2014-11-08 Something Cooking in Hell's Kitchen
This scene is rated R
Warning: Contains gory grossness. May not be suitable for sunshine princesses and unicorns.
2014-11-06
Players: Surge, Unknown Baddies (Graydon)
GMed by Exitar
Title: Something Cooking in Hell's Kitchen

It's getting cold. Night in the city has started trending towards uncomfortable and most of the people shuffling about the street have done their best to begin layering up. Hoodies and scarves are everywhere.

Hell's Kitchen isn't like the rest of the city, though. Despite the Daredevil's best efforts, metahuman violence and organized crime have widened the gap between the rich and the poor and places like Hell's Kitchen bear the harshest burden. Trash clogs the dingy gutters while newspapers blow along the damp pavement. Some of the homeless have made a commendable effort of snatching enough of those papers to craft makeshift nests that passersby try to pretend doesn't exist.

Penny scuffs her beaten sneakers along the sidewalk as she tries to scoot towards her apartment. Externally, there is nothing strange about the woman. Her skin is fair as freshly fallen snow and her eyes dull emerald. Her blond hair cascades along her shoulders in pronounced ringlets and even her chubby cheeks maintain the rosiness of a princess.

A metahuman is something Drake has been sniffing after for a while, actually. Since one fateful evening in Hell's Kitchen, he keeps spotting a woman who can't seem to keep from lighting things on fire. And just as often it seems, he spots her engaging in clandestine affairs - black market deals, have to be. The bottom line is, she's dangerous, and he appears to have a knack for finding her. The more information he can glean, the more he can pass along.

But that type of spying behavior does not befit a simple, unassuming teenager. To that end, he's picked up his uniform and assumed the mantle of Surge again, making liberal use of alleyways, fire escapes, rooftops, and the locals' healthy fear of folks in tights to avoid unwanted attention. But this blonde gal? She doesn't seem like much to him offhand. He concludes his observation with a shrug, lofty from his perch on the edge of a neighboring rooftop.

A cat darts through an alley with a hiss, knocking over a tin can. In another sharp motion a shadow shoots from the alley and clasps a clammy hand over Penny's mouth as it tears her into a dark corridor. Another figure emerges from the alleyway; little more than a silhouette for the moment. The gaunt outline of an aging man checks what looks like an Ipad, very definitively sending a lingering stare in Drake's direction before slipping into the corridor and slamming the door firmly shut in his wake.

Surge was seen! Right? He's pretty sure he was. But that's small potatoes compared to what else is going on. What strongly appears to have been a kidnapping just took place in front of him, and there's no telling what they might do to her. Without hesitation, he lifts to his full height and fetches a cellphone from one of the many chambers along his belt to speeddial the mansion.

An abduction is reported, along with the street address, and the note that he's going to check it out. It isn't what he originally set out to do, but screw it. When need arises…

The masked teen replaces the phone and hops down onto the fire escape, rapidly making his way to the street level and ultimately to the alley.

With the mansion alerted it's only a matter of time before police descend on the area. Twenty minutes, tops. Hell's Kitchen is, after all, not high on the list of priorities. Assistance from the mansion, though, may get here significantly faster.

The door that stands before Surge is fairly standard. The cheap red paint on the wood is tarnished with rust. From the line beneath the door, a light is on beyond the portal.

The first thing Surge takes note of is the placement of the doorhandle. That's going to be important in a second. And while he has experience in breaking and entering, he has neither the tools nor the time to finesse it. They could be /raping/ this poor chick, for all he knows. So what comes next is a rather brassy rapping of knuckles against door.

With Surge tucking himself against the wall opposite the door's handle as a safety precaution. This way, if they decide to throw the door open in a hail of bullets, they'll only riddle the wall with holes - if they even bother to open the door before firing, that is.

Part two of the plan is to attempt taking the answerer by surprise with a grab at the collar, yank him outside, and deliver a nice, hard justice punch 'gainst the head. That combat training may start paying off.

