ArchivedLogs:Skate or Die!

Skate or Die!
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Jack, Shane	2015-11-01 "You're supposed to break /before/ running into the bench." (part of flutp.)
Location <NYC> Riverside Skate Park - Morningside Heights
Tucked between Riverside Drive in Morningside Heights, and the Hudson River, the Riverside Skate Park is a mecca for skaters of all ages. The fenced in area is ringed by trees, and the park itself is actually manned by a city attendant during daylight hours. Skaters must sign a waiver before using the facilities, but anyone can come in just to watch. Also, Friday-Sunday food and drink vendors often circle the park, or come inside to sell their wares. Inside, the park is packed with skate trick elements. Many can be daisy-chained together in complex routines; ramps, jumps, rails and curbs. There is also a competition-sized half-pipe wide enough to support several riders at once. All of the trick elements are sturdy, and well built, because the city doesn't want to get sued. Skate on! The afternoon has been mild and bright, but as it starts to fade into evening the park begins to clear out, not quite as crowded as it was during the peak of the day. It may be the less-trafficked time that has drawn Shane & friends here or may just be that now Shane is finally off /work/; either way, it's certainly more convenient to make it Mutant O'Clock when there isn't a large crowd of gawkers around to... gawk. In contrast to his usual dapper clothes, right /now/ Shane is dressed -- for him, casual; dark corduroys, black sneakers, a grey button-down with a faint sheen to it. Knee- and elbow- pads that are probably there ot protect his pants more than /him/. A helmet. The board he carries with him, blue and silver and patterned with a school of cuttlefish, lacks wheels; instead just glowing circles studded at its edges. Hover-, not skate-, once a rare sight in skate parks but these days, if not ubiquitous, certainly common enough it doesn't draw much of any extra looks as Shane rides down a rail, hops off the edge, zooms over to a bench to -- splat right into it. Tumble off. Frown. That's not his usual method of dismount. Sliiightly uncoordinated as he reaches for his water bottle with a small grumble. Flicker is in black cargo pants, a blue-and-white checked short-sleeved button-down over a black tee; he's been seated on the bench beside where Shane's Things are, taking a small break from skating himself to scarf down some chutney-doused dosa from a cardboard takeout container. "Woah easy. You good?" His brows lift. He reaches for Shane's water with his (currently green-and-gold) mechanical arm, nudging it closer to the sharkpup. "You're supposed to break /before/ running into the bench." The impact prompts a wince from Jack. The invisible mutant isn't on a board, instead sitting on the back of another bench rather than its seat. In worn jeans, a hoodie with the Giants logo on the chest, and his usual sneakers, he's been watching the skating. "I think the bench won that one," he says, words slightly mumbled by what appears to be a lolipop stick floating about where his mouth would be. Orange by the smell of it. Hopping off the bench, Jack stretches as he approaches Shane and Flicker. "Fuck it, bench is cheating, it's goddamn nailed the fuck down!" Shane grumbles, /kicking/ at the bench. Which proves so fruitful given the small hiss of pain this elicits afterwards. Scowl. He snatches up his water bottle, slumping down onto the bench and sucking down a large mouthful. "I'd win if I nailed myself down," he tells the others, /insistently/. "It's all about being properly grounded, right? Finding a good solid footing." "Hard to hover if you're nailed to the ground." Flicker offers his box of potato-stuffed dosa out to Jack when Jack approaches. "Dosa?" he offers/ "The cilantro chutney's good. -- Plus if you're /both/ nailed that doesn't sound like much. Uh. Combat? /Real/ long stand-off, wouldn't it be?" "Benches are notorious cheats," Jack remarks. The offered food gets a shake of his hooded head. "No thanks. Don't think the flavor would mix well with orange and sugar," he chimes, taking the lollipop out of his mouth a moment to clarify what he means. "And the nailing would probably hurt to much to be worth it." "Benches are fucking awful," Shane agrees, tipping his water bottle towards Jack indicatively. "I never let them into my poker games. And yeah if I'm gonna pound nails into me I should save it for my Jesus cosplay." He pops the cap on the bottle back closed, setting it down again as he gets back to his feet. He sets his board back on the ground, swiping Flicker's board afterwards and offering it to Jack. "C'mon. How's your balance? /Probably/," he surmises, "less /cheatyface/ than the bench's." Flicker just scrubs a palm against his face at the mention of Jesus