Summary:Dwayne Taylor, Robbie Reyes, Rachel Roth, and Alexander Aaron are all in the same place at the same time. Is this the doing of fate? or mere convenience? Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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On the edge of Brooklyn, in the cradle of a quartet of fairly tall buildings, lies the quad of Empire State University. It's a small swath of nature deposited square in the middle of the city, granting a small element of the green to the world, while being frequented and visited by the school's students and academics.
On Sundays, however, it's fairly quiet. A lot of the educators and their charges retire to their homes or head off campus. Though a fair amount remain on site. Usually it wouldn't be a place that draws attention, though one aspect of it is known throughout the city.
For it's the Eastern edge of the campus that is open for public parking during that time. And for the food trucks of the city it's prime real estate to open up on the weekend. All along the road it's an array of meals available out the side of vans and trucks. Food from all over the world, with twists and flavor choices that offer almost an unending variety.
And it's there, in front of 'Falafel Heaven' that Alexander Aaron finds himself this afternoon.
Dwayne Taylor steps out of a black Lamborghini, the car locking electronically in his wake. He's stylishly dressed, a mixture of casual and swagger, his crisp shirt sharply crimson against the black of his jacket, a large brimmed hat on his head reading TAYLOR across the front. He's got a meeting on campus today with a couple of engineers who are working on a project for him. Technically, it's under the table, but with enough capital invested in the project, even pesky academics can keep their mouths shut.
The clothes are baggy enough to hide the thermally-ventilated armor he wears underneath. He might sweat a bit, but there's nothing wrong with being prepared. Just in case.
Rachel is out and about, wandering and wondering, as she's wont to do. She's got a sizeable trust fund that leaves her very comfortable without having to work a day job, so she's able to just…follow whatever catches her interest at a given moment. Today, she's at the campus of Empire State University to hang with the art crowd that's in her age-range. Not too long ago, she got a jolt of inspiration for a photograph series and she was hoping to pick the minds of some acquaintances of hers from the photography department's majors.
However. Her stomach is grumbling quite insistently, so she takes a short detour over to the food trucks to seek out a delicious, hunger-appeasing snack. She settles on getting a /gigantic/ soft pretzel with sea salt, and spicy nacho cheese, and a 40oz bottle of cold A&W root beer. Thankfully, she's dressed in a light grey tank top with a snow white hoodie with arcane, spooky symbols on it — including a giant Baphomet in the center of an inverted pentagram on the back — with black, kinda sparkly leggings and white sneaks.
So, when she inevitably drops some nacho cheese on her top, it will stand out. Her black hair shines almost painfully under the direct sunlight, and she looks like she should be holding a parasol. But, she isn't. She's holding a far-too-big soft pretzel in one hand, a 40oz in the other, and she's got the cheese cup gripped precariously in her teeth as she wrestles the bottle of root beer into her messenger bag, already heading toward the art building. She's not exactly looking where she's going, and she's kinda distracted, but she's doin' pretty good…so far.
Robbie has just finished looking around the campus. With some small dreams like his own (one day finally going to college), He finally returns to his sick ride. Putting some pamphlets in the 1969 Dodge Charger, he locks it again when he spots a dandy little falafel joint.
Robbie heads in that direction of the snack shop, noticing the rich dude (Dwayne) and commenting to him in passing a small "Nice ride." his way.
He notices Phobos, and if they lock eyes, he gets an up nod thrown his way. But then Robbie sees Rachel and he approaches her specifically. "Hey Rachel, fancy seeing you here. What brings you?" He didn?t know or think she was a college kid.
A car like the one Dwayne rolled up in definitely turns the head and draws the eye. There'll be cameras drawn and held up just to get shots of it as well as the driver, some of the students smiling and waving at him. It's a subtle ripple of attention that draws the glances and the peering.
"Hey man, nice ride." One of the students laughs and waves, a tall kid with a backwards Yankees baseball cap.
Alexander, for his part, isn't immune to such. He looks over and gets a small smile, his blue eyes lighting up with amusement at the vehicle. He steps out, perhaps partially into the way of the beleagured Rachel Roth though he twists faintly to the side, just a turn of shoulders to let her pass. But then he turns and asks her, "Hey… isn't that car from the movie we watched the other day?"
To Rachel to Robbie? They don't know each other. But then he turns and actually looks at her and blinks, "Oh! Hey sorry, I." His bright blue eyes flit from her face to pretzel to drink to cheese cup to his face to hers, back up to the eyes in that face. "I thought you were someone else."
Then there's a slight, "You um, need a hand?"
