nexus_crossings | The Start of the Storm

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event

The Start of the Storm

The god hosted Yule party left the Nexus in the state of beautiful Winter Wonderland. With the snow falling softly and steadily, and the beautiful festive lights twinkling in the darkness, the Nexus is left with a sense of serene nostalgia hanging in the cold air. This peace and joy clings to the streets for several weeks, buoying everyone’s mood as they look back on the past year and forward to ringing in the new one.

It starts in the Wilds, and the outskirts. The cold air suddenly feels like it freezes everything it touches in an instant. Light doesn’t quite pierce the gloom. Gentle snowfall becomes thick and falls hard. One or two people looking for shelter from their uninhabitable homes isn’t too noticeable. People can still enjoy their pretty Winter, blissfully unaware. Pipes freeze solid, paths become impassable, power cuts out, simple walks become baffling in the poor visibility. Soon it’s not one or two people, it’s many, it’s families. There are people coming in, bloody, bruised and scared, saying they were chased. Eventually the kindness of friends and strangers becomes strained. Spare rooms are packed to the brim and the storm that stays just shy of the bizarre torches somehow seems to have a slow, but unmistakable march closer towards a point where the Plaza, Industrial sector and Downtown meet. On top of that, people are complaining about PINpoints acting up or portals freezing over.

Streets are becoming packed full of people with far more problems than solutions. Huddling together and whispering about ghosts and monsters moving about in the shadows. In a place with no government, no organisation, no collaborative emergency services, chaos and confusion reigns supreme. And with chaos, comes panic. With confusion, comes frustration and anger. The Nexus is a powder keg waiting to blow.

That’s certainly how one Durant sees it. As a manager, Isidor is keen on organisation and order. Both things that are lacking in the Nexus at the moment. Groups pop up to help, but struggle to communicate effectively, or work together. Some people get free food twice, some people are still waiting for some at all. It’s madness, and Isidor can’t stand it. Particularly because she, her brother and sister-in-law are stuck here. So, when nobody else takes the mantle, Isidor Durant takes it upon herself to inject some order into this scrum.

In her fur hat and long coat, leather gloves and thick boots, Isidor can be seen directing people this way and that. There’s something about a confident person taking charge that means people instinctively defer to them. She becomes the point of contact quite easily, with people soon taking her direction regardless of whether or not they know her. Under her instruction, people are directed to a building that has tables set up, queues in front of them, and volunteers behind them taking names and telling people where to go. It might still be chaos, but at least now it’s organised chaos.

The question is: Where will your character go?

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((Below are comments for each desk. Tag any of them, threadhop, or post with your own character. I suggest putting your character’s name in the subject to help keep things clear. Comments marked with a snowflake ( ❅ ) have been coordinated with the mods and I as official event comments. The OOC Post is here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))

Threads of Note
Medicine/Illness | Shelter/Heat | Food | Security/Crime | Lost items/people | Misc resources/Donations | Volunteers | Expeditions | Planning Table/The woman in charge | Drulb's Deelz | A Ship in the Outskirts

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Titan's footsteps fall a little heavier than those of his comrades, but he keeps pace easily enough, following the tracks that lead away from the Plaza. His warm outerwear and natural endurance leave him comfortable, but there's a brief moment of unease following Natasha's little speech. She makes good points, all valid, but his personal priority is to get the medical supplies back to the people who need them. He'd rather not inflict violence unless absolutely necessary.

He catches sight of the flicker of movement up ahead and points to it with his spear. "Someone's up there," he says. "Around the corner."

Matt's just going to assume that little pep talk was more for Prometheus' benefit than his own, especially given the murmur in the other man's heartbeat that speaks of discomfort with what's being said. But it's good to get it all out there before they're in the thick of it, so Daredevil just grips his borrowed batons and nods his agreement.

Winter is definitely his least favorite season to navigate, the crisp outlines of his surroundings melting into a slightly fuzzier approximation under the insulating blanket of powder, with only the sharper echoes of ice to warn him how to best set his feet. He casts his hearing wide, alert for signs of danger through the muffling curtain of fresh snowfall, and turns his head sharply at the crunching of hard-packed crystals under boots, just before Prometheus calls it out.

He narrows his focus in that direction, seeking out the subtler thrum of heartbeats, of breathing, trying to determine if it's just the one, or if there are more waiting to ambush them when they come to investigate.

