10876/A Heavy Dose of Painkillers

A Heavy Dose of Painkillers
Date of Scene:	26 January 2020
Location:	Westchester, The Bronx
Synopsis:	Jane and some guy named Remo raise Hell with a couple of X-types.
Cast of Characters:	Colossus, Remo Williams, Painkiller Jane, Samuel Morgan

---

Colossus has posed:
    The Bronx has been worse in the past. It's definitely been better, but also much worse. At the least these days the subway stop no longer comes with cautionary signage. Nor are there police officers with rifles stationed near the turnstiles anymore. But there's still that faint feeling of disquiet in the air, the hint of tension that always seems ill at ease. It's a feeling that reaches the locals to a greater or lesser degree, but omni-present all the while.
    Out beyond the subway stop it's quiet this time of the evening. An occasional loud roar or cry comes from the zoo that's just a few blocks away. But with the sun having set an hour ago, and a faint dusting of snow fresh in the air, it muffles the sounds of the city. Of traffic...
    That is until the small convoy of SUVs roll down the street. Large tires leaving slush in their wake as they roll up to the nearby warehouse with its heavy brick reinforced walls with the wrought iron gates. Four men in heavy coats stand around outside that gate, pulling it open slooowly as that convoy rolls on up and then sliding it back closed just as slowly once the last of the black vehicles are through.
    It is all just another day in the city for some. But for the Russian man known as Piotr Rasputin... it is enough to give him pause as he descends from the steps of that subway stop.

Remo Williams has posed:
     His name was Remo and he was out hunting.
     Remo wasn't the kind of person who went hunting for ducks, or deer, or small furry things. those were prey. The type of hunting Remo did was for other predators. People who usurped and subverted the very laws they were meant to uphold. People who thought they were above the law. Remo didn't normally go after smaller predators. But Smitty had given hyim a mandate to study capes in their natural habitats.
     And since capes loved to piunch things, he figured he'd go to where the people who needed to be punched hung out.
     And that, of course, meant the Bronx.
     Remo was walking down the street, looking for the telltale spoor of your average Russian mobster. Remo said under his breath in a passable Steve Irwin impression, "CRIKEY. Will you look at them! A hred of DANGEROUS Russian mobsters! Very dangerous and hostile when bothered. Let's go poke them with a stick!"

Painkiller Jane has posed:
The deal was going to be epic in scale. The Russians were willing to pay for a massive shipment of one long ton of heroin, which was back in vogue after the subsidence of cocaine. The currency in question? Conflict diamonds, ready to have fake registration numbers etched on to pass a scan, and a sweetener of five million dollars for petty cash...and for a little favor.
The word was out. The Korsovs were having serious trouble with the white-hat mercenary team known as the 22 Brides. The bitches needed to be spanked, and the Blood Lotus Triad already had a beef with them.
A lot of drugs, a lot of diamonds, a lot of money. A lot of guns.

The guard at the post perked up as the small car rolled up to the gate.
The "chunk" of the intercom. "Hey! DoorDash! I got a delivery for this place!"
"Leave it there, miss," the guard said tiredly. "Someone will take care of it."

The driver nodded, then placed the bag against the brick wall right next to the gate, the gate mechanism on the opposite side of the wall.
She reached in to steady the bag...and pressed the button.
Painkiller Jane smiled as she got into the small car, and reversed away from the gate...

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    It was nearly time for the Test. Sure, there had been practices, he'd done some independent study and even a bit of independent practice, but soon Sam Morgan, Bean to his friends and most of his teachers, would be required to show that one skill that he had been working towards. The one quality that would show that he's been making progress on his individual learning plan.

    The ability to ride the subway without causing collateral damage.

    For must people it's a commute. For other students it's just a normal part of their day. For Bean, it's an exercise in force of will as he's trapped in essentially a metal tube with hundreds of strangers, none of whom understand the concept of personal space. And this close to The Test, he was at least allowed to join use the subway, with proper supervision. And considering Mister Rasputin was going into town anyway... Well, fetch and carry he could do.

