Body Electric

April 29, 2015:

A major car pileup on the bridge between Metropolis and Gotham hides something a little sinister..

Metro Narrows Bridge


NPCs: EMT's, Firefighters, random citizens & good samaritans


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

"..My name is Lex Luthor, and I am declaring my candidacy for the President of United States of America.."

Lois was lost in thought after listening to the news among the radio, her foot immediately jamming upon the brakes as she stops the car cold from hitting the back of a van filled with.. puppies. Or was it cats? Her hand drops down towards her seatbelt, gripping it hard to ensure it's tight fit, a small sigh of relief drawing from her lips as she lowers her head, easing up on the breaks to set the car into motion on what seemed to be the busiest night on the roadways.

Her main goal for today was taking the rental car back to Gotham, tying up a few loose ends on her part in town, stopping by to see Stu to at least make sure if she needed a place to stay? She could use that apartment building that his friend owned as a sort of hideaway from all the stressors of the world. Read that as: Hiding from what you find in the dark..

The traffic moves to a slow crawl once again as she stops into place, her hand reaching into her pocket to glance down towards her phone.

One missed call. Chloe Sullivan. Probably not important if she didn't call three times in a row.

The phone tossed into the seat, she glances into the rear-view mirror just in time to see an armored car barrelling through traffic, cars bouncing, smashed.. clanging together and rolling off to the side, heading straight towards the rail of the bridge to smash against it hard!

There was mayhem, a few people jumping from their cars to run in the opposite direction as the armored truck itself lights a-fire. With a swear upon her lips, Lois draws herself from her seatbelt to jump out of her own car, her eyes widening as a vehicle swerves and barrels in her direction, her body pressed against her on vehicle as it narrowly misses the door she grips to slam hard into the car two paces ahead.

It was total mayhem.

Vic Sage had been in traffic in his own right, straddling his motorcycle and with a set of earbuds in his ear. Rather than listening to the news, though, he had on a meditative text - D.T. Suzuki, a contemplation of water - steadying his breathing as he kept himself patient in the traffic. Once, before he became what he became, he'd have been screaming at the traffic, yelling and swearing far from under his breath, over his breath and the breath of everyone within twenty feet of him. Young Vic Sage had been a loud, angry young man.

He was still angry. Just not as loud.

The mayhem, however, can't help but catch his attention, the armored car crashing through, fire breaking out, Lois Lane (!) barely getting missed by an oncoming car. Well, that would've been a headline to rival the Luthor thing.

Unfortunately, Vic Sage, famous journalist, would make too many headlines himself leaping around and trying to save people, not to mention if anything untoward wa shappening with the armored car. Which is why he opens the belt buckle at his waist, gas starting to emanate and swirl around him as he draws a little ball of what looks like silly putty from his pocket and, flipping up his helmet, slaps it onto his face, unpeeling his mask until his features are smoothed away, the gas changing the color of his clothes, his hair, calmly slipping on gloves as the Question sets aside his motorcycle helmet and goes to see how he can help.

It was easy, at least this one.

The pile-up causing a small bit of mayhem as the traffic begins to move outward along the outerskirts of the bridge. Most people in situations as this know what to do; they either get out of the way, stand back and watch, help, or continue on their path. The last two seemed to be it; as some people who were basically good citizens pool from their parked cars to check upon the people in the front.

The armored truck was on fire; it's grill bent, windows sent to shamble by way of spider web cracking across the board, gasoline slowly dripping from the back of the engine as the two men who were inside? Lay unconscious.

A few of the cars near Vic were torn up almost as much as the amored truck was; for it barreled at full speed and knocked them off their designated path, into other cars that were waiting for the traffic to move, trapping a few inside.

But first things first. Go for the critical.

And this is what Lois does, taking off at a full run as she points to one of the men, helping a family out of the car. "CALL 9-1-1!"

She even 'heroically' leaps over a bumper, claiming it's home upon the concrete as debris that still retained it's shape as it rocks from the blow.

The Question wants to, of course, save who he can, heading towards the armored car and casually climbing on top of some, running along rooftops and hoods to make his way towards the center of the action. He pauses to quickly knock out a window there or rapidly draw someone from a car here, lending hands and feet as needed. People don't seem to find the faceless man reassuring, but, then, he wasn't intended to be.

The armored car, where all this started, draws his curiosity, though, the primary driving force in his life. What caused this? How? And was that cause as yet over? Buddhism taught him that circumstances and events were not always sequential, that cause and effect weren't as cut and dried as human observation might make it seem.

But, honestly, armored car going out of control kind of screams "everybody be cool, this is a robbery". He finds himself pausing on a rooftop just next to Lois as she gets the last of the kids out of the car.

Through her running, the people that she passed free from their cars immediately dial 9-1-1.

