1713/Just What's a Hero Anyways

Just What's a Hero Anyways
Date of Scene:	30 July 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Molly Millions, Azazel

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Molly Millions has posed:
Museums. Molly isn't usually one for going and staring at what she refers to as 'gomi'. Garbage. On a fundamental level she doesn't understand the drive to collect useless things just because they were made a long time ago. But the history of this place... of it's costumed 'heroes'? They're beginning to become a source of frustration. A current issue. And rather than try to track down information on this world's version of the matrix... she's elected to actually come out and visit the museum of Justice.

She's done the tour, listened to the presenter drone on, and now is prowling among the plinths, trying to get a better handle on who these people are, and why the hell they feel entitled to interfere in other people's lives.

With her silver lenses, plain black clothing, hands clasped loose behind her back she's easy to miss in a crowd, but most people have looks of delight and fascination, and her? Trending neutral and trying her damned not to snort with the cynicism of the 23rd century at the various exhibits.

Azazel has posed:
There's a sound like a sudden rush of air, not entirely dissimiliar to the sort of puffing pop of the sort of black powder used by the very earliest cameras -- but quieter by far. It's very faint, really, just a sort of...

*BAMF*

"Foolish, is it not?" The voice comes from a man just behind Molly, by all accounts a normal looking man. A man with a goatee and a vaguely Eastern European sounding accent as he steps up just to the side of Molly, and just a touch behind. "They erect these monuments to these men, these women. No more than that, but treated like gods. It's hard to imagine it doesn't go to their heads." He smiles a friendly smile her way, but there's something at the corners that suggests something... else.

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions's at least inured to the concept of people popping up out of thin air, but there's still that moment where she twists her head towards Azazel, uncertain that she's the one being address immediately. Appraising as she folds her arms before her and turns back towards the plinth,"There are those who call themselves gods, too. At which point does it become anything more than a matter of semantics?" she purses her lips briefly. Suspicion in that she looks back to him again but elects to state anyways,"There's no-one genuinely as altruistic as half the crap written on these things."

Azazel has posed:
"An excellent question," Azazel agrees, wagging his finger at her once to punctuate that sentiment, "Perhaps all our gods were simply powerful men and women like these." He gestures to the plinths and smiles a knowing smile, "Gods amongst men to the uneducated -- beings of incredible might who sought the worship of their lessers to those who knew better." He looks back to her, that same smile on his face as she gives her view on the matter, and he nods slowly. "Even the 'gods' were brought low by common greed or arrogance in the myths, the stories. I find it just as unlikely that these, their spiritual ancestors, could be any better." After a pause, he takes a step back so he can offer his hand, "Felix Beliar."

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions gives a quiet grunt,"Can't say I've bothered to look up the details here." she admits, eyeing the offered hand dubiously before electing to unfold her own for a brief shake,"Molly." she offers, not bothering with her surname,"Here it's... people, with this kind of power. And some of them do well with it, sure. But others seem to take it as license to interfere with others purely because they have the power to do so." she grimaces and shakes her head at Superman's plinth, turning away with an expellation of breath,"What about you? Though... if the next words out of your mouth are something like I represent the league of evil... y'can flush that too."

Azazel has posed:
"The League of Evil was rejected," 'Felix' replies with a grin, "The Council of Authority decided it was a bit too on the nose." He waves the idea away as if it were a fly, something physical he could disregard with a simple gesture. "No, Molly, I do not represent anyone but myself. Let's just say... I've had my eye on you. Talented, aren't you? A bit more resilient than your average human, yet you seem to be brushing shoulders with some of these self-proclaimed gods, and I worry about what they are teaching you." He holds up a hand as if to forestall any potential interuptions, continuing on with that knowing smile of his still in place, "They are talented, I'll grant you, but they are mere children in my eye. Ancient beyond the understanding of many, but I was ancient still when they were given life."

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions snorts,"Y'sure? Because I had some lady in a red hat try to get me to sign up for something like that." yeh, there's the defensiveness in being told she's been noticed, hands hooked on her pants predominantly so that she doesn't have her blades tangled up if she finds the need to draw,"I see, so what kind of god are you supposed to be?" there's insouciance in the way she drawls it. It's not that she hasn't come to accept the premise of gods, it's that she can't quite help the dry sarcasm that infuses her tone when presented with the idea of ancient things,"And what the hell do you want with me?"