cosplay. Wiiince. The theft of his hoverboard, though, he's perfectly okay with, he'd /been/ skating for a while and has quite a bit of dosa to finish anyway. Jack winces too at the mention of the cosplay. The offered board is a surprise though. "I uh...don't know," Jack replies, carefully taking the board to examine. "Never actually ridden one of these...skate or hover...before," he admits. "Oh! Well, in /that/ case." Shane unstraps his knee and elbow pads, first, offering these over to Jack. He doesn't head back over to any of the ramps or half-pipes or rails, staying on the flat level ground near the bench as he gets up onto his board. "You can get a feel for whatever you're comfortable with, but most people put their dominant foot in the back." He taps down firmly with his heel; the board hums to life again, rising a few inches off the ground. "It takes a little bit to get the hang of it and stop, uh, wobbling around but." Shrug. "It responds to which ways you lean? So you kind of just angle different directions to make it turn to one side or the other." "Little bit different than skateboarding because you lean forward to speed it up," Flicker adds, leaning back in the bench. "Don't /have/ to push off the ground for that. So you kick off for a lot of tricks instead. But --" A faint flush colors his cheeks. "Probably all the standing up and not falling over part. Comes first." There's a slight crunching sound as Jack bites down on the candy to finish it off, tossing the stick into the nearest trash can with just a little telekinetic aid. Or a lot. Either way, it gets in there. He sets the board down carefully before accepting the pads. They get carefully strapped on, Jack humming faintly in approval. Attention returns to Shane and Flicker a moment later, Jack nodding as he listens. "Okay...so...let's see if I can do this without falling flat on my face..." he trails off, carefully stepping onto the board. He takes a breath before copying what Shane did and activating the board. He wobbles a little as it begins to hover. "Okay, so far, so good," he murmurs, glancing up to make sure he's doing it right and then leaning slightly forward. When he starts moving, a little of the tension leaves him but he's still wobbling. "Okay...this is pretty cool." "Sweeeet. Yeah, that's good. You're doing pretty good." Shane swerves his board around to veer over alongside Jack's, rocking forward to speed it up and then backward to brake it. Backwards /further/ to send it sliding, slowly, into reverse. "People freak out about the whole /hover/board thing but it's only a couple inches, really, you're not that much farther off the ground than on a skateboard, anyway. /Less/ far than on a bike. So, eh?" He grins, bright and toothy. "Way less far than on a hoverbike, I guess my Pa's right to freak the fuck out about /those/." As Jack starts to move on the hoverboard, there are a pair of people -- slooowly making their way in past the open fence of the skate park. Not really dressed for Skate Park, one in a business suit and one in a rather nice skirt and blouse that looks like she may have come from church. Stopping near the entrance for a moment before continuing closer, eyes fixed on the pair of teenagers at their lesson. Flicker smiles. Quick, bright. "/Pretty/ sure your Pa freaks out because the hoverbikes still have a /small/ problem with falling out of the sky. Every so often." He lifts his hand, forefinger and thumb just a little bit apart. See? Smallproblem. He takes another bite of his dosa, nodding approvingly as he watches Jack. "Rad. Yeah. Great! How's that feeling?" A small wrinkle creases his brow, though he doesn't move from his chair. "Got spectators." His tone is bland; it's common enough when out with company of Jack and Shane's type. "Let's hope they're just skating fans. I'll shoo them off if they're heckle-y." "I think...it has to do with the whole...not being connected to the ground thing. Most people...woah...don't fly or float," Jack reasons, Shane swerving around making him a little worried about a potential crash. He takes note of Shane's movements though, speeding up a little. He even manages to turn...slowly and awkwardly but a turn. "Hoverbike probably hurts a heck of a lot more if it falls on someone than a board," he adds. There's a pause before he replies to Flicker. "It feels...pretty nice. I think I can at least do this much. Don't think I'll be doing any tricks though," he laughs. The mention of spectators has Jack frowning invisibly but he stops himself from looking. "How...does stopping work?" he asks after a moment, leaning back and just managing to go backwards instead. "Yeah. That's true," Shane agrees easily enough, "but most people are boring as hell, right? I mean most people also can't run fifty miles an hour but they wrap their mind around cars well enough. And loads of people fly in airplanes