Cleanup, takeout, and doo-wop

December 03, 2015:

Falcon assists with cleanup after the attack on Stark Industries. Lunair drops in with food and gifts, and Foggy shows up to get evidence for a disability claim.

Stark Industries

Rising high into the skyline with the name of it's Lord and Master for all to see, the Stark Industries Tower is the most visible component of the Stark Industries complex centered in Midtown Manhattan. Manufacturing, office space, power generation and even some inventory is housed in the tower and its associated subelevels. It also contains guest housing and, at the top, the penthouse suite that is the domain of the Main Man himself, at least, when he's not at his Malibu home.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [* ]

Fade In…

In the wake of a daring and destructive raid on Stark Industries, the company has been quick to rebuild. Unfortunately, between railguns, grenades, and gunfights, there's enough to fix that it's taking some time. Sam Wilson normally works as a consultant on medical tech projects at Stark, but today he's overseeing some of the reconstruction instead. Pepper Potts and Tony Stark are well aware of his — let's say "hobbies" — and they want someone with those skills on hand in case the masked intrusion team left any nasty surprises behind.

At the moment, he's just helping people clear up some of the rubble on the 58th floor, where some of the most intense (and destructive) fighting took places. There's plenty of work to do, and no end of liability questions to be answered.

Poor Falcon. Though, admittedly, Lunair was the railgunner and at least one gunfight. So she does feel some degree of responsibility. But she ALSO feels totally shocked that no one got mad at her for it! Killer fembots are totally tough, and an awesome 80s cover band. Ahem.

Nevertheless, Lunair is in power armor, and carrying some presents! Knocknocknock on nearby window frame. "Ho ho hoooo- wait, what's Kwanzaa?"

The tapping at the window immediately catches Sam's attention; he's still a little wary after letting himself get stun-blasted by one of the intruders. His tensed shoulders relax when he recognizes the armor, though.

"Not to worry, guys; it's a friend," he says, signaling some of the jumpier construction workers to settle down with a downward wave. He points her toward the nearest balcony, where he'll be able to let her into the building, then starts walking in that direction. Once he slides open the balcony door and he won't have to match her amplified voice, he tells her, "My dad was a preacher, so we're a Christmas family, big time." He cracks a grin. "Black Santa goes 'ho ho ho' just like the white version."

Foggy Nelson is well aware that he's probably not the most popular person here. While he may not be in a suit, and he has donned a construction helmet for safety, he's been noticed by a few as he moves through the wreckage, taking pictures of the damage. He already has one client, who contacted Nelson & Murdock from the hospital. He's not so much of an ambulance-chaser that he's handing out business cards, but he does give off the distinctive air of Lawyer. At least he's never had a late-night TV spot involving some sort of sight-gag. So. There's that.

And then there's a woman at the window. Falcon (oh man, he needs to ask for a selfie with that guy later- a real Avenger!) assures everyone she's kosher, so he… mostly stays calm.

Falcon IS awesome! And a real Avenger as far as Luna knows. Then a pause. "There's a Black Santa!?" She learns SO MUCH. "Wow!" So much! She smiles, waves. "Hiya! I am friendly. I bring lunch. Lots! And umm…" Rustlerustle. She does land nearby. "Mostly lunch. But I wanted to see if you were okay," She admits.

She brought a lot of expensive takeout for Falcon and his friend(s). She also brought him some candy and a vinyl record. Aw. "I was worried but like, you seemed super embarrassed FOR NO REAL REASON THAT ISN'T BEING INJURED." Emphasis there. A wave to Foggy.

Falcon is, indeed, a genuine Avenger. He even has a membership card! Plus he flies around in a Javelin. (In hindsight: should have led with the Javelin.)

"I was embarrassed because I made a dumb move and let myself get zapped," he tells Lunair, tilting his head slightly with a look of amusement. "I mean, the kind of space age tech they were packing? I should have know it wouldn't be stopped by a thin piece of wood."

He's glancing through the takeout offerings, clearly impressed, when Lunair's wave to Foggy draws his attention in that direction. His expression shifts to a mild frown. "Hey, are you allowed to be taking pictures here?" he asks. There's a note of challenge in his tone.

"Ah, Franklin Nelson, of Nelson & Murdock. The photos are to document the damage. I'm representing someone injured in the crossfire," he says, sheepishly. "I don't think there will be a lawsuit, but any evidence we can provide for future disability claims is important." His client suffered a head injury, and won't be able to return to their job- or any job, quite possibly, due to brain damage.

