2012-07-08 Two Men in Gaudy Costumes

The Bowery. Hells Kitchen. There are even a few wicked cul de sacs in New York if you look hard enough. Frederick Jager, aka Dragnet, is not one to skulk around these neighborhoods when he can avoid it. So he refines his trade craft in the Village, stopping the occasional purse snatcher or the fellow trying to get free theatre tickets by sticking his hand in someone else's pocket. Its small pickings, but its a hobby. No ones makes any money in vigilantism...in fact one could call it a gigantic financial sinkhole. The armored fellow hangs out on one of the rooftops belonging to a particularly eclectic sort of café that attempts to channel the Austrian coffee house, but just falls short of the Euro pretentiousness needed. In a rare moment of self confidence, or perhaps the fact that no one hunts for crime amongst theater geeks and beatniks, he doesn't even have the stealth cloak on as he skulks, only engaging it with quick fade and cuff blitzes. Its a quiet lull, and for now he just fiddles with his gauntlet launcher, seemingly checking the apparatus but really succeeding in doing little at all.
It's a slow night for everyone. For the Phantom, in his first night patrolling, he races Hero along the street after only a purse-snatcher. The young man with a stocking over his head, of all the ludicrous things, is racing full-tilt down the sidewalk--and it's not hard to see what's making him run so hard. The Phantom races Hero down the street, the mare expertly dodging traffic as her rider maneuvers to crouch in the saddle, with a grey wolf running alongside the horse. Once she gets close enough, the Phantom leaps from her to a parked car, rolling on its roof and using the momentum to jump from it to the purse-snatcher, taking him to the ground.He yanks the purse from the man and gets to his feet. "Now now, young man, don't get up on my account," he says as he grins down at the would-be robber. "We'll talk about your life of crime in a moment. In the meantime--" here he turns to the wolf, who takes the offered purse gently in his mouth. "--see this gets back to that poor woman, would you, Devil?" The wolf just turns around and starts running back the direction they came.
Wow....the circus has come to town. It's not a disdainful thought, but the wolves and bears just seem to stretch credulity. Then again, he runs around in cloaking armor and shoots grenades in people's faces that make them go beddy bye. To each their own. Still, it does elicit a faint modified chuckle. "You know, my friend, that God promised he would not flood the world again. Though I too love the story of Noah, he also had several bad habits I would encourage you not to emulate." Dragnet points out, finger raised as if he had said something truly profound. Which it isn't, but he is chasing petty criminals in the artsy section of town. He does _not_ have a leg to stand on!
It takes a moment for the Phantom to locate the source of the voice. He looks up at the rooftop, then places too fingertips on the side of his mask, just in front of the cowl. His view is enhanced, zoomed in, and he gets a clearer image of the crouching figure. Ah-ha, a fellow crime-fighter. Or a crime-maker who doesn't know better than to call attention to himself. The Phantom's going to bet on the former, however. "I'll keep that in mind, chum!" he calls up, thoroughly without irony. He's one of those who can pull off terms like "chum" and not have it sound insulting from its being archaic terminology. "Would you mind if I joined you up there? I don't think this young man will be attempting such a thing again--" he turns his attention to the young man in question, "--will you?" The would-be robber just shakes his head, and scampers off with a nod from the man in purple.
He WAS a crime maker who didn't know any better, and that's utterly ironic. The continuing dark comedy that is his life is not lost on Dragnet, who simply gestures to the space across from him. "Free roof, free country." He says genuinely enough. Its...nice to run into a fellow crime fellow without the gravelly voice or the inclination to hit at him or give him One. Word. Commands. He waves as he eases up from his crouch into a comforting standing position. "Most of them are just kids out for a thrill. You give them a nudge or a stern look and they go back to being hipster. Kind of nice, really."Peter Pan pages: Probably only going to get an initial one room with additional quota for the project bought with karma.
