14470/Boot Scoot and go

Boot Scoot and go
Date of Scene:	21 March 2023
Location:	The Wobbly Barn Bar <Killington Place>
Synopsis:	Leslie 'Livewire' Willis loses yet another dead end job. But this time she's going on the lam for a good reason! Also, Killington's high school football team needs a new... whatever position Bryant played.
Cast of Characters:	Leslie Willis, June Moone

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Leslie Willis has posed:
Livewire has to remind herself that at some point, for some reason, she considered her options, and this job was somehow preferable to a cerebral bomb implant and joining the Suicide Squad. And so, as she waits for the server in front of her to get done with the soda fountain, instead of trying to shoot lightning from her eyes and reduce Ashleigh to a smoldering pile of faux southern charm and silicone, she reminds herself of these small blessings.

Pro one: No bomb.

Pro two: Suicide Squad doesn't offer cost plus five percent on employee meal pricing.

Pro three: This godawful faux honkytonk 'southern charm' bull means she can snark off to customers every now and then and if she says 'hon' she can say she was trying to add to the atmosphere.

Con one: The Suicide Squad probably doesn't care if you electrocute people when you meet them.

Con two: Somehow, someway, when she gets stuck on fryer duty, her clothes smell like grease for a week. Her clothes that she ionizes from the goddamn atmosphere. HOW?! HOWWWW?!

Con three: While this place is in the middle of nowhere, she's not entirely unknown outside the tristate area, and Ashleigh keeps asking her to charge her phone after shifts. At least she's stopped asking where to plug the USB cable in.

All in all though, Leslie's doing okay at this job. The godawful plaid t-shirt tied in a knot at her chest to perk the girls up looks /awful/ with her skintone, and the daisy duke shorts don't make up for it entirely, but she at least gets to wear sensible running shoes. It might have taken making the lights flicker when the manager brought out the cowboy boots, but hey, small mercies.

But this is par for Leslie's course. She gets a terrible job, she adjusts to it being her new way of life... and then someone pushes her too far and she goes back to her life of crime.

But what're the odds of that happening again?

June Moone has posed:
June Moone isn't a monster, she's the vessel for one. The chosen host for a Dark Goddess who has completely turned her life on its ear. She can't run from it and nothing she does is going to make it go away. It means she spends a lot of time alone, terrified that she'll suddenly becoming a terrifyingly savage beast whose intentions are to rend humanity and resurrect an empire..

Now she's sitting in some shitty dinner out in the middle of nowhere.

Huddled up in a booth in the corner nursing her coffee, gently stirring the spoon with a 'clnk clnk clnk' that is taking on an etherial rhythm that June is fighting very hard not to pay attention to. With a hoodie on, pulled up over her dark hair hanging out across the front of her shoulders.

Ignore the conversation behind you... I told her, maybe if you smiled a little more you'd be prettier laughter. Teenagers from the local high school having lunch off campus. June trembles in her seat, Hah, fuck Bryant.. you see this crazy bitch behind us? Ignore them... clnk clnk clnk.

June, stop ignoring us.. You'd be so much prettier if you smiled...

Thin hands grab at the side of her head, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Drawing every eye of every customer towards the psycho homeless woman shouting at nothing. When she looks up, shaking like a leaf, June peers into the window and sees haunting black eyes staring back.. smiling.. and starts crying, "No... please no..."

Leslie Willis has posed:
Leslie's making her rounds, drops off the sodas, the food, her tables managed... thank god it's the day shift. Geriatrics and people grabbing a quick work lunch, or a bite on their way through this podunk nexus on a roadtrip. The least annoying shift.

But it also means more unusual visitors. The kind that have Leslie's curiosity piqued as she eyes the quiet, almost withdrawn woman in the corner booth.

She's not paying the most attention though, because really, in the esteemed words of Michael Jordan, in regards to those high schoolers, '**** them kids'. Leslie's past having to deal with high school herself. She's not going to voluntarily deal with the /worst/ people on Earth. Seriously, she's met like, mercenaries, and X-Men, and she thinks maybe she fought an Asgardian once.

High schoolers suck more.

Which is why when she snaps around at June's outburst, and her eyes flick from June to the booth of high schoolers... well, it's clear what happened.

There's a crackling, sizzling noise growing in intensity, the light fixtures above Leslie glowing brighter, until the bulbs burst in a shower of sparks, and arcs of electricity reach out to sink into the pale waitress.

That tacky plaid shirt? It smolders for a moment and then bursts into flames, the denim of the cutoff shorts doesn't last any longer, the glowing button falling to the floor. Running shoes are gone before the shirt or the shorts, but who's going to notice that?

And in a moment, there's a flash, a crack of thunder, and the glowing avatar of vengeance is clad in clinging, liquid black with a familiar lightning bolt cutout diving down past her navel.

"HEY! SHITHEADS! I DON'T CARE IF THE SCHOOL CAN'T DO CORPORAL PUNISHMENT ANYMORE! YOU LEAVE THE CUSTOMERS ALONE!!"

It's okay though! She's taking a moment to smack a balled fist into a cupped palm as arm-length gleaming black gloves coalesce out of ionized atoms. So the poor kids will have time to wet themselves _and_ start scrabbling away.

And hey, if they didn't want to get electrocuted, they shoulda left the poor quiet lady alone.

June Moone has posed:
The burst of lights and trails of elecricity draw even more attention... a lot more actually. One mentally unstable woman screaming at her reflection isn't cause for alarm so long as she doesn't start throwing spoons at people.. but the kids who may, or may not, be the responsible parties for that screaming stare up at Leslie like she's growing a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth arm.. Bryant, he has to be Bryant, you can always tell a Bryant in a crowd, jerks back against the window while the other three climb over booth seats. Two of them in the direction of the door...

