15226/Guardians of the Glizzy

Guardians of the Glizzy
Date of Scene:	25 June 2023
Location:	Central Park
Synopsis:	Rocket goes out for a snack and almost causes an incident by being himself. Jon, Sally, Hellboy, and Mary Jane help defuse the situation.
Cast of Characters:	Rocket, Jon Kent, Sally Pride, Hellboy, Mary Jane Watson

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Rocket has posed:
A fine day in New York City, on the mudball known as Earth (or otherwise, depending on one's place of origin). Not too hot, not too humid, and sunny. A great time for people to get some fresh air, for families to see the sights, for couples to stroll along quietly whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears. The usual.

Then, there's the unusual. The very, very unusual.

Rocket was never a fan of the planet that brought the galaxy Peter Quill, but it'd be a lie to say there weren't a few useful things that came from the place. Some of the food was pretty good, and fine dining was often just around the corner depending on one's willingness to get a little dirty. The weaponry, while mostly inferior to him, was at least mildly curious. Some of the vehicles, while absolutely primitive, had potential. Then, there was television. The music videos. Reality shows, especially /fake/ reality shows. Golden Girls.

Yeah, from time to time, even Rocket had to admit there were things about Earth that amused him.

Currently, he was anything /but/ amused.

"I told you, I don't have any of your stupid paper. It ain't my fault my credits don't work on your dumbscut devices. I made stuff /way/ flarking better than that when I was little."

Uh oh. There's an anthropomorphic raccoon-looking creature in a mostly orange jumpsuit pointing angrily up at an innocent hot dog vendor set up along one of the paths through Central Park, just trying to mind his own business this fine day and make some money for him and his family. "Sir," he says, "If you do not have the right money, I cannot do anything for you. That is the way it works." At least he isn't flipping out at the strange sight of being harangued by one such as Rocket. This is a man who has Seen Things.

Said 'raccoon' sneers. "No, /sir/, that ain't the way it works. I'm hungry. I want that hot dog. In fact, I want two of them, one without anything else, one with everything else. If you aren't gonna listen to reason, you can always talk to my friend."

Groot? Nebula? No, neither of them are here. The friend in question would be the very scifi-looking gun clipped to the back of his suit, the one he jerks a little thumb at.

An intervention may be necessary, and fast.

Jon Kent has posed:
It isn't too often these days that Superboy makes it out to New York. Since being inducted into the Justice League, he has been very busy in Metropolis training relentlessly lest some the mightiest heroes in the world (nay, the universe!) regret bringing him into the League. Plus, yeah, he doesn't want to disappoint his dad.

But it's summer. It's a weekend. And he was flying around at the speed of stupid to blow off steam, and where did he end up? Central Park. He lands at the opposite end of the park from where the hot dog vender is. He is immediately accosted by locals and tourists who request selfies and autographs. Having been taught by his father the importance of public image, Superboy accommodates all of the requests. Picture. Smile. Signature. Lather, rinse, repeat.

But, his super hearing keys in on what sounds like a potential situation brewing. He continues to meet the requests from the people in the crowd, but he keeps one ear tuned in JUST in case.

Sally Pride has posed:
Too be fair, its a hot dog vendor in NYC. He's probably not unaccustomed to being threatened with a gun nearby. That said, probably shouldn't be left to tempt fate.

Having learned more about all the other weird things out there in the world, Sally Pride has gotten a little less concerned over concealing herself in public, at least in the big cities that are use to the oddities. New York is home to the fantastic stretchy man, a spider hero in underroos, and the Avengers who's ranks include at least one mythological divinity. What's a lioness walking around minding her own busy.

Of course it didn't hurt that she was one of the more 'human' in physique compared to many of her compatriates, so a leather jacket, tore up jeans and sunglasses to cover the cat-like eyes was all it really took. As long as no one looked too closely, and most people didn't.

Despite the more human appearance she did have a lot of things you would expect of a large predator species. Like better than human senses. Which hear the squabbling as she's passing through the park, and Sally veers her path in that direction. Until she sees the bright orange, and the one wearing it. ".. Another mutant?" she mutters to herself... but after walking closer it hits her. The smell. It's not a bad smell per say, coming from someone that often ends up with the auroma of gun oil and axle grease. Just something about it is distinctly... offworldly.

