Moths to the Flame
Roleplaying Log: Moths to the Flame
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

An anti-mutant gathering changes rails

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: December 12, 2019
IC Location: Basement of a Salem Center Liquor Shop
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 12 Dec 2019 22:04
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 violence
Scene Soundtrack: [*\# None]
NPC & GM Credits: NPC Antom Sinterford by Skarp (Made up on the spot)
Associated Plots

* OOC Time: Thu Dec 12 12:42:36 2019 *

* * *

It's a basement in a Salem Center shop, night time. The incandescent bulb overhead is the only light source.
"My pure fellows! The time is coming upon us where we wipe the threat of the impure from the face of the world!" Anton Sinterford says with such practiced vocal volume that he is clearly heard by all in attendance. "For too long these deviants have lived among us, contaminating us, stealing resources rightfully ours!"
His words are met with shouts of like-minded hatred and fear among the fifteen gathered. They were promised something special, and they decided to be in attendance.
"Lurking among us, here, I found one of them! An unregistered!" Anton steps back to a makeshift curtain (a bedsheet). He pulls away the bedsheet to reveal a blonde woman tied to a chair, and she looks unconscious. He picks up a length of old copper piping, "Watch what happens when I touch her with this!" He brings the pipe to rest on the woman's hand, and the moment it touches her skin, it seems to melt, falling to the floor and becoming a solid mass, demonstrated with a kick against the globby mass.
Of course there are horrified gasps.
"So, my fellows, what should be done with this illegal?" Anton shouts, pausing between each of his suggestions to allow for shouts of agreement. "Beaten to death? Hanging? Suffocation? Drowning?"
One of the gathered draws out a gun. "How about I just shoot her?" That one is not known as the smart one of the bunch.

* * *

They say everything happens for a reason. Maybe there's some truth to that, and Ty could be convinced about it tonight. A random teleport landed him in Salem Center where he got to meet some folks that were just like him in a couple different ways… and now this.

The Gould family has history when it comes to the 'Mutant Menace'. Truth be told, the 'Gould Rush' - a string of bank robberies by his parents, some of the first publically known mutants - is part of the reason /for/ hatred like this to be spewed. He'd be the first to tell you he was no hero, but when a face needed punching, he had two fists and no waiting.

So the Iowan made his way to the shop where the meeting was advertised. He'd prepared a bit for this. He picked up a scarf — this is now wrapped around the lower half of his face. He'd also plucked out a business card from one of the other shops in town earlier - this is slid under the door. Once it's on the other side? He switches places with it to get inside, turning around to unlock the door. It wasn't, but… he had to be sure. Just in case.

He's not going to go charging down the stairs just yet, but he will slowly pull open the door to better hear.

…and so that he can touch something /else/ before thinking about going down there.

* * *

Having got some information from a few word of mouths, Paige Guthrie makes her way to the shop that the meeting is being held in. She shed her skin earlier to become a dark haired brunette with green eyes, so that way she won't be visibly recognized. A neat trick she's picked up a few years ago when beta testing her powers. Dressed in a pair of sleek black tactical leggings and a matching top beneath a leather jacket with a bright yellow X belt on, she slowly pulls a mask over her face.

As she comes to the door, she takes in a deep breath, then steps forward to 'ram' her shoulder against it to pop it open, not knowing Tyler is right behind him. As she hits it, the weight behind it will be a bit more 'stronger' than her normal body. She's yet to yank her skin off, but she's titanium beneath it, enough weight to be able to pop it free.

Today, she is a hero. Not a teacher.

* * *

The entry and slow approach by the teleporting Gould goes unnoticed by the rally attendees. "Put that thing away before you shoot your eye out," Anton tells the handgun holder. "Bullets won't work. She does that to anything metal. Like Magneto's kid sister or something." Anton spits.
The blonde woman in the chair moves her head slightly. Most of the gathered are looking at the gun holder, who holsters the weapon sheepishly. "Is this going to take very long?" the chair-bound woman asks. "I promised to not make a mess of you cretins."
"You shut your damn mouth!" Anton shouts at her, drawing his fist back and sending a message to her face with his knuckles.
"That's two," the blonde mentions, taking the hit and turning to look back at Anton. She spits blood out. "Do you ever punch something that punches back? Just wondering."
Anton draws his fist back again, furious with the reaction. The woman's eyes narrow, and she braces for impact.

