8283/Gods and Redheads and Other Wonders

Gods and Redheads and Other Wonders
Date of Scene:	12 July 2019
Location:	NYC
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Hercules, Mary Jane Watson

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Hercules has posed:
It's a nice evening in this part of Manhattan, nightclubs and entertainment venues zoned close to the high skyscrapers and tech buildings, offering gleaming neon and nightly entertainments for the rich, the powerful and the overworked who serve them.

Hercules stomps away from a nightclub after having another argument with a bouncer. Something about having to wear a shirt. Nonsense. "I am Hercules!" he shouts back over his shoulder in exasperation, looking around idly as he tries to figure out what to do to himself.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
MJ walks down the street in a daze, barely registering the crowds of people coming and going as the nightlife swings into action. She wears a loose white tee and a pair of jeans, a pale blue messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Despite the bag, she clutches what looks to be a sheaf of papers to chest bound with loose metal rings. A script of some sort? Her expression is a mixed bag. Her eyes seem almost dead, staring forward without emotion yet watery. She wrings her bottom lip between her teeth.

She's fighting back tears.

The redhead doesn't even notice the shouting Hercules in the middle of the sidewalk and that is why she runs directly into him. MJ would never count herself a weakling, but running into the Prince of Power is like running into a parked Mack truck. She stumbles backwards, the script in her hands flying into the air and fluttering away as a dozen pages caught on the breeze begin to swirl and dance about her. She grabs at them for a moment, plucking one or two from the air before she simply lets her head drop dejectedly. The way her shoulders shudder make it clear her battle against crying has been lost.

Hercules has posed:
He grasps at her shoulders to keep her from falling, if he can, but then finds himself looking down at a trembling and crying young woman who ran straight into his massive frame.

"Careful, girl, you humans are a fragile sort," he says, and then stares around, "I...I didn't mean for you to lose your parchment, I apologize for that," he says, a rare apology from the Son of Zeus, but he didn't like seeing women cry. "I...do you need any...help? I am Hercules. No feat is beyond me."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
"Huh?" Mary Jane looks around for a moment, rubbing her wrist against her eyes gingerly in an effort to not smudge her mascara. She fails, ringing her eyes darkly and leaving a mark on her pale wrist as well. She looks up at the fluttering pages, and through them she sees Hercules.

"What? Oh, uh, no. Not unless you can convince Carolyn Keith to cast me ... "

MJ waves a hand dismissively at the thought, sighing and watching the papers flutter away on the breeze: "It's just a script. Not like I got the part, anyway."

A pause and she looks up at Hercules, and up, and up: "You're Hercules."

Hercules has posed:
Hercules nods, "Aye, I am. And if you wish, I will go to this Keith and tell her that she must give you this part, lest she break your fragile heart. A beauty such as you should not suffer so over the vagaries of anything so petty as a play. Perhaps some would see it as an unjust abuse, but I do not fear the scorn of others. I have offered you a boon and will do as you say, should you take it!"

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
"Fragile? I'm from Queens, buddy," MJ says with a snort, the Olympian's flowered language already chearing her up a little, "And no, I don't need anyone fighting my battles for me. If I get a part I'm not going to say it's because some superhero got it for me."

To her credit, Mary Jane seems remarkably nonplussed about being confronted with a literal figure out of myth. Maybe she's self-absorbed or maybe she's just a New Yorker. They have more superheroes per capita than any other city in the world and, when you grow up amongst it, you get a little jaded.

"I don't need any favours, man, really. I just need to remember where I parked ... "

She looks around with a sigh, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face: "Finding lost mopeds wasn't one of your labors, was it? Maybe one they didn't do songs about?"

Hercules has posed:
Hercules frowns, stroking a hand through his beard, "I confess, tis not a part of my usual roster of feats. But for you, fair maiden, I am willing to expand my repertoire!" he says dramatically. "I did not mean to imply that you were weak. Only by comparison to me and all things are weak in comparison to me. It does not diminish you, it is simply the way things are."

He starts to look around and cries out, rather boldly, "HO! HAVE ANY OF YOU MORTALS SEEN THIS WOMAN'S MOTORPED?"

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
"Maybe don't call them hoes," MJ mutters, lifting a hand in front of her mouth to whisper the polite suggestion to Hercules. As he queries the mortals all around (mostly to strange looks and the clicking of camera phones), the redhead begins to search about. After a moment, she lets out an exasperated cry. A few dozen feet away, a moped sits blocked in between two very illegally parked cars.

Hercules has posed:
Hercules shakes his head, "Sometimes, you have to get their attention, young Venus," he smiles. He strides over as she points out her vehicle, "THey seem to have you trapped. Let me be of assistance," he says, casually just shoving the vehicles off to the side, screeching rubber on the street a bit as they're shovedo ut a bit into traffic, creating a bevy of horn honking and swearing at the massive Olympian, "And to your mother as well, sir!" he shouts back.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
MJ cannot help but wince and recoil as the cars are shoved aside like toys. She casts an uneasy grin at the gathering crowd who have come to watch the Mighty Hercules show off his great strength in the middle of a busy street. She makes a point of trying to step out of the way of the phones that have come up to record it all, though there's so many of them now that she can't easily do so. She moves over to her moped when it is freed, hurrying to kick the ignition on and quickly rolling it out of the narrow spot wherein it was trapped.

