5792/Shopping for trouble

Shopping for trouble
Date of Scene:	16 November 2018
Location:	Gotham City
Synopsis:	Thor and Vintridr apprehend one of Malekith's remaining assassins, with some help from Midgard's lesser known heroes.
Cast of Characters:	Thor, Wiccan, Vintridr, Cheshire, Nightwing, Ekaterina Vespucci, Buffy Summers, Mordana'at

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Thor has posed:
    Shadows are always long in Gotham, the flow of the clouds over the river and the way the moon plays across the skyline always make it seem as if the night were on the edge of slipping into a purity of dark that other cities cannot hope to attain. Stars are often visible despite the glow of the city's lights, and the architecture creates long jagged teeth that mar the lines of streets when the moon reaches just behind the Gothic skyscrapers. It is a place of concealment, where so much is hidden.
    Tonight is no different, the fog's crept in off of the water and there's the distant clang of a bell from the buoys that mark the divide between New York and Gotham. The streets still have that steady pulse of traffic though at this hour it is far less than it usually is earlier in the night. But now and again there is a honk of a horn, or a yowl of a cat displacing old trash bins...
    Yet in that city a drama is being played out, otherworldly beings and arcane forces gathering and testing each other, likely to end in blood. For far below there is a shadow that flits from cover to cover, moving like some inky blot of lithe physique darting and almost unseen. It has been here for almost a century, back when the great ships had carried the country's youth to war over seas. Only now it flees for its life.
    Far above, Thor floats in that cloud bank, eyes cast downwards and his expression grim. The wind whips at his features as he focuses his good eye upon his lieutenant and gives a short sharp nod. "It is best we split up." He says, knowing the argument he is likely to gain. He holds up one hand already staying whatever objection, "I will be careful, but this is more important than my safety. One of the six is at play and we cannot fall short in our efforts."

Wiccan has posed:
Wiccan really just came to Gotham for the shopping. Granted, being so close to Manhattan meant that he could get almost anything he wanted and Sunnydale had some fascinating venues for some of the more obscure items...but every now and again one must go a little out of the way to get certain items. Luckily, this 'out of the way' only meant as far as Gotham, which was easy by train but easier and faster by Gate Spell. It's one of the first things he managed to learn in his more formal studies of the Craft.

Rather than tire himself out, he thought to investigate taking the Ferry back...if it's nice enough and not too expensive. Sure, Gotham is creepy, but boat rides can be pleasant...maybe. Since one of his last stops was near the docks, it was the obvious choice even though it was completey and totally sketchy.

Vintridr has posed:
    Bragi hovers next to the Odinson, wings beating easily as he keeps pace with the lord of Thunder as his rider nods. "I wish we had more intel to go on, my Lord," Vintridr comments. "Gotham is large, and it has an underbelly to match towns thrice its size..."

    She smirks slightly as she tilts her head. "Then again, if this were an easy task, it wouldn't require a Valkyrie -- and finding information is what I've always done best. If they're here to find, I'll find them. Await my signal."

    With that and a twitch of the reins, Bragi breaks formation, diving down through the convenient cloud banks until he alights on a rooftop high enough to be foggy. Vintridr dismounts and pats his flank, sending him off as she heads on to locate the nearest discreet way down to ground level...

Cheshire has posed:
    Cheshire is here on business, of course, although not obviously so. The woman looks like a typical college student, her Eurasian ancestry letting her fit right in with the tourists. The contract is for an item rather than a person, which is a bit unusual for an assassin. Must be something pretty valuable. Or dangerous.

    Dressed in an outfit that's a twist on Japanese schoolgirl chic, Jade moves between the shops and the carts that make up the mobile markets of Chinatown. She could be shopping, and her Cantonese is good enough to pass for a local. Every so often she drops a few careful words of inquiry. One does not simply pass out flyers when searching for dark objects of power.

Nightwing has posed:
    Under the cover of darkness, there is only one absolute in Gotham. The Bat gets his dues. His network, through the "Family" extends far and wide, and through their combined resources, very, very little gets past the Bat or one of his subordinates. In this case, we have Dick Grayson. Nightwing. Nightwing may not be The World's Greatest Detective, but he's within a stone's throw of the people who can legitimately lay claim to such a lofty title. And, Nightwing also has an advantage that the Bat himself often doesn't.

    He's actually likeable.

    So people tell him things. Whispers get spread, rumors and gossip, all find their way to the ears of the charming crimefighter in blue and black. Which leads him, eventually... here. On the trail of an assassin. A recent death, attributed to a toxic agent that even the Batcomputer couldn't pinpointthe origins of. One thing leads to another, and before Dick knew what he had in his lap, he had a picture. A fuzzy picture of little more than a shadow, but that picture was of a killer who had been operating completely under the radar for almost a century, at the very least. Never drawing attention. Just the odd death here and there. Victims, seemingly envenomed in some way, with no discernible source and displaying traits not known to any listed substances.

