Participants:
| Scene Title | Start a Riot |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Something goes wrong on market day. |
| Date | March 30, 2019 |
Ferrymen's Bay: Pop Up Market
Folding tables and makeshift awnings decoration a wide, but still crumbling street. The tables hold wares ranging from clothes to food to knickknacks and decor. One is just a man on his guitar, selling flash drives of his latest album. His voice is gentle, a sullen backdrop to the shopping experience.
The stalls next to him are asking for something peppier.
Ezra and Miriam walk with Luther beside them and half filled shopping bags in everyone's hands. The trio have a lot of people to provide for back at the Hands of Mary building, many of which include those in the Zone who can't afford to come even to these little markets, let alone the larger one in Red Hook. Ezra pulls Miriam to the side, to look over a basket of apples.
As people pass, whether they're shopping or just trying yo be on their way, sellers call to them with promises of one-of-a-kind treasures and food like they've never tasted before.
There’s a motorcycle parked on the outskirts of the pop-up market. The two wheeled vehicle is painted an electric violet and even depicts a nude lady lounging, mirrored on either side of the tank. On the top near the gas cap, fancy black script reads: “Tits”. Apparently this is the name of the motorcycle. Below that: ’Not yours? Don’t touch!’ Sound advice.
Markets like these are some weird bastard child of olden day flea markets and grocery stores - and just what Devi is looking for. Sure, she can find all sorts of parts and materials at Raytech, but inspiration? That comes from somewhere a bit more chaotic. The biker chick is biker chique in her leather jacket, fitted black jeans, and kneehigh boots. Her long, raven hair is set in a braid that bobs against her back as she moves from table to table, occasionally stopping to eye a knicknack here or a doodad there. More often than not, she seems to be looking through those around her, rather than at them - her gaze intense and pupils large in a way that threatens to absorb her chocolate colored irises entirely.
Being in the pop-up market is more something to do than something that’s necessary. Chris has no need for knickknacks, isn’t looking for anything specific, and the larger market is likelier the better place to find supplies. He’ll probably go there later.
For now, it’s the mish-mash of peddlers and farmers hawking their merchandise. He’s made a slow wander along the stalls. His boots thud lightly against the ground, hands tucked into the pockets of a worn denim jacket. He looks over all of the offerings with an impression of indifference when he gets near enough to see what’s on the tables properly. But it’s the produce that really holds his attention. So he stops to look.
It’s not often Luther is in need of things from the markets outside of the usual food and miscellany. He’s not here for himself, though, but for the group of helpful folks of the Hands of Mary. And to be kind of a pack mule. Having insisted on carrying the heavier loads so the ladies can freely shop, the tall man drifts a pace behind Ezra and Miriam as a dutiful beast of burden might. The RayTech security chief might not garner a second look from the rest of the crowd, given he’s dressed casually rather than in a uniform suit befitting his normal company title.
Does anyone really need stuff that you can find being sold at a pop-up market? Of course not. Needing stuff is not why people go to pop-up markets. It’s finding random crap that you don’t need but that you can maybe get for cheaper than the seller is originally offering so you can feel all cool like you got a good deal.
That’s currently what Nacho’s doing, it seems. At least, he’s standing in front of one of the booths that’s selling little tchotchkes that look like the kinds of things that are supposed to be handmade but probably aren’t. “Man, maybe for like half that,” he’s saying to the booth runner, who looks affronted.
“That’s one of a kind,” he says, and Nacho just snorts. “Just ‘cause something’s one of a kind doesn’t make it good.” He taps the side of his head knowingly, before he sets down the little statuette and starts to move along.
Well, some people need stuff that you can find being sold at a pop-up market. Remi Davignon is here today, looking for various items for her ongoing project — mostly, decor for various parts, and possibly business connections. Like that fellow selling copies of his album, she’ll have to tell him about the theater — with luck, it will be a bookable venue that can host more than just plays and stage productions.
She may have also gotten herself a few cute clothes — because one has to look good when running a theater, right?
The Frenchwoman who happens to be a doppelganger for a late Raytech PR manager pauses at a booth that has statues for sale, idly pondering an addition to her purchases for the theater — statues might be a nice addition to the entry point, to make it look that much fancier, which is probably why she’s talking to the sculptor about custom work.
A group of men walk together through the market. They look like any other group of browsers, at first, looking over the stalls, tossing some money in for the musician, asking after pricing here and there. But they come upon a young woman's stall, selling garden decor and art. As someone orders a window box, she runs her fingers along it and turns it from plain wood to a glittering gold with the impressions from the wood seemingly baked in.
