Hero and Handyman


bella_icon.gif magnes_icon.gif

Scene Title Hero and Handyman
Synopsis Whenever a shoe is broken… he'll be there!
Date November 18, 2010

The Streets of New York City

Blow after blow have brought the city's public transit to its knees, and thus brought any number of the long or recently carless to their feet, trekking across whole city blocks to make their connections. In such circumstances we find Dr. Isabella Sheridan, emerging from one bus and making her way across cracked pavement, avoiding broken glass and burned out shells of cars - it's like Midtown's ruin has managed to further project itself over the rest of New York.

Bella doesn't go in for high heels - two inches is her limit if she's not going to some sort of event. But low heels she does wear, and often, and while they are rarely prone to malfunction - less height meaning less chance for an unfavorable vector of force - sometimes shit happens.

Shit happens today.

The sound of the snap is barely audible over the sound of her shoes on the cement, but Bella feels the attack on her balance at once. She instinctively grabs for a (slightly bent) 'No Parking from 6AM to 9AM - Street Cleaning' sign, arm flailing out and hooking onto the hole-punched metal.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" are her thoughts on the matter, clinging to the (much too cold!) signpost as she assesses the situation. A broken heel. Just… just marvellous.

Suddenly a shadow flies over Bella's head, and a blur of white lands down in front of her to place a gloved hand on her arm, and one on her back, making sure she doesn't fall. He's in white from head to toe, mask with no holes in the eyes or anywhere else, zipped to his shirt in a similar way that his gloves are, white pouches on his belt, cargo pants, and white military boots. The only non-white thing he wears is the American flag scarf that flows from his neck. "Excuse me ma'am, do you require assistance?" he asks with three modulated voices at once, all different pitches, not a tacky deep voice mod.

Bella's first suspicion is that this is some sort of marketing ploy. For what, Bella has no idea, but when weirdly dressed people approach her with signs or costumes or whatever else, this is what she presumes. "Oh, oh, no thank you," is her hardwired response, independent of any real consideration of what this strangely costumed person has said. She's forced to reconsider the situation just as soon as she assesses her own situation, and the prospect of hobbling her way for three more blocks. "I mean, I guess I need a taxi," she amends, eying the stars and stripes scarf.

"Um… who are you exactly?"

"You can call me White Knight." A few people walking by give them strange looks, since he did appear in the news, and get mentioned in the paper a few times. Magnes leans down, then reaches into one of his pouches and holds up a little vial. "It's industrial strength glue, I'll have you fixed up in a minute. Hold the sign and lift your leg."

Ooo… kay. Bella goggles briefly at the 'White Knight' and starts to lift her leg. She was under the impression, from what she read in the Times, that this guy was some sort of costumed vigilante of the sort SLC-Expressivity would necessarily bring to the fore. That he takes time out of his crime fighting schedule to fix shoes is-

Wait, didn't she see this guy the night of the 8th?

The whole ordeal was something of a blur to her, at the time as much as afterwards. Floating, car-lifting people in costumes were partially filtered by Bella's natural (and quite robust) SEP function. She had to leave credulity open for ice monsters and anti-heros on horseback. But this is a figure too particular not jog her memory. What a strange person. What an interesting case.

Leg lifted, she clings to the signpost and peers at this peculiar quasi-delusive. "How long have you been doing this? Damsel detail, I mean."

"A few months. Promised my girlfriend I wouldn't anymore, but the 8th sort of changed things and I talked her into it." Magnes very carefully places the glue on that particular spot of her shoe, then meticulously places the heeel until there's no noticably offset, unless one gets up close and personal with the shoe. "We need to stay like this for a few minutes. This stuff is instant, but the extra time for the chemicals to bond should make sure that it can properly support your weight until you can get to someone who repairs shoes."

"I saw you," Bella admits, because she might as well, "in Queens, that night. I crashed my car. A silver sports car." She's imagining that the whole incident was worth noting, even set against the rest of the 8th's mayhem. Her former co-worker's appearance alone would have made it memorable.

She remains steadfastly attached to the signpost, peering at the work that the White Knight does. Vigilante and handiman both, it would seem. Bella's lips purse slightly. "Flight," she comments, guessing at his power, "but more than flight, I'm guessing. I remember there being a lot of improbable forces going on that evening." Invisible arms and gravitic manipulations, and no way for the casual observer to diagnose much less differentiate.

"Something like that." But, while holding Bella's leg, Magnes quickly deflects and moves on with the subject. "I remember you, you crashed your car while I was on top of it, and sent me flying, so I had to stop myself." He shakes his head, then says something outright suspicious. "I don't know how you always get yourself into these things."

Yes, that's definitely suspicious. And Bella doesn't miss that fact. "I don't know how you know I have that tendency," she counters, with a tone of outright confrontation. Not arguing, of course, that she doesn't get into 'things'. Admitting that the observation is valid. But its very validity is precisely the problem.

"I, uh, see, the thing is…" Now he's stammering, in a similar way that Magnes does when he gets caught in something. He clears his throat, sitting her leg down to test the weight of her leg on the heel, very carefully. "I'm from the future!"

Voice modulators can hide tone and pitch. They can even hide some of the finer points of affect. But basic verbal patterns and tics… those are beyond simple scrambling to conceal. Bella blinks as synapses fire, and her mind - a quick enough thing - forges connections she wasn't even aiming to forged.

"Oh dear Lord," Bella says, looking down at the individual who told her to call him the 'White Knight', "if you weren't lying, I'd have to suspect that was the truth, is the worst of it." She presses down on her heel. It doesn't give. Shoe - fixed. Another victory for superheroism. "I pray you haven't actually been keeping an eye on me. Please tell me this is a chance encounter. You could call, you know."

"I don't know what you mean, ma'am." 'White Knight' goes back to his superhero demeanor, standing up straight, at roughly Magnes' height, off-hand. "But I haven't been watching you, I've been patrolling the entire city. I try to watch the routes near the Suresh Center when people are going to work, just in case anti-Evolved try some sort of attack."

"Well," Bella says, smoothly, fixing the costumed cobbler with a level, bullshit-calling look, "that's a terrifically noble thing to do. Just don't get shot or arrested yourself in the process. And if you do get into trouble," a hand slips into her purse and extracts a badge, flashed quickly, bearing the seal of the DoEA, "remember that some people are willing to look out for you, as much as the other way around."

"Ah, uh, yes ma'am… that's very generous of you." Magnes finally slides his glue back into one of those pouches. Who knows what's in all of them? Then he starts to ascend into the air. "I'll see you around, then. And don't forget to get that shoe checked!"

"I'm sure you will," Bella comments, a bit dryly, though not without humor and a certain fondness. No doubt about it, not in Bella's mind, not now. "Take care of yourself. Don't overstrain your girlfriend's allowance, now. Not for broken heels, anyways."

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