2012-09-22 Unaffiliated

It's a perfectly nice afternoon in Lower Manhattan -- insofar as a gloomy overcast day can be considered 'nice'. It's like every factor imaginable is conspiring to make Shinobi wish he'd stayed on the west coast after graduating, seriously; even the city itself seems disappointed to see him.
Surely, this is all somehow his father's doing.
Still. Work to be done. Shinobi is walking his way towards Soho with his attention half on his Stark Phone and half on where he's going, an umbrella tucked under his arm just in case the sky decides to open up. It's only threatening so far, but with his luck?
"So, I said, I said- 'You call this a bacon cheeseburger?' And he was all, 'No, I call it a Coney Island dog'. So, I was understandably confused. I still think it's misdirection, you know?" Deadpool's walking along next to Shinobi and talking nearly nonstep, barely pausing mid-bite to eat. How he does that with his mask is kind of interesting, and best not looked at too closely.
"Could be nicer out. Might be the weather. This is terrible, even for the City. Boise, now, I love Boise. Sunny, clear days, and the vast, ripe potato fields, as far as the eye can see. You ever been to Boise? Great place. Love it, love it! And the GIRLS. Man. Farmer's daughters, just ripe for the pickin'." He messily devours what's left of his hot dog.
"Anyway, what's your name, kid? You look like a 'Ted'," Deadpool continues, maintaing Shinobi's pace, which he picked up and matched off the street about fifty yards back- apparently, completely at random.
Hellboy is after cigars, and not the kind one buys in the posh shops. Imports from places most people don't know exist. There's one particular kind... well, admittedly he just wants them because of the look Wisdom will get when he lights up. Some people are best enjoyed when you're screwing with them and or getting drunk with them and Wisdom meets that standard.
Of course, this means hauling ass out of the sewers, which Hellboy does with great reluctance. Under his shirt he's still bandaged up from that run-in with Botis. And he still can't believe the bastard was dumb enough to -throw- his sword. Man. Cut a guy's arm off and he loses all ability to reason.
Even in Time Square Hellboy can't catch a break. Hi. Yeah. I'm red. And big. Please don't call the cops. Again. And... oh, for the love of... not the fleeing and the screaming. Again. A pack of tourists who look like Violet Beauregarde wannabes go rolling--almost literally--away down the sidewalk, shrieking and careening off of cars and shops and other pedestrians without slowing.
It actually isn't until /now/ that Shinobi even deigns to look at Deadpool. He blinks mildly, eyeing him for a moment, before he gives his head a slight shake. "Hm? I wasn't listening," he tells him. There's no apology there; just a simple statement of fact. What? It's true. He /wasn't/.
Of course, when he hears shrieking in the distance, Shinobi quirks an eyebrow and turns to peer that way. Okay. Fleeing people, and near the source, a... big red demonic-looking guy. Okay. Shinobi clicks his tongue before looking sidelong at Deadpool. "Friend of yours?" he asks, tipping his chin towards Hellboy.
"Who?" Deadpool cranes his neck around. "Oh yeah, that's Bill. HEY BILL!" Deadpool shouts, incredibly loudly and without warning. He waves at Hellboy frantically, then jumps up on top of a nearby street performer and waves again. "BILL! OVER HERE, BILL!" He hops back down after he thinks he's gotten Hellboy's attention, standing akimbo. "Good eye, Ted. Bill's a great guy. Kind of a Jesus freak, though, but don't let it get you down. He's loads of fun, Bill is."
Whoa. Someone who looks actively crazy, waving Hellboy down. Usually, it's some kind of Jesus freak who wants to take a swing. And look at all that gear. Ah, Hellboy doesn't want to be shot or stabbed in the back today, so he'll go say hello. There's a convenient garbage bin nearby where he can stuff this yahoo in a pinch.
Deep breath, ignore the niggling little voice that says things like "Don't ask Liz out, it'll be a disaster" and "Tighten the bolts on Abe's sidecar before you drive over bumpy ground", and walk that way. The other fellow there looks almost normal which is a sure sound that *there* lies the true trouble.
"Bill," Shinobi echoes, and his tone is well and truly skeptical. He doesn't seem too flustered by Deadpool jumping up on the poor street performer -- in fact, he seems to be taking the very loud, costumed lunatic trying to flag down what is obviously some kind of demon largely in stride.
Of course, then Hellboy actually starts /approaching/. Shinobi's brow furrows slightly. No. No, his name cannot possibly actually be Bill. He keeps an eye on Big Red and, once he's come a bit closer, slips his phone into his pocket and simply offers a polite wave.
"I'm not affiliated with him," Shinobi says by way of greeting, jerking his thumb at Deadpool.
