2018.04.03:DantesSquare

Dante's Square
A community clean up project that could have gone better
IC Date	April 3rd, 2018
IC Time	afternoon
Players	Wyatt_Slack(st), Maria, Branton, Jasen, Winter Fawn, Sirius, Amelia, Darius_Yates
Location	Dante's Square Park
Prp/Tp	Dante's Square part 1
Spheres	Mortal plus
Theme Song	Godspell - Beautiful City http://youtu.be/EXezjFLTl-c

Dante Square

This neighborhood has seen better days. Once a thriving shipping hub with a railroad depot and dozens of warehouses with a thriving community of workers around them, this area has been hit by economic depression for at least four decades now and it shows. The streets are dirty and have potholes everywhere, the few open businesses are convenience stores and liquor stores, pawn shops, cheap restaurants and a couple of heavily guarded and secured marijuana dispensaries. Dante Square Park, once a jewel of the city, is now a cluttered, shadowed, graffiti covered no-man's land where only fools go after dark. Drug activity and gang violence are the norm here and hope is in short supply.

---

The kinfolk network, Garou and otherwise, throws a wide net and when a semi-estranged member of the community, Sofia Ortez asked for some more willing hands and strong backs to help clear up her neighborhood in conjunction with her church, people answered the call. Those of you who have done so see that the area desperately needs that help. Weed and garbage cluttered streets and sideways, the pavement and tarmac often broken, grafitti-covered walls and the occasional needle or burned glass pipe on the ground testify to how far this neighborhood has fallen.

Sofia is a older Latina woman, a bit weathered and humbled by a lifetime spanning five or more decades, but she's straight-backed and her dark eyes are sharp and knowing. She is dressed in jeans and a modest blouse, work boots and has on thick leather gloves. Looking at all of you, there is a sense of approval about her, though she doesn't seem to be given much to smiles. Her voice is hoarse and rough from years of chain smoking, but her tone is warm as she says, "Thank you so much for coming."

Branton is a bald, well off looking white dude with pronounced european features, what could possibly go wrong? He does have garbage bags, extra yard tools and things in the back of his truck bed along with a locked cargo box. The truck is a current modle year extended cab pick up that's well maintained but looks like its actually seen some work. Branton nods at Sofia "Happy to help out, where do we start?"

Helping unload the truck, Winter's got her curls tied back and adjusts her glasses. The gun store owner in cargo pants and a long sleeved shirt that covers her tattoos. What is distinct about the woman is her leg, or rather lack of one, though she moves comfortably on the prosthetic. "Seems like there's a little bit of every thing going on. Maybe get some folks on trash and some one weeds to start?"

Maria almost missed the ride there. Arriving at the last minute and sprinting to catch the gate of Branton's truck. The teen managed to swing herself up over it and land in the back atop the garbage bags, before giving a sudden yelp and rolling off a shovel poking her in the keister. The rest of the ride was peaceful, at least. When they arrive, Maria hops out and looks around the area. There's a crack as she steps on the remains of a plastic gel cap which once held a dose of heroin. She scrapes it out of the treads of her sneaker and then looks to see where she's needed.

Sirius has been in and out of neighborhoods like this one for most of the year he's been living in Prospect. At this point, he can mostly blend in. Mostly. Sort of. He's not a white guy, but his head is clean-shaven and his clothing is casual, sensible, and a couple years out of date - hand-me-downs most likely. He's approaching from the back of the group, tugging on a pair of work gloves that look a little too snug, like maybe he's borrowed them from someone else. "I will weed, if you like. I do better with plants than plastic." It's an attempt at a joke, at least.

Jasen is a little late to the party, but he had shit to wrangle up so it's probably excusable tardiness. Also he needs someone to drive him because he's functionally incapable of doing it himself. A short-bus rolls up, painted matte black and covered in graffiti itself. A few generic Bone Gnawer bum kin climb out and don't stick around for meet and greets, the urban scum know what they're doing and part of that is scavenging. Jasen is the last off, followed by a pair of tubby, god damned ENORMOUS rats from the depths of the deepest sewers. He has a backpack with some supplies of his own, and it's mostly made of duct tape, and there's probably more crap on the bus if anyone runs out of whatever. Limping towards the gang with his rat headed cane in hand, the gutter punk gives Branton a chin up nod and their hostess, so to speak, a respectful nod of his head while his rat bros go get lost in shadows and stay out of the open.

