Grocery Getters

August 03, 2014: Just a couple of cops and metahumans getting some shopping done, what could possibly go wrong? (Light language warning.)

Wal-Mart somewhere in northern New York State

These things sprout like weeds and are just as tough to kill. If you've seen one, you've seen them all.


(Played by Hawkeye)

  • Flyboy
  • Punkgirl
  • Linebacker

Mood Music:

It's early evening out in New York. Manhattan's a memory on the horizon, literally it can be seen right from the parking lot if one got above the trees which threaten to block the view. Sometimes it might be easy to forget that there's life outside of the big cities, away from all of that superhero-y stuff. Out here the biggest threat might be striking a pedestrian because a motorist swerved to avoid hitting a squirrel. Out here at Wal-Mart the scariest thing happens to be the customers.

Even the little albino woman with the spot around her left eye.

Wally's World takes all forms of individuals, including the really, really messed up ones. So, some guy with a trench coat and a large brimmed hat walking around shouldn't seem terribly out of the ordinary. Or the punk rocker chick with the neon blue hair. Or that really big guy that looks like he eats linebackers for midnight snacks. Those three are spread out amongst the shoppers, though they're all heading in the same general direction over by where that albino in all black attire is walking about.


Those three, well… they're walking through the snack aisles, pulling on a bag of chips here, pretzels there. Tearing open the bag to peer inside, sending some of it flying. "Hey.. pretzel with peanut butter inside? Who eats that crap?"

The punk girl is over near the pathetic display of DVDs, looking through each movie with a flick of her fingernail. "Just get something we can all choke down."

Mr. Brimmed Hat is in the car section, looking at air-fresheners; the sort that goes into the vents.

Every single one of them has noticed the little albino merc.


Then nice thing, for certain definitions of nice that mean the exact opposite, about being in EI is that the NYPD is really the only police department in the area that has that unit. And since Paul and Sara are newly back on duty, what better way to welcome them home than to lend them out? It's payback for the all the paperwork the Captain had to do because of them. They're on the way back to the city because 'No, sir. We're pretty certain he's not really a vampire. Those are just dental implants and the screaming in daylight is either fake or he's mentally ill. Probably both. You can see he didn't burst into flame.' The victim he bit and drained of blood is just as dead though. Which is why Paul and Sara are in Walmart in this neck of the woods: detective needs food badly. He's got one of those little baskets hanging on his arm into which he's tossing junk food.


"Working with you is going to force me to start grocery shopping or something," Sara snorts as she follows Paul through the aisles, looking over the strangeness of the people here with far more suspicion than she does things like actual demons or vampires. Those make sense. Suburbanites? No understanding that. "This store is ridiculously huge, right? That's not just me? I mean, who needs seventy-five options of potato chips?"


Amy may be feeling better after a certain person abruptly cured her stress related problems, but she and her parents still think it'd be a good idea to try to avoid further stress for a bit. So, after the opera failed, today it's time to actually leave NYC proper and go north, to where things should be quieter and better. Stopping here, she steps into the store, and makes right for the snack aisle. Getting a snack and a big bottled beverage would be good for now. If only she had a fake ID, then she could really relax.


Ralph Dibny notices more than most, although you wouldn't know it, as he stands and peruses the 'fresh' fruit. He examines a lemon with a slightly disdainful eye, peering over the top of his glasses and rotating it slowly, degree by degree, "Unsuitable, of course, but you might do in a pinch. I only need your juice, you see, little lemon. A flaw in the rind, although certainly regrettable, a sign of ill care and poor refrigeration, need not taint the succulent tartness of your interior. At the very least, not the few, meager droplets I need to add a hint of citrus to my morning tea," he says, popping the lemon, at last, carefully into a plastic bag along with several of its brethren, giving the bag a twist as he ties it off.

Even as he does so, his eyes casually flick up to follow the pattern of the migrating criminalus mercianus, their attempts at subtley, of course, transparent to Ralph's mind, although he can't yet tell for what purpose. The pale one is either a leader or the target, that much is clear. She is the sun around which they revolve, their attention always returning to that white dwarf star for navigation.

Ralph takes a moment to consider an apple, rolling it in his hand. He does so abhor this sort of thing. Violence is so untidy. He hopes it won't come to that.


Another small basket can be found hanging upon Domino's arm, already partway filled with bandages and other medical odds and ends. And superglue. She tends to go through the stuff quickly, particularly when fighting weird wired shapechanging werewolf ..things. Manhattan police had a field day after that failed hit a few days ago, of which she's still recovering from.

