2120/Night Sports

Night Sports
Date of Scene:	15 June 2020
Location:	Brooklyn
Synopsis:	Casey and the Nightwatcher whip some street gang butt
Cast of Characters:	Casey Jones, Raphael

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Casey Jones has posed:
Casey Jones had just been tossing out the last of the actual garbage behind the garage when he hears the sounds of metaphorical garbage in action. Shouting, snickering, the usual language of the street gang. They'd been having enough of that around here. You'd think the fear of a hockey-mask lunatic and a gang of mutant amphibians might put the kibosh on it, but nooooooooooo.

"Awright, scum, you wanna get lucky? I'm gonna give you all the luck I got," he says, going inside and quickly strapping on his gear before heading off in pursuit, hockey stick in hand.

Raphael has posed:
Breaking out the gear, Raphael went topside not as the turtle some have crossed paths with, but rather the mysterious vigilante known as The Nightwatcher. Whatever the inspirations behind it, his usual appearance is hidden as well as it can be by a bodysuit of dark greys and blacks, reinforced metal armoring over the joints, shoulders, and front, along with an identity-concealing helmet that looks like a cross between something someone would wear while riding a motorcycle, and what someone would wear in some post-apocalyptic wasteland.

All in all, a pretty menacing look to many out there with ill intent. The heavy chain he often packs with him only helps.

Usually, The Nightwatcher means some punks are going to end up beaten up, and tonight is no different. Another part of Brooklyn has already seen a few gang members knocked down and knocked out, left only with bruises if they're lucky enough. The occasional fracture? Can it be helped that humans are often soft and easily damaged?

The sound of a motorcycle in the area brings the costumed turtle closer, that helmet turning side to side in search of trouble to clean up.

Casey Jones has posed:
It ends up being a sandwich operation, with the Nightwatcher coming towards them and steering them one way and Casey Jones coming up behind. Pretty soon, they're in a broad side street, dumpsters to either side, pinned between the two vigilantes.

"Up yours, pal, we ain't done nothin'! You got no call to harass us!" one of the leaders yells.

Casey shrugs, "Y'know, chud, you're right about that. I ain't got no probable cause, except the fact that I know half yer asses and I know yer just lookin' for someone to shake down tonight. Well, tonight Casey Jones is gonna do some shakin' of his own. Me and...whoever the hell that is," he says, chucking his masked head at the motorcycle.

Raphael has posed:
Casey Jones? Did The Nightwatcher just hear Casey Jones give his name?

Why yes, he did, and that looks exactly like the hockey mask wearing local the turtles have run into here and there. For the most part they've been on the same side, but sometimes tempers flare and things happen. Best not to give away the fact the guy is known, though.

The bike's engine cuts out and The Nightwatcher steps off, heavy-looking boots thudding on the sidewalk. His weight is undetermined, but he certainly doesn't look on the light side. That armor must weigh something.

"Looks like you guys are in a pinch." The voice is synthesized just enough that it's hard to tell what it really ought to sound like, and a thick-looking hand that doesn't quite look human comes up with that big chain, winding it around the gloves a few times.

Casey Jones has posed:
Casey Jones gives an appreciative nod, "Nice outfit, bro. I mean, it doesn't have my personal sense of style, but, hey, it looks pretty scary. That guy there's probably tinkled himself. Haven't you, you little shit? Haven't you?" Casey says, smacking the side of one of the dumpsters with his hockey stick and, yes, definitely startling a couple of the delinquents.

"In the last three weeks, there've been cars stolen, bricks thrown through windows, a burglary two blocks down and more than a few muggings, mostly of old ladies. Petty crap, but it adds up in a tight neighborhood like this. You little crap-suckers need a lesson. So, me and Fancypants over there are gonna whip your heinies all over this alley and when we're done, you're going to say THANK YOU FOR THE LESSON, CASEY JONES AND....and...shit, I don't know your name, dude."

Raphael has posed:
"It's The Nightwatcher, bro. You ain't heard of me?" the costumed...thing asks, his head tilting side to side as if loosening up the muscles in his neck. He strikes a length of chain against the ground, kicking up a few sparks as the links clink against each other. "Muggings, break-ins, scaring little old ladies? Which one 'a you should I take a piece out of first?" he wonders, as if needing to think.

If any of them are packing weapons, now would be the time for them to show.

"Looks like you got two choices, and neither 'a them are gonna feel good tomorrow," he points out.

Casey Jones has posed:
Weapons do come out. Switchblades, a pipe, a pair of nunchuks wielded by someone without the skill to deserve them. No guns. Casey isn't scared of guns, but they do make things worse. There's a chain or two and some brass knucks. Plenty of goodies to go around.

"Screw you!" one of the leaders says and the gang splits in two, some charging towards the Nightwatcher, some running back at Casey.

"Sure, I heard o' you," Casey lies, swatting down the first charger with a hockey stick to the face and throwing a boot into the chest of the next one.

Raphael has posed:
The Nightwatcher has himself a look at the variety of tools the wannabes are packing. None of them leave him feeling worried in the slightest. "Oh come on. Is that the best you got? You really expect me to break a sweat? Maybe if I fought you brats with both hands tied behind my back!" He has to remember to call it his back, not his shell.

As a few close in on him, the chain strikes out, fast as lightning, sweeping out the legs of the one closest to him such that he goes horizontal for a moment before landing on his back with a thud. For someone in all that stuff, The Nightwatcher moves like it's nothing.

"Not to steal from Goldberg, but who's next?" he wonders, taking up a stance at the ready.

