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The air around Central Park smells like snow and sulphur. The sickly undercurrent of rotting flesh has faded, and so has the burnt tang that followed a cleansing with fire — in the end, fire was the only thing that cured the place of stinking like Hell's Abattoir. Right now, Central Park looks like any vacant lot in New York City, a vast, churned, flat piece of earth awaiting development, surrounded by a sorry fringe of trees. Winter is doing New York no favors already.
Heavy equipment lines one end of the park, dusted in white, idle. It looks like a line of circus beasts drowsing, waiting for the next show. A pickup truck and a Jeep idle closer to the center of the park. It's a Sunday but a pair of landscape architects and an overseer are out on overtime, discussing the refurbishing of the park.
Outside the damaged area, life in Central Park proceeds apace. Some bold couples are out wandering what remains of the paths, a few frat boys are holding a vigorous game of football on the mucky verge, food carts steam in the cold afternoon air. Near the edge, things are almost back to normal.
Almost. The carousel is in sad shape. Cordonned off, it is still and broken.
"Are they gonna fix it, mama?" A little girl with puffball ponytails peers sorrowfully through the fencing.
"Of course they will," her mother says, taking her by the hand to lead her away. "This is New York, baby. We always get back to normal."
*
Demons, vampires and what the hell else, oh my! Central Park is lately been quite a little hell hole, more or less literally, really. So when Carlos is out and about being Carnelian, he's paying quite a bit of attention to Central Park. As is his habit when looking for trouble, he's dressed in a black hoodie, black jeans, and the only color is the bright red and orange bandana around his neck. It isn't exactly the most subtle thing in the world, and kind of ruins his fade to black thing, but hey, it's what he does.
*
New York City is the perfect place to walk when you have nothing to think about.
The smells of exhaust, hot dog stands, and stale urine give to moments of deep consideration like no other city in the world. Remy Le Beau has been walking for miles. From Hell's Kitchen, to Midtown, up north past Times Square. And still north all the way toward Central Park. He has no idea where he's going, and that's alright by him.
He hasn't got any place to be.
*
Thea is heading the opposite direction. From her parents uptown digs, to head slowly back towards Hell's kitchen. Blonde hair is loose in curls over her dark blue wool trench-style coat, and for a change of pace, she's actually in trousers versus a skirt. She's got a faint frown on her face, surveying the park. They'll bring it back, but winter is going to delay any real progress. She'll spot Carnelian, and alter her trajectory his way to say hello. It's polite, right?
*
If anyone's looking upward instead of surveying the damaged park, they might notice the strange orangey shape blurring by overhead. It looks like it's plummetting sideways at first, but then it slows and curves back, gradually coming to a stop over the park. It turns out to be a short woman wearing a strange close-fitting orange-and-purple full-body woolen outfit with an ankle-length skirt - this looks to have been designed along the lines of a superhero outfit modified to be modest and figure-concealing.
*
Duke is back to check out the park. Tex — a blue boat of a de Ville — cruises along until Duke finds a place to leave him.
"Stay," he says firmly, when he gets out. The car has been cranky lately. Talking to the car is not the think that makes Duke look out of place. He looks like he wandered out of a Wild West movie in which he played the part of the sidekick. He's been called Tonto so many times he's started answering to it. He lights a cigarette and double checks the bag slung across his back before he sets out to check out the ruined places in the park.
Coz, a huge yellow mastiff, bounds out of Tex's back seat and tags along, huffing happily. It's a Sunday and the yard is closed so he gets the day off. He wants a hot dog — or so he says when he barks at Duke.
"They're bad for you," Duke warns, veering toward a cart by what's left of the carousel. "But okay." Who can say no to that goofy face?
*
There's an odd wheezing noise from the carousel, but maybe that's just the wind. It has picked up, enough that it blows the sketches out of the hands of one of the architects and the three men go chasing the papers across the uneven, half-frozen earth. The headlights of the pickup truck flicker on, then the Jeep begins meandering after the men, moving jerkily as though whoever's the the driver's seat doesn't know how to drive shift.
The carousel whinges again, a sliding sigh like a church organ having a bad day.
