Date Number Two

Summary:
<Nobember 29, 2014>: Keith and Gar go on date number two. It ends the same as the first one. A wild Static appears.

Little Italy

They have restaurants there.


Characters

NPCs

  • The Walrus
  • The Carpenter
  • Restaurant patrons

Mood Music:
The Walrus and the Carpenter (Danny Kaye)


Two days ago, Thankgsgiving, and Gar (and whoever he could drag with him) was serving dinners at the Shining Harbor Shelter to people who lacked homes. He was NOT the turkey. He did eat a small piece of it, along with the traditional "french bean casserole", "glazed yams with marshmallow", "Stuffing", and "smashed taters and gravy", and "cramberry jello". All of which are foods that can be made in large batches and served to hundreds of people, and were. Keith, however, was ordered to record the parades and to rest while broken bones knit. Maybe Tim was also knitting. Keef got a plate of take-away, of course.

Friday it was Shopping Madness, and Gar popped over to the ESU campus to feed the nudibranchs and then right back to the Castle to watch the recorded parades and stuff.

Now it's Saturday. Keef is feeling well enough to move around so Gar decides that the seafood dinner they missed twice earlier could happen tonight. Seafood is good for healing cats, after all.

Vitellie's Seafood Garden (spelling is correct) is a lovely small restaurant with authentic south-coast seafood of Italy. The wait is short, due to leftover Shopping Frenzy.

Keith is feeling much better, he'd have to be since he has spent the last few days mostly sleeping- and, for a brief hour, interviewing a potential caretaker for the castle who was suspiciously reminiscent of a Fae… something he'd told Gar about just in case he had not hallucinated it. The elfin girl had come on Oracle's recommendations, but he had told her that Gar would contact her to complete the interview.

Because, well, Keith was hopped up on pain meds. Not a smart idea to let the guy who was high as a kite to hire someone.

Some people make huge fusses about missing the exact date of a holiday and having to celebrate it later. Keith isn't one of those people- even when he hadn't to work himself, his mother often took the chance to work extra hours on the holiday to bring extra money for the family. Thanksgiving and Christmas always came late in the O'Neil household… but that didn't really matter. To Keith, it was enough that they came at all.

"This is such a lovely place," Keith says, walking in next to Gar, one hand taking a green hand. "I'm glad I'm coherent enough to enjoy it." He gives Gar a toothy grin. He's dressed in a forest green, long-sleeved shirt and black slacks. When you're a redhead, green is a good color for you.

Keith had fallen asleep recording the parades, so there were quite a few re-runs recorded afterwards. One thing that might have puzzled Garfield when he and Keith watched them together the day after was the brief fit of laughter that assaulted Keith when, right after the parade, a special of "Nostalgia TV" had decided to air an episode of 'Fireball XL5'. Keith had to stop laughing so as not to bruise a rib, but he wouldn't explain the laughter.

Weekends are usually the worst time for fish, but this place gets a supplementary stock on Friday. The host guides Logan Party of Two to a table, and oyster crackers, fizzy water with lemon, and a menu are left behind. Gar looks through the options.

"I dunno. Live oysters, or maybe lobster? Not that they go well together…"

Keith raises an eyebrow and looks at Garfield over his menu. "Oysters might be a dangerous choice, what with me being all injured and whatnot." Intentional innuendo coming from Keith was rare. Completely accidental, 'oh my god did I really say that?' innuendo was far more common. He peruses the menu, looking for something and trying not to look at the prices.

It was perfectly acceptable to spend money on good food. That's what he keeps telling himself so he can believe it. Years of frugality are hard to overcome, but after the fiasco at the Churrasqueria, he wants to make it up to Gar. Their relationship hadn't exactly developed along normal tracks- what with them basically moving in together after their first date- due to strange and bizarre circumstances, granted.

It didn't bother Keith in the least. He was perfectly comfortable with their relationship, but treating your boyfriend out to something nice was… well, nice.

