ArchivedLogs:All in Good Fun

All in Good Fun
Dramatis Personae Felix, Regan, Iztali, Toru, Dusk, Sebastian, Cage, Parley, Ian	2013-06-11 And so it begins...
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Tucked down an alley, this out of the way coffeeshop is easy to miss if you don't know what you're looking for. Unassuming from the outside, its inside makes up for it -- spacious, with abundant seating and plenty of plush couches and cosy armchairs along the room's edges. The coffee is good, the prices are cheap, and there is a definitive alternative vibe to the room, from the music they play to the art that hangs on the walls. The real draw to this place, though, stems from its client base -- one of the very few businesses in the city that is welcoming to mutants, Evolve has become widely popular as a hangout with that crowd, and it is quite common to see them among clientele and employees both. At night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits over the coffeehouse. Evening gathers in New York City and it's unlikely there has ever been a lovelier evening in the history of such things. The sky is streaked with fading pastels and smudges of silvery clouds; the temperature is perfect; there's enough of a breeze to carry away the ever present smog. It is beautiful outside. But few if any of the city's occupants are likely able to enjoy it freely. A pall has hung over New York since Sunday, when one of its Finest was not just killed, but slaughtered by a monster. The mood has been tense since then: mutants stopped on the street and "frisked" with more force than is necessary, mutants pelted with garbage from passing cars and subject to slurs and even blows on the street. It is no longer safe to be out. And yet here is Evolve, full as ever--though the atmosphere is decidedly funereal. Between service, the staff frequently put their heads together to whisper; the people seated at the tables likewise hold quiet and nervous conversation. Gossip is rampant, stories passed from seat to seat of this friend attacked, and that neighbor driven to hiding in their own house. No one quite knows what to do. Some are speaking of leaving, others of waiting it out. With thin, dying sunlight filtering into the alley and through the windows from above, it seems there is at least time enough to discuss, to debate, to determine what to do next. Luke has been holed up here, almost as if he's waiting for the police to try something. There aren't many safe places for mutants in New York, after all. He's sitting with an iced mocha latte, and a baseball cap pulled low, with a Mets logo on it. Not like that really hides who he is, but what what's a 6'4" black man, built like a truck supposed to do? He also has a newspaper spread out on the table in front of him, and is pretending to read it, while keeping an eye out the window. At one table over by the couches, such a discussion is decidedly /not/ happening. Instead, Magic: the Gathering cards have been strewn across the tabletop and are being sorted through. Decks are being BUILT. There will perhaps be a showdown soon but for now Dusk is reaching out to slide a Norin the Wary away from Ian. The young man is dressed pretty blandly. Jeans. Cheerful yellow t-shirt (modified to allow for his large batlike wings) with a bluejay on it. He could be going for the goth look -- paaaale skin, black hair, /fangs/ -- except his attire doesn't really match that at all. He sits kind of /stiffly/ in his chair; some bruising peeking out from under his t-shirt sleeve suggests that the past couple days have already been a little rough on him. "-- seriously? The fuck're you gonna do with /that/ guy?" One of his companions definitely looks like he belongs at Evolve. He's kind of humanoid in /shape/ but constructed largely of shadow. Given just /what/ happened to the policeman on Sunday, he has /probably/ been having a bad week, too. Tali is actually sipping from a cup of mocha spiced with cinnamon, sitting in her favoured corner in an oversized chair. Her dark hair is wound into a messy bun at the back of her head, pinned in place by a pair of pencils. She is wearing a simple, navy blue shirt with sleeves that are full-length but sheer and a pair of camping pants that are designed to convert into shorts. And, of course, her thin black gloves. She sits, in sheer stubbornness, in a public place because she is done with hiding in an empty apartment, whatever the reason! All of this 'powers' practice to be able to tolerate crowded and public places, she is going to /be/ in one. There is reason for