Irresistible Force (IC)

[Gizmo]

As the period bell rang at Joseph Clark High School, students retrieved textbooks and pencils from their wooden desks and filed out of Room 107, talking loudly amongst themselves as they went. At the front of the room, their teacher sat behind a worn desk, sorting a pile of loose papers with strong hands. Keith LaMarr looked a mountain of muscle next to the well-used furniture, broad shouldered and layered in muscle despite the lines of age on his face. Absently stroking the thick, grey-streaked goatee that offset his bald head, he called to one of the teenagers before he could depart. "Corey, a word."

Pausing uncertainly in the doorway, the youth put one hand in the pocket of his cargo pants and used the thumb of the other to indicate the hallway. "I gotta get to history, Mr. L," he explained with an apologetic shrug.

"You can tell Mr. Alexander it was my fault," LaMarr assured the student, his voice a deep, firm rumble the resounded in his chest as he indicated the space in front of his desk and gaze Corey a level gaze.

[Gizmo]

Reluctantly, Corey hitched his backpack over his shoulder and shuffled over to stand in the indicated space, looking distractedly at the clock ticking away behind the metal cage on the wall.

LaMarr folded his large hands on the wooden surface before him, letting a breath out through his nose. The youth snapped his eyes back to the civics teacher at the slight sound. "I'd like to discuss your performance on last week's test."

"What? I passed," Corey responded defensively, taking his hand out his pocket to shrug again.

The bearded instructor nodded slowly. "With a C, when be both know you could have earned an A with even a slight effort." Taking the stapled papers from the top of the organized stack, he laid it between them and pointed to the mixed mark of pencil lead and red pen. "One sentence answers, this portion left blank. You can do better than this, Corey."

The teen gestured dismissively with both hands. "Hey man, I wrote the test, I passed, what's the problem?" His lower lip jutted out defiantly as he folded his arms.

[Gizmo]

LaMarr said nothing, simply keeping his stern gaze on his student for a long moment that quickly became thick with tension. Corey looked away before long, replacing his hands back in his pants pockets with a muttered apology. "Just distracted. I'll make it up on the exam."

"Distracted by what?" LaMarr asked in the same, modulated tone that reverberated in a deep base register. Hands still folded on the desk, he sat an imposing figure softened only by the long opening he gave the boy to explain himself.

Fidgeting uncomfortably, Corey responded evasively. "Y'know, stuff, right?"

"Stuff," LaMarr repeated flatly, clearly unimpressed by the answer.

"Some guys hassling me, okay?" the high school student elaborated exasperatedly.

LaMarr's thick eyebrows lowed over dark, intense eyes. "What 'guys'?"

Corey's shoulders seemed to swallow up his neck as his mouth set in a determined scowl. "Just some guys. Look, I really gotta go, Mr. L."

[Gizmo]

LaMarr's seat screeched against the floor as he slid it back from the desk and stood to his full height. He towered nearly a foot over the teenager and was easy more the twice his width at the shoulder. "Get to history," he instructed after a moment of tense silence "This discussion isn't over."

Mumbling something incomprehensible, Corey jogged out of the classroom, leaving the civics teacher to rub his eyes with thick fingers and a long exhalation. Gathering his papers in his briefcase, LaMarr left the room himself and made his way to the teacher's lounge, his footfalls in the hall rattling the school's trophy case a little more than even someone of his considerable bulk should have.

His weariness must have shown on his face as he entered the small room with the donated couch and perpetually out of order vending machine, as Theresa Collins, a gregarious English teacher in her early thirties, offered him beaming smile. "Tough day, big guy?" she asked him, her voice chipper.

[Gizmo]

"Mmn," LaMarr rumbled, cracking his neck loudly. "Corey Evan's grades have been slipping. I think some punks have been pressuring him to join up."

"Not surprised," came a dry voice from the couch. Matthew Robins couldn't have been too much older than LaMarr, but unlike the much larger man, the gaunt physics teacher had been instructing at JCHS since he was Theresa's age. "Gangs lost a lot of members leading up to that zombie powder scare last year, and Corey's older bother is doing a stint right now after some lame brained B&E stunt."

Theresa looked appalled. "That's awful!"

