1840/Starsky and Hutch

Starsky and Hutch
Date of Scene:	06 August 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Punisher, Jubilee

---

Punisher has posed:
"Please, I don't know anything!"

The voice, laced with panic and fear, drifts from deep down one of the plentiful darkened alleys dotted throughout Hell's Kitchen. It's immediately followed by the dull, thudding crack of flesh and bone bouncing off concrete and a strangled and muffled cry of pain.

"The next time you open your filthy fucking mouth, it better be to answer a question I asked," a second voice replies, this one possessed by someone far angrier and lacking any sort of fear. The scene deeper in the alley is just as one might assume from such an exchange: A man, bloody, cut, and battered stands against the wall of a brick building, his legs barely supporting him. A second man, dressed all in black keeps him pressed against the wall, one fist wrapped around the other man's throat, the other hand pointing directly in his face. "Where is the sale going down?" The demand is spit out by the larger man in black with an accompanying shake of the bloody man's collar, "Tell me quick enough and you might get to keep a few fingers."

Jubilee has posed:
Night has closed in closely around Jubilee, as the petite Asian wanders the streets of Hell's Kitchen, winding her way through alleyways and darkened paths beset with filth and sin. A strangled cry is no stranger in this part of the city than the sounds and squalls of cats fighting for a scrap of food. Or, quite simply, for dominance. There is always on the air the faintest scent of blood here. Why she found her way into the underbelly of the city is still a mystery to her.

Then, an angry shout pierces the night to her left. Jubilee pauses, not at the voice, but at the sickening snap of crushed bone and rent flesh. At the end of the alley, she pauses, and turns her head, eyes searching the night for the source of the commotion. One man holds another by the throat, making demands. Jubilee tilts her head curiously, and turns down the alley, approaching with near impossible silence, and she pauses mere yards from the scene. Dark eyes dart back and forth between predator and prey, and she watches the scene unfold with a near impassive expression.

Punisher has posed:
"No, I-I-I-- They'll ki-- AAAAGH!"

With a quick motion and a wet snap, Frank grabs hold of his prey's finger, yanks, and breaks it in several places at once. The accompanying scream is muffled against a sudden pressure around the beaten man's throat, and when finally he's gasping for air more than he's venting his pain, the pressure lessens. "Where?!" Frank demands again, grabbing for man's next finger as he shoves him hard against the wall.

"N-n-ninth! Ninth avenue and f-f-fourty-ninth! Please!"

"When?"

Jubilee has posed:
Curiosity, but not fear, keeps Jubilee rooted in place, as her eyes go wide. To hold that kind of power...to inspire that kind of fear...these are gifts to which the young woman has always aspired, secretly. But fireworks are only a distraction. And her own fear has always prevented her from unleashing her powers to their true potential in a time of need. Fear of hurting someone? Or perhaps fear of failing. Fear...cannot inspire fear. And so she stands stock still, watching the man work. Watching him hurt someone. Watching him impart fear, and pain, and dread. A curious fascination fills her dark eyes, as she, too, awaits the answer to his question.

Punisher has posed:
The man with his back to the wall is barely holding it together at this point. With another wet snap, he loses the use of a second finger and again his screams are muffled by near strangulation. "Tuesday! Tuesday n-night! Th-th-that's all I know, pl-please!" For a moment, Frank holds him there, measuring him up, weighing his words. "I believe you," he finally grunts, softer this time, in the same way a wooden bat is softer than an aluminum one. With a sudden, jerking motion, Frank's hand falls on a knife strapped to his side, and the next instant it's lodged in the other man's armpit, easily penetrating his heart and killing him almost instantly.

Jubilee has posed:
It never occurred to Jubilee to be afraid. And it never occurred to her to wonder why she was not. Instead, she watches the man die. Her brow furrows, as she takes in the impermanence of life, and the instant that it takes to be lost. The predator's prey hadn't lived long enough to remember the moment death found him. Will she? Will she remember the moment that one wrong move set her on an intersecting course with death? She breathes a laugh. Will it even matter?

