John
Night sets on the city of New London and Cronenberg begins their plan. Leaving the old van they had drove here with shovel and a flashlight, Cronenberg surveys the environment as they motion to their companion. They were impatient to get to the parts they desperately needed and had no intention of slowing down unnecessarily. They had discussed the general idea with Tabula but it wasn't much of a plan. After all, how hard can stealing corpses be? 

She quietly motioned Tabula closer and spoke "We need to try not to make a disturbance, can't have reports being called in. Prison wouldn't be good for me." They pushed forward and into the graveyard with their flashlight on, sweeping over the area to look at graves. They needed corpses- fresher the better. Bones are fine but a whole body is better. The fresher the body the more preferable. Not that they'd find fresh here- they'd need to hit a morgue for that. That would require more combative physiology first, however. "Try to keep an eye out."
Alexander
'*What kind of unfortunate accident do I want to cause today?'*

This was the thought that ran through Tabula's head almost the entire journey as he looked over his various syringes. He had three left, three human disguises, all as chaotic as each other for who they would disguise him as. The first, a boy around his age from a close-by university who looked and studied like he got straight A's. It had been easy to get into the university, he *Did* Look like one of the students there after all. Next was an older lady, maybe in her late sixties, lovely woman, he had helped her get her groceries home while acquiring what he required for this serum. They talked about many things, but mostly about her grandson who was apparently some 'big shot hero'. Finally there was the third syringe, nothing special for this one, some random businessman he had met on the street.

***"So many options... Who to pick..?"***

A final sigh releases from the male's lips before he slowly brings the first syringe away from the rest, making his choice clear. Hopefully this escapade wouldn't mess with his grades too much, or his life. This thought elicits a small chuckle from Tabula as he stabs the syringe in his arm and quickly injects its contents into his bloodstream.

It was an... Interesting... Experience, becoming someone else. Slightly painful but mostly incredibly warm. If not for the cool night Tabula may have begun to sweat. His form lengthened and his features begun to change rapidly. His vibrant red hair darkened to a greasy dark brown, and his grey eyes begun to almost glow with green color. It was only a matter of thirty seconds before the young villain had completely transformed.
_ _

***"Eugh, that was __not__ the right choice, this guy is greasier than the kitchen floor of Fugly Bob's. Fuck this kid's grades he can go to prison for all I care."*** Tabula recovered for a moment with a sour look before turning to his partner in crime. ***"Want one? Specifically your powers won't work while disguised, but it beats getting caught and going to prison. Be warned though all I have left that aren't animals are an old lady and a businessman who __really__ looked like he needed a vacation."***

With that said, the two arrived at their proposed mission site, and Cronenberg begun to speak. Not getting caught was Tabula's specialty, and with a disguise such as this one there would be no way anyone who saw the two could associate him with this crime. He gave a quiet nod to his teammates words and a smirk that did not fit the face he had adopted one bit. It was like a dog trying to smile, it simply looked unnatural.

***"Of course, slow and silent will be the best way to keep this nice and simple. I'll keep lookout while you dig? Seems like this isn't your first time clipping some cadavers from a cemetery."***

A small laugh again at his own alliteration.
Joesph
It was a cool quiet evening in the suburbs. The cemetery that the pair of fledgling villains had chosen was located just behind a quaint little church— it was a bit worse for wear, but lovingly cared for. The only sounds that broke the silence was a trio of unremarkable things: a young owl *Hooting* Away in arms of one of the oak sentinels overlooking the graves below, the creaking of wooden branches and rustling leaves amidst the occasional gusts of wind— and *Soon*, the young villains sought to add the villainous *Thunk* And *Shhhk* Of a heavy metal shovel disturbing the sacred final rest of those who had been slain.

Well, there was also the distant *Honking* Of car horns, and other assorted sounds of traffic as late-night drivers sped past the old building. If it had really been that quiet, after all, someone trespassing might have been liable to feel downright frightened. Defiling the graves of the innocent was not, after all, the sort of metaphysical task that one set about on with a clear conscience, generally speaking.

The cemetery itself was surrounded by high metal fences with curved, wickedly spiked tops. The only official entrance into the graveyard was much closer to the suburban roadway where, even this late at night, occasional cars went by, their high-beams glaring menacingly. If the pair of villains was going to get to digging, they would need to get to the graves first, naturally.
John
Looking up at the fence, Cronenberg considered their options. The entrance was out of the question as far as things go. She couldn't afford to deal with heroes showing up to the strange sightings of people with shovels going into the graveyard. She had no combat upgrades, yet, and was severely limited to disgustingly weak human limits in a fight. She'd be screwed and probably wouldn't be able to fight anyway.

