2400/Black Sun: Bonfire of the Vanities

Black Sun: Bonfire of the Vanities
Date of Scene:	10 July 2020
Location:	Bronx
Synopsis:	Bronx sacrifices end up smoked out by SHIELD. Paint monsters optional!
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Sam Wilson, Mikhail Uriokovitch, Mary Jane Watson, Jemma Simmons, Gothic Lolita, Daisy Johnson
Tinyplot:	Black Sun

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Jane Foster has posed:
Haven Arts Center. The Bronx.
Haven Arts Center, just called "Haven" by the locals, isn't much to speak of by itself. It stands on a lot separate from other buildings gone halfway to derelict by decades of neglect and poverty. Chainlink fences separate vacant properties from the hodgepodge of businesses spilled along a pockmarked road. A car wash with futuristic lights stands next to a rundown beauty salon and a Dollar Tree, the ubiquitous purple metroPCS awning watched over by a graffiti-strewn brick building. Aboveground tracks run down White Plain Road, cutting through small houses and low-rises where a historically impoverished community fiercely clings to its roots despite the decay and the squalor, and the slowly emerging rebirth.

Within the shell of an ancient old brownstone kicked four storeys tall are new public galleries, classrooms, and offices, and apartments for those less fortunate. Artists in residence are people from the community, children of hardship, sisters and brothers to struggle. Their work runs the gamut.

Their work isn't always loved.

Art rarely is appreciated in its own time, challenging the status quo as it does, /enraging/ people as it does.

Rolling metal doors are down in front of the building. Faces peer out of the windows. They have reason. Cars parked on the curb can't stop the mass from gathering and it can't keep hipsters from shouting, shaking fists, shaking bottles. Can't stop the first splashes of petrol or the furious tempers, racist slurs from privileged mouths snapped at unwelcome neighbours.

"Go home! Too good to show any art unless they're a member!"

"Get your fucking trash outta here!"

The usual fare. Why does SHIELD care? At first, they won't know, as the artists here aren't important enough to have surveillance, just volunteers passionately committed to downtrodden stories. To digging out hope.

Fifteen minutes later when the super-graphic facade that advertises the center to the public, white background and fresh windows shocked by bright greens and mochas, crawls with flames is another matter.

Sam Wilson has posed:
Sam Wilson isn't here as a SHIELD agent. He does volunteer work with military programs all the time, but with the recent wave of people displaced or unmoored by the Brainiac attacks, community outreach has risen on his priority list. As a kid from Harlem who took advantage of programs like Open Arms and Open Streets, he knows how important they can be.

He didn't come here as a SHIELD agent, he came here as a New Yorker. When things start getting ugly outside, though, he'll call it in: people here need help, fast. Send anyone you can.

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
Mikhail found himself in this part of the city today by chance, having been feeling comfortable enough to travel, though he was surprised to get the call in over comms while leaving the Triskelion and soon hurried over, still in civilian attire of a t-shirt and jeans, clearly not the most fashionable of New Yorkers, but that is seldom a superlative used to describe Mikhail. When he gets closer, the Russian asks over comms <<What is going on?>>

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
MJ wasn't here as a SHIELD agent either, as she was doing some Shakespeare coaching and readings. Just volunteer work, to try and get a bit of the classics back into the community. Which is, of course, when she notices things getting ugly outside.

She mutters, "I swear I'm cursed..." She then says louder, "Alright, everyone... time to go. Cutting this a bit short this time." She then takes her rather large duffel bag and slings it over her shoulder, leading the way to the hallway as she puts her comm up in her ear... hoping that there's some other SHIELD agents around.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    One of the agents actually at the Triskelion was busy at work...in the laboratory, as usual. Jemma had actually several screens up. One....had a computer network that looked like it was patterned after a biological entity. Another had a file up of WAND's new pet zombie. And yet another had an image of the Lance...and even another had open autopsy records. It looked all very impressive....but, when the call came in from Sam, all of that was left behind.

    Instead, Jemma leaves, with a communicator, her ICER, and little else. There is a call before she leaves....but Jemma herself doesn't wait long. There is only the response from Sam's request.

    <<Simmons inbound. Will be there shortly.>>

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    Another person also catches Sam's alert...and is waiting for Jemma when she reaches her vehicle of choice. "I should go with you for security." the trainee agent explains, as Gothic Lolita smiles easily at her. "I am not allowed to deploy without a full agent to oversee me, after all." A strong hint! And, well, she IS fireproof....