"Do you work hard at being that persuasive? Or does it just come naturally?" The words come from a young woman standing to the predator's right. She's dressed, improbably, in a dingy yellow peacoat beset with buckles and cogs, her long, thin legs exposed to the elements down to a pair of pink Converse sneakers. She doesn't move, except to turn her head toward his face as she addresses the questions.

Punisher has posed:
Calmly and with all the reverence of dropping trash in the can, Frank lets the dead man slide off his knife and collapse to the side. He pauses only briefly to wipe the blood from his blade on the man's shirt before he stands, sheathes the weapon, and turns, only to be questioned by Jubilee.

With the same speed and precision that he displayed to draw and stab his interrogation subject, he pulls out a beretta and snaps the barrel up to point directly at Jubilee's chest. "Who are you?" he asks with a grunt, looking her up and down quickly. After a moment, he lowers his aim, but keeps the gun raised, "Actually, don't answer that. I don't really care and I don't have time to play twenty questions. Move on."

Jubilee has posed:
"Jubilation Lee," she answers, without paying heed to his afterthought that she shouldn't bother responding to the question. Her gaze flits down to the lifeless pile of human flesh at the man's feet. "Two," she stated matter-of-factly, returning her eyes to his face. "I asked two, not twenty. You work like this is an everyday thing for you. Does it ever get to you, the moment that the light fades from their eyes?"

There's a beat of pause, before she adds, "That's three."

Punisher has posed:
For a brief moment, Frank considers shooting Jubilee just to be done with the whole confrontation before it can really get going. He had work to do, and it didn't involve being interviewed by some random passer-by. However, for everything else Frank is, he doesn't kill civilians -- at least not without very good reason, and annoyance was not good enough by far.

"Yeah, it makes me all weepy inside," Frank responds with a quick roll of his eyes, his gun dropping back into the holster as he writes Jubilee off as an unnaturally curious, but largely harmless bystander. He moves over the other side of the alley, retrieving a shotgun that looks like it had been knocked aside in a struggle and ended up half concealed beneath a dumpster.

Jubilee has posed:
"I want to come with you," Jubilee states flatly. "You can call me Jubilee, by the way. Everybody else does. It's easier to say, by two syllables." She helps by pulling the dumpster aside just enough to allow him to pick up the shotgun more easily. "I won't get in the way. I'm quick. I'm a gymnast, so I'm flexible and escapey. And I can--" She stops herself short. Even if she had finished that sentence with a description of her known powers, she'd have left out that she was basically human crazyglue.

Punisher has posed:
Frank grunts when Jubilee states her desire to join him, a grunt that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. When she moves the dumpster though, he pauses, frowning, before grabbing up the shotgun and stowing it in the empty back holster strapped to him. After that, he just stands there, looking at Jubilee as if trying to figure out if she was crazy or pulling something. "Yeah, look... Jubilee? I'm not in the market for a partner or... whatever you're proposing. Go see if the Bat wants you. He likes collecting strays."

Jubilee has posed:
"I'm not a stray," she objects. "And I'm NOT a liability." That one sounds suspiciously like an accusation denial. "Look, I'm NOT going away. I don't even get who the hell I am, anymore. Maybe if you tell me who you are, it'll....I dunno. And I'll leave." She needs to know what drew her to him. She needs to understand this sudden fascination.

"That's four."

Punisher has posed:
Frank continues to frown as he stares at her, considering. Thinking. "Frank Castle," he admits finally, not particularly worried about preserving his identity considering he's well known to be... "They call me the Punisher." A criminal in the eyes of anyone with legal authority in the US -- likely one of the most wanted men in America, in fact. Didn't seem to cause him to lose much sleep, though. "I don't know who you are, either, and I'm not sure why you think I have the answers. I kill scumbags, I'm not a priest."