Wyatt is also dressed to work in faded blue jeans, a hoodie and boots. He also caught a ride with Branton. He seems a little put off by just how bad the neighborhood is, obviously trying not to stare. One thing is for certain, Dante Square is a world away from Amarillo, Texas. "Wellll, I can see why you called." His slow, North Texas accent is a little thick on that line.

Amelia arrives and parks off to the side, not getting in the way. She knows some of the people here, so it's not so bad. There's a wave to people as she heads over. "I'm guessing this is where we're all meeting up." the Irish woman states with a smile. Then she's grabbing a bag and a pair of gloves to prepare for picking up trash. She's wearing old jeans and a sweater to help out in.

Sophia gives one and all that approving look and she says, "It means a lot to us that you have come. It was ...hard... to find local volunteers." Her voice is tight at that and there is a sense that there is a world of things she isn't saying. "We're going to clean around the outside of the park. If you're particularly brave, maybe you can tackle the fountain in there, but it's maybe not a good idea." She nods towards the park and the small crowd near the entrance.

Most of the activity near the park seems to be coming from what looks to be a store-front church, run out of a building that once housed a K-Mart, to judge by the outline of the letters still visible on the wall above the doors. Above those dusty glass doors is a banner that reads, "Redemption Church of the Holy Spirit - All Welcome in the name of God". Despite the sentiment and the size of the building, it looks like the congregation only numbers in the tens. Perhaps three dozen people in all, most of them clustered around a bent-backed but still commanding African American man who walks with the aid of two crutches, Despite his obvious physical challenges, he's dressed to work, like everyone else. Sofia says, loud enough for your group to hear, "That's Reverend Strayhorn. He's turning this neighborhood around. He just needs some help to do it."

Branton nods at Sofia "And help's what we got. I'll just grab some bags and get started. When someone fills one up they can throw it back in the truck, I'll make a dump run if we need to." And he starts unloading supplies and tools. For himself he gets one of those pick sticks, a pair of gloves, and a heavy duty trash bag.

Flashing a grin at the Gnawer folk who arrive, Winter gives Jasen a wave before looking at the church. She grabs a trash bag and some gloves to take on trash gathering. "Good thing I've had my shots." She mutters and fishes out a pack of gum to take a piece before she gets started on the task for the day. She offers Sophia a nod at the thanks. "What are neighbors for?" She offers easily and extends the gum to the others with a gesture.

With no one seeming inclined to argue with his plan, Sirius takes one of the empty bags with a nod toward Branton and - suitably gloved up - starts to head over toward the first batch of weeds when the arrival of the bent and elderly preacher catches his eye. That's an unavoidable detour, then, setting the bag aside and pulling a glove off his right hand (since he's learned this greeting pretty well by now) to hold it out in greeting toward the man with the crutches. "Hello, Reverend. Are you quite well?"

Maria gives Sofia a little nod. A hand runs through the petite teen's hair that is well-wind tousled from riding in the back of the truck on the way over. She has to hop up and hang over the side of the truck to reach in far enough to get a broom. The short brunette moves off and begins sweeping debris, crack vials, decaying McDonalds cups and other rubbish up into piles. Within a few minutes she's kind of moving with a rhythm as she sweeps. Anyone walking by closely might hear her saying under her breath, "De do do do, de da da da. Is all I want to say to you. De do do do, de da da da. Their innocence will pull me through..."

"It's no problem really." Amelia tells Sophia as she goes about picking up garbage. Hey, she liked helping people. There's a look down to the park and the gate, "Have I seen any of them in court?" she muses as she shakes her head. Maybe they were clients? She didn't too much care as long as they didn't try to hurt any of the group. "Glad that the Reverend is trying to do something with the neighborhood. It's been awhile since people have been doing things down here." she states.

