ic Late Night Out

[R. Bluefish]

Friday

January 22, 2016

Greenbank, Freedom City

Nighttime

 

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an off-duty superhero in search of pizza will inevitably encounter something that renders the acquisition of pizza highly unlikely.

 

Buffy Stein had just run out to grab a quick slice from the pizza joint around the corner, wanting a little fuel to get her through her late-night cramming session. She had even had her hand on the door when she overheard the police scanner in a nearby parked patrol car. Apparently something had triggered the silent alarm at a warehouse over in Greenbank. That wasn't exactly enough to make the cops peel out, sirens blaring, so why should she, innocent civilian, bestir herself? Surely no one would expect her to abandon her pizza, abort her studying, don her costume, and sprint clear across the city just because some raccoon accidentally tripped an alarm or something, right?

 

This was what Echo was bitterly reflecting on as the crouched there on the edge of the rooftop in the freezing cold, staring gloomily at the shadowy bulk of the warehouse across the street. Sometimes, it just wasn't fun being a superhero.

 

She was going to have to make some modifications to her costume, that was for sure. Heroes of the super variety weren't exactly renowned for their subtlety, but she couldn't help feeling conspicuous there in her blue-and-silver bodysuit. Those colors didn't exactly fade into the darkness as well as one might hope. Not to mention, she needed to install some thermal padding, or get some new long underwear or something. If didn't wrap this up quickly, all they would ever find of her would be a big Echo-shaped popsicle. And all because of a false alarm at some random warehouse. You didn't get a statue for that.

 

Huh. She noticed something that made her perk up slightly. The warehouse was enclosed by a high chain link fence topped with barbed wire, presumably to keep the contents from escaping. Thing was, she was pretty sure the gate was supposed to be closed.

 

With a whumph of displaced air, she was gone from the rooftop, now standing beside the open gate. The chain that ordinarily held the gates shut was lying on the ground. Kneeling down to examine it, she saw that it had been cut. Maybe the night watchman forgot his keys. And remembered his bolt cutters. Looking up, she saw an white van parked inside the fence. She had ignored it before, but now she saw that the plates had been removed and the engine was running. And one of the nearby doors that led into the warehouse looked to have been forced open. Well, hey. This might not be a waste of time after all.

[Heritage]

One kind of crappy thing about going to art school is all the invites to 'come and see my show!' you get from former classmates on Facebook; it seemed like every week, there was a gallery opening or demo release party or 'interactive theatrical experience' going on somewhere in the city. Usually, Gretchen McDaniels just ignored the invites or bluntly declined, but this one had actually looked pretty good; Carol Otis was a good friend in a few of her classes, the one girl she could count on to make a boring class at least survivable. Her first studio release, Making Love in Black and White, sounded like it might be good, so Gretchen broke down and clicked on Attend.

 

Boy was that a huge mistake! In the three years since she'd last seen her, Carol had become uber-trendy and kind of hideous; she'd had a lot of work done, talked only in superlatives, and her music...dear lord, her music was pure synthetic s###. The rented warehouse space was filled with bad neon sculpture, moronic Bieber clones, and boney models who probably had Obsession flowing in their veins; ugh! During a break in the conversation, Gretchen excused herself to use the bathroom; it was small, freezing cold and little more than a tiny toilet and a sink stained with paint. Once she was done, she found a dark hallway just behind it where she could become the Shrike, go invisible and float out of the warehouse by quietly hovering just below the ceiling until she was outside.

 

Unlike the party, her escape was a smashing success, proving once again how much better her life had become since working at Silberman's. But then flying over the rooftops and wrapped in her cloak for warmth, the barista noticed what might be a possible crime in progress.

 

"Well, I do have the rest of the evening free now," she murmured with a shrug. Unseen and nearly silent, she dropped to the rooftop of the building in question to have a look.

