Lockdown Effect

January 17 2015: Lunair gets attacked by Lockdown. Jericho and Sara are on hand to help.

Bronx Park

Bronx Park is the second largest in all of New York and at the moment a lot more accessible.



  • Lockdown Team

Mood Music:
[* None]

When Jericho had warned Lunair that she was squarely in HYDRA's sights he'd promised he'd look into it, but the fact of the matter is getting out of HYDRA's sights once you're in them is something that takes a lot of time and effort. This is something Trent only knows too well.

HYDRA has many agents. And more than that, they have a lot of money. So word has gone out through the criminal underworld that a few certain individuals are wanted quite alive. It's quite a lot of money, so people have taken notice. Some of those people are in Bronx Park now, loitering around and looking for a certain rufflemonster.

Lunair believes Jericho. She's kept pretty low. Not taken her usual jobs (and she is a pretty hard working person - more so now that she's slowly gaining insights and new information on her powers. Still unaware of her intelligence). Shaken up her routines. Tried to go on with her semester. Even started dressing (sort of) normally, but she still has a fascination with fashion. And so she looks a bit odd, but still rather college student-y.

Sure, as a mutant, she's aware there's quite a few people who would rather she didn't exist. Some others who cheerfully vivisect others. That's not really new. The white vans. She hates white vans. So much. Alas, even laying low - you still need to get food. And not showing up to class would throw up so many red flags. So she has to continue, to a point. Just get through the park to her car quickly. That's it.

Given recent events, NYPD is on high alert for unusual activity. Enough that detectives from extranormal investigations have been temporarily reassigned into anti-terrorist investigations. There was some chatter about activity in this direction, so Sara was tapped to keep an eye on Bronx Park.

Stakeouts are not her favorite things. But at least she gets a chance to eat lunch. The detective hands off some spare change at a pretzel cart, getting one for herself as she idly watches the people in the park.

The park has the usual crowd. The Bronx isn't too bad in that regard. There are some people she may recognize from working in gangland but that's not unusual here. What may be unusual is the fact that there are a few… professionals here. Four of them to be precise. They're good at blending in and they specialize in taking down metahuman targets. Lockdown. The same ones who, Sara may or may not recall, set Jericho's loft on fire shortly after she met him.

They're casing Lunair. They know her car. It's not far from here. The operation is a simple snatch and scram. One person, the Biokine in the group, will hit her with a psychic wammy that reduces all of her reflexes and generally makes her feel like she's going through puberty, again. Then it's off to the other snatch stereotype. The black SUV.

They've sighted their mark now. The patterns in the crowd change, four people communicating silently and converging on a single point.

Just walk quickly. Look like you totally aren't being hunted down, like you're just another face who goes to school, comes back home, does her homework. Lunair is unaware of the stake outs, but she also tends to avoid cops and messing with cops. It's a fast way to bring down heat, too much heat, on oneself. For her part, she hefts her backpack and looks around uneasily. There's an unease sinking deep in her heart.

Just gotta hurry. You're just nervous. She's going to start her car remotely, hurry. Unaware of what waits for her, of the communication going on. Of the kindly police woman who apparently sets some loft on fire near the pretzel cart. Lots of people love pretzels.

It was too much to hope that she might be able to eat her pretzel in peace.

Marking the movement in the crowd, Sara steps away from the cart, taking a bite of the pretzel and reluctantly tossing the rest of it into the trash. Dammit. "We've got some activity, Bronx Park," she says into an earpiece, reporting back to the precinct. "Looking into it." By which she means, jogging up closer to the incipient confrontation, and reaching for her badge.

Lunair gets a text. It's from no recognized number (which means it's from Jericho) and all it says is 'Get out. Now.'

Lockdown goes into effect. The Biokinetic, a man in jeans and a tee with a gym bag over his shoulders, extends his gift, trying to slow Lunair's reactions and coodination. At the same time a black armored SUV screeches into the park making a beeline for the mutant girl.

And, oddly enough, there's a shimmer of purple light not far from a maintenance shed.

The passenger's side door to the SUV flies open even before it's fully stopped. The woman within has a full combat harness and an assault rifle. And another, older, man just started running at Lunair from opposite it. People are starting to panic and cry out, unsure what's going on.

