3583/That Which Comes

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That Which Comes
Date of Scene: 27 September 2020
Location: Little Italy
Synopsis: A thief, a goddess, and a hirsute scientist meet near an italian eatery. Suddenly, gunfire!
Cast of Characters: Ororo Munroe, Lyle Marston, Henry McCoy




Ororo Munroe has posed:
The lady of storms is dressed well. A silver filagreed dress covers her, her hair cascading down her back, as she emerges from an Italian eatery. She has, perhaps, a small bit of dust on her cheek from a well-claimed meal inside, matched with a smile from proper food. One must feed the beast after all. Or it becomes upset.

She sidesteps a couple as they enter behind her, but then stands alone on the curb. Her ride, as usual, is late. If she wore a watch she'd be checking it, but instead she stands in the mildly sprinkling rain, letting it water her so she can grow.

A growing sound from one side suggests that there might be a problem incoming, though she seems no not notice. A vehicle speeds toward that section of the curb, a blue American make and model. Eyes peer out. They are not for her, though she may shortly become involved...

Lyle Marston has posed:
Lyle rushed down the streets and back-alleys of Little Italy, clutching his shoulder as he does. He had made a miscalculation during a heist he had committed just an hour earlier, and he is now fleeing for his life, wounded. His target was Louie Spinelli, a mafia Capo who ran a illegal casino out of a old garment factory near Little Italy who scammed over 50 people in a illegal lottery. He had managed to break into the casino and steal the night's payroll, only to get caught. He had managed to fight his way out with the money, but ended up getting a bullet through the shoulder in the process. Now here he was running in the rain, being pursued by a car full of angry mobsters.

Lyle turned a corner, only to swear as he saw the blue car hunting him zoom past a Italian restaurant and towards him. The car's window rolls down, revealing a Uzi, which fired at Lyle. Lyle swore and dove weakly into the alley, pulling out one of his pistols in the process and firing at the shooter, who screamed in pain as the bullet impacts his hand. As the car stopped, Lyle, who was dressed in his La Raton outfit, which a costume of a French Nobleman from the 18th century, fled into the alley, clutching his shoulder as he does. The car doors suddenly open, revealing a group of men in suits, who pursue the fleeing thief.

Henry McCoy has posed:
It was more and more in his best interest to catch up with old friends and teammates. When Ororo suggested a meal, Henry was reluctant at first. After thinking it over, however, he decided getting out was the right thing to do. So, dressed in a nice linen shirt and slacks, he was supposed to accompany her to the eatery. Of course, things did not work out in timing.

Cursing his indecisiveness for making him miss the meal, he was still going to be a good friend to her and pick her up. A nice sedan, kept clean by the good doctor was pulling up to the cafe. The car came to a smooth stop, the Beast hopping out of the driver's side. "Ororo, I am sorry I am late." He starts, apologetically. "Just... inner turmoil and decisions weighing against my soul." He tries to explain.

There's some foot falls that sound heavier - not strolling or walking, but pursuit. A glance to his friend. "Is everything all right?"

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Ororo stands, hands clasped together. The arrival of her 'ride', that of Doctor McCoy, makes her eyes light up and her head turn. She does then take note of the incoming car though, one which will come rather closer than she'd like. Traffic is not one of her specialties after all.

"Wonderful timing, Henry," she says as her eyes turn. "Lock the doors? I believe we're about to need a moment." Then, gunshots! She ducks, though she's fairly certain that she's not the target. Her eyes take it all in: the out-of-date uniform on the man ducking toward the alley, the weapons in the vehicle. By the time the car has stopped she's taken cover, at least long enough to ascertain the situation fully.

"Yes. I think a touch of frost in the air would help," she says, her right hand reaching around to coax a chill into the air.

And a mist falls, out of nowhere. Footing suddenly becomes an issue. That is, for those who may be the aggressors. "Go high," she says. Tactics.

Lyle Marston has posed:
The men in suits suddenly let out swears as the fog fills the air. As the men make their way into the labyrinth of alleyways, one may wonder where the strangely dressed man went. Lyle himself was hiding behind a dumpster, pistol drawn, and breathing heavily as he clutched his wounded shoulder. The pain was getting worse and worse by the minute. The sudden fog was a welcomed blessing for the thief as it gave him more cover. He was about to leave his hiding spot when he heard footsteps.