    An impossible thing made possible.

    And now, the shadowy form of Nightwing stalks the city rooftops, like the specter of a panther, sleek, and svelte, moving with a seemingly preternatural grace. He's on the trail of... someone. An impossible thing made possible. A female figure, it might appear. Moving across rooftops as if they're naught but slightly inconvenient stairs. When that figure drops into an alleyway, Nightwing comes to the edge of the building, casting a black silhouette, from which only the pale blue-white light of his mask's lenses glow. Watching. Unblinking.

Ekaterina Vespucci has posed:
Ekaterina Vespucci is here on business supposedly meeting with a CHinatown dignatary from the local board of commerce to discuss setting up a small gallery here of all places. She does not reflect her millenia old age appearing as a western college student freshman wearing baggy oversized clothing that looks cheap. Her large cornflower blue eyes scan the nighttime activity. She looks a fish out of water. As for her Cantonese - well she has a phrase book and an autotranslate app on her phone. Super prepared is the little Contessa.

Thor has posed:
    There is always something a touch foreboding about Gotham, and it's likely Wiccan can feel that, even magically it is deep in its founding and permeates the city. Nothing vulgar nor blatant, but an underlying pulse unique to the place that most practicioners of magic. Something as to the 'flavor' of the leylines that pass through as opposed to others. Yet something is off tonight. There is a rampant thrum of energy as if something awoke in the city and it seems to come from near those docks, and it's moving rapidly.
    As Vintridr lands to begin the search, it is not above where her quarry first manifests. The tall and lithe woman in the material of black shadow, now hidden under the curve of an old awning, she had been on edge this last year since she felt the death of her master. The fall of the Dark Elves had led to the end of Asgard as it was. And she had lost that link with those who set her this task of infiltration. Her lack of control had led to questions being asked and her age old cover starting to fray. So much so that some might have been privy to a curious slaying, a triple homicide by a poison that none knew a cure for.
    Her name was Mordana'at, Malekith's Blade, and she could /feel/ the Asgardians so near by. She rushed out from that cover, breaking across the street as puddles splashed under foot. The Valkyries. The cursed Valkyries, enemies of her people. Nightwing from his perch got his first glimpse then. This creature he had been tailing, the thing that had never been more than a glimpse... for some reason now it was suddenly illuminated in the /bright/ blaze of an oncoming car. And there, almost right in front of Cheshire as she moves about her business and far below Nightwing she is.
    Mordana'at, the weeping blade of a thousand kisses, chitinous black armor clinging to her slim yet alien form. A long scarf hiding her features and matched with a braid of black hair that is almost as long as that scarf. Her pale skin is so bright in contrast compared to the black of her armor, but it's those eyes that hold such malevolence that one might remember them far off after these events.
    The horn /roars/ honking loud as the man slams on the brakes and suddenly the Svartalf Assassin /slams/ her fists into the hood of the vehicle, crushing the hood and smashing it down while the trunk vaults upwards. Air bags deploy, the car alarm goes off and Mordana'at looks suddenly terrified.

Wiccan has posed:
The magic 'feeling' is definitely noted and it's probably why Billy is a bit on-edge. It's also -Gotham-. When the shadowy form manifests, he senses it and turns, dark eyes looking around to see just what might be going on! He never really considered Gotham to have mystical issues so this is definitely something new. His purchases are quickly put 'away' with a murmured word and with another, he's no longer in jeans, hoodie, and overcoat but in his 'Magic Uniform'.

The sound of the smashing car and the sudden car alarm has him lifting into the air, his cloak whipping about him in the chilly air, as he tries to get a better vantage point as to what just happened. Magic and Auto accidents don't usually go hand in hand.

Vintridr has posed:
    Malekith's chosen assassins are stealthy beyond measure, even by Svartalfr standards. But Vintridr has several advantages over her prey that most people wouldn't have.

    For one, she has spent the past several centuries on Midgard, and very little of this world can faze her anymore. She's learned its rhythms and its sounds and can filter out normal background noise to focus instead on what shouldn't be.

    Second, she is Wind-Reader, and the skills that earned her that title serve her well even now, as the currents shiver and tremble, delivering her the scent and sense of something not-of-here.

    She's already halfway to her quarry's location when a mortal motorist nearly does her job for her...

Cheshire has posed:
    While the 'job' was to find an artifact, Cheshire certainly heard of the venomous 'incidents' as well. Whether her employer knew is immaterial; this is a matter of professional curiosity for the glib poisoner. She can't feel the mystical changes, but she can certainly read the mood on the street.