The heavy crunch of Prometheus' footsteps overshadows the more planned steps their masked companion makes and both in turn muffle the soft crunches of Natasha's own boots in the snow. Hunting in freezing weather isn't ideal, even for the woman trained and raised for such an environment. Her breathing is slow and steady, calm in a way an ordinary person's would not be in such a situation.

For as generous as they're being, Natasha knows they also cannot appear to be weak or passive. A message will be sent. Anyone not interested in peace and order...well. They'd best not pick a fight with their organization.

They're alongside a darkened storefront, it's windows long since broken in. The crunch of glass mixes with the crunch of the snow underfoot and large drifts have already settled inside. All the stores on this stretch of road look the same, long since ransacked and looted of anything worth taking. The tracks are more chaotic now, crisscrossing over each other and darting this way and that through the snow. Matt will notice it first with his hearing the closer they get.

Movement upstairs in the building they're next to. Faint crunches of snow across the street. Shoes or maybe claws? Clanking against fire escapes. There's not just one of these targets. There's a gang of them. Shifting on their feet. Waiting.

"Time to earn our keep." Natasha mutters darkly as she peers into the smashed in storefront. She sees footprints inside and can guess there might be backrooms and upstairs still viable even if the store itself is empty. "We need to find those supplies, I don't care who you beat it out of. I'm going to take a look in here."

It's all the warning they'll get before she's climbing into the smashed window by her lonesome and making her way upstairs. Sorry boys, you're on your own for the moment.

The sight of the damaged storefronts causes a small tug of sorrow in the Titan's chest. It's too easy to wonder about the state of his own studio. He had made sure to take anything of value, but he doubts that would stop anyone desperate enough from breaking in. Ultimately, he can rebuild what he lost, but what of all these merchants who have lost their livelihood to the storm?

He mentally shakes his head, clearing it for the task at hand. Natasha's move into the store is unsurprising, although it would have been nice if they could have talked a little strategy first. He doesn't have Matt's special hearing, but he has noticed the multiple tracks. The thief could have easily passed off the supplies. Who knows who might have it now.

"I'll search the perimeter," he informs Matt. "If I spot anyone, I'll try to herd them your way and cut off their escape route."

Edited 2019-02-02 23:16 (UTC)

It's certainly a harsh aspect of the reality they find themselves in, but Matt can't detect a whiff of any bodies, nor the echoes that'd suggest a grisly surprise buried under one of these snowdrifts. Whoever looted these stores, they did it after their abandonment. Or so he can only assume. But that's a good thing. Things can be replaced, even if one's livelihood is not so easy to get back. People can't be.

Daredevil doesn't turn his head when Natasha suddenly breaks from the group, but he does voice a warning, voice low to avoid unwanted attention. "We're not alone. Stay sharp."

He, too, would have preferred a little consultation, though he has to admit that he's used to operating the exact same way. Working alone is freeing, in a way, not having to worry about keeping track of teammates and keeping them out of trouble. But it has its downsides, too, and without a clear headcount of just how many are waiting in ambush, he's not going to begrudge the backup.

Especially with such a nice offer to chase the potential culprits into the welcoming embrace of his borrowed batons. Daredevil's mouth quirks up in a smile that doesn't have much humor in it, and tilts his head to the other man. "I'll keep an ear out for you. You might want to try that way first," he adds, pointing in the direction where the closest sounds of life are slowly pulsing in the cold, faint but unmistakable to his ears. "I'll scout out a corner to trap them in." Open ground is all well and good, but he prefers shadows and tight corners, and limited escape routes. Makes it harder for the bad guys to get away, until he can take them out at the knees and make sure they aren't going anywhere until he's done with them.

She's counting on them not being alone. They need information or at least the supplies.

Prometheus won't have a hard time finding what is potentially their target. Bundled up figures turn when he looms into the alleyway they're in before breaking into a full sprint to try and get away from the Titan. All of their coats are the same muted shade of red. A gang by the looks of things, eager to be able to differentiate themselves form any potential enemies enough to be selective about their winter wear. Of course, with so many department stores trashed they probably had their pick of the clothing.

Probably human based on the way they move and react Daredevil will note. This isn't the same kind of bogeyman monster rumors that have started to trickle about the refugees. These are people looking to take advantage of each other. That's something both titan and vigilante will know all too well.

As soon as the figures run from him, Prometheus gives chase. He doesn't bother shouting, "Stop!" or "Hold it right there!" For one, he knows that they won't listen, and for another, he'd rather not give away his position in case any more of their red-clothed buddies are lying in wait elsewhere.

