hot wheels vs the car round two [eiffel]

[HOT WHEELS]

With it being a Saturday and all, and thus no classes for the day, Marley had opted to take herself out and to the convenience store. Which really wasn't that convenient when you consider that the nearest one was nearly three miles away. Rather than deal with the public bus, she opted to drive herself there the entire way, herself and her motorized wheelchair. It wasn't that bad and it was a nice day, and it wasn't as if she had to push herself. Most people were also perfectly happy to leave a pink haired girl in a wheelchair alone.

Keyword: most people.

On her way back from the convenience store, holding a grocery bag with various goods in her lap, Marley found herself the victim of some no name villain. She'd been driving idly along the side walk, humming some song from Mary Poppin's, when this asshole in a mask just sort of appeared and tipped her over. Into the goddamn street. And then left, cackling the entire way, saying something about how "this is only the start!"

It was, amazingly enough, not busy but Marley still wanted to get the hell out of the street as soon as she could. She worked on pushing her wheel chair upright when there was the sound of a car. A car that was fucking speeding and probably would not see the handicap in the street trying to get out.

It was the car wreck all over again and Marley could only stare in horror and hope to god she would survive being hit with a car, which seemed in a few ways a lot worse than being crushed under a car.

Her fire powers couldn't save her now.

[STEEL MINISTRY]

Fletcher didn't know why he was in Los Angeles. Most people who had bothered to hop a plane to a different state would usually have a reason for doing such a thing, especially when they were basically flying cross-country to do so. The flight from New York to Los Angeles was long after all, and expensive. That wasn't something you just did on a whim.

Of course most people weren't also chosen by a God named Harmony and flung across the universe to another planet and plagued with divine calls to be a hero, so what the hell did they know?

Having lived on Earth long enough to know resisting these odd urges to go places never ended well Fletcher had more or less resigned himself to whatever was going to happen. He just hoped that whatever he was walking into wasn't another incident with a flaming building. Those were always a real pain. He would always end up smelling like smoke and hacking up a lung for hours afterwards.

Turning a corner Fletcher felt himself bump into someone and stumbled back a step in response. He had just enough time to glimpse what looked like some freak in spandex and a mask brush past him cackling about something or other before they disappeared farther down the street. For a moment he stood there, puzzled. Okay, he wasn't in any real position to judge someone on their attire, but really only kids dressed like that. On Halloween. When they were maybe five or six. Grown men? Grown men were not meant to wear spandex. Rust and Ruin, Earthlings were strange.

Sighing Fletcher pushed on, sliding around a group of people lounging against the wall of a nearby building. He'd barely gone a few steps when the odd feeling that drove him places suddenly returned, this time letting him know he'd arrived where ever he was supposed to be.

Jerking his head up he began to scan the area for anything out of place. People in strange outfits, or acting strange. Random civilians running away in terror. An obvious disaster of some sort. The usual kind of stuff.

Nothing caught his eye though. It wasn't until about the third sweep of the surroundings that Fletcher realized just what it was that could even come close to an emergency.

Not to far in front of him was a girl who looked to be in her late teens and had bright pink hair that stood out enough that he should have noticed her sooner. She was sprawled out awkwardly on the ground and grappling with what looked like a chair. A wheelchair to be specific, which likely meant she was...What was the politically correct term humans preferred to use? Impaired? Inhibited? In-Oh screw it. She was crippled, political correctness be damned.

A crippled girl who had toppled out of her chair on the side of the road wasn't the usual fare Fletcher was used to dealing with when one of Harmony's moods struck him. She wasn't even in danger from what he could see. It wasn't like any cars were coming-

And of course the world had to go and prove him wrong, for at that exact moment a car rounded the end of the street and headed straight for the girl, going at a speed far over the speed limit. The driver, whoever they were, seemed to be on the phone, and not paying attention at all. Of course.

"Preservation save me from humans and their gadgets," he muttered.

