Scene #6485: Civil Response

Owner	Pose
Lilian Rook	The third call relating to the same problem. The seemingly never ending list of crises spiraling out of crises which don't have the dignity to be over once the monster is beaten up and defeated the first time. This one is possibly more ominous than the last. It's not so clean as to have just coordinates, a threat level, a response classification, and an all-responders tactical containment plan. It's because it involves people. Messy, messy people. 'Insurgents'. 'Treasonous civil action'. 'Organized criminal activity'. A little buzzwordy, but obviously still bad. Well, they at least know where it is. You've been fairly clear directions on that front, anyways. You're meant to hit an 'unlawful gathering of insurgent recruitment purposes' and both break it up and take down the people responsible. The details are honestly kind of mired in politicalese and hard to really understand without a firm grasp on the local party agendas, like most highly developed urban cultures like these, but supposed it has to do with low-lying activity that'd flared up in the wake of the attack in the Fourth Ring the other day, taking advantage of the chaos and government preoccupation of the containment operation and mass deaths caused by the breach of city security caused by three citizens. Some kind of terrorist op, or organized crime ring, using the big upheaval out in the outermost and least heavily regulated sector of the city, in the short while it lasts before everything goes back to normal, in order to make their move, no doubt. Unlike the inner rings, there aren't social dystopia cameras at every single street corner probably running facial recognition, so you're given 'a limited area' to check out. It's back out in the mildly ramshackle, cramped, vertically built, winding and unplanned forest of flimsy prefab eco-construction, running on solar panels and white plastic and instant cement rather than grungy old concrete buildings and rusty pipes in trashy alleys; somewhere newer than the rest, set up by amateurs, rather than something older than the rest and left behind for the less wealthy. It's an area maybe five by five in city blocks, albeit almost Kowloon levels of dense, with frefab apartments stacked upon one another to moderately unsafe heights, and a random scatter of small businesses from pharmacies to dive bars to parlours all scattered up and down it, trying, but not fully succeeding to stay near ground level. There's only even one road wide enough to drive two cars down, and a bazillion narrow footpaths and stairs down to basement levels, including a couple of stockpiles (probably too generous to call them warehouses), a train station (for likely the one monorail for miles), a street section left due to some previous severe damage to some of the buildings (could be just extreme weather damage), and an underpopulated amateur 'mall' of sorts (mostly made of a bunch of businesses all having conjoined together in the same area and then putting up communal storefronts and a single roof for mutual financial benefit) as the largest discrete features around.
Zenos yae Galvus	A Garlean airship would appear out of a nearby gate, large in size it would float over the city in question, though it would not deploy anything immediately. However, after a bit of time, a single sky carrier would come down from it, opening its hatch as Zenos yae Galvus and any who wished to travel with him came. The Skycarrier would return once dropping off its guests, as Zenos would take his normal light stroll across the city itself. Right now, his goal was to either find this 'illegal gathering' or to find someone who would know what is going on and of course talk to them like a gentleman of his type would. The form of Zenos was an intimidating one, large dark steel armor, a large 'golf caddy' of swords, and a mask that covered his face on a helmet with horns. The man was also physically imposing as well, large by any standards and well built. "Tch...the smell of the intitled flows through here again. Once more, sent to clean up the mess of others...regardless, we must needs to find the cause and stamp it out before another infection is allowed to spread."
Nameless	It's one of those days. One of those days where his hands are going to be soaked in blood. The nameless gunner doesn't need to hear all the details of the job to feel it in his bones. Terrorists in an unmonitored area. A world of white plastic and solar panels and instant cement ready to be splattered with red. A whole five city blocks of Kowloon. When was the last time he was in Kowloon? Uncertain memories swim. They belonged to somebody else, anyway. The nameless gunner walks without fear of being bothered, or even noticed. Normal people didn't notice him anymore. He'd learned how to exude that aura of 'don't fuck with me,' that subtle mix of charisma, stance, power, appearance, and maybe just a little bit of Heroic Spirit know-how that made normal folk instinctively not want to look at him. If he wanted to be noticed, it wasn't hard - he was tall and dark-skinned and well-built, like a soldier or a yakuza - but it rarely suited him. His left arm itched under the red bindings as he walked past the tiny street. Bad sign. Always a bad sign. A lot of people here. A lot of people to use as human shields. A lot of people to get caught in crossfire. A lot of people who would make a lot more people hesitate when push came to shove. The nameless gunner bent his lips in a frown. His tongue clucked against his teeth in a quiet 'tch', startling a passer-by who hadn't even noticed him until then. Looking for an unlawful gathering. Start at the bottom. Out of sight. Out of mind. His mouth moved, a silent incantation. He didn't need it, but it helped him focus. The sides of his head, underneath his short white hair, spread golden spider-vein circuit-light, to his ears, to his eyes. The world lit up. Shadows became brighter. Details became sharper. Noises became louder. The clicking of the monorail. The conversation of two women laughing about their boyfriends. A man sitting in his car muttering about the jackass in front of him who just wouldn't turn on the signal. The unavoidable cracks in the new-made cement. Unavoidable cracks. That brought a lopsided, unhappy grin to his face. Yeah. Unavoidable cracks. The nameless gunner reached over to scratch his red-bound hand.
Spider-Man	This? This is something Spider-Man is an expert in. Navigating a poorly-planned, dense city, searching out instances of secret awful crime? Right now, Spider-Man is in his element. With his goggles wide at all times, his senses tuned by a whole /almost one year/ of fighting street-crime, and a good set of morals that make him recoil and stress whenever he can hear menace or suffering, there's a good chance he'll pick up on something. Spider-Man's crime-fighting expertise is /not/ all that great. It alternates between being hideously unreliable and incredibly effective. Interrogations, for example? Bad. Really bad. Maneuvering, observing, and other passive investigation? Perfect. So Spidey seeks out the sites of recruitment. He does this by swinging high above, seeking out a spider's-eye view of the flow of people, and using keen senses to try to pick up the tones of recruitment rhetoric. Energized sounds, engaging charismatic approaches, the anger of someone getting their emotions whipped up, that sort of thing.
Tomoe	There seems to be little rest for Tomoe after a night of troubled sleep over what she saw she's got a call the buzzwords put here on edge she's seen certain things already that made her cautious in her dealings from that point on. She's cautious but she's going to see what's going on she's got a job. Time to get to work she muses she'll head out. With the request to not make a mess she'll be wearing one of the more casual outfits she bought here rather than her armour to start, to better not make so much visual noise as she might carrying a large load of armour visually around with her. The basic deal was opportunity trying to. The intel seems pretty clear about where they are going too. She also gets in her head to check up on local laws on a few things later to have a better handle on things. The 'Mall' catches her attention and she'll make for it to start checking it out if and she runs into any merchants she'll check out their wears maybe by some of their ware and fish for information on anything strange that might be going on in the aftermath of the monster attack. Hopefully she can get some sort of lead on the 'unlawful gathering' they are here to find and break. She'll also keep an eye out for anything she might see or hear that could hint to where these people she is hunting are.
