Summary:The one where Vegemite the VeggieKnight and his faithful steed Tomaterror attack a sandwich-fest in Central Park. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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There are many reasons to come to Central Park. Walking the dog, jogging, taking in fresh air, reading in the park. Or, in this case, the grand opening of Tony Ramboli's Super Sandwiches! Because of this, they have gone all out. There are food trucks that have rented out an area of the park to hand out half price sandwiches of all types. Which are, of course, super themed. Including the mascot, SuperSan, and his arch rival, The Spicy Meatballer. They have costumes. Also SuperSan's sidekick, The San-Witch. Who has a suitably skimpy outfit that looks like it belongs at the after party at Comicon. Good sandwiches though! TErrible, terrible marketing, but good sandwiches. And a good sized crowd.
Brunnhilde is here, not so much for the sandwiches, but for the Happy Hour drinks. Which she is finding….less than impressive. "…I could get a cup of water from the river and get more of a buzz than this…" the dusky redhead mutters, eyeing the mug she's mostly emptied in one gulp.
Fandral is totally there for the sandwiches. He leans up against the side of a food truck not far from Brunnhilde. He's dressed in his out-amongst-the-Midgardians clothes today — jeans, boots, a t-shirt for the warm weather. He doesn't even have a sword on him at the moment (though there's probably a blade or two hidden somewhere). He has a spicy meatballer and seems to be devouring it like one who hasn't eaten in a week. "You know Midgardian spirits are never going to slake that particular thirst."
Avril is … not at all here for sandwiches. If anything, when she comes into sight of the food trucks and the crowd surrounding them, she's a little taken aback, and just halts for a moment or two, blinking, on the path she's been strolling her way through the park on. "Well, that's something you don't see every day," she says, even though one probably could in fact see this every day in New York if one cared to. It's the thought that counts.
But hey! Once the moment of surprise passes, she makes her way over toward the trucks to see what exactly might be going on. After all, it might be neat! And one more young woman in blue jeans and a gray cotton pullover isn't going to cause any heart attacks.
Of the many activities one can do in the park, the one Jennifer Walters is currently engaged in is jogging. Central Park is great for jogging. It's huge, there's no traffic, plenty of nature to get lost in…. Sure you run the risk of being mugged, but this is New York. You take that risk just by stepping outside.
It's a little late for people to be jogging, though, but with Jen's busy schedule this is the only time she can squeeze in some exercise. She's in white jogging shorts, a purple top with matching running shoes, with her hair tied up in a pony tail to keep it out of her eyes. She's got her phone strapped to an arm, and some wireless earbuds popped into her ears. She's jogging as her Jennifer Walters self, and not her She-Hulk self because she would have to jog for a day and a half to burn any calories if she was big and green.
Jennifer is happily jogging on her merry way when she stumbles across the big event. She slows down and stops once the crowd gets a bit too much, and panting for breath she just shakes her head helplessly as the assault on her olfactory senses proves to be just too much. "Oh, well. There goes all the calories I just burned." But then she spies a familiar face. One that she's seen frequently at The Store. "FANDRAL!" she calls out to him, waving a hand.
Brunnhilde frowns a bit, then mutters and just upends the rest of her drink into the grass, before crumping the cup and tossing it towards a nearby trash can. Perhaps the food will be better? Hmmm." She eyes the Sand-witch as she performs what seems to be magic tricks…mostly three card monte but with sandwich coupons. Though she suspects a good chunk of those crowding around her are doing so because of the way she tends to lean forward over the 'magic' cups when she's mixing them around and how low cut her witch's dress is in many cases.
She starts to make her way over then brakes as she nearly walks into Avril, frowning at herself for getting distracted, her hands coming up to cushion the impact as she backs up. "..ah…sorry…" she mutters. "WAsn't paying attention." That and she's used to people just getting out of her way most times.
Fandral hears his name being called out nearby and he lifts his head from his sandwich to look around. Spotting Jennifer, he lifts a hand and gives her a wave in greeting. "Jennifer! Have you met…?" he starts to ask but then Brunnhilde is walking away toward the food and he chuckles. "Well, that's Brunnhilde at any rate. I'm sure she'll be back around when she's found something to her liking. Are you going to have a sandwich?"