    Cheshire is mid-conversation when the shadow that is Mordana'at dashes from cover and out into the street, to be stopped by the honking car. The vehicle is so casually flipped, and Cheshire drops the schoolgirl act.

    The hem of the short skirt lifts, and Cheshire slips out a trio of slender throwing blades. Her other hand eases to the back waist, fingers brushing the butt of the automatic she's tucked there. Not drawing it yet, she's still waiting. Calculating. And ready to move. The woman... being... who flipped the car could certainly be the one she's seeking.

Nightwing has posed:
    Nightwing, from above, observes with those baleful glowing white eyes. He is just about to act when the assassin dashes out into the path of an oncoming car. Only then does the stoic facade break, as one hand, clad in black with blue extending down his middle fingers reaches out, as he opens his mouth to call out to her. But it's already too late. The words do not reach his throat, before the crash happens.

    And Nightwing lets loose. Fearlessly, the man leaps from the ledge of the rooftop, high over the wet, streetlight illuminated streets of Gotham. His lithesome form stretches languidly, arms straight out at his sides as he arcs backwards into a languid and effortless flip. Coming out of it, the acrobatic vigilante dives head first towards the street, seemingly on a suicidal crash course with the pavement below. It is only at the last moment, before all hope is lost that the sound of compressed air heralds the launching of a grappel line that winds around the steel bar of a stoplight, allowing the tenebrous shadow of blue and black to sweep back up, tucking and rolling. He catches hold of a nearby streetlight, and his momentum carries him swinging around it once, twice, and a third time before he launches into a series of aerial moonsaults and lands on the pavement, directly in front of the Dark Elf Assassin.

    "You might want to give up now."

Ekaterina Vespucci has posed:
Ekaterina watches the frenetic activity with interest, "Ooo a catastrophe complete with aliens and car accidents. It is the empurean of weisdom that I interpose myself in this volatile situation," Spoting the Dark Elf assassin Ekaterina changes her position walking in front of a now stationary car. "Say cheese," she says to the frightened assassin and snaps a picture of her. "Hmm /what/ are you? I don't believe I've seen your like?" She is not as close as Nightwing but pretty close to the elf.

Thor has posed:
    Magic, in many ways, is lifeblood to the Svartalfar. They feel its pulse and can sense the tumult lance up and down those old ley lines in the great city. Wiccan is a brilliant sorcerer and his masterful pluck upon those powerful avenues of arcane power cause subtle reverberations through it. Just enough that now Mordana'at knows there is not just the Asgardians, there is a mage of strength nearby and what allegiance they may hold... unknown. Another tick of danger, another hint of chaos preying on the thoughts of a creature who seeks to control its surroundings entirely.
    Then it can tell that its failure has drawn attention unneeded, not only from the feeling of the hurrying Valkyrie. Those red eyes lift upwards even as she scowls under her cowl. The car still honking while the driver _pushes_ the door open and falls out of the side of the car. Yet he has enough wherewithal to scowl and say, "The hell is your problem, lady?!" Blood trickling from his bald head as the older man tries to push himself to his feet. Fails.
    Only for in that instant for Nightwing to leap down from those shadows so high above, twisting and twirling to land with such precision that if those Svartalfar still sought creatures to take for the Breakers of Will, then he would instantly be considered for training. Yet here, now, when those eyes of hers meet his, her only answer can be one of such disdain as typifies her people when she answers him simply with the sound, "Pfft."
    A decision must be made and made instantly. With her back towards Cheshire, and the other mortals so near, Mordana'at reaches to the small of her spine and the armor plate there, twisting an ebony sliver of crystal from her belt and then bringing it forwards and /down/ crashing into the ground and shattering with the impact. Black ichor seems to leap up and forth, surging upwards at first looking like just black liquid climbing and climbing, only it is not liquid but instead thousands and thousands of small insect-like creatures that all cling together, cling together and move together as they form into five colonies of surging seething masses... that lash almost instantly to the attack, charging any nearby.
    Whatever it was that device was meant for, Mordana'at uses it now to try and give her enough time to escape as she turns and /runs/ towards the far alleyway.

Buffy Summers has posed:
Trailing up the stairs from the subway stop is one Buffy Summers. She's dressed in her work clothes, the dark pants and black tank top with a hoodie thrown over the top. She has a messenger bag slung crossways over her torso, right hand resting on top of it. As she arrives on the street, she blinks in surprise as she finds herself not where she was supposed to be.
    Before she can even begin muttering about her lack of direction in this blasted city, she feels that ache that indicates something not of this world is around. Immediately, her hand is in her bag, fingers curling around the grip of a silver knife within. It's her go-to unless she knows the monster in question is a vampire. Looking at the mess on the street, she opts for not-a-vampire-but-holy-smokes instead. The knife is drawn as she moves closer to the crashed car and the being that caused it. Which is when everyone else arrives too. She pauses, hanging back a bit still on the sidewalk so she doesn't stand out.

