14731/Wistful Evening

Wistful Evening
Date of Scene:	20 April 2023
Location:	Queens
Synopsis:	A Queens street hockey game devolves into a fight, like they do.
Cast of Characters:	Freddy Freeman, Jon Kent, Tommy Shepherd, Billy Batson

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Freddy Freeman has posed:
Spring has spring in New York City. Kids are outside playing street hockey and wiffle ball and skateboarding. Everyone, it seems, has shaken off the winter blues. Except for Freddy. He stands a bit glumly outside of the family's home watching the kids playing and running and having the time of their lives.

thunk-step-thunk-step-thunk-step

Freddy canes his way down the walkway to the sidewalk. Normally, this young man is full of verve and optimism. He so rarely lets his disability get in the way of drinking from the springs of life.

But today, apparently, he just wants to run and play some street hockey and maybe even get a bloody nose! Instead he stops when he reaches the sidewalk and leans against a lamp post, watching from the sidelines.

Jon Kent has posed:
FINALLY!

Spring has come to New York City. It came to Metropolis some few days ago, bringing with it warm weather and a brilliant spirit to the community. People are outside again, /willingly/, without fear of snow. Now the only thing that can get in the way is the wind and the rain, both of which staying their hands.

While Freddy leans against a lamp post, he may find one Jon Kent looking at him with a smile as he walks up next to him, wearing some red flannel, blue jeans, some workboots, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. "Hey Freddy." He looks out towards the game. "Did you want to play?"

Freddy Freeman has posed:
When you're having a glum day, it sure can be nice to be with a friend. When Jon's bright words intrude upon Freddy's gloomy thoughts, the young man immediately brightens. He does that Freddy thing he does where his entire face erupts into a smile. This isn't the socially polite curving up of the lips. This is a bright, full-featured, down-to-the-bone smile involving his entire face.

"Hey, Jon! What're you doin' in Queens?" Freddy inquires. At Jon's question, Freddy peers wistfully out at the street hockey game then looks back to Jon. He shrugs and holds up his crutch.

Jon Kent has posed:
Sometimes, a friend is the shining star in the sky that can turn all your frowns upside down.

That's what Jon's doing for Freddy!

He hums softly as he regards his friend. "Just visiting. I really like New York. It's as cool as Gotham and as shining as Metropolis. Happy medium, you know?" He questions with a friendly smile, though he puts his hand on Freddy's shoulder. "When has a disability or an injury or a lack of confidence ever stopped anyone from taking to the field?" Jon asks Freddy. "I think you'd be great at it. Would you like me to join you? I'm great at hockey."

Freddy Freeman has posed:
One side of Freddy's mouth curls up higher than the other. His gaze shift to the game then to Jon then to the game then to Jon again. "Fuck yeah, I do," he says confidently. "I love hockey! I should show you my Rangers jersey autographed by Igor Shesterkin!" Freddy does love his collectibles.

For a moment, he looks back to the game and murmurs, "Do you think they'd let us in?"

Jon Kent has posed:
"Igor Shesterkin?!"

"The New York Rangers are my favorite team. He kills it everytime. Best goalie in the world." Jon has a defensive personality. He's a protector. He protects! Of course he's going to appreciate a goalie! He looks at Freddy, when he gives him that confident look in his eye.

"Atta boy." He pats Freddy /gently/ on the back, before he looks back to the game. "Oh, sure. Watch this." He puts two fingers at the corner of his mouth and he /whistles/. Not loud enough to shatter the sound barrier, but enough to get his attention. "New subs!" He calls out.

Freddy Freeman has posed:
"Aw, man, Freddy can't play no hockey," one kid blurts out. "His leg don't work right. No offense, Freddy, much love, bro!"

Those gears start spinning in Freddy's head ending with an eruption of a smile on his face. Of course. Shesterkin! "Well lemme get in on goalie. I'll be mostly in one spot." He whaps Jon's shoulder with the back of his hand. "My boy Jon here is the best defenseman in the..." He tries to think up some kind of league that these numbnuts have never heard of. They're all standing there staring at him so he panics. Karate Kid is all he can think of! "...All Valley Hockey League. He won't even let the ball near me."