*
Carnelian catches sight of Thea, and slows down, glancing over to her and lifting a hand up by way of greeting. "Oh, hey there." he greets with a quick grin, "Long time no see. I've been… patrolling the park a lot lately, since every possible thing that can go wrong, seems to go wrong here." His attention is drawn over towards the Jeep and he shakes his head, "Man can't seem to drive proper."
*
As he walks along the sidewalk, deep in inner evaluation, like some Buddhist monk trying to rid the self of everything, Remy is pulled back to the real world at the creaking sound that comes from the carousel. He stops dead in his tracks rather than walk by it, and as the vehicles start doing odd things he reaches for a soft pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket. In one movement he taps the edge and pulls one out, popping it in his mouth as he lights his zippo.
This looks fun.
*
Thea lights up with a smile. "Hola, senor." She teases, brown eyes glinting with teasing. "I've been busy with… not this stuff." Her head jerks towards where they had run into vampires. "Nursing practicals. I need to finish them so I can get my nursing license." Not that she needs it, from what the young man knows of her. Her gaze shifts to the Jeep, and after a moment. "Carnelian.. I don't think anyone's /in/ the driver's seat."
*
Mildred can't quite see what's happening from up here, but she does get a strange feeling that something seems… off. She drops toward the ground to get a better look (grateful for her new woolen outfit as she falls through the cold winter air), but can't quite figure out what's wrong. But then, after barely getting out of her bakery in decades, she had little opportunity to realise she's been growing short-sighted.
*
The state of Mree's own beloved Bug now lies somewhere alongside that of Schroedinger's cat. But even that being so, Mree's one true love (or one of several dozen true loves) is in the park, and summons him with his very presence. Those billions of microfloral agents rush together, roving over Tex's entire chassis, and other places best left undescribed before a sworl of green mist predicates that *POFF* which announces Mree's arrival on the scene. He's wearing shorts and flip-flops, very unseasonable attire, but there's a scarf around his neck in a nod toward the advancing seasons. More than likely he's just showing skin in an effort to maximize his solar intake, which is hard to get when it keeps being cloudy and the sun keeps going down at four thirty in the afternoon. But his long legs are also nicely displayed on Tex's hood, where he's manifested sprawled lovingly over the metal. He spends a short while just cuddling his favorite car (no offense to his own), before he props himself up on an elbow and looks over to where Duke is buying Coz a hot dog. And the wheezing carousel beyond. Huh.
*
Duke buys Coz a hot dog — he ends up distracted because of the hundred-fifty pounds of dog romping around him in slobbery anticipation. Coz is a highly intelligent dog right up until hot dog is involved and then he's basically every idiot puppy sized up to havoc-wreaking dimensions. "Dude. Calm down." Fortunately, the little girl with the puff ponytails is highly amused and giggles from behind her mother.
Tex greets Mree with a warm engine-rumble and a flicker of his headlights — one might think he was in league with the other malfunctioning equipment around them but, no. Possessed, yes. Trouble, no.
*
The carousel tries again. It hits a truly appalling nails-on-chalkboard note, then starts turning so that the painful screech drags on…and on…and on… Citzens scatter like pigeons in the oncoming rush of a cat. They know better. New Yorkers know better than to stick around.
Out in the middle of the park, the chase for the papers has devolved into another kind of pursuit. The truck is making an attempt at circling the three now-terrified men — not very well, whoever's driving it is both invisible and drunker than a priest with too much Communion wine on his hands.
The Jeep seems to be getting the hang of it, though. It roars after the shouting, fleeing men, driving them toward the edge of the park. One man pulls a gun from inside his coat and fires, shattering the windshield and, for the moment, stalling the engine. Then the headlights flare again, the engine roars, and it leaps ahead.
Now it's angry.
*
"What?" Carnelian blinks at Thea a moment, and then looks closer over at the Jeep— "The hell, do we have demon cars now? You know, if its not one thing its ten others…" And with that, the young man breaks into a jog, chasing towardst he Jeep and the running men. A hand is flung out, and a field of orange-red light pops into existance— if his aim is good it might end up right in front of the Jeep and keep it away from the people. Or not. Maybe the ghost-demon-car will swerve around it. "Hey! Stupid demon car thing! Over here!"
