a little crime never hurt (open)

Kris knew the way that he seen things was different but at the end of the day he wanted to make sure that if possible he could get a better life for himself and yet he somehow knew that was not always the case as he continued to dig but he still intently listened.

Rhett Monroe
shadowman
Jenna McRaye

Joe didn't know whether to be elated or disgusted by his own success. He was used to criminals begging, screaming, or buckling under pressure when he showed up, that came with being a living shadow that sometimes took the shape of a man. However, the sheer ease with which he had subdued a trio of what were supposedly hardened criminals on an island full of superpowered beings made him feel insane. Was it really this easy? Was there nobody in charge that was more powerful, or braver than, the trio of flunkies in front of him? If so, then Joe was a big fish in a small pond, and he had a hell of an appetite.

But first, he felt the need to respond to something that Jenna had said...

"My God, another one of you nutjobs. Is there somethin' in the water? What's this "us" and "them" crap that people keep pullin' around here? First the pigs, now you chuckleheads..."

Joe slid out of the shadow of the tree, reaching and stretching until he seemed to be the size of a hill... a flickering hill that was half-buried in darkness. That hill-shaped torso extended an arm, and a long and wicked finger, towards Jenna.

"Let's get somethin' straight. I ain't one of "us" if "us" has you in it, got it blondie? 'Cause unlike the rest of ya, I know how to pull off a job. Now get back to it. And I want all three of you, human, oddity, whatever else, to be quiet. You scream, you shout, you sing a ditty, you get shot."

With that, Joe shrank back into his more "normal" form.... that of a bipedal man of average height, with a fedora and trench coat. Well, the outline of a man with a hat and a trench coat, at least. And for a few hours, he just stood there, refusing to make small talk, refusing to lift a shovel for himself, refusing to do anything other than watch and wait for more bags or boxes.

The trio found a couple more odds and ends, nothing as big as that first score, but there was some more cash and some more ammo and a few more guns. By the time Jenna was keeling over, Joe figured he'd gotten everything worth getting in that mass-grave/cache drop disguised as a regular cemetery plot. That meant he had to figure out what to do with the original trio. If he let them go, they'd probably get themselves caught by the cops and spill the beans about him to save their own skins. Unless he took over their gang, but Joe didn't feel like babysitting three full-grown people, maybe more, while also working on his own heists and jobs. No, the only way forward was to dispose of all three, maybe with something mundane... Something that could be blamed on STRIFE, perhaps...

Joe reached a hand into the "pocket" of his trench coat, and reached within the void that his body contained. A moment later, he pulled out a semi-auto pistol he'd pulled off of a STRIFE goon back at the mall, a few days prior. He didn't know the model or make of it, but it was black and it had a fully-loaded clip inside. It was good enough for him...

Joe aimed the pistol at the trio... Well, in their direction. He didn't like to move a barrel around too much, so he just kept the thing pointed in such a way that a twitch of the wrist would let him get a bead on Kris, Jenna, or Rhett on a moment's notice.

"Alright, that's enough. Shovels down, hands up. Keep them where I can see them, and keep them empty and this will be much quicker fer all of us..."

Jenna McRaye , Kris Lerax , Rhett Monroe

He did not know if this was punishment or if he took a second and just needed to see if it was possible to apologize. He took a second and did as he was asked because the last thing that he wanted to do was anger the man, or the lack of a man rather. "Great," he said as he took a second and waited to see what was expected of them next.

Rhett Monroe
shadowman
Jenna McRaye