Participants:
| Scene Title | We Didn't Start The Fire |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | After drawing the ire of a gang of thugs, Seamus and Luke get in a fight, they both get shot, but the other guys are the worst off from it. |
| Date | November 22, 2010 |
East Harlem was and is still referred to as 'Spanish Harlem' or 'El Barrio'; a majority of its population is of Hispanic descent, especially originating from Puerto Rico. It also includes immigrants from around the world. East Harlem is no longer quite the low-income neighborhood it once was, due to the increase in housing prices across the board, but it remains one of the neighborhoods where making ends meet is merely difficult instead of impossible — in an economic sense.
The neighborhood is plagued by other problems. Although mostly unaffected by the explosion, the influx of refugees to East Harlem has compounded the issues present previously. Fresh foods, produce and meats alike, are scarce and expensive. Crimes of all sorts, from theft to assault, are frequent; drug trafficking and use is extremely widespread.
Gun shots ring out in the streets of Harlem, though much closer than our Antagonists may be used to. Seamus skids on the sidewalk as he veers around a corner into an alley, sprinting at full-speed right alongside Luke. He's panting, his shirt is soaked with beer, and he's bleeding heavily from a cut in his cheek, yet he's grinning like mad as he yells at Luke, half-deaf from the bullets ricocheting off the asphalt behind them. "Lesson learned! Don't throw beer bottles at those squiggly lines on the sides of buildings!"
Luke is wearing a hat to disguise himself a little bit, but it doesn't stop him from causing trouble anyway. "Next time let's just throw them in the air and try to make them explode, I have fun with that." he calls back over as he dodges bullets. This seems kinda familiar. "Got any ideas to lose 'em?"
"You an' your fancy-pants powers! Some of us have t' make bottles explode th' hard way, y'know!" Seamus ducks his head as one of the gangbangers rounds the corner, and bullets fly overhead. Whoops! Out in the open again! Time to enact a daring escape plan! He veers left suddenly, slamming into Luke and knocking both of them against, and through, a flimsy metal door, breaking its wussy lock in one quick shove. They tumble into darkness, the loud clatter of a hubcaps that get knocked over and are sent rolling over the garage floor. Yup, they're in a garage alright. The whole area is dark as hell, with ominous shapes looming in the dimness.
As soon as they're in the door, Seamus is scrambling up to his feet, grabbing Luke by the back of his collar and trying to drag him upright. "C'mon, c'mon! There's gotta be a room here with something we can use!" Or some place where they can get within a range where having guns isn't as big of an advantage.
"Hah. I bet I could make 'em leave. Just give me a good shot and I'll fry their balls off." Luke replies once he's back on his feet. "I did that once to some dickhead who didn't deserve to stay in the gene pool anymore. Fucking rednecks." Luke is supremely satisfied with such an accomplishment. "Why not just wait on either side of the door for them to come in and take 'em out?"
"Because that doesn't work nearly as well as it does in the movies, especially if y' risk getting pulled into th' open by a prepared enemy," Seamus notes, booking it towards one of the backrooms, glancing behind him to make sure Luke is following. "Think y' can take a shot without getting a bullet in your gut?" he asks, right when two bullets richocet off the metal of the open door, and the sound of footsteps of at least four guys approaches, "Cause if so, feel free t— oh hey!" The Irishman skids to a stop, glancing up to the ceiling, and down to the controls for a winch nearby. He grins and turns to Luke, gesturing towards a high workbench nearby. "Take some cover, an' distract 'em. I've got an idea…"
Luke snorts. "You make it sound like we're in a war here or something, prepared enemy my ass." nevertheless, he casts about for stuff to use as distractions, and notices some lightbulbs on the floor. "Here we go." he grabs them and rolls them towards the door they came through. Exploding lightbulbs is something he does best.
"War, gang rumble, y' can get killed th' same in either. Always pays t' be cautious." Bullshit, coming from this guy. Crouching behind the winch controls, the burly Irishman searches around the machine, his hands patting over it in the darkness, searching for…something to make it work.