Of course, a group of people running is bound to make some noise. The nice thing about alleyways is that there aren't many directions to run off to. At least not horizontal ones. These characters seem human to the Titan, so he's not terribly concerned about them suddenly taking flight or slithering up the wall. All the same, he holds his spear out, jabbing at them like a farmer might do with a cattle prod, herding the lot of them around the corner and hopefully into Daredevil's vicinity.

One thing of note is that he is not as vicious with those stabs as he could be. He's not trying to impale them, simply corral them.

Finding a place to conceal himself is relatively easy, and while Daredevil is used to ambushing his targets from above, ground level seems safer all around for everybody. Whoever's in the lead might get a second's warning as the batons snap to life, crackling with electricity, and Matt darts out to jab at the target's solar plexus to knock the wind out of him (or her). He doesn't sit still to listen to what happens next, already in motion towards the next person, cracking his borrowed batons at knees and ribs, aiming to subdue the entire group as swiftly as possible.

He's making an effort to restrain himself from inflicting more serious injury - gotta have conscious captives to question - but if any of them are armed, and go for a weapon, they might get their hand broken in short order.

There's plenty of shoes crunching and sliding through the snow and hard packed ice as they scuttle back toward one of the more intact stores on this street. A base of operations perhaps, or at least a staging area. Both of them are armed, though they're not so eager to fight Prometheus directly when the odds are only two on one. This is the Nexus after all.

A place where literal gods walk the streets.

There's safety in numbers.

They shout as they run, hurling swears and obscenities at Prometheus as if it will make him stop routing them. Attracting the attention of their mates. Unluckily for all involved, Prometheus isn't here alone. They round the corner and the lead man takes a shock baton directly to the chest. The localized shock has him crumpling to the ground with a yelp of panic laced with very real pain. Enough time for his buddy to think about grabbing for his knife before he's catching the same shock sticks to the back of his knees. He'd be dropping even if it wasn't for the slippery conditions.

Prometheus may have a pause to consider checking if the men are alright but Daredevil will hear more incoming. Three more people are heading outside to find out what the fuss is all about. Neither man will be caught unaware when the sound of a pistol firing and immediately hitting the brick wall a good half a foot away from the men goes off. Not everyone's had time to train with those weapons they've stolen yet, okay?

The swears mean little to Prometheus. Although he would rather no one lose a life over the situation, he has little sympathy for those who would steal medical supplies for monetary gain. So when Daredevil takes out both with the electric batons, he's nothing but approving. Shock first, ask questions later.

Unfortunately, there's no time to question the men. Not with three more people joining the fray. He instinctively raises his shield at the sound of gunfire. Whoever is wielding the pistol is not very good on it, based on that poor shot, but a projectile weapon does have an advantage at a distance.

Time to take that advantage away.

"I'll draw their fire," he informs Matt before heading towards them. He runs at an angle, shield up, his heavy step cracking any spots of ice rather than sliding on them. He has his spear extended, and whoever heads for him is going to have to deal with its sharp tip if they want to get close enough to attack him.

Oh goody, guns. Daredevil's favorite. Thank God they can't seem to aim, though Matt doesn't exactly want to count on that meaning he's not going to get shot through sheer dumb luck. At least Prometheus has a shield, although whether it's bulletproof or not remains to be seen. Or heard, as the case may be.

"Got it." He heads for the closest cover, as if trying to duck out of the way of any better-aimed bullets, but his real goal is finding a more concealed way forward to circle around behind the new party crashers and introduce their faces to the floor. At least they're easy to track by sound, between the harsh breathing that comes with chilled lungs, and the fumbling with the gun, though his ears ring annoyingly after every shot. The gunman is his top priority, no matter how crap of a shot he is, and this time Daredevil attacks with full intent of breaking the man's wrist. Tasing the shit out of him along the way is just a bonus at this point. Not that he'll likely have time to appreciate the screaming, since he has to immediately turn his wrath on the other two, all his remaining senses alert to defend himself against any counterattacks, if they're not taken by surprise like he plans.

Another gunshot rings out, this one fainter and not nearby. The shouting that comes after it is likewise muffled and faint. Easily unnoticed in the immediate fray of the fight unfolding down on the ground level across the street. They're not here to play at being an even match for these thugs nor to draw out a game of cat and mouse. Prometheus may not be at his True size but he towers over these men when he charges them down like a legionnaire out of an ancient world with how familiar he is wielding his spear and shield. Daredevil may not have his old suit with the same reds as these thugs bear or the arched back horns marking him as the Devil of Hell's kitchen but he is a wraith among them as they scatter, snapping bones and lashing out with devastating shocks that lock up the muscles. Leaving their attackers whimpering in the snow.