Edited January 30, 2016 by Heritage

[MisterShoebox]

Phantasmo...THE UNLIVING...was walking along the streets of Greenbank in his "Civvies", as he called them - ragged blue jeans, sneakers, a hoodie pulled up, like any other non-descript homeless individual. But this particular zombified individual was bored out of his skull, wanting desperately to break the monotony besides the bottle of (admittedly delicious) beer he had in his hand. Brewhause was a good brew, if a bit cheap and "Hoppsy" for his taste. Still, when the man he had helped a few minutes ago offered it to him, well - it would have been rude to say no, and separating a pair of winos that were having a punch-up was thirsty work - even if he didn't technically need to drink anymore.

 

He took a deep pull, wondering if anything ELSE was going to happen or if he should just scupper the whole thing and go home, possibly see what was on telly, see if a couple of the lads wanted to be around for a game of gin rummy...when something caught his glowing yellow eye. Well, eye socket. "Hmmm..." he said eloquently. 

 

A pair of colorfully clad individuals that seemed to focus on the warehouse that was possibly being burgled by banditous bastards? ...Should be fun! Phantasmo finished his beer and dropped it into a nearby recycling container (Always do your part, duckies!) before shedding his street gear. The jeans, shoes, and shirt were gone in an instant to be replaced by the smart tuxedo, spats, and domino mask that he wore when "On the Job".

 

Phantasmo 'ported to the building that Echo was entering, leaving a cloud of red smoke in his wake. He loved doing that - it felt...kind of like a full-body sneeze, but in a sort of relaxing way. Only way to travel, really. 

 

The zombie silently walked forward until he was stepping in time next to the young superheroine.   "So what's going on, duckie?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence and hopefully not startling the young woman. He remembered doing that once with this Z-list villain named "Cardboard..." Poor chap nearly had a heart attack. Still, all he really needed was a good talking to and a cup of hot soup, so at least it was handled easily. 

Edited February 5, 2016 by MisterShoebox

[R. Bluefish]

Echo started violently at the sudden voice, whipping her head up and taking an instinctive step back. Her shock wore off almost instantly, though, replaced by curiosity and mild concern. Of all the things she had been expecting upon arriving on site, a decomposing, tuxedo-clad birthday party magician had not been among them. Which just went to show how little she knew, really - that should have been first on her list of things to expect. "Huh. Hey, you, uh, you okay there? You look a little..." she groped for a suitably delicate turn of phrase, "...dead."

 

Belatedly, she realized that was probably considered a slur by the 'life-impaired,' and quickly tried to change the subject. "Well, something tripped the alarm at this joint," she said, waving a hand at the warehouse. "I picked it up with my incredible warehouse-sensing powers and hoofed it over here, and now it looks like someone cut the chain and has an unmarked van idling out front. Now I'm probably being paranoid," she gestured in a maybe-maybe-not kind of way, "but this looks a mite suspicious to my eyes. It could just be a very zealous midnight milkman delivering his payload, but I say this bears investigating."

[Heritage]

A silvery light flared out of the corner of Gretchen's eye, the Helm's way of alerting her that someone had just used magic; now officially intrigued, she quietly floated down to see what was up, which turned out to be a corpse. As in 'up and about and wearing a tux', which didn't seem to be right. At first, she thought something might have happened to Presto, the ex-con magician she'd only recent met at work, but all you had to do was listen to the stiff talk to know he was both dead and English. He was chatting to a cute girl crimefighter, who also had suspicions of wrong-doing; maybe they could use some assistance?

 

Should I do the 'pop in' again? I probably shouldn't, but I enjoy it far too much.

 

The Shrike lowered her hood and was just there, like a frame of film was missing. "You can never be too paranoid, I say. Which I say a lot, actually." She smiled a crooked half smile and offered just a hint of a courtly bow. "The Shrike, here to help."