Considering this wordplay a victory, Freddy leans in to Jon with a triumphant grin. "Fear does not exist in this dojo."

"Yeah, alright," one of the bigger kids says. He's known Freddy for a long time, and because he's bigger than the other kids his word is law. Oh man if they only knew!

Jon Kent has posed:
The immediate retort from one of the kids on the field makes Jon shake his head. "Nonsense! He's in the best shape of his life." and Freddy already masterminding an excuse to play makes Jon smile. Freddy would be a great goalie! All he needs to do is stand still and he can stop the puck. Easy! And he can use his crutch as a hockey stick if need be. Resourceful! Whapped on the shoulder, Jon gives a thumbs up.

"State champion." Jon 'corrects', turning his eyes towards Freddy with a wink. "No sensei." he gives Freddy a pat on the shoulder, before he walks with the other kid onto the field, looking at the big kid and giving him a nod. "Thanks man." But now Jon is in a particular situation: he could /walk/ into one of these kids and turn them into a fine powder. So he has to use what his father taught him about controlling his strength.

Freddy Freeman has posed:
Freddy wouldn't look any happier if he suddenly remembered that today was Christmas. With a bright smile and a warrior's mien, the young man thunk-step-thunk-step-thunk-step-thunk-steps to the goal. Some abled people have a hard time keeping up with Freddy's stride when he gets moving. He lays his crutch behind the goal and accepts the goalie stick from the outgoing player.

"If anybody gets the biscuit past me, I'll run a lap!" Freddy crows triumphantly. Then he gives Jon a you-better-keep-the-ball-outta-here look. Yeah, sometimes when he's excited, Freddy's ego writes checks his body can't cash. Or something.

Jon Kent has posed:
The joy on Freddy's face can't be replicated.

This is what makes Jon happy: seeing other people happy. While he's on the field, he takes the time to roll his sleeves up to his elbow and cracking his knuckles. "Okay Jon, focus..." and suddenly, Freddy is opening his big mouth.

"Fred..."

Jon turns to look at Freddy, shaking his head. "Don't worry Fred, that won't happen. I /got you/."

Tommy Shepherd has posed:
    In Tommy's experience, the weather has an inverse relationship with the amount of deliveries available to him through any of the (several) food apps he has accounts with. People in NYC are much more willing to walk down to their favorite pizzeria or Chinese takeout if it's as beautiful out as it is now, so he's lamenting the blue skies and light breeze as he steps down from the stoop of an apartment building, where he's just dropped off some tacos.

    So he's not making any money right now AND he wants tacos. Jeez, what a day.

    The street's busy but not with cars, and as he makes his way towards the curb Tommy pauses to take in the game, his eyes tracking the puck with slightly not enough difficulty for anyone with human-average perception. At least until the game comes to a halt as new players join, and then his attention zooms in on Jon and Freddy. His expression is doing that narrow-eyed, frowny-faced thing of 'Do I know you?'

    As he's doing this, he's also swiping at his phone with a non-zero amount of agitation. No orders. Refresh. No orders. Refresh. Ad nauseam.

Freddy Freeman has posed:
The other team wants to see Freddy run a lap and make him eat his words, so they give the ball to their biggest dude: Carl. He's 15 years old, stands 6'2", and weights 260 pounds. His best friends call him Fat Carl. Anybody else who tries calling him that ends up spitting a tooth or two. So anyway, with a determined scowl on his face, Fat Carl freight trains toward the goal. He snik-snak-snik-snaks-snik-snaks his stick...kid knows how to move a biscuit across the street. Nobody on Jon and Freddy's team wants to get in front of that, so the players part like the Red Sea.

