Owner	Pose
Iron Fist	While most crews haven't been talking or snitching--there is, after all, something of a detente, officially, in the city--the unnamed gang with the snake insignia has apparently not been doing much to make friends. After all, they made a power grab in the recent back-alley tournament in Chinatown. And then /someone/ took out one of their rival gangs near the East Side. Plus, word on the street is that pressure is coming down from multiple points to find out who this group is. And finally, on top of all that, gang members have been spotted with at least one member of the Serpent Society among them. Maybe one--or all--of the above reasons is why tonight, Jimmy 'Anklebiter' Hong is running so desperately down the street, nearly bowling over any number of pedestrians as he glances back over his shoulder at someone or something behind him. The trail of chaos, and the sound of his heaving breaths, are easy enough to track, though.
Typhoid Mary	It was a surprise to Typhoid, really. First, that Frank Castle would be in town, and then that he'd be blamed to conveniently wiping out the serpent's rivals. Something is going on here, but she hates when people screw up with her plans. Specially when she was looking to tag-team with this Asp and go after Gotham Girl. But alas, we never get what we want in this life.. Which only means she will need to take it out on someone else. And find out what's going on in the meantime. It brings her to Mr. Hong. Those heaving breaths mean panic, something he is hiding. But she is in no hurry. Walking down the street past the pedestrians in her rather scandalous clothing, closing in on the Anklebiter. She whistles a little tune while making her way and insidiously sends parts of it to the man's mind, as if to convey she is much closer than she is right now, searching for true panic. "The more you make me walk the worse it will be for you." Typhoid warns.
Iron Fist	Hong curses in response to Mary's words behind him, and he makes the mistake of glancing back to see how much distance he has from her ... when he slams gut-first into a hot dog cart, knocking the thing over and spilling himself head over heels, one leg pinned beneath the cart. "No!" he wheezes frantically, trying to find the leverage to pull himself out from under the cart. The cart owner, meanwhile, starts screaming at him about all the food he'll have to get rid of. "Please," Hong whispers. "Please. I don't want to die." "Then don't say anything," a deep voice says from the nearby shadows. A man in a purple costume--Cottonmouth of the Serpent Society--steps out from an alley. He raises his hands, not quite clenched into fists, before himself as he steps between Hong and Typhoid Mary. "I don't know what you want," Cottonmouth says with a nod of his chin to Mary, "but you ain't getting it. Not tonight."
Typhoid Mary	There. Her prey has finally made a mistake and is ripe for the taking. She so much enjoys these games.. She can already savor all she wring out of Hong, and the ways in which she will do so. In fact, she -- That wasn't expected. More prey. But this one doesn't run. And worse of all, it's getting in -her- way. She hates that. And she lets the man know just that with the malicious gaze she places on him. But she still is in no hurry, approaching in an almost lazy manner, hips swaying, leather jacket free about the tight corset on her chest. "You are in my way, fuscia." her green eyes roam over the man's posture, thoughtful. Perhaps not easy prey afterall. "Yet maybe if I don't wring the info I want out of Hong there maybe I will just have to do it off you. It suits me just fine." her shoulders rise in a careless shrug and she smiles, showing teeth. A wolf's smile.
Iron Fist	"Fuschia?" Cottonmouth asks, face scrunching in momentary confusion--until he returns the question with a burst of anger. "Fusch-YOU!" He sprints toward Mary, leaping into the air for a flying kick at her face. "Hyyyeah!" he exhales as he draws himself into the kicking position in mid-air. Behind him, Jimmy Hong continues to try and free himself from the overturned cart. The cart worker, meanwhile, kicks at him and throws fallen hot dogs at him. Hong futilely tries to slap them away while also tugging at his leg.
