3726/Eric Burtman becomes Film Freak

Eric Burtman becomes Film Freak
Date of Scene:	24 January 2018
Location:	West Side, Burnley
Synopsis:	Film Freak sends Romano "Professor Chaos" Quaid, a local drug user that owes the Mafia money, to blow up Gotham Mercy Hospital, while Film Freak is inside killing a gangster that messed around with the wrong lady. Lar Gand comes to the aid of the young boy before he can do evil, and sees through Film Freak's disguise as Dr. Eric Burtman, but allows Film Freak to escape custody in order to give Romano a shot at life.
Cast of Characters:	Film Freak, Mon-El

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Film Freak has posed:
Romano Quaid, a local stoner that Burt Weston happened to know, had come in handy for once. Romano was meek, bookish, and had overly religious parents, making him an odd fit in the tragically hip intellectual drug culture of Gotham City's downwardly mobile. But Burt, when he was smoking with Romano, had noticed that Romano had a dark side. His overprotective parents had pushed the kid into drugs and rebellion in the first place: all it had taken was a single punk rock album in highschool from a pretty cheer squad dropout to create a stoner for life.

And Burt happened to know Romano's dealer. All it took after that was setting Romano up on a drug run to get a girlfriend in the Mafia, a pretty mobster princess that viewed men like him as toys, and Burt stealing the car while Romano was inside the distributor's house talking to them on Burt's instructions. Everyone knew but Romano.

And to Burt Weston, it was a tragic fault in society that kids like Romano went through life without knowing a real thrill. Now, Romano was twelve large under with the local branch of the Sicilians, and Burt owned him. All Romano had to do was do a job for him. And if it didn't work? Burt had promised Romano protecting in prison. After all, Batman wasn't going to beat up a kid like Romano, a nice kid, was he?

On the roof of Gotham Mercy Hospital, Romano Quaid was dressed in an uncomfortable cat burglar outfit, all black with a ski-mask and black leather gloves. He had lugged, one pack after the other, six packs of explosives onto the roof, up the fire escape beside the hospital. Romano was told that the Sicilians were against a Gotham plan to ban doctors with criminal families from working in Gotham's medical system, a proposal that Romano couldn't quite recall on drugs and fear and humiliation. Romano had gotten all the packs up, and was going through the motions, setting up detonation charges on the roof in a haphazard, erroneous order, struggling to wire them together properly from memory. He prayed he could do it before Batman found him.

Mon-El has posed:
    Batman? Who ever said anything about Batman? Batman can't hear a paramecium swimming from five miles away or see hemaglobin molecules floating through people's vascular systems as they carry oxygen to and fro. But guess who can? That's right, Superman and people like him. Meaning the people of Krypton, and those of the neighboring Daxam. People like Lar Gand.

    He hasn't exactly been considering himself part of the 'hero game' lately, but when he's flying around and something starts happening right in front of his face, it's kind of hard to ignore. Especially if it looks like someone is about to blow up a hospital full of innocent and helpless people. So Romano may or may not have the observational skills to notice a soft rush of air and a blur of motion behind him as the Daxamite lands on the roof, then just kind of walks up to the guy.

    "Ahem, excuse me sir, but do you need some help? You look kind of um, stressed out." If the shaking and sweat pouring out under that outfit is any indication. By all appearances at the particular moment, Lar appears to just be some random kid around Romano's age. Late teens at the youngest and early twenties at the oldest.

Film Freak has posed:
In the morgue of the hospital, a bodybag slowly opens from a trick zipper inside it, and Film Freak climbs out, dressed in blue hospital scrubs. He swivels about on the metal table he's been left on, and hops off. Film Freak's mind snaps into a state of focus, his head an internal clockwork of gears pushing his awareness forward through his eyes and morphing him into his intended role: Doctor Eric Burtman, oncology. As he steps forward, he snaps his prepared hospital badge onto his chest, with his face and identification numbers, then walking out of the morgue in the basement and turning about curtly on his heel, strolling languidly down the hallway towards the elevators.

