2013.07.11 - Mysterious Special Sauce

Angelo's Pizzeria

Things look calm. Peaceful. A couple of guys on their lunch break are wolfing down a pepperoni pie, while a young mother is having a meal with two young children, probably 4 and 2 judging by their size and their rambunctiousness. The owner, Angelo, is wearing a stained a-shirt (a nice way of saying a undershirt that's a tank top style and has another less politically correct name). His black hair is longer on the sides and back and small wisps are all that remain on top. A bushy black mustache covers his upper lip while the rest of his lower face shows a few days without shaving.

Angelo's voice booms in a heavy New York accent as he bosses around the younger staff, some -no most-are family members in some way or another.

"Why I oughtta---"

CRASH!

The far window that faces the street explodes into thousands of shards as a figure careens through it so quickly that there was no time to prepare.

Some of the works received pretty bad cuts but they should be okay long term. The children, meanwhile, are not hit.

At a table in between lies Spider-Man, groaning as he tries to sit up.

Out on the sidewalk, MYSTERIO gives a haughty laugh as he levitates and begins to float into the pizzeria.

See, this is where Constantine's 'luck' sort of comes whipping around to bite him square on the ass. It had been a long night. It had been an alcohol induced long night and his back hurt from sleeping it off in a booth: those things were not made to be comfortable and certainly not for sleeping in... So John had come to get a little grease on the gut, a sure fire remedy for a hangover, in the form of terrible pizza advertised as 'authentic'.

The wizard sucked a bit of sauce from his thumb and sighed quietly to himself, tossing the pie down and reaching instead for his cigarettes. Sure, it was a no smoking establishment, the signs were posted... He just didn't care.

One laid between his lips, lighter in hand, the window bursts in just as he strikes his lighter and sends him tumbling down onto the ground with the rest of the patrons. Scrambling through the broken glass leaving small slices in his palms and fingers, eyes searching out something amidst the broken chaos it created.

The wizard finds it and holds up the bent and broken cigarette. "CURSE YOU!" To heaven... because seriously, God's fault.

Spinning to his feet, shaking glass off of his jacket with his eyes blazing fury on the floating figure of on Mysterio.

He was just trying to have a pizza.

Keith hadn't been on patrol. He actually has not gone out on patrol for days. He's told Patrick he has, but what he does is come to Angelo's and sits there. Sometimes reading, sometimes eating, but most of the time just thinking. He went out each morning in his costume, but put his 'civvies' over it on the rooftop. And so it had been for a week already.

He was trying to have some fricking pizza.

"Oh for crying out..." he says, shielding his face from the glass- even though he's a bit of a ways away. He doesn't even realize it, but he's already in full hero mode by the time the last of the glass has fallen. He can't help it, even if his confidence is shattered, there are things one simply does not do- and that is ignore the call when one is needed, when one is a hero, regardless of what one's self-esteem says.

It takes but a moment and he Sidesteps, crouching next to the groaning Spider-Man.

"Take it easy, Spidey, I've got your back." he says gently, helping him to sit up with one arm and raises his other one. John Constantine, of all the pizza joints in the world, he had to walk into mine.

That was good. The wizard had a penchant for making people angry, for making people snarl, for making people target him.

Good. Let him be the focus of attention in his belligerent glory. Keith... Vorpal was going to first make sure the civilians got out safely. He generated construct walls in the air as the crowds fled, to protect them from any attacks MYSTERIO might want to launch at them.

The constructs rise from nothing and allow the passage of the people out towards the left. It's an intricate rat-style maze that keeps the citizens protected and out of the way of the villain, while still allowing them to leave.

The workers are freakin', for obvious reasons, but still do their best to help the other family out. Angelo, meanwhile, is yelling something fierce and four lettered that would never get past the censors on the wiki. This is his place. He aint leavin.

Spider-Man gets to his elbows and twists, trying to stretch, as he looks over at Vorpal. "You run out on one bill. /One bill/ and Angelo sends in the sharks. What ever happened to comps? Whatever happened to my tab?"

Spidey pushes Vorpal out of the way just as the table he's lying on explodes, a victim of an energy blast by one of two floating robots that flank Mysterio.

"You've eluded me for the final time, Spider-Man. This will be your end!" exclaims Mysterio.

Constantine doesn't get nearly the applause for what he's capable of that he deserves. Everyone hears him speaks, gets furious at what he said, then forgets that he's one of a group of 'very' accomplished magic users. Even if he rarely relies on those abilities, that does not mean he is without them.

The Brit spits off to the side and looks up at Mysterio while rolling up his sleeves so the pair of mystical tattooes on his forearms are visible, then waves his hands over the ground in a grand fashion like a stage magician...

