Badlands
        Southland Drive leaves the City Circle to the north and 
begins to work its way though the thick urban development that 
has earned the name "The Badlands" by city residents. Huge 
towering housing projects, like monolith of steel and stone, cast 
long shadows over slum ridden side streets. Old hotels, once the 
pride of a grow city, are worn down and broken, serving as low 
income housing or rented by the hour. The side streets off of 
Southland are narrow, broken affairs, with the occasional burned 
out lot along the side standing as mute testament to the problems 
this area has. Many businesses lie empty and abandoned, the 
economic boom blessing much of the rest of the city seeming to 
leave this area untouched. Southland continues south, working its 
way free of the stagnating currents of too many people living in 
too small an area.

Lucius walks into the area from the center of town, he has a 
large backpack on his back and he makes his way down the sideway, 
he glances among some of the beggars on the street corners and 
gives a friendly nod and places a few dollars in the cups he gets 
presented. He makes his way to the fountain and he sets his 
backpack down.

Ron sits on an orange crate, doing his best to roast a leather 
boot over a flaming drum. Across from him is a tall man. A dark 
man. A man with no name. A man with a duck on his head.

Suddenly, the door to a nearby warehouse flings open, and out 
steps Rob Zombie! No, perhaps not. A zombie, anyway. Someone very 
zombie-like in appearance, whose name just happens to be Al. He 
looks vaguely to each side, before stepping out into the street.

Quite a few other scruffy-looking, miserable people fail utterly 
to break into a rousing chorus of 'Skid Row'.

Standing well apart from fountain is a smallish caucasian bald 
man, probably in his fifties, wearing a battered brown trenchcoat 
and trying unsuccessfully to light a cigarette. He occasionally 
pauses in his efforts to glare at passers-by, especially that 
tall guy by the fountain.

A hunched, shuffling figure moves slowly down the street, pushing 
a shopping cart. She mutters to herself. "I told em. I said to 
em, would I be in Marks and Spencers if I *hadn't* eaten an 
ambulance?"

Somewhere, a man tries to make a serious pose. Dr. Crabes steps 
out of the Free Clinic, escorting a lower-class elderly woman 
out. In rich Barry White tones, he informs her, "Now remember to 
take those pills daily, and it should clear up in a week." He 
even goes so far as to get a taxi cab for the woman. A middle-
aged Arab man pulls up, in a dingy yellow cab. "Ackbar mehedi 
koolami settoo?" Crabes nods, not understanding a word of it. 
"Umm, yeah. Take her home." He glances at the old woman. "My 
treat." She smiles. "The world could use more people like you, 
Dr. Crabes. So kind and considerate." He holds the door open for 
her, then hands the driver a $50. The Arab man lights up. One 
would think he'd break into the Xena battlecry. But luckily, he 
drives off with his passenger, leaving Crabes alone.

Lucius opens the backpack, the insides not really visible to many 
yet.. he sighs and looks at a few of the ones he met before 
hobble and walk over to him, he smiles a little.. and says, "Give 
me a few minutes to get this grub ready.. then you can all dig 
in." . o O (Well, today is yet another day I get to attempt to 
implant some of my ideas in these abused underclasslings.)

Al walks slowly toward Lucius. Oddly enough, surprisingly few 
people run away screaming...they appear to know him, here. He 
smiles as he spots Lucius. "You am having picnic in park? Though 
this not park."

It's about that time of night. Stepping out of the run-down 
remains of the once-posh Sunnydale Arms Hotel, a half-Asian man, 
barely out of his teenage years, glances around the street. Okay, 
this is a good sign. Nobody's being *obviously* mugged. He lifts 
his head slightly. Is that.. food? Odd. The man in black turns, 
trying to pinpoint the source of the scent.. ah, there. He starts 
in that general direction.

Ray is hanging around in a doorway. For once, his appearance is a 
point in his favour - while he doesn't exactly look like a 
homeless person, the last thing he looks like is a cop. He is 
bored, yes, even in the Badlands, and wishing he still smoked so 
he could smoke in an irritated and put-upon way.

The old lady pushing the shopping cart deviates slowly towards 
Lucius. "Oh, have you got a currant bun, Mister Taxman?" she says 
in a brief flit through reality.

The bald guy in the trenchcoat stares openly at Lucius and his 
food. "Hmmmm..." he frowns and mutters to himself. "What's he up 
to, I wonder?" He nudges an old man who happens to be standing 
nearby. "What's all this, then? That tall guy an idiot, or is he 
up to something?" And thus does the bald trenchcoat guy (Call him 
Morris, cause that's his name) mention the two categories into 
which he unconsciously slots virtually everyone he meets.

Logan, being recently marooned in this strange city, is poor and 
homeless much like many of the people around here. Ergo, he kinda 
fits in as he strolls along the side of the street. As he notices 
someone starting a 'picnic', he pauses in his walking, deciding 
to see what's going on. This doesn't seem like the kind of place 
where people do such things out of the goodness of their warm and 
wholesome heart, after all.

Ron looks up as he hears someone say the magic word. "Grub?" The 
other fellow perks up as well. "What's that?" "Grub, Oi say!" 
"Quack." "Ohhh, grubs. Roight, well, I prefer a worm to a grub, 
but whatever y'got." "Quack." "Hain't *a* grub! 'S grub! Food!" 
"Buwwe go' food!" "Quack." "Yarr, issa little boot tho, innit? 
Wotcha s'pose 'e's got?" "Bigger boots?" "Aye!" "Quack."

Lucius attempts to filter the thoughts of the people around him, 
mostly about the food he now possesses and how they wish they 
could afford such a small feast.. he looks to the old lady and 
scratches his head, "Sorry, miss, I do have a honey buns, 
portugeuse rolls, and some poppy buns..", he notices the hands 
already beginning to attempt to steal the bag from him, and he 
takes a sandwich out of it and then begins to rapidly place the 
sandwiches in the different hands, making sure that those hands 
are connected to different people not the same ones..

Party on, my brother. As Dr. Crabes is watching the taxi turn the 
corner, one of the nurses peeks her head out of the front door of 
the Free Clinic, observing the good doctor's smug look. "Doctor 
Jones has just come in. Would you like me to have him handle the 
patients? I know you haven't had lunch yet, and it's kinda late." 
There's an understatement...wait, what time of day is this scene 
anyway? Maynard smiles, and gives her a nod. "Groovy plan, baby. 
We'll let that flow, while I snag me some soul food." The nurse 
nods, smiles, and goes back inside. Dr. Crabes stretches, 
scanning his environment. "Oh yeah. Food sounds good about now. 
Mmm-mmm."

The old lady looks at Lucius down her nose. "Stood on a bun, 
currant ran up his leg," she inform the nearest person who 
doesn't care at all, and trundles on her way.

Al moves even closer to Lucius, seemingly oblivious to the 
surrounding crowd. Though his thoughts, such as they are, have 
nothing to do with food and being able to afford feasts. "Oh, Al 
get it. You am food distr-, disti-, giver-awayer. You work for 
Government Cheese, right?"

Ray narrows his eyes, watching as people slowly converge on one 
particular spot. That guy is up to something. Nobody comes down 
here and does that stuff. He strolls casually out of the doorway 
and pauses.

At least one of those minds isn't thinking about the food. It's 
wondering about this person giving away a Free Lunch. The scruffy 
black-clad Asian boy (call him 'Jinrai', for that is his name. Or 
at least the one he uses around here) hovers on the edge of the 
crowd, his thoughts running parallel to Logan's, actually 
(though, of course, neither would be aware of it).

Lucius looks to Al, and takes in the frightful appearance and 
says, "well no, I work for myself..", he attempts to maintain his 
graspe on the backpack, and he still hands the sandwiches out.

Logan wanders closer to the crowd, though he doesn't try to 
actually join it. That's what his extra sensitive nose needs, to 
be surrounding by dirty homeless people. Ghosting along the edge 
of it seems much more prudent as he tries to get a good look at 
Lucius and waits to see what happens.

Morris's thoughts are oddly identical to Ray's. That guy is 
definitely Up To Something. His suspicions are confirmed when the 
man beside him says, "Oh, he comes around here sometimes, hands 
out food and stuff. Decent fella." Morris raises an eyebrow and 
replies. "Oh yes? Spreading plague and pestilence in the guise of 
goodwill? Decent fellow indeed, I'm *sure*. But what's *in* the 
food...ask yourself *that*, man..." He quickly becomes aware that 
he's talking to the open air, the older man having already moved 
off in search of a meal.

Blake is here. Poking about, probably. And maybe visiting with 
some of the more sane locals. Out here, everyone dresses like a 
sightless cave dwelling fish would if it had to pick out its own 
clothes. So he fits in. In a couple of ways.

Ray frowns, wandering closer to the crowd. This is Not Right. At 
all. People don't just give food away like that, there's always 
some fanfare, an election year, what's the catch?

Al stares right back at Lucius. "You am work for self? That cool. 
Al work for self too. And for others too, sometime. That pay 
more, usually."