Yet further beyond the road, on the quad and amongst the trees, a flock of crows settle upon the limbs of the tall oak tree that stands sentinel on Dwayne's path towards the Engineering building and the labs.
Dwayne Taylor daps a couple of the kids who compliment his ride, but doesn't get too distracted by the hubbub. He understands the power of wealth and displays of it. He flaunts, yes, but in a calculated way, earning social power and status. It doesn't mean anything to him. The grin on his face is as much a lie as any he's told. And he's told a lot in his young life.
He sees the small gathering of individuals not far away, eyes narrowing for a moment. Does he have a dossier on one of those? He thinks he does, in fact. The Roth girl. The Raven. He'd meant to pursue that line further, but hadn't taken the time yet. Maybe he should soon.
So close. It was that deft angling-away of the shoulders that prevented Rachel from bumping into Alexander and making a big mess for both of them. Instead, he shifts out of the way and she traipses on without being very aware of just how narrowly she'd escaped disaster. For her pretzel, which she is VERY much looking forward to eating. If only she could just…get the damned bottle…into her— Alexander's offer is barely out of his mouth when she's pushed the paper wrapper for her very large soft pretzel into his hand. "Yeff, fanks," she mumbles, the cheese cup still in her teeth, without even lifting her eyes as she tucks her hair behind her ear to get some of it out of her line of sight, then pulls her bag open to deposit her drink.
"THERE," she says with finality, taking the cup into her now-free hand, looking up with triumph. Her finely shaped brows crinkle a bit as she tries to place Alexander in her mind, her lavender eyes scanning his face. Nope, don't know this one. But, she hears a familiar voice and turns to see Robbie Reyes, from the greasy spoon! "Hey, there, Robbie," she calls out, waving to him. Then, looking back to Alexander, she takes her pretzel back. "Gee, thanks, stranger. I haven't seen any movies with you, yet. S'a nice car, though," she smiles oddly, grabs Alexander's hand and gives it a hearty shake before moving to greet Robbie. "Long time no see," she says in that weird, dreamy way of hers.
Dwayne might have possible file on Robbie too. Might be the Flame-headed skeleton who's been a nightmare for gangs lately. Messy scenes.
But, Robbie encounters Alex since they're talking to Raven. "Don't think I've seen you before ese. Robbie." He extends a hand to Alex.
Then his attention is back on Raven. "I know, right? Been a hot minute." He rolls with it, and he smirks. "You look nice today. I see you didn't waste any time at all getting your food." Then Robbie heats the whispers of his uncle…the sadistic Eli Morrow, his key to his demonic powers.
~Hey kid, we might have a problem. See those crows? Historically a shit sign~ Morrow was a cultist when he was alive, so Robbie listens.
~Might want to give me the steering wheel in case ya don?t want anything to happen to these kids or your girlfriend here~
But Robbie shook his head for a moment, not willing to transform yet, instead waiting to see what omen is about to happen.
There's a brief momentary rush of cool chill air that sluices through the small valley between that quartet of tall scholastic buildings. It's enough to get the leaves on the trees in the quad to whisper with a curious susurrus that seems to set off the black birds, all having settled on their chosen limbs and all looking hungrily in the direction of the food trucks and the gathering of humanity.
Someone connected to the mystic arts and with senses that might reach beyond the normal ken might feel an edge of disquiet. Not quite evil, that Robbie could most likely feel. But definitely an edge to the world that wasn't there a moment ago. They'd feel that subtle electric edge to that brush of Winter on the tail of that wind.
When the pretzel is shoved into his hand, Alexander, who really likely doesn't have a file, seems still that same level of mildly perplexed and just a smidge embarrassed as he says, "Oh yeah, hey sure." And then the mention of movies, "Yeah, no, we uh, haven't." Then there's the hand shake and he seems about to say something when Robbie steps in. "Oh yeah, was just…" But then attention shifts off him and he finishes, "Getting some food." And losing his place in line.
When that breeze causes his hair to flutter and his brow to knit. Whatever it is, he may well sense it as well.
The mystery of its origin, however, is dispelled when some of the dark feathered birds seem to drop from the trees and grow, expanding outwards like a sharp exhalation of smoke that expands into the shape of a humanoid being under a heavy coat and beneath a broad-rimmed hat. Then another drops and expands with a soft /paff/ of sound, and another. Until six are there and suddenly in Dwayne's way for some reason. Wisps of black smoke continue to surge and seethe beneath those large over-sized coats, intermingling in the shade of the trees.
