applesaucedream | Saving Lives a Mile High [open to all]

Current Music: September 22nd/23rd, 2013

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Saving Lives a Mile High [open to all]

Welcome to another ordinary day in Manhattan. This barely even qualifies as a dream at all, it's so like waking life. The dreamers will find that they're their own perfectly normal selves going about their perfectly normal business and thwarting perfectly normal crimes in their perfectly normal spandex outfits.

What's that? No, of course it's normal to wear spandex (or leather, for the more chic among you) and go around beating up muggers and thwarting your villainous counterparts, don't be silly. What else would you do with your afternoon, not use your superpowers to better the world? That's grossly irresponsible of you; don't you know that with great power comes great responsibility?

So get out there and make the world a better place -- and be sure not to let that disguise slip if you do make it in to work today. Wouldn't want anyone to learn your secret identity, after all.

[OOC: Characters will find themselves thrust into the role of superhero...or at least, super-powered human. Whether they'd use those powers for good or evil (or use them at all), they'll think they've always been this way (or maybe just since that time they fell in toxic waste and developed ~~cancer~~ telekinesis). Usual dream party rules apply: all players and characters welcome regardless of membership status. Characters will remember or forget the events of the dream at players' discretion.]

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Lying to him never does get very far, and honestly it's sort of annoying. He doesn't take it as an insult - he's not that proud. If he were, he'd ditch this entire secret-keeping business and set himself up as a legitimate source of information. But seriously? It's a fast track to him striking you from his list.

Normally, trying too hard to track him is also a deal-breaker. Look, he gets it, he really does. It's a dangerous business! That's why he wants to stay out of it, at least as well as he can manage. But this thing with Iman Asadi is honestly kinda fun. She's got a real distinctive tune to her; he can hear her coming at him a mile away. So why worry too much about it? When the burner goes off in his pocket, he shifts his guitar case to his other hand, grins at the text, and types out a quick response.

Same old, same old. You?

If you're too busy to take it, I can get someone else.

She grins and types one-handed, picking up speed a bit as she heads toward the coordinates B gave her. The enemy of the situation is one of her old regulars, nothing she's too concerned with - she can handle a little multitasking.

You better not! I thought I was your favorite.

It's the only reason I put up with you.

Speaking of which - he pauses and glances around, listening for signs of oncoming Asadi. But it all seems clear, so he settles down onto a nearby park bench. It's too risky to busk when he might have to drop the phone and bail at anytime, so the guitar stays where it is for now.

Have fun ;)

You know it, she replies, just as he swoops in proverbially on her target. Thanks to B's efforts she has the drop on him, and it's easy to stop his bullshit in its tracks. The fight is quick and dirty and not definitive - he's a regular, and like all supervillains worth their salt he knows how to make an escape. The kind of villain who really needs considerable planning before entrapment. Doesn't mean she can't knock him around first.

Midway through that endeavor she's still texting B, offhandedly, not wanting to give him an opening to ditch the burner, not quite yet.

what are you doin after sends just as she lands a solid punch across her enemy's jaw.

I'll buy u dinner ;) as she jams her elbow into the small of his back.

It is a little impolite to ditch a burner in the middle of a conversation. Iman knows he feels that way, he's sure.

Sorry, prior engagement he texts as he leaves the park and crosses the street. It's actually true; there's an open-mic night he promised to go to with a few of his busker friends. For fun, even, and not as a cover for scouting! He's midway through his next response when a shift in the flow of people makes him glance up. Hm...now, what is going on up there? It sounds contentious, to all of his senses.

something going down on W 83rd and Columbus, he fires off instead as he starts slipping through the crowd, much more vague than his typical missives. It's sort of maybe implying that he's actually there right now, but no big deal. He'll be gone long before she can get here. deets in a sec

She's about to land a finishing strike when her target evades her nimbly and manages an unavoidable retreat. Teleportation has got to be the worst superpower anyone could have. Absolute bane of her existence.

She sighs and picks herself up, wincing a bit at her minor scrapes. She'll be fine, just a little dent in her pride, as usual. She looks back at her phone and lifts her eyebrows.

Ready for more, she sends. This one's scampered off to lick his wounds. She starts heading quickly for the indicated intersection. She's not too far off, as B must have known.

He glances down at his phone, wielding the guitar case in his other hand to shove through the crowd. Aw, did that guy run off again? Those teleporters...so difficult to get a handle on, even for him.

