10384/Conflict Resolution

Conflict Resolution
Date of Scene:	10 December 2019
Location:	Doc Samson's psychotherapy office
Synopsis:	Sabretooth manages to complete his contract, much to the chagrin of Doc Samson regarding the prospects for his budding clinic.
Cast of Characters:	Doc Samson, Sabretooth

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Doc Samson has posed:
"I'm telling you, Doc, these days it just--it just seems like there are always eyes on me," a haggard man sobs into his hands. He sits on a couch in an office, where he hugs a throw pillow and wipes his eyes. "It's like there's something dark lurking behind me, like a monstrous shadow!"

"Hm," Doc Samson responds, adjusting his glasses as he jots down notes on a legal pad. "And this has been the case ever since you picked up that hobby of fantasy football?"

"Y-yeah," the man replies. "I mean, it's always been something I wanted to try. And I thought it was going well!"

"There's no judgment here, Carl," Samson says, clearing his throat, "but I have to ask: are you gambling? Maybe you're projecting a fear of debt collection into the world."

"That's just it!" Carl says, exasperated. "There's no money involved! Just pride." He pauses for a long moment. "I /do/ do a lot of trash talk, though. Maybe ... maybe I'm projecting myself into this shadow. Or the fear that others are going to try and retaliate physically for my comments."

"Well, that's certainly a possibility. Do you feel like you're in control when you do this? Are there any other players in the league that you target more than others?" Samson asks, taking a sip from a nearby mug.

Carl frowns, thinking, before he responds. "I mean, yeah. I get to be free. And most of the league doesn't seem to care. We all do it. Wait," he adds quickly. "There is one player who's not a fan. Goes by 'CarNelly'. Kind of an uptight dick."


24 HOURS AGO:

"I'm putting out a hit," Ernesto Karnelli says to his top enforcers. "You spread the word to whoever you want. This asshole is /hamburger/ by tomorrow night." He pushes forward a slip of paper with Carl's username, 'Superbowlcut69', on it.

Sabretooth has posed:
    Victor Creed had been tracking Carl since that moment 24 hours ago. THe Maggia is as good an employer as the next. Heck, they have been around for a while so pretty secure actually. THis one seemed like a pretty easy straight forward job as he found Carl and began to follow him, learning his patterns.

    He is outside the building where Doc's office is. He leans against a car with his feet crossed in front of him and his arms across his chest. He watches the window of where the office is but hasn't really bothered to look at the name of the office occupants. The little crybaby needed someone to talk to. He supposes others might if they crossed the Maggia. He shrugs and pushes himself off the car. He leaps forward and claws dig into the brownstone's masonry. He begins to pull himself upwards towards the office window. This job just seems boring. No real point in dragging it out. Lets just go and get it done. He chuckles to himself as he thinks about the therapist needing therapy after seeing what he was going to do to the client.

Doc Samson has posed:
"Alright, Carl," Samson says calmly, "it looks like we're just about out of time this week. There's quite a bit for you to work on until our next session, but I think you can do it. You have the tools, and you know how to use them."

Carl nods, slowly at first but then with more enthusiasm. "Right. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I can do this."

"And it starts with maybe dialing it down a notch with your fantasy football league," Samson adds.

"I--I'm going to do what I can," Carl says with a sigh. "I just wish CarNelly wasn't such a goddamn crybaby about it."

"Carl, you know it's this kind of talk that leads you to internalize, and then project, your fears about retaliation." Samson sits forward. "What do you do when you find yourself wanting to make these sorts of comments?"

"Pause, close my eyes, and think about the positive. Things can be better than I think they are. They /are/ better than I think they are. There's no monster out there," Carl says, allowing a smile to begin forming on his face.

Sabretooth has posed:
    Which, of course, is when the monster decides to enter the picture. THe window smashes in from the outside as Sabretooth, decked out in his orange, brown, and fur collar, crashes through the office window. His large clawed feet come in first as he attempts to land between Carl and the doc with his back to the doc. He smiles at Carl with a deep, dark rumble of a laugh. "Boy, are you wrong." He goes to grab at Carl's shirt as he moves to lift the man up with one hand and draw back his clawed hand with the other.

