6337/Hobos in Hobokin. Mutants in Mutant Town. And I'm stuck in the middle with you.

Hobos in Hobokin. Mutants in Mutant Town. And I'm stuck in the middle with you.
Date of Scene:	26 May 2021
Location:	Bushwick <Mutant Town>
Synopsis:	Remy encounters a drug trade and then is rescued by Emma before they take a goon back to her place to get more information from him.
Cast of Characters:	Remy LeBeau, Emma Frost

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Remy LeBeau has posed:
    It's a muggy night in Brooklyn, the humidity is killer. It feels like the water is being sucked right out of your skin by the atmosphere, but such is life in a harbor town that was once marshy lands. The clouds overhead offer a few peeks at the moon above when the winds blow just right, but all in all, it feels like, "Well it feels like 'ome." Says the cajun.

    Standing in Bushwick, a man with a brown pea coat with custom tuxedo tails on the bottom, stands with his arm held up, and against bricks of a building and he smirks to the group of men that stand between him and the pack of vans and SUVs. "The f**k you talkin' about home? Yo. Who the f**k are you!?" Asks some mutant, stepping forward away from the meetup happening in the space between a handful of buildings, a small nook in an alley that's obviously being used for some nefarious deeds.

    Remy holds up his hands above his head in a motion to surrender as the man lifts a handgun to point at the gambler. "Whoa whoa whoa now, ain't no need fo' violence." The cajun chides casually.

Emma Frost has posed:
Muggy nights mean dressing down. (Or at least increasing the acreage of uncovered skin.) It's been a hard week, what with dealing with Hank Pym's special breed of insanity, negotiating with terrorists--Erik would not be happy at that wording, undoubtedly--and getting all the legal ducks in a row to get the Foundation's fingers into the community irrevocably.

So what better way to relax than to wear something nice and go for a walk through the slums?

There was, of course, method to the madness (or vice versa). Emma was still getting a feel for the neighbourhood. A feel for the spirit of the people (and a very depressing spirit it was at the moment). She was in no real danger because it was a trivial matter to feel predators stalking and gently deflect them from her area and into areas without significant prey.

Like that knot up front, though they seem to have prey already. It may be time to interv...

Oh. Remy. OK, this was going to be entertaining.

Off in the distance a woman in white, where she was in anything, stood under a flickering street light's fitful attempt to cast back the darkness like a Manhattan streetwalker who made more than a few bad turns, watching the scene unfold as she smoked her cigarette.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    The cajun's arms remain poised and primed, but in the universal sign for 'I surrender'. The man takes a singular step back down into the alley. "Look mah, friends. mes amies, we're all in dis together, non? We are all mutants, no need t' be brash an-" As Remy is trying to, poorly, smooth talk his way out of this, one of the vans swings open an a large man steps out of the back with a crate being pulled by him until it drops to the ground with a crunch of wood as the weight causes it to shatter and spill open.

    Small baggies of clear blue contents spill out like water until a large portion of the area around the man's feet and the van's tires are obscured by the substance. Remy's eyebrow shoots up. "Now... dat wouldn't 'appen t'be some of that new stuff Ah been 'earin' about would it?" The X-man asks, lowering his hands slightly, but the black compression sleeves he wears beneath the rolled up sleeves of his pea coat help obscure his hands in the shadows.

    "Back up bro or you're gonna get-" The man is interrupted as his gun goes off, a flash of light and a LOUD BANG fills the alley.

Emma Frost has posed:
The drugs change everything. What was an amusing opportunity to see Remy get a few hits before taking out a bunch of punks has become something that poisons her neighbourhood.

Yes. Her neighbourhood. She may not live here, but it is hers now.

Never mess with Emma's stuff.

The street walker steps out of the flickering cone of light, the only visible sign of her presence being the red glow of her cigarette's ember and the very, very faint red reflection of it in her white outfit.

A reflection that might prove to be a bit more than prophetic if the look on her face is anything to go by.