Jane Foster has posed:
It started off peaceful enough.

Volunteers like Sam get real work: hanging a huge canvas in a 15' tall gallery. It's disturbing. Not everyone will like it: a woman studded in buildings tearing at her own flesh for shadows growing in the cracks riddling her dusky skin. Sorting supplies in the stockroom, installing new lighting on the third floor gallery. The manager, Lakewa, is a force of nature stomping around in her Doc Martins, greying black hair in long 'locks, jabbing a finger when something isn't right and pitching in the whole time.

Until the alarms go off. Until the worried faces gather at the window. Artists in residence have their own communal workshops or quieter spots to work, and the keyholders share bedrooms upstairs. Some of them go on painting or sculpting reclaimed metal into fragmented expressions of everyday anxiety, totally unaware of the threat outside. They don't hear the shouts or see the flames catching on the plastic wrapping, the metal walls. Alarms squall and the steady beep-beep-beep of the fire system is enough.

"What the hell, again? Stop standing there, Eternity, get the police on the phone," Lakewa's already in boss mode. "Jaden, round up the boys in the back. Get some plywood, barricade the front doors. Where's LaShonda, someone needs to wake up the keyholders and get people out of their paint cans!"

Sam Wilson has posed:
Sam is grateful to hear Mik's voice over the comms, immediately answering, <<We've got guys surrounding the Haven, starting fires. Think you can clear the west exit so we can get people out of here?>> He catches MJ's eye in the hallway and waves to her, then starts sending people her way. She'll get the idea; they can form a chain directing people through the building to that exit, while Mikhail and Jemma make sure they can get away safely. <<They're coming your way,>> he notifies both of the agents outside.

"Lakewa, I've got friends coming," he tells the manager with a tight smile when he spots her, too. "I think we can get everybody out, then we'll work on protecting the building, OK?"

Mikhail Uriokovitch has posed:
<<Ursa checking in,>> Mikhail confirms over comms, <<Will keep eyes open for threats and help funnel people out. Probably same plan as last time, likely targeting same demographic?>> The last riots had had similar a similar modus operandi, as per the AAR filed recently. With that, Mik does keep his attention on the crowd for likely targets, and maybe, just maybe he can see the possible source fueling this metaphorical fire in the crowd, while the literal one is being dealt with as well.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane nods towards Sam, tapping her ear for Sam as she seems to have her commlink with her too. She then keeps the chain moving, getting people out of here except for who Lakewa is commandeering. She looks a bit agitated, feeling Sonja's nature pushing at her to just leap out of a window and thrash some vile villains that think burning a building is a good idea.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    By the time Jemma arrived in the motor pool, the one agent Lolita expected had morphed into two. For, it seemed that Jemma was able to locate fellow Furiae Daisy Johnson on the way...and it didn't take much convincing to talk Daisy into coming. Without missing a beat, Jemma offers a smile to Lolita. "Looks like your lucky day. You get two agents for the price of one." With a nod to Daisy, Jemma directs over towards the mobile 'fortress' that is Daisy's personal vehicle. "Hope you don't mind...thought it would be better to go a little bit more under the radar."

    It is only a manner of minutes before the trio are closing in on Haven. Jemma, settled in the back of the van, leans forward, her head sticking out between Daisy driving and Lolita in the passenger seat. "Sam is asking for us to help clear the west entrance. See if you can find a rather quiet corner so we can get out without attracting that." A hand is extended out, indicating the rather hostile crowd gathering.

    The comms crackle to life, as Jemma sounds out. <<Quake, Lolita and I are arriving on scene. Give us a moment to get to the entrance. Hang in there, Falcon...>>

Jane Foster has posed:
Outside...
White Plains Avenue sees a healthy amount of traffic, but not exactly heavy. Drivers finding the crowd blocking the northbound lane simply swerve around them, upsetting those headed south. A grey sedan trying to avoid pedestrians ends up pinched in the oncoming lane between a beater SUV and a beaten pole holding up the subway tracks. Jemma and Daisy won't be able to push their way through on the snarled masses without honking a lot or growing some wings. Well, with Gothic Lolita, you never know.

The noise draws a few more people from their houses, phones bright like stars in the sky. A woman leans over the balcony of the low-rise apartment across the street and films Haven burning, the demons dancing in the street. "Wha-- hell is that! Jamie, come look! That isn't no *person*, that's--"

"That someone wearing a costume? Jesus, you call 911, woman?"

