14161/The Jersey Hawai'ian Pizza Massacre

The Jersey Hawai'ian Pizza Massacre
Date of Scene:	24 February 2023
Location:	Camden High School, Camden, NJ
Synopsis:	Pizza comes to life! Heroes like MJ and Tommy save teens by consuming pizza and Brunnhilde limits her property damage to a few tables and a syringe. Did anyone notice /Superman/ saving the day in his mild-mannered way?
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Mary Jane Watson, Tommy Shepherd, Clark Kent, Brunnhilde

---

Jane Foster has posed:
12:38 PM. Camden, New Jersey.

Lunch time comes in shifts at Camden High School. The sophomores and the juniors hotly contest the least coveted spot, cramming themselves into an admittedly filthy cafeteria to get the coveted hot 'za fresh out of the microwaves or ovens buried at the back of the 80s-era kitchen. They are soon to be met with disappointment. R
A snaking line oozes along the line in front of the lunch counters, teens squeezing in with their friends to various protests. "Woohoo, pizza Thursday!" crows one starving athlete, clearly never fed in his life.

Ribbing around a lanky Latino boy is sort of good natured, in the way of teenagers abraiding an open wound until it becomes a lesion. "Heeey, it's your favourite! You gonna down that toxic sludge and tell us how good it is, Mossy?"

This 15-year-old, Elian Moss, palms his phone. "You just gotta /try/ it. Hawaiian is the best!" His chin is up, and so his fists should be.

"Next," repeat the trio of soul-drained adults hand over greasy boxes for personal pizzas or a sloppy slice hanging limply over an oil spotted paper plate only barely sufficient to protect human hands from molten cheese mildly cooler than the surface of the sun. The recipients might be lucky enough to reach the lines to the cash registers before unrest breaks out. "Hey, is there pepper--"

"Next."

"But this has pineapple on it!" cries one teen.

"That's all that's left," repeats the drone. Elian receives his order just as three juniors fold up their plates and fling them to the floor. Sprays of golden citrus jewels litter the ground in a chain, and the hubbub around them grows. Commotion in the line grows to a litany of groans and complaints as only hangry, cranky monsters can give. "What the eff is this trash!? Why do you gotta serve us slop? Give us real food! We ain't no effing weirdo like that loser."

That loser. Clutching the molten cheese, staring at the accusing fingers, the sneering faces. Something shifts. Something breaks.

Piles of cheap pizzas quiver on the cooling racks and from the greasy trays. The first forgotten slice on the ground rumples itself up unseen. Another trampled on by a pair of Yeezys deserves better than being squashed by a hateful shoe. Elian takes in a breath. He's not heard when he shouts, "You're wrong. All wrong!" in a thready voice. Not by the kids, no.

Ten minutes later, the first call comes to emergency services from a frantic teen. The dispatcher calmly takes the report through hysterical screams and a gurgling noise that cuts off the call. Almost boredly, he punches in a code. "Any available officers in district 6A, we have a reported incident with a burning pizza hitting someone's face. Please report."

Someone does report soon enough, entering the building. He comes back out, his face buried under three inches of cheap crust and dripping pineapple tidbits, blindly clawing at the smothering hug of pizza love.

"Officer Woods, please report?" The dispatcher's worry escalates. Alarms are raised.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Why is she here in New Jersey? At the boardwalk (where no one is gonna have any fun)? Well, there was some sort of strange goo-fish sea monster invasion of the beach involving weird mutated seafish with harpoons wearing old diver'ss uits announcing they were going to annex the surface world. Currently covered over in bits of the Jersey shoreline and weaponized cotton candy, Mary Jane is one of those agents stumbling away from duties before the officer in charge goes to push anyone left for cleanup duties. As the call comes in and goes past her on burning pizza she can only sigh.

Then yells going through teh air catch her attention, she goes to let ou ta loud sigh. Does she want to? Not really. Can she avoid the image in her head of Peter Parker frowning at her in disapproval? No. So at the yells of things going over at the cafeteria, Mary Jane goes to let ou ta shudder.

