Wrong place, wrong time. [OPEN]
Who: Rex Salazar (naniteknight) and OPEN
When: Saturday night, July the 9th
Where: Near the public market.
Format: Starting with prose, but I'll match whoever tags in, prose or action!
What: Rex falls victim to an angry mob, pulled down and captured like a common animal.
Warnings: TL;DR to start and mob violence! I'll edit this if it happens to get worse. ( ( Read more... )
When: Saturday night, July the 9th
Where: Near the public market.
Format: Starting with prose, but I'll match whoever tags in, prose or action!
What: Rex falls victim to an angry mob, pulled down and captured like a common animal.
Warnings: TL;DR to start and mob violence! I'll edit this if it happens to get worse. ( ( Read more... )
Some, probably thinking it was a gun, or other attack, reared back. Some who had been covertly sympathetic to Rex cried out, thinking someone must have struck a fatal blow.
But all weapons were, momentarily, arrested mid-motion as everyone blinked off their shock. Then realised there was someone else standing in their circle who hadn't been there before.
Someone more than one of them recognised immediately. Someone who had cultivated being recognisable among Anatoleans. It was why he'd stayed out of the street this long: no matter his unthreatening, even pathetic, appearance, he would not be able to blend in. He was known quite specifically as one of the Scorched who made a point of outreach with Anatoleans.
That probably wasn't what gave anyone pause in attacking him. Rex had fought and defended Anatoleans as much, and as visibly, as this man had; both had friends and workfellows in peacetime. Maybe this Scorched was particularly determined to shop at Anatolean-owned stores with clockwork regularity, at the public market every week, actively engaging vendors and fellow shoppers in conversation and courtesies; and he had made it a part of his job to serve Anatoleans at the Clinic, a noncombatant action-and indeed employed some of them there.
But that wasn't what made the difference right now. It was the fact that he was an unthreateningly pathetic figure, unmuscular, dressed like a librarian, with grey-flecked hair, crooked and bent like an old man. It made him an unappetising target for this drama. There was glory in defeating a warrior, even one as young as Rex, whose youth was offset by being thoroughly bedecked in threateningly unidentifiable gadgetry (whether or not most of it was actually weaponry was almost beside the point). Striking a victim like this spindly, apparently unarmed man, undermined rather than reinforced the perceived strength of the attackers.
Yet he'd appeared out of thin air-a display of exactly the kind of unfair advantage the Scorched lorded over Anatoleans-and directly in front of Rex, the powerful Scorched they had baited and fought and trapped were so close to bringing down-nevermind the build-up, he could well regroup and attack them.
Plus, some of these may have at least once fought alongside this scarecrow, and knew not to be fooled by his appearance.
So it was only a momentary hesitation, before a hammer was swung at the new arrival.
The blow stuck in midair.
The wielder yelled in astonishment, and tried to pry the hammer out of the air. It was as if it had lodged firmly into… what?
Well, a modified shield charm is what.
Lupin, wand in hand, stepped directly in front of Rex, looking directly into the eyes of every mob member in sight. Then turned his back on all of them.
Keeping one palm open in their direction to maintain the shield, he pointed his wand at Rex to sever the ropes and unlock the chains.
[ooc: Spells used:
- apparition
- protego corpora, Lupin's variation on the Shield Charm (see linked thread-esp. that its protection/blocking works both ways, those outside can't affect those inside and vice versa)
- diffindo on the ropes
- alohomora on the chains (which per the movies works on locks that aren't in doors, too).
I'm considering the mob your NPCs, btw, if you like...!]
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Rex was just coming to grips with the fact that he was going to have to do something out of desperation (if his nanites were even up to cooperating) when a loud CRACK rang out. His eyes widened at the sight of the man who had suddenly appeared in front of him, someone who he had seen a number of times via the Forge network. Rex had never conversed with Remus, though he made a mental note to change that after they'd gotten away from the mob.
