ArchivedLogs:Tutoring

Tutoring
Dramatis Personae Ash, Ion, Tabitha	2015-10-04 "I'm makin' it my business."
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 a mild night. Cool but not too chilly, even this late into the night, for once this week not raining. Down one small side street in the Lower Eaast Side, most all the businesses here are long since closed for the day. Even the narrow townhouses or small upper-floor apartments over them mostly have their lights out. It's not /entirely/ deserted, though. Nearby of one shop -- a bright cheerful mural of a Tree of Life painted across its facade under the sign "Evolve Cafe" -- there's a black motorcycle parked, heavily customized in its body. And nearby /that/, a small knot of people -- three men who are decidedly Not Smiling clustered around one who very much /is/. A duffel bag discarded nearby, partially opened, holds cans of spraypaint. Two of the /men/ hold tire irons. Ion wears tall stompy boots, dark jeans, a leather kutte (emblazoned large on its back with MUTANT MONGRELS MC surrounding a skull-and-crossed-lightning-bolts emblem) over a blue denim shirt. And a very large grin, despite the fact he's currently bleeding heavily from his lip and holding one arm a little protectively around his midsection. "-- Swear to God, you motherfuckers don't never learn." His gravelly-deep voice carries a veeery thick Argentine accent. Ash is slipping into his jacket as he exits the mutant friendly club, half distracted as he says good night to someone on the inside. As he pulls up his collar against the night air, he recognizes the motorcycle and pauses to actually look around. He's wearing heavy work boots under somewhat dusty jeans. His tee shirt is dark brown and the jacket he's wearing is tan and favored by construction workers. His brow furrows as he starts focusing on the group of people, drawing in a deep breath when he hears Ion's voice. "Oy, hermano," he calls out friendly like from behind the other men, "this a private tutoring session?" Somewhere out there, a little boy is crying. Why? Because his big mac and chicken nuggets have vanished, that's why. There's a soft 'fffp' sound in the side street, and abruptly a young woman in a trenchcoat and an old hoodie is standing in there, clutching a McDonald's bag. The big mac is swiftly unwrapped, and with her hoodie drawn up over her head she meanders out into the street, looking furtively both ways before emerging. A quarter of the big mac vanishes in one bite, and she seems content to head merrily on her way; but then, of course, there's men with tire irons, and a bleeding fellow with a Mutant Mongrels emblem. "...The fuck's going on?" She stands there, holding the burger. "Y'all got a fuckin' problem? Maybe you all oughta basically just piss off," she states, meandering up towards the men. "Psh bro this like fucking /community/ college {there ain't no prerequisite}." Ion's words slip easily into Spanish halfway through, as the men look up rather abruptly at their new company. "More the fucking --" His bright grin /suggests/ 'merrier', but he doesn't get a chance to finish, one of those tire irons swinging heavily towards his midsection. It doesn't /connect/ with anything, though -- there is very suddenly no Ion where there /had/ been an Ion just a moment before. The young man reappears a split second later on the other side of the men. "They had a problem with my boy's cafe here. They /'bout/ to have a bigger --" "{... doesn't shut up,}" one of the men is grumbling (also in Spanish) to one of his companions as Ion speaks. "Fucking -- /more/ of them?" He's spun around abruptly when Ion disappears -- only to level his tire iron at Ash instead. "Maybe /you/ all should fuck off, this not your business." "No place for little girls," the last man adds, upon hearing Tabitha's addition to the conversation. "Oh good... because I never really finished high school," Ash replies, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. His shoulders roll back as he glances in the direction of Tabitha's voice, swinging his attention back to find someone pointing a crow bar at him and Ion elsewhere. "Waaaah? Now I need a business license? That's just harsh. Do you have a business license? Do you keep it in your wallet for times like these? I have never seen anyone flash a business license around to prove something is their business." He shakes his