Too bad, he responds, no longer really paying attention to what's in front of him. It doesn't sound violent yet, more like it's considering being so; he'll likely be able to tell before it actually escalates anyway. He'll tune into that in a second. I'll look into it

Okay, now what's going on here?

"B" is a problem, and has been for a while. Little more than a low-level irritation, but Fring - or El Ocaso, as he's known outside the office - has a particular dislike for daily microaggressions. This little busybody, reporting on him, constantly dropping scrapes for Asadi or Rush to pick up, has been a thorn in his side for well past the limit of his patience. And he is a very patient man.

It has taken him some time to find a sufficiently surreptitious way of tracking the man down, but now, finally, as he watches the unassuming civilian tinker distractedly with his phone (via feed, of course - can't get too close to this one), he allows himself a satisfied smile.

Causing the diversion was simple enough, all it took was a couple bribes, some capable interlopers B won't be familiar with. And Ocaso can swoop in for the proverbial kill. It's not B's head he wants, not yet at least - it's whoever that is he's in contact with.

He arrives at the scene quickly, quietly, and approaches as unassumingly as if he were at his day job. B will sense the approach, however it is he does that, but not before Ocaso opens his mouth.

Persuasion was always a talent, and now it's a superhuman one.

"Stop walking," he says calmly, with the slightly lower register, the commanding pitch that is his signature ability. "Turn around and behave as if you know me, which you do, of course. Tell your friend it's me, and that you're in need of assistance." He smiles politely. "In your own words, of course."

The diversion should be wrapping up by now. Not too much fuss. Some smoke bombs, some disorder. This is the real danger. It always was.

The scene itself isn't much; nothing more than a quick robbery, really. It stings at him a little not to stop and investigate that weird smoke cloud, but that isn't his role. After taking mental note of the direction the guys took, he continues on his way as if he hadn't seen a thing. It'll be alright. He'll just let Iman know...

...wait. Is that...?

As predicted, he lifts his head in alarm, chest tightening at the sound of El Ocaso approaching from far too close. But before he can so much as try to run, Ocaso speaks, and the tension drains out of him as he instead stops in his tracks. Oh. This isn't so bad. Things actually seem just fine now! Why he was getting so worked up? "Okay, sounds good," he says, turning and flashing Ocaso an agreeable smile, as if they were friends meeting on the street. Then he drops his gaze to his phone again, obediently erasing the message he'd been writing and sending out another in its place:

Ocaso's here. I could use some help.

It's a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Ocaso's right - it's a good plan.

Oh, shit. So much for getting a break.

This is a first, too, B actually implying they are the one who needs help. Coupled with Ocaso's particular ability, it's not too hard to stretch that anomaly into a hypothesis and a theory, that this is a trap, and B is the bait. It's all fun and games until you get caught, ain't it, B?

Iman huffs out a breath. There's no locational information given so she clicks on the little signal-tracker Rush cooked up and zeroes in on the burner. She's not too far off actually. Small world.

She breaks into a dead run. Killing B wouldn't be Ocaso's style, but he's not above just about anything else, and she'd really rather not lose that resource.

As she gets close she drops off the path and practically skitters up a tree. Dense enough here that she can move in from above, hopefully get a literal drop on them.

There's Ocaso - and there's some guy. He looks the part in that he doesn't particularly look like anyone special. The perfect spy.

Ocaso glances at B and says politely, "Perhaps you could point them out, when they've arrived."

"Yeah, sure." He nods again at the glance and turns his attention to to the street, listening intently. He knows where Iman just was; it's easy enough to predict where she'll come from.

This isn't what he does. Even now, he knows this isn't how he uses his abilities, reporting right to someone like this. Iman's his friend, in a distant anonymous sort of way, right? But it's Ocaso asking, and that somehow makes it feel very important. He needs to do a good job on this one. Bending slightly, he sets his guitar case down on the pavement, then tilts his head slightly as he straightens. Ah, there she is!

"She's coming," he reports, glancing around and then right up into the treetops on the side of the path. "She just went up there. She sees us." Right now he doesn't feel any particular alarm about that, though of course being seen is another thing he never does. There must be a plan here; he trusts Ocaso.

Oh well fuck. He's looking right at her now.

B spotted her without even trying. How'd he do that? Guy must have some serious premonitory senses or something, with all the shit he pulls on the regular, but now is not the time to think about it.