Romano emits an incoherent squeak as he turns about from his work, falling over and landing on his back. He sees a man standing behind him, and fumbles at his waist, attempting to pull out a pistol that he clearly doesn't know how to use. "Hey, you, back off!" he says, a high pitch to his voice, indicating a male argument given to a jock bully, not the deliberate bark of a hardened criminal.

Meanwhile, Film Freak looks upward at the numbers on the inside of the elevator, hands clasped in front of him as the metal box rises with him inside.

Mon-El has posed:
    Lar immediately senses that this guy doesn't actually know what he's doing. Probably just a lackey who is being manipulated or something. There's a surge of compassion in him at this. He calmly puts his hands in the air for when Romano finally gets that pistol in his hand properly. Just to ease the guy's nerves, not that it could actually hurt the alien. "Hey, hey calm down dude." he says. "I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Lar Gand, and what's yours?"

    Meanwhile, he's scanning the inside of the building for any other supsicious activity, and spots someone climbing out of a body bag in the morgue and putting on clothing similar to the other physicians, then getting into the elevator.

Film Freak has posed:
The elevator opens on the fifth floor, and Film Freak steps out, opening his posture with a cherubic smile on his face, as if he was Saint Nicholas himself, with a mild red blush to his cheeks courtesy of a shot of mountain brandy swigged in the elevator. Luckily, he's making it a note to keep his mouth shut, chin tilted up. As he passes Mr. Jonathan Quaid, Romano's father, Burt offers a, "How do you do, good sir," with a bit of a Marlon Brando whisper thanks to the brandy. Mr. Quaid, on the floor visiting his gravely ill wife, looks at the badge reading 'Oncologist' (the specialty for cancer) and pats Film Freak on the shoulder. "Better now, son, better now." Film Freak nods thoughtfully, his cheeks dimpling, before he steps past and down the hospital corridor, towards a room with a Latin-American man inside, his blanket hiding gang tattoos.

"I'm Romano," the kid sputters, holding the pistol at Lar Gang in fear. "Get back, I'll shoot! I'm willing to do it, prison doesn't scare me! I have protection!"

Film Freak steps into the man's room, the smiling fading and becoming a little impish grin as the Latin man looks up.

"Edison?" the man asks, confused.

"The name is Dr. Burtman," Film Freak says, walking alongside the bed and placing his hand over the Mexican gangbanger's. "Gallbladder operation, huh?"

Mon-El has posed:
    Well, the fact that the guy climbed out of a body bag in what was clearly a morgue is certainly strange no matter what planet you're from. All right as long as it's a planet inhabited by humanoids, which Daxam is. At any rate, Lar continues to keep watching the suspicious man as he talks with various patients and visitors, then enters the room of a tattooed man who seems to recognize him. The blanket might hide the markings from most people, but not from a Daxmite! Still, he probably doesn't know what they mean or that they're gang signs.

    "Romano." Lar smiles. "It's a pleasure. Look, why don't you put that down, and you can tell me your story. I might be able to help you." He's pretty sure he can, actually. "I don't think you're a bad person, honestly! You don't really want to hurt these people, do you? What if one or more of them are people you know? People you love? I mean, don't you have family?"

Film Freak has posed:
"What? No, wait, Edison, wait -" the gangbanger splutters, before Film Freak grips the hand and twists both of their arms about. A syringe mounted inside a wrist stiletto shunts out from Film Freak's wrist, beneath his scrubs, puncturing the Latin-American's veins from the unusual position.

"You realize, Marco, that stealing a capo regime's wife isn't stealing cable out here, right?" Film Freak says, with a knowing tilt to his face, right eye tilting forward as his eyes shift dominance.

The victim's body tenses up as neurotoxin enters his system, and Film Freak's other hand presses over his victim's mouth as he thrashes about, keeping him silent as the man's eyes bulge in fear.

