2014.05.14 - Drain-O on the Side

Ian is seated on a park bench that faces a little park where there are innocent children playing, swinging and sliding. He has a jacket on, which is a little weird for the weather, but he looks too young to be a creepy-old-man-pervert, and he's actively eating a sandwich, because evil little shits have to eat too. He just sort of looks a bit like trouble waiting for an invitation to get started.
Croyd stops through the park invisible looking for people to mug. He's not really hating anyone...he's just...grouchy. He's terrified of going to sleep, so he needs speed, and speed costs money which means he needs cash. Course, he realizes that during the day in central park is kinda...you know...crazy...superhero central and all, but he's been practicing his pick pocket skill...maybe a trip and take type deal. He's not hurting anyone...much. What if the next time he sleeps he doesn't wake up?
Among the children playing in the part is a little kid, about 9 or 10, that looks to be of mixed Hispanic/Oriental heritage. At the moment he's engaged in convincing a small group of the other children to start a game of tag.
Central park; an oasis in the middle of the concrete jungle. Even for creepy young men perverts and thieves tripping balls on speed and itching for their next hit. You know. New York on a Wednesday afternoon. 
Amongst those and a myriad other people, Jay walks through the small section of this oasis featuring the smaller playground, guitar strapped to his back and a light jacket thrown on regardless of the increasing warmth of the season. Red feathers stick out of the bottom of the coat, trailing almost to his heels, counting on the general obliviousness of the average person to keep most questions at bay. His hands slid into his pockets casually, the small cadre of kids trying to organize that game of tag catches his attention.
Ian gnashes his sandwich until its gone, and then takes the foil it was wrapped in and rather adeptly makes a tin-foil snake out of it. He picks up his waterbottle and finishes it off before sliding the foil snake inside the bottle until its stuck at the bottom, casually. His tiny eyes then shift as he looks to see who is around in this area, sitting there on the bench, watching, seeing who might be looking at him, who might actually be paying attention. And he has no powers whatsoever to see invisible people, or to tell when a kid isn't a kid, so those folks are safe from scrutiny. The winsome guitar player looks like a do-gooder though. He makes a little smirky face.
Croyd has all the subtly of a truck right now but he THINKS he's being clever. He waits for a nice breeze to come along and knocks the bench Ian is sitting on over, as if blown over by the wind. He's hoping that the experience will knock Ian's wallet out of his pocket but can rip it off (pocket) if need be.
Game started Lil' Gabriel takes off running, zig-zagging to avoid the kid right behind him. Given that he's looking over his shoulder he misses the fact that he's on a direct collision course with the man in the light jacket with trailing feathers. And a few seconds later the collision actually happens.
And that when things get strange. As the kid if rebounding off the young man his form start wavering and by the time he lands on the ground he's a golden amoeba. The amoeba quickly gains in size until its solidifies into an exact copy of Jay, except that this Jay is laying on the ground, large, red-feathered wings spread out behind him, wearing only a pair of now ill fitting shorts.
The wind starts knocking things over by the playground. Random kids suddenly turn into duplicates of wandering guitarists with giant wings. Yes, definitely a Wednesday afternoon in New York.
Jay is watching some of the other kids when Gabe runs smack into him at full speed, halting the red-headed young man's steps with a brief 'umph' of sound. Hands immediately reaching out to try to steady the younger boy upon reflex from a man whose had younger kids ricocheting off of him from the time he could walk up until...well, forever. A good-natured smile resting muted across his features, Jay actually murmurs, "Whoa, there, pal..." trying to catch the boy when he bounces off and falls on his ass. 
... ... and... turns into an amoeba? 
Jay holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender--or more clearly, innocence--and a step backward when that small blip turns into, uh, him? Him with wings and everything. Like a strange funhouse mirror, verdant eyes widen as he stares at the copy of himself, feathers awkwardly splayed behind him, his eyes fall immediately to the copy's chest and the chewed up scar in the center of it. Whipping his head up to the others in the vicinity, his reaction is honestly pretty lacking. Frozen. "I..." Looking back down to Gabriel. "...Ah...are you...?" Is he what? All right? A mutant? Left handed? What?
Meanwhile, Ian the nefarious little shit, has his plan to terrorize do-gooders interrupted by his bench suddenly being tipped over. There is no moment when Ian believes it was actually the wind, and with the bench on his left leg, he shouts, loudly, "HEY!" at what he expects to see as someone behind him. When he doesn't see them, his gaze darts around swiftly to try and find who would possibly be close enough to do it, fruitlessly. His wallet doesn't spill out. He'd have to own one. But some odd things /do/. There are two little bottles with a clear liquid in each one, one with a yellow cap and one with a blue. There's also a clip for a gun that slides out and skitters on the nearby walking path. A rolled-up pack of M&Ms, half eaten, and a business card for a shop that sells and repairs Cuckoo Clocks.
