6813/Rumble at The Wellerman

Rumble at The Wellerman
Date of Scene:	06 July 2021
Location:	City Docks
Synopsis:	A Barfight at the Wellerman at Gotham's Docks ends up with Phoebe Beacon and Jason Todd crossing paths
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Jason Todd

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Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The Wellerman wasn't the kinda bar that you would want to see on Dives and Diners, probably doesn't do much advertising.

    It's grimey. There's sawdust and peanutshells on the ground to absorb blood. The sign flickers over its entry way in an alley, tucked in what was once the backroom of a shipping office. It's somewhat narrow, serves cheap alcohol, and isn't the kinda place that the 'Good People' of Gotham would show up to dip their bill, so to speak.

    Inside, the heavy set, tattooed bartender was cleaning glasses. The jukebox was playing oldies, snippits here and there to encourage someone to put money into it. There is the long bar, stools screwed to the floor so that they can't be used in a fight, and narrow booths against the wall.

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd feels right at home in a place like this. He watched a series of his mother's boyfriends hang out in places like this, usually where she met them. Then he spent a lot of time busting tail alongside the Batman, sometimes in environs much like this.

Now he mostly just wanted to play pool, maybe pick up a girl. If trouble started, he knew he could end it and it's not the worst idea to keep an ear to the ground in places where the scum tends to coalesce.

He has a cigarette tucked behind his ear and a pair of sunglasses pushed up on his head as he finishes knocking a ball in the pocket, talking to a large gutted man in a leather vest across from him, the dude's beard resting comfortably atop his paunch, streaked black and grey.

"Two more balls and you owe me five hundred, Dutch." Jason says casually.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Dutch likely grumbles something in return, crude to Jason. The barback comes over and grabs a few empty glasses from the pool tables as some sorta country song croons on the jukebox.

    And no, it's not the worst idea to keep an ear to the ground where scum collects. That's why there's an unusual person sitting in the booths, nursing some weak mass-produced swill. They've got a black hoodie on, dark jeans. Whoever's under the hood is Black, at least by the hand wrapped around the glass, and doesn't look like they belong to the place.

    The door opens up and a trio walk in, stretching muscley arms over their heads. "WELL WELL WELL -- what's going on here huh?" crows the ringleader, who has a bright red mowhawk and a cracked front tooth.

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd misses his next shot deliberately, partly to lead Dutch on, make him feel like he has a chance when he doesn't. But he also wants to keep an eye on the situation. The trio clearly intend to intimidate someone and that figure in black, shadowed though it might be, doesn't exactly look huge.

"You know those guys?" he asks Dutch, but the old biker just shakes his head. Jason chalks the tip of his stick and keeps monitoring.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The smaller figure tilts its head. There's a brief comment, and a sip of the beer glass.

    Red gives a grin, and then draws the glass away from the figure in black. He rubs his grubby fingers on it, leaving grease marks along the glass, and then goes to tip it over on the figure -- who stands up to get away from the spillage, wiping away at their pants.

    "Oops. /Sorry/. Here --" he picks up the glass, and the smaller figure in the hoodie braces a moment as Red Mowhawk lifts the glass up, turning it over in his hand. Cheap beer drips to the sawdust floor.

    Someone cracks a couple of peanuts open.

    "I think you oughta buy the house a round before we launch your ass to the curb, girl."

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd sighs and looks over at Dutch, "Looks like you get to keep your money tonight," he says.

Keeping the stick in hand, he walks up behind the three figures. He doesn't know the girl in shadow (well, he might, he knows most of those types around here, but he can't see her yet). Doesn't matter. He can tell these shitheads need an ass-kicking and Jason Todd's always happy to provide.

"You know, I could just pull out a gun and leave you chucklefucks with holes in your heads, but, honest truth, you're not worth the warrant. I'd rather just kick the shit out of you the old fashioned way."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Keep yourself outta it, asshole. We're getting you a drink. Sit down, and be glad. There's three of us an' one of you."

    The bartender stops his cleaning as Jason makes his approach, and settles his hands down. There might be a gun behind the counter. There might be a bat. Who knows. Bats all over the place in this town.

    However, when Jason speaks, the figure in front of him, in the hood, appears to tense momentarily.

    "Oooh, looks like 'Shawty' here knows this guy. You here pimp? You don't mind damaged goods on return do ya?" Red asks, now making kissy faces as he goes to loop an arm over the hooded figure. "Last warning, get the fuck back to your game."

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd doesn't seem to flinch at all. Why should he? He's been fighting guys bigger than him for as long as he can remember. And he's better at it now than he ever was.

"Any girl who gets that close to you should be paid plenty. Just to tolerate the smell," he says.