Dwayne Taylor doesn't have any mystic senses, but he can read people, can understand behavior. He's studied after all. Prepared. Sometimes it seems like his whole life is preparation. Although perhaps not for this. The sudden manifestation of the figures in his path causes a shift in Dwayne's demeanor, the smiling mask of the friendly philanthropist, the young millionaire, slips away to reveal something grim and hard underneath.
"Don't know you guys, but don't mean we don't have business. You got a problem, you go ahead and step," he says straightforward, his hand hovering over the switch that will cover him with armor and set him up to fight the fight.
Rachel hadn't noticed the flock of crows that were gathering in the tree nearby, but she's an empath and she can definitely sense the unease that flashes in her newly-made friend, Robbie. She doesn't comment on it. That's kinda impolite, after all, to broadcast such things. So, she just smiles that odd smile she has…the one that's pretty good, as far as smiles go, but still looks pretty alien on her and feels kinda off. "Well, thanks. I sometimes wear colors other than black, but I still manage to rep goths, even though I'm not one," she shakes her head and is already dipping the pretzel into the cup of cheese. "These pretzels are /amazing/. Highly recommend them, if you can eat 'em," she says just before taking a huge bite of it. How she does such things without smearing her lipstick (today's color is: Rosemary's Placenta) is still a mystery.
Rachel, her mouth stuffed full of pretzel and cheese, can definitely sense the wooj on the air as the breeze sweeps through. It's a nice breeze on a hot day, though, so she enjoys it while she can. "Something hinky's gonna happen," she says, in response to no one's question. She can sense the growing discomfort in Alexander, and she starts kinda…looking around for potential problems. She also begins to eat faster. Chewchewswallow, dipdipbite, chewchewchewchewchew…
"Must be the pentagram." Robbie comments to Rachel when she mentions she's often mistaken for being a goth. It was kinda adorable, but Robbie has no idea about Rachel's empathy powers or what she can feasibly do with them. Or what effects it'll have on him or Eli. But while Rachel is downing this pretzel, he smirks at her. "I'll buy you another one if you want." Then his eyes are on Phobos, as if still waiting for a name. Then, turns out, Eli's hunch was right.
Robbie turns his head to the crows that suddenly turn into…- people - and Robbie narrows his eyes, especially when the rich fellow, Dwayne, steps up to the plate. Robbie looks to Rachel and Phobos. "Might want to stay here." and he moves up next to Dwayne, his hands out of his pockets to show his driving gloves on them as he still cracks his knuckles.
Seems Dwayne wasn't alone as Robbie stares these strange individuals down.
The smoky wispy creatures seem to accentuate those long shadows beneath the trees and along the side of the road, darkening and lending some severity to that chill in the air. And though most people have no way of sensing the subtle malevolence of the magical creatures… there is that primal instinct in humanity that can tell when something is amiss. And when it is best to flee.
The crowd begins to disperse, moving backwards. Falafel Heaven's window closes with a /thump/ and the driver revs the engine as he starts to get out of dodge. But there are still a fair amount of people around to witness Dwayne's brave declaration.
One of the creatures in the long coat and wide-brimmed hat lifts its seemingly empty sleeve to point towards the people behind him, and a grim voice is heard with a whisper that is something one would imagine they'd hear in the depths of an old cemetery.
« Give us the scion. Is only one we want. Take him with us. » At the last word 'us' the flock of crows and ravens caw repeating the word hundreds of times, their raucous voices echoing off the walls of the scholastic buildings.
Then, should they follow the way the creature is pointing… they'll see it's pointing straight at Raven. Or maybe Alexander who is standing next to her while she stuffs her face. He, at the least, seems less surprised and more unhappy as he says, "I think they mean me." Probably rating it a good 7 out of 10 chance here.
Dwayne Taylor looks back at the small gathering of people. "Not sure which one you mean. Doesn't really matter. People-snatching hours are over for the day. You'd best go on and wait for another time, unless you really crave having your ass whipped on campus," he says.
He presses the button and the armor shreds his designer clothes as it spreads over his body, plates popping free, helmet clicking in place around his head to leave him in a sleek, black body armor. There's a metallic springing sound and a pair of escrima sticks launch up out of a chamber in his back, letting him snatch them out of the air and slip into a loose martial arts stance.
So, people are starting to notice that Somethin's About to Go Down. The levels of anxiety sharply increase in the area, and it's like the sharp tang of copper in the mouth to Rachel's senses. She inhales deeply as another breeze comes through the area, and she abandons the last bites of her pretzel — mostly eaten, by this point, because she really chowed down to make it happen — "Maybe it's because of the pentagram, you're right," she says as her eyes begin to, well, glow with an unnatural light. Wind swirls around her, lifting her richly black hair up above her head, since she's not in costume, and she begins rising into the air, her white sneaks leaving the ground. Rachel has no control over weather, but it does tend to react to her using her powers in interesting ways. "Sure," she agrees to Robbie when he suggests she stay put, but her eyes are on the people that are starting to make problems for themselves out of that fight-or-flight response that's just part of human nature.