her to be rather pleased at the amount she has managed to shut out, at least! Progress. Slow, steady progress. In answer to the shadowperson's query, Sebastian just /grins/. In here, he doesn't bother to hide the sharp teeth that this bares. "Pair it with Confusion in the Ranks and cause /chaos/," he answers Ian, "if I see that card coming out I'm killing you dead." He's dressed like he's been to work! Slacks. A dress shirt. A /vest/. Undoubtedly all stolen from his brother -- sometimes, having a twin (with more professional fashion sense than you) is /pretty/ useful. If nothing else Toru does have the benefit of passing for human, and being a teenaged Japanese kid-- well, he doesn't get that much attention to begin with. He's wearing a navy blue hoodie over a t-shirt declaring him to have been a participant of Taco Night '98, and a pair of loose jeans. This teen is decidedly /not/ in a dismal mood; in fact, he's almost downright /chipper/ as he steps into the coffee shop, settling into line at the counter as he pulls out a wallet with gloved hands. The fingertips have been snipped off and they're a bit on the ratty side, but they also don't look like they've ever been /removed/. He digs through to see how much money he's got on him before deciding what to order. Felix is in line, waiting to receive the coffee he already ordered. Taking a look around the room he notices a few familiar faces, but makes no immediate acknowledgements. He looks almost out of place here, but some would know that he is a somewhat regular here. Curly collar length hair, t-shirt proclaiming 'Math Geek', jeans, and he is carrying a book under his arm. When he finally gets his drink, he proceeds slowly into the sitting area, looking around the room for a seat, and ends up sliding into one of the big comfy chairs next to Tali. "Good evening to you Tali." he offers a smile and a little wave. Regan is not here talking to anyone at all, really. She has been waiting in line for a coffee -- just a latte, with a shot of raspberry -- and now that she /has/ it she is taking it and her backpack off to find a seat. Not an easy proposition with Evolve so packed; she /swoops/ down to an armchair near to Felix and Tali's when its current occupant vacates it. "Yeesh. Feel like we should be making reservations right now." Luke's ears perk up at the familiar voice, and he glances over to where Felix is talking to Tali. He gives the man a wave and a nod, but keeps his seat. He's got a nice little round table with two chairs, one vacant. These are VIP seating at this point. The alleyway is a busy one, unlike many in the city. Several business have entrances off of this thoroughfare and traffic tends towards "high". There are lulls, of course. Look, here comes one now! But it's all too soon over as distant bro-shouts and laughter echo down the way, louder when the door opens, muffled when it's closed. Someone out there is saying, "Yo yo /yo/." For /serious/. Kids these days. And kids they prove to be, of the middle- to late teen variety. All of them are in more layers than the sweet weather requires, sagging jeans and baggy t-shirts and XXL bomber jackets. The only clothing they wear that seems to fit properly are the ballcaps. They have the swagger of gang bangers but perhaps shockingly--for those who love their stereotypes--several of the boys also have backpacks slung over their shoulders. As they come almost equal with the cafe's windows, a shoving match breaks out between the teens but it's all in good fun--there's more laughter, and good-natured ribbing, as two of the six proceed to tussle with each other. "Do it! Do it do it do it!" the others take up in chant. Inside, a few heads turn towards the commotion. Some of those who look wear smiles. It's good to hear laughter. On any given day, Parley is one step too far into casual to pass as the budding Salary Man in a suit, settling instead for a gray sportscoat and an exceptionally tall-reaching black turtleneck to hide the presence of tawny fur and spots that march up the back of his neck, gray slacks, black shoes - the dark-rim glasses and scruffy hair only give that ever-present semblance of a librarian gone (albeit quietly) feral. He slips into the cafe and trails the counter for a cup of coffee and then just kind of. INSINUATES himself alongside Dusk, actually. You almost wouldn't know he was there, what with incidental low-scale camouflage. "Mmh." It's /just/ a sound, but it not only says 'hello', but also directs attention to the teenagers at the window. Side-eye. (Or maybe he's just trying to distract