"Hey!" The lead man shouts at her and she looks his way. He sounds upset, but she doesn't expect him to advance on her stall as quickly as he does. His hand grabs a ceramic bird and hurls it toward the ground to shatter in front of her. She jumps back, as do the customers nearby. "Those powers of yours," he says, "that's cheating. How's a real craftsman supposed to sell a damn thing around here?"
His friends nod behind him, muttering similar complaints as they approach the stall. The young woman behind it has no exit from her little space, and only folding tables between them and her.
Where she not preoccupied in her little world - the one where gears, functions, and potential overlay the existing, dull matter of what merely is - she might have recognized Remi’s doppelganger. Then again, it’s Devi - it’s just as likely she wouldn’t have. As it is, it takes the sounds of aggression and shattering pottery to break her from this half-reverie state and recognize the tensions building right beside her. At first her head shifts sharply, braid whipping around her side, and those unnervingly dark, pupil-filled eyes sweep over the lead man and his tagalongs.
There’s a tilted manner of smile on near neon lips before Devi bothers to blink off the probing, alternate view - her dark brown irises visible once more. “Hey now!” Her husky voice calls up above the Tagalongs’ mutters, the quality as if she were calling out to old friends in a bar. She moves to turn her body and encroach herself somewhere between Mr. Craftsman and Lady Goldfinger’s table, if possible. “Speaking of real craftsmen,” she begins and leans in, wiggling two fingers in a conspiratorial, come-hither way. “I know what you mean. It sucks. They’re just better, eh? So, man up. Shut up. And walk the fuck away.” She leans back with a sweet-as-blueberry-pie smile on her blueberry colored lips.
Someone has struck a nerve… with the Biker Queen constantly at odds with her own ability versus her natural talents and ego.
The loud voices draw at Chris’ attention and his head makes a slow turn to look at the group of men harassing the woman. He moves without much rush but not dawdling either, and slides in to stand beside Devi. His posture says that he and the biker chick are old pals — they aren’t, but no one else has to know that — and probably not the sort of pals that ought to be messed with.
“To be fair,” he begins, with a long look at the shattered ceramics on the ground. “Anyone with any real talent wouldn’t be afraid of someone using any gift they were given.” Chris’ head lifts and he looks at the leader of the group. “They wouldn’t stoop to breaking someone else’s work because they could take pride in their own. Figure it out.” In other words, fuck off. And it’s all delivered in a steady, almost deadpan tone. No anger here.
While Remi is not in the habit of getting into trouble, she can’t help but be rather curious about the open display of anti-evolved sentiments. As the complaining starts, she finds herself drawing closer to the commotion as if the men have a magnetic field of sorts, staying just out of their peripheral vision.
She glances about, first to Devi, and then to Chris — normally, she wouldn’t say anything, but it’s pretty obvious there’s a few others on the side of reason, which emboldens the telepath with the broken ability. “He’s right,” she murmurs, jerking a thumb toward Chris. “If you were a real craftsman, you wouldn’t be so threatened by her, would you?” She glances toward the woman, a concerned frown etched into her face.
She doesn’t want to use it, but there’s a knife in the back of Remi’s pants that she’ll be happy to take out — if it comes to that.
Luther scans the crowd passively while Ezra and Miriam are picking apples. His demeanor placid, attention never settling on any one particular face before it moves to the next. Somewhere in the back-end processing of it all, he falls into a security guard behavior of watching for aberrations and threatening manners.
Cue the loud voices and ceramic shattering noises resulting in his immediate focus thataway. Luther shifts his positioning a few steps between the Hands of Mary ladies and a posture to alertness. Bags gather from one hand to the other, freeing one side.
As other voices counter the disruptive men, Luther looks to them and takes note. And immediately double takes at seeing and hearing familiar faces and voices from the past.
As Nacho is walking away from the tchotchke booth, he happens to look over at the booth where the woman is being accosted. He doesn’t jump in quite yet, because there seem to be more than enough for the moment, but instead just watches, with an expression on his face reminiscent of a meme of someone eating popcorn. In fact, he lifts up the cup that’s in his hand to take a sip in a decidedly similar fashion. Yes, he’s going to rubberneck.
"I told you New York was like this, man," one of the group says, patting the leader on the shoulder as if to console him. There there. But if anything, the gesture makes his annoyance turn to anger. With a jerk, he pulls away from his friend and backhands Remi with enough force to knock her off balance and to the ground. It serves as a signal, because the others move a beat later. Chris catches movement out of the corner of his eye as number two charges in for a full body tackle. The girl behind the counter tries to scramble under her tables, but one of the men grabs her by the hair to keep her from getting away. The friend who seems a little more reluctant backs away from the flurry of activity, passing by Devi as he tries to distance himself some.
