13562/A (Momentary) Band of Heroes

A (Momentary) Band of Heroes
Date of Scene:	12 December 2022
Location:	Park Row - Bleake Island
Synopsis:	A local street gang sees their plans foiled by an angry mob courier, a demigod, a super-powered P.I., and a heroic dreamer.
Cast of Characters:	Caleb Dykstra, Jessica Jones, Hercules, Nia Nal

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Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Gotham is never a quiet city when it comes to crime. Late in the evening, it's full of active gangs vandalizing property and terrorizing people, mob henchmen collecting protection money, pimps pimping, hookers, murderers on the prowl, victims running around... Oh, my!

And, in the middle of all this chaos people turn a blind eye from... Couriers. Transporters. They move around, passing goods from one place to another. In this particular case, one dressed in plain clothers for the season, carrying a satchel. He moves about the streets quietly, keeping a low profile as best he can.

Because deep down, Caleb knows he's in bad territory. Rival gangs - always a problem, with a high mortality rate. So, every now and then, he slows his pace, and looks about in a casual fashion, to see if he's being followed.

Nothing.

And yet, just around the corner of a dark alley, half-a-dozen wait in the shadows, their arms crossed, their knives hidden underneath their arms, their weapons cocked and ready to fire.

Jessica Jones has posed:
    Why did the biggest pieces of shit always hang out in the shittiest places?
    Perhaps an obvious question with an obvious answer, but one that Jessica Jones always seems to find herself asking. Tonight, she was stuck in Gotham, of all places, perched on a fire escape with her trust camera on hand, trying to get the money shot on the asshole who was cheating on her client. He thought he was clever, slipping off to Gotham where no one seems to really care, but his trail was easily found. Or at least, easy for her. All she had to do was wait for the right moment.
    And there it was. *clickclickclick* Three shots, his face, her face, both half faces. That should be enough for what she needed. She zoomed in slightly on the lens, and took another few for good measure. There was some leather making an appearance. She smirked. That was the other thing. There always seemed to be some kind of kink involved. Not that she would kink shame, of course. She had her own unique tastes. But sometimes there was some extra cash to be made to keep the photos out of the public eye, even after her client had paid her for the settlement ammunition.
    *clickclickclick*
    And now, finally, she could get the hell out of Gotham.

Hercules has posed:
    "He's a good boy, I know he is but this city, it drags him down." a woman spoke, her hands were gnarled and crooked with age. She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a bit of tissue. From across the table, a hand reaches out and lays over hers. A massive thing, almost as large as a frying pan. Hands that could rend continents squeeze gently. "I can make no promises, but I will see what I can do."

It happens every now and then, a former... Friend will reach out and entreat his aid. It brings to life a certain ache in his heart to see them again. A reminder.

But such is the life of HERCULES, PRINCE OF-

Well, you get the point.

Now, seeking out a prodigal grandson, the Lion of Olympus prowls the alleyways of Gotham's Theatre district... Hopelessly lost. This is why it was not he who conquered the Minotaur.

Never the less, he had a plan. A final and last resort.

Fishing into a pocket, Hercules pulls free a Nokia phone. It's dense frame sporting cracks here and there. Consulting a scrap of paper, he keys in a number one digit at a time...

Somewhere, just down an ominous alley, amidst a gaggle of hoodlums and thugs, a phone will ring.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
And as Caleb passes by the alleyway, hands grab him by the neckline and shoulders, and drag him into the darkness. Screaming, roaring, and cackling ensues, and he feels himself like flying across the alleway, to land unceremoniously on the ground and against the dumpster.

Before he realizes what has happened, a boot is hitting him in the gut, which knocks the air out of him.

Then, there's hands that grab him and lift him, letting his sight come face to face with a guy with rugged looks.

"You shouldn't be here, kid. This here's our territory."

"Y-yeah", another one, jittery as hell, giggles. "Our territory! Our territory!" The guy must be under the effect of something.

Two others pull out bats from under their coats, grinning just about from ear to ear - both of them have teeth which have seen a lot of fights. "Now we gonna show ya what happens when you cross it an' don't pay!", one says.

The others keep their arms crossed, looking about...

Aaaaaaannnnnd, a phone rings! From one of the guys keeping watch, in fact! The gang's hype stops, and they all look at him, dumbfounded. He shrugs, "Uhhm, sorry?" He takes the phone, and picks up. "H-Hello?"

