Log:El Gigante Tag Team

2016/06/19 Yameen Griffin Cryostatic Joss Copycat El Gigante 1

It started off as a quiet Sunday. Graduation is over as of last weekend, and most of the students have moved back home for the summer. Traffic is at last tolerable during commuter hours, but other parts of the city are crowded with tourists and beach goers due to the sudden, oppressive heatwave that's washed over the city.

That quiet was broken when an attack was reported at the research science labs on the CBSU campus. Police reports and tweets have alerted the local heroes of the attack. In the few minutes that the news has broken, it started with rumors that there was a lone meta ripping up the labs and stealing something from the genetics research labs in the main Science Building.

Now, there's a report that a fight broke out between another meta, and now there's two villains trying to make off with the stolen goods. The fight has spilled from on campus out into the streets of the Student Quarter.

In the middle of the street near the hospital emergency exit, two giant men grapple with each other over a hard case that looks tiny compared to their meaty hands. The two men are wearing black spandex with red accents, with bulky frames, and giant bare hands and bare feet. Each wears a matching luchador mask.

The spring semester is complete, and registration for the summer semester are minimal. Many classes may not be offered. This offers at least one professor the possibility of free time. As she ponders this while tidying and organizing her office, her tablet alerts her to unusual activity. Activity on campus, no less. Professor Harim lets out a mild sigh and closes her file drawer before heading to the ladies' faculty lounge, currently empty, to change into more appropriate attire before moving across the rather empty campus.

Griffin is on the scene faster than usual as he is actually within that medical complex getting his BioGel cartridges refilled in Dr. Gabriel Connors' lab.

He races down the stair way- leaping down floor by floor by flinging himself over the hand rails over and over again.

He bursts out on the bottom floor and pushes through the people running the opposite direction.

"Nice- actual Luchedors?! Glad to see some things never change." Griffin says, "Put the case down and put your hands up." He adds, considering just how to win a tag-team match with no partner.

"Dame el maletn!" growls one of the luchadors.

"Nunca, cambiaformas!" shouts back the other.

The pair continue to play tug of war with the briefcase, one bracing his forearm against the other's throat. As Griffin makes his presence known, their fight with each other slows and they turn their masked heads towards Griffin. The one on the left laughs mockingly. "Usted cree que me puede detener, hombre minsculo?"

The second laughs heartily. "Nadie puede detener el Gigante!" For now, they seem to put aside their differences and turn towards Griffin. However, neither lets go of the briefcase.

Yameen arrives to witness the luchadores, their struggle, followed by their shift in attention, and commets to, Griffin. She approaches the pair at a somewhat casual, if direct and steady pace. "What of a tiny woman, boys?" she inquires en espanol.

Griffin doesn't slow at their heckling. He doesn't intimidate easy either. "Sure, little guy. Hilarious." He says drolly as Yameen approaches.

He recognizes the figure, & is glad for the backup. "I don't speak Spanish- but I get it." He says putting his attention back on the luchedors.

"Nevertheless, big as you are- you're disturbing the peace and I get the distinct feeling that case doesn't belong to you. So put it down, or be put down." Griffin says firmly.

Lefty laughs derisively at Yameen's response. His voice sounds lecherous. "Con tu, chica? Me gustan mis chicas pequena y dificl."

Whatever lefty said, righty's visible mouth scowls in distaste. He grunts and reminds, "En primer lugar trituramos estos heroes. Entonces nos damos cuenta quien es el verdadero El Gigante." Both grip the briefcase between them tightly and hold up their fists to square off with the heroes.

"I am sure that I can entertain you," Yameen responds in kind, perhaps as fluently as the very large men. Her keffiyeh distorts in what could be a smile or scowl, though her tone is decidely ...flirtatious? Coy? The fact that she makes a rather conspicuous display of unbuckling her belt and pulling it from the loops may add to the impression, even to those not full fluent.

Yameen lowers the arms with the belt to her side (though she keeps hold of the belt). Her other hand goes to her hip, which cants and cocks. Not defiantly so much as provocatively. "I made it easy for you. Come here and find out just how tough I am, Papi."

Griffin is totally confused as to just what's happening. He was certain these behemoths were being lecherous, but perhaps he miscalculated the nature of the conversation being had. Perhaps his mother was right, and Spanish would have been a useful thing to have learned under her tutelage.

Yameen spells it out for him though and he's positively shocked by just how crude things had gotten.

"I think we're really going to have to discuss manners when this is all said and done, boys." He says striding forward, not wanting to be forgotten.

