New York In The Time Of Monsters - Port Authority

[gone_byebye]

The door opens onto the corner of Thirty-ninth and Eighth streets on a bright and sunny afternoon. It's a cluster of what most Americans would consider alarmingly large buildings- strictly average for New York, you understand. Forty and fifty floors, tops. You get much taller ones further south, in the Financial District. You get more people here, though- lots of them, in and out of the buildings- and a lot more cars, most of which are being driven by desperate people all striving like hell to beat each other to the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel.

None of the electric signs are working. None of the street lights are functioning. The buildings' shadows are only penetrated by headlights, taillights, and reflections of sun- which is probably exactly as the creatures roaring to each other somewhere nearby like it. It's hard to tell where they are, what with the throngs of people and cars-

Well. No.

The ones who're screaming and running like hell are probably a really good directional clue.

"I got a radio for you from the Bar," says Ray. "Call me or the other Ghostbusters on it if you need anything, okay? I'm going back to the Bar to see who else can lend a hand."

Comments

[slayer_fray]

She's on foot, but she's still faster than any baseline human, and running flat out, she can at least hope that she's fast enough to give a sabre tooth a run for its money.

Mel cuts a wide arc, stepping over rubble and rolling under planks, putting as many obstacles betwen her and them as possible.

There's not enough obstacles in the construction site, though. She needs ground she understands. Spinning suddenly, she races to the edge of the site, towards the bus depo.

[gone_byebye]

The cats are swift, but they're in an environment they don't understand. The noise and the smells confuse them, and confusion slows them down. They follow at a gallop, but it's a gallop that requires navigating the obstacles of twenty-first century New York City, which means that the prey about keeps an even distance between the cats and herself.

(Behind her, unseen, the dead sabertooth is starting to blow away as dust. The bones will be there when she returns, and the great scimitar teeth- but the flesh is gone in a fall of blue-grey powder.)

[slayer_fray]

Mel, on the other hand, understands the environment perfectly. It's her home, her city, her... well, maybe not her one true love, but it's a close second behind Turtle Boy.

She checks behind her to make sure they're following, and skids around the corner of the bus terminal, ducking in the first door she comes to.

One inside, she stops, leaps up and grabs the wall, hanging precariously above the door.

[gone_byebye]

Under other circumstances this scene would be immensely entertaining as the sabertooths learned about automatic doors the hard way. Unfortunately, the city-wide blackout means that the doors have jammed in the open position, so there will be no repeated thudding of doors into big cats.

At least their gallop will turn into skidding as the remaining sabertooths try to bring themselves to a halt and get a bead on their prey?

[slayer_fray]

That's the idea, at least. Mel holds on for only a second before dropping down- she didn't have timeto choose her target, because it's more important to get the kill first. So it's just the nearest cat she throws herself at, blade swinging heavily as she drops.

[gone_byebye]

It's a big one. This is Smilodon populator, whose name means 'bringer of devastation', and even accounting for the dramatic tendencies of paleontologists it's still damned impressive. Five hundred pounds of angry lion rear up to try and fend off the blade with one forepaw.

'Try' is the operative word here. The cat's not fast enough to beat the Slayer's strike.

[slayer_fray]

Maybe so, but still, Mel's about a hundred pounds soaking wet, so even though she gets a swing in, when that paw hits her, it send her flying, knocking the swing out of whack.

She had hoped for a clean decapitation. Instead the blade sheers through a portion of the skull as it trails behind her. Still, Mel reflects, it's probably still a kill.

She rolls the second she hits floor, and bolts towards the static escalators ahead of her.

[gone_byebye]

Yep! Paff goes the beast's flesh, and the bones clatter to the floor. The other cats scramble backwards over each other trying to get out of the weird phenomenon's way. It's only the smallest that has the wit to jump forward instead of back, and so the smallest of the bunch finds itself in the lead as they resume pursuit of the Prey That Fights Back.

[slayer_fray]

Now, that's just rocketship. Kind of like a lu...

Oh, right. Mel's running, really. Though if he knew of the title, Harth would probably be proud.

She takes the escalator two steps at a time and turns around to spear sharply at the runt of the pack as it gains.

She also wantsto see how the others are handling the escalator.

[gone_byebye]

The runt has this in its favor: it's more nimble than the bigger members of the pride. The pointed end of the scythe digs into its shoulder and some of its flank instead of its chest as it twists aside. For a moment, it manages to balance on the escalator handrail. Then it loses its footing and tumbles back to the steps.

