16020/Three is More Than a Crowd

Three is More Than a Crowd
Date of Scene:	06 October 2023
Location:	TriBeCa/Little Italy area
Synopsis:	Caleb and Wanda come face-to-face with a Crowd monster
Cast of Characters:	Caleb Dykstra, Wanda Maximoff

---

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
TriBeCa/Little Italy, nightime.

The city of New York is truly one that never sleeps. Even during the night, there are people that move from one place to another, even if just a couple here and there, moving to slink into their homes, going to work, the usual affairs of everyday life.

But some people just aren't that lucky.

A bus arrives at the appointed station, dropping off an elegant young woman who comes from work. As the bus departs, she goes around the corner to her apartment, not very far, but then... In the quiet of the night, she hears it... A gurgle, and a moan.

It's coming from the nearby alley. She takes a moment to approach, adjuting her eyes to the darkness... A person?

"H-Help me...", the voice is heard.

"Oh, God", the yound woman stammers. She rushes in to help...

And the night is filled with a shrieking scream!

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda keeps strange hours by anyone's standards. The life of an Avenger has few normal benchmarks!
    Thankfully her actual lunch can take place among other diners instead of a greasy spoon that stays open for second and third-shift employees or a dingy dive bar. Places in the city skirt bylaws and last-serve laws but they don't meet her preferences for the day. A plate of noodles in a light rose sauce, on the other hand?
    That's just magic.
    Bringing her fork to her lips, she savours her carb-rich meal without regrets. Small bites provide a moment of bliss and reminder to check her phone when a chime quietly beeps to gather her attention. She looks down.
    [Look up.]
    Puzzled, the witch does. In time for that shriek to travel down the lane and around a corner, splashed into city noises. Other diners might notice too. Unlike them her hesitation is limited. Palming her phone and dropping her napkin on the table happens almost simultaneously. "Call the police," she tells a startled waitress. "Tell them you heard an attack. Right now. Give them the address. I'll be back -- please don't worry about boxing it up."
    She's in civilian gear, probably not entirely recognizable as anything special until she turns, starting to thread to the sidewalk, a crown forming on her brow.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Who also heard the scream is a young man familiar to Wanda - well, met once or twice - calleb Caleb Dykstra. Attracted by the sound of the scream, he comes around a corner opposite to Wanda's location, and he notices that there's a small group already forming around the alley - yes, when you think nobody's around, that's when everyone's around.

"What happened?", one asks.

"Someone stole my purse, knocked me in the head...", the young woman moans, laying on the grond as if trying to regain herself.

"Did you see where it went?", an older woman asks.

And the victim points inside, towards the darkness of the alley.

One man, handsome and trying to impress, looks around and remarks, "Never a cop when you need one!", and he rushes in, inspired by Captain America, no doubt. Handsome but stupid, because Cap would go in with a plan and a shield.

The other people - three of them - are preparing to help the woman...

And yet, as Caleb arrives on the scene, he can't help but think something's wrong, so... He keeps his distance, at least for now.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
    Alleys make for confined and uncomfortable spaces at the best of times. Investigating some mysterious cries for help ought to give the auburn sorceress pause.
    She tugs on a thread of power to safeguard against unexpected bullets or blades. Bites too at this time of year. Luck falls into place, an invisible reflection of her stranger powers.
    "Is she bleeding?" she asks, the sound of her accent European and stronger than she normally requires. "Ma'am, let's not move her just in case. Head or neck damage, ja?"
    The faintest glimmers of recognition don't cause her to blow past Caleb. The nod will do. "Oh. Into the dark, that is not good."
    Light would be easy to conjure up on her own, but it also tends to alarm civilians when balls of it form in her hand. If any street light, bulb or headlight is in the alleyway's vicinity where the woman pointed, it might be nudged by sheer luck to brighten or turn on.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
There are no bright lights nearby - which makes the spot pretty much perfect for an assailant to hide in. It is so dark, that you can't really spot in where the dumbass with a heart of gold wandered off into; not even a peep from him, in fact.

Caleb tries to call Wanda's attention, keeping his distance; he doesn't need to crowd the good samaritans.

In the meantime, the young woman stumbles to her feet, and her sense of vertigo leans her towards the alley, and the darkness withing. "I-I don't feel well... I need to sit."

The older woman reaches for her phone, and starts to dial 9-1-1...

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
    Too dark to be wise. Wanda tugs the hood of her coat a little closer to her neck out of habit, even if it's not raining.
    Gathering her attention isn't hard as she isn't the kind to rush right into the thick of things. Wrong twin. Pietro fits that bill better than her. "Did you see what happened?" she asks Caleb, though the others might be included in that. "Anyone get a good look?"
    Yes, that delicate scrollwork holding her hair back is distinctive. But so is the calm mien. "Ma'am, I asked someone to call 911 when we heard the cry. Might you come over here first? I'd like to try something and our phones together might be better. If you have one too?"
    Three phones are better than one and the flashlight feature is what she has in mind, lighting them all up.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
"You know", Caleb says, "I'm deeply concerned for that guy who just jumped into the dark like that." He adds, "We would've heard something by now, right?"

