Scene #9329: Firefly Dam: The Rapid and the Reckless

Owner	Pose
Veronica	LAST TIME AT FIREFLY DAM Veronica met with a number of Watch members at Roscoe's BigBurger(tm) & Family Diner to discuss plans for the town's immediate future and for collaboration with the Watch. Many useful insights were raised, and the Elites were just heading out to visit the dam and check on the state of its hydroelectric power plant... when chaos ensued! A caravan of souped-up, firework-shooting automobiles has entered the town and are causing havoc! NOW Chaos has continued to ensue, and is escalating quickly. Where did these punks come from? There's little time to pursue answers while they run rampant across the town. A hot-rod spins donuts in the too-large parking lot of the Zippy Mart while a spiky-haired youth leans out of the passenger window with what may be a bona fide flamethrower. Jets of fire stream dozens of feet into the air, changing trajectory wildly. The houses nearby are facing a serious arson risk. Most of the people on the street have taken shelter in whatever building is nearest, but some aren't so lucky. A short school bus with its entire roof cut off has pulled over next to Clark's; the driver revs the engine while his passengers menace Clark and company with an assortment of hand weapons, kicking over the sales racks and looting freely. A punk splits the "DIRECTIONS 5 AHN" sign in two over his knee and shouts, "It's half off, get it!?" Most of the caravan - a good four or five vehicles - roams the major streets, burning rubber up and down Seventh Avenue and drifting around corners while fireworks spray from their windows and open roofs. At their speed, it'll be hard to catch up with them, but somebody's gotta do it! Veronica 'suits up' in Baker and Seventh almost immediately, a giant figure of shattered brickwork, slabs of concrete, and twisted steel raising itself from nowhere around her. She shouts an expletive as the main group of cars speeds away from her, the EGO's long strides proving insufficient to keep up with the souped-up cars' superior acceleration. "Damn it! They're too fast, and I can't afford to miss a hail-mary swing and hurt somebody. Gotta get them out in the open, or force 'em to head right for me..." The only weapon Veronica brings to bear is the pair of enormous guitar-amp speakers on Baker and Seventh's shoulders, but the sonic shock waves miss the mark more often than they hit at this range. It'll take a while to hammer enough dents into the cars that they roll or break down. During that time, all sorts of hell will continue to break loose...
Odette Raskins	Odette's first instinct when loud noises start erupting from outside is to immediately duck for cover under the nearest table while she's still in Roscoe's. She lets out the start of a yelp, too, but sucks it in halfway through. It's startling, sure, but it's not quite as... Bullety as she was initially expecting. That could be a good sign. Maybe it could be settled with less pain than she's expecting! Poking her head out from behind the table, she immediately sees the flamethrower shooting into the air, and some of that air drains out of her lungs while she circles around to the door at Roscoe's while tugging her bag along besides her. "Oh geez, that could be really bad... Who are they? Have they been here before?" She asks in a loud stage-whisper, glancing back at the patrons and/or owner of the burger joint, checking her bag for her burn treatment medication first, her tranquilzers in the same bag next, and finally her sidearm on her belt. "A... Also, please get away from any windows! You'll be okay, but it's.. Don't risk getting near anything breakable." Once Odette gets an answer, she grabs some empty plates (or napkin dispensers/anything sufficiently solid and blunt, if the plates are the shitty paper ones) off the tables before taking a deep breath. Once she's emotionally ready, she slips out of Roscoe's, promptly pitching said plates/napkin dispensers at the nearest on-foot punk. "H... Hey! C-c-cut that out!" She's already regretting doing that roughly when the object goes flying, but it's too late to back down now.
Angela	Yuri wonders if she's cursed. Specifically cursed to only show up in places that are about to break out in chaos and violence and ruin. This is the sort of thing she's supposed to stop, right? She told Petra, of course, that she was going to do more than just look out for herself and try for more than to just escape the danger and death that come to her. So. Yuri's Lob-Corp EGO, Frost Splinter, is a kind of counterpart to Fourth Match Flame, elementally speaking. The heat is uncomfortable to be around and it takes Yuri a moment to remind herself it's not just because Cinder was a big fan of burning shit down--it's also a sign of her EGO piercing into skull. She exhales slowly, closing her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, comfort the unsteady beating of her heart so it stops screaming at her, telling her to run and hide. The instinct has never left her, even when she got power in her hands, because she knows in the grand scheme of things, even the incredible power she has in her hands doesn't mean she isn't one small mistep, one careless thought, away from falling into deeper ruin. And in the grand scheme of things one sword can only do so much. Perhaps that is why she sought refuge in the Yurodiviye, amongst the Watch. It is a place of many swords. Some of those swords are guns or medical kits actually. Yuri is stronger and faster with the EGO gear than she would be normally, but she's not 'outspeed vehicle' fast. Instead, she looks for a pattern in the driving, trying head one off (not directly, she doesn't want to be hit by a vehicle either) and once she's able to do it, swings out her sword, sending a surge of ice frost erupting out of the blade and at the vehicle, trying to force it o a stop. Or at least slow it down. "This is madness... They haven't even made any demands yet. Are they just looking to wreck some havoc and leave?"