Maynard Crabes can't help but notice the crowd forming. He quirks 
a brow at this, and decides to take a closer look. He starts in 
that direction, his own stomach growling from the long day 
without sustinence. Maynard pats his stomach consolingly. "Simmer 
down, baby. You'll be livin' large soon. I promise." He 
approaches the group, quirking a brow in the direction, listening 
to random babblings out of the group. Hmm...handouts?

Blake frowns at the sight of Some Guy handing out food. . o O 
(That can't be sanitary...whoops, remember who you are, bright-
boy.) Curious and suspicious, he moves closer to try and figure 
out who this guy is.

Lucius hands out sandwiches and begins to say a few phrases, "See 
I am a decent man trying to help my neighbor, I am not some upper 
class rich banker who squanders their money, I wish to share it, 
something government should do for me.. don't you all think.. You 
work hard just as I do for your money, we pay them in taxes to 
help us in the hard times and the slow times....", his backpack 
begins to get very empty and he begins to hand out the last 
sandwiches

One of the local.. achem.. ladies of the night.. notices the 
gathering crowd and drifts towards the action. She's a scruffy-
looking thing, hair cut into a shaggy bob and her too-tight, too-
short clothing has seen better days. She hasn't noticed 
Undercover Man, or she wouldn't be around here at all. Glancing 
over her shoulder to make sure Blain isn't anywhere around, she 
creeps towards the gathering, her own stomach grumbling at the 
sight of food.

Ron begins to toddle toward Lucius, sniffing the air as he goes. 
He has little trouble reaching the food hander-outer, because the 
crowd parts for him. Out of human kindness? Concern for the old 
guy's limp? Strange coincidence? No sir. He reeks. Absolutely and 
horridly. He has a stench. It practically radiates from him like 
rippling light off of hot asphalt. He staggers up to Lucius and 
coughs in his general direction, putting all other incarnations 
of halitosis to shame. "Hoy! Whars th' boots?" A taller fellow 
has followed behind Ron, amazingly immune to the stench. There's 
a duck on his head. And it's staring at Lucius.

Ray begins to get rather more interested. It's one of *these* 
guys. Where's his soapbox, isn't that traditional? "Like to see 
your last tax return, buddy," he murmurs under his breath.

Al shrugs at Lucius's attempt at speechmaking, and wanders toward 
the back of the crowd, without taking any food. He wouldn't feel 
right, not having earned it or anything.

A few people start to move off as soon as they realise Lucius is 
going to make a speech. Some, though, seem interested.

Maynard Crabes peers over the heads of most of the crowd, eyeing 
Lucius directly. His gaze narrows at the man's words. o O (I had 
no idea Al Sharpton became white.) He continues to listen in, 
trying to guage what this guy is really talking about.

"Er, *actually*, man, I don't think most of these fine folks pay 
taxes...you need an income to pay the income tribute, you know." 
Morris calls out in a loud clear voice (though his accent isn't 
easily placeable, mostly because it's one he made up on the 
spot).

Logan staggers off a few feet as the old guy, Ron, gets just a 
little too close. Argh. That's all his nose needs. Maybe this was 
a bad idea. He starts to sidle off, moving along near the edge of 
the crowd, until he spots Ray. Hey, there's someone he knows. 
Maybe he should see what he's up to. So that's what he does, 
starting to move closer to the cop.

Jinrai frowns slightly. He's sure there's a vague economic flaw 
to what Lucius just said, of the 'Kill a deer for a man and he 
will eat for a day, teach him how to kill and he'll be a general 
in an army within a few weeks' variety. However, right now he's 
too busy backing away from Ron himself. Aargh.

Blake hasn't budged an inch. . o O (Yo Ron-o, what's shakin'?) 
Hm. Public Lecture time. And not a scrap of paper on him for 
taking notes. Shame. He listens.

The streetwalker saunters up behind Lucius, looking dissapointed 
and chagrined that the food's already gone. She hasn't had 
anything to eat since yesterday morning, and Blain won't let her 
off her shift for another 7 hours. She leans against the wall, 
pulls down the hem of her miniskirt, and settles down to stare 
listlessly at the back of Lucius's head. Hmmph. Maybe he'll buy a 
girl a drink when he's done yakin'.

Lucius watches people wander off, as he finishes the backpack of 
sandwiches, "Most of you kind people, are without a job seemingly 
forgotten by the government, we are one of the only countries 
without a healthcare for all, which we should have earned as a 
citizen of this country. If we served the military, we should 
have been compensated for our pain and suffering. Should not the 
rich help you the poor out, shouldn't we attempt to 'earn' our 
money from them. Join me as I will train you in jobs that will 
pay good and we will attempt to correct this government and 
justice system that is paid off by those 'richy richs'.

Ray shakes his head, amused, and tunes Lucius out. Guy's not 
making any kind of sense. He turns to studying the crowd instead. 
His gaze settles for a moment on the obvious hooker hanging 
around behind the speaker, but he doesn't care *that* much. He is 
yet to notice either Logan or, for that matter, Blake.

Blake snorts and rolls his eyes. A thoughtcloud with a big 'Yeah 
right' can almost be seen above his head. Of course, he's never 
worked a day in his life, but that's because he's uh...gifted.

Ron glares up at Lucius and prods at his leg with a stick while 
the man with the backpack gives his speech. "OY! OI SAID WHARS 
TH' BOOTS!" The other fellow nods, causing the duck to flutter 
its wings to keep stable. "Yes, where *are* the boots? You can't 
go about promising food and then not delivering. It's not 
proper." "Quack." Ron starts up an angered, bellowing, and 
noxious chant. "OI WONT ME BOOTS! OI WONT ME BOOTS! OI WONT ME 
BOOTS!"

A vein starts to bulge in Morris's forehead, and he stomps 
forward one or two steps, clearly livid. "Health care? From 
Washington? Bureaucrats writin' perscriptions? HA! Yer running 
for president, aintcha? Yer a commie UN stooge tryin' to jump all 
over our sovereign rights!! Landed your black helicopter three 
streets over, huh? HUH?!!?"

Logan mutters under his breath, "Nutball." after hearing Lucius' 
latest comments. It seems he's not really interested in the 
speech, and he doesn't believe it much, either. Stepping closer 
to Ray, he calls out to the man, "Lookin' fer a handout?"

A guy in a deerstalker turns to his companion. "There goes Morris 
again."
Lucius digs into the backpack and finds on sandwich and tosses it 
at Ron, "The last one..just for you.."

Ray glances around at Logan's call, and his heart sinks. He moves 
closer to Logan, reluctantly, because he *really* doesn't want to 
be overheard. "Enjoying the city so far?"

Lucius says "My gentleman, why do you defend your government? 
Have you fought in the army? Have you gotten ANYTHING? from them? 
I do not work for a nation.. I hope to try and make everyone's 
life better.."

There's an angry shout from the back of the crowd. "AND ladies!"

Blake can't resist yelling, "Know any gypschiesch??"

Jinrai recovers from the assault on his senses that is Ron. He 
grimaces, then shakes his head and laughs. No, he doesn't know 
these people by name. Most of them, however, he knows by sight. 
"They're not in the army because most of them don't like being 
shot at in the name of peace." His voice isn't exactly loud, but 
it carries.

Oooh. Lucius just struck Crabes a mighty mighty blow, and one 
that turns the 'good' doctor's ire. He starts to move in towards 
the preaching man, as the crowd seems to part for him as well. 
Most of the homeless here know Dr. Crabes. He peers at Lucius, 
and speaks in that Barry White bass tone. "Listen here, man. I 
/am/ the free healthcare in this neighborhood, and I think I do a 
damn fine job of it. And it comes outta /my/ pocket. You want to 
push your dawn political views on people, try Larry King." His 
glare shifts to the ho--I mean, streetwalker behind Lucius, and 
Crabes softens up a bit. He offers her a nod. "Hey, baby. How's 
Blaine?"

The duck snaps forward with its bill and snatches at the sandwich 
in the air. The wrapping about it comes off as the bird shakes it 
about, and the other half falls down into the Duck Man's hands. 
As the duck downs one half of the sandwich, and the Duck Man 
downs the other, Ron fumes. Literally. Whew. "Oi don' wont a 
sammitch! Oi wont BOOTS!" He looks down at Lucius' feet and 
smiles. "These'll do!" He grabs at Lucius' foot and drives his 
shoulder into the man's knee, trying to shove him backwards into 
the fountain so he can steal the boot away, bellowing 
unintelligibly all the while.

A murmur runs around the crowd. It's getting good.

Morris blinks. He wasn't expecting to be addressed.(Not that he 
actually was, but to Morris's mind, anything said is said to 
him.) But he quickly rallies. "Defend 'em? Ha! But at least 
they're a known quantity of evil, cept for all them black ops 
projects an' stuff. But you...yer even worse, you world 
government commie fella! We fought us a war to get rid of you 
people, and yeah, I saw my share o' service!"

Blake jumps forward. "Hey! Ron'sch got a BOOT!" he exclaims to 
the crowd. This oughta be good.

