maskormenacelogs | AGE PLOT SHENANIGANS

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AGE PLOT SHENANIGANS

WHO: Everyone and anyone!
WHERE: De Chima, various
WHEN: Around 6 PM EST, March 25th
WHAT: Age plot kickoff!
WARNINGS: Cuteness.

[ LET'S GET THIS PARTY OFFICIALLY STARTED! Opening events so we don't do too much comm flooding (although people are welcome to make their own posts for the event). You're welcome to toplevel with your character if you'd like to have them show up somewhere else for this plot.

Current toplevels:
Spring Festival in a De Chima city park
De Chima #1
De Chima #1, later (Minato)

The age plot will run from March 25th through Sunday, March 29th. More deets available at the plotting post. ]

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Clark had gotten in enough trouble for a single day, so he was trying to lay low. He’d gotten money, he had gotten some supposed friends who’d told him what was up even though he really couldn’t remember any of them, and he was slowly but surely grasping the idea that some people knew about his heritage and his powers in here. His parents and he had known he couldn’t keep it a secret all his life anyway so it was better that he had people to help him along as he learned how to use them. So he was determined to help them by keeping to himself for the duration of… whatever this was, whatever had erased his memories and (apparently) made him a kid again.

But then he heard the little ruckus going on, heard a girl’s voice… he couldn’t really pretend he hadn’t heard that, right? Someone might be in danger. So that’s how he found himself facing the men coming at Red as he tried to look bigger than he was and hiding his face under the hood of a blue sweater.

“H-hey!” okay, no, he could definitely sound angrier and stronger than that. His hands curled into fists and he tried to adopt a fighting stance. “You heard her. This is… your last warning!”

Why were the men laughing? That wasn’t good news for them, was it?

"I have a handle on th--" she began to say to the boy that suddenly showed up behind her, but that was when the man she had punched grabbed the edge of her dress. "Bagropa! My tiny fists do not hit hard enough!" she exclaimed, sounding more frustrated than scared. This only made the other men laugh more. She leaned away from the man as far as she could in his hold, prepared to kick him in the face if he made a move, but he was biding his time.

"You better take off now, bro," one of them told Clark. "Unless you want us to teach you a lesson along with these two shits."

She looked over her shoulder at the boy, giving him a look that was clearly appraising his ability to actually be of help. "Are you actually capable of aiding me?" That was probably rude of her, but she couldn't help it.

“Of course I am!”

And he was, he had no doubts about that no matter how much the men laughed. His doubts weren’t if he was strong enough to stop them, what he was afraid of was going too far once he started. It was hard to control his strength when he got carried away and the guys were seriously pissing him off. His parents always told him to get help and never handle this kind of thing on his own but considering that would mean letting the girl alone with them that was not a viable option.

He took a step forward, his fists still raised. He had to find a way to look more intimidating so people like these men wouldn’t get hurt and would actually run away… maybe an uniform of some kind? His mother had suggested something like that.

“Okay, I’m just going to count to three. Leave her alone or…” Uh. “I’ll make you wish you had!” Yeah, yeah that sounded tough.

Yeah, that awkward pause in his threat was very assuring to her. She sighed, though her expression barely showed her disappointment, and she turned back to face the men. She didn't even let her rescuer get to "two" before she lunged forward, her booted foot connecting with the man holding her skirt's chin. This time it hurt him enough he let her go and ducked down to the asphalt, face in hands, muffled scream of pain escaping him.

The other men took that as the cue to actually attack them--well, him, rather. Despite having been the one to cause damage so far, the thugs were rushing past her to attack the teen behind her, almost knocking her to the ground. She turned around in disbelief. Well, if these four guys were too much for him, she would just use her laser pistol and fire a warning shot and see if that would make them knock their crap off.

Well, that sure escalated quickly. Protecting a redheaded girl who’s almost eager to get into trouble? That shouldn’t be a familiar thing, yet it is and he’s just glad this won’t end with his father tugging him by the ear.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And so he starts punching. He has no experience with fighting and it’s clear by his stance that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he’s unnaturally fast and his punches pack enough that it doesn’t really matter. One, two, three, four: it’s over in a little more than a minute. The thugs are down and Clark can only hope he didn’t go too far. One has a broken jaw, and Clark winces in sympathy. He’s pretty sure he can’t see any other broken bones but he doesn’t have enough experience with x-ray vision to be sure.

He glares at the man holding Red, pursing his lips in what he hopes looks like an intimidating gesture.

“Want to go next?”

She was just as astounded as the men were when Clark started throwing punches. She even winced at one point; she knew a breaking jaw she heard it. She was so taken in by the fight she didn't even notice when the guy she had kicked begun to move again, allowing him to catch hold of her by one arm, yanking it behind her in a manner that suggested "I will break this if you or him do anything stupid", and putting his other arm around her shoulders and neck. She would be worried if he hadn't foolishly left her other arm free.

The man holding her started making threats on her health and safety if the teenager didn't let him by, and she huffed as best she could with an arm around her throat. "I do not have time for a stand off," she said tightly, her hand flying to her hip and pulling out her gun that the thugs must have taken for a toy. She held it up over behind her, intuitively pointing it so it wouldn't actually hit the man, and pulled the trigger. One scifi-esque PEW and laser beam shooting up into the heavens later, she was free of his grasp as he jerked back and scrambled away from her.

