1963-08-07 - Attack of the Leos
Summary: The Leos of the Zodiac Cartel conduct several attacks on the populace of New York via the bus lines.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
poindexter darwin vorpal miles steve 

Ever since the Manhattan Transit Authority had been given the green light as a subsidiary of the New York Transit Authority, it has been mired in crookedness. Hatched, in part, as a scheme to shuffle money toward one of the city's cartels, the year old system is no improvement upon the defunct line. It's made Daniel Radford and his bosses a lot of money.

Yet, the Attorney General, Bobby Kennedy, has vowed to get tough with the mafia on behalf of his brother, the President. Investigations have been going down all over the country, with cities like New York ending up as major targets. This particular cartel isn't gonna go down, lying down. So far they've stayed mostly under the radar, but with their very existence under question, they've become hostile.

Tomorrow morning the feds are going to seize the busline. Radford, through the safety of his own obscurity gives the go ahead to a terrible plan that will leave a lasting mark for the boys in blue.


"Hey, Charlie, you got a light?" A middle aged man with a thick mustache and pudgy features leans over towards a silent man wearing a hooded sweatshirt. At being regarded from behind, the figure raises his head, revealing some sort of brownish warpaint used to obscure his identity.

Cut to the pudgy man moaning in pain with 6 stab wounds in his chest as he falls over. A woman screams as the figure begins walking toward the middle of the bus. The driver looks up in the window just as the Leo arrives to slit his throat. The bus veers wildly and runs headlong into oncoming traffic.

On Sunday's busiest bus route, Kermit Jacobs brings on another throng of tourists heading towards the Statue of Liberty. Bursting at the seams, almost, the bus pulls away from the curb. As it approaches its next stop, Jacobs looks up to notice that they won't be able to fit everyone with all of the people standing in the aisle. And that is his last thought as the bus explodes and becomes a fireball in the middle of the street!

This bus is sitting in the middle of the road with cars honking all around it. Inside, a rolled letter is flung from a window. A passerby picks it up to read: ThIS iS a HOStagE SiTuaTiON. GEt ThIS MeSsAGE to PoLiCe. 2 mIlLioN oR THeY aLL DiE. The young man turns around and screams to flag down a policeman on the street. Inside, each of the riders on the full bus has their heads buried in their arms as a gunman prowls.

Roll Opening Credits.



Today was such a great day for Dr. Pinkerton. Breakfast came out just right, the paper had a few funnies that made her laugh that incredible high pitched-snorted laugh. Her new pair of spectacles came in through delivery and it fit her face just right, and she managed to make it out of the house while though through her checklist to make sure that she is better prepared for work at SHIELD. And those new busses. Gee golly those were swell. Made traveling so much easier..

BUS LINE 9932:

..or did. Dr. Pinkerton was practically mentally beating herself up. Call it uncanny luck. It was the second time in the span of a few months that she was caught in the thick of it. She was irritating her own damn self for attempting to have optomism that was rarely shown. To the man who sits next to her, she looks, her head bowed, her expression irritated.

"I was actually happy this morning."
'Yeah, no shit.'


Keith is in a good mood. After waiting for a week, he finally got tired of being stationary and took to the road, figuring that if whomever needed to contact him would find a way to do so easily enough. He had left a forwarding address, just a post office box in New York that he checked every other day no matter where he was (because being him does come with some perks)… in case his offer to help was picked up.

But the reason for his good mood comes from the fact that he spent that entire week impersonating his father at the very swankiest estate hotel in Westchester, one of his father's regular spots, and ranked up a respectable tab with fine dining and fine sleeping. He did so publicly, so no-one could deny that Malcolm O'Neil himself was there. The Cheshire cat wishes he could see the look on his father's face when the bill arrived, discreetly as it had always arrived, in an embossed envelope bearing the emblem of the Tarrytown House. Oh yes, that would be very satisfying to see. That would teach him to kick him out of the house and cut him off-

The Cheshire veers on his motorcycle, cutting off a yellow convertible, awarding him a honk and a stream of words that clearly casts doubts on the legitimacy of his birth and the virtue of his mother. He shrugs it off and smirks, wondering what the river's reaction would be were he to dispel the illusion that keeps him looking human. But he decides not to- he's had enough fun already.