Jubilee has posed:
"Well." Jubilee began, pressing her lips together and biting them thoughtfully. "I was wrong. That didn't do anything. I think I should come with you. I can help. Besides..." She finally breaks the stolid, blank expression with a faint smile that instantly makes her features less 'Children of the Corn' and more delicate. She lifts her hands, palms toward him. "I'm already packin'." Yeah, to anyone who doesn't know what she can do...that move probably looked pretty dumb.

Punisher has posed:
Not a single trace of surprise passes over Frank's features as she admits to not having learned anything from simply discovering who he was. "Jesus christ," he mutters, though, when she insists on wanting to come with him. He turns away from her, paces a couple steps and stares daggers at the wall of the alley opposite him. "Look," he finally grunts, turning on her with a scowl as he stomps back into place, "Don't you have some place you've gotta' be? And where exactly do you think I'm goin' off to that I need help? I got my information. I need to plan. I need to rearm. I need drink and sleep and eat. I'm not taking a detour to go on a journey of self-discovery with you."

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee turns and follows him for those two paces and stops behind him. "I don't care who I am," she admits. Then her brow furrows. "I found myself drawn to this," she gestures vaguely around her, knowing he can't see her. "You fascinate me. I'll help. I'll cook food. I dunno, I mean I'm great with drawing and scheming, but shit for numbers. I'll clean yer place. Hell, keep your feet warm. What do I care? I'm just not goin' back where I came from."

Punisher has posed:
Now the surprise kicks in as Frank turns to find Jubilee right up behind him already. He's well enough trained not to jump or anything, but the look on his face makes it obvious he wasn't expecting her to literally follow him. That fades, though, and turns to annoyed consideration, as if he's angry he's even thinking about what she's asking. A moment or two passes, he looks her up and down again, then his scowl deepens, he grunts, and he turns away from her towards the alley exit. "Fine. You keep up or I leave you behind. I'm not your babysitter, I'm not here to hold your hand. You do anything that makes me uneasy, I will blow your head off so fast it won't even get a chance to spin." He's talking and moving quick as he starts to approach a slab of solid black in the shadows -- a van, and a very well maintained one at that. He opens the back doors, revealing a mobile armory to which he adds the shotgun before slamming both doors shut and moving around towards the front. "We're going to an old safehouse of mine that I don't use much anymore. You can... laylow there, at least for now."

Jubilee has posed:
Frank is running off at the mouth with the rules, and Jubilee keeps in step, and she keeps up with his threats. "No you won't, because you don't think I'm bad. If you thought I was bad, you'd have killed me back there. And you sure as hell wouldn't be letting me follow you." When they get to the van, all Jubilee can think was how her mother told her never to take candy from strangers, especially strangers in vans. She pulls two Blow-Pops from her pocket, and offers this stranger with a van, candy instead. "Blow-Pop? I've got Green Apple and Cherry." How they'd survived in her pocket this long was a mystery to her. When was the last time she ate? She can't even remember. But the thought of food, even a lollipop, nauseates her. "You've been really way more patient than you really are with me. The least I can do is give you a Blow...Pop." A faint smile tugs at her lips. Can't...laugh...at your own...."

"That's five."

Punisher has posed:
"I'll make an exception," Frank practically snarls as she calls him on his threat. He turns partially as he does, too, intending on looking her in the eye for just a moment to give it just that little bit more punch. He's already turning away, however, when he realizes she's got two lollipops in her hand and is offering one to him. Immediately he turns back to face her, his look of threatening hostility halfway morphed into confusion. "No," he says very slowly, "I don't want a Blow-Pop." Her innuendo dulls out his expression though, into something more... flat. "Van," is his only reply, before he hops in, starts it up, and gives her exactly five seconds to get in as well before he pulls out into the road and begins weaving through turns and straightaways, headed back to this 'safehouse.'