"Oh shit, Jon, that dude looks..." Easily distracted, hyper Freddy suddenly notices someone from Happy Harbor right here in his neighborhood in Queens. All of his attention is off the ball when he waves. "Hey, Tommy," he says. "Sup? We're playin' hockey." Duh.

Jon Kent has posed:
This is one of those situations where Jon has a /situation/.

Jon looks at Carl, big kid, 15, weighing in at 260 lbs and standing 6'2" tall, and he was barrelling straight for the goal! Being on this field makes Jon roll his shoulders as he holds his puck in his hand. He looks at Carl. He has two choices:

1) Sell the hit of a big kid running straight into him and get knocked onto the ground and play the nerd angle, even if he's built like a slender tank.

2) Meet this kid with /just/ enough force to make him bounce off.

But...when Jon gives his word? He sticks to it. He gives a single look to Fred as people divide like the red sea and Jon starts to move towards Carl, his hockey stick lifted and he puts himself low. When he comes near?

He /shoulder checks/ Carl, just enough for them to come in with similar amounts of force, but with Jon giving way /just a tad/.

Carl can still be the big kid, Jon earns street cred, Freddy doesn't have to run laps.

Win/Win/Win.

Jon tries to steal the puck and slide it towards a teammate!

Tommy Shepherd has posed:
    With something just shy of super-speed, Tommy gets the earbud out of his ear just in time to hear Freddy say "-ommy," which cements the idea that he knows this person. Because this person knows him. He blinks a couple of times as his phone begins to lower from his face, still looking intently at Freddy.

    Ding!

    That was the sound of the lightbulb going off in Tommy's head. He lifts a hand to offer a cheeky two-fingered salute in Freddy's direction, though he freeze-frames when the shoulder-check happens in his peripheral vision. "Dang," is all he says in response to Jon's display of skill, looking suitably impressed.

    Both earbuds get stored away in their case and then Tommy meanders his way towards the goal and Freddy, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He's still on the sidewalk, still just spectating, but now from a position that is decidedly in Freddy's camp. Gotta support a fellow Happy Harbor student. Go Seals! Or something. Despite being a baseball fan, as evidenced by the niche Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp cap on head (they're a Minor League team), he's never actually gone to a game at the school.

Freddy Freeman has posed:
Freddy winces when the unstoppable force collides with the immovable object. But Jon handled the situation like a pro. Freddy fist pumps in the air. "Good D, Jon! I totally had yer back, bro! Totally!" The ball gets flicked in the other direction and Jon and Freddy's team starts doing hockey stuff with it near the other goal.

"What're you doin' in Queens, Tommy? I don't think I've ever seen you 'round here." The young man gestures toward Jon Kent with his goalie stick. "Tommy, this is my bro, Jon. Jon, this is Tommy. We went to Happy Harbor together." He scrunches up his face in thought. "Did we ever have any classes together?"

Billy Batson has posed:
Consciousness keeps intruding. Billy had /three/ shows in the can to put on his Patreon page. This was after a full school day, with no classes tomorrow. He could sleep and... darn those kids! Wait he thought that? His dark blue eyes open and he rolls off his bed, assumes an upright position to make coffee. No rest now. The guys were playing sports ball or something. Billy never went in for sports, except track. He pulls the coffee carafe from the machine and pours sugar and milk into it. He shrugs into a robe, doesn't bother changing out of his sweats and descends his stair to the street. He toasts the players with the carafe before taking a slug from it.

Jon Kent has posed:
Defense!

Jon sighs a little bit, giving an updnod to Carl. "Good hit man. How much do you lift? Ow..." Jon rubs his shoulder, /really/ selling that Carl would've folded him if he put in a little bit more strength and was a bit more serious about crushing Jon like a bug. Because flattery will get you /everywhere/.

Then he positions himself well in the game, turning his eyes towards Freddy. "Thanks Fred!" Jon calls back out to him before his blue eyes settle on Tommy. "Hey there. Nice to meet you, Tommy. Really cool to meet a friend of Fred's." He gestures to the field. "Did you want to play, man?"

