14575/Loose Relics

Loose Relics
Date of Scene:	20 October 2022
Location:	Beacon Hills, Haven (TBD)
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Spike, Jubilee, Black Canary, Doctor Doom

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Spike has posed:
The Bludhaven Natural History Museum was open late, and early, which made it a nice place to kill some time during the day for the vampire who had forgotten to wear a hoodie, and misplaced his blanket. It was also interesting to see the exhibits, especially the dinosaurs, because who didn't like big monsters?

He was wearing his uniform, the clothes he wore almost every day. He actually had a wardrobe, black shirts, dark charcoal shirts, dark liqorice, smokey black, rich black, as well as a few blue and red, but it was mostly black, or some derivative of. Same with his jeans, so many shades of darkness. Just like him, as he'd probably tell it to anyone who asked, or just happened to be around when he was talking.

He was currently in the dinosaur exhibit, heavy leather coat on, shoes echoing with every step as they touched upon the smooth marble floor, and he was leaning forward, almost as if to stick his head inside the gaping recreated maw of something called a Utahraptor, but it looked like the velociraptors from Jurassic Park, except with feathers.

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee isn't usually the museum type. Or the education type. But dinosaurs are still pretty cool and she figures she could take a look. She's moved recently into the city from Westchester, striking out on her own a little bit and trying to do good in the world. She has black tights and a canary yellow shirt on with an oversized collar, flared out around her neck, with multiple necklaces and bracelets on. Her glossy lips smack as she chews some gum, blowing a bubble as she meanders from exhibit to exhibit with no real purpose.

"Not to self: dinos more boring than you remember from when you were nine," she says aloud to herself, sighing as she sidels up not far away from Spike. "Nice coat," she says.

Black Canary has posed:
What is short, blonde, wears kerb-stomping biker boots, jeans a size too small and, under a leather biker jacket (without colours), a white babydoll tee that's two sizes too small?

No idea, but whatever it is, it just clomped its way brashly into the museum's dinosaur display. She storms up to the Utahraptor display, phone glued to her ear.

A flip phone.

"OK, I'm at the display now," she says to the person at the other end. "And I'm telling you dinosaurs didn't have fea..." Her voice cuts off as she stares. "Oh, go to Hell!" she snaps into the phone with a piqued voice as tinny laughter gets barely heard from the other end. She snaps her phone shut and slips it into her jeans pocket, leaving a prominently visible bulge over her right thigh. "Smartass!" she mutters, before turning her angry face at the blameless recreation.

"You were probably in cahoots with him!" she says to the statue grumpily and then, finally, notices Spike leaning at it as if trying to stick his head inside.

"Don't do it, guy," she says dryly. "You have so much to live for."

Spike has posed:
Why would anyone want to live near a hellmouth? Make that why would any non-demon want to live near a hellmouth? The place was called Bludhaven. And yes, many visitors called it blood-haven, but as any local would attest, the correct pronunciation was actually bleud-haven.

"You think dinos are boring?" Spike asked in a working class English accent, as he turned his body, leaning on the railing, and cast his gaze at the Stegosaurus across the room. It was a massive room, but it had to be. The herbivore was 30 feet long.

The answer to Dinah's unspoken question was Buffy Summers, or it would have been if not for the leather biker jacket. Everything else fit her to a tee. Or didn't fit, but that was the point of going one size too small.

Further up, they actually had skeletons posed, but in this section, it was recreations using the latest known science, so colors, feathers, and scales. They'd even removed some feathers from certain species, as scientists have since discovered that many dinosaurs had them more as decoration, than all over their bodies, in the same way humans have hair on their head, but not the rest of their body, except for the late great Robin Williams.

Turning his head to Dinah, Spike asked, "you lose a bet?"

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee turns slowly and pushes her sunglasses up onto her forehead as she looks at Dinah, "Chica, did you just say 'cahoots'?"

She's frankly more interested in the arrival of the blondes than she is the dinos anymore, dismissing prehistoric learning for good old fashion gawking at strangers, "Please, keep going, don't mind me, I like rom-com banter. Oooh, oooh, hey lady, tell him a terrible lie that will trick him into falling for you, only to regret it later and confess at the last second until you have to make a wild demonstration of your love in the middle of a crowded airport."

"Or, like, y'know, go on about your day, I ain't your boss."

Doctor Doom has posed:
"Sir? I just wanted to say, sir, your work in their revival is inspiring. And to be so kind as to donate a living sample to the university, it's truly a dream come true."

