7373/The Street Run: Harlem Heat

The Street Run: Harlem Heat
Date of Scene:	01 May 2019
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Diablo, Ghost Spider

---

Diablo has posed:
The heat was coming, Chato Santana could feel it. The spring was at its peak, and El Diablo had some work to do before the pavement baked and the temperature drew out the boozers and losers and pushers and pimps. They were always around, but business boomed during the idle summer, the debutante lives of highschool summer kings and queens, and collegiate hipsters and aristocrats, covering the true face of New York City - crime, poverty, and injustice. All those smiling faces that New York advertised in the brochures looked the other way when they saw Chato's kind.

Chato Santana had been looking at a homicide detective that pushed books for the Maggia, in the rich parts of the city. If there was ever a hit on some princess or varsity blue, performed by the Maggia, Detective Manchen would pick up some random kid from Spanish Harlem and throw him behind bars for it, never to see the light of day.

Chato found it offensive, and if Chato found something offensive, it made his blood boil, with the supernatural heat of the dimensional being that the Santeria sorceress had sealed inside him when he was an infant. It had selected the shape of Lucifer, the Morningstar, to terrify the world of the white man. But El Diablo understood the fiery retaliator inside him as something much more important.

The being inside Chato Santana did not want the souls of man, nor did he want pain and suffering. He wanted the honor, still represented in Chicano culture, to be represented by a champion, in trying times.

Sirens wailed as Detective Manchen tailed a stolen Corvette through New York traffic late at night, when the traffic was sparse enough for Chato to maneuver. Chato was at the driver's seat, fire trails behind the wheels of the roaring machine, leaving burning tar in a pair of lines behind the veering and weaving vehicle.

Ghost Spider has posed:
The City of New York, at least in Gwen's opinion, was not that bad even during the heat of summer. Of course some people would break the law, push drug, pimp hookers. But the general citizenry of New York are good people just trying to mind their own business and live their lives.

Also yes there are crooked cops. Gwen doesn't have totally Rose Colored Glasses despite her father being a cop. That said she has no idea who is and isn't dirty. So when a cop car is in a high speed chase with a stolen Corvette and goes right under her patrol path... well it doesn't take much to get Gwen swinging along after it now.

Her assumption the driver of the corvette did something bad or stole the car is not inaccurate, as it is stolen. "Come on.. you can do this Gwen... just stick the landing."

With that self-peptalk Gwen lets go of her web line and soars through the air aiming for, and yes sticking the landing on top of the stolen corvette with a light thump. Typical superhero pose in her white and dark pink and black costume, features obscured as she steps to the roof. Though only a moment later she leans and knocks politely on the driver window before shouting "pull over and do this the easy way!"

Diablo has posed:
Chato Santana's head jerks up as he hears the superhero land on the roof of his stolen Corvette, his lips spreading as his jaw juts forward in an angry grimace. His head jerks to the window, looking at Spider-Woman. Without enough time to register the true import of the situation, Chato acts.

El Diablo swerves the wheel around with a jerk of the stick shift, swinging the Corvette around into a rubber burning turn that blows smoke out of the rear wheel wells, the force of the hideously cruel turn causing the body of the sports beast to strain as he swings the back around in an intersection.

There's a sudden crash as the car slams to a halt, El Diablo having intentionally smashed the rear end, across the back of the bumper, into a car in traffic. The other car goes swinging around with a screech, his own car slamming to a halt, with a sudden shift of the car snapping to a halt after the spinning, headwhipping turn.

There's a brief stillness as the detective pulls up to the intersection, slamming on the brakes and getting out, gun drawn and positioned behind his open door.

Ghost Spider has posed:
Gwen is pretty sure she could have stayed stuck to the car, pretty sure, but what if it flipped over and landed on her. Catching a flipping car mid-air would be a more advanced super hero move than the young woman is really comfortable trying to execute at this stage of being a webslinging menace as the Bugle would put it.

Instead she lets the momentum fling her off the roof, letting to, and casting a line out to the traffic light curving in an arch away from the car even as it sends the other car spinning around with screeching tires.

"Woah..." an thwip thwip the out of control car is snagged in a webline and then a second one cutting it's spin short before it can spin out of control and up onto the sidewalk where there was a pedestrian.

Ghost spider.. or Spider-Woman for the save!

It does give Chato some time to make his next move without distraction though.

Diablo has posed:
The door to the Corvette opens, and El Diablo haggardly climbs out, a Converse sneaker reaching out before the Crip cleaner climbs out of the car, facing down the detective.