Tamiel Luxis	At the whooping and the hollaring, Tamiel's first reaction is to the look to the natives. It's only the tension in their stances, and eventually, Veronica's exclaimations, that really get her going. She stands up, her wings fanning out, left arm extended outward. A strand of shadow reached out from her own, taking hold of her, like a knight accepting the hand of a princess, before Tamiel spun it overhead, swelling into a darkness that swallowed, swirled around her. Her iridescent, floating scarf was the first thing to break free of the shadow, followed by the rest of her, a dark tendril of her manifesting uniform pulling a strand of hair from her face. Tamiel's already on her phone as the transformation resolves, pulling up a program in a submenu with an angel wing icon, labeled Bookworm.EXE. It pulled up a perfectly black screen. >Umbra to Anthem >Trouble, little light? >people around firefly dam. in the city. have a lot of fancy cars? >a gang maybe? they're attacking it. >My, my. Can't have that, can we. >We'll get back to you. >hurry
Father Berislav	Berislav rushes out of Roscoe's, his eyes flicking from one scene to the next in the chaotic mural the town's suddenly become. Barely old enough to drive. A sharp sigh escapes the priest. He puts away his reading glasses, dropping them into a burning orange wound in space. Before the frame has fully disappeared into the sealing void, Berislav bolts. The cassock flutters against the whipping air, yet even with its resistance he's upon the young hot rodder who snapped Clark's sign in a matter of seconds. His stop is equally sudden, frightening in its precision and grace, and in the speed with which the priest is upright from his inhuman sprint. One hand grasps one half of the sign. "It breaks my heart to see people so young having embraced the City's evil." 'Evil' is punctuated with the tip of his foot hitting the punk's wrist at terrifying, bone-breaking levels of speed and force, prying loose the other half of Clark's sign just as his strength snatches its twin free. He catches the falling half without breaking eye contact. "I know that the Wings and the Syndicates do whatever they want," he says, gently setting the broken sign aside. "To you, to your friends, to your families. So I understand it's tempting to select into 'abuser' when you believe your only options are that or 'victim.'" "There's a third option they don't want you to be aware of. You can get your friends together, tell them the good news, and go back to your own community as protectors, rather than as snakes in the grass." "Are you going to do that? Or do I have to show you that it works before you'll believe me?"
Hibiki Tachibana	You know, I've got a good feeling abou-- "What was--!?" Hibiki is quick to drop her burger on the spot and spring to her feet, pushing herself up using the table and dashing towards the door to get outside of Roscoe's alongside Veronica. Explosions? Now? Did something in town break down and go up in smoke? It's possible there was an accident while repairing or maintaining something... ...was her first thought. Of course, reality is a lot less kind than that, which is something she realizes the moment the line of fast-speeding vehicles whizzes by, whipping up dust in their wake. She's left in aghast shock for whole seconds, trying the process exactly what's suddenly descended on Firefly Dam in no time at all. Setting things on fire without hesitation, when the residents already have more than enough to fix up... Harassing Clark, who gave them all directions to get here... Tearing up the streets, raising complete hell everywhere they go, probably spreading the chaos to the rest of town... When her jaw finally pulls up shut, it's with the click of teeth pressing together, then gnashing against one another. In recent times, she's been careful when it comes to using her Symphogear, given the cracks running along it; not this time, as she fishes the crimson pendant out from beneath her jacket collar and grips it tightly, hand shaking just slightly. "...Balwisyall nescell Gungnir tron...!" By the time the golden light of her transforming has faded out, she's already a few dozen meters up in the air, in a high leap that leaves her scarf fluttering behind her. Trying to catch up with the main convoy the long and hard way wouldn't be impossible, for her, but she has better ways to manage that. Just like Yuri, she heads them off-- although it's nothing as refined as watching their patterns. The magical girl simply uses her aerial position to leap across the rooftops of several buildings, skipping streets so she can soon enough come down on the lane of cars from /straight above/, eyes wide and fist clenched. Yuri will harass one of them. Hibiki intends to drop directly onto the front hood of another with said fist, driving a falling punch down into it forcefully enough that it'll /crunch/ the front of the car down into the pavement - and consequentially cause the entire backside of the car to rear up off the road in a very sudden and very violent stop. So much so that it might also cause the vehicles behind this one to come to a forced halt, if they're not fast enough to swerve out of the way. But as for this one at least, it won't be going anywhere any time soon. Assuming she successfully grounds it, she yanks her arm out of the engine block with a whine of caved-in metal, letting all four wheels hit the ground again while she glares daggers at the occupants from the other side of the windshield. Her voice is equally cold. "...What the hell do you think you're /doing/!?"
