2007-02-21: Fight Club Sandwich

Starring:

Identity_icon.gif Max_icon.gif Alyssa_icon.gif Orion_icon.gif Elle_icon.gif

Summary: Identity goes to the nearby sandwich shop to pick up an to go order, and runs into Max and his friend, Alyssa. Alyssa prompty scampers, and Elle shows up, with a tail.

Date It Happened: February 21st, 2007

Log Title: Fight Club Sandwich


Noodle Heaven

The door is shoved open, and the click of boots on the linoleum floor is sharp. A black haired woman, in black, strikes into the sandwich shop in search of the ultimate of ultimates. Oh, yes. A buttery mesquite turkey and white American cheese on a baguette with cracked black pepper and just a sprinkle of rosemary. Although, to the innocent bystander, it looks like a paper wrapped sandwich in a to go bag.

"That's really considerate of you, sir," Alyssa is saying, all ready to head out on this foolhardy… whatever it is- joyride? But the shoving of the door makes her side-step away from it and she watches the woman walk in before glancing back to Max. They're going, right? Going. Before someone here loses what nerve she gained when her brain shut off.

Elle has arrived.
Orion has arrived.

Standing precariously close to the door, Max jumps when it swings open to admit Identity. "Shit," he mutters under his breath. Chances are very good that this will get messy, and fast. He holds one hand up wardingly, palm-out. All traces of humor and friendliness are gone from his hard, grey eyes as they narrow to slits and he steps in front of Alyssa, not from any ingrained desire to protect her, but to meet Id's approach squarely.

Elle shoves her way inside the shop, purse slung over her shoulder. She very nearly bumps into the back of the black-haired Identity. That might have been messy. Nope. She sidesteps and gets an eyeful of Max's reaction to said black-haired lady. "Is it just me or does anyone else sense the love in this room?"

People usually get the hell out of the way when Identity enters an establishment, even in New York. And if they don't, the first thing they get is a boot heel to the toe. Today, she's on a mission, and it most certainly does not involve Max. But there he is anyway. Food-us Interruptus. When her eyes find Max's, she just asks the man, "Are you stuck on stupid? This is my sandwich shop. Piss off." Oh yeah, feel the love.

And things were going okay, too. Alyssa might stick her nose in so very many places where it doesn't belong, but when push comes to shove she generally prefers to observe rather than participate. Seeing Max's reaction and then this other staking her claim, the once absent brain returns to say this may be time to bail. Alyssa starts to slide around the man back towards the door, muttering, "And a lovely place she's got here, too. Hope everyone likes tuna."

Max's eyes flicker over to the newly-entered blonde briefly. Something about her strikes a note of recognition, the sensation that one should know more than one does. Unfortunately, too much contemplation can leave one getting one's ass kicked, so he's forced to turn his attention back to what may truly be a threat. Id's words elicit a low, growling rumble from deep in Max's throat. "What's wrong? Still sore over losing that argument?"

Elle doesn't so much like the look Max is giving her. She archs a blonde eyebrow at him before giving Identity a look. Hm. "So. I hear the philly cheesesteaks here are killer."

Identity turns her head slightly, peripherally shifting her attention to Elle. It's back on Max shortly, though. She smiles. "You should brush up on your listening skills, Max." In an aside to Elle, she notes, "They use fresh cheeses, and baguettes. It's perfect." To Max, "Walk out of this building before I throw you out."

Alyssa hovers near this door still in a fit of very useless indecisiveness. On the one hand, these people are talking kind of like they're in a movie. On the other hand… baquettes. There's also the whole confrontation thing. In a last bid for her former plans, she takes a step closer inside, and curls two fingers cautiously towards Max's arm, aimed to just tap him. "/You/ coming? What is this worth?" Unless she's an old girlfriend, maybe that should have been considered first, as if this restaurant could be put on a settlement or something.

A smile slowly, playfully stretches across Max's features. Whatever recognition he thought he might've felt when seeing Elle is forgotten as the scar at the corner of his mouth twitches once, twice. "No, I think I'll stay. I'll give you a ride some other time," is his quiet, composed reply to both Alyssa and Id.

Elle uses the opportunity to move on past the blockage at the door and heads for the counter. "Actually, I'll have the chicken teriyaki. Cheesesteaks are ass," she tells the guy behind the register. Meanwhile, she keeps giving significant looks to Max's back and watching what Identity is doing. She hands over her money and waits.

