2015-09-24 Lamplighter Lit Up
This scene is rated Everybody
Warning: N/A
Players: Frank Steve Nathan
GMed by Frank
Title: Lamplighter Lit Up

[* New York: Lamplighter Lounge *]

The Lamplighter Lounge used to be a swanky bar way back in the day, but prohibition and then the continual deterioration of Hell's Kitchen has turned it into a ghost of it's former self. There are two entrances to the lounge, one an archway to the hotel lobby and another that leads directly to the street outside

The lounge is a large, with a vaulted ceilings sporting ancient fans that strain to keep rotating and cycle the stale are. The walls are paneled in stained mahogany, the varnish now looking greasy, reaching waist high around the room and above that the walls are painted a British hunter green, long having faded a few tones, and broken up with photos of local people and places dating back decades.

Along the entire rear wall of the lounge sweeps a bar, stained and pot-marked from more then a few cigarettes, lined with green upholstered bars-tools, their vinyl cracked. The bar is at least well-stocked, bottles of cheap spirits lined up along a dusty and greasy mirror with faded gold bordering that adorns the length of the wall behind it. A coffee percolator bubbles in a corner beside a standing refrigeration unit containing a few non-alcoholic beverages. Several beer tap's are placed along the bar, with brass topped, ceramic handles. Seating is amply provided, if worn, with a range of bench seats, private booths and small tables dotted around the room.

Mid evening, a cloud of smoke hovers in the air of this once upstanding establishment. A few smokers spoiling the atmosphere of a night that's even more dead then normal. With the recent situation out front it seems the place has cleared out something fierce, on the bar itself a picture of three men arm in arm smiling in the center of a wreath, a few flowers already tossed at the foot of it. A donation pot set up on the bar for the family.

Out front the police haven't even had enough time to cut down the tape locking off a large section of sidewalk, three bullet holes two in the sidewalk, and one in the wall of this very bar. Over the actual carnage a number of plastic sheets have been placed to keep the potential rain off it, and the general public from getting too spooked.

Coming in through the back door is a man dressed in all black, leather jacket, cargo pants, combat boots, and a black T shirt with a partially faded skull right on the front of it, bright white as the snow. He makes his way over towards the bar, cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth, hands cupped around it. He makes his way right up to the bar, pulling out a chair and sinking right down into it, the clatter of metal on metal ringing out as he does.

"Someone's been naughty…"

The words are gruff, spoken in a low, gravelly voice and belong to a white-haired man already seated at the bar, who glances over his shoulder at the newcomer - Castle - as he sits down. Giving the man with the skull-shirt a once over, the hoary-headed patron raises a glass of bourbon to his lips, draining the last of it in a single mouthful.

He is dressed for travelling - or at least a lot of walking: lace-up, army-issue boots, cargo pants, a white muscle-shirt on his chest, and a long brown coat worn over the top. A pair of silver-tinted shades lies on the bartop next to hand.

Sniffing once, the man's left eye gleams as he motions to the bartender for another drink. "Sorta thing happen here often?" he asks of no one in particular, and arches his head back to stretch his back. His left arm hangs at his side.

Barely thinking frank takes his hands back down from his lit cigarette, and begins cleaning them off, the red substance on the surface of them vanishing back into a simple bit of cloth. "Guys were scum." Frank states firmly cleaning off every trace of the blood from his hands before placing the cloth right back into the pocket of his leather jacket. Smoke rolling out the corners of his mouth as he speaks.

A few of the other patrons give Castle a bit of a dirty look, the bartender himself not looking too happy at the ordeal. Castles own voice sounding calm and yet blunt at the same time. "People like them are due a wake up call." A slight motion of his jacket revealing a hefty load of ordinance.

The trained eye would be able to tell that the white-haired, gruff-looking fellow is also packing. Still, for now he appears content to stick to his drink and snags it the moment the bartender places it in front of him. At Castle's reply, Cable turns his head to look askance at the man, whilst placing his drink back down again and smacking his lips noisily. Idly, he turns the glass around in circles, and raises his left hand in order to lean both elbows upon the bar.

"Thatafact?" he remarks with undisguised intrigue.

"And yer here for…?"

Steve Rogers was a frequent visitor of the VFW and American Legion locations. It was good to catch up with the men who could relate to and share the stories with, not only from his time back in the early 40s, but from those that served in Korea, Vietnam, the Middle East, and Northern Africa. Speaking to them helped Steve to adjust to the world that he was awoken into and returned him to a sense of purpose and balance. He always went incognito - dressed down in blue jeans and shirts, simply because he had not wanted to stand out as a Living Legend, though some of the older veterans were wise enough to figure out exactly who he was.