Jason peers at the shadows, trying to see if he can make out some features. He can mark a few names off the list just from the build, but whether she can contribute or not - if she likes it or not - he's going to hurt these guys. He turns his head towards the one closest to him, "Kneecap or shoulder?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Well, hard to determine. She's got that hood on, and seems pretty practiced at keeping to the shadows.

    And as the one closest to Jason -- he's got dirty blonde hair and a heavy build, but might not be the brains of the trio. He gives a grunt of 'The fuck?' to Jason -- just as the hooded girl reaches up to grab Mohawk's arm, and wrench it, turning to fling him into the dark-haired one!

    That's when the hood's drawn back a bit, and Jason might recognize the Outsider, Phoebe.

    But what was *she* doing out here?!

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd responds to the swear by giving a swift, sharp kick right to the blonde's kneecap, "Knee," he says, nodding downwards. "Or shoulder?" he says as he hooks the guy's elbow and closes space with him, wrenching the punk's arm behind him and twisting until he feels the shoulder dislocate, making the dude cry out in obvious pain between the two injuries, his patella probably cracked from that steel-toed kick.

"If you don't answer, I have to assume you want both," he shrugs.

He does recognize Phoebe now, but will talk with her after, shifting into a spin with the pool cue in toe, the thick base of it ricocheting off the skull of the blonde guy and potentially knocking him out.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The blond guy grunts, he's got a cut on his forehead, but apparently is either stubborn, particular tough, or just too dumb to go down. He grunts, and then rouses to his full six-foot-five height instead of slouching, and balancing on his good leg he grabs the pitcher of cheap-ass beer and attempts to brain Jason with it, his other arm hanging at an odd angle at his side!

    Mohawk had gone into the dark haired guy, and gave a grin, ferally clicking his teeth as he draws a knife, and bypassing Phoebe, he tries to plant it between Jason's shoulder and neck, the thin, sharp stiletto blade catching the light as he howls a string of cursewords. "DIE YOU SHITSTAIN MOTHAFUCKER!"

    Meanwhile, Phoebe is engaged with the dark-haired gangmember, ducking and weaving before turning and dropping down, swiping his feet out from underneath him!

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd catches the arm with the beer pitcher, ducking low and using a quick snap of arms to try and dislocate the guy's elbow, too. His shift in postur will cause the knife to slide over Jason's shoulder harmlessly. Well, harmless to Jason as his friend's arm is there and the guy ends up stabbing his own pal in the forearm with the blade.

Jason sees Phoebe has the dark-haired guy so he flicks Blondie to the side and tries to nail a thrust kick on Mohawk as the other guy starts to get up.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Mohawk gives a yell as Blondie finally goes down, blood staining his arm and T-shirt red as he finally succumbs to his injuries, and Mohawk focuses on Jason.

    Mohawk side-steps the kick -- barely -- turning his body before he tries to haymaker Jason's face into the opposite wall!

    "Shoulda just played your pool game, punk!" he snarls, spit flying from his lips as his yellowed eyes narrow in irritation and pure anger at Jason!

Jason Todd has posed:
Mohawk tags a glancing blow along Jason's temple, the younger man not quite able to fully duck out of the way. The result jars his skull and spins him a bit, making him brace himself again. He'd been hit by bigger and better, but it made Jason mad. Mad that he got sloppy. Mad that he got tagged by someone who shouldn't be able to touch him.

"Fuck you, Bigfoot," Jason says and then he unleashes himself in ways he hadn't before, the kid gloves off a bit as he drives in with sharp palm thrusts, aiming to crack ribs, followed up with a machine-gun series of low punches, working to pummel at the man's gut, before spinning into a backfist that would probably remove a few teeth.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Teh one with the red mohawk attempts to bring his fist back up to box Jason's ears -- but finds that he's just too late.

    Jason would find a few satisfying places to crack Mohawk's ribs, bruising up the gut. Mohawk coughs up blood before he gets turned around with that back fist, ending up half sprawling over the bar.

    That's when the dark-haired one gets launched past Jason on his left, with an almost comical, if breathless "GWAUGH!" as he lands accross the now messed-up pool game between Dutch and Jason.

    Phoebe pulls her hood back up.

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd shakes his fist, just to flick a bit of the blood off, although luckily he was wearing motorcycle gloves anyway. He gives a nod to the bartender, who has a couple of the regulars help carry the guys out and dump them in the back alley.

Nobody was going to call the cops. Not around here.

"You really shouldn't use those dating apps. Never know what you're going to get," he says to Phoebe.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "what -- no I'm -- I'm not --" Phoebe blinks a moment at Jason's accusation. "Not here on a date!" Phoebe responds to Jason, and gives a soft 'tch', wiping her hands on her jeans.

    "I was waiting on someone."

