"Patrolling? That's your idea of a good time?"


Standing on a rooftop of a random building in New York, Azrael couldn't help but smirk. He was aware of others taking the initiative, scouring across the rooftops and traversing the city streets, all in the pretense of keeping people safe. While he didn't have a list of these individual's names or identities, he knew they were there and on the prowl. Watching out for the ones that couldn't protect themselves, from various beasties or prepare for certain scenarios that would stand outside of the norm. Generally speaking, these men and women would go out and basically look for trouble, so to speak.


One would be surprised to learn how much danger lurks in the shadows or even in some cases, exists right smack dab, in plain sight and out in the open. It really is dependent on the monster and the sort of trouble that they plan on stirring. Usually if you were out and about, paying proper mind to your surroundings, something would stir up. Then again, one didn't usually allot their spare time towards traveling across the city skyline, all in the name of protecting the public.


It took a uniquely amazing individual to take on that responsibility. Someone that would purposefully put another's well being before themselves, for the simple fact of doing it. There were no prizes or rewards. The payout comes from merely the act and the satisfaction of keeping society free from harm. Nothing more, nothing less.


An activity that Azrael has taken part in throughout the galaxy, reality and even time itself. This aspect wasn't a secret but rather a well known truth. After all, he was a warrior, first and foremost. A savior of the universe, he willingly donned the responsibility for over a thousand years. A factor that didn't change over time nor did it alter based on the planet or species. Although, if he were to be completely honest with himself, it was a task that had gone rather neglected, since he traveled to the future. Mostly due to the fact that he had been primarily dedicated to aiding The Brothers Blackwater, in their endeavor of locating Azrael, from their current timeline.


In fact, if he hadn't acted selfishly and figured out how to grow his arm back, he probably wouldn't be standing atop this roof, right now. Per Rebel Star's suggestion. It came as a surprise to the spaceman. Yet, he wasn't sure why her plan shocked him, she was just as strong and capable as anyone else that decided to take on the role of "superhero". In some cases, even more mightier than most. Still, her choice for entertainment struck him as amusing, more than likely because he didn't realize how much he missed that very same selfless act, a loss that he had been feeling since his arrival in 2019. Keeping himself busy with the quest that he willingly accepted; in favor to the Blackwaters, had been time consuming and engulfed quite a bit of thought.


However, the more he allowed the concept of patrolling to sink in, the more he came to understand that this was just the thing that was minus from his recently established, temporary life in the future. And so the craving, the need to heed the call grew. This shared desire was another aspect that made him realize how much he liked Rebel and enjoyed her company. It was a bond that few felt but its effects were enormous. Luckily, there wasn't much time to dwell in that thought and complicate things, before the city would cry out for a protector. Mind you, this wasn't an actual verbal outcry for attention. No, this was more or less, a random oddity surfacing and allowing itself to be known. At the time, Azrael wouldn't realize the importance initially but rest assured, he would not stay ignorant.


"What's the matter? Afraid you'll be no good at it?"


Mockery in its finest.


"Oh yes, precisely that. You know, you should really take up mind reading or predicting the future. Maybe get yourself some tarot cards or a crystal ball."


"Ha-ha, you're hilarious."


"Naturally."


The smirk remains in place upon the spaceman's face as he directs his focus down at the street below. That's when his eyes immediately spy something that doesn't belong. Not there in New York, not in that time period anyway.


"Are those what I think they are?"


Cocking an eyebrow, he casts his attention over his shoulder, towards Rebel as she quickly advances from behind. Her hand gently placed on his arm, while she looks past him, Rebel soon becomes overtaken by laughter.


"Cowboys!"


Her voice rises in volume with her exclamation. These words definitely resound with the truth. Down on the street below, there was a group of cowboys. All walking along in a huddle, they wore dusters, ten gallon hats, assless chaps and boots with spurs. Each identical to the next, it was like someone released old stock footage from a vintage western out onto the street or there was some kind of late night, audition for a film that required cowboys, going on. Strange to say the least, this was most assuredly, not a common, everyday sighting. Especially not on the streets of New York in 2019.


