9492/A Fistful of Hersheys

A Fistful of Hersheys
Date of Scene:	06 January 2022
Location:	Times Square
Synopsis:	Aquaman, Rocket Red and Tigra defeat a group of thugs who are using a power loader to attempt to rob a chocolate store. Dmitri begins the slow process of transporting the suit back to russia.
Cast of Characters:	Arthur Curry, Dmitri Pushkin, Greer Grant

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Arthur Curry has posed:
    Nothing is more eerie than seeing Times Square empty. It's a vision that's in several films, when the roads are mostly clear save for a few abandoned cars. When the sidewalks are empty. When the flags are snapping in the wind yet unattended. One can almost imagine a zombie poking around at some trash cans, or the distant mushroom clouds one sees in the cinematic depiction of such emptiness.
    It is a thing that bodes ill.
    And in the city, with much of its population departed, small movements are noted even from afar. Such as when a group of men move from the corner that leads past the Disney store with its heavy metal shuttered doors slid down in place over the windows. Past the Apple store and its like though those shutters are more cheerful and silvery. A handful of men who are skittering quickly while moving under the cover of... well broad daylight.
    "Is it clear?"
    "Looks clear!"
    "Alright bring it up!"
    Furtive words hurled back and forth between several of them as then from around the corner comes a heavy kerchunk-kathunk-kerchunk-kathunk of something very heavy, and very slow walking out of that alleyway. Something eleven feet tall with gleaming metal armor in the shape of a curved over hunchback, akin to some form of power-loader that was usually used for industrial activity.
    Only now...
    It advanced purposefully across Times Square to the Hershey store, its welding torch igniting into life with a blue flame, its other arm gleaming with what looks like makeshift weaponry.
    "Why the Hershey store?"
    One of the thugs grimaces as he follows in the wake of the heavy robot armored suit.
    "Cuz, they keep a lotta their cash on site. My sis used to work here. And fuck man, chocolate."

Dmitri Pushkin has posed:
     There's a low crack through the skies as Rocket Red travels high above working overwatch on the city. He's got a full satellite readout of the area thanks to Russian satellites of the area with thermographics, and is currently combing the city for people in their time of need. On one side of the screen his full vital monitor, on another portion of the screen the movie Team America: World Police plays about half way through the film. On another section of the screen there's a videophone call with his wife Belina, and on the final portion of the screen a constant readout of Elorg's performance in the market updated live.

     His display is cluttered beyond reason and yet to Dmitri's mind it's all a perfect cohesion of information that melds together into his personal comfort zone as he zips across the city looking for signs of trapped evacuees.

     Behind him is left a massive pair of contrails for a suit as small as his as he rips through the cloud cover at super sonic speeds back and fourth in a grid like pattern providing information back to other members of the League in their evacuation efforts of NYC.

Greer Grant has posed:
Tigra likes a deserted New York City. It does excellent things for both the noise pollution and the smell; New York truly does smell like an open-air toilet. With so few distractions, she likes to think she's have heard the giant mecha even if there hadn't been reports coming in to the Avengers that some chuckleschmuck who apparently had both the resources and the know-how to build a frigging Evangelion could think of nothing better to do with those qualities than steal from a chocolate shop.

Some people. I swear.

So it is that Tigra is lying flat on a rooftop, eyes peeking over the top like every movie shot you've ever seen of Shere Khan staring through the high grass at Mowgli, looking down at a group of people she's not sure if she should categorize as 'bad guys' or 'dumbasses' but is sure the next few minutes will tell. Rocket Red's appearance is unexpected, but also a good opportunity to pretend the two are working together and thus present a show of strength, so she leaps down off the roof and lands on her feet on the sidewalk twenty feet away from the group.

"Hey, guys," she greets cheerfully, ignoring the fact that her claws are extended to full length. "We haven't met yet. I'm Tigra, an Avenger. I know I'm obscure but check my TikTok if you don't believe me. I don't want to pull rank or anything, but you're kind of in the wrong neighborhood to help out! We got everyone evacuated from around here. Why don't you head toward Harlem and assist with the efforts there? I can call you a ride if you need one."