Griffin is totally confused as to just what's happening. He was certain these behemoths were being lecherous, but perhaps he miscalculated the nature of the conversation being had. Perhaps his mother was right, and Spanish would have been a useful thing to have learned under her tutelage.

Yameen's mannerisms spell it out for him though and he's positively shocked by just how crude things had gotten.

"I think we're really going to have to discuss manners when this is all said and done, boys." He says striding forward, not wanting to be forgotten.

Griffin thinks he sees Yameen's plan, divide and conquer. He can do that.

He focuses his attention on Rightie- the less talkative of the duo.

"Ok Lunkhead- you've been warned." He says as the light from his irises saturates the rest of the globe.

He fires off a warning shot- directly at Righty's chest.

Righty grunts as Griffin's eyebeams crash against his expansive chest. Smoke billows off of it and he waves it away to clear his vision. He wasn't budged an inch.

Lefty begins to move forward, but is jerked back as his held in place by Righty gripping the briefcase. He sighs and asks Righty, "Juntos?"

Righty grumbles unhappily, "Si." The pair begin to charge forward. Griffin got Righty's attention. He cocks back a fist and prepares to swing it at Griffin.

Lefty charges alongside Righty, but his attentions are on Yameen. "Estoy deseando escuchar tus gritos, chica!" he announces as he tries to grab Yameen by her itty bitty waist with those gargantuan hands of his. They're way beyond disproportionate for a man even of his size.

Yameen awaits the onrushing El Gigante, whose self-control and tactical planning are anything but. She had hoped to draw them apart, but it appears that the value of the briefcase is too strong a pull. Once Lefty nears, she snaps the belt up at one of his wrists while she reaches out with the hand controlling the belt against the other.

The belt snaps up to wrap around one meaty wrist, then is pulled across his chest as Yameen's controlling hand grabs the other. She wraps part of the length rapidly around the wrist, pulling the two closer together, before grabbing it again. "Is that tight enough for you?"

Lefty finds his wrists tied by the much smaller woman. The surprise and anger on his face in evident.

Righty laughs at Lefty's misfortune. "No se puede manejar a una mujer?"

Lefty barks at Righty, "Callate, cambiaformas!"

Yameen now has relative control of his upper body and movements, but a true grappler would be far from helpless. Making use of this hold, and his own size and mass, she steps inside, then pulls his arms forward, sharply down as she drops to a knee. This allows her to use gravity for them both to assist. She also pulls his arms close to her, twists, and holds. This forces the teetering weight against the shoulder in a way it is not intented to move even as she makes to force it to be the primary point of contact with the ground for her sizable foe.

Griffin was holding back, testing the waters as it were. But he's most certainly caught with Righty's right fist as Griffin tries to turn the duo's momentum against them.

He takes it right on the chin, but despite the force of the impact- Griffin stands there, mostly unphased. The sound of the hit echoes around the courtyard.

"Oh- slug match." Griffin says, as if he just figured out the rules of the game.

Griffin decides to return the salvo, he twists at the waist before snapping back with an open palm. Just before impact, his fist collapses to impact the gargantuan man with maximum force. He knows he won't hit nearly as hard as these two monsterous foes, but perhaps he can give them pause. If not... 'there's always plan B.' he thinks as Yameen brings Lefty to his knees.

Lefty's bravado is crushed by the tiny woman's skills. He teeters forward as his arms are yanked down. As he flips over, his shoulder wrenches painfully and he howls in pain from the "sports" injury.

Lefty groans and starts to come to his senses, realizing his been laid flat out in the ground. "C-como?!"

Righty grimaces, Griffin's strike hitting a vulnerable spot and actually making him grunt in real pain. "Ay! Tu vas a pagar," he growls, taking a threatening step forward. But when Lefty voices his confusion, Righty stops and looks over to him. Getting greedy, he tries to yank the briefcase from his fallen brother.

Lefty, although stunned, manages to keep his vice-like grip on the briefcase. "Para! Voy a aplastar a la proxima!"

Yameen was provocative, then taunting. Now she admonishes them both, en espanol, "You fight like children." Perhaps it's a reference to their bickering, or their competency, or both. Still with control of Lefy, and a free handy, she stabs it out to try and remove the case they treasure so much. She shares Griffin's opinion that they are not the rigthful owners.

Yameen's timing is more acute and her strike is more swift, than it is mighty. As the two argue and struggle against each other, she snatches it from both of them. Now they can both lament their loss of machismo more evenly.

Instead he steps between Yameen and Righty- the only standing luchedor.

"Good work, ma'am." Griffin says over his shoulder to her before focusing his attention on to Righty.

