16586/Can You Take Me To...

Can You Take Me To...
Date of Scene:	16 December 2023
Location:	Gramercy Park
Synopsis:	A group of heroes stop Hypno Hustler in the Park!
Cast of Characters:	Monet St. Croix, Nico Minoru, Audra Meridian, Roy Harper

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Monet St. Croix has posed:
It's one of those days that will be cold in hell. The streets of Gramercy Park that are normally shared off amongst performers of various types have been mostly blocked off. In the central area of the park, a large, flashing strobe light is being setup. Everyone in the general area is wearing nylon, lycra, spandex.. And hair spray.
    Oh, oh so much hair spray.
    Yes, it's Disco Night.

Nico Minoru has posed:
The multicolored lights strobing about Gramercy Park definitely caught her attention. Nico was out and about, just heading home after a shift working at a local bar, when she notices the lights.

Of course, she isn't dressed for such a night, going for her gothic lolita look, from the black lacy dress, leggings, and boots. The only thing that contrasts is the immaculately white thick winter coat that wraps about her torso.

Glancing about, she looks around at the various performers, pursing her lips as she takes in all the sights and sounds. Are there food trucks around? She'll look.

Audra Meridian has posed:
Cold was of little issue to Audra, mostly thanks to the thermal comfort controls built into her suit. So Windrose was out on idle patrol as heroes are oft to do, cruising about high enough that she doesn't have to worry too much about buildings and such.

But even at that height the lights going off in Gramercy Park are hard to miss. "Huh. Seems a bit chill for a performance," she muses to herself, and shifts course to swoop down closer to the park and see what's going on. There sure are a lot of people out for it being the middle of December, but maybe it's some manner of holiday party?

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The air is filled with the sound of.. Squeaking. Of cheap polyster-blends rubbing against themselves. Of spandex kept in mothballs brought out of closets and then put on in ways that were just as horrific now as they would have been in their heyday. The lights are being setup over on the stage as a man with an afro is at work assembling a Keytar-tier accordion.

As Windrose floats up on patrol, watching the accordion assembly, walking over towards Nico and the foodtrucks is a short, pudgy looking and balding man wearing a leisure suit.

Nico Minoru has posed:
Oooh! There's a taco truck! Those are the best, and as the smells of as pastor, carne asada, and other deliciousness wafts throughout the air, Nico is completely lost as she looks over the menu.

That is, until she looks around and notices the pudgy fellow. "Is that... a zoot suit?"

Audra Meridian has posed:
Well, it just looks like a big show being set up. Windrose slows to a low hover, taking it in. Nothing really looks all that... well, it looks unusual, but just in being unusual in appearances. She does quirk a brow (behind her goggles) at the strange thing the man is putting together. "That's a rather... unique instrument you have there."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The pudgy man looks askance at Nico, "A zoot suit? This is a /leisure suit/!" He would hold his hands up demonstratively along over the folds of the polyester jacket. "There's a difference! Quite a few!" At the point where one would ask him to summarize said differences, one could /almost/ metaphorically (or literally) hear crickets.

The unholy keytar/accordion combination proceeds unchanged as the man in the afro grins up at Windrose. "Yeah, can you dig it?"

Audra Meridian has posed:
"It definitely stands out." Windrose turns partially to look back over at the lights being set up on the stage. "You setting up for some kind of show?" Because what else is there to ask at the moment?

Roy Harper has posed:
This probably is not the very best way to spend the evening in truth, though there are certainly worse ones. And while there are certainly more meaningful contributions that Roy Harper Jr. could be making to society on this particular evening, he is somewhat musically inclined.

Sadly for all of those present, Great Frog will not be performing tonight. The greatest band of all, at least in the redhead's oh so humble opinion. And that is not at all informed by the fact that it happens to be his band. No connection whatsoever.

While he might not be out here on business, Roy still has a backpack slung across his shoulder casually. Chances are that it's not full of candy. Either way, the young man picks his way through the crowd slowly.

Nico Minoru has posed:
Blink. Blink. The chubby man is talking to her. Canting her head, she waits for the difference between the two. So naturally, she asks, and when there's mostly silence, Nico gives the thought a dismissive wave. "No worries. I just remember a friend dressing up in a pimp suit or whatever and saying it was a zoot suit."

With that said and done, she orders a variety of tacos: one al pastor, a carne asada, and one cabeza. Mmmmm, brains.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The conversational companion of Nico would 'ah', "Easy mistake to make! One is a passion, the other a profession! Not that most things in life can't be both? So, let me introduce myself, I'm Larry, Larry--" his furhter introduction cut off by a loud alarm of someone's elbow hitting a car horn, and giving the man a shock inducing jump of interruption. Nico's brains are safe!