BUS LINE 9932:

When the traffic slows to a crawl he frowns. "Oh, for cryin' out loud, what the hell are they doing over there?"

He grumbles to himself repeatedly until he begins to see signs that something is totally wrong with that bus. Someone's holding up something for people to read? He squints. He reads.

His throat goes dry.

"Well… shit!"

He sits on his motorcycle, paralyzed for a second, his brain racing until he decides on a course of action.

He turns off the motorcycle and pockets the keys. Then, he slowy climbs off and starts walking in the direction of the bus, turning invisible after the first few steps. It was time to do some reconnaissance up close…


It was easier to get around the city with one's own car, however, Armando Munoz sometimes still enjoyed riding the busses. He'd gotten onto the 8377 with the intention of just riding the bus- watching the people until the end of the line, then taking a walk towards one of his favorite delis.

All that changed when the world around him became fire and twisted metal. Armando- Darwin the Evolving Boy- stood up after the ringing in his ears had stopped. All around him was flame and messy bodies- but still, there among the wreckage stood Armando- he'd quickly adapted to the situation, and now hurried to pull bodies from whatever remained. He'd focus on the injured- the dead needed no more help today.


It was business as usual for Miles today. He woke up, ate his breakfast, brushed his teeth, put on his suit, and stashed his other suit in his briefcase before walking to Chinatown for work. However that familiar buzzing in the back of his head alerts him to danger. It's not a bullet, or a bat, nope. It's a bus.

BUS LINE 5643:

It takes less than a second for Miles to flip into action, dropping his case and turning invisble as he moves to put himself between that bus and the traffic, bracing himself to stop it in it's tracks with brute force.

BUS LINE 5643:
Miles is able to bring the bus to a stop. On the opposite end, the door opens and a man exits the bus as if nothing ever happened.

Thump Thump Thump Thump

Captain America's footsteps get louder as they get closer to Miles and he leaps at the man with the knife in his pants, konking him on the head with the SHIELD. Unfortunately, the man's get away car has 3 men with submachine guns who open up fire on both the unseen Miles and Cap, with the survivors behind them inside the bus.

BUS LINE 8377:
Carnage and mayhem is everywhere Darwin looks. Everywhere around him is flame and torture. One man, still on fire, approaches the mutant and grabs him, "It burns! It burns!"

BUS LINE 9932:
Aboard the bus, things are mostly quiet, aside from the tiny cries of a pair of women. "Shut up!" exclaims the man wearing a black sweatshirt, a black cap, and face painted orange to look like some sort of cat.

Currently, he stands on the opposite side of the bus as to Poindexter, though he's coming along towards her.


"Hi." Annamena whispers. "My name is Dr. Annamena Pinkerton. No relation to the Pinkertons. What is your name?"
'Quiet lady, or you're going to get us all killed!'
"But I'm trying to be nice. I've read that it was good to be nice in traumatic situations."
'Not this one.. SHH.'

All the while, Ann's foot was looping around her 'luggage', drawing the bag closer to herself as she slowly lifts her head to spy the hostage taker approaching down the isle. Her hand lowers, fingers fiddling with the zipper as she sticks her hand into the small opening of a hole she made. The bus buddy, wanted no parts to do with it, so closed his eyes in preparation for his soon to be death. He was quietly praying.

"Oh hush that noise. You're going to be okay." Said no-shield-doctor-in-the-sixties-ever.


Keith frowns as he gets close enough to the bus to see. He has to climb on a nearby car and clamber onto its roof to get a good view, which indubitably must puzzle the people inside the car as there is no visible culprit.

"You've got to be kiddin' me," he says, shaking his head as he looks at the hostage taker. "Felix the frickin cat is hijacking a bus."