A nasally voice blends in with the gentle din of the museum, a voice coming from a thoroughly prestigious man -- Samuel E. Lavitz, a tenured professor at Bludhaven's own local state university, known for his philanthropic interest in the preservation of endangered insect species. He's a plump and plain fellow in somber, professional dress, with a curling mustache and hair parted to the left and combed over a tragically shiny bald spot.

"But, erm, if I might ask, why are we discussing things here...?"

He gestures uselessly, indicating the strangeness of their presence in the dinosaur exhibit of the museum. After all, he has no real interest in dinosaurs, and his companion..

"I wished to see the dinosaurs," responds his companion, turning a corner and walking into spitting distance of the others. Above him looms the reconstituted skeleton of some long-dead predator-king, its shadow fallen upon him like a funerary shroud.

"You should appreciate history, Samuel. We must at times look back to see how far we have come."

The voice, so dreadful and sepulchral, is a grating, projected, metallic-tinged noise, and it comes from none other than Doctor Doom himself. Doom's eyes slide to the side, looking over the trio near the Utahraptor. "You see? Even the youth recognize its significance."

Black Canary has posed:
"Yeah," Dinah says, turning her gaze back to the dinosaur display. "Lost twenty bucks. When did dinosaurs suddenly grow feathers?!"

Her eyes stray to Jubilee, raking the woman over with slightly furrowed brow.

"Rom com? What are you talking about? You think I'm trying to romance a dinosaur display? This isn't Night at the Museum. Unfortunately. At least then there'd be some entertainment to go with the twenty bucks down the drain."

Her gaze turns back to Spike, one eyebrow raised in a 'she with you?' question.

Spike has posed:
Spike shook his head at the sunglasses indoors. Jubilee was immediately labelled a poser in his mind, even if they were on her forehead. Put those things in her pocket. Otherwise, it was so cliche. But she was young. Maybe she'd grow out of it in time?

And using the term chica? But she looked Chinese to him. Though she was spot on the cahoots, so he had to give that to her in his mental arithmetic.

He was a bottle blonde, because it was bleached, but it was also his natural hair color, just more of a golden shade. He dyed it black during World War II, but it didn't suit him. Her rom-com summary did get a laugh, a genuine, hearty laugh that began small, and grew louder, echoing through the chasm-like chamber.

"They always had 'em? But we only learned 'bout forty years ago, give or take. Everybody reads the headlines, but nobody sees the retractions." Like the Brontosaurus, which was discovered in 1879, reclassified as a sub species of Apotosurus in 1901, and in 2015 was separated as its own species once more.

he quietly shook his head at Dinah's non-verbal question, and was about to say more, but then he heard Doctor Doom and the Professor. He recognized the man instantly, who wouldn't, but Spike played dumb. "And just what are you supposed to be? Iron Man's mortal enemy, the Tin Man? Or is the Professor here going to give you a brain?" And if he was the Professor, where was Mary Ann?

Jubilee has posed:
None of Spike's cutting remarks towards her are said aloud and Jubilee has many, many talents (HEY SHE DOES), but she's not a mind-reader, so she just looks blankly at him for a moment and is about to respond to Dinah's question when suddenly...

"Holy Forkin' Shirtballs, it's Doctor Doom!" she yells.

Black Canary has posed:
...THE DISPLAY COMES TO LIFE!

OK, not really.

But that would be funny.

No, instead, as Spike goes on about how science works, and Canary stifles a yawn, another blonde woman, middle-aged, ramrod straight, enters the display area, her voice loud, with a security guard and one of the museum's management in tow.

"RIGHT HERE!" the woman shouts, pointing at the stegosaurus. "THIS DISPLAY RIGHT HERE NEARLY POKED OUT MY STEPHEN'S EYE!"

This is when the crying child is likely first noticed, burying his face in his mother's hip, while the woman's finger stabs at the display that's behind a plexiglass fence that seems too high for the child to have climbed over to get close enough to have any part of it poke the kid in the eye. When this is brought up by the manager, the screeching, incredibly, goes up in volume. In the incoherent screaming the idea is communicated that the woman, naturally, helped her son see more clearly by lifting him over the fence and putting him down on the other side.

Doctor Doom has posed:
"I-I see," stammers the professor, confused, intimidated, and entirely unwilling to rock the boat lest he offend Doom's notoriously prickly pride. "Well, it's as fine a spot as any. I remember when I was a boy, my father took me to..."

The man's words fade into the background, too irrelevant for Doom to even consciously perceive them. The lord of Latveria's attention is fixed elsewhere, sliding from one exhibit to the other. There's a glean of recognition on one exhibit in particular, and the monarch strides forth, his footfalls a staccato drumbeat on the floor, ponderous and weighty. It's during this walk that three things happen:

A child and mother begin to wail. Jubilee yells his name. And Spike openly mocks him.