Typhoid Mary	If there's something Typhoid doesn't like is when they are dumb. The woman lets out a brief tsk of disappointment at the man not being aware that he is in fact dressed in fuschia! Ah, well. Maybe he fights better. Or so she hopes. The jump in her direction makes her dig her feet on the ground, legs bending briefly as she prepares for the impact and she raises her arms up to defend from the flying kick. It connects with her arms, making her be tossed back a meter with the impact and then she smiles. "You look to be a serpent boy. Maybe it's you I should be talking with instead of Hong." She rolls her neck and steps into a fighting posture, cracking knuckles. "So let's dance." she lunges forward in that rather reckless technique she often uses while she is learning about her opponents, aiming for a sweeping kick to the man's legs.
Iron Fist	"You want to try to grab the snake by the tail, you're gonna get the fangs," Cottonmouth responds, narrowing his eyes like he's just said something profound. Then, Mary sweeps his legs. The costumed man falls onto his shoulder, and he tucks his limbs in to roll sideways and push himself back to his feet. "Alright, then," he growls. He slides on the balls of his feet, arms rotating about at the elbow in a sweeping or washing style of their own, attempting to maneuver past Mary's defenses and chop her in the throat with the edge of one hand. Jimmy, meanwhile, has managed to extricate himself to the knee, although the cart's weight on his shin has him choking back sobs of pain. The cart owner is on the phone, yelling at someone--possibly the police?--to come deal with the hooligan that's ruined his workplace.
Typhoid Mary	"It's bull. And horns. Get your sayings right.." But in truth Typhoid is doing what she does best. Which is to poke and tease, to manipulate her opponents into mistakes. And that's just what happens when she is able to connect with that sweep. Some surprise on how fast the man recovers though. Maybe not just the fuschia snake afterall. Her expression turns a touch graver, more focused, even as her own fever is running high, but not too dangerous. She hasn't even started going pyro. She approaches, moving into striking distance with Cottonmouth. An exchange of blows, her strikes aimed at the chest, deflected with that unorthodox style, brushed away by the Cottonmouth's defense. It leaves her neck briefly exposed. The chop comes close to disabling her but instead hits her on the side. Painful but she still stands at least. "I am not the kind of girl to go right into suffocation on a first date, babe." Typhoid says once she jumps back, a mix of gaining some time to recover and continuing to unbalance her opponent. "You aren't the normal type of goon that the society has. You and Asp. Where is she anyway?"
Iron Fist	Cottonmouth coughs out something akin to a chortle. "Huh. Asp, she's got more important matters to attend to. A higher purpose." He closes his eyes for a moment, shifting his weight onto his back leg. With a slow exhale of breath, Cottonmouth moves into a stance that looks almost like he's going to play catcher for a baseball team, hands cupped together, palms out, and drawn in to his chest. "I could show you the way, if you were ready. But I don't think that you're looking for purpose. And so instead I'm going to swallow your soul," Cottonmouth says, his mouth a sneer that becomes a literal gaping maw, his jaw unhinging and expanding well beyond the range that any mortal mouth should.
Typhoid Mary	"That sucks. Because she looked pretty into getting some revenge on Gotham Girl. But hey..." Typhoid lifts her shoulders up in one of her careless shrugs. "More fun for me I guess." she cricks her neck to one side, then the other. Ok, seems functional enough, but that hand did hurt. She needs to up her martial arts game. Perhaps tone it down on the aggressiveness. Too bad she didn't bring her katanas, she is normally better with those, with Walker being the hand to hand one but .... Though Walker is missing one thing, and that is her fire. She smiles when that mouth goes wide open. "Good thing I ain't no guy or what you just said would had sounded oh so wrong. Nice teeth." And then there is fire, it forms on her hand, her eyes flickering in resonance to the dancing flames and she tosses a line of fire towards Cottonmouth. Mostly a distraction though because she is running right after the trail of fire, leather jacket fluttering as she jumps down to slide to her knees, aiming to hit the man from below while he is getting that maw all big. She doesn't want to be on the wrong end of that one!
