2010-05-23: Mutant Hunting -- Luck May Have It


Corrin_icon.jpg Domino_icon.jpg Angelo_icon.jpg Misha_icon.jpg

Summary: Mutant hunters attack Mutant Town again, but this time, no mutants die.

Date: May 23, 2010

Mutant Hunting — Luck May Have It

Rating: R (violence)

NYC - Mutant Town

Mutant Town, also known as District X, has become a haven for mutants. This section of town doesn't care what you look like, accepting all mutants no matter what their appearance. Most of the businesses in this section of town are mutant run ranging from small convenience stores to clothing shops to restaurants to night clubs. The buildings here aren't the high rise buildings you might find in mid-town but most are about 5-6 stories high. Mutant Town might not be the most luxurious section of town, in fact it's fairly run down, but this section of where mutants are safe and welcomed regardless of race, religion and culture.

Angelo diLucci has the occasional night off. This is one of them: Sunday, and he's come to Nowhere to see if his college buddy Doc is still around somewhere. It's probably too warm for what he's wearing, the full-coverage outfit that he used when he was coming here in the winter. He might, alas, be forced to put on the silly costume to avoid sweltering if it gets much warmer, only because the thing is made of unstable molecules and is always just the right temperature.

Lurking about by means of his power, Misha is here, just obviously not seen. He stands near the collection of flowers and candles that represents where the old man died some days ago. Every lead he's followed has turned up empty, and he pauses now to stare at the wilting flowers and dwell a little on this. Hidden because he's wearing his non Barnes costume, the teen holds his helmet in a hand and just frowns. Until he spots Angelo anyway. "Mr diLucci?" Asked, for all he can't be heard. Huh! Never seen Angelo around here before. With this in mind he follows after the man. Curious! Yeah, Misha is far too curious for his own good. Where are you going, Angelo, and why are you wearing a costume?

Misha isn't the only person on the street paying attention to the memorial. Corrin walks up to it and leans down to lay white carnations on the pile, keeping as far from the candles as he can get. He didn't know the man, but so what? He was there, too, and he feels guilty that the man died. Corrin could have saved him… if he'd been that much better. Or so he feels.
Then… what was that? His head comes up and he starts to turn, and the man who stepped out of the alley opposite grins at him and opens fire. Corrin yells and falls back into the memorial while other people on the street shriek in reaction to the sound of gunfire.

Gunfire. Shit. Angelo yanks off his blue denim coat revealing a harness, and moving almost as if triple-speed, pulls three sections of wood off a sheath on his back. Two-inch-diameter iron-wood dowels, threaded in the center by brass, like pool cues, but these three dowels make up a single quarterstaff. Any sensible person would head away from the gunfire. Angelo? Not sensible. His eyes begin to gleam slightly, anywhere but Mutant Town this would be an unusual sight in the mixed light and shadows.

The gunfire draws Misha's attention immediately. He spins towards the sound and watches in horror as Corrin is shot at. There's no shout, but the teen immediately tracks back to the weapon as he crams his helmet on as he jumps into motion. Well, it appears that it's a good thing he wore his costume today. Spotting Angelo moving towards the gunman, the teen skids to a stop as he remembers something. Strike teams.. hoping that Angelo can deal with that first gunman, Misha pulls his own pistols from their holsters and scans the rooftops as he makes his way at a slower pace towards Angelo. Determined to help if the other needs it, but is there more trouble coming?

Two more men step out of the alley behind the first man and both open fire on the street. Anyone moving is a target — the first man steps up toward Corrin, checking to see if he's dead. The second concentrates on Angelo, since he's heading toward him anyway. And the third sprays bullets at a group of young people hanging out in front of Nowhere. Screams follow.
And yes, now that he's looking for them, Misha sees furtive movement along the roofs. No gunfire from there, thought… yet.

