1797/Log 1797

Log 1797
Date of Scene:	03 August 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Lady Blackhawk, Grace Choi

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Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    The sun fell a few hours back and the horizon has been threatening rainfall for what feels like the entire day, but as the Cicadas drone into the night? The sporadic flashes of Lightning, but now well you can actually start to get the tremble of distant thunder. Talking heads have been calling it strange all day long, an unseasonal shift in the weather. Storms sweeping up from the west, rather than blowing in from the sea? It's wierd sure, but at least it seems like the harmless kind of wierd maybe?

    Adelmo, well he's not harmless. He's never been accused of being harmless in his entire life, and he's got the neck tattoos to drive that home. He's not an unknown, not down at the club. Dude's some flavor of bruiser, but at least he's usually one to follow the rules. His coming around, late at night? Also not unusual, but the fact that he stops on the sidewalk half a block away? That's unusual alright, It's downright creepo.

Grace Choi has posed:
    Since she'd ripped it out of a dead-man's eyeball, Grace Choi had not really ever let go of the nail that had been the key to seeing the grotesque spider-thing. Because, magic. And magic sucks. She can't see things she can't punch. But she can see things with the nail. Thus, she can punch them.
    And she was getting off her shift, stepping outside the doors as the shift-change occurs, carrying a bottle of beer out with her as she does so. A nice cool drink for the way home. Her steps carry her forward pretty quickly, though her steps start to slow as she spies Adelmo, just hovering there. Almost as if he's waiting for someone. Her lips twist into a frown, her mind thinking he's got some prey, boy or girl, pleasure or pain. Grace has been through too much to think the best of people in these situations.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Adelmo, unfortunately has been nailed. With your own bit of iron on hand, it's easy to see even from afar. A single head spike driven into his skull, only there doesn't seem to be some huge spider looming behind him. There are tatters of silk clinging to his arm, but no he seems more confused than anything. Adelmo was some sort of hopped up something or other, strong and well who the fuck knows exactly what he was capable of. He was some sort of mask or cape, maybe? Strong enough to fight off a spider he couldn't see, maybe?

    A neat navy blue and silver Lamborghini, an older, wierder one at that? It pulls to a stop further down the street, another block away behind Grace and infront of Adelmo. It's a wierd car for certain, and the dude who climbs out of the seat is distinctive as well. Long white hair pulled into a lazy ponytail, a long white beard he's left to just run wild. New York Yankees Ballcap, and what must have passed as a thousand dollar suit in like...1991. He's out of place, and well he narrows his gaze as soon as he's out. Grabbing a dufflebag before heading down the sidewalk towards this little shindig. Something metallic held low in one hand...

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Shit," mutters Grace, to herself. Still, the tatters of silk, the confusion that Adelmo has registering with her that, perhaps, the Spider has already been fought off? Attacked?
    The odd appearance of the Lambo has her attention as well as the strange fellow who is moving down the street with a dufflebag. Grace dials on her phone. "It's me. I don't care what you're doing, you need to get out here. Adelmo's messed up. You watch him for me. Keep an eye on him. Don't approach him. Don't threaten him. Tell Jones I said if he can't watch the bar for thirty on his own, I'll break his teeth. Yes. I'll give you an hour of my pay for it, and work it out with Cheney. Get out here."
    Grace hangs up the phone with the bouncer on duty, and then she's moving to follow the other creepy dude with the dufflebag. She's 7' tall. Stealth is not her forte. And, she doesn't even try to pretend. She instead makes a beeline, striding smoothly, widely, quickly, towards Ponytail.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    The old fellow looks up from beneath the rim of that ballcap, and slows to a stop. The dude is huge, almost seven himself and once upon a time he might have been quite the bruiser. These days however that suit is a little loose in the shoulders and a little tight across the gut, but hey old age is a bitch. "Let me guess, you had a lovely time down in Belize recently?"American accent at least, so he's not from down there and hey his temples look intact?
    Adelmo for his part just, wavers in place. Looking blearily around, but well he's not really too eager to go anywhere if he's even capable of stringing a coherent thought together anymore.

    "You should send your friends back inside, this doesn't need to involve them. Just a pest control problem, right miss?"Duffelbag finally dropping, as the bearded guy leans off to one side to shoot Adelmo something of a look.

