19873/Feeling a Little Crowded

Feeling a Little Crowded
Date of Scene:	16 January 2025
Location:	Hell's Kitchen
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Caleb Dykstra, Conan, Matthew Murdock

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Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Night in Hell's Kitchen looks very much like the Gotham streets.

At least, that's what Caleb thinks when he's parkouring along the rooftops, a form he developed to keep himself in shape. And it helps to build muscle that he's using the body armor he developed over time ever since he left Gotham.

So, all in all, a calm uneventful night, as far as he's concerned.

But as all good things come to an end, the sound of two gunshots followed by a scream puts an end to that.

"...Fffff!"

Yeah, that's the expletive he holds back as he stops in his tracks.

With the shot being nearby that he can locate the overall area, he heads towards the source...

Conan has posed:
What an evening! The time-displaced Conan has decided it is time to become a hero in New York. Where does one do that? The closest place to Hell he can.

Of course, it's not usually hellish. Just a rougher sort of neighborhood. The barbarian is unclear on that and has come dressed for battle in jeans and a fur lined leather jacket buttoned up. Over the jacket is a leather and bronze sword belt with a sheathed sword on it.

He's doing the rooftop thing as well, easily climbing the side of a building to get up there.

The barbarian breathes deeply, looking, listening and smelling for any signs of trouble. When he hears the gunshots he's off instantly in that direction, running and jumping from rooftop to the other.

Matthew Murdock has posed:
This city is protected.

Two gunshots ring out as loud as a hurricane to the ears of a man cloaked in red and shadow. It takes him only a moment to follow it's point of origin down to the wire. He moves quickly, leaping across rooftops and swinging from ledge to ledge. He makes it look easy. As easy as breathing. No wasted movements. He can smell the powder of the gun's barrel. He can hear the heartbeats of those moving just as quickly towards the scene as he.

There's a figure that leaps from a taller building, landing directly upon a rooftop in a crouched position. He wears an armored suit of red and black hues. The eyes are completely darkened, as though he wouldn't see if he wanted to. In his hand is a billy club, metallic and with subtle grips.

He sniffs the air. He calms his breathing to be able to listen.

"....where are you?"

He muttered under his breath. The Barbarian was easy to detect. Strong muscle, hard breathing. A hunter's discipline. And across from him...

Is Daredevil.

This city is protected.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Just as he's arriving on the scene, he puts on a collapsible mask to keep his features hidden, and rolls up the hood of his coat over his head to hide his features.

Okay, maybe he should've had them on in the first place, but this is a hero in the making we're talking about.

Now on the scene, he inspects it, assesses what happened...
Himn the sidewalk, a group of four people. Two of them down, both males, one is sitting against a nearby car, the other one is on the floor; the other two, the dates they're with are down on the ground, screaming for help.

"Somebody help us! Please call 9-1-1!", one says in a panic.

The wounded guy leaning against the car, "I-I feel cold..."

In the vicinity, yet keeping their distance, are people looking about in shock and alarm, some holding their phones out. Are they calling 9-1-1, or just filming the damn thing?

Conan has posed:
With his amazingly honed senses Conan doesn't have much trouble making it to his destination, dropping smoothly down from the roof he's on to land on the sidewalk in a crouch. When he rises to his full height he looks over the scene and asks one of the women, "Who did this? Where did they go?"

Without seeming to think twice about it the big man pulls his jacket loose from his belt and unbuttons it to drape it over the guy sitting against the car, "Stay awake, lest death claim you in your sleep. Tell me about the villains."

Now clad against the winter weather in a black t-shit, the ancient warrior doesn't look bothered in the least. "I am Conan of Cimmeria, and by Crom I will capture whoever did this."

Matthew Murdock has posed:
Where Conan talks, Caleb watches....

Daredevil *listens*.

This is wrong. They're panicking and calling for help but....with fear comes high blood pressure, the heart should be sounding like battle drums. But he can't hear *anything*. His fist clenches a little bit tighter before he dismounts the roof, landing on the sidewalk in a careful crouch. His energy perfectly distributed.