The keytar-cordion is hooked up to an /extremely/ complicated sound system and series of subwoofers that look like they were held together by some sort of vaudeville tier contraption than actual sound equipment.

"Exactly." The man would go to take his finger over to the side of the accordion and go to press a key. The air would flash and almost turn stereoscopic.

Audra Meridian has posed:
Windrose knows tech but she doesn't really know audio equipment so it looks like even more of a hodgepodged contraption to her. She tilts her head, then just shrugs. She turns back to the man with the keycordian to ask what kind of setup it's suppose to be, only for him to activate the bizarre instrument. "Gaah!" The flash and visual distortion startles her, and jerks up an arm to try and shield her face. Whatever that was her goggles weren't enough on their own to deal with the abrupt effect.

Roy Harper has posed:
Look, Roy didn't have any particularly high hopes for the evening.

While his taste in music can be fairly ecclectic and he is as interested in the form and performance as much as the particular style os music, he was most definitely comfortable reserving judgement on just what sort of show he was likely to see here.

But most importantly it was an excuse to get out and about that did not involve cracking heads or sticking arrows into people, a chance to listen to some music -- any kind of music, and it was free. The last of which is a strange thing for him to worry about given the company he keeps. But old habits die hard.

Spotting the leisure-suit clad figure, he gives his head a little shake and continues to press on through the crowd, brow furrowing ever so slightly as that flash seems to strobe over the crowd around him and shielding his eyes. "What the --"

Nico Minoru has posed:
Just as the keytar-cordian starts to play is when she takes a bite of that brainy taco. Nom nom nom. Dont knock it until you try it.

But that's when things get weird. Blinking for a few moments, she looks around her as things get stereoscoping, zooming in and out, or at least, feels like it is. Frowning, she puts the rest of the tacos on the plate in a trash before spitting out what she didn't swallow yet. Surely, it's just a case of bad brain, right?

*HUUURL!*

Monet St. Croix has posed:
There's a flash in the air as the subwoofers kick to life. "Everyone, get ready for the DISCO INFERNO!" Fog strobe would go off, flashing red as the man in the afro would spin, yanking the ridiculously oversized prop accordion/keytar/etc in his hands like a weapon.

"Now all play nice and bring out your wallets, jewelry, electronics, and anything else of significant monetary or equivalent value!"

Audra Meridian has posed:
It takes a moment for Windrose to resituate herself, and after a few fumbles manages to get the controls for her headgear. And flick on some sound dampening. With all the other loud chaos she has to deal with between crime fighting and disaster responses that's just a sensible safety feature.

"Didn't anyone tell you disco is dead?!" Sparks crackle as she raises her arms, and swings them out to slam her gauntlets together. A literally thunderous crack booms across the park as the bright lightning flash goes off. And at least for a few moments the thunderclap will drown out the music before it builds up too much of an effect.

Roy Harper has posed:
For a brief moment Roy's attention is diverted over towards poor Nico as she fills that trash can. Looks like someone started partying a little too early.

Hey, if anyone can sympathize with that it would definitely be the redheaded archer. He's been there. On more then one occasion.

But then he has other things to worry about as that strobing effect takes on that red hue, growing more intense. Again his brow furrows and with a little grimace he reaches into his backpack, sliding out -- of all things -- a pair of sunglasses, sliding them up onto the bridge of his nose.

Almost immediately he begins to feel a little better about things, though he still looks towards the ridiculous figure with a certain amount of disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me..." he mutters.

That seems to be enough for him, and this time the backpack is just dumped at his feet as he tugs out a surprisingly compact cylinder, giving it a little flick of his wrist before it suddenly expands out into a full composite bow. An arrow is knocked, drawn and fired -- all in one smooth motion -- as the projectile soars true, slamming into that strobbing light.

"What she said. C'mon man, you're embarassing yourself," Arsenal says, adding his voice to the chorus.

Nico Minoru has posed:
*HURL HURL*

After a few moments does she stand up, wiping her lips for a few moments, just as the command to reveal their precious items hits her like a ton of bricks.

Reaching into one of her pockets of her gothic dress underneath, she pulls out a switch blade and slashes it over her left palm. Blood drips down from her palm and onto the ground, as her eyes darken, and she mutters softly, "When blood is shed, let the staff of One emerge..."

She groans a little, as the Staff of One emerges from her chest, having taken on its newest shape after the training with her grandmother. Of course, the emergence of the staff causes her to snap out of it, even as she clutches the artifact with her witch arm and she glances around, seemingly confused before she looks around to try to take in the situation.

It doesn't help that she's trying to think of a phrase she can use that would potentially help in this situation.

"SOUNDPROOF!" That is probably the most obvious phrase, and it's probably something she's used in the past. Even though the intent is there, there are certain rules of magic that can't be broken, and using only a phrase once is one of the rules. Hence the Staff of ONE.

