Summary:Quinn Quire and Venom each cross paths with a would be street gang. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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The nightclub scene is popping, as you'd expect on a Friday night. This particular strip of clubs tends to be ultrahip and a bit dangerous, the kind of places that last for three weeks before collapsing under the weight of their own debauchery, licensing and overdoses and brawls in the parking lot pushing at the edges of legality.
The van that pulls up outside is overloaded, an old ice cream truck that's been repurposed and drowned in graffiti. The people who step out look like characters out of an 80s neon apocalypse flick, face-painted and studded, clad in leather and denim. One has a barbed wire baseball bat over his shoulder. They call themselves the Rippers and they've been creating chaos through the city, a mixture of mutants and humans and all of them drugged out of their minds.
They haven't realized they have a passenger on top of the fan, a living shadow of muscle and teeth clinging to the top of their vehicle and waiting for their time…
Quinn looked like she could be one of them. Though toned down enough to make a difference, the pink hair was the most notable thing on the flesh of pale skin all covered in black. This time, an AC/DC shirt was worn, ripped to shreds beneath a black leather jacket. The jeans were torn and ratty, paint that was black splattered in random places coated in glitter adorned the white/blue wash. She stands outside the club, a bit off to the side, the cloud of marijuana smoke surrounding her.
To be in a place like this, loud as it is, you need the buffer.
As the van pulls up, Quinn's eyes dart in that direction. Many years on marijuana has her accustomed to thinking freely and not like a stoner. But she does blink twice, draw her head back, then spies the beasty on the top. One that she's going to do -nothing- about.
-Just what do you think you're doing?-
That mental thought was sent out to the beasty, if he could hear it that is…
Venom's head cocks as they feel the momentary intrusion in their head. Psionically, Venom is a mess, even for Quinn's level of skill, a splintered mind filled with strange insectile chittering and alien noises that are sharp on the psionic touch.
"Huntttttttiiiiiiiing," came the response, the symbiotic vigilante slowly peeling up from the roof. There are flashes of what the rippers have already done - tossing homeless people through windows, trying to run down late night walkers with their car. Smoking crack and taking potshots at tenement apartments.
The leader has a metallic gold mohawk and shouts at Quinn, "Whatchu starin' at, pinky pie?"
"Oww…"
The mental devastation was immediately received by Quinn; it was a hurtful mess. One that already sent her brain firing in attempts to stop the pain and block out the messages, working to feed the important images and filter out what wasn't already necessary. It -hurt- like hell, but Quinn was a masochist, already dulled by the drug use but it doesn't help much.
"Shit.." She grumbles, shaking her head as she gives a little sniff. Great. No nose bleed!
The mohawk man shouts at her, and with a final pull of her blunt, she flicks the cherry onto the ground, snuffing it out with her chucks. "You. Jack ass. The 80's called, they want their fucking mohawk back." The bud of the blunt was popped into her mouth, chewed, and immediately swallowed. "Wanna make something of it, dick piss?"
Mohawk looks at his buddies, including one lizard-skinned man with a massive tail swiping the ground behind him, "Fuck her up, Draco," he says. There's a bit of laughter all around amongst the gain as the massive creature starts to move towards Quinn.
The laughter dies as one of them looks back at the truck to see the rising silhouette of the inky beast rising up from their roof, Venom's mouth open to show the jagged display of its razor-edged teeth, "So…you call yourselves…Ripperssss?"
While Quinn had thought to make a joke about his name, she lets it be. A name is something of honor, seeing as how it was either going to be taken away from him by being eaten or beaten by a pink haired girl, she lets it be.
"Yeah.." Quinn says with a slight laugh. "Come fuck me up dude.." It didn't look like she was going to move, both hands were tucked into her pockets now as she fiddles around for a lighter. She needed a cigarette.
Venom's emergence causes her to laugh, her hands lifting to give a slight clap. "Oh. Oh this is going to be awesome! I need a fucking chair!" Quinn says with enthusiasm. "Go on! Answer the mans question! You call yourself rippers or what?!" Nevermind the big dude coming towards her, she wasn't worried about that.
