| Church of Crime | |||||
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| What: Croyd has been chased by Intergang for a while and found refuge with Stormwatch. Now it is time to strike back and kick Intergang out of New York | |||||
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It is true astral projecting is a good way to spy on people. And since Croyd has been lurking in an old safehouse, he had time to do some spying. Nate has been busy, but not so busy he couldn’t track down some Intergang pawns so Croyd had a place to start his investigations. After few weeks, it became obvious they have some kind of place here, in a rundown restaurant in a crappy alleyway by the Village. Nothing fashionable or artistic here, but somehow it is warded against astral projection. A cursory glance this morning revealed to Nate it is also telepathically blank. He didn’t want to push to hard in the case Intergang had some kind of alarms.
Instead, Nate called Roberto and Rachel as reinforcements. Introduced them to Croyd/Sleeper and explained the problem along the way. “So, looks like they think they can extract some kind of super-virus out of Croyd. This virus kills most people in minutes, but occasionally gives them super-powers. No the kind of stuff we want them having. I thought we had driven them out the city a year ago. Ah, this was when you were in Brazil,” he adds for Roberto.
Croyd says, "Well I was told its pretty inactive really, so that's why I'm not in quarantine, but those bastards probably could do something about it. It's definitely uncool. Makes me wanna you know...do something violent to them." Croyd has been awake a while and is a bit...on edge. Not crazy yet but...edgy."
Lunair isn't a spy of any sort, but she's gotten a weird business card. Meet up at ...? Hmm. Well, this could be interesting. She tries to take jobs doing good stuff, mostly. The cryptic contact makes her concerned. She'll have to get to the proper warehouse. "Why does everyone do business in warehouses?" It's the strangest thing. Maybe Amazon started a trend? "Or is it that business shop next to..."
Lunair is going to a restaurant, not a warehouse.
"I turn my back for a couple of lousy years..." Roberto mutters, securing his armored gauntlets onto his forearms and flexing his hands to make sure the hinged knuckle guards are moving easily. "Do they have stores of the virus? Will we need masks, or anything?" he asks. "Or should I just wash my hands afterward?"
Being called in as muscle by Nate is a novel experience for Rachel, and one that instantly piqued her curiosity. Between that and the knowledge that her 'little brother' isn't exactly operating at his best right now, the redhead didn't need much persuading to tag along. She's presently lurking at the back of the group in jeans, boots and a red tee shirt featuring a certain golden firebird, hands stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans, while she's brought up to speed on what they're dealing with. Considering she managed to miss all this the first time around, and doesn't even have the excuse of having been in Brazil while it was going on. "Doing something violent to the bad guys sounds like the winning option." Rachel comments, then waits for the answer to Roberto's pertinent questions.
“Look, Croyd, it still puts you to sleep every couple months and gives you new powers. I am not good with science, but it doesn’t seems inactive to me,” but then again, he is not good with science. Nate has to wonder if Intergang is good at science, because they are usually the dumbest thugs in town. But sometimes they are armed with alien weapons, so, “eh, they don’t have the virus. Croyd has the virus. Only he is not contagious. Now, these guys don’t look like much, but sometimes they pack alien weapons. So expect anything up to laser guns.” And speaking of weapons, Nate spots Lunair going in and blinks. “Or rocket launchers,” he adds. “It could be dangerous. Probably it will be a walk compared with the usual stuff.” And Nate hurries on, disregarding the semi-plan they made, to intercept Lunair before she gets to the door. “Hey!” He yells, trying to grab her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
Croyd says, "The thing is, this was originally created by a chemical created by the Joker...he killed hundreds of people, but it turns out it created this virus in me or...maybe it was always there, I dunno. But, I am PRETTY sure there are no problems and I'm not contagious and they don't have it. I dunno what they can do but they seemed pretty nasty to me. If Nate here says they're a problem, they're a problem. I can do lint by the way. Fear my lint. Oh and I'm kinda strong. And I can ghosty." He eats a sandwich. Not ravenously. But it is a socially acceptable way to hide certain things that others might find awkward.
