2010-01-22: I said No Mayo


James_icon.jpg Quinn_icon.jpg

Summary: Quinn seeks revenge, Jam'z really, really hates condiments….

Date: January 22, 2010

I said No Mayo!

Rating: R

Westchester - Salem Center Mall

The parking lot that serves Salem Center is expansive. The mall building being the largest in the area, most of the traffic is aimed for there. However, there are a number of independent buildings along the edges of the parking lot and across the street. Benches dot the sidewalks that line the buildings, along with trash cans, bushes, trees and lamps. There is a large archway that leads to the mall entrance.

10 P.M. Night has already falled on Westchester. On any given normal day most businesses would be gearing up to close. But, that was pre-Inferno. Since then, things have gotten a little weird. And the mall is a perfect example. Taken over by James, no.. Jam'z, the mall has become a demonic haven and his temporary base of operations. And at ‘his’ mall, the shops are always open. However, tonight, instead of finding mischief inside, Jam'z finds himself outside, admiring the unearthly warm 80 degree January weather. He breathes in the fresh air and exhales happily, then gives the steering wheel a quick twist as he turns the Zamboni in another wide circle. Standing tall on the machine, he puts his foot on the wheel and tips a western-style hat back. Carefully, he picks up his crossbow, puts another bolt in the mechanism and fires at a target some feet away. The target? A rather large one. Bound by several chains, a giant of a demon with an apple on his head sighs, looking nervous as another arrow flies past—thankfully missing him again. Jam'z curses and turns for another pass, "The next time I say NO MAYO, I mean it. Okay??!!" He clenches his jaw and turns the vehicle around.

Night time makes it easier to sneak out. And maybe take off with a car that the owner of disappeared. There's hell and fury in the way Quinn drives into the mall's parking lot. No one, no one, spits on Quinn Thorne! Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, out of her face, as she surely means business this time. She shifts gears as she gains speed, and angles herself toward the Zamboni's section of the lot. The radio's turned up, the girl blasting Avenged Sevenfold at a level that just might be capable of busting eardrums. Oh yes, it's /on/ tonight.

Jam's nicks the horn of the great beast, eliciting a grunt from it, "Damn. Almost. Hold the 'frik still or I'm gonna start “missing” on purpose!" He snorts unhappily and hears something familiar distracted from his task. He grins gleefully, "Ahh, me thinks yon victim approacheth!" He turns the wheel and looks out at the rapidly approaching car, "Hmph!" He sets the weapon down and gives the driver a moment to arrive.

Brakes are slammed, and the car skids to a halt, fishtailing slightly. It might even be on purpose. The door is flung open, and Quinn steps out. Not a word is said to James, as she looks over the bat-winged enemy. Keys left in the car, the radio's still going—at least until it shuts itself off. Quinn? She doesn't look like she's here to ask James if he wants to go get a smoothe with her.

Jam'z smirks, "Oh hey! I figured you'd visit. I knew sending that apology gift would get your attention. Show you that I'm…all heart!" He cackles and looks for a reaction, "You know..the box?" He waits a moment, "Addressed to you?" Crickets chirp in the background. He shakes his head questionably, "No?" It won't sound familiar because it never happened—at least not yet, "Oh..damn…sorry. Mail is slow right now." He nods to an overturned USPS truck, "I'm…hmmm…at a loss for why you're here then." He breathes out, crosses his arms, uncrosses them, puts a finger on his chin and ah-has! He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a note, clearing his voice, "I'm not one to give away surprises…but…'To Quinn. You've stolen my heart, and I think that's sweet. So I've taken the hearts of 10 folks on the street!" He folds the note and puts it away, "Perishable. I wouldn't open it if it's not to you by tomorrow."

Quinn lifts one brow, hands on her hips as she stays near to the car for the moment. Her gaze slides over to the postal truck, then back to Jam'z, James…whatever he's calling himself these days. "I can't say that I got it, but if I did I would've marked it Return to Sender." As he explains what was in the package? She blanches a bit and makes an expression of distaste. "Gross, man. Next time you try expressing admiration for a girl of my calliber, try sending flowers. Not roses, though, that's so cliche." There's a beat of pause. "As for why I'm here, I think you know. Unless you're even more dense than you look."

Jam'z sighs, "Flowers wilt when I touch them. So, I tried Candy. But, she wouldn't fit in the box." He tilts his head, "I can't say I do unless you're here to either take up my offer or try to kick my butt." He smiles, his lips pulling back further than they should on a human, "Please tell me it's the latter. I'm in a very foul mood." He roars, "I frekin HATE MAYONNAISE!" He seethes for a moment, picks up the crossbow and fires blindly at his restrained friend. It misses…mostly because the thing was smart and crawled off while the bat-shit-crazy-guy was emoting at Quinn. Jam'z growls and tosses down the crossbow, then hops off the Zamboni, "Wellllll?"