Or should she have been?
Venom doesn't give them much chance to answer as he leaps down into the mob of them. Bodies start flying rapidly. Some of them have powers, sure, but they're all low level, capable of bullying normal humans but utterly unable to keep up with a monstrous powerhouse like Venom. Flesh tears and spatters of blood fly as his claws slash, one man with purple dreads tumbling end over end arcing over the van to splat on the asphalt on the other side.
Draco seem sto figure Quinn's the easier mark and keeps up his earlier track, starting to sprint at the psychic chick while fully unaware that she is, in fact, a psychic chick.
Draco's path was met with resistance, the faster he got, the slower he got. It would seem that chains were slowly wrapping around his legs, halting his path. If anyone could see the true lines of telekinesis, they would see those very chains, coiling around his upper leg, his calves, his ankles.
Her hand lifts and he comes to a complete stop.
"Nah." She says out loud, shaking her head. Keeping that shield wall up like a spartan, without a struggle or a sight of a strain. "See. We're not doing this shit today." One hand finally pulls from her pocket, the pack of cigarettes in her hand revealed, one stog lifts from it's pack and implants itself into her mouth. The lighter was hovered, flicked, and she inhales. Ahh.. the sweet feel of nicotine.
"If you can get through this barrier, we can tussel. I'll make it fun, maybe push out a scream or two for my enjoyment. But.." She tilts her chin, then blows out a plume of smoke from her nose. "..you ain't got that much time buddy. You're going to get what's coming to you. And it's going to be naaaaassssttyyyyyy…" She sings out..
"Soooo nasssttyyyy…"
Time certainly is ticking down. The fodder is going quickly, with Venom tearing through the Rippers like a hot knife through butter. Some of them break off and just start to run. Mohawk forms a golden shield around himself out of energy, matching the tone of his mohawk. Venom hits it once and he winces, the shield holding in place but a bit of blood running from his nose. He won't hold up for long.
"Y-y-you…bitch…'Draco snarls, trying to thrash against the bonds but lacking the strength to overcome Q's psychic power. He turns and sees Venom toying with his leader, the two of them the only ones left, a pile of bleeding and unconsciuos gang members left in the symbiote's wake. Rock and a hard place.
"Yeaaah.." Quinn says, leaning to the side to watch Venom work. "..I get that a lot." This causes her to think now, even as Draco continues to struggle. "So I was thinking.." She begins to pace now, hand still held up, smoking her cigarette. "I should be a lot more nice. More approachable. I mean, I got a guy that I like who likes me. But I think maybe I need more people to like me so that I wouldn't feel like such a monster.." She looks over towards Draco. "You know what I mean.." She sighs.
"You know, being a bitch all the time is a lonely existence. I've been in a coma for two years, I bet no one really came to visit me. I bet you I was forgotten." She frowns a little, almost looking like she was going to cry. "Shit.." She sniffles. "..you know, this sucks. It sucks a lot. I want friends. I want family. I want all of that good fruity bullshit that people live their lives for." She takes a deep drag of her cigarette, then exhales. "Do you think that's dumb, Draco? I think it's dumb.. maybe its hormones. Shit. I'm probably getting my period.."
Draco twists his head, "What the fuck are you talking about? Look, just…fuck, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just lemme go okay?!?" he cries. He's looking over his shoulder as Venom finally batters Mohawk enough that his shield stumbles down. The symbiote leaps upon the so called leader and slaps a hand over his squealing mouth, dark rivulets of symbiote running out and wrapping around his head, pulling back enough that you can see the tendrils pouring down the poor boy's throat.
"Mouth isn't so smart once we pull out your tongue, is it?" Venom laughs, looking up and making eye contact with Draco, "Don't worry, we'll get to you. Thanks for keeping our dessert warm," they say, flicking gaze to Quinn.
"Nope." Quinn replies. For by that time, Draco was already attacked by Venom, and the shield that she produces falls down to nothing. She was a wee bit tired, but it'll pick up soon.
