2013-01-19 How Not to be an Art Critic

It's a chilly evening in New York City but that doesn't bother one Bobby Drake in the least bit. He's walking along in a t-shirt and jeans like it's a normal summer's day. A friend from California was in town and he'd just had dinner with them, carrying along a doggy bag that'll be tossed into the fridge at the mansion and probably end up as someone's midnight snack. Sunglasses on, he's even whistling a tune as he goes. Of course he could probably watch where he's going instead of looking at his phone.

Not too far from the mutant, there is something going on. A small group of people in ski masks are huddled around a door in the alley next to an art gallery. One that's featuring a showcase of art by mutant artists. Considering the nervous whispers and how one is fumbling at the lock with a crowbar, pros they are not.

A few blocks away, a dark hummer streams along the streets, going particularly fast. With a sudden, uncontrollable, yet completely inaudible stop... it stops. After about ten seconds, a back door opens, and a normally-dressed Natasha Romanova slides out. As soon as the door closes, the car speeds off, and seems to be out of view just as quickly as it arrived.

Natasha seems a bit worse for wear, wearing a navy blue trench coat, torn jeans poke out from the bottom. If one were to examine her up close, they'd notice the subtle hue of a black eye, and a few scratches on her neck. Walking at a somehow strideful yet tiredly pace, she heads into a nearby food market and quickly buys a small bottle of vodka. Wrapping her head around the corner, she eyes the streets around here--mostly empty--with a strange suspicion. Almost paranoid.

As she walks behind Bobby, Jean is dressed in a black goose down North Face. She is wearing a matching black hat on her head forcing her red hair down around face. She tucks her hair behind her ears and says to Bobby, "Will you slow down I really wanted to see if that pocket book was Chanel or not. Ororo would have loved it."

Bobby glances up from sending a text and slows his pace a bit. "Oh, sorry. That cake shop girl was texting me," he says with a grin. "Think she'd like it even if it wasn't?" he asks, mildly curious. He lets his gaze wander around the area a moment, lingering on Natasha before resettling on Jean. "Want to go back?"

Of course the relative silence of a New York City night can't last. Those masked men finally get the door open...and set off the alarm. The ringing bells cutting through the night.

A few moments before Natasha, finally after months, was even considering a moment of respite where she could have even a breath of ease... she hears alarms go off. Instantly, she snaps into a stance and begins to key in on the direction of the bell. Her eyes pan across the distance, noticing Jean and Bobby in the distance--writing them off as just random New Yorkers. She begins a rather graceful sprint towards the alarm... a careful onlooker might notice just the slightest trace of a limp in her run, but whatever is hurting her hasn't slowed her down... she moves at a rapid pace towards the source of the alarms.

As the alarm touches her ears, Jean frowns and says, "Something tells me we will have to wait Bobby." She frowns softly as she brings a hand to her temple. "I get...7 of them...." She narrows her eyes and begins to walk towards the alarm, "They are robbing the gallery and wreaking the art...." She cocks her head as she stops looking slightly confused, "They want to make it look like a hate crime instead of a robbery."

Bobby glances up at the sound of the alarm and frowns. When Jean gives a run down of the situation, Bobby sighs. "So dumb crooks. Great," he says. About a dozen jokes about stripping down to his X-shorts run through Bobby's head before he glances around. Since no one's watching, Bobby coats himself in his icy armor, putting a few stylized touches in to make it look like he's in uniform. "Looks like a job for the X-men, huh?" he flashes a grin Jean's way and offers a hand if she wants to ride along on an ice slide.

The thugs meanwhile panic in the alley. "I thought you turned off the alarm!?" "I did! The thing must not be working!" "That's what you get for buying crap off the internet, idiot!" "Screw this, I'm outty!" they argue. There are seven of them in total and the smallest of them makes a dash for the exit of the alley...and ends up running right towards Natasha.

As Widow approaches the gallery, her alert expression turns more towards a cynical, dismissive calm. Pulling herself out of her own inertia, she skidders for a fleeting moment before rounding the alley. Reaching under her trench, it pops open to reveal most of Widow's outfit... she was wearing jeans overtop of her staple black jumpsuit as a disguise. Reflexively, her left hand had already slipped out a netting gadget to throw around what she suspected to be a random degenrate. Seeing the approaching man running her way merely drew an eerily calm smirk from her mouth.

As she watches Bobby rush into the scene as normal, she sighs softly and pulls off her hat. She begins to lift into the air, her red hair flowing like tendrils of red flames around her as she flies over Iceman towards the group. She senses Black Widow and warns Bobby, "A S.H.I.E.L.D agent is on the scene. Do not harm her..." Jean extends her arms out for leverage as she follows over Bobby.

To say that degenerate is surprised to find himself netted and falling face first onto the pavement would be an understatement. He goes down with a yelp and a curse, drawing the attention of the others. Those six remaining thugs stare at Natasha in shock for a moment before one draws a gun. He barely has aiming time before he finds himself holding a chunk of frozen metal instead. Where'd that come from? Well that would be Iceman, standing on one of his ice slides. "Hey, you know me. No need to worry," Iceman calls to Jean, sliding down to ground level near Natasha. He flashes a quick grin her way. "Heya," he greets. "Mind if we step in?" Bobby asks, gesturing at the remaining thugs. While one tries to break his gun out of the ice, the other five get a little too brave and start approaching Bobby and Natasha. A pleased... almost... giddy smile pops across Natasha's face for a moment, as she looks up to see Bobby. Something unexpected. It takes a few seconds to register who he is, remembering her time spent paging through S.H.I.E.L.D.s files on the X-Men. "Friends of yours?" she quips, looking at him. Without even turning to look, she points her Widow's Bite bracers at one of the remaining five thugs and fires an electrical blast... darting out with a thin, blue zap.