So what happens instead? In front of all the subwoofers appears bottles of alcohol. What proof? Whatever decibels the sounds are playing at. Oh dears.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Even as Hypno Hustler (can you dig it) goes to yank over and out the large power-accordion in front of him confrontationally, afro bouncing along in tune then staring over at Arsenal as the arrow goes to fly through the air, "That ain't good.."

Then as Windrose goes to unleash her thunderclap over to blot out the music.. Then as Nico goes to take everything and make it (metaphorically) low alcohol/octane..

The surreality of the moment is broken by Hypno Hustler screaming..

Like a little girl.

Audra Meridian has posed:
Windrose switches the setting on her gaunlets. The sparks reside, and the 'tron lines' turn to a shimmering light bluish hue. Last thing they want is the guy getting reorganized and starting up his trickery again. "Now that's not going to do at all. You need to chill out."

She fires what would be like a shotgun blast from the gaunlet's emitter at the Hustler, but rather than buckshot it's a burst of shards of ice. "This is-a sharp, so you'll be flat!"

It's a horrible music quip, but it's the best she's got on such short notice.

Roy Harper has posed:
All things considered, when he needs them to be, Roy's powers of concentration are pretty darned good. You don't last this long and see as many crises as this redheaded archer has without the ability to focus on command.

It helps a lot when it comes to mastering the bow afterall. Mastering any of the many weapons that Arsenal can put to good use for that matter.

Still, after letting that arrow fly, after shattering that distracting, strobbing light in a shower of sparks it is a little hard not to gape a little as the goth chick pulls a staff out of her freakin' chest.

Roy's seen a whole lot of things. But he's never seen anything quite like that. Mind you the sudden appearance of a whole lot of bottles of alcohol is pretty impressive true. "I know that I haven't had that much to drink," the redhead mutters to himself.

While he might let himself get momentarily distracted, it doesn't last long and almost at once his gaze snaps back to the Hustler, a second arrow nocked and fired in one smooth motion. This time little blue sparks begin to flare from the head of the projectile as it soars through the air, the taser arrow striking home at the strange instrument in the man's hands.

"Be a dick, have a bad day. See how that works?"

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Hypno Hustler has taken this moment as his cue.. To run! Namely as hard and as fast as he can in the opposite direction from the group (Nico is apparently scariest by virtue of taking a large bleeding staff out of her chest) and into the hands of some of New York's Finest. Now the group of intrepid (one might say it hapless) heroes would have to ponder the bigger question...

Would they let someone take them to funkytown?

Audra Meridian has posed:
The Hustler tries to run, only to run right into some cops probably attracted by all the ruckus going on. Windrose raises one hand to briefly salute the boys in blue he's now in the proper hands of.

Then lets out a sigh and drops her arms as she turns away. "This is why we do patrols even when it looks like there's nothing going on," she mutters under her breath. But then perks back up. "Thanks for the assistance," she remarks to the redhaired archer. Then points a thumb over her shoulder. "Any idea where the weird bottles came from?"

Nico Minoru has posed:
Oh shiiiiiit. Now that she's recovered a little from embarassment, her mind is reeling as she watches the two other heroes actually be heroes. Frowning for a few moments, her mind is racing as she tries to figure out a phrase that can potentially capture the Hustler.

It's then that she just yells as she thrusts the staff in front of her.

"RIHANNA's S&M!"

Yes, that was a weird choice, but it somewhat works as suddenly, straps of black leather start to shoot out from the top of the staff, heading straight towards the Husler to hopefully wrap him up and bind him before he has a chance to get away.

Roy Harper has posed:
In the long, long from now, when he is old and grey but still so terribly cool and awesome, when the great records of his many heroic deeds are recorded... this probably isn't going to make the list.

Still, while the Hustler might not have exactly been the greatest threat ever faced down by, well, any of them, it is still a job well done as far as the Roy is concerned, and he watches with a faint smirk marking his expression as those bands of black leather suddenly go flying through the night in pursuit of the unfortunate criminal.

Look, he's not going to be shedding any tears for the guy, but it is harsh. Being so completely and utterly robbed of one's dignity. Though in fairness, it didn't exactly seem like he had a whole lot to begin with.

So when Windrose nears, Arsenal tugs down those sunglasses far enough along the bridge of his nose to peer out over them, a little grin curving at the line of his mouth. "Well, it's just a hunch, but I'm pretty sure that stick girl over here might have had a little something to do with it," the redheaded archer suggests wryly, gesturing Nico's way.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
No one is remotely attempting to immortalize this moment with 'Freebird' as Hypno Hustler is quickly shanghaied over with and left to a very, very cnfused NYPD.

And then someone in the crowd would turn thier attention to the bottles. "Free beer table!"