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PRISON WORLD #1: Spidermarvel (tw violence, harassment, discrimination)
Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: F.A.T.E.S. has alerted the population of Xistentia that the enemy has created something new, a Prison World where others refugees of the Multiverse are being brainwashed into destroying each other.
Date(s): July 29-August 5
Warnings/Notes: None, please mark your subject headers with content.
It's New York City in 2017, and Enhanced humans came into public perception after the great Battle against alien invaders 5 years ago. Unlike the Hulk or Thor, rumor has it that most of the Enhanced superpowers in New York developed because of ambient radiation-- hard to say whether that was from the alien weapons, or the nuclear bomb that other humans themselves sent to try to level the city. There's blame to go around. People still find Chitauri tech littered about the city.
In another life, you might have been once an orcish princess or a steampunk scientist, but these days, you're someone different. The new identity and the new body fit you like a glove. You know your friends and your prospects same as you know your own life.
There's one place in New York City where Enhanced and purported allies can be out and about in peace: a speakeasy named Pax Sanctum. It sounds like some hippie shit, but inside, you have green ambient light, sleek white bar, bottles of every liquor type you could want. Rumors vary about peace enforcement here. Some say there's an empath scanning the place constantly, others that there's someone who can manipulate time itself. Older patrons know that the location has moved twice in the past three years, without incident, but no doubt with good reason. Regardless, the bouncers descend quickly whenever a conflict seems to get heated.
And it so rarely does. The ambience is light and sexy. Now and then, you'll find a pyrokinetic showing off lighter fingers to an impressed crowd or an animated debate about current events compared to historical parallels. One level down the stairs, there's even a dancefloor where you will occasionally find dance battles between equally uncoordinated Enhanced and non-Enhanced. It feels like the kind of place where you can let your guard down.
The week's password is Arachnid— there's a Spiderman fan in management somewhere, evidently. Tell the bouncer behind the big metal door.
At 11:42PM on Wednesday, August 2, an explosion rocks the club.
Boom! Glass explodes, people hit the floor. The origin seems to be the dance space at LG 2. An electrical fire erupts immediately, filling the air with a thick, cloying smoke. It's not clear whether the attack was from an Enhanced or a non-Enhanced-- but the fear instantly kindles. People of both kind scramble to form groups of their own, and fight for the two exits. Soon, the sirens of police and fire services begin to echo in the distance, promising interrogations for those who linger. How many people here are un-Registered? And say, didn't you see someone acting a little suspicious right before the blast? Is that them there? And what will you do, when you come across someone bleeding?
Or better yet, when the first punch is thrown, by a couple of angry, drunken survivors right outside there in the nightclub's back alley?
After the explosion, what started as a single incident of violence sends ripples throughout the social fabric of New York City in the weeks after. Police report that the rates of Chitauri-influenced weapons on the street doubles, and even mundane weapons are being bought off the black market at even greater rates than that. Further, every day the news seems to sensationalize stories of stressed Enhanced losing control of their powers... and the Mayor is beginning to make examples out of them, with harsher sentences, rushed proceedings. Whether or not you're Enhanced, the streets are a dangerous place to roam.
Maybe you know that someone's been watching you for days, even weeks. Maybe you noticed— this person you may have known forever, but started acting a little oddly just a few days. Maybe you figured it was sickness or stress, especially after the August 2 explosion. Even people who didn't care about politics at all are starting to take notice now, choosing sides, storing up water... even weapons, the likes of which mankind had never seen before the era of the Chitauri and Enhanced. But this is when it happens: when someone comes to you and offers you the device, the innocent-looking cellular phone, that will change your whole identity.
Or maybe you just stumble upon it yourself. Seemingly a lost phone, a free phone, sitting out innocuous.
You pick it up, and immediately, your mind begins to morph inside your skull, disorienting. Your body doesn't change, but you remember who you are. The phone screen lights up, then unexpectedly projects holographic text into the air in front of your face: Activate Portal to Xistentia?[1]
You pick No. Not right now.
Your mind is flooded with memories of your past, your true homeworld. Your true identity crashes into the false memories that this world brainwashed into you, disorienting, heavy; rapidly, your life here begins to feel like a dream. Luckily, you don't forget the helpful details of passing as a native. Nonetheless, the revelation probably comes at a bad time; in the middle of your workday or on the bus, somewhere public, where people are here to see you... as well as the daemon that's now trying to give you a whole infodump about Xistentia and the battle between F.A.T.E.S. and D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. It might be a good time to find somewhere private to go and get that portal out.