all the time. I guess it takes a while to work up to a perspective shift, though, huh?" He turns his head to watch a pair of teenagers on regular skateboards far across the park, then look back at Jack. "In another generation or two these'll probably be commonplace and nobody'll think twice but. Takes some doing to work up to it." He grimacesat the mention of Spectators, but keeps his focus on Jack. "You lean back to stop -- if you lean back just a moderate amount it brakes. Leaning back too hard will reverse, though. It takes a little practice getting the hang of it." He rocks back again, slightly, stopping his board. There's no heckling coming yet from the approaching pair, anyway. Just a continued onward shuffling, slow and a little erratic. "Airplanes have a whole safety administration. Gives people some kind of sense of security." Flicker shrugs. "Though I guess crashing in an airplane's probably a lot more catastrophic than crashing one of those." He tucks a leg up underneath him, munching another bite of dosa. "Crashing a hoverbike, now..." /This/ thought earns another grimace. It clears up soon. "... the first while while I was learning I, uh, just. Bailed off mine to stop," he admits, sheepishly. "Not efficient. But effective." Speaking of crashing, that's what's in Jack's future. He nods a little to Shane's instruction and tries to break. Unfortunately he goes just a little too far. "Oh yeah. I can't wait to see-whoa!" he yelps and crashes right into a railing. Arms flail and he falls right off the board, ending up hitting the ground. After a moment he snickers. "The pads work perfectly too." Shane zooms up to the railing, stopping short of it and hopping off his board to offer Jack a hand back up. His eyes have widened, but there's a lopsided smile on his face. "Ohshit y'aright? Fff. Glad I gave you /those/, ow. Uh. OK, so, braking. That is -- definitely the first thing we should be practicing." Despite the falling, he can't help a small chuckle. "It's pretty kickass, though, isn't it? Like damn! Next best thing to actually flying. -- Oh /man/ can you make people fly? Like with your TK?" The approaching pair is still not-heckling. Not really much of anything, except staring. Though as they draw nearer it becomes far more evident that their staring is not interest, not gawking, not hostile -- not much of anything, vacant-eyed, glassy. Their jerky erratic footsteps shuffle closer; the man in the suit seems kind of heedless of a bench that stands in his way, thudding into it and only /then/ around it, though the woman beelines straight for Jack where he fell onto the ground, arms stretching out as she half-lunges, half-topples forward in his direction. "Protective gear, definitely an essential part of all flying. On hoverboards /or/ with tele..." Flicker trails off. He's out of the bench so fast that for a moment the cardboard box is just /left/, in midair where he'd been holding it before it splatters to spill dosa and chutney to the ground. "-- /Not hecklers/." A rapid-shift series of blinks has carried him towards his friends, and then past them. Briefly grabbing at the backs of the clothing of the nearer woman to yank her back and deposit her behind the fence again before he returns to Shane and Jack. He's staring -- at the man, at the probably-still-approaching woman. "... it's just the middle of the day." He sounds kind of dumbfounded, pulling out his phone. "You okay?" Accepting the hand up, Jack chuckles as well. "I'm glad too. Course its just a little fall, long as there's no huge linebacker making it a tackle I'm good," he tries to joke. "I could make a person...kind of fly if they were light enough but not for ver-" the approaching and lunging woman has his eyes going wide and Jack starting to focus his telekineis. She's Flicker-vanished before he can lash out, Jack letting out a breath of relief and quickly scrambling back onto his feet. "I'm fine...what...this isn't what I think it is, is it?" he asks. One hand at the ready, he grabs for his phone as well. "Fuck." Shane moves towards Jack, reflexively, when the pair shambles closer, a deep growl rumbling up in his throat. His gills flutter wider, his claws extending, but when the woman is moved back he relaxes -- /just/ slightly. Still watching the other man like a hawk. He scoops up his board, muscles tensed. "... I know the plague never /left/ like. You always hear every so often of /some/ family or other that. Gets sick and -- but. They usually... Fff. It's strange to." He shakes his head quickly. "My pa just got bit /yesterday/. Fuck. Out trick or treating, some house had a... this is. Not. Every. So. Often. Right?" He's scooting back. Back-back-back. Keeping a caaaareful eye on the man. Not vanished very /far/; both the woman and the still-nearby man are still shambling forward. The man lets out a small croaky groan, thudding