Grace Choi has posed:
    Grace slows, her arms hanging loose at her side. In case, you know, a fight breaks out. Strange old men in Ponytails who can see spiders who can pound mind controlling and zombiefying nails into people's faces as well as guess as where she recently was probably isn't on her top ten list of people to trust.
    "That's why I told him to stay back. He's a meta. Don't worry. You won't see him. Either will Adelmo." She doesn't explain further, as if it were a hint, leverage, or a threat to not try anything funny.
    "Yeah. I was." She does not add the 'What's it to you'? This one, she figures, it's better to play straight. Get some answers she's been wanting. "Made a friend."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "First time one of those has shown up in years, it's a piece of a spider incidentally."He slowly sinks to a knee, before dragging the bag around infront and pulls it open. "They can sense the nails, feel them from far away. You shouldn't be carrying it around like that, it makes it easy for them to find you."And out comes, well it's a gun of somesort maybe? Theres pipes and tubes and it's all sort of a mess of a thing. "You don't have a friend who's super into fishnets incidentally do you?"

    And then comes a soft hiss of pressure before -fwoomf-, yeah that's not a gun the old man has. It's a very small flamethrower, because how the fuck else do you fight giant invisible spiders? "There are more than a couple of these things, and you're friend down there on the street? See the web, it doesn't need to be connected to the spider to control him. He's bait, guy is already gone."

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Good," Grace says, confidentally. "I want it to find me. So I can first, break all of it's legs. Then, shove the legs down it's throat. Right after which, I tear it's fangs out of it's mouth, and use those to gouge out all of it's eyes." This is said with a sort of mild conviction, as if she had, in her mind, cemented herself on this very train of thought. This was not just random bantering as fighters will boast that they're going to do an opponent. This is not a overstatement of emphasis of how much she wants to kill the thing. This is Grace's plan to kill it.
    She adds, "Besides. I already pissed it the fuck off. Took away it's toys. So. I'm already on it's radar. And I want to know when it's coming. So," she says, finishing the thought, "Think I'll carry it a bit longer."
    Then, she adds, "Yes. I do. And -- what exactly am I going to be killing? The fuck is it, anyways? Besides a grotesque, overgrown zombie making spider?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "There are maybe a few thousand spiders out there. Big intelligent, invisible spiders. The nails though, somone is making them and giving them to them. Thats, well obviously a problem."He rolls his shoulders cooly, peering down the sidewalk towards Adelmo. "They call them "Le Cometa", the kites. Because usually they need strings, right? Well if theres a spike, then just a wad of webbing is enough. So this bastard is somewhere, nearby. Couple hundred yards at most, probably here to settle the score. Take back it's spike. Problem is of course, they don't come at you directly. No they got this poor fuck, you know that guy?"

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Somewhat of a jerk, but, he comes to the bar. He's a meta, like me. But, knows I can kick his ass, so he stays in line," she says, speaking of that poor fuck. Though, her eyes shift around. "Makes sense that someone is using them like that, then. Since the two other poor fucks we ran into in Belize seemed to be fighting for a bunch of guerillas." She cracks her knuckles, slowly, muttering, "Shouldn't have left it at home. Tell you one thing, I pissed the spider the fuck off when it saw I could see it, after I tried to pull it over to me."
    Then, frowning, "Why'd you ask about Legs?" Wondering if Dinah is in trouble.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "She asked for information, somone else involved in this tried to spool her up. So I told her what she wanted to know, figure she's down south of the border now running it down."He steps foreward with another roll of those shoulders, easing towards Adelmo slowly. "One thing these guys like least in the world incidentally, is fire. You wanna get rowdy, bring a flame."And with that he loots loose a -Whooosh- of flame up into the air.
    Adelmo just drops like a sack of potatoes, and you can hear both the scream and the furious scrabble of insect legs from above. Up on the rooftops, though for the moment well it's out of sight.

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Up there, huh? Good enough for me. Don't go anywhere." Grace looks up to the rooftops, and she's walking across the street, to snag a lightpost. One of these days, someone in the city is going to figure out she's the one ripping them out all the time, and send her a bill. For now? She's building up a run and she uses it as a pole vault, coupled by speed and strength, to launch her up onto the buildings rooftop, landing hard, and rolling because - well, she's not exactly an acrobat. She rolls a few times, hard before pushing herself up to her feet, not having taken really any particular damage. Her head whips around, looking for her target, "Where are you, you little shit," she calls. "Come on. I got your nail, bitch. Let's do this."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    And you know what, it's not the same spider. This one is too, yellow and a little smaller. It's yaknow still compact car sized, but it's not the same one. Anyway, It turns with a -screech-. Raising those forelimbs up and well. Those are sharp pokey legs, and it's looking to nail Grace the old way. By jamming the tip of those legs through her skull. It's swift and it's accurate but, well it's also anything but a martial artist. No really it telegraphs, like super hard.