She doesn't expect them to take the hint, but you never know until you try.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    The kachunk-kathud-kachunk-kathud halts and there's a whine of servos complaining as the suit of armor shifts and tuuuuuurns slowly, bits of concrete crackling under its feet as it moves to face the orange-furred woman with her casual patter.
    The three others there around the suit? They freeze, eyes wide, clearly caught in the act as they say. "Hey! Tigra! Yeah we're..."
    One of the three leans over and smacks his comrade in the abdomen which causes a quick flurry of angry words to be sent back and forth in that furtive under the breath way one see during street stops or in detention in high school. The first one who had been speaking holds a hand out to shut the other guys up and says, "Hey. Yeah. We found this. Down by the river."
    "Yeah, found it." Says another who gets smacked and told to shut up.
    "We were gonna try and use it to help."
    Which is all the one says, perhaps hoping Tigra will believe them. Only then for the cupola of the power armor to pop open and from within a guy says, "What did she say? I can't hear shit in here, it's too loud!"
    Only for the three cronies to hush him. One bangs the side of the suit with a loud /clong!/

    Meanwhile over the League comms Arthur's voice is heard, "Hey Rocket. We got a weird energy signature in Times Square, you get that? I'm about sixty seconds out. You got eyes on that?"

Dmitri Pushkin has posed:
     "Adjusting heading and moving to grid Zero Charley Three" Dmitri speaks into the coms as he slowly adjusts his roll turning in the air to move back to the stated section of the city. He zooms high through the air like a majestic eagle circling its prey.

     He swoops down lower before locking eyes on the device at ground level, he zooms and enhances as he gets a scan of the devise over his heads up display. "I have visual on a suit of powered armor, sending you preliminary scans now, along with facial images for retinal and facial identification Comrade Curry." He darts his eyes from one face to the next making sure to get a solid identification on each of them before snapping a quick photograph and sending it along to Arthur.

     "We've got an avenger on the ground level, looks to be Tigra." His thick Russian accent professional and businesslike but still filled with that odd childlike joy that he's just able to be actually doing this. "Attempting to garner a more complete scan of the device Comrade." He slows his speed drastically still moving on the off chance they happen to have some form of anti-air weaponry. He circles high above the ground cataloging his surroundings with care.

Greer Grant has posed:
"Hey, we're always glad to have more help. Come on, I'll get you integrated into the main efforts so you don't waste any time on outlying areas like this one." Tigra makes an exaggerated 'come with me' sweeping motion with her arm, for the benefit of the guy in the suit who hasn't figured out how to turn on the audio settings yet. "So you found a suit, huh? You'd be surprised how many people start out a heroic career that way. Have you all picked out names yet?"

Arthur Curry has posed:
    The data is a stream of information, cascading over Dmitri's displays showing him the three visible men around the suit of armor. A string of small time offenses connected to each, nothing above aggravated assault and perhaps grand theft auto. Theodore Wilkins. Ross Hertz. Oswald McGill.
    Then the suit itself gets scanned and it looks to be a... Ukrainian construction device? Meant for their push to repair their infrastructure some four years ago. It's definitely a long way from home.
    "Yeah, hey, that might be... you know..." The one tagged as Theodore, he looks to be leading them. Though now he's looking at the other two for clarification. "Maybe we should, evacuate, and leave this for you if you..."
    And then one asks quickly, "Are the other Avengers here?"
    "Shut up, man!"
    But then another clears his throat, Oswald. "Yeah, are you alone?"
    From inside the suit, however, the fourth guy's voice is heard. "What? I'm not giving this thing up? Just one chick, right?! I got this!" Then he turns and the heavily laden weapons arm swings up and he points it in Tigra's direction, his amplified voice reverberates from inside the suit.
    "Back off, cat lady!"
    Perhaps he meant to just threaten. Perhaps he meant to fire. Might be hard to tell for sure. But at the end of the day...
    Three rockets burst out of the arm of the robot, while around them all three of the others responded with panic.

Dmitri Pushkin has posed:
     Dmitri swoops down low towards the ground grabbing two of the rockets in his grasp out of nowhere. He zips with hyper-sonic speeds blasting open windows in his wake as he zips down to street level. He travels with so much speed that several car alarms ring out from the force of the snap of the sound barrier as he grabs onto the edges of the rockets redirecting them towards the sky. He only has two hands so Tigra will have to deal with the third as Dmitri calls out.

     "Theodore Wilkins. Ross Hertz. Oswald McGill." His voice is stern and boisterous broadcasting with a firm authoritative stance. "You have been identified in illegal possession of a Ukrainian Mining Implement" He stands in the air lowering himself down slowly from on high like an angel. "We can be doing this the easy way, or the way which ends with you in a pine box for theft of Ordinance." His red pulsing visor scans like a cylon, or kit from nightrider glowing brighter by the moment as his limbs begin to glow bright as well. He figures that Tigra has a handle on the last missile.

