MacFitzer in Heel Street Blues

April 19, 2015:

Fitz and Felicity go on a date and are attacked by thugs.

NYC - Midtown

Dark alley


NPCs: Thugs (Run by Howard!)


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

The night is not exactly young, but not really that old, either.

As promised, Felicity and Fitz have found themselves outside of a bar after a few drinks and she has not once had her memory wiped. That she knows about, that is. Though Felicity normally wears high heels, the alcohol has made her a bit wobbly. As such, she's looped her arm through his to keep herself properly balanced as they walk down the street somewhere near Midtown.

"No. Nononononono. You can't be serious," she tells Fitz. This sounds important, dire, even. "This evening is over in exactly three seconds if you say your favorite Doctor is someone other than David Tennant. I will possibly accept Peter Davison. Maybe. But I think I'll need another one of those…what were they called again? Bees knees? That fancy drink with the ginger in them."

If it weren't for the sheer nerd factor going on, Fitz would be way way out of his depth. If it weren't for the scotch, he'd probably be running away at the fact that she's got he arm looped through his. But, he's a Scot. Despite his considerably 'lesser' frame compared to most of his co-workers in SHIELD, he can drink.

"Look, look. I know everyone loves Tennant. I do too! He was bloody fantastic. But, I'm just saying, there's something about Matt Smith. I dunnae, maybe it's just 'coz I don't like to follow everyone around and say 'oh, Picard was the best captain', unless I really believe that Picard was the best captain. Do you know how many times he shattered the Prime Directive? Probably just as many times as Kirk!"

Felicity can be overly familiar with people: both with words and physically. She sees no issues with looping her arm around someone else on the first date. Especially when she's in wobbly heels. Plus, it's easier for her to berate him for his choice in favorite Doctor all the easier when she doesn't have to worry about her heel catching in a grate.

"Matt Smith!" Her voice is loudly incredulous. It attracts the attention of the person going the other way, causing him to stare at the pair until he's passed. "After that whole Impossible Astronaut storyline that overused the Fixed Point in Time and then for him to get out of it in the most roundabout way possible?" She smacks the arm she's holding with her other hand very gently. "And he's not my favorite because he's everyone else's favorite! So you're saying you like Matt Smith just because he's not the favorite? That's like…it's like…like…saying that Sisko was your favorite just because he's not everyone else's." She gasps. "You're a hipster Doctor lover! Admit it!"

As it sometimes happens after drinking, the pair of made their way down a quieter street without realizing it. The bad winter has also damaged a pair of streetlights, leaving a darker-than-average spot for about half a block. There's storefronts here, with offices and apartments above. Up ahead, there's the sound of breaking glass.

"Sisko, was not, a Captain!" Fitz retorts. "He was a Commander for the first three seasons! Or was it two?" He shakes his head. "No, no no. No, Felicity, you're missing the whole picture here. The best Captain, the one who never broke the Prime Directive and always kept her crew in line… was Katherine Janeway."

He says that very, very proudly. And he's quite dodging the remark about him being a hipster Doctor lover.

In that momentary silence, he realizes the state of the place they are. "Uh… where did you say this cafe was?"

The breaking glass has him reaching over to grip Felicity's arm strongly. "… the bloody hell?"

"Fine! Fine fine, Commander. For the first three seasons." At Fitz's proud declaration, Felicity raises her eyebrows. "Oooo, Captain Janeway. Nice choice, there." While she is a woman with very stubborn ideals, she's also a few drinks in and allows the conversation to flow from the topic of Doctor Who to Star Trek. Especially when she agrees with him on something.

That only lasts a few moments before she catches on, starting, "Heeyy, you just—" Before she's interrupted and realizes that they've possibly taken a wrong turn. "It's on 36th and 8th. One sec, lemme check the map." Pulling out her phone, she starts to scroll through the map just as the breaking glass is heard.

Quickly, she looks up, "Uhhh…I'm…not sure…I mean, you're a SHIELD person, shouldn't you know each creepy sound in dark alleyways? Isn't that part of your training?"

From behind and to the left, there's a thud and the sound of scraping feet moving along pavement. Up ahead, there's a larger crashing sound and muffled voices. A car is idling just up ahead. A dark figure lingers in the shadows just up ahead. The only source of light is the glowing ember from the end of a cigaratte.

"We passed 35th back there." Fitz motions backward. They were headed downtown; they went too far. He looks over toward Felicity, concern in his eyes. This doesn't feel safe any more. Her joke, however, has him frowning. "It is part of my training."