Reaching into the pocket of his coat Fletcher pulled out a small glass vial which he uncorked before downing the contents. The familiar burn of whiskey scorched his throat while the small beads of metal inside quickly settled in his stomach. He Burned Iron, and suddenly blue lines sprang up everywhere in his vision, spreading out from the center of his chest towards various sources of metal. Focusing on the ones nearest the girl he traced a line back to a manhole cover situated in the middle of the road. He Pulled on it, and lurched foreword across the space at high speed. Not wanting to overshoot the girl and waste time he counterbalanced his initial Pull by Pulling slightly on a car located behind him. The two Pulls put him right where he wanted, and with a thud he landed beside the girl crouching slightly and absorbing the shock of his landing with his legs.

Reaching over he scooped her up without preamble, not really interested in anything she had to say on the matter. She could complain about being handled roughly after he saved her like everyone else. That's how things usually went for Fletcher anyways. Earthlings. No sense of gratitude at all.

While his actions had been fast, no human, even a magical alien one, could compete with a car. Especially when the driver of said car payed no attention to their surroundings and possessed a lead foot. With the car bearing down on them at it's current speed Fletched didn't think he could pull them out of the way fast enough. There weren't any viable sources of metal to Pull on on either side, and if he Pulled on anything behind him he'd simply be delaying the inevitable by dragging them along in front of the car. Sure the driver might wise up during whatever time he'd manage to buy them by doing that, but he wasn't going to count on it. The human ability to remain oblivious to the obvious was amazingly powerful. That left him only one real option.

They'd have to go up.

Fumbling in his pocket Fletcher pulled out a coin, then promptly dropped it on the ground. Burning Steel, Fletcher found the coin through the blue lines the metal placed within his vision and Pushed downwards, rocketing the pair into the air.

Fletcher just barely managed to clear the roof of the car in time, and even then it was a close thing as the sole of his boot scuffed against the roof of the car even as it passed. And instant later is was past them, and Fletcher slowly returned himself and his passenger to the ground before extinguishing his metals.

He paused just long enough to turn and flip the bird to the driver who was quickly fading into the distance as they continued to cruise along, apparently still oblivious to all that was going on. Damn people and their goddamn cell phones.

Grunting, Fletcher moved the girl he'd picked up into a more comfortable position (well, comfortable for him to hold her at least) and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Before you ask, yes I did just jump over a car," he said in the patient tone of someone who has had to say such things before. "No, it is not impossible, seeing as we are both clearly still alive. And no, I'm not going to explain how I just did that." You'd think after living on a planet with a good population of super powered individuals people would stop asking questions about how someone could manage such a feat. Nobody ever did though.

[HOT WHEELS]

It was funny. Marley had practically trained for moments like these, moments where her very life was in danger, but when it came down to actually being in danger, she seemed to just freeze. What was worse was that she had been in danger before and she had dealt with it fine, but laying there, useless legs sprawled across the street, pushing her heavy wheelchair back up, she just sort of froze at the oncoming car. Suddenly, she knew what a deer felt like. Even if she did, say, dodge the car by dragging herself out of the way, her legs would be left useless behind her to be run over and that sounded about as appealing as being run over herself. She just didn't know what to do. Fire couldn't save her from this!

And while Marley finally got ready to pray, she felt someone suddenly grab her, jerking her up. She was too stunned to even scream with surprise, instead grabbing for whatever the hell had her. It was made abruptly worse when, by the time she was even putting two and two together, they were in the air. Marley was, in most cases, reasonable. But when she was almost hit by a car, grabbed by some mysterious stranger, and goddamn well rocketed into the air, she just kind of stopped caring about being reasonable.

She grabbed the poor man's hair in her hand, gripping with the ferocity of a bear, and gripped the fur of his jacket in the other, threatening to rip it out, all while she swore every other word. As someone who did not have legs to properly absorb impact, she did not appreciate leaping over cars. But the event was over almost as soon as it had happened and Marley just sort of stayed how she was, breathing like she'd run a marathon.

Then the man started to speak.

Red eyes shot to him and she stared. His words didn't really sink in right away. She was too busy recalling what had happened. He had appeared out of no where and then leaped over a car and that led her to be inclined to believe he was not a regular human but some sort of Super. And, more so than that, he was probably on the side of good, or at least inclined to do good, considering he had saved her from certain trauma.

