(2014-12-11) Who's The Boss?
Who's The Boss?
Summary: An unplanned group of "specials" gather at a coffee shop and encounter a planned situation by a group of L.O.S.E.R.S.
Date: 2014-12-11
Related: NA
NPCs: Random attackers
Scene Runner: Harley
Social/Plot: Social & Plot, categorized as Plot for log purposes

[ Coffee Bean — Lower Manhattan ]

As soon as one enters, the scent of any of a dozen coffee flavors in the air as well as a few lighter menu items like pre-packaged fruit salads, danishes, croissants, and pound cake. There are usually two or three servers on duty, ready to whip up any of the coffees on the large menu that hangs over their heads. The white tile floors are a little dingy from age and use, as is the simple white paint on the wall. Overhead, standard flourescent lights cast an untreated blue-white glow over the whole of the coffeehouse.

The lack of a 'Starbucks' style decor doesn't, however, stop this joint from being a popular college hangout. Particularly since they boast hours from five in the morning to midnight. Booths line the walls, seating four comfortably on the faded red cushioned benches, though there are small tables with simple 50s retro chairs - red and chrome - near the back of the establishment that can be pushed together to accomdate larger groups.

The hustle and bustle of lunch hour has filled the Coffee Bean to the Brim. Cups with names like Joe, Caramel, Chai, Latte, Johan, and Columbiana Arlecchino written on them top the highest bar as a barista calls out orders. Some people fly in and out in a rush, while others settle in to enjoy a hot meal and hotter (we're talking scalding here, the kind of heat some people think requires you to put a warning label on the cup for) beverages as they relax (maybe with a nice slice of turtle cake for desert). The fact that the week is almost over, only a day and a half left til the weekend, probably isn't hurting business. It is the perfect place to either get lost in the crowd… or to bump into some new acquaintences.

The big problem with being small in winter? You get cold easily. Despite her well-worn yellow parka with its white fur trim, white, fleece-lined winter boots, and cherry-pink earmuffs over a white stocking cap, Jubilee is feeling the chill. Which means it's a good thing she's just found a coffee chop. Where better to warm up again? Humming as her good mood returns, she slips through the main door, taking her place in line.

Incapable of flying, Jack Harrison, aka Flag, is making his way to the coffee shop the regular way. On two feet. He's been laying low a little, more than he should, with the recent siting of him flying into a tree. Thank goodness he just isn't too well known, and there hasn't been any trouble with the authority. Someone slips in quickly in front of him, and not paying attention cause he's looking at holiday lights, he bumps the door a little. Giving the door bell, if there is one, more of a jingle than it needs. Course he slips right into line too, "Jeeze, hospitality, you'd think people would remember it around the holidays." Though, not serious so much, smiling the same. He's wearing a fall'ish hoodie today instead of thick winter stuff, tired of putting it all on and wanting the ability to move better.

Jubilee glances back, hearing both that bell and the comment behind her. "Oh, totally my fault," she murmurs, blushing. "I was so cold I couldn't think of anything but getting warm, and like a major doofus I went straight for the door. Sorry? Wasn't like I wanted to door-check you…"

Save for the obvious lining in her fingerless gloves, the only real adjustment for the season is a festive cap with fur trim and a big fur puff on the tip as it flops part of the way up to drape a quarter of the way back down, and somewhat large purse which she seems to be whispering into, "Shhhh, Jacob, Bernie, keep it down in there. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves, and I don't want to get kicked out of this place." Already in line, she waves as a Barista calls out, "Miss Columbiana Arlecchino? A Pepperjack, Avocado, Spinach, and Mushroom Spicy Grilled Chicken Sandwich on a Croissant with a Quintuple Chocolate Frappacchino, a side of liver and onions, a side of chopped liver, a slice of pecan pie, and a slice of chocolate silk pie?" rushings to retrieve her order with a, "No need to call me miss. Rosetta Columbiana Arlecchino is fine, Thanks." practically skipping, and getting an odd look from the server who is probably wondering why anyone would be having all the cold food instead of hot stuff.