A couple of the cowboys appear to be carrying briefcases as well.
Except that wasn't the weirdest part. No, the most abnormal aspect about it was their silence. Walking briskly along, they seem to somewhat communicate in a way that didn't involve words. Only sporadic nods and slight small gestures, could be seen given by them. Yet, this wasn't even done in a normal fashion that could truly establish, proof of suitable communication. Not in any way that made sense. Still they steadily and stealthily, progress down the road, barely paying mind to onlookers or pedestrians. Moving so smoothly along, it was almost like they were gliding on air and in sync, no less. The longer that Azrael watched them, he could tell that there was something almost sinister about their mannerisms. Like they were communicating to one another via mental telepathy.


To the untrained eye, this wasn't a key component that would be taken note of but to a being that spent over a thousand years, battling monsters and evil entities, it was undeniable. There was something off about these cowboys. Azrael's immediate aim and agenda was to discover what that was exactly. In other words, you can take the hero out of time and relocate him, but you can't revoke that hero's mentality.


"Shall we have a looksee? Maybe ask them where they left their horses?"


"You want to investigate the cowboys?"


Clearly Rebel Star, didn't find an issue with the cowboys from her position atop the roof. In truth, besides being peculiar, it wasn't like they were causing a ruckus or harming anyone. It was just a really bizarre sight to see. The spaceman could detect that there was something out of the ordinary, beyond the obvious though. Came with the territory of being the savior of the universe. You could sense danger a mile away and knew to trust your gut, when things seemed awry or particularly unusual or atypical. Pure irony considering this was the mentality of an alien from another planet.


"I do."


These words barely escape Azrael's throat, before he took a running leap, straight off of the roof. Landing with a thud behind the group of cowboys, he couldn't help but chuckle when they instantly spin around to face him, in unison.


"Howdy. You fellas lost? Cause you're about a hundred and fifty years and over a thousand miles off, from where your kind usually frequents. Hence the utter lack of saloons, gunslingers and horse shit in the streets."


Utter silence, the cowboys remain in a huddle and didn't speak a word.


"The strong silent type, eh? Exactly the type of men that I prefer."


Pause.


"Still something tells me that you guys don't really belong here. In New York. During the year, 2019. Heck. I don't even belong here but I happen to be a master of time and space. So I'm exempt from that rule."


As Azrael speaks these words, he has a growing sensation of dread that coincides with them, coming from the experience of previous times like these, when he suddenly knew that he was sharing a bit too much information. Unfortunately, the damage was already done and with their newfound piqued interest, the cowboys go from silent, to merging even closer together as they walk forward, while whispering in a hushed tone amongst themselves. The sound that gets produced from their mouths is far from English or even human. Rather it sounds more like growling. Low and guttural, while still carrying the resonance and pattern that comes with someone's voice. Meaning there's pauses and shifts in tone, places where it takes on longer or shorter intervals or periods in time to emit, much like sentences would during a conversation. This is the precise evidence that made it highly apparent that they were now communicating to each other, in their own language.


Spoken in a manner that surpasses humans and the noises they could release in a realistic, genuine way, the sound held a distinctly animalistic quality. Nevertheless these beings were still very humanoid in appearance. Standing and walking upright, wearing clothes and shoes and carrying briefcases, like a human would do on any given average day. If you also happened to be a cowboy. They were simultaneously primitive and seemed to keep a herd type of mentality. Refusing to break their tightly knit group. It was an uncanny, funny sort of observation to make and take exception towards. One that gave the spaceman a cause for pause as he took a step back, raising an eyebrow in inquiry. Before Azrael could say or do anything further than that, one of the cowboys that were in charge of wielding a briefcase, promptly snaps his case open. Within seconds, there came an impossible sight. A glowing green horse suddenly stood, towering over Azrael. Manifesting from the confines of the case, it was a whopping ten feet tall and couldn't have possibly fit in such a small space. In spite of that fact, there it stood, defying all rational logic.