And Natasha? She doesn't need a suit or heels to stand tall over the man cradling his bleeding arm in the second story office where she's found him. All she needs is the empty gaze of a shark intent on devouring its prey when she raises her gun again to his face, letting him know that she will feel nothing for ending his life if he doesn't speak.

They should fear the people they've made into their enemies. For as altruistic as many who call the Nexus their home or stomping grounds can be they are also dangerous. Monstrous, depending on who you ask.

"W-wait, wait nngh please. Please don't impale m-me or break my wrist oh shit oh fuck--" By now the second thug who got taken out by the knees is upright and trying to scoot back to put as much distance between himself and Prometheus and Daredevil as he can. "I give up!"

In the heat of battle, Prometheus keeps his cool. He has not fought in some time, but his body remembers the steps. The swing of the spear, the heft of the shield. His weapons are not magical, and a couple of bullets clip the shield, denting the metal, but better that than the Titan's flesh. A bullet wound wouldn't slow him down, but it would still hurt like it would any mortal.

Once Daredevil incapacitates the gun-wielder, he slips the shield back onto his back so he can wield his spear two-handed. He feels almost superfluous compared to his companion's excellent fighting skills, but that's okay. So long as they can get the information they seek.

Holding the spear in a ready position, he tromps up to the thug, cornering him against the side of the building. "Good," he says sternly, like a school principal dealing with a teenage delinquent. "I'll spare you the lecture of how crime doesn't pay and you can tell us where your gang stashed those stolen medical supplies."

Daredevil doesn't have any kind of restraints to put these men in, but fortunately, it doesn't look like it's necessary. Between those still shaking from the aftershocks of the taser batons, those who've found their legs suddenly quite unwilling to hold them upright, and the searing pain that comes with bones that've been snapped in half like twigs, Matt feels confident that the fight has been rather taken out of them all in a hurry.

He retrieves the gun, and while he's tempted to simply unload it and scatter the ammunition in a snowdrift somewhere, they're better off holding onto it instead. So he finds the safety, and stows the weapon in a pocket, giving the area one last sweep with his senses to make sure everyone is down and staying that way before he joins Prometheus, ignoring the pained groans of the other gang members who're still conscious.

Daredevil sets himself at the titan's elbow like a shadow, head cocked slightly to one side as he zeroes in on the thug's heartbeat. "Don't even think about lying," he adds in a low growl. "I'll know." In his hands, the batons crackle menacingly in warning.

There's a whole lot of whimpering, crying, and wetting themselves going on here which really isn't a great idea considering they're getting wet from all the snow they're toppled over in anyway but that's hardly Daredevil or Prometheus' problem, now is it?

They could have had a nice warm shelter with the rest of the refugees in the Plaza but no. Now they get to live with the consequences of their actions. Including broken bones which will ironically need medical attention.

"W-we were gonna sell 'em man. Make some cash and hole up until this b-blew over." The sniveling man sitting on his ass in the snow makes a rather undignified high pitched whine when he sees the shock batons crackle. Regrets, he has many. "Th'shot callers have the goods all wrapped up for drop off at the Insani-Tee store j-just up th-the street. They're watchin' over it."

His back's against the wall. There's no further he can scoot his filthy behind to get away from either man. He shakes his head quickly.

"Th-that's it that's all there is." He's afraid and he wants to get out of this intact. Whatever happens now is on the gang members above him. Course, snitching isn't something that's looked well on. He's probably going to have to run very far to get away from his own now.

The criminal's theatrics soften Prometheus's expression ever so slightly. There's little pity for these men, but their cowardice and lack of ethics is embarrassing. Besides, none of them have the medical supplies with them. They aren't worth the hassle.

Keeping his spear pointed at the terrified thief, he says to Daredevil, "If this man is telling the truth, it would behoove us to move on to that store as soon as possible, before the supplies change hands again. And as much as I'd prefer to round up these troubled young men and march them off to the Plaza for detainment and medical attention, I don't believe we should split up."

It'd be great if Natasha showed up right about now. He'd prefer consensus on this plan.

If the thieves had stolen the supplies because they had an actual need, Matt might have felt a twinge of sympathy. Not much of one, granted, but it would've been a better reason than just greed.

Pathetic.