"So Big Man- you gonna tell me what all the hubbub is for or are you going to wake up in jail?" He asks as he cracks his knuckles and let's the energy from his eyes pool up. Allowing them to glow their full intensity. Waves of heat pour off his temples- but he does not release this energy.

Righty looks down at Griffin as he steps up to challenge him. "No te entiendo. Pero entiendeme: Go screw yourself," he says with heavily accented english. Even that small phrase causes him trouble. It's more like he memorized the sounds of the words than the actual words themselves.

Yameen could extend the case to Griffon, but it is best to retain firm control of it. She repeats the question, paraphrased, in Spanish. "Tell us what is in the case, and I will allow you to keep the use of your arm." As she says this, she twists Lefty's wrist, now wrenching at the elbow.

Lefty howls in pain, using his free hand to attempt to tap out by pounding the ground at full strength. The ground shudders from his "tapping". He tries to eventually swat at Yameen with his free hand.

Righty listens to Yameen's translation and seems confused for a moment. Like he's trying to remember the answer. "Solo agarre lo que me dijo el jefe," he answers. "Ahora dame el maletin!" He starts to move towards her and ignore Griffin...

Griffin can only do so much, but seeing his contact make a move for Yameen, he does the only thing he can with the the time he has.

He dives to take the hit for her.

Griffin's leap does the job- getting him in front of Righty's titanic blow.

The impact pushes him back a few inches- but thanks to him leaning into the blow, he's not sent flying. A small grunt escapes his lips.

Time slows down as adrenaline pumps through the Super-Soldier's body.

Lefty's free hand lashes out towards Yameen, and once again Griffin is left with a choice- one he doesn't think twice of making a second time.

With superhuman speed and dexterity he uses the remaining momentum to roll with Righty's punch into Lefty's.

Yameen has the briefcase. She also has Lefty, or did. Lefty had no useful information to offer, so there is no further reason to twist his arm, in any sense of the term. Yameen is not about to allow herself to be a punching bag, however, nor does she wish that upon Griffin.

Fully releasing Lefty leaves her hand and belt free to lash out with both; one towards Lefty, one to Righty. She snapping nyxlon web belt is sturdy enough, especially when leading with the buckle, while her hand leads with an extendened kncukle. Both aim for the bridges of respective noses.

After that brutal lashing, both luchadors are left trying to grasp the bridge of their noses in pain, eyes squeezes shut. There's a flurry of curses from Lefty that are very unflattering towards women in general (but aimed at Yameen). Righty just plain curses in general.

Griffin rubs his chin where he was struck the first time and rights himself.

"You sure know how to wrangle giants, Yameen." Griffin says appreciatively.

He looks down to the 2 MegaScaled Luchadors then to Righty specifically before saying, "Screw you, hermano."

Then, his eyes glow brightly for a flash as his right arm whips out and strikes at the base of Righty's skull.

Unable to see where the blow is coming from, Righty can't brace properly. He expects the blow to come from the front, but when it cracks the base of his skull, he stumbles forward and ends up falling onto his hands and knees.

Lefty sits up and rocks to his feet with some athleticism, but it does lack some grace. He listens for Yameen and swings blindly at her. Righty rubs the back of his head and pushes himself up to his knees. Rubbing the bridge of his nose as well, he gets up slowly and groans.

Griffin creeps quietly around the blinded duo- using their blindness to his advantage.

This time, he's turned and oriented himself to put the twins on one side, and Yameen on the other.

Here he decides to draw a line in the sand.

His eyes- still glowing ripple with restrained energy.

Then with a breath out- he releases it, aiming to hit both of them with a slice of his eyebeams and deftly not Yameen.

Lefty gets blindsided by the blast and topples over, crashing with a loud thud. He stays down. Righty, however, still seems fine, if painfully blinded still.

Griffin isn't blind to what's happening here, Righty is mostly shrugging off his blows and he surely can't remain blinded forever. So Griffin kicks it up a gear, now certain that Righty can take whatever it is he's dishing out.

"Ok Chump. We're done here. Time for you to take a knee." He says, knowing that the remaining Luchedor doesn't understand a word of what he's saying. He keeps talking anyways as the glow in his eyes intensifies- the heat spilling from his eyes warping the air around him and then with a sharp breath in- he lets his restraints go.

The blast streaks from his eyes towards the blinded luchedor.

The second El Gigante is put down mightily by Griffin's blast. This time, Griffin delivers on what he says. El Gigante (the one on the right) is knocked clean off his feet and goes flying back a few meters. He bounces along the concrete street, then grinds the last few feet to a halt on his back. With a tired groan, his body goes limp.