That earns a friendly wave from the Phantom, and he points his right wrist upward. A flick back of his hand, and a panel on the outer side of the gauntlet pops open, a small grappling hook-and-line gizmo emerging. A soft "pfft" sound, and the hook is shot upward, three tines unfolding. It grabs the edge of the roof a few feet away from Dragnet, and the Phantom sails upward--a bit too fast for his liking. He ends up sailing past the roof, so he does a somersault and a twist in mid-air, landing in a smooth crouch about four yards behind Dragnet and to his side. He /meant/ to do that, thanks--though he also makes a mental note to refine the mechanism later. "Thanks, friend," he says as the mechanism winds the grappling hook back and the panel latches back into place. "This is my first night here, and it's good to see a friendly face." He gives the other man a friendly grin as he goes to crouch near Dragnet.
Yes, crouching. This is what crime fighters doing. Good for looking like one is on the hunt. Also for general avoiding of the frantic eyes of prey. Much like hawks and eagles and whatever else the fellow might keep underneath his mask. He might even have a badger in there. "Not a problem. Good to have some company now and again...this isn't exactly a social business." Dragnet exhales, and doesn't give a word to the Phantom's aerodynamic...adventure. He's not much better at this at the moment. "Yeah, believe me I get that. I haven't even been doing this six months." It's bold, admitting his inexperience, but this isn't the Batman trying to scare the shit out of him again. He's gaudy, but gaudy also suggests a surprising amiability.
That makes the Phantom grin again, and reach out to clap Dragnet on the shoulder amiably. "Always nice to see someone dedicated to helping the people, friend," he says, then looks down over the street. "The Phantom has been protecting the people of Bangalla for centuries--but now I've felt that I had to come here. I see in you the dedication and honor to do what's right, and I think that will take you far, chum. Just remember to never let the long nights and seemingly endless numbers of evil-doers get you down." He's got some experience, there--a bit of personal experience and the combined wisdom of every ancestor who's worn the mantle of the Phantom. As such, he sounds like he knows what he's talking about.
Dragnet holds up his hands, as if in tandem with a shrug. "Well, my other options weren't fantastic. Also, this sort of thing...." He gestures to the armor. "You can't really sell at a yard sale or just leave out for somebody else. Seemed like the only way to keep it...'out of the wrong hands'." One can hear the shudder as he uses the old cliché. He blinks, checking the streets once more for the minnows of crime he has been sweeping away as he listens. "Sounds like you got lucky. Big job, but a lot of experience to draw on. I'm just sort of winging it and hoping I don't lose a limb or get anyone killed." Still, the pep talk and the experience does seep through and Dragnet can't help but feel a bit chuffed. A bit of positive reinforcement does wonders for the ego!
"Luck will only take you so far," says the Phantom, resting his forearms on his knees. "You need the will to do what's right, the courage to face down your fear and go up against those who would prey on others--without those, you might as well give up." Another grin as he looks back to Dragnet. "And I can see that you have those things. It might be difficult sometimes, but I can already see that you've got the heart to see this through." A beat's pause, and he arches a brow in thought, then he says, "Would you care for a bit of advice, friend? Just a little something I learned over the centuries that helps make it easier to put the suit on and go running around."
"I'd prefer access to whatever zoo or circus you broke out your menagerie of war critters from, but I'll take advice." He usually isn't this quick with the wit, but maybe the confidence and pulpy quipping of his comrade for the evening is rubbing off of him. He rolls his shoulders, following the patterns of Phantoms gaze, albeit looking more at heat and UV light than in the natural spectrum. Best not to be redundant after all! Dragnet might actually be smiling, behind the faceplate, but impossible to tell...
"Ah, yes, Hero and Devil," says the Phantom with a warm smile and a nod. "First, though: Get yourself someone who knows you--the real you. A friend, a confidante--dog, life-long chum, whatever. If you have that--if you have someone who knows what you do, they'll give you the strength to keep going. I couldn't do this if it wasn't for Devil and Hero, to name just two. Hero was given to me by an Arabian prince, and Devil was rescued as a pup from illegal animal traders. Without them and another person who's been my friend for as long as I can remember, I couldn't walk the streets at night." He looks back over the street again, brows lifting in response to fond memories. "You can't do this alone--you need that constant reminder that evil isn't all there is, that there are /good/ people in the world. You have that, you have everything you need." And crouching is becoming somewhat uncomfortable, so he moves to sit on the edge of the roof, letting his feet dangle over.
