12368/It Came From the Not-Very Deep!

It Came From the Not-Very Deep!
Date of Scene:	09 August 2022
Location:	Cherry Hill Fountain
Synopsis:	DOne!
Cast of Characters:	Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Donovan Rowland, Pietro Maximoff

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Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Some days, all a girl wants is a proper meal. Some days, all she's going to get is an interruption. One of the cafes near Central Park is predictably well-reviewed, overpriced, with a line out the door. Somehow, with a nose wiggle and a lot of patience, Wanda has managed to acquire the Holy Grail. The prize of prizes, the song of songs. A meatball stromboli. Listen to anyone rant or rave about Italian food and the doughy confection stuffed by handmade meat-za happiness, swaddled in melted cheese and boiling-hot lava tomato sauce, is perfectly delightful. Beyond delightful. Authentic. Worth the twelve bucks and the two hour wait before they sell out of their freshly made strombolis; that's it for the day, the forlorn news spread by sign, word of mouth, and social media.

It really isn't cheating to show up early several times in a month. No use of her powers gets Wanda to her happy place, but she snags two of the last meals before the order window shuts and disappointment settles in the gloom. Limit two, and limit two she has, strolling through the park in an air of contentment and ridiculously saucy smells wafting from the scorching treats folded in foil.

Thus she has to pick a path, weaving to the lake, in no apparent rush. Neither are the sunbathers, people walking their dogs. Not the rollerbladers, who can't make the sport cool. Not the kids frolicking on the waterfront, being told to stay out of the water no matter how hot it is. Water choked in weeds, ducks, goose droppings, and the occasional lily pad present a barrier to swimming, anyway. Or it should.

But that isn't true for what waits beneath...

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff is currently along on one of these quiet days as well. If one had to ask the redhead whether it was for business or professional purposes, she would smile in that 'I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you' expression on her face as she would be wearing a wifebeater, hair tusseled up, and wearing a Red Sox baseball cap with the year that the Sox had beaten the Yankees in the World Series. If anyone was going to send so much of any bit of attention her way, it would have been with swears or perhpas a punch or two, depending on what team they were rooting for.

Sipmlicity itself had made for whatever her goals had been, and for the very rare bit of smugness one could pick up from the casually dressed woman, one might likely not have the slightest clue she was enjoying herslf; or whatever role she was playing today was.

Donovan Rowland has posed:
Finally... some space. Having been holed up in his apartment for the past week while moving in, Donovan is finally out in the park where he feels much more at ease, with fresh air and room to breathe. Now *this* was what he was hoping to do when he moved to New York.

He looks rather unassuming save for his looming height and build, though perhaps oddly dressed for a hot day in a long brown coat and sort of old-fashined work wear. For a retiree, he sure looks like he's on duty, walking while slightly absorbed in a small notepad in his hand, the page before him covered top to bottom in small, immaculate handwriting. This excursion into the park isn't exactly for work, but he'd recently gotten a basic foothold as a freelancer for fun, and the environment does wonders to clear his head and sort out the facts.

Walking around the waterfront without a care in the world, he slowly strolls, glancing between his notepad and his phone and occasionally casting a glance out across the water. He looks somewhat tired, but content and satisfied now that he's gotten himself settled.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The strombolis are too hot for Wanda to consider eating without the intervention of mutation or magic, and sometimes that's just not cool. Having sworn off cheating at getting lunch, she won't break her golden rule to enjoy the fruits of her labours. She stops when she reaches the edge of the long rolling lawns, possibly contemplating shucking her sandals. But then she shakes her head, clearly thinking the better. There could be needles or pointy rocks or abandoned Kree tech in them there mowed bluegrass. Not a wise idea.

Picking out her path comes easily, considering she's unencumbered by a backpack or a purse. Indeed, it's only her coral sundress and sandals to worry about, the shimmering murmur of a subtle few metal stars hanging off the hem that gives any noise or trouble for her. If she spots Natasha among many other people, she gives no sign. Her focus is on a free bench closer to the water that no doubt anyone closer will pounce on in a second.

