the problem of evil. (theodicymod) wrote in olympos, @ 2010-01-02 17:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | narrative, npc: greg langley, plot: party like it's 1999 |
PARTY CRASHERS.
Greg was late, as usual. He was always late for things, nowadays, it seemed: his wife had perfected her exasperated sigh when he showed up ten minutes after their son's baseball game had started, or with his dinner getting cold on the table. But things were busier now than they had been even in the height of his days as boomerang: with a wife and child and a full time job and the occasional (lately, more than occasional) superhuman threat, he seemed to be running late everywhere. He sometimes wished the team was back together, if only so he could have the occasional night off. As it stood, Boomerang had had to make three appearances before Greg could even get into the neighborhood of the EMP: two nasty car accidents the police couldn't handle on their own, and a store hold up on Granada that would have left the shopkeeper dead had Boomerang not stepped in. Now it was nearly midnight, and he was still three blocks away from--
What the hell was that?
He could see the EMP looming in the distance, and the floodlights beaming up into the darkness. For a moment, he could see the acrobats and press still crowding around the doorway--he turned down his radio--and then a car went flying up into the air and landed with a crunch and screams in the middle of the street. It didn't take long for the panic to start. First there was a pregnant silence, and then an indistinct roar, and the crowds around the EMP started shrieking and fighting with the civilians stuck in their cars to get as far away from the museum as quickly as the could. Greg could see a great looming shape rising over the cars, and when it stepped into the beam of the floodlights, he caught a full glimpse of its hulking, monstrous mask.
It was a good thing he had left his costume on under his tux after the Granada incident.
He scrambled out of his car, riding along the tide of the crowd to the sidewalk and into an alleyway, where he left his tux carefully folded (saving the day or not, Emmy wouldn't appreciate it if he came home without it) next to a trash can; he doubted anyone would think to steal it in the ruckus. He pulled his mask from an inside pocket, and then in a flash he was dashing back out into the crowd, climbing atop cars and leaping from car roof to car roof to make his way down the block. People paused to stare and point and, occasionally, cheer in gratitude, but most importantly, they cleared the way for him to meet the--
Jesus Christ, was that a fucking minotaur?
The beast huffed streams of angry smoke into the cold air and turned to stare, red-eyed, at the costumed man who was approaching him--and four feet shorter. There were tatters of pants on his leg, and what looked like the remnants of a button down shirt.
"Freeze!" Boomerang shouted. The minotaur stared at him a long moment, as if appraising him. "I don't know what you want here, but--"
In one smooth motion, the minotaur swept a massive hand back and knocked Greg clear off his feet and into a car ten feet away. He felt his ribs groan; Jesus, he couldn't take too many hits like that. Apparently talking wasn't going to do a whole hell of a lot of good. He reached over and, thanks to that superhuman strength, pried off the hubcap of the car he'd been thrown into. Rising to his feet, he spun and launched it, sharp-edged and spinning, at the minotaur's head as the beast made a beeline for the front doors. People inside were shouting and pushing the doors closed as fast as they could, and the hubcap smashed into the minotaur's neck, giving the party guests enough time to close and bar the doors.
Unfortunately, it wasn't quite enough to down the thing. Life was never so easy.
Greg had only a moment before a huffing, roaring, bull-headed monster was running at him full speed, and then he was up in the air, locked in a hand twice as big around as he was. He punched, he kicked; the minotaur made a guttural howl (that sounded, appropriately enough, like a moo); and then Boomerang was being thrown hard into the wall of the EMP. Stars flashed in front of his eyes as he slid down against the doors of the museum, bricks falling down with him. The minotaur wasted no time in punching into the wall by his head--and missing--and then grabbing Greg around the face. It was only quick thinking that saved him from having his neck snapped or head crushed right there, as he closed the distance between himself and the monster with his foot, smashing it as hard as he could into the minotaur's eye. It screamed and hurled Greg away again, this time longer and harder, enough that he felt his ribs crack beneath him when he landed, dazed. When he looked up, shaking the sparks from his eyes, the minotaur was pounding his way into the EMP, pulling down the front wall and doors with him. A moment later Greg could hear screaming and roaring from inside the museum, but there was no way in: the front wall was a mess of bricks and pipes and debris.
He was going to need some reinforcements.