He watched as Lupin held their attackers at bay, then turned to remove the ropes and chains. As soon as his restraints fell away, Rex collapsed to his knees, the Smackhands deteriorating into useless heaps of metal. Never one to stay down for long, Rex forced himself back to his feet, sore and bruised. His lower arms flashed with brief bursts of neon blue, the EVO testing the waters to see if his nanites would respond to a build command or not. When nothing happened, it was clear that his powers were in a temporary flatline state... Hopefully one that would only last a minute or two, tops.
For the first time, the mob appeared hesitant. Uncertain. Granted, there were only two Scorched in front of them, but the invisible wall blocking their path served as a decent deterrent for the moment.
"Thanks," Rex said as he gave up on building out, moving stand near Lupin. "I was trying not to hurt any of them."
His gaze fell on the apparent ring leader, the man who had stopped him in the first place, though his words remained directed at Lupin. Rex's expression hardened as he wiped the blood from his cheek on one jacket sleeve. "So how messed up is this? They call us the monsters and then start trashing property and attacking Scorched."
"It's due payback for the all the times you have brought suffering on Anatole!" came the quick retort, the man using his club to point at both Rex and Lupin. "We want you gone!"
((OOC: Feel free to make use of angry people in the mob if you need them for anything. I'm game for pretty much anything that could happen in this kind of scenario. X3 ))
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His face registered how saddening it was that he so quickly found what he was looking for: people he knew.
He didn't name them. To single them out would be little better than attacking them; but for each who met his eyes with intensified glares, others winced and looked away.
"I know some of us have discussed," said Lupin, his voice carrying though he didn't seem to raise it, "how attacking a symptom does nothing to cure."
Those who'd had that conversation, when they'd brought loved ones to be treated by Shirley and Lupin at the Clinic, withered all the more
"Don't let him speak!" someone shouted. "He'll cast a spell on you!"
"He already has!"" shouted another, striking at the invisible shield. It didn't make the kind of satisfying noise he'd been hoping to prove the point, but he left the club stuck in mid-air, which was unnerving enough for those who could see. "Both of them! Hiding behind powers!"
Of course, putting focus back on Rex could be a bit of a mistake here. With Lupin the prematurely aged beside him, Rex looked even younger by comparison.
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"So what're you waiting for?! He can't stop us all! Hit it till it brea---!"
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Livid with rage, the son-less father whirled. And felt the fight drain with the very blood from his face.
The man with a scar over his left eye, towering well over most of the Natives gathered, was one of the Scorched. In the nigh-twelve months he'd been here, this one had made a reputation for himself aboveground and below. Anatole could sum that reputation up to varying levels of consistency. Some called him hero. Others, meddler. Monster. Ruffian. Man of the People.
Call him what you will. But his Native supporters and detractors all agreed on one thing.
You did not try to provoke Trevor Belmont.
Just as some of them had withered at Remus' words, this one did so under the hunter's glare. He swallowed, took a step back, and lowered his mallet. The others rallied around him shoulder to shoulder, their fury tainted with doubt even though they found security in numbers. Maybe, just maybe, they were were starting to remember this bruiser was the righteous type. And what they'd been doing--- beating on a teenage boy and attempting the same on an aged wizard--- was decidedly unrighteous.
What was more, he'd brought company.
Trevor spared the barest glance over his shoulder. Towards those who'd answered his call to save Rex. He held an open hand to the side and waved it once. Weapons down., the gesture said. He'd fully expected to lead them straight into a fight to reach the boy, but Remus had done very well in blunting their wrath. No need to light this fire.
And just to lead by example, he did nothing to draw the whip at his side. His skill with it had become the stuff of barroom mythology. He could've used that to cow these misguided sheep. But it spoke volumes about the man when he chose not to.
"Let our friends go." His voice was as low and calm as Remus' had been, though with an undercurrent of steel he couldn't quite suppress. "We don't want any trouble."
And neither do you., was the unspoken part.
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Still that was a lot of people. Hopefully the other gentleman could keep them calm enough to let them get Rex to safety. At Trevor's gesture, Gwen slowed her run to a walk, and then stopped by his side - no weapons were visible on her person, but she didn't need them.