As the older woman ceases to call 9-1-1 on Wanda's behest, her phone is knocked off her hand... By the young woman that had just been attacked. She yelps in surprise, but it's a mute scream when two pairs of hands emerge from the darkness and pull her in. The other two people who had approached to help, two fairly non-descript middle-aged men, they too are suddenly dragged into the darkness.

And the young woman, she straightens up... And grins.

Caleb watches in horror as he recognizes that grin.

"Oh my god..."

And, from the darkness, a number of bright dots appear, like cats' irises reflecting the light.

"It-It can't be..."

Shapes begin to appear as they approach the lit street - faces of people, some just moments ago were trying to help the young woman. And other faces too, those of homeless, a police officer, a business man... No relation between jobs, ethnicities, nothing that provides a distinct pattern...

Except for the same grin on their faces.

They look at Wanda, and they look at the young man.

"<<Caleb>>, their voice is a collective, <<Long time no see!>>

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
    Wanda nods. No need to instill a panic in anyone around them.
    No, that's for when the woman knocking the phone away as a distraction and leaving the older woman vulnerable to an attack. Darkness shudders and runs counter to every sense that a human's experience. /Run/ screams the hindbrain.
    The shapes spill forth in their multitudes, and she turns to Caleb, arching her eyebrows. "Explain. Quickly!"
    They might see a victim in him or in her, but therein is the first mistake. The witch's eyes don't gleam like a cat. They glow red with a power unto itself, flecked at its very deepest by dark spaces between stars and atoms.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
"Wanda, this you got here is what I came to call a Crowd", he explains. "All the poeple you see, they're no longer people! They were victims of this abomintation that just adds more and more victims to itself!" He adds. "And it took a liking to me, because I escaped it more than once!"

The creature, this... crowd of once peole start to walk, and they begin to shorten their distance between the two. <<We will have you! You escaped before!>> They just about run, now. <<No more!>>

Caleb stammers, "Uhm... A little help?>>

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
    The witch drops the veil that shrouds her sight most of the time. Vision that no longer remains limited to the electromagnetic spectrum attunes to elements hidden within creation. Magic, the flows of energy that remain knotted within her, and auras exuded by all living things. Honing for any elements of magic takes a few blinks, rapidly adjusting.
    "What caused that interest?" Her question falls into the midst of the faces surrounding them, the bodies coming closer. Caleb's concern does not quite seem to rush Wanda the way he could expect it.
    "On my terms," says the witch. She swipes a vertical gesture with her left hand and pushes using the right, palm out.
    The old logic problem of every step going half as far serves as a useful mnemonic principle for young sorcerers. In the hands of a master, space can twist and warp in fascinating ways. They come closer, but every step traverses less distance, slowing an advance to a glacial pace.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
"I'm one of the very few that escaped it!", exclaims the young man, getting nervous as the creature closes in... To start slowing down in its course. "And it remembers, like memories passed down its offspring. So far, I'm still to see one of these that isn't descended from the original."

The creature, you could think it for something mindless, but it starts to see the advancing as pointless, to now move in the opposite way, speeding up - and, given how their patterns are highly coordinated, their speed becomes no less than considerable really fast.

"It can't escape!", Caleb replies, pulling out something from under his coat - a gun. "It has a soft core, a hub. Hit that, and they wince. Sever the fleshy conncetion from their hub to the person, and they'll fall." He shoots one of them in the head, and... Nothing happens, it just keeps running. "Its extensions feel no pain whatsoever."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
    "Count your blessings then." Wanda's tone holds a little colour, focused on the strain of pushing away the invisible around her. Concentration lines her brow as the creature struggles in the tangled eddies of space folding and twisting. Heat courses through her blood and waits for its opportunity to escape, a premonition of a rose tinge to her cheeks.
    The faintest frown reaches her lips as he pulls the gun. Caleb shooting doesn't make her flinch. A child of war and strife, the Maximoff girl, but she does not enjoy the cracking fire that Caleb unleashes.
    Her will inflicted on the ripples in space releases, and the smoothed out shapes give way with a metaphorical snap. Think of a carpet or a sheet crumpled up in one corner, then flattened out. Momentum punches forward too, and she braces against the ground to absorb some of the backlash directed at her. Buildings won't notice, infrastructure doesn't care, but moving beings do. "Then aim for that," she advises after he explains where the weak point in the monstrosity is.
    Father's lessons, brother's wisdom, sister's skill. The House of M teaches many harsh lessons. Go harder is high among them, and the shift in focus to another spell as the targets take flight. A shrill whistle of an arcane firework: a hex, harmless, flies and splits. Quarry marks for a hunter.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
"Easier said than done", he fires again, hitting one through the shoulder, and it keeps moving like noting happened. "They're densely packed precisely to protect the hub..." Another shot, this time hitting the cord connecting the body to the hub; it stumbles, and it flails, emptying contents of fleshy pus from every orifice, until nothing but pulsating skin is left writhing on the floor.

