capeandcowllogs | “There's a fire starting here

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“There's a fire starting here—”

WHO: monica & gil.
WHERE: wherever monica is busting in on.
WHEN: let's go with midnight 3/15.
WARNINGS: violence and language. probably blood.
SUMMARY: wrong place, wrong time. maybe.
FORMAT: quick.

[ It had been months since Gil flexed his marksman abilities, so today after calling the only available shooting range he could find in the City, he went to this Westside Rifle & Pistol Range to take a look himself. They had tried to tell him to browse their webpage, but having no idea how to operate the Internet yet, Gil opted to inspect the place in person. No harm in that. It seemed... alright. It was the only place he could open fire on a target without risking charges.

On the way back, he had taken a taxi instead, not entirely familiar with the area the range was in. After some time when it had become clear the taxi driver was either new or taking a longer route to cheat money out of Gil, he had spoken up. The driver argued back and then Gil found himself growing frustrated and the driver did not take well to it. Upon realizing he was an imPort, Gil got kicked out of the cab ("You fuckin' imPorts think you can just talk however and do whatever you want! Piss off, ya alien!" the driver had yelled) and was left in another unfamiliar part of the city.

Lost and irritable (he barely has any change left), Gil now wanders down the street, debating giving Nelson or Kenzi a call to figure out where he is and where to find the subway. Just as he takes out his phone, he senses there's something-- someone-- else around and he stops, certain he's spotted a shadow moving somewhere past him. ]

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_{( Monica has never been a vigilante. There has never been a reason for her to be. First, she was a soldier. Then, a spy. Finally, an Ultimate, and then the leader of that group of heroes. To her eyes, however, they were always a task force. Bigger problems simply needed bigger solutions.

Being in the city hasn’t much changed that outlook. She doesn’t wear a costume or a cape, doesn’t yell out her codename before charging into battle. In fact, she doesn’t charge into battle at all. Instead, Monica Chang spends her nights in Kevlar and leather, with a gun strapped to each thigh and a high collar obscuring her features from whoever she might pass.

She’s been working this lead for a few weeks—an underground ring of anti-imPort “activists.” She knows their type, knows they are going to turn violent any day. But she needs to know the roots, the leads, and the bigger picture before she shuts them down. Which is why she’s darting past everyone on this shady street, eyes narrowed like she’s focusing on something. )}

[ It's too dark to make out who it is, but something in his gut tells him it's familiar and that there's something else-- something unpleasant at work here. Gil has his own two revolvers hidden away in his coat. When he knows he may be out late, he doesn't wear the coat from home; it draws too much attention.

He looks at the menu of phone numbers he has (just Kenzi's honestly, he's not sure why he thought of Nelson if he didn't have the number) and then slips the phone back into his pocket, following after this person when the feeling in his gut moves into his chest and urges him. ]

There you are. Freeze!

_{( It's the same man she's been following for this entire time, but she thinks she's got him pinned in the alley. There's nothing particularly remarkable about him--built arms visible from an old t-shirt that he's ripped the sleeves off of, but a beer drinker's belly all the same and a beanie pulled down over his forehead.

She doesn't pull a gun, yet, plans to intimidate him through voice, alone, when suddenly a shot rings out. Not into the crowd, thank god, but the idiot has just fired into the air. )}

Oh, good. You're armed. _{( That's muttered as she pauses, trying to plan her next move. )}

[ The yelling causes alarm, but it's the gunshot ringing out that gets panic to set in. His heart races, pounding in his ear and he bursts forward, quickly reaching into his coat for his own revolver.

The woman's voice is still difficult to place, but he knows now at least he's heard it on the Network.

Although trained by Pandora, Gil's never been trained to mask his footsteps entirely. His running is hard and could be heard even to the untrained ear. He doesn't realize what sort of mess he's about to create when he suddenly appears in the alley, revolver in his hand. ]

What's going on?

_{( His voice distracts her, just for a moment. She can't stop the instinct to turn her head and see who's arrived, and in that moment she takes her eyes off her target. )}

You? What the hell are you doing here?