Lyle swore silently and peered out of his spot lightly, revealing one of the mobsters, holding a revolver. Luckily for him, the man seemed to be having a hard time seeing in the dense fog. This allowed Lyle to leave his hiding spot and sneak up on the man to deliver a rather devastating uppercut. Lyle let out a gasp of pain as the mobster collapsed unconscious. Lyle then began to make his way through the alleyway, clutching his shoulder again, which started to bleed slightly heaveir.

Henry McCoy has posed:
Alleys in New York, in Little Italy, meant narrow spaces with plenty of fire escapes. Plenty of places to perch, for those so inclined. The shots ring out, the Beast crouching but no diving for cover immediately. There's a bit of a growl, annoyance clear on his features and his frame. "Never a day where one can just enjoy the evening." He grumbles. "And always ruining my clothes." Shoes are kicked off, back into the car.

Then he's bounding towards the alley. Free-running looks so natural for the Beast, with his four-limbed locomotion. Bounding from a fire hydrant, to a light pole, then to one of the fire escape trellis. Storm said go high, he'll go high - no fear of falling. He peers down, spotting the uppercut and the departing man - before looking towards more ambulatory problems.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Having assessed the goings-on, Ororo Munroe stops hiding. She was never one to shiver behind a post-box or to hide behind one's back, and this is merely people. She's stood up to much larger foes. And she can still see in the rising mist, just fine.

"I've no idea what you believe you are up to," her voice rings as she strides to the edge of the alley, "But it is unwanted. If you choose to stand down, immediately, I can affirm that you will not be harmed."

She's had time now, and the clouds in the sky seem to have darkened. Her power is growing the more time passes, though these ....thugs...may not know how very, very much.

In fact, one seems to want to turn on her voice. She is a shadow in the mist, but he's fired on shadows before. A man's silhouette, armed with a pistol. Aiming at a woman. Truly brave, these men must be.

And the ground becomes icier, movement becoming treacherous.

Lyle Marston has posed:
The sound of the voice draws the attention of two of the men. One of the suited men draws his pistol and aims at Storm, only to slip and fall on the ice, letting out a scream of pain as he lands hard on his back. The second man looks shocked for a minute, than draws his Uzi and begins to fire at the silhouette. Meanwhile, Lyle continued to trudge through the alley, unaware of the help that he had just received. Suddenly, one of the mobsters leaps out of the shadows and lands on top of Lyle, who screams out in pain as his wound gets more irritated. The man then begins to strangle Lyle as Lyle started to beat on the man's face, trying to get him to let him go.

Henry McCoy has posed:
The snarls of aggravation are heard throughout the alley - the munitions pinging and rattling the fire escape the Beast had just vacated. "Guns?! Seriously?" The voice is more of a growl now, the animal in Hank roiling to the surface as danger is cast his way. Already falling down towards the man who had opened fire, a clawed hand helps guide his descent, furrowed lines in the brick.

Five hundred pounds of furious X-Man crashes into the uzi-toting jerk. There is barely any restraint from Henry, huge hands driving punches into the man with the force enough to break bones. It is most certainly not his normal behavior.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Ororo barely moved. She can see, and she was aware of the 'gentleman' who was aiming her direction. She was also aware of the large blue stack of doctorates which she could see approaching him from above, and while she was prepared to deal with bullets..she was also prepared to trust her team, with her very life.

She whips up a wind by Lyle, the fog dispersing, and treats both him and his attacker to a frigid north wind. "That will be QUITE enough," her voice calls out with a whip-crack. "Henry. We've trained in this. And you gentlemen," she says, striding toward the two struggling on the ground, the wind not touching her..

"The cold does not bother me. If you choose to continue, I am going to pin you to the walls until your arms fall off."

She stands there, arms crossed, and frowns her dark frown. "That is not a metaphor. SEPARATE!."

Her eyes flick back to Hank; though she is willing to turn her back on him she worries. That is not his norm.