Though his mask conceals all expressions, one can imagine a paroxysm of rage spasming across the tyrant's scarred face, the harsh purse of thin lips behind the metal mouth. "You come upon Doom in a rare mood. Turn and walk away, and I will mercifully pretend you didn't speak."

Spike has posed:
Spike was offered the chance to withdraw. Instead, he ratcheted up the mocking to eleven. Did anyone really expect anything else? "Doctor Doom? You must have one hell of a bedside manner. Where did you study, the Ho Chi Minh School of Medicine? Doctor Evil was your roommate, wasn't he?" He could go on, like asking how he goes to the bathroom in that thing, or is rust his second greatest enemy, but Spike decided to stop at the Doctor Evil jibe.

Though, as fun as mocking Doom was, the Karen in the room sent a cold shiver down his spine. For she was the true villain of the story. After that moment's hesitation, he stood up, metaphorically speaking - he was still leaning in a very relaxed looking state - for the museum, much to the chagrin of the Karen. "I was here, I was, what you call it, a witness. That display was as close to stabbing the kid as she," he pointed to Jubilee, "is to becoming starting power forward for the Gotham Knights."

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee slips her sunglasses down again, "Oh snap on a shiznit," she says, "Look, all I did was say your name. Dude, what are you doing? That's, like, Doctor Doom, man. He's...he's...he's Doctor Doom! He's dangerous. And mean. And like really tall. He's got things in that suit that'll like...blow you up. Chill, rebel without a cause."

When he points at her, she steps forward, "Look, sassy pants, I'm trying to keep you from getting obliterated!" she says, wagging a pink-nailed finger at him.

Black Canary has posed:
The only person in the room immune to sonic attack stares at the Karen in full-blown assault whine mode with widened eyes.

"Wow, someone needs to tone it down a tad," she says conversationally to her two companions-of-the-moment. "I mean I have a loud voice, but that is right off the scale. What is it about blonde white women that makes them so obnoxious?"

Asks the blonde ... white ... woman?

Oh, wait. Roots. She's bottle blonde.

"You said you saw this?" Dinah asks Spike (who might start recognizing who it is talking). "What happened? Did she do something idiotic and put her kid on the other side of the fence?"

She says this loud enough for Karen to hear. Deliberately. Someone's spoiling for a fight.

Doctor Doom has posed:
Between the fearful fawning of Jubilee, the sass of Spike, and the irresponsible parental rage of the museum's runaway Karen exhibit, a great irritation builds in the pit of Doom's stomach. Metal fingers crush together with strength enough to turn sapphires to dust, the man's hand balling into a fist at his side.

"Were this any other day, I would burn you to nothing, and allow not even your ashes to defile the floor around me. Push my tolerance no further; already, you tempt the wrath of DOOM!" The man's hand lifts dramatically, and though it is a bright and warm day out, somewhere lightning flashes and thunder roars.

Not here, but somewhere.

"Bah. At least one of you has some manners. Come, Samuel, before my estimation of your country falls even further."

He makes as if to leave, pushing forward and disengaging from the small crowd. As lovely as weeping children and angry women are, he has a dinosaur to resurrect and a birthday to plan for.

Spike has posed:
Spike regarded Jubilee as if she wasn't making any sense, "I'm sensing that Doctor and Doom should carry some weight here. What is he, some kind of pop star? He's not one of the K-Pop-ers, is he?" Spike's fingernails were painted too, but not pink. His were black.

"Tell me about it," Spike says to Dinah's remark about blonde white women, though he meant a different obnoxious blonde white woman, not the Karen. "Nah, she blew past idiotic a few stops ago." He was always in the mood for a fight, even if these days, he could only fight verbally, or against certain types of creatures. Bloody chip in his head!

Turning to Jubilee, he asks loud enough that Doom, the Professor, and Mary Ann, wherever she is, could hear. "Is old clanky pants always this much of a pushover?"

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee lets out a deep breath, "Dude, he's like a dictator of a whole country and he's got, like, Iron Man type crap in his armor. He's probably got laser eyes or some shit," she says, punching him in the shoulder unless he dodges it. "I did not come to the museum to get your brain splattered all over me by Doc Doom, man!"

She sees the confrontation brewing between Dinah and the Karen, "I think that chick might be about to kick that woman in the face right in front of her kid. Damn, she got thighs for days, though. Good for you, girl!"

Doctor Doom has posed:
A familiar heat rises like bile in Doom, his pride as ever his most sensitive point -- and it's that pride that tells him to assert dominance over Spike, to not tolerate the insult both to his person and to the mercy he'd already shown.