Edited March 12, 2016 by Heritage

[MisterShoebox]

Phantasmo smirked a bit - well, gave the implication that he was smirking. "Oh, no, duckie - I am indeed quite dead. More than a little, considering I've been this way since...hmmm...this will make it twenty-three years now." he said frankly to Gretchen. "Heart attack - cigars, brandy, and a deal with a grinning man with a cane when you're young and stupid will do that to you. Well. THAT part may lead to you being brought back - anyway,  Phantasmo...THE UNLIVING...at your service, duckie!" He gave a smart bow, then snapped his fingers. A coin appeared in his right hand, which he began rotating expertly around his fingers as they talked.

 

"Too right, young-heroine-my-girl - there may indeed be foul deeds afoot. And I saw you - oh, ta, miss - " He tipped his top hat to the newly arrived Shrike, doing a slight double take at her helmet. - "Phantasmo the Unliving, at your service - Anyhoo, I saw you - " Back to Echo - "I saw you investigating this place, and I was bored out of my skull, so I thought to myself, I thought - 'Phantasmo, old boy, this will be very f**** interesting indeed!'" 

 

"Right!" He clapped his gloved hands together, the coin disappearing as he did so. "No point in lollygagging about, is there? Which d'you want to do first, duckies? The Van, or the warehouse?" He asked, looking between the two heroines. 

Edited February 6, 2016 by MisterShoebox

[R. Bluefish]

The sudden appearance of The Shrike made Echo flinch back once more, her heart jumping. What the hell? Are people just going to be appearing out thin air all the time from now on? That's just rude, who does that? She considered. Well, I do, but it's all right when I do it. I was doing it before it was cool. "Yeah," she said, eyeing the newcomers cautiously. "You can never be too paranoid, especially when there's zombies and invisible people all over the place."

 

She straightened up and placed one hand on her chest, bowing gravely at the waist in a mimicry of Shrike's courtly manner. "There are some who call me Echo. There are others who call me something else, but I'm not going to tell you what that is because it's a secret. I possess the incredible power of punching, which I use to defend the innocent and punish the guilty. Mainly that second one. Now." She turned and pointed first at the van, then at the warehouse. "That has the look of a getaway vehicle, and that has the look of a dastardly deed. Now, I'm flexible, as well as smart and talented and beautiful, so I don't care which one we punch first - I assume we would punch the van - but I would like to get this whole thing over with ASAP so that I can go home and stop freezing my ass off out here."

[Heritage]

Gretchen flashed a quick 'blink and you'll miss it' smile at Echo's patter; she appreciated good wordplay. At the mention of the getaway van, her head tilted to one side as she studied it, as it was wont to do when she considered a problem; finally a smirk reached her lips.

 

"Well, then. Let's see if we can ruin their day." She held up her left hand, the ruby on her silver ring glowing like an angry star as she concentrated intensely. At first nothing seemed to be happening, but then she smirked again. "Wait for it..." Suddenly the van began to tip to one side as it became clear that Shrike was somehow deflating one of the tires! She deflated a second one, this time quite a bit faster as she improved her technique; once she was finished, she turned to the others and shrugged.

 

"Just a little insurance in case anyone gets past us." She indicated the probable entry point with a tilt of her head. "Shall we?"

Edited March 12, 2016 by Heritage

[R. Bluefish]

Echo led the way into the warehouse, not out of any particular courage on her part, but because she was hoping it would be warmer inside. She was instantly disappointed upon crossing the threshold - if anything, it was even colder inside than it was outside. The universe is so unfair.

 

The interior of the warehouse was spacious to say the least - a single cavernous room with a high ceiling, cluttered with maze-like stacks of crates and shipping containers. Ordinarily the warehouse was illuminated by ranks of overhead strip lighting, but these were dark now, leaving most of the scene in shadows, and the main source of light now was the ambient radiance that filtered in through the high windows.

 

Of more immediate importance, though, were the half-dozen or so men with flashlights, who also occupied the warehouse and were staring at them in a slightly dumbstruck fashion. From the look of it, the three heroes had walked in on them right as they were in the process of loading boxes onto a pair of handcarts. The men wore dark clothing and ski masks, in what Echo always thought of as 'standard-issue goon attire,' although she had to admit they looked a lot warmer than she was.

