of them. Neal took his hooded jacket off and sat himself down easily.

"Yes I am Ackerman." He clicked his finger twice, followed by throwing his arms in front of them as winds outside came crashing the windows and hurling towards them.

"It’s easier this way, for you and for us." Neal grinned.  Why should you have to work so hard to get us? Are you all not tired? Do you have a family? Do you visit them? You wouldn't even know if they are already using your rooms to breed snails for pets or for food. You know why? You're all too busy chasing mutants and loading your guns with enormous amounts of ammos. But you can't realize that you're weapons are not worth our mutant fingernails."  

Neal stood up. "You and you're fellow humans are just eyesores on the face of the earth. You’re all weak, whether or not you like to think otherwise." And for every guy, there was a silver dazzling bolt to the ribs, followed swiftly by another gust of wind as he started to walk and decided to leave the Diner.

Archard grinned slightly at Neal's words, and at the way how he handled things. That was quite the mutant that was standing in front of Archard. Although Ackerman didn't seem to be in his clearest state of mind, he was still lucid enough to know what was right. And what was right? Not letting those M.R.D's run away unharmed.

Once Neal turned away to leave, the M.R.D's started to get up, only for their guns to be destroyed by the shadows that the sun made when it invaded most of the diner. Archard snapped each of their necks for fun, and had the shadows push them out the window, clearing the diner completely.

Turning back to Ackerman, Archard jogged to him, in a fast pace, and placed a hand on his shoulder, "You okay, Ackerman?" he asked, as if he had spoken with him before, "How are Eris and Dragon?" Archard asked him, clenching his jaw. Why? Anger of course. After all, Neal had taken Eris and Dragon away from him. Of course, that allowed him to take complete leadership of the Alliance of Evil, but it still toke his friends away from him.

"Archard Kaaos. The one you fucked over by taking Dragon and Eris away," he 'greeted' him with a bitter tone.