Veronica	Odette: "Oh geez, that could be really bad... Who are they? Have they been here before?" "I-I've never seen them before," stammers Roscoe. "And I think I'd remember folks like this!" "H... Hey! C-c-cut that out!" if the plates are the shitty paper ones Oh, ye of little faith. Roscoe doesn't skimp on the essentials. These plates are stainless steel. The first metal discus goes wide but the second one dings the denim-jacketed punk in the shoulder, just as he's smashing another sign over his knee. Knocked off-balance, he sprawls on the ground. "Hey, what the hell!?" he cries, as if he's not actively ransacking a local business. A couple of his buddies look up from wrecking the shop. "You'd better not throw the rest of those, lady," one of them says, in a way that makes clear it's a threat and not a request. "Yeah!" says another, "or I'll- I'll hit this loser!" as she holds Clark by the collar. Berislav arrives on the scene, and is into the fracas immediately. The unlucky punk's wrist audibly breaks, and he howls in pain. His peers look to each other, confused and fearful. They saw how fast the priest arrived, and know that kind of speed comes from augmentation. Who knows what else this guy is capable of? "I know that the Wings and the Syndicates do whatever they want," "Yeah!" cries the woman holding Clark, while one of her companions kneels over their cohort, who now rolls on the ground clutching at his wrist. "Fuck the wings! Fuck bootlickers!" The cry is taken up by the other punks nearby, before Berislav continues his assessment of the situation. "So I understand it's tempting to select into 'abuser' when you believe your only options are that or 'victim.'" "Bastard," she mutters. "You're dressed real nice for the Backstreets. And that speed doesn't come naturally." Her companions begin to approach, brandishing their weapons (mostly bats, a few knives), until she extends a hand to symbolically hold them back. "You look like one of the 'haves'. Why should we listen to you preaching peace when this job is the only thing putting food in our bellies?" "Are you going to do that? Or do I have to show you that it works before you'll believe me?" "As if you could," the young woman sneers. Yuri notices the roaming vehicles are indeed following a rough circuit around the center of town. Once she's in position for her ambush, the wave of ice does its job, crumpling the front end of a pickup. These lunatics are lucky they didn't modify away the safety features in the name of sick automotive tune-ups! The other cars see the impromptu roadblock early enough to turn off the blocked street, but that's one down. Staggering free from the wreck, the driver gazes in dismay upon the remains of his vehicle. "My truck! You totaled my truck! C'mon, lady, I was just having a little joyride." He sounds genuinely a little distraught. "This is madness... They haven't even made any demands yet. Are they just looking to wreck some havoc and leave?" The ex-driver looks around in dazed confusion, then settles his gaze on Yuri again. "I, uh, then I DEMAND you pay for my truck! I'm a citizen, I know my rights! I've got- my uncle's a lawyer, yeah, he'll sue the pants off you if you don't pay up!" "Calm down, dude, can't you see she's got augs?" calls a voice from behind the wreck. Hopping out of the truckbed, a young man with shocking-green hair walks up to his truck-bereft fellow. "Some kinda Fixer on vacation," he says. "C'mon, let's scram." Seeing the sense in his companion's plan, the driver dashes away behind him. They're on foot, so it'll be easy to catch them - but there's still cars to deal with, too, and this pair appears to be unarmed.
Veronica	Hibiki catches the caravan more by surprise, coming in from the air. The first car comes to a cacophonous halt as its engine is destroyed. While Hibiki pries her arm free of the wreckage, several goons emerge from the car - these guys are older-looking, more 'biker gang' than 'punks'. And they're all armed: one with a length of heavy chain, two with bats, and one with a serrated knife. "...What the hell do you think you're /doing/!?" "You had one chance to stay out of our way," one growls. "And you blew it already," adds another. The quartet moves to encircle Hibiki, threatening to attack her from all sides. Tamiel transforms in the middle of Roscoe's. The reactions from the people around - as they move away from the windows per Odette's instruction - range from fearful to awed. Someone calls out, "cool augs!" The Watch has eyes on much of District 12, listening to the local news from the central hub of the Faded Print. As she's en route to the Zippy Mart, Tamiel gets a message back - some automotive troublemakers have been seen drag-racing in nearby towns, but leaving only skid marks, nothing like this scale of havoc. When her contact puts the towns to a map, however, it forms a clear picture: these punks have been working their way south, doing their best to keep their heads down (which is not very well, given the loud cars and flashy paint jobs) - until now.
Tamiel Luxis	"Ah, um, thanks...?" She manages tp look abashed, until her scarf came round, pushing her own head back toward the exit. "Right...We'll take care of it...!" She fell into the ground, darking across and out, a two-dimensional shape rapidly moving, chasing the whispers of prayers born of fear of fire. Her phone chirps at her on her way. And she flips it open. > Something lined up. > But they're no gang, it seems. > Some troublemaking racers. Making noise. Leaving skids in the road. > But they've never done this before. > Now, whyever would they do that? > please no lessons > Life is a lesson, little light. > let someone else answer? But Tamiel knewher teacher wouldn't. She hissed something through her teeth, her wings carrying her over the last hurdle...Where she could see just what had inspired the fears. Luckily, she wouldn't have to worry about CATCHING the car. Donuts were not exactly hard to predict--her eyes lingered on the flamethrower, but not for long. She turned into a shadowy sharp, diving down onto the street, across the road--and tose up, right in the path of the car. She caught it with both hands, feeling the impact, send her skid backwards, even through her costume, curling protectively around her. It's only there, with the wheels of the car spinning in place, and her beginning to lift the front of the car, that she looks up to the drivers. "Y-you like to race! Not...Not burn down towns! Why?! Why this!?"