head, eyes on the one threatening him. "Unh-hunh." The girl stuffs the big mac in her mouth in a hurry, devouring the rest of it in two bites and some rapid chewing. "Fuckin' idiots." She wads up the bag and stuffs the chicken nuggets down into her poket for later; there's a clink of chain as she reaches into her pockets, and pulls out... a pair of nunchucks. Really? She has nunchucks in her jacket? Yes, yes she does. "I'm makin' it my business," she states, flashing a grin, as she pulls back the hood over her head. Oh yeah; she's not human at all; she looks much more like an enormous rat, and... is that a tail, suddenly visible past the bottom of her trenchcoat? "So, I'll suggest once more, that you all piss off," she adds. "It'll hurt less, this way. Promise." "/Both/ of them don't shut up. Jesucristo." The taller of the men with the tire irons shakes his head. Swings the iron low for Ash's knees as Ash continues talking. Ion, meanwhile, is looking -- startled? Impressed? His brows lift, anyway, eyes widening. "Nunch... the fuck this some Master Splinter shit over here, yo." There's a kind of /delighted/ whoop to his voice. For a moment, distracted by the appearance of nunchukus, it seems like he almost /misses/ the second tire iron swinging in for his back. Almost. He twists back to get /inside/ the blow, one arm curling around the man who wields it. Who, a moment later, vanishes, together with Ion. Poof. "... {oh my fucking god.}" Given their location and current proclivities, the last of the trio seems more disgusted than /startled/ when Tabitha pulls her hood back. "No fucking end to you people." He's backing in closer to the wall of the cafe, stooping to scoop one of the cans of spraypaint (bright blue!) from its duffel bag. Aim it towards Tabitha's face to spray. Once the man across from him draws back the tire iron to strike, Ash rushes at him, driving his shoulder into his solarplexus. Once he is in contact with his attacker's body, he twists and hooks a foot around to trip him, dropping him to the ground. He is no longer talkative or smiling as he moves in to kneel on the arm that holds the tire iron, his grip wresting it away. "Yeah? What's your fuckin' prob--" The rat's voice abruptly stops, as she simply vanishes from where she is, echoing that soft 'ffp' sound from earlier. Of course, there's another one right behind the man; "--lem," she finishes, with only a seconds worth of delay. The nunchucks whistle through the air, each whirling around before the rat swings one at the man's arm (The one holding the spray can) and the other is aimed at the guy's knee. "Fuckin' ape," she spits; this time from a second-story fire escape. "Make a run for it, pal. Take my advice this time." There's a faint crackle-pop, and Ion reappears. Empty-handed, no trace of the man who'd vanishes with him. One of his hands is raised, held out towards the man who had been attacking Ash. He lowers it, though, a moment later. Instead chuckles. Pulls out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out to slip it between his lips. Watches, as the man stumbles backwards, wrestled to the floor with Ash atop him. One of the man's knees comes up towards Ash's back. Watches as the other man's spray can clatters to the ground; he goes down with a small yelp. "Right. Like /I'm/ the fucking. Animal." But even if his words come between his teeth, he /is/ getting up, grabbing their bag. Stumbling back away from the others, his eyes still on his last friend with Ash. Ion, meanwhile, is lighting his cigarette. His head tips back towards the fire escape. "Shit, hermana, that shit's tight. You got some fucking /moves/." Ash grunts when the man he is sitting on attempts to knee him, but doesn't react much otherwise. "You wanna walk away, or you wanna wake up later. Your choice." He sticks the tire iron under his arm to ram up against that knee in his back. He then rises and pulls away from his attacker, letting him run if he wants to. The rat wings the nunchucks around a few times for good measure, before she catches them both in hand and tucks them away in her jacket. "...Right," she mutters, after the 'animal' comment. She sits down on the edge of the fire escape, pulls her hoodie back up over her head to at least mostly conceal her visage, and produces her purloined chicken nuggets. "Let him wake up later," she calls down to Ash. "Teach the sunofabitch a