5550/Pure American Muscle

Pure American Muscle
Date of Scene:	13 October 2018
Location:	Harlem, New York City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Ash Williams, Mercy Thompson

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Ash Williams has posed:
    OK. So there's not a SHORTAGE of mechanics in Harlem, really, but when it's late afternoon and you haven't had a good day, you lose an element of 'picky' about who looks after the Delta, and you just start looking for a pair of hands that knows how to hold a wrench. And with the latest development with regards to the demons that plague El Jefe, time is of the essence. Or something.

    That's not how Mercy's Workshop is introduced to Ash, though. "Oh c'mon girl. Not far. Jesus, why didja have to do this to me /now/?" Half-shouted. Because Ash Williams is nothing if not subtle. This workshop though... Looks far too new for a classic. Screw it. It'll do. And so, the past-middle-aged Ash slowly comes into view, shoulder against the A-pillar of his classic and well-worn Oldsmobile, the door open as he muscles it towards the garage door. His right hand has been replaced, oddly enough, with a combination of metal gauntlet and wires - It might be a slight fire hazard, but it functions enough like the real thing.

    Once he's within proper shouting distance, the car is moved to park, and Ash shouts properly. "Hey! Anyone home? Got a sick classic here, she needs some doctorin'!"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy Thompson was sitting in the office...it's a slow day... pretending to catch up on the paperwork. Inside it's clear the shop is an old classic, belts hanging from the rafters, parts racked on steel shelves along the back wall, tools neatly put away, for the most part, in red boxes. There's even a SnapOn Tools calendar in back. Mercy Thompson comes out of the office as the car rolls up and the shouting begins. "I'm home. sick? sorry, from the lack of sound, i'd say dead. I can try a revival though. There's really dead and mostly dead, you know." She goes to open the hood. "What'd she do before she quit? Anything or just stop?"

Ash Williams has posed:
    "Oh." That's how Ash greets the lady mechanic, and it comes with a stare that's equal parts suprise and something a little less savoury. "Well hell, filthy but fine. Name's Ash, this is the Delta. She's been feeling a bit poorly lately, but just now? She got all shaky, and then she quit on me." The American Classic is dirty, and even features a few new bullet holes on the back, and what seems like a saw blade has bit into the rear bumper relatively recently.

    The Engine Bay is something else though. First, the supercharged V8 452ci engine doesn't gleam, even a little bit. The bonnet subframe shows another telltale saw mark that's been repaired some time ago, and the entire assembly looks like it's somewhat short of the love that he claims the car has. "She's been through hell in a handbasket lately. Literally hell at one point too, and she's maybe a thousand off her next oil change." Crossing over to join her at the front of the car, beaming down at the tired workhorse.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy Thompson blinks at the greeting. "I'm Mercedes, Mercy," she says. Then she turns to the engine bay again, "Hop in and crank it, will you? Will it crank?" Spark, fuel, air the trinity of a running engine. "I usually work on VWs and other german cars but with a little luck I can get you running again. What year is this?"

Ash Williams has posed:
    "Mercy. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." Ash gives a winning smile, before he goes to follow the instructions given. Mostly because he's not going to admit that it could be absolutely anything wrong with the old girl at this point. "Not to badmouth german engineering but they've got nothing on a classic piece of American Muscle. She's a 73, just before everything went to hell with Oldsmobile. And she's been with me for..." Ash rubs his epic chin as he cranks the car, and it does at least attempt to turn over. "Shit. Fourty years, now."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
With a smudge of grime on one cheek and oil stained hands, Mercy sort of smiles crookedly at the compliment and then listens as the car cranks and sputters. She leans in and starts to sniff, then starts checking wires. Plug wires, cap, coil. She goes to a tool box and gets a test light, and starts checking for power at various points. "That's a long time. Some of the cars were great...quality was realy uneven though. the good ones were really really good. The bad ones were really really bad."

Ash Williams has posed:
    "Well, this one is one of the good ones. Hell, it's even survived a demon possession without needing much more than a tender buff and some decent parts." Ash seems very determined about that. And to be fair, to still be running in the condition it's in, he's probably quite right. "Although she's had to be rebuilt a coupl'a times. Not from breaking down, just... Y'know, necessity." A stretch, with both hands behind his back, follows, before he follows her back to the engine bay. "People keep telling me that they'll do this or that to her but she's a classic. Don't need a shiny engine, or new springs."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy pushes the tester at him to hold, "Hold this." She goes to rummage through another drawer in the tool box, coming back with a bigger test box that she pugs into the coil, and starts to turn the dial on, watching the needle on the meter start to move. Then stop. "Well...they say the customer's always right. If she was a VW bug or the like I'd say restoration, because that's what I do. But that's a lot of work for a daily driver. A good cleaning might be good, which will make the next mechanic's job a little easier. Change hte oil, flush and fill the coolant, stuff like that's never bad." She talks while she watches the meter, a little distracted from the conversation.

