It's all fun and games! [Open]

The white cat - a form both well-suited for moving deftly about and apparently unusually common in this area - prowled the rooftops. Solomon was doing some personal reconnaissance in the area, and was searching for any signs of super activity, remains of super activity he may be able to glean knowledge and gauge abilities from, or any supers he could study directly. All three he had found in significantly less quantity than he had expected given the supposed nature of the faction, and then it had begun to rain. The cat was forced to the lower and more sheltered areas of the buildings and began to question his afternoon’s choices.

By some part luck and some part careful maneuvers through the undersurface of the slum’s structures, he’d managed to, for the most part, keep some slab of something between him and the thrum of rain on the rooftops above and pavement below, and was actually fairly dry. Less dry than he’d ever intended to be today, but still less wet that just about anything else moving in the vicinity. Including the first obvious super he had the pleasure to run into.

Solomon did not think himself much of a stalker, and originally it had not been his intention to follow the Rein. When he’d first caught sight of his faction mate in the shadows of the slums, he’d intended to hop down from the rooftops and greet the man. For the past couple of blocks, however, it could be argued that he was playing the part. Before he could find a course to a hello that wouldn’t leave him entirely soaked, Fleet took an interest in a second man caught in the downpour, who had employed the common response of attempted self-preservation, and took off after him. Solomon, too, gave chase.

It was mildly surprising to see another Rein out here; probability would put the chances of an encounter with someone of his small faction in the stead of a super resident to the area as low. It did, however, explain the rain. To at least some degree, though all he knew of Fleet’s connection to the rain was that there was one. It was one of the many things he knew very little about his fellow Rein, and Solomon was of the belief that if knowing one’s enemies was important, knowing one’s allies was moreso. Thus he did his best to keep pace with the swift super, remaining a ways behind only because of the time it took to find dry ledges to leap to, and only keeping up at all because Fleet appeared to be toying with the man.

Fleet finally decided to end the chase, the cat was given a chance to find a pleasant nook under a roof top to settle down in. He had fully intended to keep to himself until Fleet had finished with his query. It was curiosity, mostly; he wanted to see what the super would do now.

But, it seemed the super had better senses than he had expected, and he not as clandestine as he had hoped. He would not leave his ally searching.

The cat leapt down to a lower level, following a drainage pipe and roof overhang around until he was sure he’d come into Fleet’s view. “It’s just me, Fleet, Solomon. We happened to pass and wanted to greet you personally, since we will likely be working together in the future. I was also curious as to what you were up to out here in the slums. I apologize if I startled you.” The cat said, almost melodically, in his voice. Sitting, the cat curled his tail around his side. “Do you ever catch a cold, standing out in the rain like that?” As if on cue, the cat sneezed.

The ‘kitty’ flicked his ear. “Wet, mostly. And generally uneventful, until now, I suppose.” He supposed it made sense that Fleet wouldn’t get sick in rain, going by the strange logic that surrounded powers. It would also explain his apparent obliviousness to the downpour.

The cat cocked his head to the side. “You said you were attacked?” He looked the man under Fleet’s foot over. The fellow looked not so much like he’d caught his death than his death had caught him. The last of the forces, or perhaps only an onlooker, of the attack, he would guess. He wasn’t enough to give Fleet more than a moment’s worry, or a couple minute’s play. If Fleet was as seemingly injured as first impressions held, the rest were of hardly more trouble. Interesting, given the mention of supers.

Solomon was reluctant to step out into the rain, but he was also curious. The cat grew swiftly larger, once again into the person. Solomon pulled up his hood.

The rain was just as wet as it looked, but he set aside the pounding of water on his cloak and the sloshing of water around his boots, and walked over to the pair. He crouched down next to the man, searching for anything a closer look might reveal.

“I’d be interested to hear what happened.” He said to both of them, giving Fleet a slight smile, but the man a look that said Solomon only might try to aid him with his bind.

Solomon sighed. So he hadn’t be so much as attacked as was called a name, and he responded violently. Judging by the insult, it was unlikely to have been a fight between supers. More likely it was a few unpowereds who didn’t know when it was in their best interest to keep their mouths shut. There had been hints that this was the sort of super Fleet was, not the least of which how he had chased the man, and his playful tone of voice in regards to the caught mouse, and keenness for the blood of a man who had apparently done little more than be at the wrong place at the wrong time. In actuality, there had been signs everywhere. That no one was around to see them and therefore it was okay simply confirmed it.

