9936/Busting heads

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Busting heads
Date of Scene: 06 November 2019
Location: Long Island warehouse
Synopsis: Names are exchanged over bad guys.
Cast of Characters: Free Lancer, Kid




Free Lancer has posed:
    They didn't have a label really, though their work had been attributed to no less than four seperate organizations who specialize in this particular kind of bigotry. Two weeks ago they beat a little girl within an inch of her life just outside M-town, three grown men took offense to her pro-mutant T-shirt apparently. A week ago they jumped a couple leaving M-town, and just two days ago? Well they'd really escalated, threw a molotov at a man walking home.

    None of the attacks had actually been -inside- M-town mind, because the three were infact chickenshits. They'd gotten mostly lucky, something people often mistook for skill. They'd pulled the license plate off their clapped out white van, but forgotten to remove the parking pass hanging from the mirror. The van's distinctive dent above the right rear fender, and blue paint smear across the front bumper hadn't made it very difficult to verify really.

    Plates replaced the three men bounced around during the day, hiding amongst the crowd as they made scratch as laborers around the city. At night though, well they parked the van in the exact same place every night. Then it was a short walk to the basement of an office building in the process of being redecorated. The windows were boarded but not alarmed, the security cameras had been installed but the wire hadn't been run yet, it was the least secure place they could have made their little hide out.

    Berna hadn't found them, some random SHIELD agent had. Then it was decided to stake the place out, because somone more serious might go try to recruit them. It wasn't just a long shot, it was -stupid-. Yet she'd been drafted all the same, and Berna was if nothing else a good little soldier.

    Indeed she'd slipped into place last night, and vanished within the unlit interior. A shadow amongst shadows, head bowed and still as death as she listens to the three carry on in the next room.

Kid has posed:
    Kid still had trouble with some things. Seperating his emotions from others...when he is going to far, still has an attitude like hell. But he still in his own beastly way cared about others. Knowing a little girl was beat up for something as STUPID as a shirt was enough to send Kid on the hunt. Besides the little girl - as rumors had been going through M-Town, Kid also visited the couple who was attacked, as well as the man who they tried to burn.

With a few memories from each and talking with his friends 'on the other side', he managed to find out who the trouble makers where - and more importantly, where they were.

Gone was Jua Madala the gorilla - and in was the Mutant-looking Mob-Boss giant of a figure Malcolm 'Kid' IronWood. A mobster the police couldn't track down, (mundane) crooks couldn't lay a finger on, and well known for being a Brutal no Nonsense guard that came as quickly as he left....and also known for being payed in mangos
     It was this figure who busted down the door, a cigar smoking as he smoothed down his suit. He was going with the 'direct' approach....and he wasn't being quiet about it. As he went deeper into the building and towards the place where he sense minds lingering - he counted...yes...4 potential adversarries. The three men, and one unknown (Berna). Could that be there boss? He will soon know.

Free Lancer has posed:
    All three of our "Tough guys" burst out into the hallway, armed with whatever weaponry they were able to grab on short notice. A length of rebar, a claw hammer and a proper buck knife. Their attention of course centered on, well A Gorilla in a suit is hardly subtle. "The fuck?"Is all any of them can say. Then it's right to it, no speech and preamble.

    Two of them surge forward, armed with a claw hammer and a length of rebar. Shouting and, well they may've been drinking to boot. That said drunks with clubs, are not without danger. It's only two of them though, Mr.Buckknife well he's otherwise occupied. More specifically he's been grabbed from behind.
    Any distraction is a good enough excuse as far as she's concerned, especially when one of them has armed himself with a deadly weapon. She sweeps through the darkness without a sound, and well she enters the fight early. A kick to the back of the knee as she grabs his wrist, pulling it back and rolling it palm up as she pushes him foreward. A boot pinned between his shoulders as she twists and pulls, dislocating the shoulder before neatly breaking his wrist.

Kid has posed:
Malcolms danger lied in brute forth - and a grand act! While Malcolm physically stepped back, unseen, his illusion steps forward to meet the goons head on. And what they are met with will probably be met with very confused drunken minds.

As they both swing at the illusion, their weapons seem to slip into the man, as if he was a liquid. Another aspect of Malcolm was he always seemed to have an array of (unexplained) abilities. But this was just part of the act. As the goons arms hit each other, their weapons stopping agaist one another....The Real Malcolm steps forward againand under his illusion, mainting his physical self invisible.

