2012-10-08 Street Fair

It is a typical evening in New York. The sun is startting to get low, but it hasn't set yet. The chill in the air is picking up slightly as the sun gets lower and ducks behind a few buildings here or there. A few shadows are getting long on the streets. The streets of Hell's Kitchen, however, are blocked off for a few blocks in each direction as a community street fair has been set up.
There are all manners of foods available such as roasted nuts, candied apples from Upstate, and the smell of friers is heavy in the air. There are vendors selling tshirts, trinkets, paintings, and anything else they think might be able to sell here. This is also a charity event. Several of the local non profits are here looking for volunteers and maybe a little money. The catholic church across from Nelson and Murdock has several nuns outside at a table. The health clinic down the way is looking to accept blood donations and possible volunteers for later.
THere is also some games set up and this is where Matt Murdock is at the moment. His partner, Foggy Nelson, is on a plank over a dunk tank while a pretty blond woman helps the blind attorny around the area. "C'mon, partner. Just throw at the sound of my voice. Hit the buzzer and you dunk in me in the water. Just remember all the times my snoring kept you awake at Columbia," Foggy calls out from above the dunk tank to his partner. Matt turns his head to say to Karen, "You know he does have a point there."
 
Domino may not be real keen on these large public events, but sometimes a gal just has to go out and live a little. Even with her peculiar markings, this is still New York. The only time it's likely to be a problem is if she bumps into someone associated with that old project, which isn't too likely to happen. Either that or she's just been extraordinarily lucky thus far. Her car's parked some distance away, this time more by necessity than desire, but it's a pleasant evening for a bit of walking. It's the food that draws her out, though it's also an opportunity to connect with the city in ways that don't involve hunting other people for cash. Tonight she's nothing more than another face in the crowd.
 
Danny Ketch mills about the gathering, a half-drank can of Sprite in one hand, a two-thirds eaten funnel cake gripped in a napkin in the other. He's somewhat relieved to be in something of a happier gathering than he's typically used to back in Brooklyn, and given recent events in his life, happier's right up his alley. Still, a momentary glance is given to the nearby fenced parking lot, where his motorcycle sits parked. He hopes beyond hope that whatever it is that rests in the bike, and partially within him, will rest for at least this night. He's passing by the dunk tank at this point, and he grins upon seeing Foggy on the plank.
 
 
 
A high-collared black coat many years past its prime offers Logan some protection from the chill and helps to obscure the horrible scars criss-crossing his throat; it's buttoned all the way up to his chin, just to be certain. He's been milling around for an hour or so and fighting the the urge to make a bee-line away from the miasma of fried food and sweaty New Yorkers for most of it; with one teammate languishing in a mysterious coma and the other recovering from his evolution into a feral killing machine, things at the Mansion are a little somber right now. The paper cups of beer he's been downing whenever he's had the chance help, and there's a (slightly) lower chance of suddenly getting into an altercation /here/ than at his usual watering holes.
 
"Like a friggin' circus, I swear to God," he mutters when Foggy's encouragement hits his ears and draws his attention to the dunking booth. After pausing for a few seconds to energetically scratch his lower back - there are /still/ bits of metal lodged beneath his skin, natch - he just frowns, shakes his head and edges a little closer to the booth to watch for a little while. He still has most of a beer left, anyway; might as well.
 
 
 
 
"Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're blind, Matt. I know how smart you are even if you try to be modest about it. Just throw at my voice if think you can." Foggy is laughing even as Matt picks up the ball. Karen Page is whispering in his ear as he turns towards Foggy. The blind man holds up the ball for a moment, pauses, and then throws. There is a sudden buzz and Foggy drops right into the tank. Karen cheers and claps her hands. "Good throw, Matt. You nailed it the first time." Foggy comes out of the water spitting some out of the tank. "I swear, Matt, I don't know how you do it sometimes."
 