 

After a brief pause, Echo looked over her shoulder at the other two heroes. "We should probably beat them up, yeah?"

 

Jolted from his reverie, one of the men grabbed for his gun. "Oh, shi-"

[R. Bluefish]

The man's curse was cut short by Echo's foot impacting with his face. "Language!" she chided. "Don't you know this is a family-friendly city?" Pushing off from his face like a springboard, she vaulted over his head in a move that seemed to defy physics, and also brought her other foot spinning around to hammer into the chest of the second man. He went flying back like he'd been kicked by a mule, cannoning straight into the third man, and they both went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

 

Landing on her feet in a gymnast's pose, Echo continued as though nothing had happened. "Also, word to the wise? The purpose of a getaway vehicle is to serve as an emergency escape route, to be summoned and utilized at a moment's notice. Which is why you usually have somebody ''in there.''" She shook her masked head in mock disgust. "Seriously, when you get out of the slammer, get a frickin' wheelman."

[Heritage]

Shrike took to the air and spread her cloak like a pair of wings, a favorite pose. "I'm thinking budget cuts are to blame. People always cut the 'non-essential' positions to save their bottom line, which just comes back and bites you in the ass."

 

Following one possible line of reasoning, she took a shot with the Ring of Power at the thug who cursed, under the hypothesis that the most verbal of the bunch might be the leader. She was still working on her aim in the real world ; that her ace FPS skills had yet to translate despite loads of practice was a source of constant irritation, but bare minimum even a missed mystical zap at least unnerved most criminals. The ring flashed brighly, firing a hot red beam in his direction with a loud 'kra-KOW!'

[R. Bluefish]

The man made a desperate dive to the side, Shrike's blast missing him by a hair's breadth. Landing clumsily on his side, he managed to fumble his pistol out of his waistband and squeeze off several panicked shots at the flying heroine. He may as well have not bothered, though - most of his shots went wide, and the few that didn't ricocheted harmlessly off the magical protection granted by her cloak.

 

The other two thieves, following their comrade's lead, also began firing wildly at the heroes, with little success - the man who fired at Phantasmo obviously couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, and Echo made a show of Matrix-dodging the bullets that buzzed past her head, complete with a cry of "Whoa!"

[MisterShoebox]

Phantasmo was NOTHING if not a showman, but he knew that - while he himself considered bullets a minor nuisance at best - his two young allies weren't as bulletproof as he was. Time to disarm one of these fools before he hurt someone. Didn't mean he couldn't have a little bit of fun, though.

 

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, his eyes suddenly glowing a bit...eerily. "THE CURTAIN RISES AS THE PERFORMER TAKES THE STAGE! ALL THE WAY FROM THE GRAVE, I HAVE COME! EEEEEEYYYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!" The zombie vanished in a cloud of red smoke to appear in front of a no-doubt startled henchman. "NOW YOU SEE IT - " He took the pistol from the man's grip easily enough - zombie muscles did have their benefits, you know - "NOW YOU DON'T! LET'S GIVE HIM A HAND, FOLKS! EEEEYYYYAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAAA!" 

 

He sent the man to night-night ville with a well-placed (but gentle, don't want to kill the man) bonk on the head with the man's confiscated weapon before removing the clip and tossing it away. "All right, Duckies?" he asked his companions. "Got a handle on your lads?" 

Edited March 12, 2016 by MisterShoebox

[R. Bluefish]

Echo stopped briefly in the middle of the fight to give Phantasmo a very odd look. Huh. I may have actually found someone crazier than me. "...Yeah, sure," she said. "All of the lads are being well handled." She hesitated. "Er, so to speak."

 

Without looking, she reached out with a foot to tap the prone man with her toe. "Also, I feel that I should make some sort of time-related quip here, so...take some time off." Right on cue, the man seemed to slow, as though someone had adjusted the speed on a recording. Before the effect was complete, however, he rolled aside, struggling wildly to his feet, and just like that the spell was broken. Mildly startled by his refusal to freeze in place, Echo gave him an annoyed look. "Well, that's not supposed to happen. Hold still, damn it."