Wiccan has posed:
From his higher vantage point, Wiccan can now see the issue. "Oh, bugger..." is muttered before he flies forward just in time to see the driver tumble out of his car and the...woman...? slam the crystal in the ground. His eyes widen under his cloak's hood and a hand immediately shoots out towards the insect mass that seems to be heading towards the injured man. "Forcefield!" is shouted, so that one can stop that tendril. "Is someone obsessed with 'Big Hero 6'?" is murmured, mostly to himself, before he throws another hand out towards the Driver, "Besafebesafebesafe!"

Vintridr has posed:
    Vintridr takes a moment to mutter an exasperated oath upon heroic mortals walking into certain death before breaking into a sprint. Thankfully, most vehicles on the road that hadn't already stopped when Mordana'at smashed a car came to a halt when this hero -- Nightwing, if she remembers correctly -- showed up.

    Many of them are already doing the sensible thing and turning to depart /quickly/, and she takes full advantage by leaping from roof to hood to roof, building up momentum even as she leaves a trail of shouted curses, blaring car alarms and confused Midgardian motorists in her wake.

    She pulls a vial of something blue and glowing out of a padded pouch on her side and thumbs the stopper open even as she flings it into one of the masses, where the liquid evaporates with a tinkling noise and a clatter of insects falling to the ground stunned, dead or dying.

    Rainbow colors shimmer around her body as what looked like casual street clothes change into a Valkyrie's combat armour, sword already drawn as she lands by Nightwing.

    "Submit, assassin. My lord would have words with you. The conversation /need/ not be fatal." she declares in the All-Speech.

Cheshire has posed:
    Nightwing. Of course. One of the reasons why Cheshire stays clear of Gotham whenever she can avoid it. She manages not to hiss as the blue-clad acrobat swings right in and makes his bold declaration to the shadowy being. Then the dark -creature- that is Mordana'at does that trick with the crystal.

    Insects surge forth, and Cheshire understands. Venom. Death. Yes, this IS the source.

    The problem is, of course, that a good number of those insects are now surging directly towards Her. While a part of Cheshire's brain really wants to collect a few bugs for study, there's a louder and more urgent voice screaming for survival. The Valkyrie crystallizes one of the colonies, but there are still others. Cheshire tumbles into a series of smooth backflips, effortlessly putting distance between herself and the others. Sticking the landing, she pulls out the automatic and puts a handful of slugs into the disabled car's gas tank. Fire usually works well against insects, after all.

Nightwing has posed:
    Of course she wasn't going to give up.

    Nightwing rolls his eyes under the mask that covers them, and releases a sigh. As More-don't pulls out her nope-crystal, the costumed vigilante adopts a crouching, wide legged, three point stance, ready to be on the defensive. As far as Dick is concerned, it's his job to protect the driver of the car, first and foremost, but he also cannot let the culprit get away. Oh, and he has a bug-man skittering at him, too.

    Think, Dick.

    It's all split second reaction, at this point. Nightwing springs forth, doing a forward aerial flip. Two small orbs, glinting in the streetlights and flashing with blue lights, fly out of his hands. One is aimed straight for the blob of bugs that now clashes against a forcefield in front of the driver. The other is aimed at the heart of the mass of bugs coming at him. Whether or not they bombs hit their mark, they DO explode, but only a concussive blast. It would stun a human being, but a mass of bugs? A good portion of them should be liquified by the force, and the rest sent scattering.

    As Nightwing lands from his flip, and finds a full blown Valkyrie standing next to him, he just looks at her, cocks his head in the direction of the fleeing Assassin and says, "They never listen, you know."

    And of course. Of course there has to be another assassin present. Because why not? Nightwing, responding to the sound of gunfire and the nearby sound of bullets puncturing metal. Of the car that he's standing near. Instinct takes over, and Dick Grayson: Mortal dives to provide cover and shielding for Vintridr: Asgardian Valkyrie Badass. But, at least he has flame retardant, puncture resistant armor, right? Right.

Ekaterina Vespucci has posed:
Ekaterina looks at the bugman that is assailing her and is immediately affronted. "Hey - im-polite!," the immortal Contessa exclaimed. It was indeed a complete overreaction to her taking a snap of the pointy eared being without permission albeit. The Bug man causes her eyes to widen to cartoonish size they being unnaturally large as it is. "Okay time for us to have a chat." Kat teleports right in front of the retreating Dark Elf. She was sensible enough to adopt a crouching posture where the ELf's shins will strike Kat's torso within a nano second and most certainly below the hapless Dark Elf's line of sight. Unless she is examining her toes. She leaves her bugman behind with everybody else. It would have to catch up to her and Galadriel here before it would be back in play. She just wanted to give the Vulcan a nasty fall.