He didn't try to syncronize himself up with his illusion as carefully as he usually does due to their drunken state. But Berna if she was watching, would notice both goons necks constrict as if a massive hand was wrapping around their necks...and after would Malcolm illusioon follow suit.

A dis-interested smoke ring is blown as Malcolm eyes glow...and he begins to try and drain their minds with ruthless aggression.
    Unless the goons act fast - this would not be pleasant.

Free Lancer has posed:
    Buck knife finally cries out, but it's way too late now. Another quarter turn delivered to render his arm dead meat, before hes's struck from behind and slumps to the floor in a pile. Buck knife tumbling to the floor finally with an audible clatter.

    His comrades are, well not bright when sober and do not grow especially clever when drunken either. They act neither quickly, nor with any great intellect perhaps predictably. Their weapons dropped as they grope blindly at their throats, but well their fates have likely been sealed by now.

    Berna, draws back out of the cast light from a sideroom to all but vanish into the shadows of the hallway beyond. A pair of enormous brilliant amber eyes blink into existance, fixed unflinchingly upon the action going down on the other end of the hallway. It's not hard to see why people have taken to calling her "The Owl", the resemblance at least in the gaze is uncanny is it not?

    "I need this one alive, he has questions to answer."Words all but growled through goodness knows how many electronic filters to deliver a voice designed with care, to terrify and intimidate lesser men. "Do you understand?"

Kid has posed:
Malcolm drops the men struggling in his hands. They gasp for air, but...their alive, but clearly in pain. The man looks to those eyes for a long moment, not yet trying to delve into this strangers mind...but perhaps getting a read on it. He sense four minds...and the fourth seems to be an ally.

He cracks his neck and raises his hands, but not to attack. He does a quick serious of hand gestures, and a synthetic male voice answers back. "They'll all stay alive. I am mean. But I do not kill" he glances down and amends "...I try not to kill. Heh, you were almost a meal yourself"

Free Lancer has posed:
    "That would end poorly for you, I think."Theres no hint of so much as a smirk there, delivered as plainly as that voice changer is capable of. The mind behind the words is, well alien for starters. It's distant and strange, human like but not quite. "My first time meeting a Vigilante, funny I expected more explosions. What do they call you?"

    And slowly she draws foreward, just a half step. The mask itself is apparently just a set of goggles over what looks like a neat black balaclava, hidden partially under some sort of hooded poncho. That poncho might as well be made out darkness itself, it's devoid entirely of shape or texture to the bare eye. The P90 looking PDW in her gloved hands though, crafted some sort of semi-transparent plastic and raw kevlar strands is easy enough to see but it's far from anything off the shelf.

    "You can call me the Owl, do you understand?"

Kid has posed:
Malcolm signs "Ask me if I understand again and I WILL beat the crap out of you" he also growls to emphasis that. It didn't take a telepath to see...he had alot of aggression in him...alot of aggression. But he also didn't seem unreasonble. The alien mind was...well it didn't ping Kid as odd. Far as he is concerned, there is no such thing as a normal mind. He does sign "And I doubt it would end poorly for me. Ate a ghost once. Tasted...huh. Kinda tasted like a night mare mixed with lemonade" he loses his aggression briefly as he contemplates this, but it soon back.

"Anyways. Malcolm Ironwood. If you were looking for explosion, you want bigger fish. Don't get me wrong, these idiotes were getting big for their brithces. probably would have done something stupid like that. But it would be more accidental. It the bigger fish who are more planned that cause trouble. Their ready for folks are...a cut above the rest" he informs her.

"So Owl most fowl, who you work for? The germans perhaps? maybe china? Or maybe Cananada." he likely inferingg she works for a goverment if she is calling him a Vigilante. "Regardless...I am not a vigilante. Least not in the normal sense. Ain't no hero either"

Free Lancer has posed:
    "English is not my first, or second language. You will excuse me, It is difficult to tell how well I come across after the voice changer. I do not wish to offend, I am not interested in word games."Theres a subtle little roll of the shoulders. "If I was German I would either be modern day S-S, or in tears over these men and their hurt feelings. If I was Chinese I'd have shot you by now, and Canadians do not operate South of the Border. Good way to start something."

    "I work for a friendly foreign government, and am here by official invitation. It's an excellent opportunity for tourism, see the sights in famous New York."Those eyes blink off finally, though well the woman remains right where she is. "You look heroic enough from here, smashing heads of ignorant bigots. Very direct, good detective work. You knew right where they would be, though your entrances need polish."