The first of the gangbangers appears in the doorway, gun drawn and pointing left and right as he enters, ready to shoot anything that looks even remotely human, and his friends come up behind him, yelling threats and obscenities. The clatter of glass along the cement draws fire, and the ground lights up briefly in sparks from the bullets, before one of the gangbangers stops to mutter, "What the fuck?"
Luke had ducked behind a busted tool cabinet, and he looks around it at them, aiming at the face of the first one with some nice microwave energy. Oh, nothing strong enough to damage them, but pain in the face is very distracting. Hopefully whatever Seamus is planning gets done soon.
As Luke raises his hand and charges up his burst, the bulbs rolling across the ground start to glow, their filaments tinlking inside the glass. There's a cry of surprise from the gangbangers, stopping firing in bewilderment. And then a cry of pain from the guy Luke's aiming at, as he clutches his face, making his friends take a step back from him. Words of confusion and fear emanate from the group before…
Clankety-clankety-clank-CRASH! From the ceiling, a suspended engine block falls, the chain its on suddenly come loose to crash directly amongst the group of hooligans, who now have panic starting to set in as they scatter, casting all about the room with their guns. "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU??" is one of the slightly hysterical calls, coming from a lanky teenage guy, his hands visibly shaking as he points his Glock all around him. He loosk left, right, behind him…just in time to see Seamus taking a hop-skip towards him, fist swinging about and connecting the boy's face before he can even think about pulling the trigger. The force of the blow from the burly Irishman clocks him cold in midair, and makes him almost do a backflip before landing in a heap on the floor.
In the meantime, two of the 'bangers are backing up towards Luke, their guns and attention away from him.
That's all Luke needs, because they're not facing him. So he jumps out suddenly, punching one of them in the back of the head and then ramming the other with his shoulder like a linebacker, ready to pounce on one of the guns the minute he sees the opportunity.
The first gangbanger is hit by Luke's solid punch, and he stumbles forward with a cry of pain, clutching at the back of his head…and running headlong into a metal shelf, finishing Luke's work and knocking himself out. He crumples to the floor, making his gun fall hard to the floor. It goes off with a BANG! on impact, and there's a cry from the darkness.
"Fucking hell, dude!" cries Seamus, clutching at his thigh and catching himself on that winch, grimacing painfully. "Did /you/ just fuckin' shoot me??" he calls out to Luke, trying to look through the darkness. The Irishman's cry gets the last of the gangbangers, minus the one Luke has sent stumbling away from him, to turn his gun on Seamus, eyes wide and looking scared for his life.
"I'll fucking kill you!" he cries, looking between Seamus and Luke. "Drop the gun, asshole! Or I shoot your buddy!" he calls to Luke.
"Fuck that!" Luke snaps. "And no, the guy I just took care of did." Luke snatches up the gun and aims his free hand at the gun the other guy is holding. It may look like he's holding his hand out in entreaty, maybe to keep him from doing so, but in reality he's aiming a niiiice microwave at the gun itself, which should make it too hold to hold…. and cook the hand holding it, too. Can't pull the trigger if it's too hot to touch!
The gangbanger cocks his gun, and his voice gets shriller when Luke picks up that gun. "I SAID DROP IT! DROP IT MOTHERF—OW FUCK!" There's the brief smell of sizzling flesh, and a crackle of electricity as he flinches from the heat under his hands. A single shot fires, and sparks off the metal workbench behind where Seamus' head was, half as second before.
"SONNUVA BITCH!" the Irishman yells, only to pick up a nearby hubcap and send it spinning at the guy's knees as he hops about, trying to juggle his hot gun. It sends the banger stumbling, falling to the floor closer to Luke. And then there's the second guy, righting himself and turning on Luke, bringing his gun to bear.
Luke notices the other guy bring his gun up and jerks his own around and shoots him in the leg. "What's that about an eye for an eye?" Luke sneers, then deliberately kicks the other guy in the face. Go to sleep!
Unfortunately, a boot to the face doesn't mean sleep, this time. But it does mean that the poor teenager's head snaps back, blood bursting from his nose. He cries out in pain and curls in on himself, hands over his face as he sobs quietly. The 'banger hit by Luke's ray stumbles suddenly, his leg erupting in pain. But he's made of stronger stuff than his buddies, and he straightens up enough to fire two shots at Luke, fury in his eyes.