Or maybe you're staying because you have unfinished business in this world. Friends or even enemies who might also need to be awakened and helped. Luckily, your cellphone-- or daemon— tells you that there are others in this world on a similar mission from Xistentia. Maybe you can contact them through your daemon.
You pick Yes.
A portal of glowing light opens in front of you, smelling of ozone, churning with atmosphere. Step through, and you immediately find yourself with the unsettling yet painless sensation of being pulled through space and time. The very molecules of your body supercharge and come apart, shot through the multiverse, and come out on the other side arranged back in your original configuration.
You land facedown on a sandy beach. Your daemon is still with you, but chances are, it no longer looks like a reassuringly ordinary cellphone. It tells you:
"The date is August 12, 2017, F.A.T.E.S. Standard Time. Local Population: 333. Welcome to Xistentia. The city is due East."
One minute, you were in Xistentia, a refugee from your dying world. Charged with studying D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. the enemy of the entire Multiverse or rescuing others from its clutches. You're lying on a stone table, some kind of magic machine in the Telexistence Temple, surrounded by other people from a variety of worlds, all of them anticipating the same unknowns as you are.
The next minute, you're a resident of New York City, totally immersed in your new identity; strangely fixated on keeping your cellphone in hand, but there's nothing strange about that in 2017. For a few days, you were part of this world, completely convinced of a life as rich as your original.
And this is the moment you're back. Suddenly you remember everything, lucidity hitting you like a thunderbolt. You suddenly realize your memories were false, your diet, perhaps even the shape of your body. It's deeply disorienting, and it probably throws you off in the middle of whatever you're doing, whether it's filling a takeaway cup with soda or delivering a speech to a packed auditorium. Suddenly, the false identity you were given sinks into the background; you can still remember enough details to fake it (and maybe take it), but you know who you are.
Hopefully no one here will notice you literally just lost your mind.
The research part of the mission turns out to be pretty easy! All you need to do is carry your cellphone around wherever you go. You're easily mistaken for someone playing Pokemon! Go or texting avidly wherever you walk. The screen shows you nothing but code gibberish, with the occasional flicker when you're near someone else from Xistentia or an awakened person. It's a good excuse to get out and about.
And maybe also an accidental cause of getting in trouble. After all, whether or not you're a part of it, there is a war brewing between two groups of people, and many of those who haven't taken a side are nonetheless on-guard for danger at any given time. You're as likely to come across verbal harassment as violent revenge, or someone using advanced Chitauri-influenced weapons to knock over a liquor store or throw their weight around.
If you visited this world the week before, in wraith mode[2], you've recovered those memories too. It might help you recall some of those who now need rescuing.
Or maybe you're going at it blind. In any case, you equipped with a pre-activated daemon in hand, as well as you're own. Your duty now is to find world-hopping refugees that D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. has trapped here, and match the naive device to its new owner with some form of consent-- whether by trick or explanation. How hard can it be? It's 2017. Everyone needs a cellphone.
Small complication: the entire city is fraught with war and paranoia. And maybe the naive daemon in your hand keeps blinking at you signals that ID someone on the wrong side...
Your daemon will show you the way home. And dump you on back on a familiar beach amid a screaming chaos. You're welcome!
Summary: F.A.T.E.S. has alerted the population of Xistentia that the enemy has created something new, a Prison World where others refugees of the Multiverse are being brainwashed into destroying each other.
Date(s): July 29-August 5
Warnings/Notes: None, please mark your subject headers with content.
SPIDERMARVEL PRISON WORLD
She was really nice and bought me a churro.
PRISON WORLD: SPIDERMARVEL
It's New York City in 2017, and Enhanced humans came into public perception after the great Battle against alien invaders 5 years ago. Unlike the Hulk or Thor, rumor has it that most of the Enhanced superpowers in New York developed because of ambient radiation-- hard to say whether that was from the alien weapons, or the nuclear bomb that other humans themselves sent to try to level the city. There's blame to go around. People still find Chitauri tech littered about the city.
In another life, you might have been once an orcish princess or a steampunk scientist, but these days, you're someone different. The new identity and the new body fit you like a glove. You know your friends and your prospects same as you know your own life.