It was one of these veterans that had made Steve aware of the death of the family of one of those soldiers just over a year ago, now. And that the soldier, Frank Castle, had disappeared off the map. When the news of Castle's outburst came over the news last night as he and Peggy were eating dinner, Steve did not bring it up, but he took it as a personal mission to seek out Castle - and hopefully try to console or counsel him.

Arriving in Hell's Kitchen on his Harley, Steve shuts down the motor and pulls his cowl into place. Being the Captain usually opens doors for him that being Steve does not. Such as the crime scene where three men were gunned down the night before. As he talks to the officers and gets a description and suspect, Cap's expression fails. He doesn't want to believe it. He's trying not to. But the soft moan from the alleyway draws his attention as Captain America makes his way down to where the fallen man is that Frank had roughed up just earlier. The man is able to point that Frank at least went towards the Lamplighter Lounge. Steve immediately gets on his communicator to radio for assistance as he adjusts his shield. Steadying his resolve, the Star Spangled Avenger starts to make his way to the lounge, not yet entering.

As frank sits there getting his usual sat in front of him by the none to happy bartender, it looks like there are a few men there already going for their pistols. It's clear from their expressions what they mean to do but they're trying to be smooth and calm about it as they get ready to pump Castle full of lead.

Taking a few puffs from his cigarette castle lets his jacket fall back open revealing uzi's pistols, and all manner of other weaponry along with a few knives. The bartenders eyes growing wide as he starts reaching under the counter. Franks face turns to a slight smile as he adds. "To give my regards to the bastards that killed my family." An unzi slipping into each hand, he just kicks his barstool into a spin spraying bullets at the armed men, doing his best not to hit Cable right beside him.

The scent of impending battle is always the same.

And different.

No two fights are completely alike.

In Cable's case, it is a most familiar aroma and so the shift in 'room dynamics' comes as no surprise. "Yup!" he remarks, making a popping sound with his lips on the 'p', and leans just a tiny fraction forward, over the bar - almost as if he were slumping in resignation. Idly, his head tilted a fraction to one side, he removes his gloves - revealing his cybernetic left hand - just as Castle pulls out his pair of Uzis.

"Of all the bars in all the world - ah, whatever," Cable mutters to himself. "Bodyslide by one."

The man vanishes as 'threads' of blue energy circle his body, teleporting him away. He appears in a booth on the far side of the room. Reaching into his coat, he withdraws a single heavy pistol, and waits a moment to see what happens.

Just as Steve started to open the door, he hears the all too-familiar pop pop of small arms fire. His attention is immediately grabbed as his sheild is yanked into a defensive position and he makes his way along the back wall of the bar, quickly ushering people out. "Go, go.." Captain America orders.

His shield is firmly in place when a few rounds from the spray and pray going on from Frank Castle. He makes a note of the teleporting figure, quickly scanning to find his new location. "Captain Castle!" Cap calls out plaintively. "Lower your weapons, we can talk this out!" Steve.. always.. always.. tries the diplomacy first route. With no weapons of his own except his vaunted shield, Captain America looks out to check on Castle's status. If he continues firing, Cap waits until he will try to change weapons or magazines before flinging his shield towards Frank to disarm him. "There's no reason to do this!"

Out of that hail of gunfire, shots are certainly returned by the men who'd already had a bead on castle but instead of ripping him to shreds the rounds aimed for his torso, the easiest target, simply get caught in the fabric, and stopped by his vest under it all. The man behind the bar with twelvegauge in hand is sent back to the ground torso a bloody mess, about five of the men in the bar slumping back to the ground rounds firing off into the ceiling as the shots hit square in the heart killing instantly.

Castle's expression as the flashes of light fill the room the sounds of combat overloading the air is one of almost peace, his deadpan expression holding back this liberation in his chest. "There's every reason to do this Rogers." The guns go click, and starts to drop off the barstool to grab another gun only to have it knocked out of his hand. Franks attention ripped right back to the side. "These men deserve much worse then what I'm giving them".

Of the men still standing all seem ready to dive to cover, along with castle, the gunfight broken out in full swing. One of them is even dumb enough to fire a few rounds off towards cable, panicking in the moment. Once behind one of the flipped bar tables castle clutches at his wounded hand. "Our police are corrupt Rogers, I'm just doing the job they couldn't be bothered to." Castle chucking a full on fragmentation grenade at a grouping of gangers.

With Steve's help most of the unarmed people how few there actually are, are quickly shuttled out. Most are running so scared that they're practically tripping over themselves, cigarettes falling to the ground drink glasses smashed. People piling over each-other to get out of what has suddenly proven to be a complete war zone. Yet left behind is a still quite large group of men all things considered with more coming down from the upstairs.

"Rookies," Cable mutters.