With all the commotion from the two giant metahuman men, the street has cleared of most civilians. They've either left in a hurry or scurried indoors to watch.

Griffin always delivers- sometimes he just feathers the pedal a bit too much, worried he might hurt someone permanently.

As El Gigante falls Griffin turns, to look for his impromptu tag-team partner.

He sees no sign of her, or really anyone else- now that he takes his attention off the Luchedors.

He takes her being MIA as a good sign that she's away securing whatever it was inside. This of course gets his curiosity raging from one side of his mind to the next.

Looking at their costumes, they were obviously partners- but why on earth would they be so concenred with stopping the other from getting away with the case?

Griffin stands there a while trying to figure it all out before police arrive to detain these two giants.

The answer, or some of it, becomes very apparent. As "righty" slips deeply into unconsciousness, his body begins to experience some...shrinkage.

The 10 foot tall musclebound luchador isn't looking so swole now as he becomes itty bitty. He's soon half the size he was before, and ...several multiples less bulky as he deflates down.

As he becomes she and his clothes change to the familiar bodysuit and jacket of Copycat, along with the fading mask and lengthening pink hair, much of the spanish comments between the pair may finally make sense.

Copycat has seen better days. She's also seen much worse days.

Yameen did not take long to secure the briefcase. Where she secured it is unknown. Otherwise it would not be secure. As the second one begins to change, she now notes. "That one is some manner of shapeshifter according to the other."

Griffin suddenly goes from feeling like a champion who saved the day to a total dunce. Yameen's words seal the feeling in.

But it didn't hit him all at once- he actually had to double take, as one deflated and became a much more familiar form.

He rushes over to her side, worried that he may have hurt her.

"Ka- Kat?" He says, running toward her, sliding the final few feet to skid to a stop next to her. "Aw- geez." He says, instinctively looking to his MEDkit for a solution.

He knows every inch and item in that pack- so seconds later he's pulling out smelling salts. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know..." He says, talking more to himself than Katrina Prince.

"You know her?" Yameen states the apparent rhetorially. Her attention turns to the one remaining Gigante.

"Yeah- I know her. Pretty well. She wasn't helping him- she was trying to stop him." Griffin says trying to explain as he cracks open the smelling salts and moves the package beneath Kat's nose.

Copycat benefited from mimicking El Gigante's toughness. She doesn't seem to have any permanent injuries. Maybe she'll end up with a few light bruises, but nothing too dangerous.

As he waves the smelling salts under her nose, Copycat suddenly startles awake and starts squirming, bringing her hands up defensively to guard her face from what she last remembered--El Gigante trying to grab her head.

As her mind catches up with her waking body, she sits up quickly, not exactly sure where she is. But the first person she sees is Griffin, and she looks instantly relieved, and then direly urgent. "Griffin! You gotta stop that big guy before he gets away!"

Griffin smiles, "Already handled. Your tumble with him caught our attention." He says, "Yameen here had it handled. Got the case away and everything."

He brushes a lock of her pink hair out of her face.

He looks equally relieved as he folds the smelling salts up, and puts it into a different pocket of his vest to discard later.

"She, as he, did not give any indications against the other, save for greed..." Yameen nods to the now partially-upright woman. "Remain calm. The situation is under control."

Copycat lets out a sigh of relief and relaxes, her shoulders sagging. "Good...you stopped him." She rubs the bridge of her nose, feeling a bit sore. "Did...did he knock me out? How did I get out here?" she asks, confused, as she looks up and both Griffin and Yameen. She should know the answer, but she's still trying to regain her senses. Everything in her head is all fuzzy.

"You were both present when I arrived," Yameen answers, "though you were not as you are, currently." Noting that the still Gigante one is still unconscious, she turns her attention and steps to Copycat. "Do you require any other medical assistance?"

Griffin looks guilty at that question. "I...I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry." His words are simple, straight to the point. He doesn't deny it, but he doesn't outright say it either.

"Are you hurt?" He asks, not quite changing the subject- not realizing Yameen just asked that. Plausible deniability.

Copycat peers up at Yameen. "I...I wasn't? Oh...oh no..." she murmurs worriedly, embarrassed. She looks around and finally spots the real Gigante. Turning her head around so fast to look at him causes her to wince, and she rubs the back of her skull. That may be why she can't quite recall recent events yet.

"Huh?" she asks distractedly, finally looking to Griffin. Her reaction times seem a bit slow, her eyes not focusing as fast as they should. "Oh...a bit sore, but I'm okay. Are -you- okay?" she asks, more concerned about them than herself.