Along the edge of the fair, several people are beginning to gather. Most of them don't seem to be having a good time what with the somber expressions on their faces. They are mostly in leather coats, but no real 'uniform' to speak of. There is one large man behind them who seems to be the one doing the talking, but they are far enough away from the main part of the fair that probably no one is going to hear them unless they listen directly and maybe move a bit closer. After a moment, they seem to spread out slowly almost too nonchalently.
 
 
 
"Hey, even the circus has its charms," Domino points out to the gruff man's idle thinking. Seeing the guy in that tank get dunked on the first hit brings a small grin to her face, "Lucky shot." Most people might choose to avoid one looking like Logan does, she's taking a small chance by not following the norm. After being in the merc business for some time, one learns to recognize others that might be a part of that kind of work, or had at least dabbled in it sometime in the past. Rough attitude, upturned collar, complete loner, even the beer in his hand. There does appear to be some common ground, even if her guess is completely off. Who knows, maybe she'll have a lucky shot of her own and find someone new that would be willing to follow the call of a paycheck? Risk versus reward, and risk she's already quite familiar with.
 
"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself, kiddo." Nevermind the fact that he looks old enough to be her father, it's just a thing that she does. "Not your kind of scene?"
 
Danny gets a glance towards Logan, very brief and only to note the man's apparent discomfort. He grabs a bite of funnel cake just as Foggy gets dunked and smiles bemusedly mid-chew. As he downs another sip of soda, the leather coat wearers get a slight notice, if for no other reason than to not the unusualness of their presence. Another glance is shot towards his bike. He can't see if the gas cap's glowing from where he is, and is almost thankful he can't.
 
 
 
"Is what it is," Logan grunts as his eyes shift towards Domino. He doesn't flinch or start at the splash, or anything--although the buzzing preceding it makes him grimace. "Place to be, somethin' to do." A beat passes as he takes a big swig of beer, then he gestures towards the tank with his empty hand before reaching back to scratch his back some more; social niceties be damned. "Besides," he dryly adds, "'s a blind guy throwin' things at his pal; what's not to love?"
 
 
 
Foggy makes his way back up to the board over the dunk tank. He is given a towel as it is a bit cold even with the heated water he had been dropped into. He starts calling out to the next guy trying to get someone else to try their hand. If Matt can hit the target, certainly they can as well?
 
Matt and Karen continue along the street and near the catholic church. Matt has walked this street a hundred times and knows exactly as he passes the church. The soft whispers of the nuns. The scent of the candles. He crosses himself as any good Catholic would as they pass a church. "It's a fun thing being out of the office, isn't it, Matt?" Karen asks. The blind lawyer nods and gives her a smile. "It is."
 
The men at the edge of the crowd begin to make their way into the crowd now. They have been quiet for a bit, but now, stalls are suddenly turned over. Bits of a necklace go crashing across the street as a street vendor's case is knocked over. As he protests, a backhand to the head quickly sends him to the ground after his wares. "Listen up!" calls the big man who seems to be in charge. "This here is unauthorized. You guys need to learn that there are others in charge of this area, and you need to talk to him before doing something like this. No unity. Just paying up. Now..." he comes over and kicks over a cotton candy machine, "Now, we take our toll."
 
"Got that much right," Dom replies while watching the crowd around the tank. It's enough of a distraction to miss Logan's grimace. "More out of boredom, then? I doubt it was for the beer, can do a lot better'n this stuff with a lot less people involved." Wait, did she hear that part right, "That guy's blind? I take it back, -very- lucky shot." A brief pause follows as a faint grin edges its way across blackened lips. "Would have been better if his aim was a bit higher." And struck his buddy rather than the release switch? Yeah, that's the implication.
 
Pale blue eyes swivel back to Logan, somewhat thoughtful as Domino says "I won't burn your evening with small talk. You look like a capable sort and you look bored enough that it makes -me- want to get drunk. There's places for people like you in this world. If you feel like adding some excitement back into your days..." she trails off, starting to hold out a plain business card with nothing more than a number printed upon it. The motion doesn't get a chance to run its full course, slowly turning where she stands with the commotion building up nearby. What follows is a distant sigh, "Well that just kills my sales pitch."
 