"You've been a little distracted as of late, I hope you're not getting too stressed about the end of the semester and the training plans for the team," Keith says, reaching out to grab his water and sip it. "You know if there's anything bothering you, you can tell me…"

He frowns for a moment. He could have sworn that the floor vibrated for a moment. But he frowns for a second… "Probably a truck outside," he mutters.

What Keith and Gar don't know is that this set of vibrations is but one out of many that have been felt along the area. If any streetwise hero is paying attention to the reports, they do follow a specific path- as if whatever were causing them was traveling along the sewers. Currently, whatever it is has made it to Little Italy, and that set of vibrations is the most recent one. But there'll be no more… for at least a few minutes.

There's a crackling flight sound as the non-resident superhero with a splash of soul surfs onto the scene, crouched low on his appropriately designed and styled flying disk of awesome. That hero? STATIC. While he probably shouldn't be in New York, especially considering that he's got some serious things to take care of before heading back to his crib, he's taking some time out of his busy civilian schedule to catch a little air on his Static Saucer.

He dips and twirls, hovering over this and speeding around that. He leaves a trail of visible electromagnetic energy behind him as he makes his way through Little Italy. A few more passes through this neighborhood and then he can call this patrol to a close. As he soars above, he's playing tic-tac-toe with the energy trails left behind in his wake. Against himself.

He's losing.

GAME: Vorpal has set the pose order to Garf/Keerf/Startic

The vibration is tangible even now as the fizzy water begins showing ripples.

"OK, that's weird," Gar says, "I hear feet. Marching feet. Thousands of them all in time."

There's a sort of lurch and Gar mutters "earthquake?" as someone who lived in Southern California might do. And a hole starts appearing, first a tiny spot in the floor under one of the tables, then it grows larger.

The marching continues. The shaking makes people nervous, and there's some minor screaming beginning.

The hole opens wide… one inch, three inches, five… a small shelled bivalve with legs jumps out, and another, then a swarm of the things, and the hole is widened … and then a head appears. A brown, round head … with long and elegant downward pointing teeth under a brushlike moustache, and shining, gleaming eyes with perhaps a few tears of regret leaking from them.

"So very sorry, m'dear," he says to the astonished host. "We will be requiring all your monies. And your oysters. And any crackers and butter you might have."

Gar Logan looks over at Keith and says, with a tone of amused resignation, "This. Is. Your. Fault."

Keith stares. He just stares at what comes out of the hole. With a sigh, he shakes his head and hides his face in his hands when Garfield pronounces the verdict. Yep, most likely- chaos magic.

"I'm sorry," the redhead says, rubbing his forehead and reaching for the handheld mirror that he keeps in his pants. "… I swear I'm going to make it up to you…"

"And keep your hands where I can see them!"

That wasn't the Walrus' voice. It was a female voice, and it was preceded briefly by the sound of a drill… and another hole opening up to let a slender woman in overalls appear. The power tools she is wielding are nowhere near your ordinary household kind. The large drill on her right hand is still glowing, and the nailgun on her left hand is pointed at the guests. "Nobody try anything stupid."

Keith freezes, with his hands halfway down to his pockets.

Circle Gets The Square!

Static surfs a line through all three circles as he defeats himself in another round of tic-tac-toe. He dips low on the Static Saucer, now, dropping down to street level in an attempt to make with the slapping of high fives of the imaginary audience. "The winner and still champion of Shock-Tac-Toe? Static! And the crowd goes bananas!" Static zips past the seafood place, glancing in the window as he does, while bopping his head to the imaginary beat and mutter, "… b-ana-na-s."

Pulling up short and whirling back around, Static ends up hovering in front of the window and peering inside to what seems to be some sort of bad news. "Huh." He can't actually believe that he's seeing what he's seeing right now. "… Why do I get the feelin' that duty is about to call?" And then Static is up and vwooshing off to see about finding an epic place to make an entrance through!