Thinking to herself that please don't let it be the undead celery or killer potatoes again.

Tommy Shepherd has posed:
    Tommy swore a long time ago that he'd never set foot in New Jersey again. It's a hateful place. Foul and full of fiends. Okay it's mostly just that his family's from here and he thinks he might spontaneously combust if he ever ran into his mom or dad, so he avoids it like the plague.

    But then a guy with a lot of money asks him to make a delivery to Philly, and running at mach 1 through New Jersey doesn't count, okay? You gotta pass through it to get to most places anyway, that's just a fact of living on the Eastern Seaboard. His feet barely touch the ground when he's running, anyway.

    But he must have miscalculated his caloric needs, because when he begins the run back home, he's suddenly just wiped. Speedster Needs Food Badly. He stops at a chain fast food and is getting his crappy, tasteless burger on (but they're cheap, and that's what matters) when something starts happening at the high school across the street.

    Tommy still has a half-eaten hamburger in its wrapper clutched in one hand, the other occupied with an XL fountain soda that he slurps from noisily, as he pops outside to check out what's going on. The police officer being facehuggered by pizza is, uh, a new one even for him, and he's seen some wacky stuff. "Uhh... do you need help?"

    And then, priorities being what they are, Tommy polishes off his burger and soda at superspeed before he tries to assist the officer.

    He'll question why he did that later, but apparently right now it's just out of the goodness of his heart.

Jane Foster has posed:
Television crews haven't descended yet on Camden High School, but that's only a matter of time. Grainy videos at bizarre angles or accompanied by laughter as sophomores stumble out from the cafeteria are just slowly percolating through group chats and socials. So Tommy is left to his own devices to figure out how to separate a pizza from the cop's face, since any response is muffled by a flattening pucker of dough that flops back and forth, pepperoni effective at silencing the popo. "Urggggle!"

In person, the mass hysteria stays localized to the cafeteria and adjacent student "lounge," basically an overglorified name for the busy crossroads where wings connect and kids hang out in clustered groups.

They would be, anyhow. Many run outside or down the halls, gooped in cheese and trying desperately to chew their way out of the pizzas slamming into faces and enveloping arms. Gobs of pineapple try to fling themselves into open screaming mouths. Those who can hide behind boxy brick planters or using locker doors to deflect airborne pizzas that flop through the air with the grace of a crippled WW2-era bomber. Metallic slams accompany groans. Scientists might be delighted to study the fight or flight response in a control group of 1,500 victims, but those holed up in the labs are generally oblivious to the Pineapple Peril lurching their way.

A couple girls viciously kick at doughy specimens slouching along the floor black mamba style at a wholesome clip. "I told you! I don't want no pineapple!" shrieks one, using her Chromebook and platform chequered Vans slides as a formidable defense. But they're pockets of resistance.

Teens stumble among tomato-caked plastic trays piled up around the trash, robbed of sight or breath as they flail and scratch at anything they can find. One monstrosity has six limbs poking out from a breadty cocoon, while another halts in scrambling up the stairs to tilt his head.

A mute electronic chiming registers as lunch is over. Discarded fries or bits of pineapple and pepperoni sprinkle the floor. Doors open and unleash the excitable whirlwind of 13-year-olds and the haughty sweep of seniors too cool for all of this.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Entering in to the chaos is Mary Jane Watson. She's at the point in her existence where encountering evil, animated, monstrous foodstuffs no longer phases her. Which says much about the current state of reality. But.. Pineapple?

At least it's not anchovies and sardines. But.. Not far off.

Mary Jane doesn't go to stop and stare the way others that were still terrified by the sheer illogic of this sort of scenario as she moves to go to look around,g rabs a giant pizza cutter that is somehow fully conveniently put over agaisnt the wall and sighs.

"All right, time to crack some crusts. Detroit style." She snaps the large scalecd pizza cutter like it was some sort of shotgun, an dthen advances over at the nearest Soggy-scaled monster pizza. She goes to swing. It slices! It dices! It..

