I, Chimera: Coney Island Blitz
I, Chimera
Act I, Scene I Coney Island Blitz
Participants Scrivner, Vette
Storyteller Shou

It's evening over Coney Island, with a chill in the air that makes wearing a jacket a very good idea. Rufus smirks as he stands with the lady out on the boardwalk, his elbow offered to her, holding a huge, half-eaten soft pretzel slathered in mustard in his other hand. "Good," he murmurs. He leans in to kiss her forehead, and then he turns to resume his stroll down the boardwalk.

"Anyway you've seemed happier and less tense since I did go back, so if anything should cause me to worry less that should," Vette muses. "I think the fireworks display is going to be down over that away." She points vaguely. "Or, wait was it…" she points in the other direction.

For a second or two he thinks on that, eventually answering, "Perhaps it's more that we've settled into a comfortable routine with each other. You have your work, I have mine, and we've grown used to sharing the flat. We've a better measure of each other. It's been what…? Six months now?" Rufus stops again to look up at the skies then down at the lady. "Are you /sure/ there's going to be a display?"

Vette digs in her pockets for the flier she printed out. "Mmmmhmmm, see? October 22nd." Except it's the 2nd. "Today at 6:30, to close out the season here."

Rufus reaches out his hand to nudge at the paper, reading it for himself, and then he draws in a long breath to siiiiiiigh like some long-suffering martyr. "Yvette," he murmurs. "Today is the /second/ of October, not the twenty-second. The display won't be for another twenty days. And good as these pretzels are…" He holds up his, then takes a bite out of it, and he talks around his mouthful, "I don't wanna wait that long." Mmmmf.

Vette blinks. "Oh. Well. I guess I don't have to crunch on the term paper then. Of course I'm a third of the way through it already so maybe I might as well…" Sometimes being absent minded has its benefits.

"Oh my God." A mother of twins near by is holding her hand to her mouth, looking at something that is clearly troubling her. Her twins, barely out of toddler-age, are staring in the same direction. The murmurs start almost immediately, as people start pointing and whispering and talking.

If Yvette and Rufus glance in that direction, it'll be immediately obvious why. Down the path are four people, except they can hardly be called people anymore. Two of them (one make, one female) are green and have scales, with beady black eyes and almost nonexistant noses. Forked tongues slither out every few seconds. The other two are both male, and barechested, with black feathers adorning their backs and along the back of their arms, and sickle sharp talons at the end of each finger; their noses have grown hawkish to an extreme, and they sport short feathers on their heads in the shape of mohawks.

At the moment, they are simply walking, though they do seem rather rude, in addition to eye-catching, as they shove their way past people and knock a hot dog stand over.

"Ah, Vette… Whatever will I …. do," Rufus murmurs, his attention drawn away from her by the tone of the mother's voice. He turns his head to stare at her, then at the four creatures coming up the walk and pushing everyone out of the way. "Vette," he says, his tone shifting, hardening. He releases her, straightens and nudges her to one side and reach up to the nylon case holding the sword across his back. "Vette, get these people out of the way." He himself is going to step forward in open challenge, one hand slipping into the case so he can curl his fingers around the hilt of his sword.

Calling on the lightning sprinting abilities of her enhanced Dexterity, Vette suddenly charges forward with a dancer's grace. She does not, however, have enhanced Strength, so she'll stop in front of the lady and her twins and say, "Here, give me the kids, I'll get them out fast. You go that way and I'll bring them to you over there." She points to a Ferris Wheel.

"Excuse me?" The lady does not seem to be very cooperative. She looks at Yvette like the girl is crazy and then grabs her children's hands, starting to walk away rapidly. Most people are doing the same, trying to put distance between themselves and the four freaks.

Speaking of, when Rufus steps forward in a manner that is most challenging, the male snake — we'll call them snakes and crows for simplicity's sake — holds up a hand. The other three pause, too, and he walks up to Rufus, grinning wide. He has long fangs with sharp, but hollow tips. That probably means he's venomous. "You need sssssomethin', hossssssss?"

