Blackbird: Poison

Clearly, hand to hand isn't his forte. That said, he's easily good enough to handle the vast majority of normal humans, even those with special forces training, but in the realm of super heroes and villains, his melee can't keep up. The first thee strikes land, one kicks his pistol out of his hand, another strikes the chin of his helmet, kicking his head aside, and an elbow to his groin. The groin strike is unique in the man's reaction, he's clearly not wearing any sort of armor there, but none the less he doesn't respond to it as one would expect a man to. By the time the three strikes finish the armored figure reels back, dodging the fourth just barely. He'd continue to gain distance and raises his now empty fist to point at Blackbird. A bracelet esque device on his wrist launches about a dozen tiny rockets at Blackbird, only a few hit, but those that do stick and begin to buzz. They explode in micro explosions, sending light shrapnel into and probably through the suit across his body.

This seems to be intended as more of a stunning move, as the man draws his other sidearm rapidly and begins to wildly spray fire in Blackbird's direction.

The three arrowheads strike true. One embeds itself into an unarmored section of the figures arm, another sticks into his chest armor, and the third digs into the barrel of his second pistol just as it's shot. The bullet exits the gun in two halves, the soft hollow point lead easily split by the sharp arrowhead, emitting a shower of sparks as it does. Distracted by the pain and the wounds the figure is kicked not directly out the window, but half way into the sil, the strength of the strike enough to break through the poor construction of the building and send the assassin falling downwards. Blackbird begins to fall as well, but catches onto the first thing he can, an American flag some patriot has hung outside their alley view window. The figure falls and impacts the sound with a heavy thud, throwing up snow around them. They lie there in the alley, a wooden fence blocking view from the street, conveniently.

The person makes no attempts at a resistance, panting lightly on the concrete ground. The helmet is removed after breaking a seal, and what lies bellow is a young woman. She seems remarkably young, no more than 17 or 18, hair buzzed to a military level, and a bar code tattoo on her forehead, another tattoo just under it of the letters and numbers 'K-111'. She snarls, and spits blood into the snow. "Asshole..." She speaks with a west coast accent.

"No they do not..."

Bluetooth commentates over the earpiece.

"I'm gonna try to figure out that tattoo."

The girl groans, trying to sit up but falls back down, wincing in pain. Her bleeding stops unusually fast, even before Blackbird can bandage it. The girl retorts in a pained voice. "Yeah? What's with the black owl suit? Crazy people usually stick to white. It matches the walls."

The girl makes a weak punch as Blackbird lifts her, hitting nothing but air. She'd be loosing consciousness, and fast, her last words before going under; "Fuck, you..."

Back at the bird cage, the halls are relatively void of people, and K-111 seems to have healed almost completely on the way over. She'd wake up not long after being let down on the couch. She'd groan waking up, rolling over to rub her head. "Auugh shit..." Her eyes widen as she sees her surroundings. As though she was never wounded at all she'd spring to her feet and moves to swing a punch for Blackbird as soon as she spies him. Of course, he detects this long before it comes.

"I got it as a party favor!" She's strong, stronger than the average human, much stronger. She'd not be forced down, but makes no further moves, maintaing the the test of strength esque hold. She'd immediately pick up on the lack of a direct eye contact. "What's the matter? Been looking at the sun too long?"

She'd maintain the test of strength for a few moments longer. Something Blackbird says gets to her, and she pulls away, ripping her hands out of his grasp and not making anymore moves. "You tell me. You and him seem to have a history."

"Made Man. Name?" She'd point to the tattoo on her forehead. "K-111, K-1, Kill, generally the people I meet don't last long enough to use a name."

"That's illegal." She'd shrug and moves to sit back on the couch. "So, lemme guess how this line of questioning is gonna go. Who are you, why is your name a serial number, why did you try to kill me, why can you heal so fast, why are you so strong, why are you so young. To answer, I'm Kill, I don't remember, because I was paid to, I don't remember, I don't remember, because fucking everyone was eighteen at some point."

Kill reaches down to take the rootbeer bottle, looking up at Blackbird over furrowed, contemplating brows. "I could try to kill you again and finish my job. Though something tells me you won't play softball this time." She'd sigh and unscrews her rootbeer, taking a drink. "Yeah, I got a place. It's all I got now that you jacked my stuff." She'd sit back in the chair, noting the man removing his mask keenly. "So, you're not blind in the sense that you've got broken eyes, you're blind in the sense that you have no eyes. Hard to notice watching you. Harder still to figure out you couldn't see at all. Y'like that little sting I set up? Once I figured out you worked off senses, it was the first thing to come to mind."

Bluetooth picks up almost immediately.

"Yeah, I've been doing that. Thing is, they're a little hard to find in the first place."

Kill raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. "So that's your prize." A wicked smile crosses her face. "I met her, face to face. Last night... I know where she is. And you're right, you spooked the rats underground."

Bluetooth continues oblivious of Kill's elaboration.

"And about that barcode girl. Seen nothing like her. Her body shows sign of genetic enhancement, and given her equipment, she looks government. Or maybe ex government. I suppose you'd know a lot about tier one operators going vigilante, huh?"