A part of her knew this was going to happen eventually. She was doing so well. Things were so quiet. Lunair didn't have to worry about her friends, but… Now she finds herself suddenly slowing down. Lunair's teeth grit. She's fought opponents faster than her. It's going to make it tough, but it's doable. Just - have to - figure distance and. She's going to try to pull her armor over herself, using her car for cover. "Go away!"

Her body isn't cooperating. All she can do is hope to scramble in to her car and turtle up. Wait, what's? Are people screaming? The world is slowing. She knows this part of the fight. Her brain is doing this. It wants to give her time. But her body isn't working, isn't cooperating. "Come ON." Huff. Gotta get in and close the door.

"NYPD!" Sara calls, flashing her badge toward the armed folk. It's probably not the smartest thing to do, but she's certainly not going to let them run off with some girl. At the sight of an assault rifle, she draws her own sidearm, holding it ready. "Put down the gun and get on the ground!"

It's not that she expects it to happen. It's just that…Well. Procedure. She has to be able to say she tried.

Lockdown is a professional hit team. They take pride in not causing unnecessary casualties which is one reason no one's bothered to hunt them down yet. Also they make an effort not to encourage people to hunt them down and that means not instantly going rock and roll on the cops. Someone throws a tear gas grenade Sara's way followed by a burst of automatic fire, just to keep her head down.

Lunair's car door get's wretched open by two men who make a grab for her. "Don't struggle and you won't get hurt!" One of them yells.

Unlike them, Lunair is under no such compulsions. Instead, she's fighting a body that desperately wants to fight but doesn't seem to be fast or honed as usual. "That's a lie! You lie!" She's in tears, gritting her teeth. She'd appreciate Sara's efforts, but right now, she's panicking. A predator unused to being quite so *helpless*. "Go. AWAY!" She snarls. She's got to do something. The door's been wrenched open. At least she can throw a flash bang at them and try to get the car moving away. "Just - leave me ALONE!" Her voice is breaking and it's half plea, half order.

Sara doesn't want to deal with the tear gas. Not even a little bit. Holding her breath, she leans down to scoop up the canister and chuck it back toward the van, already trying to hold back the coughing and tears. Focus. They opened fire, which makes them fair game. If she could actually see them well enough to be sure not to hit Lunair. The Witchblade, meanwhile, is quiet. It's just a little gunfire, what's the problem?

The grenade in close proximity does throw her attackers off her for that critical second it takes to start the car and Sara has no more gunfire coming her way. Unfortunately the reason for this is that Lockdown's wheelman has whipped the SUV back about ninty degrees and proceeds to ram it right into the hood of Lunair's car. Not qutie a T-Bone, but more than enough to spin her and cause enough tire and wheel damage to make escape unlikely.

About this time, through the relocated tear gas either Sara or Lunair might catch a flash of amber wings and the glint of drawn steel.

Really. Lunair appreciates whomever is helping her, even if she can't really see or talk to her right now. She's gotten on just enough armor - just enough. And then the SUV whips right into the hood of her car. The car did its best, really. It was a beautiful, well made car. Lunair sensibly put the power under the hood and not into rims. But even a medium car is going to get run over by an SUV. Big beats small. The sickening crunch and whine of metals and electronics being smashed is audible, along with an annoyed wail.

So the flash bang didn't bother them. That's not good. She's got to get out and she's going to try to crawl out the window opposite the driver's seat, then - then? What then? Nevermind, just throw a grenade behind her into the car. People have likely cleared out by now, she hopes. She's not entirely murderous. But it's hard, and her escape is more doing the worm, and flopping. Drawn steel. the kid gloves are off. It takes her a moment to recover on the cement, huffing, reeling and dazed. This might be it? Is that so?

Once her eyes have had a moment to clear, Sara takes stock of the situation. Van. Van is a problem. "Get out of the car, hands behind your head," she calls toward the vehicle, giving it a count of about half a second before shooting at the tires. If they can't get away, maybe they'll leave the girl and run.

Pop pop go the Van's passenger side tires. Bang goes lunair's grenade in the car behind her and… 'snickt' goes something in the cloud of dispersing tear gas. There's a pained cry and the field that's dampening Lunair's reactions suddenly lifts. Lockdown is scattering now. Too much resistance, even still outnumbering Lunair, Sara and the amber apparition in the smoke and gas. They're professionals. Scatter, meet up later. Live to fight another day. There's already one police officer involved. Best to get out now before the whole force shows.