_{( It's that one moment that the guy needs; though his hands are shaking he aims the gun at Monica with a manic glint in his eye. )}

[ The face isn't familiar, but the voice sure as hell is. Right before the gun is pointed at her, it all clicks in place and he stands there, stunned. ]

Wait, you're-- [ The woman from the Network. The one who's always going on about gathering intel in modern day ways.

Most of those thoughts get put aside when the other guy has his gun on Monica. Gil jumps and quickly points his, but he doesn't fire yet. He can't risk it with Monica too close. ]

Get away from her!

What do you think you're--

_{( Her voice cuts off; the man's fired, again. His aim is bad and the shot goes wide, ricochetting off of the wall three feet from her. He mutters something about 'filthy imPorts, all of you!' and his hands are shaking around the gun, again. )}

Stop it. You're going to hurt someone. _{( Her voice is calm, harsh, and powerful. )}

[ Gil's conflicted; remain rooted to where he is and Monica can get hurt, but try to close the distance between him and the shooter and he can get both of them hurt.

He keeps his gun pointed, his arm remarkably steady. This man can't be stupid. He's outnumbered and Gil can probably get a good shot at his wrist or shoulder if he makes any false movement. ]

Enough of this already.

_{( When he speaks, Monica's gaze shifts back to Gilbert entirely. She doesn't gape at him, exactly, but there's a glint of surprise behind her eyes. Who knew he had it in him? From the way he speaks, she had thought he was incompetent at just about everything. )}

Well. Go figure.

_{( The wheels are turning in her head, however, and she can't let this opportunity pass just because some imPort knows how to hold a gun. But she can turn that to her advantage. )}

If you shoot us, who do you think will end up in jail? We may be a minority, hon, but we've got lawyers. Super-powered lawyers.

_{( She's goading the thug, and she knows it. His face contorts with anger, and he mutters something unintelligible as he fixes the gun on Monica, then on Gil, then back again. His eyes dart from side to side like he doesn't know what to do.

He might be willing to do something drastic. )}

[ Without knowing the intricate details of the law or how politics work in this world, Gil can't assume she's telling the truth or trying to spook the other man into putting down his weapon and resigning himself over.

He wonders what kind of person Monica really is. Intelligence gathering doesn't often require weapons... he thinks. In this tense moment, he can't afford to wonder who's what here, not when it really does turn out the other guy is desperate enough to pull something drastic.

With Gil being the newer threat, Gil finds the gun pointed at him and fired. He blinks and quickly throws himself to the side to avoid the bullet-- feeling it graze his shoulder and cold air sting against the open wound. It burns, too. ]

Shit!

_{( Monica’s eyes go wide when the shot is fired, and she ducks to her knees to get out of the man’s range. Her gaze shifts briefly to Gilbert, but she doesn’t even wince in sympathy for the wound. She didn’t tell him to be there. He isn’t someone she’s directly responsible for. But this is her operation, and collateral damage grates on her nerves.

It takes about three seconds for her to get a gun in her hands from her crouched position. She aims not for the man’s head, but for his lower organs, with a grim smile. )}

You idiot. You shoot one import—even with a pathetic shot like that—you shoot all of us. And you know that, don’t you? That’s why you’re running.

_{( Without taking her eyes or her gun off the mark, she speaks out of the side of her mouth to Gilbert. )}

Get out of here. Go, before he shoots again.

I'm fine! [ He grimaces, the wound still burning, but he's had worse. He can push through this. He gets back up, steadying himself and pointing his gun at the thug who thought it would have been a good idea to open fire on him.