At least this thug's honest, now that he's had his bravado beaten out of him. The panicked heartbeat is full of fear, but not lies. "Oh, he is. Smart choice." It's not really a compliment, and Daredevil doesn't even try to make it sound like one.

He too would rather drop off these idiots to somebody in authority, but they've already got their hands full as it is, and Daredevil is pretty confident that these morons aren't ready to cause trouble again in the immediate future. At least until the bones knit back together. And hey, they have identifiable injuries, if he's wrong about that. So he just nods once, keeping an ear out in Natasha's direction to find where she's gotten herself off to, without tipping off the thieves that there's more than just the two men around. "Agreed." He tilts his head toward the cornered thief, and shifts his grip on the baton. "As for you, don't let us catch you doing this again unless you'd rather eat your meals through a straw for the next couple months."

That far off gunshot wasn't joined by any more and Daredevil's going to hear one of the thugs getting up and making a run for it before anything else. Probably to warn their superiors if the direction's anything to go by. He only makes it to the end of the block before a trash can lid gets slid under his footing and sends the man dropping hard into the snow. He barely makes it to his feet before Natasha is on him, hitting him once just below the man's ribs to take away his breath before knocking him out with a single blow to the head.

She'd love to break bones and curbstomp the thug's leg but the message is well sent already seeing the unconscious and whimpering bodies strewn about the street. Natasha's gaze flits up to meet Prometheus' before falling on Daredevil though it won't linger there. There's little point to stare a man down who can't see it, after all.

"Buildings are clear on this block. Goods aren't here."

Ah, the woman of the hour has arrived. Prometheus greets her with a brief nod, his spear at the ready in case another one of these ruffians decides to do something stupid. Better a whack from the blunt end of his spear than whatever either of his companions would care to dish out.

"You checked the Insani-Tee?" he asks, nary a stumble of amusement over the silly store name. "This gentleman here claims that as the drop-off point for the supplies."

"He also said it's under guard," Daredevil adds, though he rather doubts that news will come as a surprise. It'd be stupid to leave valuable supplies sitting around where anyone could find them, especially for ones who stole them in the first place. "By the 'shot-callers.'" Which means if they find the goods, they find the brains behind this operation too.

"Oh, they talked too?" The spy clicks her tongue in clear disapproval for their enemies. Maybe even a hint of disdain for making her come out here in the first place for such a weak willed effort. When you're used to HYDRA and world ending armies as your opponents, a comparatively easy job feels like a set up. Rather than complacency, Natasha finds herself waiting for the other shoe to fall. "The store's up past this block. Small place, would be easy to guard. Front entrance has floor to ceiling windows to entice moody teens inside for irreverent or music related clothing. Back entrance will be inconspicuous and lead to the alley."

While they march up the street Natasha points out a store of similar design to Prometheus, in case he's never been into a strip mall clothing store before. By description alone she's confident Daredevil has an idea of the kind of place they're dealing with. Small cramped fighting spaces with lots of funnel points and environmental hazards and only two viable entrance or exit points.

In other words, between the three of them they should be able to ensure that no one else escapes to go summon more backup. Nat looks between the two men a few times before nodding toward Prometheus in approval.

"You're the largest and have the most reach with that spear. Take the front entrance and don't let anyone past. He and I will rush in from the back and try to take them out quickly, but there's going to be runners and Im counting on you to stop them by any means necessary. Be ready to shield and dodge though-- guns are definitely going to be a thing. Not for long, but."

Prometheus has seen such stores before, but a refresher is appreciated. Already he's taking into consideration the points of entry and exit and how those large windows might come into play. When Natasha vocalizes a role for him, he can't find a flaw in her plan. He does have the most reach, and he is the largest -- he can be quite larger, actually, but that would make him a bigger target to be shot at, which he'd prefer to avoid. Regardless, this woman knows how to strategize.

"Well, I have the shield for it." He pats the reinforced metal shield on his back. "It can take a few more shots if necessary. I'll make sure no one gets away." Especially not with the medical supplies, which is the main point of this venture.

Small, enclosed spaces are one of Daredevil's favorite places to work, and a slightly wicked grin pulls at his lips in anticipation. These bastards are going to regret their life choices by the time they're through with them.

The building is easy to single out once they get close enough, and Matt tilts his head slightly, mapping out and counting heartbeats, murmuring their locations to Natasha before they even enter the premises. There's enough subtle sounds bouncing around to give him a general idea of the store's layout, and a shelving unit near the door catches his ear, something that could be easily toppled to block the back exit. It's going to be noisy as hell, but the element of surprise only lasts so long anyway.