Hibiki Tachibana	"You had one chance to stay out of our way," one growls. "And you blew it already," adds another. "I'm fine with that. In fact, I'd be happy to get in the way of every single one of you guys," Hibiki murmurs lowly, hopping off the hood and rising back to a full stand as she's surrounded from all angles. Though she doesn't seem concerned about that at all. Her expression is usually somewhat hard to 100% pin down, on account of the bottom half of her face being covered by her scarf, but in this case, her narrowed eyes tell everything. "...The people here are good people. They're all doing their best to work together to get by," she says quietly, fist tightening at her side, before her voice raises huskily. "Don't think I'll let a bunch of punks riding in to cause trouble off easy--!" She's, without a doubt, pissed off. There's no helping it, after meeting some of the people from here herself. Even so, she's equally incapable of hurting any person more than they might recover from. It's always difficult to know how much force she should put into fighting City-dwellers. Some of them are just regular street thugs. Some of them have the augmentations to be incredibly strong. And some are overwhelmingly skilled. With a whole lot of gangsters coming at her with chains, and bats, and knives... ...she instinctively plays it safe when it comes to power. Though that still won't stop her from moving /fast/, seizing the initiative before they get the chance to take the first move themselves. It's the knife-wielding one that she blitzes first; lunging low to get in front of him, then rising to grab onto their arm and turn, pressing her back against his stomach. And with a wrench downward, making it obvious she's a lot stronger than someone her size looks-- she aims to flip him clear over her shoulder and /slam/ him down into the street on his back, putting enough strength into it to try and knock the wind straight out of him. And finish off with a twist of the same arm that won't break the limb, but definitely put pressure on it to encourage dropping the knife so she can kick it away, not even lifting her head to look at the others. "...I'll give the rest of you one chance to explain what you're trying to do here."
Odette Raskins	"You'd better not throw the rest of those, lady," Odette looks so ready to throw more of those plates, although she does grimace slightly when she sees Clark being held hostage. "Well... Th-that'd be a problem if I wasn't a medic!" She calls out, slowly gesturing at her bag with the big caduceus symbol on it. Wait, do people their age recognize that symbol? Heck, did anyone back home even recognize it? They all used the cross on the white background! She's starting to sweat a bit right up until Berislav makes his presence known to all the punks and giving them both a little more leverage to work with in the hostage situation. "... I can fix that, too. Even take the pain away, if you quit what you're doing now." Odette offers, shuffling the plates around in the arm holding them to get them semi-cradled against her side. She steps aside hastily, too, as Hibiki and Tamiel both transform and go rushing off, watching them with briefly distracted awe before turning back to the group. "I'm not a fan of the wings, either, b... But messing with folks here isn't going to win you any points with anyone!" Odette inhales again as she weighs her options, then turns sideways a little so she can hold the remaining plates out towards the entrance to Roscoe's. "Can someone get this...?" She stage-whispers towards the door, holding her free hand towards the door to wave lightly in the hopefully-universal gesture of 'get down' before she turns back to the punks. "As if you could," "He really could, but it'd be better for everyone if he didn't." She calls out with an obviously steeled gaze, swallowing lightly to try and calm her nerves a bit. "Father Berislav's one of the kindest people I know, and... And I don't know if I have enough supplies to patch all of you up if you force him not to be. Whoever's paying you can't be paying you enough to go through all this." Odette adds with a quick pat of her bag, staring ahead firmly while simultaneously hoping they'll look at Berislav or Yuri or anyone else but her. She totally does have enough medical supplies in there, but she's confident that the gang doesn't know that.
Angela	Yuri says, "You started wrecking the place first. What exactly are you looking for here?" It's honestly more insulting he doesn't seem to realize the damage this guy is doing. Yuri isn't above causing trouble for society but even taking the view that the people here might as well not exist to this guy. She wasn't expecting to get a lawsuit threatened at her. Her eyes widen, in fear?? No, in disbelief. He jaw hangs open. She used to live in a Nest and now she doesn't have anything so-- "Go ahead. Good luck finding me. Didn't even give you a name. How about you apologize to these people for spooking them and help calm this race down and we can find you another place to run wild. One where you're not wrecking people's lives." Is that suitably Watch-esque? Guh she just doesn't know. But it feels like the appropriate thing to say. ''Can't you see she's got augs?'' They seem to be running, though, and Yuri isn't inclined to give chase. Her mood for combat has greatly diminished and--well--if they just leave then they can fix some minor damage and go. Best not to drag things out. ''Whoever's paying you can't be paying you enough to go through all this.'' "They just seemed like dumb bored rich kids--" Yuri says. "You think someone's putting them up to this?" But she can't imagine why.