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    Lolita mmms as she waits patiently, still in the seat as the van makes for the entrance in question. <<Are we detaining people or simply breaking up the riot?>> she says after a moment of thought. <<In addition, if you need someone who is fireproof, I can assist with the interior of the building.>>

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Nope, doesn't take any convincing at all to have Daisy to go along, specially when it seems to be due to an emergency. And once the 'gang' is inside the green and white van it's time to put the petal to the metal!

Speeding through traffic as good as she can she puts up google maps as she looks for the western entrance of the building.

"Hard to get much further here..." Though Daisy does give a few mighty 'honks' to get some people out of the way.

"There's a sea of people out here.." A frown. "We may have to use some brute force to make a way for the people to get out." she slows the van to stop on the sidewalk.

Sam Wilson has posed:
Sam spends another few moments waving people from the Haven toward Mary Jane, the next link in their chain of escape, before the hall empties out where he is. Waving to MJ, he starts off after Lakewa to check the remaining rooms for stragglers whose headphones or intense flow states are still blocking out the danger.

As he ducks into the gallery room, however, he comes face to face with one of those 'costumed' figures: a weirdly distorted, abstract silhouette that seems to have peeled away from the art and is taking way too much interest in the fleeing artists.

"Shit!" he barks, startling back and aiming a solid kick at where its center of mass would be, if it were a person. "Lakewa, come on!" he calls out, chasing after her instead of fully engaging with the creature. "This is not just a fire! We need to get out NOW."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
MJ shouts, "Come on, get out of here!" She runs back into the area where Sam and Lakewa are, drawing the sword out of her duffel bag. The sword gleams brightly from the light of the fire, as she holds it with definite purpose in mind. Her eyes narrow at the spectral figures, noting Sam's kick connecting with /something/.

She twirls her sword in a defensive pattern, not being offensive about it, but any shadow that gets too close is liable to lose an offending part. If they're human, anyway...

Jane Foster has posed:
Inside Haven
It's not mass chaos. Yet. A few of the groggier artists are pulled from their workshops bleary-eyed, still wearing aprons, goggles, sweats stained in paint or curls of metal. Herding them gets much easier when they watch a bridge twisted into a monstrosity covered in balloons and ravens peel itself off a canvas and come shambling out of a workshop. Even though the bridge is only about 18 inches tall in real life, it's about 1.8 /meters/ tall when it comes creaking along on two posts. Balloons smack and leave painted blotches on the wall that steam with a fell, acidic odor.

Lakewa's reaction is to stamp a foot on the ground and grab the best weapon she has: a fire extinguisher. "C'mon!"

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    There is a very definite frown as Jemma sees the mass of human bodies blocking the way to the west exit. What to do? An idea comes to fruition. "Daisy, did you bring your gauntlets?" Because, apparently, Jemma's plan involved a little rumble and shaking. "If you can concentrate your vibrations to push people out of the way without injuring them too greatly, I would greatly appreciate it." So, an invisible cow (or people, in this case) catcher to allow the van to push through like a steam locomotive.

    There is a bit of self admonishment...maybe it would have been a better idea to take the quinjet. Still, Jemma deals with what she has. "If we can't get through with the van, we may need to duck down a side street and go in by foot. As much as I really do not like that idea, it may be easier to get through individually than all together."

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    "That would be more effective." Lolita agrees with Jemma, even as she transmits on the com. <Agent Wednesday, Agent Simmons and Agent Johnson on site. We are proceeding with pushing back the mob on the west side.>> Lolita frowns. "I will not be imposing enough to encourage them to fall back unless I use intimidation." she says softly, looking at the pair...primarily Daisy, as her mentor. "I can move to pick up a car to help encourage them to back up, but I am not intended for riot suppression." She frowns more in annoyance. "...I will need to fix that for the future."

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"I never leave home without 'em." Daisy says, fetching them from the back of the van and putting them on. "Can you take the wheel, Jemms?" she finishes securing them to her wrists, but then points to a side street nearby. "Trying to open through with my shockwaves may not go well, too many people, and innocents.." she murmurs.

When they go to stop on the side street she opens the side door of the van. "Maybe we can launch ourselves *over* the protesters?" she suggests. "That may make people to start scatter too when they see us doing that."

Sam Wilson has posed:
For his part, Sam doesn't need to be told twice; he catches up to Lakewa, blurts out, "Emjay's right, we ALL need to get out of here!" and nudges past her to block the balloon-bridge's advance.