She drew her hands away from the poor man's hair, her knuckles as white as her face. Marley was visibly perturbed. Oh god he sounded like a right ass. "I don't care," she stated it stiffly, voice a little bit high with agitation. She run her fingers through her slightly mussed hair and made the attempt to fix it. The man had saved her, was most likely a super, but that didn't mean he was on the side of good. He could have easily been someone who just took pity on a crippled girl in the middle of the road. Maybe he was a bank robber or a serial killer with morals.

"Well. Thank you, regardless of how you did it because the point is, you saved me."

Now, many a person would have by this point said "you can put me down" but Marley found that to be entirely illogical. She didn't like being held like a rag doll, but it wasn't as if she could do anything on the sidewalk. So she looked around for her wheelchair and instantly looked horrified. The car had, without stopping, run her wheelchair over and it now lay broken and mangled. Worse than that, a truck sped by in front of her very eyes, swerved, did not miss the wheelchair, and instead kept driving, with a goddamn trailer behind it which only picked her wheelchair up and dragged it after.

"They- oh my god. My wheelchair."

[STEEL MINISTRY]

"Rust and Ruin woman, let go of my hair!" Fletcher growled, not at all amused by the pain he was feeling. He wasn't a wimp by any means, but if her grip got any tighter she'd be pulling hairs out by the root. Mercifully she let go, and Fletcher managed to move his head far enough back that he wouldn't have to worry about her grabbing it again. Giving her a glare, because seriously that hair grabbing shit had hurt, he started moving towards the sidewalk and out of the way of traffic. No need for a repeat incident after all.

"Don't care?" His quirked eyebrow quirked higher as he glanced at her again, getting a better look at this girl who apparently did not care that he'd just jumped over a speeding car and saved her life. "That's a first. Not that I'm complaining. Saves me having to pretend like I'm going to answer some questions."

He watched as she quietly fidgeted with herself; running a hand through her hair and trying her best to remain calm after what she'd been through. He liked that. It was a nice change from the usual bunch of yoohoos who either started asking questions or gushing their thanks. Or, even worse, the women he saved who immediately tried to come onto him. That was a major turn off no matter what. Fletcher wasn't above the occasional fling here and there, but Harmony preserve him there was a time and place for such things.

In response to her thank you Fletcher merely nodded, muttered a quick 'your welcome' back to her, then did his best not to start making quips at the girl. He was a bit of an ass by nature, sure, but being thanked did something to him that just turned the assholishness up full blast. He didn't like it, but he couldn't really afford to start being even more of a dick, mostly because he wasn't sure he wouldn't just make the girl angry or something and have her pulling at his hair again. Plus she was a girl, and despite all his feelings to the contrary he should at least try to be nice. Try being the key word here.

Oh, and of course she was a cripple. That probably warranted some sympathy all by itself.

Hearing her gasp, he spun around just in time to catch sight of her wheelchair snag on the trailer and get pulled off. He stood there for a long moment, watching as the wheelchair sped along before turning his head to look at her. "I'm good, but I am not rescue a wheelchair from a speeding semi good. Tough luck gimpy."

And there he went with the leg quips already. So much for restraint.

"Okay, this whole rag doll swinging in the wind thing isn't going to work." Without even a word of warning he swung her sideways and dropped one arm, looping it under and catching her legs in the cradle of his arm so that he was carrying her bridal style. "There, that's easier. So then Jenny NoLegs, what now? Are you gonna randomly Go Go Gadget some working legs, or do we need to find you a ride? Where did you even get a new wheelchair anyways? Did they have wheelchair rental places like they did for cars?"

[HOT WHEELS]

He seemed, well, surprised that she wasn't surprised. She supposed that, from a normal civilian point of view, what he had done was nothing short of NBA quality. But from her own point of view, well - she set things on fire. She saw men turn into beasts. Her best friend was a shape shifter! Did he really expect her to be impressed by some boring old feat like jumping over cars? Ha! She was just glad he was there in time, the only good thing that had happened in the past two minutes. Really, shit couldn't get much worse, although she dared it to. She was now without a wheelchair and with some super who she knew nothing about. Seriously, it just needed to rain or for some megavillain to appear out of no where.