Alas that means instead of asking more important questions like what they were arguing about Sally's attention focuses mainly on the raccoon(?). "Where the heck did you come from?"

Hellboy has posed:
One of the good things about the rise of mutants and superheroes so prominently is that Hellboy, once a classified state secret, now sometimes walks around openly just like a regular person. He gets stared at, sure, and the occasional lynch mob will try to form just because big demon with a big gun, but nothing he can't handle. And after years of living basically underground and only going out for missions, Hellboy has found he enjoys a bit of fresh air.

So he's at the park, feeding the ducks, sitting on a bench at the edge of a pond, mostly minding his own business. Then he hears a commotion and pushes up from his seat, shifting his massive bulk as he heads towards the sound of Rocket jibber-jabbering at the hot dog vendor.

Then he sees a raccoon arguing with the guy.

"What the sweet petunia fuck is that?"

Rocket has posed:
While others in the vicinity become more aware that something is happening, Rocket's attention remains primarily on the poor vendor, who begins to look more unsure about all of this when the weapon is indicated. "I cannot accept your currency! But if you go a few blocks that way, I am sure you can exchange it for.."

Rocket cuts him off. "For nothing! My creds are good! Do you know the jobs I've taken to get them? Just before we got to this place, we collected a bounty on a known menace to the galaxy! I almost lost an ear for these!" He holds up a futuristic-looking datapad showing a number on it, and not an insignificant number either. "So stop looking at me like I'm some filthy grudscum dumpster diver." Even if he does that sort of thing. "Yeah, I've seen your Earth videos about my people. I swear to scut, you're really getting on my nerves!"

First to draw his attention away from the vendor is Sally, the lioness in the leather jacket, jeans, and sunglasses. "What the flark?" he utters, momentarily surprised. He does indeed smell of certain things, some better than others, but to her nose she can tell he's often around machinery, weapons, things like that. She's getting the stare now, mainly to see if he can spot any cybernetics. That would go a long way in telling him more.

The vendor keeps his cart between him and Rocket, though a hand moves slowly toward something beneath the cart's surface on his side.

Jon Kent has posed:
Well it looks like a quiet afternoon visiting New York City is not in the cards for Superboy today.

"Superboy! It's so dope to meet you!" a kid who looks all of eleven or twelves years of age says. "Would you please sign my cap?" He tugs a sweaty Mets caps from his head and thrusts it at Superboy.

"Sure, little..." He gets distracted by the escalation on the other side of the park. "...man, I'd be..."

The cap hits the ground and a few dozen people get their hair whipped around in a tizzy as Superboy simply vanishes in a loud rush of air. Less than a second later he is standing between the distressed hot dog vender and the rankled raccoon. He doesn't intervene just yet. He stands there, arms akimbo in the patented House of El stance, observing the creature.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson is currently jogging her way through the city ,and happens to pass on by things going on. Then she would happen to blink over as she would see Rocket. Then blink again to make sure that no, she was not hallucinating things. This was weird, even by the standards of New York. She would open her mouth.. Close her mouth. Then catch sight of Hellboy. Giving him a quick nod of her head in acknowledgement - a quick gesture that she was o nstandby for backup if need be. Not that he would need it, nor did the situation look hostile.

Strange, but not hostile. THere was Superboy on the scene!

Sally Pride has posed:
Nothing cybermetic to be seen. It's all genetic engineering and mutation inducing alien ooze from another dimension. And while Rocket is scrutinizing her, she's scrutinizing his display. Well as much of it as she make out, which is really just the numbers, but Rocket's outbursts are giving plenty of context on their own. "Oh, I see. You're... 'from out of town'. Like Mona. Farrrr from out of town." The way she's emphasizing out of town is contextually clear to be an alternate to just saying 'alien' and that could be taken as rude. "I.. don't think most street vendors can afford the tech to convert those kind of credits."

Then the situation just gets even more entangled asthe young man that at least looks sort of normal, but is clearly not with that sort of speed, gets between them. And someone off to the sides is cussing about the sight, though that's probably expected by this point.

