Owner	Pose
June Connor	The vacant area of Queens isn't one where people go hang out if they are good kids. It's known for trouble. Drug deals, shady arrangements, and other nefarious activities happen here pretty regularly. Forrest Hills Apartments overlook the area, surely people may see things happen down in this space below.     June walks with purpose across the lot, ignoring a car that cruises by at a few miles over the speed limit, her Converse shoes taking her across the week invested cracks. She makes her way back into the lot, passing a homeless bum who likewise keeps to his own business, sitting outside his makeshift tent. To an old carcass of a blue schoolbus which surely hasn't moved in years. The rust has fallen to the concrete beneath it, most of the windows are broken. An odd destination, but here she is, and she glances around as if looking for someone.
Michael Erickson	And Michael? Michael just has a lot on his mind. Treading the streets of New York is a bit like treading the streets of memory - not the memories of this town, or what it was, but of towns like it a thousand worlds away. They were always burning, in those days. The tromp of his boots on the sidewalk echoes the tromp of his boots on those distrant streets, metal battle armor soles instead of leather. He's been thinking about those days a lot of late. Days of conquest.     Happily enough, he's not going to worry about that anymore. Not even in Queens.     And so he treads the streets, passing the school bus's carcass, seemingly heedless of any potential nasties. The echoes of distant antimatter bombs fill his ears now, the sizzle of particle beams long since expended. Screams of the long dead and oppressed. Oh, how far away from past he's gone. How glad he is for that. But we all must boil in history's kettle. So does he.
June Connor	"June, I can't believe you showed," comes a voice behind her, another group approaching her location, four rather rough looking men crossing the street in front of Michael with little regard for him.     "Yeah? Well, I gotta do what I gotta do," June answers, standing her ground by the bus.     "Yeah, but you know, Hand put a bounty out on you. Five Gs."     "Five? Shit, that's not a lot. Not worth your effort," she defends herself.     "Yeah, you still owe Frankie three," the man points out. They fan out around her.     "Okay," June holds up her hands in surrender. "BUT. Don't forget that I got you that old Mustang you guys were looking for," she defends herself.     "Yeah, Tim got pinched because it was so hot," the leader answers. It doesn't look like this meeting is going to be a cordial one. Then again, a lot of meetings around here aren't.
Michael Erickson	Certainly they are not.     Michael pauses as they pass, those men, watching them go - it takes him a moment to be cleared of fog, for the long-dead towers of Alcaaj (or was it Tyene?) to become the row blocks of the neighborhood once again. An already grave face comports itself into a grim frown. Gives them a head start before following - and then, quiet as a shadow, slips up the side of the bus, crawling across the top to lie there, watching. Four on one. Either she's going to need help or she's going to feed them their own legs. In this town it could easily be either.     So. He watches.
June Connor	June backs up a little, and winces. "I didn't know he was gonna get pinched, that's on him!" The guys box her in, and she clearly doesn't have a place to run as she finds her back against the bus. "But look, you guys said you didn't like the Hand, I got someone who can get them out of the area, right?" she offers.     "We like their money," the leader answers, and suddenly shoves forward, a forearm pinned against June's neck. She grits her teeth. "And they didn't give particulars on the condition they get you. So for your sake, just lets do this chill, okay?" he says with a tilt of his head.     She nods as if mentally subdued by the aggression, but as soon as he releases her a little, a foot kicks out to drill him in the groin. He buckles, and she reaches to the man on her far left, grabbing him by the hair in the moment and flying upward to deliver a knee to his face, knocking him back with a single blow KO. She has fight, that's for sure. The man next to her KO, though, catches her by the collar of her black tee, and the tear of the internal elastic can be heard as she attempts to use the whole she made to escape, only to be yanked backward into the arms of another guy who promptly takes her in a full nelson.
Michael Erickson	Ah, she's good. She's good. The girl's sudden violence is a slight surprise, but only slight - after all, this town has that kind of duality. He gives it another few moments before he decides whether to act. She might just have it, after all.