attention that he might peek at people's cards.) Shh. Tali sets her mug on the table, a close-lipped smile brightening her features at Felix's greeting. "Felix! Good to see you. I am being in public," she returns, the little smile twisting into something more playful, smirk-like. Look! She is even nodding to Regan as she sits nearby, acknowledging her comment. "It has been...almost busier than usual here tonight. I think there are many people who feel the need to go somewhere, but don't know where else to be." The commotion outside earns a look, which grows worried, and adds a matching frown. "Hm." Something about teenagers in groups... Once Toru makes it up to the counter, he orders himself one of those blendy frozen more-a-milkshake-than-coffee drinks that absolutely is /not/ called a frappucino at places that aren't a certain well-known nautical-themed cafe. Once money is paid, his wallet is slipped into his pocket, and his head turns idly towards the commotion outside. And his face falls a bit; being a sub-bro variety of teenager /himself/, hearing a bunch of uber-bros yell 'do it' in a group really does not sound. Like something he wants to be around for. But he also /just paid/ for his drink, and he'd have to go outside /through/ them and.. god. Instead he just settles for sighing and muttering, "God /dammit/," as he waits for his drink to be finished and tries to stay out of sight of the front door. "Jesus!" is Dusk's startled reaction to sudden PARLEY at his side, but past this initial jolt of surprise his smile returns easily. His wing unfurls, brushing one tip light and brief against Parley's elbow. "Ian," he tells Parley, "does not appreciate the /value/ of a well-placed running-away." He is, also, sneeeeaking Confusion in the Ranks into his deck. Shh Bastian you see NOTHING. "Oh, fuck that noise, I love running the hell away," the person-shaped conglomeration of shadows answers. "/This/ is just one game I know how to win." Bastian flicks eyes open wide at the sudden hello, and then Parley gets a toothy-bright smile too. "You play?" he wants to know. His head turns towards the windows, briefly. Then back to the cards. "You can use Dusk's cards," he generously volunteers. Luke stands up from his window-side table and takes his hat off. Pointing out at the kids, who must surely be able to see the famous Luke Cage inside, he says quietly, "/Don't/ do it." They probably can't /hear/ him exactly, but the scion of gangbanger, NY is probably hard to misunderstand, either way you cut it. Looking over as Regan pops into the just vacated seat, "Yes, apparently everybody is out enjoying the nice weather today." Felix gives return nod of acknowledgement to Luke, then turns back to Tali, "Well, I am glad to see that you are getting out." He gives her a smile and says nothing more, but clearly understands something about what was not said. The noises outside draw his attention away from the conversation a the the table, perhaps he is a bit on the jumpy side considering recent events. "I -- don't think people are here because of the nice weather," Regan answers Felix dryyyyly, setting her backpack down to take out a laptop. "I think they're here because where the hell else are they going to go? You think those kids," she's nodding over towards the VAMPIRE BAT and the shadow-man and the blue sharkboy. And. Parley. He's included by DEFAULT, "are going to have a great time wandering the city right now?" "Sorry," Parley says automatically when Duck spooks - sadly, he's so used to saying it he doesn't really /sound/ sorry so much as absent, feeding directly into, "I -- will use Dusk's cards." Totally... like he knows what he's doing. "Are we supposed to be running away?" Regan is nodding towards them. So he's - openly peering back at her. While gathering ALL the cards. "What do I do with them now?" Sebastian. Is the target of this quiet side-murmer. Luke Cage is here. But he's not /looking/ at Luke Cage. He is not on the clock, god dammit. The wrasslin' match eventually resolves with the skinnier of the two boys losing the grapple and being pushed closer to the building. He doesn't appear to be taking it personally. It's all in good fun! Until he swings his backpack down, drops a hand into its open top and pulls out a brick. While the other boys cheer--and spread out, their bags also dropping into their hands--he draws it back as if it were a football. Eye contact is made with Luke Cage and his grin wobbles--but only briefly. His friends are there, after all, and they /approve/ this message. "Eat shit and die, freaks!" he yells (voice cracking a little, the adolescent ghost still lingering in his young throat) and lobs the brick directly through the glass. The window promptly does what windows do best and shatters brilliantly, spewing sharp-edged shards into the cafe--further back than Hollywood might lead one to expect. A second brick follows almost immediately after, courtesy of one his counterparts. With no barrier to guard against it, it sails farther and connects with the temple of one grey-skinned, static-eyed man who immediately goes limp and slithers out of his chair. "/Jesus/." /This/ does a still-more effective job of startling Dusk than Parley had done. The bat-man is up on his feet in an instant, eyes wide, enormous wings flaring -- protectively /around/ the cadre of people at his table. << Shiiiiiiiiit. >> Ian's words shift from vocalized to telepathic, widely broadcast to anyone nearby as his form loses coherency entirely. Not a person-shaped shadow anymore, just a vague amorphous /blob/ of dark. << Thinking we should maybe try that running the hell away you were on about. >> Tali may have seen some dangerous group situations forming before. She has already dropped into the space between her table and chair, grabbing Felix's sleeve and tugging /forcefully/ as she does so. Damn the contact, there are priorities! "Down, /now/!" she orders in no uncertain terms. For once in his life, Luke just isn't big enough. He reaches out to try and block as much shattering glass as he can, and he even swats that first bring to the floor. But the mess is just too broad, and he doesn't really accomplish much. His pale yellow button-up is shredded beyond repair, though his jeans faired slightly better. "You little bastards!" he shouts. Luke steps out through the now gaping hole, trying to grab for either of the throwers. Never mind that the cops won't give two shits. It's an automatic response for him these days. "Fucking shit!" Toru is fast to drop to the ground in fetal position, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head and covering his neck with his hands-- apparently anticipating a bear attack. He's at least got a few tables between himself and the front of the building. And he's just going to /stay/ like that until he stops hearing things getting thrown. "Oh, gosh, you don't need /all/ those here lemme help you build a --" Sebastian's eyes widen, his gills flaring. He has much the same reaction Dusk does, save for a lack of wings to do it with -- he reaches for Parley, reaches for -- oh, whoops, /through/! -- Ian, aiming to tug them behind the table, farther from the window. "-ss!" Parley hunkers down like his first goal is to /Protect His Cards/ - though more likely to make a smaller shape for himself, the fur at his nape /sticking up/ in a sudden little ridge; darting blank, wide eyes to Sebastian, then Duck, the view from within his wingspan probably some interesting shadow of torso through the light of the wing membrane. -- And /that/, right there, would be Luke Cage's voice. "/Dammit/." He hisses, and with a hand brushing Sebastian, he slips under Dusk's wing to creep on all fours, "-- /Cage/." Not Mr. Cage. Just Cage. Like he /wants/ one right now to throw the man in. "-don't /chase/ them." Felix nods his head several times at Regan's comment. "Yes, that is very true." He only looks over briefly, more worried about what is happening with the group of kids. It all happens so fast for Felix, glass shards flying, people starting to move about, and he just sits there stunned for the moment. Obviously he is not used to these types of situations and has no idea how to even react, until there is this tugging that he feels on his shirt. Looking down at Tali who is now between the chairs, he realizes this is a good idea and moves behind the chairs for cover himself. Though he is still curious enough to peek around and watch what is going on. Regan's eyes widen. She tucks her laptop right back into the bag it came from. Picks up her coffee, to sip at it slowly, stepping -- back. Away from the door. Somewhere outside comes the wail of sirens! Looming closer. MAYBE the cops are actually on their way? Who knows. They're approaching, though. Distressingly enough, the laughter /continues/ in those boyish voices--high-pitched but raucous, striving for manhood. It lasts until Luke steps down and makes for the nearest kid though. It's the skinny boy and he yelps, dropping the bag as he tries--too slowly--to dodge. More bricks spill out of the backpack. The others have come prepare. His larger friend was the second brick-thrower and he's