Croyd takes the card for the cuckoo clock shop. They might have speed to stay up late and repair clocks! Yeah! M&M's? mmm.....random liquids? AWESOME. It might be speed. He drinks both of them. At the same time. It might be speed! Gotta stay awake! Gotta stay awake! Why the @#$@#$ does this guy have no cash?! Whywhywhywhy? Oh neat amoboea thing. Is he tripping? Can't let the hallucinations get him! Can't! Have to stay awake! He already looks around for another walking wallet.
Jabriel rolls to his feet then flaps his wing, looking curiously to one side then the other. Then his eyes focus on the guy that just tripped off his bench while his mouth answers Jay, "Yes, I'm a mutant. Yes, I'm you for the moment. Yes, I'm OK. And there must be a really interesting micro-burst over there, since that guy's things seem to just be floating around..."
Jay, Original Recipe, takes another step back while the kids formerly playing tag at the playground start to slow down and notice the weird dude with the really tight shorts and the giant red wings. Coupled with the sound of the bench knocking over, someone's pocket spontaneously ripping and spilling all contents, a ripple of the unusual glides over the veneer of the day at peace. Drawing idle attention at first in those precious moments before people realize what's actually going on.
Jabriel answers the unspoken questions on his own while the red-head in an actual shirt glances side to side. "Yeah I kind of figured, kid." He mentions to the copy with a vague look of concerned uncertainty. Reaching out, but not quite touching the other 'him's shoulder, both hands draw back again. "How do...ah...you change back?" Distracted attention making his gaze jump up to the experimentally flapping wing looming over Gabriel.
Ian sees his stuff suddenly go missing! "What...no...no no..." and then he starts speaking in German, looking around in a panic for the bottles. In his panic haste he ALSO notices the angel with the red wings and the kid-sized shorts. "America deserves everything.../everything/...it receives." He grabs the clip and tucks it away fast. But still, his bottle bomb was ruined and someone has up and slurped up all his drano.
Croyd suddenly goes 'blurp'....and stops. He doesn't feel very good...and proceeds to vomit. Ian might be in the way. Anyone might including small children. Some of itmight even end up on the tin foil. But nice purply hurl spews everywhere as Croyd howls with rage. He is feeling...peckish. "NOOOO! can't sleep!" But speed won't do him much good with a hole in his stomache...he stumbles around and staggers off.
[Roll] Ian rolls 1d20: 20 = [20]
Ian does decidedly NOT get puked on.
Jabriel blinks for a moment as vomit just appears out of thin air near the clumsy young man causing scream and finally making the crowd of kids start running around scared, yelling about puking ghosts. The ones that aren't rolling around on the ground laughing their butts off.
The Weirdness of it all is enough to make him miss the man appearing out of thin air a few feet down the pathway, especially since his brain has finally managed to get his attention and inform him of the fact that someone has a clip, which would hint at having a gun too. Speaking out of the corner of his mouth he says to his new twin, "So... I hope that your one of the good guys because, well, the guy that fell of the bench just pocketed a clip. He might have a gun to go along with the ammo..."
Jay's still rather uncertain as to what exactly is going on when the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up nearby cuts the air. His attention swings wide in that direction as a fountain of vomit springs up out of thin air, almost splattering all over the guy scrambling to pick up his affects and muttering anti-american commentary under his breath. "What the heck is going on? Did he just say 'Can't sleep?'" Watching some guy just randomly appear down the path, fleeing the scene. He doesn't even immediately notice that in the strangeness of the evening, the copy of himself doesn't answer his query.
Double-taking when 'he' talks to him, there's a shake of his head, perplexed. "What? I...Yes?" Sincerely unnerved by the copy, there's a few steps back, shifting uncertainly as he continues to look back occasionally to 'hid' wings. Turning his attention over toward Ian, picking himself up. "Hey. You all right?" Clip or not...clip doesn't always mean 'bad', right? Optimistic.
Ian looks up at Jay when the twin to short-shorts guy comes over to him. "What? Um..." He watches as the thief appears further down, and now he can see the empty bottles. It doesn't take long to put that together and he rubs the back of his neck and looks back to Jay. "I'm ok. I think that guy down there was just trying to hassle me." Not going to mention that he might have inadvertently SUPER poisoned that guy.
Jabriel looks from Clip-Man to Ghost-Pucker and then hops a bit, flaps his wings to fly over Croyd and land in front of him to ask, "Did you just try to steal all of that guy's stuff while you were invisible?" He asks this as if being invisible was the most normal thing in the world. 
Croyd stops and sort of....wonders what the hell this guy is. His stomach is hurting. A lot. "Well....yeah. But he had some kinda poison in his bag. Totally NOT speed. Gotta stay awake. Excuse me. I've gotta get some more speed." He didn't kick Jabriel. He was polite.
