2012 01 05 Murder Death Kill

Log Title: Murder, Death, Kill
Characters Involved: Sebastian Shaw, Empath, Wolverine, Mugger (emited by Phantasm)
IC Date: 5 Jan 2012
Where: Hell's Kitchen, New York City
Brief Log Summary: A mugger gets the ultimate lesson in 'don't piss off Sebastian Shaw'
Rating: R

-==[ Hell's Kitchen - New York ]==--------

Some people call this area the Lower West Side; some people who want to talk it up call it Clinton. A few particularly unwise types call it West Midtown, but they'd better not do that where anyone can hear. Everyone else calls it Hell's Kitchen.

The congested streets are dominated by flat-faced, boxy buildings, three and four stories tall. Between some of them run alleyways - some wide enough to park a car in, some too narrow to give space for anything but ambushing a passerby. The slow transformation of much of the rest of Manhattan into a playground for the wealthy has met its match in the underworld here, which has a vested interest in keeping Hell's Kitchen and its inhabitants poor and desperate as a cover for its own activities, and in the danger of merely entering the neighborhood. After all - though other cities are better known for them lately, Hell's Kitchen is one of the places where street gangs began.

It's taken a few days, but the Hellfire Club's guards don't get the pay they do for nothing. At Sebastian Shaw's orders, they had begun to canvas the city for two muggers who made the mistake of accosting Shaw practically just outside the Club proper. The massive surveillance suite there got plenty of images, voice prints, all sorts of data.

And now, they have been found. Shaw had decided to invite the young Mr. de la Rocha along, both to see his reactions and to teach him what happens when you cross The Black King.

At the scene with his liege, Manuel de la Rocha sighs and ponders why he has been brought here. He can get the sense something is afoot and he hopes that he is not directly involved, but as the Black Rook he must serve the Inner Circle. At first, he thought simply Selene, but perhaps this means Shaw as well. Slowly he will bide his time. For the moment, he remains silent and ready to watch whatever transpires.

Logan leaves a local dive bar, pulling his hat down so the edge hides slightly blood-shot eyes. It must have been some bender to have overcome his recuperative abilities. Logan glances at his motorcycle where it's parked around the corner, briefly considers hailing a cab instead before deciding his rep is more important than the soles on his shoes, then starts to walk. He only gets about a block before he halts, nose wrinkling just a little bit. Then he looks up and gauges the wind. Finally he moves over to a corner and peers around, where he spots no less than two members of the Inner Circle.

It wasn't that hard to locate the pair. The two down on their luck muggers currently reside in a building that seems to also be sharing the same type of situation. In a general state of disrepair, it is likely a miracle the building has not been condemned yet. But give it time, when the fire escape finishes detaching from the wall, maybe THEN it'll happen.

Across from the building, a car that has made itself a staple outside of the Heaven's Arms has returned, idling away. Standing near one of the cracked open windows, one of the muggers stands. The hand where the bird's beak stabbed him earlier remains bandaged, but that one is hanging to his side as the other pulls away from the open window, sliding an aquired bag of recreational powder into his pocket. Exchange made, he turns, stepping away from the car to head back towards his own building.

Shaw gestures subtly towards the men and speaks to Manuel quietly, "There they are. I think this will be a good learning experience. You see, they didn't -realize- who they were accosting, but in this world, that doesn't matter. And to -not- take action for something above a certain threshold just is not acceptable.

"He smiles slightly, "Some might call it pettyness, but there are some actions that those in power should never just let go."

Even if he was not an empathy, he would know that Shaw is truly enjoying this and whatever it is that will occur. Looking over to where the man is, he would almost feel sorry for them, but he does not. Manuel agrees wholeheartedly with Shaw's statement, but ponders if his presence here is for his benefit as well. Is it a privilege that he gets to join his king in watching whatever punishment he has decreed to befall these men. Or is it something more? A means to keep the Spaniard in line. Either way, he bows his head and simply watches what is about to take place.

Logan picks up every word, his expression growing troubled. Not necessarily at whether Shaw is going to give someone their comeuppance - from the sound of it they could very well have brought it on themselves. No, Logan's having trouble deciding if he should get involved. On the one hand, the X-Men are all about using their mutant gifts for the good of all. On the other hand, interfering with Hellfire Club business is tantamount to picking a fight with a pack of wolves. Logan's fought wolf packs, and he's still here…but it wasn't exactly fun.

The car starts to putter off, either the winter's eve being enough motivation to linger or perhaps something a bit more, leaving the man with the bandaged hand on his own. Stash in pocket, he tugs a hand out, reaching to rub at the small of his back in irritation. There's a bit of a grimace upon his features as he nears the building door.