Lyle Marston has posed:
The Mobster screams in horror as Beast pins him down and begins to pummel him. After the third or fourth punch the man fell to unconsciousness, but as Beast continued to pummel him, the man started to become more and more bloodied. Meanwhile, the man stops strangling Lyle and looks at Storm with shock. He suddenly gets up and flees, leaving Lyle lying on the ground. Lyle groans and tries to get up, clutching his now even more bleeding shoulder, but failing as he crashes back down on the ground hard.

Henry McCoy has posed:
The ringing out of Storm's voice snaps through the anger and bestial haze in Henry's mind. The mobster is left to lay on the ground, Hank peering around with narrowed eyes. "Find your way home, and get your friend to a doctor. He'll need it." There's no pleasantries, no concern beyond the cessation of the violence. "If you stay, you won't be walking away."

His nostrils flair, scenting more blood in the air - coming from the slipping and sliding La Raton. "He's been injured, Storm." He offers, tearing off his bloodied shirt.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
The wind is rapidly calming, the mist clearing. It is not naturally so cold, and Ororo doesn't like taking an unnatural effect longer than it is needed. Still. She glances to Hank, her eyes taking him in with the blood and the bestiality, so abnormal, and she promises herself a moment for him alone. "I'm on it," she says aloud, aware of the hurt man before them.

Then she walks. Hunching down next to Lyle, she says in a far more gentle voice, "You'll find it easier to move now. Do you wish to share your name?" She seems something unworldly at these times, with the wind falling and a stillness in the air.

She holds out a hand to Lyle. And waits.

"You're hurt. We can help."

Lyle Marston has posed:
Lyle looks surprised when a blue furred creature looms over him. At first, he is expecting the creature to give him the same treatment as the mobster from earlier. However, much to his surprise, Beast rips off his shirt and announces his injury to the woman. The rather attractive woman than came up to him and offers her hand to help him stand. Lyle, despite his pain, managed to grin slyly as he took her hand and grasped it lightly. He then lets out a light, though pained chuckle as he said in a thick, French accent,

"Thank you mademoiselle. My name is La Raton, and I am grateful for the help. Please pardon the mask, i do not want people knowing who I am. By the way, may I ask who you are, because I wish to know if you are an angel or not.

He says this final line as that sly grin on his face grows wider.

Henry McCoy has posed:
The shirt is torn into strips, separating the bloodied linen from the clean. The strips are inspected, checking to see if they will serve as bandages in a pinch. Satisfied, Henry goes about tending to the wound - at least bandaging it to avoid further blood loss. "You need a doctor - if the bullet is lodged in you still, they will need to extract it."

The goons are carrying their friend away - wanting no part of the interceding people.

Henry looks to Ororo. "He's lost a lot of blood. He's delusional." His bedside manner is gruff, cantankorous.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Though the accent might be real, or it might be faked, the man's smile makes her pause. <Well, sir mouse,> she says in French, <try not to move too much. You've been shot.> The question would be, does La Raton actually speak French? She does smile in return then, allowing him the flirt.

"Ororo Munroe," she says en Anglaise, though she pauses to help Henry with the wound. R
A hand on Hank's shoulder, dark and gentle, belies all that her voice promised moments before. "Hank. Are -you- well?" Her voice is concerned there, and though she looks up toward the newcomer, she worries also for her friend. "Mouse, please relax a moment. There is no finer doctor in the world."

Lyle Marston has posed:
Lyle grins at Storm as she speaks perfect French. Deciding to surprise her, Lyle grins again and says in very fluent French

(I thank you for your kindness madame. It isn't everyday a belle femme like you comes around to rescue me.)

Upon being instructed to relax, Lyle nods and grunts a bit as he leans against the wall. As he does this he winces in pain a bit. True, the wound may not be bleeding anymore, but it still hurts like hell.

Henry McCoy has posed:
While he's not speaking in French, the Beast is ever so familiar with the language. He's just not in his normal, friendly mindset. The wound is dressed, the arm slung with more of the linen strips. A nod once he's done, efficent and expert. A glance to Ororo, shaking his head.

Looking back to La Raton, he frowns. "You're not on our chase list. You've been shot. I am assuming you know of a doctor who will tend to you, without getting yourself arrested?" A glance behind him, ensuring the pursuers are beating feet. "They aren't going to bother you tonight - but I don't doubt they will try again."