And then Prometheus is in position, and it's go time.

The back door flies open, and Natasha is inside in a flash, zeroing in on the spot where Daredevil had pinpointed the closest goon. Before the confusion that's erupting can give way to comprehension, Daredevil slips inside too, and heaves the shelving unit in front of the door with a crash. Gunshots ring out, and he ducks behind another display rack to break line of sight, snapping on his batons and swiftly closing the distance to the biggest threat.

He counts three guns in play - no, two, as Natasha lands a solid blow to her opponent's wrist hard enough to snap it like a wet branch, now armed with a broken pipe from shattered shelves. One's almost out of ammo already, panic-firing at the intruders and nearly ready to click dry, so Daredevil goes for the other one first. Disarming him is easy, twisting the baton into the man's forearm and flinging it outward hard enough to jar the weapon free, but this one seems tougher than the spineless sycophants they steamrolled earlier, not afraid to use his fists.

Good. A man after Daredevil's own heart.

What follows is almost more like a dance than a fight, Natasha and Matt harrying the men like a pair of wolves on the hunt, drawing attention one way only to attack from the other. A leg sweep from her leads one goon to split his chin on Daredevil's upswept baton, a body blow from him staggers another straight into Natasha's waiting thigh choke. Back to back, attacked from both sides at once, they pivot around and fend off blows meant for each other, always moving, always adapting.

It's too much for some of them to take. Outmatched, watching the intruders methodically beat their comrades down bit by bit, two of them make a dash for the front entrance, another trying his luck at the rear until he sees the mess that blocks the way out.

At first, it's nothing but the sounds of a real ruckus to Prometheus's ears, but he doesn't leave his post, knowing that the two inside have the situation covered. Besides, soon enough there is activity headed his way, namely a pair of gang members who are determined to cut their losses and make their escape.

Good luck with that, gentlemen.

Prometheus blocks the door, striking one in the face with the butt of his spear, swinging it around and clocking him again before he has a chance to defend himself. It leaves the man dazed and groaning as he staggers back, but Prometheus does not get a chance to hit him a third time in a row, as his companion has come up with an alternative method of evacuation.

The store's large windows had long since been shattered by looters and then boarded up by the thieves. This man, stronger than the other, has ripped off some of the plywood and is leveling his gun at the Titan through the opening.

Quickly, Prometheus raises his shield. Gunfire rings out in rapid succession, but the man is nervous, and only one shot hits it mark, denting the metal and making the Titan swear in ancient Greek.

While the man swears and tries to reload, Prometheus is on him in a flash. He grabs the man by the arm and drags him through the plywood opening. It's unfortunately not big enough for him, so the rest of the plywood cracks and splinters around him. Surprised by the Titan's strength, he doesn't have any time to react before Prometheus heaves him up one-handed and throws him forcefully against the wall of the building. The man slides to the ground, conscious but concussed, with a few broken ribs for good measure.

Then Prometheus turns and catches the other thug by the legs with his spear as he tries to sneak past. He tumbles face first into the hard-packed snow and Prometheus whacks him with the blunt end of the spear a few times to keep him there. "Stay down -- both of you -- if you know what's good for you!" he demands.

All he gets in reply are groans from the man who met the wall, and a whimpered, "Y-yes, sir..." from the one in the snow.

Edited (homonyms!) 2019-03-03 18:18 (UTC)

An explosion of glass and trinkets scatters across the industrial grade carpet filling a good third of the store with difficult and dangerous terrain as the larger thugs Natasha had been determinedly choking out manages to get a solid hold on her coat and heaves the woman up and over his shoulder, slamming her into the glass encased counter near the register with all of his weight.

Her many layers provide a bit of protection from the blow. The only lacerations she takes are shallow and hidden beneath her gear but the force of the maneuver still forces the air out of her lungs in a ragged bark of breath she's struggling to draw back in.

Instinct takes over long enough for Natasha to weakly roll herself away and onto the floor with another loud Fwump! before the very metal bar she'd been using as a weapon crashes into the spot she'd been laying only half a second before. The spy is getting her feet underneath her but it's slow. Dangerous. Making her a target.

If Prometheus spends time looking inside at the commotion and turn of the fight's tide he might find himself missing how the not-concussed thug is slowly reaching for the gun his buddy dropped into the snow.

The Start of the Storm

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Definitely not so i can spend a tag writing npcs coherently!

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breaking posting order by request

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