Wait a Meowment

August 31, 2017:

Emery's GPS rebels and Spoiler and Bart rescue some adorable victims of an attempted shooting. Some people are lost.

Lower Manhattan - New York City

The southern end of the island of Manhattan is the seat of Wall Street and City Hall. Bounded by the Hudson on the west, the East River on the east, and the harbor to the south, it's a veritable mosaic of smaller, storied neighborhoods that fill in the patchwork south of 14th street. From the arts-friendly, boutique-laden, gentrified areas of Greenwich Village, SoHo, and TriBeCa, to the tenement dwelling, immigrant-filled, working class districts in the Lower East Side, Bowery, Little Italy, Lower Manhattan is one of the most diverse places in the city. Just about anything can be found here, and often is.


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Avengers


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

It is Raining. The kinda mucky drizzle that seems light but splashes down on puddles created by said drizzle send splashes of water that tastes like dirt and unknown chemicals into the open orifices that you so happen to have not yet shielded.

…so basically, the weather sucks.

An old abandoned auto shop repair shop off of the Lower East Side sits as the looming backdrop to the scene to unfold. Its locked up, and abandoned for the night but a solitary figure stands leaning against a dark green 1967 Mustang, bundled up in a black trench coat, collar turned up against the rain, wide brimmed dark brown fedora perched at a jaunty angle, pulled down to shadow his eyes as he stands there, one hand holding a smart phone with a cracked screen that keeps flickering and the other holding a dark green umbrella with an ornate knobby handle open over his head as he squints at the screen.

//"In 200 meters, turn left." Comes the usually chipper voice, but it sounds a bit slurred as the battery is dying.

"I cannae turn /left/ ye daft bint…there's a /wall/." The lilting retort comes from the bundled up Irishman, aka Emery who is arguing with the technology.

"In 200 meters, turn left."

"Are ye DEAF, there's a /wall/."

"In 200 meterrrsssssss…"

Meanwhile, pan up to the abandoned auto repair shop, it is quiet. Too quiet.


Some patrols are best done on foot. Especially when the weather sucks. Driving in rain sucks, flying in it is worse. Add an order of magnitude for each because Spoiler uses a motorcycle. This auto repair shop was a place Spoiler had been casing, and so she stays perched on the squat building. In the dark, her AR lens are a dim lavender-white. The rain's slicked her blonde hair into a light brown down her cape. She waits, silent, watching and listening.

Two hundred meters, hmm? Puts the man with the umbrella just beneath her perch. He's new. Wonder what he's up to. Spoiler watches and waits.


Sweatjackets don't do very much against the rain, but it's all he's got, and so as though in some act of defiance, Bart's got his hood up and pulled over his already damp hair, the material of his outerwear already darkened to the point that you couldn't tell what color red or maroon it might have started out when dry. He walks along, not seeming to mind too much being somewhat soaked, but that's probably because he's preoccupied.

At this moment he appears the very model of your average teenager, from the hoodie to the jeans and sneakers, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a pair of wires from his earbuds trailing down to the phone he's got in his hands, held sideways as he seems engrossed in a game despite the droplets of water that streak down the screen. It's also why he's missed a turn a couple blocks back and ended up….a good ways off from the direction he might have meant to head in. Not that getting lost is ever a problem for Bart Allen. It doesn't take him long to get back on track. Once he…you know, realizes he's off it.

Splish-splash. His steps aren't difficult to pick up, not with the numerous puddles gathering along the sidewalk. At the moment he doesn't even notice the trench coat-wearing man nor the unusual quiet, otherwise.


There is a flicker of concern in Emery's eyes as he looks up from his phone watching the teen walk past, soaked. The dead phone is tucked away before the butler clears his throat, raising his voice. "Hey! You, boyo…" He calls out tentatively. "Are ye…okay…"

He's still getting used to this generation's ability to multi-task with their technology.