"I wish I had gone for muscle grafts." She muttered as she pulled off the labcoat and slung it over the spikes . Hucking the shovel over the fence, she then grabbed onto the post and began to heave herself up without much concern for if she tears up the coat- she'll have to repair it later, anyway. Maybe even replace it. Her extra-reach with both her height and joint correctional surgery reaching up to grab the coat between the spikes.
Evelyn
*Crash Bang Smash*

Where Tabula once was Apex stood in his place, dusting of her clothes as she looked at Cronenberg. She had to admit she was very fucking confused how she ended up here but considering her friend was standing right in front of her surely it couldn't be too bad of a situation.

"*Gah what the fuck. One moment I'm fighting the most annoying teleporter ever and now I'm here. By the way, why are we at a cemetery? Don't answer that, I'm pretty sure I know why. Whelp since I'm here might as well give you a hand.*"

Reaching up with her metallic arm Apex hauled herself over the fence, not waiting for Cronenbergs response. Taking action as all good capes should.
Joesph
With the sudden unexplained appearance of Apex, it also seemed that Tabula had practically vanished into some unknown location. The great big *Flash* Of light that had accompanied her wouldn't likely be great for the concept of a stealthy approach, but it was relatively late at night and really, who would be looking towards a random graveyard, right?

Regardless of the cause or particulars about *Who* Or *Which cape*, there was, at the end of the day, a pair of cooperative villains within the confines of the graveyard's walls. Without the obscuring stone in the way, both villains could now spot the organized rows of alternating grass and graves. Heavy tombstones made of mixed stone types such as marble or granite marked each grave, a few of them adorned with flowers— fresh, even.
John
"Corpses. Fresher the better."

She explained to Apex without further comment as she picked up her shovel. They pulled her coat off the fence and sighed at the tearing fabric, sliding it back on. Her lanky stride picking up as she peaked at the tombstones for date of death. They wanted first pickings at something like a morgue but that would require combat enhancements. The chemicals in the buried made working with the flesh difficult and left the bones to break down. She checked the memorials and gifts to see if she could parse the causes of death from clues.

"Proteins, calcium.. Can't afford the choice cuts.. Keep an eye out for cops or heroes.."

They muttered to keep their mind on the surroundings. Fighting the tinker fugue that hounds their thoughts and reminds them of their imperfect body. No organs of value will be here which means it's all base ingredients. 

"Waste of good material."
Evelyn
Apex looked at Cronenberg with no judgement. Human flesh was a difficult asset to come across in the city and one very rarely given freely. Especially to biotinkers. Part of her regretted not collecting her parent's corpses, they would have been perfect to build trust with her fellow tinker but oh well, if the police hadn't found them by now they were most likely rotted where they died. Nothing but food for the flies.

"*I've got lookout covered, you focus on what you need. The quicker we are in and out the better it is for both of us.*"

Apex stood tall, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of danger. Her ear tuned for anything out of the ordinary.
John
Cronenberg looked over at Apex and nodded. Apex was best on the lookout, anyway. Of the two of them Apex was the one with the ability to stand up to any threats in a fight and Cronenberg was best at batching up their fellow tinkers after. They wandered to one of the newer graves and shoved it into the dirt, beginning the tedious process of digging. 

Cronenberg kept an ear out for anything suspicious but she trusted Apex. Her big concern was the time it would take to dig up a corpse and the weight of one. Maybe she should just take the important pieces. Limbs, head, and anything internal left.
Evelyn
With the digging beginning Apex walked over to a nearby tree, leaning against it as she looked around the quiet cemetery. Everything seemed so much louder in the quiet, the sound of dirt being slowly shovelled out filling her ears. Still hopefully that would make hearing anyone approaching from further away, giving them a little more warning before everything went to shit and poor little Timmy found us digging up his mum.

As she stood there silently she flexed the fingers of her mechanical arm. The one downside of having metal limbs is how sensitive they were where they met flesh. Perhaps a carbon fibre interface would be a good call in the future.
Joesph
As the digging commenced, the sound of shuffling dirt and the sharp *Crack* Of a shovel into the loam beneath Cronenberg filled the air. It would have been the sort of sound that echoed a large distance, were it not for the protective wrapping of other sounds— the cars and rustling leaves disrupting it from reaching too many prying ears.

Fortunately for Cronenberg's digging arms, the dirt was soft— possibly a fresh grave like she'd hoped— and the work was moving quickly.

