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SETTING: The ravages of the giants attacking Earth have collapsed some of the subway lines around Queens. It hasn't been more than a day but already this darkened subway station has been reclaimed by displaced and criminal elements seeking shelter from the cold and chaos. The air is thick with the smell of burning drugs and tobacco, food cooking, and trash burning in bins for light and warmth. It smells of paint, too. A looted hardware store yielded the materials for a sprawling mural in progress. Here and there, someone has set magical lights of a sort, smudges of luminous green that light up a small area around each. And there's music, plenty of music, from several sources, overlapping and disonnant.
*
The sound of sirens is nearly constant — sometimes near, sometimes far, but always singing. After a while, they are no longer a cause for alarm, they fade into normalcy. It's only in far-too-rare moments that all fall silent and that is a noise in and of itself. For a few halcyon moments, well after dark in Queens, there is that roar of stillness.
Snow drifts down out of a grey sky streaked with orange from the fires burning across New York. Access to Queens is limited by the ice spires rising above the rows of stores and the blocky towers of apartment buildings. Music, smoke, and light seep out of a subway station that should be shuttered.
*
It's through this silence that Piotr trudges. Everyone is on foot in this neighborhood, the streets are broken and pitted where they aren't flooded by broken watermains or barricaded by ice. Carrying groceries for the hungry and kerosene for heaters is the least those better off can do.
Piotr pauses at the subway, wondering if he should check down there for anyone in need.
*
Lynette wasn't there for the battle of giants. She didn't do well with the cold, as she was finding out, but where there was a need, and she had the will, she provided assistance. Usually, she kept her distance from Queens, being one to stand out amongst its population, but to anyone that accepted it, the girl was quick to carry bags or provide care. Harlem was in shambles, after all, so she understood the hardships that slam on bystanders all too well.
A glance up and her obsidian eyes land on the tall hunk of Russian she had only met in passing at the school. They had shared a 'hello' but pass that, they were still very much strangers. After passing along a bag or two of supplies into a home, the girl glances up and down the street before crossing over toward the man. "Piotr." She greets, her hand up in a wave, curls bouncing with every step. "Hey. What y'doin' out dis way, chere?"
*
Bill Foster has been following news of the new street drug, Vigor, ever since it appeared on his radar during one of his visits to Harlem. A substance that could create temporary abilities? Augment already existing ones? Yes, please. From a biochemical standpoint, it's facinating! One thing he hasn't been able to find, unsurprisingly, is any scientific literature on how it works.
Being unable to secure a sample for study has concerned Bill, but it hasn't been enough to quiet his curiosity. In fact, it simply spurred him here tonight, to an "End of the World" party (as quoted to him) in the subway. Peering through the smoke and dim light underground, he's clearly on the lookout for someone - or something - very specific.
*
It would be very eaysy for someone like Warren Worthington III to stay safe and warm at home on a night like this. Even in the context of helping out, it would be easy enough for him to do so purely by financial means. And he has done that. And yet here he is, trenchcoat wrapepd tightly around him as he trudges through the snow, a hat covering the distinctive blonde hair Of course, he's also ready to help out in other ways. THe red and white outfit under the trenchcoat has very little to do with Santa.
*
"I was delivering some items from the YMJA to this neighborhood when I noticed this." Piotr gestures to Lynette to accompany him inside. When he spies Warren, he waves vigorously. It's impossible to miss. "Warren!" He seems genuinely pleased. It's always good to have backup.
"People may be in need down there," Piotr explains. "I plan to see for myself. I am concerned about any very young people out in this disaster. Have you seen the paper? Too many are disappearing. I know of a few beds left at a shelter in a synagogue, I will invite anyone who needs help. With the new drug on the street, it is even more dangerous than ever for the young to be alone." With that, he tromps down into the dark of the subway.
*
The Underground is starting to heat up. In the circle of light cast by a trashbin fire near the turnstiles, a tall, shaggy man is doing a brisk business. The crush around him is growing with each passing moment and, on the fringes, people beg and barter to get cash. There are a number of predatory types prowling the shadows, waiting to take advantage of those who are desperate.
