ArchivedLogs:Sparkles

Sparkles
Dramatis Personae Iron Man, Cage
In Absentia	2013-11-16 The team-up everyone's been waiting for. WARNING: gore, violence, and sparkles
Location <NYC> East Harlem
With the highest violent crime rate in Manhattan and a failing educational system, it is easy to overlook the charms of El Barrio. Amidst its problems, East Harlem is a place thriving with culture. Salsa dancing has a rich history in the neighborhood, and in the open-air markets a wide assortment of goods can be bought from the West African community there. This neighborhood in East Harlem is heavily overrun. There's a safehouse nearby in Morningside Heights -- and another, unofficial mutant safehouse not far away -- but the intervening streets are so heavily swarmed that getting /to/ the safehouse is a suicide run for most people. The figure clanging down into the street from a nearby rooftop -- jumping straight /down/ the ten stories to make an oddly soft landing after hovering in midair a few seconds -- is not most people. More or less human-sized but made entirely of metal, he seems like he might be a giant silvery /robot/ rocketing down into East Harlem. Whatever he is, it's certainly /eye/-catching, and the jet propulsion in his boots creates a rumble that draws zombies away from where they've been hammering at a nearby apartment building and over towards the shiny metal figure. For a moment /he/ seems overrun -- zombies barrelling over to gnaw futilely on a metallic arm -- but then there's a sudden bright pulse of light and the top of a zombie's head near him explodes into a shower of thick half-congealed dark blood and splattering grey. Another zombie he shakes off a leg, /stomping/ down on its head to smash it open. Then another bright pulse of light. Pew. Pew. By now most of the horde is turning his way, their rattling groans filling the streets as they advance on the man. Luke Cage /had/ been busy with a small gang of zombies. He had drawn about a half-dozen off into an alley to dispense with as best he could. But after knifing a couple as gently as he could, there's that noisy landing out in the street. As delicious as he smells, they can't sink their teeth into him, and Luke can't keep the biters' attention with all that noise. He follows the shamblers out of the alleyway and stops dead in his tracks. His mouth hangs open for a long second, before a new biter decides Luke is worth a shot. Luke is wearing what must be a scavenged sweater. It's red and white, with a felt Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer stitched onto the front. It looks like he's got a few layers on, actually, to battle the cold, but that's the outermost. His jeans have singed-looking burn marks, as do his tan work boots. He rolls his balaclava up to be just a hat for now, as he walks out into the middle of the street. Luke stabs the new biter almost absently, and then just stands watching the silver-suited hero. "Hey Sparkles!" Luke calls out, as if trying to get the Beer Guy's attention at a ball game. "Harlem appreciates the help, seriously. But can you go easy? These people deserve open-cas-" Luke is cut off by a small swarm of biters jumping him from behind. They leap on, and Luke does his best to ignore most of them, attempting to give each a respectful stab in the back of the head, or under the chin. Pew. Pew. Another two heads explode. "Kid," says the robo-suit, "you're a damn fool if you think the city's going to /bury/ all these people. Gonna be --" Splat, splat, splat, "funeral pyres with --" PEW. "A dozen bodies each on them. Already starting 'em up." PEW PEW. There's not much /left/ of zombie heads after each blow. He shakes off another one that's been clawing at his arm, one metal fist crunching down heavily to cave in its head. "Got more concern just now for the people in that building they're," PEW pew. 'Splode 'splode, "about to make dinner of." Luke cocks his head briefly. He, like the metal man, enjoys the luxury of not needing to worry about individual bites hanging on him. His expression is slightly bemused, and curious. Like maybe it's been a long time since anyone's called him 'kid'. It doesn't take him long to shake it off. "Shit," Luke says, a little sad. "Never thought of it that way..." He stomps on the head of a legless zombie gnawing at his ankle and shakes his head. "Fuck it, you're right." Luke takes three long strides to the sidewalk and yanks two heavy, steel parking meters out of the concrete, wielding one in each hand. He lays into the crowd biters like a demented baseball player who doesn't know you're only supposed to bring one bat to the plate. "What're you supposed to be, anyway? You aren't military... You woulda shot me too." "Leave rotting bodies in the streets --" BLAM. Blam. "And we're going to have even /more/ health problems --" BLAM. He's ignoring the bulk of the pack for now, wading closer to the apartment building so he can get sideways headshots at some of the nearer zombies to it without destroying the building's front door. "Makes you feel better, they're taking --" BLAM. "Dental impressions before burning." The helmeted metal head turns towards Cage. "Guess you are breaking curfew. Would shooting you accomplish much, Cage?" SlamSLAM. Cage