241/Protest of the Mindless

Protest of the Mindless
Date of Scene:	03 March 2020
Location:	New York Streets
Synopsis:	Ivy and a zombie gang protest environmental abuse when Killer Croc suddenly shows up but they are chased off by Leon & Gar Logan and the police.
Cast of Characters:	Pamela Isley, Leon O'Malley, Gar Logan, Waylon Jones

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Pamela Isley has posed:
It's a busy midday in New York City, and the streets are busiling with all sorts of people. Maybe they're going for lunch, maybe they're out walking, or headed back to work. Either way, there's a large group of people with GREEN HAIR gathered on the sidewalk, holding SIGNs. "HEY, BE NICE TO THE EARTH" one of the signs reads.

A slim GREEN LADY stands amid these people looking interested in a chemical waste transport parked on the street, across from the coffee shop, The StarDollars. The two men have pushed a barrel onto the sidewalk and seem to be wanting to dump it into the back of the transport but the GREEN people are blocking their way, "Hey, could you move the heck out of the way?" one of the men yells.

Poison Ivy isn't hard to miss, cause she's dressed in her leaf dress, her usual garb. She holds up a hand to the men, as if to indicate STOP EVIL DOERS. Her entourage stares at the passers-by like ZOMBIES and some of them are drooling, "Don't....pollute....doooon't. Hug....the...treeeeeees..." they groan in unison.

Leon O'Malley has posed:
Leon walks casually down the street, intently looking at a notepad as he rounds the corner and nearly crashes into a protest zombie, "Whoop, sorry." He says on rote as he twirls around them, continuing for a few yards before stopping and looking back with confusion, "...Wow, you guys must be on the good stuff...Is that legal in New York? I cant remember..." He then spots Ivy doing her Captain Planet impression, "...Is that a biohazard barrel? Why is StarD-what am I saying, why /wouldn't/ they be exporting biohazardous waste...Lady, you should probly move, if that barrel breaks, it could melt your skin off." He says as he stows the notepad and begrudgingly walks over.

Gar Logan has posed:
Getting between Metropolis and New York City is not bad when you can fly, but taking the Hyperloop is pretty fast as well and there's the added benefit of not being tired.

Whatever Gar Logan has returned to NYC for, he's been in the coffee shop for a little while before a bit of a disturbance outside captures his attention. Protesters are one thing. Protesters looking and acting like that are another.

The door swings open and he exits, dressed casually today. "Okay, dudes. The drooling is one thing. I kind of resent that, but it happens sometimes. Plus, you're polluting the sidewalk with all that saliva. But the green hair? I should file for copyright infringement!"

Of course, green hair isn't exactly protected by law. It sounded good to him, however. A certain Poison Ivy is then spotted as he looks in the direction of the people with the chemical waste. "Oh, boy..as if Harley Quinn wasn't enough."

Pamela Isley has posed:
One of the protesters points accusingly at LEON and stares blankly at him, "Don't....polluuuuuute..." he warns. He stands there with his protest sign and advances on Leon until Poison Ivy taps him on the shoulder, "Darling, the evil men are over here," she explains as she looks back at the chemical waste disposers carting the barrel out of the StarDollars coffee shop.

Poison Ivy POINTS at Gar Logan and says, "Look what they're carting out of that coffee shop!" she lets out. She taps another of her protesters shoulders and tickles another man's ear, "Evil....evil chemicals...it's true," she says softly.

"Will you gimmie a break," the men with the barrel groan in annoyance, "I'm calling the police, screw this." As the man takes out his cellphone, one of the protesters advances on him like a zombie, "Doooon't....polluuuuute!" he groans. He pushes the chemical workman and he fumbles his cellphone.

Leon O'Malley has posed:
Leon cocks a brow at the protester pointing at him, staring at him for a few seconds before languidly hocking a loogey on the ground, "....Make me." As Ivy redirects the zombies' attention to the disposal crew, Leon groans as he begins backwards jogging down the sidewalk, "Oh, I can already tell this is gonna be a whole thing." Said while ducking into an alley, disappearing amidst the garbage, shadows, and grime.

Gar Logan has posed:
"What is it? Used coffee grounds?" Gar asks, though he's giving Poison Ivy more attention than the rest, given who she is. It would appear from what she's just done with one of the people she's got in tow, they are probably not acting of their own free will.

Holding his hands up in a placating way, he keeps his distance but remains near enough to speak. "Seriously..what's this all about? What's in there?" He saw something being moved out to the sidewalk, but how could a coffee shop be that in danger of harming the environment? "Let's talk this out."