All is quiet, then there's the crackling of lightening that illuminates the interior of the auto shop, the windows lightening up briefly, 2 times in quick succession. It's not actually lightening, but the gun shots cause the man in the trench to look up again quickly from his dead phone, eyebrows raising. His eyes dart over to the teenager and then back to the auto shop before he ducks slightly as two more shots are fired from within the auto shop. "Oi! Kid!" He's got his car door open and he's lowered down behind it for cover.


Adult speaking to teen. Adult sounds concerned. Adult is liking not part of the issue tonight, thus she pays that half a mind. Her eyes flit back to her target, the building. First flash of light, and Spoiler presses her purple faded lips together. Unhappy with the gunfire, but needing the intel one of the men has, the purple and black batling, leaps from the rooftop, swings herself toward a window on a grapple line, and impacts feet-first, shattering the window and sending herself sailing inside. No sooner does she get through the window than she curls into a landing by one gunman and sweeps his legs clear out from under him. An elbow to the temple will keep him from getting back up any time soon.

Time to find her mark, get him free, then get her info.

And maybe keep the civilians outside clear of stray bullets. Thank goodness ONE of them had a clue and took cover.


Bart lifts his head from staring at his phone, his thumbs still tapping the screen incessantly. Was someone talking just now? He's glancing over in the man's direction when sounds punch through the medium setting of his phone's volume. One of the earbuds yanks free when he jerks his head up. Well that got his attention.

"Whoa, what-" he mouths, staring rather than taking cover, because that is totally what you do, right? He takes it all in, and from his perspective it all happens in slow motion.

A flash of light, another, punctuated by gunfire. The panicking man who looks back and forth before moving for cover behind the car door. A shadow as a figure in purple and black swoops down, and the window gives way to her feet. And all the while Bart still stands where he is, although everything probably happens in less than a minute after the shots have gone off. Probably way longer than someone should when they hear anything of the sort at all. He takes a step back finally, torn between moving to join Spoiler and seeing if the trench coat guy is all right. His feet seem to make up his mind for him as he moves towards the guy by the car. Going closer to danger? Why not?


Emery, Maggie the Dark Green Mustang…they are okay. Well, the Irishman is straightening up a bit from behind the car door, snapping the umbrella closed in a smooth motion and then kneeling back down behind the door as he gestures towards the kid.

Inside, a rather obese man wearing a cheap suit falls on his ass and is knocked out in a fluid motion and the interior of the 'breakroom' that the purple and black heroine has swung into is filled with about 14 crates…of kittens. All sorts of colors and mixed breeds, all rather thin looking. The problem seems to be that the cages/crates have been damaged and kittens are /pouring/ out of them. Apparently, the guy was trying to shoot them and missing.

That window is shatters and it provides another avenue of escape for the panicked felines, who meow and mrowl almost pitifully as a few have scaled up to the window and then dropped like furry meteors.


Spoiler, Kitten Rescuer.

This was not what she had really been expecting from a shipment of 'not completely legal'. Surrounded by kittens and silence, Spoiler blinks a few times as the kittens seek a way out. Standing amid all the pitiful and cute furry kittens, she's at a loss for a moment. A hoard of stray cats in New York means way more work for Animal Control.
So, Spoiler does the only sensible thing an Avenger can think of to do….

She moves to block the window until the authorities get there to keep kittens from getting out after quickly zip tying the 'villainous' Kitten Killer. In the window, Spoiler pulls out her phone and sends an alert to her contact as an Avenger to NYPD and then to NYSPCA.

At least felines will get JUSTICE!


Obligingly, Bart moves in at almost a crouch, just in case he has to catch bullets. He drops down beside the man who seems so insistent that he join him, amber eyes straying towards the window where Spoiler had disappeared through. Doesn't sound like any more of a commotion, at least. He knew she'd have it handled!

The sound that does drift from within is something else entirely. The teenaged Speedster blinks. "Uh…" He points as a few fuzzy faces that have surfaced by the window, and in the next moment he's already slipped his backpack off and eased towards the window- and then with a gasp dives to catch a handful of furballs. Armful. Amazing that he manages to do so, so neatly! And now he seems to finally realize what he's caught. "Kittens?"


