3079/Fangs and Physics

Fangs and Physics
Date of Scene:	24 August 2020
Location:	Bushwick <Mutant Town>
Synopsis:	Maxwell interrupts Blake during her normal vampire activities. After a quick terse exchange, the situation is resolved peaceful, and Maxwell is out a few hundred dollars to replace a broken window.
Cast of Characters:	Maxwell Wave, Blake Riviere

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Maxwell Wave has posed:
Mutant Town's abrupt return to Earth from Brainiac's bottle has left the burrough in a state of disarray. While the heroes did their absolute best at extremely precise replacement of the city, a variety of wires and pipes had been exposed to elements during the tenure of the 'town-napping'.

While many are actively seeking to repair this broken infrastructure, Mr. Wave included, such disarray inevitably leads to chaos. The police are overwhelmed coping with gang-violence, especially when the occasional mutant presents a considerable threat to law enforcement. Mutant-haters also slip into Mutant Town for the occasional 'fun'. If the populace ever needed a touch of vigilantism, it was now.

Enter Amplitude, Maxwell Wave's alter ego. Using a motorcycle suit and helmet as substitute for body-armor, the mutant leaps and levitates from roof-top to roof-top. His progression is truly graceful. Each footfall is near silent, and the man appears to be moon-walking. It is a somewhat eerie appearance when everything around him appears to be physics-law-abiding creatures of the Earth.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Blake for one had been rather happy to see the city's unique little neighbourhood of mutants back where it belonged. Whatever benefits feeding from the newly emerged 'breed' offered, the truth was the woman knew far too well what the worst natures of those dealing with people who were 'different' could do. Hate was hate, and she had no more time for facists these days than she had in any century, especially after seeing its height in the 40's.

Tonight Blake was out and about for far less sinister reasons...in her eyes anyway. Wrapped in one of her choice black dresses, the usual red ribbon ties in her hair adding to the 'gothic-sweet' charm she'd chosen. It was all part of the charm really, and it had been a rather fruitful night. The couple she'd befriended had been charming, good people who'd invited her in for a drink after hitting things off crossing paths where Blake had volunteered some of her time and skills as a nurse with some of the recently injured mutants.

Truely, they'd been sweet hosts and she'd taken them up on their offer...even if they hadn't quite understood what they'd meant.

On the second story Blake paid no heed to the open curtains that looked into the appartment as she drew back from the pair she'd left 'cuddled' together on the floor, drawing herself back with fangs extended and lips still read. A little hypnotic charm and both would wake up without any memory of that particular 'reveal', but the woman was in no hurry. After all, who'd manage to look in right now?

Maxwell Wave has posed:
In general, Maxwell Wave tried to avoid being a peeping-tom, but part being a vigilante did require recon, so the occasional quick peek is sometimes warranted. He'd caught and prevented a couple of domestic violence situations that way. In fact, his favorite was when he 'amplified' the kick of an obvious battered woman and sent her abusive partner flying across the room. There'd been a new level of respect in that particular relationship ever since.

Through serendipity, Maxwell is floating by the curtains at the wrong time. His head tilts, and what he perceives is a woman hovering over two somewhat collapsed figures. He hones his senses for a moment, feeling out the physical forces at play within the figures: low-blood pressure, shallow breathing.

His trajectory abruptly changes. The window panes shatter but instead of radiating outwards, the shards sink swiftly into the floor. "Stop. What is going on here?"

Blake Riviere has posed:
Blake -had- worn her outfit she'd chosen to catch the eye, but that had been for a different context than someone jumping from rooftops peeking in at a second story. That sound of shattering glass has the woman spinning, fangs still visible and eyes still glowing an inhuman red. 'Impossible' was a word that carried less weight in many places, especially mutant town, but Blake Riviere had long since disregarded impossibility after she'd managed to free herself from the thrall of the one who made her. The floating glass, the man arriving? These were as 'normal' as she was.

There was no hiss, no panic or attempt to flee, only a frown and a drawing across her lips with the back of her hand to clean away that tattletale red.

"Apparently, a home invasion. Who are you and why are you crashing through windows at this hour into strangers homes?"

Maxwell Wave has posed:
"You say home invasion. I say intervention." He points at her. His own wardrobe isn't particularly revealing, but it is tight in the right ways to promote movement. He's an athletic youth, clearly someone who is training on a regular basis and maybe even with access to a top-notch gym or other facilities.

"I'm detecting irregular heart-beats and low-blood pressure in those two. By my best guess, that goes beyond simple inebriation and right into sedation." He frowns behind the visor of his helmet and looks at her lips and hand. "I'm no expert on the occult, but given the state of your mouth and hand. I'm going to assume exsanguination." Yep, Max is a big enough nerd to have picked up that particular term.

"So the question stands, are you a vampire or a blood-drinking maniac?" He tilts his head and focuses on his surroundings. A field erects between them, something invisible but ready, like a trampoline of force, a non-aggressive but preemptive move for his own self-defense.