He gave the man a second look over. He was, in every seeable way, normal. Scared silent, but that only made him less of a negligible threat. Solomon glanced up at the actual super. “Fleet, it’s our mission to help the people of this city against the threat of other supers. The loss of innocent lives is acceptable, yes, but only with reason. This man is not a danger to us. Even if he did call help, would you have any trouble dealing with the reinforcements? We have nothing to gain from bringing him harm, and no other reason to do so. You would be doing the city a wrong to kill him.”

He stood and ran a hand over the edge of his hood to clear the gathered water. “It doesn’t matter if anyone sees or not; an action done is an action done.” His expression was absent and his tone was bored. “You’d best let the man go.”

Solomon looked upwards at the ceased rain. Interesting, that it had stopped so suddenly, and what he had said before it had done so. The man, now taken care of, was of less interest. Fleet’s agreeance was what was of importance. He gave Fleet a warm smile. “Yes, thank you.”

He could leave it at that; there didn’t appear to be much worth in hearing about a fight between Fleet and some unpowereds, and the man had been let free. But, he didn’t want to leave Fleet in this mood. He put a hand on his chin and took a contemplative expression. “How about this. For fun, why don’t the two of us play a game?”

Solomon drew out from behind him a warn book. The in the center of the red leather cover was an impressed black symbol of an ouroboros - a snake eating its tail. Each corner was tipped at with a triangle of silver, which stood as the only thing that had kept the edges from fraying. Cloth tabs trailed out of the uneven, tanned pages. It was Solomon’s most commonly used spell book and it had not taken to time very well. He held it out in front of him.

“The goal is pretty simple. You try to take this book from me, and I,” he pointed to Fleet’s pocket, “try to take your knife from you. Whoever does so first wins. There’s only two rules, to make things a little more interesting. First, we’re not allowed to physically harm each other. If one of us injures the other, we automatically lose. Second, nobody’s allowed to notice. If anyone finds out we're playing this game, we lose.”

Solomon took two steps backwards and widened his stance. “What do you think? We can start on the count of three.” He offered.

Likewise, Solomon smiled and took several further steps backwards. It was one thing to beat someone in a fight, but an entirely other to do so without harming them. He had some tactics for such scenarios - often times with the more destructive-type supers, it was simpler to try to halt their movements than attempt to hurt them - but in comparison to outright damage, it was slow, inaccurate, and lacked most of the benefit of wearing down one’s opponent with time. How would Fleet handle it, he wondered?

“Wonderful. On three, then.” Solomon held his book out before him, thumb rested beside a tab. He watched Fleet carefully while he counted. Then, the moment he came to three, Solomon spun on his heel and booked it down the alleyway.

Flipping to one of the tabbed pages in his spell book and muttering to himself, he kept an eye and ear out for the super he expected to give chase. He just needed to buy a few seconds.

He was fast. Solomon tried to keep an eye on the quickly shifting fog and the man within, but soon gave up trying to follow his exact movements. He would focus closer when Fleet made his strike.

He’d gotten lucky. Hardly a moment after Fleet lunged, Solomon spoke the final word of the spell and vanished. His footfalls stopped abruptly as he came to a halt - perhaps Fleet would brush the edge of the book, unseen but still there, perhaps he would feel nothing but air. Regardless, Solomon again swiftly turned around, thumbed to a new page of the book, and altered course down a nearby off-shoot alleyway. If Fleet didn’t catch the sound of turning pages or the hushed muttering that followed, try as he might, Solomon’s step wasn’t lighter than anyone else trying to run quietly but quickly.

The next spell was a matter of seconds away from the first. He had been expecting an immediate counter strike, or perhaps some move on Fleet’s part to counteract Solomon’s last. Rather, it appeared he was biding his time, waiting on him - a mistake one made only once against Solomon. His footsteps slowed to match the other super’s. The spell Solomon had been preparing finished, but he did not immediately go to strike upon its completion; given time, he spoke another short spell until it was one syllable away from being cast.

And then he was off. With speed beyond what was capable of natural humans, but just a step above so, he turned and sprinted towards Fleet. This was not the best tactic to employ, setting up further defenses would be far safer, but he was curious to Fleet’s response to a swift, unseen foe. He made to come just to the side of Fleet, grab the arm of the side he’d seen him stash away his dagger, and give it a yank.