Waylon Jones has posed:
New York is not the usual stomping ground of Waylon Jennings. Despite the darkness, the crime, the pollution, the near constant rain and the flying rodent people, he rather prefers Gotham. But today he is in New York all the same. Why? Probably he fell asleep on the train and nobody had the guts to wake him up until he reached the end of the line. Something like that. And so he finds himself slightly lost, and more than a little irritable. One of these things is very common.

Clad in a huge black hoodie, stained jeans, and a pair of battered brown loafers in approximately a size 107, Croc tromps down the street seeking anything familiar. As it would happen, perhaps the one thing he'd recognize in New York is a certain redhead. A redhead who seems to be at the center of some kind of turmoil. It's not precisely a surprise, in Croc's experience, but he nonetheless approaches. As he comes close he pauses, carefully, slowly reading the protest signs. His lips move, even if he doesn't say a word.

Pamela Isley has posed:
The men frown at Gar Logan's question, "None of yer bid-ness, bub," one of them says and the other answers, "Nothing. It's just old coffee," he adds. Poison Ivy frowns, "They are liars!" she shouts. The protesters groan in response, "Don't polluuuuute...liiiiiiiiars..." they groan.

The one protester stops chasing after Leon and turns toward the chemical disposal men, helping his buddy push the man with the cellphone, until he drops it this time, "Hey! Stop! Oof! Hey don't!" the man lets out as the zombies---I mean protesters, surround them and the barrels, "Help! Get back! Help!"

Poison Ivy smiles, "YOU get back! You're destroying the Earth!" She doesn't seem to be holding her protesters back as they surround the two men at the barrels. The yelling and the shouting gets louder. Poison Ivy gives a cute little wave to Killer Croc as she sees him over the group.

Leon O'Malley has posed:
A pair of inky black tendrils snap forth into the crowd, shoving the zombified protesters aside like paper, and snatch the waste disposal team up, dragging them straight back onto the roof of the coffee shop to drop safely behind the freshly sleekly black and white spider motif'd suited up Leon.

    "I'mma have to ask you /not/ to cause a biocontaminate spill here. We've got enough pot holes as is." The voice a hellish amalgamate of human and the gurgling growls of an eldritch horror. Leon hops casually down to street level, landing with a simple roll as if the thirty foot drop was all of five, "Ok everybody, disperse, cops'll be here any day now, let's not get anybody hurt here." He says drably while waving his arms in a dispersing manner.

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar Logan holds up his hands again, still calling for peace, for cooler heads to prevail. "Come on, I mean it. Let's settle down. Now, I was just in there. I'm a paying customer, so how about I get a look inside that drum? Unless you have something to hide, of course."

He's speaking more to the people trying to get the barrel out of here, but the way Poison Ivy and her mindless minions respond isn't exactly making it likely things will end here without further disruption. And then, it comes in the form of something black and snake-like, pushing into the group trying to stop all of this, then grabbing and yanking the disposal dudes away.

Gar hops back a foot or two in surprise, staring at what drops down a moment later. "Aaaand things just got weirder," the kindasorta-still-a-Titan says, rubbing at his face wearily.

Waylon Jones has posed:
Croc bares his teeth at Ivy. It's probably supposed to be a smile. And he raises his hand to shoulder level and twiddles his clawed fingers at her. This is what Croc knows about Poison Ivy, though: she is dangerous, she is smarter than he is, and she protects the earth. There are probably other bits and pieces, but those are more or less the relevant ones just now. He stomps over toward the men with the barrel and stands to one side, behind the protesters. Definitely within their line of sight. "Give me the barrel," he says, voice a deep, rough bass. "I will put it somewhere safe. You go." It seems the most reasonable course of action to him -- take the barrel out of the equation and let the people go on their way. Whether toxic muck or coffee grounds, they probably don't want to be dealing with the stuff. Unless, as the little green kid said, they have something to hide.

Pamela Isley has posed:
Some of the protesters falls down as Leon dumps them all on the street. One man picks up the fallen cellphone, "Copsssss?" he asks, putting it to his ear, "Don't poluuuuuute....?" he asks the friendly dial tone. The two workers stare at each other as they sit there on the roof, "God bless it, we'll never get this job done," one of them whines, "Where's the stairs?".

Poison Ivy steps up to the metal barrel left behind by the two men and pets it, "Darling, we're not going anywhere until this evil is gone. I should dump this all over the street....all over the city...and let it consume itself," she says. The protesters wave their signs around and start to ADVANCE on Gar Logan until Killer Croc speaks up. They stop and stare at him.

