2012-07-23 Quick Interview

Seems like a quiet enough day. Light cloud cover, bright and sunny, just a normal Monday. If one keeps up with press conference sorts of things, one might know that there was a press conference thing. Really, it's unimportant. What IS important are the police that head toward Hell's Kitchen, responding to shots fired. From an alley leading out of Hell's Kitchen, knee skinned, hair a bit mused, phone in hand, the intrepted reporter -- Lois Lane -- is running full tilt. As she rounds the corner, she makes that classic mistake of looking over her shoulder.

Shots fired. Of course Quicksilver had something to do with it. Standing on top of a parked van, the green-clad speedster rifles quickly through a large sack that appears to be stuffed entirely with stacks of cashy money. "Awesome. I should get a suit made entirely out of bills." Although he is on the same street as the intrepid reporter, her sudden darting from the alley is apparently beneath his notice. Instead, he pulls a smartphone from a metal case on his belt. "Hey. Are you watching the news? Yeah, the news. See if I'm on yet." A pause, during which Quicksilver smiles gleefully. "I just robbed a bank. It was awesome. How should I know which one? I'm in New York, I think. Just check and see if I'm on tv already."

A van! Fantastic! Lois darts behind the van and thumps her back against it. The van rocks slightly from the slight additional weight of her sliding down onto the bumper. "Right. Pantsuit, flats," she seems to repeat to herself softly. That's when she hears the voice from above. 'Just robbed...' "Oh no," she says as she looks up.

"God, what's taking so long? Run, push buttons, find bank stories. I want to see if they noticed I changed the color on my costume. Yeah, it looks pretty awe..." Having looked up, the reporter would no doubt get an eyeful of Quicksilver, as he has just peered over the side of the van. Standing precariously close to the edge, and bent over so far that his torso is basically at a 90 degree angle from his legs, he stares at the slightly dishevelled woman with a look that hovers somewhere between morbid curiosity and disgust. "Nosey much? That's right, I robbed whatever bank is over there." He points in the general direction of the bank he just snatched money from.

Lois looks over at said bank. Her press badge is nice and visible, hanging from her lapel. After all, Lois was working less than 10 minutes ago. She looks back up at Quicksilver, and gulps. "Good for you," she offers back at him. I'm just going to... go... over there," she stammers, thumbing over her shoulder toward... well technicially it's toward the VAN, becasue she's got her back to it, but you get the drift.

"Here, I'll call you back. Just keep looking. Make a copy of it from the tv, can you do that? Yeah, do that." The smartphone beeps as Quicksilver cancels the call and repockets the phone so fast that his arm is a blur.

"Here, I'll call you back. Just keep looking. Make a copy of it from the tv, can you do that? Yeah, do that." The smartphone beeps as Quicksilver cancels the call and repockets the phone so fast that his arm is a blur. He closes up the sack full of money, and hops off the van, landing right in front of Lois. "What's the hurry? I feel like we were just starting to be friends." Standing over her, he suddenly punches the side of the van, leaving a slight dent in the metal. "Yes... bask in the fear, monkey." He looks like he's about to do some other macho display of moderate power when suddenly he actually looks at the woman. "Hang on... Daily Planet. What are you, a blogger or something?"

Lois eeps as the Green Blurry Wonder leaps down in front of her, effectively blocking her only means of escape. Of course, not that it would matter, but still! She gasps as he dents the van, sinking back against it as he addresses her. Whatever startled fear she had on her fast fades in an instant at the speedster's insult. Indignation and stubbornness flare up in those violet eyes.

"Ace reporter, actually," Lois retorts furiously and does the only thing she can think of to do (since it worked on stack of muscles she managed to get away from): Lois-knee meet Speedster-bits.

