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The Trash.
Ford has heard of this freakshow before, but never had the "pleasure" of interacting with them. They're trying to push drugs in his part of the city. Ford didn't give it much mind… until it entered his part of the street. His apprentice, Alan, had brought attention to the Mighty Mechanic that one of the young men on the street was using dope. Ford found it, snapped the young man out of it, and sent the rest of the supply packing to the dumpster. Another young soul saved from the EVIL of drug use.
And another enemy on Ford's list of foes.
Tonight, assembled outside Tannenworth Garage, five young mutants stand at the ready to give the Working Class Warrior a warning: keep out of the Trash's business, and they won't trash his home or his work. And you can bet, Ford was not going to be tolerating any of that! Outside, two young black men, one big and burly, the other lean and fit, a young white woman, a clearly Asian man covered in strange orange scales and sporting claws on his fingertips, and a young white man with blonde hair stand outside in a group, a show of force to try and intimidate the young mechanic.
Stepping out of the main door of the garage, Ford looked entirely nonplussed by the arrival of these uncouth youths. Folding his arms, Ford tilted his head to one side, arching a brow. "…now look. I don't want no trouble."
"Well ya sure found it, ya upstart cracka' foo'!" the burly black man shouts back. "We here to teach you a lesson: don't mess wit' tha Trash! You gonna keep your lip tight, or we gonna have to bust it up?"
Ford sighed, shaking his head. "I'm giving you folks a chance to step down and back off. You do, and I won't hang you by your underwear from the flag pole. You got it?"
*
Well, Elektra said she wanted to make a difference in the world. She wanted to be a better person. But she was also bored, the city too quiet, and the Hand was operating in rather strange methods nowadays. So, she traced some of the drugs they were leaking onto the steet to another drug pusher cartel — the Trash. The woman has been stalking this little group ever since, doing her best to protect those it would threaten and learn if it's actually working with the Hand or if those are just rumors. That means there is utterly no sight of Elektra anywhere near the five assembled young mutants, but there is a living, breathing shadow against the far wall of Ford's building. She's all in black, her cowl up high across her nose and face, daggers silently in her hands. For the moment, she's just watching. Seeing if the man even needs her to intervene. And learning. For all Elektra knew, he was in on this with the mutants and this was some sort of show.
*
Colleen is supposed to be snooping around on the street anyway, so her appearance near Ford's place is not a surprise. "I should have brought the blade." she mutters to herself. But she shrugs. "Excuse me." she speaks up. "I think you all should go somewhere else and stop bothering this man."
*
"HEY. Someone botherin' you out there chamo?"
From out of the garage walks a young woman, cinnamon tan skin, long black hair, bright copper eyes. She steps out from the door, sporting green military style pants, black work boots, black turtleneck, and a somewhat worn military jacket. A black beret on her head bears a flag in chevron: gold bar, blue bar, red bar.
She has a large caliber handgun in her right, loading heavy caliber bullets into the chamber with the left. "Ir a casa antes de que les de un nuevo pajaron, poco hombre," Mariah whispers, staring the lead assailant right in the eyes, grinning like a crazed beast.
*
Ford blinked as Mariah came out of the garage, shaking his head at the sight of the gun. Clearly, she is never without a weapon. "She's telling you all to piss off, before she makes use of that gun. (And trust me, she's not kidding.)" The Trash members seem to tense up at the sight of Mariah, but the big black fellow seems unphased. "You gonna hide behind your skirt, cracka'?" He placed his fist in his palm, cracking knuckles with enough force to make someone wince. "Looks like we gon' haf ta teach ya a lesson! Airhead?"
On cue, the young lady took in a large puff of air… and her head actually started to inflate with it! She blew it out and started causing a massive gale in the garage's direction. The white boy pointed his fist at Mariah and let loose a bright red and yellow beam of energy, aiming to blast the gun out of her hand while the burly black fellow thundered in to knock Ford's jaw clear off his face.