* * *

Tyler had planned on a stealth attack. He figured he could get in, and make some noise once he got down there with the element of surprise.

So much for that plan!

Spinning around on his heel, he looks towards the newcomer. Quick assessment time. Funky outfit. Nice shape. Probably one of those supers. What the 'x' is for, he's not sure. "Downstairs." he offers. He's going to guess that she's not on the targets' side. They'd probably be beating her the same way it sounds like they're beating someone downstairs. Without another word, he walks over to tap the cash register and grab a bottle of wine, and then charges down through the open basement door. Stairs meet adrenaline, there's a brief look at the situation and an action that comes without much thought.

There's a fellow standing (Anton) near a woman who's tied up, and he's going to guess she's the innocent here. So the bottle of wine is being chucked by a pitcher's arm towards Anton. "Hey, I want a refund!" he yells, voice muffled by said scarf.

Also, about halfway through the toss? The wine bottle is replaced by the register, still flying with the same speed. Can't waste good wine, can we?

* * *

There is a look of surprise upon Paige's face as she spies Tyler from behind the door. There's only a few seconds to assess the situation before she gives a firm nod of her head. Same side. She follows after him, waiting for him to make the first move as he chucks the bottle of wine.

As she moves forward, she growls out in a smoky voice full of southern twang. "Ya'll better let the girl go, or else it's gonna get mighty uncomfortable in here for everyone."

With that, she reaches down and tears the skin off her arms, revealing the bright shining surface of titanium as well as long spikes that jut out from them, razor sharp and gleaming.

"And fo' th' record? Ah'm bullet proof."

* * *

Anton turns before he can finish his next punch against person he is relatively certain can't fight back. "More of them! Damn mut—" and then he learns how momentum works as the mass of wine bottle becomes mass of cash register while keeping up the smaller object's speed. He doesn't have a lot of time to think about it as the register and its unearned velocity collids with his chest and he's sent against the wall.
The blonde in the chair spits out blood again, watching Anton fly before her head turns to view the chaos of the gathering. Fifteen perfectly able bodied locals out for one woman's blood.
The one with the pistol runs to where the blonde sits, putting pistol in hand again while the others react with different degrees of hateful slurs, threats, and only a couple who actually go for the attack as they rush Tyler and not Paige. She's got sharp things. The guy with the gun points it at the blonde's head. "You just back the hell away or I blow 'er brains out!"
"Really, I'm to let this one live and go on to have and teach children…" the blonde mutters as something unseen cuts through the ropes binding her to the chair without making a show of it. The bindings just fall off in several pieces. "I don't know what your name is, so I will continue to call you Cretin," she informs the gun-toter. "Put your gun down, Cretin, and be smarter than you look."
"Hell with you!" Cretin says, using both hands to hold the gun steady and committing to the trigger-pull movement.

* * *

The accent Tyler hears from behind him is definitely familiar, but maybe this area is like… Little Kentucky? The boy can't really say he knows a ton about the areas in the state, especially one he's only recently visited. Still, whoever this girl is, bullet proof is a good thing to have in an ally.

Chaos erupts. There's times that he wishes he could teleport freely and just go wherever he wanted, but that's not how Tyler's powers work. "Do I look like I'm coming near—"

Of course, any answer's cut off by the fact that he's being rushed. Timing is everything with these sorts of things. So he's going to wait the extra couple seconds before they're about to make contact with him and… *switch*

Tyler and the register trade places, this time. Which means that bodies or fists or whatever was going to strike the Iowan are going to collide with steel instead. Also means that he's a whole lot closer to the girl and the gun toter than he'd intended. "…well, shit, guess I am!"