June Connor	June kicks out at the first guy to approach her, not successfully doing much other than to shove back his attack. Unfortunately, it's not enough as the leader, recovering from his blow, grabs her thigh and calf of that kicking leg, preventing a second strike with it as she's hoisted into the air, giving her little room to make any further attacks. She slams her head backward, hitting the guy behind her, but not with enough force to be able to free herself as the two use their weight to slam her face first into the bus. She kicks hard with her free foot, forcing herself back from the blow, though it surely hurt quite a bit, only to get punched in the gut by the third guy. Maybe she's not got it after all.
Michael Erickson	All right.     He's leaping off the top of the bus in half a second, landing behind the three toughs now profaning the name of battle by ganging up on a talented but somewhat overwhelmed young fighter. He lands on the concrete with the tromp of boots, and suddenly it's one of /them/ that's being hoisted into the air, as Michael chucks the man over his shoulder as if he were made of paper. "No thank you," he tells the punching man, who goes screaming ass-over-teakettle into a heap of trash across the parking lot. "Let's keep this fair, shall we?"     Oh! So. He's just equalizing. No point in saving a damsel who can save herself, after all, if you can just even up the odds a little. That's just rude, otherwise.
June Connor	As the third attacker goes flying away, the leader glances over his shoulder, distracted by the unexpected interloper. "What the-"     Crack. June's foot comes across, nailing him in the face and freeing her legs again. She still has the issue of the guy who has her in the nelson grip. She slides her hands up, and down she goes out of his grip, her shirt raising to momentarily reveal a winding dragon tattoo on her midriff. She hits the hard concrete, and immediately kips her foot upward, catching the man who was holding her in the jaw. She scrambles to her feet, in a neutral position to face off against the remaining two thugs, panting a little with a rather vicious look on her face. Definitely not the damsel in distress. Her green eyes momentarily shift to Michael. "Who the fuck are you?" she asks, she didn't see him arrive given that she was getting smashed against a bus at the time. He's just...here. Her stance doesn't necessarily regard him as friend, not aware of what he just did a moment ago.
Michael Erickson	"Just a guy." Yeah. Just a guy. Juuuuust a guy. "You got it? Or do you want me to punch one of them? I didn't want to butt in otherwise." Generic white guy, blandly handsome. Smiling, though stepping back away from the conflict so that June can tear these dudes down. The other guy, I mean. He's probably out, or needing a chiropractor. Probably the trash is keeping him out of the hospital?
June Connor	June gives an odd, confused look at Michael, only to get interrupted by a fist across her face. She stumbles to the side, and is promptly tackled to the ground by the guy that was holding her.     Meanwhile, the leader has changed to face Michael. "Wrong fight to pick," " he says, pulling a switchblade which flips open.
Michael Erickson	"I just threw your friend across the parking lot," Michael points out, flicking a glance from the knife to the guy who's tackled June - hopefully she's got him. Michael looks back to the leader and steps into a fighting stance himself, one that has /absolutely no origin on Earth/ yet somehow ends up looking kind of like Krav Maga. That happens sometimes. "Buddy. Reconsider. Otherwise you're going into the hospital. For a while."     Very cheerful. Matter of fact. Water's wet, sky's blue, major medical attention needed for you!
June Connor	The leader glances past Michael to see how far his friend went. He looks a little nervous after that realization.     June, though she's tackled under a much larger opponent, doesn't have any qualms continuing her fight, unaware of the conversation above her. She's a little occupied with biting the ear off her attacker. He screams, and she viciously uses the opening to start punching him furiously. She's not very big, and not very strong, but she's got a fire to her, and soon she's rolled him over and is beating the daylights out of him. "Imma fuckin' punch you til you stop bleeding, bitch!" she yells with all the fury of someone three times her weight.     "Barry! The leader glances between Michael and Barry, the guy under June. This will shortly be a 1v2 and one of those two has super human strength at least. "Fine! Just get her off him before she kills him!" he concedes, still gripping his knife, unwilling to physically show surrender.
Michael Erickson	He gives the man a smile. It's /meant/ to be friendly. Cats smile, too, before they bite you.     "Right, then," Michael says wth a smile, looking to see where June is busy playing The Best Dirty Fighter Ever. He waits. Well, for a moment anyway. "Miss," he says, in a voice that is polite but has a surprising amount of drill-sergeant firmness. "That's enough. They're going to leave, or I'm going to feed our friend here his own knife. The long way." Which probably involves anal insertion. You know. Fun stuff.