got another in his hand, which also goes sailing into the coffeehouse to catch anyone who /isn't/ hugging floor by now. It skates across a table, sending broken dishes and hot coffee down on those cowering below. A third boy has a baseball bat and he stands ready to smack anyone who runs out--except he's too busy staring at Luke to actually do any smacking. Wait...freaks fight back? The others are not so reserved. Two of the boys pull not bricks but bottles out of their bags. Bottles with rags trailing from their necks. After a shake and the snap of a lighter, these are lit. One is thrown at Evolve's front door, washing the most easily reached exit in flame. The second? Well, /that/ kid is a brave young buck and is caught up in the excitement of all of this. He peals out a defiant, "Mother FUCKER let him GO!" but then throws the bottle at Cage's back before giving the man time to comply. Glass breaks again, followed by the all too easily recognized whoosh of fire. Skinny kid's yelping becomes a scream as the sleeve of his bomber catches, and spirit-soaked glass lands in his hair. None of the boys /run/ though--even when sirens are heard. One even screams, "You're fucking dead! You're fucking /dead/, the cops are coming!" Maybe he's forgotten whose side...oh wait, no. "-- shit, out, everybody -- out the /back/," Dusk's wings curl a little closer around the others but then Parley is creeping away and he folds them in behind his back. He takes one wide-eyed look at the fire and then starts to move closer to it -- to start nudging at people, poking them towards the door. << There's a back exit, >> Ian's mental voice is louder, now. Stretching through more of the cafe. << Everybody, get up. Walk. Behind the counters. >> "Are you out of your /damn minds/?" Luke yells at the kids. Then he looks back when Parley calls his name, and apparently he's got a kickme sign taped there. Or maybe a Torch Me. It takes him a full second to realize /he's/ the one on fire now, his shredded shirt now completely engulfed in flames. He shoves the kid he had grabbed away from him, and starts to look around. "Uh, oh shit, ow... OW! Sweet Christmas! You lit me up!" He actually loses time just being /astounded/ by their audacity. Then he gets it together and literally tears his shirt off, throws it down, and stomps on it to put it out. His back looks proper-crisy, but by the way its shifting and flaking, it looks to be healing up already. "You little shits, c'mere and fight me like a man!" "Oh my god are /you/ out of your --" Sebastian /dives/ towards the front of the room -- maybe he's attacking /Cage/! Except he's not, he's just /bapping/ at the man's arm. "If you can heal be /useful/ ignore them get people /out/." His words are a little stilted, gills flaring intermittently between them. So Toru /had/ been planning on staying on the floor, but then there's the sound of flame wooshes and a brick landing-- just a few feet away from him. Welp. He pushes himself up to a squatting position, pulling his hoodie off and throwing that aside, followed by the gloves. The mental voice is followed by an immediate and not-necessarily-deliberate reply of, << Fuck /you/, >> as he picks the brick up and just /stalks/ towards the front windows. Just /glaring/ at the nearest idiot outside, the brick is lifted and thrown as hard as he can throw the thing; and /then/ he turns and runs back behind the counters, because screw this noise. Tali has the impression of a rear exit, suddenly! Whether that voice-impression is coming off of something she has touched or /what/, she doesn't bother to sort out for now. "Stay low, stay behind the furniture. We're going to go toward the back," she instructs through clenched teeth. She prods Felix to move in front of her, not trusting his slow response from before. Regan is listening, at least, to these urges to leave. Toru's brick-throwing actually earns a small smile from her. She steps behind the counter, too, looking down at him thoughtfully for a moment. Just a moment. Outside those sirens are getting closer. A squad car pulling up at the end of the alley! Two cops inside, burly-large in NYPD uniforms. Not to attack the mutants, though. Their eyes are definitely trained on the teenagers. They do not look /pleased/. "Fuck's wrong with you punks," one is calling as they get out of the car. Oh, FIRE. Parley's attempts to hiss at Cage turn into frozen-low to the ground /crouch/, that quickly recoils against the side of a counter as the cafe erupts in a sudden bathing wall of heat from rising flames. He withdraws rapidly, pausing