Rue's Origin Story Sunday, May 28, 2000 Rue, Sandy, Jessica Firestone ----- Rue is moving through the crowds, looking for somebody in particular. . o ( Come on, Rue, you'll never find him in a city this size. ) ---Rue's Desc--- Her features show such a mixed heritage that the only word one could use for sure is human...and in this city, maybe not even that. Her refined face has high cheekbones, a slightly squat nose, and is covered by skin the color of light coffee. Near-black eyes have a slight almond slit to them, almost oriental. This indeterminate face is framed by a fountain of coppery ginger dreadlocks, each one ending in a crystal bead of random color, and a few in bells that jingle as she moves. Continuing down, one reaches a slender, waif-like body, she stands about five seven, but has the thin clothes-horse figure most supermodels strive for, without their half-starved look. Her breasts are relatively small, her hips slender, making her look almost like an adolescent girl, although she is definitely some years older than that. She is wearing a black bodysuit, strapless and covering only as far up her chest as the demands of decency require. On its back is embroidered a silver eastern dragon. Tight black, leather jeans cover her legs, ending in leather boots with three inch heels and chrome buckles around her ankles. A black belt encircles her waist, with a buckle enamelled with a yin/yang symbol. No less than three silver hoops run up the sides of each ear, and raindrop shaped ear-rings depend from her lobes. Three entwined silver chains encircle her throat. On her left shoulder is an intricate tattoo of the Statue of Liberty. ----- ...but apparently, Rue doesn't believe in the amazing coincidence of comic books -- because there, about half a block ahead of her, visible through a momentary part in the crowd, is a familiarly curly mop of bright yellow hair. Yeah, and that dead givaway logo on the back of the jacket: 'Young All-Stars'. Rue ahas. Quietly. Very quietly. She doesn't approach too closely. . o ( I wonder if he's really a superhero. He's here, and he does seem to be /real/. ) Sandy is quite amazingly corporeal, yes. Not corpulent, thank God, but corporeal. And - hm. He hesitates for a moment, starting to turn around, then shakes his head and keeps walking, quickening his page slightly. He turns down a side street. Rue follows. Or tries to. She's not the world's best stalker, though, and girls dressed like her /don't/ sneak well. Blame the hair. The side street is relatively empty - and unfortunately, once Rue gets there, the golden-haired alleged superhero is nowhere to be seen. There's no way he could've gotten all the way to the next street, but maybe he disapp- ooh. There he is! And - for chrissake, either he wasn't kidding, or he's delusional, because there's no way what he's wearing can possibly be anything but a costume. Complete with mask, gauntlets, and boots. Rue blinks. . o ( Oh my god. He /is/ a superhero. That or he's completely insane. ) She hesitates...then continues to follow. ---Sandy's Desc--- You see a tallish, handsome boy in his late teens. He appears to be extremely self-assured, despite his youth and its accompanying awkwardness. An aura of smug superiority surrounds him, and permeates his every movement - yet there's something about him that says he's not a -total- wiseacre, or a complete jerk. Maybe it's his deference to the fairer sex, or his helpfulnes to the infirm...or maybe it's the way he looks out for his friends. Wild golden curls, almost Bacchanalian in nature, frame Sandy's young face. His bright cornflower-blue eyes hold an distant look, which could be misunderstood as arrogance if he isn't careful...his identity is kept secret by a red domino mask, which match his boots, gauntlets, collar, and the upper part of his trousers. His long-sleeved cotton shirt and the rest of his trousers are a bright yellow, and the ends of the trousers are tucked into the tops of his boots. All in all, it's definitely an attention-grabbing outfit, which suits the Golden Boy just fine. ----- As he walks, the Golden Boy unsnaps the tops of the holsters at his sides, then hesitantly wraps his fingers around the weapons contained therein - then he straightens and drops his arms to his sides, walking more purposefully. It's been a while since he's gone to 'work' in his gear. Rue might, it's argued, be the one who's actually crazy, as she's following...no weapons, no powers...but she has to see if he's for real... Sandy heads down another side street, into a darker neighborhood - he starts walking closer to the walls of buildings, staying more in the shadows - even though, y'know, he's dressed in red and yellow, for cryin' out loud. Habit. Rue actually blends in better...sort of. Better dressed for it, but utterly no skill. It's almost as if the gods of Cinematography have conspired to make following a superhero as dramatic as possible. Was it sunny before? Well, not