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Ford told himself he wouldn't be doing this ever. Heroes go out looking for trouble and fighting bad guys. But tonight, just once, he was breaking his rule. The Trash gang had tried to set up on his street, then threatened his business and girlfriend to try and push back. Now, here he was, where he believed the gang's leader to be: the Garbage Man. Fitting name. He'd been keeping his ear to the street. He'd gotten wind of the locale.
Time to clip this problem in the bud.
The "headquarters" for the trash is, almost equally fittingly, a run down old garage and warehouse on the edges of Hell's Kitchen. Just barely part of the neighborhood. But it was still part of it! The main building faces the street with a large garage shutter, a small metal staircase on the side of the building leading up to the second floor entrance from the outside. Standing dead center in front of the shutter, Ford inhaled, popping his knuckles. "Guess I oughta go in and say hi…"
*
Old Mr. Cohen, the late friend of the family, might be amused what use young Dizzy's been putting his light green '61 Chevy wagon to on occasion of late: still looking a little rumpled in the roofline from the attack on Brighton Beach, the vehicle's plain-jane, ordinary, and dirty enough to fit in reasonably well in neighborhoods like this. Ordinary-looking save for modestly-reverse-dished rims for track, and a bit of extra rattle coming from the engine where the blocky iron six-cylinder's had manifolds torched and welded for bigger carburetor and exhaust headers. She wears an unmarked leather jacket and none of her usual checkered-flag accessories, while she's at it, hair tied up in a kerchief, and suitable driving- gloves on her hands, an x-shaped tire iron handy as she circles the block, and finds a spot to park where she can hear some of what may go on, yet get kids out of there if it goes wrong. Shutting down the engine and dousing the lights, she points over her shoulder at the tailgate: a license plate bulb turns gently and pops out of its socket. "Another night waiting for the boys," she says, in that Brooklyn-Italian accent of hers. Sighs, and pours herself a coffee from a thermos.
*
Colleen also keeps her ear to the ground, especially in Hell's Kitchen. After helping to take out the Trash she had gone quietly asking about the mutants and their criminal organization. That brings her to this old garage. She's brought her ancient katana in a soft guitar case, the latter she leaves in an alley nearby. She's brought a mask too, a Chinese dragon mask. She's worn her auburn hair in braids which she's put up into a bun held by a spike. No sense in letting people use it as a handle.
*
Down the streets of New-York drives a large truck stuck in the traffic as it had been for some time. The side of the vehicle says it all: Uncle Bills Meat Market: Where Meat Meets Good Eats! It's an old beat up truck with hubcaps so cheap that no one in their right mind would buy them for a professional car, the whole thing looking practically to have been pulled out of the scrap yard for how bottom rung it is. Someone had to WORK to make a vehicle this cost efficient.
Inside the truck Officers of the NYPD set waiting on benches either side filling the back of the truck. They've been given weapons for the op, pistols, shotguns, and two Thompson SMG's, all weapons from the evidence locker. The atmosphere in the back of the truck is a tense one with officers crammed in like tuna for a last minute lighting raid, perhaps one of the first of its kind. Flack jackets rest over uniforms of several officers, not enough to go around the eclectic collection of guns and armor a stark reminder of just where they had to snag the gear from to make it a reality.
As the traffic clears this white truck pulls its way out in front of the garage, and comes to a slow stop. The spot across the street is the perfect place, just barely enough for it to fit into, before the engine shuts down. In the front seat a plainclothes officer checks a clipboard. He's dressed in a dull white Uncle Bills Meat Market uniform, and seems rather intently focused on his clipboard, an occasional glance given to the building across the street.
Gordon is dressed in his old combat helm from the war, a full flack jacket and spare ammo over his police uniform. It's far from standard issue but combat gear beat the hell out of anything they had access to on such short notice. His WWII helm still has the old playing card in the top of it sticking out like a sore thumb from the standard NYPD blues. A full Thompson smg is clutched into his grasp, a lucky strikes cigarette stuck out the corner of his mouth as he calls to the other officers. "Alright boys, you know the plan, we form into two groups, and storm this place so fast they won't be able to flush before we've got the whole lot in cuffs."