But as nature, nearly fifty calls were already put into about the accident upon the bridge, which was already covered. Units were already dispatched to the scene, some rerouting their way from Old Gotham and the others from Metropolis proper. There were a few minor scrapes and accidents due to panic up ahead, but nothing as serious.

The people that the Question rescued thank him wordlessly by their backs, turning upon him to run into the opposite direction, off to the side and over the concrete barrier where it was safe, some already crying, others nursing their own wounds to look upon the terrible reckage with horror.

This did scream robbery. Of a sorts. But it wasn't as obvious as the usual rough, roll and tumble as something botched gone bad.

Lois reaches the door of the truck, her hand reaching out to grip the handle as she winces, turning her face slightly away from the building fire, feeling the heat within the metal slowly grow as she even presses a booted foot towards the side of the metal, using the power of that one leg and the tug of her arms to try to yank the door free, but it doesn't budge.

"Wake up!" She screams out, smacking her hands hard against the window, even curling her fist to bang as hard as she could, to get the sleeping drivers attention. But what does she see?

The driver.. his body start to tremble and shake.. almost as if he were seizing.. yet.. he moves in such a way that she possibly couldn't keep up with at first glance. And then he stops.

What the hell did she just see?"

The Question springs down to land beside Lois, "Let me help," he says, his voice even and uninflected, absent and dispassionate. Gloved hands slowly guide her to the side and, with a focused blow, he punches out the window, a sharp snap of his elbow focusing the necessary energy to splinter the glass to shards.

He, too, sees the strange blur of motion, that oddity within, "Hello there," he says and there's a hint of emotion, but it's strangely excited. A mystery. He does love a mystery.

Still, he's also concerned about safety, Lois' at the moment, and makes sure to position himself between her and the driver as he pops the latch on the door, flinging it open to try and retrieve the man…or whatever he was.

Whatever afflicted the man was gone; that sign of the oddity in the seizure-induced moment gone as he wakes up, bewildered, scared. "Wha.. what happened?!" He murmurs, his hat falling to the floor of the armored car, grip falling upon The Question which serves to keep him upright.

Lois watches all the while as she moves around the two men, climbing into the seat of the vehicle to reach over and hook her arm underneath the unconscious man, left within the cabin. She tugs, she pulls hard, not realizing that the seatbelt was attached. But, it was a case of her figuring it out by the snatch of the belt that whips across her face in a slight blur. Ouch.

That little pain, it didn't deter her from her duty; saving a man who was in trouble. Thankfully, he was a thin one, which made it somewhat easier to pull him from the reckage upon the same side.

Either way, Lois is going to be sore in the morning.

"Charles! Charles is still in the back! You have to sa—…"


The doors upon the back of the armored truck fly open, and a man (obviously their third companion) falls out in a roll of a tumble, bloodied and arm broken, his body seizing in almost the same way as the driver…

* OOC Time: Wed Apr 29 05:40:07 2015 *

+MEET: The Question has arrived via +meet.

The Question moves quickly, setting the man down and leaning him up against the truck as he moves to put himself between Lois, the driver's and the bloodied man who's thrown his way out of the truck.

"You might wanna get some ice on that," he says calmly to Lois, tapping his own blank visage as he slides into a simple defensive kata, his shoulders loose, flexing his gloved hands.

"Just calm down there, buddy, help's on the way, everybody's just gonna be cool."

Lois kneels as the man is leaned against the truck, her gaze lifting towards the fire that was slow burning, her head shaking. "We can't leave him here, we got to get him away from the.." And then she finally looks up.

That.. was unsettling. The man had no face. "Wha.. Who are you?" But he was already focused on something else, leaving Lois to her own devices, for now. She tries to loop the mans arm around her shoulder, pulling hard enough to get him onto his feet again, ushering him away from the scene of the crime. His passenger remained unconscious for now, but she would come back for him soon.

The other man, still seizing upon the ground suddenly stops, a shrill breath drawn from his lips as he sits upright, his eyes wide in a panic as he immediately stands and scrambles from his place upon the ground.

"What the fuck! What the fuck just happened?!" He was bewildered, delirious, arms flailing in a panic as the shock slowly begins to creep through his system.

What sets off is a chain reaction, for as another good samaritan runs close to help, he reaches out towards the shaken man.. only to be gripped in a seizure; his body standing straight as fingers flex and contract, his chin lifted towards the sky as his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

The Question watches for a moment, "Well, that seems bad," he says, watching the new arrival suddenly go into a seizure. He quickly helps Lois evacuate the men at the front, helping to hook under arms and pulling them away from the flaming truck.

"Who am I? Good question," he says, finally settling the men down and moving to approach the others, wary of touching the new victim for getting a taste of his sickness for himself, "Try to stay calm, EMTs will be here soon, just…try to breathe deeply, clear your mind…" he says, his voice low and soothing, hoping a little emotional control might at least help the man get a grip on…whatever the fuck was happening to him.