Grace Choi has posed:
    Grace knows Amazonian Combat Skills. At least, the basics. She remembers that much. Everything else? She learned on the streets, between fighting styles, and - well, how to use her strength effectively. It might all look like just run and smash things, but there -is- a technique to it. Usually.
    As each leg comes down, Grace is ready for it, and she grabs each leg, one with each hand able to match the spider's remarkable speed with that of her own Amazonian bloodline, and she grits her teeth, pushing back. Bending the legs. Or trying to. Trying to snap them in half. Or, pull it, towards the edge. Whichever happens, first. But she's got a hold of it, now, and she's not going to let go, easily. "Not today, you eight-legged bitch. Got a message for you. And, your boss," she snarls at it, straining, every muscle in her body tensed, as she more or less arm wrestles the invisible, zombie spider.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    It's strong, but Grace is stronger. It's Fast, but Grace is faster. What it isnt, is used to actually fighting with anything that hits back. It flails when captured, and well Grace snaps one leg off at the end joint before the thing goes tumbling. Scrabbling in any and every direction in an attempt to get away, this is apparently not at all going according to the spiderplan. No really thats a legit word.

    Pressing down webbing into, well it's probably trying to lay down a lifeline but theres just peagravel up here. So thusfar it's really, falling to pieces. The one down in Belize, it did indeed seem to have it more "together" maybe, probably just an older spider?

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Oh, fuck no," Grace snarls, tossing one snapped off leg to the side. And, incidentally, over the building, probably somewhere near Ponytail and his flamethrower. She doesn't check, though, as she's too busy running to catch up with it. This time, as the the spiders back is turned Grace grabs it's back-quarter leg, plants a high-boot against the spider's abdoment and this time, both hand, she -pulls-. Hard. And she yanks the leg straight out.
    And then she's on to the next nearest leg, determined to do the same thing, ichor, gunk, and whatever else be damned. "Fucking magic spiders," she spits, deresively, "I'm going to grease your rat-fucked ass right now, you son of a bitch."
    To say Grace was pissed would be an understatement. This wasn't just some boring villian trying to take over a city. This was someone perverting heroes. Like Black Canary. Or Zinda. She has no doubt if she hadn't been there, that's exactly what would have happened. It doesn't matter it's a different spider. The spider is here, now, and Grace is worked up.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    It flails, but well once legs start coming off and the ichor and "Spider guts" start flying? It's just a mess, It does at least keep up the flailing for awhile, until well the loss of ichor and guts and blood is enough to doom the poor thing. Really, they're not so bad once you know the trick. Truly they're only about twice as strong as your average dude, which all things considered isn't all that threatening. Anyway eventually it slows to a stop, finally falling limp and still.

    "Ponytail" has by this point, made it up the fire escape with that flamethrower under one arm. Huffing and puffing, but well it's still faster than your average jackoff right? "Wow, ok. Yeah, ok."He sets that burner aside and doubles over to catch his breath. "Now, just burn the fucker. The, uh metal."And a wave towards the carcass. "In the nails, it's treated with a protein from these guys. So see, somone's playing the spiders too."

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Alright." Grace flexes her hands, not seeking to wipe them off on her pants. Spider ichor. Gross. "But, before I do any of that? Who the fuck are you?" A fair question, now that the imminent threat is dealt with. "And, whose puppeting these bastards?" It'd probably be hard for anyone to really feel bad for a spider, even on the best of days. Maybe it's just being flicked off by that first spider that still has her unsympathetic to them being played.
    She might even look disappointed at it dying too quickly for her to shove it's legs in it's mouth.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "George Fisher, I used to be the Bogota station chief before Clinton."And a pause, before finally reaching out a hand to shake. Not worried by the spider gore apparently. "We ran into these things in the jungle, they'd make little dolls and then use those to lure people away."He nudges a foreleg with his boot. "See how sharp, it lets them spear somone in the noodle and make them call for help. They never like, puppeted people or kept them alive or. I mean they're smart, they make tools and have a language."

    "Oh jesus this is complicated, ok so sit down this'll take a minute."And a pause as he roots around in his jacket before producing a pack of smokes and a lighter. "Shit I was too old for this nonsense fourty years ago."