*Unfortunately* For Apex, her mind had started to wander, and she didn't immediately notice the presence of the do-gooder who had happened to spot them hopping the fence from a distance in the midst of his patrol.

A *Hero* Had arrived.
Geneva
When Pendragon flew, there were never any awed onlookers who would stand below and gasp in unison: _is it a bird?_ He was far too large. Similarly, no self-respecting aviation administration would sanction something that sounded the way Pendragon did for flight; and thus there were no cries of _is it a plane?_ either. If anyone ever mistook the hero for Superman, he would have no idea. Unable to hear any such cases of mistaken identity of the metallic clatter of his own armour.

Having spied the unusual figures and their equally curious actions from the air, Pendragon lands with all the grace of a tambourine mistaken for a frisbee. Sabaton-clad feet skidding against grass, leaving twinned fissures of turned earth in his wake as he rattles to a stop some meters away from the pair of ne'er-do-wells. A moment, then, is taken by the knight to inspect himself; joints creaking as he looks down, up, and ensures his left hand is upon his sword's hilt while the right rests at his hip.

Having decided on the pose from his he could best address the odd pair, Pendragon would speak with a playfully accusatory tone. As if giving naughty children the opportunity to quietly undo their bad behaviour. "...How does your evening fare, noble trespassers? Poorly, one must assume, as you have mistaken this cemetery for the garden you clearly intended to be landscaping. An honest mistake, I am sure, one anyone could make."
John
Cronenberg heard the creaks and grindings of of Pendragon's suit before she even looked at him. Their eyes turned from the dirt to the junk armored knight with a questioning look. She considered her position with a shovel in her hand and a half dug up grave with an awareness of how bad this looks for them. She looked over her shoulder and spoke up to her companion.

"Apex, can you get rid of this guy? I will be done soon."

She went back to digging but kept the knight in their peripheral vision. She was not exactly a combatant herself and the notion of trying to bat at a man that heavily armored with just a shovel did not seem like a smart move. They needed these parts. Their skin crawled and itched each day they couldn't tinker. Each day they had to live in a body left unaltered, weak and human.
Phyllis
"*My Pleasure.*"

Apex turned to face the newly arrived cape, an unimpressed look hidden beneath her mask. A mechanical sound could be heard as her right arm began to shift from limb to large blade. She held the blade out to her side, the point tilted slightly in the hero's direction. Not an explicit threat but enough to hopefully send the message that she wasn't afraid to strike.

"*I'll give you one chance to turn around and walk away. Go find some granny to help cross the street and take her out for tea. If you try to interrupt with our...*"

Her eyes shifted to Cronenberg momentarily before returning to the asshole cape in front of her.

"*Our landscaping, I'll be forced to put you in the ground. Understood?*"
Geneva
Though the walking anachronism seemed to listen intently to Apex's less-than-generous offer, Pendragon made no move to evacuate himself from the scene of the crime.

The dull moon-gleam reflecting off the surface of Pendragon's suit of plate shifted as he reached across himself, longsword drawn in response to Apex's wrist-blade and gripped in both hands; left atop right, blade angled toward his opponent in plough guard. 

"No knight worthy of the title could stand by and allow you to desecrate these graves..." Pendragon insists, beginning to advance on Apex. One foot pushed ahead and the other drawn up behind the knight, both kept slightly bent at the knees, intent on maintaining his stance as he closed the distance. 

"...So, I beg only that you do not mistake what happens tonight for anger. This will be a mercy, for both you and your victims."
John
Cronenberg decided to continue their digging with renewed vigor as they prayed Apex could, if not hurt, delay the hero long enough. Her hands gripped the shovel and her foot pushed it further. She shoveled pile after pile as quick as she could. Dirt gave way and desperate adrenaline kept the body from worrying about the ache of muscle. This was not a fair match, two unprepared tinkers versus an unknown.

"You are so preachy.. Always.. Mentioning victims. But who is truly hurt from a little recycling. Not like they are going to be using it."

Commented Cronenberg from their digging site. Their eyes flicked between the two combatants as they heaved another pile of dirt. They had to be getting close to the body by now. She never really had to look in a grave so she wasn't sure how deep they really were. She needed these parts. They couldn't let anyone get in the way of their evolution.
Evelyn
Fucking typical, a straight up knight in shining armour. Where was this honourable knight when she was suffering? Where was she when that man was hurting her? Was he here guarding fucking corpses? She could feel the rage brimming inside of her. People like this were cogs of the system, decoration for a corrupt and decaying world. He could fucking die.

