2013-01-20 Devil May Care

Deep in the mysterious and storied Pine Barrens of New Jersey lurks a creature of myth and legend--or so it is said--the Jersey Devil! Alleged spawn of a human mother, and fathered by misfortune and triskaidekaphobia, the monstrous being has haunted the Barrens since time immemorial. Or, more accurately, for roughly three hundred years. Which is still a reasonably long time.
"Also, it supposedly has a goat head and some wings," says Booster Gold, who is glancing over the brochure from the New Jersey Department of Environmental Protection with a look of skepticism on his face. "So I guess it's like... a winged goat devil. Devil goat. Not sure why they don't just call it that." He refolds the brochure and waves it in a vague gesture. "But no one wants it killed, because that could be detrimental to tourism. They just had a report that it ruined a picnic and I guess that's... also detrimental to tourism? I'm kind of unclear on what I'm even supposed to punch in this scenario."
Monet St. Croix is having, all told, a pretty lousy day. For one thing, she is in New Jersey.
HOURS AGO:
"What do you *mean*, I'm not on the guest list? Do you know who I *am*? Surely if I spoke with Mr. Wayne for a moment..."
NOW:
And now, because apparently in a past life she thumbed her nose at a higher power, she has found herself working with 'Booster Gold', a man who is apparently a superhero of some kind, though she certainly hasn't heard of him. "I certainly haven't heard of you," she had said to him, upon first begrudgingly shaking hands after answering the police summons.
Floating along behind Booster, because she can fly and she likes people to know it, Monet rolls her eyes. "Let's just find the little mongrel and cage it already. I have a manicure at seven."
Walking around amongst the pine trees, Booster Gold's metallic costume seems very out of place. He folds the brochure again and stuffs it behind one of his wrist bracers. "How are we supposed to find this thing? Everything looks the same out here."
Glancing around, the blond man then reaches out and touches a conifer trunk. "Where I'm from, we don't really have things like... this... not this many all in one place, anyhow." Now that he is no longer concentrating on reading, he floats into the air as well. "Oh hey, can I get your signature? That way, if we get split up, it'll be easier for me to re-find you." Touching a fingertip to the side of his goggles, he looks Monet up and down; he must not mean that in the sense of an autograph.
"I beg your pardon?" Monet scoffs, one gloved hand rising to her chest in affront. Then, not entirely sure what he's suggested is in fact dirty, she frowns. "Well, that depends on what... giving you my signature entails, I should think." She glances around the copse of trees around them, narrowing her eyes as her superhuman mutant telescopic vision takes in their surroundings. "And what do you mean, things like this? Trees? You don't have very many trees? Where do you come from, Beijing?"
"Trees, yeah!" Booster brightens up, as if he'd just been reminded of an obscure word. He even snaps his fingers. "I meant your thermal signature. I don't ask about genetic signatures anymore because wowzer people are sensy about that in this era. See..." He turns in the air and extends his arms before him, fingers expressively spread, "If I'm looking for you through the... trees... I want to make sure I lock onto you and not something else. Which I might then follow and get led astray by, and end up lost forever, having to eat whatever those things are." Booster gestures at a pine cone. "And I'm from Gotham, since you asked. Future Gotham."
"Oh, I see," Monet says, nodding as though this is no big deal. When you've grown up in the general vicinity of the X-Men, 'I'm from a future with no trees' is a pretty pedestrian origin story. "Well, I'm from Monaco. Present Monaco." She frowns a little, eyeing the mysterious golden man-of-the-future before her. "Fine, you can take my thermal signature. But no funny business," she warns him, flexing her right hand into a fist to demonstrate her sincerity.
"SKREE!" cries something deep in the trees.
"Oh, don't worry, if you could see anything awesome on a thermal signature life would be way more rad," reassures Booster, as he glances at Monet again. Apparently this is all it takes to record her particular emissions in whatever database he has going on behind his goggles. The sound makes him comment, "Is that what frogs in this era sound like? I've only ever heard the kind you can make from a kit!" The Man of Gold seems excited at the prospect of encountering an actual frog in nature, starting to fly towards the sound of the screech.
"Why would a frog sound like--" but Booster's already gone, and Monet watches him go, his gleaming golden butt like a beacon in the sylvan dusk. For about thirty seconds she weighs the pros and cons of simply leaving him to get eaten by a devil that may or may not exist, but eventually 'this would look good on my heroic resume' wins out and she zooms off into the trees after him. "Wait for me, you twit!"