Suddenly, he snatches the phone from her hand. "Gimme that." Out from his pocket comes a little package, inside of which are a number of small tools. One of them is a very small item that is, in fact, a micro-screwdriver. Well, you could call it a screwdriver. What it really does is a bit destructive. "Got any hair pins?"

A few jabs with the item and the back of the phone comes off, revealing its innards and battery.

"Oh. Did we?" Felicity looks behind them and then to the side. Her head wobbling to and fro as she keeps looking at where the breaking noise is coming from, then behind them and car in front of them.

"Ah, uh, I mean, I was…hey, that's my phone." Then, as he pulls out the mini tool kit, she becomes very interested. "Ooo, why do you have a micro-screw driver?" At the question, she pulls out a few blonde colored bobby pins and hands them over.

As soon as they're out of her hand she says, "Wait. Am I going to be use my phone again after this?"

There's more movement, now. Dark figures cross the street towards a van not far from where the cigarette smoking figure stands guard. There's the sound of glass crunching underfoot as the men step through a shattered glass window.
The glowing light from the phone is enough to attract their attention. Three of the figures turn, shout, and start to run towards the pair of them. One is carrying a crowbar. They yell out something emphatic in Russian.

"Don't leave home without one," Fitz quips. He takes the bobby pins and turns the phone over, pressing a series of keys in rapid fire. "Don't worry."

He turns the phone back over and begins prying apart the bobby pins, placing them inside the device at very strategic points. "I've uploaded a backup to a secure SHIELD server. We'll replace it for you."

He looks up when the men start rushing toward them and shouting. "Oh, bloody - mother of -" He works faster. Faster. Dammit, he shouldn't have had so much scotch!

The dudes are almost on them when he shouts to Felicity, "RUN!"

The phone gets thrown at the dudes' collective feet, then he turns and grabs his date by the arm, running the other way. When it hits the ground, the thing explodes, showering the thugs with very hot, blinding and damaging sparks!

"A SHIELD phone, doesn't that mean they'll just listen in to all my conversations? Not that I really have all that many interesting conversations, but it's really more of the principle of the matter…" Felicity blathers, nervous and drunk. As she's realizing that she must be distracting the scientist from the delicate process that is turning her phone into…whatever it is that he's turning it into she, adds, "Sorry! Sorry sorry, I'll shut up now."

And then the men notices him. "Fiiiiittttzzzz…!" she warns as the men start running toward them yelling in Russian.

Curious, she watches to see her phone arc toward the men and explode. She looks away just in time, but her mouth is opened in shock. "You just…! Holy crap…! Did you just turn my phone into a bomb?!" And then she's yanked away by Fitz, her heels clattering on the pavement as she runs after him.

"I-I should have asked you about your favorite Bond! Or, well, MacGuyver! Though, there's only one of him! Like the Highlander!"

A…phone bomb? The thugs certainly weren't expecting that. That's a warrantee-voiding bit of cleverness, right there. Three of the men are hit with the spray of hot gorilla glass and circuit board. They scream out in irritation and pain.
The guy that was making noise behind them comes up quickly, screaming as he lunges at the pair of them. He's aiming to grapple Felicity and grab for her purse.
Meanwhile, one of the men - a big, bald fellow who got hit with the edge of the exploding phone, advances on them, crowbar in hand. It's a good thing they're apparently a poorly-funded roaming gang of thugs. If they had guns, they would have drawn them by now.

"Oh, MacGuyver was a tool," Fitz retorts. But, sadly, there's little time for chatter! Oh boy, this is ruining their first date. Bloody hell.

To the thug reaching for Felicity's purse, he cries out, "DON'T TOUCH THAT! I've turned it into a bomb, too!" He whirls about, holding the little micro-screwdriver in hand. "Cause I've trained! Under… Batman! You blokes better run away, like, right now!"

Man, he'd give anything to have Agent Barton around right about now. No, wait, then he'd probably be getting Hawkblocked. Make that Agent May. Well, then he'd get in trouble.

Felicity is, unfortunately, not very fast in high heels. She starts to kick them off, deciding a tetanus shot is preferable to being murdered in an alleyway by Russian thugs, but she's got one shoe one and one off by the time she and her purse are grabbed - hopefully only briefly - and she yelps, stumbling forward to a stop.

'Batman?!' she mouths to Fitz despite her terror, however, the first rule about improv is 'yes and…' (and she totally made fun of theatre geeks when she was in MIT, so she knows this) so, she keeps with the lie. "Yeah!" she shouts, trying to be loud and attract attention, attempting to pull forward and away from the thug. "And…and…if you don't want Batman to come over here and kick all your asses, you should let us go!" On that note, she kicks backwards, aiming to kick him in the balls.