She doesn't cast an eye toward the crow-creatures, because there are already others focused on them. She notes Alexander, whose name she still doesn't know, is still standing below her, feeling crummy. Decisively, she begins sending out wave after wave of calming to frazzled nerves. Calm. Peaceful. Yes, there's danger, but there is no need to panic. Just walk calmly to another place, away from this source of distress. File out peacefully, help others if they are in need of assistance. Just calm and collected.
The emotions she's laying out for the people she can reach are infinitely complex. There's no element of mind control, just emotional cocktails that might function similarly. Sensations of being at peace, but wary of the danger, generosity and the desire to help others. It's potent, and usually very effective.
Oh! the rich dude as a cool costume. Nice. Though Robbie looks at the crow-men. "Sorry, don't see a Scion here, ese. Try Walmart." and Robbie's eyes seem to literally dance with Hellfire as he stares down these crow goons, though its extremely creepy when they start to echo and repeat the word 'us' a thousand different times.
Robbe draws his hellfire chain into his hand, dropping it from his sleeve as he equips himself with the daggers at the end of the lethal-looking chain. "Seems we're going to have problems after all."
and he seems to be bathed in Hellfire for a moment, flesh burning off of him to reveal a skeletal creature underneath, though the skeleton itself looks mechanic in nature, with fire in its eyes and well, lets be honest, the entire skull in general. His clothing is replaced with a black armored bodysuit with the same decal as his jacket, the Ghost Rider fully emerging now.
The lead creature in its dark coat lifts both its hands towards Dwayne, bringing its head up enough that the wide hat tilts back revealing a smoky face of a great beaked bird, only it is an avian thing ravaged by time and decay, with its eye sockets sunken and its feathers ragged. Writhing things seem to still live underneath the rotten skin as it reaches out with curved claws dirty with graveyard filth.
Great caws are heard as first that one launches at him, then the others take flight forward, rushing ahead as their coats billow like black wings. It would be enough to set off the crowd then, to set them running and away as the monsters leap. Other food trucks are pulling out into the street and there's a squeal of brakes. But those waves of emotion, the subtle manipulation of the people around, it cuts the edge off their flight. They're still moving away, some of the trucks pulling out more reasonably now, but less panicked.
"No wait, I think…" Alex's voice lifts but it doesn't carry too far, he looks about at the people running, and the others making ready. Turning to Robbie he says quickly, "I'll go with them if they…"
But then the battle's already started as his words are drowned out with monstrous shrieks and cries of hate. Leaving him to say simply, "Fuck." Raven, close enough by can sense the emotions that wend their way through the youthful blond. And now there's an edge of anger to him.
Dwayne doesn't need to have calm radiated to him. Walking around, pretending that the world is normal, that he's happy, that things aren't broken and sick and in need of a serious thrashing? Yeah, that makes him angry. But this moment, this cruxpoint where tension and violence lead to sudden action, the spring-loaded and visceral snap from stillness to motion, the pulling of the trigger. That's where he lives. That's where he feels alive. He isn't just calm in this moment. He is joyful. This is who he really is.
Night Thrasher closes the distance quickly and finds himself assaulted by the writhing creatures. He strikes with precision: throat, elbow, knee. Driving the blunt of a stick into the point of a spine, crumpling a minion to its knees. He doesn't have time to plan or think, not yet, not in the initial storm. He sees the woman take flight, the man burst to flame. Perhaps he's here for a reason.
Rachel is listening, though, to what Alexander is trying to say. She's close enough that she can still hear him, especially when he tries to cast his voice a bit louder. "Excuse me, blond stranger," she calls down to him, her glowing eyes unnatural and maybe spooky. "Do you want to go with them? If they're not going to harm you and you want to go, this could be ended very quickly and with only a modicum of a mess," she says, lowering herself closer to him, so it's easier to talk and hear one another.
She casts a luminescent glance to the man in armor, and Robbie…who's now, surprisingly, got a flaming mechanical skull for a head. "I mean, just a little bit of mess. I lost the rest of my pretzel, but I'll forgive you," she says kindly. "If this is all a misunderstanding, it'd be better to fix that now, rather than after there's a big pile of rotting bodies to clean up. Right?" Weird smile.