Shaw's smile is most assuredly a bit more predatory now as the man begins to move. "Of course," the big man notes to his erstwhile protege, "Discretion is deeply important to those like us. Can you imagine? 'Technology magnate sought in slum incident'? Pay heed, there are -ways- to do such things. Now, I could have simply had some of the staff take care of this, but to do it myself? And to do so without any suspicion to fall upon me? -That- is well worth learning."

That actually seems sincere, a part of the man warming to the task of passing knowledge to the next generation…a twinge of disappointment clouds his emotions, but only for a moment. He slips a pair of gloves over his large, strong hands.

Logan catches a few more sounds wafting across the street where he is. Sounds like…whispered Japanese? And whatever is being said makes Logan's expression darken even further. He casts a last glance at Shaw and Empath, makes a mental note to come back and check out the area when he can and try to figure out what happened, then turns and hustles off down an alley in the direction of the Japanese-speaking voices.

Never having seen Shaw in action, he spies what the King is about to do and smiles, rather wickedly. Empath senses his liegeâs emotional readiness to exact revenge against the foolish muggers. He almost feels as If he would like to partake in this. But no, he resists the urge to ask and simply watches. This is a lesson, he needs to see firsthand one to see just how far Shaw will go and two to see if Shaw is someone that Empath can actually succeed in eventually defeat.

Irritated and somewhat still aching, the man pauses as he reaches the tops of the steps to the building door. He takes a deep breath before pushing open the front door.

Sebastian Shaw's jaw sets as his prey moves to go inside, "Pick your moment," he notes, "then act when sure." He pauses for a heartbeat, "Enter quickly and quietly - you won't be able to keep up with me, but I don't want you to miss anything."

When he moves, it is startlingly quick, easily two or three times faster than any normal human could possibly move. His hands reach out, his intent to 'scuff' the man like a cat, get a gloved hand over his mouth, and barrel him into the 'foyer' (as if such a rundown place has one) all in one motion.

scruff, not scuff

either way I'm sure black marks are going to end up occuring somewhere.

Nodding his head and moving rather stealthily but clearly slower than Shaw, he scans both Shaw and the mugger. Sensing the utter dread and fear the man feels when he is suddenly into the foyer. Manuel grins and inhales, "Um…tasty." He makes his way into the foyer unseen by anyone save Shaw himself.

With the door unlatched, there's little resistance from the door itself as it swings open with the force of the pair of men barging into the small landing that makes up the foyer area. The door bangs against the wall before it starts to creak towards a close thanks to the bar near the top of the door. (Oh hey, SOMETHING works in here) The man's mouth starts to open to let out a terrified shout that ends up getting muffled by the gloves. The bandaged hand, being the dominant one flails back, doing what it can to make some form of punch to his attacker. But, wh- WHAT THE HELL?!

As the rather ineffectual blows fall, the man can feel a most bizarre thing happen - it's like punching a mattress, his hand slows and stops at the end of each flailing strike. Shaw hefts the man into the air effortlessly, holding him up, arm crooked to allow his left hand to clamp securely over his former assailant's mouth. He watches him casually, waiting for recognotion to set in, hopefully.

His emotions roll off of him in waves, a regal pride, like a lion, contempt, of course, and again, an echo of warmth at demonstrating this, cut with what is most assuredly a careful suspicion, something that seldom leaves.

Watching now, Manuel enjoys the show, particularly Shaw's performance. He moves to the side to avoid any stray blows and merely watches. His breathing increases and the smile turns to a sinister grin. Feeding off the emotions, the strength and fierceness from Shaw and the fear and horror from the mugger. Taking this all in, proves most enjoyable for the young empath.

There's something about the feelings of panic that override certain things, as he's dealing with some mattressy assailent taking the time to figure out where he knows this guy kind of slips his mind. He continues punching a few more times before the hands move to claw at the one clamping over his mouth in an effort to remove them. With his movements minimized he finally has the time to look to Shaw's features. Eyes widen. Oh him! His feet start kicking as his panicked feelings get strengthened. Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit…

Shaw asks, quite casually, "My boy, is this display going to cease anytime soon? Or could you do a little something about it, perhaps?" So there's more to it than just showing off, it's a training exercise as well, it seems. His eyes never leave the struggling man he holds, and he shakes his head slowly.

Having a sense that he was not going to simply be an audience member, he seems to pout that he cannot simply enjoy the show. He exhales and rolls his eyes, "Yes, your highness." With that, Empath cracks his knuckles ready to pull at the emotional strings of the scared man, "Oh shit, indeed, my friend. Oh shit, indeed." Staring at the man, he gestures his hands (unnecessary, but more for show and added effect) and like a composer leading an orchestra towards a musical crescendo. The man will find any essence of his emotions gone and drained. He will simply become dull and still. As if all emotion had been drained from him, like a puppet with its strings cut, the puppetmaster that is Empath leaves the man completely still and quiet.