Thinking during battle isn't really his strong suit. It literally gets weaker as the battle goes on. So what's a boy to do? He's going to lunge at the gun wielder in a standard tackling manner.

* * *

When Tyler swaps places with the register, the mob is met instead by an angry Husk as she steps forward with a sneer upon her masked face. She grabs the first person who is the closest by the shirt, yanking him upwards and over her head as she lobs him into a wall with a crack of plaster and drywall.

With a yank of skin again, her left arm becomes molten fire as the room erupts in crackling heat and smoke. "Ya'll talk 'bout purifying quite often don'tcha'? Know what's the best way of doing that? Fire. Now, unless ya'll want to become barbecued racists, ah'll implore ya'll ta' get the /fuck/ out of here."

Her body is glowing brightly in flaming titanium as she faces down the crowd while keeping Tyler in her periphrial vision. At any point he doesn't have this handled, she will intervene.

"GET OUT." She hollers once more to the mob.

* * *

Cretin marks Tyler's second direct victim of momentum-based violence. The gun fires, but the bullet doesn't hit anyone. The two that had rushed Tyler are confused. One moreso when Husk takes hold of him and gives him over to the great and mighty wall. The crowd seems to have a reasonable response to the order to leave, and other than the fallen Anton and tackled Cretin and the current wall-man, they comply, though they do it with nasty looks on their faces.
The blonde woman leans to make contact with the copper goop pile, which liquifies at her touch, then forms into a rapier. The rapier slides its tip into the gun's trigger guard, which seems to liquify that along with the sword all in one goopy mass, which remains liquid as she holds it up, suspended. "I made a promise not to kill them," she informs, looking between her rescue party members. "I do admire your style," she adds toward Husk.
Given the choice, Cretin certainly wants to leave. Everyone but Anton does, and Anton is still down.

* * *

The change in positions gives Tyler a viewpoint that he hadn't had before. The kind that sees Husk as woman of metal and flames, and… is that flesh on the ground? "Oooh, pretty. Dirty mouth, though. I like it!" he calls in her direction. Because of course this is an appropriate time for flirting. Especially when you've burned a couple braincells 'porting around.

Of course, this position is /also/ on top of Cretin, who's now begging to leave. Tyler gives a shrug, places a hand on the man's face, and switch! Cretin is where the register was, free to leave. Tyler, meanwhile, is on top of the register and about to push some buttons… before he notices that there's a cord hanging out of it. Pushing buttons will do nothing. So he'll get up, instead.

"Guess you gotta keep a promise," is offered to the blonde in Tyler's own Midwestern accent, "You okay? You've got… uh… red stuff. Wait. Did you get fries down here? Can you /make/ fries inside your mouth? Or just ketchup?"

This Tyler is currently experiencing technical difficulties. Normal service will resume shortly.

* * *

"Don't make this weird, Sling-Shot." Paige codenames Tyler with an amused smirk on her face as she watches the last of the jerks run out the door. Once she is sure they are safe, she reaches up to her head and gives herself a hard tug, ripping her body away to reveal her normal self beneath her black uniform. She drops her skin to a pile on the ground, then stomps on it with her boot as it starts to dissolve. She's back to her blonde hair and blue eyes with only the mask covering her eyes.

"Ya' okay?" Husk asks the new face as she turns towards the girl, lifting her brows upwards curiously. "You have some interesting gifts there. Turning things inta' liquid, kinda like th' Terminator." She at least gets pop culture references and isn't a total hick.

"Ah'm Husk. I got some friends in low places that dropped ah' tip that something was going down here and ah've been eyeballing these jerks for weeks now."

* * *

The mass in the blonde's hand becomes a second chair, made of metal entirely. She looks like she's about a decade over 'girl', and only her right arm happens to do any moving. "He hits like a child unsure of his ability. I'm fine. I've been in that chair all too often." Her head bobs in acknowledgement to the introduction. "My name is Karin," which sounds a lot like Karina without the A at the end. "You sound a lot like a gentleman I met here. A massive coincidence I'm sure."
A perplexed look is momentarily afforded for Tyler. "Are you genuinely unaware of what blood is?" she asks.