Grace Choi has posed:
    Grace, not one for manners, kicks over the spider carcass, and promptly sits on an untorn, and unichored part of the abdomen for a chair, but she leans forwards, elbows on knees. "Me, Legs, Zinda, and her sidekick are going to take care of this. Whatever it is. If Legs has already left, that means I need to go join her. Leave a note for Zinda. So. You got my attention, George. I'm Grace, by the way. Nice to meet you."
    It's even mostly sincere. "So. I'm all ears. Go for it."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "They're not nice animals, but we figured it wasn't right to just kill'em. They have little villages, they build things, they have some sort of language. So we let'em live."And a cough, as George finally seems to be cooling off. "Armin Keller, GDR type. They picked him up on suspicion of murdering his mother when he was nine years old, found a basement full of dissected family pets. We diagnosed him as a high functioning psychopath with an exceptionally high IQ. This was the eighties back then, cold war. He came to us, we thought defected. He was the best interrogator and spy hunter the Russkies had, so we were thrilled. We also had Polina Vanchev down there, she was the chief biologist for the Bioprepetat. A uh, Bioweaponeer. We had the two of them ready to get shipped back to the states, biggest haul ever right?"

    "Embassy was bombed by Pablo Escobar, who we were after at the time. Secure holding goes to shit, Armin walks Polina out of the fire. We think at first this is legit, he's just laying low until it's safe. Next time we see them, Polina and Armin both have pins. Like those big nails, but thinner."
    And a pause as George chains up another smoke. "They tried to capture a French Intelligence asset, and a meta. The Black Fox, big werewolf kind of deal but a fox. Anyway, Armin tried to put one of those things in old Jean-Pierre, until the fox got loose and bolted. First time we saw one of those needles. It's acid washed, to make them porus right? Then washed in a protein derived from the spiders, and jammed in the head."

    "I heard about the thing in Belize, and I don't understand that at all. The rest, just looks like the Spiders don't like the nails. Trying to get them back, maybe they want to use the nails themselves like that one down in Belize. Maybe thats some sort of, outcast criminal spider? Anyway Armin is as old as I am, he's also in Gotham somewhere. Whatever he has to pay for, these big nail things? Same idea, different execution. Somone stole Armin's neat little trick."

Grace Choi has posed:
    "So what you're saying," Grace says, pulling out her nail from her pants, turning it over in her hand, "Is that this thing isn't on the mass markets. and, it can probably be traced." Who she'd have trace it? She hasn't the foggiest notion. She doesn't have connections. But, she's guessing Black Canary does.
    "Thanks for the history lesson. Whoever is behind this, tempted to jam this into their eyes in return. I might settle for just snapping their legs in half, along with their arms." She does not look too happy. But, she nods to the man, "So, what. You were some kind of Cold War team, on weapons research? Huh. You probably encountered Zinda, then. Hope you weren't on opposite sides. She probably would've kicked your asses."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Zinda Blake? Hah you kidding? I never would've joined the navy if it weren't for her, but I mean by then she was just a poster. You know, cheesecake as they used to say. She went missing in uh, '45 and I joined up in 49'? Reason I joined up, reason I ended up in the CIA like alot of other guys. I think we all expected to find she'd just retired somewhere sunny, but no she wasn't on planet earth when I was in."And another soft cough. "I was Bogota Station chief, chased Pablo escobar and all that fun stuff."

    "Anyway the nails, no I don't think there are many of these. I think the nails or pins, are made from dead spiders and so the Spiders are probably also not exactly thrilled about all of this maybe? Somone with a science degree though, somone smart is doing this. Now your friend in the FIshnets, last time I saw her she was going down to Mexico I think. I know of some guys down there who have a clue. Le Negro will know whats going on if anyone does, and thats who I sent her to."George rises slowly, priming that flamethrower as he motions towards the dead spider. "Just, don't go talking to le Negro yourself. It wouldn't like you much I don't think."

Grace Choi has posed:
    Grace considers the man's wisdom, "I never claimed to be the charismatic one," agrees Grace, shrugging. "Point taken. I'll let Legs take care of Le Negro, then. Thanks again." She offers her hand, then, ichor stained still, to the man in a measure of friendship, or thanks, even as she gets up.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    He returns the gesture with a soft shake, and a nod. "Wish I could go down there with you girls, but getting old sucks."And well once Grace is clear? Fwoom, and with just a touch of the flamethrower the spider -erupts- into a Pyre, it burns hot and fast. The spiders aren't just afraid of fire, they're positively combustatble! "Oh and just a suggestion, get yourself a box've roadflares or somethin."