Screams. The Angel effect takes over and Angelo manifests the Living Light. Eyes go completely white-light, tracework glowing wings erupt from his back. A disk of transparent, bright, white light appears at his left hand and the light charges his staff making it glow, and seem, to him, to be completely weightless. He is now running, charging directly at the one who concentrates fire on him. The disk of light, about the size of a buckler, angled to the left, deflects any bullet which could have reached Angelo to the ground away from others, except for one which punches a hole through his shoulder. Living Light flares from Angelo's body where it strikes, and the hole heals behind it as it comes out of his body on the other side, burning it away into nothing. He is so fixed on the one shooting at him, he won't care or even remember until later, when the hole in the shirt reminds him.
The fifty foot distance between them closes in almost no time as wings of light move Angelo on him, and he brings the staff around in a sweeping low-to-high strike that should take the man off his feet, or at least make him unable to run. The shielding light-disk will stop most bullets, until Angelo can (he hopes and intends) touch him and administer the overwhelming blast of bliss that should leave him drooling and helpless for up to a half hour.

Gun to holster as the third sprays bullets at the young people. Suddenly there's a black clad man in the way, holding up a hand. The air distorts and the bullets shot at those young people disappear as they hit that strangeness. Misha's other hand lifts and he fires back at the gunman. Funny, his own bullets don't disappear. A couple rounds towards the chest to discourage more shooting. The gunman on the roof will have to wait a second. Wait and pay attention to the glowing man more than the other one. The teen only hopes that Angelo can take being shot at. (Which he can!)
Keeping the shield between himself and the third gunman, Misha looks towards the rooftops and places a third shot up there. Just a little something to discourage before he vanishes again. Just giving those young people a chance to run before he really joins the fray.

Domino has arrived.

Which glowing man in the street? The Angel of Light sweeping Gunman Two off his feet (Thump, crash! Bullets in the sky!) or the golden one thrashing in the middle of Mr. Bapka's memorial (Bullets ricocheting! Candles being swept in Gunman One's direction!)
Gunman Three is hit in the chest several times by Misha's fire and he goes down, coughing; apparently, he's wearing a vest. He's nowhere near dead, but he's also not shooting right now. Can't, when his lungs are trying to go on emigrate to Australia.
At least two more teams make themselves known, both from the roofs. One on each side of the street, like before. The one on the south side takes aim at the fleeing teenagers. The one at the north side lays down fire in the space Misha was just occupying. A sharp ear might catch at least one of those men swearing about his disappearance.

The greatest need is the guy under the shield being hammered by the doom of bullets. So, Angelo closes the distance, wings propelling him to land in the middle of the shrine. His hat flies off, knocked loose by the motion; his short-cropped hair is blinding white with light of its own, making it a paradoxically bad target because trying to focus is definitely like shooting at the sun. Still, as he reaches Corrin, another bullet hits him to evaporate into fire as the wound heals in a quarter-second. The staff is held out, the shield interposing, and his hand goes down to try to touch the injured man, somewhere under that mass of burning gold.

That's why Misha shot for the chest. He was expecting armor. As foolish as he may be, he's not trying to kill. Safely away, out of phase, the black clad teen strides across the street to where Corrin slumped, and Angelo is racing to try and help the fallen man. Most of his shooting has been to discourage the rooftop people. Most. Misha flickers into being to shoot a couple of rounds at the second rooftop group, rather too far to do much honestly, and then he's there with the second gunman. A smooth gesture to shoot at that gunman even as candles and cards go flying. The one looming over Corrin. If he's got a clear shot anyway. Doesn't want to hit his friend even as he's being healed.

Someone loved the smell of Napalm in the morning, but she was not standing in the middle of the Apocalypse, just a little bit of mayhem and this only had the odor of blood, sweat, and spent rounds. Close enough. The heralding call of gunfire is what drew her. Her "babysitting" job that even brough her here was fast asleep and counting sheep while the noise of amusement called her out. The south entry was how she came, keeping high and ascending the fire escape to scale onto a roof and watch. It was not too long of a matter of debate to get involved, the retreating teenagers were under aim, a survey of the area and those involved defined such things.
Who was right or wrong was determined all on her own in that moment. The leather trench coat that hung open was dropped to the ground behind her, one hand reaching up and back to bring over the shoulder strapped HK 416. Dropping to one knee her head tilted only slightly as she took aim over to the opposing roof top and let the rain of bullets cry out an iunterception by a silent surveyor that stepped up to the plate.