The last of the funnel cake is downed just as the disturbance kicks in. Great, he thinks, so much for a quiet night. He mills through the crowd towards the parking lot, and sure enough, the gas cap on his bike is glowing bright enough to read a book by. He climbs onto the nondescript bike, puts on his helmet on the off chance someone's close enough to see his face, then fires up the engine and coasts into an adjoining alley. Halfway in, Danny plants his hand on the cap, and anyone unfortunate enough to head into the alley will find a man on a motorcycle entirely engulfed in flames.
 
 
 
"Devil's in the details," Logan murmurs, wearing a small, humorless grin of his own thanks to Domino's surprise. Details like being able to hear Foggy's taunts over the din of the fair. He gently taps his index finger to his temple. "Either that, or he's just some kinda asshole, wearin' those shades at this time'a night." With that, he takes a sip of beer and begins drifting away; he doesn't even make it two steps before Domino's offer catches him. There is a little bit of hesitation as he plants his feet to peer at her over his shoulder.
 
"Yeah, listen, lady," he mutters after lowering the cup, "I'm flattered, but I ain't in the market for joinin' any cul--"
 
His rebuff is soundly interrupted by thugs in black; instantly, the boredom and agitation fall away from his features, and he pivots around to try and get a rough head count; a tight smile - genuine, if unmistakably nasty - begins to spread across his lips. "Don't worry," he offers as he starts walking straight towards the apparent leader, "I'll see if I can't get you an apology."
 
 
 
 
Karen screams as the vendor is kicked over and bits fly about. Quickly there are other screams and yells of anger. Several men run towards the Jackets and are soundly thrashed about their heads. Some are carrying baseball bats. Some are carrying chains or other heavy weapons. There do not seem to be any firearms directly visable at this time. Right now, there looks to be about ten thugs and then Big Man calling the shots.
 
"Karen, you've got to try and get some where and call the police," Matt says to her, gripping her arm slightly before she bolts. "I'll slow you down. Just take me into the church. I'll be safe in there while you get help." She nods blankly before ushering Matt into the church. She leaves him in one of the pews before hurrying out. She tries to stay unnoticed as she tries to weave through the crowd that is starting to panic. The crowd of people at the fair have to be in the hundreds and it is becoming chaotic out here as the thugs move into the crowd and the crowd begins to skatter, push, shove, and generally cause mass hysteria about to break out.
 
 
 
Yeah, so maybe the guy's wearing sunglasses at night. "Suppose I might be a teensy bit jaded," Domino admits. With the kind of company she keeps it's strictly for fashion sense and trying to look that much more tough.
 
"Yeah, hey. Not a cult!" she calls back as the grizzled guy starts to walk toward those aiming to crash the party. On one hand she can get a sense of what he's capable of, at the very least. Or..y'know. Watch him get gunned down in the next twenty seconds or less. It's one way to conduct an interview, though not one which she had planned.
 
"How thoughtful of you," she mutters to herself as that card disappears into an inside coat pocket. Those fingers brush against the grip of one of her sidearms while they're nearby, but she stops herself. Looks like a fair group of idiots trying to crash a much bigger group of unsuspecting folk. Any way Dom looks at it, this place is becoming an absolute meat grinder. Adding live fire into the mix is not going to help, even with her luck. Add into it a nasty previous injury and she's starting to lean toward sitting this one out and watching from safety rather than trying to get involved. See what that guy's made out of then disappear into the night. Real poetic, that.
 
Roaring out of the alley, Ghost Rider guns his flaming-wheeled monster machine of a bike to the perimeter of the crowd. He banks the bike into a sideways skidding stop, screeching burning rubber and and leaving trails of flame behind his tires. With a metallic clink, the hellfire-skulled biker removes the chain from his jacket and begins whirling it in a circle over his firey head. "This violence ends NOW!! Disperse or know the fate of all who flaunt the will of vengeance!" And to prove the point, he glances towards one of the leather coat wearers, one clear enough of the crowd to minimize the chance an innocent will get hurt, and hurls the chain towards him with the intention of ensnaring him.
 