Surprisingly, Ford takes this blow remarkably well! As in, he doesn't even skid back! He forced his head back with the black fist still on his jaw. "You fellas just got yourselves into a world of hurt!" Knocking the hand free, Ford reeled back and socked the big guy in the gut… who took it about as well as Ford took his own blow. The two began to trade punches while the others readied themselves for a fight.
*
As chaos begins to interrupt in the room, Elektra does… absolutely nothing. She's still listening. Learning. Observing who may be on whose side, who has which powers, and how the mutants work together. This is all quite the learning experience for the high skilled assassin who has tucked herself in the shadows of Ford's garage. So, she remains nigh unto invisible, pressed into the background, ready to dispatch any mutant who dares get too close to revealing her, but otherwise doesn't seem to worried for the fair heroes in the garage.
*
Colleen sighs and steps forward. The mutants are ignoring her, so she moves up behind the woman whistling up a storm and tries to tap the other woman on the shoulder. "I think you could use a mint if you're going to breathe on all of us." She expects Airhead to turn to look at her, in which case Colleen will gice her a straight punch to the solar plexus.
*
- The gun in Mariah's hands expands in a snap into a sheet of pure, glittering gold, catching the heat energy neatly. The weapon's handle remains in her hand, untouched.
"I tried to warn you, mono. You're not going home tonight."
An unhinged giggle escapes Mariah's lips; she's excited for the thrill of the hunt, the thrill of the kill. She hasn't done this for awhile, and she doesn't even care that it's pro bono work. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she tosses out a handful of nine penny nails. They're instantly changed into needles of gold, hovering mid-air, before they're launched at her attacker like machine gun fire. A few feet beyond Mariah's position, they lose their golden sheen, returning to steel - but they're still flying fast as gunshots, and still needle point sharp. They spray at the energy-wielder's upper torso.
*
As Airhead reared back and inhaled for another burst of air, she turned around to Colleen's question and let out an OOF! at the punch to the plexus… but the rest of the air escaped her and blew a blasting gale at Colleen.
As the nails fly full force at Blast Cap, he raised his arms to shield himself… but just in the nick of time, the scaled Asian youth jumps into the line of fire and intercepts the nails, which plink seemingly harmlessly off his scaled skin. "Nice try, miss, but you'll need a lot more than that! Face the wrath of Razor Cut! KI-YAH!" The youth took a ready stance from a martial art before leaping for Mariah, sharp claws ready to slash at her.
Ford made a move to intervene on Mariah's part, but the long and lanky leg of the other black man suddenly stretched out and tied itself around his body. "You best be facin' the right way, cracka' boy!" he shouted, before the Brute started to wail on Ford, pounding with force that knocked him to the ground and left a heavy crater at the site. The Brute stood over Ford and continued to pound him into the ground over and over. Given his positioning, it's hard to tell how well Ford is taking the beating. "Ow! Watch it, Brute! Remember I in there too, dang it!"
*
No one yet seems to be dying and this is certainly teaching Elektra a *lot* about people's various capabilities. Beneath her cowl, a slow smile slips across her lips as she pulls back into the shadows just a bit deeper, practically becoming a part of the wall right now, avoiding any sort of flying bodies or weapons. She's just scenery for the moment — very interested scenery.
*
Colleen closes her eyes against the wind, luckily she tied her hair back before the fun began. She has a general idea of where Airhead is, and so she takes a step or two forward against the wind to try and fire off a kick to the other woman's jaw.
*
It's amazing how far you can really travel when you're not going anywhere. So firmly entrenched in the case of not going anywhere in many senses of the phrase is without doubt Michael O'Connell. Making his way from an alley he hears a sound that is a draw when, once, it'd be a warning. But, even if home's somewhere he can never see again it's a welcome relief to hear it. Or something close to it. Sauchiehall Street at chucking out time. No Govan on the quietest day. Never Drumchapel. They hear of quiet, but only when some bam nicked it.