As someone does, flopping down, bag thrown to claim the remaining meter as if New Yorkers can't share.

Karma works out in a funny way. A bulge appears under the water. It's not crazy large or high, but it slowly spreads toward the lily-choked shore.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
It takes a moment for Natasha to notice Wanda and then acknowledge her, though there's no direct approach. Just a silent nod to her fellow Avenger, a confirmation of her own presence, and a quick check to see ifshe's needed or not. seh can appreciate quiet time herself and the understanding that one doesn't wish interruption during it.

Despite the fact she would say she doesn't need any hereslf. Though withb what Yelena was doing recently that might come into question..

She's walking along, going past where Donovan is at a casual jog that would take her parallel in course and if not immediately gestured at going past Wanda's relaxing position at a slow movement. Just another person going through the park.

Donovan Rowland has posed:
Donovan hasn't a clue about any of it. He's lived a quiet life away from big cities up until now - up in the forestal reaches of Massachusetts, where the most that concerned him were small-time stories and moderate little scoops in Boston. He just keeps walking slowly, but as Natasha jogs by him, he looks out over the water again absently and notices a... thing, coming closer, not a very large thing but a noticeable bulge in the water's surface nonetheless. He assumes at first that it's just a ripple in the water, but seeing its movement, he then takes a couple of superstitious steps away from the shoreline, visibly unnerved.

While he doesn't directly gesture to Natasha or Wanda, he generally motions to the water and vocalizes in a raised voice, in the way a stranger would when trying to point some small attention to something. "Hey, the hell is that...?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Everyone needs company and a good meal, just not necessarily at the same time or right this instant. Wanda gets closer to a green spot on the lawn where she chooses to sit with her purloined Italian lunch for six, because honestly, one of those is enough to feed her and Natasha for the day. Not that it halts her eyes from shining in anticipation, golden-green in anticipation.

She salutes with her foil-wrapped container to the red-headed assassin. She is hard to miss when knowing what to look for. But the stromboli threatens to erupt with tomato sauce, spice, and all the joys of Italian cookery. At least the Neapolitan kind. She sighs in satisfaction... a moment too soon. Donovan isn't far off and thus his question really is audible to her. Habit brings her to pause, looking for the source of the question. The man's outstretched arm helps guide her focus to the mass of water rapidly reaching the shallow shoreline forged when they deliberately made the lake in the park.

Waters that have hosted all kinds of thrilling adventures like sunken toy boats, forks, beer and pop cans, and seven weed-ridden e-scooters start to tower up in a horrid wave. It isn't pretty or exactly threatening like Kanagawa, but one of the abandoned, misused scooters goes flying at a pair of staring diners. The watery surge brings the trinkets of the misused waters out to splash on the beach.

Well, what counts as a beach. A lawn, a slope, a marsh? It's now probably pretty marshy!

Pietro Maximoff has posed:
The blur that was Pietro had a mission today - to find his twin to deliver some news. He'd put it off long enough, and it was time for him to fess up to Wanda. It wasn't too hard for him to find her, truthfully - the twins had always shared a connection. His run brought him to Cherry Hill - Quicksilver slowing down just enough as to not cause a disturbance to those enjoying a nice summer day.

Striding up towards Wanda, he offers a wave and nod in greeting to the Scarlet Witch. The same is offered to Natasha, in turn.

His eyes follow where Wanda is looking, noting the... trash tsunami? "Did I interrupt?"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
And there's Pietro. It takes but a moment to recognize the blur. It is a blue streak that speeds by, too fast for the naked eye, after all. So that has Natasha's curiousity, at least to head on over to investigate. The two siblings together meant that some sort of mischief was afoot. So, it behooved her to keep abreast of whatever there was.

So, with a quick gesture of her eyes over at Wanda and Pietro that would be a request for permission to approach, if given so the redhead would approach after taking out a large, recently purchased large salted concoction which she would go to start to nibble on over while moving towards the duo inquisitively while glancing over at the small changes in the water.

