5989/Falling Down

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Falling Down
Date of Scene: 14 December 2018
Location: New York City
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Armstrong, Kid, M, Witchblade




Armstrong has posed:
It's the cusp of the evening in New York City, a relatively typical street. The establishment in question is officially a 'motel', but would probably qualify as a flophouse by most standards. It's the kind of place you want to go where the only company you're likely to expect is being paid for the privilege. People get rooms there to hide out, to not be noticed and to generally get up to no good.

Armstrong, of course, makes a point of staying there whenever he's in the city. His regular habits have caught up with him, though. Which is how the outside world on the street suddenly becomes aware of his existence. First, a few arrows fly off the building and land on the asphalt below, apparently having been dodged by the surprisingly nimble big man. And then because he comes barrelling off the top of the building, somersaulting head over heels in a pair of sweatpants, an undershirt, a brown bathrobe and a pair of Marvin the Martian slippers, one of which pops off as he crashes through the roof of a small sedan and crushes it in with a spattering of glass and metal.

"Ow." he says.

Kid has posed:
As strange as the world was...Kid still at times preferred to keep his illusions up - such as appearing as a mutant teenage mutant as opposed to a full blown gorilla! He knew the area here wasn't the BEST around...but it didn't really matter. More often than not he was the nightmare to be avoided if any of the thugs, goons and would be night walkers knew what was good for them.

But still...one can still be startled. Such as finding a man landing in a sedan next to you! Kid jumps back with a loud growl, startled by the vent more than anything...before he walks closer and hears the human saying 'ow. He looks up at the roof and than to the man once more before signing 'What the hell man?'. Of course his watch/bracer which spoke for him spoke in his place

M has posed:
    Monet is not the standard fare of this part of town, /at all/. No, she is not. However, sometimes, driving out this way happens when she's got a new driver who has yet to fall victim to her harsh berating ways...and doesn't know better than to drive her very expensive towncar in rough climes such as this. Or, perhaps he's doing it on purpose because that crack about his receding hairline was just a shade too close to home. He'd spent good money on hair plugs and this uppity snob of a young woman... Well, it wouldn't be the first time he lost a job because of his temper.

    So, when Armstrong lands heavily on a car /right beside/ Monet's town car, the driver skreeeels to a stop, jerking the car away from the point of impact, and sending Monet slamming into the car door. Her cheek plastered to the window, she gets a goooood look at both the bedraggled, portly man and the sign-language-using teen on 'roids angrily gesturing. Her car halted, Monet gives her driver a TK smack to the back of his head, "Idiot! Why did you take zis route?! Look what you.." she grumbles, opening the car door. "Stay /'ere/," she informs him in slow, pointed words, slamming the door.

    Turning to the two individuals in the vicinity of the crushed car, Monet is a beautiful, haughty young woman -- perhaps not even out of her teens, fully -- dressed very, very nicely, wrapped up in a thick, luxurious coat. Her breath steams out of her mouth as she yells in a heavy French accent, "Imbeciles! What are you two doing, playing games wiss cars and almost crashing into my---" she stops short as more arrows come flying -- one of them pings off of her body and she grabs another in midair. "FOOLS! 'Oo 'ave you pissed off zat zey are flinging arrows?" she glares at the two men, turning to look for a source of said volley of arrows.

Armstrong has posed:
Armstrong sits up slowly, shaking glass shards out of his hair, "Listen, tootsie, it was jump off the roof and get some arrows up the backside and, I gotta tell ya, I been there and done that a few times and it's murder on the old keister, even after it heals up. My ass probably looks like a Persian danish without all the cinnamon," he says. Then he blinks at her for a moment, "Damn, you're a fine lookin' example of a woman, my name's...SHIT!" he says as another arrow plinks into the car next to him.