Still, the wheelchair really was awful and she could only stare horrified after it as it faded into the distance. The asshole wasn't even slowing down. He just kept going! There were pieces of her wheelchair in the road in front of them and she looked them over almost sadly, like one might look upon the loss of a friend. "It was ruined anyways," Marley mumbled. It had been decimated. It might have stood a chance to be saved, at least until the truck ran it over and kidnapped it. She at least had a back up in her room and then there was her other wheelchair, the amazing one. But that left the whole problem of even getting them. Marley couldn't just say "Hey take me back to my superhero academy so I can get my wheels back".

So now, she was left with a problem.

Marley yelped as her thoughts were interrupted, body swinging around like some sort of baton. She grabbed his fur collar again and snapped her eyes to him, looking half ready to scalp him and the other half just startled. And before she could even tell him to warn her, he was calling her names! Jenny No Legs?! She would show him no legs! How would he feel getting a broken nose from Miss Cripple?! Marley forced herself to stay calm. It would be no good to punch her savior in the face and it wasn't as if she wasn't use to being called such things. At least Jenny No Legs was more clever than Gimpy. She rubbed her forehead.

"My name is Marley. What's yours, Savior?" she asked and looked about, realizing she was forgetting something. Oh. Her groceries. Marley looked for those and she seemed pleased to spot them laying right against the curb. "Hey, pick those up for me, will you?" she asked, pointing to where the bag laid. A few snacks were spilling out of it as well as an apple that was probably bruised. Oh well.

She looked to him again, arms folding across her chest. "No, they don't have wheelchair rentals. I'll just have to call my friend," Marley stated and she grabbed for her purse only to abruptly realize that it had been on her wheelchair, tucked between her and the side of it and was, therefore, no longer on her person. She just sort of froze and awkwardly stared at herself, like maybe an alien was going to explode from her chest. Slowly, tragically, she felt her hip where the purse should have been but was not. Marley could see it in her head now - her purse, being dragged along with her wheelchair, and the truck would finally stop far away upon realizing that the grating noise behind was not natural.

"Fuck today. Just! Bullshit!"

And Marley, poor little crippled Marley, looked ready to cry.

[STEEL MINISTRY]

"Marley? Like that dog in that movie?" he asked, sounding amused. "Well if you're Marley the Dog, I guess that makes me John Grogan/Owen Wilson." Okay, that was enough assholishness for one introduction. Best to just give her his name. "Name's Fletcher. And don't call me a savior." He frowned, obviously not liking the title. "Leave that kind of stuff to Jesus or Oprah Winfrey."

The fact that she hadn't reacted to his Jenny No Legs comment didn't go unnoticed. Or the fact that she hadn't reacted outwardly hadn't at least. She had gotten a pained expression there for a second, and rubbed at her forehead like she could feel a headache coming on. Guess that meant she was used to dealing with jabs at her being unable to walk. Well damn, that meant he'd have to work twice as hard at coming up with nasty nicknames. Not that he needed to. He could always just act like a decent, normal person and be nice for once.

Yeah. Like that would happen. Even if Fletcher made a conscious effort to be nice it wouldn't work out. His mouth was on perpetual auto-pilot. Insults just rolled out so much easier than compliments.

"Pick what up?" Looking to see where Marely was pointing Fletcher saw the groceries lying on the ground and groaned. What, was he a bag boy now? Maybe he should quit to go work at Harris Teeter and wear their stupid shirts and put people's crap in plastic bags. Yup, that was it right there. Job of the year. Fletcher Wren, bag boy. Coming to a theater near you.

Sighing Fletcher turned back to where the bag lay and went to one knee, sitting Marley on his other one while he reached out with one hand to gather up the spilled contents of the bag. "You realize this stuff will rot your teeth, right?" Waving a box of candy at her he chucked it into the bag, the reached for a bag of chips. "And this stuff will clog your arteries. Stick to fruit and stuff. You'll live longer. Last thing you need is a heart attack on top of not being able to square dance."

Gathering the last of the snacks, he handed Marley the bag and stood up. Before he did though, he grabbed the apple that had fallen out and gave it a cursory examination. A little bruised, but still edible. He pocketed it. "Payment," he said, by way of a response.