She drops down, attention fully on Ocaso. He doesn't usually use his power on her, wouldn't be sporting or whatever, but that isn't a reason to trust him an inch.

"'Sup," she says with a lackadaisical wave and a nod toward B. "You got somethin' for me?" Her hand lowers back down to meet its mechanical counterpart, fingers lacing together. The fun thing about the prosthetic's design, this intentionally jank-ass rusty dieselshit look, is that it effectively masks the plethora of higher functions buzzing away inside it. Looks analog, runs like a supercomputer. Sure, everyone knows she can do limited spatial warping with it, but do they know she can text? Well, she hopes not. Cause she really needs Nick Rush to get this text, and get his ass over here, preferably in an ambushing capacity.

-

She's in luck, as far as Ocaso's concerned; to him, her arm is a dangerous weapon, nothing more. He also believes her proud, and he's not wrong, but is it pride that precludes calling for backup? Not when there's another party involved, as it turns out; to be fair, this is a first for them.

"I thought you might be interested to know who was behind so many of our scrapes," he says calmly. "I know I was."

His influence over B will last several minutes more at least, and it'll only fade if he doesn't give new commands. He lets the man be, not seeing reason to restrain him more than with words. It's not as though he's a threat when he's here in the open, is it.

"Iman! Hello!"

Ocaso's influence is still quite clear; for someone who's always done everything possible to keep his identity hidden, B is very relaxed about suddenly being unmasked twice in as many minutes. He actually looks pleased to see her, grinning and lifting a hand in a little return wave. Isn't this fun, all of them getting together like this?

Solve your own problems.

His thumb hovers over the SEND button with irritating indecision. The city has been silent, save for the standard desultory array of petty thefts and attempted muggings, and he has no particular reason not to assist Iman Asadi with what appears to be a rapidly growing problem.

Nick slides the phone into his pocket as he continues to draft a string of texts he will never send.

I'm not at your bloody beck and call.

The network of traversable pathways within the city's sewer system are a painful cliché he knows back to front, inside and out - more pointedly inside as opposed to the latter. He slides the metal disc of a manhole cover aside with the hollow scrape of weighted metal and slips into the gaping entrance.

Don't think you won't owe me for this.

The wet splatter of booted feet through filmy water. The cylindrical labyrinth of tunnels stretching into pooled darkness, that of the dim lighting and eerie resonance and shifting light thrown by the lapping of a murky current.

Fuck off.

It's extremely likely Iman had a great deal contingent on the fact that Nicholas is well-accustomed to tracing the origins of every notification he receives. She is also extremely fortunate, he notes, that when he returns to the surface, he approaches the incipient calamity from the back rather from the front.

He knows the back of the silhouette facing her. He knows the set of those shoulders, the startlingly unperturbed stance, the quiet evenness of his tone.

Nicholas slows, hand easing to the weapon at his side.

Iman regards B impassively, wondering if he's inwardly roiling at being identified right now, or what.

"This is between us, man," she says slowly. "Just let him go and we'll keep it above board."

"I see no reason to play above board," says Ocaso smoothly. "Maybe if you disarm yourself, we'll see."

Was that a pun? It better not have been. Iman scowls at the suggestion; but the good news is Rush got her message and he's closing in fast. So she raises her arm. "Come get it," she invites.

Ocaso isn't one to take the bait. He eyes her suspiciously, debating the advantages of spreading his influence to her, but why would she - oh. Of course. Someone is behind him.

He turns sharply, making a violent grab for B's arm, the force of which might be enough to jostle him out of it. Ocaso so dislikes being taken by surprise.

He, naturally, has known Rush was there since a little before he came up out of the ground. You don't hear that too often, away from the subway lines. But he didn't betray any surprise. He just listened to the approach and said nothing, because...well, Ocaso didn't mention alerting him to anyone else who happened by, now did he?

"Hey!" He snaps as Ocaso twists his arm hard, turning about to meet Rush. "What the hell - "

...oh.

Oh, shit.

There's a moment of shocked realization, followed by sinking horror as he glances toward Iman again, this time with recognition of what this actually means. Years! He's been doing this for years, and it's all falling apart over the course of ten minutes! If he can, he'll tear himself away from Ocaso - from Fring - and take a few steps back towards her. He'd run, but it's too late for that. Best thing he can do now is just try to stay out of the way. Fighting isn't his business; he's an information guy.

"Sure, why not," he snipes anyway, trying to hide fear and anger with sarcasm. "Your underhanded little plans always end so well."