Donovan Rowland has posed:
Donovan's mildly quizzical expression becomes twinged with disgust as trash starts to dump onto the shore, the strange swell of water starting to cough out what had been thrown into it dating back years ago. Seeing the scooter fly out at a pair of diners alarms him to the point of taking this more seriously, though, and he acts quickly, discreetly morphing his legs and a single arm for just a second into their stronger forms, making sure they're hard to see under his coat sleeves and long pants, and moving to try to catch the scooter before it hits the diners. Those e-scooters were dense, after all, and everyone knows how badly slamming the edge of a scooter into your ankle hurts.

He unshifts a moment later, looking around nervously, and then carefully approaches the water afterwards, removing his coat and tossing it aside. He peers closer, trying to see if there's something physically inside the water that's throwing these things out.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The scooter isn't exactly heavy but it's long enough to ding someone painfully in the head if they're not watching. The long handlebars easily tangle fleeing legs, and the summer's worth of lake weeds tangled with other sludge and trash are thoroughly unpleasant. Donovan is probably fast enough to intercept one of the coughed-up scooters, though another gets shoved along by the surge to trip a scrambling guy in shorts and a crypto t-shirt. He topples, shouting. "Damn it! The lake's alive!"

Another wavelet spits out lost garbage, followed up by a broad, low arc of something building up a few feet. The shopping cart that has no explanation how it got there comes roaring out like an avenging... rusty.. box on wheels? They can workshop it.

Whatever is under the water generates enough force to shove the trash out and swamp low-lying areas, though it isn't pulling anything back in deliberately except water, the occasional towel and a screaming toddler's bucket. By the look on the mom's face, maybe she wishes the toddler were taken to the deep too. "Maahhh buckey! Noooo!" splits the gurgling backdrop in a snotty, screaming tantrum.

"I brought you lunch," Wanda says, fully aware of the prize she is sharing with her brother when he's all of a sudden there. Like State Form... or is Pietro more of the All-State mayhem monster? She hands over the piping stromboli in its foil wrapper, unable to do more than bite the corner of hers. Pity since the water is encroaching rather quick, though not with the volume enough to flatten them. Wet her ankles and soak her feet, sure! Nothing like getting out of the way, which in her case means launching herself up and hanging in mid-air like she has another set of steps. "No, not an interruption at all." Her eyes narrow. "You don't think I did this, do you?" Oh, a twin's suspicion of another!

Pietro Maximoff has posed:
A sandwich handoff - Pietro is prepared, powering through half of it before pausing. The glory of speed and a matching metabolism. Natasha gets a nod, indicating she's welcome - no private hijinks today! "Not specifically you that did this... but perhaps something that might be upset with you?" He grins to Wanda. "We do tend to have varying sized targets on us, due to career choices and family."

Quicksilver sighs, looking down at the sloshing water over his feet. "Do you suspect there's a Loch Ness down there? In the lake?" He asks, peering out to where the water seems to be swelling from. "It looks like it is tidying up it's home, if so." A motion to the trash that is now strewn over the beach. "And, thank you for the lunch of course. When we've sorted out this mess... I have news for you."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Whatever sort of little things are afoot here are merely some games at most. And hopefully just Wanda enjoying herself. Natashag oes over towards the siblings and then muses, "Yes, just a shame of what people throw away an dleave." The crying child has her attention. "And it looks like some people need to be more mindful of their belongings."

Natasha is not one of those that has a soft spot for children. They are to be seen and not heard. But she's like that with most people after all.

"And we all do have our own pursuits in life. And all of us have things which.. Lend varying levels fo frustration. And I don't know.. This all seems to be merely so coincidental. There can't really be anything more to it." Her taking a bite of her large pretzel.