Jinrai adds, to himself.. and some of them aren't quite.. fit.. 
for an army.

Logan shrugs non-committally and lifts a hand, pointing a thumb 
off towards Lucius, whose situation is rapidly turning into a 
confrontation, "Stuff like this happen a lot around here? Guy's 
liable ta start a riot. Only he's gonna be the one that gets run 
over."

Ray shrugs in reply to Logan. "Yeah, big loss." He scans the 
crowd again. Hm. There's Sullivan. Figures.

The identified hooker, one 'Mary Red,' is about to throw out 
sardonic comment in answer to Lucius's challenge, when Crabes 
speaks to her. She's instantly on her toes, suspicious about 
trouble. She drops her right hand to her hip and summons up a 
mouth full of apathetic scarcasm through the aching weariness in 
her legs and back. "He's fine. Who wants t'ah know?"

Lucius quickly unlaces his boots laces and lets Ron have his 
shoe, he hobbles onto one shoe, "Well I will turn the other cheek 
for now, You mean that you defend those who would tax you to 
death and into starvation like this man here, I bring you food, 
which costs little to nothing, couldn't the government do the 
same?"

There are various yells from the crowd. "Give him the other one!"

"*And* the Dr. Scholl's!"

"Next time wear Nike, you cheap bastard!"

Logan looks off through the crowd. Even if he's short, he manages 
to spot Lucius getting mugged through it, and snorts a short bit 
of laughter. Figures. "He's gonna be leavin' naked if he ain't 
careful." he comments, mostly to himself.

Maynard Crabes stops short. Whoa! Wrong persona to be talkin' 
that way to Mary. He backpedals, scratching his head. "Oh, just a 
friend." Okay, good enough. He turns his attention back to 
Lucius, a wicked grin on his face. "Yeah, give 'em the other one, 
you righteous foo'."

Morris jumps up and down. "You....you MONSTER! You're actually 
feeding this guy your shoes! HE'S FEEDING THE GUY HIS SHOES! 
That's just SICK, man! You sheeple don't get it, do you? If he 
hands out the shoes, then *he* gets all the power. You wanna sign 
yer lives over to a guy with no shoes? Cause I sure don't!"

Ron cackles gleefully and toddles away a bit with the boot, 
secreting it away from the greedy bastards what want to take his 
boot. The Duck Man watches Ron and his boot, and frowns up at 
Lucius. "Well that's not fair. A boot for him, sure, but you keep 
one? I weep for the man who has only one shoe, until I meet 
myself, who has no dinner. How 'bout the other one, govner?" The 
duck gives Lucius puppy-dog eyes, which is an amazing 
accomplishment for a duck.

"Take it all off, baby!" The man who yells this is promptly 
stared at.

Lucius takes his other shoe off and tosses it to the Duck Man, 
and crosses his arms, "Well, so now I amd willing to give away my 
shoes, and for what? for some people to get their jollies? This 
fine model of a doctor is giving his services away..

Ray grins at Logan's words. "And wouldn't *that* be a cryin' 
shame." He looks around the crowd, which doesn't seem to be 
turning violent any time soon. "Arrogant little snot."

The crowd draws away a little from Morris, leaving him in a 
slowly expanding circle.

Lucius looks to Morris, and walks towards him,and asks, "Who 
wronged you that has made you so suspicious?"

Blake wanders over to Lucius and clears his throat. "You know, 
you're going about thisch all wrong," he comments. "If you want 
to get the public'sch undivided loyalty, offer them free t-
schirtsch. Schubway'sch juscht not going to cut it."

"FOUL FIEND!!!!" cries Morris, ignoring Lucius' question, his 
accent mutating with every syllable. "HOOR OF BABYL...no, not you 
miss." This last bit is in a more normal tone. "Him. The U.N. 
Stooge. What? Yes, all right. Okay, point taken. PIMP OF 
BABYLONNNNNNN...no, no, not you, Doctor C."

Mary shrugs at Crabes, "Whatever you say, baby." The pet name is 
added on out of sheer, drudge habit. And then, because she still 
is one her shift, she adds, almost mechanically, "Buy a girl a 
cup of coffee, handsome?"

Ray blinks. "He's tryin' to talk to Morris. Oh boy." He starts 
moving in that general direction.

Logan decides to follow behind Ray, for lack of anywhere better 
to go, and remembers to breath through his mouth as much as 
possible. Maybe this will get more entertaining. Especially if 
people start stampeding.

Meanwhile, at some great remove from the crowd, Al, oblivious to 
everything, decides that this would be a *perfect* time for an 
impromptu concert. "HOW MANY ROAD MUST MAN WALK DOWNNNNNN..." he 
sings, surprisingly on key. "BEFORE MAN AM CALLED A MANNNNNNN?"

A guy glances at Al. "Forty-two, man."

Duck Man responds to something Morris said a bit ago, as if he 
just heard it. He walks up behind Lucius, unfettered by the crowd 
because the duck keeps pecking at people who get in the way. 
Holding his boot protectively, he nods. "The man has a point. 
Supreme executive power comes from a mandate from the masses, not 
some farcical orthopoedic ceremony. You can't demand the loyalty 
of the oppressed of the world simply because you give them your 
shoes. Why, if I went about sayin' I was an emperor just because 
I lobbed a boot at some moistened bint, they'd have me locked 
up!"

Maynard Crabes laughs openly at this, the homeless comedy show, 
the destitute Cirque de Soleil. He shoots a grin at Mary. "I'll 
invite you to dinner, baby. Haven't eaten yet." Or was that 
lunch? Curses...anachronisms...plot holes. Still in a better mood 
over the sheer insanity of this scene, he walks over, and pats 
Lucius on the back. "I think you hit the wrong crowd, man. Al 
Sharpton don't preach to no ducks, y'know."

Lucius looks to Duck Man and rolls his eyes, "So you seen that 
movie too.. nice one in fact.. and I am not asking to be 
president.. and neither should I be.. I am willing to give people 
who want job training that training and therefore jobs to those 
who want to make the world a better place, where the poor 
wouldn't be oppressed as we are today... and you..<looking back 
to Morris>, "Why are you so much against the idea that you can 
make the government and country a better place.

Ray is now close enough to call out to Lucius, and he does so. 
"It's a conspiracy!"

Lucius looks up to where Ray is coming from, "What may I ask is 
that conspiracy?"

Logan speaks up in his usual gruff tone, "I think there's about 
ta be a conspiracy ta lynch ya, bub."

Blake slaps his forehead. "*Now* I know who you are!" he says to 
Lucius. "You're Paranoid Schizophrenic Number Twelve, from the 
busch schataschion...yeah?"

Morris takes a deep breath. Oh dear. "I ain't against making the 
world a better place, idjit! But you sure ain't the one to do it! 
You and your crypto-facist United Flippin' Nations and your 
commie One-World Regional Governance!"

Ray blinks, not having expected to be spoken to. But his grin 
doesn't falter, and he chuckles at Logan.

"You tell him, Morris!"

Maynard Crabes pulls out a small black book, and starts jotting 
notes...who will need to come in for psychiatric evaluation. 
Prozac shall flow tonight!
Duck Man frowns. Movie? Quack?

"THE ANSWER MY FRIEND...AM BLOWING IN WIND...THE ANSWER AM FORTY-
TWO MILE PER HOUR WIND!" Al Bizarro, lady and gentleman. Him am 
here all week.

Jinrai laughs. He wonders where the camera is.

Now you all know where Blake goes to feel better about himself.

Lucius looks over Morris, "I am saying that the true makeup of 
our government should be from among us, the common people, not 
the rich people who would use that power to oppress people who do 
not live up to their standards...<takes out a bunch of business 
cards and hands them out to everyone around him, even Morris..> 
If you want training for a job, call and I can supply it, and I 
believe that this little speech which has become a circus is 
pretty much over..

Mary starts to go after Crabes, but as the doctor walks away, she 
snorts and gives up. She's been blown off. For a street preacher. 
Embittered by the loss of her possible meal ticket, she returns 
to the wall and starts to sing along with Al.. sort of. Her voice 
is high and screechy. "JESUS CHRIST.. SUPERSTAR.."

A few people even take the business cards.

Someone yells, "You're rich enough to afford twenty Combo #8's at 
Subway!"

Duck Man frowns and todders off, smelling the boot. "Augh. 'S not 
even real leather! I wouldn't even *wear* this, much less eat it. 
My tastes are just too refined." He walks over to Ron, who's 
wearing Lucius' boot as a hat and trying to take a bite out of 
the original boot, and sits down.

Ray winces slightly at Mary's murdering of what's really not a 
bad show tune. He wanders away from Lucius, bored and wary of 
attracting too much attention.

A few people eat the business cards.

Morris does indeed take the business card. So that he can tear it 
up, spit on it, drop the bits on the ground, jump up and down on 
them, and spit on them again. "Ha! Now you've just gone and given 
yourself away, Mister U.N. Railin' against rich folk and then 
passing out BUSINESS CARDS!!! These things ain't cheap, you know. 
Though maybe they are for you, with your backing by the printing 
presses of the Illiteratti! Not like *they* use 'em for 
anything!"