Explodes in tomato paste all over her and makes her look like she's Invincible and just went ten rounds in with an evil monster made out of sentient jelly.

Tommy Shepherd has posed:
    Prying gooey pizza dough off a police officer's face is not how Tommy thought his day was going to go, to be fair. He'll be thrilled later on that he forgot his baseball cap back at home -- today was going to be an El Paso Chihuahuas day, and going back to Texas for a replacement? Nah -- because the way the pizza blob is spitting and blurbling tomato sauce all over him ain't pretty.

    "Just, ugh, hold still!" he grumbles, before finally putting his foot up on the officer's shoulder, digging his fingers into the dough, and with a groan of effort manages to pry the thing off. The momentum from the craziest tug-of-war of Tommy's life is enough that he spins half-around, flinging the pizza facehugger into the air.

    And, well. His hand's already sticking out towards it, after all. It takes a split-second (processed at superspeed) decision for Tommy's power to spill out past his fingers, exciting the molecules in the flying blob until it violently explodes, sending dough bits, pineapple chunks, and sauce splatters everywhere.

    

Clark Kent has posed:
"Great Scott!" Clark Kent says, adjusting his glasses with a quick push from is right index finger. "Pineapple. Pizza. I don't..." With a side movement, Clark looks left and right, trying to figure out what is happeneing. Television crews. Reporters. Oh yes, he was one of those!

Jane Foster has posed:
The problem with pizza, they're kind of like starfish. Slice them and dice them, but the wedges just count as smaller pizzas. Pineapple-studded blobs that MJ encounters just keep on crawling over the floors, scaling the walls, or Spider-Hamming it across the ceiling when one reaches up there with a slurpy *splork!*

Unfortunately there's gravity and invincibility comes under a serious threat when the slice drops back down, pepperoni contracting into a bullseye, prepared to splat on the redhead.

Tommy, meanwhile, heroically frees the lawman from some definite burns under the marinara concoction. A large chunk of fruit rests on his forehead, and he hurriedly swipes it away. Windshield wipering his hand across his burned skin reveals blisters and pustules rising from the heat of the cheese. Well, any of it that remained.

"Get-it-off" comes out like more of a geddiyoffedidoff, some peculiar New Jersey Yiddish accompanied by convulsions of sheer panic that run through the man until he realizes he's gasping for air.

"Run," he suggests to Tommy, not even offensively.

The open doors of the school give way to the shambling legions devouring Hawai'ian pizza, wearing it, or potentially spreading the infection to others. Hugs are exchanged between blinded students to those who manage to shake their way out. One girl is cornered, shrieking as she falls under a half-dozen monsters leaping out of a gooey, greasy box.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Covered from head to toe, Mary Jane Watson can only flat out stare over and let out a whimper over as she's hit over by the pepperoni. That pizza the spot. Even when it's not remotely tasty. "This is like Little Cesars!" Oooh, them's fighting words. OR food.

She takes a step back, looking for something that she could use. Something. Anything. IT's a cafeteria, it's a cafeteria, it's a..

THERE!

There, randomly left over on a counter for a few hours is what's clearly the 'mystery meat' that gets served day to day. She goes to grab it and holds it out at the nearest anchovy intent on her annihilation.

Brunnhilde has posed:
The Asgardian teleport is scene from outside the building burning nordic rune work in the ground. In the center of that teleportation is a 6'3 blonde woman in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and boots holding a beer. She staggers for a moment in the circle and then takes the bottle and drained it before tossing it and then taking a look around.

"I told them I can teleport just fine after I had a few.." She looks around curiously for a moment. "Where am I?" She then notices all the pizza zombies and pizza jumping around and then takes a moment to stare.

"Ok....What did I just arrive at?" She takes a moment to rub her forehead. "I swear if this is one of Loki's gag this is by far the worst.." She walks over Tyrone and then grabs the pizza and with the strength that only one of those super aliens can manage pulls the pizza off his face and then slaps him on the cheek. "Hey...Hey you....What is going on?"