"You need some serious, serious mental help," Quinn says towards him. Sure, she's willingly here, and had to sneak out to be so, but /she's/ not the crazy one. "I'm not interested in your offer, bat-boy," she sneers. In answer of his final question, she shifts into a ready-stance and, with the curling of her left-hand's fingers, makes the universal sign for 'bring it'. "Let's see how good you are when you don't catch a girl off guard, Batty."

Jam'z gets a confused look on his face, "So, you want to become a demon, but you want to kick my ass before…? Or is this foreplay? I can't tell with you." He frowns, shrugs, and starts walking your way, 10-feet and closing.

Quinn smirks. "I'm not going to join you in demon-hood," she assures, "But I /am/ going to kick your ass." She's holding her ground, waiting…waiting. When James gets within a mere six feet of her, Quinn shoots out her right hand, tilted up like she's pushing something. There's a brief period of seconds before the air around it starts to go all wavery, and the blast of kinetic energy pouring outwards.

Jam'z is about to say something when his eyes suddenly go big. He tilts his head out of the way and turns to dodge. There's a crash behind him and he turns to look at his precious zamboni, "Hey…careful. That could have been my face." He turns back to face you and smiles, "Good. No that you're throwing punches it's a matter of self defense. No court in the world can convict me!" He rushes forward, arms spread as if he's going to try to grab you by the midsection.

"I'm sorry that I missed!" Quinn's gained a rather fierce expressionor at least what she believes is fierce. "Never was one to dodge consequencesthat's the road of the coward." Her hand draws back, and as Jam'z gets her around the midsection, she aims a slap to the side of his head. "You're getting way to hands-y, bucko."

Jam'z wraps his arms around your back and digs in his his fingertips into your clothes, head smacked to one side. He recoils a bit, but keeps a loose grip. Thankfully, there are no claws, instead, however, something starts to get warm, then burn. He smiles, fangs exposed, "I haven't had the chance to try this whole 'decay thing' on a person. Thanks for volunteering."

Quinn isn't the type to go easily. "Sonofa…", she growls, flailing a bit before trying to drive down a heel into Jam'z foot, a vicious girl-fighting tactic. It's coupled with another pulse of energy—this coming from her entire body, her forcefield attempting to assert itself.

Jam'z arms fly wide, repeating your curse, "Sonnova…" The words are cut short, his body shot back a few feet as your field ejects him. He comes to a skidding halt, a short distance from his earlier ride, "Damn…and they say opposites attract." He smoothes back his hair and narrows his eyes as he begins to walk a slow, wide circle. He keeps his body low, waiting for an opportunity before opening his mouth wide and sending a stream of noxious venom at you. It lands harmlessly on your field.

The field pushes out, fizzles a little after the splatter of venom, then re-solidifies. "You really need to learn better manners. What the hell do you think you are? One of those frilled dinos from Jurassic Park?!" Quinn tracks your movements with a frown, taking up that fighter's stance once more. Waiting.

Jam'z waggles his eyebrows. "I don't think we share the same taste in movies," he says as he circles. "But I like your music. However, you always struck me as a Beast 'in' the Harlot type of gal. So, I guess it's natural you'd come looking for me," he says in reference to on of AX7's cds. "Although, I prefer it a little more quiet tonight." His wide circle take his to the car's door. He reaches in and removes that key's you left in the ignition. The auto turns off and the keys go flying wide somewhere in a row of cars, "OOPS!"

Quinn snorts. "If you're looking for a harlot, Batsy, you're going to be even more disappointed. I know better than to make deals with the devil." She follows the path of the keys, frowns. "Not my car. There are others. Plenty of them." She twists, and the energy field falls so that another blast can be thrown his way.

Jam'z shakes his head, "Deal doing is long over. Now, it's about something totally different." He leaps over the car's hood and slides across it in an attempt to grab you, "Don't think you're going anywhere, regardless." He hisses.

"I'm sure as hell not staying here with you," Quinn says, sharply. She jumps backwards in attempt to avoid being grabbed, and as she lands, she looses her balance, falling towards the blacktop. Sure to leave a bruised rear, to go with the ego.