Blake snorts. "They don't have fax machinesch in the 
backalleysch..."

"WHO AM YOU WHAT AM YOU SAY YOU AM..." sings Al. Then, "I YAM 
WHAT I YAM AND THAT AM ALL WHAT I YAM. ME AM POPEYE THE 
SUPERSTAR!"

On second thought, Blake takes as many business cards as he can 
swipe. They may be useful in some mock-pop-art.

Lucius walks back over to Morris, and attempts to maintain his 
friendly mannerisms, he pulls out a hundred dollar bill and hands 
it to morris, "There! You want a tip for your performance..", and 
then walks over to Al, and hands another hundred to Al.. and he 
walks off protecting his pockets.. he looks down at his shoeless 
feet and sighs, and sits down at a bench a little bit out of the 
center of this section of town.

Jinrai wanders over to Lucius, ostensibly to take a business card 
"Listen. Buddy." His accent is not from this city, at least not 
this time; there's a distant European flavor to it, and his tone 
isn't unfriendly "My father was a politician. I know fewmits when 
I hear it. So do most of these people. The jobs will be helpful, 
I'm sure. Just don't kill anyone, okay?" He's also taking in this 
guy's scent and addint it to his collection, now that Ron and his 
miasma has wandered off.

The crowd gape. Now THESE handouts are worth a speech! They 
follow after. "Hey, wait up!"

Maynard Crabes quirks a brow at the business card. "I have a 
Ph.D. in Medicine, and you hand me a business card for vocational 
training? That's just low, man. Insultin' my years of hard work 
and training." He pivots around, and as Lucius heads over to 
Morris, the doctor tears the card up, and scatters the pieces to 
the wind. No worries, it's biodegradable. His attention 
momentarily turns to Al, a smile turning on his face at the 
mangled lyrics. "Sing it louder, my soul brotha! Lemme hear it!" 
Oh yeah, lets add the 70's funk voice to this choir.

Logan watches Lucius finally take off, and takes note of the 
strange Asian fella following him. Beyond that, nothing around 
here looks terribly interesting anymore. Until the crowd follows 
Lucius? That wasn't expected. "This people are nuts." he mutters 
under his breath.

Ray stares after Lucius, aghast. "That crazy guy is *nuts*. 
They'll eat him alive." Pause. "I hope."

Morris just *stares* at the hundred dollar bill. "HA! HA I SAY! 
THINK YOU CAN BUY MY SILENCE, DO YOU? I KNOW ABOUT YOU, MISTER 
U.N. MAN IN BLACK! OH YES! I KNOW *ALL* YOUR SECRETS!" He 
doesn't, of course, though he thinks he does.

Mary scowls at the world in general. That wasn't even 
interesting. Now her prospect is singing with some guy.. who's 
got a bullet in his forehead? "Time to go see what Cherry's up 
to." And she stalks away, worn heels clicking on the pavement.

Al, conversely, barely even notices the money. Or Dr. Crabes, 
though apparently the latter has registered with what passes for 
his subconscious. "ME AM SOLE MAN! DA DA DA DA DA DA DA ME AM 
SOLE MAN!" He then removes one of his own battered shoes, and 
holds it up in the air. "SOLE FOOD!" he cries, vaguely looking 
around for Ron.

One woman comes into view in the crowd. Her greasy hair, dirty 
clothes, and sickly complexion paint a poor picture. Her swollen 
belly and the trackmarks on her arms paint an even poorer one. 
She follows Lucius until she comes near. "What's a girl gotta do 
to get one of those handouts, mister?"

A guy with one tooth saunters over to the seated Lucius. "Hey, 
Sandwich Man," he says in an oily voice. "I'll sell ya *my* 
shoes."

Ray tags along behind the crowd and looks for Sullivan. He might 
know what's going on.

Morris continues to mutter at great length, growing increasingly 
quieter, and increasingly more sullen. People pretty much avoid 
him.

Lucius looks over the lady and says, "Well, the drugs will kill 
you and your baby, the handouts are available for anyone wanting 
something to eat."... he fishes through his pockets and finds a 
coupon that reads, "1 free 12" sub at subway" and gives it to the 
lady

Blake isn't getting any nearer that Lucius guy. He's dangerous. 
Not *him*, but his actions.

Logan tags along behind Ray. Why? Because he sort've knows the 
cop guy, and it's better than crowding around dirty homeless 
people. Well, maybe it is.

Lucius looks to the man, "Sorry, but I do not really need to take 
the shirt off your back or the shoes from your feet.. he gets 
back up and begins to walk towards an alleyway..

Jinrai avoids Morris, as well. He's also frowning at Lucius.

While turning to go the other way, Blake runs into Ray. Tee-
riffic.

Ray oofs, then grins. "Sullivan!"

The woman snorts and snatches the coupon away. "Thanks, but I can 
get food anywhere there's a dumpster. What I need is to get off 
this shit." She points to her track marks. "And do something 
about this." She puts a hand on her stomach. "What can you do for 
me then? Tell me, I'll listen. I'll do anything you want, if you 
can help me."

Blake lifts an eyebrow. "Wow, we like the schame raving 
lunaticsch! What a coinschidensche."

Logan eyes Blake, wrinkling his nose as he takes in the man's 
appearance and listens to his speech. Lovely.

Ray steps sideways, so as to see past Blake. He frowns a little 
at the woman addressing Lucius. "Yeah, this town's hard-up for 
entertainment, I guess. You know that guy?"

The woman follows Lucius a bit, calling after him.

Blake looks round at Lucius and the woman. "Nah, not that one," 
he admits.

Maynard Crabes starts in with a bit of his own sound. "A little 
bit of soul, m'brotha. That's what the world needs, soul and 
funk. Funk and soul. And more of those deep fried things they 
sell over at Mamma's. Ohhhhhhhhh yeah." He stops upon catching 
sight of the woman. "Oh, sweet mother of God." He heads over to 
her. "Dear Lord, Suzi, I hope you were using clean needles. I 
won't advocate the habit, but if I have to, I'd rather give you 
clean needles." He gestures her towards the Free Clinic, away 
from the madness. "You should stop in today, and I'll look you 
over. Make sure you didn't get anything."

Lucius says "The baby is your choice, if you want an abortion I 
believe that man over in that free clinic can help.. if you 
wanted the baby, I would recommend calling the number on the 
business card.. I will make sure you can get training as a 
receptionist or any other type of job you want.. so that you can 
support the child..."

Morris continues to mutter at no one. The occasional intelligible 
bit surfaces. "....Greys....United Freakin' Nations...bread laced 
with CIA crack..." He seems to be making it all up as he goes, 
except that he clearly passionately believes everythng he's 
saying. Even the stuff that contradicts the other stuff.

Ray shakes his head slightly. "I don't like it. It's not illegal, 
but - " Lucius speaks up again and Ray isn't putting up with 
THAT. "Hey! You think she's an idiot? Don't talk down to her, 
asshole!"

Al finally gets to the end of his newest Top Ten hit. He grins, 
and, then, for the first time, notices that he's holding a One 
Hundred Dollar bill. "Hey! Mister Talking Guy! You give me wrong 
money! Me only charge five dollar entry fee for concert!" He 
starts lumbering after Lucius.

Lucius looks to Ray, "She asked for the options she had with her 
to-be-child", he stops walking and looks over Ray. Two homeless 
characters who have been wandering around the crowd seem to 
follow Lucius, one of them is an obvious metahuman, blue in 
complexion.

Ray doesn't care about Lucius or his backup. He's angry. "You 
think she doesn't *know*? Oh my gosh, Mister Speechmaker, you're 
right, a JOB! Why didn't I think of that *myself*?"

The woman glares. "I never said I wanted an abortion." Sure, 
that's what she's been considering, but just because she can't 
afford anything else. "And while I'm learning to type, what will 
I eat? Who'll pay for the hospital so I can have my baby? Who'll 
pay for the drug rehab?" She sneers. "Oh, wait, I'll just give 
them this coupon." She crumples it and throws it at Lucius, then 
nods sadly to Maynard. "Thanks, Mayo." Yeah, that's her nickname 
for him. Mayo's Clinic. Get it?

Blake says "Schomehow, for his fancy businessch cardsch, I don't 
think he'sch qualified to *schpeak* at all."

Lucius blinks at the case he has unfolding, "you are paid while 
training, the hospital stay would be a bit much, perhaps a small 
contribution on my side could help, the drug rehab is not 
expensive but it does require a bit of stamina and we can help...

Logan shakes his head and stuff his hands into the pockets on his 
jacket. What a lovely place to get dumped into. "I think that 
Morris fella has made the most sense all night outta anyone else 
around here." he comments off-handedly.

Blake whispers to Logan, "Actually, I rather think the duck wasch 
the clearescht."