Speaking OF rocket launchers, Lunair was off in her own world. head in the clouds. Who's her contact? Where's her contact? She's kind of hungry. Should she bring back something for her boyfriend...? La la la-- EEP! Suddenly, her shoulder is grabbed. Lunair jerks, pulling forward, startled. She flails a little, but at least - judging by the way her hand curls, she resisted the urge to turn and start shooting at whatever it is that startled her. Lunair's definitely made steps towards improving herself, it seems.
"Uhm. I was given a business card and asked to?" She peers at Nate. "How about you?"
"'Do lint'?" Roberto echoes, baffled, his head rearing back as he turns to look at Croyd. "What does 'do lint' mean?"
But then Nate is running off, and 'Berto is damned if he's going to let the man rush in alone, with the way he's been looking lately. So he runs after Scion, the metal in his boots tapping loudly against the pavement. "Who's this?" he asks, grateful that it isn't some alternate future enemy they would have to start blasting at immediately. He turns back to Rachel, even more perplexed. "Do you know what's going on?"
The explanation Nate provided on the way aside, Rachel still feels like she's come in halfway through the movie as Nate and Croyd discuss the effects of the virus on him. She's sold on the idea that whatever this virus is, it's bad news and that they should do something about it, but there still seems to be a big gap between what they know and what seems to be wishful thinking. They're only PRETTY sure that Croyd's not contagious? And they're only PRETTY sure that they're not going to come into contact with the virus, here?
This is starting to sound more and more like one of Rachel's own plans, and they don't usually end well.
Still, she's come too far to back out now. "I can handle laser guns." Rachel says, and actually sounds confident rather than flippant as she says it, before glancing over at Croyd as he explains what he can do. She's right there with Roberto when it comes to bafflement about the lint comment! But before she can say anything, she's distracted by Nate's move to intercept the newcomer. "We did have a plan, right?" She asks under her breath. << Nate! TRY to remember you're not as bulletproof as you used to be! >> Rachel puts into his mind, a bit sternly, but she's worried about him!
She takes off running after the others a moment later, and catches up just in time to shake her head in answer to Roberto. "Not a clue." She confesses, before glancing around. "But I have a feeling we're making a WONDERFUL target."
"Are you Intergang? Because I am about to..." Nate was about to explain Lunair about their intentions to blow up the Intergang hideout, but looks like there was a thug by the door and now he is pointing a large handgun to Nate’s head.%r%rAt least it is not a laser gun. But... he is not bulletproof either.
Croyd looks at Berto and creates a thin film of lint on the face of the thug pointing a gun at Nate's head. He also stuffs some lint right down in the barrell there. "Well, that's kind of it really. I mean, its not ice or magma or anything but you can still do some things with it?" He shrugs and takes another bite of sandwich. His eye twitches a bit.
Blink. Lunair stares sidelong at Nate. "No, I'm a girl." She doesn't get it. And then suddenly there's a thug holding a large handgun to Nate's head. Thinking quickly, Lunair shoves Nate HARD backwards if he doesn't move away. "Lint...?" Lunair looks confused. This evening just got kind of surreal. And suddenly she really wants a lint roller.
"We are making ourselves targets. I'll stand in front," Roberto says. He's only half joking: he does, in fact, move to put himself between the group and the building. "I'm wearing this tin can for a reason. And lasers? Tasty."
Then there's a guard, and he's carrying a totally normal gun. "Typical of my luck," the Brazilian mutters. More loudly, he addresses the man: "Bom dia, senhor! Eu nao falo Ing--wait, what the...?" Because now the guard... done been linted, as his friend Sam might say. Not wasting a second, he raises the shadow and flame of his Sunspot form, runs toward the man, and tries to grab the gun by its barrel. Not because he's stupid and has no plan -- well, not ONLY for those reasons -- but because his grip ought to be enough to crush the barrel and render the weapon useless, lint or not.