Lilian Rook	While people in the streets, or just as much on their balconies and from their open windows, fail to even notice that the Nameless gunner is there, and talk over his head in the classical method of Hamlet, Zenos has exactly the opposite experience. Having a hulkingly huge man lugging around a case of swords and covered head to toe in ominous armour means only one, screamingly obvious thing here, and the streets go instantly quiet where he walks --even well ahead of him. Doors lock, windows are closed, blinds are drawn, and even kids disappear down alleys in advance of him. The former even gets wind of the latter. With his senses pushed beyond the limits, he tunes into the spreading wildfire of whispering and hushed phone calls that washes past him, where parents tell children to come inside and then talk to their block neighbours, and they talk to theirs, and someone rings their relatives up and tells them, and texts come back to tell everyone where the dark, armoured figure has turned the streets, so families know whether to call their children back or tell them to stay put and out of the way. Don't talk to him. Don't open the door for him. Don't look at him. Don't let him look at you. Just stay down and let him go and bother someone else. Don't give him an excuse. You know what he'll do. You know what their kind is like. Outside of that wake of silence, Spider-Man picks up surprisingly full amount of 'the noises of a city', even with a bare minimum of automobile and road sounds, and some anachronistic radios and bikes mixed in, vaguely like he'd found a busy but not yet fully modernized corner of a Chinese city, except everyone is speaking English instead. By the time he swooshes past, the few people who notice him can't really productively tell anyone about him, because he's already gone and swung off somewhere else. He doesn't hear much in the war of stirring, street corner soapboxing or rallying though. Nobody handing out flyers. Given how tightly knit the place already is, it's probable everything just spreads through word of mouth and wi-fi here anyways. It seems nobody is brave enough to be shouting their dissatisfaction in the streets. Not out in the open, at least. The people here have an uncommon capacity for collectively keeping their heads down, sharing their resentment quietly and privately, and never within a block of the cameras that there are. It takes a lot of reading the undercurrent --of listening in on teens in parks and gossiping grandparents and young adults around radios in their closed-window living rooms-- to get an idea of where to go. Of course they'd take this kind of thing out of view.
Lilian Rook	The two with the most street sense will track it down to the stockpile building. Specifically, beneath it. Up above, it's mostly just a big cylindrical roof over a winding rat maze of cheap prefab walls that don't reach all the way up, organized by whatever is stacked up inside the rooms they create. Beneath, there is a basement level that is obviously older, having some sturdier, full concrete and rebar construction, with (old and leaky) indoor plumbing, metal doors with locks, and an electric cargo lift running on a modified diesel generator that looks more like a giant dumbwaiter more than anything. Tomoe wanders into the mall instead, but it's far from quiet and boring there either. Showing up in casual clothes actually turned out to be a good move. She just looks like some girl from the Third Ring probably wandering in to meet with a friend or get budget shopping done. Nobody seems to be talking all that much about the Antegent --the Bone Malus-- itself. There are, of course, people who know people who died, and the usual talks about a memorial service and such, but it's all cut with a strong undercurrent of blame and indignity. Asking a few store owners what it's about has her meet with some amount of incredulity that she hadn't heard, but some assumption that the information wouldn't be as 'accurate' inside the city proper. Apparently, in the whopping two days since they'd arrested those three in the ground zero commons room, they've already been tried, convicted, and scheduled for publicized execution. People are very unhappy about this.
Nameless	The Nameless gunner presses a finger to his ear. With a murmured two words, an earpiece forms, and he introduces himself to his new coworkers on the radio. It's fine. He can do both. He shuts off that ear and lets the other absorb sound passively. He talks quietly. He's just a man on a bluetooth as far as anyone is concerned. They'll talk right past him like he's not even there. Dark, armored figure. For a minute, the Nameless gunner considers checking up on that. Don't open the door, don't let him look at you, don't give him an excuse. The words run through his ear and his left hand twitches again. No. Probably not the target. The target wouldn't be so obvious. The target wouldn't be someone who got noticed, and wouldn't be someone who could be identified as needing an excuse. Criminals didn't need an excuse. Especially in a place like this. The people probably thought the criminals worked for them. Maybe they even did. Maybe he was on the wrong side. It didn't matter. The quiet resentment filters in. The seething, bubbling undercurrent. Every city had it. Every city had the unsatisfied, the displaced. It was extensive, here. It was everywhere. But it was the same. He lets himself get washed away on the rumors. He floats on discontent. He lets the tide of unhappiness take him to the stockpile building without any resistance. The stockpile building is too clean. Full of too many walls. A hiding place but not a gathering place. He marks it down and with a snap of his fingers and some gold circuit-light from his right hand produces a bomb and a trigger. He fixes it above the exit. Nobody ever looks up. If they tried to flee they'd be stuck with him. He could get out. They probably couldn't. The Nameless gunner ventures downwards. Always down. Rats head down. They don't come up until water hits. Along the way he plants those little bombs. They're not much to maintain. He can drop them if he needs to. And they'll let him shape the battlefield. And it was going to be a battlefield. His arm told him that.
Zenos yae Galvus	Zenos, notices this...on some level he enjoys the feeling that he brings to these people. They know that he is superior, and thus they avoid a direct confrontation with him. People bring their children in, and the streets quiet. However, this interferes with his goals and decides to change up his tactics. He vanishes, teleporting onto a rooftop, and releases an illusion of himself to walk a different path, while he himself moves from Rooftop to rooftop to take advantage of a road that would not be so empty. He does this for a little bit, before appearing on the road again, and walks directly to the first person he finds. "I would ask you some questions, I appear to be lost. You do not have a problem with that, I hope?" He says, with a perfectly reasonable and charismatic tone, even though the mask is still on his face. "Oh forgive me, this is rude to speak like this," He says, taking his helmet on, and revealing the very beautiful face and long hair of the man. "I am looking for those causing rumblings of rebellion and criminal activity...someone taking advantage of the tragedy that just happened nearby." His eyes glow for just a moment, activating the power of the Resonant, and attempting to actually gain the answer to his questions by simply listening to the mind and soul of the person he ambushed...if of course, the person would not give answers willfully.