Tommy Shepherd has posed:
    Did someone say run? What an excellent idea. Tommy nods to the cop he's freed and does just that, leaning forward slightly before pushing off with one foot, accelerating from zero to several hundred miles an hour in an instant as he scopes out the situation in the school.

    Given he's wearing a colorblock hoodie and jeans, he's no more than a colorful streak throughout the school's hallways until he makes it to the cafeteria, deftly jumping around puddles of pizza sauce and globules of cheese that might threaten his stability. He skids to a stop on a clean patch of floor, takes in the situation, and then wordlessly extends a hand to vibrate the anchovy mob aiming to take Mary Jane down. More explosions! Apparently this kid can just will explosions into being.

    "Yo, are you okay?" he calls out from a distance. "I can't tell if you're bleeding or just covered in marinara!"

Clark Kent has posed:
Clark Kent was watching everything going on around him with a frown, and looks, and a wondering gaze. "This is..." Watching Brunnhilde tear the pizza off Tyrone's face, and then Tommy arrive, Clark almost calls out. Then he sees Mary Jane and her grabbing the mystery meat. Blink. This was a day.

Jane Foster has posed:
Deep in the cafeteria, Tyrone Reese lies sprawled in a heap over his precious backpack. Or more likely the precious phone he clutches, futilely patting around for the Epi pen buried in a pocket. Listless twitches of his fingers feel for the life-giving medication while the pizza slice slug-trails around his swollen lips and tries to batter its way into his mouth. He's trying to breathe with limited effect, airways puffed up and growing worse, when a great hand rips off the assailant. That tries to help itself into Brunnhilde's mouth as a pizza opportunist. If she releases it, it leaps at her. The slap doesn't help Tyrone breathe any better, but he wheezes as his eyes roll back, pawing the bag.

Behind her, though, a sea of shuffling teens wearing slices or whole pies roam around, chomping their way plaintively through the dough. The slap of shoes announces their unstealthy approach, and lobbing a box at a target not enjoying food is just de rigueur.

"I don't wanna eat it! I can't eatffff...." Outside in a corridor, a pimpled boy chomps helplessly and tries to spit out a rolled up wad of dough, pineapple, and runny sauce being crammed into his mouth by his zombied girlfriend. More explosions mean she's thrown to the side and he claws out the food. "Fuuuuuugg my dayyyyy--"

Clark's probably at risk from being run into by a mob of frightened teens booking it to get out. These are the seniors, bigger, stronger, scarier... to anyone under 17, anyway. The bursts that Tommy produce them give them cover to bolt.

The angry Latino teen sitting in the vestibule of the student council office won't have that. "You! EAT!"

Several pies that were just floating around doing nothing in particular lurch out of the 1995 Third-Round Champions at Disc Golf banner to attack everyone.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
The teens come through over as Mary Jane goes to hold out the mystery meat as effectively as she can. The efforts to save and/or doom Tyrone are beyond her ability to interfere with at the moment.

"I have cafeteria food and I'm not afraid to use it!" Even bad, abominable pizza had to have some standards over when it came to this sort of thing, right? Mary Jane would go to quickly dart to the side while she was seeing the.. Huh, the pizza was attempting to force people to eat it. This.. Was a new one. Normally it was supposed to got he other way around.

Even then, however, over from deep within the refrigerator would come sounds of shambling. Shuddering. Rolling... PRoduce?

Rolling out would be mounds and mounds of spuds, teeth and eyes upon them. Ready and rabid. And join in the fracas. Because it was the attack..

OF THE KILLER POTATOES.

Brunnhilde has posed:
Oh if Tyrone is looking for sympathy they picked the wrong hero. She looks at the pizza desperately trying to latch onto her face, her iron grip on it before she slams it onto the ground, pull out Dragonfang and then stabs it with it and impales it onto the floor. She looks back down at Tyrone for a moment and then she follows his gaze and then searches his pocket. Takes out his wallet and then checks it for a moment then tosses it.