"You bring poison here?" she says as she gets within earshot of a conversational voice, ignoring the gun going off as an irrelevance. "You bring poison to give to your own kind?"

She inhales deeply of her cigarette, then expels the smoke noisily in a huge cloud. A cloud that starts to glow (for those not able to defend against her particular approach to things). A cloud that develops two red eyes. And two clawed tentacles that start to reach out of the darkness.

"I can forgive many things. This is not among them."

Her eyes flick over to Remy. "Msr. Lebeau. How nice to see you again. Keeping well?"

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    Remy is doubled over and clutching at his belly as he takes a few steps backwards and lands on his back, in a heap, nearly landing on Emma's feet.

    The shooter has his pistol held up to put another round into the cajun when the woman in the hooker's clothes approaches. "The f**k do YOU want bi-" And he's cut off again, with the rest of the exchange pausing to look up at the conjured demon appearing in the middle of the alley above them.

    The guy in the front backs up to the SUV and bangs on the door, in a panic as he pulls at the handle and finds out it's locked. The man who dropped the crate shifts his stands, and stands to his full 7' 7" height, "This no scare." A simpleton it seems.

    Remy grunts and snaps the fuschia shirt he wears and shows off the standard x-men uniform beneath and the plates Scott requests them all to wear. "Dat hurts like s**t." He says, looking up and allowing a sharp exhale to fight the pain. "Eh, about as well as de last time we met. You Em's?" The cajun asks, reaching a hand up to see if she'll help him to his feet.

Emma Frost has posed:
The two clawed tentacles reach out to the smaller pair of the trio, lunging forward like lightning--at the speed of thought, to coin a phrase--to sink into the pair. This is, strictly speaking, unnecessary since what transpires afterward is a simple mental blast that fries synapses with overpowering signals, triggering every feeling possible momentarily (pleasure, fear, anger, etc. ... and naturally pain) until she finds their pain centres and targets just those.

Two people cry out in a brief confusing welter of emotion before both simultaneously screaming in anguish.

Then their brains turn off, mercifully, letting them stop experiencing pain by simply not working. They slump to the ground unconscious. The gunsel's gun clatters to the ground, slithering to Emma's feet.

Emma offers a hand up to Remy. "I took out two. I'm bored now. You go finish the final one."

The giant. The simpleton. The one who probably doesn't feel (physical) pain.

"Go Remy go!" she adds with a cheerleader tone, grinning maliciously at the pained X-Man. "I'll watch. Let me know when you need help."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    Remy takes her hand and pulls himself to his feet, mindful that she's not likely stable enough to put much of his weight into her. Takeing another breath the street urchin looks to Emma with a sidelong glance and starts to step slowly towards the simpleton and asks on the way, "Don't suppose you'll help me out until after I get punched in d'e face will ya?" Remy asks rolling his shoulders before he starts to slip the pea coat off his shoulders and tosses it back towards Emma, "Hol' dat fo' me, and don' ruin dis one."

    As he looks back to the big dude who seems to be waiting for him, Remy has a trio of cards in his hands and is swinging his arms wide to throw them at the man, a pair of explosions are on either side of his face, and another at the ground below him, sending some of those packets flying through the air in a purple and blue explosion of color and visual and audible stimulus.

    Remy is in a sprint before the explosions go off and he flies through the debris and detris only to bring his fist back and throw it in a heavy hay maker towards the man's jaw. The brute takes the punch and twists his head rapidly before looking down at Remy and raises a fist at the smaller southerner. "H-help!" Remy calls out.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma catches the duster at arm's length, making a face, holding it away and carefully folding it with a minimum of touching. While Remy does his flash-bang-boom routine, she searches for a (relatively) clean patch of ground to set the folded duster down upon, then claps her hands together in a vain attempt to knock any dust off of them.

She looks up and sees Remy about to get pounded.

And waits.

"Come now, Msr. LeBeau," she chides him. "I give you one little criminal and you need my help? Dodge right."