Sally just rubs a palm to her forehead. "This excrabated faster than the last time Mondo forgot his invisibility doesn't include his clothing..."

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy approaches slowly, partly because he's seven feet tall and red and has a fist the size of a Thanksgiving turkey, so people do have a habit of being a wee bit nervous at his approach. On the other hand, there is a talking racoon and a lion woman, so maybe he doesn't have to worry as much.

Not that he really worries anyway. It's just annoying having to deal with all the screaming.

He draws a cigar out of his pocket and lights it with a zippo, clenching it between his teeth. He does, however, see the vendor looking like he's reaching for something.

"Hey, that better be mustard yer reachin' for, pal. If there's any gunplay goin' on today, it's gonna be me doin' it, capisce?"

Rocket has posed:
Rocket's sneer persists. It's like the way Quill always has that certain look of confusion, or Nebula's own annoyed attitude, or Drax's...complete Draxness.

"Lady, I don't know where you came from that you don't look like the rest of these humies either, but where I'm from we don't have these problems. 'Oh, I can't take /your/ money! It's not /my/ money!' You ask me, that's something a flarking fascist would say."

Whether that even makes any sense or not, it's best not to think too hard on it.

Suddenly Jon is before him, and after a momentary step back in surprise at the speed of the whole thing, Rocket activates something on his suit. From the back, wings of some fashion articulate out to either side as a small jetpack activates, allowing him to hover up around eye level with the Superboy. "Hey! The line's behind me, scutbag. I ain't done ordering yet, and..heeeey, wait a second." He peers more closely, going so far as to circle around Jon. "You look a lot like one of those fraggin' Kryptonians. This where you all ended up after your poor planet went kablooey?"

With Mary Jane sizing up the situation, the vendor is the first to react to Hellboy's warning. His hands go up, one of them quickly having pivoted away from one thing to instead hold up a pair of tongs. "Uh, n-no gun!"

Rocket's definitely packing, and his beady little eyes divert toward the one with the really big hand and all the rest. Tall as Hellboy is, complexion what it is, he's very hard to miss. "Mother of scut..." he gripes.

Jon Kent has posed:
Observe and assist. That is what Superboy tries to limit himself to, especially when he's a guest in somebody else's town. Right now Sally Pride and Hellboy seem to be handling the situation. Superboy does steal a very brief glance at Mary Jane to make sure she's okay. It's so hard to tell by appearances around here. She could be a potential damsel in distress or a planet-destroying super being, or aaaaaanythign in between.

"I wouldn't know, sir," Superboy says politely to Rocket when the comment is made about Krypton exploding. "I was born and raised right here on Earth, where my parents taught me not only manners but how to pay for the goods and services I want with money. If you are hungry and don't have money to pay for food, I can help you find any of the several homeless shelters that provide free food and lodging for folks in need."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson would go to just shake her head, and move to quickly jog over in front of the vendor, "Hey, let's calm down here." Whatever exactly the Racoon with the Gun was going on about, he definitely seemed like an out of towner. "Just checking.." She would ask Rocket very, very calmly while holding her hands up and over in the air to show she wasn't aggressive.

"Are you in pursuit of the Brood? This planet just had an infestation and is having planetary sweeps to ensure that there are no infections left. Are you here to hunt them?"

Sally Pride has posed:
I take it back. NOW things have really spiraled off as the source of the off-sides swearing turns out to be a large red man that could rival Ray for having to walk sideways through doorways made for normal sized people, and put every possible joke about fists to shame. And the other man is a Kryptonian if Rocket is correct. That would explain the being able to move fast.

With a sigh Sally leans against the cart, pinching what would be the bridge of her nose if she had less cat-like facial features, then nudging her sunglasses back into place. Really this wasn't her problem, she could just turn and walk away from it... but she won't because she's too concerned about how badly this could go to do so, with all the clearly not-human and/or heavily armed individuals now present.

"The issue isn't that he lacks money," she asides to Superboy, "He lacks it in a form that is utilized here. Since he comes from..." she points upward. Then tilts her head a bit. Everyone has heard of Superman, but that there were more Kryptonians besides that isn't so well known. And it's the first time she's really ever seen one. That she's aware of at least.