Oops! Avril isn't really paying any better attention to where /she's/ going, so she comes alarmingly close to just walking right into Brunnhilde. But fortunately just close, as she's able to screech to a metaphorical halt, looking acutely embarrassed. "No, no," she says hastily, her manner instantly apologetic, "I wasn't really paying attention, either. My fault as much as yours." She smiles, as much to hide her embarrassment as to be friendly. "You all right? Wasn't expecting to find quite so many people on my evening walk, but it's kind of a nice change." She glances back over toward where Fandral and Jennifer are located, though more to be looking somewhere else than to look at them specifically.
Jennifer is not used to actually looking up at Fandral since she's normally just shy of seven feet tall. Comparatively, her five-and-a-half feet is dwarfed by the Asguardian. "Hey," she says, between breaths. "Brunnhilde?" she asks, looking at the indicated direction to see the woman's back. "Like the valkyrie? No, I haven't. You'll have to introduce me when she gets back. Have you had one of these sandwiches? Are they any good?"
Brunnhilde smiles faintly back at Avril. "It's a crowd. Not even a good drinking crowd, sadly." she says with a sigh, huffling as she folds her arms under her chest. "But I suppose cheap food makes up for a lot…" She turns her head as she hears Fandral starting to introduce her, frowning faintly as she looks at Jennifer thoughfully. A friend of Fandral? Fantastic, and…some other F word. Fantabulous? Something! She is not here to be literary, darn it!
She looks back to Avril. "At least it's a spectacle….if in poor taste." she says, eyeing the man prancing around as a evil meatball.
Apparently someone else agrees, as there's a sudden flash of green light from above the group. "BEHOLD, MURDERERS OF MEAT! Your days of butchery are done!"
There is a man who is….apparently riding a horse. Made of what looks vaguely like lettuce. With tomatoes for eyes. Except instead of the cheap costumes the othesr are wearing, this looks MUCH better, in terms of special effects. The man on its back is short, perhaps a bit under five feet, wearing what looks like a wooden breastplate and cape, and leafy green pauldrons. Actually, leafs are sort of a motif, including for his pants, boots, and forearms. "TODAY, you face your WORST NIGHTMARE! THE VEGGIMITE!"
To make matters worse…he actually does have an Aussie accent.
"Just like," Fandral says to Jennifer and gives a broad smile to Brunnhilde when she glances back at them. He then holds out his sandwich in her direction so that she can witness it's meatbally glory. "It's quite good, actually. Your alcohol is terrible, but your food is actually quite good." His own accent is British. He grins at Jennifer, not used to being taller than her, either. But then there is.. "Did he just say Veggie Knight? Will there be a joust? I haven't been to a joust in a very long time." He smiles and waves to Avril as well. "This is quite the show, don't you think?"
"It's … definitely a spectacle. It really, really is," Avril agrees, and her tone suggests that she may not be using 'spectacle' in an entirely complimentary way. She glances around the area, and is opening her mouth to speak again when suddenly there is an … Australian. On a flying vegetable horse. And Avril, who has already had one surprise on her walk tonight, spends a couple of seconds just staring up at the sky with her mouth open as if she really cannot believe what's going on here.
Just to confirm, she looks across to Brunnhilde, and then, in turn, to Fandral. "Are you both seeing this, too?" she asks, while a little sparkly light-bending effect around her wrists results in a pair of odd-looking yellow-jeweled bands coming into view. "Or did someone put psychedelics in the aerosol spray coolers and we're all seeing different but I hope equally bizarre things?"
Jennifer's mouth hangs open at the appearance of Veggi-Mite. The horse doesn't look like a costume so… "Is this guy for real? Or is he part of the act?" She shakes her head at Fandral's question. "No, I'm pretty sure he said 'Mite.' Like a tiny… thing." Her gaze hasn't strayed from the bevigitabled person. "I'm Jennifer, by the way," she says, extending a hand to Avril without looking.
AT the moment, other people are assuming this is part of the show, even though the mascots are looking a bit confusedly at each other. As is Tony himself, a big guy with a truly spectacular mustache that belongs in the '70s, who's talking angrily with a harried looking assistant as he gestures towards the hovering Meat Avenger, the Green Guardian, the…okay, he's a guy wearing kale, it doesn't really lend itself to impressive titles.