Jam'z lands on the pavement with the fluid motion of a snake. Fingers resting on their tips, he gives off the appearance of a cat about to pounce. His eyes, glowing pinpoint of red, burn bright as he calculates his next move. He rushes, going straight for your legs as his wings spread and pulls back hard, giving him a boost as he nearly flies forward, set to tackle.

Quinn sits up, her hands pressed against the ground. There's a moment of panic seen in her eyes as you rush forwards, and then one of calculation. She doesn't rely on the spotty usefulness of her powers, but instead a foot shoots up, and towards Jam'z, aiming for whatever piece of anatomy that she can manage.

Jam'z takes a foot in shoulder as he reaches for your legs. "Gah!" He stops short of his target, be reaches on, wrapping a hand around the leg that isn't flailing. You see him open his mouth wide, fangs exposed and ready to bite. He makes nom-nom-nom sounds!

"Oh, I am SO not about to become your dinner!," Quinn says, almost a shriek to her voice. She continues to kick at you, before one hand frees itself from the ground to grab for your hair. She is a girl, after all. Sometimes, she even fights like one! The tug that she attempts is a harsh one, as she yells, "Have you had your rabies vaccine?"

Jam'z grins, "Nope!" There's a familiar burning sensation on your skin, his hands wrapped around whatever clothing you may be wearing. He closes his mouth for a moment and smiles—but the smile vanishes when you start tugging. He asks "Shield?" He's toying with his food.

Quinn angles to get a good grip, and gives your hair another harsh tug before growling herself. "Uh-uh," she says at the mention of the shield. Instead, her other hand moving off the ground quickly, she pushes it into your shoulder, trying, REALLY TRYING, to get her blast to go off.

Your blast goes off, hitting the same shoulder you've already landed a firm foot on. There's a screech as the force of the bast sends him into the air. He lands harshly on the car’s hood, leaving a size-able dent. He's still for a moment as he catches his breath. His head darts up and stares at you predatorily for a long moment, "Okay. No more Mr. Nice Guy."

Quinn takes her chance, and gets back to her feet. There's a edge of wildness to her own look, fight or flight instinct clearly more tuned towards the first. "You'd better hope that there's a pharmacy in that mall, Batsy, because you're going to need a lot of painkillers after I'm done." She holds both of her hands infront of her, air wavering like she's about to pull up her shield again.

Jam'z stands, shakes himself out, cranes his neck around as he pops it, and begins to walk forward. There's no more words exchanged. Just the look from a creature that somehow just became more inhuman without doing anything other than standing up. His hands stretch out to his sides, fingers wide open as he closes in.

That face? The one she's making right now? That's Quinn's 'Oh HELL' face. She takes a few steps backwards, blindly, and then a few more. "Maybe you should find some prozac while you're at it," she offers, apparently not being very good at keeping her mouth shut.

That's face? The one he's making right now? Well, that's his "I'm going to go bowling with your skull" face. His lips pull back into a tight grimace, jaw clenching tightly. If the Joker were here, he'd appreciate the look…but Jam'z would hardly notice because his attention, his universe is now focused on one thing. And that one thing is Quinn. He laughs a little and takes a step forward. "Run. Please. It'll make this so much more fun."

Quinn doesn't run. That would mean turning her back on Jam'z and, right now, that seems like a horrible idea. She's still taking quick steps backwards, however, and the air around her is wavy, the force field flickering in and out.

James takes another step forward, eyes locked on yours. He exhales suddenly, the sound a cross between a laugh and a gasp, "I was wrong. This is so much more fun." He takes a few more steps and comes within reaching distance, "James…he'd have appreciated this. That beast never ad a chance to appreciate what the hunt meant," the Crazy Man says suddenly talking in 3rd person, "But this. A few of these and we'd have crossed paths sooner." He reaches up and almost touches your hair, the black fingertip all too close, "It's going to give me great pleasure to hear you both scream."

Stranger Danger! STRANGER DANGER! As Jam'z hand gets that close to her hair, Quinn's backwards steps get all the quicker—and slam her into a car she hadn't noticed before this point. "I am /so/ not prey!," she says, with all the ferociousness of an alley cat. Hazel eyes darken and she throws a punch that has no mutant power behind it, but clearly isn't the first punch she's ever thrown.

Jam'z sidesteps and watches the punch fly past his nose. He moves to give you a hard shove on your shoulder, aiming to pin you against the car.

Quinn swears under her breath as the punch fails to connect to anything but air. Her shoulder is shoved, and she goes back. It's not an unstruggling back, however, the girl squirming and gritting her teeth.