*
With the kind of year he's having, Gambit feels like destroying something might be good for the men and, perhaps, good himself. Rather than a single card, which won't have much in the way of distance no matter how hard he throws it, he takes an entire pack (one of half a dozen in his trenchcoat) and grasps it in his palm.
Almost immediately the pack begins to throb in a pinkish purple hue that seems to get more intense as time goes one. As the truck swings around, Remy thinks he's got a decent bead on it. He reaches back and gives his best Bob Gibson impression.
*
Thea can't help the laugh as he calls out the Jeep as a 'stupid demon car' thing. Bri is watching the men, edging closer. If Carnelian does something dumb like get hurt, she wants to be on top of things, on hand to help.
*
Despite her poor vision, even Auntie Gravity can recognise the vehicular threat. It looks like people are already dealing with the Jeep, though, so she sets herself falling toward the truck (or, at least, where she thinks it'll be when she gets there). She doesn't know if she'll be able to do anything to it, but it's worth a try…
*
Mree curls his legs in toward himself, comforted by that rumble underneath Tex's hood. But eventually he'll slither forward and slide off of the hood, flip flops slapping agaisnt the soles of his surprisingly delicate white-green feet, in quicker and quicker cadence as he trots over to Duke and Coz. "What's going on? Who are those guys?" he wonders, presumably of the other cars rolling about out there. Friends of Tex, maybe? "They don't seem in very good moods." He scritches Coz' head, ruffling the ears affectionately.
*
Demon car? Duke is about to yell at Tex about whatever he's up to, then he realizes that Tex is behaving himself. So is Coz, who has already downed his hotdog and is wiping his face on Duke's leg. That's…that's kind of behaving. "Next time, no mustard," he says, reaching into that heavy bag. This looks like a shotgun matter.
"They're not with us," he tells Mree. "But I am going with possession. That thing, too." He points at the carousel before he starts pacing in that direction. This? This is why he came down this way. "Someone better pick those guys up before they get got." He knows what Tex is like when the car is in a mood.
*
Carnelian's red blocade pops into place and, for the moment, the Jeep is thwarted. It skids to a halt in front of the barrier, backs up rapidly as though assessing the situation. The lights flicker, the engine roars, the winch on the front unwinds a foot, then coils up again, back and forth like an angry snake's tongue.
Gambit's cards take a huge divot out of the earth in front of the pickup and it flips, rolling twice, before coming to land on all four tires. Its engine stalls, then restarts, and the radio comes on full blast. That's no regular music. It sounds like a choir of angry church organs all on full blast. By the look of it, it knows where those cards came from and it's angry about it. The headlights brighten, focused on Gambit. At least that means its holding still for for Auntie.
The carousel is going full-tilt now. Sparks fly from the mangled workings, the musical machinery is shrieking overtime. It sounds weirdly happy about it, the broken horses gallop gaily in that little circle, even as the works at the top of each post begin to smoke with the speed of their running.
The three men are wishing they were still being pursued by the Jeep at this point. Two are cowering behind the red barrier — they don't know what it is but it seems like it's on their side. The third, who had a head start, plunges straight into the hole Gambit's cards left. Whether that's deliberate or not is uncertain, but he does howl with pain when he hits bottom.
*
Whoa, holy flipping trunk, batman. Carnelian blinks a moment, considering what to do, and then he looks back to Thea, "If you get into the hole and heal that guy, I'll cover you and get you a platform back out." he calls out to her, even as he jog over near to the carnelian forcefield. "Stay put, guys." he instructs to the cowering fellows, even as he glares past it at the Jeep. Suddenly his whole frame lights up as his body is surrounded by that same orange-red light in the form of personal armor, all geometric planes and angles.
*
Remy sighs as his shot fails to have effect. As the lights of the truck illuminate his face from the setting sun, you can almost see that he knows this won't end well for him.
"Tante alway say, best intenshun makin' gumbo fo' yo friends. Good try but ain't no one gun be happy wit de result. No one like Tante Marie's gumbo."
