586/Here Comes Trouble

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Here Comes Trouble
Date of Scene: 24 May 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: 241, Feral




Trouble (241) has posed:
If there's one place that just screams TROUBLE, it's the bad part of town!

There's always a bad part of town. It's the part where buildings aren't maintained, people are aggressive and have self-destructive behaviors; where people want to retreat to hide what they're doing. In this case, it's evening among old brownstone tenements with dated storefronts. Protective shutters and barred doors are being pulled down, save for local bars, restauraunts and liquor stores. So far it's quiet tonight, other than the occasional passing of a car whose speakers are thudding so hard they vibrate the windows as they pass. People are trying to go about their daily lives, face their daily struggles, and get through another day.

Odd spots of wind are gusting around the streets, blowing hats off heads and rustling clothing, but the placement is entirely erratic; they start and stop in a loose zig-zag pattern down the street. Momentary flashes of red and black accompany the wind gusts. Passers-by are getting spooked.

Feral has posed:
    Disgorged from one of the restaurants still open at this hour, a brown-haired woman in... less than formal dress drops into the street and trundles down a sidewalk with lethargic steps. She's wearing a pair of black loafers that clash poorly with the tattered red pants only partly covering her legs from the night breeze and the grey tanktop covering the rest of her if frayed at its edges, well worn and used, as well as damp in more than a couple places. Vanya had a couple things to wash off before dinner... and maybe a spill or two.
    Despite her half-hearted efforts, a faint redness is visible in places when her clothes come under the gaze of a yellow streetlamp and the smell of sweat and exertion follows behind her like the wake of a boat.
    Pausing to adjust the blue-blocker glasses over her eyes she grins a little as the maverick gust sweeps down the street with faint streaks of color.

Trouble (241) has posed:
Immediately the oddly dressed woman has a smaller woman standing in front of her walking path. Dressed like a semi-armored motorcyclist, in a black bodysuit with armored gloves, boots, torso and helmet in red with orange and gold flames, the slender female puts her hands on her hips. "Wow. 'People of Wal-Mart' much?" comes the rather rude greeting from speakers on either side of the helmet. "You uh, you look like you've been a little roughed up there. Also completely not normal. Not that I'm going to hold that against you or anything."

Feral has posed:
    Vanya halts and cocks her brow at the youth in front of her as the gust of wind from the speedster's sudden stop blows her tangled hair back from her face. "And what are you supposed to be?"
    "Oh, and it's not mine," she adds with a fond little grin. "Most of it..."

Trouble (241) has posed:
"Trouble," the woman answers with bravado. "Looks like you're steppin' all over my name, though. Not yours? What, did you steal it?" Oh there's a lilt of excitement and a change in body posture at that thought. Almost as if this girl is looking for her namesake.

Feral has posed:
    Vanya's gaze slowly falls down and back up the biker youth as her nostrils flare, using the benefit of more-than-human senses to feel her out. The only slightly taller woman rocks back onto her heels with a hand lazily landing on her hip - the strong, square-backed posture she naturally settles into lends her an imposing bearing that belies her actual size.
    The would-be hero might also notice callouses on her knuckles. As her bare arms and tanktop advertise, Vanya is fighting fit. "Oh no, I won it fair and square," she replies with a small laugh. "I did try to wash the blood out but water just isn't enough."
    The woman brawler shrugs casually. "What can you do?"

Trouble (241) has posed:
"Oh you'd love for me to tell you that, wouldn't you, criminal?!" Accusations blindly fly, because after all, Vanya -looks- like a villain. Therefore, she is, according to Trouble. "Let's just say that it'll take something bigger and more heavily armored than you to lay a hand on me." She's still crouched a little, arms up defensively, as if she's ready to engage in a fistfight at any minute. Heroic recognition, here we come!

Feral has posed:
    Vanya looks back with an expression one might give a cute but exasperating child as her free arm continues to dangle at her side. "I still need to work on my English," she murmurs to herself before addressing Sierra more properly.
    A hand comes up and flicks her away with a little shooing motion. "Don't fog your helmet. I just had a big meal, I'm not in the mood for another fight yet," she replies, patting her stomach contently.

