ArchivedLogs:Vignette - Unstoppable

Vignette - Unstoppable
Dramatis Personae
In Absentia	2013-07-14 Cain Marko makes a burger stop.
Location Charlie's (Pennsylvania)
Somewhere in Pennsylvania... Charlie's had the best goddamn burgers in the country. It was just a /fact/. Cain Marko knew this. It was why the massive mutant -- 7 feet and change! -- was currently crammed tight inside a tiny booth, working on the seventh (out of twenty) burger while the various patrons of the diner just sat and gawked in terror. There were probably a few reasons for the fear. Maybe it was because Marko was clad in a tattered orange jump-suit; maybe it was because he was roughly the size of a car. Maybe it was because he paid for the burgers by cracking open a parking meter over the counter, spilling out all the change. He didn't care. Let 'em be scared. "Are you -- are you that guy from TV?" The voice was tiny. Almost a squeak. Just a scrap of a kid, scarcely half Marko's height, staring at him from a nearby booth. The woman the kid was with scrambled to pull him back, but froze when Marko looked up from his meal to stare at them. "Yeah," Marko said. "You broke out of a prison," the boy said. "Mmhmm." Another burger disappeared. Two chomps. "Are you going to -- are you going to kill everybody here?" There was surprisingly little fear in the question; the boy asked it with almost reverent excitement. "Probably not," Marko said. He reached for another burger. "What do you--" the boy began, but his mother suddenly cut him off with a whimper, curling her arms around his chest: "Pl-please," she said, voice trembling: "Don't--" "SHUT UP." The windows rattled from the force of Marko's voice. But then, he reached for another burger, his voice returning to that level, indifferent calm: "The kid was talking." He turned his attention back to the boy: "You were sayin'?" The boy, now a little bit frightened, glanced to the woman, but then looked back to Marko: "What -- do you do?" "Break things." Another burger gone in no more than two chomps. "--what--what kind of things?" The sound of sirens started up in the distance. Marko looked up, peering out of a window. His brows crumpled together -- but then he started to smile: "What kind of things you got?" Cain Marko rose to his feet. The table in front of him creaked as he shoved it aside, the metal base bending effortlessly beneath his massive palm. He gestured to one of the waitresses, cowering behind the counter: "Gimme these to go." After a moment of hesitation, the woman darted forward to follow his orders. Meanwhile, Cain was making his way toward the front of the shop -- cracking his knuckles. The sound was like gunshots. As the waitress handed him the bag, he turned to look at the kid. And grinned: "You wanna see something cool?" The woman the boy was with squeezed him protectively; the boy just blinked, owlishly -- and silently nodded. "Good," Marko replied. He turned to the door. The sirens were bellowing, now; flashing lights of red-and-blue flickered through the glass, bathing the interior in a series of flashing colors. Six police cars had swiveled out in the parking lot; officers were scrambling to take up positions, armed with pistols and shotguns. "Watch." Cain Marko shoved the door off its hinges and stepped outside.