2013.06.10 - Midtown Clean-Up

Traffic in Midtown is never a pretty sight at this time of day. During the weekday, it is packed with people going to and from their jobs and public transportation- and during the weekend, people looking for entertainment. Depending on who is at the Music Hall, the streets can be impossible to navigate when coupled with the ever-present construction projects going on somewhere.

Adding to all of that today is the fact that a major intersection has been closed off due to the damage caused by the fearsome foursome. The Rhino's rampage caused quite a bit of structural damage, and Electro's shenanigans played hell with the public lighting grid, a lot of which needs to be replaced. So it is understandable that many citizens feel frustrated and irritated at the inconveniences caused by the closure. But none feel it more than the crews who have to come and pick up after some maniac has decided to play Godzilla.

As a kid growing up in the Bronx, Keith is very aware of how it feels- his uncle worked on many of these crews himself. In fact, he was wondering if he wouldn't be working today, as he walks down the street towards where the confrontation took place. He isn't wearing an illusion as disguise--- rather, he is wearing his hero colors, and his fur colors (which are bright enough as it is). Since he is undergoing registration, he wants to see whether or not people will be hostile to him due to his unusual appearance. That, and he felt he needed to do a little more than drop an anvil on the bad guy.

The clean-up crews that are assigned to super hero messes in the city aren't the regular schmucks in the city's Public Works Department. Oh, no. They're part of the Public Works Department's Special Division. These guys are former army engineers, hazmat experts, and extreme environment construction experts. Basically, they're the 'G.I. Joes' of the urban planning and construction industries. They even get cool toys the regular schmucks can only dream of -- powered exoskeletons to make it easier to lift and move rubble, advanced radar and monitoring systems to help suss out unseen structural weaknesses and related hazards, and mecha-like construction machines that look like something out of Thunderbirds 2086 and put most cranes and heavy lifters to shame. (So, we're talking vehicles, not battle robots or Transformers.) They're the elite of the elite. They're to Public Works what the SWAT is to the regular beat cops. The few. The proud. SpecDiv. Oorah!

And right now, two of them are standing in the middle of the crater that was Channel's ground zero, in full hazmat gear, exoskeletons, and hard hats, with little yellow scanners in their hands.

"The readin's are fine, Snow," a 30-something fellow says to his female companion. His name is Joe "New Guy" Booker. He's been with the Specs for a good 5 years, but, since new guys come along only rarely to join the team, he's still saddled with that moniker. "It's just a dent. Chewie could have it filled inside an hour and ready for the schlubs to smooth over." (The 'schlubs' he's referring to, of course, are the non-SpecDiv PW crews who get to clean up after SpecDiv has finished all the heavy lifting.)

"Are you the hazmat expert on this team?" Deanna "Snow" White replies, her Jersey accent as clear as his is Brooklyn. "No. I do not think you are." She thumbs her chest with a gloved hand. "I. I am the hazmat expert on this team. And I say we give it another scan just to be sure. You saw the damned explosion that rocked this joint. Explosion like that's gotta leave more of a trace than this." She smacks the side of her scanner in emphasis.

Across the street from them, wearing street clothes rather than the combat leathers she manifested during the fight, Amanda Sefton is heedless of the argument. Her focus, instead, is on dodging the traffic that slowly works its way around the blast site. She's talking into a cell phone mic-and-earbud set as she goes. "Yeah. I'll meet you there, Kurt. I just need to stop and pick up something along the way..."

Vorpal reaches the corner and sighs, looking at the destruction in the area, taking in the workers and wondering -just for a moment- what it'd be like to have an exo suit like that. His uncle might have told him about the equipment the special crews got to wore, but he doesn't really remember that much. At the time, he was too busy with other things to learn much about the work the special crews performed. When she died and he moved into his house, he never really integrated into the family that well. He doesn't recall ever asking much in the way of details from uncle Robert, either. 'Makes you wish you had paid attention, doesn't it?' says that little voice in his head. "Ah, shut up." Vorpal mutters.

Somehow it seems much more dramatic now. Probably because at the time, he was high on adrenaline and there was much commotion. Now that the area was isolated, it only helped to highlight everything. The feline stands, arms crossed and watching the two hazmat figures with a frown. He is oblivious of the sidelong glances that people give him-- but he does stand out like a sore thumb, with such colors.