*
There is another who is there, albeit not one that anyone can see, unless they have some supernatural means. Engufled in darkness that merges with the night sky, Darkstar had recieved the call to support an impromptu raid, and decided it would be a good show of good will on her behalf as the Soviet appointee to the ACT-F to help.
Lt. Jim Gordon would have recieved a notice that Darkstar of the ACT-F was going to join in, but that doesn't mean he knows what she can do. So perhaps even he will not be certain she was even there.
*
Ford blinked as he noticed the white truck pull up and the light green car slightly down the street… great. Witnesses… just play it cool. Get in, kick his arse, get the job done. Walking up to the shutter, Ford lifted a foot and planted it into the wall of metal. With a mighty *CRUNCH!*, the metal door flew off and into the building, knocking something loose and cutting the grubby lights of the building inside off. Ford popped his knuckles as he went inside, disappearing into the darkness…
After a brief flash of lights through the settling dust and what sounds like something heavy hitting something small, Ford comes flying back out! And keeps going! He continues his arc in the air until he smashes into the building across the street with a mess of bricks and shattered beams falling around him.
And then comes the thumping. The heavy, metallic, absurdly metal-crunching thumping. Bending down to make it under the entrance of the garage, a mass of wrecked old cars, discarded rusty beams, broken bits of wood and glass, and a whole conglomeration of other junk comes through, before standing up and taking a relatively humanoid-esque shape. The broken monstrosity looks to be about 14 feet tall! Sticking close within the mess of garbage, a thick, ugly, misshapen form of a man leers evilly down at Ford. "You shtoo-pid moron! You thought you could jusht come in and wreck my bashe of operationsh?! By yourshelf!? Hah! I will crush you under a mountain of metal before I let you out me!" He turned the big behemoth shape around, shouting back inside. "Okay, boysh! Shtart packing up! Time for ush to relocate while I pummel thish fool!!"
*
Julie's eyebrow shoots up a bit there, what with Ford kicking the door in and subsequently being flung out and across the street. "Mammamia, no wonder that guy's got an attitude to him," …As often has happened, the two likely have no idea of each others' mutancy. Diz keeps her head on a swivel, checking back often to see if Ford actually gets up from that, and reaches under the seat for a …sack of ball-bearings. Tucks it in an inside pocket, which it weighs down. Points at the tailgate window crank, which spins seemingly of its own accord to crank that window down. She doesn't bother to start the engine, just leaves the car in neutral.
*
Garage doors get crunched and then a man flies out, seemingly not of own accord, smashing into a building across the street. "That had to hurt." Colleen mutters as the thumping begins and a Great Trash Heap (TM) appears. She suddenly feels very small, with just her katana to deal with this situation. "Ah, well. Who wants to live forever?" and she moves to try and go past the creature to deal with the "boys" mentioned by the garbage heap.
*
There's that thunder outside and the cops in the meat truck take pause from their hand welded bench seating. This operation was starting to sound a whole lot more dangerous. That's when the man in the white uniform reports in over coms. "Gordon, we've got a capes out here, now or never."
Gordon lets out a low sigh, looking down towards his glow in the dark watch. He thinks for a moment before coming back to a stand. He motions with his hand at the back door of the truck for the two detectives with shotguns to push it open. Except they just stand there, looking concerned for a long moment at the commotion and sounds of bricks slamming down onto the top of the truck. "Boys, this might not be Ohmaha but if we back down now there's still going to be a lot of blood on our hands." His footsteps echoing out on the metal floor of the truck as he marches his way to the back flinging the door open. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I've got enough blood on mine already without letting anyone down."
Gordon, and the other officers jump down out the back of the truck, one at a time. Guns at the ready they fall down in line in front of the truck. They're not a military force, and this isn't Normandy, but they've still got a job to do as NYPD's finest. The officers level their weapons and ready an advance on the main building starting their split to two groups.