only for a moment to realize he still has a fanned out handful of slightly singed Magic cards. What. He stuffs them into a back pocket and seeks to slip an arm under the unmoving gray body of the mutant the second brick had hit, dragging them none-too-gently towards the back of the cafe. Luke looks down at the sudden-Sebastian, eyes wide and looks like he might strike the boy out of reflex, but he contains himself. The cops are here, and this could go 50/50, so just nods at Sebastian instead and runs back inside. "Lets go, LETS GO," he calls out. He walks through, flipping tables, looking for anyone else knocked or just moving to slow to pick up and help towards the back exit. Baseball Bat Thud appears to take Cage at his word! Or maybe he's just panicking. Either way, it ends with him swinging with all of his (considerable) might. The kid might well have a future in the majors if he could give up this life of violence! Meanwhile, burning kid is rolling around on the ground squealing and slapping at his arm while his brick-throwing compatriot goes to assist--only to get beaned hard in the shoulder by Toru's throw. /He/ goes down as well, caterwauling about murder and freaks. These leaves three occupied--but with three remaining to focus on the coffeeshop and those inside of it, the chaos doesn't end. Sebastian provides a moving target when he darts forward and the lone boy remaining armed with bricks takes aim and fires from the hip, snapping off a half-chunk at the blue-skinned teen of the same age. A Molotov thrower is cursing and snapping his lighter to no avail, holding another missile. The other has better luck and as patrons are being organized into a more or less orderly retreat, /that/ bottle comes arcing through the broken window. It practically /explodes/ in the center of the room, sending flaming shrapnel and liquid everywhere. The boy on the ground who is clutching his shoulder rolls onto his side and shoots an imploring look at the arriving police. "Oh /fuck/," he squeals, "fuck, help! They're killin' /everyone/!" His crisped comrade has better sense--or has just realized something like a survival instinct. He rolls to his feet and takes off down the alley, flakes of charred bomber jacket showering behind him. "Huh... Wha..." Felix is fixated on what is going on out front, and as Tali called it, very slow to react to the fire at the front door. He realizes he should be moving away from the front of the building as he is pushed towards the counters. Once there he takes up another position where he can view the chaos going on, perhaps he is just a really curious type. On his way to the back of the building, Toru snatches up his hoodie, leaving the gloves; he doesn't put it on yet, for the moment, but he does calm himself down a bit for the appearance of the cops. He's an innocent bystander! ... To be fair, it /was/ self-defense, but. You know. Regan's attention does /not/ go unnoticed, and on his way to the back he flashes her a grin and an obvious look-over. "'Eyy, chica," he nods, /approvingly/. There's always time to be /smooth/. "Maybe I see you later, eh?" For some reason, he's affecting a Mexican accent. Either way, though, he doesn't stick around long enough to continue playing the game, and instead is well on his way to getting the hell out of Dodge. Sebastian is turning away already when Cage does, tilting his head down to exhort a woman crouched under a table: "Hey. Hey, we're getting --" His words cut off with the sharp thunk of brick into his shoulder, a /snarl/ coming from him as he whirls back towards the window. Just in time for the explosion. Another hiss, as bits of flaming shrapnel hit his (Shane's!) pretty neat clothes. He curls his shoulder inwards, dropping to the floor to start crawling towards Dusk instead. Tugging at an ankle. "C'mon let's /go/." One of the cops out in the alley draws his weapon. He fires -- Bam! bam! bam! into the /back/ of the fleeing teenager. Then again -- bam! To the boy rolling around on the floor. Kind of casual-like. "Punks," he mutters to his partner. He /glares/ at the boy who threw the last brick. Lifts his gun. Lifts his eyebrows. Regan stoops when Parley drags the man's body back, one hand lifted to press a sleeve against her mouth. "You need help? Let's get him /out/." She seems -- oddly unphased by the abrupt /gunfire/ outside. Tali had been doing well so far. Perhaps her own heightened emotional state had been overwriting any external input. She has since acquired a number of cuts from flying shards of glass, and a few of these... Her mind is racing