Vorpal reaches the corner and sighs, looking at the destruction in the area, taking in the workers and wondering -just for a moment- what it'd be like to have an exo suit like that. His uncle might have told him about the equipment the special crews got to wore, but he doesn't really remember that much. At the time, he was too busy with other things to learn much about the work the special crews performed. When his mother died and he moved into his uncle's house, he never really integrated into the family that well. He doesn't recall ever asking much in the way of details from uncle Robert, either- all he knew was that he was part of the pick-up crew that swept in after the experts (or the 'snowflakes' as he seemed to call them) were done.

'Makes you wish you had paid attention, doesn't it?' says that little voice in his head. "Ah, shut up." Vorpal mutters.

Somehow it seems much more dramatic now. Probably because at the time, he was high on adrenaline and there was much commotion. Now that the area was isolated, it only helped to highlight everything. The feline stands, arms crossed and watching the two hazmat figures with a frown. He is oblivious of the sidelong glances that people give him-- but he does stand out like a sore thumb, with such colors.

Another couple of members of the Public Works Special Division unit are shifting the last of the rubble piles into a large disposal unit while still others are installing special, temporary reinforcement jacks into the holes in the building walls to help shore the structure up until a decision is made whether to demolish it or repair it. One of them picks up a black and yellow box from his own exo suit's utility belt and keys in a code sequence.

The yellow jacks hum and an orange force shield comes to life between them, creating a semi-transparent energy wall to fill the hole and seal off the space within the building from the outside. They'll remove it when its time to rebuild. SpecDiv's goal today is to get the intersection cleaned up enough that regular street traffic can move through again. Peripheral repairs can be performed later. It's the road surface and pedestrian walkways that are more important.

"Yeahyeahyeah, Snow," New Guy says, rolling his hand expressively. "It's your call. Fine. Just hurry it up, already. Hoagie said there's another site that needs containing down in the theatre district. Real clusterfutz, he said. Screwed up everything -- storms, sewers, roads. Gonna take a weeka work to straighten out."

"And how is this my problem right now?" Snow retorts. "My problem right now is here. On this street. In this crater." She fiddles with the settings of her scanner and turns in a small circle.

New Guy lets out a martyred sigh and turns to step out of the crater. "Whatever, Snow. Just hurry it up." He starts heading toward a rubble pile to help there.

"You cannot hurry thoroughness!" Snow calls after him, though, truthfully, even she has to concede that any trace of hazardous energy has long since dissipated from the spot. "Fine," she mutters. "Chewie! You're good to go."

Over by one of the mixer machines, another exo suited fellow gives her a thumbs up and work continues on.

Amanda makes it across the street, now. She's smiling and even laughs at something Kurt says on the other end of the line. "Yeah, I promise," she says then. "Okay. I'm hanging up now." A beat. "Uh-huh. I'll see you then." Another beat. "Yeah. Bye." She laughs ends the call before he can say more.

Ah well, at least, he's in a good mood.

She slows her steps as she reaches the sidewalk and the spot where the cruiser -- long since moved -- went into the wall. At least the cop inside survived. She lets out a soft whistle at the damage, however, and shakes her head. Close call.

Billy Kaplan has been having a less than good week. Bad things happening to friends, personal failures on his part, monsters attack the movie festival he went to in order to relax and try and forget things and of course the ever present construction as either Damage Control of the Special Works Division of the NYC Public Works Department clean up after another super fight is making getting to the used book store that Billy likes before they close at an absurdly early time impossible without using magic. "Man, I should just give up on getting to the book store this week. Maybe I should just head back to the theater from last night and do the clean up I was too tired to try. Save the city, or at least someone a lot of time and effort at least."

There is something vaguely magical about Vorpal, for those who are attuned to such things. It is not exactly that he irradiates power the way a magician would- but rather there is that residue that magical creations have. He watches the hazmat expert and feel guilty. Well, not exactly guilty- he hadn't caused the damage, but nevertheless...

'Geez, listen to yourself with the angst! If you hadn't been here, if any of those capes hadn't been here, Doc Oc and the others would have been here and they would have made mush of people.' That was his 'other voice', what he liked to think of as the saner part of himself. It wasn't anything as complicated as separate identities, but a style of thinking brought about by looking over his own shoulder for years.

"I that's right," he says out loud, forgetting himself, he still wished there were something he could do to help. But his skills weren't as useful as those bulldozers and exo-suits.

Cleaning up at the Majestic will take more than one hero's effort, or even the efforts of the valiant SpecDiv. While the streets and property surrounding the Majestic will doubtlessly be repaired in short order -- i.e. a matter of days and short weeks -- the old cinema itself remains under Daytripper's warded dome. And the sorceress has no intention of letting people near it until she, and a small team, can go in and start clearing it out in earnest.