Greer Grant has posed:
It takes about six seconds to shout as many words as the guy in the robot suit shouted. As far as telegraphing your attack goes, that's more like sending a certified letter by post and waiting to receive return confirmation before attacking. Tigra is already charging toward the cluster of morons, her claws very loud to her as they scrabble against the pavement but honestly probably not audible over the chaos of the beginning battle. Her hackles are risen at the threats of the guy in the knockoff Iron Man suit, but she'll deal with him as the circumstances permit it. For right now, her goal is to get inside and past that rocket's range, and see how tough the armor is compared to her claws.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    The suit is for one. Loud. Its gyros spinning and its joints squealing. It is for another. Slow. That arm coming around was so laborious that it might have seemed to be moving in bullet time. And for another thing... it has no real armor beyond the frame and the cupola that gives some moderate protection to the driver. One can glance a it and see the servos working, see the pistons shifting, though there are a few plates to prevent dirt and grime getting access to the interior they're there to protect from erosion.
    Not weaponsgrade talons nor Russiansgrade weapons.
    Those first rockets were caught and their life ended with the crunching of gauntlets. As far as explosives go those are not top of the line, but they seem higher grade than the suit itself. For witness the explosion of the abandoned yellow cab that /blossoms/ into flame behind Tigra as she /dashes/ across the distance closing it with a blur of feline motion.
    Theo, Ross, and Oz, they have had enough almost instantly as they break for it, running at first in Rocket's direction until they see what real power armor looks like. Then they turn and try for the alleyway.
    The voice from inside the suit hollars, "I'm not in control, I'm not touching anyhing, help!"
    Even as the robot brandishes the burning welder and tries to lash it around, albeit slowly, at Tigra...
    Only for a heavy manhole cover to _fly_ across the distance and embed itself in the shoulder joint of the robotic construction device, crashing with a loud impact and knocking it heavily into those metal shutters of the Hershey store.
    Then there's Arthur's voice as he shouts, "The hell is this!"

Dmitri Pushkin has posed:
     Dmitri zips forward when the men come running at him. It's a big mistake on their part as they spin around to run back towards the alleyway. Dmitri is in full securement of assets mode. A loud sonic boom echoes out as he speeds forward grabbing for the collars of two of the men with outstretched arms before landing himself in front of the third.

     It's a terrifying sight as he silently begins to walk forward dragging the two men by the backs of their shirts like some sort of terminator. The ground behind him is left stripped clean of snow as he walks towards poor, poor Oswald. That red eye of his glows brilliantly as he throws the two men like ragdolls over his back. "Under the authority invested in me by the Russian Federation you three are under arrest and will face trial in Moscow" To those in the know it's a pronouncement of practically a death sentence in this case with innocent till proven guilty being far from the minds of certain courts in the Russian federation.

     In a friendly voice Dmitri offers over coms. "It is a Ukranian Mining robot, very dangerous in wrong hands" He shakes his head as much as he can inside of his suit without moving his head outside. "It is qualifying as violation of Russian law and grand theft."

Greer Grant has posed:
Tigra is strong. She probably couldn't lift that mech over her head even on her best day, but catching an incoming welder in both hands and bracing herself against the pavement to stop its descent toward her flesh is within her power, for now. She grits her teeth and growls at the robot; an instinct she can't stop even though she knows the robot can't hear her warnings and doesn't care about backing off. Whatever. All part of the fun of being a cat.

When Aquaman appears, Tigra yells over her shoulder, "Rescue mission! Guy trapped inside! Buggy Russian programming, you know how it is!"

That last part was completely unnecessary but she's snarky enough to enjoy it nevertheless as she puts all her considerable posthuman muscle into shoving the mech backward out of range to look at the situation. Aquaman's attack did hit something; the robot suit is leaking hydraulic fluid, which means it has vulnerabilities. She dances from side to side to try to confuse anyone targeting her, then darts at the robot again with claws extended. There are some hoses in the elbow joints that look important. She does her best to be out of the way of the high-pressure fan as she severs them, but her hands are just not gonna smell right for hours.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Around the way, just past the Hershey's store and toward the stand of bleachers that are in the middle of Times Square, is Arthur. From afar he looks like nothing more than maybe a jacked up roadie with his wild hair and beard. Not even to mention the rings and the leather bracers he wears. Though today at least he's dressed for the chill with blue jeans and a heavy grey Sherpa hoodie. Though the hood is down. Because right now, the man is running.
    Tigra's nimble that's true, but she's also strong as she /pushes/ that heavy arm to the side and gets clear, then her claws flash and part of the robotic frame hisses and sputters as it loss pressure, now both arms going limp as it starts to twist in place. Almost like some pantomime of a British comedy skit it might be trying to lift its leg for a stomp toward the feline woman...
    Only for the Atlantean's shoulder to crash into its side, sending it crashing hard into the wall behind it with a heavy crunch as the frame fractures. The cupola seems intact, but the 'spine' of the device twists and snaps so the whole thing settles in one robotic heap...
    Then quietly the cockpit opens a crack as the pilot peeks out.
    "How'd these chuckleheads get their hands on it?" Arthur's voice is rough, a tinge of a growl to it and clearly displeased about the situation as he pushes himself back to his feet, stumbling a little then rubbing his shoulder with a grimace.
    Though then he glances sidelong toward Business Dmitri and points a little. "American citizens man." Not exactly warning and more explanation of reality, "Gonna have to go through channels."
    But then he turns his attention toward Tigra and gives her an up-nod. "Hey, Avenger."

