A Cold Reception

February 12, 2016:

Lunair pays Cold a visit, to find him… 'entertaining' some other guests. Unwelcome guests.

NYC Docks


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

"There's alllways someone."

Leonard Snart — A.K.A. 'Captain Cold', or just 'Cold' as far as he is concerned — stands outside his makeshift, temporary 'base' in the docks, most of his guards either away or… away. The docks are clear of almost any other traffic at present, especially in this little corner of them… except for the Italian mobsters standing outside with Cold.

There are eight of them — eight henchmen — standing in something of a semi-circle around a ninth: a short, stocky fellow in a beard and wearing a hat on his head: Nic Vitali. The stocky one pulls a cigarette out of his mouth and blows a cloud of smoke at Cold.

"Where're yer boys?" he asks.

"I gave them the night off," Cold replies evenly, head tilting to one side. He is not helpless — and not without allies — having called one earlier when a certain business deal (this one, in fact) first went south.

"Ballsy," says the gangster leader. "But stupid."

Always. There always is. Lunair promised him cookies, and she's been baking. She's on her way to the docks, remembering where the chilly fellow 'lived'. She's bundled up against the evening's cold, and riding her Vespa. Much easier to get around on the docks with. For her part, it's a quiet arrival. And yes, she got the call.

Cookies and assistance. She would've probably thought a bit on how to do this. Actually, she'd warn him to close his eyes when he heard 3 taps on the window.

Park. Reeeach. Taptaptap.

And then the glass shatters. Bright light. No bang. Just light. Cold should be fine, while the gangsters rub their eyes and Lunair comes in through the window, armored up. "Leave that man alone! Yes, I'm paying for the window…" Guns up. Two shotguns.

"What the — ?!"

"Look out!!"

"Damnit, my eyes!!"

The cries of surprise, dismay, confusion and pain from the gangsters fill the area as men with guns go diving for cover. Vitali himself crouches behind some crates and starts firing at the voice (Lunair) that just… told him off. He is not alone.

Snart, meanwhile, has shielded himself behind a wall of ice, and he is… smiling to himself. "Forget the window, kid," he tells Lunair (who can probably hear the smile in his voice). "Look after the cookies. Oh. And these guys."

As he leans out to have a look at the nine gangsters in the room, it becomes apparent that two of them are already wounded. The one clutching at his face is effectively out of the fight, while another busies himself trying to stop the flow of blood from his leg.

It could be so easy for a pair like Lunair and Cold to finish this, but Cold is in the mood for some amusement. To demonstrate, he starts making it rain ice-shards upon the mafia goons.

Some of them try to flank Lunair, guns at the ready.

Lunair has an immense difficulty reading people and their voices, but she does pick up on the smile in his voice. "Cookies are secured," She promises. Happily, Lunair is power armored but it still gets /felt/ and it's incredibly distracting. Stressful - not as much as before, she's been fighting for years. But she doesn't enjoy being shot at and it's a pain.

Realizing that Cold isn't just finishing this, it's time for - BURLESQUE BOMBS! She rolls one towards the goons trying to flank her. "Ugh. Ow, stop!"

It's not really painful, it's just obnoxious, being pinged by pebbles constantly. And those in the area of the burlesque bomb will find themselves in pinup outfits (some even have chest tassles - oh my) and doing sexy dances. One even puts his foot on a chair and wiggles. Oh my. "Ow! Right in the heterosexuality!" Vitali isn't forgotten, but she's trying to keep herself from being flanked.

"Snart, you pain in the ass!" Vitali calls out, while still firing at ice-shields and Lunair's armour… and now also the 'Burlesque Bombs' too. "This is the last time you double-cross Nic Vitali on a deal!"

Over by Lunair, two of the gangsters draw melee weapons and charge her.

Cold snorts.

"The /deal/ was for a full shipment," he tells Vitali while making it hail around his temporary base. It might become clear to Lunair now, that there are no other members of Cold's crew — his 'Rogues' — in or near the base. In fact, even the majority of his equipment gone. There is only just enough left to create the illusion of an 'active HQ'…

"You only delivered half," Cold explains — and drops a massive icicle from the ceiling on a thug's leg. He glances at Lunair to see how she's doing. There's a plan here. She knows it. Cold smirks as he starts leading the gangsters back inside his main building.

Further in…

Lunair tries not to giggle. It's almost funny in a way. She rolls one of the burlesque bombs to Vitali. He gets to be a stripper, too. Lunair is holding up okay, though she's quiet, since mending armor and dealing with being shot keeps her busy.