Remus and Trevor seemed to have things well in hand so far, so Gwen said nothing, only searched faces and kept an alert glance for anyone else that intended to join the fray. Her hands flexed uneasily at the tension present.
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Though some fell back a little at Lupin's words, others attempted to kick the mob's momentum up again, both to the front and rear. The sudden appearance of Gwen and Trevor in back stilled a good number of them. Rex felt his own stomach sink just a little at the sight of the tall, scarred Scorched. To have Lupin bail him out was bearable, but this was not the kind of situation he cared to have Trevor catch him in. Rex's reasons for not retaliating were sound, yet he managed to feel rather low for requiring help, regardless. This incident would likely not serve to elevate Trevor's opinion of him all that much.
"A lot of us don't want to be here," he said suddenly, feeling as though someone had to finish defusing the situation. "If you really want us gone, work with us, not against us. Find a way to help us get out of here."
He spared Lupin a quick glance before finding Gwen and Trevor in the crowd again, then let his gaze rove over the gathered Anatolians. "I know what it's like to lose people. My parents were murdered when I was ten years old. And what family I've got left is back home without me. Do you really think I wanna be here when I could be at home with them? I didn't ask for these powers, I didn't ask to be what I am and I definitely didn't ask to end up in Anatole.
"So let's drop this. Fighting is just going to hurt everyone."
A small handful people near the back suddenly decided to take their leave, though whether they were swayed by the words of the Scorched in their midst or the Scorched themselves was unclear. The ring leader looked from Trevor and Gwen to Lupin and Rex. He lowered his club as he took a step in retreat, but his eyes remained narrowed.
"This isn't over until every single one of you is out of our city. Remember that."
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She had to make sure Rex was all right.
The glowing baton kept the group of natives from attacking outright with their crude weapons, but Quorra still had to execute a few threatening lunges to get them to move out of her way. She ran at a wall, kicked off it and soumersalted over the last couple blocking the mouth of the alley, landing swiftly on her feet and breaking into a run.
She reached the square in time to see Trevor, the man from the Forge broadcast, looming over the crowd and gesturing for them to lower their weapons. The blade of light retracted into the baton, and Quorra held it loosely at her side, standing still as the Anatolians around the fringe of the crowd started to disperse, giving her a wide berth and a considerable amount of nasty looks. Some hefted their weapons threateningly, but they didn't attack.
Deftly, Quorra wove her way through the rest of them, towards Trevor and the others, towards Rex. She was relieved to see he was still standing.
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Lupin watched the crowd disperse for a few minutes. Only when he was satisfied they weren't about to resurge did he lower his hand and dissolve the shield. Trevor, Quorra, and Gwen, now across an empty space from them, became a little clearer to see.
If he noticed them (or Io) he didn't show. Lupin turned instantly to Rex.
Simultaneously he was looking Rex over, particularly where he'd been bound, asking briskly, "Are you injured?"; but also resting his hand on Rex's shoulder and saying, "Very well done."
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"That pig-headed ..." Gwen muttered under her breath, fists tightening slightly. She wasn't as rash as her cousin or Kevin, but the man's last words still stung.
Once the crowd had begun to clear, Gwen sprinted over towards Remus and Rex, worried. "Is he all right?" Then the same to the other boy, remembering the words he'd spoken to the crowd. "Rex...?"
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He stood like the long-gone Colossus of Rhodes, keeping an eye on every single departing Native. He'd been first, after Remus, to come running into this crisis. He made sure now that he was the last out of it. Dracula's first slayer didn't move until the rioters were a safe distance away. Only then did he let a silent sigh of relief escape his lips. That the situation had resolved this way was an utter miracle.
By now, Gwen had moved ahead, Maybe Quorra too. That was fine. There'd be time to thank them later. As it was, the only one who probably received the nod of acknowledgment he threw over his shoulder was a cloaked figure he all but knew to be Lady Lust. He moved now to join the other Scorched. And when he looked upon Rex's ravaged frame of half-man half-machine... he felt like Isaac had stabbed him in the back and left him for dead all over again.
It should have been HIM. The boy didn't deserve this.