"I haven't talked to my family for years," Romano admits, sullenly. "I got cut off for smoking pot, and now I owe the Mob money. Please, sir, give me a break here, I'm twelve thousand dollars in debt, I need to pay it back or they kill me!" he protests weakly. "This is the only way they'll let me out!"

As the Latin mobster goes limp beneath Film Freak, he releases his hold on him. Film Freak slowly closes the man's eyelids, his mind bouncing into a differential awareness seperate from his ingress and mission. Now, it's time to escape.

Mon-El has posed:
    Lar watches the murder of the Latin American man, and saw the syringe coming, but risking letting these explosives go off was too much to let go of for his sake. Besides, it really sounded like he and 'Edison' had a personal score to settle or something. Still, he continues to keep tabs on the perpetrator while talking to Romano, who -could- still be rescued out of his predicament unlike the other man.

    He nods at man's protests. "I see." He does seem to be telling the truth. "I thought so." He looks pensive for a moment. "So what you're saying, they will come looking for you, if you tried to run away?"

Film Freak has posed:
Film Freak quietly closes the door behind him as he steps out of Marco's room, looking the part of an innocent hospital doctor letting a patient take a nap. He looks to a nurse. "Mr. Curacho requests some quiet time, he's going to be reading the Awake pamphlet I gave him for a bit."

"That's sweet, Dr. Burtman, I didn't know men of faith still existed in medicine, especially here in Gotham."

"It's what I do, nurse." And with that, Film Freak is walking down the hallway, grabbing a chart at random off the nurse station and tucking it under his arm, humming as he waggles his head back and forth and walks towards the stairs.

Romano nods rapidly. "Yes, yes sir, they offered me protection in prison, even if I blew the gig. I'm just supposed to send a message."

Mon-El has posed:
    "Perfect," Lar smirks at this admission. "But first--the explosives." With that, there's another rush of air and a blur of motion when the Daxamite takes off like a speeding bullet, gathering up all the charges and all the half-rigged detonators and then throws them upward so hard that they reach escape velocity and end up floating around the Earth in geosynchronous orbit where it won't matter if they actually blow up or not!

    Then he finally stops moving for a second, standing back in front of Romano and holding out a hand. "Come, let's go ask that man downstairs now if he could please call off the ones who are threatening you, and tell them to leave you alone. If he can't, then we'll just fly to that construction site three blocks away, wait for them to come, and when they do, I'll tie them all up together with a piece of skyscraper scaffolding. Sound like a plan?"

Film Freak has posed:
Film Freak thoughtfully drops the chart under his arm outside a door, and then steps into the stairwell, closing the door behind him with a soft movement.

He picks up a plastic-sealed pair of street clothes from a spot where they've been duct-taped to the wall by a bribed janitor, and begins moving down the stairs, stripping off his blue scrubs and slipping on a t-shirt, then sliding on his signature leather jacket with wide v-collar as he moves to the bottom of the stairs. Finally, he pulls a small knife out of his pocket, and slits his scrubs off, revealing his standard loose fit denim jeans. He's wearing sneakers, not his usual preference, but they'll do.

Romano stands up and drops the gun, taking the hand. "I don't think you get how the Mafia works, sir," is all the kid can say. He doesn't look very confident in the Daxamite's ability to rescue him, but he doesn't have much of a choice.

Film Freak, now on the first floor, mounts a gurney along the wall of the hospital, and pulls a lighter out of his pocket. He sidles up to a smoke detector, and flicks the flame on, putting it directly beneath it.

Klaxons go off on the first floor, and the clerical staff shout in surprise as the sprinklers go off.

Mon-El has posed:
    "'Mafia', that's a word Terrans use to refer to organized crime, isn't it?" is Lar's response to Romano's question as he grabs Romano's arm and whisks him down through a roof hatch, down several flights of stairs through confused hospital staff and water spraying and down to the first floor where Film Freak is holding a lighter in front of a smoke detector while standing on gurney. So it's safe to say that no, he has absolutely -no idea- how it works. And if the guy knew where he grew up, he'd -definitely- figure His Highness really has absolutely no clue.

