Swing for the Bleachers

October 11, 2017:

Black Canary bites off more than she can chew. Blue Marvel comes to the rescue.

NYC Harbor


NPCs: The Absorbing Man



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

TIME: 10/11/2017: 23:42

To the outside world, the New York City Harbor is a peaceful place at this hour. The occasional ding of a bell can be heard as gentle waves lap at the wooden struts that hold the docks into place. Fishing and other commercial vessels sway gently in the October air, and the gray shadow of seagulls can be seen taking perch upon the vessels, looking down upon the heavy, metal beasts they have chosen as their home, waiting for signs of life in the water to flutter down and claim as their prey. Pigeons, hundreds of them, squat on the light fixtures, leaving sickening pools of blackened bird shit everywhere.

Sigh. New York.

It's also the night that Black Canary had made a poor choice to step outside of her vigilante jurisdiction.

The wooden doorway to the warehouse splinters into a thousand pieces as the urban legend from Gotham is thrown through it. Ten miles of black fishnet connected to a single bodysuit and leather jacket roll over the concrete, away from the splinters, in what is the losing end of a fight that sends gull and pigeon alike flapping away from the warehouse to find shelter.

"God DAMN IT!" Black Canary rolls to one knee, batting her gloved palm down on the ground as she wobbles to her feet. Frustration has set in. She's been at this quite some time…

"God can't help you now, lady." The baritone voice rumbles from the shadowy remains of the doorway. Heavy footsteps accompany the sound of a chain being dragged. Booted feet appear first, then the purple and white striped pants, up to the bared breast and abdomen of a muscular man who appears to be made out of pure lead.

A heavy ball connected to a chain cracks the concrete as it is dropped to the side.

"After they bury you, I'm gonna find your tombstone and scratch 'Bad Call' over your name on it."

There are far better mistakes to make in life than to accidentally poke your nose into the business of the Absorbing Man.


Adam had been out walking late at night to go 'bowlng' 'with the guys' What that actually meant was he was out walking around the city and just wanted the excuse to get some fresh air. The docks weren't the best place for fresh air, but he knew for a fact that he could take anyone who decided to pick a fight with him.

Or rather that's what he'd told himself from the moment he left the main doors of his NYC home to go out on the town. He was still telling himself that even as he speed along with his hyper-sonic flight right into the path of the wrecking ball. It was just a reflex that he'd never quite lost, the want to help those in need even at the cost of himself.

Fists slam forward into Creel at full speed, not to kill the man just to knock him out of the way and save the life of a hero in distress. Even if she could handle herself just fine without him.


Fresh air? No, there's little true fresh air to be found in New York City that doesn't smell vaguely like urine, but the locals are used to it. It's got a certain charm to it that can only be found in places such as CLEVELAND and BOSTON.

Creel's midway through winding up with his wrecking ball. The heavy chain is beginning its first lazy swing through the air as Black Canary pushes to her feet and lifts her mitts into her fighting stance. She huffs a strand of her blonde hair away from her domino mask, and just as Creel seems about to swing the ball her way…

…a blur of speed sends the villain crashing into the corner of the warehouse, buckling the steel and the heavy struts that hold it into place.

"WHAT THE-" Creel roars.
"-FUCK?" Canary blinks, confused at first. Not that Canary's sigh of relief at having backup isn't obvious in the blast of air scraping past her teeth, but it gives her a few seconds to think.

Creel, buried beneath the whole corner of rubble in the warehouse, is already beginning to dig himself free.


Standing in the rubble with one fist clenched is a dark skinned man with a single clenched fist. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to hit a woman?" Spoken with a calm authority through the mist and debris falling.

The man himself is 6'4 and full of muscle with chiseled features and a grey streak running either side of his head of pitch black hair. He's dressed in rather simple street clothing, a brown bomber jacket, and tan pants. He's hardly dressed like a super hero, but he's standing with such a natural confidence it's like he'd done this a million times before.

Truth was he practically had, only the faces were different this time around. "I'd stay down if I were you and wait for the police." As he unclenches that fist and touches down onto the ground from his position floating mid air above the rubble. He falls back slightly into a defensive position. "You alright there?" He asks Canary with a smile full of pure white teeth.


"Who, me?" Canary manages a weak smile back. One eye closes as her jaw rolls in place, mouth opening to test the sore muscles that are flaring from an earlier punch. She lifts her fingers in a wave then slides both hands behind her back to approach her momentary hero. "I had him right where I wanted him, but he's huge, so more's the merrier."

Nevermind the fingers working behind her back to slip a pair of brass knuckles over her already bleeding knuckles. Had him where she wanted? Not exactly. In the hero world, Black Canary plays on the 'normal strength' softball team.