 
 
Along the way, Logan pauses long enough to unhook the ropes from a queue stanchion and hefts the thing onto his shoulder with a grunt, and before he can resume his walk, the Jackets spread throughout the crowd, assaulting people.
 
Oh, and there's a guy with a /flaming skull for a head riding his flaming motorcycle through the fair/. Things are getting a little hectic.
 
There's a part of him - larger than he'd even like to acknowledge - that is relieved at this turn of events; the claws would probably be overkill, but at least he won't have to feel bad about whatever he winds up doing to these jerks. Like charging after one of the bat-wielding thugs, rearing back and swatting at him with the hefty brass club on his shoulder; unlike them, he is at least nice enough not to swing for the guy's head.
 
 
 
 
"Jesus Chr..." The thug's words are cut off as the chain from Ghost Rider encircles him. He tries to struggle back and forth, but is caught in the metallic snare. There are more screams at the sight of Ghost Rider, and like a flock of birds, the people seem to want to run away from him as they seem to circle unsure of where to go as they see threats every where.
 
The thug that Logan swings at doesn't even know he is there until there is a soft splatting sound and he falls. The others, however, do notice him. Several bats and chains are swung towards Logan's back as they race to protect their own. They do seem to be staying away from the flaming skull, however. That is just creepy.
 
Once Karen is out of the way, Matt ducks into the darker corner of the curch. Everyone has rushed out in the trouble, so it is quiet as he changes into the red tights. He jumps up and grabs a ledge, pulling himself up towards the rafters. He doesn't want to be seen coming out where Matt had gone in. Quickly, Daredevil is just below the bells in one of the windows. He crouches there a moment before launching forward. He lands on the tent top of one of the vendors and summersaults in midair as he comes back down the ground.
 
 
 
Oooo-kay, flaming skull dude atop a motorcycle, -that- would be Domino's cue to get moving. Right this way, people! Let's not stampede over everyone on the way.
 
Ghost Rider yanks his entangled victim hard towards him, face-first right into a spike-knuckled fist. His attention moves from his first vanquishing of the night on towards the other gangsters, and the ones ganging up on Logan get his immediate notice. Leaving his bike parked where it stopped, he strides purposefully towards the dogpile-on-the-Wolverine and grabs one of them by the back of the neck with one hand. "You flaunt your disregard for the innocent with your brutish methods and intimidation. Your reign of bloodshed will cease, either by your own will..." He then attempts to fling the miscreant backwards, aimed towards a newspaper machine on the sidewalk across the street.
 
 
 
The other thugs may as well be crash of rhinos, to Logan's ears; if they were going for the element of surprise, they are sadly out of luck.
 
Catching him off-balance after swinging a heavy blunt object around, though, that's a hell of a lot more manageable; Logan lets the staunchion thunk to the ground so that he can face them, but metal chains lash across his back and sides before he can even turn around, and they are closely followed by a vicious *KRAK* from a baseball bat that sends a bolt of agony up his adamantium-laced spine. The wee, hairy man stumbles and falls to his knees, where the thugs set upon him like a pack of hyenas, thrashing away with their weapons.
 
And then one of them tries to hit Logan over the head with his bat and does a double take when he pulls /half/ of a Louisville Slugger back; that's enough to slow the rest of them down in beating on the downed man.
 
And then Ghost Rider intervenes, giving Logan enough of a breather to pick himself up off the ground. There's blood streaming from his nose and one eye is swollen shut; he's still grinning from ear to ear as his good eye shifts between the guys who weren't accosted by the Spirit of Vengeance.
 
"Thanks," he mutters to the Rider as he wipes some blood away. "EMTs are gonna be busy tonight, thanks to you boys." With that, his bloodied hand clenches, and then he's lunging at another thug and throwing a right cross at his jaw.
 