Nicholas feels his teeth bare in a soundless snarl as El Ocaso unspools into vicious twist of motion, jerking around some innocuous bystander whose identity is beyond the scope of his concern or his insight. It is not entirely germane. The breadth of his attention has been wholly devoted to El Ocaso and the emergent brisance of a potential outcome.

He cannot let the man speak.

He cannot let the man speak and should El Ocaso attempt to initiate any defensive action, which he will because he must, Nick's first course of action must be to disarm him. It must be.

There is the breathless span of seconds in which the other man turns.

Nicholas darts out with one closed fist and slams it into El Ocaso's throat.

His eyes narrow at the sight of Nicholas Rush, ever present thorn in his side, and his hand clenches around B's arm at the attempt to wrest away. Rush is not like Asadi, he doesn't delight in childish games, he launches quick and brutal to the point of things, and Ocaso no longer needs B to draw in the targets; now he needs a human shield.

The fractional moment it takes him to activate a signal on his phone, concealed under a subtle flick of his wrist to the device in his pocket - reinforcements are, regrettably, appearing required - is all Rush needs to lunge forward, breaking with the more gentlemanly tradition of lifting a firearm and making threats, and punch Ocaso in the throat.

For fuck's sake.

He lets B go in a spasmodic motion, hand flying instead to his neck as he folds over in shock, gasping violently. Ragged little shit, essentially throwing dust in his eyes. He lashes out, seizing Rush's arm and twisting hard, shoving his weight forward with intent to throw the smaller man down to the ground and drive a knee into his back. He can barely breathe but he's moving on instinct now, anger and adrenaline powering him forward.

"Fucking shit," mutters Iman under her breath as she reaches out to pull B back a few steps more. Rush might be about to need backup but she's not ready to abandon this dude just yet. "You okay?"

B gives the hand on his arm a wary look, but lets Iman tug him back. It's just her; he trusts her. She won't hurt him, anyway, so he doesn't make any move to leave even after he's released. "Fine." He lets out a short, humorless bark of laughter that doesn't sound fine in the least, pressing a palm briefly to his temple. She shouldn't be worrying about him right now. Rush may be plenty capable in a fight, but so is Fring. "I'm fine, just - "

Focus. Calm down and focus.

He takes a breath, watching the fight without seeing it. "Reinforcements," he mutters, then nods sharply as he confirms. "He's called someone."

Ocaso's larynx gives beneath the satisfying pressure of knuckles on skin, which is all the fleeting contact Nicholas is allowed before Ocaso is able to torque both his arm and the current circumstances to his advantage.

He twists against the unrelenting momentum, the iron fingers around his arm and the vicious levering of a knee into his back and the sting of asphalt on his cheek.

"Fuck off," he snarls, jerking powerfully in the other man's grip, once, twice, in tireless repetition, skin burning against concrete as he tears and tears and tears and will continue to tear until he has torn himself apart beneath fingers and concrete and the horrible unyielding pressure, until with his free hand he can seize a switchblade and flip it open and jam it recklessly upward in the vague direction of the man whose entire weight has been yoked over him.

Edited 2015-07-17 04:07 (UTC)

She darts a sharp look at him. Reinforcements? When? Not for her, surely, so this had to have been when Rush appeared. It's not at all a matter of how Ocaso managed that, but how B knows. She's looking point blank at him and he hasn't done anything. He's not just a really gifted spy. He's got some kind of power. That's how he does this shit, that's how he never gets caught.

She can't deal with that right now. Rush is still on the ground, Ocaso is coughing violently but getting stronger, holding his head down on the asphalt and burying a knee in his back - this has to get dealt with now.

She doesn't bother telling B not to go anywhere, because ultimately she can't stop him, not to mention it's bad form to give orders right after you've been caught by El Ocaso. She springs forward and delivers a swift roundhouse kick to Ocaso's head, and again to his chest, effectively dislodging him and knocking him back. She doesn't waste time tending to Rush, who'd push it off anyway - she launches after Ocaso and punches him hard before holding him down with her mechanical hand around his throat. This is a much dirtier fight than usual but he made the mistake of dragging in a sort-of civilian. That tosses everything out the window.

"Call off your friends," she snaps. "Now."

If nothing else, he'll try to be the best sort-of civilian possible. As Iman leaps into action, he leans down to grab his guitar case again and backs farther away from the fray. If he gets involved at this point it can only be as a hostage, and that's an escalation no one needs.