"No no, I get it, I have a /smashing/ face, so why not, I would of done the same," says Jack with a chuckle even. "But it wasn't doofus at all, it was totally pro. Besides, I have two hands." He takes them out of his pockets finally, yep, two, all 10 fingers even. He is about to say more, someone in front of the line orders quite a few things, including cooked meats and he is blinking. "Oh man, we're gonna be here all day. I didn't know they had liver here." Then he looks at Jubilee in front of him a second, "And you're good, teasing about the door, honest. I'm still having a great day here."


Outside the Coffee Bean, a wandering pedestrian of a feline persuasion is given reason to pause and look toward the door. There's a strong mixture of scents behind it, ranging from people to food and drink, even what seems to be animals. Already drawing a few stares before entering to begin with, the woman reaches out to grab the handle with a claw-tipped hand.

From there, Tigra takes note of the busy coffee shop and scrunches her brows. "Great. A long line." Too late to back out now, as murmurs quickly rise and she's pointed toward by a few patrons.

Jubilee chuckles good-naturedly as Jack excuses her, unfastening her coat to let some of the shop's warmth in.. But she can't help staring as someone rushes to collect a surprisingly big order for such a smallish woman. "Wow, will that all /fit/ inside her? Maybe she's eating for two," she suggests, edging back so the light-footed customer can slip (or maybe just skip) past her.

Skipping past the little Asian girl and the patriotic guy (who probably has had more colors in his hair then Harley, Jubilee, and Tigra combined), she tosses them a friendly smile before moving toward an emptying table (luck… or perhaps convenient writing… it seems is on her side). Finding a seat, Harley (aka Rosetta Columbiana Arlecchino) places her large bag beside her chair takes her food and drinks off the tray, slips the liver and onions into a foam to go container and lowers the container, still open, into the bag, trying to be inconspicuous about it. She then begins to sip her drink and watch people, obviously in no rush as she is only barely tasting her food. Observing human behavior is sort of second nature to her, and so she does… observes the highs with a college student covering the tax on an elderly woman who underestimated how much coffee cost these days, the mids with people sort of ignoring one another but not pusihing or shoving, and the lows like the corporate guy shouting about how he ordered no bubbles and exactly 187 degrees instead of the cold bubbling swill he has been handed.

Watching the woman pass and go to a table. "Only you get away with that," says Jack to his line mate, Jubilee, "If I say it, I'm just a jerk of a guy making a weight crack or something. I'll assume extra hungry and she'll take some of it home for later cause food is that good here." Not that he knows, but what, turning to look back, there is Tigra, "What a second …" Lifting a hand to wave, "Hey, its you, from the tree!" He calls over the line to Tigra, "I sort of wanted to talk to you, but you ran off …."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. You're the one that caused a scene by flying into the tree," Tigra remarks, one of her brows lifting as she eyes Jack. "No idea what you were thinking with that," she finishes with a little half-smile, as if she may be joking. Then again, she may not be. Another sniff leads her to focus at least part of her attention on Harley, or more specifically the bag she's got with her. For the moment, that takes up more of her attention than Jack, Jubilee, or anyone else.

"I did just see a take-out container," Jubilee observes, looking after the skipper and smiling and waving in return. "Cool outfit, though. You, too."
She glances up at the word 'tree'. "From the /tree/?" she asks, blinking and taking a close look at Tigra. She giggles. "Ya know, normally it's the /guy/ who rescues the /cat/ from a tree. Was this the other way 'round?"

"We're all cool like that," grins Jack, about outfits, even the Tiger. About to say more to Tigra about the tree, Jubilee cuts in and jokes about it, "Ya, I was an idiot. I mean, she looked ready to scale it, I made an ass of myself." He turns to Tigra of course after that, "Yep, that was me, I tend to cause scenes lately it seems. I thought someone was going for it, they were faster than me, seemed the only way to get up there. I should of thought about it more, in hindsight."

As the corporate jerk pushes past people, shouting about bad yelp reviews and boycotting and tweeting and how stupid someone has to be to not understand 187 degrees exactly and no bubbles in a coffee and how this place has gone to the dregs of society and he will never grace the place with his great magnificent presence again, Harley (in her alias of Rosetta Columbiana Arlecchino) continues to enjoy her meal at a snails pace and observe human behavior. She leans down and shushs some voice that perhaps she can only hear, "Bernie, that is a terrible thing to say, he might just be having a really bad day… which may be his own fault, but bad days can really be devestating. I had a few bad days in the past, and Jacob was having a really bad day until he met you and me, so don't judge." she then glances around, and takes a spoon to scoop half her chopped liver into the purse, hopefully into the open to go container she put in there. "Jacob, don't rush, chew your food. My contacts say that this is the place, but they weren't sure when everything was going to go down, so we may be here a while." giggling a bit then sipping her frappachino a bit more.

