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It's dropping from twilight into full night, the line blurred by the buzzing of streetlights overhead at random lengths, as some of them have been knocked out of commission. This leaves pools of shadows and darkness at particular points, such as the mouths of alleys and the occasional empty lot. These are the choice spots for things best left in the darkness, and most citizens skirt around them when they can not fully avoid them.
Of course, then there's Thea. Blonde hair is down in shampoo ad perfect bouncy curls, over the short sleeved violet dress, her matching heels clicking along the broken and cracked sidewalk slabs. Her purse is slung across her body from right shoulder to left hip, and there's the subtle sparkle at her ears, a gleam at her wrist that make her stand out a bit more in the Kitchen. Yet she's not the prey tonight, it seems, as there's a small group of hot-headed young men coalescing around a singular one a half block ahead of the nurse, and the cry for help cut off has her in motion, running towards the fray, rather than away.
Then there's Vic, on the way home from a long day at work. He's missed his first train, so he's catching another line, and that means walking through Hell's Kitchen. Not his usual route, but he knows these streets well enough. He knows to keep his head down, don't make trouble.
He hears the cry for help too, though. Looking up, shaking off his thoughts, he takes off toward the group of hotheads. He runs fast. He's not a blur, but he's faster than people should be. He catches up to the nurse, and he tells her, "I'm going to flank them." Then he veers off so he can approach them from another angle.
Thea is startled by the young man catching up to her, telling her his plan, and then taking off. She's in heels, sure, but she's not a slowpoke! Still, knowing she's not going in alone helps, and she puts a bit more into her stride, all but slamming into the young men to distract them from the flanking. She's separating them by biosigns, and one is already reeling, screaming about his eyes hurting.
Vic comes in from behind, bringing a fist down on the back of one thug's head. He drops like a stone. Speedy boy must have some strength to him, too. That blow was barely a pop to the noggin. He's slowed by having to guess who's who. The next hothead is an obvious aggressor, coming toward him ready to fight. "Guys, knock it off," Vic says as he ducks a swinging knife. Like scolding them is going to make them decide suddenly to stop being violent.
Thea will turn, blond hair swinging out. She's not using her fists, or doing much in the way of dodging, but that aggressor with the knife is going to start stumbling on his feet, his other hand going to his head. A hand will land on Speedy boy's arm, a jerk of her chin to the victim. "Can you get him clear?"
Vic nods sharply. The fact she's got powers is taken in stride. Who's he to judge, yeah? "I got him." He crouches by the victim, shielding him with his body. "Hey," he says, "you're going to be all right, all right?" He gathers the guy up, lifting him like he weighed no more than a child. Which is how he carries him, agile on his feet as another one of the thugs comes at him, and he ducks and dodges, then lands a kick. He's definitely comfortable with himself in physical space. He sets the victim down, then rounds back on the thugs.
Well, Speedy boy had already outed himself to the nurse so.. As the quarry is being lifted and carried, the remaining thugs are torn, confused. Most of them have no interest in really hurting the pretty blond white girl.. but they don't get the same respect. As one yells at her for interrupting, she'll punch him in the throat, and put him on his knees with her powers more than her punch.
Of course, then the gun comes out, and there's a shot at Vic carrying the intended prey.
Vic grimaces, knowing he's going to regret it as he turns, curling around the victim so that the bullet slams into his shoulder instead of the victim's head. Blood blossoms on his white t-shirt. "Run," he whispers to the man, then draws away, muttering under his breath, "Don't be stupid, don't be stupid…" His injured arm he curls to his chest, even as he eyes a dumpster not far away. He doesn't move from playing human shield. He just gestures with his good arm, and the dumpster rises, just a little. Enough that when he makes a sweeping motion, the dumpster flies toward the thug with the gun.
There's a short sound out the blonde nurse, who turns her body away as that dumpster flies. The rest of the thugs are wide-eyed, and before they can start to decide on a course of action, she'll close her eyes and her hands will fist. One by one, in close succession, they'll fall over like dominos in dead faints.
Only then does she open her eyes, looking pale and moving as though she's woozy towards the bullet wounded Speedy boy. "I can help with that. Just let me catch my breath."
Vic nods quickly to Thea, and with the thugs downed, he lets out a hiss of breath and sits himself on the pavement. He looks for the victim to see if he high-tailed it or just hid somewhere to watch. "It's not too bad," he tells her. Drawing his hand away from the wound, he pulls a face. "It's not so good either, but I'm hard to hurt." He smiles, weakly, but there are boyish dimples.
Thea will take a moment, fingers to her forehead, with a deep breath in and out slowly, repeated a few times. She sees their intention of rescue has succeeded for now, the intended victim having beat feet. "Thanks for the help." She says with a smile, before she's moving to kneel on the pavement carefully to look at the gunshot wound. "Let's see how bad it is, hmm?"
Vic's smile broadens as he says, "No problem. I wasn't going to just walk by." His brow knits as he asks, "Are you all right? Don't put yourself out on my account." He leans forward so she can see the wound anyway. It only hit the meaty part of his shoulder, maybe grazed or bruised a bone. This kid's lucky. He's also got a strange physiology. It's hyperactive, knitting flesh pushing on the bullet, striving to expel it. "It hurts is all," he says.
"Lots of people would have. Or walked away." Thea says, looking up and flashing a smile. "Why would I not be all right? I wasn't the one shot, sunshine." She'll wink at him, even as her head tilts and her gaze lowers. "Oooh another healer. I both love and hate you guys." She'll reach into her purse, and using tweezers will pluck out the bullet. She'll lend a short burst to the healing, a warm tingling washing over the sight to numb the pain.