Wyatt is following along with his own bag, his pensive look being replaced by a more determined one. But he's still quiet. The scale of the task is daunting for him, in more ways than one. But the more the small group of kinfolk see, the more it is obvious that something has to be done. He trails Sirius over to see Reverend Strayhorn and murmurs a polite, "Pastor" to the older man.

Of Jasen's tagalongs, a couple of them start shaking spray paint cans and going to town on a wall. Screw scrubbing and making pat work spots of slightly off color paint, they'll just cover up gang and asshole-teenager garble with some kinda sweet mural. Flat out ignoring the Reverend, Jasen just gives another wordless nod Sofia's direction and limps his happy ass off in the direction his rats skittered off to. This is where his own kinfolk come in handy, not just for spray painting, but helping the cripple rummage around at the head of an alley space by the shops and church. There, they make judgement calls on rotting wooden pallets for usability, moldering cardboard, and shit people just threw out for one reason or another, starting to make trips back and forth between there, Branton's truck for stuff for the dump, and the short-bus for stuff for the Dead Mall. They also kinda neglect wearing gloves for the most part, but no one wants to get felt up by a Gnawer anyways so it's probably fine.

Winter ambles along collecting trash when no one takes her up on gum. She tucks the pack in a pocket and chews away as she starts following Maria with gloves and a dust pan to scoop up trash the other woman sweeps into piles for the bags.

Reverend Strayhorn looks over the group with an expression somewhere between dubious and amused. He shakes hands and says, "Pleased to meet all of you and thank you for coming out." He pauses and asks, "Are you all ...related... somehow? Sofia said she was bringing out the cousins to help." And though he doesn't say it, his expression suggests that he's trying to imagine THAT family tree.

As people work, a cool, damp wind runs through the square, with an almost moaning sound. The despair of the place is almost physical, wearing and weighing on even the new arrivals. There is a sense of hopelessness to the place that seems thick enough to cut in the air, though the members of the small church seem to be rallying.

Branton nods at the preacher man and otherwise just gets to work. Stabbing bits of trash and droping them into his bag, actually working his way away from the edge towards the dreaded fountain, to get a look. Pausing to answer the Reverend "After a fashion. Sort of an extended mess of cousins by blood, by marriage, by adoption, and just by informal consent. At the end of the day friends are the family you choose."

Maria sees Winter coming over with the trash bags. She helps sweep some of the trash into her dustpan. "'Cause when their eloquence escapes you," Maria sings under her breath, glancing up at Winter. "Their logic ties you up and... er... escapes you." Maria says, quickly changing the lyrics with a guilty glance over to the Reverend. Not even Wednesday and she's already going to Hell for the week.

"There's a resemblance in some of us." Amelia states quietly with a soft nod of her head as she works to gather more trash into her bag. She's found a burrow it seems and there's an angry pigeon that rolls over her tennis shoes when she tries to get more away from it. "I'm just cleaning here, come on." she chuckles at it.

Branton's answer is accurate enough that Sirius is quite happy to close his mouth on his own attempt at responding. The lack of answer to his question, however - even the usual polite brush-off isn't there - leaves him momentarily stumped, head tilting to one side even as he shakes hands like he's been taught to do. There's a moment where it looks like he might press onward with his original line of questioning - there's quite the crowd, after all, and it might have gotten missed - but something catches his eye and he lets the Reverend move on while seemingly staring into empty space. Staring very intently.

Winter looks about more sharply. She had just been easy going and grinning to Maria where now she's standing straight and studying the neighborhood keenly. She stands a little closer to the younger woman and slips her phone out to make sure her location is on and there's signal here.

Jasen kinda totally missed replying to Winter's acknowledgment earlier, but better late than never, right? He gives the woman a chin up nod and something of a smile while limping pallet and a rusty old sign over to the bus. As for everyone else that he doesn't know, it's not active avoidance by any means, he'll look atcha, return a nod if it comes up, but you know. There's fences, so to speak. Except maybe with the Reverend. Jasen's a dick and doesn't acknowledge his existence. Maybe he's seen things other's have, maybe not. Either way, his option to combat Stuff and Things is to get in the bus a minute, screw around at the dash, and turn the stereo on, kicking in some classic rock station. Loud enough to be heard and enjoyed, but the bus's system ain't all that and a bag of chips, so it's definitely not at annoying or intrusive levels. Fuck you gloom, get the Led out.