"Mmmph!" The struggling man's feet soon stop as well as he finds that the kicks are about as effective as the punching. Panicked, terrified, he's still trying to wedge his fingers to where they can somehow pry Shaw's hand off of his mouth. "Mmmph." There's a bit of a change in the tone of the muffled sound. Almost pleading. A wailing pleading before it goes to muffled sobs. The top of Shaw's hand gets a christened with some tears before the man grows a bit, limp.

Shaw sighs softly, "A bit of overkill, dear boy." he notes, "Dampen, don't drain." He shifts his grip a touch, "You have to learn to use everything you have. Can I make a bit of a confession?" his amusement level rises, "You see, in terms of true, raw 'extra' power (amusing himself by appropriating Xavier's little coinage), I am actually among the less devastating members of our little group. And yet, no one -treats- me as such, do they?"

He lets the question hang there for a moment, like his target, before continuing, "Let's have a bit back, shall we?" he speaks to the man directly for the first time, "Any noise, and you die instantly." how casual, like he was asking the time.

Sighing, "Very well, sir." Manuel adjusts the emotional scale on the victim, instead of being at zero, it is brought up a few notches, and thus as Shaw has ordered the manâs feelings are simply dampened but not gone. He can react and interact. No longer a zombie, Empath realizes that Shaw speaks the truth, with mutant powerhouses such as himself, Emma, and Selene. Shaw's little energy absorption trick seems unremarkable and yet, here is Empath watching his king. He is impressed and slightly fearful.

Now what on earth was he so wo-Oh yeah! Eyes widen again as some of the feelings come back paired with the warning. The bandaged hand clings around Shaw's wrist, but he doesn't try screaming. Something about this weirdo says he's serious.

The Black King sets the man down, but leaves his hand bunched around the man's shirt, "Better." he notes to Manuel, "Yes," he continues, "purely physical, but it is, again, all in how one -uses- what one has." His eyes never leave his target, "This man, had no idea how to. It was all so clumsy and amatuerish, wasn't it?"

Agreeing with Shaw, "Yes, very clumsy and amateurish. Like the idiotic fool that he truly is." Quirking a brow at the man and shaking his head disapprovingly, "Foolish flatscan. You truly have no idea what you did and how you will pay." His lips curl as the sinister smile from earlier returns, "And pay you will! Pay you will!"

The pettrified perp looks between Shaw and Empath, unsure about what he's supposed to do. His feet do shift, seemingly in the wish to dart up the steps. Because surely if he tried that, Shaw would let him go, right?

There is an interesting burst of disapproval at Manuel's use of the racist term. How -odd- that is. The sadism, on the other hand, that's barely asknowledged. It would be hypocrital, after all, considering what Shaw plans here.

"Now now," he chides gently, "power is power. The -source- is inconsequential. Never limit yourself in that respect. Never underestimate someone because he or she lacks some particular aspect you may possess." he gives the man a bit of a shake, "Now this one, has no power - not even with a gun in his hand. It was next to nothing. My -training- would have let me handle him, let alone everything else."

Sulking again like a child being reprimanded, that is actually what is happening here. He lowers his head and mumbles an apology. His eyes seems to scan the ground and the inner detail of this lackluster vestibule. Finally, he lets out an exhale and resumes watching and listening, ever attentive. Manuel eyes the actions of Shaw, taking note.

"'s alright." The man absentmindedly replies to Empath's apology before his eyes widen once more as he made a sound. His glance looks over towards Shaw, "Ah wait! I me-" He whimpers, "mommy."

Sebastian Shaw sighs again, heavily, "It's almost useless, isn't it?" he asks Manuel, eyes never leaving the man he holds, "He'll learn nothing, do no better, barely understands what's occurring now." another pause, "Everyone. -Everyone- has potential. Some squander it right from the start, though. Another good lesson for you. Look for the use in everything. This one? An exercise for Surveillance, a bit of distraction for me -" his voice quiets, "a teachable moment for you."

He reaches out then, gripping one of the man's pockets, the one he saw the drugs go into, and tugs it open, the fabric parting like so much paper, "Now -" he asks, tell me what it is I'm doing now."

Thinking to himself, that it is indeed useless, but refrains from verbalizing it, Manuel continues to watch Shaw control the entire situation, though he visualizes the possible different outcomes of what may happen, but realizes to himself. Empath then realizes he has no idea just what Shaw will do. Part of him is excited by this and part of him fears this. He looks to the man to see how he will respond to Shaw's question.

The fabric rips quite audibly with little in the area to absorb the sound. With no pocket, the bag of white powder drops to the floor. The shaking man's glance shifts down to the bag but his lips tighten.

Shaw reaches up and tears the man's sleeve loose a bit at the shoulder, "Oh look." he notes drolly, "A struggle. The prize being sought kicked away in the confusion and panic." he idly taps the bag across the floor in a random direction, "Misdirection. Show people what they -expect- to see, and they will often follow the path you set. Who'd bother looking any deeper?" His grip tightens, "Now, we'll soon be getting to a controlled application of force." he just lets the man hear all of this.