Standing back up with Marley safely cradled in his arms once more Fletcher began to wonder just how long he'd have to chauffeur her around. His arms were starting to hurt from carrying her. It wasn't that she was heavy, or that he was any kind of wimp, but holding something, anything really, for an extended amount of time started to make certain muscles burn. Especially when both muscles had at some point in time had a bullet lodged in them. Thankfully there'd been no permanent damage, but still.

Waitaminute, what was he complaining about. He was an Allomancer. Fletcher burned Pewter and felt the strain in his arms ease as his strength was enhanced. There, problem solved.

"How do you know? Just cause you ride one doesn't mean there might not be a wheelchair rental place somewhere. Might be a real lucrative business to. The world can be weird like that." And then some.

"Woah, hey, don't get your panties in a bunch." Wow, way to pile on the melodramatics all of a sudden. "Can't find your phone?" he inferred, since he couldn't really think of any other reason for the sudden hissy fit. "Look, calm down, you can just use mine. It's in my coat pocket. Just reach down and grab it." He probably could have grabbed his phone himself, but that would involve putting Marley down to get it out, and that just seemed like a hassle after having gone to the trouble of picking her up in the first place. Plus he'd just have to pick her up again later.

...Were those tears in the corner of her eyes? Please don't let those be tears. Fletcher was bad enough with people as is, but crying women were in a whole different league, and Fletcher wasn't exactly all touchy-feely-Mr-Snugglemuffins-let's-share-our-woes to begin with.

[HOT WHEELS]

Life itself must have hated her from the get go. What had once been a wonderful name had been tarnished by a movie about a neurotic dog. This guy was just laying out the cliches, offering them like a bowl of frosting that she'd all ready gotten sick from. "Sure, why not. You're not as good looking, but that's okay. I guess this means I get to tear your family apart and then die on you and make you cry like a little baby," she replied. It had been a sad movie, but the jabs at her had killed it half way through. Look Marley, you're humping the trainer! Marley, no, get back in the car, silly girl! At least the dog hadn't been a cripple. She'd never hear it down then.

"Fletcher. Got it," she replied. It seemed a befitting name. His next words earned a pick of her brows. He wasn't the religious type. Marley herself was Christian, not heavily so, but she'd attended church various times throughout her life. She'd have to tread on careful waters with this one. He might have been a crazy atheist that would bash her beliefs at any chance! Although that seemed out of character. Fletcher struck her as the type to just not give a shit, or, worst yet, not give a shit and comment on it.

She took the bag from him and situated it in her lap. "I brush my teeth three times a day, but your concern is touching," Marley answered, checking about the bag for anything. Her gaze fixated on him taking the apple and she made a quiet scoff. "You're not helping me eat healthy, taking the healthy food I bought."

She didn't particularly care either way although his self entitlement was - well, she wouldn't out right say annoying. But it was definitely not helping her look at him like he might be a good guy. He was probably some sort of bank robber.

But hey, at least he was comfortable. Marley couldn't deny that she wasn't sort of enjoying being carried like this. In most circumstances it was undignified, but given there was really no other choice, well, she didn't particularly mind. It was kind of nice having her own personal bitch to do as she asked, even if it was possibly out of pity. She'd learned years ago to take advantage of anyone who so much as looked down on her for her state. If they wanted to pity her when she didn't need it, she'd make it worth something to her.

"I've been in a wheelchair for five years. I think I know, Fletcher. Besides, I don't have the money to pay for it. Are you going to pay for a wheelchair for me?" she answered. Regardless of how comfortable she might have been, it still didn't change the fact she did not have a wheelchair and now, she did not have a phone. She was left in the care of some guy who may or may not have been a bank robber. Today was not peachy in the least. At least she had her groceries.

She looked at him when he told her to just grab his phone. Well, that would work. It would also give her the chance to see if he had anything dangerous in them. Like a shank. He seemed the shanking sort of man. She slid one hand into the left pocket, felt, and the other into the right, and withdrew his phone, a knife, and a strange cylinder like thing. Marley looked her prizes over. The knife did not see the type intended to stab people, but one could never be too safe. The vial was... confusing to say the least so Marley uncapped it, took a whiff, and rapidly recapped it at the putrid scent that filled her nose. She gagged then resumed her examining. He had a nice phone, at least.