Pax Sanctum Club
There's one place in New York City where Enhanced and purported allies can be out and about in peace: a speakeasy named Pax Sanctum. It sounds like some hippie shit, but inside, you have green ambient light, sleek white bar, bottles of every liquor type you could want. Rumors vary about peace enforcement here. Some say there's an empath scanning the place constantly, others that there's someone who can manipulate time itself. Older patrons know that the location has moved twice in the past three years, without incident, but no doubt with good reason. Regardless, the bouncers descend quickly whenever a conflict seems to get heated.
And it so rarely does. The ambience is light and sexy. Now and then, you'll find a pyrokinetic showing off lighter fingers to an impressed crowd or an animated debate about current events compared to historical parallels. One level down the stairs, there's even a dancefloor where you will occasionally find dance battles between equally uncoordinated Enhanced and non-Enhanced. It feels like the kind of place where you can let your guard down.
The week's password is Arachnid— there's a Spiderman fan in management somewhere, evidently. Tell the bouncer behind the big metal door.
The Explosion
At 11:42PM on Wednesday, August 2, an explosion rocks the club.
Boom! Glass explodes, people hit the floor. The origin seems to be the dance space at LG 2. An electrical fire erupts immediately, filling the air with a thick, cloying smoke. It's not clear whether the attack was from an Enhanced or a non-Enhanced-- but the fear instantly kindles. People of both kind scramble to form groups of their own, and fight for the two exits. Soon, the sirens of police and fire services begin to echo in the distance, promising interrogations for those who linger. How many people here are un-Registered? And say, didn't you see someone acting a little suspicious right before the blast? Is that them there? And what will you do, when you come across someone bleeding?
Or better yet, when the first punch is thrown, by a couple of angry, drunken survivors right outside there in the nightclub's back alley?
After the explosion, what started as a single incident of violence sends ripples throughout the social fabric of New York City in the weeks after. Police report that the rates of Chitauri-influenced weapons on the street doubles, and even mundane weapons are being bought off the black market at even greater rates than that. Further, every day the news seems to sensationalize stories of stressed Enhanced losing control of their powers... and the Mayor is beginning to make examples out of them, with harsher sentences, rushed proceedings. Whether or not you're Enhanced, the streets are a dangerous place to roam.
NEW CHARACTERS: SAVE ME
Maybe you know that someone's been watching you for days, even weeks. Maybe you noticed— this person you may have known forever, but started acting a little oddly just a few days. Maybe you figured it was sickness or stress, especially after the August 2 explosion. Even people who didn't care about politics at all are starting to take notice now, choosing sides, storing up water... even weapons, the likes of which mankind had never seen before the era of the Chitauri and Enhanced. But this is when it happens: when someone comes to you and offers you the device, the innocent-looking cellular phone, that will change your whole identity.
Or maybe you just stumble upon it yourself. Seemingly a lost phone, a free phone, sitting out innocuous.
Daemon Activate
You pick it up, and immediately, your mind begins to morph inside your skull, disorienting. Your body doesn't change, but you remember who you are. The phone screen lights up, then unexpectedly projects holographic text into the air in front of your face: Activate Portal to Xistentia?[1]
Unfinished Business
You pick No. Not right now.
Your mind is flooded with memories of your past, your true homeworld. Your true identity crashes into the false memories that this world brainwashed into you, disorienting, heavy; rapidly, your life here begins to feel like a dream. Luckily, you don't forget the helpful details of passing as a native. Nonetheless, the revelation probably comes at a bad time; in the middle of your workday or on the bus, somewhere public, where people are here to see you... as well as the daemon that's now trying to give you a whole infodump about Xistentia and the battle between F.A.T.E.S. and D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. It might be a good time to find somewhere private to go and get that portal out.
Or maybe you're staying because you have unfinished business in this world. Friends or even enemies who might also need to be awakened and helped. Luckily, your cellphone-- or daemon— tells you that there are others in this world on a similar mission from Xistentia. Maybe you can contact them through your daemon.
Escape to Xistentia
You pick Yes.
A portal of glowing light opens in front of you, smelling of ozone, churning with atmosphere. Step through, and you immediately find yourself with the unsettling yet painless sensation of being pulled through space and time. The very molecules of your body supercharge and come apart, shot through the multiverse, and come out on the other side arranged back in your original configuration.
You land facedown on a sandy beach. Your daemon is still with you, but chances are, it no longer looks like a reassuringly ordinary cellphone. It tells you:
"The date is August 12, 2017, F.A.T.E.S. Standard Time. Local Population: 333. Welcome to Xistentia. The city is due East."