Spider-Man	Spider-Man of course reports what he's found to his allies on the way to resolve this situation. "Hey! Hey, think I've almost got something... Overheard a couple people talking about a meetup, something really big. And underground. But literally, both ways, it's probably what we're after." He slips into the warehouse as undetected as he can get, using ceilings, vents, and other approaches. "Not sure what they're planning down there to get everyone on their side, but..." Then, of course, he avoids the elevator -- or at least he avoid using it directly. A Nameless man takes his position at the lift right as Spider-Man dives into the lift shaft as well. With Spidey in his more colorful and official outfit, he decides not to make use of it directly, but rather to press stealthily alongside it. This is both an opportunity to overhear what gets spoken on the way down, and a way to get down safely and quietly. He's gonna try to continue making use of his vent-crawling and stealth-webslinging abilities to properly stay out of sight and out of mind until he can reach the main recruitment event. Obviously he's going to try to crash it loudly and dramatically and with plenty of joking. /Obviously./
Tomoe	The primary part of Tomoe's keeping to more casual clothing has allowed here to pick up more information as goes shopping, the price of the smuggling becomes far more clear to her too. So many people dead, from that whole mess still fresh in her mind she'll buy a few things to keep up the appearance of someone from further in the city out to do some discount shopping. She'll pay attention trying to get an idea about who they feel are to blame. This bears some fruit as she digs, and that is something she'll find out in spade she's very glad she didn't go openly as Tomoe the adventure that would likely get at best hostility. so this gets her much farther she does her best to hide her shock at how fast and pretty much to show trial at a speed like that. At least it would be for her world at the very least. Public Execution? That's to send a message and she starts to wonder she does seem some confuse though given those three did get a lot of people killed and she'll attempt to fish a bit to find out a bit more information. She also thinks back to the group who attempted to leave, there seems to be an undercurrent of people who want out and the powers that be want to keep them there. She'll not linger unnatural long though she will express very legitimate dismay for the loss of life from the whole incident.
Lilian Rook	Tomoe goes poking for about as much information as seems safe, and not obviously about to give her away. The stuff here is pretty much dirt cheap, and although not the highest quality, it's far from junk, largely being hand made. It's actually the mass-produced stuff from the Third Ring inwards that fetches a higher price. The group that'd left and set up that satellite colony had done so legitimately. They'd paid off the credit, signed off on the contracts, done all the paperwork, and been shoved off into the wild with their allowance to attempt building an independent human commune again --one of many attempts over the last twenty years, very few of which end well, but which never seems to stop people wistfully seeking their fortunes outside. The one who had come back, and been slipped through security by his relatives here in the Fourth Ring, was the one who'd doomed that area. Since he's already dead, culpability has to fall on someone. The government doesn't tarry long, and doesn't forgive, these sorts of things, and the 'ghosties' hate losing face, whatever that means. It absolutely is part of a policy of making sure everyone knows what happens when you get caught infringing on the rules. Thefts and murders get proper trials; this sort of thing really doesn't. Zenos being a big swole fascist Garlemant man corners some poor skinny mofo in the streets, and like all three of the requisite generic Tokyo thugs that appear out of thin air around schoolgirls, he has some 19 year old kid backed up into a corner clutching his bike, definitely already looking around to see who else can see him, or who would be able to hear him if he yelled. "If I knew where to find criminal activity, they wouldn't be very good criminals, right? I know this isn't ah . . . your kind of neighbourhood, but we don't all just know where all the badguys are all the time. It doesn't work that way." He's kept remarkably, if stiffly, calm, but running through his head is a constant stream of 'fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you puffed up ghostie shitbag so fucking dumb you think you can fucking walk out of your fucking mansion to just come fucking ask people where 'criminals' are like we're your fucking manservants and crime just magically fucking happens when you aren't looking. such a benevolent fucking presence you have fucker. of course it's me. it's always fucking me. fuck, the people here already moved out. would anyone hear me if I screamed? how fast is this big fat fucker? could I bike out? he's just looking for a fucking scapegoat. some dumb motherfucker to bring in and go 'here's the guy, fuck him up' and go back to his fucking tea time. or some shady fucking abduction shit. he doesn't have papers, right? I'm documented, so he can't . . .' "Hey uh, I could point you to the nearest police station though, if you want. They'd keep tabs on stuff like that, wouldn't they? I don't even live here man." 'go fucking talk to your pet fucking pigs you piece of fucking shit so I can get the fuck out of here. if he asks, even those donut munching fuckheads will have to show him my fucking papers. fucking unbelievable. thinks he just has the fucking right to fucking walk right into the fucking service people are just trying to fucking have to make some fucking sense of this ludicrous fucking bullshit kangaroo setup that was his own fucking fault and wants to pin it on some poor fucking hapless family of dumb motherfuckers for. jesus fucking christ maybe I should just tell him its in another fucking district. but then he'll think I'm a fucking part of it. oh fuck my life.'
Zenos yae Galvus	"Palace actually," he says, and when the 'huh' comes, he clarifies. "I am Zenos yae Galvus, General of the Garlemald Empire, Imperial Viceroy of Ala Mhigo and Doma. I rather enjoy my palace, it is very spacious...and I walk out of it whenever I like, and conquer nations for my empire," he says, leaning in, "And slay gods of beastmen, and now Antegents. Like the colony that had set up shop in an outpost far from here...that magically made its way in here." "No, you can't escape. I am faster, stronger, and willing to slay you to make an example of you to the others. However, as I prefer working with your government, I am willing to NOT do that today. I am not looking for a 'scapegoat', I am looking for who I said I am looking for." "No I can't hear your thoughts, you are just very bad at hiding your emotions and your face says everything it needs to. While you were running favors for the criminal forces, I was studying the blade. So, I suggest you start telling me what I need to know...and I'll know if you are lying to me or not. If you lie to me...I will break a finger. I will break one finger for every lie you tell me." "Then I'll move on to bigger bones. I will, however, make sure you do not die."
Lilian Rook	Nobody has come the way of the Nameless (except Spider-Man, but he has the same objective, mostly) as he heads into the basement levels. Nobody is looking to check for anything like sticky bombs. Those who want to be here are already, and the both of them can tell before they even arrive. Down here, inside the harsh, enclosed, concrete corridors, voices bounce easily, and even the smell and warmth of so many people clustered together stands out over the cool, damp, nothing. It's more than a crime shop, and less than a full on indoctrination rally. They eventually reach a basement loading space that hasn't been uses in ages (probably due to a lack of access to trucks to take things here and lifts to move things around), and is now loosely packed with what must be a good two hundred people and change. They've more or less arranged themselves in roughly circling rows of impromptu seating all facing 'the front', having obviously arrived in little groups of friends and blockmates for safety and to keep a lookout on the way here. A number of them are tinkering with electronics of some variety or another, while others have pretty basic mechanical tools, some smaller groups are flipping through stacks of books, but the majority (presumably the unskilled majority) are just watching the group that has the 'stage' created by the elevation of the ramps to the bay doors, or else recording or transcribing what's going on. They have a projector and a pretty standard microphone, which is fairly out of date for this world, but serviceable, and isn't plugged into any building infrastructure to tap into. The three faces of the skinny blonde woman, her frizzy-haired husband, and the aged and resigned-looking grandfather on the former's side, are projected up there, though clearly from news shots rather than the facial scan pictures Zenos and Spider-Man had gotten before. The echo is bad, and the electronics are mildly shitty, so it's hard to make out much of what they're getting on about, until arriving at the lowest point. The entourage on-stage (there seem to be a few rotating in and out to say their piece) are already well underway, loudly evangelizing as to how the disaster the other day was 'an unavoidable setup'. That the idea of the people living on the outermost ring are effectively just an ablative barrier to soak up these kinds of things, and of course there are plenty of times when people don't 'comply with procedure', because they aren't equipped to make any informed decisions past blindly adhering to it. He goes on about the boy that was smuggled in past the warded border by his family, attempting to save him from being killed off by a lurking Antegent while the city would of course stonewall him on the outside for being 'a risk', and presents it in the light of how it's ridiculous to expect they'd leave their barely adult son outside to die because a 'ghostie' hadn't come by and sniffed him yet, and they don't have --aren't allowed to have-- the ability to tell whether it's safe and to make the decision themselves. If you're going to have to gamble on that, it's only natural that people will hope for the best and try to look out for each other. And it usually goes fine. Thirty nine out of forty times, nobody 'uptown' even knows about it. They only care when it makes a mess that they themselves could have prevented, and then only to make an example and remind everyone to blindly follow the rules, not because it could affect them.