Identity smiles again. It's just not a friendly smile. It's a smile that says she's real happy he made that decision. And so she tells him, "I'm so glad you're this stupid." To the casual observer, it kind of looks like Id just walked in and picked a fight with a random guy. Since he's taller, and has quite a bit of body mass on her, it might seem kind of pointless. And then this happens: Id takes a step forward, and reminds Max of his wrongness with a left hook to the jaw.

A tall figure in an overcoat more or less appears outside of the doorway while Identity and Max do their dance. The figure outside of the door wasn't there one moment and was another, nothing major. People come and go all the time… Except that he doesn't seem to be leaving. For the moment the tall businessman stays outside, as if waiting for something.

Alyssa turns away from all that business, then, deciding that she might not so much see Max and his acquaintance again so much as create their dramatic counterparts in story form. Not that their currently lacking in drama right now or anything. Pushing to the elusive door, she swings it open and aims to hold it for the man outside, whom she assumes to be interested in the shop. The noise from inside jerks her look there, but she can't see the issue.

The force of Id's blow snaps Max's head backward and creases a new cut along his lower lip. "Big mistake," he comments, a trademark line for him when dealing with this particular Company femme fatale.

Despite the public setting, Max seems more than willing to respond in kind. So willing, in fact, that he straightens his left hand into a blade and strikes Id with his fingertips in the hollow at the base of her throat. Unfortunately, his left arm has more holes in it that a Scientologist's theorizing, and he roars as a fresh, red stain spreads across the thick bandage wraps that cover him from shoulder to elbow.

Outside the door, the man in the suit turns to look at Alyssa as she holds the door for him. He shakes his head and offers a very genial smile. "I'm just waiting for someone, miss. No need to hold the door for me." It's only freezing cold outside and windy in the concrete canyons of New York City. The bottom of his overcoat is whipping around in the wind as he waits, casting a cautious gaze inside of the shop at Identity and Max, before his attention roves toward Elle at the counter. It promptly returns to Alyssa, backing up that cheery smile of his.

Elle waits for her sandwich. Of course, as the fight breaks out, the staff stops making it and starts gawking. One particularly sorry looking acne-pocked teenage slave laborer grabs the phone, about to dial for police. Letting out a sigh, she says, "Man. I really wanted a freaking sandwich." She makes a gun out of her finger and points it at Max. "Zap." There's a flash of blue that originates from her fingertip and arcs across the room to smack into the fighting man's back. Judging from the size, it wasn't static cling.

It's always the throat with Max. Identity's throat is so abused. At least he's not trying to choke her to death with lengths of chain today. She brings an arm up to knock his arm away. That move probably would have hurt a lot more if Max wasn't such a pansy ass about his stitches. She barely misses being contacted with him as he's zapped by the venerable mistress of electroshocks.

When the electric discharge strikes Max's back his muscles contract involuntarily, robbing him of dignity and fighting ability in one fell swoop. His rage clearly having found it's way to the surface now, he growls louder as he fights to keep from losing his footing. Elle's pointed thumb and forefinger and her smug expression are a figurative smoking gun in Max's eyes as he searches for his tormentor. Id momentarily forgotten in the face of a greater perceived threat, he flings one hand out toward the counter, then clenches it into a fist. In response, four table knives leap from a bin of silverware and arc at the Evil Blonde Lady.

Elle has an advantage that Max doesn't have. And that's she knows what he's capable of. When she sees him making with the angry, she starts rolling awkwardly across the counter and down behind the registers. The sad part is? Not fast enough. The first knife hits the counter with a solid *twang*, followed by another, but the second gets Elle's purse and nails it in place, catching her arm as she goes to drop beneath the relative safety behind the counter. Thusly the fourth knife hits her in the arm, pinning it to the counter-top. She screams then. But who wouldn't in that situation?

The shift in attention is enough to give Identity time advance on Max's back. He chose to take his eyes from her, she takes advantage of it, advancing on the outnumbered man to spin and slam her left elbow, as hard as she can, into the back of his head. Non-lethal knock out approach. Knifing him while he's distracted is just so cheap and over too fast.

Outside of the sandwich shop, the tall man in the business duds remains quiet. He studies the fight raging inside for the moment, but doesn't seem particularly inclined to help or hinder any side of the issue inside of it. His attention does seem to focus on Max and Elle rather regularly though.

Extending one finger, Max applies a narrow magnetic field to the back end of the knife that pins down Elle's arm. He isn't applying more pressure, but that knife won't come out of the countertop with less than two tons of applied lift. At least it wouldn't have if Id hadn't popped him in the back of the head. Max staggers forward, then pivots on one heel and shoots an open-handed blow out toward Id's midsection. Despite the level of violence he was willing to use on this newer, blonder threat, he's holding back when it comes to the brunette.