One of the things I enjoy, is -unpredictability-. No one knows -exactly- where I stand at any given moment, powerwise. You certainly have no clue. Am I a brute? A bit more than anyone could be, or could I bring this entire building down around our heads? Regardless, this has to -look- like nothing unusual."

Nodding his head as Shaw speaks, the Spaniard eyes the cocaine on the floor and then realizes where he has seen that car outside before. A previous encounter with Mike. He ponders a moment and then shakes his head as the distraction keeps him from paying attention to his lesson. Manuel clears his throat as he resumes listening to Shaw.

With the explanation being given, he glances towards the bag before looking back to Shaw again, shaking his head. Wide eyed as the lightbulb flickers on for a few moments. No. No No… It's at this point he presses his feet down on the floor in an attempt to push himself away from Shaw and his grip. The outfit's torn anyways, maybe he can get to the stairs. OH GOD, NO!

"Of course -this- is expected." Shaw dryly observes, "One can't blame him for this, really. Now, this will cause a bit of noise. The police don't tend to come here, but do call the Club and have them send something unremarkable to come pick us up, hm?" He shifts slightly and simply shoves the man towards a wall, not hard enough to put him through it, but easily enough to damage the drywall.

As he's moving, he finds himself heading into a nearby wall instead of towards the front steps. There's a bit of a loud thunk and a crunch as the drywall dimples, with the general disrepair of the building, a portion even falls off, showing a peek of the boarding on which it is anchored. The now baggie-less criminal let out a moan of pain as his bandaged hand seems to have gotten part of that hit. He crumples down, trying to take a breather.

The Black King strides over, all business now, "I could easily tear him, quite literally, in half." he states, "But -that- gets noticed. -That- gets investigated. And -that-," he adds, "also ruins a good winter coat." He leans down and directs a blow at the man's kidney, pulling his punch to that of say…a prize fighter.

As the blow connects the man ends up falling a bit more as his hands and legs give out from underneath him for a moment. Face planting down he moans a bit more. "Please," he begs, sputtering as he tries to crawl towards a doorway, exposing his back to the Black King, "stop."

Nodding as the man is smashed into the drywall, Manuel flinches as he watches Black King politely and civilly demolish the man. He gets on the phone and the Hellfire Club is already sending discreet transportation for a quick exit.

"You," Shaw says dryly, "were going to shoot me over my wallet. Now that I have the upper hand, you expect mercy? Worth a try, one supposes, but-" he reaches down, one big hand reaching around the man's throat from behind, lifting and starting to squeeze, "The struggle continues," Shaw 'narrates', "his opponent got behind him, panicked, got him in a hold…he didn't realize until it was too late…" it won't take long, really. It will be almost merciful…he'll lose consciousness first, after all.

"It wasn't loaded." The man spits out quickly, "It wa-" His protest is cut off as he finds the vise like grip slowly sapping out his breath. The attempt to crawl away halts as his hands grasp at the neck. He rasps, "t lo-" He does soon grow limp as he passes out.

Watching this, Empath wonders if Shaw just killed the man. Doing a quick emotion scan, if the man is unconscious, he would sense something. Manuel makes no noise or response just waiting as he scans the man and also scans Shaw, pondering what he felt at the instant the man went limp

"Intent is everything." Shaw quietly says, "It doesn't matter if it was loaded or not. He threatened me, tried to take from me what was mine. At that moment…" he waits a bit, waiting for the breathing to cease, "he took his life in his hands. Those are the risks." his meaning is likely rather clear.

As the man died, Shaw felt very little, perhaps a tiny bit of satisfaction, but like that of finishing a bit of paperwork. But what -else- he feels…it is again, an odd mix, hopeful warmth, and the sort of thing a king stag might feel after warding off a challenger.

As the man is dead, Manuel steps forward, "Our transportation is here, sir." Looking at the discarded body, Empath shakes his head with a smirk, "Poor fool. Never knew what he was getting into." With he walks to the door, but does not exit until Shaw is ready, "And what of the other mugger?"

Sebastian Shaw straightens up, dusting his gloved hands off absently, "When I get around to it. Or I may detail it as a live-target exercise for the staff. Keeps them at readyness." he then states, quite smoothly, "Yes, he really didn't know what was going to happen, what his actions were going to set off, did he?" the question is pointed, its double-meaning clear, but again, that slight tinge of almost paternal warmth helps offset it, but the emotions -beneath- that, on the other hand…a deliberate coldness.

"I see. This truly was an education. I am happy, your highness, sought me out to teach this lesson firsthand." With that, Empath holds open the door, "Our transport awaits, my liege."

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