Lilian Rook	He seems to be mostly preaching to the choir. People who want to be convinced. People who have done a lot of sticking up notes and drawing on a whiteboard already. People who have, at various points already, gotten former lawyers or internet-taught law students to start looking through papers for legal recourse for those three, who have their script kiddies and technicians who've worked 'uptown' vaguely fiddling with hopes of hacking into a system or another, who have tracked down people with uptown jobs and tried to map out some kind of half-baked prison break caper, who've suggested various forms of rally and protest and struck them down before (with the except of maybe a real riot), and an unfortunate number who are still insisting on making use of the surplus or home made guns, IEDs, and clunky wastelander-style weapons they've idealistically cobbled and scraped together through back channels and craftsmanship to vent their frustration with ideas of smashing the establishment.
Nameless	The Nameless gunner doesn't notice the Spider-Man slip under the elevator. Why would he? He's observant, sure, but he's not using his Reinforcement. His eyes are normal, his ears are normal. He has a good idea of where he's going. So Spider-Man passes him by as he gets into the lift. But he probably doesn't pass Spider-Man by. He's dangerous. It's not the kind of dangerous of a criminal who's been cornered or a supervillain who's menacing civilians. It's the kind of dangerous where the air around him just feels wrong. The kind of dangerous where there aren't any disturbances in the air because none of the telltale nervous twitches or disordered breathing is present. Normally someone descending into a place like this would probably have even a little bit of a reaction. The Nameless gunner does not. He might as well not even exist for all he bothers the air around him. That's dangerous. The lift opens into an indoctrination rally. The Nameless gunner takes it in. Exits. Lift and bay doors. Easy. A bomb up in the elevator before he walks out. The rally is nothing new. The dispossessed and downtrodden. People he might've fought for a long time ago. People whose justice he might've supported. Vague memories swirl, hazy points of a different time, as he walks through the crowd, unremarkable. His fingers run across the homemade guns. The IEDs. The Wastelander guns. Idealism in the air and frustration in their hands. They want to make a difference. They want to kill people. They want blood on their hands. They want to make change. They want to spend lives. He stops by the bay doors. A flick of his fingers produces another bomb. Click. Just above the door. Nobody ever looked up. They're idealistic. They're good people fighting for a better world. They're people who are dreaming of a right to be free, fighting an oppressive government. And it won't make a bit of difference. The fingers of his red arm twitch. Like it disapproves. It doesn't. It's just his imagination. "Trace, On." It won't make a bit of difference. But it will make the ones up top trust him. And he... Well. This was his job. He was a hero of justice, after all. Gold circuits run along his right hand. A long, heavy silver-and-black gun fades into being, traced in the air like a quick-drawn artist, a nasty silver blade on the end. His left hand reachs over and pulls from it a second gun, black and red and wicked as the day it was made. He raises the guns. They have probably noticed him by now. He would rather look them in the eye. He does not want to apologize. But he wants to remember their faces. He wants to know them. He opens fire.
Spider-Man	The wall-crawler disengages from the lift and takes the ceiling, crawling along, stealthily examining what goes on. He sneaks about and around a Nameless man, observing the rally and planning, looking at the data as it flicks about, keeping eyes wide and goggles recording... He chatters a little to his allies before something breaks his concentration. Spider-Man panics a little. As he leaps down when the man opens fire, he calls out, "Hey! We don't have to go /that/ far! What are you--" He doesn't even know who's doing this! His heroic gut-instinct compels him to immediately attack the gunman. His heroic brain-instinct compels his gut to knock that right off. Lilian, for one, would probably break his nose if he interfered and people got let go! He shoves his gut feelings to the pit of his stomach. "Don't shoot the ones that get webbed!" He shouts, trying to grit his teeth through the stress of the scenario. He leaps into action. He intends to swing through the basement loading space and lash a broad web over the bay doors, the kind to stop people from passing through, and to get them stuck if they try! Then a pendulum-swing back, and hopefully he can sling a web over the lift to keep anyone from taking it up! And then he starts trying to web the individual people! He wanted, terribly much, to do that first, but he has to prioritize getting heroism done /properly/, and in some way that can prove his worth to Lilian and the Immunes. He's very, very much not emotionally capable of diving into what he just dived into. Luckily, most of his web-blasting is instinctual, so it only throws his game off a little bit. He tries what he always tries to deal with this: Bad jokes. "Hey, ever thought about putting some of that ammo money into getting the jacket re-tailored?" He calls out to the gunman. "I know a lady who just /hates/ outfits like that, and loves throwing money around. Maybe you could meet! You could bond over emotionally-numbing ruthlessness!"
Lilian Rook	'what the fucking fuck is this asshole babbling on about a fucking imperial palace? shit is he bigwig motherfucker from overseas or something? why the fuck would they bring in some fat fuck head honcho from goddamn China or something for this bullshit? was he just already here and I'm just that fucking unlucky?' There is of course the obligatory 'oh fucking shit he's one of those mind-reading spooks jesus christ I'm totally fucked I'm so fucking fucked-' until he buys Zenos' bullshit excuse basically out of optimistic desperation. "Look mate, I haven't run favours for anyone but my old man. I don't know shit about any 'criminal forces'. If people want to do crime, they keep it secret, yeah? I know there's plenty of folks pissed off, but you'd think they would be, right? Doesn't matter to you does it? They're just going to grumble and moan about it, and then a month later they'll all be going about their business again like it never happened. It's what adults always do. They talk up a big game and then never follow through. Just leave them alone." He actually somehow gets defensive about it by the end, starting to bitch back at Zenos out of a weird sense of sympathy more than anything else. He genuinely doesn't believe the meeting going on right now will lead anywhere, or at least it won't involve anyone he cares about. He's the type who couldn't give less of a shit about #justiceforjulia (yes it's an actual social media tag, as far as Spidey can see in the crowd) because he's young and contrarian and if his parents think the rules are unreasonable, he thinks someone who ate shit for not following them is just dumb. So, none of that is a lie. It's dodging the question, but he believes it. Try as he might not to 'let it show on his face', that doesn't really help when he thinks about his two friends --the ones who actually do school stuff-- who went off to that stockpile basement, and whether he should call them up and tell them to 'pack their shit'.