He notices Billy and he smiles. "Hey Billy!"

Tommy Shepherd has posed:
    "I go where the money is," Tommy says, so mysteriously, but then he shrugs one shoulder up and down before adding, "I do deliveries everywhere in the city. Just dropping off an order." This is when his stomach reminds him how much he would like some tacos right now with a loud gurgle.

    This turn of events does little to change Tommy's already sour-puss facial expression. But he does call out a half-hearted "Nice," as the puck gets moved around down that-a-way.

    The question(s) have him shaking his head, both to Freddy and Jon. "Nah, don't think we ever did. But I've been in remedial classes forever, so." He leaves that there, and then says, "You'll think I'm cheating if I play."

    His attention splits briefly over to Billy, but if he finds anything odd about someone drinking straight from a carafe of coffee, it certainly doesn't look like it.

Freddy Freeman has posed:
Out of the corner of his eye, Freddy sees his brother come out of the house. He gives a casual chin-nod in Billy's direction. He points to the goalie stick he's holding in a look-I'm-playing-hockey kind of way.

Some kids on the other team, who don't like to be shown up by a team with a cripple on it, thank you very much, are getting even more pissed that Freddy is barely paying attention to the game. One of Fat Carl's buddies, Stinker, who is an oversized, over-strong teenager in his own right decides to take care of this once and for all. He *SMACKS* that ball *HARD* and it is rocketing directly at Billy. This isn't even an attempt to score a goal, this is a contract hit.

And social Freddy doesn't notice a thing. "Oh cool, yeah I guess I just saw ya in the halls 'n stuff." He just keeps chattering away. "That's my brother over there in the robe, Billy. He has a super hot girlfriend."

Billy Batson has posed:
Billy Batson says, "Hey Tommy, long time no see. I try to make money at home myself." He takes another drink. "Mr. Livingstone was a killer this year. I'm glad I'm done with school. I'm working on my streaming show now. Hey! He got the ball/puck... now somebody else got the ball thing, now another!" He makes an attempt. Freddy is the jock.

Then the ball rockets at him and smashes the carafe in his hand. The splash of coffee hurts like Hellfire, and Billy had experience with Hellfire. He drops the handle gets up and start walking towards Other Fat Carl. All 140 pounds of him. The look on his face, well, Juggernaut might recognize him as Shazam were he here now. He drops the robe, it was scalding him a little.

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon looks at Tommy and gives a little bit of a smile. "You do delivery? That's awesome. Have you ever delivered somewhere just /awesome/? Really spurs the imagination of what can be had in the future." He remarks, before he hears something. A ball /smashed/ with enough force to send it across the field. It's going fast, but not nearly fast enough that Jon can't see the ball moving in slow motion.

Another choice.

But he can't reveal his identity. For the sake of his family and his personal life and for the people he cares about: he can't just /interfere/. There's an S on his chest that's missing...but he tries to adjust the ball anyway. The ball hits Billy's coffee, rather than leaving a big print on his face.

Could've been worse!

But Jon still winces, even as Billy seems to start walking towards the fat carl. "Billy...?"

Tommy Shepherd has posed:
    The classic combo of an up-nod and quick "Sup," is how Tommy greets Billy, his brain overclocked as it tries to do the mental equivalent of a crime-of-the-week tv show star demanding their CSI team ENHANCE on a pixelated video feed.

    Sure, it takes him a super-speed moment, but he gets there in the end, and that makes him recognize Jon belatedly, too.

    "I've done a couple of cross-country trips before. Went to New Mexico once and had some green chile tacos that absolutely *slapped*." Another stomach gurgle interrupts him.

    He opens his mouth again to make a comment about, well, who knows? Maybe Billy having a hot girlfriend. Or about Jon and the pizzeria, more likely, given he's still looking Jon's way. But a low "Oh shit," is all that comes out when Tommy glances over to see the results of the stray ball. He's missed the entire thing, so he has no idea that it was on purpose.