"That's life," Robins countered flatly, turning his attention back to the small television set sitting across from him, it's grainy picture displaying a GBN news broadcast. "I mean, look at this asshattery," he insisted gesturing to the set with both hands. "Some idiot causing havoc at the natural history museum, dressed like a... hell, I don't even know what that is."

Frowning, LaMarr stepped over to stand beside the couch. "Mongolian wrestler," he supplied, his expression darkening.

[Gizmo]

Setting down his briefcase, LaMarr turned to his fellow staff member. "Theresa, I'm going to need you to cover my homeroom period this afternoon," he informed the younger woman.

The English teacher blinked a few times as the towering man headed purposefully back to the lounge's door. "Oh, ah, alright? Um..."

"Give 'em hell," Robins chuckled, a sound like crumbling paper, without taking his eye off of the television.

"Just need to have a few words with someone," LaMarr explained as he left the room and headed for the high school's exit.

Theresa looked back to Robins, nonplussed. "What was that about?"

The greying man chuckled again. "Didn't grow up in Freedom, did you?" he noted dryly, making it more of a statement than a question. When she shook her head, he gestured curtly to the empty seat on the battered couch, then the news broadcast. "Just watch."

-----

Outside the Hunter Museum of Natural History, a heavily muscled man in a brief red and blue outfit was making short work of the police dispatched the the scene, despite apparently being unarmed and not displaying any overt superhuman abilities. Nearby, a GBN newsvan broadcast the scene to the city as Khuiten tossed an unconscious officer contemptuously into the hood of his own police cruiser, setting off the alarm with the force of the impact, before turning and continuing relentlessly toward the pillared building.

[Electra]

On the steps of the museum, a young woman suddenly seemed to pop out of a planter of evergreen shrubs, keeping an eye on the rampaging wrestler. She didn't look much like a hero, dressed in an oversized green hooded sweatshirt and green leggings that couldn't hide a reasonably advanced pregnancy, but she was wearing a domino mask and looked like she meant business.

Stesha peeked through the bushes to suss out the situation, which looked rather more precarious in person than it had on the television. Heroing was more difficult now that it had been a few months ago, but between jobs and secret identities, there were only so many heroes available for work on a weekday afternoon. She couldn't just stand by and let someone trash the museum and threaten the people in it!

Keeping the bushes between herself and the madman, she threw a handful of seeds in his direction. They began to sprout as soon as they hit the ground, creating a twining net to try and restrain the costumed criminal.

[Gizmo]

The massive wrestler paused his stride as the vines whipped up to surround him, wrapping about his wrists and ankles before ensnaring his torso in a woven trap. Considering the green tendrils for a moment, Khuiten began to flex with a loud grunt. Gradually, the vines began to budge, then all at once they snapped, falling to the ground in a pile of verdant scraps as the villain roared defiantly, bare chest revealed once more as he turned to regard Fleur de Joie. "This is what they would send against Garid Khan?!" he bellowed, slapping his pectorals to indicate himself. "Has this city grown so weak that women with child are all there is to challenge the mighty Khuiten?!"

"I'm guessing everybody else just had bigger fish to fry than you, fool," a deep voice boomed from behind the police cruisers. The cars shook as LaMarr strode forward, a set expression emphasized by round sunglasses. The aging hero wore a black, sleeveless top emblazoned with a broad, golden 'W', the tight fit displaying the powerful form he'd developed over the decades. Matching black and gold armbands rested on his wrists and he cracked the knuckles of each hand pointedly. "Lucky for you, I've always got a spare minute to catch up old times."

Khuiten laughed, a loud noise that was practically a shout on its own. "Wail! You have grown old, my foe!" he scoffed, clearly amused. "Still! It is appropriate to destroy an old enemy as I free an old ally, yes?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, Khuiten," Wail replied, still striding forward, "but you couldn't beat me thirty years ago and brother, you still can't."

Slapping his chest again, Khuiten set his feet in a ready stance. "We shall see!"

[Gizmo]

"More like we'll hear, sucker!" Wail countered, planting his own feet and taking a deep breath, his broad chest expanding with air before he let it out in his namesake shout. While some metahuman's with sonic powers may have occupied a screeching, high frequency, Wail's roar was a bone-jarring bass rattle of undeniable force. The empty space between the two men rippled as the shockwave crashed into Khuiten, who crossed his arms in front of his face with a grunt. The powerful wrestlers bracing held for a split second before he was thrown off of his feet and into the wall of the museum, leaving a humanoid imprint in the stone surface. Ending his audible assault, Wail allowed himself a confident smirk. "Still got it."