With both of the men safe from harm, it gives Lois a chance to focus, to actually see the good samaritan seize up as the other armored patrolman rushes to aid his fellow friends.

She couldn't believe her eyes, her gaze falling onto the Question and then towards the man in trouble, she was.. certain that she saw the men afflicted go through the same troubles as this one currently. "Wait, don't go near him!" Lois says, instinctively reaching out to grab ahold of the Questions coat, keeping him still so that he doesn't approach. Surely he already knew that, but Lois had that protective streak, it was something that'll never leave her.

The man seemingly stops in his seizure, however, his body crumpling towards the ground, another patron running to try to catch the person who fell, but stops in their tracks, only to suffer the same effects. It was strange, whatever seemingly happened to the people began to bounce, creating a trail of those who appeared suddenly sick, whatever or whomever it was, was attempting to get away from the current scene.

"Did you see that?! No.. DO YOU SEE THAT?! Can you even see?!"

The Question reaches back and grasps Lois' wrist, "Yes, I can see just fine. Please don't rumple my coat," he says, drawing her around beside him if she's not going to run to safety like she should.

"Seems like whatever it is follows a sort of domino effect, going from one person to another. Which means we need to find a way to isolate a victim so that it can't move further on…whatever it is."

He glances around for a moment and sees a small van left abandoned and running a short distance away.

"Go open up that van and then get out of it…I'm going to try and…herd it," he says.

Cocking his featureless face, he claps his hands at the currently afflicted man, "Um? Gitalong, little doggy?"

Lois snatches her wrist away from him after being positioned at his side, her glare gone out towards the seeming trail of bodies that were created, her hand drawing up to curl her fingers against her chin, her gaze flitting left and right. She listens to his hypothesis, her eyes squinting as she gives a slight shake of her head, her gaze turning as she hears the sirens from afar to make their way upon the bridge.

As he points out the van, she gives a sharp nod and runs forward, sliding into the front seat and crossing her way into the back, stumbling over trash and food left behind as she pushes open the back double doors with a near fall.

It's been a while since she's seen some action, and this is the type of story that she needed…

Whatever the thing was jumps to a woman, the take holding, no seizure but the same wide-eyed stare of shock takes hold, her jaw nearly contorting and twitching as she takes a few staggering steps forward.. her hand reaching out for the faceless man to try to get into range.. It was obvious there was a struggle there, and she desperately needed help.

The Question had been guiding the freakishness a little bit, making sure not to make contact but kind of following along, occasionally grabbing debris and haphazardly tossing it at people in mid-seizure to guide them in direction. It isn't exactly the most humane means of treatment, but nobody seems to be dying and, frankly, this thing seems kind of bad, so containing it would seem to be a more important short-term goal.

When the woman reaches out at him, he shows a deft swiftness, ducking his shoulder and shifting off to the side. He kicks the trunk of a nearby car, making it pop and quickly reaches in and scoops out…a shovel.

"Boy, I don't wanna know what this was in here for," he says, but he still points the spade of the thing at the lady and kind of pokes it at her, "Come on, you PTA plaguerat, let's get you nice and secured in the comfy mini-van. It's like the natural home of soccer moms. Are you too good for your home?"

The woman who tries to grasp for The Question, stumbling as he evades her almost easily. There was a look of hurt within her eyes, her mouth attempting to move as her jaw snaps forward and back. Her eyes nearly flutter from the onslaught, her fingers still held out as her body hitches and twists.. until she too.. collapses to the ground.

By then, a firetruck stops a short distance as the men begin to filter out, drawing out cannisters of extinguishers to put out the armored cars, making way for the rescue teams to move in as orders were issued to take care of those hurt and in shock.

Lois remains upon the inside of the mini-van, as a young mother rushes to the back with an angry scowl upon her face.

"What the hell are you doing?! Get out of my van!"

"Sorry lady! Was just taking cover!"

"Find cover else-where, I gotta go!"

Lois jumps out as the woman slams the door shut, giving the reporter an incredulous look as she disappears around the side..

Lois approaches The Question who holds the shovel, her gaze falling upon the after math as her hand reaches up to smooth her hair out of her eyes. "Is it done?"

The Question watches for a moment, making sure the woman remains down, and then slowly turns his empty visage towards the reporter, "Of course not. Nothing's ever done. But, for the moment, the danger seems to have passed," he says.

"Find out where that armored car came from, Miss Lane. Something's going on here and it's not as simple as a passing germ," he says. "There's intent here - chaos, yes, but order underneath. This didn't just happen - it was done," he says.

"Hopefully, you can find something out. I'll watch your column. And, if I don't read about it…well, maybe I'll be in touch if I find anything out," he says. He puts a finger up to his empty brow and casually starts to walk off amongst the cars. Hopefully no one's swiped his motorcycle while he was away.

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