Doc Samson has posed:
Carl responds by shrieking in a falsetto voice. He also wets himself, his limbs flailing desperately.

Behind Sabretooth, Samson puts down his pad and glasses before standing. "Hey!" he says sternly. "There's a session taking place. Don't you know it's not /nice/ to barge in /interrupted/?"

The doctor punctuates his question by trying to grasp the wrist of Sabretooth's primed limb with one hand and swinging a haymaker with the other toward the killer's ribs.

Carl continues screaming, slapping futilely at Sabretooth's hold on him. "Oh my god oh my god oh my god," he manages to spit out between gasps and unintelligible yelps of terror.

Sabretooth has posed:
    Sabretooth grins sowing all his teeth and laughing at the way Carl just is scared out of his wits. THis is always the fun part. He begins to swing, but his wrist is caught. He blinks finally taking real notice of the doctor. "What the..." He starts, but then the fist connects with his ribs. There is the sound of cracking bone as he is knocked off his feet and into the wall of the office. Unfortunately for Carl, he comes with as Victor's clawed hand doesn't let go even as he is sent sprawling.

Doc Samson has posed:
As the dust settles, Carl sits up, a lampshade around his neck. He coughs, expelling a cloud of powdered drywall. He blinks, groggily, and looks to see that Victor's hand is still grabbing hold of him.

Carl starts screaming again.

Doc Samson takes a running leap, arms splayed, to try and tackle the assassin and free his patient from Sabretooth's claws. "Don't make this--" he grunts as he attempts to wrest control of Carl, "--more difficult on yourself than it already is!"

There's a buzz from the intercom sitting on a desk on the other side of the office. <<Doctor, do we need to call the contractors back?>>

"Yes!" Samson calls out, looking over his shoulder toward the intercom. Then he looks forward again. The receptionist is staring at him from the waiting room, where the initial melee had sent Vic & Carl through the wall.

Sabretooth has posed:
    Victor is paying attention to the Doc now. He is already moving as if his ribs hadn't just broken under the force. As Samson goes for the tackle, Creed lets himself go loose to take the hit but is also bringing down a clawed hand at the doctor's back even as they begin to tumble. Carl is freed from Victor's grip as the mutant turns his attention to the bigger threat at the moment. "Doc, you don't want to be part of this. This joker's a loser, and I'm just here to collect the bill."

Doc Samson has posed:
Victor's claws slash through the back of Samson's shirt, raking crimson lines down his shoulder blades.

Samson cries out in pain, gritting his teeth as he pushes himself back up, first to his knees and then to his feet.

"Carl," he hisses, "you alright?"

Carl whimpers, making a mad dash on his hands and knees toward the front door.

Samson sighs and tenses in a boxing pose. "I don't know who you are," he says in his best intimidating voice, "but I swore an oath to do no harm. And if I can't do that, then I'm going to fulfill this promise: to beat some ass."

He leaps forward, hands clasped together and swung down at Sabretooth's head in a Kirk-esque offensive.

Sabretooth has posed:
    Victor stands as if he is going to go toe to to with Doc Samson, but as the man leaps forward, Victor goes sideways as he goes after Carl. Powerful legs push him into a pounce as he acts like a big cat jumping on a mouse. Claws on his feet dig into Carl's back as he is driven down into the ground by the weight of Sabretooth. "You get back to me on that, Doc. I've got a job to do first."

Doc Samson has posed:
Samson's forward dive sends him back into his office, his two-handed swing smashing a giant hole into his desk.

"Damnit!" the doctor cries, spinning about to look for his opponent.

Carl, meanwhile, thrashes under Victor's weight, but he's not going anywhere.

"Please--please--I don't want to die! You can't be real! I just imagined it ... just a figment ... projection ... oh god, why me?" the terrified patient rambles.

The receptionist, for her part, has disappeared under her own desk.