"Like with tv? Even better I GAAACK!" By the time Quicksilver notices that her leg has started moving, it's already basically at its target. He attempts to leap directly upward, but even that doesn't save him. In fact, it's counterproductive as he gets rekicked on his way back down. But even doubled over in agony he still manages to take a few speedster steps back, crossing the street in a blur and narrowly missing an oncoming car. "Ugh... I'm in quite a lot of pain. But. Heh. Don't think I don't appreciate the humor. Heh. Ugh. Seriously though, you're a bitch. And. Ugh... I'm probably going to kill you." Deep breaths Quicksilver. Deep breaths.

Run! Lois' brain is on the right page, her body however is stunned, just floored that the speedster is suddenly across the street. She stares for several seconds before she shakes her head and starts off down the street again, in heels.

This won't do. A greenish blur races down the street, and Quicksilver is now hunched over in front of her... several yards out of arm's (or, more importantly, leg's) reach. He inhales deeply, and slowly stands up straight, clutching his stomach region. "Running, really? You can't run with me, your bones would melt like wax." Now that his body is less excruciatingly in pain, his semi-sinister grin returns. "Tell you what. You put me on the America News TV Station or whatever, and not only will I not kill you for kicking me in the balls, but I'll also give you an exclusive interview."

Lois skids to a stop as the blur stops several yards away from her, gasping in surprise. Breathless, the reporter takes a minute to eyes Quicksilver, like he's just said something completely stupid. It's the offer of an exclusive interview that keeps her from moving on to plan 'stupid pants'. Her mind races for a moment. GUH! I hate TV... "Exclusive interview. Sure. I can do that," she says, not yet commenting what kind of news reporting she does. Not with the offer of killing her on the table. Nope, this way is safer... and if she can't worm her way out of a TV newscast, she'll just have to put in a phone call. God, please don' tlet it go that far.

"Cool. Cool. So... you have your camera with you or... how do we do this?" Now apparently recovered, Quicksilver zips behind Lois, as if waiting for her answer would take too long and he's better off just checking for a camera himself. "I've never actually done an interview before, I usually just push reporters over and steal their microphones for a minute." He zips back in front of her, the sack of money now held over his back like Santa Claus' pack. "Oh! We have to put on makeup right? I mean, there's no way you're going on TV looking like that..."

You know. Seeing people zip about at superspeeds would get less disorientating the more it happens, and yet... Lois squeaks as Quicksilver rushes behind her. Her hands tighten on her purse. Then, faster than she can blink, he's back in front of her, Santa Coins bag on his shoulder. She blinks a few times, gapping at him, before her brain can engage. It's an agonizing three seconds of her not saying anything.

"Right. Make up. WOuldn't you know it, I left my camera man at the office. We could... do a voice interview," she offers, not for a moment thinking that's going to work. Great. She IS going to have to call in, isn't she? - "Yeah... here's the thing about voice interviews..." Aside from a subtle shifting of weight every now and then, Quicksilver actually manages to hold still for a few seconds. "Part of what I do in order to further the cause of mutant supremacy... is... I'm basically... voice interviews wouldn't really convey the majestic... I don't want to do a voice interview, what is this, Olden Times?" Another weight shift. "It's important for the world to see me in 1080p, is what I'm getting at."

"What, because you're so devilishly handsome," retorts Lane, one hand going to her hip as head tilts to one side. "Besides, where voice and video fail, print takes over. A picture can paint a thousand words, but the right thousand can bring a man to his knees or make him ready to face an army alone," she presses on, fully advocating her media style above all others, while down playing his mutant supremacy rant. Because there's isn't an argument in the world that could possibly relate the two mindsets, really!

"Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it in 1080p, I always say." Quicksilver smiles. "Actually, that's really good, I'm going to use it more often." He looks away, apparently fully cognizant of having spent too much time too near the scene of his very recent crime. "Mutants look to me as a symbol of hope, which is why I recently decided to change the color of my costume from Mantis Green to a slightly more eyecatching Lime shade. Really pops on... Hang on." Quicksilver stares at Lois directly in the face, leaning forward menacingly. "What was that you said? The thing about words?"