Poison Ivy smirks, "Oh honey, what do you mean? You're not burying this, are you?! You can't! You'll hurt the land! The trees! There's other ways of teaching these guys a lesson!" she tells him.

Leon O'Malley has posed:
At Beast Boy's accusation of weirdness, Leon's head snaps to point his way, "We take offense to that, green jeans." And then Croc comes over to take the barrel and dispose of it using the secret decades of waste disposal knowledge he very well may have, "Oh no no no, you're not stealing a barrel of toxic waste, not on our watch." Leon says as he fires a line of web from the back of his wrist, pinning the barrel to the ground.

    He then looks at Ivy, "....You're crazy...But you're also right, broken clock and all that. This barrel and any others like it need to be properly disposed of by professionals...But that also means not killing them." He looks to the protest zombies, "Beating the crap out of them is also off the table."

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar Logan throws up his hands. "For the love of..we don't even know that it's toxic yet!" he bellows, showing more behind his voice than his roughly five and a half foot frame might suggest. "And there's a lot of me that's green, whatever you are, but my jeans are not part of the equation!"

That's when he openly stares at Killer Croc. The plant lady. The big reptile. The spidery-looking dude. Of the four of them here now, is it possible Gar looks the most normal of them all? When has /that/ ever happened?

He's also being careful not to insert himself too closely in the midst of the trouble, and as some of the zombified people - he's gonna have to make sure that little problem gets taken care of - begins to close in on him, he morphs into a hummingbird and zips above their reach, even above Croc's as he hovers. "Really, guys. Can't we all just /look/ in there first? If it's full of some sweet, sweet nectar, I'm getting drunk."

Waylon Jones has posed:
Croc snorts, shakes his head. "Safe in the sewers," he says as the hood falls back, revealing his face, his scales, his teeth. "Surrounded by concrete. And nobody comes there." Another of those teeth-baring grins that would send shivers through most human beings -- though likely not the important players around here. "Well, nobody comes there twice."

His eyes go up, try to fix on the tiny bird hovering out of reach. "If the barrel is opened, maybe bad stuff gets out," he says reasonably. "If it is just coffee grounds, they want to throw them out anyway. If it is not coffee grounds, they are lying because they have something to hide. Put barrel someplace safe. Nobody gets hurt. By poison or by..." One might think he means himself, but no, he indicates Ivy's zombie-men with a wave of his hand.

Pamela Isley has posed:
"What do you mean, safely? That's what we're doing here, idiots! We're licensed waste disposers!" the workers shout from the rooftop. "I'm going to have ALL ya'all arrested!" he shouts. Some of the coffee shop people must have called the police because sirens can now be heard.

Poison Ivy hmmfs and waves off Leon's protests, "No---sweet, sweet poison, the kind they bleed off coffee machines and bury in the ground. They're killing the trees!" she says. She suddenly looks sad, quite depressed as she stares down at the metal barrel and then over at Killer Croc, "They're coming to arrest me. We better decide something soon or nobody wins. They'll bury this in the sand," she explains, though it's hard to determine if she's being literal or not, "I guess you'll have to take it!" she tells Killer Croc. Is she being persuasive? Hmm.

Leon O'Malley has posed:
As Gar Beast Boys it up and tries to get everyone to help him get his crunk in, Leon looks up at him, "No we're not gonna open it, you little pecker! If it is toxic the fumes alone could kill you all. Just go shriek at the guys I left on the roof, I'll keep the ground level while you're gone."

    Leon inches towards the barrel, "One, if it was coffee grounds, they'd just've thrown them in the trash. Two, these containers break down over time. The sewers connect not only to the ocean, but to the city's drinking water. I'm not letting you put it there." And then Ivy is pushing Croc to take the barrel, prompting Leon to move his time table up, hopping next to the barrel, "Not having. If you want this barrel, you gotta go through us." He says as he fires another web at the base of the barrel, tethering it even more to the ground.

Gar Logan has posed:
"For starters, I'm a hummingbird right now, not a woodpecker. There's a difference. Second, what's with the 'us' stuff? There's just you. Third, this is weird as hell."

By now, the Gar-bird is going higher still, until he's within view of the would-be transporters of the waste. "Fourth, quit making excuses and tell me what's in there before someone has an accident. If you're really transporting something dangerous, I'm sure New York's Finest won't have any problem getting the info from you and they won't be half as nice about it."