Tomoe	Will bag her purchases to put into her inventory when no ones looking but she does get some more information that is of use. She learned a fair bit about things here and the idea of humans trying to settle outside the walls happens again and again and she can't fault them for wanting to attempt it but it seems most end badly. She recalls there is a finite number of monsters out there, if they could purge the remaining ones then they might have more luck but that's a very long term goal. She pays more heed to the government's behaviour in various matters and in this? It does remind her of several actions on her own worlds past. There is a diss9onace here and something pops into the back of her mind there could be social pressure leading to a possible uprising which means the Watch might nose into things here. She keeps this in mind she will thank the owners for their time when she finishes up and will head off. She has some idea now there is growing discontent in the lower levels of the society in this world. It also hints there may be indeed a manpower shortage in some areas. She heads out and as she does she gets the call from Spider-Man that he's found the targets they are here to hunt. She'll worry about the larger issues later, they got something they need to deal with now. With the all that the Rally has been found she uses Spider-Man's signal to home in on them once she darts into an alley as there's no convenient police box or phone booth she'll put her items into her inventory switch over to her armour and get the move on for the building Spiderman's in she will arrive but not till after Nameless has been well underway, with his action to break up the meeting with gunplay. She's going down and it will take some time to get down there but she will avoid the lift as she's pretty sure someone might be waiting or blocking it so it will slow down her arrival into this mess. For all the stuff Tomoe has endured she's about as taken aback as Spider-Man is, she's a bit off her game herself but her reflexes are keen enough to keep her from getting taken out but she joins Spider-Man in trying to take down those they can. She'll make use of some of her debuffs that can make a foe dizzy or otherwise sapping their physical strength helping Spider-Man as best she can in their roundup actions. She has an idea of what these people were likely plotting, yet? It still has an effect on her none the less.
Lilian Rook	The Nameless gunner just sort of popping up out of nowhere for the normies (extra double distracted for their intense focus on the meeting) and firing into the crowd like a bad day in Vegas is met with about the reaction one would expect. A lot of panicking. A lot of screaming. A lot of people shoving past each other to try and get to the only exits, letting the bodies of whoever is behind them block the bullets, or occasionally going down and just having to shield themselves from getting trampled and play dead. A couple of people, mostly kids, have taking not too subtle hiding positions and aimed their last generation phones at the gunner, recording and streaming what's happening so at least the massacre won't just be swept under the rug; it's the determination of teens who've grown up in an environment like this, feeling that they're probably about to die, and more concerned for something being done about it socially than trying to run. There are plenty of people who came here because they were angry though. Armed people. For some of them, their morale fails them immediately, and they ditch their combination buzzsaw/crowbars and run for it like everyone else, but the angrier college-age young men and the older, more resigned, or just plain more heroic older men, get behind some crates proper and start shooting back. Inside of a minute, the Nameless one has a good twenty or some muzzles flashing back at him, holding a line of a sort down the room. There's a spread between 'angry kids standing borderline in the open or blindfiring from around corners', and 'a few guys who are clearly ex-military from back in the day, and probably part of the same unit, actually doing a credible job of putting bullets on him, and landing a couple of molotovs and an improv grenade at his feet'. It is a jam packed stampede for Spider-Man and Tomoe to swing into. Tomoe is almost just swept under the sheer weight of the panicked crowd when she tries to get in and pacify them, and Spider-Man is mostly only spared the bulk of the bullets for being an inconvenient target that would split fire from the biggest, scariest, edgiest-looking evil man in the room. They don't really have much means of dealing with being webbed, collapsing straight to the ground or being stuck to the scenery. When they start piling on the webbed exits though, the ones behind are confused and unsympathetic about the ones that got stuck at the front, not really understanding what's going on and trying to push past anyways, seriously in danger of crushing those at the forefront while they try to break the webs by force, even getting out the power tools and improvised weapons to do so. One brave idiot gets up from the crowd and actually charges the gunner down, screaming at the top of his lungs and swinging a demolition sledge at his head.
Zenos yae Galvus	"Hm...I see," Zenos says calmly, and then simply takes a step back. His hand touches the side of his head as if listening for something and then grimly nods. "I was there in both locations when this outbreak happened. The survivor of the first outbreak ran into the zone and was smuggled in. The people in charge of that are trying to shift the blame to the government, instead of losing face." "There, you are armed with the truth, and I also will say that I am sorry for your loss in advance. Your friends, that is...it appears someone is already causing a scene there," he continues. "Go home. I am going to see if I can clean this mess up." Zenos then moves with more pressing speed towards the building in question, having the Airship take point to try and see what was happening while he moved to arrive.