At least Roberto agrees with her! Rachel just has time to think this, and then... one moment Nate's accosting a girl, and the next moment he's got a gun pointed at his head. And it's not even the girl doing it! And while all this is happening, Croyd is eating a sandwich and... applying lint?
Rachel has a very unusual life.
Guns, however, do not scare her. Even when they're pointed at Nate. Her first instinct is to telepathically freeze the man in his tracks, but whatever's shielding the restaurant is getting in the way of the more subtle of her mental powers. So she doesn't take the risk, and goes unsubtle instead. Even as Sunspot's leaping forward to heroically intercede, Rachel strikes out with her telekinesis, attempting to rip the gun from his hand. With any luck, by the time he's facing Roberto he'll be weaponless.
"Nate..." Rachel says warningly. "This is not one of your better plans! If we're going in, we need to do it now!" And even as she says it, Rachel too is moving forward. A telekinetic shield springs into life around her as she heads for the door.
Nate is not bulletproof, but he is not scared of a thug with a gun either. He knows kung-fu, y’know.
But then Lunair pushes him down. Nice of her. Embarrassing for him.
The thug doesn't have much of a chance. He is a large guy and all that, but first he gets lint on his eyes, then a superstrong mutant tackles him, and his gun gets stolen. He crashes through the door inside the restaurant, blind, unarmed and with a couple broken ribs. When his head slams against the floor, he is also unconscious.
There only a couple men inside the restaurant, although they are wearing suits and don't look like thugs. When they see Sunspot at the door, they run to the back of the place.
Nate snatches the gun from the air, if Rachel lets him. "The plan was to bust this place, so lets do it." Did they expect a complex plan out of him? Wrong Summers!
Croyd really can't you know...power lint it down, and since the guys running away (really? Or to the armory in the back?) leave the place open, Croyd grabs the register and lifts it up and throws it into a table. Then he smashes another table. Then he looks up and thinks, "Wait....did you mean the people or the place?"
Lunair didn't want the guy to get shot. Pride can wait until revenge! That's how it works, yes? Suddenly, the place becomes a hive of activity or at least a pre-fight swarm. Lunair dislikes guns pointed at her, but she's used to them. She has no illusions. Given her powers and line of work, she will likely die with a bullet in her brain. That's how it goes in the business. "Ehm. You're busting-" Then a blink as Croyd throws a register into a table. And there's Rachel and her TK!
Lunair is going to step aside, not wanting to be in or nearer the doorway while people run through. Nevertheless, an alarmingly large hunting rifle appears in her hands. "Well, if you're sure."
"Hi, guys," Sunspot tells the diners with a casual wave, lifting himself off of the unconscious thug. It's always a bit incongruous to hear his mild, accented voice from the creature of shadow and fire that he becomes when his powers are in high gear. "You should leave now, before things get scary." When he's not beating someone's face in with a park bench, the Brazilian is definitely the soft, fluffy side of Stormwatch.
He spares Croyd a glance and a lifted eyebrow, then says to Nate, "I'm assuming they're upstairs, certo?" He dusts off his armor and starts looking for a stairwell.
There's a brief tug-of-war as Nate snags the gun from mid-air, but then Rachel lets him have it. He needs /something/ to defend himself with, after all! "I usually like simple plans." Rachel says under her breath as she joins the others in bursting into the restaurant. "Nate? You want those guys stopped?" She asks him, her tone tense, prepared to throw up a TK-wall in their path if required - but Roberto seems to make the decision to let them go - and then Croyd's wrecking the place. She answers Roberto's question to Nate. "I'm still getting nothing telepathically. If anyone's here, they could be anywhere." And that puts her on edge. Because apart from that one guy with the gun, and the suspicious telepathic blanking, they're... smashing up a restaurant.
“One went downstairs, actually,” replies Nate, tracking down the ‘suits’ with some difficulty. They have a really good anti-telepathic thing here, it is not ‘noisy’ or anything, it is just like a blank area, foggy and hard to see.