She smiles encouragingly at Griffin as he looks guilty. "You don't have anything to apologize for," she says softly to him.

"I am unharmed, as are any bystanders to my knowledge," Yameen assures her. "I presume that this was unplanned?" She offers a gloved hand to the woman to aid her to her feet, if she wishes.

Griffin recognizes those signs well, and is reaching for his handy-dandy penlight to check her pupils for slow dilation and thus likely concussion.

"We're fine, I promise." He adds earnestly.

He waves Yameen's hand away as his penlight comes to bear on Kat's left eyeball.

Yameen steps back when her hand is waved away. "You may wish to treat and move her quickly. The local authorities will arrive soon."

The city is in danger, the powerful are coming to her rescue-- and Joss? Well, he's doing his laundry. And gathering people into the back of the laundromat, back away from the windows, and leading the group in breathing eercises to keep calm until the fiasco's over. Once it's been quiet for a little bit, he goes to check the status of the street, peeking out of the door with a brisk look-both-ways.

After reports of a meta robbery, which started with only one thief and later expanded to two in the reports, the streets have gone quiet. Griffin and Yameen made short work of the Gigante twins, and the streets are still clear of civilians who knew better than to stay out and about during a fight.

Now, there's only one El Gigante, taking a cement nap. And then there's Copycat, who is sitting down a ways from El Gigante, exhibiting symptoms of a mild concussion based on Griffin's examinations.

Copycat lets out another relieved sigh, her eyes slowly dilating in response to Griffin's flashlight. "I'm glad," she murmurs, still rubbing the back of her head and wincing a bit. She finally looks up at Yameen--much to Griffin's frustrations probably as he tries to examine her--and smiles sheepishly. "No, that...that wasn't planned. I got in a bit too close and then he tried to grapple my face with those ham hands of his..."

Griffin grumbles a bit overprotectively, "I'll mangle his face..."

"It will take him some time to recover full use of his arms and ham hands," Yameen advises. "You may take some solace in that fact." She lifts her eyes upwards to check their surrounds briefly, beginning with the street-napping luchador.

Rather abruptly, Cryostatic comes charging down out of the skies above on a steeply sloping ramp of ice. Both he and his ramp crackle faintly with electricity as they descend upon the crime scene. Cryostatic leaps off of his ramp and blitzes toward Griffin and Copycat once his booted feet hit the ground.

When the Scarfed Speedster skids to a halt alongside of the other two superheroes, Cryostatic tilts his head one way and then the other as his yellow lensed eyes scan the area for active threats. One gloved hand reaches out to tap-tap Griffin on the shoulder while Cryostatic's domino-mask-and-scarf-covered face swivels between Yameen and Copycat.

"Bro. Wanna catch me up here? Maybe starting with introducing me to the hotties?" stage-whispers Cryostatic to Griffin. He doesn't whisper nearly as quietly as he thinks nor as quietly as would be healthy for him.

Joss spies Griffin there, making things right in the world. What could be more appropriate? He slouches to one side, watching the heroes gather, resting his hip against the doorframe while he does so, maybe lifting a hand to wave to G if he looks over. If not, assuming that the scene reads paceful, he emerges from the doorframe, hands in pockets, and coems strolling over in his rainbow-strapped flip-flops. "Hey, guys," he greets. "I've got twetny some people hugging the back wall of the laundromat over there waiting to find out whether the fireworks are over," he tips a boyish smile Griffin's way. "Can I give them the green light to get their knickers and head out?"

Yameen turns her head, eyes, and attention to the recently-arrived cool character on the downslide, followed by a brief glance to Griffin, whom she asks, "Another interested male?"

Yameen pans to the arrival from the laundromat and nods. "The scene appears safe. They can go on about their business."

Griffin is a bit busy, doting on hottie # 1 but he recognizes that voice- and the trouble that will likely spill forth from it if left unchecked.

"You'll be fine. We'll ice it and make sure you get a good meal in you tonight." He says to Copycat a bit familiarly, before patting her leg and turning to Cryostatic.

He sees Joss and nods curtly to his friend before saying, "We're clear here- your 20 should be safe to go about their business. Thanks for taking care of them." He smiles and continues his turning towards his hypercharged comrade.

"You want a debrief, Cryo? Sure- Pink Hottie is spoken for." He nods to Kat, "and Mystery Hottie just leveled that guy." He points to the downed El Gigante.

"Leveled. So- manners." He smirks at that, and offers Kat a hand up.