Nameless	The Spider-Man starts slinging webs. Shockingly, the Nameless gunner complies with the request. Instead of just opening fire on the downed people, he...he doesn't. He's clipped. Professional. He doesn't acknowledge the statement with words but his actions prove that he's paying attention. His bullets only fall on those Spider-Man can't get to in time, those who are already raising weapons at the Spider-Man. He's not paying attention to people shooting at him. Most of them can't hurt him anyway. Once they've rallied a murmur of "the bone of my sword" and a flare of golden circuits is all it takes to harden his black skin. Blades under his arms. Blades in his muscles. Skin of tarnished iron. Bulletproof, as much as necessary. He's avoiding shots where he can. Where he can't, the black skin bounces them. No, his priority is on the people aimed at the Spider-Man and Tomoe. He moves, running into the crowd, the opposite of what one might expect from a gunner, targetting the people who are shooting at the younger man. His guns flash like swords. They are swords. Where did the guns go? They carve through flesh. They cut through bone. They're harder than steel. No. They're guns again. He turns in mid-slash to point over his shoulder and fire a shot into the head of someone about to go for a weapon. The area around his eyes and ears is gold, too. Crackling, glowing gold. Gold on black. Like a broken pot hastily stitched back together. His elbow smashes into a woman hard enough to force her nose out the other side of her head. She dies instantly. Blood on his jacket. Nothing new. The gun pointed over his shoulder is a sword as it cleaves through the head of a desperate man with a pipe mere seconds before Spider-Man can save him. Spider-Man and Tomoe are saving people. Webs flying. The Nameless gunner adjusts his arcs with each new web. With each new shot. Not a single captured person is hit. He moves like he's completely aware of the room. He moves like a machine. Angles. Firing arcs. His feet shift like he's doing martial arts. His arms swing around, crossing under each other. He shoots two people on opposite sides of him without looking. Tomoe and Spider-Man are never in danger. Spider-Man comments on his jacket. He laughs. It's off-putting. "I'll keep it in mind." It's out-of-place. Like it's a conversation over coffee. The teenagers recording aren't ignored. They go down one by one. The phones burst a moment later, bullets lodging in them. Spider-Man and Tomoe might notice now. The bullets are disappearing. There's no spent shell casings. Molotovs and bullets rain down, and now it's too much for him to dodge. So he doesn't. His guns come up and they're swords again. They spin around in front of him. He's cutting the bullets in half. The molotov goes off, and he's caught on fire, and he keeps going. He swings the swords down. He kicks the grenade up through the roof. He's on fire. He's burning, bright, black and gold. Pain. Old friend. No problem. His muscles are swords. They'll knit themselves back together. The open wounds don't bleed red. They bleed gold. Like a leaking pot. He flicks his fingers out. A flash of gold along his fingertips. A chained nail shoots out to grab one of the veterans and drag him in. They'll hesitate to shoot their own. That'll give him time to repair. And time to mow them down. It's unimaginably cruel. It's almost machinelike in its cruelty. It's how you had to do things. You couldn't let them draw the line. The swords - sword? - becomes a gun again. A single, long, black and silver gun with red highlights and a horrid blade. He levels it over his captive's shoulder. His human shield's shoulder.
Tomoe	It's a full-on stampede a horde if you will, Tomoe has faced large numbers but not quite like this, she nearly is swept under the human tide, she knows crowd control but not crowd control like this. She has to do the best she can in this situation. There's a panic sea of humanity and she's caught in the deep end she struggles with the tide trying to make use of what she has to help Spider-Man with as many collars as they can. There is a real danger of trampling now that much she does know, Tomoe will focus on the ones if she can reach them who are trying to break Spider-Man's webs. Nameless is true to his word and honours the request that has been man, the man scares her, and remind her with his cold precision of certain people in her past who still haunts her dreams, and she may have more of them. She'll continue to attempt to use her debuff to disable the people or even seek to remove their tools from there hands if she can do it. She then hears Nameless warning and will pop her various damage mitigation abilities as she attempts o keep the web from being breached, even if she has to use herself as a human shield.
Spider-Man	Spider-Man still has to dodge plenty of bullets. This strains his body, to bounce around the loading bay, but at least it's well within his abilities to deal with. "Hey! Hey hey, we don't need to bring more guns into this! Two wrongs don't make a right! I can't get this guy to lay off, but the least you can do is make it so more of you guys can get the safety strands on you!" He notices what's afoot at the stampedes. "Hey! Woah, hey, no! Stop that!" He calls out. "Don't crush each other! I thought you guys had class solidarity or something! You're not supposed to hurt each other!" How can he motivate them to stop?! He has to swing especially low, using absurd physics to gain absurd speed and try to sort of clothesline people's feet from below using a horizontal strand of webbing! People who're crawling over each other are less dangerous than people who are stamping on each other! And then he has to leap onto the ceiling, hooooping that the Nameless man manages to deal with the gunfire enough to give Spider-Man some time to wall-crawl instead of bounce and leap, so that he can get above and start yanking and suspending people with webbing, clearing up a bit of space to prevent it from getting packed and dangerously crushed. "Please form a very calm and very orderly line directly into being arrested! Don't rush, push, or cut the queue, I guarantee there's enough weirdly ruthless government oppression, one per customer!"
Lilian Rook	It isn't exactly difficult for Zenos to find the place. Dedicating any amount of time to just 'being in transit' is basically a wasted exercise. He can hear the muffled gunshots and booms from the stockpile area from a distance. It's underground, but by obvious necessity, the bay doors would make contact with the outside, and aren't exactly thick enough to be soundproof. There's already people evacuating the area ASAP as he arrives, as well as a police cordon in place; they look like actual police, with vests and hats and badges, rather than the hard-ass tactical sterilization teams from before. They have some kind of tripod apparatus set up at the warehouse, a technician fiddling over a number of silver gears and esoteric dials to line up a specific number and sequence of glasses over it. The chaos inside develops rapidly and organically. The big bunches crushing to get out are sort of easy prey for Spidey to swing in and web blast whole crowds at once, as well as knock them down like bowling pins. People getting yoinked to the ceiling struggle and panic, but after a short while, it seems like they realize the webbed up people aren't being shot at, and lapse into guilty 'I'm glad it's not me' postures and expressions. Those who are debuffed by Tomoe are more obviously panicked, as their faculties and physical abilities are impaired at the worst possible time, but also can't really resist in any significant fashion, and are pretty low priority compared to every other possible target. The Nameless gunner makes a butchery of the rest. They might pass for scrappy rebels on a more ordinary Earth, but these guys already know they're outclassed, and seem to just be determined to go out fighting for once, rather than surrender yet again. That kid Zenos interrogated may have been right. They may have already felt that they weren't going to make any change, even if only in their bones. Rows of people tumble over dead, scythed down by blades and bullets. The reckless younger fighters have their heads snap back and their blood spray out first, and then the less brave ones as they try to run away. He's calculated right that the two other vets are trying to circle around to shoot around their buddy, but the man in his arms manages to wrestle his hand into a position to pull a cord in his belt, and apparently prove himself as one of the few really serious members here, as he blows himself up double suicide-style in the Nameless gunner's arms. Where it becomes plain the exits just aren't going to open though, and that the webbed people aren't being shot, the rest of the bulk of the crowd finally falls into a rush to surrender, either giving up and hiding, or holding their hands up and praying that Spider-Man will get them before the gunner does. The last few people genuinely prepared to die empty their mags and flat out knife charge the gunner in a hopeless CQB situation, while a handful of friends, siblings, and parents try to drag their wounded or dying fellows and children out from cover, if they aren't just stood wailing over them uselessly already. Honestly, this place now looks like the victim of a terrorist attack, not the source of one.