But there really was no filter, no body to stand in the way as Venom begins to 'eat'. "You're welcome." It was unnerving, so much so that she moves to her previous spot upon the wall, her gaze averted forward, her hand reaching up for the cigarette that shook, which she'll lie and say it's adrenaline. But she -was- affected by it. For sure.
"Watch where you spray that shit though, dude.." She says, though it comes out like a murmur. She has to keep up that hard ass exterior, other than piss herself.
Throwing aside Mohawk, Venom grabs Draco by the tail and yanks him in, easily overpowering the lizard-scaled mutant and choking him out from behind. He's whispering something in the earhole of the young mutant, but it's impossible to decipher, even as each whispered syllable makes Draco's eyes bulge out in terror until it finally passes out in Venom's clutches.
The black-skeined monstrosity throws off its last victim and eyes Quinn curiously, "We apologize for our overenthusiasm. We had been needing an outlet and they were…ripe."
Maybe it was the sound of the body of Draco thumping, Quinn jumps a little bit, then finally exhales smoke. She didn't feel like smoking right now, but the cigarette was already halfway gone.
Waste not, want not.
"It's fine." Quinn says, waving her hand to disperse the smoke. "Everyone gets that way. Though most people would go to the gym." Smart ass. "Though out of curiosity, what the fuck do you do? Hang off of rooftops? I know you got a person in there somewhere.." Still, even if she inquires, she doesn't look. "Can't imagine you being that way -all- the time."
Venom cocks their head and slowly the darkness and monstrous visage peel away from the side of his head, revealing the relatively handsome face of Eddie Brock underneath.
"We can blend if we wanna blend," they say, both their voices speaking in chorus, "But the fear can be hard to resist. It just tastes so damn good."
"I suggest a diet." Quinn says those words as she tries to dull her own sense of fear. It wasn't happy thoughts, just a cut off of emotions, stamped by mental manipulations. It took effort, but it was decent.
She looks around Venom, then stares at the other person inside, her eyes squinting and her head shaking. "C'mere.." It was a bit much for him to be out in the open, and while Quinn stood on the corner of the building, the alley itself was dark enough.. and a bit far enough away from the bodies for them to not be noticed.
"Unless your dude on the inside is wearing clothes, I think we need to get off the street for a bit.."
The darkness ripples further and, in fact, he does appear to be wearing clothes, although appearances can be deceiving. Leather jacket, A-line tank top, ripped jeans, boots. His features are more visible now, jawline marked by stubble, his hair shaved tight on the sides and a bit gelled on top.
"Wouldn't worry too much. We do this kind of thing often enough. We know how to blend. Appreciate the consideration, though. That was you in our head, then, was it?"
"Bllecchhg.."
Maybe it was the noise that was made as everything melted away, or the basic visuals.. who knows! But as they walk through the alley, she became a little bit more relaxed. Not like she was hitting the slums every day to consider it home.. "Yeah." She states. "I'm a mutant. You know, the mind bendy.. I can pass as human and throw a car at you type." She pulls out another cigarette, then offers the pack to Eddie. "You? Like, I'm almost thinking you're some type of thing from that quarantine zones over there.."
Eddie Brock shakes his head, "Nope," he says, his voice now normal and human. "We're somethin' else," he says, taking a cigarette and lipping it for a moment before he steals a light. "We hunt there sometimes, though. People don't miss the bad things that happen there. But coming into the city makes it for a little more adventure," he says.
"Plus, it's closer to good restaurants. You want to get some Thai food?"
"Oh." Quinn leaves the guessing game as it is. Surely she wanted to know, but that'll send her down a rabbit hole she couldn't climb herself out of. So she continues to walk, puffing on her cigarette as she does, keeping her head down, hair swiped to the side upon one shoulder. But his question about Thai food?
"What? Are you.. no. Absolutely not." She was nearly ready to make a noise, but she doesn't. "Dude, I just gotta go home. No offense or anything. Eddie was it? Thai food some other time. Shiiiit.." And she begins to walk down another alley, waving him off to not follow.