*
At first Darkstar was skeptical she would truly be needed at all, but seeing Ford fly at record speed after attempting to get in, her attention is immediately set on the monstrosity created of cars, junks and parts. Still under cover of dark force, she simply flies closer. This is not something the police should have to deal with, and she starts to measure just how the thing is put together, when she applies her own dark force to try and tear apart the would be mecha-zilla into separate parts, pulling individual sections in opposing directions. She figures if it's someone creating this creature with a power, they may not be prepared for her sudden show of force while focused on Ford. Maybe she can break it down before it can hurt anyone.
At the very least, it should freak the creator out, seeing how Darkstar isn't even visible, so he could only surmise Ford is somehow behind it.
*
The Garbage Man takes a thunderous stomp forward, aiming to try and squash Ford as he slowly recovered. Digging himself out of the rubble he found himself flung into, Ford stumbled a bit. Luckily for Julie, she need not rush to his aid. Yet. As Darkstar surmised, the Garbage Man was too focused on Ford to notice that his right arm was being pulled loose… not until it comes off with a thunderous *CLUNK!* Interestingly, the entire scrap pile falls apart once disconnected.
The mutilated man turned to notice his machinations arm had come undone, before reaching his left around to place it lightly on the pile. The junk shudders a moment before gradually lifting up and reassimilating into the scrap monster, forming an extra long arm. Now reformed, the Garbage Man noticed the moving officers, distracting him from Colleen, and lifted his arm up to squash the nuisances! But thankfully, Ford had regained enough of his senses to race over like a blur and catch the arm, grunting as he shifted beneath it, trying to keep it from crushing the cops. "Gah! G..go! I'll handle this!" he urged, slowly pushing the hand back up. Sparks and lights flashed about up the arm, shedding a dim bit of light to the surrounding sky.
As Gordon and Colleen rush inside, they'll find the place darkened by the recent damage both Ford and the Garbage Man have caused. But there is definitely scurrying and shouting in the back. Lowlives barking at each other as they try to work through the dust and dark to gather their drug stock and pile it into wooden crates, hoping to get it all together while their boss deals with the heroes outside.
*
Julie hrms. "They sure do make the bad guys big," she muses, touching her nose, then where the ignition key is, and all the other windows in the car roll down in that funny way. She cocks the wheels and leaves the brake off before slipping out of the car, via window, and starts creeping along other parked cars toward where Ford is, hefting her sack of ball-bearings. 'Gonna get this right, one of these times, really,' Dizzy thinks. The ball bearings start spinning in the sack, and when she gets a bit closer, she dumps them out onto the street: there's a soft 'vrrr' sound as they all begin rolling in more or less the same direction… Toward the underfoot of the metal monstrosity.
*
"Hold it" Colleen calls, hoping she sounds like a policewoman, though probably that's not toi likely. As her eyes adjust she moves quietly towards the nearest thug and tries to straigt kick him in the stomach, then a suitable attack to the head when he bends over in pain.
*
Officers do their best to dive out of the way of the foot that would have likely crushed them just as it's stopped outright. There's a clatter as some of them in the 2nd group go fumbling down to the ground. Their heavy equipment is meant more for protection then it is for agile maneuvers, in fact the stuff weighs about 60lbs per jacket.
The first group however manages to quickly move up the front entrance and into the dark, lead at the front by Lt.Gordon. Flashlight beams shine into the dark as the police shout out that they're with the NYPD with warrants for search and seizure.
Group Two fumbles around for a few moments before gathering themselves back and making for the second entrance to the garage. They manage to take a few potshots on their way along .45 rounds aimed right for the massive hunk of a beast as they make way for cover.
*
The first attempt went according to plan, and judging by the reaction of the Garbage Man, he thought it was a hiccup in his powers, rather than something to be concerned about. So Darkstar lets that illusion linger a while longer, before concentrating a massive force on all sides of the monstrosity, aiming to crush it into a sphere of squished metal. If she wasn't otherwise engaged, she'd make an awesome one woman wrecking crew. The way she sees it either Garbage Man loses his toy, or he desperately tries to fight her immense force without knowing its source. That alone should give the cops all the distraction they need to get inside.
