2013.06.04 - Kegger! Okay, not what it sounds like...

High Line Park
The meeting place was picked because of its lack of proximity to police stations and its location as 'neutral ground' between these three warring factions. The Harrisons, the Medvedev Family, and Las Culebras, are here to broker a deal. That's the good news for them. The bad news? All three crime family heads are meeting at one spot. Sure, they're boys are armed to the teeth, but that doesn't bother a guy like Spider-Man who is watching from the perch of a nearby stone building.
The groups all huddle in a circle with the lights of SUVs shining and lighting up the meeting. It's perfect, Spidey thinks to himself. It makes the inside lighter and the outside darker. Perfect for busting up.
One of said crime bosses - Rins doesn't know which - has brought a party favour to the gathering. He's tracked the energy signature from far-future prototype tech to this location. Damned things leak radiation of a kind that current tech can't detect. It does mean that he was able to track it here, though. He keeps to the shadows and moves along the sides of the buildings as he tries to narrow the scan and pinpoint where in this gathering his piece of tech is.
Spider-Man and Torbin aren't the only ones observing tonight. No, there's also the strange, robed youth known to some as 157. He was actually in High Line himself, staring off at the Legion tower as he sometimes does. It got late, so he started preparing to find a place to sleep...when he noticed the lights in the distance. Now, ordinarily, if he were /aware/ this might be dangerous, he might observe from a distance with a scrying portal. SUV lights would hide the telltale shimmer and nicely prevent the mobsters from realizing anything was up. But 157 isn't aware this is dangerous at all...and so it is that the strange, robed, long-haired youth comes slowly walking along, and ends up standing very obviously just outside the circle of SUVs, staring towards the meeting quite openly, a big, heavy, abused, old antique atlas held in both arms.
Rins will eventually narrow the weaponry down to the SUVs belonging to the Harrisons. They traffic in high tech weaponry, both created and stolen, and have several highly paid engineers who profit on sending their weaponry out along the criminal highways.
Meanwhile, Spider-Man seems to have had enough messing around. He's snuck around behind two of Las Culebras. With two thwips, the two thugs are pulled into the night, vanishing without a trace.
"Yo. Donde Hector?" asks one of the group. They begin milling about with confused looks on their faces. "Raul?"
"Why is it that all the crime scenes are crowded lately?" mutters Rins to himself as he spots two silhouettes whizzing away from the scene. He starts to make his way along the alley wall, sticking close to the shadows as he tries to get closer to the Harrisons' SUV. He doesn't care much for what any of these other criminals are doing - he just wants to get his hands on that stolen tech. He's got a futuristic-looking weapon in one hand.
157 doesn't much care what /any/ of the criminals are doing. Or rather, he doesn't much care about stopping it. He is interested--though that might be a strong word considering his utter lack of emotion--in what they are doing from an observational standpoint. "Analysis: Subjects are meeting at night in secluded location. High probability that subjects are involved in illegal activity," he comments in near-monotone as he observes. "High probability that activity will draw attention of security forces designated 'super-heroes'. Priority observation target." He steps closer to the SUVs, and actually walks right up to one of the mobsters on the edge. "Information required: Purpose of current interaction," he inquires.
"What the?" asks one of the Medvedev's as he tries to use the butt of his rifle as a spear to knock 157 in the head.
From there, all hell breaks loose. "It's a trap!" yells one of the Cules, while one of the Harrisons starts firing laser beams into the dark. One comes dangerously close to where Tobin is.
Meanwhile, in the shadows, a silouhette of someone part acrobat, part go-go dancer, all angular elbows and knees, is doing somersaults to avoid gunfire.
"Aw, hell," mutters Rins as he dodges out of the way of the laser and the smoking hole it leaves in the alley wall. He takes a run and leaps out and up, landing atop the Harrisons' SUV. He fires his gun towards the nearest cluter of thugs. Tiny discs shoot out through the air and stop when they're near people. Then tinier dots extend and spin a thick web of fishing line-like wire. It's a net gun, meant to subdue rather than kill - and it's wide enough to capture two or three grown men, though it won't stop them from shooting back.
He wastes no time in continuing his attack. He leaps down into the circle and pulls a short knife out of his jacket. The orange and spiny alien then engages the nearest thug, aiming to slice any bare skin with the barb on his tail. If he manages to break skin, a powerful paralytic will enter the bloodstream - a paralytic strong enough to put down a 200 lb man within seconds.
157 steps back as the man tries to hit him, and manages to trip over his own feet, falling over on his bottom. He suddenly speaks rapidly, and a portal appears to his side, the exit on the opposite side of the SUV from the man who was trying to hit him. 157 rolls through, and the portal closes after he rolls out the other side. "Alert: Subjects hostile. Danger. Priority: Neutralize direct hostiles and escape." More rapid speech, and a portal opens beside him, facing downward, the exit /above/ it and also facing downward. Hefting the big, heavy atlas, he drops it in the portal--where it starts falling in a loop between the portals, picking up speed...