June Connor	June pounds away several more punches, there's blood on her face, on his face, though most of it is his. In MMA the man would be qualified as unable to intelligently defend himself, flailing helplessly in defense of the punches. She doesn't respond immediately, or even entirely to Michael. It's her own exhaustion that seems to be more prevailing to stop her than anything else, breathing hard, she gets up from her mounted position, and gives an exhausted kick to Barry's ribs for good measure. "And that's for last March," she adds with a pointed finger. Whatever happened in March, apparently she thinks he deserved one last kick. She probably couldnt' continue fighting much if she wanted to, if her labored breathing is any indication. She definitely didn't hold anything back. Her knuckles are bloody, her face has spatters and...it's not pretty.     The leader seems annoyed. "Shit, you coulda killed him," he says, hesitantly moving toward Barry's side, and glancing at his other two unconscious allies.     "Yeah, well don't fuck with me," June answers, and starts to casually walk away from Barry. "I think I'm out," she waves dismissively, and gives Michael a once over. Pretty boy without a hair out of place, definitely seems to have come out the best in the fight. "So...just a guy that can throw people..." She glances over at the man who is fighting unconsciousness and pain in the trash heap. "What is that, thirty feet?"
Michael Erickson	Well, in MMA most fights are reduced to sweaty ball-punching on the floor, so June is already heads above that standard. Once she's finished venting her spleen upon the unfortunate Barry, Michael looks at the leader, brows arched. "You think you're coming out the worst for this," he tells the man. "Be glad she kicked the asses of these two. If it were me coming in on you four hurting a defenseless person, you'd all be in the morgue." Again, cheerfully said, lips remaining in that pleasant smile. Crazy? Maybe? But absolutely matter-of-fact.     June gets a look. The smile fades. "Thirty-odd, yes," he replies. "So I'm just this guy who can do that. Guys can do things, or so I've heard. Land of opportunity this America of ours." He looks back to the leader. "Right. Fuck off, please. For the rest of your lives."
June Connor	"Land of opportunity, yeah ok Cap," she says with a shrug of her eyebrow. She starts walking, not even a thank you! Clearly the leader will be cleaning up with his buddies before they can make their way out of the area, and she doesn't have any plans to be here when reinforcements may arrive. "Ugh, I need a towel," she wipes some of the blood on her face. "Gross." She realizes that now she has it all over both sides of her hands, not just the back. Right, now she can't even touch her sides.
Michael Erickson	Well, he wasn't /expecting/ a thank you, really. But he does add, "You really are good. I can see why they decided they had to gang up on you. Hope your evening gets better, yeah?" He's polite. Why would he be otherwise?
June Connor	June turns around, walking casually backward. "Gets better?" she asks, as if she is reading an innuendo into his statement. In her world, if a guy takes the level of heroics of stepping into a fight, he usually wants something afterward. "Hoping for something?" she asks, as if mildly amused by a flirt attempt. Was it a flirt? She apparently thinks it was, regardless.
Michael Erickson	"Nope." He chuckles, shaking his head. "You got bad things going on right now in your life, that's clear. I'm just saying I hope it gets better. I figure you're not used to people being nice or whatever, but I'm very old, I've done a lot of things both good and horrible alike, and I'm just saying, I hope you've got a better day ahead." Michael starts off after her now, unhurried, giving her lots of space to move. "Not trying to sound like a cat poster but there it is." Hang in there, baby!
June Connor	June gives a suspicious narrow gaze when he denies that he has ulterior motives for helping her. "Yeah, ok," she answers, seeming not fully convinced. "You just really are Captain America, just sticking up for the underdog, huh?" she asks. "And totally not trying to get laid." Yep, she just came out and said it. "So you just wander the ass end of Queens looking for people to help?"
Michael Erickson	"Nah," he says with a shake of his head. "I'm not even from this planet. And no, I was just walking. Time was this area of Queens was worse, believe it or not. Happened to run into you all. Sorry I didn't jump /right/ in, by the way - but I figured if you had a bounty on you, you'd probably be able to handle most of it yourself and I didn't want to jump in like some kinda stupid white knight."