As it turns out, Booster is not difficult to catch up with, because he has come to a complete stop with an utterance of, "Holy yikes!" He is pointing at something that is in one of the trees. There is something there, although on closer inspection it is a wary squirrel. From Booster's posture and expression, however, he distrusts it deeply. "I thought that was it, but I guess it's just a small... tree rat or something. But it's the only thing giving off any kind of thermal signature here. Apart from us. And the little flying doodads." After a moment of thought, he adds, "Birds."
"It's a squirrel," M says, slapping a hand over her eyes. "Who gave you permission to superhero around? I feel like there should be some kind of class or something first. Doesn't the INS talk to you future people at all?" Flying doodads! Honestly! "In any case while that squirrel may in fact exist, it isn't whatever made that horrible sou--augh!!" With a resounding SKREE, something in the trees shoots by like an arrow, its leathery wing stroking through Monet's long hair as it makes its way past her. "(Curses in French)," Monet curses, in French.
Booster frowns at the squirrel. "It looks like a fluffy rat in a tree," he insists, a touch defensively. "We don't have anything like this in--" He is blinking behind his goggles when the thing flies by overhead, and he states, "Uh. Okay, whatever that was, it's not giving off the kind of thermal signature I'd expect from a terran mammal from this era." He lifts his hands and clenches them into fists, quietly saying, "Stun," just before he extends his arms and fires several shots of golden light after the apparition.
The blasts ruffle through pine needles without causing any actual damage. A flock of redwing blackbirds fly up in alarm. After a long beat, two stunned squirrels drop from the branches and plop onto the soft mulch of pine needles on the forest floor.
"That's because it isn't a terran mammal!" Monet hisses, frantically finger-combing her hair to get all the devil cooties out. "It's a freaking Jersey Devil. A JERSEY Devil! Of all the devils that could be touching me, it's the devil from Newark." As the stunned squirrels collapse onto the ground, she halts her primping and quirks a dark eyebrow in Booster's direction. "Congratulations, you took care of the rodent problem. Gold star. My hero."
"Oh, no." Booster has one gloved hand over his mouth, looking sincerely abashed at having shot a few innocent tree-rats out of their tree. "Oh, gosh. I really hope I didn't break them. They're probably pretty valuable." As he flies to the tree, he explains to Monet, "Goldstar was actually supposed to be my name, but... it didn't work out that way." He seems disinclined to explain just how this happened. Scooping up the stunned but otherwise unhurt squirrels, he looks around to make sure there are no park rangers in view, and then he hovers higher and carefully wedges the small fluffy bodies between a branch and the tree trunk. "There, see? Everything's back to normal," he tells Monet, dusting off his hands.
"Well, you can be Goldstar as far as I'm concerned," Monet says, finally convinced that the creature has not left behind a truckstop cigarette butt or the remnants of cheap lacquer nail-polish in her hair. "Hero names are important. They keep trying to make me pick one, but I insisted I'm just 'M'. I think it's iconic. They wanted me to be something tacky back at school, like I'm some common Marvel Girl. Please." She peers into the trees, trying to make out the shape of the elusive demon. "And what the hell is a 'Psylocke', anyway?" she asks nobody in particular.
"The theory is that a code name is part of what makes a 'hero' into a 'super hero'. It makes the person into an abstraction, and an abstraction can be elevated in the way a real person can't be. I mean because people are multi-faceted, can have flaws and stuff," Booster has landed again, and is slowly turning in place as he scans the forest, his goggles shifting through different vision-settings. He speaks in an easy going way as he does this. "The code name and costume reduces the person into an icon, one that's easy for the public to understand at a glance." There is a long pause as he continues to scan for the devil, and then he adds, "I majored in Superhero History and Culture of the 20th and 21st century, in college."
Now that is interesting. First of all, the fact that this Booster Gold is apparently smarter than his lack of zoological knowledge makes him seem, but secondly the fact that he's studied heroes of his past, and her present. "Have you heard of me, then?" Monet asks, because what else would she do when faced with such a possibility. "Did I make the history books?" It was a question asked out of curiosity, not necessity: the future was never entirely set in stone, she knew. If she had to work harder, she would work harder. But she would make it.
Booster stops turning in place and rubs his chin, looking thoughtful. "That's kind of difficult to answer. If you mean, in the general history books... I'm not sure. In the more specialized ones that focused on costumed and super-powered beings? I think I recall some mention of you, in relation to something..." The young man frowns a little as he tries to recall the knowledge. "I should have brought Skeets along, he makes it easier when I need my memory refreshed. He says part of that is the time-travel, it can fuzz up your memories, although he says mine have remained remarkably intact." Booster just shrugs at this; sometimes one just has to accept one's natural talents. "The thing is, a lot of what I've learned is from the interpreted remains of scattered records. Coming here, I've been pretty surprised at uh. Stuff they got wrong. Really wrong. And stuff they never mentioned."