A glance up will reveal about ten men clad in a variation of ninja garb, albeit a little more flowy and white rather than black. One of them cries out loudly in a foreign tongue (If you happen to speak Arabic, it's "THE DEVIL MUST BE SLAIN.")

Kid has posed:
Kid get's a dead pan look. He flips Monet two middle fingers, his watch translating his meaning in an automatic way "Fuck off Bitch" he says having no time for her haughty overgrown ego. He looks to the man in the car and than up

He signs "Well devil man, they don't like you, and I don't like being fired at" he cracks his knuckles and growls. Oh they done it now. Yes he understood what they were saying, and he didn't care. He instead up to...charge the motel. Jumping onto a car, following by a ledge of the motel and begins to scale it. If they thought they were meeting a devil before, they would soon be VERY sure of it when Kid get up there!

M has posed:
    Monet's honey-brown eyes take in Armstrong's appearance -- the disheveled hair, the unkempt beard, the stained undershirt, pilled sweatpants... -- She wrinkles her nose in distaste. As he attempts to explain the situation, arrows and very-hole-y bum, M turns her scrutinizing gaze on Kid as he double-birds her and his wristwatch cusses her out for him. A gorilla, insulting her? Oh, no. No, that won't do. Her eyes narrow and, as he begins to scale the building, Monet lashes out at him with a mild bit of TK...just about the equivalent of a knee to the groin. Just enough to reprimand his nasty retort, in her opinion.

    However, her eyes are on Armstrong, and she snaps the arrow she caught. "Somesing about 'devil', zey are whining," she says, her telepathy translating enough for her to catch the drift. "Are zey talking of you, or of z' gorilla?" she demands, her feet starting to lift off of the ground. "Zat arrow put an 'ole in my Chanel coat, and zat is /UNFORGIVABLE/," she notes, her eyes blazing with fury. "Zey. will. PAY, Shit," she says, rising higher in the air, "...and zen, YOU will pay." She zips off in the air, making a bee line for the ninja-esque men.

Armstrong has posed:
The Cultists above let out an ululating cry in unison, three of them detaching from the wall to plunge down at Kid with their knives drawn. How well he'll handle them given his rather unfortunate telekinetic shot to the balls remains to be seen.

"I'm more of a 'put it on my tab' type o' fella, sugar, but I do admit, they are probably talkin' about me. Now, I don't see how it's my fault that they've got a bit of superstition about me, I didn't ask for it and I'm definitely not particularly Satanic. Horny, maybe now and then, but who ain't, ya feel me?"

"No, you probably don't. Well...you and that other guy, you...have fun..." he says, pushing up out of the wreckage and starting to slowly back away in preparation of running again.

Kid has posed:
Ballocks! Doesn't matter WHAT animal you are, that hurts! He slips on the rail from the sudden pain, but quickly recatches himself. His face was that of utter anger. And it had distracted him sufficently well. For when he looks up...he sees three men comming on down.

Eyes wide jumps to the side avoiding two of the plunging ninjas! But the third manages to plunge their knife into Kids back which makes him roar in pain and let go...plunging them both to the ground. Luckily no major viens or anything is hurt but it still hurts like hell

Now he is just pissed! But on the bright side, this did give him a grand oppertunity to kick things up a notch. He reaches behind himself to grab the unfortante ninja squished under 600 pounds of rilla muscle...and begins to drain him - taking in the ninjas memories, his skills, his knowledge for himself. One less ninja to deal with, and an extra (tempoary) set of skills to help him out.

M has posed:
    "Oh, no, you don't!" Monet says as Armstrong starts to try to sneak off. She envelops him in a bubble of telekinetic energy -- which protects him from arrows, and also keeps him pretty trapped. She remembers to leave tiny little perforations at the top and bottom of the bubble, so he can breathe with ease. This time, she remembers. She drags Armstrong along with her as she hovers above the surface of the roof's floor. She gestures to him, captured in the bubble. <<Is this the man you're after?>> she telepathically asks the men. Before they can answer, she sends a wall of concussive TK in their direction, just to sweep them off their feet, so they're not immediately attempting to rush forward.