Lilian Rook	Meanwhile ====7:21 PM; The Scarborough Estate==== Lilian has just put her fork in her mouth when she gets the AR blink in the corner of her eye. Halfway through late dinner, she swipes the window into projected focus, reading it at the table in a way that would be inappropriate were anyone else actually there, outside of a single servant, certainly not taking any of the twenty three empty seats. Halfway through the specifically readied meal for after Wednesday's training schedule, she glances through the breaking case notification of shots being fired and an ongoing gun battle at a storage block in a sub-district of the Eighth Hand of the Fourth Ring. She'd dismiss it back into nowhere, had the on-scene police not also added that their basic detection equipment had gone off pretty hard to the presence of magic, which means some Enlightened individual went off the books, or did something undercover and it went pear shaped. They're calling for any assistance possible to deal with the situation, since they sure aren't qualified, and aren't ordered, to wade into it. Lilian swallows, and then sighs explosively, rubbing her temple in open agitation. Knowing what it means, the servant at the kitchen door asks "Will the young mistress require her food-" "No. No . . ." Lilian cuts her off with a wave. "It's not that far. I have plenty of time. Just clean up after." "Very well. Travel safely." -----[stop]----- Lilian leans back in her chair with a long, selfish, sulky moan. "Which one of those goddamned idiot- no. No I bet it was the fucking extras. I bet some stupid, filthy little extra got cornered and bit like a rat, and all his scummy little friends whipped their pistols out of their drawers and started firing 'hood style'. Either way, that prick from class B would love to get there first and pin it like it's my fault. Stupid cow." She then returns to eating her meal, going through the second half with a mild amount of haste, tilting back the rest of her drink, lining up the cutlery and napkin, and pushing her chair out as she gets up and walks off. She grabs a black and green overshirt on the way out, the one with the semi-detached sleeves, hovers over her shoes for a moment before deciding on the knee boots (there will probably be a lot of blood, and those ones don't absorb it), then closes her apps, grabs the gun she'd just left on the end table on the way in (she'd be upset it hasn't been put away yet, but this is convenient), swings her sword over her back, opens the door, and takes off. -----[start]----- An empty plate and glass wobble slightly in front of the twenty fourth empty seat. The servant doesn't even blink, just moving in to clean up the dishes as usual, like they get paid to do. ====7:22 PM; the Fourth Ring=== Lilian steps into the room, her heels already squelching on still-wet human viscera, and kicking aside shell casings. How she got in there isn't actually clear, and she isn't dressed for the occasion more than being nominally armed. Her nose wrinkles slightly at the stench of gore, as she surveys the aftermath of the chaos with an unwelcoming stare. Without really looking she points towards the Nameless gunner with her off hand. "Who the hell are you?" she asks. Then she looks to Spider-Man, and follows up "What is he doing here? Did you bring him along?" She glances to the webbed survivors. "And would you mind telling me just what happened? The police reported this you know. As a 'gun battle'. For the moment, they're being told that some gang activity is most likely responsible, sparked by someone getting their hands on some stolen secondhand magical equipment and trying to win a turf war, but it looks like we're going to have to not even let them inside at this rate."
Nameless	The suicide bomb is unexpected. Nameless disappears in a cloud of smoke and flame. When he emerges, it's a horror show. His face has been mostly peeled off. His iron-clad chest is gaping and open. He's covered in the other man's blood and viscera. He's knitting himself back together. It's obvious. And it's disturbing. Little flashes of silver and little sparks of gold all along his skin. Tiny blades like knitting needles reassembling bits of flesh and muscle as he walks. It's enormously painful - both the wound and the healing. You did what you had to. It's that horrible grinning skull that fires on the two veterans, finishing them with two downed shots to the head. Merciful in mercilessness. Clean in cruelty. Bullets lodge themselves inside him as he executes those two, bullets from the other suicidal fools. Throwing their lives away. Helpless. A flash of purple hair. Blades ram into his chest. They dig deep. He puts his gun to the head of one of the desperate and pulls the trigger. It goes through the lot, splattering bits across the floor. They all fall together. Knives embedded in his open chest. As people start to surrender, the Nameless gunner's weapons vanish. He's not going to keep shooting. It's not really necessary. They'll probably be executed anyway. He'd rather do it himself, but he's got more important problems. Lilian arrives just as the knives embedded in his skin start tearing themselves apart and joining into his flesh. The little blades in his muscles devour them. The metal is made part of him. The bone of his sword. His face finishes knitting itself back together, too, sealing up with a gold line along the middle that glows for a brief instant before vanishing. He looks over at her. His eyes are cold and gold in equal measure. "I'm no one in particular." "You're the woman who can't stand this kind of fashion, I guess." He puts his hands in his pockets and walks towards the elevator. The bomb's vanished. The weapons are gone. "Apparently you throw money at this sort of thing." It's conversational. It's...empty. The massacre is routine to him. "I came on my own. I heard you needed help solving a problem. I solved the problem." "Free of charge, this time."
Zenos yae Galvus	Zenos just simply moves through the police line, not even interacting with them. With a sigh, he informs his people to come down, and take over handling it. With a movement, he looks towards the police. "There is a potential outbreak in here. Pull your man to a larger distance and keep civilians out. My men will secure this place and you will have time to run if it gets worse. Now go." Zenos says commanding. Imperial troops descend in Sky armors, as the armors start taking various containment flights around the building to make sure nobody leaves, as Zenos makes his way into the building. Appearing through the blast doors and on the other side of the trapped civilians. "That is what I would like to know, I was not informed we had found this place until gunshots were going off. I was busy questioning a young man when I heard gunfire and got the report late." His head turns slowly towards Spider-man. His head turns towards the slaughter, though it does not bother him, he was asked very specifically (and politely) to not do this. Well, this would be a giant mess. "Lilian, I have informed the police to pull their forces back, and deployed my own to secure the area until yours can do so. We will need to consider the cover for this..." a beat, "Unless we can simply use crazed gunman."
Spider-Man	Spider-Man looks to the nameless gunner, then to the suddenly arrived Lilian. He gives a sort of... extremely helpless shrug. "Well, I mean..." He sheepishly makes a squint-goggled shrug. "Right?" Then he says, "I'm gonna be honest, I don't know who this is. He just, uh, I guess he just showed up. I thought you'd sent him when he started being ruthless at the problem." Hey, it's a fair point. "I tried to block off the exits and, um, I guess just contain everything however I could to get as many of the people as I could. And--" He turns to Zenos yae Galvus, his goggles going abruptly a bit wide, kind of looking betrayed. "But-- Hey, I reported it on the radio, when I found it! That's how she got here!" He points over to Tomoe. "I didn't keep from reporting it! And I thought there'd be more time to see what was going on while I was watching, but then everything got--" He gestures a bit at some of the corpses, wincing badly at it. "It got..." He breathes a bit heavily, trying to steady himself mentally. Stabilize. He feels stress well in his stomach like a parasite. His lenses shut entirely to block out the overwhelming sensory input. He needs bad jokes. They flick back open. "Well, it got really bad, but I'm only qualified for this with you guys, not with the fashion police, so I couldn't stop every atrocity going on here." He says, forcing a cheerful, joke-cracking facade to fix his focus. "So I kinda did the best I could with the hand I had!"