* * *

"But it's already…" …and cue the resume of normality. Fortunately, Tyler /hadn't/ been throwing cars around, so the mental lapse was more momentary than extended. Giving his head a quick shake to clear up the cobwebs, he refocuses his gaze and turns next to Karin.

"No, I mean, yeah, I do. Just rattled my head a little when I fell on the one guy. Nothin' serious, or new." he replies, shrugging a bit before moving over towards the fallen Anton. "I'm Sling-Shot, like the lady there said." Better than giving his real name out with a foe still around, even if the lights are out. "Shame for him that cash registers don't hit like children. "Glad you're alright, even if I woulda liked to be earlier. They just… nab you off the street or somethin'?"

* * *

It's not that Paige is without empathy, even for assholes. She kneels down next to the knocked out man to check his vitals and to ensure that he is breathing. "Ah'm gonna call 911 and let 'em know that there was a potential kidnappin'. This guy needs help. His skull may be cracked. Ah' can change forms so he won't even recognize me if he wakes up if ya'll wanna get out of here."

She pushes up to her feet, dusting herself off a few times. There is a glance about the room as if to size it up. "This could be a safe house for these guys too. Prolly best ah' keep an eye on it for ah' few weeks from here out jus' in case they drag someone else down here." With that, she picks the man's pocket to fetch his wallet, searching for ID.

* * *

Karin's look when Tyler tries to explain his mental lapse is one of incredulity. "They did not nab me," she replies. "I make a habit of knowing who the biggest and loudest of the local bigots is wherever I go and provide a little demonstration so they have a target." Anton feels like he was struck by something unreasonably heavy. Nothing broken but a good bonk on the noggin. His personal details are easily available to Husk. "I do thank you both for the effort. Not killing them all provided few options."

* * *

Tyler… is less empathetic. Or at the very least, not thinking about it at the moment. The people on the receiving end of his punishment? Yeah, they're bad people who've earned a bad thing or two coming their way. To Karin, first, "…oh. So you're sayin' you basically made yourself bait, so you could beat the tar and-or scare the shit out of anyone who had their brains on wrong? Well, guess it's effective enough to gather a crowd." Maybe not the safest choice, though. "…and… no problem, I think?" Pretty sure they're still the good guys in all this. Maybe just not squeaky clean. Then to Husk, "I'd ask if you'll be alright on your lonesome, but…" …well. He's seen her in action. He's got confidence she can handle herself, especially against just one wounded foe. "…might be a good idea. Miss Karin, did you want to get goin'?"

* * *

"Seriously? You used yourself as freakin' bait? Why? That's /how/ mutants get a bad rep'. You gotta be bettah than that. /We/ are bettah than that." Paige says with frustration in her voice as she wrinkles her brow. "Don't give these guys a reason to get even more mad and then go out hurting more people. All you do is make their voice louder and you give their case more substance."

"Next time, they may grab ah' little girl off the street who can't defend themselves, then what? Ah' may not be 'round ta' help her." Obviously she is considering herself the hero here. Sling-Shot? Totally vigilante. She tucks the ID into her thin pocket of her uniform, then gives a motion of her hand.

"Go on, ya'll. Ah'll at least make sure this guy gets locked up and he gets his just desserts. Just be careful." She gives a squint of her eyes to Tyler thoughtfully. "Good job by th' way."

* * *

Definitely vigilante. Hero requires a certain… je ne sais quoi that has to be learned, and Tyler is more of a wrecking ball compared to Paige's finesse. With a nod to the younger blonde, he starts to make his way towards the exit. "Same to you, Husk." At least he has the good sense to use her codename instead of her real name, now that he's able to put the pieces together. He knows /that/ much about the super-types. "…I should probably clean up a bit upstairs, just to cover our tracks a bit." and if he isn't stopped? He's exiting, stage left to do just that.