It's a tricky affair. There are people in the aisles and the gunman is prowling, no doubt using the standing passengers in the aisle as a shield against any potential police fire. "Clever bastard…"

He focuses, creating a Rabbit Hole underneath himself, the other one flush with the floor near the driver's seat. The area is, thankfully, vacant, so he can move quickly and clamber in before anyone has a chance to notice. He keeps himself low, even if he's invisible, and closes the hole behind him immediately once he is inside.

If he succeeds, the next part of the plan is going to be tricky… there's people in the aisle. He needs some sort of distraction to focus the shooter's attention long enough so he can open another Rabbit Hole and slide it under the passengers in the aisle. Clearing the aisle will give him at least a clear shot at the guy.

The problem is, of course, it'll also give him a clear shot at him. He will have to turn visible then, because otherwise the hostage taker will fire upon the passengers…


On the Bus of 8377, ARmando nods, "I know, I've got you." he assures the burning man- pulling him from the wreckage with surprising strength and gentleness. With what's left of his jacket, he helps to smother the fire on the man's body. "Lay down here." he tells the burnt man- helping him to rest on the curb. "Help will be here shortly."

Armando doesn't have time to calm the man down completely- he's sure that shock will set in shortly. He moves though to find more survivors and one by one pluck them from certain death in flaming wreckage. He works tirelessly in this- entering the wreckage again and again- pulling people out, and performing what quick first-aide he can offer to ensure that they survive. He works without a single thought to his own safety- just as quickly as he can to save the few lives that survived this horrific bombing. Luckily for all those who managed to survive, Armando is the perfect person to be first on scene- the flaming wreckage becomes like his home environment and he's able to spot survivors far more readily than a fireman in a bulky suit would be able to.


Ever seen a man dodge bullets? Well today isn't your lucky day, the still invisible Miles flips out of the way onto the now stationary bus, tugging the revolver out that's holstered at his left shoulder. Three gunshots in quick succession ring out as he pulls the trigger, trying the nonlethal approach for now.


Bus 5643: Miles fires on the gunmen, but since he remains hidden, they have no idea it's coming. One of the men in the getaway car is hit in the chest and falls back down into the vehicle with no details given as to how bad the hit is.

The driver gets a mouth full of vibranium shield that soars past, clips the brick wall, and arrives back at Captain America's hand. Blue eyes dart around—there's another shooter, Cap thinks. But where?

Bus 8377: After what feels like forever, but is only 2 minutes, ambulances are able to get to the scene as is a pair of fire trucks that begin to douse the flames. The first responder who comes into contact with Darwin takes a step back at first, at the mutants jarring appearance, but then gives a nod. "Thank you for helping these people."

Bus 9932: Unfortunately, Pinkerton's words are a little to loud and a little too often. The gunman sets the rifle to single shot, pivots on one foot, and puts a bullet into the brain of man praying right next to her. The splat from the exit wound showers Pinkerton and another man with his blood, and the dead slumps over and falls into the aisle. The people in the aisle all recoil in terror and there's a rash of screaming before it settles down; no one wants to be the next victim.

"Anyone else got anymore words?" exclaims the gunman, appearing to lose his cool. He keeps looking out the window, waiting for something.

This gives Keith the distraction he needs.


The gun blast was loud enough and in such a confined space that made Ann's ears ring. People were screaming and she was covered with something.. blood. It was blood. Her heart races, the lump felt within her throat as she leans back, both hands drawing from their hidden space in the bag to touch along her cheeks, pulling away with shaky hands to.. spy clumps of brain and hair upon her digits. And this was her looking over her glasses, which were smeared with clumps and rows of blood, her eyes closing as realization finally sets in that .. someone was shot. Right there. Right next to her.

And it was all her fault.

If there was a distraction that Vorpal needed? He was going to get it. There was a sharp little giggle that comes from Dr. Pinkerton, her head lowering and bobbing as this situation? It was all too tragic. And slightly hilarious.

"I got a few words." The young woman mutters, her hands dropping into her lap as her head lifts, an all too pretty face ruined with the mess of blood.