If there's anything Gil is good at, it's his aim. Second to Vincent, he's confident enough in his abilities with guns. ]

There's no way I'm leaving now! [ It may not be his business, but he can't leave anyone behind in the middle of a scuffle like this; especially a woman. ]

Don’t be stupid! You just got sho—

_{( Her voice is overshadowed by three bullets being fired. The thug is yelling, at Monica or Gil or both of them. His eyes are wild. Monica ducks, and rolls out of the range of one of the shots, but in that time she has to take her eyes off the both of them. )}

[ Instincts kick in and he's quick to find shelter behind a dumpster. He presses his back against it, trying to peer his head around the corner to see where the shooter is located now and if Monica is alright. ]

It's nothing! Whatever is going on, we can take him! He's outnumbered! [ His arm snaps forward and he fires at the thug, but pulls himself back as soon as a bullet whizzes past him. ]

I liked my odds better when I was alone.

_{( She grumbles that, but it's loud enough for him to hear. She pulls a gun, now, and takes an infinitesimal breath before she turns on her heel, still crouched, and fires two precise shots towards the man. )}

[ He tries to time himself with her movements, prying himself from the dumpster and firing toward the other man's shoulder. He knows where exactly to hit -- where to hurt him -- so that this can end quickly.

It's been so long since he's had to use his guns. In a way, it feels like a release. ] Don't be ridiculous! What if you had been shot?

_{( The shots land, and the man screams in agony before crumbling. Monica's expression doesn't change, but her lips quirk for half a second, as if she'd been about to smile. )}

It's an occupational hazard. I would have been prepared for it, you know.

[ Gil doesn't waste another second and steps away from the dumpster again, rising to his two feet. His shoulder continues to protest, but he ignores the pain and the fabric clinging to his shoulder no thanks to the blood that's seeped through. ]

Don't move. [ He orders, the gun trained on the other man's head. He won't take a head shot, but he can scare him into thinking he might.

He tilts his head only slightly so he can ask Monica: ] Who is he?

_{( Monica takes a more direct approach. She holsters one of her guns and keeps the other held in one hand as she heads towards the man and places one foot deftly on his chest. He groans, a more pained sound than the low murmurs of hurt he’d been uttering moments before. Monica’s lips twitch into a smile, slow and satisfied. )}

You know what I want to know. So tell me, or things will get worse.

_{( Her eyes flick over to Gilbert and she shrugs, curtly. )} One piece of a much larger puzzle.

[ Gil probably shouldn't be taken aback by such actions, but he is. He's never seen a woman here do what Monica just did.

Then again, he doesn't spend his time among vigilante or hero types. He prefers to keep himself out of trouble like that. Trouble always has a way of finding him, though. ]

Shouldn't we call the authorities? [ Unless Monica has a handle on the situation. ]

What good would they do? They don't care.

_{( Which is more or less true. The civilian police force doesn't have any particular love for imPorts, in whatever form it exists. Monica prefers her own, more direct methods. Her foot digs in. )}

He's a threat to everyone like us. Do you disapprove?

You can't just take matters into your own hands! [ Even if it's for the greater good. He's sure the police will do something if they're alerted to the scene of the crime.

He looks at the other man, conflicted, then his gaze settles on Monica once more. ] You haven't told me what you mean by that. Why is he a threat? Who is he?

I can do whatever I want. _{( She doesn't raise her voice, but there's an intensity to it. She clearly believes very strongly what she's saying. )}

He's part of an underground ring--dedicated to taking down imPorts. I need him to take me to his--

_{( Her voice cuts off as the man, in a single instant, finds his courage and grabs his gun. In a matter of seconds he's fired off a shot. )}

[ He reacts quickly, his gun pointed directly back at the man. He doesn't want to kill him, but it's been made clear he's willing to do anything to get away from them.

For a few seconds, he mulls over whether or not to take the shot.

Instead he spring forth. He's no mixed martial arts master, but he knows how to kick hard when necessary. Gil's foot slams against his head. ]

Stop it!

_{( When he shot, Monica sprang back. She didn't have the time to look where she was going--only an instant to get away from the bullet--and the back of her head hit the opposite wall, hard. She grits her teeth against the pain blossoming at the base of her neck, even if that means she can't smile at the howl of pain the man lets out. )}

I need--his intel. Don't kill him.

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