Armstrong has posed:
Armstrong finds himself plucked up in the air by the telekinetic bubble, including his loose Marvin the Martian slipper which he manages to awkward push on his one bare foot. "I already said it was me! Unnecessary!" he says. "They're just religious nuts! With swords. And I know people in this country elect those kind to Congress, but c'mon, you're not even American!" he says.

The one Cultist is quickly drained by Kid, his sequestered childhood of training and brainwashing all centered on the strange figure of the Aram, also called the Beast, a rather distorted and horrific version of the fat dude currently hovering next to Monet.

"DESTROY HIM, WITCH, AND PERHAPS YOU CAN SAVE YOUR SOUL!" a cultist barks

Witchblade has posed:
    This sort of thing gets people scared and running away, as well as frantic calls to the police. Many street cops try to get people away from the area and just try to let the ones with powers deal with the threats. This also means that Code: Blue is on the way.

However, there is one that arrives in a car and parks it on the side of the road as the battle continues. And the words from the cultist really really alarms the woman that is starting to stride down the street. "Great...more religious fanatics. We don't need these people in New York. We've got enough." She breaks into a run and finally, near the battle, ducks behind a car. And she says the words that'll likely draw attention.

"NYPD! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"

Kid has posed:
Kid makes a bleh face, well those were SOME memories he could have lived without! Makes him glad this is only ever tempoary. And the man he drained while alive is now knocked out. That being said...they dead now. They are down right dead...cause Kid has...

Leveled up!

Kid is up on his feet, daggers in hand! As if he was trained by these people himself, he goes after the other two ninjas that tried to stab him down! He slashes one in the legs and arms, cutting him down.

But as for the third, he stabs him right in the back, in a precise mansuver, before picking him up and tossing him across the street and ontop the hood of the car Sara was at! Apparent Mutant teen 3: Cultist 1! Though that when he looks to Sara just noticing her demand...and drops the daggers thinking 'Grrreat. The Cops'. He glanced up wondering what was going on on the roof now.

M has posed:
    "It never 'urts to be sure, does it?" Monet says without looking away from the cultists, but it sounds like she's talking right in Armstrong's ear, despite the fact that he's currently detained in a bubble of her telekinesis and hovering five or so feet behind and slightly above her. At the command from the ninja-robed man with the balls to address her, Monet glares at him and psychically jams his brain with images of his worst nightmares. <<Rude. To call someone a witch without even politely saying hello,>> she informs the other men on the rooftop.

    Then, Sara Pezzini makes her appearance down below, yelling for the people on the ground-level to comply with the law. She sighs. This could complicate matters. She doesn't want to get on the wrong side of the law. She's supposed to be a good guy, or whatever. She begins using her TK to yank the weapons out of the hands of the cultists, tossing them into a pile on a neighboring rooftop.

Armstrong has posed:
Armstrong looks down at the cop below, "Officer, I ain't even never met these people before. I'm just an innocent but beautiful bystander who's gotten sucked into some kind of superhero nonsense. These religious nuts are the REAL criminals...although, I mean, that other guy did just stab somebody, so fair point, he might, uh, might need a ticket or something."

The Cultists don't seem much interested in the debate, although Monet's telekinetic disarming would seem to do the trick to some degree. They're not afraid to rely on hand to hand, though, one leaping off of the wall at Monet while two more rappel rapidly to the ground and try to engage with the cop, even as Kid takes out the other two who had been on him.

Witchblade has posed:
    Sara looks up to Kid and sighs. "Stay were you are, Boo Boo. I don't want to catch you doing anything illegal." She says as the culstists rappel down the building. "This is getting more and more tedious. Just.....surrender....please?" She's actually pleading with them, and she has a pistol out, but she's not firing. "I mean.....I don't wanna hurt you."