    "Honestly, if that creep had looked at me one more time..." he mentions to the man next to him as they leave the station. Bear, his usual companion for these possibly distressing tasks, was still at home. Taking the subway at this hour with a dog in tow? Madness. He glances around, takes in the sights and spots a few things well out of the ordinary. "Some place this is. I'm guessing we're not looking for a few tubes of Titanium White here, are we?"

Remo Williams has posed:
Remo watched this from down the street, leaning against a doorway in order to look like he was waiting on something, noting the handoff with some suspicion. He had a bad feeling some butchery was about to take place. He sniffed the air, listened, tuning out the usual sounds. Something ewas up, the way he could feel it when he was being watched, when the air was about to turn into fire and bullets and anger.
In other words, time for him to punch the clock and go to work.

Colossus has posed:
    "It is brave of you to come as you have, Samuel." Piotr's voice is rich and deep, the accent still clinging to his words despite his years in the states. He cuts a tall silhouette as he moves past the locals nearby, footsteps set upon the sidewalk and carrying him down the street. Sidelong he nods to the other Xavier student. "And da, Mr. Crenshaw's studio is perhaps a bit of a trip. But is worth it to bring some light into his day, yes?"
    A few steps carry him further as he walks, perhaps a block away from that warehouse though their path will pass it. The group of men and now... a delivery? That was concerning. He had not seen such his last time here.
    "Come," He gives a nod to Sam, "Let us cross the street here." No reason given, perhaps just easier?

Painkiller Jane has posed:
The guard walked forward towards the gate. He frowned as he saw the car, a Dodge Neon, pulling away in reverse. New York drivers...
Then the Neon stopped.
<Jane, this is insane.>
Probably.
<You are out of your nickel-plated, everfucking mind.>
"Certifiable."
She dropped the shifter into D and mashed the gas pedal to the floor.

The guard looked up as headlights washed over him. The driver was coming back?
Alarm rose in his mind and he turned to run back to the guard house.
He never made it.

The thunderous explosion as four pounds of C-4, aligned as a shaped charge, destroyed the gate, a serious chunk of the wall, the guard, his buddy, the guard house, and three other gunmen waiting outside while business was being handled. It turned night into day.

The Neon was lifted up by the concussive force, and yes, folks, you will believe a Neon can FLY. it arced upward through the inferno, over the SUVs that had caught hot shrapnel and were about to become bombs themselves.
The people inside were still caught off-guard when the Dodge Neon flew through the second-story windows, tumbling as it flew like a set of car keys, and into the warehouse. It's tires were on fire, and a savagely-grinning Jane was at the wheel.

Giving everyone the finger. Both fingers, actually.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Thank you, Mister Rasputin." Although on edge from the trip, Bean breathes out and seems to shed at least some of his anxiety. Why were buses easier than the subway? A topic explored at length with his therapist, but to no satisfactory conclusion. "I honestly think you're the only person I know who'd go this far out of their way just to brighten the day of a shop owner. So either Mister Crenshaw's studio is one of the undiscovered wonders of New York, or you're even nicer than I thought." And he considers his man, giving Piotr a sideways glance. "Bit of both, I expect."

    It's very hard to ignore the warning signs his subconscious is flagging up, but after this long in the subway he is still shaking the habit of ignoring most of them. Otherwise he'd have gone mental on the way here. So it's with a slightly dulled sense of imminent doom that the teenager looks both ways and starts to cross, for some reason finding it perfectly natural not to get too close to that gate.

    It's not until he's within twenty meters of the gate that he finally understands why. He's now close enough to feel the bomb, knows the telltale signature of a detonator, and has just a split second to react to his sudden recognition, turning to look at the gate. "Ah, Schei-"

    The rest is dust and sound.

    When the smoke clears, he can be found in cover behind the engine bay of a large SUV, reasonably unharmed. His eyes have lost that slightly unfocused teenaged quality and have, instead, seem to have gone as hard as flint. Certainly his expression is on the belligerent side of neutral. "Mister Rasputin? Are you okay?"