Ash Williams has posed:
    Ash takes it, and watches with a mildly lecherous bent as Mercy goes off to get more more things for testing. "Oh, it ain't the work that bugs me. It's that she's not the Delta once that's done, y'know? Shiny new engine, better springs, new tranny, and suddenly where the hells your car /gone/? You can't buy the kind of loyalty that this old girl and I have going on. And maybe she ain't working now, and maybe she's tried to kill me before, but she's never let me down when I needed her." Smile. "But I gotta admit she's due for a service and maybe a degrease."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"Uh-huh," Mercy agrees with that, and starts disconnecting the test box. "The coil's shot." She takes the other tester from Ash, and puts both away. "Let's go see what I can look up for parts. A 73 you said?" Mercy leads the way into the office, wipes her hands on a blue paper towel getting the worst of the grime off, then starts tapping at the battered computer there, pulling up a parts lookup website. She's not immune to Ash's own looks, she noticed. But there's work to do.

Ash Williams has posed:
    "Shot shot or polish it up with a shop-rag shot?" Ash asks somewhat hopefully, although he's fairly certain he knows what the answer is gonna be. "Yup, 73 Oldsmobile Delta." He confirms, before he takes up position leaning against the front quarterpanel, looking at his mechanical hand idly while Mercy works in the office.

    "Hot damn. She's a firecracker of a girl, Ash. Better play it cool." Yup. Psyche himself up for something that's probably not gonna happen. But the Hero of Time is nothing if not optomistic.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"Not quite dead as a doornail," Mercy replies. One hand runs the mosue, the other props her chin up, elbow on the desk. "No, no, no," she mutters as she clicks. "Cross references...." she puts both hands on the keyboard and types in another search, then goes back to clicking. "Ah, that should work. And yes." she turns to look up at Ash, letting herself look a little this time. "I can get one here in an hour or two depending on how fast the delivery guy is. It'll cost about fifty for the part and fifty for the labor." she lifts an eyebrow, a silent request for approval of the repair. And he's worth looking at so why not?

Ash Williams has posed:
    Nothing he hadn't expected really. There's not a lot of original on the Delta, even most of the bodywork has been done and redone from his various escapades. Ash doesn't seem to flinch away from looks, either, but he holds them with a confidence that might be a little bit undeserved. "Sounds good to me. I've got cash in the boot." And with that, he makes his way there, and with a groan that could either be the man or the machine, the boot is lifted, and he begins to rummage.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
A nod, and Mercy taps on the computer and then picks up the phone, using another blue paper towel to keep it clean, and makes a short call. She goes out while he's rummaging in the boot. "The part's on the way. They'll be about an hour or two. You're welcome to wait here if you want. I was going to make a lunch run, if you want in on that. There's a really good taco truck half a block down."

Ash Williams has posed:
    Ash fishes out a beaten up leather wallet that seems to have money in it, flipping it open and taking a few crumpled notes out and stowing them within the safety of his breast pocket, and then a chuckle follows when there's a suggestion of a taco run. "Oh hell yes. Doesn't matter what time of day it is, I'm always feeling mexican. Tell you what, you made time for me, least I can do is buy you dinner."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"Sure, and thank you for both the tacos and the business," Mercy tells him. She starts pulling the doors closed and puts a 'Lunch' sign in the window, then starts walking. "I missed your name, in all the rush to get your car fixed. Mister....?" She cocks an eyebrow his way.

Ash Williams has posed:
    "Williams. Ash Williams. Guess these days I'm workin' for SHIELD which is kind of weird, but apparently they're hurting for heroes." Ash reveals both name and affiliation with an ease that isn't really becoming of most of the hero-types... But that's just how he is. "'sides, the pay is pretty good, and I still get to do what I do. So what about you, Mercy? What brings a pretty thing like you to a place like N-Why-Cee?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
A snort. "You should see if SHIELD has an optometry plan," Mercy tells him. "I came here to teach history, actually. But the interview at hte school went, ummm, poorly. I sort of fell into a job at the shop," she waves over her shoulder, "And bought it from my former boss a couple years ago. So here I am." THe taco truck isn't far ahead, already in view, with a small crowd around it either ordering or waiting for their order.

Ash Williams has posed:
    "Hey, I might be getting near expiry but there's still more than enough ass-kicking left in me." Ash's defensiveness is matched by bemusement, he's clearly not taking offense at it. "Huh. Wouldn't have picked you for a history buff. Mechanic looks good on you though. Never been much good at workin' myself, so the hero stuff... Y'know, it works for me."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy shrugs. "I like working on cars. It's satisfying, more so than teaching history I think now, though that may just be me making do. But I like it. Repairs pay the bills, but restorations and hot rodding old vee dubs is fun, and where the real money comes from." She looks at Ash again as they approach the truck. "Heroing huh? I'd imagine that puts some mileage on the age. Creaky bones and trick knees?" She goes up to the window on the side of the truck and places her order, in spanish. She's a regular here, the cashier has it repeated back to her before she finishes.