Angelo is more paradoxical even than he might think: light that bright, Corrin thinks he's burning… and *Corrin* is already burning, since he landed among candles. Burning and bright lights and bullets, oh my — he's back in the Bad Times, and trying to survive. He doesn't even clearly know that Gunman One's first volley ripped his right arm to hell and that he's losing way too much blood as a result. He just knows Bad Guy! There! And fire! Here! Throw here at there and run away!
…And then Angelo touches him and he freezes for a moment. All fears retreat as the Living Light fills him from the inside. It is both like and very unlike his own light, pushing out the dark until… "Oh." *That's* who he is.
It's a moment that can't last. Gunman One, who was firing at Corrin, is now firing at Angelo and Corrin. Bullets are bouncing everywhere, mostly off Corrin, which makes lingering in his vicinity dangerous. Misha fires from beside and behind One, and One yelps and falls forward, onto Angelo and Corrin. He's probably going to be reaching for rainbows after this, like Gunman Two, who is trying to touch the rainbows in the sky over his head, the ones that Angelo's touch showed *him*. And Gunman Three, who was shooting at the kids down the street, it trying to re-learn breathing after the double-shot to the solar plexus that Misha administered.

The two groups on the roof are startled to be taking fire from their own level—having the advantage was why they were up in the first place! One man goes down to a lucky shot that penetrated his vest at the place on his shoulder where it gaps just that little bit. The other two on his team fire wildly back in Domino's direction; the three-man team on the same side of the street as her duck and start moving toward her. Hunting party!

Angelo had barely noticed this gunman, until Misha arranged for him to fall into his lap. The Seraphim in their angel-like glory, when they made the drug-mad druid inscribe the tattoos that eventually went onto Angelo's skin, were not thinking of justice or injustice or right or wrong. They were thinking of balance, of the overpresent darkness and the under-represented light. The magic focusses, the Living Light surges through a healing spell-foundry, and Gunman One is suddenly in reasonably perfect health, and VERY much seeing the rainbows and lollypops.
With Corrin now back to himself — after a good ten-count of healing energy to repair an arm that had been shredded by bullets — the man with the wings made of runes of light looks up and around, nodding at Misha but seeming not to really see him, then the Eye of Ra shows him a pathway of glowing footprints. Nobody shooting at them? He moves off, barely touching the ground as the need sends him racing at speed to find the two who were hit by bullets earlier.

Misha vanishes after shooting #1. Way too many bodies for that space. He backs off, scanning the rooftops. As gunshots sound, and non are heading down, the teen is worried. Is someone help, or someone else innocent getting killed? Without being able to see, and without the means to easily get to the roof, he turns back to checking on gunmen #2 and #3. Still down? Is there a fourth team? Angelo can heal Corrin without Misha hovering. Is kind of freaked out about being nodded at, but he'll deal with that later. Right now he's checking to see if his friends are going to get shot at again.

Winning the war never came all at once, but this battle at least had them off the kids and their focus redirected. Now the highlight of her night came in something other than sitting outside of a condo waiting for the man to wake up and move again. The ricocheting of bullets that came back at her had her moving, along the rooftop she ducked and wove the random metal boxes that served as power or perhaps air conditioning for the building beneath her feet. Sparks flew when a bullet hit one, bounding back out into the open. High ground was normally the safe ground, and here she could see her opponents, glimpsing the few on the ground that headed the way of the building she was atop.
A jump over one of the large metal units and she rolled to the solid surface, her body staying low, feet pressing to the ground and shoving her back hard against the metal. Cover was had and from her shoulder rig she drew her Browning, leaning up to peer at the two left on the other roof top, guaging the distance before she rose up and took aim at the one on the right, sighting down the barrel to the center point of his forehead and pulling the trigger.