The others are not doing nearly so well. This isn't an escalator designed for more than two people at a time to go side by side, and their forms are too broad to manage navigating it properly. They've done what every New Yorker who's ever found the escalator too crowded does instead: looked around, found the nearby staircase, and headed for that. They're planning to sprint up and corner the prey from above instead.

[slayer_fray]

That's fine, it gives Mel a chance to rotate scythe around and finish off kitten #3 while she's waiting.

Now she's standing about halfway down the escalator, and at a disadvantage - they might have found it hard to get up, but they'll find it easy as hell to get down.

So she runs back up again, determined to face them head on.

[gone_byebye]

Paff. Again the flesh dissolves and the bones are all that's left.

The sabertooths are roaring now, racing around to the escalator and readying themselves to pounce. In a wolf-pack there would be a moment when all the pack decided, as individuals, to leap at once- but these aren't wolves, and for all that they're social cats, they're still cats. Two of them spring forward. One is bound to miss, but the other's got some nasty claws on him.

[slayer_fray]

Oh crap he really does, doesn't he? Maybe taking them head on was a really really bad idea?

Too late to regret that now, because Mel's busy diving under the cat's pounce, taking a massive pawful of claws in her thigh. Which rips further when she twists in the air and stabs up.

Four.

[gone_byebye]

Gonk gonk gonk gonk goes the skull as it falls down the stairs- it might be a perfectly articulated skeleton, but there's no connective tissue left to hold it in place, just the blue dust. The other sabertooth would circle around if it only could, but it's not entirely sure where to put its paws in order to reverse direction and get a clear strike at the bleeding prey.

[slayer_fray]

Mel sucks in air through her teeth as she pulls a bloodied piece of pants leg of her leg, before looking up at the lion... tiger... huge fangy beast.

"Oh com'on, you're not going to make me do all the work?"

[gone_byebye]

If it spoke English, the response would be along the lines of: I'm a cat. We don't do cooperation.

They also don't do indecision for very long. The sabertooth braces its paws and manages to turn about, but thanks to its positioning and its generally bad luck today, it's more of a dive than it is an actual pounce.

[slayer_fray]

Mel smirks and doesn't even bother to move, swinging her weapon up with confident ease.

Five.

Mind, when the blue dust flies all over the sticky mess that is her leg, she pulls a disgusted face.

Limping up to the second floor again, she looks around for the rest of the pack. How many were there again?

[gone_byebye]

Seven or eight, weren't there? Something like that.

Definitely seven, if only because there are two others that took a different stairway, got lost, and are glaring down at the figure on the escalator from the next level up- near one of the entrances to the bus garage.

[slayer_fray]

Something like that. Mel wasn't counting.

Now she has the disadvantage of height, again, and she's injured.

So she does what any crazy injured person with a death wish would do. She stands back, waves her red blade around excitedly and yells.

"Hey! Vampcats! You wanna know what I think of your Moms?"

[gone_byebye]

Did they understand? Maybe.

Did they roar in response? Sure.

Are they running pell-mell for the staircase to try and make their way down to her level again? Hell yeah.

Don't insult a big cat's momma unless you plan to follow up on it.

[slayer_fray]

Mel rocks back on her leg, decides that it can and will take her weight, and runs forward to meet them, waving from side to side to create a moving target In the end she aims for a point dead centre between them, and puts on one final burst of speed.

[gone_byebye]

The sabertooths try to match her speed, but for them that would involve slowing down. It's not a good thing to do at full gallop. It throws off your pacing. The cat on the left stumbles, and the one on the right makes an awkward swipe at Mel's leg- or at the place where it assumes Mel's leg is supposed to be.

[slayer_fray]

Mel's leg was there until a fraction of a second ago. Now she's leaping over, diving and rolling and slices to the right with her scythe.

Not a deathstroke, maybe, but crippling?

[gone_byebye]

The scythe slices right through the cat's forelimb's major tendons and it yowls, crashing to the ground on that side. It tries to get up again and the leg dangles uselessly beneath it. As for the other sabertooth, the one that stumbled, it's found its footing and it's watching Mel warily.

You do that when you're all out of backup.

[slayer_fray]

That one's the problem, though, isn't it?

Mel leaves the crippled cat alone for now, taking a few steps towards the one remaining.

Then she grins ferrally, and races forwards towards it.