Donovan Rowland has posed:
Donovan looks between the angry swell of water and the only three people who don't seem very perturbed by this, aghast. Given that one of those people is just standing in mid-air, though, he suspects that there's something *very* amiss here, whether or not it's related to... whatever the hell is going on over there. "The hell aren't they takin' this seriously for," he mutters to himself, glancing at them with a mix of confusion and mild agitation before turning back to the water.

Seeing the gross water start to lap at his shoes, he grumbles to himself as he rolls up his sleeves, bending down with a short grunt to roll up his pant legs as well. "Good grief... fine, then. Drag in somethin' yer own size, then." He removes his shoes and puts them up with his coat on a bench, cracking his neck and his knuckles and taking a couple of deep breaths before wading in towards the thing in the water, determined to figure out what it is. He closes his eyes for a moment and shoves his hands in his pockets; both glow faintly, obscured by his eyelids and his pant pockets, and he discreetly uses his power mentally maps out the park, including the lake, to see if something might have made a den there long-term.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Pietro is probably one with the sharp hearing, Natasha with the ability to read lips. Wanda forgets about her lunch for the water that surges past and retracts, leaving piled garbage, heaps of silt, and other gunk that has escaped the bi-decade cleaning regimen of the city. The Maggia and Kingpin probably don't welcome anyone scrounging around the lake, given its secrets.

"Careful, it might be too dangerous to swim!" she warns anyone heading for the water. That would be Donovan, though she turns a meaningful look on her brighter twin. She might even tap her toe. "I'll hold the water back if you want to help. You can share the news!" Since when does he do one thing at a time? Her warning sounds to Natasha, "Watch out for the trolley!" Blame the days -- years -- they spent in Europe. The terms for shopping carts aren't familiar, not quite.

The lake goes flat for a moment, all ripples and confused waves, scum a foam that's knocked against the rocks. It's hard to spot a darker blob of water among the basin, but it's there, swirling around like a danger noodle from hell. Probably eight feet long, no thicker than a signpost or a sapling. The shape excitedly rolls around on the relatively smooth lake bottom, scouring away clouds of polluted dirt and algae-ridden trash, sending up a bloom that all its thrashing whisks away. Side slaps knock up the heavier objects to be escorted to the surface, where it summarily lobs them out.

Mr. Clean, Snakey Clean, the lake-scouring machine?

Pietro Maximoff has posed:
Well, dang it. Someone is going in? Pietro sighs, finishing the last of the sandwich. Sorry, Wanda. Dusting his hands off, he begins moving. "If you part the water, you might upset Nessie." Then he's off towards the lake, running laps around it as his speed increases. Light steps carry him over the water, as he closes in the spiral. "Hopefully the snake is not... well, they are all carnivores, aren't they?" He muses.

Round and round he goes - not seeking to cause a whirlpool or water spout - but to keep others clear as he gets nearer to the center. Several times he passes by Donovan, speaking quickly - doppler effect and all.

"What..."

"Is..."

"Your..."

"Plan?"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Oh, how lovely. No wit's time for entertainment! Natasha goes to watch over for a few moments, "I'm not going in there." The Russian woman would go kindly,"I've been in sewers that seemed to be more hygenic." This was why no one ever wanted toj oin her in field assignments. She would watch over as things would start to rise up and out.

She can't help herself, but she does take a very large bite o fher pretzel while watching. This does seem very much entertaining and she's in need of a good show. And she hasn't gotten to needle Tony over in what feels like -days-.

Watching over at Donovan, quickly defaulting to Pietro handle it and then looking to see what heinous things came to rise up and out of it. What was life without something interesting giong on?

Donovan Rowland has posed:
Donovan stares wide-eyed as a blur starts to circle him, the blur eventually forming into a flickering *person*. He'd never seen someone move so fast in his life, but after a couple of moments he replies. "My plan? I'm gonna climb in there and try to rip it apart," he growls, looking down into the water. "Just needs a good slice to the head."