Gar looks over to Keith, shrugs, and when the screams of one of the patrons distracts the woman, he's gone… another oyster, green, with legs (and he is not even going to begin to think about why he has legs, or how they possibly work) is joining the swarm of cybernetically augmented bivalves marching on the floor. Their motion is random as they emerge from the holes, though they continue to stomp in perfect synchrony, generating the shaking sensation that has the building swaying ever so slightly. The walrus-man points with a long fork with thin tines and they swarm the host, and take down two of the waiters, tying them up with lobster bibs. Apparently they also have hands?

Gar is deep in the swarm, though, moving toward the Walrus, and hoping that the Carpenter won't notice in the chaos that he's not quite a usual oyster.

Keith sees what Gar is doing and thinks quickly on his feet- his ribs are not quite up to action, so he can't distract them by changing into Vorpal and being acrobatic and hard to hit. That'd be a great way to perforate a lung. But Gar has to be hidden.

The knife on the table is long enough for him to see both of his eyes…

"We're All Mad Here!"

The purple flash does happen, but the lights flicker as well and darkness floods the restaurant for one second, but when the lights come back nothing has changed, at all. There's Keith, sitting at the table, his hand depositing his wallet on his plate like a good little hostage.

And one oyster has gone from being green to being… oyster-colored.

The Carpenter looks around suspiciously at the flickering, but then seems to decide that it might have been a side-effect of their drilling, perhaps the Walrus did something stupid to the wiring on his way up? He was just the type.

"Pur your valuables on your tables, now, and don't do anything else or you'll be full of red. hot. nails. C'mon, we don't have all night!"

She is not exactly as gracious as the Walrus, but nobody's perfect.

"Okay! Okay! /That/ wasn't me!"

Static's voice precedes his arrival as somewhere in that short black out the shocking superhero has made his arrival inside the building. He's hovering just beneath the ceiling, still rocking out on that Static Saucer of his. His body is glowing and crackling with energy that pops around him every passing second. He's got this big grin on his face and holds his hands out to his sides as he seems to be approaching those that are trespassing and relieving the building of all their lobster bibs. He's going to need those when he comes back to actually eat here.

"Seriously, it wasn't. This isn't an O.J. thing! I really didn't do it!" Static then looks up with crackling energy in his eyes. "On the other hand, I will be the Acting Superhero in Charge of Kicking Your Butt for the next two to eight minutes. So if anyone would like to leave now, y'know before things get Rated M for Mature… there's the door." Static grins.

The heroic declaration evokes a shrieking stampede. Orderly? Are you kidding? There's not THAT many people, but there are enough, fifteen or twenty, that the rush on the door results in some blockage as someone trips and then someone else is trampled, and best of all the Carpenter shrieks something really vulgar and aims her nail-gun at the crowd, preparing to fire.

The secretly green oyster in the mix is within range, though, and he changes… The Jub-Jub bird is seven feet tall and looks like a cross between an Axe-Beak and a crateload of kitchen knives; it may be a callback to the Stymphalian Birds. Feathers of razor sharp metal are actually more defensive than offensive; the one that appears from nowhere in the face of the Carpenter and which shrieks at her with an ear-bending noise is the target of her sudden spray of nails, but they all catch and cannot penetrate the metal plumage. It shrieks again and bats at her with its giant multicolored (yet mostly green) axe-beak.

The Walrus simply stares, for a moment, slack jawed, before he says, "My word, this isn't jub-jub territory."

A whistled signal causes the oysters to begin tromping harder, faster, speeding the destructive rhythm, and the Walrus's umbrella whips out in an attack on the backside of the bird.

One bystander doesn't leave, however- Keith. Secretly very Cheshirey and purple under the illusion that keeps his ordinary appearance, when the Carpenter shoots at the JubJub bird, he grabs his plate and throws it at the woman like a frisbee.

"That's my boyfriend, you bit-OW!"

Right, he couldn't perform those motions with fractured ribs. He lets out a hiss and falls to his knees, the plate almost hitting the woman… missed her by this much!

When the electric teen appears, Keith stares, still recovering from the flash of pain. "…Did I do this?"

Removing disconnecting player Gar Logan.

Gar Logan leaves back to Little Italy

"It's 'Did I Do That?' not This. That."