really, since it was getting on to be twilight, but now it's definitely not -- there's a thunderhead roiling up abovehead, and a chill wind's started to blow through these, the more deserted streets. Sandy continues to walk, then pauses at the edge of a building -- on the next corner over. He flattens himself against the wall next to a plain wooden door, looking up at the sky. Listening. Rue stops opposite, staying in the shadows. If he /is/ real, she wouldn't want to like...tip off the bad guys or anything. Apparently not hearing anything, or hearing what he was looking for, Sandy turns around and faces the door. He cracks his knuckles, digs in his belt for a second, and starts picking the lock. He's quite intent on it. The wind picks up a bit, touselling his hair and sending dust and the obligatory lone newspaper pages skittering through the gutters. Rue moves closer, slowly, carefully. Pausing once more and looking up with a frown - like he's /sure/ he's not alone - Sandy reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. With a dubious look, he returns his gaze to the task at hand, then finishes with an almost inaudible click. Back in his belt go the allen wrench and pin, and he straightens again, opening the door silently and disappearing inside. Rue sneaks up on the door, opens it and peerpeers around it. Like in the cartoons. Just inside the door, it's pitch black. When your eyes have a moment to adjust, you can see a flight of stone steps, leading way down below street level. Must be a bitch during floods unless there's a drain at the bottom. Sandy's about halfway down, one hand on each wall, moving silently and relatively slowly toward the door at the bottom. There's a faint blue glow coming from beneath the door. Rue takes a deep breath. Okay, this is beyond weird. But...well...she follows in the darkness, /trying/ not to make too much noise. Getting to the bottom of the stairs, Sandy leans with his ear against the door, listening again. In a few seconds, he quickly and silently opens the door a crack and peers in, then opens it fully and goes inside. He leaves it open a crack behind him - better escape route. Rue slips through, it going through her mind that she is really really nuts doing this. After all, it's looking more and more like he is a superhero and she, well, isn't. Inside, unbelievably, /right here in New Avalon/, is a genuine Mad Scientist Lab. Of course, it's probably a legit place, but the fact that it's an echoingly large room with several levels, a warehouseful's worth of lab equipment all buzzing and humming and beeping and sparking, and a bunch of monitors on the wall...well, it all contributes to the working theory. Mad scientist. Gotta be. And - oh, crap - is that monitor showing the stairwell? In infrared...uh-oh. Rue flattens herself against the wall, for what good /that/ will do. Infrared...infrared. No way to block /that/. Oh dear. She is /so/ dead. Just as Sandy and Rue both spot the monitors, and the boy emits an audible intake of breath, the door through which they came slams shut and clicks. Sandy stiffens but doesn't turn, and his hands fly to the holsters at his sides. "Von Graaf?" he asks loudly, an edge in his voice. It echoes slightly, but isn't answered. Rue stays put. Maybe if she doesn't move. No, that wouldn't work either. Calm down, girl. Calm down. Should she run? No...what if Sandy gets into trouble? Even if she tried to run -- that was an awfully final-sounding click. Again Sandy tries, "Von Graaf, I know you're in here! What kind of games are you trying to play?" A disembodied voice answers, seemingly coming from all corners of the room at the same time. "Games?" it hisses, heavily accented. "I play no games, boy. What games do -you- play, dressed in the garb of one long dead? What /games/ do you play, you foolish child, seeking out the greatest enemy of your predecessor's mentor? There is no Sandman!" Rue takes a deep breath and creeps forward. She knows she's been spotted, there's no use pretending any more. Drat. Somebody should have given her a manual. How to be a superhero. "There will -always- be a Sandman!" replies the teenager standing in the middle of the echoing lab, sounding defiant and confident. "And these are my clothes, Von Graaf. And you are -my- enemy, just as you were Sandman's. I have no predecessor, I never died! Come out and face me like a man, instead of lurking and cackling like the Wizard of Oz!" "You lie, boy! If you were truly the same child, you would be an old man. Besides," sneers the voice, "would Sandy the Golden Boy not realize he was being followed by a girl?" Rue claps her hand over her mouth to stifle an eep! Starting, eyes wide, Sandy spins to face Rue. "You..!" he begins, and his shoulders sag slightly. He lets out a humorless laugh. "I guess you took my advice, huh? Welcome to the lab of the dumbest war criminal the Nazis ever wrote a check out to, Dr. Rudolph von Graaf." Rue shakes her head. "I was