Maria gives Winter a gentle smile back before refocusing on her sweeping. The song in her head having changed. Sweep sweep sweep. Sweep sweep sweep. Sweep your booty. Sweep your booty! Thankfully Maria only wiggles her booty a little bit as she sweeps along. Because twerking in front of the priest... yeah, straight to Hell alright.

Reverend Stayhorn grunts and shakes his head. "Well, I'm not a nosy man. And I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever you can do to help, we're grateful. And, of course, we're having a pot luck after the clean-up. You're all invited." He smiles a little at that and says, "The least we can do is feed you."

It is obvious that the park itself belongs to those that rule the neighborhood now. Young, lean, hungry-eyed people who grew up without hope and schooled themselves to hardness and cruelty supply drugs to the wrecked, withered shells of human beings who are defined by their addictions. The junkies, seeking escape and solace in the only way they can, are both the prey and the customers of the drug dealers, trapped in an endless, helpless loop of despair.

Branton looks over further into the park as he works his way in from the edges, following some invisible string. His gaze settles on the angel statue and he asks the Reverend "Do you know if that was someone in particular?"

Welp. That's... okay, today just got a little bit weirder. Frowning into that seemingly empty space, Sirius shakes his head and heaves a sigh. His empty bag is grabbed and he crosses the space again, this time headed toward Sofia. There's a quick stop to speak quietly near her ear, but then he's headed over to tackle the weeds he'd set out to tame.

Catching movement, Winter looks at Jasen and winks at the upnod before getting her clean on. She keeps her eyes on the people now, looking for subtle movements, things that could prove dangerous. She's looking for weapons, that damp breeze and the state of the street putting the veteran's hackles up. She scoops up a few more piles before hauling her trash bag over to the truck.

Maria's mental song changes to fall in sync with the music coming from the bus. She's working her way along the ground, just letting the next bits of debris lead her. The Romani girl pauses for a moment, rubbing the back of a hand across her jaw to sate an itch. She glances over in the direction of the junkies and other street people. Affecting the right mix of looking but not looking. Mot meeting eyes too much, but not so little as to make her seem out of place, to draw attention to her.

If anything weird is going on, Amelia doesn't realize it. Or well, she doesn't sense it right now. She's just going about her business and gathering garbage with the rest of the helpers. Though she does give another look down the way at the park. Seeing if any of the people down there are people she knows. But she doesn't seem to.

Sofia considers the question from Branton and says, "You know, it wasn't actually an angel. My father told me that back in his grandfather's day, most of the square was owned by some shipping guy. Rich. Very rich. And that statue was something Greek. Some ... I don't know. Woman with a sword, wings, all that. It all got broken up after the fire back in '66." The more people focus on the park, the more that aura of gray hopelessness seems to strengthen and even the most mundane of the bystanders feel it, even if they don't know they feel it. Most of the purely human folks in the clean-up crowd turn away from the park, picking up litter while standing tense and hunched a bit, without knowing why. Reverend Strayhorn reaches for the small gold cross around his neck and prays under his breath, a quick, whispered plea to his god. And apparently it's enough to at least let him stand as straight as the crutches will let him and shake his head. "Damned Pagan nonsense, it was. My father said it was a goddess of some kind. Memorial for old Dante's lost daughter."

Jasen totally looks but looks. Stepping off the bus, he doesn't jump right back into things right away, leaning on his cane a minute and just sorta looking over the shitty environs in a slow arc. Surveying with his mind in the urban survivor mode. He starts moving again, passing by his bumkin while they scavenge and toss things for the dump, past his not-so-bumkin while they clean, limping into the park a bit towards a particular type of person. The way he sees it, there's two kinds of people; those too angry to crawl out of their ditch, and those still able to claw upwards. He heads for what he hopes is a small group of the latter.