Static is not about to let random people hanging around not get the witty banter lines right. Not to mention that he's a huge Jaleel White fan and is always ready and willing to stand up for the acting prowess of the man that brought Steve Urkel to life. Even at the expense of whatever is going on in this restaurant right now. Which, to be honest, has Static confused as all hell.

"Okay, so, I know New York's famous for their Zoos but this is ridiculous." Static quips, before he charges up a hand and flings a quick blast of electromagnetic energy in the direction of some of those stomping Oysters of Doom. It is the safest thing Static can figure out to do at this moment. Since, y'know, everything in here looks, well, like its going mad.

GAME: Vorpal has set the pose order to Garf/Kerf/Startc

The flung plate bounces off the Jub-Jub Gar and gets wing-swatted at the Carpenter, who takes one for the team. In the face. CRASH! and it shatters.

"BY DOZE!" the Walrus says in great outrage. "YOU HID BE ID BY DOZE!"

A gentle… walrus… at all times, he shakes his walking stick at Keith and says, "I DEBAND SADISPACTION!" and then the blood … oh, sad, the blood. Each oyster it drips on sparks and futzes, adding to the electrical turmoil that Static shocked into them. The stamping is losing its precision, the synchrony is becoming hubbub, and the shaking of the building abruptly stops as its resonant frequency is no longer resonating.

"WHAK!" the Jub-Jub Gar says, slapping the Carpenter again with his beak, and she falls, and the oysters … alas, the oysters are becoming far too chaotic. The poor woman is trampled. If they were as massive as they sound, she'd be a wet spot. Instead, she's simply being mini-pummeled… as is the Walrus as he slips on one of the sparking bivalves.

Back at the door, all but three have escaped, and though one woman has a broken arm, and two have bruises, nobody is dead. The only ones left in the restaurant are the Walrus, the Carpenter, the Jub-Jub Gar, the Secret Cheshire Cat, and Static, who is disturbingly un-Wonderland. Perhaps he should be called 'the teacup' as he is flying about on a tea-tray rather like a bat. Oh yes. One other person. The CHEF. He's come out of the kitche and he is furious.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY RISTORANTE! You! The fat brown one! What do you have to say for yourself?!" Oh. The Chef is not carrying a kitchen knife. He has a shotgun. (He also has a license for it.) It's filled with peppercorns and unpopped popcorn kernels. This … might be a bad thing.

Keith-Vorpal looks at Static, who chastizes him for missquoting. "Okay… Surreality index has now reached one hundred percent…"

There's a reason Vorpal has not resorted to his infamous constructs- drugs. Pain medication. Although he is lucid enough to cast illusions, he is nowhere near focused enough to be able to impose his will upon the universe and create objects made out of solid chaos magic. Unleashing the Chaos Wave? Forget it, without proper focus and direction, it could be catastrophic.

In fact, his focus slips enough that his own illusion vanishes leaving Vorpal, the cheshire cat, in Keith's place. Oy, what a mess.

"Hey… sparky, can you take care of Mister Satisfaction without frying my boyfriend? Sir, please put that away! The situation is under control!"

Or as under control as anything in Keith's presence can ever be.

Maybe there's a reason that Static doesn't understand anything that's going on in here. Maybe it has a lot to do with the fact that he's not exactly a master of the Alice in Wonderland mythos. He's blatantly just attempting to make sure that nobody gets hurt that shouldn't be hurt. "Which one is your boyfriend?" It may be pretty clear that Static doesn't know who from who, considering that everything in here looks weird as hell right now.

Lifting up and Static Saucering away from potential blast zones, Static flings some electromagnetic attraction in the direction of Chef Boy That's A Big Shotgun. Definitely aiming for a little Snatch and Grab action. Static is not exactly a fan of guns, whether they shoot bullets or delicious seasonings. "And the name's Static!" He tried Sparky for about an hour. It didn't work out too well.

The Walrus and the Carpenter/Were walking close at hand;/They wept like anything to see/Such quantities of sand:/"If this were only cleared away,"/They said, "it would be grand!"