The most clean up that was done on the place, last night, was the destruction of the monsters that remained tied up outside in the parking lot. Couldn't risk those bastards getting loose to terrorize the city, after all. Beyond that? Yeah. SpecDiv's going to be busy with that for a while. And none too happy about that fact, either.

But, that's why they get paid the big bucks.

Amanda turns away from the damaged store front, now, and the super construction crew that's already shoring up the structural damage. She starts to move away down the street, but pauses as she sees the purple felinoid, watching the internal debate rage across his features.

Billy Kaplan is usually one of the good ones in the hero community, that reality warping magic of his makes it easy to put everything broken back in one piece, he was just too tired to try that on the Majestic last night. It is as he starts making his way through one of the few clear pedestrian walkways in the area he is in now that he spots something that even the typical jaded New Yorker does not see everyday, a purple furred cat boy. Ending up close to him just as he speaks out loud in the middle of his internal debate Billy can't help himself. "What's right?"

Vorpal turns around abruptly at the question so that he comes face to face with... a kid, wearing a Triforce T-shirt. That's the first thing he notices. He gives him a look as if to say 'are you a mind-reader?', but he realizes quickly that he probably said that part out loud. Having spent the last five months by himself, only interacting with other people when patrolling- and those were just criminals- had put him in the habit of sometimes talking to himself out loud.

People were going to think he was as mad a Hatter, really.

"Nothing... sorry, I was thinking to myself and I guess I must have said something out loud." He is a little relieved that the kid wasn't giving him the 'are you from Mars?' look that he was getting accustomed to.

Amanda recognizes both heroes, now. And, unlike many people, she's not in the least put off my Vorpal'a appearance. (She grew up with a blue-furred demon, after all.) "Don't worry," she says, approaching the pair, and gesturing to the square in general. "This'll all get sorted out."

She smiles at Billy and gives him a brief nod of her head in greeting. To Vorpal, however, she cants her head. "You were part of the fight with the foursome the other afternoon, yeah?"

Billy Kaplan grins and nods at Vorpal. "Ok, I know how that goes, I totally have these huge running monologues that go on and on inside my head and then end up finishing them off by suddenly blurting out the last part of them out loud in the middle of crowded streets or once in the middle of a date. Only realized I did it that time because of the look I got, god I wanted to curl up and hide under a rock for weeks after that. Although it turned out all right, he thought it was cute." He grins at Vorpal as he babbles on a bit. The fact that the other guy is an anthropomorphic cat, or purple for that matter, does not seem to bother him in the least. "Ooh, you were here for the fight? Wow, I heard that there was like a whole squadron of Spider-men there fighting the Sinister Six."

"I guess I'm not the only one with runaway monologues" the cat replies, and perks an ear as Amanda addresses him. "Y-yes, I was part of it. Sort of. Not really, though, all I did was drop an anvil on Electro... and yes, there were a ton of spiders, including the original." he looks at Amanda, frowning "Were you part of the fight? I'm sorry, I didn't really have time to socialize with anyone after the fact..." 'Except for that really cute guy who has no clue abou---' "and I didn't really know anyone in there. I'm really bad with faces---" 'Yeah, right, you know what he looks like' "-- though there was this one guy about whom I had heard of from a mutual friend... Kurt, I think his name was. But with the police coming and everything, nobody wanted to stick around for too long."

One of the downfalls of having a very vivid imagination was that your inner monologues tended to run counterpoint. It was as if he had a tiny little version of himself sitting on his shoulder, providing commentary.

It's the kid's magic that tips Amanda off as to who Billy may actually be. No. He doesn't much look like Wiccan... but he sure as hell feels like Wiccan. The magic has that same wild, reality-challenging edge to it -- the complete opposite to Daytripper's meditative urban focus. Thanks to her attunement to NYC, her magic usually just reflects the feel of the city itself.

Vorpal's response -- effectively his monologue given voice -- causes the blonde to arch a brow lightly. Her eyes flick to Billy and then back to the cat. Guessing who the magic kid is, she decides there's not a lot of point in dissembling for the cat. "First, I'd say dropping an anvil on Electro's head was pretty darn helpful," she notes. "Someone needed to cut off the energy flow to Channel, otherwise her nova would have been worse than it was." She smiles. "Second, I can't begin to list who all was involved in that fight. It was a bit of a blur... And third, exactly who do you think Kurt is?" The question is posed lightly, though her eyes suggest she's a little wary of the answer. "Describe him, for me."