This studio was being used for scrap metal sculpture, but not all of the raw material has been integrated into the art yet; he ducks and grabs a half-bumper from an old Buick that was left behind. Holding it up two-handed like a broadsword of his own, he takes a step forward and brandishes it at the bridge-thing.

"You want tetanus?" he warns it, before winding up and taking a violent swing at it. "Because THAT'S how you get tetanus!"

Jane Foster has posed:
Outside...
The traffic jam isn't improving, especially with a couple and a few teenagers trotting down the street. They carry gloves, a bucket, cell phones, all of which are woefully inadequate for the flames consuming the four-storey structure. The proud "Haven" sign in green and white glows lurid orange, the metal sheeting melted away under it where the fire bit through. Shadows leap and prance around the building, and it's best not to see what one of the actually mobile painted simulacra does when finding a resident taking photos. Outstretched hands clutch at them with electric cable fingers crackling with sparks, and the shouts add to the chaos.

Horrified bystanders do what they can. Someone calls for a wrench to jimmy open a hydrant where Gothic Lolita, Jemma, and Daisy can hear. No hose, but water is better than nothing. Gentrifiers hold their ground, a few shaking their fists, a few still staring at their handiwork as aluminum sheeting warps and bubbles.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson, aka Agent Sonja, twirls her blade at the... bridge. Then she shouts and charges, slicing through the balloons and then the bridge itself with lurid pops and discharges of air. Paint flies like it were blood as the 'bridge' staggers, then falls over, leaving MJ's feet entangled in cables that it takes a few steps to extract herself from. "Ware, the paintings themselves are coming to life, but they are not living for very long!" She grins a bit, covering Sam and Lakewa's retreat as she shouts, "COME ON, CURS! MEET RED SONJA'S BLADE!"

And... that might be loud enough for some of the people outside to hear. Which, could be a little disconcerting, depending...

Jane Foster has posed:
Inside Haven
Most of the artists flee to the back of the building. Thanks to some efforts on Mik's part (unsung hero!) to rip a door open, they have a place to escape into. Unfortunately that requires escaping through embers and falling bits of metal sheeting, burnt rubbish, and paint cans popping off their lids at high speeds. One of those clobbers a metalworker and he falls to the ground. His partner shrieks, trying to pull his bleeding figure away.

Lakewa is happy to unleash that fire retardant from the extinguisher at the paint monster, aiding Sam with a blast of smoke that pours out from the nozzle. A kick for good measure puts a shudder through the metal struts. The other paint creatures lob themselves in the worst ways: a rabbit with squid-like filaments escapes its trap, racing after a fleeing painter. The groaning weight of the huge canvas they hung earlier speaks to the Woman With Torn Skin coming to life, just as the ceiling over them collapses, fire eating through holes. Drywall and wood fall around MJ, Lakewa, and Sam. See, it's *really* not safe!

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    As the van finds a cozy spot, the good Doctor Simmons offers a nod. "That could work. Are you able to project yourself over that?" Nevermind the fact that the shockwaves might push people to the ground....it is a shorter trip down than over. And now is the time for improvisation. "We need to get over there now..."

    Jemma stumbles out of the side door of the van, into the street. With a critical eye to the crowd, a soft groan escapes from her lips. "Oh, I am really not going to like this..." Then, with that, Jemma turns to Lolita, nodding over to the entrance. "Can you take both of us over there? As in, jump? I have seen what you can do...." There just may be a phantom pain twitch in Jemma's upper thigh as a remembrance. "I have no doubt you are needed over there...and it is the quickest way over."

    There is a thick swallow. Jemma...is about to submit herself to be carried on a rather wicked ride.

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    Lolita smoothly sides out, planting her boots on the ground as she walks over to Jemma, then carefully slides an arm around both her and Daisy. "Of course. Please hang on." she says simply, turning her head as she calculates trajectories.

    Then with a *leap* she arcs neatly over the crowd, clearing them and landing with a careful two step in front of the entrance, before she sets her fellow agents down, before turning to the crowd and stepping forawrd.

    When she speaks again, her voice is amplified like a loudspeaker. "Attention. This is an emergency situation. Please peacefully disperse for your own protection." After all, the lookie-loos who live here are just trying to get a better look..it's the actual violent protestors that are an issue. She also steps towards the crowd in a slow, but steady saunter, so if any of them decide to launch an attack, she's the most obvious target.

    It is her job. She is the tank.

Jane Foster has posed:
Outside... the entrance is completely ablaze. The rolling metal door that kept the doors and gallery windows protected from overnight graffiti is now a wash of violent oranges and blobs of paint, plastic, and metal. Heat radiates away from it, suggesting the flames behind the front of the building are contained by that lid. Pop it, and everyone's getting set ablaze.