"POLICE! Don't make me laugh." Creel kicks a cinderblock out from above his knee and rolls forward. Dust, at least one should hope it's dust, because in darkness, even asbestos looks like dust, shimmers off of his shoulders. "You think dropping in here to cold cock me like that is gonna keep me down? It isn't a strike if the batter isn't at the plate, kids." Creel shakes his bald head and snorts through the -yep, it's asbestos- at the two of them.

"Oh, now he's pissed." Canary rolls her shoulders and stands alongside Blue Marvel. Eyes caked with black makeup beneath her mask glance his way. Fists come up with brass knuckles wrapping through to her palms. "Always a little more fun when they're pissed, isn't it? Hey baldy!" Canary snaps towards Creel. "The dock worker union called, they said you got replaced by some scab and-"

Creel roars and swings his wrecking ball over his head, charging the two like a rampaging rhiceros.


"Son, I've been doing the hero gig since before your father was a twinkle in your grandpappy's eye." Blue Marvel calls out at the mention of the word kids. He didn't enjoy being talked down by a sprout like that.

"Oh I get the feeling you may be right." Spoken from the side of his mouth in a somewhat deadpan manner as he looks right towards that raging bull. The asbestos smell was all too familiar to Adam, back when he was running the hero gig that stuff was everywhere, helped keep down the potential fires, was a real good insulation to b-

He was distracting himself in thought when he should be focusing on the raging man of many materials. "You know jail isn't so bad, you've already got the ball and chain." As he fly's back up into the air trying to play distraction from Black Canary so she can do her work while he plays matador.


Like a pitcher on a baseball mound, Creel leans forward on one leg and throws the heavy ball through the air towards where Blue Marvel's disrespectful mouth was. The chain makes a slithering noise as the heavy ball flies under the hero a split second after he takes up flight. The ball crashes through a lightpost, toppling it down into the black water.

"You don't look so old! I've seen older and meaner things like you in my stool." Creel wraps his meaty forearm around the chain and gives the chain a hard jerk, sending the ball back towards his side.

"There solves the mystery of the missing wedding band." Canary sarcasms. She catches quickly on Marvel's distraction and rushes in, ducking beneath the heavy wrecking ball that flies over her head. "How about this one?" Canary leaps up into the air and draws her hand back. "You've got something on your f-"


Canary drops to her feet after plugging Creel's jaw with all of her strength. Creel's head jerks to the side, but Canary stumbles back, holding her sore forearm and shaking her aching wrist.

"I'm officially sick of this asshole." Canary calls upwards. "If you don't got an idea, I've got an idea."

Creel, enraged, begins to swing the wrecking ball all around them, trying to hold them at bay in a whirlwind of devastating iron.


Blue Marvel floats up in the air, holding his hands together tightly ads they begin to glow with a bright blue energy. "You want mean?" The glow goes brighter and brighter still till it bathes the entire docks in a blue energy. "You can't handle mean." A single beam of bright blue energy slams fourth out of his hands hyper concentrated to a single point, right where the chain connects to the ball strong enough to melt anything short of adamantine.

"You and me both sister." He calls down from on high holding his hands firmly in front of him as he sends out what can only be described as beams of pure energy and heat. "Let's see how tough you are without your little toy."


The link connecting the ball to the chain melts into white, hot magma. Physics being what it is, the heavy ball swinging wildly, results in the massive sphere of iron flying wildly through the air into a parked forklift. Forklifts don't normally scream when they die, but the resulting squeal of bent metal and shattering parts sure sounds like one.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU BOTH!" Enraged, Creel hops back, driven away by the energy blasting all around him. Spittle flies past his lips as he hop-stops and wraps the chain around his knuckles, creating his own pair of brass knuckles for the fight. "NO ONE! NO ONE CAN TAKE ME DOWN, NOT NOW, NOT FOREVER. YOU'D BETTER KILL ME."

Canary tucks her wounded wrist against her chest and her black, leather calf boots kick up dust as she rushes forward again. This time, she weaves through the potholes exploding from the energy beams to baseball slide down beneath Creel.

"Sorry. We don't do that." Canary mutters upwards.

The piercing shriek permeates the air. A visible cone of force erupts upwards from her open mouth, blasting Creel in the face with a deafening, disorienting, and forceful wave of sonic energy. Creel bellows in pain and covers his damaged ear drums, stumbling back.

"SWING FOR THE BLEACHERS, MAN!" Canary calls out to Blue Marvel, serving the knockout for the stronger of the two.


"Sorry, but I haven't killed anyone since Korea, and don't plan on picking the habbit back up." As Blue marvel reels backwards getting himself one heck of a windup for what's about to be a deep impact.

Energy fades back into his hands as he readies himself, running through the calculations in his head a mile a minute for what should prove a home run. He drifts four degrees to the left adjusts his trajectory accordingly and waits for that perfect moment to present itself.

