When Push Comes to Shovel [IC]

[Dr Archeville]

Date: November 12th, 2010 (Friday). Evening.

Temp in the upper 30s. Clear skies, clam winds. Waxing crescent moon (~40% visible)

Gabriel Quinn hadn't been in Freedom City for long, but he liked what he saw so far. The climate wasn't that different from Gear City, and the skies were cleaner to boot. Yeah, there were flamboyant supervillains running around, but there were also a ton of equally flamboyant superheroes -- how cool was that? And the fish taco he'd gotten from this street vendor was delicious!

But he was not in the Waterfront for food or frivolity: he was following a lead. Word was a Daniel Webster a warehouse here, and where that name showed up, Mr. Scratch was rarely far behind. But his search was interrupted by a crackle of static and message hissed across the police scanner he had on him: a woman had been assaulted as she exited Infinity, the popular smoked glass-and-chrome nightclub not far from where Gabe was.

Hero time!

Ducking into a conveniently nearby alley to change, Push then rocketed off, scanning the streets for anything mugger-y-ish. In moments he found something -- three rather burly men, sprawled out on the street, and a fourth one, being conked on the head with a shovel wielded by... a zombie?!

[Quinn]

Quinn screeched to a halt, ducking behind a nearby car and eyeing the zombie. Last time he'd seen one of those, it was the first time he'd run into Scratch, and that damned debacle at the museum. This one seemed a bit less...dense though. It wasn't dragging any of them off, and it wasn't moaning or groaning like those husks Scratch had raised. Still was shambling along though...

Either way, a dead 'un's a dead 'un, the ersatz hero thought. He waited until it had reached down to pick up the purse they'd dropped, then stepped from behind and raised his arm, shoving a kinetic charge into the palm but not releasing. He lifted the scarf with his other hand to cover the bottom half of his face, then said in a muffled but still quite clear voice.

"Hold it, bones. Drop the loot or I drop you."

[Dr Archeville]

After the fourth man fell, the creature looked up, eyes glowing with an unnatural blue-green flame. It raised one hand slowly, as if reaching for Gabe... then waved at him.

"Hey there!"

... what?

"Loot? I an' seen no loot, I just seen these fellers chasin' that girl a few blocks back. Lucky for her I was in th'area! Seemed awfully rude'a them, so's I stepped in. Stopped 'em long enough t'let her get away, a' when they realized that, they came after me. Which was their second mistake'a the night."

The creature cocked its head and squinted at Gabe, "say, I ain't seen you 'round before. You new to the heroin' gig?"

[Quinn]

Push kept his eyes narrowed, the air in his hand beginning to warp and crackle from the force just sitting there. The zombie was talking, alright, and it was acting awfully friendly considering it'd walloped those thugs. And talking about heroin? Man, this could not get much weirder. Still, better safe than sorry. Time to test the waters a bit...

"Right. Just your friendly neighbourhood zombie. Snapping pictures for the Daily Bugle too? You'll forgive me for not buying that right off the bat."

He shifted his eyes left and right briefly, checking his flanks. Didn't look like anything nasty was creeping up, at least not yet. But the cops'd be rolling in real soon to check on that mugging. If things got ugly...he needed answers, fast.

"I'll make it plain, husk. Tell me where Scratch is. Or I stuff you in your coffin." He stopped to ponder for a moment, then smirked. "Upside-down."

Quinn flexed his fingers slightly, feeling the heat and pressure building up on his palm. He'd shoved about enough juice to knock over a car in this shot...again, better safe than sorry.

[Dr Archeville]

Average police response time was four minutes, so Gabe knew he had a bit of time to deal with this, but not much. But... what was he doing?

The creature tilted its head the other way, and stared at Gabe with its flaming blue-green eyes. "Ain't never heard'a no Scratch feller, but if'n ya got an itch..."

It propped its shovel against a nearby lightpost, and grabbed his right forearm with his left hand. One sickening POP later, his right hand and forearm was in his left hand, and he threw it to the ground in front of him.

"... yer free ta use that."