Foggy Nelson also hands Sam a card, and the proper paperwork that permits him to be here.

"It's okay, no one knows they were zappy and you were like, not able to fly freely and stuff." A caged bird can't fight so good, right? "They even figured out the railgun and stuff," She notes. "So please, help yourself." She brought him a record! And lunch. Totally friends. "And um. Hi Mr. Franklin." Headtilts. "I hope they will be okay?" She seems wary of lawyers. Odd. "I guess you can have lunch too." She won't exclude him. it is okay! "Mr. Murdock was nice last time I met him."

Falcon's expression softens when Nelson explains the reason for his presence. "Is it Kevin Stern?" he asks, taking the card without really looking at it. "I patched everyone up as quickly as I could, but he got hit worse than anyone else." People often aren't aware that he's both a superhero and a medic; he's not assuming that Foggy will be, he's just concerned about one of his patients. "Thanks for the kind words, Lu— uh, Armory. But I don't really get room to make mistakes."

"I can't actually say who my client or clients are," Foggy admits a little apologetically. "But their family did mention a guy with wings being a big help in getting him out of there." He frowns a little. Sadly, said client can't really say much right now. He's conscious, but not verbal at the moment. "They appreciate that a lot." And hey, fancy lunch- /he/ appreciates that.

Lunair listens, inclining her head. "He really did. He worked very hard," She offers. Lunair shakes her head. "It's okay, I trust you." She offers. "And I think you will be disappointed if you expect never to make a mistake. I bet even Captain America makes them," She offers. "So there's that." Lunair is quiet a moment, and will set lunch out. "The killer fembots are to blame, no one else. I did rile them up pretty good…"

Falcon wears a chagrined expression. He can read between the lines; if the client needs a lawyer and their family is speaking for them, it can't be good. "Well, make sure your client gets in touch with the Hero Fund. They don't just cover property destruction," he says, crossing his arms across his chest. "Stark is a major donor, so I'm sure he'd be happy to help out personally, if he can." His jaw is set; there's nothing he hates more than watching this city turn into a war zone bit by bit.

Lunair gets a wan smile. "Hey, Cap's got an everything-proof shield and hits like a Mack truck. All I can do is fall with style." He waggles one hand. "There's a lot less margin for error." He glances over at the reconstruction work, but it looks like everyone is taking five to enjoy the lunch Lunair brought. He can take a break, too. "They were pretty riled before they got here. It was a hell of an attack. Wish I knew what they were after."

Foggy Nelson nods, there are a few messages left with the Hero Fund already, though his case has more to do with the prospect of a long-term disability case. But, having support from the Hero Fund and anything willingly said on record by an Avenger? Extremely helpful for those future disability appeals. Because there are almost always appeals. "Now that we've established I'm not a tabloid photographer trying to make money off misery, maybe the construction guys will stop looking at me like-" one passes, giving a suspicious glance at him "-well, like that." A pause. His brain makes a few connections. "Killer Fembots? Really?"

"Probably Starktech. It's high in demand. At least that's what I heard when I did mercenarywork," Lunair offers. "I still try to listen in sometimes." A shrug. "… something like that …" Lunair offers to Foggy. "AT least it's not MechaHitler again." Pause. "Wow. My standards are horrifically low. But seriously, Nazi speedsters are THE WORST." Especially creepy grandpa nazis with syringes. Ahem. Lunair looks to Falcon and smiles beneath her black visor. "This is true. But you can open your gift. Mistakes happen. What counts is how you bounce from them."

"They weren't robots," Falcon clarifies, just a touch disapprovingly. Some of his friends are robots, and he can be a little defensive about the whole 'kill all meatbags' stereotype. "They were flesh and blood women, they were just wearing creepy metal masks. We've got one in custody, in fact." He nods to Lunair and favors her with a smile. "Partly thanks to you, I hear."

He gives the worker who glared at Foggy a look until the man meets his eyes, then gestures for a smile with a thumb and forefinger. "We're all just doing our jobs here," he says.

Back to the conversation, he picks up the package Lunair brought him, intrigued. "That's nice of you. I don't need a present every time I get zapped by a stun gun, though. All part of the job."

"I dunno, if I were hit with a stun gun accidentally, I wouldn't turn down, say, a muffin basket," Foggy admits. "But then, I work at a very small law firm that works as many pro-bono cases as paid. I don't turn down free anything." Like that pro bono case where the client, a deli owner, /really/ wanted to try compensating in trade. Foggy at least talked him down to a gift basket, rather than a year's worth of pastrami.