Thor has posed:
    It is mayhem, and that is exactly what the assassin wanted. Those five amorphous masses of wriggling insectile creatures leap forwards. One rears upwards like a tsunami's wave and seems about to /crash/ down upon the poor driver who lifts his bloodied head up just in time to see what could well have been the last vision he would have beheld. Only for the creatures to /impact/ heavily into some form of forcefield, capturing and flickering with a blue light at each striking point as it seems to gather up that writhing wriggling mass like some seething ball of vermin, held in Wiccan's power. The driver, perhaps instilled by the youthful mage's power or perhaps gaining something of his senses turns and tries to /run/ as fast as he can away.
    And he runs right past the leaping figure of Vintridr even as that nearly angellic being leaps into battle, landing heavily with her sword drawn and rainbow flare. A twisting tendril of one of those creatures had already been curling inwards then snapping outwards as it lashes itself towards her, only for the vial to impact and seem to quickly spread throughout the entirety of the creature's chitinous form. There are short pops and snaps as the beetles seem to turn on each other even as many of them freeze to death, biting, and crushing as if trying to purge itself of the poison only for it to end up a smoking and sizzling mass of disgusting detritus upon the ground.
    Yet that pile of creatures is abruptly engulfed in flames as the three rounds Cheshire fires trace up the flank of that crushed vehicle, the last triggering that impact and the abrupt /sha-bwoomf!/ of ignition that suddenly has flames blazing and licking towards the sky, the mass of insects that had been reaching for her /rear/ back as a high pitched squealing scream comes from those thousands of little creatures.
    Yet their cries of pain are not alone for slicing through the air, Nightwing's twin explosives hurtle and impact cleanly. For a moment the devices disappear under the surging amorphous forms only for the blackened collectives to seem to bubble outwards, as if trying to contain the explosion only for the creatures to fail and explode into pieces. Most of the bugs are unmoving, burning, blazing, but some still creep and crawl.
    The last creature rears up and opens what would be a maw in other creatures as it surges forwards trying to throw itself onto the small figure of Ekaterina only for her to wink out of existence and flicker from one place... to another. The amorphous creature splashing forwards onto nothing seems to split and then reform, twisting and turning as it seeks a next target then crawling forwards in the direction of Buffy.
    In response to Vintridr's offer, Mordana'at says nothing. Words with the enemy. A waste. A clear path lies before her as she leaps up and over an old trash can, moving effortlessly as she begins to make her escape...
    Only for the Contessa to appear before her, crashing towards her shins and colliding with her out-stretched leg, causing the Svartalf to twist like a gyre, spinning around and catching herself against the wall and costing her those important seconds. Costing her that path she needed so intensely. Rage. Purity of Rage overtakes her as she steps in on the young seeming immortal woman. Mordana'at's knee crashes into Ekaterina's ribcage with a sickening crunch followed by a bony elbow towards her spine even as the lithe death merchant spears her downwards and then brings a flattened palm up and /crashing/ down to try and take the life of this... this /germ!/ that dared interpose herself.

Buffy Summers has posed:
    Things just got really weird. Wait? What is she thinking? Everything seems to get weird when Buffy's around. This probably would've been a normal superhero thing if she hadn't taken the wrong train to the wrong station. But nooo, she had to show up and now there are bug-people!
    This is much different from working with the Scoobies. There she is usually the lead in for the fights but here, she's the support. Maybe. Or just the observer. Bullets and bugs and explosions, oh my!
    When is when she realizes that the one that caused all the chaos is making a break for it.
    "Oh Hell no," she murmurs as she taps into her Slayer abilities. With her strength and speed, but that is no match for teleportation. The other woman gets there first, bringing the Dark Elf to a stop and setting off her rage. The silver knife is in her hand. Armored being vs blonde with knife. This should be fun. Hopefully the joints are weak points so that is where she'll aim for first when she strikes. No quips, no smart remarks. The killer is attacking the woman and Buffy can't let that happen. She goes for an attack, to get Mordana'at away from the civilian, and hopefully draw some blood for her trouble. She puts all her Slayer strength behind the attack, going for the back of her right shoulder at the joint. Well, her back was to her so, don't judge!

Wiccan has posed:
"Thanks!" is called out to Nightwing as one of his explosions takes care of the bugs that were slamming into Wiccan's forcefield. He then looks to make sure that the driver manages to escape...if he knew Gotham better, he'd Gate him into a safer place, but is there such a thing in this city? His outstretched hands turn with the forcefield even as he commands, "GerbilBall..." which seems to be the best explanation he can give for what he wants to do. The forcefield then starts to twist to create a sphere, hopefully trapping the rest of the bugs inside so they can't escape to attack anyone else.