Now aware that those around him, at least, don't mind powers, he allows his arms to transform again, the skin rippling and sprouting a thick carpet of coarse old fur, his muscles bulging and fingers forming wicked claws. "How else am I supposed to kill that thing?" He shrugs and continues to wade into the water, trying to see if it'll come closer to the surface before he goes any deeper into the trash-filled marsh.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Oh, so the assassin isn't coming in? That's okay, the shopping cart comes flying out on the next wave as the eager cleaning of the noodle involves a tail-smack that sends it hurtling off the shore. Meanwhile, as Pietro whirls around the lake, the skinny ribbon of water eagerly twirls around itself to form a tight little ball nestled against the partially cleared lake bed about twelve feet down. When curled up, it's not really any larger than a basketball. A lumpy basketball, but one that can wind itself particularly tight. It seems totally unconcerned by the speedster or by Donovan warning things. Going through the water does unfortunately mean getting coated in a layer of slime, floating particulates, and possibly a few years' worth of dissolved bread, candy, and pop. This is just how New York rolls.

Nope, he's going to have to swim out there to attract any attention from the happy water noodle going about its housekeeping. The waves ripple and slop over a few built-up concrete walls that allow for drainage. Several people fleeing down the path continue to yell about monsters and it not being safe, but an eight-foot-long ribbon of water in a lot more water isn't much of a danger to New York itself.

"Brother. What /news/?" Wanda's emphasis comes brightly over the gurgling noise, and probably she assumes throwing her voice will eventually catch up with her twin. She takes a bite of her stromboli, its meatball happiness still plenty hot. Ouch, burnt roof of the mouth for that. Still, chewing is worth it. Her hand rises out in front of her as she shoves back pooled water into the lake itself. "Maybe Pietro could carry it to a /smaller/ lake. One on Long Island? I hate to just let the thing be killed."

Pietro Maximoff has posed:
"Why... attack... is... it... a... threat?" The blur asks of Donovan. It's not a malicious question, just a general query. "Or... protecting... it's... home? Nest?" He keeps a good distance from the curled up serpent, not wanting to disturb the lake occupant. "Could... have... eggs?"

A look to the shore, the man peering to his sister. "Snake. Possible nest?" He offers over the communicators that the lucky Avengers often have. The man shrugs, not entirely interested in killing a snake at the moment. "Maybe transplant it?"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff Would tap at her chin and finally offer, "But it could be an invasive species. Like those giant pythons over in Florida in the everglades. So it could have huge numbers of eggs. And snakes don't particularly leave nests or show any inclination towards interaction with their offspring."

They tended to at least no teat thier offspring depending on who hatched first, so that may be a somewhat better biological imperative?

"And if you want to keep it by all means. I'm sure you would look rather terrifying going out with it wrapped all the way aroumnd you."

Donovan Rowland has posed:
"Uh, yeah, it's a threat. We're lucky it didn't drag that toddler in or really hurt someone with all the random stuff it's slingin'. If you really wanna transplant it, though, maybe take it somewhere big that won't get polluted so easily. Think it's pissed because of all the trash down in its place. If it goes back to a smaller lake or a pond, it'll just happen again." Donovan cracks his neck, his objective changing from 'kill the thing' to 'subdue it so it can be moved.'

"Right. I'm goin' in." He swims out further into the lake, peering down into the depths to try to get a read on its position. Seeing it balled up, he supposes this is the perfect opportunity to try to nab it, and once he's directly overhead to it, he covers his nose, closes his eyes, and swims down, mentally using his power of location to sense exactly where the creature is without moving. Provided it doesn't strike, he would attempt to gently scoop it up in his hands and swim back up to the surface, or at least get it closer.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"Are you sure it is even a snake? It doesn't look like it has any scales," Wanda sounds dubious about the threat of an invasive species. Her eyes take on that faint glow, smudged in the glowing embers of a cigarette butt or the rime of sunset on a widow's walk. Her head tilts a fraction, and she drops to the soggy ground next to Natasha. Clearly the threat of the noisy, dangerous water serpent isn't severe.

Really, it's the cart that comes crashing down near Natasha or just about on her that is.