Tigra's outfit leaves her underdressed for the season, but there's little question she's comfortable enough. Technically, she's ignoring the 'no shoes, no service' part of the sign, however. While she still eyes Harley and what she's determined to be in the bag, the noisy and obnoxious guy further ahead is causing enough of a ruckus that she makes a face his way. "What a jerk," she decides, eyeing both Jack and Jubilee next. "All I want is a coffee and cream, no coffee. And yeah, you could say you leapt before you looked, guy," as she finishes by speaking to Jack. She mainly ignores the stares from others, used to it by now.

After a morning of finals at her university, Gwen wants nothing more than to relax, and usually coffee shops do the trick just perfectly. She can't complain, today, really. She did rather well on the exams (at least, she thinks she did) and now, while adjusting one of the straps of her backpack, she walks toward her favorite coffee place. However, it seems today, apparently, 'relaxing' is not what is going to happen. The Coffee Bean is quite packed today, and she can't help but blink, "Wow…" she tilts her head. Briefly, she considers going somewhere else, especially after seeing the orange-furred cat-woman, thinking trouble may be brewing, but, in the end, decides to step in. If push comes to shove, she can always intervene, and so she heads to the end of the line.

"I get the feeling there's a story here…" Jubilee hints to Jack, stifling giggles. "Or should I ask the lady?" she adds, with a winsome smile for Tigra.
She looks back to the interestingly-dressed woman with the huge order, just in time to see her scoop a couple mouthfuls of chopped liver /into her purse/. "Wait… what's she doin' that for?" Which would be something to watch if that annoying corporator weren't pushing his irate way past her. "Hey! Jerk," she fires after him.

There are a few moments of hanging tension after the jerk leaves, and then almost a collective sigh if relief. The line doesn't speed up much, but besides a pair of gophers getting their entire office's lunch and coffee orders, neither being overly critical besides double checking they got everything before they politely worm their way throught he crowd even apologizing at the door for holding everyone else up, the biggest issues are past (mainly Harley in her alias of Rosetta Columbiana Arlecchino… and the rude corporate guy). Harley actually seems to pout a bit after the line speeds up, almost as if she was expecting someone else to be making a scene, and decides to dig a bit in to her meal, cutting her sandwich in half and eating half it, finishing the rest of the chopped liver, and sampling a bite of each pie before going back to her people watching and nursing of her cold beverage (what kind of nut ball drinks a Quintuple Chocolate Frozen Cappachino this time of year?)

Man forgotten as he storms out, Jack turns back to Jubilee, "She was at the tree, I was an asshole and well, cat-like, eyeing the tree. I thought she might want to climb it. Being the stupid fat-face I am, I went to the tree to try and dissuade her, but then, that made me the tree culprit." Turning to look at the leady stuffing her purse a moment, his head turns to Tigra, eyes on the lady with the purse. "Sorry, I was stupid for that."

Tigra's tail does what it tends to, which is to say it sways and twitches on its own as others enter the coffee shop. Getting closer to the front of the line, she seems to pay attention to as much as she can by splitting her focus between the people she's talking to, those she's been watching, and keeping alert to whatever else in any way possible. "He was very impulsive," she tells Jubilee with a serious look to her, then she rolls her bare, fuzzy shoulders at Jack. "No harm done."

"Sounds like that was the most populated tree in New York for a while," Jubilee teases, grinning at Tigra and Jack. "Maybe it's just as well that I wasn't there to see it." As she'd have plenty to tease the two about.
She's just thinking about that when somebody else that that obnoxious man pushed past finally loses her balance, stumbling into the colorfully-dressed girl. There's a thud, a gasp, a splash, and a yelp, the last from Jubilee as she feels hot coffee soaking into the leg of her jeans. "Oh, fudge! Ow-ow-ow… 'scuse me!" she says quickly, slipping out of line and dashing for the ladies' room, unfastening her pants as she goes.