Yes, there is a fourth team. They come around the corner, guns up. Angelo is on his way away, after the kids, and Misha is not in phase, so they can't see him. They can see Corrin, rising out of the tumbled flowers and cards of the memorial, patting out the fire on his miraculously undamaged right arm. He should be freaking… he's not. He knows it's just a little fire and it's out now, and he's fine. He's fine!
Not for long. He hears the men coming around the corner and looks in their direction, and his shield comes on, and they fire, and he staggers. But no blood this time, so he doesn't go down. Grin! His sword seems to grow from his fist as he braces to engage the three.
Overhead, man Two of the south team goes down. Man Three does a double-take—two of his team are down, and he's alone up here. Time to retreat. He keys his headset and tells the teams coordinator, even as he ducks down out of sight. Crap. Mutant Town isn't nearly as easy a hunting ground as everyone says it is.

The north team is working its way in skirmish line toward Domino's position, watching carefully to see if she reveals even a hair. They'll shoot it off if she does! Or so they tell themselves. They are shooting at anything that moves—pigeons, flapping laundry, stray bits of paper…

It takes almost too long for Angelo to get to the place where the Angel sight is compelling him, and while he does so, Misha starts invisibly on his way back to the place where people think he's supposed to be. Angelo appears quickly, and as the less-injured one reaches up to ward him away, his left hand meets the interposing hand, and in a phrase, "be healed," the light pours out into the injured youth, and then his right hand is touching the head of the one who is hiding behind. Another ten-second healing, his stores of the Living Light not depleted, but an inroad has been made for the first time in perhaps two months.
The man shakes his head, scattering light like rain spattering off wet hair, and wondering for a moment where he is, but then remembers. Still gunmen. He picks up the staff he dropped a moment before, then takes to the air, heading back toward where he left Corrin and the unknown distraction.

Two down…One left on the roof, and was it two or three coming at her from ground level. The hiss was pulled in via air between teeth. Her upper lips curled back and away in the sneer of self loathing for the moment in not recalling the correct numbers. Her clip held eight more round in her pistol and the HK was well accounted for. Guaging it all she slowly moved at first, rolling to her side to press her shoulder against the metal and leaned forward to take the head count of how many had joined her in the tea party. The small movement alone had bullets aimed in her direction and her body darting back to its cover. "Shit." But the one word was said with a smile as once again the HK was lifted into place, the butt end secured against her shoulder and up she shot to return the fire while backpedaling at a swift speed from them, trying to maneuver around the hail of bullets and the luck was not had as one scathed her side, forcing that position back. Reaching the edge of the roof one foot held along the
eave and anchored enough to push back and send her jumping from the roof back onto the fire escape while returning fire.

In flight, Angelo has a good view of all of the combatants: Ground Team One, sprawled on the ground on or near the Bapka memorial. Ground Team Two, facing Corrin… except they're faring no better against him than Blue Boar Team did, a week ago. Deflect, deflect, slash through a gun, body slam the second man into the third man, another slash rendering a second weapon useless. The bodyslammed man is still firing, but the bullets are still bouncing. The Living Light may note the bruises Corrin is collecting, though.
On the south roof, one man is up, one is down, and one is dead. The Living Light may have something to say about that. On the north roof, Domino is running from a live three-man team, which is spreading out to try and trap her between the edge of the roof and them. They have no idea that Angelo is there.

Were he a member of a heroic band, Angelo would most likely do something like calling down the logistical information to those fighting below. Alas, not. The one soloist on the south roof who is still up is not as important at the moment as the three moving on the pale woman with the inverse-vitiligo marking, not really a disease as far as the Eye of Ra is able to tell him. Luck may have gotten her this far… he closes behind the one leftmost of her, reaching out to touch with that bliss-to-stupidity touch.
Nevertheless, Angelo isn't ignoring the others, especially that solo fellow; he keeps his staff and the shield on that hand ready to interpose.

Her pause was enough, the leap away debated, but retreat was simply not an option and the delightful challenge presented itself with three. Angelo's arrival did not cease the return fire but it had her hand that held the pistol rising to aim at him in the one sole warning that was ultimately unnecessary, but Domino knew no better. Defense was in place and when the man to her left seemed to take moment of pause she lunged at the other two, pushing off the edge of the roof and using the blunt side of the HK to swing and attempt to aim at the head of the man to her right while the other left between Angelo and herself now had the pistol lowered to him to fire off one round again aiming 'dead center'.

