capeandcowllogs | (a bunch of people are pissed off.)

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(a bunch of people are pissed off.)

WHO: cross marian (

ioudas) and a bunch of people who are pissed off at him (& maybe a new friend!)
WHERE: around the city
WHEN: saturday morning - sunday night
WARNINGS: once again, cross
SUMMARY: Cross is finally back in the City, not without consequence.
FORMAT: quick.

(He doesn't want to be back in the City, but he doesn't feel like he should be anywhere else. Since his travels to the many water worlds weren't all that adventurous (who knew that some things didn't change), he was restless. He couldn't stay at home because timcampy had taken to watching his every move and even when he was out, he was sure that the tiny gold golem was watching him.

So, he set out to do what he always does as a consequence of his bad decisions- make more of them.)

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(Dammit, really? You owe some people a lot of money and the next thing you know they're sending their people after you. Granted, Cross owes him a lot of money because he told them that he was going to bet on a horse and thanks to some tampering (cheating), he won a lot of money because he defined statistics. Go him.

But instead of giving someone their money back, Cross decided to run away to Nepal with it. The original intention was to, in fact, maybe buy out the apartment next to his and take down a wall to expand his- maybe an indoor pool. Cross was in an alleyway with three very large people from the very influential Irish mob. It seemed that like these guys never really learned their lesson and Cross was starting to lose his temper with them.

Seamus wants his money, they say, says you disappeared with it.

He doesn't deny it, he's the one that towers over them, but they're armed and he isn't.

Hate for you to lose a kneecap, they threaten- or something, all Cross really wants is a drink so he isn't paying attention. They're talking, he's ignoring, it's a very routine thing for him. One gets mad and tries to punch him, and he dodges. It just goes down hill from there, Cross's hair gets messed up and he just snaps.

All the frustrations finally just come to the surface, and coupled with years upon years of dealing with things far above regular thugs on his shit I have to deal with scale makes it easy work to get rid of them. One thug gets his knees done in by Cross getting a hand on his bat, the other gets a fist to the face before getting a concussion and the last one, he pushes him up against the wall.)

You tell Seamus that if he should forget that he gave me the money. In fact, if you want, tell Seamus to find this lot in the hospital. You hear me?

(He just lets him go before ruffling through their suits for a cellphone to call for an ambulance.)

[ He often went back out late at night. This was when the heinous crimes happened, and Hooded Justice wasn't going to waste the time waking up early to do nothing during the day. At some point, he'd ended up on the other end of the alley where the altercation was happening.

He didn't interfere, actually. He slunk to the shadows, watching. The whole lot of them looked Irish. Figured. The taller one, the one they were ganging up on, seemed to do fine. Hooded Justice had been about to leave, since he'd done well enough, when he turned to dig through pockets, leaving one relatively unmarred.

Stupid, was the thought, when he stumbled toward him, but this time HJ was on top of things, faster than a man of his size should move, and he had the man in a chokehold, keeping him trapped. The only sound was the slightest of scuffles when HJ caught him up in the crook of his elbow. ]

(Argh, was that seriously happening? They probably had one hiding in the dark, waiting for the right shot. An oversight on his part, but nothing that wasn't fixable.)

Jesus Christ, Seamus. (Cross reacts, trying to use the guy's weight and force against him that he can throw him over his shoulder and make a break for it.)

[ HJ went flying, but that didn't mean that he was down, flying to the ground, before he tucked and rolled, and then turned. The distraction worked. It left the last man, the one Cross had let go flabbergasted. Good. That's what he'd intended. It left him precious moments to take care of the bigger issue.

The issue being the man that was lurking, waiting, since he'd lost his partners.

HJ dashed past the tall redhead, lunging for the bruiser, a hand to his throat to stop him short. ]

(Cross hated when people didn't take his advice. Unsure what was exactly going on, Cross just sighed and simply just stared at the other man's cohorts to finish calling an ambulance. One more, he assumes.)

Hey, if you're going to deal with the other one, could you tell me in advance what to tell the ambulance?

(He's absolutely apathetic to the whole thing. Either way, Seamus learns not to send more people after him or else a man in a gimp mask might come after them. Sitting on the chest of the bigger bruiser, seeing as this night took a terrible uncool turn, he started to dial first Seamus and then the ambulance.