Jericho leaps out of the smoke and lands on the hood of Lunair's ruined car, snapping off fire from his gunblade as the hitmen scatter. His eyes are blazing in anger and his wings… well the batlike wings are a darker amber than anyone's ever seen before.

It's a good thing. Lunair's not getting up. She's too tired. The activity cost her dearly. She lays in the street, dazed looking, armor disappearing. Her car is trashed, she's terrified and there's police. It's all not going so well. She just doesn't even know anymore. A few tears run down her face, gritting her teeth. She's helpless against mind and body manipulation. It's not fair, it isn't. She just - lays there, waiting for the weird feeling of being slowed to pass. She's grateful, just out of sorts.

They're running, and the van is left behind. That's a big enough victory for Sara for now. "Stay clear," she starts directing the civilians, trying to keep them away from the tear gas. "Everyone stay calm, this is an active crime scene." And then she pulls out her cell, rattling off details to dispatch. Details that don't mention either Trent or Lunair explicitly. This is your chance to get out of here before you end up in an official report.

Sara Pezzini returns to OOC Land.

Jericho actually picks Lunair up. Well, provided she doesn't struggle too much. This isn't the kind of thing one wants to be stuck explaining to the NYPD. So up up and away it is, up to the nearest high rise that's well out of sight. Might be a bit of an odd sensation for the poor girl but there isn't much time.

The fight is gone from Lunair. She used up all of her energy and fury. She's just laying there, dazed and teary. She's picked up. "Thanks," She offers quietly and just sort of curls up. It is a weird sensation, but so is being so slow, so clumsy, so useless in the fight. So utterly helpless. They were good. She's a quiet passenger.

Once she's set down Jericho puts that odd folding blade of his away and pulls out a medical bag. "You hurt? Hit? Let me check you over." For all his direct violence in action and ordinarily quiet demeanor, the hacker can be rather shockingly gentle with people in need. Especially friends. Espeicially friends being hunted, like he was. Nothing he understands better, or hates more.

"I feel weird… I can't move right. So slow and my arms and legs aren't working well," Lunair admits. "I can't move fast," This bothers her a lot. "I am okay, otherwise. Normally they just send goons and I blow them up and go home… did they change?" Should she change too? Lunair seems uncertain. "Thank you… I hope that cop lady I heard is okay." But then, she's used to being bothered to a certain point. Hunted by metahumans, not so much. "Sorry."

"Psychic attack, or so I've been told. It'll fade. Give it a few minutes." Jericho looks back toward the park where police are arriving. "I'm sure Sara will be fine. Your car will be impounded though. I'll… see what I cando about getting it out. That was Lockdown. They're a team that specializes in clean hits and professional jobs. And they're not cheap. Someone put out a pretty damn big bounty on you. A couple mil for you alive. Five hundred grand for information on your location." He shakes his head. HYDRA has money to throw around. It makes life difficult.

"Ugh, I hate those," Lunair has no defense against it. She just stays curled up a little. "… you know her?" Lunair looks curious, peering at Jericho. She's still moving slowly, but she's less grumpy at least. "I appreciate it but … it's as good as cube shaped," She sighs deeply. "They rammed - well, you saw it." Car vs SUV is almost always an unfortunate match up. "And Lockdown? How strange. I suppose I admire them trying not to hurt me and being that clean, but. Wow, a couple mil? I guess I feel kind of flattered," This amuses her more than a little. Ho ho. "I'm the two million dollar man." They might rebuild— uh oh. "Oh well. Guess I'd better go into serious hiding. I figured disappearing entirely would throw up more flags, but there's not much in the way of other options." A deep sigh.

"I can offer you a safehouse." Jericho says quietly. Having to run sucks. The more so when there's nothing to immediately be done about the soruce of the problem. "A couple of them actually and I'm sure Koriand'r would be happy to let you stay on the Starfire for a while. Maybe beam you to and from classes so that you can still make them." Teleporting is a good defense against being followed. Not foolproof but…

Lunair is quiet a moment. It does suck. And worst of all, she got used to blowing up hapless goons. She sort of goes cross-eyed. "I feel bad using yours. They might bother you, too. But I guess for a little while it's okay. And beaming to classes…" That does seem kind of amusing. "Maybe I'll give it a shot. I can't vanish entirely, that'd set up even MORE red flags." Sigh. "Sorry. This bites."