Azazel has posed:
"A god? Me? Nonsense," Felix responds, once again waving off the idea supplied by Molly, "I'm merely a very old, old man who found himself stuck in a very old, old place that, by happy accident, happened to give me a very long, long life." He smiles at the explanation, quite pleased with himself for it by any measure of his expression. "Well, that's the thing, isn't it? Technically, I'm still stuck in this old, old place, but I've long ago found a way to get out for a day or two at a time. While I try to facilitate my escape, sometimes I need people who can act on my behalf freely. Nothing you're not used to, of course, and naturally I'd be willing to pay."

Molly Millions has posed:
There's only the reflection of those silver lenses rather than her eyes to show the level of dubiousness etched on her face, though much of it is probably translated in the way her lips are pressed together,"Right." she utters,"So this is some kind of hologram, then." the razorgirl's got no qualms about reaching out to test that particular theory, either,"What kind of work are we talking?" escape. Old, old, old, isn't a hero-sucker, color her all kinds of suspicious.

Azazel has posed:
Felix's smile stretches just a bit broader as Molly reaches out to touch him, and then suddenly...

*Bamf!*

The wind is terribly loud three thousand feet above Times Square, especially when you start rapidly approaching the ground. Felix, however, doesn't seem concerned. He does, seem a bit more red than before, however as both Molly and he are transported a little over half a mile into the air. He opens his mouth, but the words are rushed away, and suddenly a tail reaches out, slips around Molly's wrist, and...

*Bamf!*

All their momentum is suddenly directed sideways as they appear parallel to the ground, this time only fifty feet above some sort of tropical island. They slow rapidly, and before they can regain all that momentum...

*Bamf!*

They're standing on the closed viewing platform outside the Statue of Liberty's torch. "No, not quite a hologram," Felix claims, now completely red and sporting long pointed ears and a tail, "I have another method for escaping the place I find myself trapped. As for the work? Simple errands. The kind that might put you in conflict with bad people, but nothing openly hostile or aggressive."

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions is not so machine that by the time they're on the torch she's not at least a little bit ready to lose her lunch, and grabs onto the railing with the white-knuckled death grip as she lets her systems endeavor to get a lock on her position. Ironically enough, the first time she'd met a teleporter... it was... oh... about 20ft over thattaway on Liberty's crown. But it still doesn't make her less inclined to crouch and let the geopositional systems catch up to her new location and breathe to try and fight the inertia induced desire to hurl off the side of the iron lady's torch.

"Oh great... you're a portaller." she groans, swallowing at last and spitting towards the ground far below,"And for the purposes of bad people...?" she enquires hoarsely without electing to get up. Screw trying to pretend that she's unaffected by the transition, that just might prompt round two,"And what kind of money we talking?" let it not be said that she doesn't have her priorities in order at least.

Azazel has posed:
"Close," Felix claims, smiling with amusement, "I can teleport -- amongst other things -- but I don't use traditional portals to do so." At her questioning of his definition of bad people, he only chuckles, "Why, what would you call people who would endeavor to prevent a man returning to the freedom of his home? That's all I want, after all. The ability to finally come home after eleven thousand years stuck in that place." He's cagey about who exactly she might come in conflict with, and it's obvious as he turns away to look out over the bay. "Money is no issue for me. Name a price, and... Well..."

Two *bamfs* later and Felix is back and standing before her with two solid gold bars in either hand. "Needless to say, you can set your price -- within reason -- and I will match it, effortlessly. Further, I will endeavour to undo all the harm those buffoons who call themselves gods of war have done to your development. If you wish it, of course."

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions's at least managed the 'standing up' thing when he bamf's back. It's not the height that's an issue for her, though she's picked to lean back against the torch so that she at least has something solid at her back just to be on the safe side,"I don't kill kids. And you start saying 'been trapped for eleven-thousand years' these little bells start going off in the back of my head. Like... how is it that you're trapped... if you can teleport? Who the hell did you piss off?" gold speaks though, it does. She's not immune to eyeing it behind her lenses.

"I happen to like War. Both of them. Though you're diving the wrong ICE if you think I'm a mutant. Tell me more about this job. And how is it that a guy that can teleport can say he's trapped?"