He slowly rose to his feet and approached Conan like a shadow.

"Careful."

Daredevil spoke, his tone low and neutral. He sniffed the air. "Gunpowder. A shot was fired, that wasn't it. But something smells...terrible. Repugnant. Like puss or sebum. Something dark is here." He turned. Sensing. Following.

"Show yourself."

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
The woman looks at Conan, and for a moment she's taken aback by his physique. "I-I can't... Two guys, came out of nowhere... They went into that alley", she points...

The man lying against the car moves to grab the coat...

And a grip like a vice is pressed against the barbarian's wrist. A similar grip is pressed against his shoulder - the one from the pointing woman.

The man lying on the ground opens his eyes, and an awkward, eerie grin rises on his face.

<<Show ourselves?>> This is said not just by him, but by the whole group. <<Most certainly!>>

Caleb pulls out a cyllinder from his coat pocket, and pulls a number of shurikens from another of his pockets. He presses the cyllinder, and a collapsible blade shows up. "TRAP!!"

The four proceed to get up as if they were never injured or in distress to begin with, all with millitaristic coordination.

And they try to reach for Conan, the one closest to their grasp, and pull him in...

As if this wasn't enough, from the alley a group for densely packed people - six in total - moves in just the same fashion, and with the same grin...

Conan has posed:
A man dressed as a devil appears near Conan, who squints at him until he announces that 'something dark' is present. The barbarian takes a look around again, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword as the guy he gave the coat to and another person move in and grab him! As he attempts to twist himself free from their grips he finds himself unable to move, "You are strong, foul things!"

That's when he goes for his sword, drawing the blade one handed and attempting to lop off the limbs that secure him in place, ready to hack apart any of the strange creatures that get close to him, "You play the victim and attack your rescuer! BAH! I will destroy you for that."

Matthew Murdock has posed:
And so the ruse is up.

Matt could hear them as soon as they started moving. Bones tensing, muscles flexing. Footfalls carrying their weight. It was an uncommon sight for Matt to see a man as large as Conan be restrained by anything. Bigger than Matt and most certainly stronger. It's one of those things where...for Matt's fighting style, he cannot allow himself to be grabbed by these things. If he was, he would require techniques based on finesse to break free.

Matt goes for the six coming in hot. He draws both of his billy clubs and he throws them at the nearby walls, looking to perform a most masterful ricochet maneuver with his weapons to cause them to bounce off of numerous surfaces repeatedly....even, say, the heads of these damned souls.

And immediately after, if his billy clubs returned to his hands or no, he would stand firm in a battle-ready stance. He was ready for a fight. He turned his head in the direction of the other figure that was on the scene. His scent was....familiar. He remembered him.

And he knows he can fight.

"Get ready. These things don't belong here!"

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
<<More than one, coming out from the alley!>>, the masked Caleb announces.

<<I know of these things, crossed paths a few times, now. Hit them, they keep on coming.>>

As Daredevil can attest, for all the ricochet, while damaging for your average thug, does little aside from bending their heads from the impact direction.

And they just keep on grinning...

<<Trick is to cut them. Cut each instance at the cord>>, the facelss hero warns. <<The puppet wil be disabled, but it won't be pretty.>>

<<Cimmerian... Pull away as far as you can! Gimme a clear view!!>> As he speaks, he readies a shuriken to throw...

And another one is thrown at the 'six pack' (pun!), which upon burrowing itself in the flesh of one, it begins to beeps ever faster...

And /explode/ the upper section of the 'human' into a pile of gooey pus!, the lower side falling to the ground and empty itself until there's nothing left but skin.

Conan has posed:
When told to pull back by the young vigilante, Conan will twirl his sword in front of himself to make sure nothing or nobody gets close and take a few steps backwards just before one of the strange beings approaching from another angle bursts into slime!