James looks at you and looks at the wall of the mall, where earlier he was launching crossbow bolts at one of his "friends." The next word is one that doesn't seem to fit the occasion, "Finger painting." He looks down at your hand and smiles. He grabs your wrist and makes an attempt to drag you over to the wall, "Your fingers, my painting." He cackles, that gruesome smile never leaving his face.

Admittedly, those words cause a bit of confusion in Quinn. Enough so that she's dragged along a few feet before she has the sense to start struggling again. "Oh /hells/ no," she says. "I need all these fingers!" She tries to dig her heels in, but cement makes such difficult.

Jam'z scruffs your clothing and tosses you towards the wall. Were it open, this would normally be a Sears, the mechanics tire bay with its closed doors a short distance away. He's practically drooling, inching closers with his hands outstretched, "You were right. Not prey. Just meat. Tassssssty meat." You see a tongue dart out, it's not a normal one, and by that it means this one should belong to a snake. He looks around, having attempted to deposited you between a couple of those 'LP Gas' exchange lockers. The ones there, for $20, someone needing to power his gas grill can get a refill. "No where to run, meat.:

Quinn is just a tiny bit paniked. She looks left, and then right, and then swears at herself for getting trapped on all sides. "You're disgusting," she murmurs, and puts a hand on one of the lockers. "Please, please let this work," she whispers under her breath, as fingers curl around the corner of the locker to her left, in the back, and kinetic force starts to build.

Jam'z cracks his knuckles like he's about to start playing the piano and nears his hands. Almost immediately you begin to feel the effect. It's rather like instant nausea, but only much more fatal it left under the influence of his demon powers. He traces a nail down your arm, leaving a dry path as if he were instantly removing all the water under it. As your arm starts to heat up from his touch he goes to grab your face.
Quinn is not worried about being polite, or making good impressions. As the nausea hits? She thanks Jam'z for being the cause by hurling at him. At least she only had a salad for dinner. The force behind her hand building…building, and then released. Hopefully a half-ton of kinetic force is enough to knock over the locker…

Jam'z sets his hand on your face and begins to 'burn' a perfect imprint in to the skin with his decay field, "First your looks, then your life." He grips tightly, ignoring the rest of the world as he tilts his head in a rather alien fashion, eyes never leaving yours. He then simple says, "Die," as if willing it would make it happen any faster." The tank's locker tilts, shifts, and falls, narrowly missing you both. It does however manage to clip Jam'z wing, bringing it to the ground with a crash. He screeches in hat inhuman way and lets go."

Quinn cries out, almost screams, as the burning starts. But that doesn't stop the push. There's a brief flash of victory as the locker crashes to the ground, as she's freed again. She doesn't waste time, hopping up onto the back of the locker, and /running/ for an exit.

Jam'z is pinned for more than a few moments, giving you ample time to run. When he does manage to remove his wing it's down for the count, at least for the time being, rendering his ability to fly after you nill. Instead, he begins to walk, pointedly after you only slowing to grab his crossbow off the ground. There's no sound, no cursing, no banter. Only fast, driven footsteps.

A Car. Quinn's running for a car. Surely /something/ here has to have the keys inside of it. People lock their keys inside of their cars /all/ the time at the mall. It's an old station wagon that she presses against, after two other attempts, and, "Score!" Of course, the door is locked. She starts beating on the window.

Jam'z pulls back on crossbow and fires one, aiming for the tires. There's a hiss as it goes over the roof. Maybe he’s aiming for you?? He stops, takes aim, and tries it again.

"Shit!" comes from between Quinn's teeth as the arrow sails overhead. She turns to look at Jam'z, and twists to avoid the next arrow that goes flying. Maybe, if she's lucky, it will crash through the window. Either way, she's springed to run again!

The next one hits a body panel *klud!* The another. A far miss breaks the driver's window, granting your wish. There's the sound as he tosses the crossbow down having run out of arrows. He begins walking pointedly towards you again.

Somewhere, inside of Quinn, there is a quiet cheer. She grabs a gym bag from the passenger's side of the car and uses that for a cushion between her rear and broken glass. The engine is revved, the door slammed. "C'mon, baby!" she says, throwing it into gear and slaming on the gas.

James runs after you for a short distance, but with an injured wing, he can't gain the speed he needs to make it a worthwhile attempt. He stops, watching you drive probably far far from him.

It's tempting. So, so very tempting to make a U-turn and slam the car into you. SO TEMPTING. But Quinn remembers that she's supposed to be the good guy. And, well, at Xavier's. It's a small victory, driving herself there this time. And Quinn, she's willing to take it. For this round, at least.

Jam'z watches the lights fade, and like the predatory demon he has become, the switch in his bran flips and he goes off in search of something else.

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