Her hand hooks right into the dead body, gripping it just beneath the underarm to lift from the seat which was practically -thrown- towards the gunman. Granted, a foot was caught but she didn't care, she straight upchucked her poor seat-mate with a show of force she tried to keep hidden.

"Hallelujah mutherfucker!" Oh.. boy.


The blood drains from Keith's face when the bullet is fired. For several seconds he clings to a rage that wells- there is even a low growl that escapes his throat for a second. He worries that it may have given him away, but he didn't worry about that- not when the dead leap from their very seats to attack their slayers.

This is the golden opportunity and Keith forces himself not to waste it- the Rabbit Hole opens, with its sister appearing outside of the bus, and slides across the floor, attempting to scoop up the people in the aisle.

At the same time, Vorpal comes into view, dispelling his invisibility. "Everybody, into the hole! Get out!" he yells, leaving the hole stationary once the people in the aisle have vanished.

It's a long shot, but priority number one is to keep the gunman occupied to give the people who are seated a chance to escape. He's acrobatic enough to leap across the hole and to attempt a landing on the gunman, claws out and ready to maul hands and wrists if he must, and to struggle to keep the gun pointed upwards if he can't with as many dirty blows as he can land, provided the man manages to untangle himself from the corpse in the meantime.


"It was nothing. Simple human kindness." Armando offers quietly, "Here, these are the worse injured." Armando had already set the people out as best he could- pointing towards those injured who needed immediate help. "I don't think any one else survived." he offers quietly, as he takes a seat near the injured. He's clearly unhurt- but he rests his face in his hands, giving a slow breath. This is just awful. He decides to look up again- to scan the crowd. This was the kind of act that someone wanted to happen. That someone would be watching for- all he needed to find was the one who was smiling, who looked like they expected this horror- the one face that would be out of place among all the tragedy.

Now, Armando was hunting. He was angry- he could feel it rise in his chest. A native son of New York City, he has long considered this his home. Even if Mutants aren't welcome so many places- he's always felt like the people of New York would be different, when push came to shove. That they'd protect their own, like they had so many other times. BE the light of the East Coast, of all of America. So this time, this attack- its personal. Its real personal.


"Don't worry Cap, I'm with you." Miles calls out, tucking his gun back into the holster. He doesn't stay atop the bus though, rather he leaps over next to the car occupied by the gunmen. He reaches underneath the vehicle and flips it as if it were nothing, before jogging over to collecting his briefcase. "I'll be right back!" is promised before he heads off down the alley to change into his suit and mask.

Mask? Check. Vest? Check. Webshooters? Check. Miles quietly peels off his coat and tugs the vest into place before latching on his bracelet-like devices and putting his gloves on. "Alright." he sighs, tugging the mask on and flickering into view again before returning to the scene several minutes later.


Bus 5643:
Inexplicably the bus flips clear over and Captain America's eyes go wide as it lands on it's head. In a split second, he's yanking, pulling, then punching attackers, knocking them out cold. All except for the one with the bullet in his chest. Steve begins to administer CPR by stopping the bleeding. Having no gauze, he tears off the man's shirt and covers the wound.

"Can you breathe?" he yells at the man, who doesn't respond. He leans downward to listen for breaths.

Bus 8377:
"You're a hero, sir," says the next paramedic who comes in as Darwin begins to hunt. As he takes a few steps forward however, there's a nearly blinding flashbulb as a picture is taken. A reporter stands next to the cameraman, "Who are you?" The reporter, holding a notebook, keeps going. "What happened here and why did you help these people? Are you an alien?"

Bus 9932:
The body is thrown at the gunman who doesn't know what to do other than raise his arms in defense. As Keith hits him from the opposite end, he fires his gun…straight up into the ceiling where a half dozen holes let the sunlight in from above. He struggles to push the corpse away, giving Keith more time than he may have expected.

Meanwhile the hole moves and 'catches a handful' of people, letting them out safely outside of the bus.