June Connor	"Alien, huh? Like the ones on the news?" she asks, remembering the Shi'ar arrival that made the global news. "Something about looking to arrest somebody or something, right? So you're a...space cop or something?" She scoffs a little. "I hate cops." Of course, she's made a lot of assumptions based on a single news story.
Michael Erickson	"Not like the one on the news," he replies. Bit of an edge there, somewhere. "And no, not like a cop. Just a private citizen." A beat; he pauses on the sidewalk. "Hey, sorry. I'm being nosy. You want me to leave you be?"
June Connor	June frowns slightly. "Right, okay, a different alien," she says. "I mean, I don't need a babysitter, unless you wanna take your super strength and beat the shit out of a bunch of ninjas for me," she suggests, not expecting agreement, but...she might also not be joking.
Michael Erickson	"Okay." He shrugs, moving to approach. "So who'd you piss off?" Oh. Oh! Okay.
June Connor	June laughs, "My old employer. Tryin' to find info so I can get out from their sights. Easier said than done. Shit goes down when you live in my world," she suggests, the tone indicating that she doesn't think he'd really get it. "Sometimes you get played, and you die. Like me, 'cept I'm trying to put off the dying part as long as I can."
Michael Erickson	"The Hand, yes." He rubs at his chin, considering. "I know of them - if they're only dropping five grand on you, though, I mean. Wouldn't it just be easier to get a face change and go on? Shit, I'd give that to you myself, wouldn't expect anything from you. Or I could hire you to work for me. I do security consulting, work with people with dark pasts all the time."
June Connor	June stops, and looks at Michael. "You fuckin' serious?" Is she angry or happy? It may be a bit ambiguous initially. "You gotta be dumb as shit to use someone like me," she says. "You work with people who got dark presents, too? I'm not known for the best decisions." She indicates her blood covered self. "If you hadn't noticed."
Michael Erickson	Another shrug. Michael leans against a lamppost. "Until two weeks ago I was raised to work from birth for a galaxy-spanning imperialist power that sought to take over this planet. Now I don't. We all make bad decisions." He pauses to squint at his smart-watch, which has beeped. "Hell, when I was your age I used to help /burn/ cities like this one." Back to June. "I'm not dumb, I'm just tired of fucking around with bullies. Gotta make a choice at some point or another for something new."
June Connor	June seems without words for a moment. An...angry moment? She looks mad. "I..." she looks like she might spit. "I'm not your best pet project," she says, managing to clench out the words. "I don't know what I am, but I'd burn this city down if I thought I could. You're better off with someone else to try and redeem." It's unclear if she's mad at him, or mad at herself, or something else entirely. "I'll fuck it up." She turns to start walking again, an escape disguised in a storm.
Michael Erickson	"Yeah," he says, walking after still, "I hate myself, too. You're right. But look, will you at least take a number from me? It's a burner phone, won't trace, but you'll at least be able to get in touch with me if you wanna know more." Michael laughs faintly. "I mean. You get a chance to talk to an alien every day? Gotta be worth it at least to find out what it's like elsewhere in the universe."     Well, he certainly is aiming to sound for real, at least. Or maybe he's just assuming the desperation's enough. Hard to tell about people who come out of nowhere.
June Connor	June smirks, "I have enough trouble with one city, let alone the universe. Okay, fine, I'll take you're number, but no promises." She looks uncomfortably indirect, refusing eye contact, rather shy suddenly compared to when she was facing down four goons.
Michael Erickson	He steps up, leans forward, and offers her the card at arms' length, still not seeking to spook her. "I'm Cal," he says. "Yes, it's short for something. Give me a call, maybe we can chat some." A beat. "I figure you might worry I'm creeping on you or something - we'll chat, I'll explain myself a little. Might do some to make you feel a little better. But no requirements here, okay? I don't want anything from you but just to call."     Yeah, he can appreciate that. The shyness. She's so young. But on the other hand, she's going to get murdered out here, probably. Maybe he can help out at least a little.     Jessica's probably going to mutter about it. But this isn't SHIELD's situation. It's his.