The girl isn't listening. Better the saviour she knows than the 
self-righteous guy with a soapbox she doesn't. She turns her back 
on Lucius and sighs.

Ray is being ignored, and positively roars, forgetting about the 
fact he's not meant to be attracting attention. "YOU KNOW 
NOTHING! How DARE you come down here preachin' to these people? 
Get the HELL outta here!"

Morris looks up. "...witches, it's all the fault of them...huh?" 
Did he hear correctly? He Made Sense to someone? Hmmm. He'll have 
to try harder, then. Can't have people listening *too* closely. 
They might pick up on the stuff he actually *knows* in the midst 
of all the static he's putting out.

Jinrai notes loudly, to nobody in particular "I think he'll be 
lucky if he makes it out of this neighborhood alive, flashing 
around $100 bills like that..." The vicious side of him wants to 
see someone try it.

Logan pulls a hand out of his jacket and claps Ray on the 
shoulder, "Calm down, bub. I don't think ya want ta be causin' an 
uproar yerself." A look is given to Blake as he hears the man's 
joke, and he even grins. But only a little bit.

Lucius places a business card on the ground behind her.. and then 
looks to Ray, his eyes lightup with electricity, and looks into 
the man's face, "you judge by something you do not know... I will 
leave as I am finished, tomorrow, I shall come again, hoping that 
some people want to clear up their lives and attempt to live to 
help others."

Al, meanwhile, is drawing ever nearer to Lucius. "Hey! 
Jabbermouth!" He doesn't appear to mean it as an insult. "You 
give me wrong money. This am hundred dollar. Al only need five 
dollar, but Al not have 95 dollar change."

Blake steps up behind Ray. "Heyheyhey, schettle down," he says, 
but he sounds a bit peeved himself. "Guy'sch a schubmoron. Schave 
your harsch wordsch for schomeone who will reschent you for 
them."

Lucius looks to Al and simply states, "I paid for the admission 
of all the people in the center..." and he begins to slowly walk 
away from Ray..

Ray is so angry he can hardly speak. If looks could kill, Lucius 
would be stone dead. "Don't you patronize me," he growls. 
"Fuckin' asshole."

Al's eyes narrow, as he thinks about this. "No, but...this am too 
much...Al try spend this, people look at Al and say, 'Him big 
spender!'"

Maynard Crabes sighs, shaking his head at the scene. He finally 
hands Lucius a card of his own. "I'd cut my losses if I were you. 
But if you DO need treatment after this night is out, you can 
always stop in." Not that he's certain having this guy in his 
clinic won't bring the riots to him. Then again, if they wreck 
the Free Clinic, then the poor people are shooting themselves in 
the foot. He thinks they'd know better. Dr. Crabes' attention 
returns to the addicted-pregnant-woman. He reaches a hand to her. 
"Come on. Get away from the madness. We'll get you looked at."

At this moment a large man built very much like the side of a 
house steps into view. A sprawling stain of a putrid color adorns 
the front of his grubby t-shirt. "HEY," he booms. "I hear 
someone's tossin' out free money here. I came to collect."

Lucius feels Ray's anger drift through his mind, the effect 
amplifying his already increased emotions, he turns around to 
Ray, and says, "Mister Detective Ray of the Police Department, 
Please do not let your emotions get the hold of you.", he says it 
loud enough for some of the crowd to hear..

Suzi nods and takes Maynard's hand, letting him lead her away.

Stain plods up behind Lucius. "Hey," he repeats. "You Sandwich-
Man?"

Morris, apparently having reached the end of his internal 
monologue, sighs. "Buggrit." He looks around. He could really use 
a cup of coffee right about now. Well, mainly coffee.

Al, without missing a beat, tosses the hundred-dollar bill he's 
holding to Stain. "Here. Al need five dollar change, though."

Stain growls a bit, sounding like an idling semitruck.

Lucius looks back to Stain, "Hello sir, what do you need?"

Stain grabs at the bill. "Heeey, thanks man," he grins. Then he 
pokes Lucius with a beefy forefinger. "Now where's *yours*?"

Blake ducks behind Logan. Trying to avoid Stain, apparently.

Stain's growling shifts gears.

Jinrai wanders over to Blake. And to Ray, but that's an 
unintended side effect. "Hey. Come for the show, did you?" He 
pauses and blinks at the circus still going on. "Great. Stain 
heard someone's giving out money. I hope that guy..." He pauses, 
to read the business card. Slowly. "...Loo-see-us... has 
insurance."

Maynard Crabes notices Stain out of the corner of his eye, and 
frowns. He leads Suzi back to the Free Clinic...and halfway 
there, his stomach growls. "Ugh. I'm gonna need some serious 
victuals tonight." The smile to Suzi, though, is comforting, and 
in utter disregard of his threatening stomach. "Anyway. Let's 
take care of you, and see how the baby's doin'." He holds the 
door to the Free Clinic open for Suzi.

Ray blinks. Oh shit. Oh, *shit*. Who heard that? Did anyone hear 
that? He steps neatly back between Blake and Logan. "Fuck," he 
observes.

Stain will register it soon, no worries. He looms over Lucius. 
"My *money*, freak," he reminds him.

Lucius looks to Stain, "well, I don't happen to have much more 
money on me.. here is my last money.. he pulls out one hundred 
dollars, twentysix dollars and 33 cents...

Lucius says "Also if you want to make much more money utterly 
destroying people.. <hands a business card to Stain>, Give me a 
call.."

Logan pulls his other hand back out of his jacket's pocket now 
and comments to Ray, "Looks like it's time ta leave, bub." 
Secretly, he hopes someone tries to go after the cop. Because it 
might give him a chance to hurt someone. That's something he 
sorely needs. The frustration's been building up since he got 
stuck here.

For all of you who worry about NPCs like this lil' ol' narrator 
does, Suzi gets off the drugs, has a healthy baby boy, becomes a 
waitress, and marries a doctor who collects rare tropical fish. 
Isn't that nice?

Ray mutters, very quietly, "If I run now, everyone and his 
brother is gonna chase me."

Morris, thankfully, didn't notice the comment about Ray being a 
cop. He wanders up the street, his destination an all-night 
coffee shop at which he's a regular. People hardly even notice it 
when he starts grilling them about what they think the 
newspaper's *really* saying.

Stain doesnt touch the money or the business card. He seizes 
Lucius by the shirtfront, lapels, whatever's handy, with one fist 
and yanks him off the ground. "You little *punk*," he snarls. "I 
don't like your *tone*."

>From the Free Clinic comes the end theme to Crabes. "Crabes! 
<Damn right.>"

Lucius Attempts to break grip using his own strength and says as 
he does so, "I do not mean to offend you."

Al stares. At *last*, he seems to vaguely connect with the 
reality around him. As Stain threatens Lucius, Al taps Stain on 
the back. "Hey you! This am time of your life! Stop evil ways! So 
says...me! Al!"

Stain shakes Lucius, then. "You don't, huh? I'm gonna--" Then he 
stops. "Police Department?" he says in wonderment.

Jinrai murmurs "Here it goes." He glances at Ray a moment. Ah, 
that's what he thought yesterday.. tough to tell through the 
rain, of course. He shrugs it off, but files the information 
away. He turns to watch Lucius vs. Stain. Wait, no. Lucius vs. 
Stain vs. the Zombie.

Logan hehs and watches Lucius get ready to get pounded, "Looks 
like bigmouth has more ta worry about than ya do." Briefly he 
looks away and glances towards Jinrai, taking his appearance in.

Ray freezes as the Neanderthal in the Shirt finally recognizes a 
three-syllable word. "Crap."

Stain does lose his grip on Lucius, but That Does Not Matter Now. 
"Who the hell is Ray?" he demands of all standing near him.

Al shakes his head. "No no! Not Ray! Al! Me am Al!"

Lucius reaches into his jacket feeling the brass long sword he 
has sheathed with the trenchcoat, he doesn't have to use it.. 
yet.. and looks towards Ray and calmly picks himself off and 
dusts himself off..

And then, Stain spots a familiar Jacket. "Circus-Man!" he roars, 
lunging for Blake, who dodges. "I'm gonna get you for what you 
did to my favorite shirt!" In lunging, however, he bumps into 
Logan. "Outta my way, Shorty," he growls.

Lucius looks back towards Stain, and then begins his walk towards 
the alleyway again..a slow casual walk..

Ray dodges backwards a step from Logan, not knowing whether to be 
massively relieved or totally panicked.

That... was a mistake. "Don't call me shorty, bub." Logan growls 
lowly. You wanna piss him off? That's one way to do it. To show 
why it shouldn't be done, his leg darts out and tries to trip the 
big lug up. A hand comes up to smack into the man's back and 
shove him forward, should a little extra pressure be needed to 
put him down.

Al ignores Lucius as he departs. Stain is clearly the threat 
here. And Al's only good at concentrating on one person at a 
time. "Yeah! Not call him Shorty! Unless that his name." Al 
suddenly appears confused, but quickly rallies. "And it am 
probably *not* his name!"