Remo Williams has posed:
Remo sighed.Some people were always pushing the envelope.
     He walked down the street as just about everyone else ran in the other direction. Made things easier; fewer people to mistake for combatants. As he made his way past the ruined gate, he saw three men moving from around the sides of the building, AKs in their hands. Remo sighed. He couldn't wait for Lesson 53 to come around so he could learn how to dodge automatic fire.
Nothing for it. He was going to have to rely on the fact that everyone was looking at the maniac who tried to emulate Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
As one of the Russians turned to his friend in confusion, he saw a face he didn't recognize. The pause he took as his brain tried to process this was long enough for Remo to drive the barrel of his gun up so, by the time the finger on the trigger received the command to fire, the barrel was under the thug's chin. The other two got over their confusion quickly enough to raise, and then lose, their guns. The nerve endings of her hands tingled.
"Now might be a good time for you guys to surrender," Remo said coldly as their mostly headless friend dropped to the ground.

Colossus has posed:
    The first hint for Colossus was the hum/roar of the Neon's engine as it reversed, shifted gears, and then started toward the gate and part of the wall. He stepped to the side slightly even as he had been crossing the street, instinctively interposing himself between the vehicle's approach to the gate and Samuel.
    But then as the night sky lit up with that thunderous explosion, the tall Russian in the heavy pea coat snaps over his shoulder. "Samuel, get to cover!"
    There was a rush of electrical and silvery energy that washed across Colossus' form, transforming flesh into organic steel, his form growing subtly more massive and several inches taller even as he spreads his arms as if trying to make sure that his charge is not threatened.
    Then the shockwave rushed past and over them, one great forearm coming up to shield his face. "I am fine. Call the police!" Then he starts to charge forward, breaking into a run as he moves toward that gate and the madness there.

Painkiller Jane has posed:
The Neon crashed into a few people too slow to get out of the way, pulping them, the smell of burning rubber filling the air as the car slid to a stop, amazingly upright...and still running, although the suspension was hosed big-time.
Jane's ears were ringing, but she had also cracked two ribs, broke her big toe, and was covered in bone bruises. She felt the rumble of the engine play accompaniment to the agony boiling in her body.
The ruined car suddenly lunged forward, aiming at the scrambling killers, gangsters, and hitmen, as a stream of invectives poured through the shattered windows of the car:

"MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLES (CRUNCH) GET READY FOR THE MAIN PAIN FROM JANE (body impact), YOU UGLY PIECES OF ABORTED (crackle of snapped legs as one man is run over) SHITSQUATS..."

Remo Williams has posed:
Remo looked up at the building as the two Russians lay down on the ground, hands behind their heads, fingers laced. "Well, SOMEBODY's having some fun."
He turned as he saw the large silver-skinned two-story building come running up the street. "You with Driving Miss Crazy up there?" he asked.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Call the police?! Sure, it makes sense under the circumstances, but... there are very good reasons why Samuel Able Morgan, a teenager listed as 'Approach with caution' in practically every law enforcement database, can not be associated with any of this. But at the same time... it was Piotr asking him. And defying Piotr is like kicking a puppy, he just can't do it. On the other hand, 'call the police' did not include or imply any command to stay put.

    "911, what's your emergency?"

    "Explosion and shots fired, 4469 Dubrovnik Avenue, Bronx. Multiple injuries. Situation ongoing. Require police, fire department and ambulance services." All of this is delivered at a run, as Bean speaks to his phone through a cheap Bluetooth ear piece, pelting after Colossus and flicking the hood of his hoodie up. Let's /not/ get your face on any camera, Sam, that would be bad.

    "Who is-"

    "Now!" And that's all that Sam is willing to impart to the police. Hopefully he'll be out of here before any serious response arrives. Explaining this to SHIELD would not be fun... "No, we're the seventh cavalry, can't you see? Blödsinn..."