* * *

Karin asks of Husk. "Do you honestly believe I was their first? I was this dreaded "next time". And because they survived, they will do this again, and their next pick will certainly be someone less capable of retaliation." She inclines her head. "What is it you believe I did, I wonder, that would make someone else suffer when they would not otherwise."
Karin takes the metal chair in hand, turning it into a mass of liquid again which flows beneath her clothing, unseen. "I will show you what I did to get their attention." A small glob flows into the palm of her hand, changing to a tiny toy car. She sets that down on the right arm of the chair she had been bound to, then she walks, deliberately toward the door.

* * *

"It's not the point. You start killing humans, next thing you know, it gives the government a /good/ reason to take action against us. Start rounding us up into slave camps, instead of just trying ta' register us like pets." Husk says with a scowl.

"Trust me when ah say that the road ta' murder doesn't work out in anyone's favor. It's not us against them. It's all of us against the stupid mentality that we are not equals. We can change their minds and laws with action. Yah' don't do it by spillin' blood. You don't wanna be th' poster child for why these guys do what they do."

As she grabs the knocked out man, she hefts him into a seat, then ties his wrists behind his back. Sliding her phone out, she dabs 9-1-1 and starts to talk to them in a clear, non-twang voice.

"Hi there. I want to report a crime.." She watches Tyler and Karin head off, pursing her lips together thoughtfully for a moment before she continues to give the story.

* * *

"It has been made a crime to exist here based on traits that are out of our control. Why do you believe they will not simply move on to gathering up regardless? After all, there are so many of us breaking the law by choosing not to abide by tyrrany." Karin offers gently. "I hope for a better future. But hope and expectations do not match."

* * *

Karin makes her way up to where Tyler is. "If you have the time, Sling-Shot, I am curious to know your thoughts."

* * *

"Sure, I've got a bit of time." At least until Tyler finishes cleaning up. The cash register, for one thing, is already in place. He's looking for the spot that he took the wine bottle out of at the moment. "Thoughts on what? Life, the universe, everything?"

* * *

"About learning to adapt to a weapon before it is deployed in overwhelming amounts," Karin replies. "About your feelings on the registration law that plagues this region. You seem to have a desire to act in your interests. Perhaps ours are similar."

* * *

Tyler pauses for a moment, tapping his chin. "I suppose it's always a good idea to know /how/ to fight something, or someone, that might threaten you." he offers, side-stepping around to find… there's the spot. There's then a glance towards the door, can't really do much about /that./ "The registration law, frankly, is a load of crap… and I can't say I've even been shy about standing up for myself when I needed to." With his family connections, the anti-mutant activists strike close to home. So they count.

* * *

"I intend to learn how to bring down some certain autonomous large robotic weapons with deadly efficiency," Karin says. "And I feel that knowledge can be earned with a series of tests regarding reaction time and careful splitting of enemy forces." She walks toward the door. "Your ability is not something I fully understand. Would you be willing to help me with that?"

* * *

Tyler raises a brow. Well. That could… definitely be helpful. "I won't lie, I don't know about actually going out and fighting one of those things… but if learning more about what /I/ do helps folks do it… I don't see the harm." he admits, before digging into a pocket to pull out a pen, and walking over to collect the business card that he used as a key earlier. Taking a moment to scribble his number down on it. "Tell you what. You find a more… private place for me to show off? I'll put on a show. You can call or text me with the details. Sound fair?" he asks, offering the card. It's for a local bakery with no connection to him, and he signed it 'Slingshot'.

* * *

Karin smiles. "You speak as though it would be down to you and I against such a menace. No. First, a team must be compiled. I foresee a series of specific abilities required. In no way do I demand anything of you." She creates a metal business card shaped plate with rounded edges with a contact number embossed on it. "I look forward to learning more."

* * *

"Well, heaven knows I know plenty about teams — try and stay out of trouble for a while, y'hear?" Pause. "Well, out of /too/ much trouble." With that said, Tyler steps through the open door frame and makes his way towards his next destination.

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