Rins' attack with the tail rings true, and hits one of the Harrison's right in the meety part of the thigh. The attacker lets out a cry and then falls to the earth, not moving at all. His buddies start freaking out. Two of which run. The other two start blasting their highgrade weaponry at Rins' general direction.
The Medvedevs all stare blankly as the guy they were about to get just disappears on them.
The Cules meanwhile, are getting all webbed up in a Spidey sandwich, the namesake of which finally makes his entrance. "Busted! Everyone knows that you don't have keggers in the park boys. Parks are monitored. You go to the /corn fields/. Sheesh."
Torbin Rins keeps himself between the thugs and the SUV. The last thing he wants is for them to get in there and drive off with the tech. He grabs a round device from his belt and slams it down on the ground. An energy barrier leaps up that gives him portable cover. He jams his weapon back into the holster, flicks a few switches, then pulls it out again. It's got a different muzzle on it - one that glows red.
He fires two blasts at the men shooting at him, which fills the area in blinding light. If the friendly neighbourhood man in red doesn't want to get caught in the sudden stare-at-the-sun brightness, he'd best be fast. These guys aren't total crap shots, but though the laser blasts hit him and cut through his clothing, they glance off like light hitting a prism. Stings like a bitch, though.
157 remains hidden behind the SUV for a few more moments. "Analysis: Opportunity to escape. High probability of success." But...there's clearly things going on. "Analysis: High probability that conflict is evidence of presence of security forces designated 'super-heroes'." And the light blast goes off--fortunately, he's still hidden from it, and isn't blinded. "Priority observation targets. Remaining in area to observe." He stands, and steps out from behind cover, beginning to rapidly speak again. Numbers, mathematics, and words in some strange language, all delivered rapid-fire and utterly monotone. Several things happen in sequence. First, the book falls through the portal one more time...but now the exit isn't directly over the entrance, but instead shortly over the head of the mobster who first tried to strike at him. The big, heavy atlas falls with a fair degree of speed through the portal right for his head. Second...a portal opens in front of one of the shooters as he's firing at Torbin (possibly blindly, given Torbin's blasts)...and the exit portal opens pointed at the Medvedevs near 157 (angled away from 157 himself, of course). 157, meanwhile, starts walking across the battlefield, looking up at Spider-man. "Explanation required: Meaning of 'kegger'."
He would have got here faster but, well, some people can't teleport. Gregor's one of them. A motorcycle's next best, though, and he's familiar enough with the park that he's sprinting into the trees and sliding into the shadows quick as anything. It's not hard to find the fight: it's where all the explosions are and where that huge flash of light came from. Where are the 'good' guys? Where aren't they? They seem pretty mobile; fair enough, Raleigh can do that, too. He ducks low and squints through the shadows. Mobsters. Mobsters with guns, which is how you can tell they're mobsters. The thing about guns? They can jam. They can /especially/ jam when there's a telekinetic who can move with extreme delicacy. With a few twiddles of Gregor's fingers, at least some of those guns aren't working for the moment.
The folks fighting Torbin Rins all shriek as they suddenly go blind amidst a gigantic flash that would be reminiscent of a quick strobe light attack if it didn't hurt so bad. The light is shown long enough to see Spidey crouched down and away from the visual. Three cheers for Spider-Sense.
"GAH!" screams one of the Medvedevs, as his leg is shorn clean off by a laser blast through the portals. This event creates a bit of a moment of reckoning for those note blinde by Rins' earlier attack. They all begin scrambling for the SUVs as things start to 'get serious.' These canaries show their true color. Yellow.
The whole reason that Rins flash-banged the crowd and netted them is because he needed time to do what he does next. Three devices get affixed to the underside of the SUV. "Waste of good charges," he mutters. There's not much choice. Not with the bad guys running for their ride. He scoops up his cover device, then runs and ducks into a roll towards any thug approaching the SUV. He'll engage them in combat, once again aiming to knock 'em out with his tail barbs. He doesn't yet realize he's got backup, though he's at least peripherally aware that there are others fighting.
Within a few seconds, the whole SUV starts to look like it's made of clay. Then cracks form on the surface. If any of the thugs are unlucky enough to be in contact with the SUV when this process happens, they'll find themselves similarly afflicted. And seconds later, the vehicle is turned to a pile of gritty dirt.
"Explanation required: Meaning of 'kegger'," 157 repeats, standing next to Spider-Man. He looks over at the fleeing thugs. "Analysis: Subjects in retreat. Insufficient data retrieved regarding superhero activity. Prolonging conflict." He speaks rapidly again, and a portal forms in front of one of the running thugs--if he isn't careful, he'll step right through...and end up popping /out/ of a portal over near Spider-Man. Meanwhile, a second portal forms over 157's fallen book, with the entrance over near 157--who reaches through, picking up the heavy book with clear effort.