The protesting sorts actually trying to be violent have seen their work largely succeed and they aren't exactly about trying to engage with... whatever Gothic Lolita is. Pretty girl in scary carapace. No, they've been cheering and watching.

And when the wall blows out from a painted Beamer with some fell driver only seen as a red tracksuit arm and a jaguar head -- aspirations gone mental -- is there any movement from them. Away. Because it can't actually glow with high-beams, it's just a weirdly schlorpy sound coming for the tank.

Tank v. car, who wins?

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Stepping out of the van Daisy rolls her shoulders, taking in the crowd with a small frown. She closes and opens her hands into fists, starting to gather her power as they go over the plan...

Daisy was just about to go and tell Jemma 'are you sure?', but she is stopped on such course of action when Lolita steps in close and gets the -two- of them to go up. "Oh, hey..." but then..., the heck with it! Time to fly! Or jump ... At least Daisy is sort of used to this by now, maybe not at these kind of speeds, or without having control of the situation. Eyes widen but then they are on the other side. "Well, that's one way to do it!" a brief grin to GL and then a peek at Jemma, "Are you ok?".

She takes a few moments recovering and looks around towards that door on fire. "We are going to need an alternative exit to this." she says. "Shall we open a new door?" and then there's that beamer coming out. A blink, but no time to process, one hand extends towards it and she shoots a shockwave right at the thing.

Sam Wilson has posed:
"Okay, enough fighting," Sam says urgently, backing down the hallway after Lakewa. "This place is coming down around our ears; I say we let the paint monsters have it. We can rebuild. /Tomorrow/."

As their little group continues toward Mik's point of escape, a mutated city bus four feet tall comes barreling out of a side door between him and the Haven manager; he tees up and gives it a Tiger Woods swing with the bumper, sending it crashing back where it came from and leaving silvery spatter all over the front of his body.

"Nothing to see here, keep moving!" he says, leaning forward to give Lakewa body cover and urge her ever faster toward the door.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane growls a bit, "I am so tired of these people..." She holds the rear guard position, backing out after everyone else is clear. She lops off the head of the rabbit, snarling as she has no problem being the last one out of the room.

With that, she turns and makes her way after Sam and Lakewa, "What sort of vile sorcery is this anyway? This can't be a coincidence!" She knows, at least, it isn't Kulan Gath... well, not unless he's started getting a lot weirder compared to how she knew him back in the day.

Jane Foster has posed:
Lakewa is not a small woman and she sure as shit isn't a wilting daisy. She wraps her hands around the fire extinguisher and uses it like a baseball bat at the bus rolling by, tearing into the folding doors and leaving a good dent. Neither is she exactly young. That takes a bit out of her, gasping and puffing, her dark face reddening, but damn if she's going to watch her business, her home, burn down to the ground without saying something. It comes out in a string of profanity, her locks flying as she ducks from a burning spar. "What, you think /I/ know? People been sayin' they'd tear this down since the day I opened it, Red!"

A huge, clawed hand of the Woman With Torn Skin bashes down a wall like it's nothing, cutting them off from traipsing out the door into smoky air, into freedom. Uh-oh...

Jemma Simmons has posed:
     The moment Jemma's feet land on solid ground, she stumbles to the side, away from the tank in lace and Daisy. Her footfalls find her on what may be the only available grass on this side of the Bronx, with a tree close by. It isn't a great big tree by any means...but enough to provide shade.

    And, it is moving...

    Before Jemma can react, a branch catches her and sends her tumbling out towards the crowd. It is unexpected...and certainly a surprise to said crowd, that disperses just where Jemma lands, providing unfettered access to the payment.

    Ouch.

    Jemma's voice breaks over the comms. <Well...that was unexpected. Watch out for Treebeard on the southwest lawn.>

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    At the crash of the painted car bursting through the wall and barrelling towards towards her, Gothic Lolita spins to face it, her head tilting fractionally as it roars towards her. Internally, her HUD tags it as "Entitled Jaguar?" as she takes a few steps towards it, raising her hands as she clasps them together and precisely smashes them down.

    Driving the front of the pavement with a *CRASH* as she transfers the forward momentum of the vehicle straight into the ground.

    Were this a real car, she would have just put the engine block into the sewer below the street. Since it's not however, the painted car just...explodes in a wave of paint that washes over her and the crowd behind her as the shockwave disintegrates the animated vehicle.