Gwen reaches into her backpack to pick up her smartphone while the people in front of her in the line chat about… stuff. She really isn't paying attention. As she browses the apps on her phone, she suddenly stops and frowns. To the outside viewer, that's all she does, but, in her mind, she is feeling her danger sense tingling inside her, and then she sighs, heavily. "Now right now…" she mutters under her breath. It seems trouble loves to follow her.

Fate is fickle, perhaps the departures are fortunate, as the lavatory and front doors fling open and masked guys with shotguns and automatic handguns block the exits. The shortest of the ones from by the front door shouts in a sort of nasally and possibly congested voice, "We are the Local Organized Social Equality Revolution Squad, we are tired of these corporate elite and their ever growing prices. We demand a return to simpler times, when Coffee was a nickle a cup, and people could get everything they wanted on minimum wage. We are taking this and other such establishments that cater to the 1% Slime. You are all our hostages unless the government puts an end to this elitism. We are tired of a declining bourgeoisie and ever growing poverty line. If our demands are not met, all you rich hoity toity snobs will feel the wrath of the Local Organized Social Equality Revolution Squad!!!" then he fires his pistol into the ceiling, causing some drywall to fall on his head.

Looking down into her purse, Harley whispers, "Yes, I realize what their initials are. Yes, it is funny. I have no idead if they live up to it. Now hush Burnie, we don't need them hearing you and taking offense." her left hand creaping slowly into the purse as she slides off her seat, her arm seeming to disappear to nearly shoulder, as if the purse is much deeper then it looks. Seems this is who she was waiting for… how she knew may be a question for later, but for the time being, she is preparing to do something…

Before Jubilee can even reach the bathroom, things go down. "Great. Just great," Tigra mutters, instinctively ducking the moment people with hidden faces and guns appear from multiple spots. About the time Harley's saying what she is, the feline says, "Local..Organized…wait. LOSERS? You guys are LOSERS? You actually have an organization for that?" As soon as the loudest one shoots up and is struck by part of the falling ceiling, she scoffs, "That explains a lot. Everybody down!" As for Jack, she brushes past him in a rush to get at the leader, striking out with an attack to knock the gun out of his hand. "I wanted some cream, and I'm not letting you keep me from it!"

Gwen has to blink at the group's name. It can't just be a coincidence. But Tigra beats her to the punch in actually saying it out loud. In any case, the blonde mentally curses. She should've left the moment she felt the tingling, but now she is trapped in this place, unable to change into her costume. She'll have to be sneaky, now. Can't run, or else she'd be shot, at worst, or have her secret identity revealed, at best. Neither are good outcomes.

Looking around a little as this unfolds, Jack does not just catch onto LOSERS acronym, he is blinking at not catching it. Unlike most, he's in the group of still standing when guns and weapons are drawn. "Losers?" He looks around, not even thinking about masks as Tigra brushes past him, "No … wait …" He is saying, as if, attacking them at random could lead to them opening fire on everyone else. But that makes it too late with Tigra and her speed. That only leaves him to turn towards the nearest one, perahsp by the entrance. "Ya, this is a weird day," he says, walking straight towards the nearest one.

The L.O.S.E.R.S. Leader starts to sputter, "We're not… hey…" then is caught off guard as Tigra kicks his pistol from his hand, "So, the corporate lapdog… er… lap… cats? Whatever, you have come to supress our noble cause. You shall fall to our… Winningnessocity." Perhaps jack is partly right, as the masked people begin corralling people at gunpoint, but the abrupt attacks were obviously not the reaction they had planned for, and like the Leader, the guys flanking him are so shocked at people not cowering in terror that the one Jack is approaching actually seems to be struggling to release the safety on his.

Not to be left out of the fun, Harley pulls her immense mallot from her purse and swings it into the chest of one of the guys near the bathrooms… despite the handle of the mallot being nearly a foot taller then her and the head of the mallot defintely being slightly larger then the entire purse. Too add to matters, she reaches into the purse and flings a taxidermist beaver with claws raised across the room to a L.O.S.E.R.S. member starting to creep toward the Baristas and Cash Register… finally, as if to say there is still somehow space left in the purse, a Dachshund leaps out of it, onions and bits of chop liver on its face… the Dachshund snarling as it nips at L.O.S.E.R.S. while scurring through the room, sniffing… then pausing near Gwen and seeming to bark encouragingly at her.