One of the other things which she goes through frequently, and which happens to be available in abundance here, is coffee. All eight hundred varieties of it.

Of course one cannot simply reach for a bag of coffee, not after getting pummeled something fierce by a creature that can throw Fiats like she can throw frag grenades. She fumbles as an abused muscle gets pulled in a way which it is not wanting to be pulled, 'catches' the bag, tears it open on a nearby hook hanging from the shelf, then drops it completely.

Coffee beans. All over the floor.

"Oh..sonuva-" Dom hisses, making a face of pure irritation. (I really hate this place.)


It seems that the three move in concert, each from their own area. The linebacker dude has settled on a bag of kettle fried honey BBQ chips and a container of sour cream, and they're dropped into a random mostly empty cart (the pocketbook in the 'child seat area probably isn't his.) and pushes it along.

The punk girl pulls a copy of Thor 2 from the racks and gives it a quick glance before the decision is made for the movie for the night. Done! And now, she begins her rehearsed move out to the aisle to meet her compatriots.

It's the covered up 'gentleman' that has the farthest to travel in order to convene with the others, but that's easy enough. The moment the commotion is heard from the coffee aisle, he leaps up into the air, the coat shed to reveal a… something. Wings beat from his back, and a tail is evident (in order to maintain pitch and yaw, really) trailing behind him as his path shifts from joining up to the first wave against the albino mutant.

Now, the store has seen many things, but someone flying through the aisles? It's not even KMart! No blue light specials here!

The curse actually draws the attention, and with a smile on deep purple hued lips, the punk girl climbs shelves and leaps over one shelving unit, two, before she land right in front of the albino. "Gotcha girlie… oh, aren't you a pretty one!"

And good ol' Moose. He'll be there directly. With the cart. And the purse. And the chips for the movie tonight.


"Ridiculously huge." Paul agrees as he studies the potato chips in question. There's almost a dozen different brands and they each have different flavors: nacho cheese, ranch, barbecue, salt and vinegar, cheese and sour cream, sea salt, there's even wasabi and ginger potato chips. And that's not even counting the kettle cooked ones or the thick/thin cut varieties. After studying them all for several minutes, he steps over and grabs a bag of Cheez Doodles, the crunchy kind, which is followed by Nacho Cheese Doritos. "Before you start gorcery shopping, you should start cooking. Otherwise everything will go bad." He knows his partner. The coffee spilling all over the floor down the aisle a ways makes him look over as the incipient violence is being worked up to. "Oh shit." he sighs and puts his basket down. "I wonder if they local cops will be willing to pretend we were never here if we don't actually fire out weapons." Cause the paperwork for doing that when being outside your jurisdiction just sucks. "Shall we?" he asks his partner and starts walking towards the albino and her 'friends'.


"Yeah, well, Steve offered to-" Wait a minute, is that something flying over the aisle? Sara stops short, looking upward with a frown. "I'm telling you, this is why I don't go places," she informs her partner, falling in beside him and checking the weapon at her hip. Despite the paperwork. Wal-Marts are full of cameras, and she'd rather not show up on one in armor. "Hey!" she calls ahead of them. "Did you guys miss the memo? You break it, you buy it."


Amy is picking a big bottle of Cherry Coke, when she hears some noises going on. "Oh come on," she says, her voice full of indignation. "You can't be serious. I can't even go out anymore."


Ralph Dibny notices Paul and Sara starting to move in. Cops of some sort. Sometimes he's amazed that anybody manages to do successful undercover work, given how much police officers begin to develop certain tics and giveaways. Well, he supposes the average criminal isn't perhaps as observant as he is. Now, now, Dibny, don't get too big of a head. Times like this he misses having Sue close at hand to smack him on the back of the head when he started to get too full of himself.

Oh yes. Imminent violence. Crime. The most unfortunate remnant of our evolutionary past. He unsnaps the clasp on his holster and sighs as he makes his own beeline, carefully setting his basket of fruit and the loaf of six grain bread aside. Might as well back up the local constabulary.


The flying meta doesn't have feathers; he's more of a scale-kinda guy, and as he gets into his pattern, all he does is hug his wings in a little to gain speed in order to—

Abort! Abort! Abort!