Ash Williams has posed:
    Ash shrugs lightly, tapping his metal hand with his human one. "Ain't been that bad really. Lost this before I started the whole hero thing, and sure, my back isn't always my best bud but we still get the job done." He allows the girl to make the order for them, mostly because he doesn't speak a word of spanish. "There's this saying. Beware of old men in a career in which men die young - So I've gotta be doing something right."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"Sounds like it should be a t shirt," Mercy says. She lets Ash pay, and hands him his bag of tacos. His has four, hers has two. Real mexican tacos, no cheese, no lettuce, radishes instead, spicy meat and beans that smell just wonderful. Mercy finds a seat on a nearby bench, and waves Ash to it as well. "Why do you do it? Keep doing it I mean."

Ash Williams has posed:
    Ash pays, since he did kind of agree to it - And although the beans are almost certainly going to make an appearance later, the assembly looks too good to /not/ eat - So he's already got a taco out and halfway to his mouth before they reach the bench. Mostly finishing chewing, before he shrugs. "Ain't got a choice. Evil follows me around like a bad smell, and it's either kick it's ass or check out early." A pause, "And y'know, I did that once, and it wasn't great."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
The bad smell just got strong in the local vicinity. There's screams from the taco truck and shouting in spanish. Mercy whips her head around to look, and sees three guys, obvious gang members, with guns out holding up teh taco truck and the patrons. "You're a trouble magnet you are," Mercy accuses him like the pot calling the kettle black. She left her purse and therefore her Sig back in the shop. She pulls out her phone instead.

Ash Williams has posed:
    This isn't evil. This is just dumbass kids making bad decisions. Ash follows the screams as well, and the grin on his face dies away almost immediately. It's not replaced with dread though... Just for an instant, he looks /tired./ "Yeah. That's why I move around a lot. People have a habit of dying around me. Excuse me." Taco bag on the ground, Ash rises with a quiet sound-effect from his throat, his metal hand gripping one of the wooden slats of the bench - Snapping it into a foot long piece of wood without disturbing his lunch-date too much.

    "Hey, Kids!" He calls out, walking towards the gangsters - And the truck, making sure there's enough room for him to duck behind it if he needs to. "You guys picked the wrong day to screw around. You're gonna wanna put those pea-shooters away and go find something else to do right about now, otherwise there's gonna be trouble." They're not going to listen though.

    That's part of what's so exhausting about this. They never listen.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
THe gangsters stay focused, mostly. One turns, gun sweeping the whole crowd, making people duck for cover. He shoves the gun at Ash, "Get on the ground you sonofabeech" the kid screams.

Mercy gets out of the line of fire and finishes dialing 911. THe other three gangsters are busy rifling the cash from the truck and stealing wallets from the people arond the truck.

Ash Williams has posed:
    Ash's response is far from getting on the ground. Instead, the former-quarterback hurls a heavy lump of wood at the man holding a gun to his head, and breaks into a run after it. Because a bad plan is significantly better than no plan. A moment after the heavy thunk of wood-meet-skull, hand-meets-gun, hauling the young man towards the pile of American Muscle that's heading for him by his firearm. Ash swiftly introduces a freshly bruised head to a metal gauntlet in a way that results in one very limp gangster, and takes his cover behind the taco truck with his recovered gun.

    Since for all his glory, Ash is most definitely NOT bulletproof.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
The other three turn, see their boy down, and show a little common sense. They run leaving him to take the fall. They have the money anyway. Mercy comes out, still talking on the phone and heads slowly toward where Ash is covered bheind the truck. "Ok...I believe you work for SHIELD now. The beat to snot ancient oldsmobile had me doubting."

Ash Williams has posed:
    Ash slides out from behind cover, aiming from the hip at the gangsters as they begin to run away. Too much risk of actually killing one of the idiots though. A glance down at the boy, before Ash pockets the revolver he was holding for safe keeping. Kids probably gonna lose some teeth. Ash can't help but chuckle again, though, when his story seems a little more believable. "You've gotta get your head out of the comics. Heroes aren't about gadgets, and shine, and wearing your briefs outside of your pants. Real heroes get the job done, and sometimes it's a gosh darn mess, but if you're really lucky..." He walks back to the bench while he talks, and retrieves his bag. "Nobody stepped on your tacos."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy laughs at that. "I hear sirens...cops'll be here soon. Let's eat tacos, talk to the cops and by then your part should be at the shop and I can fix teh car. Sounds like a good day to me. Especially since no one stepped on your tacos."

Ash Williams has posed:
    "If you don't mind, I might walk back up to the shop 'fore they get here. See, that parts true about heroes. You ain't wanting to be around when the cops get here, because they've got lots of questions going back a long ways." Ash has already started on a second taco, as he begins to walk back up towards the shop. "But I'll meetcha up there when you're done playing witness."