All that and more befalls Stain. He lies on the sidewalk now, his 
nose bloodied. "You--You bastard!" he howls, scrambling to his 
feet, Blake forgotten. "I'll knock your teeth out!" He swings at 
Logan.

Ray comments, "Jesus Christ." He feels like he ought to break it 
up. But then he also feels like he doesn't want to die today.

A few homeless of the more 'hostile' variety look over to Lucius 
and make their way to him and nod, he smirks and nods back.. "So 
you care to join me gentlemen and ladies?"

Logan ducks under the wild blow. Ha! That short height is good 
for something, ain't it? "You wanna play rough? Lets go." he 
growls and then the familiar sound is heard. *SNIKT* Three claws 
on each hand pop through his skin and swing towards the thug, 
"Gonna make me some shish-ke-bob t'night."

A few *other* homeless of the Street Gang variety wander out of 
the alley. "How about you tell us where you been getting the 
money from? Maybe you're going to give us some now, right?" 
Chains, clubs, and knives are visible.

Stain's eyes go all wide and stuff, and he hops backwards. "Wh--
Hey, no freakin' way, man!" he protests, backing up. "I ain't 
fightin' no freaka nature..."

Lucius looks to the street gang, "Well, I stole it off the dead 
corpse of a few dead drug barons.. and I would recommend you not 
join them in the chorus..."
Lucius says this to the people in the alleyway.. no one else.. :)

Al is, unfortunately, right behind Stain. He leaps out of the way 
with catlike reflexes. Well, dead-cat-like reflexes. In other 
words, *after* he's been knocked over by Stain's backward 
progress.

Jinrai tilts his head, birdlike, looking at Logan. "Hey." That's 
all he says.

Ray has no idea what to do and is left bouncing unhappily on the 
balls of his feet, trying to figure out which way to jump.

The leader of the pack - who can't be any more than 15, 16? - 
laughs "So *you* the big tough guy who's been killing the 
Maestro's guys, huh?" The other gang members laugh. He gestures. 
"Frankie. Search him." Frankie proves to be a dark-skinned 
'gentleman' who's really big for his age.

Logan starts to stalk towards Stain. Everyone else is almost 
forgotten, until they become important to the fight, of course. 
"Sticks an' stones won't break my bones..." he comments, "But 
adamantium's gonna hurt ya." That's when he darts forward 
quickly, his claws swinging up in an arc to try and take a few 
chunks out of the thug. If it can be helped, he'll try to hit in 
non vital areas. No need to kill the guy if he's starting to 
learn that he's picked on the wrong 'shorty'.

Lucius says "All I have on me, is a brass long sword, that I can 
easily toss from here that will slice your head off, so drop your 
weapons and I will drop mine."

Stain gets his pecs carved up a bit for him and he flees, 
howling, down an alleyway.

Al eventually stands up, after having been trod upon repeatedly 
by the fleeing Stain. "Ow. Al never have that recipe again."

Blake emerges from behind a convenient dumpster. "Oh wow, 
thanksch man," he adresses Logan. "That guy'sch a big fan of me."

Frankie's voice is a surprisingly pleasant baritone "How about 
you drop your weapons, and we keep ours? Gimme the sword."

Ray nods in agreement with Blake. "Yeah, thanks..." Where did the 
speechmaking guy go? He heads towards the alley, frowning, and 
peeks round.

Logan snorts and looks dissatisfied with his 'heroic effort'. The 
guy didn't even stick around long enough to bleed all over the 
place. His claws are retracted and he turns, eyeing the closest 
people to him. You know, Ray, Blake and Jinrai. The thanks are 
just shrugged off and he mutters, "Guy didn't stick around long 
enough fer the real fun ta start."

Blake shudders. "Thisch plasche isch enough fun all on it'sch 
*own*," he argues.

Lucius flicks his wrist and attempts to telekinetically pin the 
boy against the alleyway wall..

Frankie .. doesn't move. It's like he's rooted to the spot. He 
sways slightly, then springs back into position. The club is in 
his hand now, and swings downward, with intent to bury it partway 
into Lucius's skull.

Ray is torn. Because yelling 'BHPD nobody move!' is probably a 
really good way to get lynched.

Lucius says "I wish to point the efforts of you, to the more 
golden linings of this city, and if you want part of the action, 
join me... <quickly unsheaths his brass long sword and attempts 
to block/break the club using it>"

Logan takes a cursory glance around the area. His gaze stops on 
Lucius and his problem children. Oh boy, another fight. The urge 
to spring into action is resisted, though, and he waves the 
problem off, "Bigmouth gets what he deserves." Looking back to 
his current companions, he points out to Ray, "Now might be the 
time ta get movin'."

Blake sidles up to Ray. "Permisschion to put him out of hisch 
mischery?" he asks him, nodding at Lucius. "Causche it'sch going 
to be mischerable when they're through with him."

Al just sits in the middle of the street, still dazed a bit 
(though not actually hurt) by his recent near-Stain encounter.

Ray glances quickly back around at Logan. "But..." *Damn* I wish 
I was in Chicago. He blinks at Blake. "God, yes, Sullivan, 
*thank* you."

In the distance, a lone figure did become aware of the sounds of 
battle in this area, but was otherwise distracted by another 
crime. Now, he is free, and can tell even during his approach 
that things have become highly chaotic. Time for the theatrics, 
it seems. Overhead, a figure clad completely in black flies so 
fast that three successive sonic booms echo over the badlands as 
a whole. Concrete shudders, already broken windows shatter even 
further...

Al shakes his head, and groans. "Ow. Head am ringing. But 
why...big thug guy not *that* big." He slowly struggles to his 
feet.

Blake is somehow pleased to have the approval of the police. He 
starts towards Lucius. "Um, you guy'sch are gonna run, right?" he 
calls back to Ray and Logan.

Frankie manages to look surprised as the club is blocked, then 
gets his composure back. "You may be fast, but I'm tough." "Yeah, 
he da *Blob!*" "I *said* don't call me that, mofo!" He takes his 
aggression out on Lucius, a graceless savage swing of the 
truncheon.

Ray starts backing off. Rather fast. "Right - " The sonic booms 
make him glance upwards, but to be honest, this is more 
important. He looks to Logan. "Run," he says simply, and sprints 
for the Circle.

Logan isn't able to respond to Blake. The sonic booms really 
didn't help, and his hands come up to his hears, covering them as 
he winces. Gah. Once he realizes that Ray said something to him, 
though, and watches him run off, he decides it's probably a good 
idea to join in. So he darts off, moving after the cop quickly, 
and trying to recover his hearing. Damn heightened senses.

Lucius growls as his strength flares to life, he slices the sword 
around to attempt to slice the club right off at the 
handle...hopefully missing his fingers...(I am good though :))...

Jinrai staggers slightly, and looks upwards. It's a bird.. it's a 
plane.. it's... oh, hey. Haven't seen him around in a while. He 
glances back around. Hey. Where did everyone go?

Superman slowly turns around after his third pass... practically 
appearing right behind Lucius. "Archaic weapons in the middle of 
a technologically-advanced city? How... quaint. However, 
pointless combat such as this really has no place here, no matter 
what the cause..." He begins to stride toward the group... . o 0 
(Damn... okay.,.. I used to be better at quips like that...)

Big Yellow Joe, one of Frankie's brothers in arms (or at least 
brothers in aspirations for hundred-dollar bills this night), 
lurks well behind the other gang members. There's a reason he's 
called Big Yellow, after all. He wields a switchblade, one at 
which he occasionally glances nervously. "Yeah...yeah..." he 
mutters, over and over. "Get 'im, Frankie. Or I might have to cut 
'im."

Blake notices Superman too. "Heeey...a dischtracschion!" he 
exclaims gleefully, then darts in. Whirling away from Lucius and 
his new 'friends', he lets them have it fullforce and Runs Like 
Hell for the Circle (cuz you can't run any other way in this 
situation).

Frankie's club is now in two pieces. "$#!t, that was my favorite 
club, too .. holy mother of crap." The latter is, apparently, at 
the entrance of the Well-Known Criminal Superman. By this time, 
most of his compatriots have already scattered out the other side 
of the alleyway, from the sonic booms more than the man in front 
of them.

Superman puts up a finger as a more well-designed comeback begins 
to emit from his lips. However, something quite more noxious had 
emitted from Blake's tailpipe before the words could be uttered. 
Strange, the way fate works. Magic gave Blake his powers. Magic 
is also one of Superman's greatest weaknesses... perhaps even 
greater than his allergic reaction to kryptonite. The gas hits 
him full-force... and he crumples, like a sack of rocks.

Frankie would like to have it known that he's no pushover. He's 
not high-powered on the grand scale of things, but his low-grade 
invulnerability and immobility have served him well in a pinch. 
However, against the noxious gas that's now floating this way, he 
has no defense.
        To sum up: he's unconscious.