Ew. Granted that was a little bit of gross misconduct but Pinkerton was ready for a fight. But once she sees Keith jump into action, where science and analytics would take hold, the denizens of the bus only got the short, vile black woman who had a penchant for throwing bodies. At least this one didn't hit the floor, right away!

Thankfully the little woman wasn't trampled, but she does have the good sense to 'assist' people off of the bus.

"Get your fat ass up!" One person lifted, chucked into the portal.
"Let's go dollface!" Woman snatched by the wrist, tossed.
"Who let a fucking dog on the—.." *YIP* Chucked. There wasn't a person or animal safe for her rescue.

While comical as it may be, Ann clears at least a decent amount of people from the bus with her tossing, but the ray of light catches her attention enough for her to leap up, fingers curled and planted into the holes of the ceiling to bring down so that the metal could snap right off into her small hands. With a slow, stalking approach, Ann was all grins as she approaches the two tusseling men, her hands lifting into the air as her eyes widen for the pure effect of it.


For all his training in Jujutsu, fighting in such tight quarters does wonders to make someone revert back to an instinctual visceral mode of fighting. Keith doesn't try anything fancy, he tries using his strength and leverage, and failing that his own claws, to try to subdue the man. He's so focused on his prey that he doesn't notice Pointdexter's approach- he knows that if the struggle prolongs itself too much, someone is going to end up getting shot, and there has been enough of that already. He tries his best to get a hand free long enough to swipe a hand full of claws across the man's face, which should hopefully trigger the instinct to protect the eyes… failing that, there's always the old knee-to-the-groin, if he can maneuver enough to get a clear shot…


Armando would have been blinded, but his eyes seem to shine the nanosecond after the flash comes. "An alien? No. I'm human." Armando says, "I'm a mutant." he continues, realizing that some good press for Mutants might be important- he'll find his man eventually. He's got a pretty good idea on someone to ask for help, anyways.

"I'm Armando Munoz. I've always lived in New York, its my city- and I saw people who needed help, so I helped them." He answers to the Reporter- just giving a quiet smile towards the Paramedics. "Its the same thing with those paramedics, and the firemen. They help people because its the right thing to do. They're the heroes, you should talk to them." he offers with a bit of quiet modesty. "As for what happened here.. the bus exploded. I'm not sure why- all I know is one minute I'm on my way to Art's Deli down on 12th street, and the next minute the bus is exploding around us. My mutation allows me to survive almost any condition- so I wasn't hurt. I saw others who were, so I made sure they survived. Every second counts in an emergency like this." OF course, its not the first time Armando has run head-first into danger to save lives. He can't help but remember his mother- how the firefighters called him a hero for pulling her out of that burning building. The memory leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.


"Shit, missed his shoulder." Miles hisses once he can catch sight of Captain America is doing. "Anything I can do to help?" he asks, jogging over to where he's administering first aid to the criminal. "He's still breathing, right?"


Bus 5643:
"Not yet," Steve says as he begins CPR. He continues to pump, not looking over his shoulder at the young man watches on. Eventually, the gunman begins to breath again, just as the ambulances begin to show up.

Finally, Steve turns to look at Miles. "Careful where you shoot that thing, kid." He tilts his head, "Also, watch the language." The chiding is a gentle one. Cap stands as the paramedics take over.

Bus 8377:
"A mutant?" The photographer interrupts, aghast. "A mutant? This is great. Armando Munoz, do you have anything to say to any of the mutants out there or any of the humans who hate them?"

Bus 9932:
Poindexter tears out the ceiling, gaining a makeshift piece of metal weaponry just as Keith scratches the perp across the face. Immediately he drops his gun, and a split second later Keith drives his knee right into the groin. So hard, in fact, that the young hero can feel the back of the hip bone with his knee.


The slow approach was teemed with violence, the metal was raised high into the air but the gunman was already taken down by Vorpal. Where overkill would be a much delight for Poindexter, she doesn't take it that far. No. She does know that the 'other one' has a job, a respectable job at that! And if she wanted to keep eating and indulging in those activities where she could come off the beaten path once in a while, she had to straighten up and fly right.