She's listening. There's hail, too! Huh. And she's noticing what's going on. Things are emptied out. There's a wince as a dude gets icicle'd. Right in the leg! She's mostly running crowd control, and helping out. He's leading them further in? So be it. Though, now she has melee goons to deal with.

"Really? Have you ever tried to stab a Buick?" She asks. Nevertheless, melee is serious business. She's got a staff out and swats them towards the inside. Bowling for goons.

"That's it, that's it…" Cold murmurs as he angles his way around to meet up with Lunair, now deep inside his base. He half-smiles at her — and throws two solid snowballs at the goons converging on Lunair.

Leaving her to manage the ones following Cold.

Vitali is in a rage now — either at Cold, or at the Burlesque Bombs, or Lunair… probably all of it. A hail of bullets hits the ice shield and Snart looks at Lunair.

"When I give the word, make another light show — then be ready to run. Rear exit, okay?"

Lunair would smile back, though she's probably not visible beneath the black visor of her sealed helmet. Still, a Cold smile! Worth it. She is going along with Snart.

Lunair is tending to the goons following Cold. A solid smack to the back of the knees with the extending stave should slow them heavily, if not to the back of the calves. Were they adventurers once?

She is somehow glad for armor, as the bullets hit the ice shield. She looks to him, and nods. "Got cha." She promises. He's got a minion and friend in Lunair at least. She is curious as to his designs.

"Damnit! My knee!"

"Fergitabowdit! Get Cold! Get the… thing in armour!"

By now, Lunair and Snart are surrounded — almost. At least half of the gangsters are still up and fighting, not that it does them much good. The temperature in the room, around Snart, drops dramatically and he abruptly freezes the floor underneath the feet of every thug and gunman.

"Now!" he tells Lunair, and shields his eyes.

Lunair tries not to giggle. "I am not a THING!" The girl hisses. "Rude!" She retorts. Lunair is a bit miffed at that. They are surrounded. And thankfully, Lunair is bundled and armored up, because otherwise she'd be tempted to start hibernating and suffering the same as the gangsters.

She throws another flash grenade into the gangsters. Her armor reacts to protect her, but the thugs are handily disabled. And on an - ice rink?

In conjunction with Lunair's distraction, ice rises up from the ground to clamp down the gangster's feet. Cold gives Lunair a nod and dashes for the rear exit.

Once the two of them are outside, the base locks down around the mobsters and Nic Vitali, locking them in. A series of small explosions cause several crates in the room to burst open, revealing stashes of drugs inside — while the fire starts to melt the ice.

Cold looks over at Lunair and smirks, 'dusting' himself off unnecessarily. "I'd outgrown that place; it needed to be shut down. Now, with any luck the cops will blame the local mafia — and /we/ have one less rival. What do you think?

Lunair scampers after Cold, too. She blinks, at the explosions. Cold is clever. She'll have to keep that in mind. Granted, she figured as much but still. She makes it out as the base locks down around them. She's glad to be out of there.

Lunair smiles, despite her face not being visible beneath the black visor. She giggles at the dusting off. "I see. I understand. And huh?" She seems puzzled. "I think it was very clever. I'm usually picking off cartels and mafiosos around here. But you're a friend, so-" It's fine. A shrug. "Anyway. I did bring your cookies, too. They're in a thermal bag in my Vespa. I'd ask how you are but…"

"Rivals are bad for business," Cold replies. The noise of the mafia shouting and shooting in the old base can still be heard outside. "Especially rivals that deal in drugs they sell to children. Sometimes I feel like I'm doing the cops' job for them…"

Snart looks back over his old base as he leads Lunair away, and smirks slyly again. "Me? Well, you know what they say… 'when God closes one door, a bank vault opens somewhere else.'"

He flexes his arms and pulls up his hoodie.

"I'm sure we'll think of something, but for now — I'm hungry. Cookies? I'll steal the beers. Or… soda."

"I see," Lunair frowns. "I can understand that," She nods. "I'm usually picking them off." Lunair follows him along. She doesn't bother to look back at the old base until Snart does. She tilts her head.

"I suppose so… wasn't it a window? God is weird. Opening doors and bank vaults everywhere." She lets her armor disappear, since a girl in power armor really stands out. She giggles at the flex. Ooh. "And yeah. I um. Can just buy the soda. You'd have to get the beers." Sadly, not old enough for beers. "Sure!" She leads him to her Vespa. And indeed, in a bag similar to what keeps pizzas warm, comes the sweet scent of chocolate (melty!) chip cookies. "Ta daaa~"

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