Trouble (241) has posed:
Behind the helmet, Trouble blinks. "What?! You can't just blow me off like that! It's --- It's not how things are done!" she protests, snapping upright irritably, hands at her sides, balled into fists. "It's obvious you're a bad guy and I'm the good guy here to stop your reign of terror!"

Feral has posed:
    Vanya lurches forward as she resumes her walk and sets her free hand on Sierra's helmet to push her aside. "Out of the way, kid. If you really want to fight, do it later and put some money on the line. I told you I'm done for the night."

Trouble (241) has posed:
Trouble's so flabbergasted by this whole affair that she's brushed aside. literally. "Hey, wait--!" Not something she'd ever think she'd say. "--You could at least tell me about your evil plans! Or maybe your tragic backstory!"

Feral has posed:
    As she passes, Vanya's hand unceremoniously hooks Sierra's chinstrap to drag the youth along behind her. No explanation is offered though and no great tearful exposition is forthcoming.

Trouble (241) has posed:
"Ohshi--"

Sierra is pulled off her feet and drug along, tripping over a few steps before catching up with Vanya. She can't get lose from the grip on her helmet and she doesn't want to damage it, so she's effectively 'caught by the short hairs'.

Feral has posed:
    It takes a little extra force and a little extra muscle to make the biker compliant before she catches her balance but Vanya doesn't seem to mind. Guiding by the head there's not a lot of biker to move; there wasn't a lot to begin with either.
    
    Once Sierra is following along the brawler lets go and settles into a more natural looping stride as she resumes walking off her late dinner. "Do you always pick fights with random strangers?" she asks bluntly.

Trouble (241) has posed:
"Only if they look like bad guys. Which you do," Trouble retorts in earnest, pulled along by a leash of 'do not damage this equipment young lady or it's coming out of your allowance'. "That's what heroes do. They look for danger and when they see it, they stop it, so that no innocent bystanders get hurt. You look -exactly- like you should be a bad guy. Just read a comic book some time!"

Feral has posed:
    "Oh really?" Vanya asks, looking sceptically at Trouble's visor. "I'm not the one hiding in a suit and helmet," she notes. "You look more like a 'bad guy' than me."

Trouble (241) has posed:
"Oh yeah?! Does that mean that Batman and Iron Man are bad guys too? Because they have suits and helmets! Or maybe in Batman's case a cowl! But still, you get the idea. Wearing a suit does not make you the bad guy!" Sierra still does nto get it, but she's young and naive enough to be prodded along by questioning pretty easily.

Feral has posed:
    "And making a tanktop does?" Vanya asks back. "You're closer to a black sweater and a ski mask than I am."
    "And your name is Trouble." Yes, she went there.

Trouble (241) has posed:
Pause.

"... but... trouble sounds -cool-," the younger woman whines. Literally.

Feral has posed:
    "Maybe," the older one answers with a small smirk. The biker is entertaining her at least. If Trouble is trying to chart their course through the city in the meantime she might be disappointed; Vanya has picked a direction and stuck with it. It's a little hard to tell if she's actually heading somewhere or just killing time on her feet.

Trouble (241) has posed:
"Because it's also really catchy and it goes with my equipment. I mean, think about it, 'Trouble Magnets' are just perfect. It's so marketable! Can't you just picture an action figure with Trouble Magnets included?" Sierra explains, rapid fire, eager on her own potential hype. "I have to choose something that sticks in the minds of the populace! Otherwise I won't be recognized!"

Feral has posed:
    "Since you found me, wouldn't that make me the Trouble Magnet?" Vanya teases astutely as she peeks back down at the youth's outfit, trying to spot where motorcycle gear turns into magnets.

Trouble (241) has posed:
The young girl's feet stop and lock into place against the sidewalk.

"Hey, you know what?"

She claps her hands against Vanya's arms. They hold to the other woman's skin as if welded there. The proverbial leash has suddenly been lashed around an immoveable pole. "You're absolutely right."

Feral has posed:
    Vanya stops once she's grabbed and looks back at the would-be hero with an eyebrow that raises slowly above firmly-set eyes in warning. She glances down to Trouble's gloves against her arms, then down to her boots before coming back up to the young woman's face.
    Sinking her weight just slightly and leaning back, the wild woman gives a 'light' tug that recruits a deceptive share of momentum and leg strength.

Trouble (241) has posed:
Not even a budge.