She then takes out the epi pen and turns it over in her hand and then notes the syringe on it. Her eyes look to the kid and with one smooth fluid motion jams the needle into the boys heart and pumps the life giving stuff directly into him. She then stands up and then teps down on the pizza and pulls dragonfang out of the ground. "Alright. Someone needs ass kicking.." She groans a bit as she looks at the pizza slices and then starts to advance.

Tommy Shepherd has posed:
    Might as well put all this explosion-creating ability to good use. The kids with the pizzas on their faces are safe, don't worry, there's no way Tommy feels comfortable enough with the accuracy of his powers to just blow things directly off of someone's body. Way too dangerous. But all of the various food products that are currently loose in the area?

    Oh yeah. Time to get vaporized.

    Tommy leaps onto tables, both hands extended as he starts blowing up pizza into fine pizza particles. A meaty marinara mist. A fog of... you get the idea. He's a lean, mean, food-destroying machine. Just call him the Insinkerator because he's here to destroy some food waste.

    Actually, don't. That's not his superhero name at all. Not that he has one because he's definitely not a superhero or anything!

Clark Kent has posed:
"This way!" Clark shouts to all the seniors and teenagers trying to escape! He can be the traffic cop if needed! "Out here! Come on!" With that, Clark tries to get everyone he can out of the school, ensuring everyone is safe and sound and pineapple free!

Watching the other heroes present, Clark is there as backup. Since he is in his civvie guise as Clark, e doesn't want to reveal who he actually is, unless necessary. Using Tommy's bursts as cover, Clark makes sure everyone gets out safely.

Jane Foster has posed:
Hysterical strength won't be found from the poor kid, since Tyrone at most manages shallow wheezes while lying on his side and watches the sword blur into motion. No hazard there. His wallet has all of $10 and a student ID card, and he fades into a haze perilously close to the twilight zone of death. The syringe holds the antidote to retreating from that, released in a burst from Brunnhilde's stab. He might just scream when the injection goes right to his heart -- but delayed by a minute that it takes for the medication to take effect.

In the meantime, the kamikaze pizza flight just focuses on landing on hands or slapping into people's chests. Elian howls, "If you would just /listen/! It's good! You never even try it!" The affronted teenager shakes as he points an accusing finger at ... well, it's not exactly Tommy but close by, close enough to target him. Really it's the naysayer from the cafeteria, drenched in sauce, a 'Carrie' reject if there ever was one. He throws his hands up and flinches from the Latino kid, hiding under the table that Tommy is atop.

The Insinkerator is the cleanest place to be, but Elian shouts in the frustrated cry of someone who has been on the wrong side of life an awful lot when it comes to culinary choices. The bombardment from the kitchen brings just about all the toppings from a forlorn salad station flying out to pelt people, though they do not explode. Cry for there are onions!

Clark's lead gets the teens and a few bewildered teachers or assistants storming out into the arriving presence of cops and firefighters with axes, a truck from a local bagel shop, and six food trucks apparently come to capitalize on free lunches.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Allr ight, she has to do something, she has to do something. Mary Jane is backing away from the pizzas, the pot.. And then out comes something stalking. The swarms of celery. Just like the last time.

"COME ON!" She goes to rapidly back away over towards Brunnhilde, looking for the fire alarm. There has to be some sort of fire suppression system here that..

Oh, wait, public school facility, she should know better.

She quickly looks about for something, anything she can use before glancing over at Tommy, "Get eating! It's the only way to stop them!" He's a speedster. So hopefully i fhe can gobble up all the sentient evfil pizza swarms it might help!

Brunnhilde has posed:
The valkyrie brandishes dragonfang and begins to advance on Elian. As pizza begins to fly at her the sword lashes out and slices one in twain and have it splatter harmlessly on the ground. As pizza starts flying at her that sword flashes out again and again sending the pineapple and sauce all over the place.

The swarm of celery is not really a problem for her as she punts one away and then slices another in half before back handing another in this colossal food fight.

She keeps maintaining a steady advance as she picks up a small serving tray and then swinging it like frisbee towards the back of Elian's head. "Oh shut up! Everyone knows pepperoni and beer are the best!