New in town, not knowing anyone, hearing of work to be done, and well he is bored, all of those things mixture into one bit of African Dj, brings down Darius dressed in black jeans, and a simple black t-shirt, and a leather jacket with a cig hanging from his lips, it is clove light up smoke swirling towards the heavens, and he exhales it, his eyes hidden behind a pair of yello tinted glasses, and then he looks at the others."Hello, I'm Darius Yates, and I'm here to help." His voice is soft, and it is a mixture of African and french.

"Plenty of glass to walk on here." Winter comments and clicks the roof of her mouth. She's hauling a bag of trash into the back of a truck and looking at the newcommer sharply. "Winter Quinn. Grab a trash bag." She greets and nods to the church. "Normals." She tells him still very much weary of that off feeling in the air.

Seeing an outsider in their territory, a couple of the dealers come closer. They are young, barely out of their teens, but both look hard and dangerous. The leader is dark skinned and whipcord lean, with dreadlocks beaded with fake gold that fall around an angular, angry face. His underlings range from an overweight white kid in a track suit that has never seen a track to a few Latino boys to another couple of black youths, All are loud and posturing, obviously wanting an excuse for a fight. He addresses Jacen, asking, "You looking to score?"

Maria's sweeping has slowed down a little bit. Probably hopeless, cleaning this place up. The junkies will just litter it with the remains of their drug paraphenalia again. Maria keeps sweeping, but it's a bit lacklaster as the hopelessness of the situation makes itself felt on her.

Branton nods at Sofia and then the Reverend as they explain the statue's history, then getting distracted by the dealers approaching Jasen. He recognizes something about the statue but saves it for later.

The sound of loud and unfamiliar voices are enough to get Sirius to look up from his little patch of weeds. He pauses in his work and leans the quarter-full bag against a bench before walking toward Jasen and the new faces, bringing with him his nigh-constant aura of peace and soothing calm. He doesn't say anything yet - he wasn't the one of whom the question was asked - and though there's not an aggressive bone in his body, there's no real sign of fear either. Depressing aura be damned.

Jasen shakes his head to the Park Folk, but seems not at all offended. He kinda looks like a user, still, so it's understandable. "Nope. Some scratch if you come help me with this shit, though." Short, sweet, to the point, bribery for work, it's what it is. Besides, things mean slightly more when you had a hand in them, then when someone else does all the work. His posture is carefully straight but not challengingly so, not weakly bent either, and his tone is equally loud enough to lace it with confident seriousness, but not loud enough to inspire confrontation. His rats, meanwhile, do rat things somewhere.

Winter eyes the dealers walking towards Jasen. She studies the situation and slips a hand in her pocket to loosen the straps on her prosthetic in case she needs to create a diversion. She keeps a sharp eye on the exchange even as she leans against the truck.

"Well..." Darius stops now, and he is watching his hands in his pockets, thrust into his pockets with a little chuckle, and then he moves towards the others quicker now, and he stands in the middle, and his eyes locked on to the dealers, as everything is going on.

Amelia stops picking up things and straightens as people approach Jasen, because they aren't the best looking crowd. She waits to see if there's going to be some confrontation. Or if Jasen is going to need some backup to talk to them.

Maria glance up as the dealers move over to Jasen. She doesn't head over there, just keeps sweeping. Though she keeps a surreptitious eye on what is going on, taking small peeks. She watches the dealer's buddies rather than the dealer though, making sure one of them doesn't do something unnoticed while attention is focused on the one talking.

The Reverend looks alarmed as he says Jasen wander up the chief dealer in the park and he mutters, "Your boy is going to get himself killed. Those young men are lost. Very lost." He starts to head that way, slowly, his crutches not allowing for the haste he apparently feels. And sure enough, the dealer is giving Jasen a very nasty and unfriendly smile as he asks, "Do I look like a fucking janitor to you? Do I?" His underlings start to drift closer, for all the world like circling sharks getting a hint of blood in the water.

Branton nods in thanks to the Reverend for the warning and moves to reinforce Jasen, mirroring the approach of the dealer's underlings while keeping a grip on his pick up pole.