Elle is kind of in a lot of pain. More pain than she likes, at any rate. Growling, she dares to raise a hand up to try and pry the knife out of her arm. Hard to do til Id distracts the lovely man creature for her. Properly distracted, she pulls the knife out and then gets to her knees, extending both arms at Max's back. Again. "Hey you." This time? She hits him a lot harder. A ball of lightning flies across the room, sizzling in the air and giving off that neat ozone smell that usually follows a lightning storm. It's a big ball of owwie. With Max's name on it.

Tsk, tsk, blondie. Elle's spoken warning is enough for Max. He spins to the side, almost completely avoiding the orb lightning. However, it still splashes against his injured arm, which drops to his side, useless.

Max mostly dodges ball lightning. Identity, most likely, is not in its direct path either. Instead it streaks out of the Noodle House Sandwich Shoppe through the still open doorway and slams into the side of the tall businessman outside.

An intense lightshow goes on outside as small bolts and arcs of electricity fly off of his body as he drops to the ground. His overcoat incinerates entirely while his shirt and tie die grisly deaths, leaving only the barest of corpses behind on his now burned, blistered, and smoking body.

Moments later, he drops to his knees, then falls face down on the ground. Parts of his shoes capable of melting have melted and are dripping to the cold ground, slowly solidifying into blocks that will, no doubt, hinder his ability to get back to his feet when/if he wakes up.

Identity watches the ball of lightening miss. That is going to piss off Elle. That's going to piss off Elle a lot. She doesn't give its path another thought once the sparkly death is past her safely. Nope, she dives for the off-balance Max, the one-arm-working wonder. Body tackle. Except she tackles knife first.

Now that the ante has been upped, Max is all business. He spins away from Id's knife hand, having had enough experience with it in the recent past, thankyouverymuch. With his back pressed against hers, he shoves backward hard. His good hand rises, and in response to his gesture a table creaks ominously, then tears free from it's moorings. With a shoving gesture, he launches it in Elle's direction, then spins back to face Id.

Yeah, like she'd stay standing up after what she saw him do with the knives. As soon as her blast- damn, it misses, is off she's dodging back behind the counter again. So the table, while loud and chest-thumpingly impressive as its ripped from its moorings and hurled across the room, is ineffectual. It's right around then that Elle notices she's sat in ketchup. AND she's bleeding from a knife wound. AND she's not going to get her sandwich. AND she missed and hit somebody outside. "The hell with this." She reaches up onto the counter for her purse and hits the speed dial. It rings once before its picked up. "Hi… daddy?"

Identity takes the momentum of the shove a few steps forward two paces to grab a chair for support, and then turning as Max is busy tearing free furniture to try to smoosh Elle. The wooden chair goes with her, coming around as she does in a swing, just as Max turns back to her. "Sit."
Max meets the assault of wooden chair with calm, extended hands. Two lengths of chain, Max's favorite toys, rip directly through the outer fabric of his coat. One shatters the chair down the middle and the other compresses into a tight, heavy ball that flies toward Id's head. Still, the halves of chair impact him on both shoulders, driving him to his knees. A weak groan escapes from his lips.

"I left the building." For Elle to admit this, its gotta be something important. "And I bumped into an old friend." A voice on the other end can barely be heard. "The one with the magnet fetish." Another pause. "Yeah, him." Another pause. "He totally stabbed me daddy." Pause. "And I think I might have killed one of our goons." Pause, yelling. "I don't know /which one/. Can you please just send some help to the Noodle Hut in the Lower East Side?" Pause and then she shuts her phone with a click.

It's a damn good thing Id was ducking to tacking him at the knees. The ball of metal goes over her head. The bad thing is that Max is on his knees. So when she dives into him, it's more of a flying headbutt. That is going to leave a mark. Plus side is, Max gets a free grope before she has a chance to pull the other knife.

The headbutt, along with previous blows, is enough for Max. He oofs heavily as Identity collides with his chest, then drives his clasped fists down toward the small of her back. His primal, fight-or-flight responses are kicking in, and he's losing some of the precious focus that's required for fine use of his abilities

Elle stands up again finally, though she's careful to cast a wary glance towards the still on-going fight. Heading over to where they assemble the sandwiches, she finishes assembling hers, giving herself extra helpings of everything before wrapping the sandwich up nice and neat. Finally, she calls, "You guys done yet?"