Cash flows one way, blue capsules — packaged in ones and fives — flow the other. Already, some of the buyers have swallowed what they purchased.
There's a loud cackling and a shriek and a young man leaps for the ceiling, stretching and changing on the fly. He becomes something strange and spidery, with flashing red eyes and a maw full of fangs. He howls at a young woman below him whose wild dark curls have burst into flowers and vines.
*
Lynette parts her lips to reply, only to be caught off guard by the name of 'Warren'. Following after Piotr's attentions, she notices the blonde that was another figure she had known in passing alone. Offering a somewhat shy smile, she wiggles her fingers at the red and white chap, but focuses herself down the mouth of the subway system. She doesn't comment now, nor does she need to, and soon her steps are following after the towering figure that dwarfs her in a number of ways. At the sound of the shriek, the girl's eyes widen and her steps become quicker, thunking heavily down the steps as she descends.
*
ROLL: Foster +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 84
*
Warren returns Piotr's wave and moves through the snow towards him. He moves surprisingly lightly over the snow. The fact that he doesn't weigh the usual amount for a man his size helps. Of course, it only makes the biting win that much more problematic, at least while he's landbound. When he closes to speaking distance with the big Russian he teases, "Glad to see you out here. Must feel right at home in this weather, huh?" It's a light comment before he turnst o more serious matters, "Thought I'd see if there was anything to be done down here to help. And see that some supplies I sent out actually got here while I'm at it."
*
It's clear that Bill is out of his element here. Clear to him and likely to everyone around him. That doesnt stop him from heading over to where business is being conducted, though. On his way to the trash fire, he catches the mutation in process, which, combined with the echoing shriek, forces him to shuffle a few steps out of the way in surprise. "Oh, hell," he mutters.
With his attention diverted, he apparently becomes easy pray for guys with sticky fingers, because the next thing he knows someone is digging into one of his coat pockets. His reflexes must be on point tonight, because he manages to whip around and grab the pickpockets wrist. "You better run on out of here, punk," he says slowly, glaring at the other individual.
*
"Indeed. It is good to see you again, my friend." Piotr's smile for Warren is bright. His mood is fine until they can actually see what's happening down in the station.
"The Professor knows of this drug, does he not?" Piotr stops at the bottom of the stairs into the station, next to Lynette, staring at the girl whose hair is turning to lashing vines. After a moment's thought, he shrugs out of his coat, hanging it over the rail. Beneath it, he wears what looks like a set of dull black fatigues but, when he shifts form, they shift to accommodate his size. Now, he's all silver and so much taller.
*
The next howl echoes down the tunnel, which is suddenly lit up in red and orange. A pair of twins has turned into some kind of wild fire sprite and they chase each other around the tunnel, spewing flames and cackling. The spider-thing screams at them and launches itself at one, catching hold of it lightning fast. The smell of burning fur is terrible.
Foster has nabbed a skinny kid of indeterminate gender. Whoever they are, they are already a mutant, as evidenced by the ugly protrusions emerging from under their skin at their temples and the point of their chin and the backs of their hands.
"You ain't need it, man," the kid protests, fingers scraping at Foster's hands . "You ain't need alla your money and I need some V man, I gotta get my Vigor on." The kid is desperate, eyes gleaming, and maybe some of it is addiction but it's hard to believe they wouldn't also be seeking escape from the pain of their mutation. Blood trickles everywhere those grayish outcroppings emerge from its skin.
The pushing and yelling around the dealer intensifies as the addicts see others getting their fix. Waiting seems almost unbearable for them.
*
Foster has partially disconnected.