He can't out run the truck. And he can't leave too early on account that it could just turn to set a new course. Hand into the pocket and then out with 6 individual cards that fling through the air, right at the truck! Le Beau is prepping to leap to the side at the last second—playing chicken with mystical forces. This is one of his better ideas.
*
Auntie Gravity carefully drops into the pickup's bed (using it inner wall to help her stop - she's still getting used to this) and grabs on. After half a second, the truck somehow begins falling straight upward, before slowing to a halt several feet off the ground.
The elderly wool-clad woman calls out uncertainly to Remy: "What should I do with it now?"
*
Mree nods in half-addled concern to Duke's pronouncement that the fellows should be taken care of. It's another moment before he remembers that HE is a person who could go help these poor gents. "Oh!" he enunciates, when he makes that realization, ans his exclamation is punctuated by a wheezy, pale *POFF*, which sends green mist spiralling out into nothingness. When the green mist coalesces, it does so in the divot where the poor gent just took a topple. *POFF!* There's a Mree in the hole, crouching next to the injured man. "Sir? Sir, are you OK?" Of course, he may or may not be comforted by the presence of an obvious mutant in the foxhole with him.
*
That carousel is about three seconds from bursting into flames when Duke hops up on, it, barely manages to navigate the speeding horses, then unloads the shotgun into the core of it. Silver, salt, white oak, iron…the shells are a nice little compound. It does more than Duke expected. Yes, he shoots the inner workings. Whatever's inside comes out all of a sudden with a howl, knocking him back all the way — bouncing off of make-believe ponies — until he crash lands somewhere in the bushes. Coz chases the thing — it's more the impression of a thing, a slight distortion of the air — off toward the equipment, barking wildly.
*
Carnelian is facing off against the Jeep like a bull fighter. It backs up, swerving omniously, and takes off at an angle to skirt the shield. Dirt spews from under the tires as it hits speeds that engine should not be able to manage, charging Carnelian with a weird, furious howl. The two men behind the shield brace themselves, the one with the gun gets ready to shoot if he must.
Gambit's cards almost make their mark. The truck swerves to avoid the first, losing a tire, lurches to avoid the second, losing a headlight and a side mirror, and then — a little old woman in a knitted hero suit settles into the bed and it's spinning its wheels helplessly. The other four cards go off like artillery shells, kicking dirt and spitting up some lost pieces of demons from the muck.
The poor fellow in the hole with Mree, well. He's decided the broken leg isn't nearly as bad as he thought and he's trying to get out. Not very well, but he is making a valiant attempt to scrabble to safety.
*
Thea runs recklessly to the hole Gambit's card had created. That man's leg is healing, the pain lessening even as the bones ache to knit together. She'll crawl on the edge of the ground, to try and offer the man a hand up.
*
Charge him, will you? Carnelian stares down the Jeep as its bull-demon soul races towards him with unnatural speed and power, and he holds his place: perhaps he's confident in the strength of his armor-fields? But no. He has other ideas. At the last moment he leaps into the air, his armor carrying him up into the sky even as Carnelian flips over and aims his hands downwards. A single forcefield, a foot wide, appears directly beneath him. Only, it's a foot wide looking side to side: looking down its edge— like the Jeep is doing as it races to where Carnie was— its precisely zero width, and sharp enough to sheer atoms from molecules. Assuming the Jeep runs right into it at full power and doesn't swerve. Assuming this whole maneuver works.
*
"What in de 'oly 'ell?" Remy says as he looks up at Auntie Gravity and the truck. "'Ell if I know, lady, ahm over here just blowin' what's left of dis park to shit. Dun mind me." Oddly, he reaches for another cigarette and lights it quickly. After a drag he shrugs his shoulders, "Slam dat shit into de ground, Iunno."
*
Mildred hesitates, but decides this profane-but-seemingly-experienced fellow must know what he's talking about. Better than she does, at least, but she did manage to make out a few of the words. Anyway, she raises it another few feet before letting normal gravity take it again. Let's hope it doesn't survive and manage to do something before she raises it once more.
*
Mree has terrified the poor wounded man, and he does feel bad about it, contrition showing in his big ol' plant eyes. He looks up past the wounded gent to Thea, when she comes over the edge to help the guy up from above, and his eyes reach for hers with a grateful expression. He'll just roll his tail up the inside of the hole, using it to press up under the man's feet and give him purchase to let him get himself up and out of the pit.