Brunnhilde does her best Rock impression ala the People's Eyebrow as she just stares. "…he's very small for a nightmare." she comments to the others. And looking very underwhelmed at the moment.
The Spicy Meatballer, however, is apparently a method actor, as he grabs a nearby meatball sub and proceeds to chew the scenery, metaphorically speaking. "Begone, you bland buttercup! This is MY day to bring the Meat of Villainy upon those who seek to stuff their faces with wholesome and nutrious, not to mention affordable! Subs of all kinds!" And then he throws the meatball sub at the Veggi-Mite.
There is a splat as it hits his face, then falls to the ground, leaving behind a red sauce stain on the blinking veggie man. "…AUGH! IT TOUCHED ME! DESTROY THEM, TOMATORMENT!" Yes, he named his horse.
On the other hand, this is where said horse suddenly sprouts lots and lots of vines and charges into the crowd, grabbing for random people, among them the Meatballer, who yelps as he's hoised by an ankle, and the Sand-Witch, who lets out a B-movie scream queen worthy shriek as she's nabbed and flipped upside down, held aroudn the waist, as she tries desperately to keep what little skirt she has from falling past her thighs. "H-hey!"
"This is really quite impressive. I wasn't expecting a full on play. Theatre in the park certainly has changed," Fandral observes. It's not that he doesn't get what's going on, but he can't resist. Reaching down into his boot, he says, "I think that's quite enough. I'm all for a healthy diet, but let's let the people choose what they'd prefer to clog their arteries with, shall we?" He pulls out a knife and hurls it at the vine holding the meatballer aloft and severing it, which drops the poor actor onto his head. Oops. Well, it's the thought that counts, right?
Avril, still in something of a daze, can only just manage to clasp Jennifer's hand and give a frankly somewhat half-hearted shake. "Um, Avril. I'm Avril, I mean. This … is definitely something." She's kind of mesmerized by the whole train wreck going on above and around her. It's hard not to stare. After all, just … just /look/!
This lasts just about until the planthorse starts grabbing people and hauling them around, and that's enough to snap poor Avril back to reality. If reality is what this is, which is an alarming thought in itself. "I don't mind people eating whatever they want," she agrees, "but I don't think this is the way to convince anyone." Abruptly there's a pair of … large golden-light hedge-clippers in the air in front of her, and they're about to start snipping back some overgrowth!
"Pleased to meet you," Jennifer says still staring at the Cucumber Crusader. "I really don't think this is part of the…" she doesn't get to finish her sentence before all heck breaks loose and the horse starts attacking innocent civilians. "Nope! Time to hulk out!" It doesn't take long for her to grow over a foot and turn all green and muscly.
"Fandral! Help me get the civiliACK!" She doesn't get to finish her sentence when a meatball sub splats her in the face. "HEY! I'm one of the good gu…"
"THERE'S ANOTHER PLANT MONSTER!" yells somebody. And then there's another sub being lobbed at her. "ACK! NO! I'm here to help!"
The meatball sauce, it buuuuuuuurns! (actually it's just a bit spicy, but still, hot!) The Meatballer plummets with a erk as he hits the ground, then topples over, looking down for the count, leaving the Sand-witch as the hostage for the moment as she tries to kick and wiggle helplessly The glowing shears, on the other hand, work really well at snpping at those vines, which seem to wither when they're cut away. On the other hand, Veggi-mite isn't standing on his laurels either! Or his lentils, in this case, as he produces a pair of leek stalks and douses them with some sort of glowing greenish spray, before hurling them down vaguely towards Fandral. "Stay out of this, mate! It's got to be done! The line must be drawn HERE! In the red sauce flavored with murdered BASIL!
The lentils shudder, then the Leeks start to grow, sprouting mishapen arms and legs, and twirling tendrils of Leeks as the Leekmonsters advance on the group.
Brunnhilde is just…watching this thus far, though she does look impressed by the various abilities of her…well, not really companions. Acquaintances? Superbuddies? Something! She looks especially impressed by Shulkie's sudden appearance! Or perhaps simply her super ability to remain in comic's code after growing several feet up and out in muscles. She does grin a bit wolfishly at the oncoming creatures as she reaches behind her back, grabbing hold of something invisible, then a shmmering golden blade appears in her hand as she draws Dragonfang. "Oooooh. Now THIS is fun…" she purrs happily, the idea of mayhem apparently greatly improving her mood.
