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Central Park has not exactly been the best place for upstanding citizenry of late, particularly after dark, but it's not so bad during the day, and one of the few really good places to stage something like a public protest of any real size. Thus, the organizers of this particular protest picked a nice, open section of the park to set up a makeshift stage. Fortunately, most of the undesirable elements that have been frequenting the place aren't too interested in a crowd of this size and are giving the place a wide berth.
The exact theme of the protest has been a little unclear up until recently, with the participants unable to decide if civil rights, mysterious disappearances noone's doing anything about, or ongoing Communist tensions and the like are most deserving of their scorn. Eventually the protest settled on being against the somewhat vague target of "Government Overreach", which while not teribly focused at least resulted in a large, passioned turnout, as several different activism groups come together under one umbrella. Figuratively, anyway— the sun is beating down on the crowd pretty unhindered, all told. Still, heat or not, the chants and impassioned speeches are getting people plenty riled up, certainly enough that they don't notice a solitary black van stop on the street.
*
David North had not intended to find himself at a protest, but he rarely had the opportunity to visit New York and doing so without a stop by Central Park seemed somehow disrespectful. So it is that there is a rather clean-cut man in a suit lingering near the edge of the gathering, his hands loosely tucked into his pockets as he surveys the massing of people. The heat, for what it's worth, does not seem to be bothering him. Nor the crowd.
The black van would bother him, if David had a clear line of sight on it. Alas, an arriving group of college-aged kids with picket signs tucked under their arms obscure his view when it passes over that bit of the street.
*
And it certainly isn't there long. The van stops just long enough to drop of a person, then continues on down the street. X-23 arrives on the scene wearing a blonde hairpiece in a short, unisex style… though the bulky black jacket, the sort that could have come from anywhere, is almost painfully nondescript to trained eyes. Say…. Mr. North over there, for instance. 23 is only visible briefly before she vanishes into the crowd, weaving her way through the surging throng.
*
David's eyes pass back too late to see more than the back end of the van vanishing out of sight, but with plenty of time for the figure it dropped off to send the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Immediately, any notions he had of enjoying his afternoon off are forgotten, dismissed in favor if listening to what his instincts are screaming in his ear. Now, if David were to come to this event to cause trouble, where would he go?
With narrowed eyes, David's hands leave his pockets and he, too, plunges himself into the crowd.
*
Laura hasn't taken a direct route to the stage, but she announces her presence soon enough, probably not too far from where David figured she would be. The slim, small figure slips a handgun from her jacket, checking briefly to make sure the weapons is prepared properly before she chambers the first round. She takes a few more steps, raises the weapon, and does her best to NOT sound like a five-foot-tall 18 year old girl as she starts yelling loudly in what is excellent, if somewhat stiffly correct, Russian, punctuated with the sharp cracks of gunfire as she unloads a full magazine of blanks into the air overhead. "<Run for your lives, Capitalist dogs! I have a weapon and I will use it!>"
It is *more* than enough to begin a panic, the crowd starting to scatter around, over, and through each other to be anywhere someone is NOT shouting and firing a gun. Couldn't have worked better, truth be told. The place is in chaos in no time, and X-23 is not to be found in the clear, using the panic as cover to rush for the stage.
*
Russian. Female, and almost infuriatingly close to where David is standing — just not close enough. He whips his head around just in time for the gunfire to go off, and as the crowd is whipped into a frenzy around him, David's brow furrows in momentary confusion. That didn't sound right.
Blanks. They're firing blanks.
With a grim set to his jaw, David immediately begins shoving his way through the panicking crowd and towards the stage in a race against what is clearly another professional. He catches more than one shoulder and elbow along the way. Good.
*
Extremely professional. X-23 reloads with live rounds on her way to the stage, tucking the weapon away as insurance. The security hired for the protest, unsurprisingly, is not even remotely prepared to deal with *real* government overreach, and go down as the diminutive girl mounts the steps to the stage, leaps into the air and uncoils a boot and a nasty neck-chop as she sails past them. The third crumples in a heap when her palm slams into his solar plexus, too busy vomiting uncontrollably from the pain to do anything to stop her.
The man leading the protest is just quick and/or paranoid enough to give a yell and start to run, but not fast enough to avoid getting grabbed, hauled back, and jabbed in the neck with a syringe. By the time she's rammed the plunger down, his eyes are already rolling into the back of his head. Must be some good stuff. It's in plain sight… but noone's looking what with how chaotic it's all become. At this point the panic's reached the critical mass of being self-sustaining— the crowd's going to be an absolute mess until everyone somehow manages to get out of the park.
*
It is not entirely accurate to say noone is looking. There is one rumpled, harried man in a suit who comes rushing up to the stage too late to stop the attack, but with ample opportunity to witness it. The lack of expression is probably more than enough to tell X-23 that he is no civilian… and the precision and utter lack of hesitation with which he mounts the stage and comes sprinting directly towards her might seem almost familiar.