Father Berislav	Why should we listen to you preaching peace when this job is the only thing putting food in our bellies? "If my clothes look nice to you, it's only because I've gotten good at stitching them back together and cleaning the blood from them--mine and others'." His finger traces over the rough edges of a stitch-job from the fight with the Photographer. "What strength I have, I've clawed away from the princes and elders of the world, piece by piece, over many years, until I could kill them with their own weapons--to say 'stop killing my people' in the only language they understand." "Give me a moment to treat your friend here, and I'll tell you why else you should believe me." Berislav kneels down and offers the troublemaker with the broken wrist a little blister pack, opening it and pressing a small, adhesive patch to the affected area. "It'll do something for the pain right away and get to work on the bone over the next few minutes. It's going to itch, so don't pick at it." Rising and returning his attention to the girl who appears to be their leader, he continues. "You have more in common with Clark and I than with the powers that be." "You thought I was one of theirs, because I'm powerful--which tells me that you understand, on some level, that the City encourages its people to eat each other." There is clear disgust in the way he says it. If nothing else, he shares her disdain for the power structure. "The highest calling here is to be so fattened on slaughter that anyone who would try chokes; to be so far removed from your neighbors that little exists to identify you as a human being. And," he says, his silver eyes piercing her as surely as if he'd fired them from a gun, "They know how to tempt you with it, to promise it to you if you'll work for them. But even though they don't pay you, doing this, here," he says, with a sweep of his palm, "Is still ultimately doing their work for them." "But it isn't hopeless. Far from it," he adds, shaking his head. "Do you want food? Is that why you're here? I know people who can get that for you, as easily as they can tell you where to get it yourselves. It might not come as readily as taking from those who have less than you, but," he says, one index raised, "They'd do it without expectation of reward or repayment, because they're tired of living in a place that demands this," he says, gesturing to the crowd with their weapons--to Clark--"Just so that people can survive another day. And they're willing to risk their lives if it means fighting back against that incentive. I also know people who fight against it in a literal sense." "Sometimes we win, and sometimes we lose--but we win more than we lose, and every day, there are a little more of us than the last. I can tell you, too, that we'd love having like-minded friends who can fight and aren't afraid to. I don't see any of you backing off from me, after all," he adds as a little joke, smiling in an effort to add a little levity. "Once all of you are fed," he says, the moment passing and his intense zeal rushing in to fill the space, "Imagine how many others you could help--how many others you'd inspire to help, when they see you, showing them that it can be done?" "It can be done, because it's being done. People are starting to come to me--some, not even for help, but to ask how they can. We are building something to destroy this City; to let people like you and Clark there take the first breath of clean air in many, many years. I'll show you where it is. You can come willing to listen, or you can come as you did today--either way, you'll learn that it isn't just talk."
Veronica	"Y-you like to race! Not...Not burn down towns! Why?! Why this!?" Tamiel manages to stop the car without destroying it, on account of letting it push her back a few meters. The driver immediately shifts into reverse, but is unable to break free of Tamiel's grip and takes their foot off the accelerator before the front bumper tears free. From here, Tamiel can see a dangerously large fuel tank in the backseat, which must be hooked up to the flamethrower. "What're you waiting for!" the driver shouts, presumably to her passenger. "Toast 'er!" The punk in the passenger seat - a young man, no older than twenty - lowers the flamethrower, leveling it straight at Tamiel. But no jet of burning fuel sprays forth: instead, he hesitates. "I-I don't know, Pam, she's kinda right. You said we'd get to race fast cars, not-not burn people..." "Fine," growls Pam. "I'll do it myself." She grabs her passenger by the belt, pulling him bodily down and into his seat, then tries to wrestle the flamethrower out of his hands. Pam's the larger of the two, so she's going to have it in hand soon enough. But this is a critical moment to act. "Don't think I'll let a bunch of punks riding in to cause trouble off easy--!" Hibiki's decision to keep the kid gloves on power-wise is met with a surprising amount of force from the opposition. These guys clearly have some augments, boasting enough stamina to take a hit from Hibiki while she's pulling her punches. The man with the knife goes down, and she successfully disarms him - bones still have their limits, even if the muscles around them are enhanced, and this guy clearly knows when to cede to the pressure. "...I'll give the rest of you one chance to explain what you're trying to do here." "Teaching you a lesson, kid. One you'd best remember." As one, the other three lunge for Hibiki, forcing her to take a beating or give ground enough for the fourth to at least be free of her grapple. The chain-wielder shoves her toward one of the men with bats, who's ready to send her flying like a pinball. They're practiced fighters, and know how to work together - maybe they were squaddies in the Wing War, even. Either way, their augments give them greater strength and endurance than Hibiki expected, but not speed. And if she's going to get out of this without more than bruises and scrapes, she'll need every advantage she can muster...
Veronica	"They just seemed like dumb bored rich kids--" "You think we'd be in District Twelve if we were rich? In the state it's in? We're here because we're broke. Every one of these cars, we lifted from scrapyards and fixed up ourselves." She gestures to the open-topped bus. Truly, a marvel of automotive engineering. Odette, nobody's coming out of Roscoe's to take those plates. You'll have to set them down if you want your hands free! As is, one of the punks misreads the gesture as a wind-up for another toss, and reflexively raises his arms in defense. "Whoever's paying you can't be paying you enough to go through all this." "You don't know who's paying who how much for what," the woman says. "But you're right that we're not here to get killed, and your... priest friend, here, has made his point." A glance down at her broken-wristed cohort. "If you're a doctor and you don't want to fight us, you can start with patching him up." She spits on the grass, absent-mindedly, like it's a habit. Her eyes widen in surprise when it's Berislav who kneels to tend to the broken wrist. A murmur runs through the gathered bus-punks as the priest gives his speech, makes his offer. "I mean, the- the food was a figure of speech. We do gotta eat but we need more than that, we got families who've never made enough to really get by. So when a- an opportunity comes our way we gotta reach for it, every chance we get." A pause. Baker and Seventh storms past on the street, en route to the main caravan now that it's been slowed up by Yuri and Hibiki. The woman looks around, at the visibly mixed expressions of her peers, at the shop she was just helping destroy. "We don't really give a hoot about this town one way or the other. Sorry, uh, Clark." She finally lets go of the terrified shopkeeper, who falls to the ground in relief. "C'mon gang, this job sucks. I quit." She takes a small step toward Berislav, her posture conciliatory. Tentatively, as if he might break another wrist, she offers a handshake. "Truce?"