Those leeks are not particularly sneaky, and so Fandral picks one fo them to turn on, easily dodging out of the way of its leeky tendrils, glancing over to see Jennifer transform, and hear the cries. "Nope, no.. she's one of ours!" He flashes a grin at her and darts over to retrieve his blade from where it had stuck in the side of a food truck, and pulling a second from his other boot. He's quick with those knives, like a ginsu-wielding Gordon Ramsay, as he approaches the vines to try and cut down the poor San-Witch. "Pardon me, ma'am," he says before taking a knife to the tendrils around her.
Snip! Snip! Snip! Avril's clippers dart through the air seemingly of their own accord (well, assuming you don't associate them with the glowing-gold wristbands), cutting vines with abandon. But the problem here is that this is really only a stopgap, since more vines can always grow back once they've been cut in the first place. Really, she's at best running to stand still, more realistically falling behind, and that's /before/ the Leekmonsters start to advance. "Maybe I should have gone vegan after all," she mutters, none too pleased by the prospect of hand-to-tendril combat. The good news is that there seem to be allies — allies of convenience, at least! — close at hand who're downright eager.
Or would be if they were less vegetable-associated. Giving up on the hopeless task of holding back the tendril tide, she dissolves the clippers back into … wherever they came from, and instead puts up a protective gold wall between the green giantess and the panicked civilians. It might even help keep them back from the Veggi-mite, if she's lucky. "I'll get the bystanders!" she pledges.
This is not how her evening run was supposed to go. Despite Jennifer's protests she seems to be an easy target for the panicking crowd since she's just… you know… standing there and not trying to fight back. It's only when Avril puts up her golden wall that She-Hulk is allowed to take a breather. She flashes a grateful smile at her with a "Thanks!"
She now turns her attention towards the vegetable villain. She crouches, eyes the distance and leaps! If she timed this right she should land on the head of the horse. If. It's been a while since she's had to do this.
The Leekmonsters are more for shock and awe than combat potential! Other than the pronounced sort of onion-y smell when they're cut. Fandral can easily retrieve his blade as he darts past the pair, a few vines smashing down behind him, narrowly missing as he moves to the horse to start cutting at the vines. The shield Avril creates does cut off the Veggi-Mite and his minions from the rest of the crowd, at least, vines smacking into it but unable to penetrate.
Brunnhilde grins as she lets out a war cry and charges at the nearest Leekcritter, her blade coming up in a circle eight swirl of shimmering metal that hacks through the tendrils with ease, finishing by neatly bisecting the first creature, before the second tries to pile on her, swirling tendrils around her as it starts trying to trip her up as she squirms, trying to get some leverage.
Shulkie's abrupt leap takes Tomaterror (or whatever he was called!) off guard as she lands solidly on its neck, right in front of his rider. "Hey! Get off, ya gorge galah!" He tries to kick Shulkie off the horse, mostly by ineffectually booting her repeatedly in the rear.
This does give Fandral plenty of distraction to slip in and slice through the vines holding San-Witch prisoner, as she squeaks as she drops to the ground, landing with an oof!
"I'm going to need to find some way to carry around my weapons like you do," he comments offhandedly to Brunnhilde. "Or maybe I'll just walk around in armor all the time with them on like Baldur." He mutters a little bit to himself. "I'm finding my days in street clothes are becoming more and more eventful of lates." He seems to be doing quite alright with those knives though, as he slices, dices, and juliennes. "We're going to have quite the antipasto to go with these subs by the time that we're done." He gives a thumbs-up to Avril when she says that she will help the civilians. With San-Witch freed, Brunnhilde handling the leeks, and She-Hulk handling the horse, Fandral stops making salad for the time being, and helps Avril with crowd control, directing the civilians to clear the area, and handing them a few sandwiches to take with them — for good measure.