Flyboy begins a barrel roll, trying to corkscrew his way out of a collision course with his partner, Punkgirl. He's mostly successful as he smacks into the boxed tea just nearby. She screeches in turn, and moves to get the hell out of the way before her colleague bashes into her with the gained speed. The coffee beans on the ground don't help, and neither does the dutiful floor buffer with the shine that one can see their faces in. Sliding, she too lands, but the moment she does, she flips her hand, and the tins that were going to fall on her simply -stop- in midair. That gives her the chance to scramble out of the way of the falling groceries and try to regain her footing. "I don't want no fattening shit from here!" is called back to the comment about breaking and buying.. "Unless I break her! I've got a buyer already."

As for Linebacker? Well, slow and steady wins the game, and parking the cart at the end of the aisle, he begins to barrel forward very much like a freight train. "There she is!"


Yeah, he didn't think so. Paul unsnaps his holster and rests his hand on the butt of the gun though he doesn't draw yet. "Police." he states in that tone that every cop learns. "Hands up, tail down, feet on the ground. Don't make things worse for yourselves."


"We left the city, and we still need the tail part," Sara says glumly, shaking her head. "You know what's sad? This is not the first hit by a group of mutants I've had to break up in the last six weeks. Hit the brakes, Jumbo!" she calls toward the man with the cart, reaching for a can of coffee beans. Figures he'd get the one cart in the place with four wheels that all go in the same direction.


Amy decides she'd probably better just ger her things and get out. So having taken her bottled beverage, she makes her way to the snack aisle. Which unfortunately is the aisle with the coffee, and the mayhem. So she stands at one far end, away from everyone else, now staring at what's about to happen. Well, until she sees a gun, then she ducks to the side.


Ralph Dibny finds himself sprinting up to join Paul and Sara at their position, "Beg pardon, I'm FBI. Er, that is to say, I'm Ralph, I'm with the FBI. Ralph Dibny. Special Agent. With the Federal Bureau. Terribly sorry to interrupt, I know you folks can get a bit chappy in the hindquarters about jurisdiction and all, I don't mean to interfere. I'm just saying, if you need any help, any at all…" he rambles.

Of course, all that rambling might distract from the leg that briefly extends backwards, like a deep-kissing teen, except this one stretches out like a long, fleshy and WASPy python to wrap around the leg of Eric Cartman briefly, hopefully teaching the behemoth to respect the authoritah of gravitah by tripping him to fall on his big fat face. All before surreptitiously sneaking back up the cuff of Ralph's trousers, with none the wiser.


(Alright, that was mostly successful. Now I just need to figure out what to do with -this- guy…)

Something massive this way comes, with shoulders wide enough to almost completely fill the aisle. Getting around isn't likely. Going for another slide across the floor is likely to get her trampled, as fun as it would be if it worked. It's definitely not going to work now that he's getting tripped, sliding across the tile like a lead sled. Instead Domino follows PunkChick's idea and suddenly turns to clamber up the side of a shelf, with the word 'police' still echoing in her ears.

(The -Hell?- Faster response time than friggin' downtown Metropolis around here! Did..that one really just say 'hit the brakes?') "I don't think that's going to work, maybe try yelling louder!" the albino calls out while dropping into the next aisle amidst a rain of products that are more refined sugar product than food.

That's three down, but for how long? Damn metas… Shopping's given way to something a little more exciting, the screams of fleeing customers coming -before- she draws a pair of black nine millimeter sidearms for a change of pace. (Dammit, if this was a Target I could make a really cliche joke about now.)


If it's a choice of doing things the easy way or the hard way, invariably things will be done the hard way. It's the law of nature. It's the choice of small children and criminals everywhere and also usually is their undoing. Eventually.

Flyboy's smacked into the aisle, his wipeout cushioned by the boxes of Celestial Seasonings. He roll, roll, rolls to a stop before shaking his head. Guns, well.. they don't particularly bother him at the moment, and ignoring the calls to keep his tail down and feet on the ground, launches himself back in the air, opening his wings wide to get a good bit of air under them for an immediate lift. "Don't interfere! Why would you want to protect HER anyway?" First monologue of the night!

Punkchick is back on her feet, and as Domino begins to clamber up and over the aisles, she's fast behind her, tossing the Domino sugar at her one pound at a time, stabbing it first such that all the sugar crystals fall all over the aisle, and aiming for the albino herself. "Make it worse for us? Ah, hell no cutie!"