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee doesn't waste time getting into the van. She unbuckles her peacoat and folds it in her lap. Her top is corseted. Whatever skirt she's wearing is hidden by the coat. "You can smile, y'know. I don't bite." She blinks, as some unforeseen thought flits through her mind. "That I know of." She watches the houses whiz by as he negotiates the city streets. Some of them have a light in a window. Some are dark entirely. Streetlights are sparse. She sees nothing that she recognizes. "I'm told I'm kind of annoying. Are you gonna kill me for annoying you?"

"Six."

Punisher has posed:
"Keep on countin' your questions and you'll find out real fast," Frank answers, his eyes turning from the road momentarily to her, then back. After a beat, he sighs and rubs at his temple, "Look, I drink, I fuck, I smoke, and when I'm not doing one of those three things, I'm killing dirtbags or planning to kill dirtbags. Usually, I'm doing a combination, but the point is... I'm never going to be your friend. I don't have friends. Alright? This isn't a sleepover. This is you crashing at a place I happen to have access to while I figure out what to do with you." He's clearly not a friendly guy, but he's also clearly in a 'mood.'

With a sharp, sudden turn, he pulls the van into yet another alley and stops in front of the garage door of a rundown, seemingly abandoned car shop. He hops out, approaches an inconspicuous keypad near the door, and punches in a code which the pad accepts. With a grunt, he pulls the door up and open, then hops back in the van to pull into the safehouse.

It was, at one point, a two bay garage, and one is still intact. The other, however, has been converted into a sort of living area, complete with couch, tv, mini-fridge, and a camping stove. Up a step or two, there's a broad open area that clearly serves as an armory/workshop with guns and ammo strewn about in various states of repair. Finally, in the back corner, a small office, the walls filled with large windows, has been turned into a 'bedroom' of sorts, a single mattress without a bedframe and some sparse few spare clothes scattered about being the only additions.

Jubilee has posed:
"You said you didn't have time for twenty. I was gonna stop at nineteen, but I told ya, I'm shit for numbers. Dyscalculia, y'know?" Does that count as a question? Jesus, what number is she on now, anyway? She lost count. "I don't smoke," she offers helpfully. "I don't...guess I fuck, either. There was this one guy, he was coming over a few nights ago. His eyes were....mesmerizing. Anyway, I don't remember much of what happened, but I know we didn't--" Goddamn it why can't she shut up? As if reading his mind, she replies. "Shutting up, Sir." But she doesn't. "I like what you've done with the place. Very 'I kill people and hide out here' chic." And with one somewhat solemn look up into his eyes, she shakes her head. "I don't ask anybody to be my friend. Don't worry about it."

Punisher has posed:
"Yeah, that's..." Frank starts dismissive, as if he's going to blow off whatever she had to say about her own interest in his interests. Her very brief mention of her experience with some guy with mesmerizing eyes makes him pause though. "That's... That doesn't sound healthy," he grunts, looking at her again. For a moment -- just a moment -- his expression softens into something not resembling a dispassionate mask of anger and hate, it actually looks like it might be empathy. It fades as fast as it came, though, and is replaced, at least, by something a bit more neutral. "Look, let's just... take a seat, for now."

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee nods once and wanders through the place, touching things here and there. Almost as if she's making sure they're real. She piles her coat in a corner, revealing a short, brown taffeta skirt to match the front-laced brown corset. Both are adorned with bronze gears and toggles. But he'd said 'take a seat,' and she doesn't want her head blown off quite yet. So she sits at one end of the couch. "What's a serial criminal killer watch on tv? Rick and Morty?" Two more, added to whatever she had before. Who knew, anymore...

Punisher has posed:
"News and weather, mostly," Frank answers readily, taking up a standing position at the end opposite her, "Anything that gets out reliable, useful information." Surprise, surprise, Frank Castle only watches practical TV. He sighs, rubs his forehead, then draws his beretta and drops it lightly on the couch in front of him. "You've obviously got some issues," he starts, though his tone is far from judging, "I get that, but I'm not a head shrink. This? What I do? Not exactly the road to good mental health. So... For now... Since you refuse to leave me alone and you've got nowhere to be, you can crash here, but that's it. You're not helping me out in the field."