    Lolita steps back, then shakes her head slightly to try and keep it from dripping it down into her eyes. <<Not the worst stuff I've been drenched in.>>

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Clicking into comms Daisy announces. < Care with the western exit. It's fully ablaze. If you come out that way it may engulf everyone in there on fire. Any windows nearby? > she asks to the group inside. < We can create a door if needed, GL is here. > and hey, Daisy has seen first hand the way GL can open up alternative entrances to places. Of course there's always some .., side effects.

She looks towards Jemma when she is tossed around by some tree, frowning and starting to move near her. "I got you." or she did, until a dog comes out of fire and ..., in flames? Drooling fire and appearing to be painted?! No ordinary dog! It lunges up towards Daisy and there's no hesitation from her, hand up as shockwaves hit it mid-air, tossing it back with a yelp back to the fire!

"What is this..., nightmares from hell?"

A look again to Jemma to assess what's going on with her and Treebeard. Maybe she will be the new Merry.

Sam Wilson has posed:
Sam ducks back out of the way as the hand tears through the wall and buries its claws in the floor ahead of him. This is... too big to swat with a bumper.

But it is /half/ a bumper, and he wasn't kidding about the tetanus; the end appears to have been sawn off at an angle for another piece of art. He looks at that angled point, and thinks to himself: Fuck it. If I had any sense, I wouldn't be an Avenger.

Then he leaps forward onto the hand of the woman with torn skin, scrambles up her arm as far as he can, and leaps, the bumper held overhead like a spear, to plunge it into the art-monster's eye.

He hangs there for a second, but the weird material of these creatures isn't quite solid enough to support his weight for long. Soon, he's sliding downward, the bumper parting the Woman vertically as neatly as a zipper.

Once his feet hit the ground again, he's off like a shot, hustling toward the exit for all he's worth.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane leaps after Sam as he leaves, the Woman with Torn Skin reacting to him even as she sees an opening. Howling in rage, her blade slices through the neck of the giant woman like it was... um, paper, red paint spraying everywhere in a gory Sam Raimi-Evil Dead-inspired mess.

Landing on the other side, she then makes sure everyone gets out before running after Sam, blade out in case there are other enemies that need dealing with.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    Well, no one told Jemma she would have to fight an Ent. A glance to the corrugated metal security wall is more than enough to tell the scientist that she should most definitely not go that route. The scientist pulls herself up to her feet as she speaks into the comm. <Sam, did you get everyone out?> The question serves two purposes. It clears Jemma's head of the ringing in her ears as the bough almost broke her. And....it helps to factor in what her next action is to do.

    Can't knock out the protestors. Too public. Can't fight the big tree. But....tree is slow. So....go around. With that, Jemma just bypasses the tussle with the tree and heads over towards the west exit, joining up with Mik as the artists make a mad scramble out of the burning building. "Is everyone out?!" Eyes search for Sam...because he was inside, at least last time Jemma knew.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Well, Daisy won't be hanging around to be the second hobbit tussling with an ent... So she moves around as well once she notes that Jemms has moved out, following over to where the artists are running out from. She is ready though, looking around attentively just in case a branch appears out of a corner or something.

Yet if not she does help in the evacuation effort.

Jane Foster has posed:
Evacuation effort? That'll be fun, what with the smoky, gasping figures of the artists sprawled out and the last beast of them all prowling around in the greyish-black gloom billowing out of the building. Eyes of sparks peer down and the dark cloud decides not to roar up into the sky but down. Snappy teeth and foaming, snapping wings like an eagle billow down to enfold Mary Jane, Sam, Lakewa -- everyone around them, caught in the smoky awful coils. It's pretty darn hard to breathe when covered in the detritus of burning buildings and paint.

Things certainly just get less fun that way when it's apparent the big old horrid monster just intends to /roost/ on them.

Jerk!

Sam Wilson has posed:
Sam winces, coughs twice, then drags the collar of his shirt up to cover the lower half of his face. His eyes are still watering, but at least the particulates will have a slightly harder time getting into his lungs. He normally has a rapport with birds, but he suspects that his vicious mental 'fuck off' isn't going to have much of an impact in this case.