Completely illuminated in an incandescent neon green glow, the stallion's eyes shone with a virescent radiance, that seems to pour from an unholy, otherworldly source existing somewhere beyond the realm within its head. Summoning a sensation that felt like the light was burning directly into your very being, the longer you would permit your focus to remain on its eyes. The fearless galaxy traveler only intermittently let his sights drift to them. This didn't stop the horse from staring down Azrael.


Gazing upon him, the horse stomps its foot and snorts at the sight of the intrepid alien warrior. Swiftly shooting a dull, olive burst of smoke straight at him. Azrael coughs and stumbles backwards a little as the cowboys advance forward, moving swiftly. Whatever toxic gas came from the horse's nostrils effects the man from the stars, in an extremely negative way. His balance abruptly askew, he teeters and sways, shaking his head in the manner someone might do when they need to shake away the metaphorical cobwebs. He is unprepared for the pending attack. Fortunately he isn't alone either.


Rebel Star hits the ground in absolute attack mode. Throwing punches and kicks, an utter force to be reckoned with, she's like a one woman army. Beautiful and deadly, a true "knock out" if there ever were one. Her strikes meet her targets with utter accuracy. Tragically though, even with being a badass, solitary wrecking crew in the form of a female, she is still only one being. Alas, in midst of her onslaught, showing nothing but epic aggression, she finds herself getting kicked into near oblivion by the glowing green horse. It was a devastating blow, that seen Rebel Star soaring several feet from where the battle was ensuing. Her body crashing into a brick wall, like a woman shaped sledgehammer, where she leaves a lady sized crater, before crumbling into a heap onto the concrete. With a good amount of debris cascading over her body as she lays there.


By this point, the spaceman gathers himself together, proverbial clouds vanishing from his thoughts, yet before he can act... a stranger ascends from the heavens. Wearing a hooded cape and a black bandanna; used to cover the bottom portion of his face, the unknown figure emerges from the shadows, whispering an incantation as he throws down a pellet that quickly formulates a thick fog. Dense enough to cut with a knife, it twirls and seethes as it expands, masking his presence from any unwanted attention. From there, the mystery man draws a pair of sais and then, acting on pure instinct alone, vaults upward towards the sky. Agile, swift in speed, with immense dexterity, he lands on the back of the horse. With zero hesitation in his movements, he proceeds to jam those blades into the stallion's skull. From either side of its head. Slicing deeply through flesh and bone, almost akin to cutting into a pumpkin. The mysterious masked man, uses immense strength to drive his weapons directly down into the horse's brain. Obviously supernatural, the beast manages to release a neigh that sounds; quite frankly, like an intense shriek straight from the bowels of hell, before it vanishes into thin air. That's when the cowboys scatter. In every direction they run, making little haste as the stranger drops down to his feet, landing in a flawless, superhero stance. He rises upright, meeting Azrael Erebus' gaze with his own, while the fog gradually slips away into the night, thus ceasing its obstruction.


"Azrael, it is good to see you, my friend when did you return?"


"Do I know you?"


With a brief snicker, the stranger shakes his head. Glancing around the now vacant street, he removes the hood and bandanna, revealing his identity.





"Apparently not yet. You must be Mr. Satellite. I've heard about you, the work that you've been primarily doing for the Blackwaters. It's an honor to meet you. Again."

2x Universal Champion (First reign was less than a day though, lol. Due to Sebastian Duke cashing in his briefcase.)
2x Tag Team Champion
3x Triple Tag Team Champion
1x Television Champion
2x US Champion (Title retired during my second reign as champ.)
2x X-Treme Champion
1x Bombshell Champion
2x HMW Champion
2x SOTM