That's a temporary respite, at least. With the threat to innocents temporarily defused, and Fandral making sure they get back to a safe distance (well, hopefully — the odds that some of them won't are probably pretty good), Avril can take a moment to collect herself. She has one hand held up toward the wall, keeping it in place rather than letting it dissolve, but her attention's now turned toward the vegetarian villain and his less-lethal Leek lackeys. Rather than risk attacking, with the heroes in such close proximity to the villains, she settles for placing a protective golden bubble around the fallen Sand-Witch to keep any stray dangers away from her. Her gaze darts back and forth among the other three, but thank goodness none of them seem to be in any trouble.
She-Hulk is more annoyed than anything at Vegi-Mite's attempt to kick her off his mighty(?) steed. "Don't make me punch you into the lake," she warns. The lake is quite a ways away from where they're currently at so he would have some significant, and unpleasant, air time should she do so. Instead the green giantess turns to the horse itself and coos, "There, there. C'mon boy. You don't have to let this nasty man work you any longer. Just set us down and I'll take care of him and you'll be free."
Normally, one might assume Brunnhilde is in trouble, but she seems to be having plenty of fun as she finally gets herself braced, then jerks sharply, a few leeky tendrils snapping off , then her fist coming around to smash a hole right through one of the creature's midsections, before she kicks it away. It promptly goes flying and slams into the golden dome Avril erects around the rumpled San-Witch, who predictably lets out another shriek as the apparently mortally wounded vegetable sliiiiiiides down the side and into a heap on the ground. "Mmm, sorry, it's a one weapon trip mostly." she poinets out to Fandral as she raises a brow at Jennifer….reasoning with Tomaterror."
The damned thing is, the veggie horse actually seems to be sort of listening to her, if the weird flowers that seem to serve as ears are any indication, as they tilt back towards her. Veggi-mite grrrs. "Ey! You tryin' to wipe my horse! Gettoff you!" He pulls out another vegetable! This time…eggplant. And splatters it with more of the glowing green as it becomes as to the mighty oak..or at least an oversized wuffle bat. Then tries to use it on Jennifer's head.
The veggie-horse makes a faint crackling leafy noise, before it suddenly bucks a bit, sending the tiny man flying off. "Ahhhhhh!"
Face first into the condiment stand!
Fandral continues to work on getting the bystanders to move off, or at least get behind the safety of the food trucks. He also places a payment for the sandwiches he is using to bribe those same civilians to stay clear of the vegeterribles that are running amok. He continues to do so while the others take care of the Tomaterror and Vegemite, eventually slipping off into the crowd, perhaps with an extra meatball sub of his own, once the entire ordeal is over.
Keeping both the wall and the bubble up at the same time is a bit of a challenge for Avril, especially when the latter has just gotten a Leek-monster slammed into it at a pretty decent speed. "It's okay!" she calls out to the San-Witch, trying to reassure her without letting either energy-construct dissipate. She does manage it, even if the wall might get a little permeable for a moment there. "We'll have you out in just a second!" she promises. And, fortunately for her, things do seem to be trending in that direction, what with the Veggi-Mite being forcibly dismounted in a way that hopefully won't cause him an permanent injury.
She-Hulk grins as the tiny man gets his just desserts. She pats the horse on the side of the neck and continues to talk to him in the kind of voice that one reserves for talking to your favorite pet. "That's a good boy. You're no terror, aren't you. When this is over we'll find a nice field for you and give you lots of sunshine, and plenty of water and…. whatever else you need." To the other heroes she shouts, "Somebody get that spritz bottle away from that man!"
Brunnhilde stalks over to the Veggi-mite as he squirms, trying to pull his head out of the jumbo guacamole bowl, before she reaches over and almost casually tugs him free, dangling him as she rests her sword on her other shoulder. "Bottle. Or it's facefirst in the meatball sauce next." she threatens. The little man gulps, then drops the spritzer, raising his hands. "Damn you and your chlorophyll green sheila and her seductress ways anyway!" he grouses!
Tomaterror seems pretty chill without being egged on by his former rider, making a leafy rustling noise at She-Hulk, one of those tomato-y red eyes rotating to look back at her as it turns its head. It seems the situation is disarmed. And all because you stayed cool as a cucumber! Mostly.
Brunnhilde wanders over, casually carrying the Veggi-Mite like a handbag as she eyes the plant horse. "…it's not dangerous?" She sounds vaguely disappointed, then looks over to Avril as she nods as Fandral heads off into the crowd. "…a good bit of fun!" she proclaims cheerfully.