"If that's what the doctor orders," Copycat grins at Griffin. She won't be opposed to either of those prescriptions. Her cheeks blush pink at being assigned the name Pink Hottie. She stifles a laugh at Griffin's warning about Yameen to Cryostatic.

"Pssh. Dude, they have names," replies Cryostatic to Griffin. Even /HE/ knows that. Folding his arms across his chest, Cryostatic abruptly perks up as he parses more of what Griffin said. Holding up his hands, Cryostatic all too eagerly intones, "Ice?! I can totally do ice!"

Pausing a second, however, Cryostatic turns to peer over at Joss. Looking Joss up and down, Cryostatic coolly comments, "Brah. Unicorn tee and capris? Really, brah?"

Shaking his head in sad disappointment, Cryostatic looks over at Yameen and then the El Gigante hanging over a light post. Cryostatic rubs the back of his head with one gloved hand as he considers the two, static electrical sparks firing wildly between and around his spiky hair and spandex-like gloves.

"Nice work, Mysterious Lady Stranger."

"Heh! Thanks-- you guys did all the heavy lifting, though," Joss answers, looking over the downed form, "He gonna be OK?" he wonders, of the body. Surely he's not dead-- and Joss is allowed to worry about him, as well as anyone else. Right? He does start to shuffle backward toward the 'mat once more, though he takes the time to give Cryo a cheeky grin. "Nah, guy, not really, you're just imagining them," he jokes.

Cryostatic turns to look at Joss at the New Age-ist's joking comment. He starts to say something, but pauses.

What if he is imagining it? What if this whole scenario is just in his head? What if he cracked his skull in his particle physics lab after fixing the hardware problem with his new sensor system electrocuted him and, instead of gaining super powers, he is instead having an extended delusion in place of having his uneventful life flash before his eyes?!

There is a long, suspicious silence as Cryostatic considers this. He gradually dismisses it and replies, "Is basic Fashion Sense becoming a super power, brah?"

Yameen acknowledges the compliment with a dip of her head. "The luchador was not as skilled as he believed himself to be. Mr. Freeman did play a pivotal role, as well." She nods to Griffin.

Copycat, feeling more steady and bold, begins to stand up carefully. A brief wave of dizziness washes over her, but other than that and a little soreness, she feels alright. "He did?" she asks Yameen excitedly, wanting to know more.

"Play nice, Cryo." Griffin says as he plays coy about his efforts with El Gigante.

Yameen now nods to Copycat, her keffiyeh distorting with what could be a smile behind it. "Yes. He was very direct, skilled, and brave." All of this is true in her opinion, though lacking in excessive adjectives nor adverbs.

Copycat tries not to beam too proudly at Yameen's explanation. After all, their relationship isn't meant to be super public after what happened with Alpha. If only to keep safe from villains taking advantage of the fact. "Isn't he, though?" she grins. Okay, she's beaming. She's terrible at hiding it.

"But he's got all of that hippy-dippy haaaaaaaaiiiiiirrrrrr," whines Cryostatic. He may even be pouting under the scarf - well, okay, he /IS/ pouting under the scarf, but you can't actually see it through the ballistic fabric. Physically vibrating in place, with his arms crossed over his chest, Cryostatic keeps whining, "And he's not using it rrrrriiiiiiiiiiight!"

"People are people regardless of if they live up to your idea of what they /should/ be." Griffin says a bit chidingly to Cryo.

He does feel quite proud seeing Copycat beam over him though, it makes the whole 'gave her a concussion' thing a bit easier to swallow.

He isn't to hard on Cryostatic though, he suspects there's a good natured and kind young soul behind that ballistic cloth scarf.

Cryostatic isn't trying to be a jerk! He just sometimes sounds more horribly judgmental than he intends. For real! Really for real!

Scuffing a boot against the pavement, Cryostatic looks dejectedly away from Griffin, Copycat, and even Joss. He may, in fact, generally be looking in El Gigante's direction though his yellow-lens-covered gaze is more directed at the sidewalk than at the luchador. Muttering to himself, Cryostatic (unsuccessfully) tries not to feel like a seventy-fifth wheel at the scene of this metacrime.

On the plus side, Lightning isn't here. Then again... Lightning isn't here.

El Gigante is hard to miss. The ten foot tall swole man in black and red spandex with a luchador mask is...significantly noticeable.

Copycat notices the awkardness. And then she notices the sirens in the distance. "Uh...uh oh. How am I going to explain this to the authorities?"

"You aren't. I will." Griffin says putting his hand on her shoulder and giving a tender squeeze.

He alks forward a few paces before turning back to look at Copycat once more before he begins jogging towards the end of the courtyard to cut the police off there and give them his side of things before they get the wrong idea.