[Electra]

Fleur let out a quick breath of relief as backup arrived, even if it was in the form of a total stranger. She wasn't looking forward to trying to dodge around that wrestler all by herself! The stranger had impressive power in his voice, that was for sure! "Nice to see you," Fleur called cheerfully to the newcomer, before returning to business. A wave of her hand had the two stately elms that flanked the doors pulling themselves up by their roots, and the trio of sculpted ornamental evergreens sending out leglike runners and stepping out of their pots. The elms moved to flank the diminutive plant controller, while the evergreens moved towards the wrestler with mayhem on their piney minds.

[Gizmo]

As Khuiten extricated himself from the wall with an angry grunt, Wail charged, his rapid footfalls cracking the pavement as he propelled his full, surprising weight forward past the lumbering tree creatures. His bracer-clad arm swung forward with the force of that momentum added to his considerable strength, sending the wrestler back into the museum's stone exterior and deepening the impression. "Stay down, Khuiten," he demanded, his voice resonant with controlled power. "We're too old for this dumb-"

His words were cut off as the villain rose up with a snarl, shaking off the blow to wrap his opponent in a powerful pin. "It is only you who is too old!" he shouted, tightening his crushing grip. "You have let yourself become weak with age!"

"Don't count on it, fool!" Wail responded, breaking the pin with both arms in a move that sent the wrestler stumbling back a step.

[Electra]

"So, I take it you have a history, then?" Stesha asked dryly, but not loudly enough to distract the two combatants. She raised a vine out of one of the planters and opened a bright yellow flower near the villain's face. It released a puff of colorful pollen that bathed the man's face, but it didn't seem to have any of the usual soporific effect. She frowned, allowing the trees to begin waving their branches in the wrestler's direction, distracting and annoying him, for all they couldn't do anything to him.

[Gizmo]

With Khuiten momentarily distracted by the cloud of pollen and flailing branched, Wail spared a moment to give the pregnant plant controller a knowing smile. "Girl, when you're our age, all you got is history." Taking a deep breath as her turned around, he let loose another jarring bellow at point blank range. The wrestler grunted as the force of the shout rippled across his musculature and the wall behind him finally gave up, crumbling into large chunks of stone. Managing to rise to his feet, Khuiten took the opportunity to press further into the museum, clearly with a goal in mind.

[Electra]

As the trees intervened to try and block the wrestler's progress, Fleur once again raised her hands and sent the vines after him. This time they were even less effective, sliding around the wrestler's ankles before getting hung up and torn on the broken bits of masonry from the blown-out wall. Blowing out a breath of frustration, she looked to her ally. "So if you know this guy, do you know what it is he wants in there? Where's he heading, anyway?" She began to follow the criminal, keeping back at a safe distance even so.

[Gizmo]

"Couldn't say," Wail admitted, placing himself in front of the short woman as they ventured into the museum. It was basic teamwork, made into reflex over decades of fighting in pairs and trios; he might not have been bulletproof per se, but the monolithic civics teacher was tougher by far than most things on two feet. "Khuiten and his crew used to throw down with mine pretty regular, but they were strictly pay-to-play." His old foe's path through the lobby and toward one of the exhibits was anything but subtle, smashed glass and overturned stanchions littered the floor. "That's some thirty years ago, mind. Things change. You're the League's chlorokinetic, yeah?" he asked, his steady footfalls echoing loudly inside the large room.

[Electra]

"That's right," Stesha told him, scurrying after him, picking her way around debris and fallen exhibits. She kept an eye out for injured civilians, but if nothing else, the altercation outside seemed to have given the patrons and employees enough time to get clear. "My name is Fleur de Joie. And you look familiar somehow, but I can't place your name right now. You say you used to be active in Freedom City?" If he was around thirty years ago, he was heroing before Stesha was born, but he looked well-preserved.

[Gizmo]

The corner of Wail's mouth turned up, a subtle expression on a visage given to impassivity and extreme displays, with little moderation. "Name's Keith LaMarr. Time was, I'd be better known as Wail, part of 1-800-Justice." The small smile settled back into a thin line as he continued into the museum, his eyebrows lowering darkly. "Nothing but a solo act, these days." He wasn't surprised not to be recognized. He hadn't been truly active for years, and Freedom's hero community had grown so much since his glory days that it was easy to get lost in the shuffle. Then again, there seemed to be more than enough creeps to go around, too.