Tomoe	Things are bad but also wining down from the looks of things as well she will attempt to herd those people who are giving up at this point where Spiderman can handle it the wounded? She's not a healer and there's not much she can do for what. She will keep calm but there's a look on her face she's not happy and maybe a bit shocked too from the looks of it, then Lilian pops in as she's wont to do, she's not sure how she does it and just assumes it's some aspect of her magical abilities that allow her to do this she's busy working with Spider-Man as Lilian questions about who the heck Nameless is. "It's as I said I never have seen him before. We'll also need medical personnel." She notes bringing up this looking at the injured here. She also tries to not look at Nameless as the reforms if it had been someone else that guy's final act would have likely made them stay down. Political tactics and cover-ups? It rankles her but had not she and Spider-man got there? Who knows how much worse it could have been. Even if the fate of these people is utterly up in the air. She's clearly not looking good but it's not from any injury she is however still doing her job for the moment and looking over to Spider-Man. "I could use a hand here, Spider-Man." A distraction to keep them both focused on anything but the bodies and the like here. Xenos has also arrived here and had deployed troops to help contain this, for the moment. If anything has been learned from her jobs here? This world is very complicated.
Lilian Rook	Lilian looks back to Nameless. Her eyes don't leave him while his flesh makes him have a face again. Her imperiously dissatisfied attitude evapourates off in layers. She's holding the scabbard by her side. Her thumb pushes the crossguard out with a quiet click, and dark mist pours out of it like dry ice steam, black floral patterns crawling up her fingers and wrist. "The only thing it does any justice is your abs." she replies, stone level and cold; impenetrably opaque. "I'm afraid I don't trust anyone who works for free. They tend to do whatever they like, and then turn about and say 'it's not like you can complain, it's free!' or something to that effect." she says. She considers Zenos for several seconds, like a steely-eyed engineer silently assessing the integrity of a sketchy nuclear reactor for a tense minute. "Good. They don't need to see it." She's already hearing the gunman point out the specific phones of teenaged livestreamers --the notoriously worst enemy of police brutality. The gears have turned and clicked into place. "No, I did not send a vigilante assassin after a bunch of e- poorly armed and organized civilians." she snaps back at Spider-Man. "And if I had, you'd have been informed of it, because I am a professional." she pronounces with some irritable distaste for the idea of calling in hits at the same time as heroes. "No, no, that's exactly what it is." she then replies to Zenos, this time without turning her head. "He is a crazed gunman. I'd have maybe understood that they resisted arrest, because I certainly see evidence of a firefight, but if he'd like to take that well-earned dive, he can have it." "I'm not on hours, haven't informed a superior, and as far as the system is concerned, still at home." she huffs out, clerically. "So you people can report him as an unknown assailant. He definitely happened to run in here at just the right time to clash with you rather than be complicit. You three are known associates of mine, licensed with my say-so. Take a swing at him if you'd like. Beat him up and bring him in. Heavens knows I might've if I wouldn't be breaking more rules by doing so than not being here. Keep the bobby hats away because he's just going to butcher them anyway." Lilian unfolds the redhead's phone. There's been no sign she ever actually got it, but she probably turned off the recording a while ago if she's talking like this. "Be as heroic as you like. Make a show. A batshit insane mass shooter is exactly what it is. There'll be damned rioting in the streets if people start believing that we're so incompetent we send multiple teams at the same time to slaughter the same people we were trying to arrest and vice versa." she mutters, waggling her hand vaguely in the direction of the elevator, fully in damage control mode right now rather than being focused on the tragedy itself. Granted, the latter might not actually be productive. "Oh good, his face is on camera too." she says, unsarcastically. "Eugh. At least maybe these idiots will be sympathetic toward the fact the proper authorities actually saved some of them, instead of moaning up a storm about police brutality again. A lunatic can only strike once before it becomes our problem that we haven't caught him, though. Do you understand that?" she shoots vaguely in the way of the leaving sword-man. "The next time you pull a stunt like this, you are automatically my problem, got it?"
Zenos yae Galvus	Zenos knows all too well the problem with bureaucracy. There was once a time he had to listen to it, having his hands tied when he should have handled a situation easily. Luckily, those days are mostly behind him, unless he wishes to engage in such things, so he simply sympathizes with the plight of Lilian. "Hm. Very well, compile your reports.." he says towards Spider-man and Tomoe. "I will file them as I had to put men on the ground." He says, and then turns towards the leaving Nameless gunmen. "Then I shall attempt to make it look convincing. Take it as a warning for next time..." He says, before swinging the blade with enough force to send a shockwave towards him, with enough force to try and blast him through a door. trying to make it convincing. He has little interest in detaining the man, though it will serve as a warning for next time to work with the group or be slain. "How droll...I will have to do the paperwork. I shall have the Doman woman do it...I have very little patience for this drudgery." Turning, he moves to walk out the way Nameless did, to make it look like he was following.
Nameless	"I wouldn't mind suggestions," the Nameless gunner replies in that same tone, "I'm not very fashion-conscious." His eyes hold hers the whole time, her stare met without anything. There's nothing in those golden eyes. It's like looking into a golden blade. All it does is reflect. All it does is show her face. He shrugs. "Fair enough. That's not a bad policy, anyway. I'll keep it in mind next time." He murmurs something. The fingers of his left hand turn gold. A cell phone traces itself into being. He looks at it briefly, mutters some numbers at the air, looks at it again, and then it vanishes, as if it was never there to begin with. His cold golden eyes turn back to Lilian. "Let me know how to contact you the next time you need a mess like this cleaned up and someone to blame it on." Zenos says they should make it real. He tilts his head back slightly and taps the side of his torso. "Hit me here. Make sure you get it on camera. No one will question it." He looks back at Lilian and shrugs. "That's fine." And it's not sassy or sarcastic. He means it. He's actually willing to take the fall. Zenos's sword shockwave hits him and cleaves into his side. It's a huge, gaping wound. He falls backwards, most assuredly dead. Cameras flash. A few moments later, his side starts knitting itself back together. He pulls himself to his feet and walks out the door. A snap of his fingers, some golden light, and his outfit is a longcoat, his hair is hidden under a hat, and his face is hidden behind sunglasses and a seasonable fashion scarf.
Tomoe	Tomoe is so in over her head as an independent operator at this point, but the possibility of a riot is clearly on her mind and that's enough to make her go along with this, also further fighting Nameless here could lead to a lot more fatalities too. She's mad her call and will live with it. "I understand we'll need some medical personnel here if you have any Prince Galvus." She'll look over to Spider-Man and also looks at Nameless after. She will not forget Nameless and one day she will confront him but not right now. There are the living to tend to rather than picking a fight here. The damage control is in play she also makes a note to try and void local reporters if she can too. She also then sees Nameless just gets slammed by Zenos but feels nothing positive about it, she'll focus on the round up of the remaining people and helping any medical personnel get to who needs it if/when they arrive. She looks to Lilian. "I'll help with the clean up here."