Oh good. Even better. Vette sort of beeeeeams at her and beams at all the people going away. So they're all looking at Rufus? She'll do a dancer's spin and another lightning sprint to get behind the snakes and the crows. Nothing like positioning for a brawl.

Only one other person's called Rufus hoss before, and he narrows his eyes while tilting his head at an angle. He doesn't get it. What the Hell does 'hoss' even /mean?/ He'll ask someone later. "Indeed," he quietly states. "Who are you and what are you doing here? You're frightening the natives and making a mess of everything." He had to throw his pretzel down to the sands too. That /really/ irritates him. He'd been enjoying that.

Yvette's attempt at sneaking behind the freaks is met with a slow turn of the crows as they follow her lightning movements with their incredibly sharp, beady black eyes. Opening their hands, they brandish those talons like true weapons, the early evening moon flickering its silver light against the sickle-shaped tips.

As for Rufus' demands, they get met with a smirk from the male snake. "Hey guyssss, thissss guy wantsssss usss to bail." The comment elicits laughter from the other three, as the snake steps forward and hisses in Rufus' face. "Beat it, Englisssssh."

As the male snake approaches, Rufus does not flinch. He stands his ground and his eyes narrow. Calmly, with a hiss of metal against leather, he sweeps up his sword from its scabbard and brandishes it, settling into a deep forward stance. The ichor in his blood wells up, spilling through his skin to coat him with a sheen as dull and grey as pewter. "I think not, gentlemen," he quietly murmurs. "In fact, you will be left or I will dispose of you with extreme and gleeful prejudice."

Vette just calmly draws her gun from beneath her sweater and inspects it as if for bullets, then closes it up and arches an eyebrow. She gives this a touch of mad scientist grin, attempting to help intimidate them out of here by not saying a word and looking a little bit nuts.

It takes a moment for the crows to shake off the sudden feeling of dread that passes over them when Yvette looks at them so coldly. Feathers duly ruffled, they glance at each other and then leap upwards, splaying their arms and brandishing hidden feathers that allow them to acquire flight.

As the crows take flight, the snake takes a step back at the sight of the sword. He hisses at Rufus, long and sibilant. "You assssssked for it, hosssss."

It's amazing what a female will do when she has some initiative. From behind the male snake, the female one flashes her fangs and aims to bite Rufus. And she does. It doesn't hurt much, though, as Rufus finds out. She doesn't seem to be up to par when it comes to penetrating his… impenetrable skin. He manages to parry the male snake's similar attack.

As for Yvette, well: she's getting attacked by a pair of humanoid crows with vicious talons. Despite them sweeping down from above to try and slash her to ribbons, she manages to avoid it. For now.

The blade slashes through the air, parrying that attack and from the man comes a soft grunt as those teeth slide off of his pewter-hard skin. In that moment, Rufus starts grinning like a manic son of a bitch, baring his teeth and stepping forward. "I did warn you," he purrs. Adrenaline floods his veins as he darts forward, drawing back his arm to lunge the blade of his heavy longsword forward and up, seeking out hot blood and flesh. "You will die in pain and fear!" he roars, when he pulls back his blade.

Vette may be pretty good at looking crazy, but she's still just learning how to shoot. She turns the gun on one of the crows, not trusting them to not attack, and then fires once into the sky. Besides. If she's firing in the air she won't hit someone important by mistake.

Rufus' strike catches the snake man completely off-guard. The sword plunges right through his scaled hide and comes out the back, and when Rufus pulls it back, the snake man tries to take a swing at him, ineffectually. The snake woman, on the other hand, lunges at Rufus and wraps her arms around his shoulders, to bite his shoulder. Again, however, it does nothing but itch. Maybe.

The crows are faring no better than Yvette is, really. She may not be able to hit them, but they sure as hell can't hit her either as she rolls and dodges their swooping, arcing attacks.