*
Where he's come from hardly matters to her. He's a threat. End of story. X-23 finishes what she's immediately doing, and awkward but clearly practiced series of movements that takes her out of her jacket, slips her limp-meat captive into it, and swaps the blonde wig onto his head as she swings him onto her back and over her shoulder, all in one move. There was meant to be a brown wig replacement for her, But David has ruined that with his intervention. Instead, as she comes up under her target's weight, her eyes track and lock right onto David's. There is clearly nothing personal involved, because she doesn't look like she could take anything personally. Also, hi. She drew her gun. It's not a threat. You can tell by the way she immediately fires twice as soon as the barrel lines up on his center of mass.
*
A corner of David's mind is cataloguing and even appreciating all the little details of her execution as he rushes for her. Whoever this girl is, her training is superb. Elegant. What might come as a surprise to her is the way that the gun does nothing to deter him; he meets her gaze steadily, without so much as a twitch of a brow, and angles his body just… so as he continues to rush forward.
There is a twitch of pain on his face as the bullets sink into his shoulder rather than dead center into his chest, but rather than slow him down, he almost seems to gain speed. Because he does gain speed.
All of the little bumps David took on his way to the stage, even the kinetic force of the gunshots — all absorbed. All rechannelled into physical strength. And now, all powering the hand that is knifing through the air to try knocking the weapon from her outstretched hand.
*
Simple enough. The weapon is inconsequential— she lets it go. because his arm has a lot of momentum. The SNKT noise is distinct, if a little… crisper than it comes from other notables, and X-23 sure doesn't have any qualms about letting his own motion tear up his arm. She's also not interested in a real fight, since once done, the claws retract with a second SNKT and she makes the most of the reasonably-expected shock value, hefting her load and sprinting off. She moves awfully fast for a girl lugging around a guy at least twice her bodyweight.
*
Rather than allow the weapon to fall, David had planned on catching it for use himself. That was before his motion carries his palm across some frighteningly-sharp blades that were not there a moment earlier, and the shock is enough to draw a genuinely pained hiss from the man. It doesn't buy Laura much time, but she does get a few strides on him as he stops to snatch the handgun off the stage in his good hand before breaking into a run after her. Can't open fire. He's a good shot, but there's no reason to risk hitting the drugged man. Not when he's moving at a dead sprint, muscles powered by some extra juice. People do not run that fast. Not normal ones.
*
One problem: he now has the gun, and the crowd has not entirely cleared yet. And, well, X-23 is now headed out of the park, just like they are. Shen she catches sight of him giving chase, she screams. "It's him! He's after me!" Someone's bound to be a hero, right. Regardless, he can hardly run at full tilt if she keeps knocking people over and pulling them off their feet into his way as she passes.
*
At least David wore a black suit today. It makes the blood a little harder to see at a glance, and he has no intention of slowing down enough to give people more than a brief look. Still, as Laura screams, his nose wrinkles in irritation — but he doesn't drop the gun or slow down. The people shoved into his path by X-23 are doubly-unfortunate as her pursuer just kind of shoulders his way past them again, sending them tumbling into the grass.
Until one lucky, foolish, stupid man catches him in a tackle around his knees, sending both of them to the ground. David won't be there long, he's too strong, determined, and honestly not above punching a good samaritan in the face in the name of stopping a kidnapping… but it gives X-23 time. Not much. But enough.
*
Laura doesn't need much, either— she dumps the activist ungently in the back of another black van, which promptly slams shut and sets off, tires squealing. The driver doesn't appear to have even given much care to waiting for the door to close fully. X-23, for her part, just rounds in a crouch, ready to cover the van's exit.
*
The biggest sign that Laura isn't dealing with one of the usual suspects is probably the fact that, when she whirls around to cover her compatriots' retreat, David isn't there. The man who tackled him is, and boy, does he look confused, but the man she put two bullets into and carved open? Gone.
Some distance away, David bursts through a clump of people and stumbles into the street, quickly rounding on the van as it rapidly shrinks in the distance. He whips the stolen handgun up, held steady in two hands… and then drops his arms in front of himself with, at last, an actual expression: a mildly-frustrated sigh.
*
Laura straightens at the lack of pursuer, tilting her head. That's… unusual. And interesting. She doesn't hear any shots or screeching tires or the like, though, so she must assume the mission is successful. Either way, there is nothing left for her to do but withdraw and report in, so she straightens, turns, and takes off. Not the most inconspicuous exit, but what's anyone going to say, anyway?
Aside from whatever shows up in the newspapers tomorrow, anyway.
*
Without a glance given to it first, David slips the gun into his jacket. He isn't entirely certain what just happened, but even if he couldn't stop the attack itself, at least he isn't leaving the park entirely empty-handed. The lack of a serial number will not come as a surprise to him, but it will provide some additional appreciation for the girl's work. Despite the bloodiness of his clothes, his wounds have already stitched themselves shut, as good as new… and so, with an ease that comes only with practice, he melts back into the crowd still fleeing the park just in time for the first of the responding police cruisers to come speeding onto the scene with sirens blaring.
*