Gwen cannot act. Not without revealing her secret identity, and with J. Jonah Jameson's crusade against spider-folk in his newspaper, that would mean suicide for the blonde, so she is forced to act like the common pedestrian she is pretending to be, and she just raises her hands when a gun is pointed at her. Thankfully, though, the 'loser' pointing a gun at her is distracted by Harleen's 'bag of tricks', and Gwen takes the opportunity to advance on the guy and grab the hand holding the gun, pushing it up to the ceiling as she goes for a punch on the guy's face, measuring her strength so her punch's strength doesn't feel out of place coming from a girl like her.

Impulsive and action-oriented, it might not have been reasonable to expect Tigra to just play the role of the docile hostage. Especially given the way it's taken the gunmen off-guard? So far, so good. Immediately after kicking the gun out of the leader's hand, she's upon him to wrap an arm across his neck while forcing the other one behind his back in a painful hold. "I'm nobody's lapcat, and you picked the wrong day to pull a stunt like this." Counting on at least someone else to pitch in, she stares at Harley's way of handling it while she tightens her grip on the one she's dealing with. "This just got a lot more weird."

Not watching Harley's antics, as much as nothing flies in his direction hopefully, Jack facing his guy, turning away from flanker, moves right up there. "Ya, I don't think its gonna work out today," he reaches up. If the guy doesn't figure out safety and trigger, Jack does if for him, simply letting the bullet hit him for affect. To help deter the two on him. No telling what the other activity will do to their morale if he was struggling with the safety to begin with, but he'll throw in his part before he throws in with punching too, not sure if he could pull his punch enough in the manner Gwen Stacy is currently doing at least. "I get it, wrong place wrong time, lets let everyone get back to coffe, you all leave, before someone with a cell phone calls the cops and it looks more grim for your future."

Sputtering in confusion, the Leader starts gasping in terror, "D…d…d… don't eat m…m…m…my f…f…f…face, p…p…p…please? I… I… I… I was just f…f…f…following or…or…orders." then swoons in Tigra's grasp. The guy that Gwen staggers backwards, and then topples as the dachshund seems intent on helping Gwen, whimpering at her as if to try to comminicate something with her. The Taxidermist Beaver rushes through the air, the guy it nearly misses seeming to freak out at its appearance and scramble backwards into a rack of pots of coffee which all cascade down on him and cause him to scream in agony… the beaver meanwhile just clatters to the floor and reamains there. The guy who got hammered in the chest ends up a wall fixture, sitting about four feet off the ground in a hole in the wall. Harley then shouts across the room, "What do you mean you froze up Bernie? You're supposed to be helping me." pausing, "Yes, I know these guys are supposed to be more of a distraction, which is why we're tackling them so real heroes can handle the really nasty stuff. I will not dignifiy that comment with a remark, but you really need to clean up your language." she then pauses, "Jacob, get back in the bag, its is safer in there, and their is lots of room in their to hide." almost getting attacked from behind by a goon, but either by creepy planning or dumb luck, when she stomps her foot and thmbs behind her toward the bag, she ends up stomping on the goon's instep and swinging the top of the mallet into the guy's face, causing him to stumble backwards and topple into the purse… disappearing from view. The guy Jack 'helped' is really stammering, his voice deep and sort of dumb "H… Howja not get hurt? We gotta do what the Boss says. The Boss is the Boss. The Boss won't let us stop."

Gwen watches as the guy she just hit stumbles back, and again she mentally curses not being able to don her costume so she can give those guys some real punishment, but watching the goon topple over backwards, as is tripping on something, makes her blink before she looks down, at the little dachshund, "Oh, hey, thanks, little fella, but you might want to find somewhere safe to hide." she says, smiling, completely missing the other goon completely disappearing into Harleen's magic bag.