Here's the deal, he says in a thick accent (whether or not it's put on in the first place is up for debate), come after me again and next time it'll be him that he's calling an ambulance for.)

[ Hooded Justice turns, once the last of them is sufficiently passed out, a solid blow to the head knocking him clearly into slumber land, or what could pass for such, despite being sent there through pain as opposed to relaxation.

When he turned to shoot a look at Cross over his shoulder, all the annoyance and surprise at his voice. He hadn't expected that, but then again, who else would have dealings with the Irish Mob? It shouldn't be a surprising as it was, but he still didn't seem to expect it.

Instead of saying anything, he stood. Still keeping his glance on the man. Then, and only then did he finally speak. ]

Tell them the men need medical attention, and then restraint. Preferably both at once, but they treat before imprisoning. [ His tone of voice said it all. That he didn't agree with such methods. ]

No, thanks. I didn't think I needed help with the obvious.

(Cross his eyes and makes the call, his accent is once more that weird mix of English and American. The one that he's sitting on says something and Cross gently reaches to slap him across the face to be quiet.

The ambulance is called, maybe Cross flirts with the 911 operator a bit. Nah, it's not serious, this guy just broke his kneecaps.)

We should probably not be here when they arrive. (Cross cheerily gets off of the guy before grabbing Hooded Justice's arm and dragging him out of the alley.)

We're just two people going to ... uh ... find an S&M club. Totally innocent.

[ When his hand closed around his arm, Hooded Justice struck. It was quick and certain, first pushing him away, grabbing his arm, and then looping back so HJ was behind, Cross's arm in a twist behind him. Quick, and swift. HJ was nothing if not efficient, especially when it came to protecting--

Well, Cross spoke a bit too easily about something that hit a bit too close to home, not that one could tell, from the faint accent, and low voice. ]

Do not touch me.

[ And then he was forced forward with a shove, and a kick to his lower back to send him flying forward. He was rarely so blatantly cruel, but it seemed, in his perspective, that too many people knew. The secret was hardly a secret when both the Deputy Mayor and Nelson's crazy friend were both aware of their proclivities. He refused to allow anyone in. ]

There is no need to spread such vile lies to save face.

(Cross has been in this situation more times than not. He's quick to move, dropping himself lower to almost slip out of Hooded Justice's grip. He might have been a little cheeky and kicked him, but the sounds of the ambulances and police sort of cut his fun short.

Regardless, he still pulls the guy along, shoving him in another alley.)

Listen, I already have my two strikes. I can't really get into even more trouble alright.

(also:)

You're wearing a mask with a noose around it. It's not much me as it is you.

It is a costume.

[ Adamantly, and as soon as he's free, he's starting to back into the shadows. The man was obviously trouble, in more ways than one. If he already had two strikes, then he was already a criminal. He was a criminal who was squandering leniency.

Hooded Justice turned his head, only slightly. ]

Then perhaps you deserve the punishment they'd give you.

[ He turns on him all the way, in a way, Hooded Justice is of average height -- albeit of a stockier build -- looking every part the bruiser he was, but he emitted something else, presence. Maybe it was the fact that he said so little, but the implication in his silent motion was clear.

He'd make sure they found one more man tonight, if he didn't tread carefully. ]

Oh good, you just willingly put a hood on. That makes it so much better.

(Maybe this has got to be the strangest night he's had. As if Cross wasn't bad enough, he's lighting up without a lighter. A small flicker of forbidden magic didn't hurt anyone, even if it meant that someone couldn't start their car because of it.)

Right, because beating up Seamus' best men would have improved my record of public drunkenness.

(Cross rolls his shoulders, using all of his height to give him some sort of impression. If that didn't fail, he'd just deal with him the way that he deal with everyone- belligerence.)

Are you going to carry me in, because I'm absolutely innocent in all of this.

[ He only looked at him, feeling an instinctive anger come over him at the seemingly loose fire. Another trick. A trick of the eye. He kept telling himself. He wanted to believe it, that, or it was a power, and he disliked either prospect equally. He didn't enjoy the idea of the powers, but letting it go by, denying the reality that could mean casualties.