The witch knows that shopping cart is landing hard, but her power tends to give all the information at once. She mostly has to scamper to the side to avoid being flattened, frowning a smidge. The native Transian lilt of her accent becomes pretty audible when she speaks again, poisoning the English with its own slant. "It's not an animal. I don't know how it got here yet. But feels like a small creek." If that is comforting to anyone, so be it. "I still think you should take it like a scarf to Long Island, brother!"

The water-ribbon of a creature swirls and turns around, since it seems to be quite content to languish on the silted bottom. A pair of legs and treading limbs getting closer perks its interest, but the thing's "eyes" more resemble Himalayan salt crystals and its streamlined body has a fair bit more in common with the style of a garter snake than a boa. Mostly because it's so skinny. Trying to grab hold of it is like grabbing hold of jelly or globby foam, not totally there. The tail wiggles and the head wiggles and the rest of it follows suit in a frantic dance when something touches it. Donovan might end up feeling like he's grabbing hold of a vibrating conga line of one, though the sides are peculiarly smooth and there's no inherent sting of a jellyfish. Just slime and flotsam kicked up when it does its 'what the hell is going on' dance, pulled up to the open air. Well, its head goes right under as it blows out a plume of water from where its mouth is, borking in alarm.

Pietro Maximoff has posed:
This is not entirely in Pietro's wheelhouse. Alien? Mystic creatures? Who knows. He's also not an animal control specialist. As Donovan goes in to tackle the beast, Pietro goes about zipping through the landscape to collect up the debris left in the wake of the monster's summer cleaning.

"I don't know where would be a good place to take it, Wanda. It's... outside of my normal scope. Savage Lands, perhaps?" He shrugs, whisking away the mess to keep the area clear of potential flying hazards.

Donovan Rowland has posed:
Donovan can't hear what's going on at the surface, nor that the creature is not an animal, but as the snake slithers and slide around and evades his grasp, his exasperation grows somewhat. Undeterred, he makes another grab for the creature, this time waiting until it's wriggled around a little and then using both hands to take it at both ends, still gentle but firmer this time so it's harder for the beast to slip out again.

His eyes are still closed, and he's starting to run out of air a little, but he's determined to make one more try of it before returning to the surface to breathe. He can still see the snake with his eyes shut, its outline clear and blue against the backs of his eyelids.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"Somewhere with fresh water. The Hudson?" Because the river is technically not that far. "Or the East River?" Wanda's suggestions are pretty simple, but given clearly. "I do not think it will like being out of water very long. Maybe we can find you a large bucket. Or a swimming pool. Pietro?"

Once again, turning to Pietro, because he's going to have a good time finding a kid's pool, surely.

Pietro Maximoff has posed:
The brief seconds Pietro stares daggers at his twin seem like forever to the speedster. "Fine." And then he's whipping off out of the park, heading for suburbia. "You know, this kind of work seems a bit demeaning." He comments to her, over the communication. "These events need to pick better timing - I had good news to share with you. Now I am going to smell like lake water and the tears of children, because I will run off with their kiddie pool."

Over fences, over hedges, the blur that is Quicksilver does a quick once-over of the nearby homes. Finding one that has an unoccupied children's pool, the makeshift pseudo-snake holder is scooped up and the man reverses his path.

Donovan Rowland has posed:
Donovan finally manages to get a hold on the creature, making sure he's not squeezing it too hard, and kicks off for the surface, gasping and shaking off his hair. The fur of his arms, his long silver hair, and his beard are all soaked and covered in slime, much to his chagrin, but he has the snake in his hands (paws?) and starts to swim out towards the shore, wading once it's shallow enough.

When Pietro would return with the kiddie pool, Donovan would appear visibly alarmed by his sudden appearance with a sudden kiddie pool in hand, but after a second manage to get the snake into the pool. What would happen afterward remained to be seen, but he was sure the snake wouldn't be happy. "Good grief... how gross. I'm gonna smell like trash and God knows what else."