If he forgot to add air-holes...oops. Oh well.

To any other civilians in the area he calls, "Get out of here!"

Vintridr has posed:
    Vintridr hadn't really expected her quarry to surrender. But Midgard custom does prefer it when you at least make the offer. Of course, this leaves her with something of a dilemma - go after the assassin before she murders the mortals trying to impede her, or stay to protect the civilians.

    She makes a judgement call.

    She turns to Nightwing. "They are called Locusts of Ka'nyr. Their bite carries a necrotic venom, and they burrow and reproduce in the dying flesh, eating the victim alive until a new swarm bursts free. Use fire or ice to slay them, but /get them all/."

    She hands him another flask like the one she used on one of the swarms, then brandishes her sword and leaps the nearest car after Mordana'at. Hopefully those foolish enough to get in the assassin's way can hold out long enough for her to get there...

Cheshire has posed:
    Cheshire takes a moment to relish the flames from the explosion, her signature grin forming as insects pop and sizzle and squeal. The dark creature is escaping, but Cheshire's attention is shifted to other matters.

    She's no hero, after all. Right now Cheshire is looking for any bugs that weren't immediately fried. Stepping carefully, she's trying to find one or two that have been freeze-dried instead.

    For... academic purposes. Of course. The Valkyrie's pronouncement does catch her attention, all the same. Locusts of Ka'nyr? Interesting. That'll make a lovely name for the toxin, if she manages to distill one from the carcasses...

Nightwing has posed:
    Nightwing is trying to assess the entirety of the situation. Some girl over yonder is teleporting and tripping up the assassin. It's a good stalling tactic,but it could get her killed. Thankfully a cheerleader is providing an assist. Because that's going to end well. He has some... from the looks of it, Asgardian standing beside him, and a mutant or magician, or some other powered type floating above. And there is Cheshire.

    Given the flask, and instructions, Nightwing gives it a brief look, and nods his head. He knows what to do.

    "Hey," Nightwing calls out as he takes off running after Five, "Fly Boy! I figure you're either a mutant or magician. Can you do fire? We need to burn the bugs. ALL the bugs!"

    Even as he says this, Dick is leaping onto the hood of a car, sliding across it and barreling forward non-stop at the last of the untouched swarms. His arm lashes out, whipping the flask through the air with his uncanny aim, trying to hit center mass so that the vast majority of them are frozen.

Ekaterina Vespucci has posed:
Ekaterina is no fighter and takes all of the blows sweet her bones audibly breaking. Cheekbone, ribs and even her spine. She flops to the ground lifelessly covered in blood and no doubt beneath the notice of the Dark Elf. But sdhe is not nothing. The Contessa posesses benign abilities that can be quite deadly if used correctly.

She grabs the Dark Elfs leg from her pron position and asks. "Can you fly?" Suddenly both she and Ekaterina are 100 feet at least in the air in line for a damaging fall. Kat teleported and took the Dark ELf with her. But for Elf it was a one way trip. In a second Kat delivers her own broken body to the ground. Kat gasps and quietly ostensibly with that one last effort expires.