*
Lynette glances toward Warren. Without a reply from him, or even acknowledging she was there, she can't help the soft frown that forms on her features. There would be time for pouting later, however, as the yells grow, bodies change, and attacking starts. Glancing from metal giant to beautiful blonde, the girl slips forward more so, finding her way toward Foster, a figure she knew, and the boy trying to pay for a fix. "Let'm go." She urges of Foster, before pointing toward the boy. "Y'don' need dat stuff, chere. Ain't good f'y'. See?" She ushers over toward the attacking 'spider' and its fiery prey. "G'on now, n'get outta here." She urges to the boy, holding to Foster's wrist so he could let the youth go about his way.
The man passing out the drug would soon feel a 'push' against his form, not caused by the needy addicts, but from something invisible. Lynette's eyes slip into their more serpentine mode as her free hand tries to move the 'sorce' of the substance closer to the metallic figure.
*
Warren watches as Colossus teakes on his metallic form and comments, "So much for the subtle approach." He whips off his trechcoat and flings it by Piotr's coat. He doesn't entirely expect to find it still there when all this is done. Whith the coat off, the red and white flight suit is on dispaly, along with the huge white whings that unfold from his back. He looks to Piotr, "THis group seems redy to riot. I can try grabbing the dealer, but it's only going to set them off."
*
ROLL: Piotr +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 37
*
ROLL: Lynette +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 38
*
ROLL: Warren +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 38
*
Still gripping the young mutants wrist, Foster hears the kid out while simultaneously examining the protrusions. He looks about to say something when Lynette shows up and beats him to the punch. "You heard the lady," he adds, letting go of the mutants wrist before turning his attention to the woman. "What the heck are you doing here?" he asks her, wearing a hand-in-the-cookie-jar kind of look. The last thing he wanted was to be caught trying to buy Vigor. Man, that looks bad.
*
ROLL: Foster +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 86
*
"You may need to save him." Piotr murmurs to Warren. He's watching the dealer's increasingly agitated expression. The dealer looks even more upset when he lurches toward them, pushed by some unseen impetus. "How much can he be carrying? They could kill him for running out."
*
The kid lurches back from Foster when he's released, throws a weak punch in frustration, but then one of the fire twins sweeps past, raining flame on him and spattering near where Lynette stands. The other twin is still fighting the dark creature — both are howling furiously now and the stink of roasting flesh and fur is thicker by the minute in the enclosed station.
The girl with the vine hair has taken root, cracking tile and moving earth. She fights her own hair that twines in the pipes and lights overhead, tearing flowers from it, until her arms become twisted branches. Her thin voice — I can't breathe, I can't breathe — seeps through the chaos.
Someone else begins to sing something eerie and ancient that grabs at the back of the neck and demands attention. The singer is small and dark, dressed in rags. Unwillingly, everyone in the immediate vicinity begins dropping valuables and even pills of Vigor at her feet.
At least it decreases the chaos in that corner. A boy has turned to water and rises up in a cyclone to chase the flying fire twin.
*
It's a good thing for Angel that the station has high ceilings. Underground is definitely not his forte. He says to Colossus, Try to help the girl with the vines, I'll bring the dealer to you. " And then he launches into the air, blowing past the fire twin and skirting the cyclone, using it to drive his speed as he swwoops in on the dealer and tries to scoop him up with his hands under the man's arms."
*
"Tryin' t'he-move!" She forces Foster back, trying to shield him from the sudden rush of flames, even as her arm continues to flex outward, finger pressing at the space around the dealer and forcing him closer to the Colossus and Angel. "Get de sorce outta here!" She calls toward the pair she knew from another location. After that, her slitted pupils rest up on Foster's face. "Y'betta get outta here, chere. S'chaos already."
The hold and push on the dealer is gone now as the girl turns away from Foster and takes in the scene happening all around them. Figures with abilities without any idea of how to use them, or why. For once, she's at a loss of what to do. Thankfully, someone goes after the dealer, and after a few steps more, her fingers sweep up, forcing the wealth of shadows in the space to grow thicker and hug around the attacking cyclone, attempted to blind him, if forces of nature needed to see, that is.