This - demon - that Robbie has transformed into growls an unholy sound. Robbie's a little busy to hear Phobos considering that he's now fighting two crow-monsters, who are basically just walking corpses. The Ghost Rider swings that bladed (daggers on the ends) chain to slice one of these corpses in half and grab the other one by the throat, using Hellfire to disentegrate it.
Despite having never met or worked together before, Ghost Rider and Night Thrasher seem to be putting on some kickass teamwork at the moment.
Robbie kicks another one through the windshield of a car.
The creatures crumple under the impacts from Night Thrasher's weapons, each one crunching their decayed forms though they still try to menace him until he strikes hard enough to seemingly smash the smoke free of the creature's shell. Small wisps wend their way up into the air and dissipate as he crushes them with powerful impacts.
Yet as he battles, others press him, their focus on him at first as he was the closest and now perhaps the most defiant. Wickedly curved claws flash out to try and disembowl the vigilante as they try to gang up on him. It allows for Robbie to approach them unbeknownst in part, a rarity for a being with a flaming skull for a head. He sets on them like a vicious flaming and chained whirlwind, slashing them to pieces as he moves to them. Glass shatters as one of the creatures explodes through that windshield, then almost instantly dissipates into wisps of smoke.
Below Raven, Alexander frowns and his hands are held out to the side. He's partially crouched as if ready to move, ready to do… /something/ but his emotional state is torn between some form of feeling of obligation and anger. Upwards he looks to the now flying heroine and answers her. "I… don't really _want_ to go with them. But I will." Not a good time to argue semantics.
But as the two heroes slash and tear and thrash their way through the creatures, the crows and ravens begin to take flight. Their efforts apparently stymied by the warriors.
Dwayne Taylor started out fighting street gangs, putting himself out there and throwing down with as many as he could all at once. He went home busted up on those early nights, with broken bones and missing a few teeth now and then. He'd get tutted at, but he would never stay along. He needed to prepare. That was before the armor, before the plan, before he really learned what it would take to wage war.
Suffice to say, he's good at what he does, elbows and knees lashing out with armored strikes, headbutting through a carcass as it dissolves into dust. He watches the Rider for a moment, impressed.
"I think what the lady's saying is do something already!" he called out to Alexander.
Rachel's glowing eyes seem to be locked on Alexander's face as he hesitates and wrestles with himself. "You don't want to go. That's reason enough to not do it," she says. It's meant to be reassuring, to comfort him in some way, but Rachel's always off in some way. She means well, though. "Besides," she squints an eye in sympathetic pain as RobbieRider kicks one of the crowtures through a windshield. Hope they've got insurance. "…It's looking messier by the minute. Still, take comfort in the fact that I forgive you for my ruined pretzel. How come they want you, anyway?" she asks.
"Ooch, that looks painful," she comments as Dwayne headbutts one and RobbieRider slices up another, letting her kicks touchdown as the last people make their way out of the area, leaving just the dwindling collection of crowpeeps and the supers. "No, actually, I think you two have it handled," she calls back to Dwayne. She leans in to murmur to Alexander, "If we got in too close, we might catch an accidental elbow or something. I like to work from a distance, me. Also, what's your name? I'm Rachel, though in situations like this, I go by Raven."
Ghost Rider looks at Dwayne when he looks at him, and the Rider nods at him, before he starts kicking some more of these corpses and swinging that chain, which ignites in Hellfire, to start slicing these guys up like he's the Sushi Chef from Hell. The Ghost Rider roars for a second, though he hears Raven and Phobos apparently still having a chat together instead of joining the fight. But either way, it looks like GR and NT have this pretty much covered in terms of melee.
But hopefully these guys are pretty much taken care of so Phobos is safe from…whatever these things are.
The creatures are much fewer now, drawing back and now trying to keep their distance from Dwayne's cudgels and Robbie's chain. Some of the birds in the tree still caw and cry out while wisps of smoke gather and swirl around them. As several larger crows land upon the tree and around its trunk.
"Family craziness," Alexander looks up at Raven as she speaks and he answers. Then she introduces herself and he says after a glance her way, "Alexander. Aaron. Alexander Aaron. Alex." She does affect him somewhat, she can tell that the efforts at emotional reassurance do go some way to smoothing over the ripples of conflict in the youth's manner. But indeed, it might not have the exact result she was hoping for.
"No, he's right." Dwayne perhaps, to her he says, "M'sorry." As if perhaps apologizing for this whole thing, or that he's about to rush forward, breaking into a run.