Kid has posed:
Kid looks up at Armstrong and gives him a 'What the hell?' look when he says he should get a ticket or something. He bares his teeth rather angrily, showing off some MASSIVE canines, that they may as well have been knives.

But than he is called Boo boo and he stops baring his teeth and blinks...unsure how to respond, it throw him off keter more than anything else. A shudder, he doesn't want think about what that means about him as a person. But as the men rappel down...Kid responds quickly. He seen their memories, he seen their training, their brainwashing and he was damn sure they were not about to surrender. So he does what is natrual, he outright charges the two oncomming ninjas!

M has posed:
    Monet observes what's happening, the various reactions to everything and just....exhales a long-suffering sigh. "INCOMPETENT BOOBS! I AM SURROUNDED BY INCOMPETENT BOOBS!" she growls in frustration. And, with that, she begins gathering flailing cultists up in her arms, using a TK rope as tethers for the ones she can't get a good grip on with her hands. She ignores all of their martial arts moves, just absorbing their attempts to harm her, and flies down to the ground level. "Did you bring extra 'andcuffs, policewoman?" she asks through gritted teeth as a cultist's foot clocks her in the jaw. Armstrong is still in the TK bubble, and hovering nearby.

Armstrong has posed:
Kid's estimation of their mindset is right, as the Cultists continue their obviously futile assault. They aren't having any effect at all on Monet, the two now striking at her with their hands and feet meeting the impacable defense of her TK as she reels them in. The two charging at Sara don't flinch, although they should, more than prepared to die for their cause. As well demonstrated by the two who gt absolutely mowed down by Kid, the sound of breaking bones echoing in the air.

"Oh, that's gotta smart!" Armstrong says. "Yeah, police lady, these guys need to be cuffed and stuffed and sent to the pokey. I, meanwhile, deserve a latte and a large blueberry scone from the cafe two blocks away, so if you'd be so kind as to just gently open up your forcefield of French anger and let me ease on down the road, I'd be absolutely obliged."

Witchblade has posed:
    While Monet Disarmed the cultists, she didn't get all of their weapons. They Manage to draw daggers, and Sara, reflexively, manages to shoot one and put him down. "DROP YOUR..." And that's when Sara's pistol get sliced in half. It would've gone through her fingers too....if the dagger didn't clang off of something metal over her fingers. And clanged loudly.

The cultist steps back in a bit of shock, but Sara just looks at her ruined pistol. "Man. the department's going to have my head for another pistol getting destroyed like this."

The metal on Sara's fingers grows into a fully realized gauntlet, and the Cultist stares. "YOU'RE A WITRRRRK!" The last part is where a couple of the fingers extend through the cultist's skull. "Witchblade....get it right." And the 'fingers' retract, leaving the cultist to fall to the ground.

"I said I didn't want to hurt you."

Kid has posed:
Kid looks to the downed cultist...than Sara, than up at Monet and Armstrong as if to ask 'Did yea see that?' of course he wasn't one to really talk, considering he broke the arms and legs...and probably ribs of the cultist he got his limbs on. But with the cultist seemingly dead, apprehended or otherwise unable to fight, Kid goes back to well not pissing off the person with bladed fingers. Though he does glances up and signs "Mango better" and that was it. It was an important fact in all this craziness after all. Still he wondered where things went from here as he considered possible escape routes out of habit.

M has posed:
    Monet watches as the cultist's plain blades slice through Sara's gun. She arches a brow, looking confused. Are these somehow magical blades? Or was it a toy gun? She's still trying to wrap her mind around that when Sara's gauntlet forms itself on her arm...and two tendrils of it stab through the cultist's skull. "What z' fuck?" Monet turns an astonished look on the police woman. "You just...you just KILLED zat man!" she says, her voice full of disbelief. "Zat was totally unnecessary," she finds herself outraged, this time at something else. "What kind of police officer are you?!" she demands. "I sink I will take zeez men to z' local police station, to make sure zey won't meet an unfortunate end," she says, bonking cultists' heads together, knocking them out, two at a time, until she's disabled the rest of the men. She moves to her town car and opens the door, "Marcus, start piling zeez men in z' car." She pulls out her cellphone and just glares at everyone involved.