"Freeze! This is New York City police! Place your hands above your head, and get down on your knees!" Detective Manchen shouts placing both of his hands on the gun, aiming at El Diablo's chest.

El Diablo stares, long and hard, a curious look hidden by his facial tattoos. It's a long, hard look, fastidious and uncertain, but the clarity growing as Chato analyzes the man before him. Then, when El Diablo is sure he has the right man, his hands carefully rise upwards to his sides, and then the top of his head, on his bald skull.

"Down! Knees!" the Detective shouts, aiming behind his gun as a threat.

El Diablo's lips slowly spread, the tattoos shifting as he smiles, then grins.

Suddenly, his arm whips out from atop his head, a fireball in the shape of a screaming orange skull sent spinning at Detective Manchen.

The cop screams and turns, attempting to get away, but it strikes his car far too soon for him to get away.

The fireball strikes the car, and it is sent exploding upwards into the air, a distant-sounding death rattle coming from Ralph Manchen as he's sent flying away with shrapnel from the explosion lacerating him and lodging deep inside him.

Ghost Spider has posed:
That... That was not at all what Gwen was expecting to see today.

It happened so fast. It was absolutely terrible. That poor police officer.

Honestly nothing quippy comes to mind for a moment as she just stares as a second or two passes.

Then she jerks back into motion and yanks with one arm, pulling the line that she swung off the car with and sending herself back around to try to plant her feet in a web assisted strike right between El Diablo's shoulders.

She definitely does not want to dodge a fireball so she is hoping for a quick take down. Problem is she is still pretty new at this.

Diablo has posed:
Gwen Stacy plants both feet between El Diablo's shoulder blades, knocking him forward and onto his face. Having expected Spider-Woman to come back into place, he isn't shocked by this development, but he wasn't ready for that particular move, either.

He plants both hands on the ground in a longhorn and pushes himself onto his back with a roll to his right, to keep his arms wide. He jams the edges of his elbows into the ground and leans up, pulling a knee up to his left and looking up at Spider-Woman. He'll attempt diplomacy, since Spider-Woman isn't a mark, unlike that poor cooked pig he just sent to the Luau in the sky for Eve to feed an apple.

"My war isn't with you," Chato says, his voice considerably more calm and far more sullen that it should be, after killing a police detective in cold blood and being challenged by a New York City superheroine. "I'll kill you if you want, and the end won't be fun, but you aren't scum like him."

Chato's hard look softens into an apologetic one, as he slowly pushes himself to his feet with a bend forward and a slow lope of his arm beneath him.

"That was an evil man I just killed, more evil than you could imagine."

Ghost Spider has posed:
There is a thwip thwip and the spot where he was laying face down, before he rolled to the right, is covered in webbing that would have pinned him down onto the ground now.

When he looks she is on the street light perched there and ready to dive out of the way if things go very awry. At his words about the cop being a bad man and also that he will kill her too if she likes, well her head tilts a bit to the side.

"Even if he was a bad cop, that does not give you or anyone else the right to be judge, jury, and executioner like this."

Not quippy but genuine and heartfelt. She flicks her wrist and hand, thwipping and seeming to miss you as the line fires past you now. Then she gives her arm a wrench and the burning car door gets pulled from behind you right at you after a sharp squeel of steel rending.

Diablo has posed:
Chato Santana's face grows to steel as he hears her judgement, a look of baleful regret coming across his ink blackened features. Standing there, in his bowling jacket and his loose-fit jeans, he stares at her with a level fear. But he's not afraid of her.

He's afraid of himself.

El Diablo hears screeching metal, and swings around with a heavy arm motion, pivoting on his toes and turning about to face the incoming car. There's not a whit of decision involved as he swings his arms up and jets of flame rush out of his hands, high intensity heat blasting forward with the power of a nuclear furnace and the heat of melting tungsten. The car is blasted to chunks of black, boiling metal, tar viscousity and the stench of brimstone.

Enscounced in a flaming dervish of white-orange blaze, the car slams into tatters around him, flying into all directions as he crosses his arms and growls, the black pieces peppering into his outfit as most of the larger portions are pushed away by rushing air.

There's an updraft from the fire, people screaming as the devil appears in the air rushing upwards with his wings held high and the high-pitched shriek of air splitting apart.

Chato Santana turns about, facing Spider-Woman, visible as a silhouette in the fire.

Now, comes a demonic tone, his control slipping, that Gwen has attempted to strike him down with lethal intent. Are we finished playing with toys?