Okay, a full blown barney. Bodies left and right with no way to know who's with who or what or why. Even this'll do. Meantime the betters are flexing their powers and, well, that's something all righ. Something he'll not have. He sighs and does note the big man from before. Guy could have done him in, more's the pity, but fair do's. Michael looks around, finding a dumpster.
Removing some of contents using two tin cans and an old coke can he jury rigs a poor mans version of a poor mans version of a non return valve, with the second tin, wedged in the dumpster's handle as a reaction chamber. Taking the brakes off and running to back of the dumpster Michael hopes he remembers how pressurised gases work. With luck the smoke he's generating will go through the valve and, eventually, the whole thing'll shoot off like a big bottle rocket towards that guy hitting Ford. Or all he's doing will be a big wasted effort. No news there.
*
Serrure intended on simply passing through the area on his way to the shop he now runs, but he glances towards the sounds of trouble once he hears it and pauses, reviewing the various paths home to see if that's an option, yet, his feet don't move away like they should, caught in the mood of a gawker.
Mariah is still within range of the garage door, close to the building. She ducks down, dropping to the ground to try to avoid the forward slashing attack of Razor Cut, and the golden sheet she used to reflect Blast Cap's heat bursts liquifies, a floating blob of molecular metal. As Razor Cut shouts his KI-YAH, the fluid lances itself into his mouth, slithering of its own volition down his throat. He has miliseconds to try to swallow the moving gold before it hits his windpipe and coats the inside of his lungs, smothering him.
*
As Colleen stepped forward and dealt a crushing kick to Airhead's jaw, it knocked her up, the spray of air actually starting to send her flying back and crashing her head into the ground, knocking her out cold on the asphalt. One down. Four to go.
As Razor Cut attacked, he missed, about ready to deal a second and shouting "KI-YAH!" once more… before a stream of liquid gold slips down his throat, quickly coating his insides and choking him. Grasping at his throat, Razor started to panic, realizing he couldn't breathe, before dropping to his knees and trying to free his throat.
As Razor lost his ability to breathe, Brute looked up to see his companion struggling. He immediately stopped pounding Ford and started to move, calling out his name before he was knocked clear off his rocker by the dumpster Michael had sent careening his way. Knocked free and apparently not even phased by Brute's thunderous smashing, Ford immediately leapt up, Long Legs' long leg wrapped around him still. "Brute!" Long shouted, before Ford reached up and grasped at his elongated thigh, swinging him around to slam him into the now present dumpster. Long Legs cried and careened for the dumpster's side before pounding into it, knocking him unconscious as well. 4 down now.
"Mariah! That's enough, let him go!" Ford ordered, pointing to Mariah's handiwork with Razor, before being slammed into the garage door by Blast Cap, now clearly angry and letting loose a barrage of energy blasts at Ford, evidently aiming to smash him right through the wall and into the garage proper. "Fk you, you lousy sp*! I'm gonna roast you like a Christmas hog!"
*
Colleen waits patiently, Ford and the others seem to have this under control. So, she crosses her arms and considers the scene and the goings-on.
*
Michael stops for a moment, shuddering as he reaches inside his jacket pocket. That smoke thing's still no his. It makes him feel like someone's walking over his grave which, due to certain misunderstandings, he already has back home. Christ knows what they buried but he's starting to warm to the idea that it's not him. Had to be down on yourself when you down someone else. Or help to really.
Carefully putting on a pair of cheap black leather gloves, even more carefully hand stitched by their owner, Michael standing starts into a sprint, keeping his fingers slightly spread for some strange reason, covering distance towards the next one trying to have a square go with the big yun Michael's yet to learn the name of.
When he gets there he might be able to do something to help. If it works as these are all those proper supers. Probably can take a flight when they're working through problems instead ae wasting shoe leather like he has to. Way of the world. Some have it and some don't. Michael's not even the coldest day in hell close. Like, after all the running, still not close enough yet to do anything to help Ford.