"So you're up to date with technology, I see," she mused. Marley felt about the screen and in a few seconds was calling Stella so the girl would bring her a second wheelchair. The phone rang.

And it rang.

And it rang a bit more just for good measure before cutting to recording.

And Marley just kind of stared into space because how the hell was this happening to her? "Oh, uh, it's Marley. Can you bring me my wheelchair? My other one got... ran over. I'll be by the Beverly Mall. Walking around or something," she stated and then closed the call. She stared at the phone like it had slapped her across the face an then dropped it back into Fletcher's pocket. Her head thunked hard against his shoulder.

"She didn't pick up."

[STEEL MINISTRY]

Now that was more like it. Looked like the little handicapped (handicapped! that was the word he'd been looking for earlier!) girl had a little spunk in her after all! He smiled reflexively, then shook his head. "Too bad for you I don't have a family to tear apart." Which was true both on Earth and back on Scadriel. His mom had died when he was a kid, his dad around the time he was a teenager. After that Fletcher had been on his own, which had suited him just fine. He wasn't exactly a loner, though his personality might speak to the contrary, but at the same time he wasn't one to feel lonely either. Rather, he was the sort of person who was more than capable of enjoying his own company, though not in any arrogant preening in a mirror sort of way.

"Three times a day? Wow, someone's not paranoid about gum disease or anything. Betcha the dentist hates you for that though. Deprive him of all the money he could make drilling out your non-existent cavities." He made a tsking noise at her, and let his head hang sadly. "You're putting poor dentists out of business Marley. Sending them to live out on the streets all cold and hungry and trying to perform back alley route canals on foreign families with no health insurance." So sad. So very, very sad. "And if you really wanted to eat healthy you'd have bought nothing but good food from the start instead of the one apple in an entire bag full of junk. As punishment you'll simply have to work your way though that bag of type two diabetes you're carrying. Hope you enjoy your diabetic coma later."

The entire time they'd been talking Fletcher had been walking, heading up the sidewalk on one side of the strip mall. They'd passed storefront after storefront, inside of which different displays for various goods had been set up to try and entice buyers inside the stores. Fletcher ignored them all, and instead focused on not bumping into anyone else and handing out glares to anyone who looked at him carrying Marley along in any weird way. Fuck whatever they thought. At least he was filling up his good Samaritan quota for the day by playing hero and chauffeur to little miss fall-over-flail-like-dying-fish.

"Me? Pay for a wheelchair?" He let out a short bark of a laugh, tilting his head backwards as he did. "Yeah right. Unless I'm actually going to end up using it, I wouldn't ever pay with it." Though there were other ways to get a wheelchair of course. Didn't grocery stores and places like Wal-Mart have them? "I'd steal you one from some big commercial chain store if you want. Or a hospital. We could just waltz right in, wander around until we found one, then cruise back on out. Problem solved." Not that Fletcher condoned stealing under normal circumstances. These however were not normal circumstances. Plus places like that likely had a bunch of wheelchairs. They could afford to be missing one.

He laughed again when he caught a whiff of whiskey and saw her examining one of the little vials he used to carry his metals. Obviously the smell of whiskey did not agree with her.

"It was kind of an accident," he said, shrugging. "I needed a phone for work, so I went to buy one and got swindled into getting that thing. I still don't know what half the apps and everything else do."

"Y'know, I'd like to point out that technically speaking you wouldn't be walking outside the mall, I would," Fletcher chimed in as she finished up with his phone. "And yeah, I kind of noticed. So, what now?" Because of the Pewter he was Burning Fletcher barely even felt the impact of her head on his shoulder. Though why she was banging her head there in the first place escaped him.

"Look, I don't mean to sound impatient or whatever," except that he totally did, "but hanging around out in front of a strip mall for hours until your friend notices your message doesn't sound all that appealing to me. How about I just take you back to your place or whatever?" Marley couldn't have traveled all that far, he reasoned. After all, she had been in a wheelchair. You don't exactly just take one of those out on the road. If he was lucky he'd have her out of his arms (literally!) and be free to go on home where he belonged.