Thankfully, he's pretty much out of range of anything down below. Croc probably can't jump that high, Ivy doesn't seem to have reason to interrupt him, that mob won't be grabbing him, and..well, that one guy is webbing some stuff up. Hiding it in the sewers probably won't be very safe, either.

Waylon Jones has posed:
Large, slitted yellow eyes blink at Leon. "You don't know Gotham sewers," he observes drily. Ivy surely does -- those things are twisting and turning and frequently have no access to water for a mile or more. They've been built and rebuilt so often that only people who make their lives down there are really aware of the depths they reach.

Croc has no reason to pull down the green bird anyway -- he's too tiny to bother eating. And sometimes he's human shaped. Humans are greasy and tough, in his experience. Bending, he inspects the webbing thoughtfully. Pokes at it with a claw.

Pamela Isley has posed:
"This is ridiculous," one of the workers whines, "We have a signed work order," he says and waves the pink form in the air. "Don't talk to those idiots. They're all insane," one of the workers tells the other. "Here comes the police, I can see them now."

Poison Ivy leans over and pries at the webbing keeping the barrel on the ground, "Men! Get over here! Help us!" she instructs, and her zombies do as instructed, grabbing at Leon to pry him back from the barrel.

A police car screetches to a halt up the street and two men climb out of their police cruiser, "Poison Ivy! Give up! Your crime spree is over!" one of them yells through a bullhorn. Poison Ivy stands up from her work and sighs depressingly, "I failed..."

Leon O'Malley has posed:
To Gar's bulleted list of complaints, Leon simply states, "It's complicated." Croc is then addressing him directly, "Yer right, we dont. Welcome to New York." And THEN Croc is poking at the webbing. It's extremely sticky, and binds to Croc's claw immediately. This should go wonderfully.

    And then IVY is prying at the webbing, getting hopelessly stuck to it in the process, "...What is wrong with you people, it's a web." As the cops arrive, Leon backs away from the barrel, hands in the air, "She's tied up, officer. Have your cuffs ready and we'll get her loose for you."

Gar Logan has posed:
Whatever Gar might taste like, he's not interested in being someone's meal no matter what orm he takes. "Hold that still for a minute," he tells the guy with the work order. "It's easier to read that way."

Regardless of what he can or can't see, he points a wing at them while continuing to hover. "You dudes don't go anywhere. Like the Terminator, I'll be back."

Zipping back down to street level, he reappears atop the police cruiser, back to himself, back in his casual attire. "I'm Beast Boy of the Titans. Well, formerly of the Titans, maybe soon to be the Titans again, but it's a long story I don't have much time to get into. Anyway, I was in there," he points to the coffee shop followed by Poison Ivy, "then there was a commition outside and I came out to see her and those guys with her trying to interrupt those guys up there," now he points to whatever Leon has become followed by the rooftop the would-be barrel-removers are camped out on, "but then that guy showed up, dropped them up there, and started webbing things," and finally he points to Killer Croc, "and I'm a little afraid he's going to eat me so I'm just gonna go hide in a minute if that's all right with you."

No breaths taken during that explanation.

Waylon Jones has posed:
Croc looks up at Leon. "Spiders are weak," he says. He realizes he can't quickly slice through the webbing, but does his best to position himself between Ivy and the cops, lest they start shooting. She's sort of the closest thing he's got to an ally in New York, all things considered. It's not as though Harley, with her (probably affected) Bronx accent is on hand.

And then he's running claws around the base of the barrel, quick as he can, but careful not to let his digits pierce the barrel itself. It's not the fastest process, but he knows it will come free if he has enough time.

Pamela Isley has posed:
"Hey help! Police!" the workers shout from the rooftop. The police officers look confused at this strange situation and nod dumbly to Gar Logan, "Uh huh, okay. We'll take it from here, son. You know, I didn't realize Poison Ivy's gang was so large---look at all these mutants and weirdos. We're gonna need backup," the police officer states helpfully, making note of everybody surrounding Ivy. They call for more police.

Poison Ivy pats Killer Croc onna shoulder as he claws at the webbing, "It's too late, quick, you can get away---! Run!" she lets out worriedly for Croc, "I'll have the protesters distract the police?". She struggles with the webbing and her hands seem stuck to herself, until something starts oozing from her hands and slowly melting the webs. The protesters raise their signs and turn toward the police, walking toward them, "Don't polluuuuute..." they say. "Fred! Here they come! Hey Stop!" the police say

Leon O'Malley has posed:
At Croc's taunt, Leon glances back, "Ya know you can hold an alligator's mouth shut one handed, right?" And then as he turns back, the mob is turning on the cops, "...Oh crap." He says before doing a 360 spin, firing a web that latchs Ivy and Croc together at the shoulder, and then leaping over the protesters, firing lines of webbing along the ground, creating a floor trap.