"Huh? What? You got hit by some kind of freaky steroid maniac," replies a clueless Cryostatic. He gestures in El Gigante's spandex-clad direction as he turns back toward Copycat. Tilting his head to one side, Cryostatic adds, "Why would you need to explain fighting Nacho Libre to the cops?"

Griffin's reaction is even more mysterious to Cryostatic. He blinks a few times, looking at Yameen and Copycat inquiringly. Cryostatic faintly taps a booted foot against the pavement with typical speedster impatience as he tries to figure out what exactly he missed.

Copycat smiles in smitten relief as Griffin takes the hit for her and goes off to deal with the authorities and El Gigante's incarceration.

Afterwards, she looks over to Cryostatic sheepishly. "Well, that's...what I tried to do. But it's not exactly what I ended up doing," she murmurs enigmatically.

"You... Tried to get hit by some kind of freaky steroid maniac?"

Cryostatic looks and sounds justifiably skeptical of Copycat's answer. He is, in fact, SUPER skeptical, but much of that SUPERness is swallowed up by his domino mask and scarf. Sometimes Fashion Sense is more of a curse than a blessing!

"N-no!" Copycat says in embarrassment. "I...I accidentally made things worse. I didn't mean to..." she says pitifully. It's almost like a kid saying they didn't MEAN to do something terribly, terribly awful.

"Whuh... ?"

Cryostatic backs up from Copycat as she seems about ready to cry. Both of his hands come up in a gesture of peace and non-violence while he takes a step back. Looking over his shoulder at the spot where Yameen was, he starts to repeat himself. Of course, there's no Yameen there anymore.

Blinking, Cryostatic looks over at where Joss was. There is no longer a Joss in visual or, presumably, audible range either. Looking back at Copycat, Cryostatic numbly inquires of no one in particular, "Is everyone in this city a ninja?"

There is a brief pause before Cryostatic steps forward. He consolingly offers his spandex-clad arms to the Pink Hottie. Griffin isn't around to console her, so Cryostatic assumes this means the duty falls to him.

"There, there... Cryostatic's here?"

Copycat doesn't burst into tears despite her pouting. She blushes a bit as he steps towards her with his arms extended, and falls a step or two back in reaction. "Th-thanks, but unless you want me accidentally borrowing your powers and knowing way too much about you, you probably wouldn't want to touch me," she offers a friendly caveat.

"What?"

Cryostatic looks utterly perplexed by Copycat's warning. He drops his arms to his sides and cocks his head to one side as he takes a reflexive step away from Copycat. By his body language, one might assume this is the part of the conversation where he expects to get hit with a rape whistle or pepper spray or something.

"That's... What?! That is the weirdest way to shut down a sympathy hug ever, Pink Hotness."

Pause.

"What /IS/ your name? I feel terrible calling you 'Pink Hotness'. This is not how a conversation with a lovely lady is supposed to go. Neither is them disappearing while I'm blinking like Mysterious Lady Stranger did, but that's really not important right now. Right now, I need to rectify this whole," Cryostatic gestures wildly between himself and Copycat, "Miscommunication that's going on here. I'm Cryostatic and I'm really not that bad a guy, if you give me half-a-chance. Honest. I'm sorry if I'm, like, coming across as totally too charming and/or hitting on you. Sometimes it's hard to stop being awesome when I'm around pretty women, even ones I know are totes taken by a bro."

Again, Cryostatic pauses. He offers one hand to Copycat again, his other hand rubbing the back of his head and casting another spray of static sparks.

"I take the Bro Code seriously. I would never purposefully try to hit on you, knowing you're spoken for, bro or no bro."

Naturally, Cryostatic leaves out the "but, depending on the circumstances and timing of your purely hypothetical break up with a bro or non-bro, you can count on me to be there to try scoring you on the rebound" part. He forgets that his scarf is concealing the BIG CHEESEY GRIN that implies such a caveat.

"I didn't mean to be rude, but--"

Whatever apology or reassurances from Copycat stop when she realizes he called her Pink Hotness. Her cheeks begin to match her hair. Now she's -really- living up to the nickname.

"I'm Copycat," she blurts out quickly to correct the nickname, or maybe to just get him to stop rambling about how awesome he thinks he is. Still, Copycat is a lady and polite, and she feels awkward not accepting the attempt at an apology.

Checking her the front and back of her gloved hand, she finally extends it to shake Cryostatic's hand. The secret bro-code implications are totally unreadable to her.