Thor has posed:
    Mordana'at's armored gauntlet pulls back as she forms a knife hand readied to strike down at the fallen before her. Over one hundred years on this dirt ball, dealing with these worthless beings, waiting for a command that never came. She channels herself, focuses all in the space of a half-breath...
    And that is when Buffy's dagger slices down aimed at the armor join between shoulder and chest piece. The silvered blade slashes and she'll feel it connect, the blade coming to a stop with a jarring jolt and and freezing in mid-air, a half-inch from the armor's surface as if an unseen hand held it off and if she holds onto the blade she very well could be tossed and turned when the assassin moves. Yet she can also feel sloooowly, the blade pierce whatever force is stopping her attack from striking true, as the armor's magic is but enough to slow the weapon and its magic, not stop it.
    Meanwhile, near Wiccan, the crowd of civilians who had been threatened finally react, they turn wide-eyes upon the magician and only then seem to realize the danger they're in as he yells to them while simultaneously closing off the field and holding that force sphere around the remaining writhing creatures. Not many survive, perhaps enough for them to create a creature the size of a house cat, but enough to do damage if they got loose. The crowd starts to run away, back down the alleyways of China Basin away from the mayhem.
    In the debris and the refuse around Cheshire she is able to find many fallen corpses of the small creatures and some that even somewhat wriggle and crawl though with twisted little limbs and mangled mandibles. Another explosion from the back of the car sends a sluice of liquid fuel towards the creature that was wounded by the initial blast, causing it to twist and collapse on itself as if some great switch had been flipped off as the damage it's taken reaches a terminal point.
    When it screams it does not scream alone, however. It is joined when Nightwing leaps and brings his arm around, sending that mildly glowing blue vial around towards the slithering forward mass of alien insect creatures that seem to have their attention on those people that are now fleeing at Wiccan's behest. It was fast enough to catch them if it continued to build speed, but then the vial shattered, coating the entire rear section of the seething mass causing a flash freeze effect to cripple the collective's effort as it began to leave bits and broken pieces behind itself, then fell forwards while the small monsters tried to control the damage... and failed. They broke apart into their constituent pieces once they hit the ground, almost making it to the curb where the crowd of civilians had been.
    Yet all of the creatures were mere distractions, served up by the assassin who rounds upon Buffy. Mordana'at scowls beneath her scarf, only her eyes showing such disdain as she reaches for the blade that tries to pierce her defenses at the shoulder. She draws back a fist, the knuckles glowing with contained power as she channels her power...
    But that is the moment when Ekaterina and the assassin disappear in a whisper of energy, flickering out of being... and then the contessa reappears sans Assassin. For a moment one might imagine she helped the Svartalf escape, rendering their efforts moot. But it is perhaps a moment of doubt short-lived for in the next instant the assassin, Hand of Malekith, falls out of the sky and crashes down /hard/ on her side, armor rippling and contorting as it tries to counter the impact and failing, leaving her there, only some twenty feet from Vintridr's rushing form.

Buffy Summers has posed:
    Continuing to try to presss in that blade, Buffy refuses to give up. While she is many things, she is not a quitter. And dying to kill monsters? That's what she was born to do. No Slayer's die of old age.
    As the Dark Elf turns on her, Buffy is refusing to let go of the knife as she tries to drive it in further, knowing that fist is going to hurt.
    Then the woman is gone. Buffy blinks, standing there holding her knife as she looks around the alley. Ekaterina reappears but no Elf. Then there is the slamming of a body hitting the ground at high velocity. "What the..."

Wiccan has posed:
"Who, me?" is called down as Nightwing seems to address him. "Fire? Uh...sure!" Maybe. Probably. "But...won't that catch other things? And there's a dead car and...it might explode?" That would be bad, considering that there are people around! But burning bugs. Hmm. He looks at the scene for a moment before suddenly grinning at the 'brilliant' - pun intended - idea that he just had! "The name's 'Wiccan'," is offered back before he looks at his hands a moment and then aims them at the masses of bugs. "Zzzap! Zzzzap!" With each continued 'Zap!', a flash of blueish incandescence burts from his hands at the bugs, blasting them as if they suddenly found themselves touching a bug-lamp. He even makes sure to let one of those blasts into his forcefield to get rid of those that are left.

Vintridr has posed:
    Vintridr scowls and redoubles her speed as she sees Mordana'at prepare to tear into the Midgardian youth that dared challenge her, hoping to get there in time to save the brave girl's life. She's brought up short as the assassin disappears only to crash into the ground a moment later.

    She wastes no time bearing down on the assassin, pinning her to the ground in ways that would be considered police brutality were she police while she starts binding the woman's elbows and wrists in a style she learned several centuries ago in Japan.

    "One of Malekith's own Chosen, brought low by Midgardians. If he weren't already soot and ash upon the stellar winds this would have done him in on its own."

    She looks up at Buffy while she works, continuing in a much more normal sounding English. "Bravely fought, girl. Did she manage to cut or wound you in any way, no matter how minor?"

    A mental whistle to Bragi lets her relay the word to Thor that the assassin has been secured and is ready for transport...

Cheshire has posed:
    Cheshire is careful as she picks up a couple of the critters, moving quickly to try and nab them before Wiccan zaps them all. She reaches into her bag for a small can of something. Spraying first, she freezes the bugs and then drops them discreetly into the satchel. It's leather, and the bugs are frozen. What could go wrong?

    The Asgardian assassin should provide enough of a distraction, at least. And then Cheshire shifts back into her tourist mode once again. The civilians are running, and she blends in with the fleeing crowd.

Nightwing has posed:
    His work here done, Nightwing takes a brief moment to look about. Assassin went boom. Bugs are dead. People are saved. Norse girl seems to be apprehending the Elf. Cheshire? Is gone. That bothers him. His soft, pliant lips go taut, becoming a thin, bloodless line, and the corners of his jaw tense to become sharp and square.

    But when all is said and done, and people look about to account for the damages, and take stock of the heroes who prevented total calamity? Nightwing isn't among them. A shadow he arrived, and like a shadow, he is gone.