now into the rail that Jack had crashed into; it delays him a moment, then another; he bumps into it again before he manages to slide around it and continue forward towards the group, hands out and grasping, clawlike, towards Jack. The woman, meanwhile, seems to barely notice her sudden teleportation and to be unfazed by it, simply continuing her forward march. Flicker isn't pressing his panic button; slowly stepping back away from the oncoming shamblers, he doesn't /look/ particularly panicked. Instead, calling 911 to report the pair of zombies, his brow creased in distinct discomfort as he delivers their location. Or maybe as he listens to what Shane is saying. His hand covers the mouthpiece of his phone once he's finished delivering the relevant information, giving Shane a somewhat concerned look. "... It's not. Every so often." His eyes skip from Shane to the oncoming pair. Back to Shane and Jack. "... you. Feeling okay?" Jack's backing up too, not yet hitting panic but he's tempted. "I'm...I'm alright. I just...okay this is not...this is closest I've ever..." he trails off, free hand reaching up to make sure his hood it staying on. "Should I...try to stop them or something? I mean...I probably could," he says giving a quick and light telekinetic shove to the nearest zombie in hopes of knocking them flat and delaying the lurching forward. The closer zombie, none too coordinated, tumbles and spills backwards at Jack's shove, thumping onto its rear on the ground. It still attempts to reach -- vaguely for them, sort of twisting around on the ground to scrabble a hand along the pavement in the teenagers' direction, slower and more futile than actually walking. Shane exhales, pressing a palm to the side of his neck. "Can you hold 'em? Sorta - keep. Doing that. To them? So they don't hurt anyone else? Till the..." He grimaces, /shudders/. Veeery reluctantly: "... till the cops get here." Though here he winces. "Then we bug out before the cops try to arrest /us/ too for /existing/." Scowl. "... I'm fine." Even if he's standing just a liiittle closer to Jack. His scowl not really fading. "They're on their way." Flicker tucks his phone back in his pocket, blipping -- veeery quickly forward and then back again. This time with his board in hand. "Probably best," he agrees, "not to let them --" He looks across the park, to where others had been skating on the other side of the equipment. "... anywhere. Jeez." His winces is more sad than anything else. Sadder, still, when he looks at Shane. "Fine? I just mean. You've been... a lot of people. Have been -- sick. Right?" "This is...okay, yeah...I think I can hold them," Jack replies, eyes flicking between the two. "It'll be easier if they're closer together. Can you...?" he asks Flicker, putting his phone away and taking a deep breath. "Just a...heads up. If the cops take too long you...might have to drag me out," he mutters, concentrating on gripping the first zombie and holding it firmly to the ground with his TK. If Flicker moves the other, he'll do the same to that one. Shane's gills flutter very rapidly again. "... half the school's getting sick. I got over it." He sounds oddly defensive on this point, though. More worried when he adds, "... and Pa's just got sick. I mean. They said..." Now he's hesitant. "... that it's. A really bad... flu season... fuck." His eyes have fixed on the zombies steadily. The one in the business suit is still scratching at the ground, clawing in Jack's direction, though now this fails to /get/ him anywhere, pinned securely in place, his scrabbling useless against the TK that holds him. The woman behind him is opening her mouth as she raises her hands, chomping (so eagerly! yay foods! she can see the foods in front of her!) at the air as she shambles forward. "We got your back." And the zombies' back, too; Flicker is behind the woman in another heartbeat, jaw set as he reaches for her. Picks her up into the air, deposits her back down, still chomping, face-down on the ground alongside her comrade. His expression is blank. Very set. "Serg is...sick too," Jack remarks, worried about his roommate. But that's pushed aside for the immediate concern of the zombies. He gives Flicker a grateful nod at zombie relocation before focusing on the task at unseen hand. He keeps his grip on the zombies, trying not to think about any of the zombie movies Kaine had him watch awhile back. "Why do they seem to want me so much?" he mutters, having noticed they seemed oddly focused on his invisble self. When the sirens of approaching police are heard, Jack glances around and yanks the trash can from earlier over to drop on top of the zombies just to impede them a little longer. "Okay, let's go," he breathes out. He'll need a shoulder to lean on for a moment as they escape but he gets his feet back under him easily enough and flees with the other two mutants.