As Jean, kicks her feet fowards she floats above the two heroes fighting on the ground. She keeps her senses extended and catches the thoughts of two of the men who turn their guns towards Iceman and Black Widow. Jean's left hand extends downward and she says outloud, "Oh no you don't alley oop!" As she arches her hand up the two men point their guns at the heroes begin to fly upward at alarming speeds. Jean's hand lifting above her head as her fingers begin to waggle and the two men begin to twirl around and around like they were caught in an invisble flying washer machine. The two men begin to scream like girls!

The electric shot sends the thug with the crowbar sprawling with a rather undignified noise. That leaves five active as the man with the frozen gun gives up on trying to break his weapon free and resorts to trying to use his icy-gun as a club. The number is quickly dropped to three as Jean joins in the fun. The display of telekinetic power brings a smile to Iceman's face.

"Those dorks? Hardly. The fabulous flying lady up there is," Bobby remarks, firing off a frigid beam of energy and producing an ice slick that causes two of the thugs to go head over heels while the last one slides awkwardly. "The name's Iceman."

Flashing a charming smile, probably a bit too practiced, Natasha pulls her gave upward to marvel at Marvel Girl (hyuk!)'s presence. "Oh. The people we run into in New York," Natasha says drying, as she slips out another netting disk, which hits the ground with a woosh, thin, robe-like coils wrapping around four of the crooks on the ground. She speaks to one of them, the first one that nearly ran into her, with a flat, commanding tone, "I suppose you feel a bit outmatched, don't you? I admire your zeal, but this is no way to make an art critique."

As she continues to juggle the dancing thugs who are now crying like little girls being scared by the wolfman. Jean looks down at Black Widow and says, "Good afternoon Agent. Thank you for the assist. Something tells me you did not need us but..." She smirks motioning her free hand towards Bobby, "He insisted." She begins to float down towards the ground. Her hands come to a loud *SMACK* and the two thugs above her slam into each other and are knocked out cold. She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks around curiously.

The thug on the ground starts to curse at Natasha and say some very unpleasant things. He gets smacked with a snowball for his trouble, Iceman wagging a finger. He then laughs a little at Jean's statement. "Hey, I can't pass up a chance to help a pretty lady," he remarks, winking Natasha's way.

Four netted up, two knocked out cold, and one with a mouth full of snow...all seven thugs down. Iceman looks around at the criminals and then at the busted open door. He tosses a few ice-bars over the door to keep out any miscreants that may come by. "Aren't you the gallant one," Natasha remarks, as her head peers around the area, looking for any clues or information to assess. She lowers herself to look eye to eye with the recently snow-ball-faced fellow, afixed to Natasha's netting helplessly. "Why are there seven of you?" she asks sincerely, remarking, "How many of you does it take to change a light bulb?" As she says this, her voice trails off for a moment, and she seems somehow shaken. Within a second, however, she's back to herself and stares intensely at the fellow on the ground.

Jean Grey begins to pull her hat back over her head, and pulls her coat a bit tighter around her. She watches Natasha curiously putting her hands into his pockets. She extends her own senses outward for a moment to make sure the threat is over before turning off her telepathy so she does not listen in on everyone's thoughts at the same time.

Bobby makes himself busy with constructing an ice-message on the wall. 'Caught these guys trying to break in. Have a nice night - X'.

The thug sputters around the snow, scowling at Natasha. "We're just after the safe and all those donations they got, you crazy weirdo."

Pulling her wrist to the side of her mouth, she sternly chirps at it: "This is Widow. Code 3 pick-up." She pauses, as if she's listening to something, "Looks like just some brats." She rolls her eyes, "Yes, I know I'm supposed to be resting." Pulling her wrist away, she smiles at the two mutants. "Three months away, and nothing ever changes here. Step off the plane and here I am." She flicks her hand out, pointing at the mess of beaten dudes on the ground. "It is nice running into you two. Rather than stuffy, coffee-adled agents."

As she looks back at Natasha and cocks an eyebrow slightly. She keeps her comment to herself what she scans on the Agent's mind and says, "Why don't you make sure the Agent is ok Iceman and..." She clicks her tongue over the roof of her mouth, "I will do a walk around the block to make sure everything is ok." Jean looks at Natasha with a bit of concern and says, "Thank you again." A soft smile escaping her lips.

Bobby glances up at Jean at her suggestion, arches a brow for a moment. He grins a moment later. "Sure thing," he replies, looking to Natasha. "Hey, no problem. We're always happy to help out. And speaking of coffee, how about we get some sometime?"

A reflexive laugh is stifled--she's heard it all before--but she nods, "This would be a nice break." She hands Bobby a business card--the contents of which are vague as hell. And she heads off.