"Like what?" Monet is clearly pleased that she'd been mentioned, but there's something foreboding in the rest of it all. "How far in the future are we talking, here?" she asks, hovering a bit higher off the forest floor to try to peek over one of the trees. "I mean, it sounds like you're trying to rebuild something ancient. Are we ancient to you? Are you like, 35th century guy?" Frowning, she furrows her brow. "I don't see it anywhere."
"35th? Oh gosh, no. Wow that's way far," Booster Gold responds, a little surprised. "I'm just from the 25th century." Which is clearly more reasonable. He floats up into the air again, frowning at the endless trees that range off into the distance. "Maybe we should've brought bait. Except... I guess I wouldn't have any idea what would tempt a Jersey Devil." In a brighter tone, because he clearly enjoys talking about his field of study, he says, "Oh, stuff that was wrong and stuff... yeah, like, there's this whole dire thing with 'mutants' going on in this era. Which is like, 'what'? It's really difficult to understand, although we had very little information about it. And now that I'm here, I still don't get it." He is frowning again, as he looks around, clearly giving this Jersey Devil situation a lot of thought. Then, he gasps faintly and says, "...what if the Jersey Devil is actually Batman, or vice versa?"
"I'd think a cannoli or ziti or something," Monet offers, as examples of potential Jersey Devil food. It takes a moment for everything else Booster has said to register. "Wait, so the whole mutant thing isn't a problem in 500 years? Well. That's a bit of a relief, I suppose. I'm a mutant, of course," she says, circling the tree before her to peek further into the great outdoors for devilry. "*The* mutant, if you ask some people. My mutant power is perfection; I'm perfectly evolved." Her search fruitless, M looks back at Booster. "I don't think Batman is really the woodsy type, do you?"
"Oh. Yeah, I guess not." Booster Gold looks a little deflated. "I mean, the theory was that if he existed at all, he was some kind of devil. And Gotham isn't far from here. So..." He brings his hands together in a vague gesture of unity. "Anyway, that's kind of the whole thing." He turns in the air to look at Monet. "From what I remember from my genetics classes, everyone has some form of mutation in their DNA. Sometimes it's subtle, sometimes it's fatal, and sometimes it makes you fly or whatever." He gestures vaguely at Monet's hovering form. "Anyway, I did know that there was a lot of that last kind of mutation in this era, and it all came up kind of all at once. Then something major happened but we're kind of unclear on that. Anyway..." He waves his hand. "In my era we still get people who have some kind of interesting ability but they're... people. Who have an extra ability. It's like being blond and an awesome athlete," he points at himself with his thumb. "It's rad, but ultimately, no big whoop."
"In this era there's been talk of locking us all up," Monet says, nonchalantly. "It's a whole thing. Here's hoping your bright future is the real one." If there was one thing Monet knew about futures, it was that they came a dime a dozen, each one with some sort of hero popping out of them to impart wisdom. But this one sounded pretty nice. "Batman definitely exists, but I don't think he's--- look at that!"
A shadow in the bushes. A rustling.
"SKREE!"
"Okay yeah, Batman does this whole hide and seek thing but I guess he doesn't shriek like that," Booster concedes, raising his fists. He hesitates, however; the last time he fired blasts, things did not turn out so great. Instead, he points at the rustling leaves and demands in a loud and slightly deeper voice, "Jersey Devil! Come out with your hands... or claws or whatever... raised. If you surrender we will NOT punch you until you are very sorry!"
The rustling abruptly stops.
Well behind the two heroes, an indistinct head with a long muzzle slowly rises from the shrubbery, then sinks back down to be hidden by the leaves.
"Are we sure this thing even speaks English?" Monet wonders aloud, touching down on the ground and inching slowly toward the underbrush. Booster's super professional threat to the creature goes without comment -- she has decided to be nice, at least for the moment and at least insofar as Monet St. Croix is capable of 'nice' -- but she quickly offers one of her own: "Look, I can kill you without breaking a sweat! So it's probably in your best interest to just come quietly!"
"This thing said it was born in New Jersey, so I just assumed..." Booster gestures to the folded brochure still stuck into his bracer. He takes a step forward, slowly so as to not spook any lurking devils, and pokes at the underbrush before them. Nothing is in there. "I think this thing is toying with us. Can't we just give it a warning? I mean, the point is that they don't want it rampaging through people's picnic sites or whatever, right?" He straightens up and turns to face Monet, spreading his hands. "Frankly, if it's not maiming anyone, what's the problem? It's not like some of the stuff crawling around on the fringes of the radiation zones."
