ArchivedLogs:In Which Evolve Is Closed For Business But Experiences A Somewhat Abrupt Re-Opening, Not In The Standard Way

In Which Evolve Is Closed For Business But Experiences A Somewhat Abrupt Re-Opening, Not In The Standard Way
Dramatis Personae Ion, Taylor, Marinov, Egg
In Absentia	2017-01-02 "We're gonna put you on the morning news."
Location <NYC> Lower East Side
Historically characterized by crime and immigrant families crammed into cramped tenement buildings, the Lower East Side is often identified with its working-class roots. Today, it plays host to many of New York's mutant poor, although even here they are still often forced into hiding. It's late, and cold, and kind of quiet -- kind of! In the way that cities are. Which is to say not /very/. A siren wailing in the distance, raised voices arguing in a nearby apartment, the rush of traffic a few blocks off, a cat yowling just down a the alley that holds Evolve's dumpsters. The lights in the mutant cafe are just shutting off; its sign has been turned to 'CLOSED' for a short while now, but the lone barista left has just been running through the last of the closing-out checklist. And now finally off shift for the night, buttons up his oversized puffy coat, pulls a LA Dodgers knit cap down on his bald head, holds the door open for his classmate behind him before locking the door and shoving his hands into his pockets. The coat bulges way more than its puffiness should account for. "-- So you making good headway with this art thing?" Marinov has spend a fair bit of their evening at Evolve, still wearing the pea coat, forest green vest, bow tie and slacks that they were wearing during the earlier meeting with Shane. They scurry quickly through the open door so that Taylor can close up properly. They look to the face of their phone for a moment to check the time, click the button and drop it into their pocket. "Yeah, I think I am. At least I'm making headway, not sure about good so far to be honest, but Shane's got all kinds've contacts that are going to be able to help. That's gonna open a lot of doors!" They put their hands in the pockets of the coat to protect them from the cool evening air for the time being. "He sure is connected, yeah?" Out on the street, a large SUV has pulled up, but its engine hasn't turned off. Its doors opens up to disgorge three men in black clothing that probably all came from a surplus store and all had the word 'tactical' somewhere on their tags, including balaclavas obscuring their faces. The driver stays put and looks on. The skinny man who had been in the passenger seat produces a pistol at once and levels it directly at Taylor. "Don't get any closer," he warns his companions, "that /thing's/ got a longer reach than you'd think." The second one out, very tall and well-built, also draws a gun, and hangs back as instructed. The third one, fatter than the other two, is carrying a duffle bag. "Shit, I thought it was closed. What we gonna do with /those?/" "Back inside, freaks," says the leader, gesturing with the muzzle of his gun at the door to the cafe. "We're gonna put you on the morning news." Taylor tucks his keys back into the pocket of his jeans, nodding to Marinov's answer. "That's good. That's great. And yeah, I think he's -- had to be to keep this place running. Or maybe gotten that way /from/ having --" He breaks off when the SUV pulls up; at first there's just a small tilt to his head -- he glances back to the 'closed' sign on the door with the mildest beginning hint of exasperation that swiftly turns to a widening of eyes, a sharp tensing through his posture that makes the bulges in his coat shift. The reach of his mental senses is less visible, a tensing as well that stretches to take stock of all the other minds around. << ... fuck {sorry} >> touches up against Marinov's mind, a sharp sense of dread in Taylor's words. "It /is/ closed, we're -- I think we just. Want to -- go." Marinov seems stunned upon seeing the guns, breathing the words, "What the fuck..." They hunch their shoulders forward to try and shrink away from conflict, but their fur raises on their neck and tail and their pupils dilate from fear. They take a cautious step backwards and speak in agreement with Taylor, "Yeah, it's... we're just leaving." Their eyes flick towards Taylor; having heard the fellow mutant speak telepathically has not helped to calm them, but they reply, << We'll figure something, yeah? >> This thought is paired with a feeling that suggests Marinov is unconvinced of their own thought. Once Taylor's telepathic sense focus on the newcomers, their mental presence feels...familiar! The leader and the man with the duffle bag were both among the hecklers who visited Evolve on Christmas day. They are both /excited/ to see the teens there, though the leader is wary, as well, especially of Taylor. The second gunman, the tall one, does not feel quite so familiar, and is not nearly so keen on shooting people, though he doesn't seem too bothered by the prospect, either. The driver is somewhat antsy and monitoring a police scanner on his phone, keeping the engine warm for a quick getaway. The duffle bag, as it happens, is