KITTENS! Red Kittens. White Kittens. Black Kittens. There are even a few Kittens in colors that are /not/ natural. There's a blue one trying to scamper up Spoiler's leg, looking up at her with big yellow eyes and meowing like Barry white. Apparently, these are kittens that are possibly used for experimentation.

Bart's arms are filled with tiny fluffy and now wet kittens, a couple of brown cats, a pink cat, a black cat…all kittens, trembling and meowing adorably.

Emery is slowly raising from behind his car door, squinting towards the building with a tilt of his head.


Spoiler made quick work of knocking in the last of the broken window pane before hauling herself up to sit in the sill. One leg dangling out, the other prompted up to block kitten egress, she settles the blue one that was on her thigh into her lap. One hand petting it on the hand, the other taps at her phone.

"Nice catch," compliments the Avenger of the civilian below her on the sidewalk who had so expertly caught an armload of furballs. No idea that this is Impulse, or the young man she met as Steph that one time. Not yet, anyway. Her eyes are on her phone, sending a tweet now, and turning to take a picture of kitten-gunman and all the poor kitties. The gun is exactly where it had fallen.

@SpoiledBat: An inexcusable meowment. @NYSPCA Come get him! <image attached>


"Are pink cats normal?" Bart asks absently, moving to stand with the wet armful of kittens. He scritches their heads with a finger. They're so tiny! And kind of prickly with their little claws but aaaaaw!

He glances up at Spoiler, smiling crookedly. Probably a good thing she's kind of distracted as he looks about to say something. And then he pauses, realizing that she wouldn't know who he is. That last meeting was kind of awkward anyway. So Bart eases back over towards the Irishman, kittens and all.

"You okay?" he asks the man, pretty sure he hadn't gotten hit, but people don't seem to like being in the vicinity of gunshots and stuff.


It will probably take time for the authorities to get there, because after all this is New York and an abandoned buildings of all. But the kittens seem grateful.

The Irishman makes his way over, adjusting his hat under the rain which is letting up a bit and he just kicks his door, pushing the umbrella back up and finishing the journey, sort've hovering a bit with that umbrella near the window and the two…youngins. "Aye…" He trails off looking between the two. "Are /ye/ both alright?"


"Not even slightly," Spoiler replies to Bart as she takes a heartbeat to update Avenger's files with this. It means she misses the crooked smile, and the reason to stay growly and cold and detached. Thus, Bart gets a much more 'personable' Spoiler, speaking in a voice that can only be called 'warm and friendly'. It's a far cry from the tense and stand-offish personality he'd seen thus far.

Her eyes lift from her phone as Bart moves away from her and the window. Thus, his face remains hidden. Not concerned about Bart now, her gaze seeks out the other man, and she watches him from her curled up place on the window sill, a kitten in her lap and another two inside the building starting to use her cape like a curtain. To Emery's question, Spoiler's lips curl up into a very pretty smile.

"I'm fine. Thank you for the concern," Spoiler says politely and kindly.


"Yeah, I'm fine." He inwardly grumbles as the man comes over by the window, which means that Bart has no excuse to move away from it and Spoiler. It's really weird hearing her be so friendly. When Bart had first met her, she'd been guarded. The last time he met her, she was completely stand-offish, and he had a feeling he knew why. He'd learned a lot from Tim, after all, even though he might have been better off not knowing.

Keeping his back turned towards the window, he tries to busy himself with kittens. That doesn't prove to be too much of a problem given how squirmy they are. He doesn't seem to mind too much when some of them try settling into the warmth of his jacket's pockets.

"…why are there so many kittens in one place?" he can't help but wonder aloud.


Emery bows his head politely to Spoiler, looking her over with a tilt of his head before he offers a dimpled smile. "Ye keep an eye on these wee balls of fluff…the authorities will probably be here before ye know it." Then he's looking back to Bart, just watching him quietly for a few moments and shifting his umbrella to his other hand, still holding it a bit above himself and Bart and the kittens he holds. "Eh, dun ask me. I 'aven't even been in this country for a full week yet. They look like they might've been used in experimentation." He leans forward a bit, offering a fingertip for a kitten to bat at as it squirms against Bart and then he pulls back.