with images of strangers, images of the boys outside, even. One gloved hand remains at Felix's back, continuing to propel him forward, using this as an anchor to move herself, as well. Her intentions to direct other fallen and shell-shocked individuals fall by the wayside as this is all she can manage to process for now. Move. Move toward the door. Maybe it is the shock of all the violence, maybe it is the cut on his head, either way Felix passes out, unable to handle it all right now. He goes limp behind the counter right in front of Tali. Luke's eyes go wide, and he mutters aloud, "Shit, /that/ ain't kosher." Just loud enough for the evacuees to hear. "C'mon, everybody move!" Luke makes himself into a screen, his back to the other patrons, watching the street for where the next attack might come from. He's ready to jump in the way. He knows the rules must be already out the window if they're shooting at those kids. The screams this time do not come from the patrons under siege--these screams are high, frightened boys' voices, sharper than even the report of gunfire. Fleeing boy goes down in a tangle of limp limbs, the boy on the ground thrashes--then goes still. The others all freeze and /stare/ at the cop who'd fired. "Holy /shit/," one exclaims and, "What the /fuck/," another. They sound...betrayed? Then /they/ too scatter, bags and bats dropped in the sudden desperate urge to flee a scene that's become dangerous for /them/. And in the distance, new sirens rise on the sweet evening air, over the crackle of fire spreading through Evolve. The roar of soaring emotions, if anything, kicks off a reflective response in Parley that eases his own agitation. A few red scratches past one cheek don't seem to trouble him as he coughs into a fist /while/ answering Regan, "Y-hff-eah. Are there oth...ers?" Casting out a loose net of empathy to check for any minds /not/ currently intending to check out of this mess, he's had been scanning the room, and is then looks back at Regan more /rapidly/. His mouth opens. Then closes. "-they're getting worked up." He sounds absurdly bland about this. So dry you might worry it'll catch on fire next. Ian is -- sadly not actually the intimidating kind of shadowmonster. In noncorporeal form he is fairly useless, really. Ghosting around. Checking on people but unable to affect them. << Here, >> though, he does manage to be helpful, nudging Dusk towards a woman hack-cough-unable to stand singed beneath a table. And, << here, >> to Cage, to another boy badly bleeding with the shrapnel. Dusk follows these urgings, doing his best -- it's an /effort/, the skinny nerd does not seem strong -- to get people more or less to their feet, get them back. He's hack-coughing, too, though. His eyes are wide. He is trying hard not to look at the boys shot outside. His inner monologue is a mostly steady stream of << WHAT THE FUCK. >> Sebastian is stronger. If bleeding himself. But he's at least more than capable of assisting people to their feet -- at least at first he is. His gills are fluttering wildly. His breathing is not so much raspy as nonexistant. He stumbles back towards the back exit, patting a hand frantically at singing scorches on his clothes. "/They're get-" Luke splutters, turning to find where Parley's voice is coming from. "/I'm/ fuckin' worked up. What do you mean, Parley? Who?" He looks around to the bleeding boy and adds a little louder, "We got a first aid kit in the kicthen? I'm pretty sure they ain't sendin' ambulances today." Luke scoops the boy into his arms, and keeps his own body between the cops and his delivery. "Oh, no. No, you don't!" Iztali grumbles at Felix as he /passes out/ in front of her. Then she proceeds to utter a stream of entirely uncomplimentary things at him in angry Spanish as she half-hauls, half-drags him to the back door. The litany of curses thrown into the mix helps to ground her from the sudden influx of Felix-memories flooding her along with everything else. Her arm is bleeding, along with a knee that has a shard of glass protruding from it. "They are, aren't they?" Regan sounds kind of bland, too, through the press of her sleeve to her mouth. She stoops, curling an arm beneath the unconscious grey-skinned man's shoulders. To start hauling him towards the door. "Come on. We should. Get out." Outside, the cops watch the boys fleeing. Then put down their weapons. One spits towards the burning building. "Fucking freaks," comes in the same tone he said fucking punks. They turn, and walk back to their car to drive off. As the stream of injured and coughing escape