2015-07-25 Dashing Heroics and Creepy Crawlies
This scene is rated Everybody
Warning: N/A
Players: Citizen V, Nightmare
GMed by Who GMed?
Title: Dashing Heroics and Creepy Crawlies

A quiet night with a gentle breeze. Manhattan can be blessed with the best weather and Hell's Kitchen still finds the proper magical agents required to smell like a prison urinal. As far as hives of scum and villainy go, however, it could be far worse. Probably the work of some Daring, devilish do-gooder.

There are innocents that live here. It's a cruel twist of socio-economic fate that most of those victimized happen to be minorities. A young latina, very probably still in high school, is rushing home as fast as she could. Maybe she's racing against the clock for a curfew. Maybe it's just the oppresive reak of the city. The reasons are her own. She makes the gamble of slinking a path through a dark alleyway to save some time and wins the attention of a gang lurking in the shadows. By their copious tats, they look to be Latin Kings. Not an overly relevant fact as far as scum goes, except an indication to their barbarity and ruthlessness.

Before the night sheltered caped crusaders and purveyors of justice, it belonged to a primal survival instinct: fear. Anything could lurk in the darkness; and thanks to the presence of Nightmare, they often do.

The young freedom fighter's form is silhouetted against the dark sky, with the addition of a pair of hooked bat wings. He's taken to combing the skyline more of late - whether due to the sentinels stationed elsewhere in the city to make a /point/, or for other reasons remains largely conjecture. Whatever the reason, his gaze has landed on the young female, around his age, attempting to skirt some gangers. Rather than simply move on, he adjusts his path to alight upon the corner of a rooftop by the alley, his wings coming to fold around him not unlike a gargoyle.

Words are exchanged. It begins with catcalls, it continues with the crowding of personal space. They back her into a corner beside a forgotten dumpster and piles of wooden pallets. Knives and a few guns a brandished. As is the norm they are 9mm, poorly manufactured, and poorly maintained.

Caped crusaders are a thing of the night now. Nightmare needs to move quickly if he wants to act at all. A flurry of rounds scream through the air, six in total. Three strike the pistols from the criminal's hands before they know what occurs, the other three find the kneecaps of separate members, driving them to the damp asphault amid screams of pain. A cloaked figure zips down into the alley aboard a flying wing. Thank God Norman Osborn hasn't been a figure, yet.

Citizen V flips off of the vehicle and lands with the heavy wheeze of air that accompanied his heels digging into the backs of another two to brace his fall. They land on their chests, their is significant internal trauma.

"Drop your weapons and place your hands against the wall." Citizen V commands, slowly unsheathing the steel of his blade and holstering his revolver. "Now."
Nightmare's expression darkens as the catcalls begin. And when they begin crowding in, those wings flare in preparation to swoop in.

That is, until bullets sound off. There's no muzzleflash coming from the alley. None of the thugs made a move. Instead, one of those aforementioned caped crusaders has swept in to gallant effect. Nightmare is briefly stunned, but a bemused soon follows. He has no qualms with this. But the newcomer /may/ be a little overwhelmed. A situation can get out of hand in a hurry. So he decides to get a little closer, just in case backup is needed.

What descends along the side of the wall is not the svelte mutant perching moments ago. Spindly, arching legs silently carry the massive form of an oversized arachnid down the brick surface, lingering above but transfixed on the exchange occuring down below with eight beady red eyes.

Nightmare had his chance. Citizen V confidently wades into the fray, moving through the crowd with practiced efficiency and the agility of the cat. He tumbles over the back of the first, simultaneously sweeping one assailant to the ground and severing the achilles tendon of the unwitting hurdle as if it were a rubber band. Feet whirl over the Vigilante's head as he spirals to his feet, punching one in the throat to send him staggering back and planting the blade through the shoulder of another. The sword remains planted, pinning the wounded gangster against the wall.

"I can play all night, guys." Citizen V remarks with a light chuckle, giving the blade a twist to summon a wail of anguish. "Surrender and you won't have to worry about a limp for, like…ever."

All of this mutely registers in those cold, unblinking ruby eyes. True to its predatory nature, the arachnid remains silent and still, waiting for the right moment. Not every spider builds a web. Some are hunters. And sometimes, just sometimes, it's more interesting to take an opportunity than remain unnoticed.

Two thugs remain. One has erred beneath the beast. In a sudden burst of motion, the spider blurs down the wall and bears upon the man, bearing him facedown against the asphalt in a rush backed with its full, considerable weight of a few hundred pounds. The arachnid's momentum continues on to the next thug, the two front legs springing to action to catch him by both shoulders and both wrists and pin him back against the wall of the alley. The spider remains perched back on four legs, risen in obvious threatening poise, and curving fangs visibly flexing. But it doesn't go for the bite.

Citizen V recoils backwards, throwing his 'hostage' to the ground and reading his blade for defense. The featureless faceplate aims towards the spider/nightmare/horrifying monster. "What the /hell?!/" He demands, narrowing his dark eyes beneath the cowl. The V-Wing alters a course from the holding pattern and begins to quietly slice a path back towards the alleyway.

The man screams. Loudly. Facing almost certain death at the fangs of what should, by all rights, be smaller than one's foot has this completely forgivable effect on people. And then?

The man passes out.

The arachnid seems to lose interest and withdraws its legs, allowing him to slump unceremoniously to the ground. It rotates its girth to regard the ganger it had originally rushed. He's still down, groaning, both unsure and unwilling to figure out what happened to him. And so, the spider finally turns to the masked man. It stares in impassive silence, remaining poised on all eight legs. No fangs. No rearing back. No threats. Just a perhaps disconcerting, unblinking stare.

"Run." Citizen V commands, continuing his motionless face-off with the spider. Since he initial order was not reciprocated, he whirls his attention to the victimized girl. "NOW!" He roars, shaking her from he shock from the pure force of his voice. She staggers to her feet and disappears back into the street.

The arachnid doesn't budge. Not when the command is issued. Not when he shouts. Not when the girl flees the scene.

The alley is in relative silence, but for the groans and whines of the defeated gang.

A leg moves. It probes against the wall, and is soon joined by another. And then another. The other legs begin moving in fluid grace, silently carrying the bulky monster sideways up along the brick wall, ascending into the shadowy recesses of the rooftop. Evidently it's content to leave the masked hero to puzzle over just what the eff happened.

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