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd looks over at the bartender, "Gimme a Dos Equis and the lady here whatever she wants," he says, taking a seat now at the place where she had originally sat.

"Hey, I ain't gonna judge, I've dated a mastiff or two in my day. Sometimes they bite, but it's worth it," he grins.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I... uh... shirley temple?" Phoebe stammers a moment, rubbing the back of her head.

    The bartender stares at Phoebe, then shakes his head.

    Jason gets a Dos Equis. Because he doesn't always enter a bar fight with a not-Bat, but when he does --

    "I *wasn't* here to meet anyone off a dating app." she reiterates to Jason, eyes narrowing as she tries to judge if he was trolling or not.

    "No, just... strange things have been happening. So I was going to meet someone here. But it's been forty minutes, so he's probably not going to show."

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd looks back at the bartender, "Really, man? She almost got clipped by those dudes in here, what if they'd been packing? You can't give her one drink? Get her a soda at least, for fuck's sake," he says.

"We've got to get you a fake ID," he sighs. "Strange things happen all over. It's Gotham. You're going to have to be more fucking specific."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The bartender grunts, and pours a diet coke for Phoebe, and sets it in front of her. There's a slice of orange in it.

    He only does it because he likes Jason to discourage assholes.

    The girl gives a shrug, and looks down into her pop.

    "... a double-mastiff sized creature with no head but a maw in its chest attacked me elsewhere in the docks area. It was able to turn its face from its chest to its back."

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd takes a long sip of his own beer. Once upon a time, he would've found that sort of shit funny. But then he died. Now not very much is funny, least of all monsters roaming around Gotham.

"These the demons Laura was goin' on about?" he asks. "Definitely sounds like somethin' that goes around magic circles. I tend to stay away from that shit," he says. Partially because he knows he's undead and he doesn't want some witch or wizard deciding he violated the natural order and belongs to the grave.

Fuck that noise.

"Any particular reason it attack you or just in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I thought it was the wrong place at the wrong time the first time I ran into one in New York City. Now I don't think so. And yeah, that was the demon thing that Laura was going on about. Likely."

    She sips her coke again, and wrinkles her nose a moment.

    "Both times risked innocent people. I don't even like being out here, but apparently this guy knows a thing or two about demons." she takes out her phone. Its screen is cracked pretty badly.

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd sits back in his seat, "Well, apparently, he doesn't know about how to keep time," he mutters. He looks at the phone, "Red Robin should've offered you a replacement for that. You two are pals, right?" he says. His own relationship with Tim is, of course, a little bit complicated. But that goes for all the other members of the Batclan. Even worse, Jason liked making them uncomfortable. He thought they deserved it.

"Might be more of a tip situation - hand the case off to the pro magic folks. Better that than gettin' chewed up."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... I don't like asking him for things." Phoebe replies sourly. "Besides, he's busy with other stuff right now."

    She crosses one arm over her chest, looking to the left a little before she shakes her head. "Not if they keep coming after me. Maybe if I could amplify my own signal and make one manifest in like, the training area I could capture it, somehow. BUt for that I need better magical advice than a bunch of Llewellyn books from Barnes & Noble." she comments quietly.

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd shrugs, "Please, he ain't hurtin' for money. He's probably got ten of those things just tossed away in a desk drawer. I get the pride thing, I do, but your phone is something you actually gotta use, not a piece o' jewelry or a toy," he says.

"Yeah, if they're huntin' you, it's definitely your problem. Again, not that I'm his biggest fan, Red's probably got a line on some magic types, just through the Batman. He hangs out with a bunch of weird asses in the Justice League. Like that Zatanna chick, with the nice..." he pauses, then shakes his head, "Hat."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe Beacon levels A Look at Jason.

    "Yeah-huh. Hat. I'm certain that's the first place anyone looks on her." Phoebe mutters. And drinks the diet coke. Blech.

    "And it's just a cracked screen. Once I scrape up enough cash from my day job I can get the screen replaced. Anyway. Thank you for the save. Nice to not be dragged out of a place for once. I'm sure Rob already has three inquiries and a database query based on my reports."

Jason Todd has posed:
Jason Todd makes a sour face at that, "Kid does love his statistics. Not a problem. Try and keep your nose clean, kid," he says with a wink.

"And if you think shooting them a lot would help, lemme know. I'm more'n happy to plug anything in the brainpan a few times," he says, heading over to the bar and leaning over to get a better look at a blonde down at the end.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe looks at Jason, and cracks just the barest bit of a smile. "You're not as bad as you made yourself out to be." she comments to him as he leaves, and she looks down at her beer-soaked sweatshirt, and sighs. She does stand up, and leans over to Jason: "She was complaining about how itchy her downstairs was in the ladies' room."

    Pats him on the shoulder, and then makes for the exit to make her way back to the Roost.