"Easy, lad. You've had a rough time." There was anger in those blue eyes at what had been done to Rex. But there was plenty of pride too as he offered a strong shoulder for the young hero to lean on. And a little shame. Would Trevor have been so merciful in Rex's place?
The eyes then met Remus' and the pride became praise. "How bad is it?
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He clearly recalled the last time he'd lost his temper in a crowd of angry people. Back then, it hadn't been ropes, chains and clubs that had assaulted him, but an armored bus. Hunter Cain's men ran him down with it, only to have their vehicle jacked up by an angry EVO and slammed into the pavement. Rex had slashed the bus in half length-wise with one swing of his sword, then dissected the rest of it with his buzz saw. Cain had used that temper tantrum to his advantage later. He said it proved how dangerous Rex was, how all EVOs were... To retaliate against the natives of Anatole would have provided them the same type of ammunition to use later.
He forced himself to remain in place rather then pull away from Lupin's hand where it came to rest on his shoulder. He didn't want to seem ungrateful, yet the entire incident had left Rex with a bad taste in his mouth and suddenly he wanted to be as far away from everyone as possible. Given Gwen and Quorra were approaching with Trevor on their heels, however, he wasn't sure that was an option.
"I'm fine," he responded flatly, not particularly wanting further attention. He'd earned himself an impressive black eye, as well as a rough scrape across one cheek. The blood from the wound had ceased to flow, his nanites coming out of their crash to start sealing the skin back up. Rex's clothes were dirtied and torn in a few places, the skin beneath bruised, yet it was very likely that all of his wounds would be healed by noon of the next day.
"Thanks...for the help," Rex continued after a moment's hesitation, glancing from one fellow to Scorched to another briefly if just to recognize their part in breaking things up, though he found it a real challenge to look Trevor in the eye at all. Frustrated with himself, he cast his gaze aside and noticed that a few people were still watching cautiously from a distance. It was then he couldn't help but pull away from Lupin. "Listen, I think we're too many Scorched in one place. They're still watching. We should break this up and get out of here."
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He spared a moment to look around at all of them and said, "Thank you. We struck a very delicate balance there. It wouldn't have worked if every single one of us hadn't performed admirably." He made eye contact with each of them, Quorra, Trevor, Gwen, and Rex, whether they'd been forced into an active role or a relatively passive one. His words made it clear it had been a vitally important whole.
He finished with a nod to Trevor, the only person he'd actually met before today, then turned again to Rex. "Especially you. It's poor reward for how incredibly well you've handled yourself today, and what you've endured, but I would consider it a great favour if you'd come back with me to the Clinic, for a little while."
He didn't say anything about care-physical being taken care of by Rex's own mechanics, psychological possibly more helpful-but instead nodded to indicate the pedestrians still watching.
"And if I-or possibly we-" another nod around the group, "could be seen to help you there. It wouldn't hurt for them to have one last pang at what they nearly did. Their last impression of this group could be an errand of support and mercy rather than a conspiracy of supernatural strength."
He hoped Rex understood that Lupin was asking him to be an actor. Not actually doubting or demeaning his self-sufficiency.
Briefly: "And if anyone wants a shortcut home from the Clinic, I can take you." Not much chance of that, with this group-luckily ability matched pride-but he made the offer anyway.
(Not least because he did see Io hanging back.)
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She stands on the fringes of the crowd, and it's unsure if she'd be okay with spearing them or not, should they do any more damage.
Let them take their chances if they wish. For now she's just watching.
Feels just like old times.]
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As the rest of the throng sifts away, the two of them are left almost alone on the same strip of sidewalk.
He doesn't know about her, but he's staring at the group of five Scorched. What's left when rim and eye came together to suffocate the storm.]
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---oh. Yes. Now she can.
A part of her had wanted a reason to strike.
She silently wonders if it would have made her feel better.]
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He turns away, self-assigned observer still; and his eyes flash to Lust's.
He looks pointedly away and starts walking past her, his head down. But in the moment they're side by side he murmurs to her,]
Should get inside.
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