[Heritage]

Gretchen rolled her eyes in irritation as she sighted along her arm. "You heard the lady. Sit down, son." The blast caught him square in the face, a perfect head shot that dropped him like a sack of potatoes and probably singed off his eyebrows. She then floated towards the last remaining thug, slowly shaking her head.

 

"Traditionally, this is when you surrender, as well as crap your pants." She grasped her left wrist again and drew a bead on him, her ring flaring an angry red. "You don't have to do the second, but I strongly advise you consider the first."

Edited April 4, 2016 by Heritage

[R. Bluefish]

The man looked at Shrike, then Phantasmo, then Echo, then his unconscious comrades, then back at Shrike and her ominously glowing ring. Swallowing visibly, he nodded. "O-okay." He carefully put his gun down on the ground, then raised his hands in the air. "You win, okay? Take me to jail, just don't hit me!"

 

"Weeell, that's a two-part request," said Echo, absentmindedly kicking the gun away as she sauntered over, sparing a curious glance for the crates they had been stacking onto the handcart. "We're going to take you to jail, sure, no question about that. But the hitting part is still kinda on the table at this point. We're upset, you understand. You were really firing ineffectually in our general direction something fierce back there. One of those bullets was this close to coming within five feet of me." She yanked off his mask, revealing him to be an unshaven meathead.

 

He recoiled. "No, please, come on! I was missing on purpose!"

 

Even with her mask on, Echo managed to convey a raised eyebrow. "Really? In that case I should commend you for your marksmanship."

[MisterShoebox]

Phantasmo nodded to Echo, then approached the unshaven meat-head. "Now, now," the zombie stated, still doing his "Voice of the Legion" thing.  "I'm sure he's going to be very co-operative, aren't you, Ducky?" He patted the man on the cheek, smiling - more so - at the man's flinch. The zombie's hands were gloved, but it still probably felt unsettling.

 

"I mean...unless you want me to do what I did LAST time to someone who wasn't co-operative." Phantasmo added, letting his eyes glow a bit more. He turned to Echo and did his version of a wink - one eye light flickered - hoping she'd follow his lead. "That was...a hassle. And you don't want to be a hassle, do you, Ducky? This is the part where you say - 'No, Sir, Mr. Phantasmo and Company, I want to spill my guts and be a good chap!'"

 

He stood there, arms folded, waiting for the man to respond. 

[R. Bluefish]

The man blanched at Phantasmo's touch, visibly shaking. "N-no, come on! It was just a job! Don't..." he looked at Phantasmo's glowing eye sockets and swallowed. "No sir, Mr. Phantasmo and Company, I w-want to spill my guts and be a good chap."

 

With a whumph of displaced air, Echo was suddenly beside him, with her arm around his shoulders in a companionable fashion. "See, that's the spirit! You even copied the accent right! So how 'bout it - somebody put you up to all this? You dancing on somebody's strings?"

 

He recoiled at her sudden appearance. "It was just a job! We got paid to break in here and steal all these parts! Nobody said nothing about capes! Look," he looked desperately at each of them in turn, "I can tell you about who hired us! It was these two nutjobs, a guy and a chick! They said they'd give us a thousand each if we broke into this warehouse, took all this machinery stuff, and brought it to them! I can tell you where we were supposed to meet them, it's an old factory outside of town!"

[Heritage]

Gretchen shook her head as she drifted over to one of the crates. 

 

"Wow, you folded like cheap Chinese fan. Might not want to list that under 'Special Skills' on your resume. Employers might get the wrong idea." 

 

Waving her hand over the crate, she used the magic of the Ring to pry it open and have a look inside; this trick made her job at Silberman's Books so much easier. 

 

"Let's see what you were hired to steal. Might give us some insight into the two who hired you."