"Who me?" Vic says. "Oh, I don't heal folks so well. I just got this body that doesn't want to quit." It really doesn't. Once the bullet is free, he's an easy patient to mend. His body welcomes the rush of wellness. Vic exhales slowly, relaxing as the pain disappears. "I'm Vic," he says. "Vic Delano. It's nice to meet you, despite the circumstances."
"No, you heal yourself. I heal folks, though. So I envy this sort of healing, just a little bit." There's another smile, as that wound closes up. "Thea Harman. My pleasure, Vic Delano. Are you all right to get up, you think? We probably should be gone before they come to."
Vic nods and pulls himself to his feet. "I was just getting a little woozy from the excitement," he admits. He looks around, sees the thugs are in a dead faint. "Hey, I think I know one of those guys," he says. "He's a creep." He holds his good hand to his shoulder, cradling it so it can heal. And it does, quickly. The bleeding has stopped already, or at least slowed to a trickle. "Yeah, let's beat feet."
"My apartment is just up the block. We can get you cleaned up, get something in your system to help replace the energy you burned. Least I could do for not having to face the thugs alone." She brushes off her dress, her knees, before heels click against concrete again. "You from the Kitchen?"
"Thank you," Vic says fervently. "I'm starving, and I don't need my friends to wonder what happened if I come home with a hole in my shoulder." He settles into a pace to follow her lead. "I used to live here for awhile," he says, looking around the old stomping grounds. "I got moved around a lot as a kid, so I'm kind of from everywhere in the city."
Thea glances up at him, that warm smile surfacing again. "I can tell you're hungry, honey. I probably even have a t-shirt or something you can put on instead of that one. I.. well, I had a friend who used to live on the streets, would bunk on my couch sometimes. I still have a bunch of stuff, just in case he ever comes back.
"You're a good person, Miss Thea Harman," Vic says. "I'll happily take you up on that hospitality. I was kind of peckish before this, and now…" Now there's an audible grumbling in his stomach as it complains for more fuel. This one has a high burn rate.
There's smoky laughter at that statement. "I think good is in the eye of the beholder, Mister Delano. Maybe I just took a shine to you, for not being a scaredy cat." She'll pull her keys out, and start up some stairs. "Besides, I know someone else who can heal himself, and I can see your metabolism is not exactly slow."
"No it's not," Vic says as he lays a hand over his complaining stomach, a sheepish look about him. "It's a good thing I work at a restaurant or I'd be starving all the time. I have a boss who loves to feed people." He grins crookedly. "You're a good person for stopping to help that guy, even if you didn't take a shining to me."
"Well, I can't just let lawlessness abound, now can I?" She'll put her shoulder to the door, because it sticks in the summer, and let him into her small apartment. "Lucky for you, I made dinner and my guest had to cancel. So there's pretty much an entire rack of lamb in the fridge you can eat. With or without the sauce I made to go over top." She'll jerk her keys out of the door, and once he's inside, she'll close it. "I'll hunt you up a clean shirt."
Vic's stomach grumbles again and he murmurs, "Steady there, buddy." His mouth waters, his body betraying him. Rack of lamb? Whimper. "Your guest's loss is my gain," he says. He blushes a little as he takes off his ruined shirt. The youth is in good shape. Greek Adonis type shape. That metabolism isn't messing around about keeping him in good shape. He uses a clean part of the shirt to wipe up the blood left on his skin. "Ugh, my friends would have fits if they saw this."
"Well, it can be our secret." Thea's used to seeing people in states of undress, with her profession, so she will not stare or drool. She will just nicely admire, before she's rummaging in her closet. "I have two choices." She holds a white t-shirt, and a blue button down. "The blue would bring out your eyes."
The youth has enough bashfulness for both of them. He folds his arms over his chest and looks around the apartment with interest. His attention goes to the shirts, and he says, "Oh, that blue shirt's nice. I'd wear that. It looks like it'll fit." He'll be coming home in a different shirt than he left in, but really, who's going to notice?
He can be bashful, because his hostess isn't. "You're pretty close to my friend's size, so I'm sure it will fit. Let me heat up that lamb for you. Would you like something to drink? Water, milk, Coke, or maybe some liquer?"
"I'd take a Coke," Vic says. He buttons up the shirt, smooths it down, and nods to himself. "Yeah, this is good." He tucks it in to look all proper, and now that he doesn't feel so naked in front of a stranger, he relaxes. "Is there something I can do to help? I don't want to impose so much."
Thea moves, humming as she puts the lamb into the oven to warm, the pan of sauce on a burner to heat. She will get a couple bottles of soda out, and pop the tops before moving to offer him one. "You're not imposing if it's offered, Vic. " She offers a smile, before she will move to take a seat on the couch.
Vic takes the offered bottle and grins. "Thank you," he says. He sits as well, relaxing more and more. The wound on his shoulder has stopped bleeding entirely and will be all closed up by the time he gets home if he's lucky. "Well, I think it's very nice of you to invite me in. And it was brave the way you went charging in."
"You helped me, only fair that I feed you." Thea slides her heels off, tucking her feet up underneath her. "It's not bravery, because I'm not afraid. Much."
"I used to be," Vic says. "Afraid, I mean. But once I figured out it's hard to really hurt me badly, I've gotten less afraid. I might've hesitated if I"d seen the guns at first, but I wouldn't have run away. I just would've gone for the dumpster first."
"If I'd seen the gun sooner, you wouldn't have needed the dumpster, so that's kinda on me. I don't need guns or knives, so.." There's a shrug as she drinks her soda, a hand through her hair as she starts to relax. "But if I'd known he had a gun, I would have put him down first."