For some reason, bullets fired at the former time-traveller just seem to… miss. One embeds itself in the wall just behind him, leaving a nice little hole there (to go with all the others). Another strikes the padding of the booth-seat, sending up a small cloud of stuffing. The third ricochets off an invisible force of some kind, lancing away toward a gunman across the room.

At the same moment as all this, Cable's left eye glows noticebly with a light not unlike white-gold. "Thugs," he adds with a muted curl of his lip - and spots the frag-grenade on its way to 'thug-haven' behind the overturned tables. "Fire in the hole!" Putting his cybernetic hand on the edge of the booth, Cable vaults over the other side, and drops to a knee.

He spots Rogers - recognises him and lifts his chin thoughtfully, beneath another hail over bullets overhead, and concentrates: — Rogers? Cable. I can take this guy out. — Referring to Castle. — Who is he? — It would appear Cable has not heard of Frank Castle.

There's a few precious seconds where Steve is without his shield. He's able to avoid most of the fire sent his way as he catches the disc-shaped weapon on the rebound. "This isn't avenging your family, Castle, this is murder." he responds as he lowers himself behind his shield, protecting the last of the civilians before he barrels down on a heavy that is trying to draw a bead on Frank. Slamming firmly into the man and knocking him over, Captain America looks down at him. "You'll thank me later." he rumbles, before slugging the man in the jaw to knock him out. Play dead, son, you might survive the day.

"This doesn't honor your country, your medals, or your lost family." he counters as the Captain slides across the floor, using his shield to sponge any fire sent his way, the rounds impacting with the disc before falling to the ground, all of their kinetic energy expended into the vibranium bonds of the shield as he pushes a full frontal assault on the makeshift fortified position. As Cable sends his tranmission, Steve responds, — His name's Frank Castle. War vet. Lost his family, non-lethal takedown only! —

That is until he sees what comes flying from behind Frank's position. The bouncing objects are recognized for what it is and Steve mutters, "Dammit." before calling out louder as he rushes right into the field of fire, "Gernade!" And with that, he moves to get back down behind his shield just as all hell breaks loose in explosives. Despite the fact they are thugs, they're still lives.. and while Captain America's vaunted shield takes most of the damage, the concussive and force of shrapnel blow Steve through one of the walls of the former thug-hideout, sending the man tumbling end over end before he lands in a lump on the other side of the room. While he was able to protect most of the men, the concussion was enough to take most of them out. Smoke lazily rises from Cap's shield and from numerous fragmentation wounds that he took in the blast, his uniform shredded in place, cowl torn down the right side to expose part of his face as blood trickles from his nose and ears. Unable to hear with the constant ringing in his ears from the explosions, Cap gestures with two fingers at Cable pointing to the right and towards the rear entrance. Cut Castle off before he can escape.

The explosions have started a small fire within the tavern, as Steve draws in several pained and ragged breathes as he uses his shield as cover to try to regain his bearings.

"How can you live with yourself protecting murderers, rapists and thieves?" Frank hearing the sound ring out from the blast, feeling it down in his bones as he checks over himself, throwing something else at cap, a bottle of painkillers, which easily bounces off the shield tinking to the ground."These men gave up their lives the second they decided to ruin someone elses."

Castle quickly reloading, while looking about for that exit, the smell of smoke filling the air once again. He spots a way out, an escape. ", and when I've finally killed every last damn criminal in this city, you can bet your ass I'll put a bullet in my own damn head, not going to pretend I'm any better."

Outside of the building and on the floor thugs lay strewn about some bleeding out, others already gone, others still simply unconscious. Smoke raises out of the new hole in the side of the building fire alarm blaring as the sprinklers turn on beginning to soak the whole bar. A gurgling voice calls out "You-you bitch, I'm gonna hunt down everyone you ever cared about, you here me! The whole world isn't going to be safe for you!" Before coughing and gurgling some more trying to hold his own blood in.

— Copy that, — Cable replies to Rogers telepathically.

Not that anyone would really hear anything (even in their own heads) after an explosion like that. Bits of wood, glass, plastic, and charred shreds of leather rain down upon the time-traveller and he brushes the back of his hand across his mouth -

- eyeing Castle. He holsters his hand-cannon.

"Bodyslide by one," he murmurs - and in a flash of blue light he appears standing at the right side of the vigilante. Without preamble, the seasoned warrior attacks: a cybernetic hand reaches with lightning speed for Castle's right wrist, with the intention of pulling sharply downward as he steps in, bringing up his right elbow in a strike aimed at Castle's jaw.

"Lights out, hero," he mutters - no matter which way his initial attack goes.