Tommy Shepherd has posed:
    All Tommy can say to that is the lament of "But I just ate!" Still, he knows what he has to do, and he nods once with all seriousness to Mary Jane before he takes a running leap off of his table and snags a flying pizza from the air. It struggles in his hands, but Tommy chomps down on it with fervor, and within no more than a second or two he's got nothing left in his hands.

    "Hmm," he mutters as he chews. Then, a loud swallow. "Oh hell yeah, Hawaiian style. My favorite!"

    Apparently there's still room in the tank, because he swats another pizza from the sky, manages to catch it before it hits the ground (because, yuck, germs) and starts chomping down on this one too.

Jane Foster has posed:
It's a public school and pulling any kind of alarm may be unnecessary. Firefighters live for the chance to knock down doors. They aren't very far away and the police try to lock down the building's other exits, met by the students who need pizza ripped off their faces or burns attended to on their hands. Since the pies came out of the oven fairly long ago, they aren't as scalding hot to the fresh victims.

Unless Tommy blew them up, in which case the vaporized ions are probably capable of contact burns for all the right reasons. His willingness to /eat/ the pizza and say yum apparently mollifies Elian some, and he stops shaking like an enraged leaf. Wilted lettuce flops over and the potatoes fanning and bouncing all over tremble, then roll innocently away under lockers where they will bedevil the janitorial staff.

But the mass of furious pies come to their master's defense, bobbling and smashing together into the weirdest shield anyone has likely observed in the last week. Maybe a couple days tops. The lady is big and wielding a sword and--

"I can't drink beer! Th-that's illegal! I don't wanna go to /jail/!" the fraught mutate barks out, ducking as a glop of marinara sauce erupts from a very hungry freshman chowing down on dinner.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson would just flat out stare over at things and then go to advance, even as she lets the Killer POtatos and the Celery Stalks pursue her, "Come on!" She moves to break over into a run, letting the feral fruit go to chase her! Then she's going to do a quick flip over the boy to land behind him.. The feral fruit of course not being able to make the jump..

So now it was time to see who would win in this pasta-fear'ian battle.

The undead fruit or the processed pizza.

... Somehow all still more edible than your normal cafeteria food.

Brunnhilde has posed:
Brunnhilde is pretty sure the earth authority would frown on her just running the person through, much as hurling dragonfang at the guy and ending it appeals to her. She eyes the pizza shield and just stares at it, then her eyes slowly travel towards one of those long cafeteria tables then back to the boy as she reaches over and hefts the entire table up one handed. She then hurls the giant table at the pizza barrier and the man behind it.

Tommy Shepherd has posed:
    Don't mind Tommy. As it turns out, he's got a whole lot of room left after that very unenthusiastic consumption of sub-par fast food. Not even the secret sauce could make up for how weak and tasteless that burger meat was.

    Besides, a speedster turning down free food? Unlikely. He's still chowing down as doors are broken down-slash-barricaded.

    Eventually he'll make a break for it. No need to be around when the police come to figure out whoever's responsible, which Tommy hasn't quite pinned on Elian yet. Too much chaos, too much pizza. But Brunnhilde is advancing on *someone* and that's about when Tommy splits.

    Besides, he was getting kind of full.

Jane Foster has posed:
What horrible danger awaits when Brunnhilde throws a table at Elian. The teenager yelps and dives back into the student council office, knocking over pens and a bowl of confetti and brochures. He bangs up his knee rather badly and collapses to the ground, just trying to protect his head. "I just wanted them to TRY," is a dismal excuse for oh god, they're throwing things at me. The pizza barrier collapses when his sheer terror causes it all to fall apart.

Burnt and terrified teens swarm all over the high school grounds. Adults come running in, the type of people who know their business. They rush to protect those who need immediate attention and have to understand this is a mass causality event as a frustrated kid who can animate food tries to curl up and hide in the horror of what's going on.

All said and done, the mayhem winds down with a run of law enforcement coming in to settle things up. Anyone who wants a bite to eat is free to help themselves as the halls of Camden High echo with chaos.

What else is new?