Summary:Kevin's just arrived in New York! What could possibly go wrong? Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It's about a 20 hour drive from Minnesota to New York City, and that's not even taking into account all of the stops the bus makes along the way. So when it finally pulls into the station, Kevin is not only tired, uncomfortable, and a little bit ripe, he's also pretty annoyed with the whole situation. He finally makes it off the bus, after every single person in front of him took as long as humanly possible to shuffle forward down the aisle. There's only a small bag on his back, which means that his other luggage must have been stowed below. Thankful to finally stretch his legs, he makes his way into the main building, where there *has* to be a Starbucks or something. His luggage isn't going anywhere until they unload it, which isn't likely to be immediate. Latte. Naow.
What's Gwen doing at a bus stop Starbucks at this hour? Who knows. Either way, the young blond is seated on a stool at the front window, enjoying not a coffee, but one of those overpriced orange juices they sell. She's get her backpack wedged protectively between her feet, and is busy doing some serious texting on her phone.
Serious. Texting.
When Kevin walks into her field of view her eyes glance up, and his presence registers, but she doesn't really pay much attention to him beyond that. Afterall, he's not committing a crime or conjuring rabbits; at least, not so far.
The nice thing about the bus station at this time of night… not many people recognize Doctor Pamela Isley, aka Poison Ivy, (ex) supervillain. Though her government parole is a matter of public record… well, sometimes it's just easier to sneak out to a obscure spot for a mocha.
However, while her affinity for plants is somewhat acute, her spatial senses are a bit less, as she's busy texting something (of course) when she bumps into Kevin in the line.
Though really, it's more like she bounces off him a bit, which causes her to exclaim, "Oof, sorry about that!" In a decidedly not-New York reaction. Though then she pauses and gets a bit of a grin, "Just got in, I'm guessing?"
Kevin, as a rather clueless 21 year old American male, is no better; his phone has his attention as well when Pamela bumps into him. Or he into her. It's hard to place blame in situations like this. What then, had his wrapt attention? Twas a cat. What else is the internet for? The bump jars him back to reality, and he looks up to see his assailant/obstacle, who he definitely does not recognize in any way shape or form, because again, rather clueless young American. Recovering his balance quickly, he reaches out instinctively to steady the woman on the other side of the collision. "No, I'm sorry. Long day, wasn't paying attention," he offers his apology for his part. "Yeah, I'm fresh off the bus," he says, stifling a bit of a yawn. "You can probably tell.." He doesn't smell nice, is what he's getting at. Subtlety.
…Demons / Live on / And when I die, hand me high / They're gonna bury you / They're gonna finish / They're gonna stand em up six by six by six
Since last looking up, Gwen's put her earbuds in and music ('Sleigh Bells' by Demons for those who might recognize it, who are also standing within four feet of her or have the most super hearing ever) is blasting in her ears and… well, into her immediate surroundings. The Serious Texting has resumed, and the young woman is busy keeping her friends in the loop of something that must really matter when you're just barely into adulthood. Voting age, Die for your Country age, but not drinking age. Go figure, America.
// You pull the hood back / I wanna know / Which way will the heavenly go//
Of course, she's not oblivious; so when a Dr. Pamela Isley appears in her field of view, she surrepticiously reaches into her jacket pockets, and snaps a couple of bracelets onto her wrists. Well… not so much bracelets, as webshooters. She tugs her sleeves down a little more, letting the cuffs hang down over part of her palms to keep everything concealed. While she's at it, she turns the volume down.
Taken down, taken down, taken down…
Ivy, for her part, doesn't seem to notice the teenager that's slipping on the webshooters, as her attention is focused on the new arrival she literally bumped into. She gives the young man a warm grin, "Oh, well, I've experienced worse… botany tends to do that." She chuckles softly, shaking her head a bit, "Guessing somewhere in the Midwest?" Since, well, the accent isn't as bad as the movie Fargo might indicate… but it's still fairly distinctive.
Kevin's accent is noticeable, but not as thick as movies and television might have you believe. He shrugs, and smirks a bit. "Guilty as charged," he admits. For his part, Kevin is terrible at picking out accents unless they're *really* obvious, so he really hasn't the first clue as to where Pamela might hail from. "Botany? So you're like, a plant.. doctor?" Kevin, master of language. He too doesn't exactly notice Gwen off in the corner putting on fancy bracelets, but he does notice when another man walks into the terminal carrying a very large hammer.
Taken down, taken down, taken down…
Taken down, taken down, taken down…
Taken down, taken down, taken down…
Gwen is definitely watching Pamela Isley, albeit surepticiously. Very surepticiously, actually; she's turned on the camera on her phone and flipped it into selfie mode, so she can peer at what the good Doctor is up to without turning around. After a minute or two, though, she seems to have decided that that's enough of that; she drains her orange juice and bounces off the stool and onto her feet. Her bag gets collected and slung over one shoulder, and she slips the phone in her jeans pocket as she moves to join the lineup herself, right behind Ivy and Kevin.
// Demons / Life on / and when I die, hang me high //
She plants herself right behind Ivy, hands thrust in her pockets, and music blaring. Well; at least until a man with a bignormous hammer walks into the place, and he isn't a certain Asgardian.
Demons / Come on / You've got a vision / You're on a miss—
The music ends abruptly as Gwen thumbs her phone and mutes the volume, perhaps a mercy to some. But now there's a supervillain and a man with a hammer, so she collects her wits. And, then she smiles at Kevin and Pamela. "Evening," she murmurs, pulling the buds out of her ears and tucking them away in the same pocket as her phone.
Pamela might not have a spider-sense, but she's not completely dim, either. She glances back towards Gwen, and says, "Good even…ing." Her voice catches as she notices the individual with the hammer, and one eyebrow arches, "Ah, New York, don't ever change." She then asides to Kevin with a bit of an amused tone, "I suspect you might be getting a proper welcome to the city."