 
 
 
Thugs go flying as Ghost Rider wades into Logan's defense. Others are getting beaten by the shorter man's fists. THis doesn't stop another from trying to break a bat against the back of Ghost Rider, however. As the thugs flock towards the two heroes in the center, this leaves space for the crowd to start to get out through gaps in the net left by the attacking thugs. The area begins to clear out even as the fighting gets more viscious. Daredevil turns towards the scrum of heroes and thugs, and decides to head for the boss for the moment. The boss man is bigger by a few inches and looks like an NFL linebacker; full of muscle. "Get out of the Kitchen!" Daredevil cries out as he charges towards the man.
 
The bat cracking along his spine instantly gets Ghost Rider's attention, but probably not in the manner his assailant intended. The fiery-headed biker stops short, turns around, and grabs the thug who decided to blindside him by the collar of his shirt. "You have committed a grave error. You have ensured that you will be the first to know the pain of your victims." And with that, the black eyesockets of Ghost Rider's skull glow crimson red, the Penance Stare boring deep into the thug's soul. Depending on how many people this man has hurt or killed, he instantly feels the cumulative mental anguish of each one all at once.
 
 
 
Logan is clutching a semi-conscious thug by his black lapel when Daredevil enters the fray. He looks between the guy in hand and the brute that the man in red is fearlessly rushing in on, begrudgingly drops his already clenched and readied fist, and tosses the thug near his battered pals. He starst cracking his knuckles and takes a look around to see how his flaming comrade in arms is handling himself, only to find that the Ghost Rider is gazing deeply into the eyes of one of the men; not exactly how /he/ would approach things in a brawl like this, but to each their own.
 
"Yeah," he mutters as he sets his eyes on the leader and starts heading that way, "well, when you're done doin'--/that/, we still got another prick t' deal with." After a few steps, he breaks into a full-tilt run, hoping to make it to the fight before Daredevil takes the guy out.
 
Or, well, dies, or something; he isn't entirely sure that this isn't just some crazy person who raided a Halloween store.
 
 
 
 
The scream from the thug that is getting the Penance Stare is loud and primal before it suddenly just shuts off. The man goes limp in Ghost Rider's grip. The thugs that are left standing at this point, begin to back up away from Ghost Rider and Logan. The spread out enough that Ghost Rider is not going to be able to strike more than one with the chain, but they do seem to be forming a line between them and their leader which is isolating Daredevil from the other heroes for the moment. There are four thugs left in this defensive line, and they do know how to fight. As Logan comes charging against them, the closest tries to lower his head and shoulders to perform a tackle at Logan's waist hoping to take the smaller man to the ground.
 
The big man knows how to fight too apparently. As Daredevil attacks, the leader ducks the first punch and comes up with an uppercut to Daredevil's midsection. There is a loud "OOOF" as his breath is knocked clear out of his body with the blow. He falls to the side but manages to kick out with one foot; sweeping the leader off of his feet and flat on his back.
 
Ghost Rider tosses the Penance Stare recipient to the ground as if a discarded bit of clothing, then watches as the last four of the leader's goons attempt to blockade him and Logan from the leader and Daredevil. "Vengeance will not be denied. It hungers to condemn you all for the blood you have shed." One track mind? Oh yeah. He detaches the chain once again and whirls the links in a tight arc at his side before hurling the blunt end of the chain towards the sternum of the nearest one to him.
 
Meanwhile, Logan just keeps on running--right until he's close enough to try and jam his knee into the face of the guy trying to tackle him. At least Daredevil seems to be handling himself okay; it may be a little while before the cavalry can arrive.
 
"Screw the gimmick, just /hit them/!" he snaps to the Spirit of Vengeance. "You do it right, they ain't gonna remember all this fire'n brimstone crap when they wake up anyway!"
 
 
 
The thug is braced for the chain attack, but still the force that Ghost Rider can bring to bare knocks the man off his feet and several feet away. As the thug tries to tackle Logan, he is reminded why football players wear helmets. THere is a sharp crack as his nose is contacted by Logan's knee. There is a yelp of pain as he falls over to the side; hands to the face. The other two glance at each other and seem to waver for a bit. Suddenly they turn tail and run letting the guys have a clear path towards the fight with Daredevil and the Leader of the Pack.
 