Cryostatic's hands are both completely sheathed in gloves of their own. It's arguable if they're as impermeable as they look or not, but they should suffice - in conjunction with Copycat's own gloves - to protect from accidental skin-to-skin contact.

"Copycat? Oh, I get it now. Cat. You and Griff must be practically bros in your own right if he's calling you Cat."

There is a friendly, cheerful tone to Cryostatic's voice. His handshake is firm, but not professional; rather he has a deeply personable grip that, with his friendly tone, may or may not be kind of charming. At the very least, the shift in Cryostatic's demeanor may be disarming. It's almost like talking to a used car salesman - he may be trying to get one over on you, but he's just so gosh darned likeable.

Copycat isn't sure what to do. Griffin has been trying to avoid letting on that they're dating, if only for safety. She wants to correct him immediately, but holds off, wishing Griffin were there so she could consult with him.

She certainly gets the feeling like Cryostatic wants something from her, but what, she's not sure anymore. "Yeah, we've partnered up a lot lately," she murmurs.

"That's great! Griffin's a totally awesome bro," replies Cryostatic. He disengages from the handshake at some point that may or may not be fuzzy in Copycat's memory. It's like between seconds, she just lost his grip and was shaking hands with the air. Planting his hands on his hips, Cryostatic straightens up and he casts a glance toward El Gigante again.

"So I guess what you meant to say was that you were trying to copy Mucha Lucha's powers when you got hit - I guess the guy must hit like a freight train. Totes sorry stealing his powers didn't heal you up too. That must suck. And what? You didn't copy his skills with his super roid rage? Rough schwiz. I can see how that'd make bringing him down a lot harder. Totes rough schwiz. At least Mysterious Lady Stranger was there to help you and Griffin succeed, but buck up! You'll totes be the Big Shot Hero next time; you're prime, Copycat! You're just Prime, you got this!"

Copycat eventually withdraws her hand when she realizes there's no hand to shake. How...when...what!? She looks confused.

"Well, more like...he hit me and I accidentally copied his powers. His memories. He hit me so hard I forgot who I was," she rubs the back of her head sheepishly, trying to avert her gaze away from Cryostatic. "So the problem was I copied him way too well..."

"Oh! Wow! That is negacrash!"

Cryostatic realizes he sounds entirely too enthusiastic about this. There is chance that Copycat can see his cheeks flushing in spite of his domino mask and his scarf. Rubbing the back of his head vigorously, Cryostatic sends out harsh sprays of electrical sparks and he shifts his weight uncomfortably as he tries to come up with something to say.

"I, uh. Sorry. That didn't come out right. Are you... I mean, is that like... No. Nonono. I'm sorry, Copycat, that must be a rough way to wake up from being a hero. You just wait though! You'll show everyone just how Prime you really are!"

Copycat looks caught off guard by his encouragement. "Well, sometimes my powers come in handy. And sometimes it's like waking up from a nasty hangover and wondering what just hit me," she admits.

She blushes at his praise. "I'll try and do my best," she promises, her voice weak but positive.

"Heck no! You /WILL/ do your best because there is do or do not; there is no try!"

Cryostatic plants his hands on his hips and tries to look inspiring.

Despite having just committed crimes against nerditude.

Copycat is left staring. Being a nerd herself, she can't believe there are heroes other than Griffin or Rick who would know the reference.

"You...did you just...?"

"What? What did I do?"

Cryostatic whirls around one way and then the other. He may or may not be trying to do a fart check. Did he just fart? No, that can't be it...

Looking at Copycat, Cryostatic arches his eyebrows in a fashion visible in spite of his domino mask.

"What?"

"Did you just make a Star Wars reference?" Copycat accuses, but her accusation is made out of awe as she mentally grapples with this.

"Ma... Maybe," replies Cryostatic. He sounds mildly to moderately terrified. Copycat has him now worried that he's somehow revealed his secret identity to her... If only he knew.

"You DID, didn't you!" Copycat exclaims more excitedly than accusingly this time. She's totes onto him. Neeeeeeeerd!

"I... Uh."

Quick, Cryostatic, think of something!

"I LEFT MY STOVE ON AT HOME!"

Whirling abruptly, Cryostatic whips up quite a little breeze in apparently preparation of leaving.

"GOTTAGOBYE!"

Cryostatic promptly runs off into the Colonial Bay night(?).

Copycat's pink hair flutters in the breeze left in Cryostatic's wake. She blinks, unsure of what just happened there.

Cryostatic happened here.

Copycat may need to do something about the static frizz in her hair now though. Her hair may or may not be as impractically spiky as Cryostatic's hair is.