"Where is your cord, puppets?!" Conan will accost the group, looking for just the place to start slicing them. "I will destroy you!" Still, he gives the other guy time to throw his shuriken. That doesn't mean he won't start to slice apart anyone that gets too close to him. He looks at the faceless figure and asks, "Where do you get such weapons? I would like those stars."

Matthew Murdock has posed:
Daredevil took Caleb's adivce to heart. When he saw that the 'human' just turned into a pile of gooey pus? That was all Daredevil needed. These things were not alive. They were just shells for something sinister. Pulling something from his belt, it looks like a hilt from a sword, and when a button is pushed, it fully elongated into a katana blade, with both of Matt's hands coming to the hilt to wield it properly.

One swings for him and he ducks low, swinging his blade for the midsection as he attempted to cleave it in half. He engages quickly with a second, attempting to cut through the neck for a decapitating stroke.

"Talk fast! Where do these things come from?" He called to Caleb, even as he looked at Conan, and he tossed him a pack from his belt. "Those should do."

Inside the pack?

Several shuriken.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
<<Their origins? Hell if I know!>>, Caleb says, throwing the other shuriken to hit it over the pressing arm of the once panicking woman. Again that beeping sound, and boom!, the arm comes off, blowing half of her frame to mithereens.

And that's when you can see it (or somehow sense it, in Matt's case) - the interior of that puppet is just pus kept solid by flowing liquid that's pumped from one umbilical cord, now visible. And the creature shows no signs of stopping yet, for they all try to swarm Conan.

Matt's shurikens are, given the kind of adversaries he's usually up against, ill-equipped to get the job done. They just burrow in there, into their mass, and...

Ah, yes... Any weapon kept is weapon to use. The ones that get the shurikens pull them out effortlessly, and they throw them! One for the Man Without Fear, another at Caleb.

Now, Caleb notices this throw, and he tries to deflect it with his sword in a split-second decision.

He fails, and the shuriken hits him!

Right. In. The. Helmet.

He staggers, and for a brief second you'd think it's all over. Until his hand moves towards it, and removes the object. If it wasn't for the mask to be made with several layers of the same material as riot shields, it would've pierced his eye. And then it would've been game over.

The helmet, now fractured and these fractures blocking his vision, he removes it, exposing his face.

<<YOU!!>>, the creature exclaims, their voices in unison.

"Yes. Me."

It's clear there's history between them, because if there's ever a time this creature shows genuine feelings, it's right now.

Caleb pulls out a small box and throws it at Matt. "These'll have a stronger impact. Careful about the yield, though. Just spin the dial."

Another one is given to Conan, "Take no chances, and make them count. Their brains are thoroughly protected. Hit it, and it's game over for them!"

He jumps towards the top of a car, to get the higher ground and reassess the situation...

Conan has posed:
"Thank you, Red Devil!" Conan exclaims exuberantly as he snatches the pack out of the air. He's still about the sword at the moment, looking for any opportunity he can get to remove a limb, head or bisect one of the puppets. As hands reach towards him he moves to take them off, his broadsword moving with such alacrity that there might as well be a wall of steel between the Cimmerian and his enemies.

Once he's got some breathing room he tucks the pack he just received into his swordbelt, then reaches into it and extracts a throwing star. Apparently he's used them before, or they're similar enough to other weapons he'd held because when he throws it it will head straight for the face of the furthest puppet from him, "Explode, monster!" When it doesn't he gets tossed a box that contains what he's looking for. Unfortunately, there's just not enough time at the moment to put them into action.

"Where is the puppet master? I would take this fight to them!" He bellows, yelling the words into the night as he levels his sword and prepares to slash some heads apart. "By Crom, I will smash your skulls you pus-filled vermin! None of you can stand against me!"

Matthew Murdock has posed:
The shuriken is thrown back. Daredevil can hear it twirling through the air. His reflexes are faster than they can throw it. His hand lifted and he *caught* the shuriken before it could strike his skin, but he was not unaware that Caleb's mask was broken by the thrown projectile. "Care toe xplain the history?" It didn't take him long enough to connect that the creature not only knew Caleb, but *really* didn't like him.