"Quick," she says to Hercules, "Can my boon be that you put those cars back where they were? I don't want somebody's paintwork getting dinged because of my eight-hundred dollar moped." They make them that cheap?

Hercules has posed:
Hercules has no idea of the value of human monies, but eight hundred sounds like a lot to him. "Of course! With a swiftness!" he says. He quickly shoves the cars back where they belong once her moped is free. He doesn't mind all the picture taking, holding up his hands, "Hello, mortals and the families of mortals. Yes, it's really me that your relative is timing you in the face with! Hercules greets you and wishes you well!"

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
To the best of her ability, MJ attempts to surreptitiously steer the moped out of the way of the gathered throng. When Hercules turns to address them, she looks as though she might just jump on and speed away. It's embarassing enough crying in the street without everyone and their dog taking your photo while you do it. But courtesy gets the better of her, and she steps over to tap Hercules on the elbow and get his attention.

"Thank you for that. I had a ... well, a bit of a day and you made it a little easier. A lot easier. I appreciate it."

Hercules has posed:
Hercules waves off his adoring public and turns fully to face MJ, "I am pleased to have been of service. If you need, I may escort you to your domicile or a safe location of your choosing. I can keep up with your vehicle with my mighty legs. Especially in this kind of traffic," he says with a smile. "Are you certain that you are well? I know you were upset and I would hate for you to burst into tears again by being bereft of my presence."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
"I, uh, I think I'll be okay, big guy," MJ says, laughing outright at the last line. It's hard to be depressed about your career failing to take off when somebody talks to you like Hercules is talking to her.

His offers of further assistance are waved off and she shakes her head, "I'm okay."

Mary Jane Watson didn't get this far relying on others for anything, and she's not about to start now. She's almost ridiculously stubborn about the whole thing. That said, she lifts the seat of the moped to fetch a shiny white helmet from it and jamming it down on her head. She hits it a few times with a balled fist to ensure it's in place and then begins to do the chin strap up, looking back to Hercules.

"So you're the actual Hercules, huh?"

Hercules has posed:
He almost says 'the one and only', but realizes there might be a few others in this vast, wide multiverse. Not as good as him, of course, and certainly not as strong, but still. "Actual, yes. Thousands of years old, son of Zeus, god of strength, defeater of evil, handsome devil and ravisher of women. Er, but not the bad kind of ravishing, I was never...I'm not a NORSE god."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
"Good or bad ravishing, we've got Tinder for that now."

MJ looks him up and down before muttering, "Not that I think I want to know where you keep a smartphone if you have one."

When the Olympian gives her his bonafides, she sits down on the moped and looks thoughtful for a second: "Do you ever talk to scholars? University professors and the like studying Ancient Greece? I bet they'd pay a fortune to have you lecture their class. Not that I imagine money means much to gods, but even if it was just for the benefit of the people listening."

Hercules has posed:
Hercules nods, "I have, on occasion,a lthough most of them seem to find me a little more...Earthy, than they expect. I have been, for them, a figure of metaphor and literature. To find me a God who is also a man, much less one who can crush their hallowed halls with a blow of my mighty fist...sometimes they prefer their imagination."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
"That's just bad scholarship," MJ says, clicking her tongue disappointedly and shaking her head, "I took a semester of Symkarian history in college. Not the same thing, but I do know that if you can get a primary source? Take a primary source. Even if it totally shatters your worldview. Maybe you oughta to give your own class?" She holds her hands up, framing the words before her in the air, "The Truth About Ancient Greece! Or maybe 'Hercules: An Authorized Biography!"

Mary Jane shrugs her shoulders, a flight of fancy just as easily dismissed as it was conjured up. She gives her moped a kick, the engine puttering to life after a moment: "I've got to get home. But it was nice meeting you ... okay, it feels weird calling you Hercules. Most people have two names, you know? Like I couldn't imagine meeting Cher or Bono and calling them ... Cher or Bono. Or Mister Bono. You know what? We're buds. I'll call you Hercules. Nice to meet you, Hercules. I'm Mary Jane." No last name given.

Hercules has posed:
Hercules smiles, "Nice to meet you, as well, Mary Jane," he says. "I don't know very much of what you said, it didn't make any sense to me. Mostly modern gibberish. But I encourage it because you seem good of heart and are a very beautiful woman and those are the things that matter most to me," he says.

"I will think about picking a second name. But I am uncertain any would properly convey my majesty."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
"Hey, there you go. Majesty. Hercules Majesty. Sounds like a winner to me."

MJ grins, reaching out a booted foot to nudge him in the shin. Her hands busy with the moped, it's about all she can do as a way of bidding him a fond farewell. After all, she's certain a half-hearted tap in the shin from a mere mortal isn't going to hurt him. Unless he's got a vulnerable shin?! No, wait, that was Achilles and it was a heel. Relieved, she starts the moped up and speeds off down the street like an angry bee.