Identity grunts as his fists collide with her lower back. He barely misses the sweet spot that makes that sort of move really hurt. That would be because Id is hip to his addiction to trying to make people pee blood. Bad Max, no soup for you! The fingernails of her left hand rake hard over the side of his neck, and she aims her right elbow for his face as she turns away from Max. And promptly crashes into a recently vacated chair some asshole didn't push in.

Max catches Id's blow with his good hand, then presses against her chest and bodily throws her off of himself. With a low, feral moan, he clutches his fingers into claws. In response, his previously used chains rise from the floor. A thin trickle of blood leaks from Max's right nostril as he pushes one hand toward Elle and one toward Id, sending a twisting, metal missile screaming at each of his assailants.

You pass out for a few minutes and everybody forgets you exist? Well that's kind of discomfiting, but also very comforting in this sort of fight situation.
Orion staggers in through the door, blood, inter cellular fluid, and pus seeping from wounds all over his body. He looks like hell and he looks pissed off. Max may sense a disturbance in the magnetic force coming from behind him as Orion's left hand starts bleeding metal that encompasses his tightly clenched (possibly molten flesh-fused) fist.
Granger promptly swings once at the back of Max's head, intending to sucker punch him in the back before the tall man collapses forward and to the right, likely crashing through a table.

"Hey… I saw something like that in Mortal Komba-OW!" Elle yelps as she thumped in the chest with Max's metal missile of doom. She goes sprawling backwards, getting ketchup and little wilted lettuce pieces all over the back of her outfit. Thankfully though, her sandwich is safe and sound in her hands, clutched to her chest. "Well, that could have gone worse," she gasps out, catching her breath.

Identity is already on the ground, after a brief close encounter with an unkempt chair (rude customers!). She isn't going to be able to dodge that. She makes it to one knee before the chain barrels into her side. Yeah, that hurts. It's not a good kind of pain, that. It knocks the wind out of her, and causes a most unladylike OOF, thud. Id takes a moment to try to suck in a proper breath, from under one of the sandwich shop's tables. God must hate her, because that's when metal hand guy starts to fall. Mama.

Just now starting to get feeling back in his left arm, Max dusts his hands off in an exaggerated, self-congratulatory gesture, then wipes the blood from his nose. Unfortunately, his miniature celebration leaves him open to Orion's blow, which is hearty, to say the least. With a loud, sickening crack, the metal-coated fist contacts the back of his head. Oh sweet, sweet irony. Like a punch-drunk boxer, Max throws two straight jabs at an imaginary opponent before sinking to the deck. "Oooh… " he groans. "No.. No onions, please."

Elle pushes up from the floor, wrinkling her nose up some as she struggles up to the counter and peers over it at the scene of carnage before her. "All this for a sandwich?" She looks at one of the employees still huddled in the back, "This place sucks." Reclaiming her purse, she slings it over her shoulder and makes for the door, but not before giving Max a good sound kick while he's down. "That's for putting holes in my Prada."

Identity gets lucky. Orion doesn't crash down messily on her. He crashes down to the ground just beside and slightly in front of her with a wet, meaty *SHMAP*. The metal around his left hand slowly retreats under what little flesh is left after his adventure in ball lightning.

Identity stays down for a long moment. She moves to sit up after a few beats, and checks for a pulse on Orion. He ain't lookin' so good. "You look like shit," she tells him, even if he doesn't get to hear her. "You smell sort of like an overdone Christmas ham…" She climbs over the fallen man, to the other fallen man, and nudges him with a boot.

The thud of Elle's boot against Max's ribs elicits a groan, but little else. After expressing his distaste for onions, he's not just merely unconscious, he's really-most-sincerely-unconscious. Id's prodding doesn't even get her that much.

"Hey… go make yourself a sandwich girl, you've earned it. I can watch these lugs til the cavalry shows up," Elle tells Identity, pulling a chair up noisily so she can have a seat before unwrapping and then biting into her own sandwich. "Damn, this -is- perfect. Almost worth the grounding."

Identity bends to go through Max's pockets. Is it wrong to roll the body? No, no it's not. "Thanks, Elle. I think I will." As soon as the cash on Max's person has been re-allocated for a good cause. Hers.

Granger is alive, just hurting badly enough that he's unconscious again. The tall man, aside from smelling like burned Christmas ham and looking not so great, also leaves Identity's hand sticky with blood, inter cellular fluid, and pus. She may wish to wash her hands before eating.

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