"Hey, leave 'em alone!" Though they were winning. Alexander skids to a halt and tries to take a place in front of and between the two heroes, the tip of a spear point with him at the forefront.
"You got me here, just convey your message. I'm not going anywhere with you."
To which the black bird creatures all seem to draw back and together, moving as if they were all part of one larger entity, tendrils of smoke that had been invisible solidifying the creatures into one dark mass.
« Hades. Your uncle would have you. Visit and stay. Stay and visit. Come with us. If we fail. Punished are we. » The voices are haunting and distant.
"Tell him I'll think about it. But not now." Then his features twist as he scowls, "And tell him he made a bad choice in a messenger."
The birds do not seem to take this answer well as the caws rise again.
Night Thrasher lines up next to Alexander, shoulder to shoulder, with the Ghost Rider on the other side of the blonde man and Raven floating a bit above, the four of them representing a rather potent force, it would seem.
"You got an answer," he says. "You want to take anybody, you're going to have to go through us. And I think you've already seen that you can't. You're empty handed either way. You can either have the one ass-kicking when you get home or one from us to warm you up. Doesn't make any difference to me."
Rachel nods, taking in the information as Alexander gives it to her. Family woes? That's something she can understand. Not that she's looking to talk about it in any depth. "Nice to meet you, Alexander Aaron Alexander Aaron Alex," she says to his retreating back as he goes to join the fray.
She lifts back up into the air and flies closer, but keeps a safe distance, her hoodie and hair swaying with the wind. She watches with quiet interest, keeping close tabs on the emotions coursing through the area. She doesn't need to do much, at the moment, except listen and learn. Night Thrasher speaks with authority, as the quad of supers gather and face the large collection of crowbodies and smoke and whatever else makes up the messenger. Who is very salty about being called a bad choice, and also because they're probably gonna be punished. "Did you have to rub that salt in there?" she asks to Alexander, but not in a voice that's easily heard. Mostly under her breath.
Robbie doesn't know this weird language that these grow demons are speaking, but he looks to his left and his right, seeing Raven and Alex join the fray as the Rider looks forward. After Night THrasher's declaration, the Rider roars in a territorial demonic fashion. Daring the crows to keep on cawin' and see what happens.
Think Hades would do something to you…just wait until the Rider gets a hold of you. Gonna make Hell or the Underworld look like R&R.
Surprisingly Reyes's initials.
The crows and ravens and blackbirds all surge up together into the air with their cries no quieter, screeching and cawing loudly. They flap together as one, blurring together for an instant as they surge around the corner of one of the buildings and disappear from view with as little fanfare as they arrived.
There are not nearly as many people around as there was but five minutes ago, most having fled and leaving it to the four of them there. Though high above some might well see faces in windows, leaning out, some with phones taking what images they can. It's not every day that something so strange happens on campus.
The blond youth, however, turns away from that tree that now seems to have withered somewhat, its limbs more twisted and gnarled. He looks first to Dwayne, cocking an eyebrow at him and then to Robbie. A hand is lifted to Raven as she draws closer. "Hey. That was… very kind of you guys. Sorry." He gestures over his shoulder, "About all the, um, crazy."
Dwayne Taylor lingers a bit watching the largest crow to make sure it's withdrawn before he puts away his combat staves, criss-crossing them through the housings in his armor and letting them click into locked position. The faceplate covering his visage has red-tinted lenses in the eyes as he looks back woards the others.
"Not bad. Not perfect, but…not bad," he says thoughtfully. He then extends his hand, first to Alex and then to the others in turn, "Night Thrasher."
So, well, Rachel doesn't say anything as the crows spiral up into the air and then into thin air, disappearing and leaving the hot summer day to return to its usual broadcast of blazing sun and occasional breezes. She gracefully lands on the ground behind the guys and runs fingers through her hair to get it back in order. She's wearing it super straight, today, so that's a good thing.
Then, Dwayne turns to greet the gathered with his super name. "Hello, Night Thrasher. I'm called Raven, in situations like this, but you can call me Rachel, if I'm not doing the glowy eye thing," she says, giving his proffered hand an awkward side-slap instead of a shake, as he was probably expecting. "And, wow. Robbie. I never saw that coming," she says, lifting her brows and regarding her new friend. "You should definitely eat more than fries, 'cause you probably burn through the calories, my guy," she says puffing out her cheeks and planting her hands on her slightly-too-thin waist.
As soon as those crows fly up and disappear, Robbie seems to be encased in flames once again before it steams off in smoke, with Robbie looking just as he did before the transformation…like it never even happened. Holding his head like it gave him a mild headache (since the transformation itself didn't seem like a painless experience).