The man Angelo touches makes this little surprised yip of pleasure before collapsing in drooling happiness. One of his teammates notices and turns, having to shield his eyes against Angelo's brightness. Doesn't stop him from firing—gotta hit something, this close, that many bullets…!
The other man is still focused on Domino, shifting sideways to get a bead on her…which places him perfectly to get the butt of her rifle to his temple. He drops like a rock. The man shooting at Angelo gets a bullet in the middle of his back. He howls and staggers forward, face-first into brightness.

Bullets do in fact hit something: most of them hit the shield that Angelo interposed, one gets past and hits the muscle in his chest, stopped by the sheer bulk of the short, excessively built man, and then is pushed out, a blinding flame burning in that one spot just long enough to heal the wound. Angelo … seems unaware of the pain. The Light is apparently a bit of an anaesthetic, go figure given the way he's put three people out with it. Or was it four? He glances at the man on the south roof, nods to Domino, and moves again, the light giving him that unnatural speed to close on the remaining man up. The dead one… he can't help. Once that's done he'll head for the ground level, where he expects there will be at least one person needing to be repaired.

And after that, Angelo will call for a SHIELD pick-up, since he's not really expected to be involved in this kind of work.

And after that, MAYBE (he hopes) he can get that postponed drink in Nowhere. If he can find his hat again.

Luck may have it, and it did. Both went down and the only thing that did not end perfectly was the fact that they were [mostly] alive. Her eyes narrowed against the blinding light that Angelo emitted, her head turning away but only slightly while precaution laid in her being ever ready to move, her finger still on the trigger of the pistol and not relaxing until Angelo left the vacinity. A moment of pause had her hovering over the man that she knocked out, pressing the barrel of the HK to his temple while he slumbered off the blunt force trauma. No.. The pause was enough, she did not pull the trigger, she lifted the HK back up and slung it across her back, also putting the Browning back within the rig. Moving back to the starting point she gathered up her trench coat and moved back towards the fire escape, leaping from the roof and down in a silent descent, her spare hand still ready to draw again if need be as Domino made her way out onto the street.

Like last week, Corrin has to let the bad guys walk away… the three in the street are more than enough for him to handle. He drags them to the sidewalk as the team he just disarmed disappears back around that corner, thinking damn, they did come back, and damn, they still did a lot of damage, and damn… uh… what?
He's standing there, blinking, trying to remember… something… as Angelo comes down to street level. He winces and puts a hand up to shield his eyes. "That's a little bright," he says, mild enough protest. He was thinking about something… this is a distraction.
From Corrin's point of view, Angelo was the only help here. Corrin was too busy being buried in the memorial to see him, and Domino was on the roof the whole time, so he never saw her. But his rapidly hazing memory does bring up the possibility of roof teams. "There could be more teams," he says. "Of these guys. On the roofs." He feels like he has to pull every thought out like a rock from honey, or tar. "You were flying — did you see anything?"

At the sound of sirens, Angelo pulls in the wings and turns out the Lights, and the Angel closes his eyes. Angelo thus does not magically see the confusion set in for Corrin, and instead answers him with what he saw, including the woman who was helping, but when the police arrive ten minutes before SHIELD he will simply show them his badge. He is, in effect, a SHIELD agent who works as a doctor, who happened to be on the scene when the bad things happened, but he will wait for his backup to get there before he will give any kind of report; what SHIELD decides is appropriate to tell is up to them.
SHIELD or the police may manage to find one or another of the still living, blissed-out anti-mutant terrorists, and at least one dead one. Angelo only cares that he can retrieve his coat from in front of the building near Nowhere, stow his quarterstaff in its three sections, and appear to be as normal as he ever does.

The wailing of sirens in the distance was expected, but it was closing fast and she had a little under a minute to make herself scarce. She had baby sitting duty afterall! A swift backpedal out of the street and back into the side roads had her moving through the shadows silently and slipping completely out of view..Then gone.

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