lesson. Hopefully one he'll *learn*." The man is scrambling to his feet as soon as Ash lets him up, hastening up to join his friend and take off together down the street. One of them at something of a /limp/. Ion ambles closer to hold his pack of cigarettes out towards Ash, brows lifted in silent offering. "Every fucking night this week. Some-goddamn-assholes they got a mind to wreck this place. Don't /never/ learn." Ash shakes his head at the cigarettes and gives a small shrug instead. "Aye. Never learn." He instead presents the tire iron to his friend. "A trophy," he adds, with a small smile. "I have to run. Work early in the morning. You got this?" He turns his attention to Tabitha and nods graciously. "Thank you for your help. I hope your evening is better after this." He gives one last wave to the pair before turning toward home. "Oh, it's better alright," Tabitha replies. She vanishes from the fire escape, reappearing next to Ion. She waves to Ash, and pops another one of the nuggets in her mouth. "So... anyone in particular, that bunch? Or just your average fuckers looking for someone to pick on, and making poor life choices?" "I hang this on my wall, huh? Treasure it /for/-ever." Ion takes the tire iron, swinging it lazily in one hand, his cigarette bobbing loosely between his lips as he speaks. He offers the pack of cigarettes to Tabitha, when she reappears, swivelling on a heel to look at her with a small surprised blink. "They don't live far. Mad some freak he got the nerve to set up shop in /their/ neighborhood. Fff." He shakes his head, crooks a grin at Tabitha. "Glad we could spice up /your/ night though. Sunday nights they can get so quiet." The rat girl chuckles softly, and shakes her head. "I don't smoke, but thanks," she replies. "Well, never tried, anyway. ...Not sure I want to with the way I am now, it's... weird, sometimes." She shrugs, and pops one more chicken nugget into her mouth, before offering the last two to Ion. "Well, they can get fucked. THough I suppose I'd better not stick around too long, next you know the cops'll be coming to arrest an 'ugly mutant'. It's not like they'd catch me, but it's the hassle, you know?" "No fucking doubt," Ion agrees easily enough, "cops they'll be by soon. Useless motherfuckers, they like to chase me /all/ the damn time." He tucks the pack of cigarettes back into the inside of his jacket. His smile brightens as he takes the nuggets. The cigarette is briefly removed from his lips so he can pop both the chicken nuggets into his mouth together. "Hey-thanks. Quick as you jump about I don't guess," he's jerking a thumb over his shoulder to the motorcycle parked nearby. "You need no ride anywhere? Save some energy for you maybe at least." The rat glances at the motorbike, then back to Ion, and shrugs her shoulders lightly. "I've got nowhere to go," she admits. "But if you're going somewhere, hell, I'll come for the ride at least. I've never been on a motorcyle before." She pauses, reaching up to adjust the hoodie; it's really only effective at concealing her from a distance, but that doesn't stop her doing the best she can. "I'm Tabitha, by the way," she adds, awkwardly. "Just... moved her from Chicago. Sort of." "Ion. I'm from fucking everywhere. If you ain't on no schedule then hop on." There's a helmet that Ion digs out of one of his saddlebags; one eye squints up for a moment, scrutinizing Tabitha's narrow-muzzled face before offering it to her. "Maybe-maybe gotta keep the visor up." He hops onto the bike just as -- somewhere not-quite-distant-enough -- the sound of police sirens becomes audible. "And best hang on. Tight." Tabitha pauses, chewing on things for a moment, before she takes teh helmet and, as suggested, puts it on with the visor up. "Pleasure, Ion," she murmurs. "I... I uhm..." She finishes buckling the helmet on overtop of her hoodie, and shrugs her shoulders. "Thank you," she murmurs. "Just, drive quick, since I can't... y'know, hide so easy like this." Though he doesn't appear to have a /key/ to the ignition anywhere in sight, the motorcycle turns itself on when Ion leans forward and grips its handles. Glowing electric-blue light lines the cycle once it is on -- somewhat reminiscent of the lightcycles from Tron. "Quick," Ion tosses a grin back over his shoulder briefly before veering away from the curb and shooting out into the street, "-- ain't gonna be a problem."