Armstrong has posed:
Luckily for our rotund protagonist, Monet's outrage about the sudden and unexpected brutality combined with having to noggin-knocker the remaining miscreants leads her to let Armstrong out of his bubble. He reaches into the pocket of his robe and pulls out a can of beer, Coors Light to be precise, cracking it and taking a long draught.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand now we've got the Witchblade. So, like, armies of angels and apocalyptic hoodoo sure to be coming right up out of the sewer anytime now. Faaaaaaaaaantastic. I need to get some wading boots for all the poop I'm gonna end up hiking through. I haven't seen a Witchblade since that time in Bristol with Chaucer and a half dozen bosomy who...er, escorts," he says. "Cheers, to woman and monkey alike. Or ape, sorry, I don't see a tail. Anyway, here's for the coat, Madamoiselle," he says, reaching into his other pocket and pulling out what appears to be a pair of 17th century Spanish doubloons.

Witchblade has posed:
    Sara sighs. "I can hear you, Fat man." She then looks to Monet. "I warned him.....quite a few times. they drew weapons, and one cut my gun in half. So.....I'm not allowed to defend myself?" She then looks to the Fat man again. "You kow of him, huh?" How much do you know?

Kid has posed:
Kid was silently backing off. The french lady was an asshole anyways....but least she wasn't a killmonger, the other was a cop - always avoid cops, never met a good cop cept orion. And as for the fat man (who was still small than him!)? He didn't know him and he sounded delusional anywas as Kid has no idea that the man could see past his illusion or his illusion was somehow not effecting him. Regardless he had no plans on sticking around if he could help it.

M has posed:
    "You're a psychopath," Monet replies. "You can make excuses all you want, but you 'ave many people 'ere to 'elp you. I don't know 'ow zat sword cut your gun in 'alf, but you didn't 'ave to use sharp points. You could 'ave used blunt force. You're zee one 'oo 'as to live wiss what you've done," she says as Marcus starts shoving the still-living bodies into the car. She takes the doubloons from Armstrong and does the universal "I'm watchin' you" sign to him. She neither notices nor cares about the fact that Kid's loped off like the ape he is, rude simian. She simply leaves the dead ones to Sara to deal with and orders Marcus to drive to the nearest police station, where she will drop off the unconscious and maimed, and give Pezzini's description to the officer on duty. There isn't room in the car for her to ride inside, so she flies along, above it, muttering to herself the whole way.

Armstrong has posed:
Armstrong draws a cigar out of his pajama's top pocket, popping it in his mouth, "Yeah, of course you could hear me. I was talking. That's how it works, dollface," he says.

He turns and starts to casually walk away, "Thanks for the help with those troublemakers, you guys. Really, seriously, you're all on my Christmas card list. Expect Chucky Cheese gift certificates out the wazoo. But, as my old pal Groucho always used to say..." he says, then breaks softly into a surprisingly nice alto.

"Hello.
I must be going
I came to say
I cannot stay
I must be goinggggggggg..."

Witchblade has posed:
    Sara watches as Monet flies away with the car. "What a bitch." She says as she.....sets fire to the bodies. However, Sara pulls a phone from her pocket and calls the precinct. "Yeah. there's going to be someone dropping off a few people who started a fight, along with her, on a building where I am. I'll be in to file my report later, Lieutenant." she then sighs. "I'm getting too old for this shit, Lieutenant. I'm gonna take a few days." She says before putting her phone away, and putting her hand on Armstrong's shoulder. "So....why don't we get a drink....and talk about what those twerps were, huh?"