Red rushed over to the boy, jumping over the prone bodies of the other men, and stopping in front of Clark. She looked up at him. "I apologize for doubting you. I am under onus to you."

Clark couldn’t help it: he let out a fit of adrenaline-filled laughter. He’d been eyeing her reaction once all the men were down- had she noticed how he moved? If she had, did she care? Everyone was given some power on another in here, right? So it wasn’t that crucial to hide himself, he had a handy excuse. She didn't see to be hurt, either.

“I have no idea what that means but, uh, you’re welcome? I wasn’t going to let you face them on your own.

But that was pretty cool. You have experience fighting, right?”

It hadn't struck her as particularly weird, mostly because, as he thought, people got powers in this place. She was impressed, however, since the way he had looked, and even while throwing the punches, he had seem very inexperienced with this sort of thing.

"It means . . ." she paused, trying to think back into her more adult memories for a better way to phrase it, "that I 'owe you one'. And, yes, I have many more years experience than my current age would lead you to think." She holstered her gun, not quiet holding back a little flare of style as she does.

"I will go inspect that man over there," she told him, pointing to the man the men had been beating on who was prone by the dead end wall, "will you please call the authorities and keep watch on him." Next she pointed at the last thug still conscious but was pressed up against another wall, eyes flickering as if debating if he could make a run for it. "I would take them to the authorities myself, but I am afraid I am too small for the task today," she added, kneeling down next to the victim.

Clark nodded, walking closer to the man with a ‘come on, try us’ kind of grin. He’d gotten to release some tension today and he was itching for more, so he was almost hoping he’d give him a chance to punch him more. He didn’t like this part of himself, but he’d worry about that later.

“You don’t owe me anything, it was the least I could do. But consider it done.” He reached for his phone, his eyes still on the man. The conversation was short, and most of it was Clark trying to convince the officer that no, he really wasn’t joking.

“Okay, they should be here soon. This is… going to be a mess to explain though, they are probably not going to buy we did all of this on our own.”

"Are they familiar with the strange occurrences that happen with the imports? If they are, I can tell them I am the Red Plains Rider and that I am possibly temporarily younger than they have previously known me to be," she told him as she checked what few things she knew to check if a person was dead or close to dying. "They should recognize my name, I have brought in many people like these men already." She leaned back from the man, grimacing a little as she saw blood on her hand, and she wiped it off on her dress. "Eugh . . . This human is all right for now."

"Oh! So you got de-aged as well? So that's why you knew what you were doing so well."

That would explain a lot, actually. And if she remembered that much then she probably was one of those who remembered their past while in their deaged bodies, unlike Clark. Well, at least she had had that bit of luck. The police officer had asked Clark not to hang up so it was easy to give him that information.

"That blood yours?"

"Oh, yes, I am," she answered. "I probably should not have assumed you were an import like me, that must be offensive to any of the natives. It is not as if we are the only ones privilege to strength and weaponry."

She glanced down at the streaks of red on her dress, confused, then realizing he must have mistaken that this was her blood. "No, it is his. It was on his neck when I checked his pulse." She flashed Clark a reassuring smile. "Do not worry, er, what is your name?"

He nodded, but the blood made this whole situation real. He didn’t feel like freely throwing punches anymore, and it showed on his stance. ‘Checking his pulse’… he was suddenly really glad he had stopped when he had, what if he had ended up killing someone?

“I’m Clark.” He didn’t comment on the thing about the imPorts, since it could end up in talks about how strong he was and he wasn’t willing to push his luck on the matter. It felt a little silly since he had shared his alien heritage two times already, and there were people who apparently already knew…. But he’d spent all his life hiding. Habits, and all that jazz.

“What’s your name?”

"G'rop N--," she answered, but then cut herself off with a shake of her head. Her memories were getting mixed up again. "The Red Plains Rider, that is my designation." She stood, brushing her dress off, glancing down the alley to check that the other men were still KOed on the ground, then back up at Clark. Her head tilted slightly, noticing his stance was now withdrawn, almost melancholy. "Are you feeling all right, Clark?"

Clark raised both eyebrows at her name. He’d heard some weird names since he had ended here, not to mention the hero names of those in the legion of the superheroes… but he hadn’t really expected it from someone who looked so human.

“I’m fine. I’m just-“ he shrugged. “Not used to this, I live in a tiny town with not a lot of crime like this. Worst I had faced were bullies at school and I could mostly ignore them.

Can I call you Red?”

"You may, I am not as strict about my designation as others of my tribe, as it seems my name is hard for others not of their species to say in full," she told him.

He still looked bothered, and she struggled to think of something reassuring to say. It was hard enough as an adult, but as a kid even moreso, since kids weren't prone to wisdom. But eventually she said to him, "Do not worry, it is good you are not used to the violence."

Clark grinned, a sheepish kind of grin. His Ma always told him he was kind of an open book, ready to be read if one knew the signs. Apparently he was an open book even to almost strangers.

“I guess. And at least it kicked in after we’d already dealt with the guys, huh? Don’t worry; I’ll still have your back if you need me. ” He tilted his head, something she had said echoing on the back of his head as he thought about it. “You live in a tribe?”

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AGE PLOT SHENANIGANS

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