Billy Kaplan totally knows what Vorpal is going through. Not only has he dealt with the inner conversations going at cross purposes he has had the one where he has two going at once. Billy nods along with Amanda as she says that dropping an anvil on Electro was a good thing, although he wonders what exactly happened because from all he has looked up the guy that looks like an electric storm French kissing a star fish tends to take a lot more than just physical damage to take him down. At the pointed questions he decides not to say a word, not with Amanda getting the scary serious look on her face.

When Keith feels awkward, he tends to be a little oblivious to subtle cues. Such as Amanda's eyes. He's not conscious of the seriousness that comes over her, but his subconscious suddenly decides that full disclosure is better than anything else.

"Well... this sort of happened a few weeks ago when I was patrolling Central Park and I ran into this lovely girl and she told me not to be ashamed of the way I looked because she was friends with people who were unusual looking and were just wonderful people---" breath "---and well, she said 'I know Kurt and he's blue and fuzzy' or something along those lines... and she was this really, really nice girl. So when that fight went down, I saw someone that matched that description so after the fight I decided to mention that we might have a friend in common and I mentioned her name and he smiled and said to give her his regards--- so that's how I knew he was the same blue fuzzy guy she had mentioned...." he pauses. Probably to come up for air. It is somewhat remarkable that that much air can fit in his frame, however broad his chest is. "... did I step in it?"

Amanda just laughs, now, holding up her hands to stop the barrage of words. (Now there's a superpower for the cat...) "No. You're fine. Yeah. That's him." She shakes her head now. "Though, ah, if superheroics are involved, 'Nightcrawler' is a better handle." Based on conversations she's had with Kurt, she can guess who it was that told Vorpal about him. She regards his flamboyant appearance. "So, where are you from, Cat?"

She's not ignoring Billy, by any means. But, she's not sure about 'outting' him, either. Better to play dumb.

Billy Kaplan just smiles a little in the barrage of explanations from Vorpal. He has to laugh a little. He has run into Nightcrawler a few times, and his best friend a whole lot more often than him. Of course it always happens in costume so not a good idea to mention it unless he wants to out himself as mystic mutant hero. Damn secret IDs, they always make life so much more difficult.

Vorpal smiles at Amanda apologetically "Sorry... I didn't really catch anyone's callsign, either. I'm Vorpal... though my name's Keith . When you look like me... well, there's no way in hell you can have an actual secret identity. Even this..." he focuses for a second and suddenly he is not there any more, but a tall, older woman with grey hair touched with a bit of black, and a rather nice outfit "...is only temporary." The voice that comes out is part of his illusion as well, it is low but one appropriate to an older woman. The illusion vanishes as he dismisses it. "I can't keep up an illusion around me for more than a specific amount of time.. or I start having these migraines like Athena is trying to burst out of my head. And then I can't make any illusions for a while." he says, shrugging. "I'm... learning as I go, really---"

'She asked you where you were from, idiot!'

"OH Right....where I'm from. I'm from the Bronx, ma'am. Well... I used to be. Back when I was human. Then a wizard slit my throat and I died. Then the Cheshire Cat saved me and I came back like this...." he looks down at himself "... because the universe has a sense of humor, I guess. I haven't quite learned how to deal with people staring at me just yet." He says, looking at the people passing them by. He doesn't like to admit it, but the stares are more troublesome than he thought they would be.

'It's like I'm out here naked...'

'Well, you almost ARE. Couldn't you put on a shirt?'

'You know how I hate it when my fur gets matted!'

'Then deal with it, bucko.'

"It's kind of.... I don't know."

Amanda smiles sympathetically at Vorpal. "Nice to meet you, Vorpal," she says, extending her hand to him, now. His momentary illusion causes her to arch a brow lightly. "An illusionist. It's a handy ability to have." She should know. She glances once more between him and Billy and then says with a mild shrug. "When hooded, I'm called Daytripper. Nightcrawler is a good friend of mine. I understand the challenges you face."

Billy Kaplan has never been one for getting people staring at him either, although after years of getting stares in school for being the one openly gay kid there and a few other things he has developed some different, although not always mature, ways of dealing with the stares. As a couple of guys give angry glares at Vorpal he ends up sticking his tongue out at them as if daring them to say something. Not that small geeky teen boy is all that impressive or likely to scare them off. At the illusion he nods and grins again. "That is awesome, illusions are a great thing to have I always have the hardest problem with them usually it is just easier to go with a...aww...crap." He says the last as he realizes he said just the wrong thing to keep his secret ID a secret.