But the creature doesn't stop, and starts to zig-zag in the middle of the street to make itself a difficult target.

Caleb looks at the energy coming off Wanda's hands, and he starts to formulate a plan. "Wanda, can you use your ability to speed up and magnify the impact of a bullet I fire into something like a mini-railgun?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
    Not the first time bullets failed to work. That's unfortunate for all the unpleasant outcomes from an action. Do their wounds bleed? Does the flesh part? A stripped soul is still something.
    "I could have done without," Wanda mutters under her breath. Disgust colours her expression, lip curled in animated dislike of the ooze pouring out from the hole. The creature still runs back and forth, and the sorceress finally unleashes a fraction of her pent up irritation.
    A fiery red glow envelopes her hand. Such unnatural appearances tend to cause civilians to run, particularly when the attention turns on them. Radiant tendrils curl and buckle as though awaiting the moment to be unleashed, and if she's not an archer taking aim at a mark, then the appearance is similar as she trains her hand up. Closing, and then, her calculation of where the thing plans to jog becomes a matter of probabilities. "A volley of high-speed ones? I could banish that to another dimension where it does nothing."
    With a mild growl, she flicks her hand forward, the energy dart careening in another radiant sparkle. If that doesn't make it, the second follow-up surely will, raining down to splash the monstrous entity careening through a Tribeca street.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
That's a thought to consider, Caleb reasons now, but he has no idea about the full extent of Wanda's abilities. But maybe it doesn't have to come to that. Maybe the Avengers can get some insight on the creature, and its origins - and for that, they need remains.

No second shot is needed. Caleb fires that bullet, which leaves the gun's barrel basically, like a cannon, with a recoil that makes Agent K's 'noisy cricket' seem mild by comparison.

And yes, he lands on top of a car, and yes, the front window is busted. "Shit!"

The bullet, enhanced by Wanda's abilities, is multiplied several times, until it feels like a railgun has been fired. The result is gruesome, fascinating, and terrifying: the members of the collective are pushed by the rush of air, then split apart, their remains ragdolled into bits of pus and skin - the only thing the creature left as it consumed its victim from the inside.

And finally, the very bulbous mass of the creature - the real creature - is partway disintegrated, leaking out its contents onto the street, and causing the remaining members to writhe on the floor, screaming.

"P-Please!", one says.

"Save us!", the young woman that had just been captured screams, "We want to live!"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
    What with their deep and varied skillset, the Avengers might come up with a few notions about this creature. Mostly that it needs to be dead.
    Her mark calls the hex to it, like to like. Her hands go to her ears to protect them against the furious salvos raining down from the gun. A wonder it stays intact at all. The heat and fury burning from the weapon conveys a good deal of anger that she might have.
    Now imagine her experiencing a crow-black dream or a real mood, and the world might reel on its moorings. Nothing like an upset mage. Or Kryptonian. Or ...whatever that thing is.
    Caleb gets to deal with the horrifying mess.
    Her expression softens for a moment. A frown follows, settling into a choice. "Be at peace. Let your souls pass, your breath the wind, your selves once more taken to the earth's bosom."

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
The young man slinks out from the broken wind-shield, all sore. "Sonuva..." Approaching Wanda, he tells her, "Lady, you do deliver." He checks the bullets in the gun, "I hope the lives it destroyed so far find peace in whatever's the afterlife. I do. But when it comes to this thing..." He aims the gun, "Pay no attention to its pleas, it tries to play on our emotions.

And at the sight of the approaching Caleb, partially destroyed corpses, all leaking that pus onto the street, scream as they try to crawl, stumble, or slither in his direction, just as the central mass sprouts a new set of tendrils...

*BOOM!*

The last shot is fired, disintegrating the bulbous hub, a chain reaction that causes all the animated corpses to vomit the liquid.

...And Caleb should know by now he shouldn't get close to the creature, because it explodes, spilling the pus all over his body!

He stops, eyes closed with resignation. Sigh, "Why don't I ever learn...?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
    "I don't care for things that manipulate me." Famous last words there. Her fingers make quick work of sketching a purification spell, just something to banish the negative energy from the area and dilute her own effect in a shiver of cooler weather. "Especially things that absorb the lives and personalities of others."
    Her hand runs over her face then and Wanda exhales. "I don't know who that girl's family was, but I need to find out. The older woman, too.. The police will come and I owe a restaurant for a meal. Or three, now."
    Pietro has the higher speed but her metabolism demands as much as his. "You should sit down in the light somewhere close by and recover. This is surely a shock."