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy winks at the vendor, "Good human. Nice human. Just stick to wieners and we'll be all good."

He listens to the others talking and reaches into the pocket of his oversized trenchcoat. He pulls out a large wad of bills wrapped in a rubber band and peels off a twenty.

"Here, give the varmint his mystery meat and gimme a couple of those corn dogs while you're at it. Hell," he says, peeling off another bill and giving the vendor forty. "Dogs for everybody. Put your orders in, you can do mine last, pal. Don't be fussy, I'm a government employee, it's just yer tax dollars comin' back to you. Except for the aliens, I guess, but hell, country's built on immigrants, ain't it. That's what my dad always said. My adopted human dad, not the demon one."

"There. Problem fuckin' solved."

Rocket has posed:
Rocket glides over so his very raccoon face is mere inches from Jon's. Smell that breath. "Now listen here, humie. Kryptonian or not, I don't care. If you'd bother to listen, I got..yeah, what she said." Sally's helping out with the explanation, but it doesn't fully soothe him or his attitude. "And I ain't homeless! All I want is to get one of your stupid Earth sandwiches made from processed meat scut in between what you call 'bread.' Yes, I've seen you debate over what it should be called. Some of you even call it a 'glizzy,' which makes me want to laugh at how flarking stupid that sounds. Quill even.."

Know what? No, he's not going to continue that. Instead, he turns attention back to Mary Jane at her question. "The Brood? Those big bugs are still around? That ain't good news, but if you're paying, I can be a real good exterminator."

It's Hellboy who draws him away from Jon, who for all anyone knows could be exhibiting the best self control ever in the face of Rocket's breath. He passes Sally with a bit of a grin for her - or it could be a sneer, hard to tell until he gives her a bit of a knowing grin, one mechanic/engineer to another or something - and takes in the full figure of Hellboy. "Well, it's about time someone around here started talkin' a little sense. At least with the food."

Shown money he can actually take, the vendor decides to make the best of it and start on putting those hot dogs, glizzys, wieners, or whatever together. He's going to have a story to tell later.

Jon Kent has posed:
If Superboy was able to divert Rocket's attention away from the hot dog vendor then he is satisfied. He seems completely unaffected by the breath or the tirade. He has one goal and one goal only: Make himself a target instead of a man just trying to make an honest living in one of the most challenging cities on Earth. So he stands completely still and doesn't react.

But the interventions of Hellboy and Sally and Mary Jane were impeccably timed and Rocket seems to be more interested in them than the vendor. He primarily returns to standing and observing again.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson would shrug, "Well, from what I've been informed they seem to have been mostly removed, but there's always the possibility of feral ones. If you ask about you might be able to find some folks that are willing to pay for some hunters. I'm not the one to ask though. Bit outside my business range." She goes to speak very calmly over and moves to shrug, glancing over at Hellboy. Giving him a quick smile of thanks. Then going to shake her head over at things.

"Not even the most unusual things today." She would qiup at the alien hunter, the agent from hell, and the reality hopping Kryptonian.

Sally Pride has posed:
It's hard to tell at first, but Sally is use to dealing with people that don't do facial expressions in quite the same way as humans, and she gets the gist of it when Rocket makes it a bit more clear he's acknowledging someone else of some mechanical inclination. She returns the nod with a bit of a grin of her own. When Rocket turns to face the others again she gets a closer look at the weapon on his back. It looks a lot more technical than her own (currently concealed for safety) blaster, and she can hazard a hunch that it's been heavily modified if not built scratch up, so it would be more elaborate than her mass produced, confinscated from Null gun. But she opts not to bring attention specifically to the weapon again, instead opting for "Nice kitout" to include the jetpack Rocket is using to deal with there being so many tall people.

"Appreciate it," she adds to Hellboy when he just ups and pays for food, helping to diffuse the situation a bit farther. But now she can have all the good toppings so no complaint. While MJ explains the Brood has for now mostly been dealt with. "Thank farking goodness. Dealing with the brain-slogs is enough of a hassle." She doesn't call the Ultrons by name, but MJ would at least know what she's talking about. She does give the woman a brief nod now that the situation has calmed down. "Nice to see you somewhere other than middle of a fiasco, miss."