Ghost Spider has posed:
Well Gwen definitely was not expecting the whole car to come with the door, she is still really getting used to her own strength. The door ... well definitely not lethal. The car probably still not lethal she isn't hulk strong after all.

Was it escalating the situation though, probably not in Gwen's mind compared to cooking a cop to ashes.

Still his response has her wide eyed behind her mask and she is alarmed. This is ... this is serious bad news. Probably above her paygrade whatever this guy is.

"Well.. I mean..."

TWhip thwip.... and yank... she pulls the caps off the two firehydrants. The caps facing him in the srteet on this block. Sort of a hailmary at this point... also she is moving fast leaping off the street light in case he lights it up and onto a building up higher.

Diablo has posed:
El Diablo's mouth curls into a sickening smile at Spider-Woman's reaction, invisible in the rippling waves of deathly heat swirling around him.

I thought so, chica.

The fire hydrant caps rocket at him from two perpendicular angles, with him in the center, jets of water striking him in a flux, after of course propelling the round metal knobs into his stomach and side.

The fire flashes out of existance in a huge explosion of steam and rising flakes of ash, the smell of soot and grave stone palpable as the air and wind gales about in the spring night with the terrified bystanders watching in awe.

Curling downwards to his knee, after having felt the red metal slam into his guts with the sudden shock, he exhales, hard, before looking up to the rapidly maneuvering Spider-Woman.

He carefully stands, now wet with New York City tap water, rather dour at the development of his nice bowling jacket and his jeans being covered in gritty water.

There's a roar as he swings his arm out, a wave of fire belching from his palm and fingertips as an arm of fire lazily but rapidly wrenches above the intersection and across the open air, arching through the night with a bright red light at Spider-Woman as she jumps to the building, chasing after her with determined intent.

Ghost Spider has posed:
Yeah her suit is not at all fireproofed enough to deal with this. I mean at least people have a lot of time to run while Gwen is trying to deal with this pyro. There is part of her head space not panicking that is thinking about how to make her webs and suit more fire resistent right now.

That said most of her head space is panicking because the jets of water did not really slow him down and the firehydrant covers didn't knock him out of the game.

She is not paid enough for this, which by paid is $0.

"Crap" and she leaps again moving fast, she has spider senses which are about deafening and also amazingly good reflexes so she stays one step ahead of the streams of fire.

When the stream of fire disinigrates her webbing on a swing out of the way and she goes tumbling to the ground hard she does not spring back up, but rather leaps into an alley out of line of sight.

Diablo has posed:
El Diablo doesn't look the faint bit victorious or amused, but laughter comes out of him anyways, slow, menacing laughter, not amused but convulsively venting the Aztec deity inside him's celebration of blood rite.

Come on, chica! We're just starting to have fun!

El Diablo strolls casually with his hands in fists, opening and closing them as his muscles flex and his veins pull tight beneath the blue sleeves of his Crip bowling jacket. A low snicker rises out of his chest as he moves towards the alley at no particular speed or impatience, taking his sweet time with this bit of pussy cat that's alighted upon his window sill.

A rush of flame shoots from from his hand as he holds it before him briefly, with a stutter to his step as he angles his toe down and his heel up on his forward, left leg, a sign of leadership and dominance, never broken in all his years.

The jet of fire, narrow and tight, follows Spider-Woman into the alley, as he attempts to cause a backdraft through the alley and smoke her out, if she hasn't already escaped.

I'm coming, Spidey-Lady! You better not be hiding!

Ghost Spider has posed:
Absolutely scary AF.

No Gwen bailed, she can't save the cop and she can't think of a way to slow or stop Diablo with that much firepower, pun not intentional.

She didn't flee entirely, she is on top of one of the buildings that the alley crosses between laying low and listening. Not about to swing off into the sky where he can shoot fire at her, and not entirely abandoning the scene because more cops may arrive or fires may start and she may need to act

Diablo has posed:
El Diablo looks down the alley, scorched bare with fire, the horrid stench of roast garbage palpable.

Satisfied, El Diablo looks to a nearby abandoned bicycle, and swings it around. He hops on and goes bailing north, standing on the bicycle, as sirens and fire engines honk horns, speeding towards the scene to respond to the major conflagration of fire and fury.

El Diablo books it to Spanish Harlem, a thin trail of fire following the tire of his bicycle.

As the heat in his devil's blood begins to die down, he has a faint hint of regret at the battle with Spider-Woman, but there's very little remorse. She was doing what she had to do.

And so was he.