[HOT WHEELS]

He didn't look old enough to not have a family but Marley wasn't the prying type. As long as he hadn't killed them off or anything, she didn't particularly care. "Either way, I die and you cry like a little girl," she replied and glanced to where she had in fact almost died. As he went off on his tangent, Marley searched the bag for something. She withdrew a candy bar and peeled it open, snapping off a piece of the chocolate. When he was finally done, she looked at him again. "That's assuming I care about a dentist," Marley said. She hadn't even been to the dentist in the last year and it wasn't as if she overindulged on sweets. They were around for the sake of being around for whenever the mood to eat candy struck her. She had also bought some for Stella and Pepper so it wasn't as if the entire bag was for her.

Marley was very much aware of the glances people were giving them but she paid no mind. She was use to people looking at her when they thought she wasn't paying attention and had, by this point, learned to tune it out. On the other hand, was Fletcher use to it? He didn't seem to care about the looks although she would notice him cast a dirty glare at some. Marley smiled in bemusement and she looked over the candy bar, wondering whether or not to eat it before deciding the entire thing was a waste. She returned it to the bag.

Marley had actually considered the hospital idea or grabbing one of those carts from Wal-Mart. The latter you couldn't take out if she recalled and the former seemed like a felony and she really didn't need the school to catch word. The hospital would probably lend her a wheel chair if she needed it though. But, and she squinted her eyes as she thought, the hospital was far away and they probably didn't have nice ones. They would also probably need them for actual patients and not some crippled girl who at least had someone to haul her around.

"I'd rather not be arrested for a misdemeanor. Besides, what if some patient needs them? Some dying patient who needs a wheelchair? There you are, chiding me about dentists, and you're willing to take from the sick to give to the well. I can see where your morals are, Fletcher," she lectured. Marley had said it while examining his items. She did not return the knife, but discreetly slipped it into the grocery bag. If her apple was a payment, then his knife was collateral. There was also the fact that, while he was helping her, she still didn't entirely trust him with a sharp object and if he were to say, try and kidnap her, she had his knife to threaten to cut his throat with. Marley considered that he had hidden weapons, but she wasn't entirely sure how to go about looking for those without coming off as well, creepy. She'd just have to hope he was not going to try and steal her away.

"It was sarcasm since Jenny No Legs here obviously cannot walk to start with," she answered. Marley looked him over to try and decide what type of job he would do that would require a fancy phone such as that. Hell, he didn't even understand what the apps were for. "You sound like someone's grandparent. What do you even do for a job?"

Marley paled ever so slightly as he mentioned going back to her place. He probably meant her parent's home, which was all the way back in Connecticut, but as for her own place, well, she couldn't disclose that. She looked away and grimaced ever so slightly, wondering what to say. "I- you can't," she stated, "And don't ask why but you just can't. You're going to have to tough it up. We can go sit somewhere. I'm a champion at sitting, you know. Or if it's really a hassle, just set me down and I can wait for my friend."

Mentally, she berated herself. Oh how silly she had been to think he wouldn't have better things to do than haul a crippled girl around. And in one of those moments of absolute hate, Marley looked at her useless legs which were the entire reason she was even in this situation to begin with. She felt the urge to just smash them to pieces because she wouldn't feel it anyways, but instead let out a slow, aggravated sigh and rubbed between her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

[STEEL MINISTRY]

Marley was lucky Fletcher was otherwise involved glaring at people while she pocketed (bagged really) his knife. Not that it really mattered if she took it. He had plenty more at home. Except that was his favorite knife. It and he had history. Not violent history, just the kind that came from regular use. Opening boxes, cutting open packaging, getting thrown at walls when he was angry. Stuff like that.

As for potential hidden weapons besides the knife, well, Fletcher had plenty. Specifically two semi-automatic pistols placed in holsters on a shoulder rig he wore beneath his coat, and a smaller caliber revolver strapped to his ankle. Of course it wasn't as if he was going to tell her as much, nor would she have an easy time trying to discover them.

But that wasn't really important.

"It's strikes me that if a person were dying they wouldn't bother with a wheelchair," he said, sidestepping a businessman on the phone. "Rather, they'd probably slap them on a stretcher instead and wheel them off to the ER. Besides," he paused as they reached an intersection and he began looking around to see where he should head to next. "It's not so much an issue of morals as it is practicality. You need a wheelchair. Hospitals have lots of wheelchairs. Ergo, they can spare to lose one. Push that crosswalk button for me, would you?"