"Oh, my bad. Metal is one of my best friends. And some of my best friends are robots. But there are killer robots, too. Just like people. It's weird how that works," She considers. Lunair looks between them. "But Mister Falcon is very brave," She offers. "And I was shocked no one got mad about the railgun…" She considers. Then a nodnod. "Well, it was Miss Potts and Mana's hard work. I was just a big, noisy distraction and bullrushed her," She admits. "I just wanted to check in on a friend and stuff. And free food is nice, yes?"

Then a giggle at Falcon. "But much like me, it makes you grumpy, too." She lets Foggy dig in to the lunch. Falcon's present is a copy of the Five Sharps' Stormy Weather vinyl. Why not? "That's probably Christmas, too, but I am lazy and you will probably be around others."

"Sensible," Sam answers Foggy with a laugh. "You guys work a lot of cases in Harlem? I feel like I might have heard of you."

"I guess it's pretty dumb to argue with someone who's trying to give you a present, anyway." He flips the package around once, grinning. "One great thing about being a record collector," he says as he starts to unwrap the gift, "is that even if you can tell you're getting a record, it's always a surprise which one."

He finally reveals the cover and grins. "Nice! I haven't got this one. Thank you!" He stands and goes to wrap her in a one-armed hug, power armor or not, still holding the album in the other hand.

"We work out of Hell's Kitchen, but we have a fair share of clients in Harlem," that much, at least, he can say. "My partner, Matt Murdock, is probably the one you've heard about. Excellent trial lawyer, and far better to go to for soundclips and photo ops," he says with a bit of a smile. He sometimes shows up in the background in those photos though!

Lunair smiles as she listens, beneath her black visor. She laughs softly. "Fair. And yeah, I remembered. I wasn't sure if you're big on Doo wop," She admits. "But it DID help get R&B going, so there's that." She accepts the one-armed hug and returns it carefully. She is in power armor, and she would like to keep her friend in mint condition. "I've heard ofyou guys. I saw the office when I got attacked by angry, racist centaurs. THey were super racist, so like. They had it coming." They really did. "I am sure you are great in your own right."

"Yeah, I know all about partners who hog the spotlight," Falcon says with a quick laugh. "I'm okay with being the threat they never see coming, though." He shrugs. "I think I may have known someone who hired you guys pro bono. Or… whatever you call it instead of 'hiring.'"

He smiles and shakes his head at Lunair. "I love it. It's always great to have the whole history in your collection, finding connections where this influenced that…" He trails off and glances at Foggy, embarrassed. "Wow. I should probably keep it a little more professional when I'm in uniform. Although… centaurs? You guys get attacked by centaurs a lot?"

"Well, I think I have anything I need. And the Hero Foundation has some contact info for my client's family, they'd really love to thank you in person… um. Falcon." He will never get used to calling people by /codenames/. It's weird as hell having to call Matt "Daredevil" when he's in the red suit. "Thanks for you time. And, uh, I'm sure the Avengers have a killer legal team, but if you ever meet someone with a case no one wants to touch, feel free to pass on that card. Those… seem to be the cases my partner likes the most. Big fan of the underdog cases." He carefully begins to exit the small disaster area. And resists the urge to ask for that selfie. Matt would find out, somehow, and never let him live it down. But damn, if he ever meets Wonder Woman…

"Not often. They were just racist. And yeah." Lunair quirks a smile. She waves to Foggy. "See you! Be well." Then a beat. "You're a genuine hero and a good person. There is nothing wrong with being honestly happy," She shakes her head. He's not like her. But Lunair seems fond of him nevertheless. "Anyway, I won't keep you. I just am glad you're okay. Happy lunching." Beam.

"Thanks again," Falcon says with a grin, setting his record aside. "It really means a lot to hear you say that — and it's great to have someone appreciate what you do. And speaking of which: thanks for your help bringing down the Masques. When we figure out what they were trying, I'll be sure to let you know."

Lunair is beaming inside of her helmet. "I am glad to hear that. Thank you. And you are welcome! I was curious to see what was going on. Flying is really fun," She offers. "And you are welcome. I am betting they were totally stealing stuff, though. Like I said, I often hear demand for Stark level tech." A shrug. "Thank you. If I can help, let me know. Be well. Don't work too hard! But it is all true. You're a good dude." And with that, Lunair will be off to do her thing. Whatever it is wild Lunairs do.

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