Hopefully Remy gets the message as she briefly blinds the giant so he can't follow Remy's slithering out of the way. And if he tries to follow instructions, he seems to be the kind just dumb enough not to comprehend the notion of his right being different...

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    "Right." Remy leans back and bends his right knee, moving in that direction as he narrowly avoids the fist being thrown his way and then with a series of rabbit punches, Remy peppers the man's side with a bunch of blows.

    The cajun then leans to his left, as the man brings his right arm back and tries to back hand Remy with it, only to miss again with the thief slipping beneath and even closer, bringing his thumbs to bare and he presses them into the man's eyes in a quick gouge to force the blood out of the man's eye and make him temporarily blind.

    "Any pointers without me having t'kill him? Or him me?" Remy asks as he gets grabbed and the man picks up Remy above his head and with a step, drops Remy into the puddle of blue baggies and onto the concrete below.

Emma Frost has posed:
"You killing him would indeed be a tragedy."

Bitch.

"He can't see right now, so you're safer, though he does seem to be quite good at using his hearing." Emma smiles at that. "So remove his hearing. Boom-boom. Clap both his ears as only you can do with such style. I suspect he'll be down and out, and if not he'll be ready at least to give in."

Emma crouches down (NOT something in a microskirt and wearing a thong should be doing!) and picks up one of the baggies, looking at its contents curiously.

"We need to keep them alive. I need to know what this is and who supplied it to them. So no killing, Remy. Not until I have what I need."

She crosses her arms, then, and watches, for 'fun' occasionally giving the big guy a slight amount of guidance to keep the pressure on Remy as he dodges and dives and avoids those fists.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    Remy takes a pair of the baggies and charges them while he's on the ground, keeping them close to his chest before he gets grabbed by the lapels and lifted back into the air. His legs dangling and he's coughing and got a bit of blood on his face and a bit from his mouth. "Yeah, thanks Ems." Remy says before he opens an eye towards the goon and smiles wide. "Say cheese big fellah." Before he holds the bags out and tosses them next to the man's ears. A series of loud pops breaking the plastics and causing the drugs to rain onto the man's shoulders and some to blow back onto Remy in a shower of blue confetti.

    Remy is dropped onto the ground, landing on his feet and hands before he takes advantage of the man being stunned. Remy moves to the man's back, and leaps up to wrap his arm around the man's neck and starts to choke him out. "Ah'm not a killer, ya should know dat, and ..." Remy shakes his head. "Ah ..." He blinks once and his red and black eye starts to shimer a bit in the light, like a cats might. Slowly the man drops and Remy is left panting against the man's back, his eyes shut and waiting for the movements to stop.

Emma Frost has posed:
Her entertainment over, the giant's end now a foregone conclusion with no more action forthcoming, Emma shuts off his brain too, causing the final assailant to go limp under Remy.

Were Remy the kind of person who was unobservant and egotistical he might even think that it was entirely his doing.

While Remy sorts that out and figures out that he can let go, Emma recovers his coat and hands it to him. "Are you alright? Does it hurt anywhere?"

Beat.

"Need a drink? I've got a fully stocked bar over in my office at the hotel."

Her eyes stray back to the baggie in her hand. "Which of these do you figure knows the most? I need to wake one and start asking some questions."

Then a smirk crosses her face and she steps up to Remy, briefly kissing him on the cheek. "My hero," she says sardonically, stepping back.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    Remy slowly releases his grip and looks up to Emma with a sour look on his face. "You could have done dat sooner." He says, slowly climbing to his feet, crushing a few bags of drugs beneath his foot as he moves away from the hulking man and the pile of blue before him. His iris still seems to flicker in the light, though he doesn't seem bothered by it, his hand reaching up and out to take his coat from Emma and unfolds it with a snap and looks at it briefly.