"The radia--" Forget it. She's not gonna ask. "Look, it's a threat to public safety, apparently. I mean, that's what they said anyway, isn't it?" Monet walks toward the bushes a few more paces, then holds out a hand slowly. "I'm trying to get a lock on its mind telepathically, but I need to be close-range and I'm... not entirely sure what kind of brain I'm looking for, to be honest."
Booster looks flummoxed. He rubs his fingers over his scalp, ruffling up his blond hair, although this just makes it look better and more rakish. "I've only gotten basic glimpses of it... you know, just regular visual readings. I'm not picking up anything else. I don't think my tech is picking up on it." He counts off on his fingers as he says, "So it's not a normal terran animal. It either moves super fast or it has another means of movement... like phasing or whatever. It also doesn't read like any alien life-form I've either personally encountered, or have in my databanks. It's probably magic, can you deal with magic?"
"In my experience," Monet says, "magic can be dealt with like pretty much anything else." With that she dove forward, flying at top speed into the bushes to scoop up the awful devil-thing with her superhuman strength. Hopefully it won't leave body glitter or bacon bits on her outfit... at least, this is what she thinks a moment before she winds up with an armful of leaves and not much else. "What the hell?? It's gone!" M spins around immediately, looking all around. "Where did it go?? Did you see it move?!"
"No, and the thing is, I didn't see anything else move either. The leaves and the stuff on the ground, I mean. Just whatever you stirred up." Booster drops the the ground, walks over to where Monet pounced, and looks up and around. He puts his hand on the nearest tree trunk and gives it a shake; apparently he is extremely strong, because what looks like a gentle nudge causes the entire tree to judder violently. A few pinecones rain down, one of which hits his head, although this does not even muss his hair. Three surprised squirrels drop out as well, land on the pine needle padded ground, then scramble to run away as fast as possible. "Um. I'm wondering if it's even physically here. Maybe it's an apparition or a psychic projection."
"I'd sense a psychic projection," Monet huffs. "I'm a telepath." She touches down on the ground again, balling her hands into fists in frustration. "Do you sense anything? Anything at all? God, this will look just great in the tabloids. Monet And Booster Goldstar On A Snipe Hunt, cover story for US Weekly."
"No such thing as bad publicity," opines Booster Gold. "Oh... well, I mean as long as you're not doing something horrifically illegal or immoral. It's hard to parlay that into better paying work. Anyway, that's why I think it has to be magic, some kind of apparition. Because there are some supernatural creatures that don't cast reflections and can't be electronically detected, you know?" After a pause, he reaches up and pulls off his cowl, which includes his goggles. He clearly has no issues with showing his unmasked face. "Listen." Booster pauses for a moment to allow for this, then says, "I hear little rustlings, that's just the tree-ra...er, squirrels and birds. I swear this thing is an apparition that can also sometimes manifest physically." An expression of annoyance crosses his features. "It's like that freakin' hodag all over again."
"What the hell is a hodag?" Monet spits. "You know what, no, nevermind. I don't actually want to know." Sparing one last glance back at the foliage, she shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. "Fine, whatever. Let it go manifest itself wherever it wants. I've already missed my damn manicure appointment, so my night's a wash anyway. I should've known better than to come to Jersey."
"Yeah. Yeah, I don't really want to discuss the hodag," Booster says, in a quiet voice. He pulls his cowl and goggles back on. "You know what, let's get out of here. I feel bad about your appointment, I know what it's like to miss important stuff like that. I think I know how we can handle this job."
"Right, okay. Do whatever, then you can buy me a drink. Or seven." Monet stretches her arm across her chest, then gasps in dismay at a leaf in her hair. "Nine."
After the two heroes fly up and out of the Pine Barrens, a winged and indistinct figure creeps out, sniffing at the air. It prowls up to a tree with something rectangular stuck mid-way up the trunk. It is a rumpled brochure, and on the back of it is written:
Dear Jersey Devil,
Please accept this as an official warning and caution; your habit of rampaging through campsites and picnics will not be tolerated. If you persist in this behavior, we will return and punch you so hard you will be hella sorry forever.
Sincerely,
Monet St. CroixBooster Gold
The creature claws the letter down and sniffs it, nibbles at the corner, then grasps it in its fangy mouth before scuttling off into the underbrush.
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