Dmitri Pushkin has posed:
     "So much paperwork." Dmitri states over coms letting out a low sigh. "Ah well not the first time for extradition not the last." In a cheery friendly tone as he continues to walk slowly forward towards the last goon who is falling over himself to get away from Dmitri in the ice and snow of the city. "Hokey smokes these guys are a little heavy." He adds over coms as he reaches down grabbing the last downed figure by the arm and then shifting to the collar to throw him over his back as he walks through the alleyway still watching the video on his hud.

     "Oh poor Kim, you are not needing to be alone forever, someday you will find love." He offers the screen randomly as he walks back out into view with the three thugs in toe. Completely misunderstanding the comedy of the scene on his screen as he walks back into view.

Greer Grant has posed:
Tigra's voice strained with effort, which is understandable because her muscles are bulging as she finds the seam of the cockpit 'door' in the robot's chest and does her damnedest to try to pull the thing open. You'd sound constipated too if you were in that situation and had to explain, "Dunno, just met the guys. They're new to the job so I was showing them...the...ropes! Augh!" Her fingers give out, unequal to the task of prying open the well-sealed exoskeleton. It's very easy to imagine the strain turned her face the color of a radish under that fur, but she's not giving up.

"Sorry, buddy, but I'm gonna have to do some serious damage to your suit to get you out," she yells at robotman, brandishing the magic claws of the chosen hero of a magical race of cat people (Greer Grant: the Luke Skywalker of the real-life Kilrathi) and taking three well-aimed swipes at the lock to try to convince the suit to pop open. It's a pretty low-tech solution, but when all you have is a claw, every problem looks like a scratching post.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    The three cronies are definitely not looking happy but they likely have accepted at his point with the people around... that it's a fair cop. So there's no struggling, no resistance. And when Tigra channels her Cat Chi into the slicing of the cupola's crumple-resistant protective plates, she's able to feel the give and screech of the metal until...
    /PING!/
    The circular cap pops off and hangs weakly off to one side, revealing a Roy O'Sheen whose name pops up on Dmitri's data displays. A known colleague of the other three.
    "So you guys found this thing laying around near the river?" He turns and points in one direction and asks, "That way?" Then he points in another, "Or that way? Cuz there are two rivers, man."
    "Thattaway," Oz says reluctantly, motioning in the direction of the docks and the East river.
    "Alright so," He takes a moment and says not on the comms but directly to Dmitri. "You want to take these guys and question them, get them processed. We don't have cops to round people up here right now. And the suit, can you carry that much?"
    He's looking back at Tigra and Dmitri and motioning in the direction that Oz mentioned. "I'm gonna go see what I can see where they got this thing from."

Greer Grant has posed:
Tigra nods at Aquaman. "Yeah, do your thing. Nice to meet you."

She fights down an urge to call him 'Sushiman.'

"I'll go with my buddies here. This was all just a big mistake, the kind we all make our first time out." She throws a chummy arm around Roy's shoulders to indicate her support, and to coincidentally let the tips of her claws rest very, very lightly against his chest. "I think we'd all be better off letting them help out than clogging up resources arresting them for a mistake. Right, guys?"

The guys, who probably went to the same law school Tigra did, enthusiastically agree with her legal analysis.

Dmitri Pushkin has posed:
     Dmitri drops the collection of crooks near Roy as he walks towards the suit. He lets out a low grumbling sigh before holding out his hand in order to begin repairing the suit with his mind. The entire suit glows bright red as a laser shoots out from his forhead and the entire thing begins to knit itself back together one piece at a time floating back into position.

     Dmitri takes a few steps forward before hugging onto the back of his suit using his technopathy to merge his own suit with the back of the much larger mining suit. His arms form into the back of the suit instead of holding on allowing him to kick his thrusters into high gear forcing the entire thing into the air as he offers. "So long comrades, I will be filing of paperwork for the four to extradite them to Russia for processing, be keeping eye on them comrade Tigra."

     He's far from hypersonic while propelling this much but he does manage to break the sound barrier as he lifts up up and through the clouds partially merged with the machine.