"*The only mercy we need is you shutting up.*"

The sword protruding from her right arm seemed to segment as it fell from a single stiff blade into a bladed whip, which she then swung in a practiced arc towards the wannabe knight. The way he held his blade suggested training in combat with a sword so she couldn't help but wonder what he would do against a more flexible attack.
Geneva
So far, so unfased. Pendragon looked upon his opponents with more curiosity and caution, rather than fear or disdain, as he observed Apex's blade slack and extend like a whip. Though he could not be one hundred percent certain of their abilities as capes, the mechanical look of the their blade and arm had Pendragon convinced at least Apex was a tinker of some description - which meant they were likely going to be a tricky combatant.

Where one could bet that most capes experienced some kind of trade-off between versatility and potency, Tinkers were amongst the few who tended to be able to 'do it all,' so to speak, given adequate resources and preparation time. This potential made Pendragon hesitant to simply allow that whip-blade to flail his armour without learning more about what it could do. 

The knight seeks to meet the swinging blade with his own, then, and test what special effects, if any, it might display. His left arm rises, and his right follows it, longsword raised to shoulder height and held horizontal to the ground, point facing Apex as the blade is used to block their whip-sword. Immediately, Pendragon presses the offensive. Where a normal sword would have some kind of structural support and present a rigid obstacle to his own blade, the flexible nature of the whip means he simply does not have to enter a bind and steps forward again instead, lunging, bending at the hips and extending his arms to drive the point of his sword toward Apex's torso in a counterattack.
Joesph
The once peaceful scene of the resting dead had devolved into a familiar tableau of chaos, conflict, and violence. Had these poor souls not lived through a long enough life of suffering already that their well-earned rest had to be interrupted by the same old clashing of capes? Fortunately, none of them had the spine to stand up for themselves at the moment. They all remained as silent as the grave.

Pendragon met blade to razor-segmented-blade and the *Screech* Of metal on metal as he dashed closer to its wielder was enough to send the birds in the trees above scattering to the winds, chirping a frantic warning to their kin. As he grew closer to strike, the whip-blade began to finish its arc, wrapping around his sword arm and growing taut, pulling him off-balance. The grating scraping of metal on metal continued at a muted volume as Apex's blade ground against his scrap metal armor.

Amidst the heat of combat, Cronenberg continued their frantic digging, until an unusual *Thunk* Sound emerged from the grave. It was a *Fresh* Grave indeed— they hadn't even dug the coffin back up yet to save room, it seemed. A tiny brown splotch of textured wood revealed itself amidst the seemingly endless dirt. There was the treasure.
John
The scrape of shovel through dirt slowed as Cronenberg sighted the treasure she sought. She moved the dirt the larger pile of dirt off the grave and tossed the shovel aside so she could pry open the coffin. She hedged a look over the dirt to look at the fight before ducking back down to open the box using her fingers. She needed Apex to hold out just a little longer, then they could book it.

"Keep on your toes, Apex. Reclaimer's knockoff here looks tough."

Cronenberg was at work quick on the corpse. As soon as the box opened, a scalpel slid into her hand from a sleeve. Her blade aimed to open the body in hopes of getting anything left inside such as, if lucky, organs or muscles. No room to be clean, her actions were hurried and sloppy as she kept an ear on the battle.
Phyllis
Her first attack had gone well, now she just needed to make the most of it. Her right hand reached out for the blade of the hero's longsword and she attempted to grip it tight within her metallic grasp.

"*Don't you worry Cronenberg, I can handle our knight in shining armour.*"

Apex's eyes narrowed as she twisted her body and thrust her left hand forward towards the hero's face. She readied herself to activate the shock plates on her left hand, although if she was being honest she wasn't sure they would actually have any effect.
Geneva
The unexpected efficacy of Apex's tinker tech had caught Pendragon by surprise, the hero pulled forward and off-balance as the whip-blade drew taut. It struck Pendragon, as Apex's mighty metal mitt sought to seize his sword, that he was only really left with two options.

The first was to take a hold of his armour with his shaker ability and manually arrest his momentum to change direction. The second was to capitalise on the gained velocity and bulldoze his way into a potential follow through attack.

Pendragon leaps upon the latter opportunity, his blade snapped in twain by his shaker power as he throws his weight forward and lowers his shoulder into the charge. A stiletto-like length of twelve inches or so is left in Pendragon's grip, the rest of the steel eager to prove itself worse than deadweight for Apex as it is repelled away from Pendragon in the hopes of dragging the tinker off-balance in turn. 