*
Duke struggles out of the bushes, dripping holy water. He's got to work on those grenades. Coz is still chasing the…whatever was. A backhoe at the far end of the park starts up, flails at Coz with the shovel. Coz is undeterred. The backhoe has some plans of its own, starts lurching and rumbling off down the street instead of fighting with him.
"Lady, there's a thing down there, it's holy shit, it's a green demon, there's a hole in the park again, did you see the fire and the red thing and…" The man in the pit, oblivious to Mree's assistance, grabs Thea's hand in both of his and scrambles out. "You're an angel, lady. Right? God finally got tired of Hell fucking with us and sent you?"
The Jeep hits Carnelian's forcefield and splits down the middle. It's amazing, the sound is awful, the air smells like hot metal and spilled gasoline as the fuel tank opens up. For far longer than one would expect, the Jeep holds together. It rumbles onward, until it tries to turn. Then, it really comes to pieces and something intangible but very, very real escapes from the engine block. There's a distant wail as the thing-not-there rises into the air.
The truck hits the ground when Mildred drops it. The axles snap, the wheels crumple, and then there's a strange sound as the engine block shifts out of place. The entire chassis is bent, even though it's still glaring furiously at Gambit and trying to drive. Then, almost without warning, it goes dead.
The truck sighs heavily and something leaves it, something that whisks toward Gambit and circles him angrily — it's cold and almost not-there — before his cigarette suddenly goes up in a shower of sparks. After that little tantrum, the cold of it fades.
*
Thea pulls him out, even as his broken leg feels warm, overwarm, tingling like a tiny hive of bees is inside it. "I'm not an angel." Thea will dispute. "Just a nurse."
*
Carnie is actually pretty impressed that maneuver works: he demonstrates this by whooping. Whoop! The two existing forcefields vanish in a moment, and in his hand appears a sword of carnelian light, and his armor-fields carry him through the air to chase after the… thing that escaped the bisection of the Jeep. He flings a hand out, and discs of orange-red light speed out in front of him to try to stab through the thing. Then again, that's not likely to be very useful what with the thing being intangible. But Carnelian is not totally the brightest light in the block.
*
Gambit shudders and flails when his cigarette explodes in front of his face. He's seen it all, he thought. He's been through all sorts of crazy things in N'awlins in his lifetime. Things that would make you question the very existence of man, time, and the proper place of handcuffs within civilized society.
But this is a new one.
"Dammit all!" he exclaims after whatever it was that just attacked him. "Important ta realize dat I missed!" He sighs, not out of the major part of the foray. He pats the hood of the truck and leans against it, lighting up another cigarette.
*
Mildred isn't sure what's going on with the construction equipment way over there, but… well, this truck's broken anyway. She raises it again (failing to notice Remy leaning against it) and rides it over to investigate, ready to fling this ex-vehicle at anything that might be misbehaving.
*
Mree tried his best. But he hasn't seen the sun in three long cloudy days, and wearing shorts isn't helping his mood any. Earlier his car was assaulted by an angry cluster of college students. And now he has this guy standing on his tail and calling him a demon. His eyes begin to water and he can't stop them once they've started to do that. He'll just stay down here in the hole and be sad for a little while.
*
Duke drips over to where Mree is down the hole and the poor, terrified man is clinging to Thea. He heard that "not an angel" line and looks her over with a narrow gaze. No. Not an angel. Neither is he, of course.
"That's not a demon," he says dryly, leaning down to look in the hole. "He's kind of a flower-thing. Mree, c'mon." He crouches down so he can reach for the grumpy little plant being in the bottom of the hole. "Unless you're gonna take root down there. We gotta go get Coz."
*
The man with the gun has the same idea as Carnelian. It's a collection of New York City's not-greatest minds out here. He fires a few bullets after the non-thing, then gets hauled down by his buddy.
"Don't make it mad," the other man hisses. At least one of these dudes would survive a horror film.