through the rear of the building, they're met by a crowd of lookyloos. In similar situations, people might rush forward to render aid but the people in this crowd...draw back, some of them muttering, some of them looking nervous as distinctly mutant persons appear. Inside of the cafe, the fire roars higher, fueled at first by the alcohol that had filled the bottles and then catching everything it can--paper napkins, upholstered couches, even the pleather seats of the chair. Flames lick up the walls and crawl along the counter, consuming. Smoke collects, pale at first but then billowing through opened doors, broken windows, thick and obnoxiously black. As the first responders pull up--seconds after that first cop car departs--their lights wash over a scene of broken glass and broken bodies, and a building soon to go up entirely. "--there's a young woman that seems to be struggling in the corner, Mr. Cage." Parley is IGNORING your questions, Luke; intoning with spectacular enunciation just to make sure you can hear him over the fire. While saying it, his eyes are slide to a peripheral, to the side of Regan's face, as the two of them work together to drag the GrayMan outside. Once outside, soot-smudged and coughing into an elbow, he realizes one shoulder is smoldering, and he /pats/ it out, and drags off his sports coat - sigh, that was a few hundred dollars he /really/ doesn't have to spare, and uses it to smother out some of small flames creeping up the GrayMan's pant leg. "--what's your name?" He's... presumably asking Regan this. While looking over a shoulder for signs of his /neighbors/. Luke nods at Parley, "Yeah ok. Shit, at least the fire trucks /came/." He sets the bleeding boy down outside where he'll get attention soon, and dashes back in for last person. It doesn't take him long. He has to bat away some burning wreckage, but he has the woman in his arms quickly, and runs back outside. Dusk hastens towards the exit as the flames lick higher. A wing curls around Sebastian, surprisingly powerful for its thin membranous appearance, tugging the sharkboy along with him towards the exit. They're trailed out by a curl of shadow. He looks almost like smoke. Outside, once they have set the man down on the ground away from the flames, Regan is just coughing. Hack, hack, cough. "-- Forgot my coffee," she laments, between gasps. The question of her name just gets a teary-eyed shake of her head, palm blotting against her eyes. She turns her head at the sound of the /other/ sirens pulling up, and yanks her backpack higher onto her shoulder, hurrying away in the opposite direction from the approaching first responders. Tali finds a spot of empty ground on which to deposit Felix. She crouches over him, assuring herself that he is breathing and possessed of a reasonable pulse. And so she sits, hunched and rocking like a traumatized guardian gargoyle, until the unconscious man awakens or paramedics take him away. Parley releases a soft exhale when Dusk comes into view. And then, compressing his mouth, he pulls on his kind of smokey jacket -- and, following Regan's retreating back, he slips off along the side of the building and seeks to follow, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he vacates the scene. ========================= IC News/Gossip ========================= Message: 3/46 Posted Author Evolve Coffeehouse Burns! Tue Jun 11 A Shadowy Figure NEW YORK CITY - Smoke from a fire at known mutant hangout Evolve Coffeehouse drifted over the Lower East Side on Tuesday evening. The blaze broke out following reports of an altercation between an unknown number of youths and patrons of the coffeehouse. Three people are reported dead, including two young men, and two fire fighters were treated on scene for injuries related to fighting the blaze. The cause of the blaze is still unknown and investigators have not released details on the victims, pending contact of their families. Bystander reports are conflicting, with some observers claiming that the youths instigated the attack and even set the fire, while others claim that the youths were attacked by mutants in the alley in front of Evolve and the fire was a result of unsafe power use. Authorities are investigating additional reports that the police officers who first arrived on scene opened fire indiscriminately before leaving the scene as fire fighters and medical response units arrived. Anyone with information that may help investigators is invited to call the crime prevention number at 1-800-YOU-HELP. ==================================================================