Vorpal looks at Billy kindly, noticing his reaction to the stares. "It's ok... we all have our secrets," he says, giving Billy a Cheshire grin and putting a hand on his shoulder. He gives the two guys a sidelong glance, then he answers Amanda. "I'm not... really an illusionist. I'm not really much of any one thing, but rather a smattering of a lot of things, none of which particularly strong. I wish they came with an instruction manual, because I'm playing things mostly by ear."

Again, Amanda chuckles, though this time it's at Billy's faux pas. "It's tough to keep secrets like that," she says to him, including Vorpal in her words. The stares the trio gets are largely ignored. She's been enduring them whenever she's been with Kurt all her life. In her case, though, the reactions she's usually fending off are the same sort inter-racial couples usually get. Why is 'she' with 'him', sorts of things. Not quite the same.

She cants her head, now, glancing between both of them. "How do you train?" she asks, now -- asks of both them, in fact. She remembers how wild Wiccan's magic was last night. "Have you had much?"

Billy sighs and then gives the others a sheepish grin. "A training manual would be awesome. The closest I have found are a few nearly impossible to understand tomes and a set of self help books my boyfriend borrowed form his mom." He shrugs and blushes a little bit at the question about training from Amanda. His comment on the books should be enough to answer her question there. "Um...not much really. I have a friend that has had actual magic training that has taught me the basics of wards and how to hide my energy signature some but she kind of got all her training in Limbo and we both decided I should not be learning all the dark magic stuff she knows."

"Training? What's that?" Vorpal says with a smirk after Billy answers. "I... just do what I do. I don't know what exactly it is that I do, or why it works... I think of wanting to put something out into the world, and that's how the illusion happens. I think of something to make..." he holds out his hand, and a tiny little glowing purple anvil appears on his outstretched hand, complete with ACME on the side. "I can float in a direction. I can... move between spaces, but only so far. But training? Nothing. I haven't really had any mentoring, and yesterday was the first time I actually have spoken to someone in the field for longer than three minutes."

'Oh yeah? What about Huntress?'

'Huntress doesn't count. It was mostly me listening to her and her scolding me.'

Amanda eyes Billy for a moment. "I'd love to know who your boy friend's mother is," she notes. "But, I know your friend from Limbo very, very well." Indeed, when that particular magic user first emerged from Limbo, it was Daytripper that helped her make the readjustment. They're still friends.

Or, rather, as friendly as two secretive magic users can be.

She purses her lips, looking at both of them. "It could be, you know, that could give each of you some pointers. I've been practising magic since I was very, very young. And I had a very, very good teacher." She smiles to Vorpal. "I've also had extensive acrobatic training, I suspect you would find useful." What with him being a cat and all.

She looks around. "Perhaps here isn't the place to discuss it, however."

Billy all but beams at Amanda. "That would be awesome. I mean I know that being a mutant whose power is controlling magic or energy enough like it to count is kind of a weird thing and all I really have to do to make stuff happen is wish really hard but the few things I have learned from actual magic training make stuff so much easier. I have really wanted to learn more but not exactly easy to find people in the know magic wise when you know next to nothing." Billy nods as well when Amanda mentions that this might not be the place to talk about it.

"I've wondered about acrobatics... they seem really easy since I transformed.. I mean, I did train in Hei Hu Quan style for about ten yea---" he stops himself when he thinks about that. Tiger style. "... that's... ironic."

At the mention that this isn't the right place, he nods "You're right. I'd give you my contact information except... well, I haven't got a place, proper, nor email or a phone." he says, and then adds "Yet."

Silently, Amanda begins to wonder if maybe she needs to set up her own training academy -- X-Men style, but for magical misfits instead...

Nah. There are other ways to deal with it.

She purses her lips, considering just how to handle this. In the end, she does for him what she did for Wiccan the night before and for various others before them. She reaches into her ubiquitous satchel and withdraws a small concrete pebble. There's a tingle of magic as she whispers a soft spell over it.

"Here," she says, holding the pebble out to Vorpal. "It's a communications stone. You can use it to contact me. You just need to hold it and concentrate."

She doesn't actually make it a habit to give out her cell phone number to many people, really. The stone is more secure and more easily controlled.

Billy's parents would probably love Amanda for setting up some kind of training academy for mystic misfits for no other reason than it would help keep him safe and away from less savoury aspects of magic. Not that they know he does things like occasionally hang out at a magic persons only bar that has not once ever asked him to provide ID. "That is a cool bit of magic, got to be better than using a cell phone that I have blown up a couple of dozen times already in the last year."