To Gabe's horror, the hand began crawling towards him!

The creature bent down and with its one remaining hand picked up one of the burly men in the street, and dragged him towards the sidewalk. "Ifn' yer lookin' fer some devils, though," he continued, very nonchlantly, "we had a whole mess'a 'em here, 'bout a year ago, but most'a them's been kicked back down. There's still a few here an' there, but that's life..."

Its' head twisted at a very unnatural angle to look at Gabe straight on.

"... an' a bit beyond, too!"

[Quinn]

The vigilante froze as he saw the hand crawling towards him, a creeping chill running up his spine.

"I'll...pass on that backscratcher, thanks."

Whatever this particular zombie was, either it didn't know who Scratch was, and was independent...or it was a particularly strong minion of that insidious grey-suited man. At this point, he was leaning more towards independent. And he honestly didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. This town was supposed to be filled with heroes, why weren't any of them putting this guy back in the ground? Quinn wished he had the comforting weight of the warhammer slung on his back, but squelched that thought fast. Always make do with what you have, and if push came to shove...he shifted his ground slightly, keeping a fair distance from the creeping hand.

Still, the thing mentioned demons. Push had some suspicions that Scratch had made some deals with something eldrich, and if there were some red-skinned pitchfork jockeys still around, that would mean more trouble. Watching the zombie move the unconscious thugs over, but keeping him well-covered by the blast, he kept an ear cocked for sirens.

"Heh, awfully glib for a walking corpse. Got a name?"

[Dr Archeville]

The severed arm stopped in place at Gabe's decline, and the hand actually... moped? as it crawled back towards its host.

"Name? Oh, I gots plenty'a 'em, though a few ain't fit t'be said 'round polite company," the creature chuckled. "Most folks call me Dead Head, though."

Smooth one, this guy is; didn't panic at the arm gag. A good sign!

The arm pulled itself up Dead Head's pants leg and slowly inched up, but he scooped it up with his free hand and stuck the arm back up his jacket sleeve. It twisted and turned a bit, then appeared to be re-set at the proper angle. He flexed the hand, then held it out to Gabe, as one would when offering a handshake. "What's yer name, stranger? Where ya from?"

[Quinn]

Push gave a crooked smile under the scarf as he kept his distance.

"I'd say I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you...but under the circumstances, that might be a bit redundant. And you'll forgive me for not shaking hands, but the last time I met one of your kind, it was trying to choke my lights out."

The zombie obviously didn't know where Scratch was, that was certain. And time was nearly running out. A dead end, again. Quinn sighed and lowered his hand, the energy moving back through his hand and into his body.

"Alright, alright. I'll take a gamble here, say you're some kinda good guy. I've made bigger mistakes before. And I sure as hell've seen weirder back where I came from...and here too, come to think of it."

The ersatz hero looked at Dead Head (kickass name for a band), shot his hands downwards and lifted himself off the ground, feeling the familiar pressure of the kinetic waves pulsing through his arms and out. Dust kicked up beneath him, and a deep bass hum rumbled from the twin jets of energy pushing him off the ground.

"Cops'll be here soon. If you're a hero, you'll make sure those guys end up behind bars. If you aren't...well...then I'll feel mighty dumb then, won't I?" His scarf and coat billowed behind him as he raised higher, turning around. He took one last glance at Dead Head.

"I'll tell you this, tho'. Name's Push. If that doesn't ring any bells, then thank heaven for small blessings." And on that note, he rocketed off, leaving a small rush of wind in his wake as the kinetic backwash blew over the Revoltin' Revenant, shaking his clothes but doing no damage.

[Dr Archeville]

Dead Head looked on at the newcomer rocketed off, and waved farewell to him. "Nice meetin' ya!"

"Squirrely lil' fella," he thought aloud as he finished gathering up the four thugs he'd knocked out. "And, man, I've really gotta start carryin' some zip ties or somethin' with me. Hrrmmm..." He looked around the area, "Eh, I'll just hang 'round in that alley yonder 'till the cops show up, make sure these fellers get carted off."

~fin~