Angela	''In the state it's in?'' Yuri decides to strike back this time with. "Yeah? You're acting like dumb bored rich kids. Surprised you weren't killed already." She pauses a moment and then adds, "So go on. Get outta here. You're causing trouble and we've got heat. ... Well they've got heat." Yuri allows a small elemental joke slip out. "But before you go, who put you up to this? What did they want?" They seem to be quitting the job so maybe they aren't keen on protecting their identity anymore. But Yuri frowns lightly, something is nagging in the back of her mind but she can't figure it out. Maybe Berislav's right, she thinks, and it's just-- That way she said this job sucks... "It'll go a long way to making up for everything."
Father Berislav	"Truce," Berislav says, shaking her hand. "One more thing," he adds, holding up a hand. "Before you go. You already came together to help each other feed your families--that's the hard part. Consider changing where your sights are set. Ask after me if you need help with that. There aren't many priests in District 12's Backstreets." With that piece said, he turns his attention to Clark, stepping over to put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. Are you alright?" There's a cursory examination to make sure he's physically fine, before Berislav takes an inventory of what the kids broke besides the sign. His means of fixing them aren't seamless, much like how he fixes his cassock after fights. The sign and whatever else aren't broken after he tends to them, although it's safe to say they aren't the same items they were before.
Tamiel Luxis	The relief blossoming across Tamiel's face when the flamethrower isn't turned immediately on her is too earnest and instantanous to be an act. But, it doesn't last. "I'm trying to do this without hurting anyone...!" The fact that someone else in the car doesn't actually want to fight makes the other options available to her close, the razor points of her wings lifting away from the car. But, she couldn't let go of it, or they'd get away. But if she didn't stop them, she'd burn... ...Another thought bubbled to the surface from somewhere under the surface. Her shadow coiled behind her, stretching out from her--then PEELING off of the street, forming a shadowy mimicry. The wingless shadow-girl climbed up over Tamiel's back, stepping on her shoulder, before springing over the top of her toward the car. It didn't try to hit Pam, or even hurt Pam--just wrestle that flamethrower away from her. "We're trying to make District Twelve a safer place." She breathed. Her magic was doing most of the work of lifting the car, by now, but she still had to hold it. "Starting here." She wished she was better at pruning through people's prayers. Get something other than the gut-churning, immediate need. Still, she did her best to tune into the two people in front of her, hoping it would make things just a little more clear. Only after she heard those prayers--and wrestled their flamethrower away from them--did Tamiel and her shadow vanish into the ground--no longer holding their car hostage.
Hibiki Tachibana	Teaching you a lesson, kid. One you'd best remember."Mngh...!" Keeping the kids gloves on is pretty much asking for anyone she can't get a good estimate of to get some good hits on her. It's the price paid for going to lengths to not seriously hurt people. As a result, the chain-wielder's initial attack catches her off, freeing the fourth from the hold as she's forced back, wincing in pain with a few flechettes of her Symphogear's metal breaking off. She glances over her shoulder just in time to see a bat lined up for a home run, narrowing her other eye. As she gets shoved off, she brings a foot down to catch on the pavement... ...and when he swings, she ducks low to let it fly overhead. As she does, her bent leg twists-- then suddenly pushes down, digging an inches-deep crater beneath her boot in the street. It shifts her weight and balance, hard, which she puts into a shoulder bash meant to drive into the man's torso. She's pulling her punches a lot less this time; Cityfolk may or may not recognize something that looks close to bajiquan, but this sure is a strike done with some abrupt and explosive power. Enough that when it impacts with his body, a visible shockwave will recoil out, with her fully intending to send him /flying/ off his feet and going sailing for meters. Without missing a beat after separating the duo, she shifts her footing again after rising, lunging in for the second bat-wielder-- just to, at the very last moment, kick off against the road to send her jumping in an arc over him. Speed /is/ the definite advantage she has to her name here, so as fast as a blink, she touches down on the entirely opposite side of the man-- and attacks from his blind side with a dashing elbow hammered into his spine, also packing enough strength to send him tumbling head over heels down the road. As for the chain-swinging gangster, Hibiki rises back up to a full stand and waits for him to swing again... before lashing out with her hand to snatch it out of the air. Her fist /crushes/ in to deform the metal, and then /yank/ backwards to try and hoist him off his feet and straight towards her. It looks like it'd send him crashing into her, and he has a lot more mass than she does... ...but she ducks low, sprinting forward to meet him halfway - so she can deliver a vicious uppercut into his stomach while he's still off-guard, launching him up into the air with seconds of hangtime before he comes plummeting down behind her. At which point, she lowers her still-upraised arm and lets out a shaky exhale, turning back towards him. They should be a lot harder to knock unconscious than that, for how tough they are. "...Quit the bullshit," she spits out, rubbing at the sore spot where the chain smashed into her. "Did somebody put you up to this? Or are you doing ir on your own?" "...Either way, I'm not going to let you - or anyone - run over these people just to get your way."