Nothing has any effect on the thing. It, and its companion, are gone into the ether. The men look up and the one with a little smarts waves at Carnelian. "Thanks, man. That was great." Great. He has to explain what happened to the company truck, which is toddling off with an old lady in the back.
The backhoe has been making surprisingly good time down the streets of New York. It's breaking even highway speed limits and getting bolder by the minute. Up over parked cars it goes, through an intersection, takes out a lamp post, and heads down another street. One more turn, then another, then an alley…and it's long gone.
Coz can't keep up, he comes trotting back, looking annoyed, ignoring the car horns all around him. The news is going to read something like "Spider-Man Takes Backhoe For Joyride!" tomorrow.
*
The fellow helping Thea clings to her tightly. "Lady, I don't care what you are, even if you're one of those muties. You wanna get married?" He's not a bad looking guy. And he's got a good job. There are worse offers.
*
Thea laughs, pulling him along more until he can get topside and she can help him to his feet and help get him out of the danger zone to a bench. "Sorry. Not my type." There may be a glimmer of anger in her eyes as the warmth in his leg burns hotter.
*
Settling upon the ground, Carnelian dismisses all his shields: the orange-red light around him, and in his sword, all vanish into nothing. "That was new." he remarks to Duke, shaking his head slowly, "I've never had a Jeep bull-charge me before. Anyone have any idea what exactly just happened and what to do with those… things the next time they try to ride a jeep? I mean I don't mind cutting jeeps in half some more but someone's going to want to bill me sooner or later and I make minimum wage."
*
As the truck lifts up into the air, Gambit is deposited right into the dirt. It's a good look for him. Some would say it's where he belongs. He rolls over onto his back and can't help but laugh. If nothing else, this has been a good distraction. And a humbling experience to boot. He looks up at the stars, but with all of the light pollution, all he can see is a haze. It occurs to him that it's a metaphor and he rolls over onto his side to get up. "Dangnabit," he says as he dusts himself off.
*
Mildred, meanwhile, was trying to chase that escaping vehicle down. She manages to get some impressive speed, but quickly discovers she's not as maneuverable as it is, at least when trying to direct this broken truck through a series of turns - after almost hitting a couple of buildings, she gives up and brings the truck back to the park. Might as well leave it where the previous owner can find it - they probably won't be happy, but at least they won't be wondering where it went.
*
Mree can extricate himself from the hole quite simply, if he gave it a try. Duke's calling for him, though, and he tries to dab away his tears. Even if he's crabby and sun-deprived he'll press his tail down against the edge of the crater and use it to push his person up out of the pit, then up to a standing position before it lifts once more and it begins to sway and coil up on itself. His hands go into his shorts pockets and he looks to Duke. "Here's Coz," he notes. "Do you want me to try to chase after it?" He can go pretty fast once he's airborne, after all.
*
"Possessed with something but I dunno what," Duke says to Carnelian. "What are they gonna charge you with? Stopping an accident? It'll show up, Mree, don't worry about it." Duke is surprisingly unperturbed. That might be because the cigarette he's lighting is not the usual tobacco. At least not entirely.
"It's a possessed backhoe. How hard is it gonna be to miss? I'm gonna talk to someone, look a few things up." He throws an arm around Mree in an uncharacteristic gesture, gives him a little squeeze before letting go. Coz looks annoyed, barks angrily at Duke about something. "Yeah, well, you can't drive," Duke tells him.
*
"Lucky guy who is your type. Thanks for the help, sweetheart." The guy hasn't got it all straight, how his leg doesn't hurt anymore, but it's mostly because he's looking at Thea. Some people just lose brainpower under those circumstances.
Mildred gets some very strange looks but, this is New York, and no one actually harasses her as she returns the truck. The fellow with the gun — who's fortunately put it away — comes running over toward her. "Gramma, that thing ain't safe. It's got a demon in it or something. Lemme help you out!" He gestures to her to let him help her out of the truck.
The other one — the one who'd survive a horror movie — heads for Gambit. "Thanks for the help, man. Cop woulda been useless. Guess that guy was right, Fisk. Maybe a guy like you should be on the police."