Oh god. Of all the 'villians' to get tangled up with... Lois brings a hand to her lips to fight down the chuckling snicker as Pietro comments about switching from one green to another. It's his sudden menacing lean in that has the Daily Planet reporter gasping again, eyes once more going wide.

"Words are more powerful than any picture in the right hands," Lois replies, chin lifting with that stubborn indignant streak she's so well known for.

"It suddenly occurs to me that you haven't been very forthcoming with exactly what type of reporter you are. What do you do, radio?" Quicksilver's eyes are suddenly more intense, as if his entire brain is animated with suspicion.

Well, it had to happen, right? Lois pulls herself up to her full and rather unimpressive height, no small amount of moxy giving her the will to stare down that intense gaze. "Lois Lane, Daily Planet. /The/ news/paper/ in Metropolis," she says, leaning on words heavily to emphasize them, and making it clear she thinks Quicksilver's a little... oh, how to put this delicately?... slow.

For what must seem like forever to Quicksilver, he just stares at Lois Lane as if she just made the most horrible fart smell ever. Then, suddenly: "HA! A NEWSPAPER!" He leans back, and with his face pointing up to the sky, lets out an uncontrollable stream of laughter. "Hahahahahahahahahaha! With the... ha! Newspaper! Oh, that's rich!" The casual observer might think some sort of performance art was occuring, watching the green-clad man with a large sack strung over his back laughing directly into the face of poor Lois Lane. "I can't... hoo! This is just.... HA!" Suddenly he stifles the laughter and whips out his telephone and places it to his ear. "Hello? All Other Forms of Media? This is The Newspaper. YOU WIN! HAHAHAHAHA!"

“Yeah... haha! I'm not going to kill you... After you change your typewriter ribbon a few more times you'll probably jump off a building! HAHA!" He blurs again, this time reappearing right beside Lois. He elbows her gently the ribs and gives her a Python-esque "know what I mean" type look. "Heh. Huh? Am I right, Hildy Johnson? HA HA!" There's no way that his laughter at this point is still genuine. It is, however, loud and mean.”

Lois Lane glares at Quicksilver as the laugheter begins. Her shoulders slumping a bit as Quicksilver flickers about in his laughter. She just eyes him, expression falling toward the unamused. She slowly dips her hand into her purse, fingers slowly sifting through for the pepperspray.

"Oh, you're a regular Dennis Leary, aren't you, Speedy Gonzalez," she retorts, not able to find the spray just yet. "Tell you what, you cut the typewriter jokes, and I won't hand you to Cat Grant for an epic What Not to Wear Smack down for the -lime green- pajamas, Hoodie Ninja."

"Oh no! What will I ever do if something bad about me appears in a newspaper?" Quicksilver's mock horror is actually almost Emmy worthy. "Then... ha ha! Somebody might go over to the Newspaper Machine... hee heee heee HA! And then... Oh God! WITH THE QUARTERS! HAHAHA! NEWSPAPER QUARTERS!" He is suddenly almost out of breath, and he says, barely louder than a whisper. "What will everybody over seventy-five think of me?"

Lois frowns, readjust her purse strap and leaving the unfound pepperspray in her purse. "Yes yes. Very mature of you," she grumbles. "How about you drop a name for me to mock you endlessly with, given that the cops now have the block surrounded," she quips at him, folding her arms across her chest. Lois Lane, distraction extraordinaire.

"You're right. You're right. Serious face." Quicksilver doesn't seem even remotely concerned. Even if these cops do exist, they're only human. "Human newspaperwoman, tell the readership of the Daily Planet that John Q Public is not safe in his stinky monkey hovel. Tell your readers that their dirty money is not safe in in their silly brick banks. And most importantly, be sure to mention that although I have changed the color scheme of my costume, I, Quicksilver, am still dedicated to my role as Mutantkind's Savior. The Brotherhood wishes to greet every mutant everywhere with open arms and at least one sack full of money. We will drive the human pestilence before us like... I don't know, make up something dramatic for that part. Nobody will read this anyway. And with that, I am off." And so he is, followed by a green streak of motion and a rush of wind.