Doing her best not to let Harley's way of getting involved distract her, Tigra simply tightens her grip on the guy who's become her own impromptu 'hostage' given the hold she has. It's no more than that, just enough to keep him uncomfortable and more prone to listening to her. "Following orders? Whose orders? Tell me, or I might just try an ear." After the other guy Jack's dealing with babbles, she demands, "The Boss? Who's the Boss? And if you say Tony Danza, I'll…" Her tail lashes to show her mood, fangs visible and bared.

"Okay, okay, do your job, take a couple more shots," says Jack to his fellow saying he has to take orders. I bet it will end up the same, I'm like that, thick headed. So, not backing down either." Then he hitches a thumb towards Tigra, "Ya, what the lovely lady said there, don't know Tony Danza, but ya, you spill that, everyone walks out, no one hurt." Considering all the other kicks, punches, mallets and bags of holding though, he pauses to ad, "Not much at least."

Maybe it is because the L.O.S.E.R.S. are such losers, maybe it is because Gwen is fighting in her civilian identity, maybe it is the spirit of the season causing people to help one another, but where at first it was just Harley's stuffed Beaver and her precious weiner dog along with some fairly obviously superhumans, now the it seems almost everyone is joining in. The elderly lady who got some help on her payment earlier is now protecting the college boy that helped her by beating a goon with her purse, a young couple are taking turns kicking a goon while kissing each other over his downed body between kicks, the baristas are pouring piping hot foam over the screaming downed guy and seem to have placed Bernie beside the tip jar, a couple of geeks are quoting various shows and languages (Game of Thrones and Dothraki, Star Trek and Klingon, Lord of the Rings and Sindarin, Firefly and Muss tongue, Avatar and Na'vi, Clockwork Orange and Nadsat with one guy singing that he is singing in the rain, and even Star Wars with both Huttese and Ewokese). The Dachshund seems adamant to try to lead Gwen back to the bag at first, even trying to tug on her pant leg, but whimpers and gives up, toddling back to the bag and doing a leaping front somersault into it, thought the sound of him landing inside seems to never come.

Harley meanwhile starts twirling her mallet like a majorette and looking around, as if expecting someone to try to take her on, "If anyone wants, I'm a Doctor, and I'm offering free reflex tests for the moment. Any takers?" her back to the bag as she looks around. She does glance toward Tigra and Jack and give a smile and nod, as if to say that she'll let them handle the interrogation portion of the festivities, though she does add, "No, Bernie, those tips aren't for you. The nice servers here deserve every last cent in there."

The leader, having swooned, has no responses, his breathing shallow as all his weight is supported by Tigra holding him up. The other guy meanwhile seems unsure how to answer, "Tony who? Boss not a Tony. Boss hates all guys named Tony. Boss is…" his response paused as if he is trying to find the word, but all he says is, "the Boss." as if he is somehow unable to say the name, doesn't remember the name, or forced to say that instead of the name in some weird form of aphasia. The guy almost seems to be crying, "The Boss is the Boss. The Boss is the Boss… THE BOSS IS THE BOSS." each repetition getting more desperate.

Gwen finally frees her leg from the demanding dachshund, and she confirms the good that she just punched it out cold, probably having hit his head on a table during his fall. She then looks at the other supers, having apparently controlled the situation, so, since she's still in her civilian guise, Gwen settles in just helping the old lady that was just beating on a goon, "That's alright, I think he learned his lesson." she says, smiling, looking at the unconscious goon.

"Maybe he doesn't like furries," Tigra mutters when she realizes the guy in her grasp has actually passed out, leaving him rather useless when it comes to answering questions. She lets him slip to the ground and suggests to a couple nearby patrons who seem willing to help, "If he wakes up, give him a little kick." Now that more people are taking an active role in subduing the poor saps, she moves to quickly help ensure none of them are going to be hurt, though that doesn't seem to be much of an issue any longer. Harley receives a glance that just suggests she's confused at that one's role in all of this, but the babbling of the other gunman leads her closer. "Where is he?" It's not quite Batman demanding it, but she can look intimidating too.

"See, its an impass," responds Jack so the guy stuttering a bit near him. "I don't want to hurt you, I really don't. Then again, no getting away, just stay for the police, they'll protect you from the boss hopefully." That said, if tehre is still a gun in front of him, he'll reach for it to give it a bend to uselessness. Then back to Tigra this time, "I don't know if they get it, what's earth protocol on this, we check their wallets, see where they live. Or let one out and trail him home?"