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Storm, and this is Storm for a moment, looks at Lyle quietly as he continues. She sighs, then she says gently, "Sir, and no I will not call you by your title, while I appreciate and approve of gestures of love toward my self, it is grossly impolite to ignore the gentleman who is actually tending your wounds."

She touches Lyle gently on the shoulder to take the sting out of her words, but they still have meaning. "He is my friend. And a thanks to him would be more helpful to charming me than any other action you could take." This is a beautiful woman, but it is also a beast. There is no seperating the woman from the mutant that she is, nor the cause that she stands for.

But she smiles, and squeezes Lyle's shoulder gently. Sometimes it takes a moment for these things to sink in.

Lyle Marston has posed:
Lyle face turns into a frown for a moment, as if considering Storm's words. He then places a hand on Beast's shoulder in says in heavily accented English,

"Thank you for your help mon ami, and do pardon my rudness. I do know a Doctor around here, one that won't turn me in to those ruffians."

He then turns to Storm and gives a light bow and says to her,

"And I wish to thank you as well Mademosille. If it wern't for you and your friend I would probably be dead."

He then extends his hand out for a handshake.

Henry McCoy has posed:
The Beast looks to the hand, then to the man - almost as if the gesture is alien to him. "A clean getaway is something to be lauded. Don't let people trail you, and possibly hurt others." Henry nods. "You're welcome. Get that looked at. You don't want an infection, and you want the bullet out of you. I don't think it damaged the bone, but an X-Ray might be a worthwhile investment." A look over the man, and another nod. "The wound dressing should be good for a couple hours."

Storm is given a slight smile, and a nod of thanks. "Rudeness has a way of happening in a gun fight. You're wounded, you're running for your life. Pleasantries don't enter into one's mind in those instances." He says, glancing back to Lyle.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Lyle, and then Beast, both get smiles from the woman of storms. "I believe I am chastized," she says to Beast, "And with good reason. Perhaps I did appear an angel, at least for a moment." She shakes her head then, not from humility but for...other reasons.

"Well, that which comes is often harder to grasp than planned. La Raton, I salute you." She does not actually salute, but the thought is there. "Please, do as Henry suggests. And perhaps try not to get shot again, at least tonight. Do you need help getting there?"

She pauses, then frowns. "To the doctor I mean. My...apologies, I sometimes forget that I'm not speaking with a mind-reader." That she's NOT? Wow. She has some life, apparently. Then she glances to Henry. A subtle motion, that we should back away. She has reasons, and Henry should know her well.

The thief needs a bit of space for his dramatic exit, after all.

Lyle Marston has posed:
Lyle smiles at both of them and bows lightly one more time, removing his hat in the process, revealing his long brown hair which was currently tied in a pony tail. He smirked suddenly as he reached into his back pocket subtly, he had been wanting to try this new gadget Mole provided him with for weeks, and now was the perfect chance. Lyle smiled at the two one more time, and said,

"I thank you both for your kidness, now I must bid you adieu."

Suddenly, he tosses a pellet onto the ground, which explodes into a thick plume of smoke. Once the smoke clears, La Raton has disappaerd. But, if you were to feel your pockets you would feel something new. It appears La Raton had left you a cash reward for your generosity with out you noticing him doing it.

Henry McCoy has posed:
Having stepped back, Henry waves away the smoke as La Raton makes his exit. He glances around, before looking over to Ororo. "Sorry." It's all he can muster. He's shirtless, near-feral, and still bears blood on his knuckles and forearms.

"This was not what I had planned when I came to pick you up." He says, honestly.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
The sudden vanishment is impressive. The fact that Lyle somehow put money into a dress with no pockets? Now that's a trick.

Ororo is smiling though, her heart having risen a bit with the rescue of a gentleman thief, with a friend, and perhaps a good evening was had by all.

"Can you still give me a ride home?" Ororo asks Henry questioningly, her hand being offered without hesitation. "I can drive if you like. I do have my license."

And perhaps talk a bit while they do so. About beastly urges, thieves, and being late to invitations.