The linebacker, well… he just got tentacled. Gravity does indeed work, and for those gifted with remarkable strength, sometimes the tradeoffs aren't all that good. IQ tends to take a nose dive, as does grace. So, he hits the ground, the bits of coffee digging into his skin such that when he finally rolls over, it's embedded in his face, arms… "What?!"


"Nice to meet you." Paul tells Digby but without looking away from the mutants. "Except this isn't our jurisdiction either so have fun." He still doesn't draw his gun though since nothing yet justifies lethal force. No one's visibly armed with anything except bags of sugar since Domino went into the other aisle. And he /really/ wants to avoid extra paperwork. "Look, all you're guilty of so far is attempted assault and making a mess. Just surrender now and you'll be out on bail by noon tomorrow." Their paperwork will take longer than that.


"I really don't want to have to shoot anyone here," Sara grimaces, scanning the area. "But I will do it if I have to." Wings. Why is everyone else so much better with the wings? And how is she supposed to- Oh. Well, there's nothing illegal about using a fire extinguisher, right? Sara dashes over to the regulation one attached to the wall, pulling it off and promptly spraying it up into the air around the flyer. Fly through that.


Ralph Dibny really doesn't want to be the first person to draw a gun. He doesn't really care for having one in the first place, keeping it largely as a part of Bureau policy, Sue's insistence and, yes, in his darkest hours, the admittance of a certain amount of machismo inherent in the carrying of a firearm. Acknowledging a psychological truth, however, does not mean he's proud of it.

Seeing the big man rolling over, a bit dazed, Ralph says to Paul, "Looks like your partner's got that one," he says towards the flyer, "Looks like you get the ladies," he says and, casually, he leaps to sprawl himself atop the big man, trying to pin him down and slap a hand over the fellow's mouth. That said hand molds itself to fill up his nostrils and block off his hair, attempting to very casually smother the strongman unconscious, will hopefully be hard to detect. Softly, Ralph murmurs, "Now, now, m'boy, just think of mother's milk and late night bourbon and we'll have no more fuss about anything. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhhh," he says, even as rubbery flesh fills the fellow's mouth and nose like melted plastic.


(Daft Punk, six o'clock!)

When the warning is given, and what fool gives a warning like that before making their move, Dom spins around and snaps both of her sidearms up toward Punkchick, getting a healthy dusting of sugar along the way. Leave it to her to lead the charge with the shooting! The first round causes a tub of the granulated crystals to explode in the air between the two. All of the others will be right on target, though Dom's not yet aware of this gal's power.

Oh yes, and making with the running. Running is good! Running is now.

"Feel free to lend a hand at any time here, guys!" Not that she saw Ralph knock over the Charger, for all she knew he tripped himself up with those size twenty-four shoes. Stranger things have happened. In the last thirty seconds, alone! Such as an armed albino lady leaping over an open freezer in the middle of an aisle to use it for cover. Those stop bullets, right..?


Punkgirl grins the moment the guns come up to bear, and standing on the top shelf, tosses a couple of plastic honeybears for good measure. When the bullets come, it's another wave of her hand, and when the bullets begin to fly, they stop in midair, hanging there like little lead clouds. She takes the opportunity then to leap down and spin-kick out at the albino's midsection with her steel-toed Docs. She misses, it seems, but that doesn't stop her now from racing full bore after her quarry.

Flyguy is still in the game, mostly. He's in the air again, and the moment he catches Domino running, he tucks his wings again for that second pass, ready to divebomb, or rather, grab the albino and lift her into the air to take her out. But, flying through a cloud of 'all types of fire' rated fire suppression spray is difficult at best, and he has to veer off.

The linebacker is down, and when the smothering to unconsciousness begins, he begins to flail, trying to get the man off him. The feeling of melted … flesh, clogging his breathing is stuff of nightmares to some, and the panic is definitely in his eyes as he begins to lose consciousness. He's out for the count; doesn't look like he'll be getting his chips tonight.


Fire extinguishers. Such useful things. Paul used one to hide himself, smother the Gladiator then hit him over the head till he passed out. He really should suggest the academy teach about the creative use of fire exintguishers to new cadets. But that's for later. He's really a good choice to take out the girl in the other aisle. Leaping over obstacles is right up his alley and he goes over them in just two steps and a pull. Which is when the gunfire starts and he lands in a roll to come up in a crouch and pull his gun. "OKay, freeze or I'll fire!" Wonderful, there's no fucking cover in a shopping aisle.