Colossus has posed:
    "I come to save lives, what has..." Colossus' thick Russian accent is there in most every word as he runs across the street, heavy footsteps seeming to cause small shock waves of their own as he trundles to a stop near Remo and some of the fallen. "What is this? What did you do to these men?" Naturally so full of questions, yet the tall Russkie's eyes are moving from fallen to fallen to fallen.
    And then the roar of the engine somehow upstairs in the second story of the building grabs his attention. Great silver fists clench tight as he lifts his mirror-like gaze upwards, grim expression tightening into a frown. Turning to the side he looks to Remo, then toward Samuel.
    "You." He points at Remo, "You do not be going anywhere." Then turning towards Samuel, "Stay here, stay safe. I will handle this."
    And with that said he begins his own rush toward the warehouse proper, each heavy footstep thundering as he moves until he kneels for a moment and then /leaps/...
    A large silver man in a pea coat now flying up toward the second story of that warehouse. Straight through the already shattered glass.

Painkiller Jane has posed:
The Russians are regrouping when Viktor Korsov heard the mad ranting from the car as it rolled his men like dice. <Jane...? JANE?!?>
"SHOOT HER IT'S PAINKILLER JANE!" His voice is a bellow, and the words seem to change the confusion into sudden fear and desperation. The car has stopped by now and nearly every gun is aimed at it, and they open fire.

Jane's ditched the car, limping only slightly as she draws both guns, .454 Casull 5-shot revolvers, and lifts them to aim at the ones near the back.
Something flashes as a big shiny thing bursts in through the hole she made, but she isn't distracted by it. Blood from a head wound covers her face, dripping from her cheeks and chin as she strides out of the darkness.

The Masque of the Red Death.
Fire erupts from the guns as the real slaughter begins.

Remo Williams has posed:
"Well, listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but I need to get some information from some of those Russian hitters before 'Jane' up there kills them first...while setting back the cause of 'women drivers' back before cars were even INVENTED. Do me a favor? Tell the Russian answer to Lady Liberty that I couldn't stick around out here." And with that, he leaped up on a nearby car with his right foot, then to a window ledge with the left, then up to the opening and landing on his right foot first, then both feet. $r He saw "Painkiller Jane", as she called herself, raining lead at the Russians. He shruged, then leaped up from the opening to the window of the third floor. This led to one of the offices. He could tell because of the armored glass. He extended his pointer finger and plunged it into the seal of the frame holding the glass, his nail carving through it like it was made of Silly Putty. As he did, he began to whistle, "Whistle While You Work". $r Always a favorite.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    He's about to ask if Piotr is serious, and gets about as far as opening his mouth when Colossus launches himself into the fray. Well, that's awkward. Sam looks at the other man, shrugs, and sidles towards the nearest solid cover he can find. Bulletproof he's not. Shots fly, there's the sound of rending metal, shouts, screaming, that odd gurgle from a victim when you land a head shot.

    He stands around, checks to make sure his fingernails are still immaculate. Brushes a bit of dust from his hoodie and jacket. Reaches down to remove a smudge from the gleaming polish on his combat boots. Finally, he checks the time via his phone, nodding to himself. "45 seconds... long enough."

    Putting the phone away, Bean leaves cover, because that's what sidekicks /do/. Except, of course, he stops by the corpse of the first thug to help himself to a pistol and two magazines, before heading into the building at a jog.

Colossus has posed:
    The ledge that is left of that window seems to crack and split as debris falls with the added weight of the silver Russian. He takes a moment there, looking upon the carnage that Jane hath wrought and his metal brow furrows with concentration.
    Piotr Rasputin, to some, may well seem to be naive in some ways. But he is aware of the ills that men do in the world. Of those who steal and murder. And even moreso of those who would be considered his countrymen for the impact they have on the lives of those around them is so staggeringly dire. And so it is that he recognizes that these men, here in the second story of this warehouse, with their many weapons and their contraband.
    These are not good men.
    Yet they do not deserve death. And so it is Jane that he moves toward. "Jane!" He calls, perhaps having picked up her name. Hoping it may at least draw her attention from further death and mayhem. "This is not the way!"
    Of course one of the Russian gangsters, seeing a gigantic man of silver, decides to take a pot shot at almost point blank range. Only for the round to ricochet off of the metal man. "Mistake, comrade." He says as he almost gently slaps the criminal, sending him flying and clearly leaving him unconscious.