Deciding the better of looking weak, Winter drops the back of the truck and grabs some rakes. She'll amble over with them looking pleasant. "There you are!" She tells Jasen and offers him a rake. "Wanna help? My foot always gets tangled so it takes me ages." She adds conversationally and looks to the dealer and his friends. "Mind if I borrow him a moment?" She asks politely.

In contrast to the alarm of the Reverend and the aggression of the thugs, Sirius remains almost disturbingly calm from his position behind Jasen's shoulder. "No, but you do look like you might be ill." A year of helping the various denizens of Prospect who lack access to basic healthcare has taught Sirius a few things about this sect of human culture, though not nearly all. "Have you been drinking or bathing in contaminated water, by chance?" There are, as it turns out, diplomatic ways to address whatever that is under his skin. Sort of diplomatic, anyway.

"Well that won't do." Amelia states in her accented tone and she starts down the way towards Jasen. "Father, why don't you let us handle it?" she states as she slips by him. Not wanting to bump his crutches. She didn't want him hurt or worse.

Maria is still sweeping. Not quite facing that way, but stealing little glances to the side. Sweep sweep sweep. Gradually moving along, somewhat to the side of the dealer's friends. Not quite behind them. But behind-them adjacent. Sweep sweep sweep.

At that strange question, the gang leader seems momentarily stumped and then, almost as though listening to an an imaginary voice, he straightens and puffs out his chest, reaching down to pull up his hockey jersey to reveal a pistol in his waistband. He doesn't go for it yet, but he asks Sirius, "Do you have a problem with me? What the fuck is your problem? Are you crazy, bruh? 'Cause this is how people get shot."

It's entirely possible that Jasen IS high, although to be honest he never did claim to be a person that thinks everything through when he should. But hey, he's here now, so might as well move on with it, things'll either turn out in his favor, or they won't and he'll get punched, and try to bust a knee cap on his way down. Thus is life in the steel jungle. "No, I am." He actually is a janitor. "You look like a tough guy with a tough crew, kinda guy that wants his fuckin due respect, wants the best. Those people over there," here he gives a head nod this way and that way without taking his eyes of the Dealer, indicating the people working clean up, church goers and junkies, "None of them respect you, probably don't even like you. Might not even remember who you are a week after you die. They fear you, but not one of 'em'll get your back. You should shock those mother fuckers, show 'em your strength an' help me move some fuckin heavy shit. You make 'em like you, you make 'em respect you, then you get the best, and the neighborhood's yours. You just holdin' it right now for the next guy." Ugh, trying to talk logic into a dealer, this might be a stretch. And hopefully someone doesn't get him shot, that's rumored to really hurt!

Darius a wide smile on his lips, and then he looks the man right in the eyes, with a little chuckle."I have no issue with you at all, and I dont see how I will get shoot, sir. If you wish to rumble I always love a good fight you know." Then someone else is talking, and he goes back to being quiet.

"Now gentlemen. You don't want to shoot anyone in front of one of the local DA's do you?" Amelia states as she comes up from the side of Sirius and Jasen. "How about we try to just cool off and..." then Darius speaks and the sapphire eyed woman just looks to him. Not a good set of words.

Moving swiftly, Winter is on Jasen in moments. She grabs his arm to turn him and puts her body between his and the gun as soon as she sees it, letting the momentum push them both away from the threat of firearms that she isn't holding.

Darius reaches out to grab the pistol, and his hand is moving towards it and then his will is pushed back inside of him, and he is no longer feeling the urge to fight, and his eyes closing now, and then he is quiet as he real opens it.

With something leaving Sirius looking slightly green underneath the tan of his skin, he turns away from the posturing thugs and walks rather calmly in the direction of the truck with all the bags for clean-up - and around behind it if there's that kind of time.

Jasen starts to try and regrip his cane for possible disarming purposes, but ends up staggering back behind a Wintergreen meat shield.

Branton is distracted by Jasen getting pulled out of the way and when he turns back to the dealer to see the gun being drawn he just can't regain his momentum

Devon hesitates as his hand darts down to the grip of that pistol, but then his expression hardens and he snarls. For just a second, there is something feral in his eyes and then a single pistol shot rings out, shockingly loud in the crisp, spring air.