Instead, he reaches back with an open hand to Lakewa, trying to catch hold of her so they can both barrel forward and through the choking, animate cloud. Whether Sonja and her sword can do anything against an immaterial enemy, he doesn't know, but at least if they all charge forward into the open air, they'll have allies and a better chance to escape.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane coughs, her stamina helping with the smoke but it's still hard going as she does, in fact, still need to breathe. She helps Lakewa as well, standing on their other side as she rips off the sleeve from her shirt, holding it to Lakewa so they can use it as a makeshift filter. Then she does likewise for herself, guiding them along as she says, "Can't... *cough* cut this... *hack* thing. No wings *coughcough* pretty *cough* bird?"

Even with a smoke dragon trying to smother them, she still can crack wise at least. So that's positive.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    A hand waves futilely in front of Jemma's face as she tries to clear a little bit of air for her to breath, only for her to start coughing in fits and spurts. The smoke is certainly animated, that much was certain. And...there was nothing Jemma could do with her ICER to stop it.

    But she knew someone who can.

    The comms crackled to life as a wretched cough sounds out over the airwaves. Then, Jemma's voice, that British accent cracked, the voice a husky tone from inhaling half of the air pollution in New York in one go. "D....Daisy! Disperse the *cough* smoke!" The comm catches another coughing fit before it goes dead.

    And as for Jemma? She turns around, looking at the crowd and shouts with what is left of her voice before it falters in another series of hacking. "Are you blind? Get the bloody hell out of here!"

    The normally composed Agent Simmons devolving to British colloquialisms? Someone got her upset.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Joining up with the rest of the backup 'gang' on the outside Daisy comes face to face with the gasping figures trying to come out ... Tendrils of smoke? A figure there? "On it, Jemms!" she replies to Jemma when she calls for some quaking action.

The form of a .., bird? "Another one of those creatures..." but Daisy won't be losing much time trying to figure out how this particular creature came to life, or how it will react to her own powers. People are in danger, and so Daisy acts.

She focuses, the air around her appearing to shimmer, hair raising slowly as she begins to manipulate vibrations all around her, bringing them to gather on the palm of her hand. She aims just /above/ the evacuating ones. "Get your heads down!" she shouts (just in case there are abnormally tall ones there!) ...

And then it's time to unleash hell on the creature. A visible shockwave is noticeable travelling through the air aimed to the shadow bird with which she hopes it will release it's shadowy tendrils from those running out. Not that she stops her assault one way or the other, continuing to batter it with a continued shockwave, step by step she moving forward.

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    As the smoke birds attack, Gothic Lolita begins to move with purpose, rapidly, darting between people under attack to grab hold of the birds and just crush them in either hand as needed. She'd pull them away but they have claws and she's attempting to avoid injuries caused by yanking at them. She moves with machine precision, then at Jemma's direction and Daisy's warning she obediently drops, and tugs the nearest person to her with her to make sure they're under the shockwave as well.

Jane Foster has posed:
Ooh, off Sam rolls, pulling the angry manager of Haven with him. She isn't kicking and flailing. But she is not about to let this go, gagging and choking. If you can't burn 'em, rip their breath out of their lungs.

Another, another, another. The same horrific shape looming out of the boundless smoke is sure to burn or cause smoke inhalation damage if anyone loiters. Who is stupid enough to loiter? Of course Lakewa moves, of course anyone conscious wants to... and it just floats over to sit on them again. Roosting means lower to the ground, spiraling heat, certain death. It may have conscious volition or not, but the movements are cruel. That big billowing cloud of smoke is nothing but tenebrous air and debris inside, a certain death.

Until Daisy has to go ahead and blow its body open with shaking waves, separating a billow of downward black cloud from the mass that immediately starts cheerfully rolling up into the night sky as nature intended.

Somewhere, someone very angry shouts and screams.

Sam Wilson has posed:
As Daisy blasts away their ethereal aggressor, Sam rises to his feat, tear-tracks snaking through the soot on his face, and takes a staggering run out into the suddenly-clear night. The sound of a rage fit catches his attention, and although his lungs are too full of smoke for all-out pursuit, he jogs in that direction and calls on his avian phone-a-friend powers once again.

Whoever is making that racket, he wants the local birds to dive bomb, peck at, crap upon, and otherwise make miserable until he or his colleagues can get there. "Look for someone birds hate," he alerts the other SHIELD agents. And as he continues to pursue directly, he says to MJ, "Look, I'm wishing I'd brought 'em now, too. But I was here to /hang pictures/."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane gives Sam a grin, "I /did/ bring the sword, and I'm just here to talk about the Bard." She narrows her eyes, glancing around for the source of the rage fit, since she still wants to get the person responsible for this mess. "Sounds like the instigator of this sorcery is still nearby."