OLDER CHARACTERS: RESEARCH & RESCUE
One minute, you were in Xistentia, a refugee from your dying world. Charged with studying D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. the enemy of the entire Multiverse or rescuing others from its clutches. You're lying on a stone table, some kind of magic machine in the Telexistence Temple, surrounded by other people from a variety of worlds, all of them anticipating the same unknowns as you are.
The Moment of Lucidity
The next minute, you're a resident of New York City, totally immersed in your new identity; strangely fixated on keeping your cellphone in hand, but there's nothing strange about that in 2017. For a few days, you were part of this world, completely convinced of a life as rich as your original.
And this is the moment you're back. Suddenly you remember everything, lucidity hitting you like a thunderbolt. You suddenly realize your memories were false, your diet, perhaps even the shape of your body. It's deeply disorienting, and it probably throws you off in the middle of whatever you're doing, whether it's filling a takeaway cup with soda or delivering a speech to a packed auditorium. Suddenly, the false identity you were given sinks into the background; you can still remember enough details to fake it (and maybe take it), but you know who you are.
Hopefully no one here will notice you literally just lost your mind.
Do Your Research
The research part of the mission turns out to be pretty easy! All you need to do is carry your cellphone around wherever you go. You're easily mistaken for someone playing Pokemon! Go or texting avidly wherever you walk. The screen shows you nothing but code gibberish, with the occasional flicker when you're near someone else from Xistentia or an awakened person. It's a good excuse to get out and about.
And maybe also an accidental cause of getting in trouble. After all, whether or not you're a part of it, there is a war brewing between two groups of people, and many of those who haven't taken a side are nonetheless on-guard for danger at any given time. You're as likely to come across verbal harassment as violent revenge, or someone using advanced Chitauri-influenced weapons to knock over a liquor store or throw their weight around.
Rescue Rangers
If you visited this world the week before, in wraith mode[2], you've recovered those memories too. It might help you recall some of those who now need rescuing.
Or maybe you're going at it blind. In any case, you equipped with a pre-activated daemon in hand, as well as you're own. Your duty now is to find world-hopping refugees that D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. has trapped here, and match the naive device to its new owner with some form of consent-- whether by trick or explanation. How hard can it be? It's 2017. Everyone needs a cellphone.
Small complication: the entire city is fraught with war and paranoia. And maybe the naive daemon in your hand keeps blinking at you signals that ID someone on the wrong side...
Get Home
Your daemon will show you the way home. And dump you on back on a familiar beach amid a screaming chaos. You're welcome!
Footnotes
- Daemon will take/resume its true form in Xistentia, as soon as the character lands on the beach.
- Wraith mode refers to existing characters who had played in the TDM, able to be seen and heard only by the other refugees.
- Updated plotting thread for new characters is here.
- OOC plot post is here. IC network infodump for existing characters is here.
Blue Sargent ( OTA )
( Pax Sanctum - Pre-explosion )
[ There are very few places in New York City that are considered to be safe spaces for the Enhanced population. Some places require that they show proof of their registration, and some completely deny entrance to Enhanced altogether -- and to a purposely unregistered Blue Sargent, those might as well be the same. Pax Sanctum, however, is one of the few where the Enhanced and their supporters can exist openly and without fear.
A secret location with a secret passcode needed for entrance, it's practically nonexistent unless you're in the know.
(And Blue makes it her mission to be in the know when it comes to anything involving her fellow Enhanced individuals.)
Maybe you spot the somewhat oddly dressed girl at the bar, sipping something fruity and brightly colored. Or maybe somewhere out on the dance floor, grooving along to a playlist of remixed top 100 hits. Or perhaps you recognize the simple tattooed symbol just above her wrists -- the same ones that are often associated with what the media calls “ acts of Enhanced gang vandalism.” -- she's always looking for new recruits willing to fight for the cause.
Just be careful about touching her, you might be in for a surprise. ]
( Pax Sanctum - Explosion )
[ It's all fun and games until something explodes.
The blast rocks the entire club, fire alarms wail inside at an earsplitting volume and pandemonium immediately ensues. Some people hit the ground and stay down, others make a mad dash for each and every exit -- screams and shouts adding to the cacophony that fills the club.