[Electra]

"It's nice to meet you," Stesha said cheerfully, for all that it wasn't entirely easy to talk and jog at the same time. "But no hero's truly a solo act in Freedom City, we've all got to help each other out. What do you know about our guy here?" She gestured to the mess ahead of them, trying not to think too hard about the exhibits that might be ruined already. He was obviously not far ahead, she could hear the crashing noises still.

[Gizmo]

Wail gave a vague impression of approval at Fleur's sentiment of community, but he responded directly to her question. "Calls himself Khuiten, after the mountain. Was a wrestler in Mongolia in the seventies, working as a leg-breaker on the side." The larger hero grimaced as they ventured further inside. The old villain had always been surprisingly fleet given his bulk, but they had to be catching up to him by that point. "Nasty piece of work, got a taste for fighting and killing capes, joined up with some other mercs. Threw down with them more than a few times. The break-and-enter didn't use to be his MO."

[Electra]

"He seems to be pretty beaten up already, even if he's still got some game," Fleur said, sounding a bit dubious. "I think that if you can restrain him, I can lock him up inside a plant so he won't cause any more damage. Then we can find out whatever he's up to down at the police station, where no civilians or artifacts are going to be in danger." She winced as they passed a rather battered display of antique clothing, some of which would need substantial restoring after this.

[Gizmo]

"Kids today, too good for a little collateral damage," Wail snorted with a touch of humour, though he agreed with the florakinetic's assessment. In their younger days, his brawls with Khuiten had wracked up massive damage to their surroundings. Older and wiser, he had no intention of slipping back into bad habits.

Entering the next room, they found the injured wrestler reaching through a smashed case and removing a multifaceted stone the size of one of his meaty fists and a ruby red hue. Seeing the heroes enter, Khuiten pulled the gem toward himself and took a step back, snapping angrily, "No! You will not stop me now!"

"Heard that tune before," Wail replied grimly, charging forward and delivering a brutal haymaker. At the last moment, his old foe instinctively raised his prize before him, placing it in the path of the aging hero's fist. The stone shattered the moment Wail connected, releasing a burst of light that momentarily blinded everyone in the room. The next thing Wail and Fleur knew, Khuiten was lying unconscious on the ground and there was no sign of even slivers of the massive ruby.

[Electra]

Fleur slowly lowered the arm she'd put up to protect her eyes, blinking at the bright afterimages on her retinas. She looked at the downed villain, then over to Wail, taking a few tentative steps forward. "Are you all right?" she asked the older hero, picking her way around yet another pile of debris that had once been an exhibit. "What happened? What was that thing he was holding?" For the moment, Khuiten didn't seem like much of a threat, but she sent a few vines snaking around his body anyway, trussing him up in case he needed a quick trip into the plant dimension.

[Gizmo]

"Jiminy Cricket..." Wail muttered with the inflection of an oath, placing one broad hand on the back of his neck as he rolled his shoulders and adjusted his sunglasses. "No idea, never seen it before." With a exhalation that carried mild frustration, he turned from the entangled Khuiten to regard Fleur de Joie. "Sorry, little momma. Been outta the game for a long, long time. Looks like I missed a thing or two in between."

[Electra]

With Khuitan securely wrapped up, Fleur carefully picked her way over to the exhibit that he'd been raiding when they'd confronted him. "It seems like he must have been, too. I've never heard of him, and I'm certain I would've remembered a costume like that," she told Wail, her lips turned up in a wry smile. She began poking around in the wreckage of the shattered case, looking for the ubiquitous accession cards that would hopefully give them some information about what had been in this exhibit.

[Gizmo]

The laminated placard next to the shattered case proclaimed its former contents to be 'The Soul Ruby' but was frustratingly vague as to its history, with most of the brief write-up concerning the gem's interesting geological anomalies. A small footnote at the bottom explained that it had been donated to the museum by the Meadows Foundation. It was that last part that piqued Wail's interest. "Hunh. Khuitan there used to run with a Brit named Liz Meadows. Ninja type, went by Soulblade. Don't figure that's a coincidence."