"Thank you," Vorpal says sincerely, reaching down to the slimline of his tights and - gasp - pulling back a zipper that reveals a pocket. An actual pocket. Because Keith believes in the power of pockets, and would rather be caught dead than wear a belt with pouches. He puts the stone in the same pocket as Booster Gold's card, and zips it up close.

"I should probably head back to the warehouses..." He tries, but the glances do get to him. Perhaps he needed more time to prepare before walking out into the open like that?

'So are you going to be like a troll and go back to your little cave until the sun comes down?'

'Ah, shaddup.'

'If you can't get over this, how do you expect that guy to see you any differently than you see yourself?'

He hated his inner voice sometimes. It had the annoying habit of being reasonable when provoked. Channelling his annoyance, he slaps on his Cheshire grin, looking as if everything's fine with the world. "I really appreciate this. It's a little challenging when you have to figure things out on your own."

Amanda chuckles softly at Billy's comment. "I find urban-related magics to be the easiest," she admits. "A quirk, I suppose. But it makes mimicking technology a whole lot easier, that's for sure." It's also one of the most useful spells she has.

She nods to Vorpal, however. "It is. If I have a chance, I'll introduce you to Nightcrawler. I think he can probably commiserate with you and give you a few helpful pointers I can't."

Billy nods in agreement with Vorpal about figuring things out on ones own. "That is still pretty cool. Weather related stuff is really a lot easier for me, although that is probably all because of how my powers first manifested."

Vorpal nods "I would love to meet him. I'd love to find out how he deals with... things. Until my registration goes through and I get some form of stipend, I'm living in the abandoned warehouse on 3383 Park Avenue in the Bronx. It's a risky area at night... but I don't think any of you have any issues with gang members." His grin pulls a little to the side. "Any of you are welcome to drop by at some point, though don't expect much in the way of décor."

'What, an old mattress, a broken mirror and newspaper clippings are the height of Industrial Chic!'

"Thanks for the stone," he says, patting his pocket, and looks at Billy "...and thanks for the tongue," he winks.

"You're welcome," Amanda tells Vorpal, now. She glances at her cell phone, however, noting the time. "Look, you two, I'd love to stay and chat more, but I have another engagement I'm expected at, this evening, and I need time to prepare." Gown, hair, make up, jewellery. Amanda often thinks the boys have it soooo much easier when it comes to formal wear.

"We'll be in touch. And continue this conversation some place more suitable, yes?"

Billy nods and then stops to pull out his cell phone and look at the time. Eeep, it seems things have gotten a bit farther away from him than he expected. "It has been a pleasure ma'am, and to meet you too. I forgot the time I kind of have a thing later this evening as well and I have to get ready for it." He apologizes as he slips the phone back in his pocket. "Yes, I would love to continue some other time." He says before he stops and pats a few pockets before sighing and muttering something under his breath over and over again. There is a little spike in magic in the area and a white car appears in his hand that quickly gets handed over to Vorpal. "I know not everyone likes such thins but. this is the card for a shelter not too far from here I volunteer for that has connections to the Mutant Action Centers and helps a lot with people that tend to have trouble with some of the other shelters. I know it is not much but staying there is bound to be safer than a warehouse...."

The cat takes it and -zzip- pockets it. "Thank you, I will take a look at it."

'They might freak out if you come in one night covered in blood, like that night Callahan's goons shot you.'

'Right.'

He smiles "Don't let me keep you... I'm headed back to the Bronx. And I'm going to disguise myself. You two take care of yourselves and don't forget... one side makes you taller, and another one makes you smaller."

He grins at this, and disappears into thin air. Or, rather, fifteen feet away behind one of the building pillars. But the figure that steps out doesn't look like Vorpal, but a man in his 50s wearing a fedora and a trench coat, looking all the world like a Dick Tracy reject right down to the lantern jaw. He tips his hat at the two as he passes and he walks hurriedly towards his destination.

Billy Kaplan grins at Vorpal and all but sings at him, "And the ones that mother gives you don't do anything at all. Go ask Alice." He has a beautiful clear voice, perfect for a possible future as a cantor according to his Grandmother, and a slight love for certain old songs even if he has only really in the last few years started to get just how many drug and sex references the songs of his parents youth really had in them. As the others head off he too turns to head towards Soho and the home of his friends who are taking him out to a charity gala.