*
Ford struggles to hold up the massive hand of junk, pushing back with enough force to let the officers flee to safety. Their bullets ricochet harmlessly off the giant monster of a metal behemoth. Luckily, Ford doesn't have to keep the force up for too long, as Darkstar's powers begin to push and compact metal and junk into a giant ball, taking a great deal of the pressure off of Ford.
Unfortunately, the Garbage Man seems to realize that something is interfering with his machination… and opts to bail out. Giving a loud roar, the Garbage Man burst forth from the chest of his rusted titan to the streets below, covered in considerably less, but no less dangerous armored plates of loose scrap, broken bumpers and lead pipes, forming a considerable metal form around him. Thankfully, he has landed on a large number of Julie's ball bearings, causing him to slip and lose his balance, toppling forward as Ford leapt on top of him to try and keep him down.
Inside the building, a number of the thugs seem to panic at the sound of the NYPD finest closing in on them. A number emerge from the darkened rooms with metal pipes, wooden planks, and misshapen, haphazard peieces of junk. Evidently, they either didn't expect police involvement, or that their boss would be able to handle things just fine on his own. One poor sap of a thug rushes out of the darkness in a clear attempt to escape, only to have Colleen's foot meet his stomach and knock him to the ground in a heap.
*
Julie ha's a bit, then takes her kerchief down to function as a crude bandit-type mask, tightening it and slipping out near where Ford's got the Garbageman pinned down. As she comes, she peels off a glove and slips a finger into… the string of a yo-yo? She lays that out, walks the dog, with the yo-yo spinning so fast it's gyro-stabilized, then around-the-world *whacks* the villain upside the head, with the well-directed Duncan Imperial. "Hey, there, guy, you need a lift?" she says to Ford.
*
Police? Not a good thing, thinks Colleen. Though she took down a thug, being in the same space as them with a highly-illegal sword is likley to get her arrested too, so she quietly steps out of the warehouse to collect her case and escape the scene before the cops start cuffing people.
*
From Team1 there's a good deal of shouting and flashlights shined right in the eyes of the men with bats. "Down on the ground, drop your weapons or we'll shoot!" Overlapping from several of the officers. Gordon simply raises his Thompson SMG and states. "Next move is yours gentlemen, we've got full authorization to level this place if needed." Of course it's a bluff but still, he does look rather intimidating in the military flackjacket and combat helmet…. Even with his face looking like he'd walked out of a bar fight.
*
Outside, the Garbage Man struggles to try and get back on his marred feet, even though Ford pushes him back down with an occasional pounding. Finally, though, the yo-yo bops him on the head, stunning him into silence for a moment. "…what the-?" But before he can finish his thought, Ford dealt a knock-out blow to the Garbage Man, pounding him unconscious. Standing up and hopping off, Ford nodded to Julie, whistling a low sigh. "That… honestly sounds good to me, if you're headed to East Village… I think the NY Finest can handle the red tape here."
And indeed, the finest of New York are handling things well. After a few brave baddies try to charge the cops and get dropped to the ground, the rest get the picture and quickly drop their weapons, surrendering to the police without much of a fight. Perhaps a few cuss words here and there, but no more brutality. Nobody even seems to notice that Colleen is slipping out under the radar, instrument case and all!
*
Julie nods, "Let's make tracks, then. Anyone else?" She starts scooting back to the Chevy wagon, though, along the sidewalk to avoid notice, before getting in the driver's seat, and waiting for Ford to get in. She just takes the wheel, and reaches a hand forward to turn the front wheels of the car to roll them away silently for half a block before starting the engine. Cause cops, and all. Vroom. By the time she's putting the column shifter into second, she's glancing over to Ford, "You coulda mentioned you had what you got before you went setting up a rumble like that, you know, I though you was gonna get creamed."