But of course, now that Smart Gang (okay, that's not really their name, but the fact they all stopped to look in the direction of the other guy doesn't contribute for their reputation as world's gratest thinkers) is looking away, Caleb prepares for a fight, letting slide a blade from his forearm...

Jessica Jones has posed:
    Just as Jessica is putting away her camera, she hears the screaming, roaring, and cackling. Fuck.
    She looks around for a moment as if to assess whether or not there are some other shadowy defenders of the innocent prowling around the rooftops of Gotham - she's heard the stories, of course, although she has yet to run across anyone here with pointy ears - and sees none of them. Frowning deeply, she pops out the memory card of the camera and tucks it carefully into that tight pocket inside of the other pocket of her jeans. Less bulky, and at the moment more valuable than the camera that she carefully stashes behind a brick against the side of the building.
    "This better not be some stupid Gotham bullshit," she mutters to herself, despite knowing that it most definitely is. She leaps from the fire escape, just making use of her strength to give her the height needed to close in on the sound of the screaming. And right as they all stop to figure out why the phone just rang, she lands with a thump on the other side of them from Caleb. "Can anyone play, or are you full?"

Hercules has posed:
    'H-hello?'

"Yes, hello! Hello can you hear me, it is I-!" Hercules bellowed into the phone, mistaking volume for clarity as he he tried to reach the young man and get him to correct his crooked course. The cackling that bounced through the alleyways made things no easier of course. He wasn't sure which he disliked moore, the eerie quiet of this city at times, or it's chaotic cacophony.

He comes out of a side-track and onto a sidewalk when he spots a man slooking conspicuously like a look-out for something truely nefarious and unfit for a Sweet Boy. His eyes lock onto the man with a palpable intenisity.

Now, someone of Hercules' scant atire would not be out of place here, not with Maxie Zues serving as a c-list antagonist and gangster. Even so, that skirt is very short and Hercules is quite large... and loud.

"Ho there!" calls the beskirted and sandled man, "Are you Iris' grandbaby?!"

Nia Nal has posed:
An hour ago Nia had been lounging in a motel near the wharf, tapping away on her laptop. The Planet had sent her to this godsforsaken city to write a piece on a local business that was planning on opening a new factory on the edge of Metropolis. Nothing exciting, but then again, she was just a cub reporter. Then the vision had come, though. Like usual, it hit her like a punch to the senses. Death. Nearby. Blood running down a gutter. Disparate individuals brought together by happenstance. Did she smell alcohol? Yes, lots of alcohol.

When she'd come to she was sprawled on the cheap, short carpet of the motel room. She scrambled to her suitcase to fish our her Dreamer costume, casting only a brief look back at the laptop. The story could wait. Soon she was in her dark and light blue bodysuit with her special bracers, and her matching domino mask. She was known in Metropolis by now...but this was a world away from her zone.

Now, she tucks into a roll as she lands on the rooftop beside the alleyway. Why does this city have such perfect roodftops for running and perching? She leans over the edge, peering down to the growing violence of Caleb and his friends. She glances about, wondering if this is what she'd sensed. Shrugging, she leaps down and lands on the nearby fire escape, calling down.

"Isn't it past your bedtime? Go home. Put on your jammies. Nothing good happens in this town this late."

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
And, as all the new faces come into play...

*SNIKT!*

The guy holding Caleb, distracted by the goon who was just called, finds himself widening his eyes as he gets a stab. There's a scream there that breaks the monotony of what would otherwise be a quiet alley, and the man grabs his lowers. Caleb is a face of pure, red hot hatred, clenching that blade, hand shaking. The other guy (Jitters we'll call him), now he came to land his sights on Jessica. But he finds himself looking at his now falling comrade, "H-hey..."

The others look between Nia and Jessica, and look at the guy who's on the phone, "Hang up, dumbass!! We gotsa fight on our hands!!"

"Oh, uh... Yeah. Gotta go!" The 'grandbaby' doesn't even know what hit him. "Wrong number. Bye!" And he gets his serious face on - though his rep will never be the same in the 'Smart Gang'. Loser!

Jessica Jones has posed:
    Jitters makes it just as far as to say "Hey." Jessica is able to suss out pretty quickly what is going on here. That, or she doesn't bother wasting time sussing anything out at all. Jitters looks down to his colleague right as Jessica's right hook swings up at his jaw.
    Yes, dumbass, you have a fight on your hands. And Jessica's already waded in.