Something for the back pocket.

He turned his head in the direction of Caleb, his hand lifting to catch the box. He straps it to his belt, but he doesn't touch it right now beyond that. He keeps his blade in front of him....and he gets to work. That blade can cut through them like butter.

He seems pleased that Conan accepted his gift.

"Is he with you?" He asks Caleb when Conan threatens the husks with ultimate annihilation. Best to know what Conan's deal is in advance. Course he's unaware he's the ancient hero of legend, but at least he's not fighting the other heroes present.

Nonetheless, he's moving quickly. He reached finally into the pack Caleb had given him, and he throws three shuriken for three targets: head, head, and head.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
"Can it wait until these things're down for good?", Caleb replies, going for his sword and waiting to find and opening.

The Barbarian hacks and slashes, limbs going down and dissolving as soon as they fall. On the other end, Daredevil does his ninja and blows up three of those puppets.

And then they can see, for each of their opponents, the the bulbous, amorphous mass connecting through a fleshy cord to each of them.

"There!!", Caleb exclaims, "Hit that, and it goes!"

He pulls another sword, which he connects through the tip of the handle to form a sharp two-point blade, which he swings before thowing himself at the creature that has most of its puppets still - assuming this would be Daredevil's because, well, Conan with a broadsword is a terrifying Conan -, and starts hacking at the umbillicals.

Conan has posed:
Is that wriggling mass the puppet master? Conan doesn't know, but he's going to find out fast. With a wide swipe of his blade to give himself some more room, the barbarian reaches into the box Caleb gave him and produces one of the shuriken, twisting the dial on it before he hurls it at the thing's center mass, "Back to Hell with you!" He doesn't wait for it to explode before darting backwards to get away from the explosion.

Should the puppets follow the barbarian is more than ready for them. Though covered in their goo and puss he doesn't seem bothered in the least, and aside from effortlessly tearing off his t-shirt to wipe his face with it will worry about the rest of the mess later. There are still monsters to slay.

Matthew Murdock has posed:
"Not one minute longer."

Murdock's voice was severe about it. He wanted to know *exactly* what the connection was and what the hell it was doing in his city. They're like demons. A bulbous mass connecting them. It was wrong. A perversion. A darkness. Daredevil knew that this had to end, here and now. That wriggling mass might be the monster behind it all.

Daredevil relaxed himself, watching as Conan went to work with his massacre Though, not one to let this lie?

Daredevil threw a few of the explosive shuriken himself. Can't be too certain.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Conan's shuriken hits the central mass, and it becomes evident that the bulbous mass really is the brains of the (now reduced) Crowd as soon as it shudder and shifts in its mass, and all the still standing once-people all scream discoordinately.

It is short lived, though, for once it blows up, all the puppets are sent flying outwardly, landing against the ground, walls or cars to deform on impact, the pus that held them together now pouring out of every orifice like a ruptured bag.

With Daredevil's Crowd, it's no different. The same discoordination, pain throes, and the following explosion.

And Caleb? Yeah, he was trying to open a ways for Daredevil...

And now he's in the blast area. "Oh, sh..." He runs out of there, trying to parkour his way over and behind a car...

Conan has posed:
As the monstrous masses splatter, Conan lifts his head to the sky and roars with laughter! The Cimmerian turns to look at his allies, grinning at them, "Well fought, warriors! And thank you for the stars!" Caleb in particular is given a slightly longer look, "How did you come to move so nimbly over that obstacle? I would learn from you." He looks to where his coat went, sees it covered in puss and decides it might be better off on the ground. "I must bathe, but then I will drink and eat. Join me, and tell the tales of your past battles with these fiends then."

A glance is given to see if anyone had been caught by the horrifying creatures, but after ascertaining that things seem safe the Cimmerian says, "Where shall we meet? I must be off to find a shirt lest the subway guards take offense."