One of them into June's.. kicking her in the back, though he really hadn't meant to. She jerks forward, already leaning towards her coffee and knocks the cup off the edge of the table into her lap. Screaming as she, too, jumps out of the booth... Get away from the stimuli, June.. Run, go..

Black eyes stare at her... With her hood pushed back off her dark hair, a truly mortified expression on her face... she spins in a small circle as if the world itself is what's moving around her.

Every person looking at her has hollow, empty sockets and twisted smiling faces.. "No.. no-no-no-no..."

Her head jerks to the side in a spasm... Left shoulder lifting up and rolling back with a sound like breaking bones. The fingers on her right hand bend, pop, and curl in very unnatural ways.. "Every...body..." Her voice is a whisper.. "Run... please..." With black tears rolling down her cheeks.

Leslie Willis has posed:
Leslie's not really trying to hurt the high schoolers. Just teach them a lesson. Sometimes you mouth off and the waitress has lightning powers and a short fuse, and will kick your snarky teenage ass!

But then sometimes you're scrambling away from said righteously deserved ass-kicking and the poor little bookish lady you were bullying is...

The shit?! Oh god, that looked like it hurt. That _sounded_ like it hurt!

Leslie might not actually have bones anymore, what with being pure electricity, but each of those shifting, twitching popping and cracking motions has her flinching and wincing and recoiling. She's nearly twisted into a pretzel herself, gloved hands up over her face, knee of the leg closest to this horrific transformation recoiling up against her chest, teetering on one newly formed stiletto-heeled boot. Until one bright eye peeks open and peers between her fingers. "Oh... shit... that's... not just /being goth/ is it?"

June Moone has posed:
June stumbles towards another, thankfully empty, table and clatters down when trying to brace herself against an unsupported edge. The table turns over, spilling packets of sugar and condiment bottles on the floor when she crashes down onto her knees.. A sickly yellow hued palm slaps down on the chair beside her with equally dark green-black nails. Pushing herself up and trying to get out, but out in this case is towards the bathroom.

Her spine bends backwards, drawing out an agonizing scream from the bookish lady.. and it starts out sounding very much like someone being torn apart... until it sounds like something tearing through reality from a place where nobody should go and few have ever returned.

The problem with people... they never listen.

You say run and they pull out their phones to record the psychopath having an epileptic fit in a dinner. They post it on their twitter and it goes viral on Tik-Tok with the hashtag #gothlife

They should listen... they could have...

With June looks back over her shoulder, oily black hair clinging to her sallow, gaunt face, it's with soulless empty pits of black where her eyes should be... She turns with a serpants grace, weaving as she walks. Black lips quivering away from dingy green-black teeth, searching..

She looks at Leslie, tilts her head, and then snaps her gaze over to Bryant. Her hand extends in his direction and he cannot run fast enough... gripped by some unseen force, he paws feebly and helpless against whatever has his throat..

"You'd look so much prettier.. if you smiled.."

Her other hand slashes through the air, the same unseen force tears the lower portion of his face from his jaw... leaving a permanent, rectus grin where the football players mouth had been.

Leslie Willis has posed:
Leslie was /so/ not expecting this. She was just going to scare the high school dorks, remind them there's always a bigger bully, and nowadays sometimes they have a good caboose and lightning powers. You know, an object lesson!

But now this poor lady is like... spasming around and flailing and... There's a low noise in the back of Leslie's throat as those sugar packets and condiment bottles go crashing down... she just stocked this section this morning! Awwwwjeeze.

Is she green? Oh, not the woman bending backwards. She's pretty sure Hulks just get /big/, Leslie's wondering if she's turning green herself because... like... oh my god that's _too far back_ lady!!

Oh shit, Spooks McGee is looking /right/ at her! And...

"Bitch, I smile all the time! You wanna make requests you pay for the OnlyFans like everyone else!"

And then Leslie's really wishing she'd thought about that quip for a few moments longer. Oh, not because it was bad or anything. But it's going to play as real callous that it happened before this crazy chick ripped that dude's jaw off.

"Awwww... maaaaan... I like... can we just... how about we get you outta here? I mean... the cops are... they don't even like when I steal some electricity, you RIPPED THAT DUDE'S FACE OFF! They're gonna be _so_ pissed!"

June Moone has posed:
June cries out and drops down into a huddled mess on the floor. Clutching her legs in the aftermath of the Enchantress' outburst... There's chaos in the air, people screaming, one dude is definitely having a bad day.. She glances up, trembling, and shakes her head. "No..." Both palms slap her forehead, pulling down across her features returned to normal, for whatever that amounts to.

Then she hears Leslie and looks up at her with a quivering jaw. Nodding rapidly.. "I can't be here... I'll hurt them." She isn't afraid of them catching her. They won't. The Enchantress wont let them lock her away.

She rushes over and grabs her bag from the booth... Staring at the teenager who had kicked her in the back. They stand there staring at each other, her terrified, him even more so.. "I'm sorry.." Then she's moving towards the exit and Leslie, who said she would get her out of here. "I'm sorry.." Clutching her bag to her chest, she turns her head down and doesn't look at her reflection in the glass.

Leslie Willis has posed:
Leslie's a little torn. On one hand, that poor lady clearly needs help. On the other hand, she needs this job or she's going to be a legit criminal again. "...Ahhhh screw it, I was tired of those probation officer meetings."

Her arm sweeps out, arcs of lightning striking at the cameras... she scouted them out her first day, and the electricity'll fry the box running the whole thing too. Good enough

"...Uhhh... peace out, I quit! I'm not cleaning up _shit_!"

Leslie books it out the door to find the mysterious woman. She's practically a superheroine.