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy nods to MJ with a very craggy eyebrow raised, "That's right, toots, according to the last reports I read. Of course, I don't always read the fuckin' reports unless somebody gets naggy about it. Aliens aren't usually my bag, though, they save me for your angels and devils and monsters and ghouls and shit, but I help out with other stuff now and then," he says.

He takes a long puff on his cigar and throws a wink at Sally, "Ain't no problem, sugar. Eat up. Just sorry they don't make gazelle dogs for ya, huh?" he says. Yeah, he's not good at talking to girls.

He peers at the jetpack, too, "That is pretty sweet. Not for me, though. I leave flyin' to my duck pals over there," he syas, pointing a giant thumb back at the pond.

Rocket has posed:
Rocket puts himself above the others, if by a few feet, once the vendor's prepared his hot dogs. The messiest one gets eaten the fastest, with maybe a muffled 'thanks' or something like it slipping out along the way. Never say he doesn't know how to be polite. There's a wide gulf of difference between knowing how to be and choosing to be.

"Eh. I'll let the others I hang with know. Maybe they'll want in, maybe not. Ain't my call, but if the pay's good enough? You never know." This, he explains to Mary Jane. Having some food in him makes him a bit less irascible, at least.

An eye is kept on Jon, positioning himself that a bit of mustard or ketchup /might/ just fall toward him, but it may be no surprise the two he takes the keenest interest in is the pair that looks the most different, namely Sally and Hellboy. "You looked like you could've been familiar," he says to her, "but I can tell you ain't from the same place as me. As for you," now he's on to addressing him. "I don't know what flarking skagheap they made you in, but I'd pay good credits to see you and Drax have it out and I bet I ain't the only one. This scut ain't bad, either." He's finishing up the second hot dog. For Sally's benefit, that gun looks like it may also articulate out into something larger, comically larger for someone like him. Energy-based.

Clearing his throat, he adds, "Now, I'm sure I need no introduction, but in case any of you don't already know? I'm Rocket. I'm with the Guardians of the Galaxy. Surely you've heard of us. We're a pretty big deal."

Jon Kent has posed:
Superboy is a lot of things, and among them is a teenager who routinely burns thousands and thousands of calories a day. So when it's clear that the risk of violence has passed and things have calmed down, he turns to the vendor. "Sir, I'm sorry things got so tense but it all seems to be returning to normal." He glances over his shoulder at an anthropomorphic raccoon, an anthropomorphic lion, and a demon. He clears his throat. Yeah. Normal. "Could I please get two...two of those dogs." He eyes them for a moment dubiously. "Maybe three, to be safe." A small cough. "I'll take four hot dogs, please, sir."

When he gets his dogs, he decorates them with no more than dill relish and yellow mustard. He turns to look at Hellboy and nods appreciatively. "Thank you for the hot dogs, sir." He then begins to tear into them with -- pun intended -- relish.

Sally Pride has posed:
It may be a little awkward but Hellboy's remark still gets a chuckle out of Sally between bites. "Don't worry about it. I'm capable of ingesting more than what would of been a natural diet for my species." Then her attention turns back to Rocket again. "I could of said something similar, but I can tell you're from off-world and not the same kind of genetically engineered mutation." She's not putting some manner of genetics off the table, off-worlder or not. "Name's Sally." Pause for a bite. Chew. "Sally Pride... yeah, go ahead and snicker if you get it. I'm use to it." Then gives a shake of her head, ear piercings jingling a little. "Can't say that I've heard of a specific group, but I've dealt with aliens a few times, I can imagine how guardians would be needed." Even if they seem a bit more mercenary if Rocket is a prime indiciator of membership.

Hellboy has posed:
Hellboy gets his corndogs and tucks them into his pocket, "Hellboy. Sorry, I thought about changing to Hellman when I grew up, but everybody would just make mayo jokes," he says.

"Glad we could avert this crisis. Everybody be good now. Don't make me dish out any spankings today," he says.