The Culinary Institute of America, as Flynn so astutely put it, is a former Jesuit seminary. As such it's located more towards the IBM corporate campus than any of the other lcations already under inspection. As such, it's rather more remote than the others; one side of the property is bounded by US Highway 9, and the other side overlooks a steep drop down to the Hudson River. The Highway 9 side is all but hidden from the world thanks to trees galore, most of which are conifers, the rest of which are putting on a stunning display of autumn color.

It's some distance from the highway across campus to the old main building, but it's probably simpler than making the assault from the river side....

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

md_donighal

Vulture has good reflexes. Against a baseline human — the actual Rudy Spiess, for instance — he'd probably have landed right on the guy's head and been able to catch him so far off-balance he never recovered, possibly never recovered anything.

Michael Daemon Donighal, even operating at his 1920s power level, is very much not a baseline human. He gets out of Vulture's way while the man is plummeting, dodging the very moment the other has irrevocably let go of the tree branch.

WHAM!

Maybe he should have gone to pouncing school. Michael waits a few moments to see if Vulture's conscious, capable of actual fighting, or otherwise a danger to himself and others.

From:

gone_byebye

He's conscious. stunned as hell and cradling his left arm and gasping for breath, but conscious. "Ooooow... what the hell," he moans.

People don't move like that!

From:

md_donighal

"Exactly. The hell. Want to try that again, or would you rather be smart?" It's said with no discernible fear. The fiery-haired man in the gray suit is smiling as if at some private joke.

From:

gone_byebye

The man peers up at the speaker. "Okay," he says, "you're not Chef Rudy."

He's doing his best to look harmless as he considers his options. You gotta give a guy credit for that.

From:

md_donighal

"And you, in turn, are not a fierce jungle animal. So that's two things we know." Unnoticeable to the other, Michael turns on a millimeter-wave filter, scanning the man for metal as he scanned for the Cybermen.

From:

gone_byebye

9mm, telescoping baton of the sort termed the Tonya Harding special, ammo for the 9mm, a few piercings. Nothing outstanding for his ilk.

"'parently not," he says. "Can I get a hand up, though?"

Nobody's supposed to be moving around on campus just now except him, his buddies in the gazebo, and the guys down by the river. Something Must Be Done.

From:

md_donighal

"Since you're down anyway, I suppose. That arm's not broken, is it?" He sounds as though he might be concerned, maybe even genuinely.

From:

gone_byebye

"I don't think so," says Vulture. "The wrist, though- I think it's sprained or something-"

He's hoping to pull this guy in close and hit him with the good hand.

From:

md_donighal

"Probably best to keep any strain off it, then." Too quickly to believe, he's grabbing Vulture's good arm and pulling him to his feet. His grip on the arm doesn't loosen right away, though.

(Behind the affable mask, he's considering how hot he can make all that metal without violating the "no melting" clause Ecto mentioned.)

From:

gone_byebye

"Whoa!" yelps Vulture, staggering more than a little. Plans tend to go out the window when motion and leverage are completely arrayed against you. "That- uh- I mean thank you-"

Okay, okay, um... plans, right, he can think of something new-

From:

md_donighal

"Quite welcome. What were you doing up there, anyway?" he asks, all wide-eyed innocence, dusting the guy down.

(And if his fingers happen to get a little too close to the telescoping baton, that's the breaks, so to speak. And if the baton begins, imperceptibly at first, to warm up... okay, that's probably a little weird.)

From:

gone_byebye

"I was supposed to be meeting Chef Rudy out here," says Vulture, grabbing at the first thing to come to mind. "He and I, we're old buddies. Have you see him? I haven't seen anybody on campus tonight."

Huh. That's... odd, right? Is he imagining the heat?

From:

md_donighal

"I saw a couple of rough-looking customers back by the gazebo," Michael jerks a thumb in that general direction, "but I decided I'd better stay out of their way."

Yeah, he must be imagining the heat. If it were real, it'd be affecting his nine, right? Or his piercings?* It sure feels like the baton is getting slowly but steadily hotter, though... and this guy in the suit hasn't actually let go yet...

* Michael briefly considered those as additional targets, but decided that heating up the gun and/or its ammo could explode the bullets, and that that would be about as rude as heating the piercings. The piece is still off limits and will remain so, but the piercings are being held in reserve in case Vulture makes himself really obnoxious.

From:

gone_byebye

"Oh yeah? Good for you," says Vulture. "Real sensible. Uh... so you haven't seen Rudy, huh?"

He's gotta be imagining the heat. There's nowhere for it to come from. He's just gonna stand back now and see if that doesn't get this guy to let go of him. yeah.

From:

md_donighal

"Nobody who looked like him. But we might want to find security — tell them about those guys, get your wrist looked at, make sure you don't have any other injuries, that sort of thing."

Then the baton really heats up, just long enough that Vulture will notice it, just hot enough that it'll turn the nearby skin an angry red... and then it cools back down to that dull heat he thought he was imagining. "Or maybe we should stop dancing around."

From:

gone_byebye

"Yowtch!" says Vulture, distracted by the baton; he only looks up in time to hear the last sentence, and has to blink twice to process it.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," he says, and attempts to throw a punch with the good hand.

From:

md_donighal

It's lucky that Michael let go of Vulture's wrist while the other was distracted, or things would've gotten really awkward, at least for Vulture.

Certainly, there's nothing awkward about the way Michael catches the incoming punch just shy of his face, then moves the hand down quickly and firmly. He's squeezing just hard enough to make it clear how much harder he could squeeze if he felt it necessary.

Through it all, the red-haired man's face maintains that same air of unruffled calm. He's not smiling anymore, but he doesn't look particularly angry either, and there's no sign of actual fear.

From:

gone_byebye

We're talking about a man who jumped out of a tree instead of waiting in the shadows on the ground like any sensible person. Awkward? What's that?

... okay, the fist catching thing is a little bit beyond his experience, and his other hand isn't up to grabbing the baton just yet, but he has got legs and they work just fine, so he's going for a curb-stomping sort of instep-to-shin contact. The crotch is too easy a target and everyone alive protects it first anyway.

From:

md_donighal

Many of Michael's fighting instincts were shaped by his 22 formative years as a baseline human, so he still has an impulse to protect his groinal region. As such, he doesn't notice the foot coming at his shin until it's almost connected.

He locks legs with the other and pushes him to the ground, landing on top of him. "You don't come here for the hunting, do you?" he whispers in Vulture's ear. (It's not that he's actually attracted to him, Quantum Unity knows; it's just a polite way of letting him know how fucked he is and how fucked he could be.)

From:

gone_byebye

This was not in the plan. This was SO not in the plan. This was NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS in the plan.

"Peck isn't paying me enough for this," Vulture blurts out and tries to scramble out from underneath somehow.

From:

md_donighal

Michael stands up, lifting Vulture up with him in an uncomfortable embrace which, somewhere along the line, shifts into hands on shoulders. "And I don't really have time for it, so we're just about even. Shall we get this over with quickly?"

From:

gone_byebye

Some guys just aren't suited for fights they don't win in the first or second round.

"I'm gonna get my ass handed to me on a plate if I say no, right?"