Mister Irishman looks in sore need of some kittens. Bart holds one out in offering, because he has no idea what to do with a bunch of kittens. Maybe he should just stuff them back through the window? But that would mean having to cross Spoiler. Hmm. Would the Titans mind some kittens in the Tower? At least temporarily.

"Experimentation?" He scowls at the thought. That just sounds terrible. …not to mention he can kind of relate. He'd been a subject of experimentation when he was just a baby, and probably would have still been such- or dead, if his Aunt Iris hadn't brought him back from the future.

"Poor little guys," he mutters, petting kitten heads.


Emery reaches out to accept a kitten, balancing his umbrella between his neck and his shoulder for a moment before taking the tiny ball of wet dark red fluff and cradling it to his chest with a large hand. His free hand regrips his umbrella as he makes soft 'tsking' sound and murmurs softly in Gaelic, rocking a bit to sooth the tiny beast.

"…aye, the minds of humans can sometimes be truly twisted." He looks around for a moment before looking back to Bart. "Ye were very brave and kind to try to help out in the way you did, lad. Do ye 'ave a name?"


That's something he can agree with. People are pretty messed up. Glancing briefly over his shoulder towards the window, the teenager then looks back at Emery, smiling lopsidedly. "Eh, I didn't do much."

It didn't seem like Impulse was needed for handling a kitten smuggler, anyway. Although that does make him wonder… Although wondering would mean trying to look through the window or open a door and be subjected to a kitten rush so he supposes he'll have to (ugh) wait.

"I'm Bart," he offers, speaking a little quieter in hopes that Spoiler won't hear. Secret identities, pff. "So are you visiting, mister…?" What an exciting first week for this poor guy.


"Sometimes is the smallest act of kindness that speaks to true bravery. M' sure every single one of them lil' fluffballs that ye are holdin' tink the world of ye right now." Emery offers softly. "My name is Emery Papsworth, professional Butler and certified Personal Assistant." He bows a bit, holding his umbrella and kitten.

"A pleasure to meet you." A pause. "And nah, me and me daughter and moved to America, so I've been here for a few days." He sighs softly. And what a week it has been.


He supposes that's something he can't argue. Cats are supposed to land on their feet, right? But these were tiny things, and that window is pretty high up that Bart's glad he didn't chance it. Emery's words help ease a more sincere smile from him.

"Nice to meet you too, Mister Papsworth. A butler, huh?" That explains…well, not too much since Bart's not that familiar with what all butlers do except help around the house and drive. Maybe that does about cover it.

"Oh, you moved here? Awesome. Um. Welcome, then? I think this is pretty tame compared to things that tend to happen around the city, at least." If Emery's been through any other situations, the teenager remains blissfully ignorant. "What were you doing here anyway? There's like…" He looks around, finally getting a good look at his surroundings. Wait, where the heck is he?


Emery chuckles softly. "Aye, a butler." He replies, continuing to pet the kitten curled up against his shoulder. The Irishman tilts his head slightly as he listens to the questions.

"Damn GPS got a wee bit pissy that I called her an incompetent chippie or somethin'. I was trying to get somewhere and the blasted phone was not smart enough to course correct I suppose. I should've jest used a map." Emery tsks softly. "I still dunnae understand why they call them /smart/ when they have no critical tinkin' skills." Then he looks around slowly and looks back to the teenager. "And just what were /you/ doin' here?"


"Oh I see. Yeah, I hear they get like that sometimes." Bart, use a GPS? Why? He pulls out his own phone, pulls out a pink kitten instead, replaces kitten and then withdraws his phone. "Actually, I'm not sure why they're called smart phones either," he admits. The question that follows catches him off guard, and he blinks, glancing up at Emery again.

"Uh…. Honestly, I have no idea. I think I missed a turn."

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