Blue is somewhere on the upper level when the blast takes place -- chatting, drinking and enjoying the comforts of a place that's usually safe for her kind -- but she bolts for one of the exits as soon as she hears sirens beginning to close in on the location. She's unregistered, and while usually that's something she'd boast about proudly, she knows that in a situation like this it's dangerous -- others like her have been hauled off to God knows where because of something as simple as jaywalking while unregistered.
But with so many people doing the very same, the exits are all but blocked, bodies crammed against one another with only very few people actually making it outside -- and despite how much she might need to get out, Blue isn't trying to almost kill anyone in the process.
So, rather than trying to shove her way through the mass of people without making any physical contact with them at all, she ducks into a bathroom her voice tight with panic as she whispers to herself: ]
Shit shit shit. I am so fucked.
[ Perhaps she should have splurged on one of those counterfeit registration cards. ]
( Around the city - Pre-returning memories )
[ Blue navigates New York easily, she rides the train from borough to borough without hardly batting an eye -- she spends her evenings in between Brooklyn and Manhattan and her days between Queens and the Bronx. She keeps an ear to the ground; listening for talk of anti-enhanced sentiments, scoping out the locations where the more outspoken types are usually found, searching for hidden alcoves where her fellow Enhanced have found relative safety and attempting to convince them to join her cause. Always recruiting.
(And what's her cause exactly? Dismantling the groups of Non-Enhanced that seem to think she poses some kind of threat by simply existing.)
Aside from her peculiar style of dress -- typically consisting of various pieces of clothing sewn together, despite their differences in pattern, color, or fabric type -- she looks fairly normal. Like your typical millennial, maybe even some kind of Instagram street fashion model. The only things to give away her “Enhanced status” are the various pairs of half gloves that she wears constantly, and her extreme aversion to any sort of physical contact.
(Which, honestly don't give her away as much as they just make her seem a little... Weird. But, hey, it’s New York, right? It’s probably not even the weirdest thing you’ve seen all day.) ]
( Around the city - Memories returning. )
[ It’s an otherwise normal day in the city for Blue Sargent, attending an impromptu rally in downtown Manhattan protesting one of many businesses that refuse to provide service to any Enhanced individuals. These kinds of protests start off peaceful, perhaps a few hundred people all armed with homemade pasteboard signs that express their disdain -- some, admittedly wittier than others, but the message is all the same: everyone who is now considered to be enhanced simply want the same rights that they had before -- but it always seems that before long all hell breaks loose.
Sometimes it’s planned, a gang that’s similar to Blue’s purposely causing a scene and wreaking havoc in retaliation. Sometimes it’s as simple as another Enhanced accidentally losing control -- something that’s been known to happen, not everyone seems to have a full grasp on their abilities. But the authorities always show, force is always used and people just like her are always taken away in handcuffs. Some of which have been specifically designed to neutralize any powers an Enhanced might have.
(And the recent appearance of this kind of tech definitely has Blue suspicious. Especially when none of it seems to be from this planet.)
It’s while the rally is still in its peaceful stages that she notices it: a small burner phone right between her feet, the screen flashing with a notification of a new message. She certainly doesn’t remember it being there a few moments before, and considering she doesn’t own a cell phone herself, she’s 100% certain that it doesn’t belong to her.
Someone must have dropped it. Perhaps the person standing in front of her, or one of the many people who had passed by in an effort to get through the crowd and on with their day.
And so, with one of her gloved hands, she reaches to tap the shoulder of the person in front of her as he bends down to pick up the phone. ]
Excuse me, I think…
[ Her sentence stops abruptly, the moment that she touches the phone, there’s a flood of memories returning to her -- all of them seeming to be her own -- and she stumbles back a few steps, looking clearly shaken by what’s just happened to her. ]
[ Open to anything and everything! Leave a start or ping
around the city;
[ It's an innocent enough question, coming from a face she might recognize from television. He's on the news a lot these days; the left-wing politician, staunchly for the rights of the Enhanced and fighting against most of big government on it. He stands taller than the cameras make him look - a lofty six feet, eight inches - but doesn't really give off an intimidating air.
Yet. ]
I can see to it that they are escorted off the premises, if you wish. [ What he seems to be failing to realize is that Blue was likely the one to start the confrontation, looking out for anti-Enhanced rhetoric as she was. Still. He's just trying to be helpful. ]
no subject
And attempting to threaten someone with her power often falls flat. (Threatening someone with touching them isn't exactly intimidating so much as it is.... weird.)