    Regardless of this, they are now both standing in front of Burt Weston. "Dr Burtman. Or would you prefer Edison?" he addresses the man, still sounding every bit as casual as he did earlier when he found Romano. "I noticed you climbing out of a body bag in the morgue earlier, and then murdering one of the patients up on the fifth floor so I couldn't help but wonder if you know this guy at all? You know, since he was about to blow this place to shreds and stuff."

Film Freak has posed:
Burt Weston looks up, out of character as Film Freak, back to being a shy, nebbish, awkward actor. "I'm don't think you know me," is all Burt says as the hospital staff, patients in the waiting room, janitors and orderlies, and the occasional research chemist file past him out of the hospital. He quietly turns about as he flicks his jacket collar up, ducking down as the water flows overhead, mussing up his shock of black hair. "I'm just here to give blood for the Church," he murmurs delicately, before he moves along with the evacuating hospital staff. Burt is counting on the orderly procession of hospital civilians leaving the soaking hospital first floor as fire crews approach in the distance to help him escape, and if the Daxamite wants to create a large incident, he's going to count on a lawyer to spring him in a quid pro quo for a job. Edison's typical bargain for a mission.

Romano attempts to pull away from Mon-El. "I don't know what planet you're from, but you just killed me, man!" he shouts at Mon-El, now that Burt has seen him.

Mon-El has posed:
    Lar doesn't stop Romano from pulling away. He's no prisoner! If he wants to run, he can. But, before that happens, he presses a strange-looking disc-shaped device into the palm of his hand, the thing lighting up with golden circuitry as it hums softly to life. "Subspace transceiver. Activate it and I'll know--even if you're in deep space. Remember, I can fly faster than light." he winks and rushes off again, moving in front of Weston to block his exit.

    "Oh, you think you're so good at this don't you Burtman? You think I didn't see you inject Marco with a neurotoxin for stealing someone's wife while he was recovering from gallbladder surgery? Or how you tried to cover up by telling the nursing staff that he wanted to be left alone for a while because he was reading a pamplet you gave him? And then I find you purposefully tripping the emergency systems to cover your escape. Very clever, I'll give you that. But not when you're up against someone who can see through--well," he smirks. "Just about everything." Except lead, but he doesn't mention that. "Now how about you tell your friends in this 'mafia' thing to leave Romano here alone, and I won't drop you on the police's doorstep before you can even finish taking another step?"

Film Freak has posed:
"I guess you better just drop me off at the police's doorstep," Burt replies, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I could use a nice meal."

Mon-El has posed:
    Lar arches a brow at the apparent lack of concern about getting caught. Hm, that certainly wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. Most of these types either try and fail to cut and run, or start begging for mercy or something. "Huh." He disappears suddenly, then comes back again in a flash, holding a box with a fresh pizza in it which he hands to Weston. Maybe he doesn't like pizza, but he hasn't run into anyone else who doesn't so can't go wrong, right? "Hope it's nice enough. Since you sounded so willing, maybe now you'll turn -yourself- in so I won't have to give you a ride? Either way, you should just tell the appropriate people that whoever comes after Romano will be walking into trap. That's all!" The Daxamite grins. "Have a good one!" Then off he goes, disappearing into the dark sky above.

Film Freak has posed:
Burt Weston, it appears, understands the mind of a superpowered metahuman. Never disrespect their abilities. It arouses contempt in the cape heart.

He takes the pizza, nodding sheepishly. "Of course, of course."

And with that, Burt walks out into the street, handing the pizza to a nearby bum. "Here you go, friend, it's from Superman." He hunches his shoulders and ducks his head as he walks off into the night, firetrucks pulling up outside the hospital to check the fire detector units.

Romano, meanwhile, shoves the disk into the pocket of his burglar outfit, pulling off his mask. He sits in an alley, huffing, looking down at the disk in confusion. "I think I know what my parents were talking about when they told me that drugs would lead me to an alleyway." He looks up and around, sliding down onto his butt and relaxing. He leans his head back, breathing deeply.