Jay watches...himself take off and stares for a moment, simply shaking his head. Handling this whole thing rather worse than the red-headed teen wearing the inappropriately short shorts. He could almost pull them off if he wasn't basically bursting out of them. There's a shake of Jay's head and skate of one hand through his hair as he turns back to Ian. "Good...So long as you're all right. This is one of the weirder days I've had around here, I gotta admit. But don't worry, it looks like," lifting a hand out while Jabriel tries to catch the guy fleeing. "'I'm' after him. Or something." Helplessly, Jay chuckles breathily and shakes his head at the ridiculousness of the situation, brows lofting upwards with a look back to Ian, eyes glowing with mirth. Better to just go with it.
Ian looks after the twin heroes as they go to confront the unfortunate thief that stole his stuff. His thought of how tonight would end up...did not include being championsed by heroes because someone stole his bomb supplies. He gives Jay and Jaybriel a bemused look, and then will try to get out of there before anyone figures out his part in Croyd being sick.
Jabriel peers at the man in front of him for a moment while he takes it was he's just been told then mutters something to him before taking off and winging he way back to Ian and Jay. When he realizes Ian has left he sighs, "Maaaan... He had poison on him too. Not just a possible gun." Then he remembers he was asked a question a while back and goes back to that point of the conversation, "Changing back just needs some focus and an inspiration." Looking around the park he spots a bodacious blonde jogging along on of the paths in the distance and focuses on her. A few seconds of concentration and he's melting into that golden ectoplasm again then reforming a few inches shorter and with a lot more curves. Strangely enough this time his outfit matches that of the blonde jogger, "See?"
"If he had poison on him, that guy would be in a lot worse shape than he was." Jay returns thoughtfully with a shake of his head, furrowing his brows as he looks between Ian and Croyd's retreating backs. "I have to stop walking through this park or something, man. Something strange always ha--" Jay turns his attention back to his doppleganger and halts midsentence. "...happens." Scraping moss-green eyes down his own torso, there's a small wince as he notes the scarring on the chest, gaze jumping up at the wings once more. "Would you mind--ah." An appreciative nod, though now the teenager's eyes flick away for a whole different reason than before. "You got your clothes to change that time. Good thing." Swallowing down a little on the hard side, there's a small, strained smile to Gabriel. "So, which is the real you?"
The statuesque blonde in front of Jay arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow and smiles a bit with just the left corner of her lips. "Well, that would be telling, now wouldn't it?"
Taking a few long stides she fetches a TNMT backpack that's been left along the edge of the pplayground the kids had been originally playing in and when she comes back she's already pulled out a small card with only two things printed on it: then name Gabriel and a telephone number. Offering the card with her left hand she offer her right to be shaken and adds, "But I will give you two things. My real name is Gabriel and I'm an adult... Unless I don't want to be."
That wink from the busty blond that used to be him that used to be some kid makes a little bit of color rush into Jay's cheeks, crawling up from his neck. He's used to enigmatic answers by now, parting a too-quick smile and breathy non-laugh with a glance tearing away, across the park, avoiding the puddle of drain-o-puke in the middle of the walkway. Hands stuffed into his pockets as the 'woman' walks across to grab the backpack. With a roll of his shoulders and the slight bulge under his jacket, Jay adjusts the guitar strapped to his back and apparently assumes that the new acquaintence is leaving on that witty good bye. A little surprised when 'she' walks back to him, offering a card; an increasingly familiar gesture as he reaches out to take it automatically complying to shake the other hand. "Jay. Pleasure, Miss--er...Well. Gabriel." A glance at the card, the young man runs the card down his fanned fingers of the other hand with a softly rhythmic 'fwip-fwip-fwit' of sound. "Sounds handy." A little extra lean in that southern accent.
The blonde that used to be Jay gives the real Jay a little finger wave then starts jogging away since she's now in a good shape and outfit to do so. Calling over her shoulder she adds as a parting comment, "Call the number if you have anything you think I could help with." Then moves on down the path at a pace that would do many an Olympic distance runner proud.
Jay watches the now-blonde jog away from him, leaving the young man in a vacuum of peace after the wash of abrupt chaos. The sounds of the world slowly filtering around him--children playing, people walking by, traffic some distance away, the wind--catching up with him as if he were suddenly dropped back into reality. However, there is still evidence of the madness: a puddle of drain-o vomit and the card in his hands. Shaking his head slowly, Jay exhales hard through his nostrils, almost a laugh. "Weird, weird place." But a smile plays musingly upon the corners of his mouth. Inhaling deep, Icarus rolls his shoulders back and swiftly strides on his path as if nothing had ever happened.
Category:Log