As the leader falls onto his back, he lashes out with one hand to try and use his weight and momentum to hit Daredevil at the same time. Daredevil back flips just ahead of the punch and this time is the leader's turn to get the breath knocked out of him as he hits the ground hard. Daredevil is back on his feet and tries to step on the man with a kick to the face, but the leader gets his hands up in time to catch DD's foot and twists which spins Daredevil before he is knocked off of his other foot.
 
Ghost Rider gives Logan a moment's glance at the comment regarding his combat preferences. He sees the last two of their adversaries turn and run, then glances to his bike. The machine roars to life and drives itself past him and Logan towards one of the two miscreants. The front fairing drops over the front wheel and aims to hit the thug head-on, but not at a speed that would kill him. It will seriously hurt though. Ghost Rider then turns his attention to Daredevil and the leader and heads that direction as he wills the bike to herd the last of the thugs.
 
"Yeah," Logan growls at the thugs' backs, "I thought so." He steps over the guy with the broken nose to resume running into the middle of this last skirmish, and soon enough, he is close enough to lend the Man Without Fear a hand.
 
Or rather, he gives him two, stretched out in front of himself as he breaks his run to pounce on the leader. Logan is going for the guy's arm, his neck, a piece of clothing, anything he can get a hold of to help him drive the (much) larger man to the ground.
 
 
 
The thug cries out as he is struck by the bike and is tossed to the side by the momentum. Quickly another cry can be heard from the other thug that the bike tracked down. Daredevils's foot is caught and he is spun. As Hornhead is spun, he puts his hands to the ground and goes into a roll to get a little distance from the Leader as Logan comes charging in. The leader goes down under Logan's attack, but he tries to get a foot up to roll with the attack and shove Logan over his head as the Leader falls to the ground.
 
Ghost Rider, perhaps taking Logan's advice a bit, opts to put the tools away and get hands-on. Or rather feet-on. As the leader attempts to shoulder Logan off him, the Spirit of Vengeance rears a foot back and punts the business end of his steel-toed boot into the leader's midsection. Finished with the other miscreants, Ghost Rider's motorcycle rides itself nearby and parks itself as if waiting for its owner to complete his business.
 
 
 
Logan's own momentum combined with the leader's quick thinking are enough for the smaller man to end up on his back near the leader, who might have a sore leg - among other things - to contend with tomorrow; for a man as small as he is, Logan is /heavy/. He sits up just in time to see Ghost Rider coming in to try and kick the brute in the gut, which earns a small grunt of approval. If the Spirit of Vengeance weren't on /fire/, he might be more inclined to get right back in there and pile on the leader, just to be sure; instead, he has to be content with picking himself up - again - and waiting nearby with clenched fists.
 
 
 
 
The leader cries out in pain as he flips Logan due to his weight. He is grabbing towards his leg when he is kicked by Ghost Rider. The man begins to curl up in a fetal position to protect himself from the steel toed pain of Ghost Rider's kick. Daredevil comes over and tries to grab at Ghost Rider to pull him away from the downed leader. "He's not getting up from that. He's beaten!"
 
Ghost Rider glances sharply at Daredevil as he grabs him. "Yes. He is." He doesn't press the attack on the downed leader. "Vengeance has been served this night." With no other words, he reaffixes the chain to his jacket then walks towards his motorcycle and climbs astride the infernal vehicle.
 
 
 
Logan spits of a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva at the downed thug after Ghost Rider steps away. It's a compromise; if he had his way, he'd be giving the guy a few good kicks himself just on principle, but he'd rather not run the risk of having to fight with Daredevil just for the privilege of kicking a man while he's down.
 
"Cops'll probably be here any minute," he mutters. His hands go into his coat pockets and he starts walking; his bike is parked a ways away, and unlike /some/ people, he can't just call it to himself at will. "No body count; lucky them."
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