She doesn't know who this new arrival is, but she's been here long enough to have a bad feeling about this. Also, it might be the lack of coffee or the hour, but she might be looking a bit green around the gills, so to speak.
Kevin doesn't know who the new arrival is either, but the look on his face makes it pretty obvious he recognizes *something* about him. The man is not particularly noteworthy in many respects; average height and build, short brown hair, wearing jeans and a leather jacket. Kevin stares pretty hard for a second or two, before Gwen speaks up. "Uh. Hi," he says a little too curtly; it's not intentionally rude, but it is what it is, right? "What the fuck," he mutters, and starts toward the hammer-toting stranger. "Hey! Drop the hammer, asshole!" That might be a poor choice of words, given that the man cracks a smile at Kevin's approach. "Masterson," he growls, gripping the shaft of the hammer tightly. "Only an idiot child would treat this like common baggage."
"Well, welcome to New York to you too," Gwen replies, after a roll of the eyes. She's about to say something else, when Kevin is walking past her and marching up to the guy with the hammer, all making demands and such. So she just perks an eyebrow upwards instead, and turns around to watch. She backs up a step and stands beside Pamela, thrusting her hands back into their pockets and watching.
"Five bucks says this goes completely sideways on the guy with no hammer," she mumbles, pulling one hand out of her pocket to display the money she's putting up for the bet. That's it, Gwen; make bets with the ex(?) supervillain, because that will earn you their trust so you can infiltrate their secret evil lair and hear their monologue before anyone else does. 'Cause that's cool.
Pamela hmmms, watching the confrontation with a bit of an arched brow, "Five says that our new arrival from Minnysoda gets the hammer." She glances slyly at Gwen, looking a little less green as she chuckles a bit, "Which I guess means I'm a New Yorker now, since I'm making side bets." Her accent, though it's pretty much faded, seems to be from the Pacific Northwest.
Kevin, oblivious to the fact that he's the subject of a wager back in the Starbucks line-up, isn't all that interested in talking to the hammer-toting stranger, apparently. Instead of trading barbs, he lunges at the man, who moves slightly out of the way, and sees Kevin stumble and lose his balance. "Child," the man says with a humorless laugh. Next thing anyone knows, Kevin is flying through the air toward the Starbucks, having been hit by a swing of the hammer. One-point-five seconds until he crashes into the people waiting in line for coffee. Looks like Gwen's up five bucks.
One smooth sidestep later, and Gwen is not in the way of the man with an apparent deathwish. Or maybe not? One never knows in this town. Her muscles tense up visibly when violence breaks out, but of course that might just be the fear response… right? Maybe? Either way, before Gwen goes diving into battle, she reminds herself that her Danger Sense didn't tingle, and most crucially, she's not wearing her mask.
Might as well just see how this plays out.
In the meantime, however, she holds out a hand to Pamela. "I believe that counts as sideways," she comments, grinning. "That's… certainly the direction he went flying through the air, anyway."
Pamela tsks and hands over the fiver, "It isn't over yet, but we'll see." She can't do too much just yet, at least in the area of vegetation… it's a bus station after all.
But that's not the only thing she has available… for now, though, she looks down at Kevin post-impact, "So I'm guessing that hammer he has actually belongs to you?" She sounds a bit curious, head tilting in his general direction.
Kevin crashes into the wall, and falls to the floor; a moment later he pushes himself to his feet again, seemingly not much worse for wear, despite the fact that the hammer, and then the wall, would have broken several bones if Kevin were a normal dude. By the time he gets up again, the man with the hammer has gone, thankfully without using it to cause any further collateral damage. "Ugh," he grumbles. "Yeah, it's mine. Least, it's supposed to be," he says with a frown. "Figures I get robbed the second I get here. Fucking New York City." Goddamnit.
Gwen tucks the fiver into her pocket, along with her own. "Pleasure doing business with you," she murmurs to Pamela, while Kevin is still busy picking himself up off the floor. She raises an eyebrow at his distinctly… un-injured appearance, and hunhs, suitably impresseed.
"You work out or something?" she inquires of the man, hands still in her pockets. "'Cause you just got hammer-smacked and bashed into a wall. But… don't blame New York, it's the best city in the world. You just happened to meet one guy who's a jerk." She shrugs her shoulders lightly, "You should… probably just file a police report or something, yeah?"
Pamela hmms, "Or… something, I suppose. Well, if you need a hand tracking that guy down, I have friends in unusual places." She chuckles a bit, and offers Kevin a business card, "Here. You seem like you're a bit more in the know about some things, so if you ever get out to the really bad part of town, that's where I'll be."
The card, for the record, reads simply:
Ivy Renovations
Dr. Pamela Isley
… followed by a phone number and email address. With that, Gwen gets a bit of a wry look, before she looks back at Kevin, "I need to get going, but, well, if you want some help with this guy, look me up." She grins, "And don't believe everything she tells you either, I'm on the mostly straight and narrow." A sly chuckle at that, and then she waves, making her way out of the Starbucks.
"Something like that," Kevin says, looking down over himself to make sure there weren't any unsightly tears. Or that he didn't soil himself, maybe. Or… "Damnit," he says, pulling his broken phone out of his pocket. "I don't think the police deal in.. this kind of thing?" He lets out a sigh, and rubs his head. When Ivy hands him the card, he takes it, and looks it over. "I don't know that I'd say I'm 'in the know' about much, but.." He pockets the card. He'll call when he has more to go on. Kevin gives Ivy an uncertain little wave, and then turns to Gwen. "I need to get to the Embassy. Guess I'm finding it the old fashioned way." No phone, no GPS.