Though fully ignorant to the existence of Apex's shock-plates, the information would not have changed Pendragon's internal strategic calculus. Willing to trust that the layers of steel plate and chainmail would act as a grounding faraday cage against electromagnetic attack, while the gambeson beneath served as non-conductive layers of fabric to improvisationally insulate the hero against such shocking surprises.
Joesph
Cronenberg's gruesome work moved as fast as could be expected in the circumstances. It had been difficult to move the heavy coffin lid at first, and the unfortunate reality of digging in a barely excavated grave was slowing matters further, though she would be happy to note that there was a bounty of available materials to extract. At the very least it seemed like through pure happenstance the body was *Very* Fresh. 

The two clashing Capes ended up in a direct contest, but Pendragon happened to take the initiative here by happenstance and flexibility. Apex overcommitted to her forward momentum and ended up stumbling forward as the resistance from Pendragon's blade suddenly vanished into thin air and the combined heft of his heavy armor and own weight suddenly bludgeoning itself into Apex.

The metal plate *Slammed* Into the Tinker girl's chin right after her hand made contact with the metal, the arcing electricity causing pieces of fabric to heat and burn beneath the metal. Apex was sent sprawling to the ground, stunned with a brand new ringing concussion, while Pendragon was left standing above her with a newfound set of spiderweb-looking burns and light char smells underneath his shoulder plate armor.

The whip-blade slipped off of the armor as the pair parted, hilt discarded on the ground nearby amidst the chaos.
John
Cronenberg was a trained surgeon, or at least close to one, with nimble fingers and a gruesome determination. She worked with quick strokes of her scalpel and long cuts as she peeled flesh from bone. She was becoming more and more aware of the time crunch being set by the hero's presence in the graveyard. Her blade split through the cadaverous flesh with a sloppy but swift hand. 

She turned at the sound of metal and the crackle of electricity, looking off to the fight ahead of her. Things were getting bad. This was not, it seems, a fight they could win. She turned her attention to the work again with the awareness she would need to run soon. 

"Apex! Try not to get yourself killed, we'll be out of here soon!"

There was no point in trying to be cocky. They don't have the time for an extended scuffle. The two of them were not equipped for this type of fight and Cronenberg was, for now at least, useless in any form of combat. Luck was not on their side tonight. She aimed for muscle, bone, and anything that could be useful. Skin was nice but it wasn't worth the time.
Evelyn
That hurt. That fucking hurt. That's it, no more miss nice cape. She quickly scrambled to her feet, her head throbbing in pain. Thinking hurt so that was it, no more thinking, just fucking kill. Her eyes darted to Cronenberg for just a moment before turning back to her opponent.

"*Don't fucking worry.*"

Apex rushed forwards towards Pendragon, her arm swinging wide as the whip blade arced through the air like a vicious scorpion tail. Then as she closed the distance she shifted her position, her feet rooting to the ground as her whip blade pulled together to form a single solid blade which she thrust forwards towards the heroic cape. Her left hand then clasped the base of the blade, releasing a surge of electrical current.

"*FUCK YOU*"
Geneva
Pain radiates through Pendragon's shoulder as electricity is resisted and rendered into heat in the insulating layers of his gambeson, singing the skin beneath. Although he falls to one knee, steadying himself against the ground with one hand, Pendragon would assure himself that such suffering could be fought through. Taking a moment to compose his mind and body, even if it allowed Apex to rise from the ground uncontested, Pendragon steels himself.

When he rises from the ground to face Apex's charge, it is with a rod of brown-green material compacted into the shape of a sword clutched in his free hand; the grass and topsoil of the graveyard drawn into the influence of his Shaker ability.

"I intend only to incapacitate, _do not force my hand!_"

Pendragon warns, voice echoing from his helm; his right arm is raised and swept across him, the blade of dirt channelled to churn the ground between himself and Apex, rendering it a pit of deep, sucking mud, rather than solid footing.
Joesph
It was only thanks to Cronenberg's skills that working under pressure was remotely feasible. It was a rush job, but the materials were high value and good quality. There was more to gather, but it would be a difficult decision on whether to call it quits and get out while the getting was good, or try to fish for more time and gather extra under such extreme duress.

Meanwhile, the two combatants trading blows had both managed to recover themselves, ready for another vicious joust. But where Apex was ready for head-on violence, Pendragon held his ground, opting for a less direct approach. The footing underneath Apex's thrust *Crumbled* Beneath her as she put weight onto it, sending her sprawling and forcing her to stumble back lest she fall face-first into the churning pit of mud and grass. 

Without solid footing closer to him, it would be impossible to reach him with her blade.

The Hero stood strong behind his impromptu moat, blade of dirt held aloft.