6726/Breakin' the Law

Breakin' the Law
Date of Scene:	01 March 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Crossbones, Typhoid Mary

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Crossbones has posed:
There's a squeal of brakes as a large panel van rips around a corner, skidding a few feet into the other lane before righting itself. In pursuit, three other cars, cheap sedans mostly. One has an open sunroof and a man stands in it, firing a shotgun at the truck. The label on the side says SCHLITZ MALT LIQUOR.

Behind the wheel, Brock Rumlow grits his teeth, gloved hands gripping as he tries to map out this part of New York, He hates the city, for many, many reasons, but it's gridlike structure at least proves relatively easy to navigate. He taps the earpiece in his ear, talking to his partner in crime in the back of the truck.

"Think you can get those fuckbags off our tail, sugar?" he growls with a gravelly voice.

Typhoid Mary has posed:
    Riding in the back is probably Mary's least favorite position when pulling a job -- she likes to see what's going on and provide helpful passenger-seat driving advice to the wheelman. But, it's usually because of the latter that she's relegated to the back, where there are no windows. More than that, though, is how *useful* she can be while positioned in the back. After all, it's not like everyone who comes on a job can kick the double-doors open and heft dual sub-machine guns with itchy trigger-fingers...and not fall out of the van if it goes boomp, here and there, or swerves unexpectedly.

    Mary, though, has done just that, and she's uniquely equipped to stay in place in the face of most high-speed chase scenarios. She whistles her assent to Brock as she begins ripping into the chasing cars, the bullets that spew from her dual-wielded guns shredding the front of the closest car before setting its engine on fire, causing a spectacular explosion. "WOOOOO!" she whoops excitedly, wild-eyed and bloodthirsty, licking her canines and continues to fire on anything that comes within fifty feet of them.

Crossbones has posed:
The front car veers almost immediately, hood and windshield perforated with bullets, along with the men inside it. The man with the shotgun goes down, too, catching a shot in the throat and giving off a fever-spray of crimson blood behind him with the hit.

Brock tries not to watch too closely in the mirror. He always enjoys seeing Mary work, but he does have to try and keep his mind on the road a little bit, at least for now.

Still, he doesn't let her have all the fun as he pops the pin on a grenade and casually tosses it out the side, helping to make more of a distraction as a parked car blows to smithereens in their wake.

The last car manages to get closer, though, and a large, dark-skinned man climbs out of the window and leaps, managing to just land on the inside of the panel truck to try and get his hands on Mary. Dummy.

Typhoid Mary has posed:
    Typhoid wasn't expecting the big man to leap into the back with her, but she's ready to square up with him by the time he's found his footing. She grins big and bright for him as he meets her gaze and she might surprise him with the left hook directly to the jaw and a follow-up uppercut with her right fist smashing into his nose. A knee comes outta nowhere and brutally squashes his balls up against his perineum, and the other swings deftly up into his face as he bows at the waist in response, sending his head flying backwards. "C'mon, c'mon!" she jeers as she bounces back and forth on the balls of her feet, almost sounding angry that he's not putting up more of a fight.

Crossbones has posed:
The man bounces off the wall of the truck and only barely manages to grab a hold of one of the straps on the side to keep himself from tumbling right back out. He's hurting, no doubt about that, but he's tougher than most, maybe a bit of mutation in him as he shoves himself up to his knees. He proves that as he opens wide and reveals animalistic jaws, razor-toothed as he tries to snap at Typhoid's knee.

"Brace yourself!" Brock shouts into his earpiece as he suddenly has to hit the brakes, pulling up short to find himself facing down with what appears to be a man in a furry cape, hovering in the middle of the road. Crossbones didn't care about running him down, but the dude m ight be invulnerable or something. Better to be sure before ramming him headfirst.

"I am the Mighty Ocelot! Surrender, miscreants!"

Typhoid Mary has posed:
    Mary has milliseconds to respond as Brock alerts her to the braking, and she plants her feet firmly with TK, also grabbing onto some of the netting that hangs from the ceiling and usually holds tactical gear. Luckily, she manages to save both of the sub-machine guns by stepping on their straps, but anything else not tied down goes zooming toward the yawning back doors. If the razor-toothed dude doesn't tumble out the back, Typhoid will do some impressive martial arts move wherein she whips her leg in a certain way and the gun that's loosely tethered to her body by way of its strap will swing in a precise arc to crack the guy a solid blow. As the van halts, Typhoid rights the weapons in her hands and begins using only her feet and legs to assault the mutant man, should he still persist. "Miscreants?" she snorts. "Is this dude wearing a pocket protector or what?" she asks, still having not had a chance to take a look at the man, yet.

Crossbones has posed:
"We'll find out what he's wearin', quick enough," Crossbones says. He tugs his mask on and pops out of the driver's seat, facing down the Ocelot. The Biter in the back finds himself cracked hard by Typhoid's precision strikes, the point of her boot catching his nose and breaking it as he scrabbles desperately to find his footing, even as the last three thugs pull up their car behind and start to get out.

"Behold the power of the Ocelo--AUGH!" the flying man cries out as Brock cuts through his body with a quick burst of submachine gun fire, ripping a hole along his abdomen and dropping him from the sky to crumple in a heap on the road.

Typhoid Mary has posed:
    Mary grins at the woozy Biter trying to gather his wits about him. She's like a cat toying with a mouse it's already caught. She could keep bapping it with her paw if she so chose, but where's the fun in that? She gives him a moment to shake off the beating she's dealt him to see if he'll surge at her with some offense. If he doesn't, though, she'll just crack his noggin on the ground to put him down for a nice, long nap. After all, there are other thugs swarming.

    Catching sight of him mowing down the Ocelot, her heart flutters and she grins really big. "Aw, Bonesy, you make me feel all giddy and girly when we work on jobs, these days," she murmurs in a way that only her earpiece will pick up. But, she's got her eyes sweeping for the next contestant on Who Wants to Get Their Ass Kicked?

Crossbones has posed:
Crossbones approaches the fallen superhero, who's at least on his hands and knees, "My suit should have...protected me," he manages to say.

"Yeah, well, shit happens, pal," Crossbones says, finishing him off with a bullet between the eyes.

With the Biter down, the remaining thugs don't have much hope as Typhoid starts to practically dissect them, leaving them fully dispatched and bleeding out by the time Crossbones gets back behind the wheel.

"Come up and sit next to me, dollface. I don't think we'll be havin' any more trouble."

Typhoid Mary has posed:
    Typhoid takes a moment to clean her blades on the clothes of a fallen thug and toss her dreads out of her face as she takes in a deep, deep breath of victory. She smiles at the sound of Brock's voice in her ear, her shoulders rising and falling from the slight exertion the thugs provided for her. "You got it, Bonesy," she says like a woman sated, sauntering up to the van. She takes a moment to close and secure the back doors before she slides into the passenger seat with a sleepy kinda smile. "Was it good for you, too?" she murmurs playfully.