New Yorkers know not to rubberneck at this kind of fight, so there's no crowd gathered around; people are giving them a wide berth, him included. B stands alone and bounces nervously on his heels, shooting quick glances at the empty sidewalk behind him. He could run. Iman's seen him, but she doesn't know his name or where he came from; he could hop on a bus and be out of the state in hours. There's a bag packed in his apartment and a series of sealed letters that would wrap up all his unfinished business in his absence. Ever since he entered the hero game again, he's been ready for this.

But there's still things he can do to help here. If those reinforcements come anyway, a few minutes' warning could mean everything. Ocaso is pinned, so he turns to scan the road for anything hostile-sounding. The general noise of the city makes it harder, when he doesn't know specifically who might be coming - but he's always worked it out before.

Asadi kicks Ocaso in the head.

This is fairly obvious, even from Nicholas's somewhat lesser-if-nonexistent vantage point.

This is not what he would dictate as an expected outcome, but it is not unworkable in concept or in practice and the window in which Ocaso is thrown from his back is enough for Nick to brace both palms flat against asphalt, teeth gritted against the settling ache in the shape of the other man's knee where it ground into his back, and flip himself over to recover enough traction to crab back and away from the imminent catastrophe.

He contemplates the wisdom of simply disembarking and leaving Asadi to it.

Nick sighs and draws his weapon, the ophidian shape of it snapping open with the electrical hum of a building charge as he crouches beside the floored Ocaso and brings the weapon's tip to the other man's temple.

"One shot from this," he hisses, the words low and immediate, "will not kill you. It will, however, place you in a great deal of pain. Therefore," and he presses it viciously against Ocaso's skull, grinding it unremittingly into skin, "I suggest you do as she says."

Ocaso is frozen, staring up at them with wide, furious eyes, his expression taut; his lips part, whether to speak or breathe isn't clear, but Iman lifts a finger to her mouth all the same, smiling coolly. No words, asshole, or she'll crush your windpipe.

His eyes flick between them before he moves a hand slowly to his pocket, fiddling somewhat awkwardly with his phone. Iman lets him do whatever, then snatches the device from his hand, handing it up over her shoulder to Rush.

"In light of this being an embarrassingly colossal fuckup on your part," she says, "I think we should all just back off quietly and part ways. Don't you?"

Not 100% kosher, but they all know there are too many reasons they can't actually take Ocaso down, or they would have already. And she's a little more invested in checking on B and getting the fuck outta dodge. This has been too much of a mess.

Ocaso hesitates before nodding his assent. She loosens her grip just enough to allow him movement, sort of keeping her hand in position as he stands up, before she finally lifts it off and backs up, nudging Rush along with her.

Ocaso is furious, and he loathes the idea of retreating as suggested, but the nature of the plan was inherently flawed, he sees that now. Apprehending B in such an open space, losing grip on him so quickly - the lack of preparation that is necessitated by B's power left him open. It is a mistake that will not be repeated.

He says nothing; not safe to speak with Rush's finger still on a trigger. Glances once, icily, toward B, before backing away. He manages to walk with impressive steadiness considering how thoroughly he was just beaten down.

Iman sighs, stretches out, and turns to look at B.

"You all right, there?" she says. She glances at Rush. "Not like Ocaso to just start picking on random civilians. Something must be in the air today."

B meets Fring's gaze steadily, and knows that he is going to try this again. It doesn't even take listening. Why wouldn't he make another attempt on such an excellent resource? So the corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile, and he gives a little shrug as if to say Them's the breaks.

At the very least, he can still deny the satisfaction of feeling intimidating.

As the other two turn their attention to him, he lets it drop. A civilian wouldn't act like that - and that's what he is, right? A totally random civilian. And Iman Asadi is a wonderful human being. "Yeah, yeah, I'm..." He makes a little display of checking his guitar case over, running a hand through his hair. "...I'm fine. Not sure what that was about, I've barely got twenty bucks in change in here!" He chuckles, a nervous sound that's just slightly too high-pitched. Just a hapless street musician, experiencing some crazy random happenstance!

"Um, are you two okay?" He doesn't need to feign worry as he darts a glance at Rush. It bothers him enough when people get hurt on a call he sent them on; getting hurt on his own account just shouldn't happen.

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oh my goodness look who it is

oh dear

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many days later, a short novel

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much-belated tw for violence whoops

oh right that

oops

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and he would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids and your GUN

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