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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(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?

Something like that.

[ Hooded Justice would, more like, be roughing him up. Or so he thought. He was a large, huge man, not just height, but bulk to his advantage. He didn't even bother with preamble, reaching out to grasp at his collar, and lift him from the ground. ]

(Where Hooded Justice has strength, Cross has agility. He lets himself get lifted from the ground before wrapping his legs around Hooded Justice's waist and grabbing his head for a fierce headbutt.)

Don't make me get a headache before I'm hungover.

[ The man was like a snake, wrapping himself around his waist, and Hooded Justice felt a surge of indignation.

Thankfully, dealing with this was rather easy. He swung the hooded head back to avoid the majority of the blow from the headbutt -- even if it still struck home, and ached -- before he charged into a wall, trying to push the man straight in. Crush him, really. ]

(the move surprises him and the fact that his headbutt didn't connect annoys him. his temper is flaring, a barrel fire not too far from them goes up, a car window breaks and the sounds of car alarms ring in the air- the sensation of something forbidden happening might even settle on hooded justice.

cross feels it and he starts to worry, his magic is running rather rampant with his mood and coupled with his fears about things, he hasn't been quite in control lately.

he wraps a leg around hooded justice's neck, hands trying to turn it in another direction.)

[ The sounds make HJ angry, and angry means there's the thrum of power thrumming underneath his skin. One he was starting to recognize, that meant people would get hurt, or at least that they would get angry.

Superpowers, they said. Fiction, he thought, but still, the familiar sensation didn't go away. He narrowed his eyes behind his hood, even while he felt his neck become coupled with a leg.

Now this, this was almost like something else. Hooded Justice knew how to handle that, and he squirmed, pulling back far enough so that he could slide out of the way, keeping the large swath of dark cloth over his head the entire time. He would not lose that.

Never that.

Even so, as soon as he had the space, he shoved a shoulder into his side, trying to take him down, or shove him into the brick wall behind them. ]

(Cross grunts, trying to shove HJ down or something.)

Stop. (He breathes, he can feel that power and he knows something is going to go wrong.)

Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it. (Out there there's a barrel fire that goes out, under HJ a blue glow blazes bright.)

Stop it!

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(a bunch of people are pissed off.)

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