That bullet is fired, and he is not moving away from it but moving towards the gun, and given the peace that is over him, he can't move and his eyes on the ,an, and then the bullet is lodges right into his right leg, with a wicked smile, and his eyes now little bit more wild.

Devon (NPC) has his gun out, and the smell of gunpowder is in the air after it has been fired. Darius has been hit in the right leg and is bleeding. Branton is still close by. Winter and Jasen have put some distance between them and Devon. Maria stood their gaping, but she still has her broom. Sirius has some cover from the fire. AMelia too can have found cover since she was getting ready to dodge.

Maria stood THERE gaping, too.

The gunfire has all of the junkies and civilians running for their lives. The other thugs are standing around, looking shocked at their own passivity and attempting to work up the nerve to get involved.

Maria switches her grip on the broom and runs at the guy. "High-ya!" she screams like a kung fu fighter, swinging the broom handle down on the gun. The wood clacks against metal, but not hard enough to knock it away, nor does she manage to hit his hand enough to hurt Devon. Maria lets out a puff of air in frustration, blowing strands of hair from her eyes.

Amelia gives a look to the blood that runs down Darius' leg and there's a look to Devon when he looks like he isn't going to drop the gun. Time to do something stupid! "Oy, move your ass, don't just sit there an' smile at him." the Irish woman states as she blocks Devon's shot at Darius with her own body and tries to get the other Kinfolk to move backwards with her. She wasn't watching Branton and Maria. Just in case the gun went off.

"What the fuck you bastard." Darius's voice is crazy and the rage inside of him spilling out, but he is draged back not fighting it just going, with a wicked laugh esacping his lips, like a mad man."I mean, you actually did it crazy fuck." His voice is amused, and he is light headed, and he is stumbling, his leg barely working from the bullet.

Crouched behind the truck as he is, it's the work of only a minute to bend forward just far enough to look like he might be trying to crawl /under/ said truck. Blink and you'll miss him, though, because suddenly he's gone. Well, sort of. Mostly gone, anyway. At least it's probably a little quieter on this side of the Veil. Probably.

Enraged and confused at his own hesitation, as well as being battered by two people with sticks, Devon never sees the wrench flying towards his head. The sound of it impacting with his temple is somewhere between a metalic 'clang!' and the sound of heavy pottery being smacked against the wall in a burlap bag. The thug's eyes roll up his head before he hits the ground, unconscious.

Guns whipping up, an asshole getting shot, brooms and sticks whacking away as he's finishing stumbling back.. Well he's got a cane, but Jasen's a little far back. Fortunately, he's prepared for this, which is probably in part why he thought talking to badasses was reasonable in the first place. Whipping a big, heavy wrench out of the pocket of his dirty, ripped jeans, he hurls it like a boss and SMACK!'s the guy right in the side of the head, and he goes down like a cheap prom date after a lite beer. If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball. This man can not dodge Jasen's balls. "GET TO WORK OR FUCK OFF YOU FUCKIN FUCKS!" Jasen screams at the heretofore inactive Thug Backup.

Amelia lets Darius pass out and then she marches back to where the gangbangers and their leader are, "Hi. I'm the one that's going to be representing most of you in court one day. So here is this. If you help these guys clean up this area. We won't let any of your names or likenesses go into the police report." she states with a look to each of them. And her memory was a steel trap. So it was for them to decide. "As for your buddy. I'd definitely leave his unconcious body on the ground. With the rest of the garbage." the Fianna growls.

Winter darts back over after Jasen puts a wrench into things. She picks up the gun and quickly drops the magazine, working on disassembling it before going for her phone to call 911 for the ambulance. She tears the gun apart like a pro.

The other thugs look towards their fallen leader and then back up at the scary people confronting them. They hesitate, but the time for action seems to have passed. And none of them is particularly brave. After a few moments of confused silence, rather than help pick anything up, they run like hell, scattering in the streets like feral cats, knowing the police are about to get involved, if the Reverend has his way.

Maria would clear out. Not that the cops are looking for her. Still.