"I know it does. Believe me. Been doing it for two years. And don't worry about the safehouse. I can't exactly set them up every day but I can afford to burn one or two. I set up a network a while back and I haven't used most of it. You're more than welcome to it. You seem to need it." Jericho takes a seat and checks himself over. No burns this time, thankfully. "Is there anything you need? Anyone you need to contact? I know the school will be worried about you if you go dark." He means the special school.

"Well. They used to NOT send the good goons. Or whoever it was. Maybe it wasn't HYDRA," Especially if they just sent crappy minions. Lunair grumbles. "I can help out, at least. I'll try to leave some notes." She takes a deep breath. "Just a couple of friends and maybe um. A government friend." She seems AWFULLY vague about that, but then - best not to speak too loudly on such matters. "I suppose they're very serious now. I wonder how the others are doing."

"I don't know." Jericho answers honestly. "You mentioned a woman named Suzy. I dug a little but couldn't come up with anything. Do you have a proper name for her? And anyone else you'd like to contact? I can set it up, if you'd like. Make sure it's safe."

"She was the one I hung out with a lot. She might've changed her name on becoming a CEO," Lunair considers. "She had a lot of weird mind control powers. Like, groups of people. It was pretty scary. I'll see. And um. I guess I'll contact my friend in - Well, Miss Wears-Suits-And-Is-Kind-Of-a-ninja." She dances around the subject like a Celtic dance line in a mine field.

"Wears suits and is kind of a ninja?" There's kind of only one person Jericho knows who meets that description. "Agent May? Shield? Asian and scary?" If Lunair knows May that'd be good. Unfortunately SHIELd has it's own end of this mess to deal with.

Nod. "All of the above," Lunair smiles and holds up a finger for quiet. "But I'm trying not to say people's names while I'm hiding," She admits. "And they already know. I promised I'd let her know if anything happened. And I guess that totally qualifies, huh?"

"Yeah. I can get word to May pretty easily. She's my main contact in SHIELD." And the only one the Hacker trusts at any level at all. "I am glad you know her. She's good people. Anyone else?"

"Cool," Lunair murmurs. "I - guess I'll let you do that, then. It feels weird not doing it myself, honestly," She seems a bit uncertain. "I might talk to grandpa. I'm kind of worried about him. Immortal or not…" Sigh. Then - a thought hits her. Ripper? Abruptly she bursts into a giggle. "Maybe if I see him in passing. I'll think a bit."

"Your grandfather is Immortal?" That's a new one to Jericho. Then she giggles and he's… not quite sure what's going on. "I can set it up so you can talk to them yourself if you'd like. Or Kori can send you to them. Or, you know, I'm not going to lock you in a room and make you hide. If you think it's safe to go out, you can."

"It's a long story. And cool, thanks. I wish I could protect myself against mind stuff, but…" No one gets every power. Lunair sighs. "We'll see. Thank you. I'll probably just order us something and we can go hide. A new car's no bother when I decide to get another. What would you like? I - just want to move like normal again."

"Italian if you mean food." Jericho's been hoping for good Italian. "I'll be headed down to Central America soon with Illyana to see about the source of all this. If we can knock out their magic it'll make you harder to find. That's my hope anyway. The fact that they're using magic at all is worrying on top of their 'snatch the mutants' agenda." Which he's seen before but this is a new twist to it.

Smile. "Okay, then a good Italian place. My treat since you saved me," And she's wealthy, at least. Lunair's starting to feel a bit better. "I wonder if it's because of people like me. I can slaughter most of their goons pretty easily. Not so much with the mind-body weirdness," She considers. "You'll probably wanna take some good clothes and bug spray. Fighting them and then dying to leeches would be super awkward," She points out. "I guess they chose us because they wanted SOMETHING back from the program. I remember our experiment ended after - I forget her name, she could talk to stone and move it, anyway, she freaked out and brought the place down. They kinda had to, I guess. I don't remember much." She shrugs. "But - lead the way."

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