But, having someone assume she's defenseless and needs help? That's a much bigger offense to Blue. ]
I don't need anyone's -- [ Her voice is sharp and her tone scathing as she whirls around to face the person speaking to her -- and she has to tilt her head back slightly in order to actually look at him. Realization flashes across her features before it's quickly replaced but scrutinizing gaze. ]
You're... [ She pauses a beat. ] I've seen you on TV. [ But she can't place a name to the face, nor can she remember if he's fighting the same fight as her. ]
Look, these assholes started the whole thing [ Not at all the truth, but she can't afford to be arrested if this man isn't on her side. ]
no subject
Young people these days, jeez. ]
I have been on TV an awful lot these days, it's true. [ His attention is quickly diverted, however, the aforementioned gentleman. ] And I suggest if you don't want your mug shots displayed on the evening news for less than ideal reasons, I'd leave the area immediately.
[ He can't actually get people arrested for harassment, honestly, but he has the air and confidence of a man who seems like he could. Hopefully that's enough for right now. ]
no subject
And the way that this man carries himself is more than enough to convince Blue that he's someone of importance.
The group of boys make a run for it, likely moving faster than they've ever moved before in their lives -- the threat appears more than enough to make them back off the tiny Enhanced girl. ]
Uh, I don't have any of my registration stuff on me. I was just going to the store on the corner and these guys ran up on me. [ As rehearsed as it is, it sounds genuine even if no part of it's true. She knows the drill, after all. ] If you could just let me slide this time?
[ She doesn't know any better, she assumes most everyone frequently on the news is vehemently against her and her cause. ]
no subject
He turns to her then to say something, but she starts on about her papers. It causes him to smile, actually. Soft and friendly. ] Don't worry about that, miss, I'm not a police officer. I won't be checking any registration or turning you in for lack of them.
Though others might not be as forgiving for me, so it might do you well to be a bit more prepared in the future.
wildcardish/before the memories; (including john!!)
you have the shitty little enhanced outnumbered, three to one. in an alleyway. it's even fucking sunset, drenching the sky in blood red light, the street lights just beginning to come on sinister-like, in a row, and the windows of the homes above are tightly shuttered by people who know better than to fuck around. you and your crew are wielding the latest tech. kavinsky himself favors this one like a whip that shifts gravity. he's been practicing. it's hilariously kinky and kind of makes him feel like indiana jones. the enhanced is like-- sixteen, maybe, and mostly it's just funny to see if he's gonna pee.
but dramatic irony is when the kid says instead,] Look behind you,
[and then you do
and then there's a dwarf-sized asian girl leading a ragtag band of seven? eight?, and before you can get out a k-pop one-liner or count them, the one on her left throws some kinda shockwave. knocks your boys flat on their asses.
they don't have weapons.] Uh, [kavinsky says.] Look. I never dealed in fucking growth hormone pills before, but I could probably figure it out. [he doesn't put down his whip.]
no subject
(Which today includes a lanky girl with the ability to create an infinite number of copies of herself, a telekinetic able to pull just about anything out of thin air, a jittery teenager with electricity surging between the tips of her fingers, a wild eyed girl with an unstable control of atoms and energy, a set of twins manipulating an ooze-y dark matter floating between them, and a girl with a supersonic scream wearing a facemask.)
Dangerous or not, they at least look intimidating -- after all, what's the point of being a gang if you don't? The group of boys ends up flat on their asses and the masked screamer cackles at a level that leaves the metal fire escapes rattling loudly. Blue's eyes cut to the previously targeted kid, giving a quick up-nod of her head. ] Get out of here.
[ And then it's back to Kavinsky. Short jokes. Real classy. ] What happened? You couldn't find a puppy to kick today? Or a baby to steal a pacifier from?
cw homophobic language
adrenaline. animal fight or flight. the body's own good shit.
fuck.]
Goddamn lesbian clambake, [he says, brightly, because that's how he rolls. short jokes and homophobic comments. kavinsky doesn't retreat. instead, he draws the whip gently closer to himself. nothing so overt as to strike, just yet, although he can tell the women flanking blue are tensing up even with that small motion.] What am I, getting assimilated? We gonna turn this into a surf and turf? You know I don't got powers, and I'd make a piss poor mascot, right?
no subject
They were all amped and ready to find trouble when this little adventure started, but now that they've found trouble armed with Chitauri weapons, they're a little less fond of the idea.