Big Yellow Joe continues to mutter. "I might have to cut 'im. And 
I don't wanna cut 'im." He seems almost to be talking to his 
switchblade. "I might have to...ulllgggghhhh." This last bit, of 
course, as Blake's power manifests itself. He falls right over, 
clearly and mercifully unconscious. Though, odd thing...the hand 
in which his knife is held, and held tightly, keeps twitching 
violently.

Ray skids to a stop on the edge of the Circle and looks back, in 
case there's anything to see.

Blake promptly collides with Ray and they both crash painfully 
onto the concrete.

Jinrai's eyes widen. I'll check to see if that was, indeed, 
Superman some other time. While the toxic properties have little 
effect on his draconic metabolism, the actual stench is another 
matter on his heightened sense of smell. He turns and runs, not 
walks, out of the area.

Logan's hearing started to work right before Blake's keen 
superpower kicked in. That's a good thing. It means he knows that 
he needs to cut off his sense of smell now, so he pinches his 
nose. Oh God. But that allows him to skid to a halt near Ray and 
look back at the defused situation.

Ray aghs. "SULLIVAN..." He shoves Blake off him. "Was that...was 
that Superman back there?"

Lucius finishes whirling around from his blade slashing of the 
club and notices superman unconcious and sniffs the air, and then 
succumbs to the gas himself...oO(DAMN that smell..)

Blake crashes backwards this time. . o O (Hey, I need that.) "I 
d-don't know," he stammers. "I wasch kinda in a hurry."

Al looks around, glancing by coincidence at the alleyway just in 
time to see a bunch of people collapse. Al has virtually no sense 
of smell, and is effectively immune to most toxins. Even so, he 
begins to feel a bit nauseous. "Al not feel so well." he remarks 
to no one in particular, as he wanders back toward his warehouse 
home. He makes a note to hunt down Lucius sometime to get his 
five dollars in change.

Ray scrambles to his feet and stares back down the street. "How 
long before it's safe? Sullivan, how long?" Oh my god. Oh. My. 
God.

Meanwhile, a tough gang-banger walks by, with a stolen boombox on 
his shoulder. He's singin' along with the excessive volume of 
music, "Oh I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady. All you other 
Slim Shady's are just imitatin'. So won't the real Slim Shady 
please stand up? Please stand up? Please stand--*sniff*" He gets 
a whiff of the fumes, and bad boy is out.

Logan just shakes his head at this situation. Goddamn. They 
dropped him in the Twilight Zone.

Blake lurches to his feet as well. "Uh," he says. "Well, if there 
wasch a breeze..." Which there isn't. "I guessch...It won't drop 
you after maybe five minutesch? I dunno. I never schtick around, 
okay?"

Superman's super-fast metabolism kicks in... trying to drag him 
out of it. Were the gas not magical, he'd have been able to stand 
mere seconds later... but this... it's as if he's just on the 
edge of consciousness, only to find an impenetrable barrier 
separating his waking mind from his dreaming mind. For a man like 
Superman, this is horrid...

Jinrai almost trips over Blake as he tries to get away from.. 
that... stench "... What happened? Did that homeless guy belch?" 
He refers, of course, to Ron.

Ray looks at his watch, then back off across the Circle, then 
back down the street. "Okay. I'm gonna call for backup, or, 
somethin. Stay here and if Superman tries to come out, drop him 
again." He glances at Logan. "Um...whatever you wanna do, I'll be 
right back!" And he dashes off.

Big Yellow Joe persists in his unconsciousness. His right arm, 
the arm in which the switchblade still rests, seems to be 
threatening to detach itself from the rest of his body. He'll be 
lucky if he doesn't suffer a dislocated shoulder.

Blake takes a breath to yell after Ray, "I *can't*!" but the 
detective is beating feet, fast.

Logan probably wouldn't mind cutting someone else up. It's not 
like he knows that'd be a fairly useless endeavor. For now he 
just holds onto his nose, not wanting to chance a whiff of that 
stuff.

Frankie is out. His power doesn't cover this.

Lucius notes the inside of Lucius unconcious mind is that of a 
study as he sits and waits, what do you do when you have died 
approximately a thousand times or so.. he awaits his body 
fighting off the magical gas.

Ray has minor amounts of trouble getting anyone back on Pilot 
Street to believe him. You don't get Superman and Blake Sullivan 
mentioned together very often. Eventually, though, sirens wail. 
Here they come.

Blake surreptitiously sneaks off, heading home.

Jinrai okays, as the cop and the artist run and/or slink off. He 
looks to Logan instead. "Hi. Name's Jin. Right, introductions are 
done. What the hell just happened?"

Superman actually manages a groan...

Big Yellow Joe's eyes flicker open. Unfortunately. By rights, he 
*should* still be unconscious, and he certainly wishes he were, 
but the Switchblade hasn't let him sleep in years, and it's not 
about to let him sleep now. (*Blood. I Crave Blood.*) He coughs. 
"N-n-...sick..." (*Blood!*) "Not...not here. Guy...at the house. 
Robbin' my house. Needs cut." He says this over and over. "Guy at 
my house. Cut him. Gotta cut the guy at my house. Not here." 
Eventually, he turns and runs down the alley...or is he being 
dragged? (Cue ominous music and To Be Continued sign. Or 
something.)

As the sirens near, Ray comes haring back across the Circle 
again. Where the hell is Sullivan?! Oh, doesn't matter. "Anyone 
come outta there?"

Logan grunts and mutters in a low voice to Jinrai, "That guy put 
down... Superguy or whoever." That's all he says. It's probably 
all he can explain with a straight face.

Jinrai frowns, then looks back there. He should go back in. He 
can't go back in. "Oh, by the Eight..."

A squad car swings around and stops to block off the alleyway. 
Chief Zwyck steps out. "There some...*events* I should know 
about?" he asks anyone who cares to answer.

Superman lies on the ground, prone, groaning like a sick animal.

Logan doesn't know anything about Superguy, and really doesn't 
care enough to stick around and help. So he just turns around and 
walks off. Time to go get a beer.

Ray is practically hopping up and down. "Superman's unconscious 
in the goddamn alley!" he yells, pointing back down the street. 
"Hurry UP! He's gonna wake up!"

Zwyck stares at Ray for a full thirty seconds before replying. 
"The *hell*, Kowalski," he says evenly. "Who on God's Green Earth 
knocked out Superman?"

Ray doesn't expect to be believed, but he says it anyway. "Blake 
Sullivan."

Zwyck's neat black moustache twitches. "You looking for a 
writeup, Detective?" he asks, just as several other squad cars 
arrive.

Ray is feeling kinda stressed out, here, like always. "Would I 
LIE about something like this?! Go find out!" You desk-riding 
moron.

One of Superman's fingers begin to twitch...

Jinrai watches the cops roll in. Crap. Thankfully, ever since 
Barney Fife retired two years ago, none of the other officers got 
the brilliant idea that he was a dragon. Maybe he can appear to 
be a curious passerby... he manages to slouch as he staggers back 
into the badlands. The staggering isn't completely an act. The 
toxins may be dispersed enough to be harmless, but his sensitive 
nose is still being reminded of the full blast of the gas.

Zwyck pauses, then turns to the mouth of the alley. Several cops 
rally behind him as he takes a step--"Oh Sweet Mary!" he swears, 
yanking his handkerchief out of a pocket and covering his nose 
and mouth with it. "It *was* Sullivan! Get in there," he tells 
the men and women in uniform, who proceed reluctantly into the 
alley.

Ray hovers anxiously. "And there were some other guys in there 
too..." he remembers belatedly.

Frankie's tongue is lolling from his mouth, and he's drooling 
slightly. The two halves of the club lay nearby. His friends are 
still gone.

Lucius begins to find a way to open the door to his study in his 
unconcious state but... it still is stuck... and sighs as he 
detects the thoughts of something happening out there..

Taki walks through the neighborhood, finding little to worry 
about. The crime, the filth, the homeless...THE STENCH. Whoa. 
Dissipating, yes, but still quite foul to his sense of smell. o O 
(He is in here...somewhere.) The coral-haired man shoots out a 
thought. o O (~Jinrai, are you about?~)

Almost immediately, Superman is surrounded by cops. Granted, 
they're not exactly prepared for someone with Superman's 
strength... but then again, no one really kows yet what all he's 
capable of. For safety's sake, however, they manage to get three 
cuffs on his hands, and two more on his legs... that's about the 
best they can do on short notice, however...

Superman is still out... however... although his head rolled a 
little less... aimlessly that last time...

Frankie dreams of baseball cards and twinkies. Don't ask.

Zwyck shouts orders at the officers and into his cb radio, doing 
his best to Pull This Off.

Ray watches in awe. "What the hell are we gonna *do* with him? 
Sir?"

Zwyck has perspiration forming on his brow, although it is a cool 
night. "The reinforced holding cell," he states.

Ray says, sounding slightly dazed, "I don't believe this. I was 
havin' a really bad day."

Jinrai pauses in his 'how am I gonna save Superman' train of 
thought to reply to Taki . o O (~Aye.~) The mental voice is, 
unsurprisingly, rushed. Maybe if I shot lightning, they'd all 
look the other way.... yeah, then, what. I'd sprint off with 
Superman?