Iron Fist	The Serpent Society member isn't fast enough to outmaneuver Mary's fire, and so his mouth, still open and unhinged like that of his namesake, is suddenly scorched. He tries to scream but can barely cough, and his posture breaks so that his hands can go to his throat, clawing for air. Then Mary rushes in after the superheated air and strikes him from below, knocking Cottonmouth flat onto his back. He lands on the sidewalk with a loud, dull SLAM. About twelve feet behind Cottonmouth, Jimmy Hong finishes dragging his foot out from beneath the hot dog cart and pulls himself to a standing position, although his face betrays the agony he must be feeling. In the distance, a police siren can be heard, growing in volume. The hot dog vendor shouts "HA!" at Jimmy, just as Cottonmouth is knocked onto the ground. Then, he turns to assess the fight as though it were the first time he were seeing the combatants. Reflecting for a moment, the hot dog salesman drops his phone and races off down the street as fast as he can move.
Typhoid Mary	Typhoid tosses her head up in a smug manner once she sees Cottonmouth hit the sidewalk. "They always fall for it." her smile showing teeth, and this time she didn't get them bloodied. Mmmm, maybe she should had prolongued it a bit longer. Ah well!! She touches Cottonmouth's side with a booted foot, perhaps testing if he is out or not. But then there are police sirens. Tsk, that won't do. Those bright green eyes travel up and find Hong, a sweet little smile coming to her expression. "Two choices here, Hong. Either you come here, help me drag fuschia boy here so the cops don't get us and I might let you live or ....." she chinjerks towards the end of the street. "..... you run, and I will find you, and kill you. Rather slowly." there is quite the menacing tone to her voice but ..., at least she seems to be giving the man a chance! She has such a pure heart this Mary.
Iron Fist	Pausing for just a second, Hong shakes his head quickly, eyes wide, and attempts to run off into the night like the hog dog salesman. Unfortunately, his injured leg means that he's moving at more of a 'limping power-walk' pace, with lessening speed as each step is taken. Cottonmouth groans and coughs under Mary's foot, still having trouble catching his breath. One hand still at his throat, the other weakly pushes at Mary's leg in an effort to free himself. "Gakh," he chokes out, his eyes watering and face a stretched grimace. "You. Cakht. Ake. Ee. Halk."
Typhoid Mary	Mental note: Find Hong later. But that means she has a big man to haul by herself. Good thing she didn't skip arm day. So Typhoid leans down, hooking her hands under him to attempt and drag the man back to the alley. "Tell you what, slick. The cops are coming." she pauses, to let him hear the sirens approaching. "So I drag you out of the street instead of leaving you out here like a nice christmas gift for the cops, and then we have a little chat." maybe Cottonmouth will be more pliant to her options then! "Sounds good? If you come at me with that higher purpose shit again I will bash your teeth in."
Iron Fist	Despite his clear inability to breathe easily, Cottonmouth coughs out something that might be a laugh. "Guh ... whole ... /point/ ... is that I'm ... not ..." He strains to push out the final word. "Threatened." Even so, he doesn't put up a fight as he's dragged out of view into the alley. Mary and her prey are well into the shadows by the time a police car rolls up to assess the scene of a knocked-over hot dog cart. Of course, the cart owner's not around to answer questions, so the responding officer spends a few minutes setting the cart back upright, taking some notes, and then getting back into his car.
Typhoid Mary	It's not like Mary will drag the man too further down the alley. But just enough so they are out of sight. She tosses him back to the ground once they get to a more secluded part, some trash cans about, closed windows, barred doors. It's a very nice neighborhood afterall. Then a motion of her bare hand, for the man to sit up. "Now let's have a word. And don't make me get you into the same list that Hong just did." A warning, so the man knows what to expect if the talk goes sour. "My patience is strained enough as it is." She sets her hands on her hips, legs slightly apart while regarding the purple biter, her whole posture one of dominance, chin tilted up as if expecting to be obeyed. At least she looks menacing! "So what is going on out here? Is your group moving to dominate the area?"
Iron Fist	Cottonmouth shakes his head, still rubbing his throat and attempting to breathe more calmly and slowly. His grimace begins to fade, and he swallows several times. "Yes ... and no," he wheezes. "A stepping stone. Necessary. Gathering ... preparing ... what he needs to ascend. Then we do, too." Cottonmouth tries to smile but it's far more of a wincing expression. "The key ... necessary ... to unlock it all."
