not so ancient.

Some way to ring in the new year. The minotaur--Jacob, or what was left of him--couldn't think how long he had been tearing through the museum. An hour? More? His legs ached, his throat was sore, and he could feel blood that wasn't entirely his own spattered all over him. What bloodthirst had taken over seemed to be abating, though his horns and fur were still there; somewhere in the back of his head, Jacob was starting to regain consciousness, like Cinderella at midnight--but with less pumpkins, and more gore. The museum was infused with cold air in between the sweaty damp, and his air hung thick with every breath. His whole body, right down to his bones, felt bruised and swollen. Jacob wanted to lie down somewhere and sleep and sleep--but the minotaur pushed on, exhaustion and anger fueling him. Jacob couldn't fight it anymore.

The wall burst open. Light poured in from outside, the high beams, a helicopter, police cars. The minotaur heard the tinny voices of megaphones screaming in at him, and he roared back. And then a small figure, favoring its right side, clambered up atop the rubble of the doorway.

"We have the front and back surrounded," Boomerang said over the thrumming of the chopper outside. "You have nowhere to go. Give up now and you won't be harmed."

Jacob, as asked, gave up.

The minotaur did not.

[open to ALL! this is the last log, so anyone who wants to get a final hit in on the minotaur is welcome to it! please feel free to wrap up your other threads in the meantime: for ooc knowledge, the minotaur is definitely banged up and wren and mac were hurt, along with several dozen others. GOOD LUCK]

Greg was late, as usual. He was always late for things, nowadays, it seemed: his wife had perfected her exasperated sigh when he showed up ten minutes after their son's baseball game had started, or with his dinner getting cold on the table. But things were busier now than they had been even in the height of his days as boomerang: with a wife and child and a full time job and the occasional (lately, more than occasional) superhuman threat, he seemed to be running late everywhere. He sometimes wished the team was back together, if only so he could have the occasional night off. As it stood, Boomerang had had to make three appearances before Greg could even get into the neighborhood of the EMP: two nasty car accidents the police couldn't handle on their own, and a store hold up on Granada that would have left the shopkeeper dead had Boomerang not stepped in. Now it was nearly midnight, and he was still three blocks away from--

What the hell was that?

He could see the EMP looming in the distance, and the floodlights beaming up into the darkness. For a moment, he could see the acrobats and press still crowding around the doorway--he turned down his radio--and then a car went flying up into the air and landed with a crunch and screams in the middle of the street. It didn't take long for the panic to start. First there was a pregnant silence, and then an indistinct roar, and the crowds around the EMP started shrieking and fighting with the civilians stuck in their cars to get as far away from the museum as quickly as the could. Greg could see a great looming shape rising over the cars, and when it stepped into the beam of the floodlights, he caught a full glimpse of its hulking, monstrous mask.

( It was a good thing he had left his costume on under his tux after the Granada incident. )