*
"Maybe there will be a guy that is my type, someday." She glances at him. "Only doing the decent thing, mister. I'll go call for an ambulance to take you to the hospital, all right?" She'll help him settle down into a sit. She'll manage a smile, before she's off and running. There has to be a payphone on the stree somewhere.
*
"Well, one felony count of being a mutant, top that off with one class B misdemeanor of being brown, don't forget the class D misdemeanor of speaking spanish— and on top of all that, then there's destruction of property. Just for starters." Carnelian offers with a wry grin and a shrug to Duke, "I'm Carnelian." he introduces, then looks over to Gambit, eyeing the man curiously for a long moment.
*
Click. Another cigarette is lit, lighting up Remy's face in orange for just a moment as he sucks in the smoke. He gives the man a wink from his black and red eyes, a tell tale sign that he is, in fact a mutant.
"Dun hang out wit de police, bruddah. I torture de fuckin' police."
He makes a clicking noise with his mouth and begins to saunter off, heading towards Harlem. He nods to Carnelian, "Take a picture."
*
Mree leans his head in against Duke's shoulder, then pushes up to the toes of one foot to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," he murmurs, relaxing against his side and watching Thea as she helps the fellow whom he only wishes he'd been able to help better. "Who's that?" he wonders of Duke. He can hardly take his eyes off of her. Poor Tex might have reason to be jealous. But Mree's hardly a rude plantling, even if he is kind of grumpy at the moment, and he meets Carnelian with a smile when he offers introduction. A smile's about all he can muster further, though, so Duke will have to introduce him back, if he wants to. Mree will sit down on the ground and cuddle with puppy until murderhoe comes back, as Duke has prophesied.
*
Mildred absently drifts gently from the truck as she responds puzzledly to the gunman: "The demon-thing left when the truck broke, I thought? It went to… attack… a cigarette…" She trails off as she realises how ridiculous that sounds, but tries to cover it up with a smile and a comment of, "Thank you, dear, but it's not a problem."
*
Mildred glances around again and concludes these people seem to have things well in hand. And she's not quite sure what to say to the helpful but possibly confused man in front of her, so she settles on the rather clich comment of, "I must go - I'm needed elsewhere," (probably her most heroic-sounding comment yet) before falling upward out of sight.
*
"Oh, right, all that," Duke says to Carnelian, quite seriously. "There are places it's not…" Not like this. Duke knows that, but doesn't remember them. He couldn't have said where they were, even if he spent a hundred years or more in one place or another. Coz barks vigorously, then goes back to rolling around in Mree's lap. Coz has opinions on racism and Duke's complete inability to remember that it exists, even when it affects him.
"That's Mree," Duke adds, not perturbed by the affection from the green plantling. "That's Coz." The dog huffs as if it's saying hello. "And Tex is around…over there. But he needs to keep his hood down right now." Possessed cars getting cut up and all. Tex, if one follows Duke's gesture, is a blue de Ville convertible. With horns. On the hood. Big horns.
"Don't know who that is." Duke watches Gambit go. "Man needs a drink, though."
*
The man who catches up to Auntie steps back a few paces as she floats out. "You're one of… you're a…" He's looking for a word that isn't terribly rude. He does blanch, though. "Thanks. I gotta go. I gotta get Bill. Over there. On the bench. Um." He backs away, looking anxious. It's the floating, not the hero outfit. Floating is not okay. When she's gone, he looks relieved. Not okay. Nope.
The fellow Thea was helping isn't going to wait for an ambulance. Green demon dudes, big dogs, shiny red guy. His friend who was trying to talk to Gambit comes over to help him up and the three hang about a moment, unsure of the etiquette of thanking…mutants…and things.
"Uh, bye," one waves as they head for the subway. Subway's safe right? "Thanks for the. You know." They are so out of here. At least they think they are. There's the lights of police cars pulling up well after the fact. They're going to have to admit this happened.
*
"Take a whatnow? Wait you do what?" Carnelian says to Gambit's back, blinking, and having no idea how to process that statement any more then he knows how to process this statement about torturing cops. He shakes his head, then looks back to Duke, "Places is not…?" he wonders, then hesitates, and nods firmly, "Hell, I need a drink, too. Every day something new is happening in this stupid park."