"Sure he is. Haaaaave you met my friend Ted?" Deadpool makes a grand gesture to introduct Shinobi. "Ted, Bill. Bill, Ted." He snaps his fingers. "I feel like you guys are going to get along great. Bill, what are you doing here? Want a bacon cheeseburger?" He offers what is very clearly a Coney Island hot dog to Hellboy. ...Which he didn't have in either hand a few seconds ago, but there it is. "I'm out on a gig, of course- there's supposed to be this thing crawling around NYU that's been eating co-eds left and right. /I/ wanted to set the place on fire, but I gotta whole 'professional gig'," he says, making exaggerated air quotes. "Are you working or just down here picking up hookers again?"
Hellboy accepts the hotdog with aplomb and gestures for Deadpool to come toward him in that conspiratorial 'Imma confess something' way. Really, he just wants to get the man off the crumpled mime on the ground. Not that Hellboy likes mimes. But. Decency.
"Thing is," he rumbles to Deadpool in a low voice. "You set NYU on fire? No more co-eds. And this time of year? The place is like a brothel with a Buy None, Get Everything Free sale on." Hellboy's rifling through his memory for reports of anything chewing on co-eds but who knows what year this guy thinks it is.
Hellboy's also giving Shinobi the People's Eyebrow about not being with this costumed mook. "Hi, Ted," he says cautiously. Costumed weirdos, he can handle. A guy who looks like he's got lawyers, not so much.
"Bill. Nice to meet you." Shinobi seems to agree with the sentiment that playing along with the crazy would be easier than the alternatives. Oh, if he only knew. He tucks his hands into his pockets and when the mime looks to him for a hand up, he just kind of stares like something he just scraped off of his shoe somehow gained sentience. Sorry, fella.
Ignoring the mime, Shinobi turns back to Big Red and Crazy Red with a small, thoughtful frown. "Professional gig?" he echoes. He can't help it. Deadpool finally said something to catch his interest.
While Bill and Ted are talking, Deadpool's humming under his breath 'I need a Hero'. Because screw that guy, he is a hero, and maybe he's not he hero this city wants, or deserves... or needs... but there it is.
He was just getting to that high bit about 'sun and the wind and the rain', and not so much humming as belting it out like Diana Ross, when Shinobi gets his attention. "Yup, gig," he confirms, breaking out of the song without a blink. He leans forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial level, his mask assuming a conspiratorial expression. "Look, you guys look totally, wicked radical, and I could really use some help with this one. Anything that preys on co-eds, right? C'mon- you guys want to help me murder the hell out of this thing?"
Hellboy picks the mime up by the scruff of the neck, gives him a little shake at eye-level and mutters, "Get a real job," before putting him down. The guy *sprints* off. "Yeah," Hellboy calls after him. "Try out for the next Olympics! Good idea! Goals are good." Then he turns his attention back to Deadpool and his serenade.
"I gotta ask," Hellboy says patiently, between bites of his hotdog--what the hell, right? He's a demon and he can't die, he'll be fine. "No offense intended, friend." He points way down the street to a movie theatre sign that reads: CO-ED EATER IV -- THE DEVOURING. "You didn't catch a movie today, did you? Either of you?" He gestures between Deadpool and Shinobi.
Quirking, Shinobi turns to look where Hellboy is pointing. ...oh. Of course. "Can't say that I have," he admits, glancing back to the pair. Deadpool in particular is given an odd look.
"I've never been invited to go and murder something before, so... kudos for that, I guess," Shinobi says dryly, slowly shaking his head. "I'm not really the killing type, I'm afraid." At least, not when it benefits him in literally no way imaginable. Otherwise, he'd at least consider it.
"I did, and it was great, but that's beside the point," Deadpool exclaims, gesticulating wildly. "Look, there's this thing, and it's devouring co-eds, and it's probably /not/ something I made up after drinking ten Red Bulls and watching a movie. Also, the payment on it's being sponsored by an anonymous do-gooder, and it's a payout by player, not by bounty. So we each get a cut! Come on, what were you guys gonna do with your day otherwise? Let's go have an excellent adventure!" Deadpool claps them both on the shoulder, which is kind of awkward with the height differential, but he gives it a go.
Oh, the batshit is strong in this one. Speaking of organizations chasing down baddies, Hellboy's phone is humming away in his belt. Damn. He hopes it's not Hill calling him on the carpet for the language in his report on Botis. There are no good words for an idiot like that. He checks. Nope, it's Dad. Damn it, Dad, stop checking up.
"Gotta go. Good luck," Hellboy says to Shinobi. "You might want to check New York's leash laws before you walk him next time, though." He claps Deadpool on the back in return, nearly spilling him into the street. "Good luck to you, too, buddy. Might see you at a fight some time." In crazypantsland, yes... which Hellboy visits with alarming regularity. Sadly. He waves goodbye as he answers his phone.