Typhoid Mary	That makes a brow shoot up in curiosity. Ascend? Key? That seems to mean power. Typhoid does like power. The smile she shows is predatory to the extreme. "Mmmm, you had my curiosity before...." And she steps forward, bending and craning forward to look at the man more closely. "But now you have my attention. What is this ascension you talk of? You can speak as if I was .., ready for this higher purpose." she refrains from rolling her eyes. Higher purpose, yea right, some power-hungry person taking advantage of these believing schmucks. She would do the same if she had the opportunity.
Iron Fist	"You fight ... well enough ... for him," Cottonmouth half-whispers, half-gasps. "Discipline present. Desire. He ... would ack--accept you. If you khose." Cottonmouth swallows again. "Kh--chose." He shakes his head, closing his eyes briefly. "But I don't think ... you believe in anything greater. Beyond yourself. And so you ... deny yourself ... enlightenment."
Typhoid Mary	"Why don't you let him choose for himself?" Typhoid replies with a soft, enticing tone. "Enlightenment can come in many forms, perhaps I am the one he is waiting for." not that she believes that one bit! But she can work a convincing angle when she wants to, specially when she has her own telepathic abilities to aid. She projects just a tiny bit of doubt to Cottonmouth's mind, insidious enough to perhaps consider her, or at least to let her know more about this. "But I don't just accept something, or someone, without first knowing what they are about." Typhoid goes back to her full height, curling her arms together on her front.
Iron Fist	"Yeah ..." Cottonmouth sighs, nodding hesitantly. "I guess--I guess I shouldn't presume ... for him." He shifts his weight, trying to sit up. "How do ... how do you want him to find you? If I give him the message?" "I know you--you think you're ready," he continues. "But he's got ... a will of steel. And he will break you--and remold you--on it. And there you might begin to ascend."
Typhoid Mary	"Baby, why don't you let me go and find him, mmm? But fine enough, I am often around here, name's Typhoid. Typhoid Mary. And I am easy enough to find if someone wants to." Typhoid moves one hand over the fabric of her pants, over an hip and then to a backpocket. She brings out a small card with a phone number on it, leaning over to drop it near the man. "Or simply reach me there, mmm?" Typhoid suggests. "I am always willing to listen to good business proposals. But if he makes me lose my time. Well..." her shoulders rise up in careless shrug.
Iron Fist	"Don't--don't worry about ... that," Cottonmouth whispers. "I'm not nearly brave enough ... to try to upset him. Or someone who might--who might genuinely want to learn ... from him." He picks up the card. "I /will/ ... make sure he gets this. Since I assume ... you won't kill me. Yet, at least." He offers a weak smile and then rolls to the side so that he can slowly push himself to his feet. "I hope ... to get a chance ... to test myself again--against you."
Typhoid Mary	That makes her laugh, loud and harsh, Typhoid shaking her head to herself. "You are a sucker for pain. I like that. You can come at me anytime you want, I will make sure to leave my mark on you every time." she extending one hand that shows sharp nails, her head canting to the side. "Maybe next time I will use my katana, mmm?" she taunts the fallen man, in that way she enjoys gloating over a win, over someone she has defeated. Such a bitch. "Now scurry away, fuschia.. Or rather, what's your name anyway?" at least this one seems worthy enough for her to know their actual name. Unlike bull-boy. Noone wants to know bull-boy's real name.
Iron Fist	The Serpent Society member begins to stagger down the alley, moving further away from the street. He turns back toward Mary as she asks his name, and he massages his throat. "Hard. To say," he replies with effort. "Cotton ... mouth." And then he disappears into the shadows.
Typhoid Mary	"More like Crispy Mouth now, uh?" Yes, Typhoid can't help but go for the final slap. Maybe something she will regret later for when she meets the rest of the serpent society. But for now she can gloat in the arrogant way she normally is. A wave, she watching the man leave down the alley and disappear and she shortly after does the same. She has a Hong to find afterall.