That snake woman latching onto his shoulder is rather annoying. He can just /feel/ her teeth through the fabric of his jacket and his shirt, scraping across the metallic coating. "All in good time, my pet," he snarls at her through his teeth. Eyes wild, he roughly steps back into her, quite prepared to haul her around with him as he pivots hard on the ball of his foot. Spinning and striking out, he steps forward and into the male challenging him, taking a decapitating strike. And as that blade flashes, he hoarsely shouts, "See you in Hel, you bloody son of a bitch!"

Vette fires again. As long as they're being kept busy, she supposes, she can handle not looking as awesome as her Aesir mate. They're not attacking other people while they're dodging bullets, and she reckons they're in for a nasty surprise in another minute or two so long as she can keep them that way.

Again the snake lady tries to bite Rufus. Fortunately for him, his ichor-born armor is a powerful deterrent. Her fangs apply pressure, but nothing happens.

As for the crows? Well. Even as one of them tries — futily — to slash at Yvette, the other swoops in and completely misses. He goes right past her and /slams/ into the stall behind her, thumping down unconscious.

At the angle she's currently at, Rufus takes a moment to dance around with the woman, trying to get the blade at a good angle for jabbing. Unfortunately, this is not as easy at it looks. So he takes the Flail and Stagger action this round, twisting around. Swearing under his breath the entire time, calling her a wide variety of names that would have made his mother faint from shock.

BANG! "I so need to spend time shooting skeet. Or weather balloons," Vette murders, though she stares at the one that went unconscious. Yeah. She claims that one. Really!

It may be the flailing, or the staggering, but regardless, for once, the female snake doesn't bite Rufus. Instead, she manages to slip off his back as she tries to snap her teeth at his skin. She looks like she's in shock. Rufus might have just murdered her mate.

As for the crow? It rises high, high, high in the air, and gives out a rabid call, before gaining speed by swooping down, and then heading away. Clearly, despite not being hurt, he knows when he should retreat.

The man rolls his shoulders as she slides off of him, and he himself draws back a single step. "What's the matter, my darling?" Rufus purrs, panting lightly for breath. There's a wicked glint in his eyes now, and the grin that has spread across his face bares too many teeth to be anything but feral. "Have you had enough already? Pity. I've yet to make you scream." In the blink of an eye he's rushing back and at her, roaring wordlessly as he spins his blade about in a sharp, vicious arc that connects with skin and bone, slicing clean through to leave a bloodied stump of a hand spinning off into the sands of the beach.

Vette kneels down, deciding not to throw anymore bullets around. Instead, she puts her hand to the concrete by the unconscious crow. Liquid, sinuous, odd looking ropes of white gray liquid granite rise up from the concrete to wrap around his arms and legs, only to solidify once more. It's almost gentle.

Rufus' sparring partner of the moment screams when she loses her hand. She looks at the bloody stump, and then turns tail and starts running away.

Peculiarly enough, when Vette draws the cement around the unconscious crow's body, the feathers drop off, leaving on an unconsciou /boy/ of about fifteen years of age lying there. Equally perplexing and admittedly morally disturbing, the male snake that Rufus killed is no longer that, but rather a young boy of about seventeen, dead.

When Rufus sees that, he goes chalk white. Without a word, he walks up to Vette, seizes her around the waist and /shoots/ up into the air. Screw this shit, he is getting the freaking Hell out of here.

"You couldn't have known," Vette murmurs into Scrivner's ear. "There was no way in Hell you could have known."

"I have to make reparations," Rufus whispers, soaring up higher into the air, holding the lady in one arm and his sword in the other hand. "This is… this is unforgivable. I have to make reparations and find who was responsible for this."

"I'll help you," Vette assures you quietly. "But whoever it is, it's their fault, not your fault. They sent them out /knowing/ this was a likely result. Its our /job/ to fight monsters."

And to that, Rufus has nothing to say. He doesn't land again until he comes to the roof of a parking garage where he'd left his car. Landing in the shadows, he sheathes his sword at last and silently turns away to walk down a few levels and find his Escort.

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