Odette Raskins	Left hanging with those plates, Odette is quickly forced into an awkward position when she sees one of the punks looking like he's still on the defensive. Realizing the misunderstanding, Odette quickly raises her own hands to show that she's not about to throw anything else at him, especially in light of Berislav's talk actually getting them to settle down. Unfortunately, her haste to do that means she winds up dropping the rest of those plates all over the floor, complete with a briefly startled yelp at all the noise that results in. Inhaling slowly, the EMT sighs and slumps a bit in defeat as she starts scooping those dirtied plates back up, thankful that they're made steel if nothing else. "I-I'm glad you've come around, then. Father Berislav really does mean what he says, too. This community he's putting together... We're all pitching in for it, so nobody has to do stuff like this anymore." She gestures at the cars and the weapons briefly with a plate, adding it to the stack before getting back up with a light inhale. "And he's not just saying nice things about us having you join us, either. We could really use more people that know how to fix stuff and maintain things like those cars you've got." She holds up a finger, then retreats back inside Roscoe's briefly to drop off the plates. "Sorry about the mess. Um. I'll wash these later." And then she comes right back out, hands free of plate-based violence as she approaches the injured punk. Even though Berislav's already treated him, Odette still gives his wrist a quick scan with her analyzer and a light pain pill to take some of the edge off while Berislav's blister pack does the heavy lifting. Clark, too, gets a second impromptu checkup from the EMT, before she just starts doing the same for everyone in this little section of the block.
Veronica	Yuri: "But before you go, who put you up to this? What did they want?" The woman frowns at Yuri's verbal tirade, clearly displeased by the assessment of her group's behavior. Even so, she answers the question. "Some beanpole creep with blue hair. Didn't give a name, just paid good money for us 'n' some other folks to come here and cause trouble. Half up front, even. I dunno what he's got against the town, but," she spits again. "Not really my business." Berislav: "Ask after me if you need help with that. There aren't many priests in District 12's Backstreets." "Hey, uh, thanks. I will. Name's Terry, you can tell folks I might be showing up with some of my pals here." Odette: "We could really use more people that know how to fix stuff and maintain things like those cars you've got." Terry's face lights up. "R-really? You've got cars and stuff I could fix up? Why didn't ya say so! I'll take whatever jobs you've got, long as it's got an engine and wheels." Clark however is terrified. He even flinches away from Berislav's friendly hand. "Y-you're just going to let them go," he stammers, "after what they did to my shop? To me?" He's not badly injured, but he's got a point - and a black eye to back it up. "They- they should- I don't know what they should do, but it should be *something!" Clark's concerns are slightly mollified by Berislav's repair efforts, but only slightly - he knows he can't stop the gang from leaving, but he'll complain all the while about making some kind of amends. Tamiel's gambit succeeds, and the surprise addition of a third party to the grapple sees the flamethrower deftly removed from Pam's hands. Without any serious backup weapons, she mutters a curse under her breath and shifts the car into reverse again. "C'mon kid, we're gettin' outta here." Once Tamiel releases the vehicle, it tears out of the parking lot and onto the road out of town. As they go she hears their subconscious prayers - Pam hoping she still gets the other half of her pay, and the kid hoping he can find a new racing partner! Hibiki's full power unleashed - even with her armor in its damaged state - is more than sufficient for a quartet of goons with low-end augmentations. With three of them on the ground, the last bat-wielder falters, and lowers his weapon. "Okay, I get it," he says, "I picked the wrong fight." "Did somebody put you up to this? Or are you doing it on your own?" He starts to help his buddies stagger to their feet, although two of them will have to carry a barely-conscious fourth. That uppercut really did a number on him! He's halfway turned away and about to make for one of the few remaining vehicles that hasn't already fled the scene when he stops, looks back at Hibiki, and points across the river. "That bastard. Take it out on him, not us." Sure enough, visible in the afternoon sun is a large van parked outside the Enkephalin processing plant, with a number of presumed-goons milling around it. Veronica arrives on the scene of Hibiki's battle as the van is pointed out, and from her higher vantage she gets a good view of what's happening. Her radio clicks on: "Everyone! There's another car at the power plant! I think they're taking the PE!"
Tamiel Luxis	Between the fleeting prayers of the thieves, and Veronica's announcement over the radio, everything fell into place. Of course... Tamiel tried not to imagined the pleased-smug expression her teacher was definitely wearing, back at the athenaeum. ...They were hired to be a diversion... Luckily, Tamiel is well-equipped to approach the plant, both quickly and quietly. A dark ribbon cut over the top of a worn-down old residents, behind a flickering sign, in a disused parking lot, left dark to preserve power. The distance between her and the plant shrank by the second, and unless someone was watching for living shadows, she'd be difficult to spot. She manifests briefly on a rooftop, long enough to whisper her own answer into the radio. "I'll try to get into the truck. See what's happening..." And then, once more, she was a sweeping line through the shadowy street, making a short leap onto the van and slip into the back through gaps.
Father Berislav	They- they should- I don't know what they should do, but it should be something! "I understand," says Berislav, pausing in fixing Clark's merchandise to give him his full attention. "It's very frightening to have something like this happen to you. There's a sense of... powerlessness, and it's profoundly frustrating when it the people responsible get away with it." "My first priority was getting them as far from you as possible, but I do agree with you," he continues, gently placing a hand on Clark's shoulder, "They do* need to do something to make you whole--and to redeem themselves, so that they'll think twice about doing this sort of thing in the future." "It's alright if you don't know what that is, right now. But as the person most impacted by it, I'd like for you to have an active role in the process. I should be able to find them again pretty easily. Why don't you take some time to think about what you'd like, from them, and you can give me a call when you're ready to have it done? It could be something as simple as getting some face to face time to explain to them how their actions affected you, or maybe something more involved like spending some time working for you. Here," he says, reaching behind his back to procure a burner phone (one of the older bricky models that'd probably survive being run over) using his subspace implants. "Let me give you my number." He types it into an empty text message, and shows the black-on-green screen to Clark. "If for some reason you can't reach me there, Veronica and I work together often, so she can get a hold of me, too--" Everyone! There's another car at the power plant! I think they're taking the PE! Berislav frowns. "And that would be the proverbial man behind the curtain, I'm sure. I'll be back to fix the rest soon, Clark."