just...uh...well...can't we just kick this guy's rear and go home?" "You will pay for that insult, boy! Never mock what you do not understand!" cries the thick, accented voice - and it's followed by a shuffling sound off to the right and the sudden appearance of a wizened, bald old man in a stained white labcoat. He's...he's carrying a -very- strange looking gun. "I would not advise that, young lady," he chuckles, ending up in a rasping cough. "I would not advise that in the least." Sandy facepalms. "Look here, von Graaf, let her go. Your crimes must be answered for, but she wasn't a witness to them. She has nothing to do with you. *I'm* the one who's gonna run you in." Rue uhs. "But don't you need help?" She doesn't want to go. . o ( I'm completely insane. But if this guy /is/ a Nazi war criminal, and still up to stuff, somebody should haul him in! ) Another cackle. Von Graaf leers at Rue, raising his spiky, bushy eyebrows. "He needs more than help, young lady - he'll need an undertaker when I'm finished with him! As will you - I can't have witnesses, can I?" Coming slowly, creakily down the steps, von Graaf keeps his eyes (and his gun!) on the two teens, smirking. "I appear to be in luck, no? -Two- prime, healthy specimens to test the results of this," he waves the weapon around slightly, "on." Rue takes her hand away from her mouth, slowly. . o ( Okay, girl, think. What would a real superhero do? ) Her dark eyes flick around the lab. Maybe there's something she could hide behind. Or hit him with? "Don't you know you shouldn't end sentences with prepositions?" snarls Sandy, putting his fists on his hips, Peter Pan style. "Let her go, she's not..." he pauses "...not a danger to you. Besides, I could beat you with both hands tied behind my back!" "My sentences are not your concern, impostor!" yells von Graaf, suddenly pointing the weapon directly at Rue. "Do as I say, or the girl is as good as dead - before your eyes!" Rue is looking right at the barrel. She pales a little, then seems to find some strength. "Sandy, don't listen to him." Sandy shakes his head at Rue. He still seems awfully confident. "It's all right. This is the part where he thinks he's in control, and in a little while, we turn the tables on him." Then he flashes a glare at von Graaf. "And look here, I'm no impostor. I'm Sandy, gosh darn it, Sandy! I just look young for my age!" "Young for your age. Hah!" says von Graaf, laughing again, sounding like a rusty garage door. He approaches Rue, ending up poking the barrel of the gun into her arm. "You would have to be...in your seventies! if you were the original Sandy. Do not make me laugh. Now - go to the second level and flip the first switch on the right. Keep your hands where I can see them." Rue stays absolutely still. Think, girl. Can she remember how to deal with an armed opponent? Drat, the self defense classes pretty much said 'do what he says'. Sandy slowly does as von Graaf says, climbing the stone steps and turning when he gets to the second level. He keeps his hands in the air until he gets to the first console on the right, and scans it for the switch. Von Graaf is watching him -very closely-, and not paying any attention at all to the girl he's got a weapon trained on. After all, girls are mostly harmless, right? "This big green switch?" asks Sandy dubiously, eyeing the console. "What does it do?" "That is not your concern! Flip the switch, boy!" Girls are harmless. Which text book is /he/ reading? More accurately, which /planet/ is he from. Rue does hesitate...but only for a moment, before she reaches across herself, and turns, trying to grab the gun and push it away from herself before snatching it. She hopes. He's from Planet Chauvenistic White Supremacist, apparently. Not hard to believe, considering the setup. At any rate, three things happen at once: Rue pushes the gun away from her arm, von Graaf startles and pulls the trigger, and Sandy bellows the girl's name. "RUE!" ... Sandy, of course, reacts by instantly drawing his wirepoon and firing it at a ceiling vent, jumping from the second level balcony, and going for an airborne kick at the old man on the ground level. An intense, almost white-blue light engulfs Rue, crackling over her skin, crawling up around her hair and making it stand nearly on end, buzzing and snapping. Rue gasps, freezing in place for a moment. Not /quite/ sure what just happened, and afraid to move. Honestly, it's not like it'd take anything more than a purse across the back of his head to knock von Graaf out, so Sandy's kick is almost entirely gratuitous. So sue him, he's a little vehement in his ire over Nazis, -plus- he's worried about Rue. The kick sends the old buzzard flying - it probably cracked a rib or two, and the old man's impact with a row of consoles definitely kayoed him. "Rue! Rue? Hey, are -- oh, /glory/, are you all right? Can you move?" asks Sandy, eyes wide, reaching out to touch the girl with a gloved hand, even as the glow enveloping