He rips forward once that scream rings out. It wasn't what he expected and it leaves his own ears ringing but it certainly works as far as a distraction goes. With great speed and a hypersonic BOOM he fly's down swooping into the ground right at creels feet sending him flying up into the air for another swooping strike right to his chest, the act of juggling a human being proves to be a bit more simple for the Blue Marvel, as he throws punch after punch to keep him airborn spinning and twisting and turning to the point where most men would be sick to their stomach, before finally. FINALLY dropping him back down to the ground.

"Now, take a moment and think about what you've done." Spoken like a disapproving father figure more then the man who just kicked his ass. There's a genuine sort of care to his voice and expression as he looks down before floating back to ground level to see eye to eye with Black Canary. "Good thinking."


Carl Creel can fight damage, but disorientation and the raw punishment inflicted upon him by Blue Marvel is too much for him to bear. When Creel comes down, he comes down with an explosion of wood, metal, and door hinges from the damage he's caused. So still and unmoving, he might seem dead, but the tiny puffs of asbestos with each breath he takes are as good a sign as any that the Absorbing Man has become the Nappytime-Man.

The Black Canary, holding her wrist protectively and her blonde hair matting to her cheeks from sweat she'd just spent the last half hour trying to fight a living warehouse, is grateful in the eyes, but not in the lips. She gives Blue Marvel a wry smirk, looking past him to the downed villain.

"Thanks. When you can't kick them into submission, you just gotta find their Achilles Heel. Right?" The grateful sense in Dinah's eyes slips away and washes over with her brash confidence. She flexes her fingers, still wearing the brass knuckles, against her choker. "Thanks for bringing the lasers and teaching him a bit of a lesson. I've been called bitch so many times in the last fifteen minutes, I'm kind of half surprised it wasn't Wonder Woman who showed up."

Canary bares her teeth in a wide grin and salutes off of her brow with her good hand.

"Black Canary."


Adam touches down shortly after Creel, a job well done if not a job done with some decent property damage. He never was a fan of the property damage side of things, but at least he had a good feeling he wasn't going to be sued for this fight. Or well so he hoped anyway.

Giving a silent nod Adam rocks back and fourth once before just shaking his head at the unconcious slab of man now laying face down in the broken pier. "Blue Marvel, at your service." He states calmly but firmly. "Friends call me Adam." He pauses at the sight of that hand, before adding on. "I'm a Doctor, well the physicist kind, not the medical kind, and I think you should have that looked at" As he motions over to her hand with a bit of a nod given in that direction. "I know a good doctor around here who could help you back into shape." Pause "Of the Medical variety"


"Nice to meet you, Adam." Canary mouths 'ow' as she uncurls her fingers and slides the brass knuckles off of her wounded hand. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't give you my real name? I'm not exactly deputized. I had a fencing tip from Gotham that lead me here and-" Canary nods down towards the heap of villain that is quickly reverting from iron skin to pale, caucasian skin. "-I didn't get the memo that someone like him was going to be here. I was hoping for Greek guys with a lot of chest hair and gold chains."

Canary gingerly tucks her hand back in against the bustline of her single suit, elbow pointing outwards to make room for the fist weapon she's putting into a pocket within her leather jacket.

"Does your doctor friend take cash and not ask for a lot of forms to be filled out?" Canary, suddenly interested, looks up to Adam's face. "On my word, I'm one of the good ones, but an actual doctor might be way better than late night veterinarians or hitting up a few Guardian Angels with First Aid bags. Because, clearly," Canary snorts a chuckle. "I'm not a doctor."


"I don't know, he could have some Greek in him" Pause "but his chain's metal." Spoken in a deadpan manner as he gives a bit of a smile her way. There's definitely a bit of life in him for a man who served in korea.

"Long as you've got the cash he doesn't care who you are or how it happened." Another pause. "Good if you're a criminal or just on hard times as it stands, he's at least got the full degree." He waits looking over towards the far side of the docks where a single green light shines into the darkness. "Long as you don't mind waiting with his other clientele."


"I've got some cash, but no day job, so I can be out late." Canary replies, dipping one knee downwards to peer through kohl-caked eyes at Adam's temples. Bit by bit, she's piecing out that she has no clue how old he is. "If you've got the address I might head over that way, because it feels like a sprain, but I'd want to be sure." She adds, slowly, righting to her full height and waving for him to walk with her towards a black motorcycle parked in the distance.

"So what was that you said to the guy about being older than his grandpappy?" She finally asks, eyes shooting to his temples. "Was that just a thing you said, or are you seriously older than that already old ass-hat?" Suddenly, she holds out a hand, submissively. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry. Old habit. Vigilantes pry for a living."