There's a clamor of some sort beyond the door. One voice directing others with shrill authority. Words like 'compromise' and 'subjects' are tossed around. A creaking whine echoes from beyond, not unlike a heavy dresser squealing across a hardwood floor. Something is occurring while Surge lingers.

Oh. They're delaying. And they're… worried? That could also be an advantage. Surge is very aware of how terrifying raw electricity is to a lot of people. Hell, the stuff's deadly! So perhaps a more dramatic entrance is in order…

If everything works out as intended, the door will fly off its hinges under the force of an electrical blast! And short on its heels, Surge will stride into the room with a determined scowl. His arms course with brilliant blue rings as if just /itching/ to discharge another blast.

The door buckles and snaps open, sending splinters from the hinge showering into the room. A long, concrete hall is the reward with another shoddy door rotting before the main room. The light on the other side is a nauseating green the bleeds through every crevice between the door and the walls.

Without the second door muffling the noise that shrill voice is all the more clear. "The mutant I detected has /breached/ the outer door! I told you we need to /reinforce/ them, you IDIOTS!" He shrieks above the chaos. "You see these readings?! High concentrations of energy! He's a resevoir! Probably fire or something. Kill him, kill him /now/ and I can study him later!"

On cue, several pistols are loaded and charged.

Oh. All that with nothing to show for it? That's a shame, and it takes a bit out of his element of surprise. But Surge can roll with it. He still has the advantage of being unpredictable. Hearing the telltale click-clack of pistols readying is enough to make him consider some options.

If he blasts down the next door, they're likely to just open fire. He has no strategic positioning, what with being in a simple hallway. In the end? Not a great lead. But seeing the light from beneath the doorcrack gives him an idea.

Surge takes a knee and places his left hand to the floor. Electricity torrents along his arm to the floor, cascading the energy beneath the door to web over the ground on the opposite side.

The low torrent of power courses along the ground and does its job of freezing then dropping both armed assailants waiting in ambush along the other side of the door. Unfortunately, their superior seems to have been able to slip out the back while they were making their preparations with Penny in tow. There's a quickening crackle that bubbles into a pop as an overhanging lamp overloads; however, the uncanny glow continues.

Upon entry, the two guards are visible on the ground, passed out. Both are males in their mid to late thirties, caucasian, and relatively tall. One is a dirty blond with a receding hairline while the other has a full head of dark hair. More eye-catching, though, is what is creating the unearthly glow that bathes them both. Lining the walls to the room, save the back door, is a series of ten-foot tubes from floor to ceiling. Each one holds a new and grotesque surprise.

What was once a living, breathing person floats harmlessly within each tube; upon death, though, it becomes clear each was subjected to extensive and inhumane medical procedures. A visible brain here, the stitching of a vivisection there. It seems few boundaries were drawn and, worse yet, there was no limitation to the stock they pulled. Young, old, women and worse. Another common, unifying factor is what appear to be visible mutations on many of the cadavers.

Whump. Whump. Then silence.

Satisfied, Surge lifts his hand and cuts off the current. The door is promptly put to boot and he steps in, fully expecting to find a room full of stunned people, likely including a hostage. He'd have to owe her an apology later. But what greets him is a pair of goons on the floor.

The very first order of business is to ensure the room is /actually/ secure by kicking away their pistols. After this, he scans the room for exits - and that's when the layout really sinks in.

"Holy…"

Surge's mind goes blank. He isn't even convinced he knows what he's looking at. He's never seen a brain in person. He's never seen a vivisection. He's never even seen a dead person before. Those emerald eyes flit from tube to tube, the details a jumbled mess. What's supposed to be there? What did these people /do/ to them? And that's when he remembers what he'd overheard - they were going to "study" him after killing him. These people have been abducting mutants and doing this? Dazed, he makes for the last door to take a look out. Nothing. Someone's gotten away with the captive, he suspects. The door is shut and his gaze is cast again over the tubes in disbelief.

The phone is lifted to his ear as the mansion is called again. "We have a problem…"

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