"Luther!" Ezra reaches for his arm, "you have to help them!"
"I'm on crowd control," Miriam says, passing her bag to Ezra as she takes off toward the growing crowd of spectators who all suddenly stop moving forward, stuck where they stand.
But those already near the fighting, many of them jump in, trying to stop things or taking the opportunity to release some frustration. The stall gets rocked, sending most of the woman's wares crashing to the ground.
“What’s wrong, kitten,” Chris interjects to the one’s complaint about the city. His tone shifts away from the flat drawl to an almost condescending sympathy. “New York too tough for you?” His eyes flick after the backhand movement at Remi and his eyes narrow slightly. The sudden shift to violence turns whatever he was planning to say next into an annoyed, throaty sound.
Movement to one side turns his attention from the strike on Remi to see someone bull rushing at him. There’s just enough time for Chris to turn into his attacker and catch the force straight on. He’ll go to the ground, but he’s taking someone with him and throwing a right hook in for good measure.
Well, that escalated quickly. Stars shoot across Remi’s vision as she’s backhanded to the ground, and for a moment, she sits, stunned and quite surprised, with one hand pressed to the painful red spot on her face. Ooh, that’s going to bruise later. “Connard,” she hisses under her breath.
If there’s one thing that pisses Remi off, it’s getting her face bruised. Even after years of not acting, her face is her pride and joy. In another world, a man named Anders got killed after he split her lip. In this one, there’s no friend hiding with a gun — but there is a rather sharp knife concealed at the small of her back. The woman moves up to a crouch, touching the red mark with one hand while the other reaches behind her, as if to rub at her back.
With a glint of steel, she pulls out the blade, and slashes at the man’s thigh as she rises — maybe a few stitches will make him think twice about attacking people who are just standing there not doing anything to anyone. “Fils de pute!” She won’t be upset if she doesn’t hit the guy — actually, she’ll be rather relieved if no blood is drawn. But a girl does have to defend herself.
Ezra need not tell Luther twice to push forth and help. He passes his bags to her for safekeeping, the brief eye contact meant to be reassuring that he'll do what needs to be done. An acknowledging nod goes to Miriam as well, and then he turns to push through into the center.
He'll think later on the fact that the familiar face of Remi back from the dead is a thing. For the moment, though, Luther rushes for the man who struck Remi, not to push him towards the blade but to pull the guy back from it and try to save the guy from getting slashed.
The harsh smack is the opening shot at the races, and Devi is every bit a participant as the others. Her head snaps around to check for Remi's response. Chivalry - it's partly why she's already poised before the self-proclaimed craftsman and his fellow goons. But, look at that - kitty's got claws! Devi grins, that devilishly sweet expression unwavering as she shoots out one polished black boot to simply try and trip up the back-peddling rabble-rouser that passes too close to the biker.
The Raven mistress doesn't wait to see if the hesitant man proves light-footed enough to skip away, her goal has always been on the other side of the table… With a quick pivot of her body, she braces one hand on Lady Goldfinger's table and swings her long legs up over. In vaulting, she tries to kick the grabby handed man away from the woman that had been seeking cover under the table of wares. Devi’s quick, limber movements raise the hem of her leather jacket briefly, revealing a black firearm tucked fast into the back of her denim waistband, but she makes no motion to draw the otherwise hidden gun even when she lands on the other side of the table with fists and impish grin drawn up.
“Fuck.” As soon as the fighting starts, Nacho lets out a put-upon sigh, as though it’s personally inconvenienced him. He doesn’t jump into the fray quite as readily as some people, but he does toss the cup into a garbage can off to the side and take a few moments to judge the melee, then starts to skirt around in an attempt to help the woman in the booth.
Chris' right hook lands on his attacker's jaw, leaving blood on the man's lips. But he's not out. He grabs Chris by the head and starts pounding him backward into the ground. It may be in disrepair, but it still hurts when the back of his head meets asphalt. On the second hit, a gash opens up, mixing blood and dirt into his hair.
Luther manages to pull one of the men away from Remi before her blade cuts too deeply, but the man doesn't seem appreciative of the save. He whirls around to shove Luther away from him, an offended huff sounding in his throat. His attention fully shifted from Remi, he swings his right fist, then his left into Luther's gut. He's got strength behind him, enough to knock the wind out of poor Luther. And worse, he follows with a knee between the legs.