Frankie, it should be noted, is still unconscious. A firefly 
landed on his forehead.

The cops rally together to haul Superman to a squad car.

Lucius begins to awaken from the gas.. his fingers twitch, 
expecially the one grasping the long sword...

Taki attempts to lock onto the mental voice, working his way 
through the area. Turns out he wasn't that far away after all. He 
bows graciously to the elder one (that would be Jinrai), and 
glances over at the odd scene. "What...what doth transpire 
betwixt the red-stone walls?"

There is a certain amount of confusion about how to get Superman 
*into* the car, which is, after all, rather cramped. Ray hovers 
around yelling helpful instructions like "The *other* way!"

Eventually... they do manage to get Superman into the car... arms 
still behind his back... it can't be comfortable... As they close 
the doors, the hero's eyes snap open... as if cutting him off 
from the gas enough to break its hold on him... The car's engine 
starts up... sirens still blaring...

Jinrai says, dully "They're arresting Superman." The last time 
they did that, he disappeared for about a year. "And.. I have to 
rescue him." Or someone does.

Frankie's eyes finally flicker, they start to open, then... no, 
wait, he's unconscious again. False alarm. Sorry.

Ray is not, thankfully, in the car. But he's not *looking* at the 
car, either. He's trying to work out which way home is. Most of 
the cops remaining in the area are either being cheerfully 
confident, considering re-entering the alley for Lucius and 
Frankie, or eating doughnuts. Where they get them we'll never 
know.

Lucius opens an eye too, his cyber-contacts detecting the police 
presence.oO(DAMN! must get out of here..), he looks up at the 
roof of a building and coughs a little trying to breathe.

Taki looks confused. As if /that/ was going to be a surprise. 
"Arrest? Superman? I do not understand, but...do you need my 
help?"

The car carrying Superman starts up... engine revving as it 
begins to move foreward. It gets about ten feet when there is 
suddenly the horrendous sound of metal being torn apart 
unnaturally... and pipes, axels... that sort of thing being 
broken through. Two black-clad feet break through the bottom of 
the car... embedding themselves into the concrete. It's an 
interesting sight... watching the subsequent buckling that takes 
place when a car's support breaks in half... and the other of the 
car's sudden, unpredicted stop.

Ray spins around. "Jesus FUCK!" Eloquent, isn't he? That's 
basically the reaction of everyone else on the ground, too, 
except the cops in the car, who get out. Fast.

Jinrai's eyes widen "Never mind." He looks at Taki. "Oh. Right. 
You never met Supes. Remind me to tell you about him sometime..." 
He looks back at the crowd "I don't like the number of cops 
around here..." He's completely oblivious to the fact that Taki 
wouldn't know the slang.

Lucius gets grogilly to his feet still coughing and looks to the 
scene outside the alley and then the kid... he ain't staying 
around...and attempts to burn the remaining dousiness off with 
some speed... he quickly attempts to vanish around a corner of 
the alleyway and into the street nextdoor... moving about 50..

The car begins to shake... faster and faster. Now that there's no 
one pressing on the gas pedal, it's not trying to fight its 
captive's planted feet. There's also accompanied with this the 
sound of MORE metal tearing... then suddenly snapping as two 
fists emerge from either window...

Frankie is doing Morris proud right now (that is, he's drooling 
and mumbling to himself).

Everyone glances at everyone else. There are two choices here. 
One is to open fire, and the other...the other turns out to be 
the more popular one. The boys (and girls) in blue scatter. For 
his part, Ray just gapes. This day just goes from hellish to 
perfect and back again faster than he can keep up with.

Taki glances at Jinrai, curious for some sort of 
clarification...even if he doesn't get one. "Your words doth 
confuse me. I believe, however, that I do get the gist of them."

Jinrai pauses, then mentally kicks himself. Right. "The town 
guard have mistakenly arrested a warrior who was framed.. er.. 
whose reputation was besmirched."

Jinrai just stares. ".. and now the warrior is escaping the 
guardsmen's chariot through his own means.."

If you've never seen the top of a police car torn off, you've not 
lived in Beacon Harbor for long... or at least weren't on the 
police force here back in 1997. One of the fists reachs toward 
the top of the car, ignoring broken glass... and tearing the roof 
completely off. He then floats out of the car... black cape 
waving behind him on an unfelt wind. His feet are still 
shackled... but not for long... with a flex, both handcuff simply 
snap... flying off. His eyes glow with an unearthly fire... The 
Super Man be pissed.

Frankie.. sits up. "Summone gemme the nummuh of that *bus* that 
himme."

Taki stares as well. "Apparently so. This warrior...doth not be 
human."

Ray has never, ever seen that before. He's been here just over a 
year. "Holy shit." He realises for the first time that any and 
all backup is currently hiding behind its squad cars, and stays 
where he is in the hopes of not attracting too much attention.

Jinrai sends out a quiet message to Superman - quiet in the sense 
of 'silent' . o O (~Damn. I guess I couldn't return the favor 
tonight.~) For that whole not-letting-the-SWAT-team-open-fire-on-
him a few years back. (~We'll have to talk later, though.~) To 
Taki, he nods. "He isn't. Not sure what he *is*, but he's not 
human."

Superman is fuming... Beams of visible red heat slam into one of 
the nearby squad cars... immediately engulfing it in flames. The 
cops cowering behind it barely have time to scramble away before 
the gas tank blows. "So this is the level that you fools have 
fallen to. Know this: my time enduring your pathetic attempts to 
pretend to not be beneath the heels of the lords of crime in this 
city is over. I know your faults... I know your sins. And I will 
no more 'allow' them." To punctuate this... he destroys yet 
ANOTHER squad car. Oddly enough... he has not caused even a 
SINGLE injury... no matter how small... during this entire 
interchange. "Leave now. Leave... and consider who you are... 
what you've let yourselves become."

They don't need telling twice. The BHPD practically falls over 
itself trying to do as it's told. Which is, after all, its strong 
point.

Superman's mind is full of rage right now... righteous rage... 
and oddly enough, a sense of futility and... could it be a 
knowledge of his own age? The thoughts seem to hit a brick 
wall...

---

(Posted 07/08/00 by Spleen on News - Reports)

This story appeared on the late late news yesterday, and was 
repeated the next morning:

The scene: City Seat Circle. The camera is trained on the mouth 
of a particularly dirty alleyway leading straight into the 
Badlands. Standing right in front of that mouth is Becky Beaner, 
her hair not-quite perfect, her red lipstick not-quite straight. 
She looks like she may have rolled out of bed to do this story--
whoops, that's exactly what she /did/ do. She probably should try 
and get more sleep--she's grinning a bit more maniacally than 
usual into the camera.

Becky: We are live on the scene at City Seat Circle, where just 
/moments/ before, the Beacon Harbor Police Department actually 
had the infamous Superman--yes, you heard me correctly, Superman-
-in /custody/ for a full four minutes.

The camera pans aside, and the destruction comes into view; most 
noticable is a squad car, more or less torn bodily in half, 
laying like a half-squashed potato bug in the middle of the 
Circle.

Becky (off-camera): This is the result of that fateful four 
minutes of justice. Superman is again at large. It seems that the 
Caped Menace was drawn to the area when an unknown person started 
a riot among the homeless and destitute of this very alley by 
giving bizarre handouts and inciting violence.

The panning camera catches a group of cops, including Chief of 
Police Zwyck, having a muted conversation. The camera zooms in 
and the audio is turned up--the only discernible bit of the 
conversation is one cop saying "Sullivan's done it this time! 
He's K.O'ed Superman!" and another replying, "Hey Zwyck, are we 
allowed to finish the contest? My wife wants that t-shirt." Becky 
rushes at the group of cops.

Becky: Excuse me! Officers! Chief Zwyck!

Zwyck: Oh cripes...Beaner! Get the h-

Becky: Chief Zwyck! Did we just hear that someone by the name of 
'Sullivan' was responsible for the capture of The Man of Steel?

Zwyck: No. Go away.

A cop: Holy /crap/, I never would have believed it if I hadn't 
smelled it with my own...uh...nose...

Zwyck: Dammit Schuller shut up-

Schuller (still raving): My god! My /dear God/, he took out 
Superman! Blake Sullivan took out Superman! What is this city 
coming to when a freakshow like Sullivan can-

Zwyck grabs Schuller by the lapels and shakes him into a blur.

Becky backs away. After a moment she turns back to the camera and 
beams.

Becky: "Straight from the horse's mouth! Has the city finally 
found itself a Protector powerful enough to stand up to the likes 
of Superman? And when will he appear again? (She pauses 
dramatically) Um...search me. (Obviously tired, she lowers her 
mic and slumps out of the shot.)

(Okay I don't even know /who/ all was in that scene there were so 
many coming and going. You know who you are. Thanks to Lucius, 
however for bizarre handouts and inciting violence--no, wait! For 
inviting us to the scene in the first place. 8) --Spleen/Blake)