But he looks at Dwayne. "Before or after you put on the armor?" he says snarkily, before he extends his hand to shake his own. "Robbie Reyes. Ghost Rider."
Then Raven is chattin' with him and he's just smirking with her. "Its supernatural in origin. Doesn't affect my eating habits, thankfully. Though if you want to buy me a falafel, I won't stop you."
Then to Alexander. "Anytime. I don't know that language though. So what did they want?"
Alexander, remembering his recent exchange with Raven, accepts Night Thrasher's hand and gives a firm shake. "Alex." His smile is there, warm but still tinged with embarrassment. "I mean, Alexander Aaron. Alex though is good." As he says that last he shoots a look at Raven as if perhaps hoping that explanation might clarify things for her.
Then to Robbie he'll offer another handshake around too, and heck even one for Raven if she gets in on the whole handshake thing. But then he faces them all, gaze flitting back and forth as Robbie probably asks the question most needing answering.
"They were a messenger sent by a member of my family. My uncle I think. He was requesting my presence. But in like, a not nice way. Since he's also sorta not supposed to know a huge amount about me. So it's. Complicated."
Dwayne Taylor presses a button on the neck of his armor, retracting it enough. Normally, he might be more protective of his identity, but they've already seen his face and, frankly, he could use the relief. Ventilated or not, it's a hot summer day.
"Dwayne," he admits. "A little like the Mafia, but I think they're Italian and that didn't sound like Italian. Nor do I think the capos usually use magic undead bird people as their messengers. But you never know. Times they are changing."
Rachel watches Robbie turn back into Robbie, leaving the Rider wherever it is he goes when he's not out and about. "Does it hurt? Like, your flesh melting away and all that? Then, coming back? You also…felt different…when you were all on fire and stuff," she says conversationally, sharing her experience. "Annnnd, sure. I'll buy you a falafel, since you're gonna buy me a soft pretzel. It'll be a treat," she nods her head in agreement.
As Alexander introduces himself more properly to Dwayne, Rachel's misunderstanding is cleared up. Buuuut, she chooses to keep it as a nickname she'll use whenever she wants. She shakes his hand, so he's not left hanging. "Oh, family drama. Is there anyone who doesn't have it?" she says dreamily. "Dwayne, that's a nice name. I don't know anything about the mafia or Italian culture, really, except what I've seen on TV and that isn't much."
Robbie raises a brow at Alex. "Nice to meet you. Your uncle huh? How many others of your family dabble in using crows and walking corpses?" its not meant to demean, this is an honest question. If Robbie knows him, this 'uncle' could send some stuff after him too. But then Dwayne introduces himself. "Nice to meet you. Cool tech." Not Robbie's style, but still pretty goddamn cool.
Either way, Robbie turns his attention finally to Rachel, whom he knows by far the most out of all of them. "Like you wouldn't believe. It doesn't hurt that much when it heals, ya know?" as for the other presence, he looks at her. "Well…thats because my soul is different. Though you have some tricks up your sleeve too. Knew you were unique." he flirts a little bit, before back to everyone as a whole.
"This is just another day in the life in my book."
"He uhh, sort of goes by the name Hades." Then he adds as if that wasn't enough, "Or Pluto. Though when I think of that name I still just think of the dog." As if he didn't just drop some big ole revelation, he turns around and starts walking backwards.
"If you guys want, I can grab us all something to eat." He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, the clothes a little baggy and just a touch too big for him. "I mean," Alexander looks over towards the now withered tree, then back to the trio of heroes. "I sort of owe you guys."
Shifting his weight to the other sneaker, he looks towards the street where there are some people milling about now, examining the area now and looking for any sign of what went on… and not really finding too much. "And might be a good idea to get out of here." He takes a step to the side, then another and says, "Though we could just go our separate ways. I do kinda live near here." That confession containing some significance to it for some reason, at least on his part.
He pauses to point at each in turn, "Dwayne, Rachel, Robbie." As if committing the names to memory.
Rachel nods her head with interest as Robbie admits that it hurts like whoa when his skin is burned away to reveal the Ghost Rider's skull. She gives a crooked half-smile when he points out that she's more than meets the eye. "Well, we've all surprised each other, in some way or another, haven't we," she replies, sounding evasive, or just as odd as she ever does. "Hades," she repeats. "That definitely rings a bell. Is it, like, ironic, or unrelated to the mythological figure?" she asks. And, as Alex starts peeling away from the group with the promises of food, Rachel's expression shifts to a different kind of interest. She didn't get to eat /all/ of her pretzel, after all, and she hasn't even *opened* her root beer, yet.