Blake Riviere has posed:
By sight Blake was unlikely to be much older than him, but if she truely -was- a vampire? There was no telling, was there? Such was the problems with the ageless. Youthful features pull from concern to...almost irritation. Those fangs on hers were still on display as practically luminescent red eyes swept over his attire, assessing and 'sensing' in likely a very different way.

"-I- was invited here," she speaks, a step forward taken as she shrugs the shoulders almost bared by her choice of dress. "You have just caused these people to need a new window."

She'd stopped short of the 'force' before them, almost like she could 'feel' something close by without seeing it. "And they are hardly exsanguinated. Just...a little lighter than they started the evening..."

Was she a vampire or a blood-drinking maniac? There was actually a crossing of her arms at that, a raise of her brow coupled with a mock-pout. "Rather rude to put both of those on the same level isn't it? A survival need is hardly psychosis."

Maxwell Wave has posed:
Maxwell glances behind for a moment and makes a noise behind his helmet visor. "If I were them, I think I'd sacrifice a window for my own well-being."

The man seems skeptical. "Invited, huh? Did they know exactly what they were getting into?"

He tilts his helmet to the side as she stops at range of his field. "That's true, the pulse is lighter but... steady."

Grunting behind his helmet, he holds up a hand, "I didn't mean to imply they were the same. I agree, survival isn't a.. uh.. psychosis." Maxwell understands very well what its like to be different and treated as something less than human. "Look... do you have any way to prove this is more friendly than it appears? I can be reasoned with. Convince me then I'll leave some cash for the window and politely escort you from the premises, so they can enjoy their 'nap'."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"If you're asking me did I tell these two I was a vampire intending to feed on them tonight? No..." A gesture towards the coffee table beside the couch, there was a noticable trio of wine glasses...although only two of them were empty.

"They offered me a drink, who was I to refuse?"

A sideways step, it might almost be taken for a circling of prey like some great feline, but Blake gives a soft chuckle. "Friendly? When these two wake they'll feel delightful, if not with some fuzzy memories they'll probably fill in the gaps and speak of some scandalous encounter with another woman for years to come in hushed tones when they wish to feel like they were a little more daring."

A tilt of her head, those fangs gently retract, leaving her looking -almost- normal.

"How could that not be 'friendly?'"

Maxwell Wave has posed:
The field of force expands and moves as Blake begins to circle. Max turns on his heel to keep facing her. "Right, so not exactly consensual, though not exactly overly harmful, if you are speaking the truth."

Max hums deeply behind then sighs. "Probably less harmful than a few hundo spent on window repair."

He cringes, hunching his shoulders for a moment. Holding a hand out, the field of force weakens while he centers his attention on the broken glass. He sweeps his hand through the air to create a small gust of window, the shards however weightless and are blown toward a corner of the room. With they regain their weight, the shards collapse in a neat pile.

"I'll debate 'friendly', but necessary? Probably. Not like the local authorities want to be accomodating to people's unique needs." He unzips the chest of his motorcycle suit and rummages around for a money roll. He begrudgingly draws out a couple of hundreds worth of twenties and tosses it into the pile. "Easy come, easy go."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"I would argue it was more...unexpected," she offers, those eyes fading down lightly from red to blue until finally she looked...normal. Or normal enough anyway for a girl dressed up borderline gothic lolita and discusing the drinking of blood.

The donating of money to the property damage? It actually earns a little 'huh' of amusement in Blake's accented tones before she looks to the man once more. "Perhaps next time you'll knock Mr...?"

Maxwell Wave has posed:
"Call me, Amplitude." He sighs at the little pile of money then turns to face Blake once more. "Oh, don't really regret what I did, miss...?"

He'll wait for her introduction then continue. "There was no way for me to know if you were dangerous or not. Maybe if I'd knocked on the window and waggled a finger disapprovingly... the window might have survived. But in another situation, that's a great way to get shot."

He shrugs and chuckles, the sound muffled by his helmet. "So, should I expect this behavior often from you in Mutant Town? Maybe you have some contact information? The next time I round-up some Purifiers, it'd be no sweat off my nose if they lost a little blood before I handed them over to the police. At least they'd be useful to 'somebody' that way."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Blake," the woman offers in return, no fancy names or alter egos. That name was as real as anything else she presented thse days anyway. She'd heard it far more than the one she'd been born with.

His question? It earns a shrug, a little raise of her hand wavering in a semi-dismissive 'maybe'.

"It depends what catches my eye and my fancy...I do not enjoy eating filthy food any more than you would after all."

Maxwell Wave has posed:
"Alright then, Blake." He reaches into his suit and pulls out a small business card with just a number. "That's my current burner. If you decide you want to share contact information, send me a text. Otherwise, if you are going to be in Mutant Town snacking, might appreciate a heads up, so I don't break any more windows."

He flicks the card toward her and then appears to 'fall sideways' out the window. When he reaches terminal velocity, his trajectory curves upwards over the buildings. Suddenly he's gone just as quickly as he arrived.