[R. Bluefish]

GM Post

 

The crates proved to be packed to the brim with mechanical parts. Wires, electronics, scrap metal - even some hydraulics. The kind of parts that went into the construction of some pretty heavy-duty tech, presumably bound for some engineering company or other. As if anticipating their question, the man raised raised his hands as if to ward them off. "I don't know what it's for! They didn't tell us any of that, we're just muscle! Nobody ever gives us details. And," he added, looking now more annoyed than anything else, "nobody ever says anything about capes getting involved. Can't do anything in this city without running into capes."

[MisterShoebox]

Phantasmo shook his head. "Oh, indeed, ducky! It brings to mind a change in careers, doesn't it?" He asked, not at all sarcastic. The zombie bent down and examined some of the electronic merchandise, picking up a heavy-looking peice of scrap metal as it were made of tin foil. 

 

"Now...hmm, what do you make of this?" He asked his two companions. "Or you, old chap - sorry, didn't get your name?" He asked The Thug Who Was Being Helpful. 

[Heritage]

Gretchen rolled her eyes. "Oh, boo-hoo! 'The capes make it so hard to be a criminal these days! It's almost like they don't want us commiting crimes.'" She held up her gloved fingers with less than an inch of space between thumb and forefinger. "You get exactly this much sympathy from me. McDonald's is always hiring."

 

Meanwhile she used her TK to float out a few pieces of tech, turning them over in the air as she tried to visualize what the mook's employers might want to do with them.

[R. Bluefish]

"C-Cole," stammered the thug in response to Phantasmo's question. "Cole Harkness. I'm not a bad guy, I swear! This was just a job!"

 

"Oh, just a job!" mimicked Echo, vanishing again and reappearing standing upside-down on the ceiling of the warehouse for no apparent reason, where she continued to deliver her harangue unabated. "I swear we must caught the whiniest crook in the city. You're little just a job, Cole, nearly got me and my noble compatriots shot! With bullets! Bullets!" She cocked her head to the side suddenly, as if considering. "Well, not really. I mean, obviously none of you could so much as hit the broad side of a zip code. But I mean, it's the thought that counts."

 

"Look," said Cole, fishing frantically in his pocket. "I've got the address!" He yanked out a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it and held it out to Phantasmo with a shaking hand. "I'm being helpful, see? I'm being cooperative!"

[MisterShoebox]

The zombie smiled. "Thanks, old chap!" He said, and gently took the address. "I know you are, duckie, and we will indeed tell the authorities about all of this cooperation. And..."

 

He gave the man a pat on the shoulder. "When you get out of gaol, consider another line of work? Volunteer at the Soup Kitchen down on Dock Street, eh? Balance out the old negative karma a bit! Don't have to deal with garishly dressed sods coming down and giving you the business if your business is helping those less fortunate, y'know! And it looks bloody kipper with the parole officer. Something to consider."

 

Phantasmo  paused. "Oh, right, One more thing, duckie -" the zombie suddenly hoisted the thug off the ground by his shirt and turned on the "Bad Guy" voice. "IF YOU EVER EVEN THINK OF  DOING ANYTHING LIKE THIS AGAIN, I WILL FIND YOU. EEEEYYAHAHAHAHAAA!" 

Edited May 17, 2016 by MisterShoebox

[Heritage]

Gretchen cocked head to one side as she studied the various parts, as she was wont to do. "It's for something big," she muttered, almost more to herself than anyone else. "Big and heavy. Something you have to build from scratch because it doesn't exist to be stolen, which would've been much easier." Her eyes squinted behind her mask. "Maybe a robot of some kind, or a specialized vehicle. A tool to pull off an even bigger heist, or else a weapon."

 

When Phantasmo began to terrorize their captive, she couldn't help but laugh, a quirk bark of mirth before her usual smirk returned. "You really don't want to piss of a dead man, Cole. You've seen all the movies." She floated over towards the pair and contemplated the undead magician. "Look at that decomposing face. That's the last thing you're going to see before your heart stops if you don't straighten up." She sighed sympathetically. "I'd hate to be looking over my shoulder for that guy."

Edited May 18, 2016 by Heritage