They weren't looking for puppies or babies either, but maybe something that gave them a little more of an advantage. No matter how they might have outnumbered the other, alien tech vs. enhanced would still be a close fight. ]
We don't take charity cases. [ For being the tiniest girl there, Blue certainly talks big and the statement brings about quietly amused laughter from the girls around her. ] No, if you had powers, you wouldn't need to overcompensate with big fancy toys. [ She pauses, as though taking a moment to really think about it before she adds: ]
Or maybe you still would.
[ Kanyeshrug ]
no subject
definitely not how kavinsky and his boys operate. hence the two turning tail, leaving him there to figure out the smart thing on his own.]
Small dick joke, huh? [he says. he sounds unreasonably glibe— as ever. in this world, in the next, his thing is always going to be shooting off his stupid fucking mouth when he should probably eat a salad and go to bed on time.] Okay, sweetheart. Let's metaphorically fuck.
[no smart thing here. instead, he raises the weapon and rips a shot out at the young women. immediately, the air pulses with energy, like altitude changing in the cabin of an airplane, an eerie press against their eardrums even as kinetic energy moves through the alleyway in a wave. a big plastic dumpster is the first thing to move, bucking up like a horse, before the whip starts to arc toward the gang.]
no subject
Or, at least, without having to seriously hurt anyone. Most of their damage is typically done to property -- Manhattan homes of rich billionaires, shiny Bentleys and Rolls Royces that belong to outspoken politicians, office buildings that house high ranking officials. Being all unregistered, it's easier to run from property damage, rather than trying to escape in the middle of a brawl.
People could talk, after all. Things couldn't. ]
I wouldn't even metaphorically.
[ Not even a moment after the words leave Blue, full of confident arrogance, does the entire gang of girls begin to cringe at the uncomfortable -- almost painful -- pressure against their ears. They aren't used to these kinds of weapons, they fight with switchblades and butterfly knives, baseball bats and metal pipes, not with alien tech. Before any of them can move to avoid it, the whip comes into direct contact with the twins on Blue's far left, immediately knocking them to the ground and rendering them helpless. Knocked out. Maybe dead, but Blue doesn't have much time to think on that. ]
You fucking asshole!
[ The shockwave from the hit knocks the rest of the girls off balance, a few of them scrambling on their hands and knees to check on the fallen pair while Blue shoots a sharp glare at Kavinsky. Ripping the glove off her hand, she slaps it against the arm of one of the girls next to her, stealing enough of her power to send another blast of energy in Kavinsky's direction as she stumbles to her feet. ]
no subject
aaaaand he's skedaddling, one foot over the next, tiny pieces of asphalt kicking up under his scampering step. he's some kind of idiot, probably, because the next sound out of his mouth is a laugh— hyena wild, brilliant in the afternoon sunshine, rising up wickedly—
only to be interrupted by the whumpf of supercharged air hitting something semi-solid. kavinsky is the semi-solid; he's filled with liquid, after all. it's a glancing blow, fortunately, but easily enough to jolt him off his feet, just like a bowling pin, or maybe-- more accurately, just like the girls he'd sent to the pavement seconds ago. he travels three feet. lands heavily on his face, the wind slammed out of his lungs, his eyes big for an instant, then smaller the next, shocked. he tries to roll over, but it's a dying fish kind of movement, heavy and uncoordinated.]
F'ck, [he says to no one in particular. out-blustered by a two-foot tall mutant. the hell.]
no subject
He's halfway down the alley, but Blue's there in a matter of seconds. With rage fueling her, she moves infinitely faster, skidding to a halt only when she's standing over the other.
The next thing she does is all one fluid motion; her hand reaches into the pocket of her jacket and out comes a small switchblade, revealing the blade with nothing more than a practiced flick of her wrist followed by the quiet click of the small hinges, pointing the tip of it at Kavinsky's neck. In truth, the blade couldn't kill him, it could cause a pretty nasty gash, but its purpose was to be intimidating and cause enough damage for her to get away.