"Hi, Dad. No. No, I didn't... I'm being polite, Dad. Did somsone say something?" He rumbles off toward the cigar shop he wanted. Doesn't matter how big and red you are, your dad still apparently cares whether or not you're minding your manners and not making him look bad in front of important types.
"I told you, I'm not affiliated with him," Shinobi tells Hellboy with a long-suffering sigh, even as he brings a hand up to wave. For a massive demon thing, he seemed like a nice enough guy.
That just leaves... ehn. Slowly, Shinobi slides his gaze back to Deadpool, absently reaching up to fix his shirt where he was clapped on the shoulder. "I don't really need the money," he replies, holding up his hands. "So you go on ahead. Really. I'm sure you can have an Excellent Adventure even without us."
Speaking of batshit, well, maybe not quite to the same degree, but at the moment, something casts a brief shadow as a flicker of movement up above. Emmy is out doing another trial run after she's installed some new stuff on her hoverboard. The problem is, she took off 'nonessential' elements to install the new ones, and the gyro stabilizer was deemed nonessential. What happens due to that? Well, the hoverboard is careening down over the sidewalk towards traffic, and Emmy is hanging underneath it with arms and legs wrapped around it as she fumbles around trying to find the brake controls with a hand. Problem is, they're near the back... and her hands are at the front. "Coming through!" She announces, LED's blinking, motorized parts whirring... and yes, there are TYCO racetrack parts attached to that board. How they help it fly is unknown!
"Aww, c'mon, you know you want to," Deadpool chides Shinobi. "When was the last time you did anything fun? Anything adventurous? Anything wild and crazy and cool? And murdered a co-ed eating monster!" He makes a little-boy face and jumps up and down in front of the man. "c'mon! It'd be kewwwwwwl!"
Without missing a beat, he reaches back and snaps a magnetic whip out of his toolbelt. He cracks it once at Emma's screaming Tyco-enhanced hoverboard, wrapping one end around the front of her board, and wrapping the other end around a lamp post. He turns away, lets physics do the work, and faces Shinobi again. "I'll throw in a bacon cheeeseburgerrr," he croons, dangling another hot dog in front of the dapper young man.
"Oh, what's this?!" asks Emmy, her curiosity piqued right in the middle of a crash as the whip latches onto the board. Oddly, the magnetics do not interfere with the electronics since well... she's using magic and all. But now she's reaching one hand to pluck at the whip so she can examine it when WHOOP! Physics rears its ugly head and she goes into a sudden curve. "I need something like this!" she calls out even while the board is starting to dip a bit further downward, but also turning left sharply. Not just turning, but it's going into a spiral that is ever shrinking. After all, the whip is acting as a fulcrum. She whips about and passes right through where the two of you are at, barely overhead once, and then the next time past, she's a foot or two off to the side from you both. "Oh!" she exclaims, "Right!" and she reaches down to her belt and presses the button she forgot she included earlier. The braking controls. And since the fundamental workings of the board defy logic anyway, so do the brakes. The board stops dead.. Right there. This time Emmy was holding on for dear life though and not just standing on top of the thing. So she doesn't fly off of it directly, but her grip -does- fail after a moment and she falls flat on her back on the ground with a *thud* ... She just stares up at the board there for a moment, then reaches down to pluck a tablet out of a holster on her belt and holds that over her face to start tinkering on her shcematics again...
Deadpool produces an oversized pair of cards from behind his back. Another Deadpool... somehow? wearing a beret does as well. So does one wearing a sombrero, and a cowboy hat, and a yarmulka.
"Four point six, four point seven, four point three... and eight point nine from the Jewish judge!" 'Jewish' Deadpool blows Emmy a kiss, and then the signs are put away.
"You gotta stick the landing, kid, that's half your points right there." He turns back to Mr. Not Affiliated WIth Me. "But you look totally set for doing this kind of hero work!" Deadpool whines. "I mean, snappy suit, well-dressed- you just scream 'concealed knives' and 'I can burn you with my mind' or 'sword cane', I don't know. Also, a bit gay, but that's cool, 'cause I'm a twentieth-century sort of mercenary, you know?" he reassures Shinobi.
Shinobi eyes Deadpool (and Deadpool, and Deadpool), then himself. T-shirt and jeans count as a snappy suit? Yeah, okay, it's time to vacate. He doesn't even bother responding this time; he just spins on his heel and starts walking away, allowing his body to phase into intangibility. He's still visible, but actually touching him won't be possible. Sorry, Emmy -- you're on your own with this guy.
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