All across the floor, those slivers of glass begin to levitate, coming up like rain falling backwards and start collect into a huge ball as if they're pulled by some magnetic force like the pull of the sun holding together the Universe.

"Listen you funny colored wanker... you picked the wrong damn pizza polar on the wrong hung-over morning..."

Both hands point towards the Master of Illusions, throwing his palms up and out towards Mysterio while he's talking sweet nothings to Spider-man.

"I guess Angelo has a new payment plan-- GAH!"

The table explodes and he roll away, getting to his feet quickly. John is making with the magical effects and the civilians are moving out. Good. Now all that remained was Angelo and his workers.

"Will you just duck behind the goddamn counter, for chrissakes!" Vorpal calls out to them while he stands up again. It was clear Mysterio had it fixed on Spidey, even when there was a clear man-witch (Keith only called him that to irk him) on the scene making with real magic.

Nobody said villains had to be smart.

With a few quick movements the cat divests himself of his civvies, preferring the ease of movement of his uniform. Before moving he touches something on the side of his secret pocket-- a stone -- and then he darts forward, tryig to get in Mysterio's line of fire as he generates a glowing shield- much like Captain America's- to intercept any energy blasts thrown at Spidey. He's going for one of the robots, to pounce upon the floating monstrosity and try to turn it in mid-air against the other robot in the hopes that he might get lucky and get one to blow up the other.

"Wot?" Angelo asks as he looks at Vorpal. "Oh, right."

Angelo ducks behind the counter while the rest of his workers all run towards the back and the back exit.

The shield blocks a blast from one of the drones and keeps Spidey, now crawling upon the ceiling, safe and sound. The effects of Mysterio's gas has still got his spidey-senses a little bit wonky.

While Mysterio is clearly distracted, his drones are taking everything into consideration. As the glass begins to levitate, the other drone (the one that didn't shoot at Spidey and Vorp) emits a high powered, red beam across the room.

Almost immediately the glass turns red, then orange, then blue, and falls to the ground as sand. That's the good news. The bad news is that the rest of the room is on fire in places; the sweet sweet wood paneling of Angelo's, as well as his pictures on the wall are now doused in flames.

Vorpal lands upon the other drone and gets into a wrestling match up in the air.

TWHIP TWHIP!

Spider-Man fires two shots that kersplat across Mysterio's dome, blinding him. But just as Spider-Man is about to quip, the flames unsafely close to his foot.

"Hot potato, hot potato"

Sand. Constantine's eye twitches just a little, but that'll do just as well... maybe even better. Some of that sand is collected up in his hand, the brit ducking down to scoop it up on his way across the room towards... well somewhere with some cover. If he weren't hung over and feeling marginally helpful, you can bet your sweet ass he'd have left with the other civilians.

Flying robots and Mysterios arent his business.

Hurling sand at one of the flying robots, sort of guiding it with a levitational push spell, that's more his business. Just usually it's against demons or something. Or maybe an Ex-girlfriend... or a current girlfriend.

Or that one time he pissed on the boots of a Native American War Chieftains spirit and spent the next seven days and seven nights fighting aberant horrors in a peyote induced nightmare.

"You bloody yanks and your flashy costumes!" Shouting at Mysterio, "I bet I can figure out your history just by looking at you. Got caught raiding your mums closet, beaten by your over aggressive left leaning father and swore vengence so that you could wear your frilly green dresses and hand made scarves in peace?"

He's keeping behind tables while shouting and kicking at some of the flaming ambers that are trying to ignite his pants legs.

"You don't need a super hero, mate... you need therapy."

God, was Costantine a charmer.

Giving up on the wrestling, Vorpal decides to use his gymnastics in place- going up for a handstand and then dropping into a swoop, he was hoping gravity would take its course and affect the robot's gravitation-- he was aiming to give Mysterio the receiving end of that swoop as a very flashy and rather acrobatic kick. "You forgot the fishbowl on his head, John--- who *wears* stuff like that?..." Holy crap, the place was on fire!

"Spidey--- Angelo!"

"Silence!" says Mysterio and he directs the fiery droid to end Constantine's insolence.

But the blast doesn't connect as John's just a step ahead. The counter behind him explodes into a fiery mixture of flames and kindling. That's not good.

Meanwhile, Mysterio receives a vicious kick to the solar plexus that sends him sprawling, courtesy of a well placed attack from Vorpal. He's on his knees in an instant, though, and spraying some thick, hard to see through fog in Vorpal's general direction. The smoke is hearty and causes intense coughing.