"That's … one way to look at it," Avril admits, glancing around to ensure that there's no remaining signs of danger — well, immediate danger — before she allows both the wall and the protective dome to dissipate back into nothingness. A moment later, the bands vanish from her wrists as if they were an errant design element spotted by a conscientious artist with a really good eraser. Just like that, she's back to being normal and hopefully more or less anonymous. (Good luck with that.) "Is anyone hurt? No one?"
She-Hulk gently leads the once-steed of the Vegi-Mite over to the valkyrie. "Well. It did do the vine thing to people but I think that was more mini-mango over there than Tomaterror." She sighs and looks down and pats the horse again, ruffling the mane of leaves. "We really do need to get you a better name. Rosebud…? Sage…? Oh! Parsnip!" She leans down to talk to the horse again in that puppy talk voice. "How would you like to be Parsnip? Is that better than that awful Tomaterror? I think so."
The veggi-horse lets out a noise like rattling branches, then tilts its head, appearing to accept the name! Or at least, not saying no to Parsnip as a replacement. Brunnhilde just drops Veggi-Mite, the small man plummeting to the ground with an oof before she idly plants a boot on his back to keep him from running off. "Parsnip is not exactly the name of a mighty mount…" she says with a faint frown. "But I suppose it works…" She peers over at Avril, watching the bands vanish with interest. "…I am more interested now in the two of you, I think." she says after a moment of thought. "It's not every day a green woman with the spirit of a jotun and another with golden bands that appear and disappear with golden shields and giant snippers appear."
"Well, this /is/ New York," Avril points out, smiling. "It probably is every day that you see something like that around here." She absently-mindedly dusts her forearms off, even though she never really got close to being involved in any actual combat and hence is no more mussed than might be expected from a grand opening. Indeed, it'd be hard to tell her from any other passing lawyer or businesswoman or other white-collar professional out for a walk. "But it's always nice to be able to help out when it's needed."
She-Hulk dismounts the horse with a practiced swing of the leg, (Ha! That'll teach dad for telling her that she'll never get any use out of those riding lessons she got when she was 12!) "Yeah, sorry. We never got a chance to be formally introduced." She holds out a hand for shaking, "I'm Jennifer Walters, also known as She-Hulk. Lawyer, activist, hero." She nods to Avril. "There is a certain thrill to it. Helping people, saving the day, that kind of thing." Aside she asks, "Anybody have a towel? I've got marinara sauce in my hair."
Brunnhilde hmms, then jabs her sword down into the ground to the right of Veggi-Mite's head (drawing a faint 'erk' from her prisoner) before she casually peels off her tank top and offers it to Shulkie, leaving her in a sports bra. And, a moment later, when her hand touches the sword, there's a glowing flash around her chest as a new shirt, this one a black sleeveless Motorhead t-shirt, appears in its place. "Use that. I don't need it back."
The tall dark-skinned woman jerks the sword from the ground, then brings it around behind her back, as if sheathing it before it vanishes from view. "I am Brunnhilde. Monster hunter, ex-valkyrie, and ex-champion." she says simply, offering a hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, She-Hulk. She then offers it to AVril. "And you as well…"
Avril's slightly taken by surprise by Brunnhilde's method of towel — or rather, towel substitute — generation; but she lets it pass without any verbal comment. "Um, Avril," she says, echoing her previous introduction, and takes Brunnhilde's hand for a moment when it's offered. Then, belatedly, she realizes that's not what the other woman's expecting: "I mean, Quasar. And it still feels really weird to call myself that. It's nice to meet you, though. Both of you."
She-Hulk starts to protest when she sees the shirt coming off, but stops when a new one materializes. "That's handy," she says, shaking the hand. Her hair is let free of the pony tail before she cleans it as best she can with the shirt, muttering, "Why does all my fights end up with me having to take a shower afterwards?" She sighs and offers a tired grin to her companions. "Hey, it was good meeting you but it looks like I've got another mouth to feed." There's a kind of sharp rustling that comes from the horse which might be a kind of snort. "Water," she corrects herself as she leads the horse away. "Okay, boy. Let's see if we can find you that home. I don't think my landlord allows pets…."