There was an electric zing, underneath his skin, something like adrenaline, but not quite. Alien to the sensation, but similar enough that he wrote it off as such, leaning forward. ]

They did not make it sound as if you were entirely innocent. You have dealings with them.

[ Accusing. ]

I might have stolen some money from them, but it was a for a good cause.

(Not murdering all of you assholes, more like. Cross doesn't take any chances, his hands already tracing a pattern against the wall and all he had to say was one word to make himself disappear.)

Am I to be brought to justice too?

If necessary. You should turn yourself in.

[ He didn't care if he was stealing from scum, honestly. Well, he did, but that hadn't been the conversation between men who'd caught a thief, it had been the conversation between someone who had reneged on a deal.

That meant, he'd dealt with them, not that he'd just stolen it from him. The annoyance meant the sharp zing beneath his skin intensified, losing control of the entire thing, albeit unwittingly. Hooded Justice still believed he was normal. He had to. ]

I doubt your cause was a good one.

Or, I don't have the money anymore and it's less for him to buy drugs with. I think we all win, don't you think?

(There as an intangible hum in the air, something that had gotten Cross a little too curious. He was so used to being able to read people and their emotions, that this hum just sparked something in him.)

Do you really care, in all honesty?

Yes.

[ Simple and curt. Of course he cared. It didn't matter the infraction, what mattered was the cause itself. Money didn't matter, in the long run. It was a societal creation, necessary for some things only by other people. To Hooded Justice, it was secondary, insignificant. Something he didn't need to care about.

He stepped forward, looming over him somehow, despite being not that tall, in comparison. ]

It came from somewhere, and taking it from them doesn't make it any better.

That isn't going to happen.

(Cross might be taller, but the other man could be intimidating. He doesn't want to fight, Cross has had an emotionally draining day and all he wanted was to get more drunk.)

It came from the Irish mob, who - by the way - makes Irishmen look like thugs. So I don't really care where the money came from.

They hardly need the mob's help.

[ Succinct. HJ hardly needed the excuse to let certain insults fly, but from the tone of voice, he whole-heartedly believed it. It wasn't a joking manner, not to him. ]

And you don't have to care. I do.

I don't understand why people are so ready to blame the Irish for their problems. There wouldn't be a mob if there wasn't a need for one.

(That's said in a nowhere accent, but Cross has to defend his countrymen.)

We could say a lot about the Americans, but we don't because we know that you know that you're all rat bastards.

(This is getting rather charged, isn't it?)

[ His hood tipped, and Hooded Justice let off something that could almost be amused. Almost, before he stepped forward yet another step. ]

I am not American. Your insults are flying broad, and attest to your guilt.

[ His accent, while faint, eluded to perhaps a much more sinister sort of opinion, if a stereotype were to be believed, at least, if he could put together when HJ was from, perhaps. ]

I want you to look at me and tell me that I look I care.

(Cross really doesn't. At this point, he really does want to lose the other man and pick up that very nice lady that's hanging outside the club and have very wild (protected) sex in the bathroom.)

Can I go? Or is this going to go a while?

[ The head underneath the hood tipped, like he was cracking it, even though there was no sound, his hand meeting his own fist with the soft thud of cloth on cloth.

Yes. It was really just what he needed. ]

You shouldn't have committed crimes, if you had plans.

[ Succinct, really. ] You can't be left to go free.

[ It was minor, but even minor crimes needed dealt with. This city was so rotted from the inside out that one had to take every abscess and cut it out. ]

(He knew what was going to happen next and he slowly prepared himself for it. Even though he was tall and all limbs, decades of fighting had honed Cross into the sort of man that would kill someone with his bare hands should he need to.)

It isn't in the Bible: thou shalt not pretend to tell the future and steal money from a mobster in order to build a pool in your apartment.

(Or was it? He didn't know.)

Listen, all I want is a pint. Why are you dragging this out?

Thou shall not steal is.

[ If they were to bring up the bible. ] You're still violating some laws even without the holy book's guidance.

He stepped once more forward. ]

No offense should be overlooked.

There's a lot of stuff the Bible says that's really stupid. (a beat:)

So, what now? We fight to the death or what?

(a bunch of people are pissed off.)

(hooded justice ; late saturday night)

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