"He'll take loans but I'd recommend having enough cash to cover your bill." Adam admits looking back over towards that green light then back towards canary. "He's actually just over there, works out the back of an old warehouse, I was in the neighborhood to pay him a visit and talk a few things out."

Letting out a low laugh at the comments from Canary Adam takes a bit of pause before saying "Won't believe me, but" Holding for effect as he adjusts his jacket slightly to better cover over his blue undershirt, a bit of his superhero costume peaking through. "Turn 92 this year." He looks back towards her. "Don't exactly age like everyone else, if your curious check the local library, had a few 'scholars' who decided to write my lifes story for me back in the 70's"


"Oh doctors, why you so 'spensive?" Canary looks down to her boots as she walks. She steps over a daunting crack that might have otherwise caught her heel. She takes it all in stride, smiling despite her complaining tone. "I guess it's my fault that I chose to do something other than a desk job. I have no room to complain, but times like these, I'm jealous of you super strong types."

Stopping at the motorcycle, Canary pulls off her fingerless glove and stuffs it into the saddlebags. She holds up the damaged wrist and looks it over. It doesn't look broken, but her knuckles are split in two places.

"I'll believe anything these days, with flying guys in tights everywhere and monsters. I've met a few monsters." Canary continues and looks over to Adam with a hook to her brow. "Adam?" A beat. "I'm totally going to read up on you, but for sanity's sake? You don't look a day over eighty. A few decades under eighty, sure, but whatever CrossFit Gym you go to or Jared Leto diet you're on?"

The Black Canary pauses for effect, leaning in to cover half of her face and stage whisper to the man.

"You're killin' it."


"Well I'd say good chance it's part of the sheer price of the degree" As he makes his way over with her, keeping an eye back on the unconscious creed, just in case he decides to get back up and stir the pot once again. He was ready for a bit more juggling if it was needed. Looking at her hand he add. "Yeah, I'd say a visit to Dr.Nick isn't a terrible idea"

Looking up to the sky Adam takes in a deep breath of that salty sea air. It wasn't the most pleasant of smells or sensations but when in New york what was? "Just don't age like other people." He admits still looking like a man in top physical form despite his age, actually looking closer to 50 or maybe even a bit younger, though the hair is what throws it off. He's got the body builders physique , and the confidence of a man well under half his actual age as he speaks. "By the way, tell Dr.nick, that Dr.Brashear sent you, and I'm sure he'll give you a fair discount."


"Doctor Nick. Check. Doctor Brashear. Check." She replies, swinging one long, fishnet clad leg over the width of the motorcycle. Straddling onto the seat, she looks from Adam to the throttle twisting handlebar. Half sweaty, matted hair covers her eyes as she considers whether or not she can bear the weight onto her damaged wrist. "I thiiiiiiiiiiink-" Canary trails off. "-that I'm going to have to find a place to change before going out there. Unless something catches on fire, I'm done for the night." Canary cuts her fingers around her neck. "Penalty box. Yellow Card. Technical foul. Fork is done stuck in it."

Sigh. Canary gathers her hair behind her head and thumbs the starter to the motorcycle. It rumbles to life with a barked growl, then begins to purr.

"Blue Marvel?" Canary asks. "Would you feel put out if I turned over the victory to you when the cops get here? I'm not one to punch and run, but I work best under the radar; not that I'm breaking anything more than the vigilante laws, but you know how it gets. Being a good guy shouldn't mean doing bad things, but you know how people are."


"Legally I was never here" Adam states with a bit of hesitation. "I'm not actually allowed under U.S. Law to operate under any circumstances." Spoken like a man who's been cought with his hand in the cookie jar as he puts his arms out slightly to either side. "I'd prefer if it was just some nutjob in a skii-mask."

A single hand goes behind his head while he speaks. "Haven't been legally allowed to operate on US Soil since 62" Pause for a low sigh, as he looks over towards the motorcycle. "People weren't exactly ready for a 'negro' to have the kind of power I do. Been stepping on too many toes lately as it stands."


"Yeah, it's a shame that none of those curmudgeony assholes who ran the government in the sixties couldn't have been there to see a black man rescue a white woman in distress, but you can bet I'll tell my friends that it happened." Canary replies, quick on the draw with a wan shake of her head. "Not that they would have appreciated it back then like people - or myself - could now. I'm glad a good soul was here when he was."

Canary creeps the bike forward with her toes and reaches out to squeeze Adam's arm. She looks up to him from her seat on the bike and lowers her eyes, sympathetically.

"Thanks, Adam, and we'll cross paths again. I'll keep an eye out for you." Canary adds as the sound of sirens loom in the distance. "I think that's our queue. I'll tell Dr. Nick you said hi, and I'll put in a good word for you." With that, and a final squeeze of his arm, Canary's bike races off towards the east exit, away from the sirens.

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