The boots and gloves hold like they're part of the concrete and Vanya's own body. As for the girl? Well, it seems as if she's made of sterner stuff.

A classic Happy Face symbol forms on her visor, slowly, from the bottom up.

Feral has posed:
    Cemented to the pavement by fifty kilos of motorcycle sass? Who can't appreciate that?    
    With the smiley face faintly mirrored off her glasses, Vanya pauses in muted surprise when her lean takes her nowhere - and *grins*. "Trouble Magnet, huh?" she echoes thoughtfully as her arms move together and she twists tightly in place, crossing the would-be-hero's arms over one another as her palms turn over to apply grapple-ending pressure and reverse the grab. This one knows more than a little about being up close and personal.
    "Maybe you are on to something..."

Trouble (241) has posed:
Sierra's hands slide around Vanya's skin as the woman moves her arms, effectively putting them right back in the position they started with. "Hashtag nope on your thought process there." The smiley face vanishes as Trouble lets go of Vanya's arms.

Feral has posed:
    "You're a strange one, but that is a cute trick," Vanya admits with a gamely grin as she takes back her arms. The little helmet almost had her excited for a moment.
    They go above her head a moment later as the brown-haired woman stretches out with a little grunt and her upper body because an anatomy chart caricature for just a moment. "So how far are you planning to follow me? To bed?" She asks casually.

Trouble (241) has posed:
"I--" Pause. "/No/. /Gross/." Yuk Face across the visor. She taps her fingertips together. "Well... if... you're just going home then, I guess you're not really doing anything criminal, are you." You can -hear- the deflation in Sierra's voice. "Which... means I've completely wasted my time."

Feral has posed:
    Vanya can't help laughing - a hearty, boisterous tone that stretches her top as she leans her head back towards the night sky.
    "Yup! I told you, you already missed all the fun," she affirms cheerfully as one hand comes down from on high to latch onto Trouble's helmet and ruffle it like a head of hair. "But hey, the weather's warm tonight. If you want to go camping with me I won't stop you."

Trouble (241) has posed:
Trouble slumps forward, arms hanging, head low. "... No, I can't go camping. Mom would never let me hear the end of it. I just... I'm... I'm gonna go crawl into a hole for a little while and try to pretend this never happened. Sorry...."

Feral has posed:
    Vanya takes a firm enough grip on the helmet to pick Trouble's head back up and peer quizzically into her visor. "Do you realize if you had guessed wrong about me you could be a red smear on the pavement by now? How old did you say you were again?"

Trouble (241) has posed:
Exclaimation point on the visor. "Uh... nineteen? Also, sorry, if that was the best you could do in terms of raw strength I'm way ahead of you. I'm also faster than you." Braggadoccio returns. "So I just would have had to run for it or something instead. You weren't doing anything I needed to punch you for. Yet. So I just took it chill."

Feral has posed:
    That toothy grin returns to Vanya's face too. "I've got more than that, Ditya," she assures smoothly as she drums her fingers against Trouble's helmet. "You're old enough to fight and drink, that's old enough to camp."
    The arm drops not too far and turns into a headlock as the Russian abruptly resumes walking with the force of purpose. "And if mommy's little princess is going to call herself Trouble, she should get into it at least once, da?"

Trouble (241) has posed:
"Yeah, well, it's not that simple. Mom doesn't really know I'm calling myself Trouble, and I'm supposed to be on patrol because it's what superheroes do. That's literally what I was born for," Trouble explains. "So... I really appreciate the offer, it's nice of you considering that I was kind of a jerk, but... I can't."

Feral has posed:
    Vanya rolls her eyes. "That's why it's called 'trouble'. And heroes have to sleep too." She grins as an idea springs to mind. "Maybe I should just be the villain who kidnaps Trouble tonight," she suggests with a knowing look at the super-youth's visor.

Trouble (241) has posed:
"... HASHTAG NOPE!"

That's the last words Trouble has to say before she runs somewhere between mach 2 and 3, leaving a strong gust of wind in her wake.

Feral has posed:
    The sudden wind drags Vanya's hair and loose pants towards the superhuman's wake and she's left staring at empty air for just a moment before--
    
    "Ack! Pteew! Ugh it's in my mouth!"
    
    Maybe she should start tieing her hair back...