her begins to fade. His voice is both incredibly concerned and fairly guilty-sounding. Rue blinks a few times. "I'm...I'm not sure. I feel kinda...odd." Sandy bites his lip, gently but surely taking her arm. With his other hand, he lets his line go slack, then flicks his wrist and yanks it free with a solid jerk - it recoils back into his wirepoon, which he absently reholsters. "Are you hurt? Come on, we have to get out of here - I'm sure this guy tripped all kinds of silent alarms when he saw us entering. I'm gonna have to come back a different way next time - get some solid evidence on my side and just call him in." He speaks quickly and quietly, briefly scanning the monitors before he looks back to Rue, face a veritable question mark. Rue manages only, "I..." She looks around nervously. "Maybe we should get out of here?" "Yeah, that's what -- yeah. Come on, let's go," agrees the Golden Boy, gently guiding Rue door-wards if she's reacting slow, if she's in shock. Rue seems...dazed. Maybe in shock, maybe not...definitely slow. You might even have to tug her a little. Sandy doesn't even bother trying to pick the lock this time around - before he gets Rue in front of it, the teen just aims a kick at the wood next to the knob and slams it home: doors open great when showed who's boss. Sandy -does- end up tugging the girl a bit, getting her through the door and started up the stairs. Rue gets tugged...she seems to be getting her breath back, but a little...unsteady on her feet. "Come on, Rue," coaxes Sandy quietly, still pulling, walking up the stairs half turned around. "Not much more -- we're almost there." They finally get there, and he reaches for the door handle. Rue says, "I'm sorry...I feel kinda...dizzy." Just before Sandy reaches for the door, it opens. A giant stands there, a woman of deep copper skin and black hair. She beckons the pair out of the stygian depths and into the lands of man, once more. ---Jessica's Desc--- Standing well over seven feet tall, Firestone is a well muscled woman with a mahogany complection. Her black hair is tied in a braided ponytail that trails down her back, the spiked steel ball at the end seeming nothing more than an affectation. Her clothes are casual, some sort of spandex exercise outfit under a loose tank top and sweat pants. Her shoes appear to be a pair of sandals with straps made out of steel cable. Her toenails, like her fingernails, are painted a rich purple. This woman's expression is mildly cheerful, and her posture is exuberant, as befits an amazon of her stature. ----- Sandy immediately drops into a defensive position, making sure he's blocking Rue. "Hey! Who are you and what do you want?! Do you work for von Graaf?" Rue isn't sure how many more shocks she can take today...she stays behind Sandy, trying to get her breath back. Jessica Firestone straightens up. Muscles like steel cords, only ever so much stronger, slide beneath her skin. She points north, silently. Sandy relaxes ever so slightly. He straightens, and reaches back, silently offering Rue his hand. Stepping out of the doorway, he doesn't take his eyes off the amazon standing in front of him. "No, listen, we have to go, okay? The cops are on their way and we have to leave -- but I'm not about to take her away with some stranger. So buzz off, will you?" Rue tries to hide behind Sandy. Eep. That chick can see her face...drat, she should have got herself a mask. Jessica Firestone nods, and points in a different direction. Rue peers around Sandy. And /stares/. . o ( Oh my...goddess? ) Eyeing the tall stranger, Sandy carefully skirts her, pulling Rue gently along with him. He starts off down the street, watching over his shoulder. Jessica Firestone speaks. Once, with urgency pressed into the one, short syllable. "Go." Rue glances over her shoulder...getting pulled. . o ( Oh boy. ) "Right," says Sandy, walking faster. He just shakes his head, thinking, . o O (MAN, this place is weird.) He keeps glancing back at Rue, though, and asks her quietly, "Do you want me to keep holding your hand, or are you good now?" Rue says, "I think I'm...fine...feeling a bit better now. What the heck did he hit me with?" Jessica Firestone waits, a second, and then reaches through the door, and taps, once. The sounds of creaking and collapsing stairs can be heard. Rue frowns. . o ( Who is she and why is she helping us? ) "I have no idea," replies Sandy frankly, grimacing. "But you're still alive, and you still look human, and -- did you hear something?" He slows and stops, peering back past Rue. Rue turns. "Yeah, it sounded like a nice big crash." Rue still looks a few shades pale. Not /quite/ enough to be thought white. Sandy squints into the darkness. "But she's still standing there. I don't...know...come on, we've gotta get you to a hospital. Let them check you out for unseen effects. The cops will seriously be here any second." Rue nods. "Yeah, let's go...and I don't...think we want to mess with her, either."