Sara hasn't been taking those parkour lessons with Paul for nothing. She set her sights on Flyguy, and she's sticking with it. While he struggles with the fire extinguisher powder, she makes quick work of climbing up the shelves herself, picking out the spot that's going to give her a chance to catch when him he comes back around.


Amy backs up. That's the smartest thing at this point. She backs up, away from the aisle, and starts trying to creep along the back wall out of the way In fact she starts going near the Associates Only door, just in case she needs to push her way in there if she has to.


Ralph Dibny keeps on top of the human bulldozer until he's fairly sure the fellow's utterly incapacitated, which will probably take a bit, especially with all of this pesky thrashing about and wriggling, "There's no use fighting, young man, I'm afraid I have quite a firm grip on your uvula, at this point, you're only hurting yourself with all this fuss," he mutters. Further assessment of the 'victim' in this case proves that she might not precisely be an innocent bystander. He makes a note of her face, especially its distinctive features, for later perusal of the federal records. He feels relatively confident that his erstwhile colleagues can make quick work of the boobish-but-still-dangerous cohorts of his currently-incapacitated opponent.


When the order to freeze is yelled out the idea of having just taken a -freezer- for cover crosses Dom's thoughts. "I'm already a little chilly, thank you! Just a concerned citizen trying to defend myself, got a permit, honest!"

It's the exact moment she tries to come out from cover to take another shot or eight that Punkchick is suddenly -right there- lunging after the merc. Dom doesn't take the shot, no time to anymore! Instead the sidearms drop from her hands so she can get a solid hold on the Punk mid-jump, rolling backward with a solid -shove- to use that momentum to throw her head-first toward the frozen meats a little further away. (Frosted flake, aisle four!)

How the heck is she going to deal with cops on top of these guys? She's not yet sure why they're all coming after her! "Look buddy, three on one's bad enough odds already. How about yelling threats at the guys that jumped my shit, instead? I just wanted some freaking coffee!"

Where'd she drop those guns… Grab 'em and get going!


With the linebacker down, they're down to two. Still, there's a chance to grab the albino and run. Ol' Moose was more for the flash and awe factor. After all, when one sees such a beheamoth, doesn't one simply want to give up? Easier than getting beat up. The other two were more 'mission backup'. Defense and extraction.

Flyboy barrel-rolls a couple of times, tucking the wings in, but he works through the cloud, though a little worse for wear. When he's able to reopen his wings, he's near where Domino -was-, and near where Sara is, and sticking his feet out, seeks to make a hard landing on top of one of the refrigerators.

It's punkgirl that is really the hardest. She's got moves, and she is agile as well as daring, so the grab and throw was pure luck on Domino's part. Flying backwards, she lets out an *oof*, but as packages begin to fall, they simply hang there in midair as purple punk regains her footing. "Goddammit!"


"God damn it ALL of you freeze!" Paul shouts. He doesn't give a shit who started what at this point. There's assault and gunfire in a public place and they can get it sorted out after they're all in cuffs. "You, girl! Your friends are taken care of already." Right? Sure. Or they soon will be. "It's just you so get on the ground now! Pezzini! We have a telekinetic! Get out the psionic neutralizer!" It's stored next to the Neuralyzer. Doesn't he wish. Still, the girl doesn't know that.


Sara has had some recent experience in really awful landings. She knows exactly how to do it. And how to deliver one. As Flyboy comes in for his landing, she steps right up to him, kicking out with one leg to sweep his legs forward and reaching out with on hand to grab a pinion and slam him down onto his back on top of the freezer. It makes a great knot in the back of the head. They can compare later. "Benefits of working with SHIELD, right?" she calls back in support of Paul's bluff.


Amy goes back, back, back, back, all the way to the corner. She's got the associates door to her right, a shelf to her left, and a view of everything going on in front of her. This way, she's as far away from the action as she can, while being aware enough of what's happening that if things get bad she can make a break for it.


With the demand being yelled out Domino rolls her eyes. Sure, she -could- freeze. The SRD couldn't stop her. SHIELD couldn't stop her (though dammitall if they didn't give her one hell of a run for the money. Three times.) If these guys thought for a second that she's going to let a couple of undercover cops drag her in?

Just one arm whips around the top of the floor freezer, snapping off a shot at random with that same sort of flick Hollywood broke the physics on in 'Wanted.' There is no curving of the bullet here, it goes as straight as any other. This one just happens to obliterate a few bags of flour, sending the white cloud all over the place.