But is a mouthy vagabond worth a political nightmare? Slaughtering a citizen in the open over some mouthiness always rubs these westerners the wrong way; something about 'first amendments' and 'human rights'.

The internal calculus runs, and in the end Doom's response is to turn, silent as the reaper, and walk to a different area of the museum, his professor companion in tow.

He leaves with only this to say to Jubilee: "My condolences. It cannot be easy being out in public with him."

Black Canary has posed:
The Karen turns to face Dinah, the needling making it through her self-righteous shield.

"How dare you!" she gasps. "My son is..."

"...going to suffer therapy for the rest of his life at the combined coddling and embarrassment his mother is inflicting on him. I feel sorry for the kid."

Dinah steps forward, eyes now hard, playfulness completely out of her voice.

"Now, here's how it's going to work. You can't cancel me out. I'm a blonde woman too, and I'm WAY the fuck hotter than you. And I can outshout you. Trust me on this."

Something in her voice suggests there's irony afoot, likely of the dramatic variety.

"So, you're going to stop hectoring these people, you're going to leave the museum, and you're going to take some lessons on how to be a human being before coming back. Or I'm going to kick your ass so hard they'll be finding shards of it falling from the sky in ancient fucking Egypt."

A quick flourish and there's a pair of knuckle dusters on the blonde's hands. Very fancy, very expensive, very functional knuckle dusters. The kind a pro legbreaker would use if they wanted to spend too much money.

"Capiche?"

Spike has posed:
"Yeah, but what country? It's probably Symkaria, Transia, or one of those other micro states in the Balkans." Yes, he knew it was Latveria, he knew where it was, but he just loved to push buttons. "Laser eyes, huh? Do you think he uses them to heat his meals?" He probably could have dodged, but made no effort to do so to the punch to his shoulder. It was a firm shoulder, very firm, even through the coat and shirt underneath. He must work out.

Plus, Spike spoke with a British accent. If Doctor Doom killed a British subject on American soil, it would probably cause concern for both countries.

When the Karen gasped 'how dare you! My son is', Spike helpfully inserted "Greta Thunberg?" as Dinah said something about 'going to suffer'. "Funny name for a boy, that." He added after she finished.

Still looking relaxed as ever, leaning near the Utahraptor, Spike raised a hand, "I can confirm that. She is in fact way the fuck hotter, though not sure about the blonde. May come out of a bottle."

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee pays no more mind to the Karen. She has had her own battles with that particular form of leviathan and she isn't eager to have another go round. Plus, Dinah seems to totally have it handled. Of course, then the knuckle dusters come out and Jubes' jaw drops.

"Damn, woman, goin' full gangsta on her. You gonna dangle her off a balcony, too?" she laughs, clearly tickled by the interaction.

She sticks her tongue out at Spike, "She and I are just, like, different flavors of hotness."

Black Canary has posed:
The 'Greta Thunberg' thing spoils the vibe as Dinah giggles. Actually giggles, not laughs or guffaws or chuckles. Giggles. Destroying the 'gangsta' thing in one single move.

She shoots an amused glance Spike's way, shaking her head before winking at Jubilee. "Gangsta, no. Ass-kicker, yes."

Her attention is then back on Karen, who herself is now doing the calculus and realizing she's not on the winning side any longer.

"IT IS BOTTLED!" she shouts triumphantly. Victorious in her mind, now, and aware that she needs to be gone quickly, she gathers up her son. "COME ALONG GRET..." She glares with such venom at Spike the fact he's undead is likely the only thing keeping him mobile. "STEPHEN. WE'LL TAKE THIS TO THE MAYOR'S OFFICE!"

And with that she clacks her heels out to the door, confused boy in tow. "You want me to still cry? Did they give you money?" the boy's plaintive voice says as they pass through the doors leading to the front hall.

Spike has posed:
Spike raises his hand again, index finger pointed up, "I can confirm that too. You two, and thirty friends, ought to open a Baskin Robbins." <br
Greta Thunberg was good at destroying things. She was also good at becoming a meme. Poor girl. Her heart was in the right place. Spike was good at destroying things too, when he wanted. He replied to that amused glance with a bit of a shrug, both of them recognizing what he had done, even if that one wasn't intentional.<br
Okay, the Karen almost calling her own son Greta made him smile, genuinely smile. He was doing his best not to laugh at that one. It was a wide grin. Then, having heard the boy, he added to Jubilee and Dinah, "I feel a great swell of pity for that young man. Poor Gretstephen."

Spike has posed:
Spike says, "The demographic did change during the course of the show."