Angela	''Some beanpole creep with blue hair.'' "Beanpole creep ... Blue hair... ...No it couldn't be--" ''There's another car at the power plant! I think they're taking the PE!'' There actually aren't too many goons by the van. But that doesn't mean there's NOBODY around. In fact, there are--precisely--three people at the van. They actually stand out a little--particularly to the Elites because all three of them are wearing EGO Gear--though none of them are immediately recognizable to any of the Elites either, not even Hibiki or Berislav who spent a fair amount of time around the Agents. The most striking is probably the woman. She's wearing a suit and slacks and has vibrant red hair done up in twintails, with reddish brown eyes. What's striking, though, is that she seems to be using fire as the scrunchies for her twintails. And her suit is actively forming a cape of flame behind her, and there's also fire burning around her wrists. She doesn't seem troubled by the fire at all, however. With her is a young man with orange eyes and dark blue hair. He has a pair of antlers sprouting from his head and a uniform of bark with glowing orange flowers sprouting out along the side of his coat. He's even grown a bark-like tail, a green fairy shimmering at the end of it. And then there's a a blue haired beanpole of a mean with glasses in the Driver's seat. He is wearing a dark blue coat with nails embedded in it, electricity sparking around his uniform as he waits for his two comrades to finish fililng the van with PE Boxes. They notice Yuri running over. And more generally, the attention on them. "Ah, it's Yuri. She seems to have survived." The woman says. "Alyssa?! Marton?? You--survived the collapse?" Yuri asks. "Listen--stop what you're doing and leave those boxes. The people here need them." "...That transfer... You knew what was coming... Didn't think to warn the rest of us, and you're playing hero now?" The man in the bark asks. "Unfortunately, we need more of these than we can afford and this town has Watch support. Hoheinheim is going to accomplish great things." The man in the van says, "Mm... Unfortunately we will have to make do with what we have, Marton. I'd rather avoid a Watch confrontation. Hahh.... Our intel was just a little too out of date. You are free to join us Yuri. You made something of yourself and I could use more capable assistants." "...Got a better plan, Hoheinhem." Yuri says. "How about you return those boxes and I'll convince them to treat you to a burger. These are people you could live with. They oculd use your help--" Hoheinhem seems to consider the offer, pushing up his glasses with his index finger. "...Mm...Making peace with the Watch, forming inroads... It isn't a bad offer, but I am afraid the answer is no. I have my own bones to carry, Miss Yuri." The car whirs to life as he adds one last thing. "Manual. Plot a course for us." "Calculating." A familiar woman's voice says tonelessly, like a GPS. It seems this was a plot to make off with the Town's PE Boxes. They don't have ALL of them, but they had time to steal plenty--and they're already raring to leave!
Odette Raskins	"You've got cars and stuff I could fix up?" Oh no, now Odette's giving this guy the wrong idea! Or maybe an inaccurate idea? "It's probably more stuff than cars, to be honest. B-but if you keep at it and get a rep for being Mister Fixit, I'm sure people'll bring in cars sooner or later!" "They- they should- I don't know what they should do, but it should be *something!" It's not an unfamiliar feeling to Odette, but she's never been sure how really deal with it. Instead of trying to bumble her way through clumsily like she did with the plates, she instead listens to Berislav as the voice of knowing-how-to-address-this, and she commits his answer to Clark to memory as best she can. It certainly sounds like it's addressing the concerns without just letting Clark slug them in the face, and she's incredibly curious as to what Clark's response would be to that. It'll be important for her to remember that approach, too, if she ever wants to become a healer of both physical and emotional wounds. Hearing Veronica over the radio, though, means Odette can't quite stick around too long, nor can she help with washing up those plates she messed up right away. <<"But I thought that place shut down...? Oh geez. O-okay, we'll be right over!">>
Hibiki Tachibana	That bastard. Take it out on him, not us. "Tch..." Hibiki clicks her tongue and closes her eyes-- but she doesn't stop the lot of them from getting themselves back together. Despite her anger, they're not just pieces being moved, not the ones behind the whole thing. And it won't make her feel any better to take it out on them. "...I won't apologize for the car. Choose better fights and better employers next time. Not everybody is as nice as I am." There's an extended exhale out through her nostrils. It vents some feelings, but far from all of them. Especially given... Everyone! There's another car at the power plant! I think they're taking the PE! "Right... so this was all a stunt to sneak what they wanted out while we were distracted..." She mumbles, clenching her fists tight again. Tensing up, she springs off the ground and onto a rooftop to get the same vantage point as Veronica, narrowing her eyes across the way. There's no time to waste. She gets a running start to get moving again... Just to pause, squinting for more detail. Even at this distance, she can't be mistaken... "What? Is that... EGO gear from... ...Lobotomy..." After a moment, her eyes wide, and she makes a hasty leap to pick up the pace.