    The two mutants look down at the trio and Remy cants his head, "Big guy is out, he's muscle, so's the guy with the gun... Leaves us wit' d'e last one." Remy says with a smirk before he shrugs and with a motion, swings his coat around Emma's shoulders, trying to do the gentlemanly thing and help keep her warm. "I assume Ah'll be carrying the stiff?"

Emma Frost has posed:
"Naturally," Emma says with an amused, imperious tone. "Do you think I'm going to let tha..." She winces as the coat she was desperately trying to keep off of her clothing gets wrapped around her.

A soul-breaking sigh escapes her.

"Not that it matters any longer, I suppose," she mutters before raising her voice. "That was very gentlemanly of you, Remy, but ... I live in New York and I come from Boston. This weather is uncomfortably warm for me." Not that she's taking off the coat, mind. That would be ungrateful and while she's snobbish, arrogant, staggeringly judgemental and a whole lot of other faults, general rudeness is not one of them. Besides, it smells of Remy in the good way as well as bad.

"I was out for a walk, so I don't have my car nearby I'm afraid." She sniffs at the man as she approaches him. "I wouldn't want him inside it anyway. Reupholstry is time-consuming. Perhaps if we just took him to one of the many abandoned tenements we can question him where he thinks there's nobody to help him."

Pause.

"It was nice seeing you in action again. You're quite graceful when you're in fear for your life."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    Remy stands over the guy and gives a nod towards Emma. "Sounds like a plan, and as far as that drink goes, I'd love one." He notes as he takes the man's wrist and lifts up his arm before hoisting the whole man up and carrying him across his shoulders.

    Catching back up to walk beside Emma, "You'll make sure no one sees me carrying an unconscious dude through New York, yeah? As Ah'm ..." Remy pauses and shakes his head, blinking a few times and squinting towards Emma in the alley, as if he could see her without direct light. "Hmm."

    "Ah hope your place is near by." Remy notes, not even remarking about his sudden pause in the conversation.

Emma Frost has posed:
All people see as the pair walk away are an under-dressed woman draped over by a coat and a silverback gorilla knuckledragging beside her. Of course Emma doesn't share that particular detail.

"Only a few blocks. I have a room perpetually set aside at the hotel for me, so it's not quite my apartment in terms of luxuries and facilities, but it's good enough to store a person that needs questioning, a shower, and there's naturally WiFi."

Emma's heels clack in the night as she directs attention away from the pair, especially of the unwelcome sort. One fight is good enough for an evening. Well, an evening like this. Were she in a bad mood she might look for more.

"What brings you to New York? And to my neck of the woods in specific? Come to try and entice me back to the Mansion?" she asks conversationally as the hotel hoves into view through the darkness.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    Remy follows beside Emma without complaint of the man he's stuck carrying. He wants to know what the drugs are too, but with his sudden onset night vision, the cajun thinks he has a pretty good idea what the blue powder is.

    Taking a moment to rub his hand over the bruise he got from being shot earlier, Remy turns his head towards Emma and smirks, knowing she already knows his response, but that's not how conversations go. "Me, nah, Ah'm not asking you t'go back, hell. Ah'm barely dere myself." The cajun notes with a cocky grin as he continues to answer her question. "Ah heard about a deal going down while I was playin' some pokah earlier, figured ah'd check it out, turns out, dere's all kinda trouble 'round here." He says, referring to the pusher on his back, and the queenpin walking beside him.

Emma Frost has posed:
At the hotel, the lobby is empty. Suspiciously so. Like someone had arranged it. Emma leads Remy to the executive elevator, sending it up to the penthouse suite (of course!). Opening the door she stood to one side. "Just throw him in there. I'll find something to immobilize him with. Once that's done we can clean off and consider how to proceed."

Cleanliness is more important than criminal intelligence apparently. Well, that and waking up completely bound and left alone is more terrifying. It's a good softener.

"Would you like to shower first or should I?" Emma asks as she opens a cupboard and starts pulling out ropes and cuffs and harnesses and gags and an assortment of other such things.