The getaway idea for the SUVs comes to a screeching halt as they're all turned to brittleness and then to a big heaping pile of dirt. The thugs all seem to make a unilateral decision in unison. They drop their weapons and put their hands in the air.
Meanwhile, Spider-Man is attempting to explain. He makes hand gestures of the pump and the tapper and tilts his head trying to put it into words. "You see, it's like-it's a keg. And it has beer, or what have you, and old fat guys sit around it and tell stories about -You know, the jokes are a lot less funny when I have to explain them."
As the thug appears next to Spidey, Webhead gives him a jaw-ouchied punch right in the kisser that lays him out. "It's like-when you're a teenager and you need to find a way to keep everyone at the party-" His words are cut off as the atlas finds its way to 157. "Like I always say. Books give knowledge and knowledge is power."
Unless the gangsters are protecting something Rins needs -- and Gregor has no idea, though he does see his friend dashing out and turning one of those vehicles into so much potting soil -- Gregor is content to lurk in the darkness and keep jamming guns. He tries to catch more of a glimpse of the others around them -- someone in red and blue, and he's pretty sure Rins was over there -- but it's dark, and while he has a keen idea of what's around him, that doesn't necessarily tell him /what/ it is.
With the SUV destroyed, and with it, the tech he's after, Rins is not particularly concerned with fighting, or arresting anyone. That's not what he came for. The alien looks around at the men with their hands up and tilts his head. He nods towards Spider-Man. "Do you uh, want to take 'em into custody or something? Because honestly, I can't be bothered." He re-holsters his gun. A hand goes to his communicator and he presses a code on it to let Gregor know that it's all clear.
"Understood. 'Kegger' is social engagement involving drinks and stories. Statement involving 'kegger' illogical. Current meeting does not involve drinks or stories. Current meeting involves firearms." 157 clearly doesn't get humor. He speaks a few words in that strange language, and the various open portals close. "Subjects surrendering to superior forces. Analysis: Insufficient data retrieved. Further analysis necessary. Current situation cannot be extended." He holds the book to him in both arms, and just starts staring over at Torbin.
As the SUVs start peeling out, Gregor starts jogging around the trees and toward the familiar voice. The little 'all-clear' sign trills from his pocket when he's not fifteen feet away, and he calls out softly: "You know, if I keep doing things like this, I really should think about getting a costume. It's just not done, is it, to go about like this?"
"Right," Spider-Man says, agreeing completely. "It's completely illogic-" His head snaps back awkwardly as it leaps away from Rins. Lucky for Pete, it's attached to its neck, or it may have headed for the hills. Headed. Get it? "Whoa. Dude. Uh, yeah. I got it. You-you okay, bro?" Spider-Man's head tilts from one side to the other. Mutant is his initial thought, of course.
Wee-woo! Wee-woo! Wee-woo!
The cops all start playing our song as their slow respondin' butts have finally gotten in gear. Looks like there's a few folks who don't want to meet up with the Fuzz. Put Spidey at the top of that list.
Spider-Man then looks to Gregor, "Wait, where'd you come from." He seems to eye the approaching squadcars warily.
"I'm fine," says Rins. He's got a few smoking holes in his nice black outfit from the lasers, but he appears mostly unscathed. Between the creepy child approaching him and the sirens, it's time to go. "Bug out," he calls to Gregor. Without another word, the mace-tailed lizardman is heading for the alley exit.
"Analysis: Subject of possible alien origin," 157 says, still looking at Torbin. For the ususual, alien is his default thought. He takes a few steps over towards Torbin...but whatever he was going to ask, it's lost as Torbin heads for the hills. A pause, and he looks over towards Gregor, silently, then over at the noise of the police sirens. "Approach of police detected. Analysis: Potential data available on police methodology. This unit will observe." But, evidently, not from right nearby...he speaks rapidly again, and a portal opens. Without a word of goodbye or anything of that nature, 157 steps through, and the portal closes behind him.
"Mum said I came from Heaven." Gregor flashes a too-broad grin at Spider-Man, giving him a briefly quizzical look then: "How bad d'you look under there, kid? See you about -- let's out." He gives the strange kid... thing... a bemused look before it pops into a portal, shaking his head and -- without another word -- sprinting after Rins.
Spider-Man is standing, suddenly, all by his lonesome amid a ton of dudes who've all given up and the cops who are now getting out of their cars.
"So. Uhm. Good job team. Orange slices for everyone. Now."
His head turns left. It turns right.
"I better get busy getting going too."
He sidesteps out of the screen shot.
Category:Log