Jubilee has posed:
Wide, darkened eyes gaze up at Frank, and Jubilee nods. But she doesn't NEED a place to hide out. She doesn't have anyone to hide from. She's only here because of him. So she's crazy now, too. And unwanted -here-, too. What did she think, they'd sit and watch tv and eat ice cream together? Who was he hiding her out from? All these thoughts flit through her head, rapid fire. But there's only one response that she can devise, so she speaks softly.

"I understand, Sir."

Punisher has posed:
Frank just grunts back, as he starts to undo all the buckles and clasps keeping his various holsters strapped to his body. Each one gets added to a pile forming at the edge of the couch, and when he's finished, he fishes the remote out, tosses it over to her, grabs the beretta, and moves to the fridge to suss out a beer. "You want a drink," he asks, holding up another bottle before letting the door swing closed.

He moves into the workshop next, stashing away all the obvious weapons he's got on him before he carries on into the bedroom to peel off the all black, torn and bloody outfit he's got on and get into a pair of jeans and a simple white tee.

Jubilee has posed:
Looking longingly at the offered bottle, Jubilee begins to answer. But on second thought, she really wasn't thirsty, either. "Um...no. Thanks, maybe later." She tries not to watch as he changes in the 'bedroom,' instead turning on the television to the news. She can avert her eyes, but she can't ignore the fact that as he changes, his scent does, as well. She smells the sweat and blood on his clothes. She smells his warmth and the musk of testosterone as he is putting on the jeans and tee shirt. She stares at the television, paying the news no heed whatsoever, as the reporters spout news stories and ad lib commentary. Then, having lost focus, of course, she realizes that her gaze has absently drifted from the television to Frank as he changes. She blinks and quickly looks away again.

Punisher has posed:
Frank's not exactly quick to cover up, either. He doesn't have all his clothes folded and neatly put away, so it takes some digging to find what he's looking for. The whole time, he's also either forgotten the walls are more or less just glass, or he simply doesn't care. Either way, when he's finally in the 'fresh' clothes, he walks back on out and drops heavily onto the couch, pops the top off his beer, and takes a swig. After a moment of calm silence, he takes one more, grunts, sets it down, and asks:

"Enjoy the show?"

Jubilee has posed:
By this time, Jubilee is flushed bright pink. She keeps her eyes forward, on the television, but she knows she's been busted. Half a smile tugs at her lips, and she can't stop it. That makes it even more impossible to deny. Finally, she bites her lip and cuts her eyes over toward Frank. "Mayyyybe."

Punisher has posed:
"Uh huh," Frank grunts, glancing her way before he leans into the backrest and begins to relax a bit. He watches quietly as anchors joke woodenly with each other before seemlessly transitioning into news about some tragedy or another. That draws a grunt from him, but it's clearly not what he watches the news for, so he's checked out. Instead, he casts a glance over to Jubilee again and considers her, "Maybe, huh?"

Jubilee has posed:
"Don't look at me like that, you're the one doing the striptease, like RIGHT there." She nods toward the pile of clothes where he stood changing, and offers him a mischievous smile. "Oh...I could do your laundry, maybe? Looks like you could use a little...uh help, there. The least I can do, I mean you've bent a lot of rules for me, already. Like not killing me and all that." She's rambling. It's a nervous habit. She can only hope that it's not as obvious to him as it is to her.

Punisher has posed:
"Well yeah," Frank says, one eyebrow raising, the faintest hint of a smirk forming, "That would be my bedroom and where my clothes are. Were you expecting me to get changed outside?" He then shakes his head, taking another swig of the beer before he looks aimlessly back at the TV. "No, I don't need my laundry done. Not really high on my list of concerns -- I'll just buy new clothes. Easier." Far from cheaper though, but that doesn't really seem to be a concern for him either. His safehouse is paradoxically spartan. The comforts, they're few and far between, and when they're present, they're cheap and barebones. His workshop and armory, though, are stocked full of the latest and best gear and tools. It's all top of the line and looking brand new, too -- or at least most of it. There's even a few excessively heavy weapons amongst the lot.