The first shot strikes home, hitting Luke in the right shoulder and tearing through muscles. Only a flesh wound, but still hurts like a bitch. Bless your luck, the second bullet goes wide. Speaking of lucky…
The last standing 'banger is taken down by an auburn-haired, whiskey-swilling blur as Seamus tackles him hard to the ground. Hitting the ground already stunned, it only takes a single, roaring punch to the downed teenager's temple before the last of Luke and Seamus' assailants is down for the count.
Luke swears long, loud, and colorfully, and there's a sudden wave of microwave energy hitting everyone near him. It's pretty painful, but not enough to do any permanent damage. Sorry, Seamus, it's not on purpose. Luke has this thing where pain and fear trigger his power, like an instinctual reaction.
Seamus hisses and throws an arm up as he feels himself getting cooked. All around them, metal objects spark and crackle as the Irishman slumps to his side, grabbing onto a shelf with bloody hands and pulling himself out of the radiation. "Luke! Buddy, th' hell you doing?" he calls out, right before there's a POP! and a FWOOMP!
The metal cap of a fuel tank on one of the nearby ATVs pops off, and flames jet briefly out of the hole. Showy, but harmless, if there wasn't an oily rag sitting nearby which goes up like gasoline on a fire. And speaking of gasoline… Guess what's all around the shop?
"Shit we need to get out of here now!" Luke's gripping his injured shoulder as he struggles to his feet. The wave of energy dissipates, though there's a small spike every time his shoulder gets jolted. "Fuck, if you can get out, get out." Luke runs for the exit, not really caring about anyone else. Isn't he such a nice guy?
"You sonnuva bitch!" Seamus yells at the retreating Luke, rocking up and clutching his thigh for a moment, grimacing in pain. He just landed on the limb. As the fire catches and spreads swiftly over the unkempt garage, he pulls back to reality and looks around him at the growing orange glow. "Shiiiiiiit…" Hobbling up to his feet, the Irishman hops up and away from the flame, scanning around the room and balancing on one of the shelves. Quickly, he makes his way towards the door, stopping by a phone on the wall. Taptaptap, and he's leaving the phone off the hook as he hops back over to one of the unconscious gangbangers, grabbing him by the collar. Very off-balance, he limps quickly towards the exit, passing by the hanging phone as he goes, yelling "Fire! Fire!" into the receiver before tossing the banger out in the alley.
If Luke had stayed, he might've done more damage to the building than he'd already done, so in a way, he's protecting them from further harm, rather than just selfishly running to save his own skin. Right, exactly. Except that he deliberately left the gangbangers to burn.
And when Seamus gets some Guinness in him, especially if Luke's paying, it'll all be quickly forgotten about anyways. Shit happens. Only, Seamus is currently in the process of trying to minimize the number of people "shit happens" to. Quickly and carefully, the unconsdious bodies are draped on the pavement, while the wounded and dazed are starting to crowl out, coughing from the black smoke billowing from the room.
Giving himself and his leg a break when it looks like the rest will make it out safely, Seamus starts to hobble down an alleyway, hoping to run into Luke. His expression is determined, though there's a small smile on his face.
Luke is just out of range of what could be flammable, and he's trying to stay a good distance away from anything obviously metal. Metal doesn't like him. So likely, Seamus would catch up to him soon enough. "So why were those assholes after us, again?"
Spotting Luke again, the hobbling Irishman grins and catches Luke by the shoulder mid-sentence, shoving him away down the alley. "C'mon c'mon, no gawkin'! Unless you want t' explain t' th' authorities why you're doin' a swiss cheese impression outside a burning building." No other offers of info at the moment.
Luke allows himself to be shoved away. "Hmmph. Not like they could prove who set the fire anyway. I didn't touch anything, you didn't touch anything. If anyone did, it's those losers." ok, so Luke did start the fire, but they can't prove a thing!
"Too much hassle anyways," Seamus mutters, already on the move away from the burning building at a quick hobble, hand steadying himself against the alley wall. Sure, Luke didn't start the fire. It was always burnin'… "Let's get th' fuck out of here. You don't happen to have a first aid kit on y', do you?"