Painkiller Jane has posed:
Jane fired the guns empty. She was a crack shot, that's for sure.
Then a rifle burst from a panicked Russian put two in her chest and flung her back against a crate.
The man, an excitable young up-and-comer named Josef, yelled out, "I got her! I GOT HER!!"
Then he heard Kornov bellow back from his position behind the concrete barrier near the loading bay, "MAKE *SURE!*"
Josef frowned. Make sure? The bitch was fish food, ground round, she was...
He turned to see she was...standing. Bleeding profusely from the chest...but standing.
Then the shotgun blast lifted him off his feet and slammed his body into the ground as Jane snatched the life from him.
Her face was a mask of rage as she moved right at Kornov and his three bodyguards. Two kill shots and she was RUNNING.

Remo Williams has posed:
Remo entered the office and started looking through the computer files. It was so much easier now that everything was digital. Now then, begin downloading to online storage...done. The process was running
"Hey! Who are you?" demanded a Russian-accented voice. Remo looked up to see Gregor Krokov, the Bratva leader.
"Oh, GOOD, you're still alive. Listen, my name is Remo. I'm the one from your Con-cast tech support? You didn't get the email about the tech support visit?" He walked out from behind the desk. "Look, before you ask, I'm unarmed. See?" He held up his open hands. "No guns. Now, we heard that you were having significant difficulties downloading your child trafficking ring from your other suppliers, so we at Con-cast decided it would be proper to send a technician, instead of, you know, remoting in from the office."
"You hold it RIGHT THERE!" he said, drawing a Makarov PM and aiming it at Remo's head. "I didn't call for any technician."
Remo smiled. SEMI-auto. Much better. "I'm telling you, you should've gotten the email. Okay, I'll tell you what.." He kept walking forward slowly. "...we'll deduct the cost for the hideout visit from your monthly bill. Fifty percent."
"I SAID, STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" Krokov commanded, cocking back the hammer. Remo was only twenty feet away at this point. An easy shot at the worst of times.
"Okay, fine. Seventy percent off. You're getting a real bargain."
Krokov fired once, expecting to see his brains all over the back of the office. He blinked. There was no bullet hole. no brains on the wall.
He had missed.
IMPOSSIBLE.
Remo sighed and stopped a foot away from Krokov. "Okay, FINE. NINETY percent. But I expect a good review from you."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    It's always a bit disconcerting when the arrival of Colossus doesn't end a firefight straight away. Considering Bean is still hearing shots being fired... was that the cough of a modified shotgun?... it seems the situation is not yet under control. And it might be very disconcerting for anyone to see the teenager running that he is not handling the pistol like an amateur, and is in fact being perfectly safe about it. Proper grip, finger on the guard, barrel pointed down as he jogs...

    "Oh wow, this place is just one big crime in progress..." the teenager utters as he runs through the ground floor, through the drugs, the weapons, the who knows what else in those crates. And the shooting is still going on, just above. And Bean climbs the stairs, pistol now leveled, covering every corner before he turns it. And unlike a certain gangster, he absolutely made sure his pistol has a round chambered and is ready to fire. Honestly, what is this, amateur hour?

Colossus has posed:
    There is the sound of gunfire, the thunder of the brawling and the crash of impacts. Perhaps a man goes flying past Samuel's line of vision as he gets closer to the ruckus. Colossus, for his part, is handling the remaining gunmen that are still in part rushing toward the situation, what few are left with Jane's rampage reaching a crescendo.
    He tried pursuit, advancing after the gunwoman, though her pace was much faster and precise than his own. Until he reached that doorway and was able to grab another gangster from behind and thump his head into the side of the doorjam.
    Again he shouts her name to no avail, moving in further and likely unaware of Samuel's approach from behind.