    "Back in your cars, officers!" He says as he takes a defensive stance against the oncoming zombie horde.

Gar Logan has posed:
"Spider-dude! Forgive them, for they know not what they do!" Gar calls out to Leon, pointing at Ivy. "She was whispering sweet nothings into their ears, but obviously it was something because they're acting like Walking Dead extras!"

With the assurance of the police they have things taken care of, there are doubts that remain. Croc and Ivy are /dangerous/ and he knows it. In case it helps matters, he moves to put himself in between the group and the officers, this time as a full-sized, green bengal tiger.

After an authentic roar, he shouts at them, "Get back! Get back! Get back to where you once belonged!"

Waylon Jones has posed:
If Leon were not otherwise occupied, Croc might feel obligated to point out that he does not have the snout of an alligator or crocodile -- he has, essentially, a human face covered in scales with rather immense teeth, and would Leon like to test out holding that shut?

But since Leon is busy protecting the police, and Croc is nearly done freeing the barrel, he lets it go. His claw slices through webbing as efficiently as it can -- requiring more than a little sawing as well -- but eventually able to draw the barrel from the ground, and Ivy with it. "Too much leaving people behind in the Squad," he says. "Where we going?"

Pamela Isley has posed:
The zombie protesters look down at their feet comically as the webbing stops them dead in their tracks and they poke or pull at the webbing, getting them even more stuck. The officers approach the zombie protesters, "Okay, cuff em Fred, back up is here," They get stuck in the webs and Fred can't move, "Hey--my shoes,". Two more police cars appear from the other direction on the street, "Hands up! All of you!" a voice blares as two cars skid to a stop. The officers start to get out of the car. They are dressed in blue.

"The street---here they come," Poison Ivy begins, "Down the alley," she tells Croc as she melts the webbing. She looks a little worried as it takes her time to melt the webs but she frowns and points back at the side of the building.

Leon O'Malley has posed:
As the zombies are stopped and cops arrive, Leon snaps a tendril out to the lip of the coffee shop roof, snapping up to it in barely more than a blink and stopping in a slightly off balance perch in front of the disposal guys, "Thank you for flying Air-Goo, this is your stop."

    He says before snapping another pair of tendrils out to pick the pair up, no doubt to their disgust and objection, and carefully lowering them down to the street, hopping onto the roof proper before the New York cops get the chance to do what New York cops do and shoot at him. Curse that tight ban on public spandex!

Gar Logan has posed:
Stopping Ivy or Croc by himself is probably not happening for Gar, and he's unsure how far he can trust the thing with the tendrils and webs. Never seen something quite like that before, as far as he can tell. The cops? Best not to get in their way, either.

"Yeah, I think I did about everything I could here." As it appears the mindless drones of Ivy are coming to a stop, he can only hope whatever she did to them will either wear off or can be cured somehow. As for him, discretion is, for once, the better part of valor. The tiger races off into a different alley, leading to Beast Boy's rapid departure.

Waylon Jones has posed:
Croc regards the barrel a moment longer, and then shrugs. His own freedom (and Ivy's, yes) is more important to him than a barrel of possibly coffee grounds. He grunts his assent to Ivy and heads for the alley at top speed. Really, he's not worried about the cops. His scales are pretty much proof against their guns and he could snap their handcuffs without any trouble. However, getting into a fight with New York cops would doubtless draw in New York capes. Them he could do without.

Pamela Isley has posed:
Something is in the air as Poison Ivy steps away from the metal barrel, "Dang it!" and any webbing slinks away from this cloud of pestulence. She darts toward the alley.

"Wha...?" one of the protesters begins with a squint, "Where am I....? Why is my hair green?" he wonders. The other men seem to be coming out of it too, "Hey, hand cuffs? What'd I do? Where's my lawyer?" the man whines. "You're going downtown, jerk!" the police say frustratedly, amongst other helpful stereotypical phrases, "If you guys are superheroes, can you help us out here? My shoes are stuck," he asks.

The pestulence coalesces in the air as a small cloud and the police stare at it strangely, "Hold it! Hooooold it! Don't go over there, Bob! Stop!" they yell. Bob stops, "They're running for it, Jim! I think I see him over there!" the police fire some shots at Ivy and Croc.