Hercules has posed:
    In the old days, when someone hung up on you, you might at least hear a tell-tale click. Something to let you know you were talking to nothing. Something, anything. There were no such niceties today. Things just end, abruptly. Hercules watches the man put his phone away from the middle distance... and he feels.. Snubbed.

A heavy frown weighed at the corner of the Prince of Power's lips. His brows furrowed with ire. His fingers curled around the venerable Nokia. It held strong fot several seconds before the plastic splintered cracked, crumbling to slivers and dust.

Reaching to his chest, Hercules was further perturbed to find he had not worn a shirt which he could rend. Truely, Gotham is the worst.

Venting an angry breath from his nostrils, the God Of Might strode across the street in his strappy, gladiator sandles that clapped softly against concrete and asphalt. He heard his heart in his ears, felt his teeth grind with enough force to render coal into diamonds.

The Grandbaby had other worries beyond Jessica Joneses and, women in dark blue suits, and fellows that kept their knives snuggled up skin deep. Two hands that had once held up the sky clamped down on his shoulders and pulled him aloft.

"You are going Home." he brooked no further discussion. Casting the youth onto his shoulder like the eponymous sack of potatoes, Hercules fumed... and left!

Nia Nal has posed:
"Ah, crap. I hate blood," Dreamer groans to herself from the fire escape she's leaning over. "Hey! Stop stabbing people! Quitit!"

There is a crackle of blueish white energy, and a long chain of energy appears in her hand. She leans over the rail and takes a swing, trying to knock the weapon from Caleb's hand. She isn't sure if whatever he cut the man with CAN be knocked away, but she tries! Whether she manages that or not, she gestures with her other hand...manifesting a crackling net of the same kind of energy to try and trap one of the other men. If it hits, the weight of sleep crashes down on the man, baring him to the ground.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
"HEY!!", Caleb exclaims as that knife is wrenched away from him. "You braindead, lady!? They attacked me!" In the meantime, the main guy has reduced the scream to a whimpering at Caleb's feet, with actual tears streaming down his cheeks. He just rocks forward and back, whispering in a growing falsetto, "It's gonna be okay, lil' Marvin... It's gonna be okay..."

Caleb actually interrupts his train of thought as he hears those words. Blinks.

Another kick follows, repressed anger behind it. 'Lil' Marvin takes another blow, and 'Big Marvin' goes down for the count. Ring the bell, Mr. Referee!

Jitters is so jittery, that he packs little punch - or resilience. Jessica's punch is a one-shot for him - Saitama's got nothing on her! Jitters describes a beautiful arc through the air, to land on the nearest trash container! And that's how you keep Gotham's streets clean! But oddly enough, even when the guy's napping... He's jittery!

The other four guys get serious, dropping their bats, and now pulling their firearms. Uhm, that is, three guys, as one gets tangled in Dreamer's net.

So, the three guys pull their weapons, and...

No, wait... Two guys! 'Grandbaby' is swooped off his feet and carried away by a passing Hercules. "W-what?? NO, WAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIII...*"

Okay, so... Two guys? They just look at the wierdness taking place, their numbers dwindling. Confusion sets in, they look at one another, at their weapons...

"FUCK THIS! THEY DON'T PAY ME ENOUGH FOR THIS SHIT!", one says as he starts to run away.

"I'm not even payed, period!" The other one follows. "WAIT FOR ME!!"

And they bolt down the main street, unless somebody stops them.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica waits to see what is coming for her next, and finds...nothing? She watches Jitters roll around and the others scatter, before looking around to see just what she leapt herself into. She glances over towards the source of the shimmering blue, and spots Nia. "Ok, you got this now?" she asks. Nia's in a costume, so clearly she is the responsible one. Which means Jessica can retrieve her camera and get the hell out of the way.

Nia Nal has posed:
"I know! But you STABBED A GUY!," Dreamer calls back down at Caleb.

She blinks and glances at Jessica. "Me? Ooooooooh no. Not in Gotham. I'm stepping on some serious, scary toes just by being in costume here. I just...nevermind." She glances between those left and sighs to herself, turning to clamber back up towards the rooftop. She's out of here. Mission...accomplished? Maybe?

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
"Yes, and now kicked a guy where I stabbed him!" He looks at 'Big Marvin', passed out on the ground. "The gene pool appreciates the effort, I'm sure."

Following suit after the band of heroes disappears, he makes his way across the alley. Perhaps a detour is better suited to get where he needs to tonight...