Sure, sorcery is a bit generic, but... well, if it quacks like a duck and tries to animate paintings like a dark sorcerer...

Jemma Simmons has posed:
    Sam called for the birds. And...the birds respond. Even Jemma can see, through the dissipating smoke, that there is a specific target for the birds. And Jemma has been known to read dossiers for fun. It doesn't take a moment to put two and two together and identify that Sam asked for a little winged help.

    Brown eyes, watery from the smoke, take in the sight. A bearded man, waving his arms frantically as he stars in his own little Hitchcock-esque scene. Logic dictates that this very epitome of hipster-ness is the culprit behind the various animations. An actual, living person...that should be susceptible to an dendrotoxin round.

    The ICER pistol is pulled out almost before the thought finishes. Both hands grasp the weapon, steadying the barrel as Jemma squeezes the trigger. Once, then once more. The classic double-tap, taught to all SHIELD agents at the Academy. Both rounds fly in, one striking the flailing man in the chest, the other in the left forearm.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Daisy makes sure the smoke is no more before she looks at the others nearby, a check to see if everyone is well. A smile of relief then given as she spots the agents coming out. "Is everyone alright?" then a call for a culprit, frown deepening. "The instigator?" that makes her look around, searching, just in time to witness Jemma zeroing in on a target.

She looks across to the bearded man, opens her mouth to say something but before she can actually do so the man is downed. Such cold efficiency!

"Jemms strikes again." She says of the bullseye shot, giving the other Agent a clap on the shoulder. "It's as I tell you. A waste not having you more often on the field!" it also makes her jot down a mental note to not make her angry when she's brandishing an ICER about!

Sam Wilson has posed:
"Hell of a shot, Jems," Sam says approvingly, leaning back against a wall opposite Haven to clear out his lungs and catch his breath. He just got /out/ of medical, and that was for a badass shot-with-a-plasma-bolt thing. He does not need to head straight back in for smoke inhalation.

He'll leave binding the suspect to the others; he's going to return to Lakewa and start helping her get a head count. They should make sure everyone made it out before the firefighters arrive.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
MJ grins, "Wow, that's so cool." She does sound pretty impressed at Jemma's shot, putting her sword away as she looks over towards Daisy and the others, "Oh, hey guys... um, left my normal SHIELD stuff at home, except the commlink." In her defense, she is still only a trainee.

She does also do a headcount, both making sure that everyone is out and also checking that there's not any other accomplices other than Beardo McNeckbeard that Jemma flattened with her ICER.

Gothic Lolita has posed:
    Gothic Lolita tilts her head, her eyes zeroing in on the bearded man in question as she starts to head towards him through the crowd. <<I have a possible target responsible for->>

    And then Jemma doubletaps him.

    <<...yes, that was the one.>> she finishes, saying out loud for the remaining crowd. "SHIELD agent, please move aside!" She'll make her way over to the man in question as he's well and truly down, before she reaches in one of her pockets and pulls out a pair of cuffs, rolling him over on his stomach. "Stay on your stomach sir, arms behind your back." Not that he'd have an easy time breaking away from her now that she's got her hands on him.

Jane Foster has posed:
Lakewa is a mess. Covered in soot, her face blackened, locks completely ashen and filthy with the smell of Haven burning. She spits and snarls, staring up at the building and the smoke that tried to murder her. The shape falls apart, any effigy of a monster melting. More of the paint monsters need to be decimated but the Bronx takes shit from no one. Crowbars, guns, rocks; they'll use whatever they got to chase those beasts down and turn them into puddles of ectoplasm and painted ichor on the ground that dissipates within 15 minutes or less.

Flashing red lights scream at the arrival of the fire department. It's having trouble getting through, but nothing like bodily shoving cars out of the way.

NYFD don't mess around.

Some of the locals are into it now, shoving the activists around, though not all. The hipster with the beard doesn't even get to shout another incantation or bitter retort before ICER rounds take him down and he crumple,

Well, sucks to be him because Lakewa shakes off whatever hand might be on her to stalk over that way and point a finger at his unconscious face. "You foul, beauty-hating man. You better /hope/ you got yourself some kind of spaceship to get you out of this whole system because there is nowhere you can go that I won't send my lawyer to bust your scrawny know-it-all ass. All this cause I wouldn't let you and your boys buy me out and put up your fugly excuses for art."

Gothic Lolita has no impediments to arresting the stunned man, which is a plus. She might have to keep those curb-stomping boots from doing their job. Docs represent.