swings both weapons in sweeping arcs, leaving red and gray mess in his wake. He doesn't have to worry about friendly fire, or damaging the building, so he just swings for the fences. "Well either way," he says in response to the dental impressions. "It has to be about protecting the living now." He just snorts and the idea of being shot and shrugs. "Shit, I dunno brother. Never been shot by something like that," he says, nodding at the latest repulsor blast victims. "Never been real good at following rules though." Cage pauses to catch his breath and then lays into his effort again, trying to get close to the building as well. "You know me. You got a name? Or I just gotta call you Sparkles?" "Guess you /should/ be glad I'm not military." Three more zombies' heads blow off, and then there is a heavy clang of metal as a rush of them shove the suit back against the wall. One heavy outward sweep of arm shoves many of them away, and the metal-gauntleted fists make quick work of the skulls of a few remaining before the ones recently shoved to the ground get stomped on. "Or we might be testing that. About now. And the rules are for people --" PEW pew pew. "Who /need/ their protection. -- Call me sparkles and we /might/ be testing these blasts on you." Luke does his best to keep well clear of the mess the ironman is making. He just keeps up his wide arcs, destroying bodies and heads, every which way. Not all of them are head-shots, but the biters on the ground present much less of an immediate threat for the building. And Cage gets around to stomping on heads eventually anyway. He nods at Tony's interpretation of 'the rules' and grunts. "Huh, guess that puts us in the same boat then." He holds his hands up, and incidentally the parking meters, when Tony 'threatens' him. "Hey, no offense man. Just wanna know who to thank, brother. Like said before," Luke pauses to make several more big swings, one even resulting in a decapitation, sending the head in a high arcing path before it cracks down onto the pavement like a pumpkin. "We appreciate the help." "My town too." Both gauntlets spread out to either side, unleashing blasts that go through a couple heads each before they're spent. The helmeted head doesn't have much by way of expression, but there's almost an exuberance to the battle, the metal fists plowing their way through the bodies that swarm them. "Same boat." He sounds a little amused at this. "Nah. I wasn't born into mine." "Best town on the planet." Not that Luke has ever been further than Jersey, but still. "Maybe, maybe not," he says in response to the metal man being born into his advantage. "Built something no one's ever seen before." Slam, slam, /crash/. One of Cage's parking meters has finally given way, sending a shower of silver coins to tinkle down into the street making a noise like someone winning big at Atlantic City, just without all the bells and whistles. He hangs onto the pipe-end of the weapon anyway. "But I meant... the community service boat. And the rule-breaking boat. Guessing you don't got any kinda license to operate your heavy machinery, am I right?" Luke gives the metal faceplate a grin, and is distracted for a moment when he can see his own diffracted reflection in the surface. "Was just on my way --" The metal faceplate stares back at Cage, emotionless as he fires at two zombies just coming up behind the other man. "To the RMV. Get this thing registered. License plate for it." PEW stomp. When he takes a step forward his boot crunches onto the coins with a rattle, subsequently crushing a skull open to leave them painted read. "I was thinking SPARKLE would look nice." As he turns to face more zombies his metal gauntleted hands make a rectangular frame right around his ass. "You got a license for yours?" Luke's eyes go wide and he winces in spite of himself when Tony blasts the two behind him, and then the big man actually guffaws at the notion of a license plate. He laughs long, swinging all the while, but he laughs like the damn broke, holding back all his mirth no more. His tone and wry grin make it clear he thinks Tony is joking about registration, assuming the metal man is on his side. "Nah, you register things, not people." As the throng begins to properly thin out, Luke throws the broken pipe at one zombie dragging himself across the grass toward them. The pipe spears the corpse, pinning it down, and Luke strides over to crush its head under his boot. "Well. The cops can hand me a ticket if they --" CRUNCH, his fist comes down into another zombie's head. "-- think it's a worthwhile used of their time." Pew, pew, pew, and he stands in the street surrounded by bodies, blank mask turning one direction and then another. Stomping on a face whose mouth is still slowly opening and closing even though the head isn't attached to any body anymore. His hands flex at his sides, and the suit starts to rise up off the ground. "There's another swarm just up at 116th and Park. You game?" Luke grins and nods at the idea of ticketing this guy in the suit. "Yeah, I bet that'd go real well," Luke drops the battered pipes and wipes gore off his hands and onto the garish Christmas sweater. It was red already, at least. "Shit /yeah/ I'm game. I'll meet you there, Sparkles!"