The Walrus is reduced to a weeping, snorting mess, as every time he tries to push himself to his feet, his hands are trampled by cyborg oysters, who no longer obey his commands, because he's bled all over his whiskers, clogging the sonic controls with which he was wont to, well, control them. After all, it was the Walrus's blithe words that lured all but the eldest Oyster from their beds, and the Carpenter who prepared their lovely beds of bread and butter. And the Carpenter is also a mass-trampling victim. Perhaps it was their mistake to, well, electrify them so that their stomping would be amplified. It worked for Tesla, after all.

The Jub-Jub Bird reverts to simply Gar Logan, and the oysters avoid him because frankly if they didn't he'd turn into a hippo and stomp, or eat, them all. They know this in their oystery brains. (Oysters don't have brains.) (Hush. It's Wonderland.)

The Chef's lost his gun, and he's almost apoplectic. He gets on the phone to 911. The lines are clogged, because of the earthquake reports, but the police and a fire truck are already on their way, along with a few ambulances.

Gar walks back to the table, waving Static over to join them. "Subway? Or pizza?" he asks.

"…Pizza," the Cheshire says, getting to his feet and limping over to check on the woman with the broken arm before giving the Walrus a contemptuous, angry look. "… Such a waste of oysters… Ma'am, are you ok?" Outside of, you know, BROKEN ARM. But he wants to make sure she will be fine until the paramedics come. He could use the Rabbit Hole… but being under drugs? Who knows what would happen.

"… what do you say, Sparky, Pizza?"

"I say you two got a big mess to clean up. And I got work to do." Static doesn't think he's going to be sticking around. There's been too much weirdness for him in one heroic session to be hanging about with those that seem to be just as weird as the weirdness he just assisted with taking down.

He surfs off towards the door, before sending a blast of energy off into the building. The energy arcs a couple of times before exploding in a shower of harmless static electricity and showing the words: STATIC WUZ HERE in blinking neon sign style. Y'know, since one of them can't seem to remember his name. Actions do seem to be a better bet at helping people remember, rather than snark fests.

"See ya' 'round!" Plus, Static is used to being gone by the time the siren squads arrive.

Ambulances and police arrive, fire engines show up, and The Walrus and the Carpenter are taken away to have their wounds treated and their custom restraints fitted — New York has some experts at handling Weirdly Themed Villains — but the oysters, carrying their fallen with them, quickly disappear into the sewer below the restaurant, stampeding away towards the bay.

Some months from now, having re-implanted themselves in their new oyster beds, they'll be freed from the burden of higher logic and discernable thought, as the tiny chips controlling them will become the centers of lovely pearls. Before that, they'll work out between them a basic philosophy that could bring world peace, but, well. Pearls of wisdom.

Anyway their philosophy only works if you're sessile.

"Pizza it is," Gar says, and makes a promise to the Chef that they WILL come another time for his linguini alla marinara, when the marina part is a little less marred.

"You think that guy would want to join the Titans? Or did we scare him off?"

"Static? He sounds like an interesting guy. I would've remembered his name better but… you know." Vorpal waves his hands in front of his face, "I'm kinda drugged up a little. We should put out the word to him somehow. Oracle. I'm sure Oracle will know how to find him. Let him know we'd love to sit down for a chat without a side of murder."

The cheshire limps over to Gar- the brace having vanished when he changed forms.

"… I hope you're not mad about, you know…" he gestures towards the mess of the restaurant. "… I'll make it up to you later, after the pizza." He grins and leans in on Gar to rest his ankle. "D'you think we should stick around for our statements or just tell 'em we'll come by in the morning?"

"We should stick around. I don't want to but … meh. Ten minutes. If they haven't talked to us by then, they can wait for morning. Besides, they've got lightweight braces in the ambulances."

Gar stares into the distance, unconsciously making that Heroic Pondering of the Imponderables expression, and then he waves, breaking the illusion. Yeah, there's a first-aid guy coming their way. And a cop. Maybe it WILL only be ten minutes.


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