Currently, she's aiming for the former. Snarling as she looks down at Kavinsky, daring him to do anything with nothing more than the sharpness of her stare. ]
SORRY FOR THE DELAY BURSTS BACK IN
change of plan. he winds up skidding to a stop, startled. for some reason, he hadn't thought a girl would try anything, not really. not even if she had superpowers. and certainly not the smallest girl of them all.
the faint shimmer of pain in the side of his neck tells him otherwise. he moves his eyes very slowly, and his head even slower. his hollow eyes tracking blue's face. she looks kind of mad. something to do with her friends sucking air like fish right now.] Sup, baby girl? [he croaks.]
zooms on it
but a moment exactly like this is why he does it. a cascade of bad luck and crappy friends, that all go scampering when a group big enough and powerful enough shows up to put some real fear into them. the kids that ran almost slam into john on his way to catch up to the skirmish, and he sends them slamming into nearby walls to knock them out with a flicked finger - maybe snaps a bone or two, out of spite. maybe it's intentional, maybe it's because the meds that keep him calm enough that another disaster like grand central station doesn't happen again. he already has enough nightmares about waking up among a pile of rubble and bodies.
john murphy rounds the corner just in time to see the whip fly, and watch the short girl steal some kind of power from the others, before she gives chase. he comes from behind them, boots crunching stray glass from a tossed aside beer bottle as he paces up to the girls still trying to breath on the ground. a hand lifts, and up they go, floating into the air, and an invisible pressure starts to compact on them from all sides, squeezing their ribs against their lungs, their throats closed, gasps turning into strangled cries. enough that Blue should definitely be able to hear from where she is. ]
Back off, or I'll crush them into dust.
no subject
(Oh. Right.)
Blue has probably the most scathing comeback waiting right on the tip of her tongue. As sharp and piercing as the blade in her hand, but laced with poison. If Kavinsky thought that little stunt he pulled on her friends had made her angry, the addition of those two words had pushed her over into downright furious.
But just before she can strike with her verbal attack, there's the sound of strangled cries of pain ringing in Blue's ears followed by a different voice -- unfamiliar to her, and just a little bit confusing. Hadn't the rest of Kavinsky's gang hit the pavement the second things got ugly?
She snaps her head back, looking over her shoulder through a messy curtain of choppy bangs, and there stands an entirely new challenger! Familiar in the vaguest of ways -- like someone she'd sat next to on the subway, or stood in front of at Starbucks -- and clearly Very Serious about his threat. The gang of girls float in the air in slowly increasing pain, even if they can't do much more than writhe in response to it. Blue's mind races, her thoughts going off in a thousand different directions as she tries to figure out her best course of action; there's no way she'll make it back to the other end of the alleyway before her friends are literally obliterated and she doubts she could take other Enhanced down in a fight anyway, all alien BDSM gear aside Kavinsky is otherwise useless to her except as a human bargaining chip, and even if her own power is dangerous she's yet to figure out how to make it sound like it.
What would she say? "Do that and I'll touch him"? It doesn't exactly strike fear into anyone's heart. ]
You've got to be kidding me. [ Neither does that, but.... ] You're not really defending this asshole, are you?
[ Maybe she should really stop with all the talking before her friends are crushed. Oh well. ]
delay x2 kicks down door
Jesus fucking Christ.
[he's grateful. or merely in shock. something like that. his lips barely move when he mumbles this. his eyes shift past blue and the considerable concern posed by the knife she has on him, tiny though it may be. over to murphy. he'd known that the kid was powerful, of course; there are a half a dozen pet names he's rolled out of random combinations of freak, mutant, the various bites and pinches he's gotten in answer. he knows about grand central station. but it's one thing to know it, to buy pills and candles and patches to spread over the thin skin and big arteries of murphy's thighs. it's one thing to grumble him shitty bulgarian rap til he falls asleep, and wonder at his twitching nightmares.
it's another to see him floating a half-dozen likewise mutant girls in the air.
there's an animal spike of fear in his gut that he'll never admit to, especially not to murphy. as instinctive as recoiling from fire. but mostly— mostly, he's impressed.]
I think he is, [he says, presently.] He's the bung to this asshole.
shh paps u
kavinsky knows about grand central station, maybe even saw pictures of the rubble, but he wasn't there. he didn't feel the ground shake and the glass shatter, the people screaming and the dust that fogged the air after. he knows he's probably afraid of him right now. but better afraid than dead, and blue's gang hadn't looked like they were willing to take prisoners. ]
Do your friends really have time for you to worry about that?
[ a crack sounds out, and one of the girls jerks, a rasped, wheezes scream pulling from her, like the pained sound is a struggle just to get out. her arm now hangs at an awkward, unnatural angle. ]
Back off.