There is a staircase there, in the room behind the restaurant. “Mindlink us, Ray... I am going down, you go upstairs. Yeah... get them alive, we need to know. Damn cultists are always so brainwashed they barely remember their names. But those guys looked different.”
Croyd says, "Right." He stops mid smash on the third table. "So...downstairs to the Temple of ..." he stops as if someone stole the joke even though no one said it, "Bad Guys. So. Right let me try something." He squints and looks constipated for a moment and then says, "No astral projecting. So let's go down so I can lint em.""
Lunair has no clue about astral projection (sticking your metaphysical backside out?), but she will head upstairs, to help Rachel and deal with whatever they find. "Huh." Simple plans to do better, at any rate.
"Underground?" Roberto asks. He makes a face, but it's practically impossible to tell through the shadow that covers him. "Let's hope they don't think to turn the lights off, or I'll have to really watch my batteries."
It's the work of a moment to kick the door down -- because there are some things you really must do, if you're going to invade a basement temple occupied by a weird blend of crooks and cultists -- and stomp down the staircase. He holds his fists up, ready to heat-blast or sun-punch anyone who tries to block his progress.
Rachel shoots Nate a look, and reaches out to him with her telepathy << You're not making it easy for me to watch your back, Nate. >> She sounds irritated, which is doing a good job of hiding her concern. She gives that a moment to sink in, then widens her telepathic net to anyone who's not actively trying to keep her out. << If you need us, I'll be listening. >> She drops the words into the others' minds, then glances at the woman Nate accosted. "I'd say it wasn't always like this but I'd be lying." She tells her, making for the stairs. "Try to keep me between you and any bad guys we find." It's not the most inspiring plan, but at least it's simple.
There really is a temple down there. It is not large, but it is surprisingly large considering it is excavated into Manhattan bedrock. It smells faintly to sewers, despite the excessive number of black and red candles they use for illumination.
It pretty much looks like an inverted catholic church, with crosses upside down, stained glass windows (with more candles behind) with scenes of biblical crimes and cataclysms, and statues of monsters and mythological criminals instead of saints and virgins.
The man with the suit is here, as is a scarred man in a priest rube. “Call Mr. DeSaad, Johnny, we need help!” Yells the suit. “Shut up and go!” Replies the ‘priest’, “we have all we need here... that is the Sleeper! Get him!” He points at the large mutate.
There is a trio of rubbed thugs with the ‘priest’, and they advance towards Croyd, Roberto and Nate, they chant as they rush, and they start changing, becoming inhumanly large and muscular, their robes tearing Hulk-like.
Croyd lints the face of the priest. That'll teach em! You know...the doc said that his power always manifested based on the thing that he pereicved last danger or something...what was his subconcious gonna say to this. "TAKE THAT BASTARDS!" Its lint. It's pure. And dangerous. Maybe he should go the other way or something. As he looks about he is astonished. "Holy grunderstein, you guys are fruitloops. Seriously? The church of crime thing is real? Why not the church of payola?"
"Man, my priest is going to be so proud of me," Roberto comments as he looks around the blasphemous, candlelit chapel. Dimly candle-lit: he'll have to shepherd his strength. "Trashing this place has to be worth so many Jesus points."
He drops into an athletic crouch as the thug-monsters run at them, his shadowed grin hazily outlined by the fire of his breath. Despite their considerable size advantage, he bullrushes right back at them, hitting the nearest with an uppercut that would normally send it flying into the air. Underground? Not so much air, and definitely not so much flying.
Despite their appearance and size, the transformed thugs are not as strong as Sunspot, the first one goes flying from the punch, landing a few yards away and struggling to stand, somewhat stunned, but not yet out of the fight.
Nate fires the gun at the second one, doing some damage, but not stopping him. He is forced to dive out of the way, although he is back to his feet in a second. The thug growls and gives chase.
The ‘priest’ fumbles a bit, face full of lint (they don’t clean the place much) but then Croyd has a guy twice his size barreling on him, and the priest is out of his sight.