Jubilee has posed:
"Then I blame you squarely for putting the television in the line of sight between the couch and the bedroom. Where your clothes are." She gives a definitive nod, and then, looking around the place, she adds, "So do homicidal antiheros have caddies? Like y'know, golfers? I could just wheel your guns around in a kicky cylindrical bag behind you and tell you what gun you need for the shot you're about to take." Try as she might to keep a straight face, she loses it completely in a fit of giggles at the absurdity of the thought. "I could put a quarter where the body falls or something."

Punisher has posed:
Frank's eyebrow stays raised for a moment before he sighs and shakes his head, smothering that newborn smirk in beer. When he sets the bottle down, he's back to a more neutral expression, eyes on the TV and fairly listless. He knows she's joking from the start, and he doesn't comment, though he does toss very faintly amused glances her way as she cracks herself up. "You'd have a hard time of it what with you not coming into the field with me," he replies finally, kicking his feet up on the coffeetable. After a moment, he glances her way, looks her up and down, and asks: "Speaking of getting changed... You bring any clothes with you? Any... things? Possessions?"

Jubilee has posed:
"Mm...well, no." She'd just gone for a walk to clear her head. Something had drawn her into Hell's Kitchen, for some god-forsaken reason or another. "I have some things, but...not with me, of course. Maybe I can retrieve them at some point." She's not even sure what made her think this was a good idea. Sure, she'd left the school. But this guy could have killed her as easily as looking at her, when she first approached. Yet...he didn't. "I was just going for a walk. I didn't expect to find...you."

Punisher has posed:
"Some walk," Frank grunts after a moment spent considering her. He doesn't bother asking what about the whole incident in the alley drew her to him. Either he doesn't care, or he already has a suspicion. "I'll... give you the code," he finally offers, thumbing over his shoulder towards the garage door, "So you can get back in if you decide to go get your stuff." With that, he stands, finishes off his booze, then gestures to the couch with it. "You want the couch or the bed? All the same to me."

Jubilee has posed:
"Oh, no, the couch is fine, thank you Sir. I didn't mean to put you out..." Enter more absurdity. Following him home like a lost puppy is the exact OPPOSITE of not putting him out. "It's your bed, I'll sleep here." She begins to loosen and unlace her corset, then tosses it atop her coat in the corner. Beneath the corset is a white chemise, with a small blood stain. "Guess...ya got me, too," she says, brushing at the stain.

Punisher has posed:
When Jubilee begins to unlace and remove her corset, Frank pauses, lingering for a moment until she tosses it aside. The chemise, or more accurately, the blood stain makes him frown, particularly as he recalls a few things she's mentioned since meeting him. He nods towards it with a grunt, shifting his weight to lean his hip into the corner of the couch. "Whose blood?"

Jubilee has posed:
"That guy in the alley, you kinda got it everywhere," Jubilee replies, nodding toward the pile of clothes in the bedroom. "All over you, too." She can smell the beer on his breath, lingering with his scent, from her end of the couch as she moves to lie down, resting her chin in her hands, next to his thigh, as she looks up at him. "It's okay, though, I'll get a change of clothes tomorrow. Promise."

Punisher has posed:
Frank looks down to Jubilee, watching her for a moment before he nods, "Right sure. Change of clothes tomorrow." He lets out a breath, briefly raises his eyebrows at her, then moves off towards the 'bedroom' to lie down.

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee watches him, her gaze lifted to his face as he moves away and toward his bedroom. A slow smile spreads across her face and she lays her cheek on against the arm of the couch. "G'night Frank..."