The resounding *smack!* from flyboy getting plowed over doesn't match what she's expecting her one bullet to do, however… She could very well be on her own here, in every way possible.

There'll be time to worry about it later. With a complete disregard for safety she rolls the pistols around trigger fingers once, draws in a deep breath, then leaps out of cover to make a mad dash for the nearest store window. Instead of a freezer she'll blindly fire toward the others to try and cover her retreat.

(I am NOT going down like this..!)

Unfortunately for poor Amy, now Dom's bringing the action directly her way.



Ow. Flyboy goes down hard when Sara does her takedown maneuver. It's a rather remarkable flip in midair, and something that is completely uncontrolled, even if it looks choreographed. He slams his head into the refrigerator, and soon enough, is seeing stars. When he comes to, it's gonna hurt.

Punkgirl climbs for high ground once again, and looking as her quarry is jetting out by the Employees Only area, she curses mightily. Her smoke-decorated eyes look to the cops, and as Paul yells out that she's a teek, a grin begins to appear. She may not be able to affect large things temporally, but it's the little things that count. All that she'd been holding suddenly drop. The *pffff* of flour, the crystals of sugar, and the bullets fall out of the air. "Man… you girl! I'll be seeing you later!" As the final person in the trio, she's doing her own version of parkour over the tops of the shelving towards the front door.


Paul stays low as Domino fire some more but then she takes off in one direction and the punk girl takes off in the other. It's a tough choice but he goes with the one that initiated the assault. Holstering his gun, he starts running after Punkgirl. He's a bit bigger than he so can't really duplicate her gymnastics but he can boost and he does so, the extra strength making sure he's damn fast. And once he gets close enough, he plans to leap and bodyslam the shelving she's on to knock her off and, hopefully, get a grip on her.


When Flyboy wakes up, he's going to be thoroughly restrained. Sara even makes sure she gets his tail in the cuffs with his wrists. Proper tail confinement is one of those continuing education things they have to do every now and then. When there's more gunfire, she crouches down, but she's lucky enough to avoid the worst of it.


Amy is going to run. If there's any bullets going anywhere in her general direction, she's running through that Associates door, and getting completely out of the way. bank on that. If there's a back door she's going out it too. Well, ok, she'll leave the bottle behind, since she's sure not looking to steal some $1.00 item or something.



The last few shots from Domino's pistols go clean through one of the front store windows, which trips the alarm on top of everything else that's already happened around the place. It softens her impact but doesn't completely eliminate the hazards of lunging through a large glass pane. Without armor to turn the fragments and edges away her clothes get torn, including some of the person beneath the layers.

It's a shame she had to ditch the basket back there, now she could really use those bandages.


It's a rough run and Punkgirl stumbles as Paul rams into the shelving she's on. The metal shelves rattle under her feet, and a boot catches a corner, making her trip forward. To collect herself, she somersaults forward in a roll, and lands on her feet, ready to go all over again. It's true, though. Cops do get that added training above and beyond what can be gained in a gym. Soon enough, and before she's able to exit the store, Punkgirl is on the ground, ready perhaps for the uniformed police that are only now beginning to enter the parking lot. (Damned traffic. Always bad in this area!)


"I don't suppose you'd like to tell us who that was and why you were trying to kill her?" Paul asks Punkgirl. "No? I thought not." When local cops arrive, he hands her off to them and lets them know she's a telekinetic so watch their keys. And he didn't fire once. Maybe he can avoid having to write a report.


Sara is happy to hand off Flyboy to the locals, though she makes sure they get the wings restrained, too. Harder to do with cuffs, but there are methods. And with that taken care of, she picks her way back toward Paul, brushing herself off. "Sometimes I don't even know why they let us out in public," she sighs.


"Because New York world would be over run with criminals without us?" Paul suggests and looks around. First line of defense, Sara. "Now where the hell is my basket?"


Amy is rather glad that the shooting seems to be focusing now on the front of the store, and not here in the back. That means she can gather her things, snag a medium size bag of chips - salsa-flavored tortilla chips - and start toward the self-serve checkout. It's all kind of weird, honestly. But in a way she's releived that this was just… very minor hooliganism compared with the things she's seen lately. It's time to invest in some body armor though, that's for sure. It's funny, she knows intellectally that she'd be a wreck still if not for Raven, but… it's still giving her confidence that she's handling this so well, relatively.

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