So she stops. The metal flapping down in front of her as the smile drops, fingers working at twisting the metal into a solid roll of a pipe while she watches the two upon the ground, her face a clear grimace, her gaze out of this world.

"I'm about two seconds from fucking you up, kid." Chances are, Vorpal is older than her, but still! "TWO fucking seconds. I was -THIS- close from taking that fucking guy down and you go and you fucking ruin it. Whatever.. the fuck.. you are.."

The metal snaps into two thin rods, and with a step forward she kneels and lifts, her eyes roaming along the gunman's body for a sudden snatch and a drive of one metal into the middle of the mans palm. She was a doctor after all, successfully creating a non-lethal wound but there was a clear indication that he wouldn't fire a weapon anytime soon.

And then she looks towards Vorpal, a weird ass grin upon her face. "But thanks for holding him down. You're such a peach!"


Keith blinks and slowly gets up after the woman jabs the gunman, eyes wide. "… you… you're some strange flavor of wrong, lady," he says. He looked worried for a moment, but his guard drops when it's clear that she's not going to kill the man.

He closes the Rabbit Hole then. If there are any passengers left, they can leave through the front door now that they won't be in danger of getting clipped by the gun. As for the weapon-

"Don't touch it," he points to it. No need to get anyone else's prints on it. He peers out of the window to see if the Police have arrived, "We should probably come out with Bang Bang in tow. We don't want to get shot at in case the fuzz confuses us with accomplices. He's not going to run…"

The Cheshire cat looks down at the man and grins. It is a grin augmented by illusion, making his teeth look bigger, sharper, and his smile almost impossibly wide, "… right? Because he knows what's going to happen if he does."

Because every act of heroics should have a healthy dose of Terror In The Hearts Of Men element. That's what the radio has taught him, anyways.


"I have one thing to say." Armando replies, "To everyone, everywhere: We're all in the same boat here. We're all human beings from a shared history. How you look, the color of your skin, the religion you follow- we're all humans and we all should treat each other with respect and, indeed, love. We're stronger together- that's the American Dream. All people from all places coming together, loving freedom and liberty, and working together. Together, Mutants and Non-Mutants, we can forge a beautiful future for all our descendants." Armando shakes his head, "I guess it was a long thing- but the idea is that mutants and non-mutants are the same where it counts. We're brothers and sisters, of the same blood. Everyone wants the same thing here- peaceful coexistence. I know people are scared right now- there's the communists, the threat of nuclear war, China and Russia both seeming to breath down our backs- but most of us just want the same thing everyone else wants, you know? Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."


"Well, I do have some training with it, was a cop before I moved up to federal work." Miles informs Cap, not outright stating his SHIELD affiliation with all the people around. "Imagine I'm going to have to fill out a mountain of paperwork as it is, unless you want to sweet talk the Director for me." his tone is light, despite the fact that he just shot a man, just another day in the field after all.


Bus 5643:
"I'll see what I can do," Steve says as he begins to walk away from the scene, after giving the authorities a nod. His spangled outfit is sullied in blood and he's frowning. This is bad enough, but when he hears about the other attacks, it will be something else entirely.

Bus 8377:
"You got all that?" The photographer asks his question to the writer as the latter scribbles furiously. "I…" he begins before just finishing up. "Got it. Thank you Armando. This is gonna be the headline of the evening edition!" It's unclear if they really believe the mutant, or if they just know this is going to rock the socks off of people. Mutants sell papers, baby.

Bus 9932:
The skewered assailant is murmuring weakly as Poindexter and Keith go back and forth. As they talk the police begin boarding the bus. Things are sorted out in good order, and aside from the guy with the hole in his cranium, things come to a mostly safe end.

At Steve's desk, deep within SHIELD HQ, he's shuffling through newspapers and files. One of them is marked AVENGERS INITIATIVE. Paperclipped to the folder are pictures of Vorpal, Arachnid, and Armando, along with a field report from a few weeks ago via Poindexter. Steve picks up the folder and leans back in his chair as he brings his fingers up to his chin, deep in thought.

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