    That doesn't stop him from crowing out "GET HIM!" in support of Billy. And he leaps off the curb, into the street, clearly intent on throwing himself into the fray if a fight is about to break out.

Freddy Freeman has posed:
"Oh shit a fight!" Freddy blurts out enthusiastically. He drops the goalie stick and grabs his crutch and quickly thunk-step-thunk-step-thunk-step-thunk-steps into the nascent melee! He seems so excited that he doesn't even notice Neal Moskovitz, the kid who was goalie before Freddy took over, haul off and punch Freddy in the face!

Taken by surprise, Freddy goes down on his butt on the ground. He reaches up and touches his nose. There is blood all over his fingers. BAM! BUCKET LIST MET! With a pleased grin, Freddy holds up his hand. "Check it, Jon! I got a bloody nose," he exclaims eagerly. Blood drizzles down his smiling lips.

Billy Batson has posed:
Billy Batson is smaller. He's slimmer. He also lived on the streets. He remembers the lessons learned. Lesson one: make your first shot fast -hopefully it will mess the other guy up enough to let you make your second shot good. Lesson two -see lesson one. If you decide to throw down don't waste time arguing.

So when Solomon Grundy Jr. is still dropping his stick and doing the arms akimbo thing Billy steps in and plants one right in his solar plexus. There's no muscle over the solar plexus and the wiry is fast, pic=voting on his foot and throwing his hop int it the way Achilles said to. The big guy goes to his knees. Then he sees Freddy get punched and hollers, "Fight's over! It's settled, unless he gets back up! Did you com for a game or a brawl?" Brave talk there. Then he offers the big guy a hand up. Please say we're even.

Jon Kent has posed:
The fight was over as soon as Freddy got punched.

Jon is suddenly behind the kid who threw a punch at the poor guy, his hand grabbing Neal by the arm and applying a very light pressure, enough to keep that arm there before he can throw another punch. "Please don't do that. Apologize and walk." Jon tells him, letting him go and staring at him.

He turns his head towards Billy and the kid he punched, frowning for a moment. He's ready to move if he needs to.

Tommy Shepherd has posed:
    Aw, man. Tommy is hangry enough that he was actively looking forward to throwing down with Carl, who he's nearly made his way to in the meantime. But everyone else is stopping, so that just leaves Tommy and Fat Carl eyeing each other up but not doing anything.

    Yet.

    Okay, so they're not going to fight. Tommy grumbles something about finding some tacos and reaches a hand up to wave over his shoulder as he exits stage left, with a called out "Later!"

    Partially because he's starving and partially because his rational brain just kicked back in and he's not gonna stick around the scene of the crime, even if the police probably wouldn't care about a brief street squabble among a bunch of kids.

    You can never be too careful!

Freddy Freeman has posed:
Neil Mokovitz totally was teeing up a second punch, but even a "very light pressure" from Jon Kent leaves him absolutely unable to do so. After Jon releases his arm, Neil sighs and walks over to Freddy. He holds out a hand to help the kid up. Freddy accepts and climbs to his feet with Neil's help.

"Sorry," Neil mumbles with a shrug.

"You shouldn't'a done that," Freddy mock-scolds! But his grin is ear-to-ear and his eyes are glittering happily. It's the best evening he's had in a long time. He crutches his way over to his brother. "You takin' care of Stinker's mom?" he asks. "Oh sorry, that's Stinker. I can never tell the difference."

Fight over or not, crippled kid or not, Stinker growls and charges Freddy for that one.

Billy Batson has posed:
Billy Batson throws a finger in Stinker's face. "I said it's over." Then Freddy gets a dopeslap. "Shut up Freddy! And apologize." The incongruity is lost on Billy. "Talking about a guy's mother. What the heck?" He does have his other and in a fist at his hip cocked and loaded though. "Let me apologize for him, Wallace. His mouth keeps writing checks he can't cash."

Then he says to gathered boys, "If you're going to play outside my door, you're going to play clean. At least most of the time. Ninety percent, call it."