Devi doesn't see, but her foot sends the runner off balance and he crashes into a group of onlookers. They can't move, thanks for Miriam, so his fall sends all of them down to the ground. And they get stuck there. If anyone were to look, they would see Ezra helping to guide people away from the fight, a few at a time to keep people from trampling one another.
Unfortunately, that isn't the most eye-catching activity around.
The man behind the tables manages to duck away from Devi's kick, but he has to let go of his catch in order to dodge. The woman skitters away, taking Nacho up on his offer to help. Hopefully he doesn't mind her sobbing against his shoulder, because that is what he ends up with. And even more so when the man catches sight of Devi's firearm. Because he draws his own, meeting her fists with the barrel of a pistol. It moves between her and Nacho in sharp jerks. Also, it shakes in his hand, which proves two things: he's not entirely practiced at having a gun in his hand and is more dangerous because of it.
"Well shit," the summation is vocalized by Devi's husky, alto tones. A quick flit of her dark gaze to Nacho and Lady Goldfinger before a singular thought hits her: Fucking Toots. She gives Nacho a pointed look and then her voice comes a hoarse hiss at the gun-weilding, shaky fool. "Hey, over here. That's right. You wanna talk about some evo-crafting bitch?"
Devi raises her tattooed hands up level with her head, empty palms open in a surrendering, unimposing fashion. "Right here, Twitchy. You got me." The fingers on one hand twitch down, indicating herself. "I'm a mechanic takin' up all them jobs. You plain, boring ass primitives just can't keep-" Mid-sentence she ups the ante on the level of stupid hero moves and doubles down…
Devi attempts to close what little distance remains between herself and the gun-toting hater. She tries to jam the barrel of the semiautomatic handgun into the soft leather and flesh at her shoulder. In a perfect world the pressure against the barrel and slide disables the firing mechanism. If the roll of the dice is less than perfect, though, there isn't enough pressure to jam this backwards safety and she's about to have new piercing of a much larger gauge than she's accustomed to.
Pain turns a normally flat look into annoyance when his head bounces off the asphalt a second time. The wet heat forming on the back of his head is a mild concern, one Chris’ll have to worry about later. A more immediate concern is the guy that’s attacking him. He throws his fist at his attacker’s face again, a quick jab intended to momentarily distract and hopefully open up the opportunity to turn the tables. If he can, Chris will flip things around — literally — and roll with his attacker to come out on top, then follow up with another fist or two.
Well, Luther manages to effectively save the guy from Remi’s blade, which has left Remi in the clear. In theory, she could skip on out and let the bigger and more physically capable man take care of the thug who slugged her in the face. He seemed more than happy to rescue the guy from her.
Remi pauses for a moment, resheathing the knife and casting a quick, frantic look around. Dude who decked her is going after dude who stopped her from cutting a man; the guy she agreed with is grappling on the ground, and there is a gun right there, being held in a shivering pair of hands. The woman instinctively raises her own hands, watching Devi’s response.
“H-hey, guy, come on now,” she murmurs in a gentle tone, calling out to the gun wielder, her hands splayed wide in a harmless stance. Blue eyes dance between Devi and the man holding the gun, a frown growing on Remi’s face. “I know it’s frustrating, seeing all of these Evos using their powers to gain an unfair advantage,” she murmurs, hoping her sympathy and soft tone will help him reconsider his actions. “But is it worth the trouble it’ll bring? You’re in a crowded market full of people, they’ve all seen your face. It’s not worth it, man.”
She could get punched or shot, but hopefully that won’t be the case. Man, she wishes she had her ability back.
It’s not the one two punch that knocks Luther down to his knee, but the other man’s knee to the groin that sends a sharp pain right through. For a scant few moments, he’s stunned enough to be able to move. But Luther doesn’t need to move to continue the fight. With a gritting of his teeth and a hissed out “Fucker”, he focuses on a space in the air between himself and his assailant to let loose a sudden, silent, blinding flash of light.
Hey, it’s probably not the first time someone’s sobbed on Nacho’s shoulder. Maybe just the first time someone has that he didn’t cause! Either way, though, he pulls her away from the fighting, patting her back gently a couple of times but mostly concentrating on not getting punched.
Or shot, apparently, because this dude’s pulled out a semi-automatic weapon! “Whoa, whoa,” he says, and while he doesn’t exactly get between the gun and the woman — he’s not that nice — he does sort of push her to the side and kind of behind him a little bit. “Let’s not get crazy.”
Too late.
The man seems surprised when Chris moves and gains the upper hand. He shouts and brings his arms up to cover his face, but of course… that leaves the rest of him wide open for punching. Especially since he suddenly seems to be focused on getting away than he is on turning the tables.