Casey Jones has posed:
One guy goes flying as Casey backdrops him up and overhead to land in the dumpster with a wet squelch. "Ooooooooooooo, and I know Mr. Oh just put the banquet leftovers in there. NASTY!" Casey cries. A switchblade stabs uselessly into the umpire's pad covering Casey's chest, leading to him gripping the punk by the shoulders and headbutting him with the sharp top of his helmet.

"I'm more of a Stone Cold guy myself. Time to open up a can of whupass!"

Raphael has posed:
Nunchuk guy strikes, and the swing is rather feeble compared to a certain someone else. It bounces harmlessly off the armor plating at a shoulder, which is then lowered into the poor guy like a football player making a tackle, sending him sprawling with a yelp.

Oh, so it's to be wrestling catchphrases?

"Yeah? How about this, then? If you smellllll what The Nightwatcher...is...cookin'." One with a pair of brass knuckles gets lifted up and slammed down with a Rock Bottom.

Casey Jones has posed:
Casey Jones isn't nearly so artful in his technique, mostly just bludgeoning any of the scumbags who get anywhere near him. They're starting to catch onto the idea that they might be on the losing side. One tries to squirt past only for Casey to lash out and trip him up with the hockey stick.

Casey stands over him and waves a hand in front of his face, "C'mon, you can't see me," he smirks, giving the guy an extra stomp before clotheslining another to the ground. Ranks are starting to get a bit thin.

Raphael has posed:
The Nightwatcher absorbs a few blows to the body, then turns enough that a strike with a switchblade glances off his back, which seems especially tough and durable somehow. "Here comes the pain," he says, before jabbing a chain-wrapped fist into the stomach of the poor guy, then he's picked up and dropped into an open dumpster thanks to, what else, an F-5.

"You got any left over there? I'm running out!" he calls to Casey, more of those heavy steps following after he gets back up. A pair of lamps activate in the helmet, one to either side, casting more light into the area. "Anybody hiding? Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Casey Jones has posed:
Casey Jones puts his stick up over his shoulder, "Nah, I think we took out the lot of 'em. Skinny suckers, I'd throw 'em back if I was fishin'. Go on, git!" he says, smacking the last of them in the ass with his stick and sending them scattering.

"Been a bit slim pickins since the Foot clan went belly up for a while. I wonder if they'll be back, though. Them...well, you wouldn't believe me if I told you, but I saw some things last year..."

Raphael has posed:
The turning of The Nightwatcher's head casts light into darkness and shadow, and it's also directed toward Casey. Bright enough that it could make picking out details about him more difficult, the beams shift in the direction of the punks as he boots one along. "And don't even think about touching my bike, or I'll take it outta you!"

Casey's words cause him to pause. The Foot? They've both fought them before, but Casey probably wouldn't know that. "I heard a few things," he allows, the lights focusing on the mask-wearing guy again. "But how about you tell me first?"

Casey Jones has posed:
Casey Jones pushes his mask up a bit and gets out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one idly as he leans back against the alley, "Look, I know it's a weird old world and all, but even for me, this was a bit much. See there were these...I guess there ain't no other word for it, but these turtles. Big ass turtles, like human turtles. Mutants, I guess."

"But they ain't just turtles. Get this. Ninjas. Friggin' ninjas. Anyway, me and them did a bit of ass-whuppin' together, took out the Foot. You ever hear of the Shredder? I fought that guy!" he says. Which...in a broad sense he did, alhtough not exactly one on one.

Raphael has posed:
The Nightwatcher starts to wrap the chain back up, but to tuck it away instead of brandishing it as a weapon. He listens to the tales, and with the black visor hiding everything behind it, there's nothing that can be told from any expressions. "Big turtle ninjas, and you fought a cheese grater or something? You sure those are regular cigarettes you're smokin'?" he asks, forced to play up the skeptical side.

Not that the turtles don't know Casey. Of course they do. But, why give it away? Why make it easy to connect potential dots? The Nightwatcher's already got weird-looking gloves, and a stocky body to boot with that pack at his back or whatever it is.

Casey Jones has posed:
Casey Jones waves a gloved hand, "So don't believe me, see if I care. All I know is, it was pretty excitin' times. There was even a cute girl. Outta my league, o' course," he says.

He takes a long drag on a smoke, "If you get a chance, you should hook up with 'em. Maybe they could teach you some moves. Although you're pretty good already. Almost as good as me," he says.

Raphael has posed:
The Nightwatcher laughs. It's short, but it's firm. "Ain't nothin' I can learn from these friends of yours," and that might not be entirely false, as far as he'd be concerned. "And I'm pretty sure you couldn't teach me anything either. I was half expecting you to threaten to shove some of these guys into your locker."

Did he just..? Yes, he did.

Casey Jones has posed:
Casey Jones snorts, "Oh yeah? You sure talk tough, pal. I'd take you up on a scrap, only I only fight bad guys. You're just kind of a jerk, which don't qualify," he says. "Bein' up on your high horse ain't a good look, though. Those turtles' probably take you apart pretty easy."

"Everybody's the toughest guy in town until somebody tougher shows up."

Raphael has posed:
A snort from behind the helmet. "Bro, you got no idea where I've been. I'd thump ya around a bit but you did help drop those losers, so that wouldn't be polite 'a me. Maybe next time we'll see who's better, just for braggin' rights. And I ain't scared of no turtles," claims The Nightwatcher.

This line of conversation is getting a little too close to home for Raphael, however. It might be a good time to get going before Casey works out anything else. "So you just keep on doing..whatever it is you're doing. I got places to be." That's him, moving toward the motorcycle again.

Casey Jones has posed:
Casey Jones puts out his smoke, "Don't be a stranger, Nightwatcher. Maybe we'll get a chance to drop gloves sometime. I'll buy you a beer after, win or lose," he says.