full of home-made smoke- and fire-bombs. The leader fires a shot straight through the front door, shattering the glass. "Inside, /now/," he bellows, though the sound of his voice is muted in the wake of the gunfire. The tall man chuckles. "Saved you having to open the door, at least. Move your asses or the next shot goes in you." << They have firebombs, >> Taylor says silently to Marinov, << I don't think being caught /inside/ is going to end great. >> Still, he's lifting his hands slowly, edging cautiously toward the door. Carefully. "/Okay/ look I'm going right?" << We could go out the back? We could... run for it? >> He isn't sounding /enamored/ of either of these ideas, eyes lingering on the gun that's pointed toward him. << How fast are you? >> Marinov winces and shouts shortly in surprise at the shot being fired and the glass being shattered, the loud noise hurting their ears. << Incredibly fast, >> thinks Marinov towards Taylor, << I'm gonna hit my panic button. >> Their hands are already tucked in their pocket where they dropped their phone earlier, so it's just a matter of tapping it. While doing this, they keep behind, in Taylor's footsteps, trying to follow the older student's lead. << They're gonna firebomb Evolve? If they weren't pointing those guns right fucking at us... >> Their hands flex slightly in their pockets, ready to extend their claws. Marinov does not remain in suspense for long. Before they're even fully inside Evolve, the man with the duffle bag chucks canister through the door. It clatters, rolls, and finally comes to rest against a table, beneath which it blooms into a bright, noxious flame, licking at the table and the chairs inverted on it. The leader is contemplating whether to just shoot the two teens on the spot. The man with the bag is readying another firebomb. << Fuck it they're already thinking about shooting /us/. On three let's /scram/. >> Taylor has startled rapidly back towards the doorway at the blossoming of flame -- that's a big NOPE, hell nope, not going forward into that; several arms have poked out from his jacket, bracing his stumble against the doorway. His mental << One, two, /three/, >> ends with turning, one arm whipping out toward the gun-toting hand of the leader even as he starts to run. Marinov coughs a few times at the flame, backing away from it. The teen turns towards the door in panic, ready to dash out as soon as Taylor opens the door. When they see the tentacle whipping towards the leader, they hope that Taylor is distracting the group enough and make a dash to scratch the tall man's arm and disarm him so that he can't shoot after them when they run. The teen's eyes are wild, however, and their thoughts are starting to become more panicked and feral. "Open fire!" the leader cries the moment Taylor's arms come into view. He only gets one shot off at Taylor before the teen knocks his gun aside, though not altogether out of his hands. The tall man hesitates only a beat, but only fires at Marinov when they dash toward him. The teen's feline claws tear through the shooter's jacket easily and draw rather a lot of blood. The man shrieks in agony and jerks away from them. The third man has finally drawn his gun, but cannot seem to decide which one of them to shoot just yet. All of Taylor's arms are appearing, now. Though the leader's shot goes wide, so does his strike; with a grimace he lashes out reflexively for their gun-hand again. << Ohgod too many guns, >> his faintly panicked thought is undirected, this time, broadcast wide and followed with: << ... shit Shane's not going to be pleased. >> Maybe about the fire? Maybe about his IMPENDING DEATH? His thoughts are backlit in flame. Crackle -- zap. There's a brief snap, a faint glow; just beside the shattered and KIND OF FLAMING cafe there is now a person where there was not a person before. Two, really -- although the smaller (horned and winged, bulging-eyed, fuzz-faced) is strapped to Ion's leather-jacketed torso with a very sturdy leather sling. This isn't stopping Egg from reaching spindly clawed arms out towards the fire visible through the shattered door, grasping for it with a small purring stream of clicks. "{Not now, not now,}" Ion says to them in soothing Spanish. In English: "Shit yo y'all /aright/?" Presumably that's to the kids -- though to the armed men he's looking kind of wide-eyed. Incredulous: "Shit, yo, /burning/ the place? /Been/ done. You'd /best/ not be shooting no kids, boys, we gonna have words." The sound of the gunfire makes Marinov's ears fold back, and their expression is all snarl and teeth now as a result. They attempt to grab the tall one's arm now that they are in close and wrench the gun out of his hands, or at least struggle with him so that he does not shoot. While their surface thoughts have mostly just turned towards rage and violence, and they are about ready to get on with the biting, Ion's appearance has snapped some more reasonable (if incredulous) thought back into the teen, << Who the hell... ? >> The leader's eyes are bulging wide as Taylor attacks again. His mind is just running through a steady stream of profanities as he backs up