Painkiller Jane has posed:
Korsov looked up at Jane, even as his bodyguards opened fire. She moved, but not fast enough to avoid being hit. She spun with the first impact in her gut, then shotgunned the one who shot her.
Another shot to the thigh. Her leg buckled, and then she killed him as well. Korsov tried to use the third bodyguard as a shield. "JANE! STOP! I'LL CALL OFF THE HIT ON THE BRIDES!"
Jane gutshot the guard, causing him to drop and expose Korsov. "You can't renew a contract or pay off on one if you're a CORPSE!"

It was like a magic trick. She pointed the shotgun at Korsov, and his head disappeared.

Abracadabra.

Remo Williams has posed:
Krokov, for his own part, wasn't doing too well.
He was currently on his face on the floor, begging the man with the dark eyes to stop ripping off his left arm. Remo had informed Krokov that, no, it only FELT like he was ripping off the man's left arm. "Alright, sunshine. Now, since your boss is busy re-thinking his life choices while he still has the capacity to still MAKE them..."
And that's when he heard the shotgun blast.
Remo sighed. "Looks like you just got promoted. Lucky you. So, here's the deal. Pack up your tents and get the hell out of my country. The whole group, well, those that might be gearing up to bring in reinforcements. Tell them to stay out of the United States."
Krokov felt the weight lift and the pain stop, turning to see Remo walk to the window. "They'll never listen to me! They'd kill me just for suggesting such a thing!!"
Remo smiled. "That's the biz, sweetheart," he said simply.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Okay. This was... yeah... Bean has seen some violence. He has perpetrated a lot of it, and knows the consequences of a close quarters running gun fight against a determined opponent. Knows it intimately well. That's why he only needs one look at this mess to know that everything is over bar the criminal investigation. And he's /not/ sticking around for that.

    With a practiced set of motions, he ejects the magazine from his pistol, racks the slide back to eject the chambered round, hits the disassembly lever and pulls the weapon apart, throwing the pieces in opposite directions. Luckily he'd been wearing gloves...

    And then he pelts back downstairs, to be at least in some kind of reasonable position when Piotr comes looking for him.

Colossus has posed:
    For a time Piotr Rasputin is lost in the give and take of conflict. There is that heavy crackboom of the shotgun that singles the end of a Russian gangster and causes Colossus' head to snap to the side. Then there's the distant cry of sirens and the flash of lights lashing across the sides of buildings that signal the coming of the authorities. Normally it wouldn't prey upon the X-Man's mind...
    But then he glances toward the outside, the beyond, and where he left Samuel. A quick shake of his head. At least for now the shooting has stopped. And he perhaps might have saved some... by knocking them out. All in all...
    It is enough for now that leads him back to the stairs and rushing toward the outside as he seeks Samuel hoping for them to flee the scene.

Painkiller Jane has posed:
Jane looks down at what was left of the guy, then stumbles slightly. She takes a deep breath, then goes to the back of the SUV. One more shotgun blast, and she reaches in for the suitcase.
There it is. Five Million Dollars. Would have been one Hell of a pension. But for now, she needs spending money.
She walks out of the destroyed gate and to the other car parked nearby. She opens the trunk, tossing the suitcase in and getting the large medical kit. She pauses, hacks wetly, then coughs up the two deformed rifle bullets into the street.

Remo Williams has posed:
A last look at the building sees a figure on the roof, the flames and lights nearby showing a man wearing normal clothes. No mask. He looks over at Jane and gives a slight smile, then steps off the roof, dropping three stories to the ground below, and landing as if he stepped off the second to last step of the stairs leading into the Chrysler Building.
Then he just walked away, vanishing into the night like a tiger slipping into a thick jungle.
And that was that.

Painkiller Jane has posed:
...Well, fuck me running, how did he do THAT?
She was still staring when she heard the cop cars roll up. Lieutenant Quinn was first out, glaring at her. "Jane...WHAT THE HELL?"
Jane shrugged. "The party peaked early."