The Big goon begins to ramble, "Tiny Lithgow Boss, Lord Whorfin, Dr. Lizardo, in his office… Jamie, Tory, Grant, and Adam have been bad, Jamie, Tory, Grant, and Adam must be punished now." and suddenly the guy in the hole in the wall, the guy covered in coffee, the big goon, and the leader all seems to start foaming in the mouth, their eyes rolling back in their heads."

Most besides the old woman Gwen was helping, most of the people seem to have stopped, and are either helping clean up or restrain the downed L.O.S.E.R.S. The old lady gets in a few more whacks, just for good measure. She then turns to Gwen and comments, "Thank you for your help young lady. I'm Mrs. Penelope Priddy." giving a vapid look to Gwen. The chaos as passed, and several people seem to have their cellphones out, some texting or on social media, some taking pictures, some making calls to the authorities, and a few talking to family or friends.

Picking up Bernie and depositing him in her purse, Harley puts away her mallet, boxes and bags her food, and then wanders over toward Jack and Tigra's interrogation, "Looks like they're under some major brainwashing or mental influence." and then as they start foaming, "Crud, their programming or the mental influence is triggering some kind of seizures. Get them on the floor and on their sides, keep their airways clear." she starts looking around and repeats the directions to people near the other three foaming guys, "These guys need immediate medical attention." for the first time seeming serious and actually frowning, "Whoever did this is a psycho."

As soon as the whole scope of the situation changes to one that actually has the assailants in more danger than expected, Tigra shifts into more of a helping mode rather than attacking. "Good thing I didn't knock any of them out. Maybe this was all against their will, if that guy is any indication." She's gestured toward the one who kept repeating things about the Boss, and she shares a glance with the other primary ones aiding with this as she moves a couple of the downed men into better positions. "This whole thing is a little abnormal," she has time to tell Jack.

Blinking too as the mallet girl with the attacking beaver is saying they need medical attention, Jack doesn't recall hitting any of them himself either. Turning to Tigra with that thought, "Ya, rather odd, and I've seen a lot of weird wild stuff mind you." Not that she would mind, she wouldn't know about space adventures the man has had. "Situation over, I'll phone the police on my way out, in case no one else bothered in this mayhem." Considering the people in the establishment started getting in on beating up, or spilling hot liquid, on the trouble makers. "Good to see you again though, even if I made myself a fool the other day." He offers a wave to Tigra at least, starting to head for the front door, walking around the L.O.S.E.R.S

Gwen smiles as she helps the older woman to get back on her seat, "And I'm Gwen Stacy. A pleasure to meet you, ma'am." she says, nodding gently, before sharply turning her head toward the goons as one of them starts blabbering louder and louder, in time to see all of them starting to get some seizures, "What the hell…?" she blinks, shocked. This isn't good. At least the danger seems to have passed, if her lack of danger sense tingling is any indication, and it IS!

As in all things, paramedics, even though called after the cops, arive well before them. Most people seem back on edge a bit by the four guys that having seizures, but most stuff returns to normal. One of the Baristas takes one of the to go carafes for companies that like to just buy a few large pots for the whole office, fills it with cream, and places it on the counter with the name 'Tiger Lady' along with a thank you note that mentions it is free of charge. Since Jack's order wasn't made, one of the Baristas stealthily slip him a $20 Coffee Bean Gift Card with the thank you note to him before he can get out the door, but understanding his need to be gone before the cops arrive. As the cops arrive, they hall off all the rest of the L.O.S.E.R.S. that aren't receiving medical care, and start taking statements.

Not wanting to having to handle some awkward questions, Harley slips out with one of the EMT Teams, giving some valid information, then disappearing into the afternoon crowds. She probably wouldn't have minded staying if she had a better reputation, but even a cleared criminal record still shows up in an investigation and throws up red flags, all of which Harley doesn't need.

The cops take statements from almost everyone, making their way through the people, thanking everyone and mentioning they'll be in touch if they have furhter inquiries. Oddly, none of them spoke with the elderly lady, and she seems to disappear just as the cops finish their questioning.

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