hastily, firing again. The bullet tears through the arm that is reaching for him, but the same arm, spurting blue blood, knocks the gun from his hand a split second later. When Ion appears, he backs up all the way to the car and throws open the passenger door, reaching for the driver's gun while taking shelter in the doorway. The tall man, bleeding heavily from one arm and up close with a clawed and very, very agile catperson, is mostly just trying to get away right now, though his thoughts are startlingly calm all things considered. The third man, who had been in charge of the firebombing, is quite near to panicking. He fires his gun first at Marinov, but misses. He turns the weapon on Ion when he appears, and fires again. A sharp spike of pain ripples through the minds of the others present, nearly in time with the gunfire that shoots at Taylor. The tall squidboy hisses, that same ripple echoed in the writhe of his arms. It's quickly followed by a ripple of /relief/ when Ion shows up. << {Oh thank god!} >> His arm (a little slower, oozing thick blue blood) swats at the gun, knocking it far from the car and the men. << Ion! >> Just a split second /before/ the man fires at the electrokinetic. The forewarning pulls Ion out of sight -- zap! Gone, just as quickly as he'd appeared. But -- not gone for /long/; he reappears just on the other side of the car. There's a sputtering crackle of energy dancing around him -- the car itself is losing power, its battery draining fast. Another quick zap finds Ion up alongside the passenger door, eyes bright and wild and his hand reaching to plant on the shoulder of the leader. "I fucking /told/ you --" he is saying, a moment before the /both/ of them simply vanish. A throaty growl rises up in Marinov's throat, and the teen looks over their shoulder when the firebombing man fires a gun at them, and then back towards the tall man, "Let go of your fucking gun and I'll let go've you!" They glance again towards the firebomber and keep hold with their claws, trying to position themselves in the struggle so that the tall man's body shields them from another shot. "I fucking just wanted to go home," they growl plaintively. The driver is frantically trying to start the car again, but with its battery completely drained, the engine won't turn over. "Shit, shit, shit!" he cries, growing even more hysterical after seeing their leader vanish in a flare of electricity. << Shoulda come later and burned the place proper without fucking around with these critters. >> The tall man, still as calm as could be reasonably expected from someone so flush with adrenaline from a wound, tosses the gun aside and flees on foot. "Stay back, monsters!" This is the third man, backing away from the teens. His gun is shaking violently, but he fires again all the same, though it's not at all clear who he was aiming at and he hits only sidewalk. << Taylor! >> Taylor's voice is -- pained, still. But clearer, now, steadier -- if a little pleading. << C'mon let's get. >> He's waiting for the other teen -- if waiting a little bit /actively/, one long arm reaching for Marinov to beckon them toward him after their bite-ee has dropped his gun. He flinches at the next gunshot, eying the smoke coming from Evolve's doors regretfully as he turns down the street. Ion reappears in short order -- sans Angry Human, though on his back Egg is looking kind of pleased. Hands clapping together at the joyride. 'Fight,' they are signing eagerly. The man backing away from the teens is intercepted by an almost companionable arm slung around his shoulders -- /almost/, were it not for the heavy dose of shock that accompanies it. Ion's eyes (kinda-bright, kinda-wild) are focused on the teenagers, worried at first but slightly more relieved when seeing they are both still on their feet. Marinov is true to their word, letting go of the tall man as soon as he drops the gun, jumping in fear at the wild gunshot. << S... Sorry, was worried about him shooting at you, wasn't thinking smart. You okay? I smell your blood. >> They glance over towards Ion and give a quick, thankful wave of their bloody hand before running away with Taylor. The man Ion shocks crumbles, jerking, into a heap on the ground, the canisters in his still half unzipped duffle bag clattering out onto the sidewalk. The driver has finally given over trying to start the car and, jumping out, flees the scene at a dead run. The table and chairs that caught from the single firebomb that went off inside Evolve appear to be burning down, though it is filling the place with smoke nonetheless. << I will be. Hopefully we'll be able to say the same of Evolve. >> Not that Taylor is sticking around to find OUT. He doesn't poof with quite the same impressiveness as Ion. But he's still poofing, his bloodied arm held close to his chest as he sprints out of there along with Marinov. 'Bye dad.' Ion isn't actually going anywhere -- Egg is just signing this toward the cafe as the flames within die down. Ion sinks sideways against the car once the man crumples, grimacing at the smoke-filled cafe. "Yeah," he agrees gruffly with Egg. "I'm sure there'll be plenty more some other night."