*
"Awww, you're gonna make me a liar! I told them they aren't going home tonight and now I gotta let them live?" Mariah complains bitterly, getting up off the ground. The gold caught in Razor's lungs comes shooting back out of his mouth, letting sweet, sweet fresh air in. The gold blob goes flying through the air towards the back of Blast Cap's head. With just enough force for a knock out. Because Ford's one of -those- people. You know the kind. Heroic. "Cada vez que intento tener un poco de diversion, lo juro," she mutters.
*
Really, this has nothing to do with him. But, Serrure still gawks a bit, moving carefully. Something sparks in memory, then, and he squints his eyes like he's been pinched. His green eyes fall to Colleen when he notices her stop kicking people. "Is this the Fantastic Four? Who are you?"
*
Ford would contest being considered a hero. He just knows there's a way of doing things. With only one mutant left to go, they could afford to handle things non-lethally. Even from the business end of a laser blast, Ford shouted back over the noise. "We have a way of doing things here, Mariah! They aren't soldiers! Just kids, pretending to be adults!" And to a degree, he seemed semi-correct in that assessment. None of them looked to be much older than 20.
As Michael makes a mad dash for Blast Cap, who is still preoccupied with smashing Ford, the young mutant turns and blinks as someone dares to try and challenge him! Raising another fist, he generated another blast, ready to fire at Mike… but thankfully, the blob of gold knocks right into his head, knocking him out cold as well. Ford slid down to his feet from the wall he was being pinned to by heat blasts as he looked around at the fallen mutants and plethora of help he had recieved. "Ah… thanks! Good to know I'm not the only one keeping this street safe!" he said. Mariah, he half-expected, but the other 3… well, it was good to have backup! Looking at the unconscious mutants and the dumpster he now had access to, he went around, picking up the bodies and piling them into the convenient carrying case. "Well… I guess know they're location fits their name. Time to… take out the Trash."
Roll credits!
Ford blinked a bit as this Serrure guy asked if they were the Fantastic Four. "Wha-? Oh, lord no. I'm just a guy who's trying to keep drugs off his street"
*
Colleen turns back to face the person named after a lock. "I just happened on these people…" and she indicates the fallen mutants. "… accosting these two people here." and she jerks a thumb in the direction of Ford and Mariah. "Fantastic Four?" she asks. "Do I look like I'm made of rocks?"
*
Mariah points to the dumpster, still holding the handle of her former pistol, now gold blob. "You think those 'kids' would have been that nice to you? They were coming at you to kill you, chamo. They are not kids at that point," she argues. As she makes her point to Ford, the gold blob slithers through the air like an extended loop of syrup being stretched from one point to another, gathered back onto the handle of the weapon, where it returns its former shape as a gun. She looks down, flicks on the safety and stuffs it into the belt of her pants, and folds her arms, shaking her head. "What do we do with them now? They just gonna come back and try this churrias again."
*
Slowing to a halt and removing the gloves with the care that someone who sewn the razor blades into them would take, Michael replaces the gloves with a packet of cigarettes. Slowly making his way back to nowhere in particular he calls out, first to Ford, "Big man? Thaasus evens. Y'ken?" Then over in the rough direction of the question after another deep draw and shapeless plume, "They might be… but, see you? See me? I'm a squib. Fantastic is a fantasy tha'll ne'er play oot. After."
*
Ford finished piling the last of the Trash into the dumpster, bending the lid closed and sealed tight… before actually bending down to pick the whole thing up over his head! "It was going to take a lot more than they had to pound me into submission. Thanks in no small part to you, bonita~" Ford replied, before nodding at the makeshift cell over his head. "I'll take these brats to the proper authorities. Let them sort it out… but you have a point. We'll need to cut off the head before this happens again… I'll have to do some digging around. In the meantime… well… I'll be back." Nodding, Ford turned down the street before blitzing off down the street at the speed one would travel in a car! Evidently off to deliver the garbage to the local police.
*
Mariah watches him go. "Madre de dios…" she mutters. "It's gonna take awhile to teach him any common sense."