*
Foster staggers back when Lynette pushes him out of the way. He lifts his arms to protect himself from the falling flames and curses when someone pushes past him on the way to the exit. Was it always like this? These Vigor parties? Why hasnt more been done to handle them? These are a handful of the thoughts passing partway through the mans mind as his glance shift from Lynette over to the two mutants she seems to yelling to. "Not just yet," he says to Lynette, before scampering over to where he sees people emptying there pockets. Somewhere, there must be at least one pill he can swipe. Something to take back to the lab.
*
Piotr is already moving to help the tree-girl. As he gets close, her vines lash out and entangle him, yanking him off his feet.
"I am trying to help!" he protests. Her face is fading into the ragged green bark of her trunk. All he can see are her eyes, acorn-colored and terrified.
*
Warren catches the dealer easily enough.
"Thanks, man!" The guy is stoned and grateful. "Angels are a thing? I gotta go to church." Warren can cart him off and dump him into the ticket booth easily enough. From a height, one can see that the top is open even if the sides are shuttered with steel blinds.
Lynette calms the twisting column of water and wind as it loses momentum. Confused, it shifts back into the form of a boy who falls to his knees and then — splash — loses form entirely, turning into a puddle that slowly trickles away across the slanted floor.
A man, far too old to be here, has been unnoticed in the shadows near the wrestling beast and fire twin. Of course he's easy to miss with that horrific display — neither has the upper hand, neither seems injured, and so they fight on. He wears the remains of what must have been hospital garb under a ragged coat. He holds in his paint-stained hands a pill and, then, he swallows it. The coat drips, smells of paint. The mural on the wall surges forward and the man disappears into it. The eldritch figure painted on the wall peels itself away, then roars mightily.
The screams now are not of glee or outrage but terror. Young people, high on Vigor or not, turn to flee. Even the fighting pair break off, hit with the wave of fear this thing emits, and scatter. The flaming pair and the dark spiderling bolt into the night.
The little siren shrinks back, horrified. Pills, money, watches, and even a couple gold teeth scatter the ground at her feet. The mural slouches toward her, seeming huge in the rapidly-emptying station.
*
Warren answers the dealer as he drops him into the box that in this case will serve as both protection and cage, "Yeah, and it's busy season, too." And then there's a walking mural-monster, even as he sees Colossus tripped up by the vines. Trusting Piotr to handle himslf (and not sure of anything he could do to help regardless), Angel does a quick flip turn in the air and dives towards the siren girl, intending to get her away from the monstrosity pursuing her.
*
Lynette stalls, standing in horror as the boy in her grip becomes nothing and simply washes away. Then Foster is moving toward the tiny siren, and the very art on the walls comes to life. A ripple of fear grips the girl as she barks out to Foster, "Don' be stupid!" The fear, for her, is all too real, however, and without pause, she turns and bolts.
*
Lynette leaves, heading towards Queens [out].
*
Lynette has left.
*
Foster dips low to the ground and pats his hands there a few times, groping. A stupid move, for sure, but one he feels is necessary to make this little venture of his a success. When he eventually finds what he's looking for, fist closing around a few pills, he feels a wave of terror overcome him and bolts upright. The mural monster would be imposing on any night, but with everything going on around him, it's enough to get the scientist bolting. He turns to try and spot Lynette, but with such a crowd around him, he decides he can't do much but try and meet her up top, so he stuffs the hand full of pills into his pocket and joins the flood of people making for the exit.
*
Piotr is yanked in close to the tree, close enough to hear the girl whispering: I can't breathe. And then the light in her eyes goes out, leaving nothing but two polished brown burls staring at him. The vines release him, dropping him unceremoniously, and coiling loosely before they burst into flowers.
Piotr rolls to his feet and takes in the scene. It's only luck that's kept people from trampling each other to death on the stairs. He squares up, swallows his fear, and steps forward to face that painted monstrosity.
*
Foster — pills pocketed for later — and Lynette are swept toward the exit with the fleeing crowd. They scatter into the street in all directions. The fire twins, whooping, race off into the dark to fly circles around the ice spires. The spiderling shows a fangy-white grin before folding itself up in nauseating fashion — how does it bend that way? — and slithering into the sewers.