With his world rocked at the moment, and most of the bad guys off, Steve doesn't go to interfer with the battle between Cable and Castle. Instead, as a few stragglers are trying to get their bearines, Steve makes his way over to take out the remaining thugs in a flurry of punches and kicks.

It's easier to deal with the remnants than it is to try to mix it up with the two powerhouses at the moment as Captain America tries to treat the wounded while outside sirens start to wail in the distance from arriving police, fire, and medical units.

Just as Punisher is about to make his move, cable comes in out of the blue with a present for him. Suprised for a second cable manages to grab onto the jacket, ripping it right down, but instead of taking Castle with it, the T-shirted man slips right out through the arms flipping back up to a stand from his sitting position. It's a quick almost dancing sort of motion as he dives right between the cyborgs legs off in a run… with pins in his hands. "Might want to get rid of that, it's not your size." Waving the hand grenade pins as he tries to make a break for it right out that back door.

Swearing a curse in Askani, Cable takes a shot at slamming his foot down on Castle's body as the latter dives underneath him… but to no avail. The former time-traveller all but snarls at the fleeing vigilante as he quickly drops to a crouch, grabs the other sleeve of the jacket and twirls the garment up around the 'nest' of grenades inside it. With a glance over at Rogers, Summers takes the jacketful of frags in his left arm and slings high overhead with enough force that should take it THROUGH the ceiling and into the roof cavity.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" he bellows in a loud voice as he hits the deck. In the same moment, the mercenary makes a downward gesture with his hand… and attempts to telekinetically rip Castle's bullet-proof cargo pants down about his ankles as he is mid-stride. Beyond that, he just puts a hand over his head to shield it, and hopes for the best.

Captain America's hearing may be shot at the moment, but the joint physical and telepathic shout in his head tells Steve all he needs to know. Rolling underneath a table and bringing his shield up into place to cover himself, the explosions rock the building, bringing the roof down to the floor level, raining debris downwards. After a while, a hand comes out from under the shield and table, reaching around the rubble and picks up that bottle that Frank tossed at him earlier.

Steve eyes the bottle, opens it and sniffs at the contents before tossing them aside. He doesn't know whether or not to trust Frank, right now, the needle is very much on NOT TRUSTWORTHY as the Captain works on digging himself out of the rubble, reminded too much of the work he did on 9/11 in the ruins of the World Trade Center and expecting to find much of the same. Lives - even criminal - they are still lives, that Steve couldn't get to in time. The fires, the smoke, the dstruction. None of it is good in his mind.

Closer, and closer to the thresh-hold castle moves, he's making good headway all things considered. His feet touching the doorway before his belt snaps open skull belt-buckle flying off as his pants hit the ground, causing him to trip and fall right down the stairs leading out the exit in time for the building to come collapsing down around him.

Smoke fills the air worse then before as the first respondents arrive on the scene speeding down the street. Red and blue lights shine through as people unload from their cars fire-fighters already getting into position. People shouting and crying and screaming out into the clouds as everything just now begins to settle back into place.

Frank's face is still in the dirt, his bullet resistant shirt managing to mitigate most of the damage he should have taken but his nose is broken. Bleeding out onto the ground in front of him Castle flips over onto his back letting out a quiet laughing cough. He does his best to try and pull his pants back up, his legs about as cut up as his face is at the moment. There's that distinct feeling of… satisfaction… for an instant, fleeting as it may be he already knows his work isn't done yet, and if he's captured he's got to have a plan.

Cable groans.

His efforts to detain Castle left him more exposed to the blast than he otherwise might have been - no fancy teek-shield, nor even a tabletop or something to cover him. Fortunately, his cybernetic side handles the shrapnel rather well, and he suffers only (relatively) minor injuries from falling debris - like a chunk of roof hitting him in the lower back, eliciting a hiss of pain from him.

The man's coat is torn to shreds, and stained with blood from numerous lacerations - with the odd piece of… something sticking out of his right arm (nothing worrying - just painful, and messy), and his right leg.

"I'm gonna…gnnngh! Kill that… jerk," he mutters as he rolls onto his side. He won't be chasing Castle any further. Instead he looks over at Captain America and grates: "Damage report… soldier. Ahh, whatever."

And he opts to reach for the discarded bottle of painkillers instead, eyes the remaining tablets inside - and downs a small handful of them in a single gulp.


Pushing the table aside, Steve gets to his feet, and as he looks at Cable, and his enhancements, the Captain frowns. With the recent rise in protests, no telling if the crowd would blame Cable or Frank for this. "I'm good.. I'll go keep the Police and Fire coordinated.." he states as he pushes himself to his feet to head towards the door to help with the rescue effort.

Which gives Frank and Nathan both a chance to escape as the immediate attention is drawn to the wounded super soldier.

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