And if on queue, the candelabra beings to play, "It's not easy being green" as Croyd gets slammed. Oh, Croyd is a lot better off than "some guy" who got hit but he didn't counter charge, and he's easily grappled (if that's the intention). But if the guy does grapple him, he reaches forward with his teeth and bites the guy's nose as hard as he can.
There may not be any park benches in sight, but any sanctuary, fiendish or not, has something even better in abundance. Roberto squats in the aisle, grabs hold of a pew, and lifts it clean off the floor. "Hit the deck!" he yells just a second before swinging the huge wooden bench at a viciously destructive speed. It's wide enough to cover a huge amount of floor space, and he's aiming to connect with either or both of the thug-monsters who are still on their feet.
There are sturdy pews at hand, so Roberto can hit the thug-monsters, pretty much breaking the bench on their backs. Croyd bites the nose of one of them, and man, that tastes awful. There is something horribly wrong with that guy, besides being all monster-like. It feels as if he was made of ash and worm-filled meat.
Definitely hurt, but not out of the fight, the three thugs turn on Sunspot, tossing aside Croyd and ignoring Nate. But before they can reach him, they fall down clenching their heads. “They are not what they look,” grunts Nate, his left eye glowing brightly, “their minds are nothing like human. I won’t hold them for long.”
Croyd doesn't need to be told twice. He may not be strong as berto, but he takes the pew (heh...get it...pew?) and slams the guys again and again. He can lift a pew. He looks at Berto and grins, "Wanna take turns?" (Granted, its a smaller pew....but its still a pew, through and through.)
Roberto tosses aside the splintered remains of his end of the pew, then grabs another in the middle and deadlifts it over his head. Eyes burning brightly with solar fire, he growls, "Pew pew, filhos da puta," leaps as high as he can in the close confines, and spikes the thing directly onto them like a bench-shaped volleyball of pain.
He drops back to the ground in a three-point landing, allowing his fiery aura to fade. "Who's next?"
A few hits to the heads and the thugs are all knocked out. Which leaves the priest, hiding behind the altar. “You think you have won, but you can’t win!” He states, sounding scared and manic.
“Yeah, sure, fight,” Nate is not a believer. He grabs the priest by the scruff of his neck and pulls him out. “We have a lot of questions for you, starting with... crap.” The priest is foaming from the mouth, and convulsing. “Poison, this...” is another level of fanaticism for Intergang. He only has a minute before the man dies, so he dives into his mind to grab all memories he can.
Meanwhile, the three thugs are dissolving into foul-smelling smoke and ashes. Leaving behind no proof of their existence.
Croyd's eyes open wide. Wow. These guys really are hard core. How did he get mixed up in this nonsense? He considers going to try to suck the poisonbut aint no way he's giving mouth to mouth to that guy. Suddenly he's glad he changes appearance and powers every time he changes. VERY glad. For once and once only, he's looking forward to a nice nap.
"If you've got the power to have henchmen who dissolve cleanly into smoke, why the hell can't it be smoke that smells like incense or flowers or something?" Roberto complains, hand held over his mouth and nose. "At least invest in decent HVAC for your underground lair. I don't suppose you've got febreeze powers, too, Croyd?"
His words are light and jokey, but his manner is more somber as he goes to put a hand bracingly on Nate's shoulder. If the psionic mutant taxes his powers too heavily and starts to collapse, he'll be here to keep him on his feet.
Nate is not taxing his powers as much as taxing his skill to suck out knowledge quickly from a dying mind. What is going prevent him from sleeping well the next few days is not the crazy horror he is seeing in the priest’s mind, but how it feels to be in the head of a person that dies. As a survivor of an Age of Apocalypse, he is somewhat desensitized to atrocities and madness, but he still looks rather pale when the priest finally stops breathing.
"Hell..." he murmurs, "well, I think I got all the police needs to dismantle Intergang presence in New York. And now maybe we have a name for gang top dog." Mr. DeSaad. Nice name, isn’t it? Sounds French.
"Lets get back to the safehouse, I am pretty sure Ray has finished upstairs."