Sabretooth has posed:
    "Why not you?" Victor asks as his clawed hands grip the back of Carl's head. "I get paid for it, and you can't stop it," he laughs now as his claws flash. Victor calls out to Doc as he turns around. "Catch, Doc!" The severed head of Carl is lobbed in Samson's direction even as Victor drops down low after throwing it and charges using all fours towards Samson. He isn't trying to bowl the man over with a tackle but strike at Samson's sides with his claws in a hobbling move.

Doc Samson has posed:
The doctor's instinct is to catch the thrown object, and he offers an expression of abject horror, realizing what he's looking at, for just a split-second before Sabretooth's claws tear open a gash in his side.

Samson cries out in pain, dropping to one knee, and swings blindly in the direction toward Victor's location moments beforehand.

The receptionist peeks out from under her desk, sees Carl's decapitated body, and shrieks, her eyes wide.

Sabretooth has posed:
    Claws dig into the ground as Creed breaks on the other side of Samson having missed the blind punch. As the large man drops to a knee, Victor charges at his back again attempting to rip his claws down the man's form. He attacks like a wolf pack rolled into one all the while growling and laughing in an odd mixture in his gravely tone. "Not being paid to take you out, Doc. Just consider this sport though. If you hadn't interferred, I would have just been on my way."

Doc Samson has posed:
Blinding pain dulls Samson's senses as his back is shredded once more by the assassin's claws. He hits the ground and then tries to jump up via a gamma-powered push-up, elbows primed to try and clock Sabretooth.

"Can't let--nghhh--that--ahh--happen," Samson chokes out as he moves, shaking his head and blinking to try and focus. "Killed ... a ... patient. Dead ... man." Samson tries to pivot on one heel and backhand his foe, but he doesn't have the ferocity or primal awareness of his surroundings that Sabretooth does.

Sabretooth has posed:
    Sabretooth is struck as Samson pushes up quickly, and the strength is enough to knock Victor back off his feet for a moment. THe large mutant crashes backwards into the couch that Carl had been on mere moments ago. It cracks in two under the weight and force. "Keep trying to help losers, Doc, and going to see a few more dead men. These losers can't help themselves." He sits up from the broken couch and is far enough away after the hit that the backhand of Samson just swings in the air. As the punch swings, he pounces again as he aims for Doc's face this time. Trying to blind the man with the sudden attack.

Doc Samson has posed:
Shaking his head, Samson has just enough time to say, "That's what heroes do--" before Sabretooth goes for his face.

Samson's face gains an assortment of scarlet lines running across it, and the doctor stumbles backwards into a wall, where he knocks down several framed diplomas and award plaques.

"That's /enough/!" he snarls, his eyes glowing green as he launches himself forward--forward toward Sabretooth and the broken window through which the killer had entered.

Sabretooth has posed:
    Victor wasn't expecting a charge. Usually, the targets are all weakened and terrified after multiple hits and drawing of blood. He is caught a bit flat footed and the two of them go right out the window. Broken glass tears at Victor as they both plummet from the upper story window. He snarls and claws as they fall as a feral cat make knowing that it is losing control. Victor hits the ground full force on his back. He lets out a grunt of air being expelled and cry of pain that seems to be cut short.

Doc Samson has posed:
Samson bounces after the impact, thanks to Victor being beneath him during the fall. The bounce slams him into the side of a moving van, and he ricochets off the van to land face-first on the pavement.

The doctor's out for a long minute in a shallow pool of blood, but the distant sounds of approaching authorities suggest help--of some kind--is on the way. Passersby begin to assemble, cautiously approaching the fallen individuals to check on them.

Sabretooth has posed:
    Victor's body lay still as people begin to draw closer. Suddenly, his eyes snap open and he snarls loudly. People bolt and scatter away from the mutant as he gets to his feet. Victor is slow at first, but getting more confident in his step the longer he is allowed to stand still. He snarls towards Samson, but then turns his head as he can hear the sirens. "Damnit. No time." Victor looks at Doc and then leaps upward towards the shattered office where he retrieves the head of Carl. This time he leaps down to the ground landing gracefully rather than slammed. "Next time, Doc. Maybe it will be you I'm after."