"I feel like my appetite is becoming a weakness that can potentially be exploited," she says more to herself than to anyone else. However, she adds, "You don't owe me even though I lost the rest of my delicious snack. And, the food trucks are gone, now. You didn't ask your ostentatious uncle to make a big to-do, so you don't bear the weight of his actions. Got it?" she asks, aiming a black-lacquered fingergun at him, but only to emphasize her point.
"Hades?" Robbie says, as if skeptically.
"As in the God of Death and the Underworld?" Robbie takes a moment before he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Well, considering what I go through on a daily basis, this is not the weirdest thing I've ever done or seen." he puts his hands back in his jackets pockets. He does smirk at Raven. "You seem to be the least surprising out of all of us, unless you feel like sharing?" Robbie's naturally inquisitive and hey…he doesn't mind trying to peek into the life of someone like Raven.
Though he does look over at Alex. "If you want to buy food, I won't say no. We'd have to go to a restaurant or something though, since everyone got scared off." but hey…at least one of the members of this group has a TON of money.
"Well," Alexander actually is brought up a little short by Rachel's words as she elaborates the possibility of Hades' name being a derivation or the myth or ironic. "There's sort of a chicken and egg thing going on here in a way." Not exactly helpful to relate it that way.
"But," He offers as he looks away, "He sorta is the guy who does travel to Olympus for all the family gatherings. Not that they happen very often." It's a small attempt at humor and it's born upon a freely granted half-smile.
Then Robbie enters the conversation and Alex points to him, "That's pretty much the one, yeah. I've never talked to him before, to be fair."
But when they shift to food, the young Olympian smiles to the others and says, "Ok maybe I don't owe you guys or whatever. But it's a good enough excuse to sit down and talk."
It's at that moment that Alex's departure stops. And he straightens up, for once not allowing himself to slouch as he looks between them, his voice losing that hesitance. "I know how this may sound, but I know to mark the touch of the Fates when it is before me. This is no mere accident. For us to be here, now, all in that same shared moment? There is portent here and it marks us all."
But then he gives a small shrug, "Though whatever we decide, chances are we'll find each other again and again, until whatever is meant to happen happens. So why not get it started with some pizza." A glance towards Raven then as the youth lets his smile light his features, "And/or pretzels."
Rachel doesn't respond to the question right away, but her smile is still crooked and weird. Is it stranger than usual? Hard to say. She tucks her hair behind her ear and lifts her shoulders up and down a few times. "We hardly know each other, so I'm sure there are more surprises ahead, if we continue to know one another." As Dwayne offers to foot the food bill, Rachel looks less furtive and more involved. "So generous of you, Dwayne, to offer to feed us with your overwhelming abundance of funds," she says.
"Huh," is all she offers in reaction to the fact that Alex is related to gods. "Well, he clearly wants to change that fact. Is there a reason your parents don't want you to socialize with him, aside from the fact that he's the ruler of an underworld or whatever?" she asks, her voice sounding oddly curious. Then, he's talking about fate and stuff and Rachel's like, whoa. But, she doesn't mention that it wigs her out. "Hey, I'm open to other food places. I ate most of the pretzel, anyway," she informs everyone.
Robbie looks at Rachel as she tucks her hair behind her ear. It was a nice charm point. But as she speaks that they will know each other's secrets as time goes on, Robbie chuckles. "Fair enough." But then he looks at Phobos as he tries to explain that there is something more going on here. The threads of fate being subtly poked, strummed, and picked like it were the strings of a guitar. But as Robbie tilts his head at Phobos, he seems to chuckle.
"Fine by me. Food is good for the soul." Robbie then looks to Raven, apparently pleased that she's also in with this idea. Now all that was left was Dwayne's take on what Phobos was selling.
Dwayne Taylor takes a moment and looks at his watch, "Looks like I've missed my appointment anyway. Just as well," he says. He takes a moment to check something on his phone and nods, "Seven restaurants within reasonable walking distance. Three of them with positive reviews. I'd suggest either pizza or burgers. Mexican food can be delicious, but the side effects can be counterproductive to socialization," he says with a slight smile. Yes, that was a joke.
Alexander rocks back on his heels a bit, hands deep in his pockets as he smiles at the trio of them, "Well, but Mexican places have Coronaritas, which are kinda great." Though it's unlikely any of them may have witnessed such a spectacle as a bottle of corona upended into a margarita, since really… it doesn't sound too great despite what he says.
He lifts his hands free of the pockets then and gestures to the side, "We can talk and walk." Since apparently someone is hungry too.