The gunman makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat. "You don't understand," he says— to Nacho or to Remi, he isn't clear— "I have to do this."
And then, several things happen at once. The gunman sees Devi start to move and he pulls the trigger. The bullet slams through her shoulder in the same moment that Luther's flashbang goes off. People yell in surprise and bring their hands up to their faces. Miriam loses focus on her power and people start to flee in every direction. Some flee. Some stay and jump into the fighting. Punches fly blind, the original instigators receiving their fair share, but when eyes start to clear, the fight has spread up and down the market. People desperately try to get through on their phones, but the signal just isn't with them today.
The thunderous clap of the gun and the blinding flash of the light send waves of reactions across the market. Devi’s first thought is ‘Fuck. I’m dead?’ But the momentum of her body, still having had lunged at the gunman, and the pain that starts as a pinch and quickly begins to blossom into wildfire, both suggest otherwise. Oh, she’s alive alright. And, bleeding to prove it! Her left shoulder rocked back by the impact of the bullet, sending her lunge unbalanced awkward - at this point her only saving grace is her flailing hope of taking the gunman down with her as she lumbers forward and falls at him, screaming the bloody cry of a wounded banshee as she goes! That friggin’ hurt!
Luther didn’t need to provide the bang. The gunfire does that work for him. But it’s that gunfire that seems to be the starting gun for the man whose dayjob during the week as security chief sees him pushing up to a stand and assessing how the situation got this way. Shit. In the past, this would be exactly the scene in which Luther would turn and slink back into the shadows before the proper authorities showed up. Over a decade ago in the past, he wouldn’t have bothered. Things are different now though, and he’s already gotten himself involved enough to take a few hits. Certainly once Ezra and Miriam are caught up in the frenzy, he worries even more. Still, first thing’s first.
Another look goes to the man who punched him and took a shot at his nethers. In the next, Luther snaps out a short stunning bolt of electricity out of outstretched fingers, focused on bringing the initial target down to his knees.
The gunshot and flash leaves Remi with ringing ears and rapidly blinking eyes as she watches the dot of red appear on Devi’s shoulder. For a moment, it’s like everything stops. Fucking guns. Why did this country never do anything to stop gun violence? In her own country, one has to have a license and pass a psychological exam — or at least, they did in her own world. There’s no time for such thoughts, though.
“No you don’t!” She snarls at the man — even if it’s too late to stop him from shooting poor Devi.
As Devi lunges forward toward the man, Remi is moving toward his back — mainly, she attempts to take advantage of the confusion resulting from all of this to try and disarm the fellow, partially by taking a flying leap and aiming her knee at the small of the man’s back, all while grabbing for the gun to attempt to jerk it away — or at least keep it aimed up and away from anyone else.
Here’s hoping she doesn’t get her ass shot trying to be a hero here.
The guy who tackled him isn't getting away that easily. Chris intends to land a couple of solid punches as trade for the head bashing that's getting his shirt all gross and dirty. The first sails easily to crush hands against face. They'll only shield so much. The second is started, but ends up thrown off course as explosion follows gunshot.
His head ducks between shrugged shoulders for a beat, then follows the reactionary flinch with a look over his shoulder. Seeing the man with the fun, Chris twists himself to get away from his attacker. He makes to dive under the table with hands outstretched. Instead of seeking cover, though, he's hoping to grab those ankles and pull feet out from beneath the gunman.
“Bro, you don’t have to do shit.” But that’s all Nacho can get out before the flash goes off and the gunfire begins. “Go!” he yells at the woman with the stall, pushing her away from the fighting. “Just get out of here!” And with that, he tries to do the very same thing, attempting to get a path for them both through the chaos to get away. Apparently he doesn’t think he needs to do anything else to try and stop the fighting.
—
Nacho finds the crowd in shambles, fights breaking out all over, people running between them and doing their best not to get caught in the middle. But, it also gives him a path to follow with other people breaking through and him and the woman able to run along in their wake.
The others are well and truly caught up in the chaos. Devi slams into the gunman, knocking him into Remi's knee. Her hands wrestle for the gun and he yanks back, the barrel swinging around worrying. But, Remi is able to keep his finger from the trigger until Chris pulls his feet out from under him and he loses his grip entirely. He kicks wildly at Chris, hands scrambling to get away. When he makes it to his feet, he bolts.
Most of the instigators leg it from the site, save for one who hits the ground, spasming from the burst of electricity. He may be the only one left to hold responsible, but Luther can see a gun in his waistband, too, proving that they didn't get to do the amount of damage they were aiming for.
Even if Devi's shoulder might disagree.