Azazel has posed:
Felix waves his hand, calm as can be as two minitature, cackling, naked (but in the Ken doll sense) versions of himself show up, each one grabbing the gold, and then each one bamfing out again. Without even awknowledging that particular occurance, he shakes his hand and approaches the railing, leaning his back against it and resting either elbow on the bar, unsurprisingly quite comfortable with the height. "Kill? You need not kill anyone. I certainly won't mind, but I'm not out to slaughter the masses. Simply see to it that no one interrupts whatever mission I might have for you, and you will have earned your pay. As for the circumstances of my condition? Well... Let's just say that I have a feeling you wouldn't believe me if I told you the full truth of the matter. Not yet, at least. Suffice it to say that where I'm trapped pulls me back to it as inevitably as the moon rises, and that the ones who saw to me being trapped there had neither the authority nor the right to do so, though like so many to come after them, they believed themselves the kin of the gods." He then waves his hand again, "No, no, of course you're not a mutant. I offer training of a more traditional sense, against non-traditional enemies. I offer training with a blade."

Molly Millions has posed:
"Alright." Molly grunts, it's not that she's not dubious, but at the same time she's not seeing anything to overtly trip her into 'helllll no' territory,"When I accept a job I see it through to the end. What sort of jobs are we talking then. Theft?" he might not be, but she's conscious of the long drop of that railing. Still, she has to actively remind herself that just like the other portaller, of the two of them this guy in his suit and goatee is going to have a hell of a lot easier a time avoiding death than she would,"With the understanding that I'll approve them individually. Guns are more useful, at a distance, but sure... I suppose some people still run around with swords." or... y'know, blades in their hands.

Azazel has posed:
"Sometimes it might be theft," Felix answers casually and noncommittal, "Sometimes it might not be. At the moment, I have nothing for you, but I can guarantee I will. Consider this me reaching out and starting a business relationship. I'll have need of your services at some point, but I wouldn't want to go through this whole dance when that time comes. You understand?"

When she mentions the superiority of guns at range, he grins and shrugs, "This is true against your average opponent, but then there are those who are not harmed by simple bullets or are unaffected by..."

&*Bamf!*

He appears right next to her, leaning against the wall on the opposite side of where she would have been looking to see him before, "Distances."

Molly Millions has posed:
There's a grunt of acknowledgment from Molly to go with the dip of her head, acknowledging that she understands. Then he *bamfs* and reappears next to her and in reflexive paranoia the blades are extruded from one hand, for all that she stops short of actually trying to put holes in Lady Liberty... or him for that matter. Still,"Sword's not going to help that close." she opines in as even a tone as she can manage, letting them slide away again. She's no Wolverine, or X-23, those blades aren't indestructible. But then again, Adamantium wasn't a thing where she comes from, either.

Azazel has posed:
"Depends on the sword," Felix counters with a grin, "The Romans used quite a short blade -- Most would consider it a long knife by today's standards. I myself am adept with blades of all lengths." He takes a step back and seems to fall into the puff of black smoke that forms where his body used to be, only to reappear standing upright on the wall above her head, a long rapier in his hand. "Truthfully I like a longer blade in my hand," he offers, just as his tail rises above his shoulder, wrapped around the hilt of a short, wicked looking dagger, "Though I'm quite adaptable." A chuckle as the dagger slides slowly and quietly all around him, making it quite obvious how brutally effective such an appendage would be, especially in someone who can teleport as quickly and effectively as he. "Non-traditional opponents. They are quite common this day and age. You should be prepared to fight them, not more humanoids who come at you from the front yelling their warcrys and brandishing their axes and hammers."

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly elects to move out from under his spot on the wall, eyeing that sword, and that tail, with a slight shake of her head,"You know... where I came from... people might come up with some pretty mad augments... but that's what they were at the end of the day... here... I got people who can walk on walls, teleport, and have prehensile tails. But sure. I'm not going to turn down the opportunity to learn how to kill people better if I need to." she spits over the railing again with generalized bitterness and not for the first time wishes she'd bothered to go back to Chiba for an upgrade at least some point in the last five years.

Azazel has posed:
Felix just laughs at Molly's displeasure with the state of the people in this world, *bamfing* back down to the platform with her, his blades disappearing somewhere along the way. "A wise decision. With a bit of training, you will discover that even these modern gods are not invulnerable. Even they can be overcome." With that, his tail lashes out for her, wrapping quickly about whatever appendage he can get his 'hands' on, and once again they're back in the Museum -- or at least she is. All that's left of Felix Beliar is the impression of a whisper as she is carried through that momentary tear in space: "I'll be in touch..."

Azazel has posed:
Azazel has a Bamf bring in a couch and reclines. "What's the word, Rainmaker?"

Azazel has posed:
Azazel says, "Voyant. We should meet so I can steal souls from your master."