Warren swoops down out of the shadows to scoop up the ragged little siren before the mossy maw of the beast closes on her. She clings to him like a little monkey, silent and terrified.
The painting of the elder god roars in frustration as Warren steals its prey. The angel has beaten it to its meal, a scene that must have played out countless times back in the dark ages of man.
*
Foster leaves, heading towards Queens [out].
*
Foster has left.
*
For a few moments Warren can give into the fear, letting the adrenaline just drive his wings harder as he tries to get the gril (and himself) away from the mural beast. He winds up circling the station quickly. Especially with all the people milling up the stairs, there is no room there for him to make a heavy exit. He swoops down and sets himself behind Piotr. Because, really, what better place is there to be?
*
Piotr doesn't seem to be touched by whatever's causing the fear — maybe it's the metal body. He's about to attack the thing when something occurs to him. He grabs the flaming trash bin and throws it at the mural-beast.
Of course a painter knows that fresh paint is flammable. The beast bursts into flame with a howl that makes the entire subway shake. As it burns, it blackens, bubbling and spreading, noxious fumes boiling off of it.
"I will get the dealer out," he says over his shoulder to Warren. "If you will take her."
*
The siren hangs onto Warren for dear life. Her soft voice, as she forces it out between her chattering teeth, is still compelling.
"Go, we need to go," she whimpers, with all the weight of her mutation behind it. The stairs are nearly empty now as people have all but flung themselves out into the street.
"Get me outta here, man!" That's less pleasant in tone but no less urgent. The dealer is hanging over the top of the booth, on his way to falling out of it. "This is bullshit. Y'all mutants are menaces. Crazy! I ain't never selling this shit again!"
*
His feet firmly on the ground, Warren folds his wings. Much as he figured with happen, his trenchcoat is nowhere to be seen. Fortunately, the flight suit and his natural adaptations for altitude work well for the cold. Keeping a hold on the small mutant he runs up the stairs, yelling to Piotr, "Well, at least he's got that right!", in reference to the dealer's resolution. He adds, " Good move with the fire." ANd then he heads up the stairs, still maintaining a hold on the small girl in his arms.
*
Piotr watches a moment longer, hoping to see a figure worth saving in the fire. But no one emerges, just as the water boy hasn't reformed and the tree is still…a tree. The drug dealer finally yells enough that Piotr pulls him down from the booth, slings him over one shoulder, and follows Warren out into the winter night.
"Well done, Warren. It was good that you were there. I fear we may have witnessed at least one death," he says, once they're outside. "I will take this one to the police." The drug dealer, hanging head down over Piotr's shoulder, is bruising his hands in a futile attempt to punch the huge metal man in the kidneys hard enough to free himself. "If you would like, the synagogue two streets over has beds free and you can drop the girl off there."
*
"I'm no one," the girl whispers. Warren and Piotr both have their biological oddities going on. The voice is not as effective on them as it might be. "Let me go."
*
Two things work to help Warren resist the command. One is the howling wind, the other is hwo against hs nature it woudl be to just abandon the girl in the cold. He says to her, "Let me at least get you somewhere warm." He looks to Piotr, "I'm sure I'll be seing you around. We've got a lot to do in this town right now."
*
"It is good to be busy." Piotr rolls his eyes at the struggling dealer. "But I believe this is a bit ridiculous. I hope to cross paths with you again soon, regardless."
He lowers his gaze to the siren. "You should let him take you somewhere, yes. He will not hurt you."
*
The girl has finally taken in exactly what Warren is and her pale eyes are wide. "Okay. Yeah," she murmurs. "Guess that's kind of Christmas. Angels and…" She looks up at Piotr. "Whatever the hell you are. Let's go if we're going, Angel."
*
Warren knows what he looks like. And sometimes it's just easier to go with it. Admittedly, it does lead to one very confused Rabbi as Warren takes off just as the door is opened to find the small girl at the door.
*