Ekaterina Vespucci has posed:
Ekaterina was lying quite dead next to the heros she had helped. Apparently for the moment forgotten. Would it remain as such though when she begins to before the eyes of anyone who would care to watch regenerate. Her bones reform her bruises vanish. There's barely a hair out of place when she gasps back to life and lets out an ear shattering scream covering her ears and rocking. Tears are in her eyes. "I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it." She mutters to herself over and over again eyes closed.
f Standing up she staggers over to the Elf who beat her so savagely before despite having returned the favor she apparently was not done with the Elf yet.

Thor has posed:
    At her best, a conflict with Vintridr would be difficult for Mordana'at, but rendered stunned and injured she is quickly set upon and quickly controlled. Her answer to the words in All Speak sent her way is nothing intelligible even by the Valkyrie's keen ears for it is little more than an animalistic hiss and growl almost like a truly displeased cat trapped against its will.
    Then it is only left to deal with the remaining locusts, their scourge a vile thing that could extract a heavy cost against any culture if left unchecked. But Wiccan and Nightwing both are able to set to and end the existence of those remaining insect creatures... for the most part. As Cheshire... she, as always, makes her own way in this world.

Buffy Summers has posed:
    Calling out to Vintridr, she takes stock of herself. "Nope, I seem to be good. No marks." As the valkyrie begins tying up the fallen villain, Buffy turns her eyes to the woman laying near her feet. "Can't say the same for her." While a lot of people were saved, there was one fatality at least.
    Until she hears the first cracking pop of a bone moving into place. The Slayer frowns as she watches pieces and parts move back into place. Then the dead woman wakes up.
    Buffy considers stabbing her because Zombie Apocalypse! But wait. "You...you're okay? You aren't craving brains or anything, right?"

Wiccan has posed:
Wiccan also looks back in time to see the crumpled woman come back to life. "Gaah..." is offered with a bit of a recoil but he eventually floats over to her and Buffy, "Are you...should we call an ambulance?" He looks to the Slayer and gives a bit of a shrug before looking back. "That looked kind of bad." He's not the master conversationalist.

Vintridr has posed:
    Ekaterina's revival doesn't rate more than a raised eyebrow from Vintridr. "Ah. Another of those to whom Hela's real is forever barred. I haven't seen one such as you in a fortnight of years at the least. Will you require any assistance?"

    She chuckles at Buffy's reaction. "Not unless those were in her preferred diet before she took a fall, rest assured..."

    Having finished trussing up the assassin like a dinner roast, she stands up and lifts the body easily with one arm. "As for me, my Lord summons me and directs me to bring... /this/... with me." She favours Buffy with a smile. "You fought well and bravely, Summer-child. If you ever find in Boston, look up the Sacred Grounds - as long as I have a say in its running you will never need to pay for your drinks there. But for now -- fare ye well."

    With that, she whistles sharply, and a moment later a winged horse descends out of the sky to land by her side. She slings the assassin's body on its back, mounts and clicks her tongue twice, and the horse leaps back into the air, vanishing into the night sky with a few wingbeats...

Ekaterina Vespucci has posed:
Ekaterina was advancing as menacingly as she could muster on the Dark Elf assassin but then she is denied her vengence or whatever petty torment she was about to manifest as the Valkyrie leaves. She is a tiny thing with large cornflwoer blue eyes and an angelic little face. Not at all menacing truth be told even with the teleportation and ostensible immortality.

Her eyes turn to Buffy echoing the Valkyries explanation, "I'm a mutant not a zombie," simpler explanations were best. And so many abilities fell under the category of Homo Superion that she might as well use the label. Technically it applied.

Smiling slightly at Wiccan, "Not necessary - healthcare is very cheap for me."

"Darn it I hate dying and coming back. I wish I would just stay gone."

Buffy Summers has posed:
That earns an arched brow from Buffy. "Ooookay." She looks to Wiccan to see if he his any less disconcerted by a sentence like that. "On that note though, I have to get to work in Bludhaven."
    here are sirens in the distance that are approaching rapidly. "And that's my cue. It was nice meeting you. Well, not under these circumstances. But to fight with...Oh nevermind." With that, she tucks that knife away in her messenger bag and heads for the subway entrance.
    Hopefully she'll get on the right train this time.

Wiccan has posed:
Wiccan just sort of shrugs again at the look Buffy gives him before looking back to the other woman, "I think a lot of people would like a second chance to continue their lives. Just saying." He also looks over at the sirens and gives a sigh. "Why do I come to Gotham again?" He lands but doesn't change his clothes back to civvies. There's a look to the other, "Glad you're...ok?" is offered before he opens a quick Gate that looks like Manhattan might be on the other side, and steps through it, closing it behind him.