"Right," Spiderman says as he lets some of his webbing flow onto and around Angelo, careful to leave him breathing space. He lands on the floor next to him and lifts the restaurateur over his head and begins to. . . twirl?

"Angie. . . /an/gjay! You can't say we never try-ee-ii-ii-d" Spider lets go and sends Angelo on a straight shot, through the flames, through the back kitchen and thumping out onto the pavement outside.

Angelo slides to a stop. Embarassed. A bruised butt. But safe.

Constantine is use to preforming under pressure, but the heat is really on... The HEAT... is o- nevermind.

The brit scampers away, patting at his legs when the fire finally catches on the threads of his slacks, grimacing at the damage to his clothes with a little sigh... Sparing a peek back over the table he's hiding behind, his fingers wiggle and grab hold of some of those flames with a bit of elemental control wizardry, flame jetting them across the room like dragon's breath... Controlling it with the motion of his hand as it curls and dives across the open air into the midst of that gas.

If he can just clear some of that out, maybe the heavy hitter (That's Spider-man) can do something quippy and heroic.

"Doom says, Silence.." John mocks in a poor imitation of Mysterios haunty autotuned voice, "Nobody insults Doom.. You're like an overgrown Emerald City Guard, you know that? You've really cocked this up... We have a term for poxys like you in London.."

"Uphill gardeners." Sometimes it's the simplist of insults that hit the hardest.

Gas! Cloud!

Vorpal starts to cough, grabbing at his throat--

He Sidesteps fifteen feet away... into the air over Mysterio's general position, creating a tiny platform for himself where he can clear his lungs.

"ENOUGH of this!" he rasps out with a swollen throat. He narrows his eyes at the area covered by the gas and creates a fifteen-foot sized Liberty Bell, glowing purple (pizzazz!)-- which he drops over the area, containing the fumes and, hopefully, Mysterio.

"Hey Spidey...w-want to ring the bell?" he rasps. Damnit, he was probably going to have to take something for that allergic reaction. He'd let Spidey have a go at bonging the bell first, then he'll let it disappear and join in the fun.

BONG!

BONGBONGBONG!

BONGBONGBONGBONG!

"Hey this is pretty fun," Spider-Man says as he continues to pound on the bell with his hand. "I wonder what this sounds like in there."

BONGBONGBONGBONG!

Inside the bell, Mysterio is on his knees in agony as the drones fly around helplessly, unable to do much of anything against the bell.

One tries to shoot an energy blast, but sadly just fries his metallic buddy.

"You fool!" Mysterio exclaims but then goes back to crying in agony as Spider-Man keeps slamming the outside bell.

Constantine comes up from behind his table in true action hero fashion. If time slowed down and this was in bullet time, it would make it all the better to accomplish his goals. In one hand, he slides a cigarette inbetween his lips and with the other flashily snaps open his zippo. Smoke immediately start bellowing around him as it coils out from his nostrils.

"You lads got this? Good." See, if he waits, he'll have to pay his bill.

John steps over a broken piece of wall on his way out to the sidewalk, burshing bits of wood and glass from his coat and out of his hair... which is singed at the ends. He takes another long drag and shoves one hand into the pocket of his coat on the way down the sidewalk and, as it turns out, away from this.

Free pizza yo. Constantine got some.

"I always thought I was a shoe-in for the Gong Show, myself" Vorpal quips and dismisses all constructs. His platform, and the bell. That means he is careening to the ground. And towards THE GREAT MYSTERIO.

On his way down, he summons up a purple oversized mallet, which he plans to slam over the villain's head as he comes down upon him. Let gravity do the work for you, his mama always said.

Well, she didn't actually say that, but it was still memorable, even if it hadn't happened.

"It's naptime!"

"Yeah, we got it," Spidey says with a wave towards Constantine. "Jolly Good show. Crikey, guvna, or something like that." The boy's cockney is not great.

The mallet comes down and slams upon Mysterio's head, cracking his dome, and knocking him unconscious just as the fire department and the police arrive.

"Well," Spidey says, patting his stomach. "Looks to be about that time."

He reaches over to take a piece of pizza, but then thinks better of it at the last second.

"Spidey?"

A card flits through the air at him. It is purple and has white writing on it.

"Give me a call sometime. We'll do lunch."

The cat smirks, heading towards the police. Since he was Registered, he could give Spidey time to get away by being Helpful, Officious and Eager To Give Statements.

"For suresies." And Spidey definitely takes the opportunity of cover, sneaking out the back way as the cops head in. He looks at the card on the way out and cants his head to the side.

"What's a Vorpal?"