Dragnet bobs his head. "Thats....really good advice. Not sure if I can follow it, but I'll keep it in mind." Maybe he can find a pigeon or something. It worked for Tesla! He continues to watch the street, occasionally looking over at The Phantom. "You're a rare bird. Seems like everyone doing the street level stuff has baggage ad infinitum or sounds like they smoke twenty packs a day. Its a nice contrast." Oh no, he isn't projecting on the fact that his very existence gets Batman's glares, not at all! "Also, yeah. Crouching is....highly overrated as a position. Not sure how the big guys do it seemingly for hours on end."
"Tell you what," says the Phantom, reaching two fingers and his thumb under his belt at his left hip, "go to an animal rescue shelter." He pulls out a few small red gems--three rubies, and native-cut Burmese rubies at that, which will be worth almost a thousand dollars when appraised. "Get these appraised and sell them for cash," he says as he goes to place the three tiny gems in Dragnet's hand. "Go to a rescue shelter and get a dog or a cat. I suggest a canine, but I'm biased." Another grin, there, at the obvious reference to Devil. "Get yourself that friend and share yourself with him or her, just like they'll share themself with you. You'll have a life-long friend /and/ help your local rescue shelter at the same time."
It's really a good thing this guy wears a funny suit and is well versed in ass kicking. Giving out stones like this? It basically guarantees violence. There's also the matter of actually getting it sold and being a vagrant, a homeless transient. Frederick still knows a few people....hmmm. He stares at the stones for a moment, then looks at the Phantom. "I'll see what they got on the 'to be euthanized tomorrow' list." He's genuine, but really, gallows humor is the only way one can deal with the surreality of the event that just happened. "...I don't know what to say. Thank you."
That earns the helmeted man another warm clap on the shoulder. "That sounds like an excellent plan; you'll be saving the life of someone who will give you their loyalty and love 'til the end of their days." The Phantom gives the other man's shoulder a squeeze, then returns his hand to the edge of the roof, to curl fingers around it lightly. "And don't thank me--you have a good heart and I can still see how dedicated you are. Anything I can do to make sure your courage is kept strong, that's more than enough thanks for me, chum." He knows some people wouldn't dare give someone--especially a vigilante and doubly especially one they just met--so much money, but if he can't offer trust, what good is he? The Phantom is more than a symbol of light in the darkness--he's a symbol of all that's good in humanity, and darn it if trust and honor aren't the best aspects /of/ humanity.
Wow, its....really bright all of a sudden. As if one was in the presence of an angel. No really, with little context for such things, the Phantom just seems to make the roof suddenly a more shiny place to be. Gods, Captain America, you expect it out of. Hearing out of just another guy in a costume, makes you actually believe that sort of thing. "Yeah. Appreciate it." He says after some thought. It's not that he has disrespect for the Phantom, he just, wow, he really can't top that. Dragnet wakes a few steps back, slipping the stones into a small section of his armor. He rolls his shoulders, as he tries to come up with something, anything more assertive than that. "...I'll try and live up to all of that."
The Phantom grins again. "Think nothing of it, my friend," he says. "Just never give up the good fight, no matter how hard it may seem--and it /will/ seem hard. Remember to keep your courage up." Just then, Devil comes running up the street down below. He sniffs around a moment, then looks up at the Phantom. A few barks of varying intonation and pitch, and the Phantom is alert immediately. "Well, chum," he says to Dragnet, "I've got to go. It looks like that son of a gun didn't want to give up the nefarious life after all." He gets to his feet and brushes off the back of his trousers. "Remember to get that friend, hmm?" he says with a smile for Dragnet. "You'll be doing yourself a bigger favor than you realize." And with that, he points his left arm out. A flick of the hand back, and the outer panel clicks open, revealing another hook-and-line mechanism. The grappling hook is shot out and wraps around a lamp post, and he emits a shrill whistle just before stepping off the roof. Hero comes galloping along the street, meeting the Phantom just as he gets close to street level, so he slides into her saddle easily. The line is retracted, and he pulls Hero around. "By crumb, Hero, that actually /worked/," he whispers in genuine surprise, then lightly taps her sides to get her galloping once more. He hunches over the saddle, Devil racing alongside, and they disappear into the night.
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