Of course, she's drunk and never been in a fight in her life: this might not end well.

Normally 'the purse is a bomb' is not a threat that would have a whole lot of weight. But when a smartphone just exploded, you tend to be a little less cynical about these things. So instead of going for the purse, he swings a wicked right hook towards Fitz' face, then swings at his kneecaps with the crowbar.
Felicity may be drunk, but her ability to find certain weak points on the male anatomy remains quite intact. The guy grunts in pain and doubles over, then attempts to grab her by the hair. What a sweetheart.

Leopold Fitz has had field training! And while he's not got a mean punch and he's only a decent shot, he's really good at evading! He slips just aside of the punch, then opens his eyes wide as the crowbar comes his way. "Gah!" he cries out, and swipes the little micro-'screwdriver' at the crowbar.

This, my friends, is a micro prototype of his 'mouse hole' device. There's a little sparking sound, and the crowbar is cut clean in half, which of course is bound to throw off the dude's aim quite a bit.

"Felicity!" he calls out, before backing off and throwing up the proverbial dukes, micro-screwdriver in hand. "Come off it, mate, I don't wanna have to take off your hand next!"

Felicity takes the cover to try and run forward again, feeling his grip slip on her arm. However, her hair is in an easily grabbed ponytail and the thug manages to yank the ends of it. She tumbles to the ground, possibly taking the thug along with her.

Reaching out to grab her discarded heel, she moves to wildly hit, smash and generally attack the thug. It's certainly not field training: it's more like terrified flailing.

The thug looks at the crowbar - or rather, half a crow bar and then at Fitz. The hell?! He drops the half of it and then swings out for another punch. He's doing his best to avoid the screwdriver, but he's not really a neat fighter. He's sort of a 'punch at things until they fall' sort of fighter.
The other thug is indeed thrown off-balance by the jerking of the ponytail. He's not prepared to get a heel jabbed into his face. He throws up his hands to try and block it, but she's already got a good few welts in by the time that happens. It's a good thing she wore heels tonight. Ballet flats wouldn't have done much damage.
Down the road is the sound of sirens. The exploding phone drew the attention of a concerned neighbour up the street. The thugs on the fringes of the fray all pile into the van and peel off, leaving their two buddies behind. What sweethearts.


Well, now Fitz has one hell of a whomp on his face and there will likely be a shiner later. "Ow!" he yells, and then, that Scottish temper gets the best of him. "You tosser!!" He swipes out with the micro-mousehole, aiming for the guy's chin. Of course, he's being tactful about it! He doesn't want the guy's jaw and lower face to end up on the pavement, but maybe if it drills a nice hole and hits a tooth, the ruddy bastart will back off.

"HI-YAAA!" Felicity shouts as she belts her attacker with her shoe, sounding very much like Miss Piggy. As soon as she's free of his grip, she scrambles up, clutching her shoe and holding it out as if it is a gun. "Oh my God. Is my battle cry, Miss Piggy's Battle Cry? When did that happen? I—I was not expecting that. I though, at least, it'd be, like, She-ra's or something. Does she have a battle cry? I'm actually not sure…maybe that's why I defaulted to Piggy…."

Backing away from the thug, she calls out, "Fitz! Fitz! Come on, I think I hear sirens! It's the fuzz!" Fuzz? Who calls it fuzz?

The guy screams out in pain and clutches his face as Fitz' little toy jams into his molar. Blood sprays back and out (ew) and gushes from his face. He drops to his knees and cluthes at his jaw.
The other guy's face isn't looking so hot, either. It's full of imprints that are going to make really embarrasing bruises later. He curses in Russian when he hears the sirens and tries to run away, but he's still feeling the effects of Felicity's well-placed knee. He doesn't get very far.
The cop car floods the dark alley in lights. The blue and red reflects off the building and reveal a smashed-in window of an electronics store. A voice booms and orders them to put their hands up.

Fitz immediately throws his hands up into the air. The little micro-screwdriver? Well, it's so high tech the cops won't have a chance at identifying it as the molar-crushing weapon, not to mention the fact that it's actuated by a sophisticated thumb-print scanning technology that you can't even see. Kind of like the iPhone 6.


"Oh, oh crap. I'm gonna be hearing about this for the rest of my bloody career. Agent May's gonna murder me." He looks over toward Felicity, wanting to run and check on her, but, you know, cops and such. He's a law abiding citizen, and they were totally defending themselves.

"It's okay!" he calls out to them. "We beat them up in self defense! I'm an Agent of SHIELD, so, if you taze us, you're probably gonna get fired!"


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