He waited for her to press the button, grimacing slightly at her comment. "Hey, I'm not that old. Older than you, sure, but I'm nobody's grandparent." Thank god for that. And thank Harmony he wasn't just a regular parent either. Any kid of his would end up messed up in the head, he knew. Paranoia, even of the professional sort, was still paranoia. Last thing he needed was to bring up a kid who would case rooms for defensive positions and possible assassins.

"I'm a gunsmith," he answered just as the lights on their side of the intersection turned red and the crosswalk sign flashed to let them know it was safe to cross. "I work at this little custom shop named Wessley's in New York. We do custom designs for weaponry as well as detail work and general main-" he shut his mouth with an audible click of his teeth, then shook his head. "Sorry. I started to go all salespitchy on you there. You probably don't even care about guns. Job hazard. Beware going into business Jenny. It'll do terrible things to you."

Fletcher could only watch with suspicion as Marely visibly paled at his suggestion. Oooookay. "Look if you're worried about me stalking you or something know now that I have absolutely no interest in doing so. Plane rides from New York to Los Angeles are way to expensive for me to show up every couple weeks and watch you roll around with a pair of binoculars. Plus I kind of have a job which I like, and do not want to get fired from."

Seeing that she wasn't likely to just fess up and tell him where to take her Fletcher resigned himself to being stuck with her for the next...However long this would take. "Rust and Ruin, don't you go getting all sappy and apologizing to me." He made a gagging noise to accentuate his point. "Seriously, keep to the whole making threats about dying and making me cry instead. I liked that a lot better."

Struck by a sudden idea, and it was kind of a dickish idea, but also a good way to pass the time, Fletcher let a grin slide up over his face. "Look, we'll just go sit down somewhere and wait for your friend. And you're crazy if you think I'm just going to leave a crippled girl by herself without a way to get around. I'm a bastard, sure, but c'mon. There are things in this world you just don't do."

Fumbling slightly in the pocket of his jeans, yet somehow managing to keep Marley held up, Fletcher managed to fish out a coin which he dropped to the ground. Without a word of warning he Burned Steel and sent them both skyward, using the coin as a base to Push off of. "Choose anywhere you want! You've got first pick of anywhere in, or on, the strip mall." Cresting the top of the building Fletcher let them both fly a ways above it before Burning Iron and Pulling them towards an air conditioning unit attached to the roof. Before they could impact with it though he Pushed against it and sent them over, using the momentum of his previous Pull to make them arc gracefully over the roof. He continued to do so as they traveled from roof to roof, using a mixture of Iron Pulls and Steel Pushes to keep them aloft.

Likely the normals below had noticed his sudden take off, but honestly he couldn't care less. Let them gawk. Wasn't like he was doing anything illegal. Besides which this shit was fun. Not as much as it was in New York where he could latch onto or push off of the millions of metal skyscrapers that dotted the city, but still. He'd take what he could get.

"Well, what's it gonna be? You've got a whole lot of roof space to pick from! Hurry up and choose already."

[HOT WHEELS]

"Well I imagine a dentist won't be affected by one less person getting her teeth checked," she replied. Her eyes flickered to the business man and she stuck her tongue out at the oblivious man. He was the type of person she liked to intentionally run into with a wheelchair, the kind that did not pay any attention what so ever and thought the entire world should take the time to avoid him. He couldn't make a scene because she was in a wheelchair and if he did make a scene, the world would look at him like he was the epitome of monsters. If she had feet that could move, she'd have nudged the man with her foot, just on accident, but then, if she had feet that could move, she wouldn't even be in this predicament. If only the man carrying her was clever enough to take advantage of her crippled state as a means of clearing the pathway! That was the one best thing about a wheelchair - people moved for you.

"They might still need it and I have you, don't I? Although, a wheelchair doesn't back talk me as much and it's less indecent to be in a wheelchair than carried by a grown man," she replied and reached her hand out, jabbing the button as she was asked (told?) to do. She jabbed it again for good measure and then looked across the street at the sign. A few seconds later and it changed colors, indicating it was safe to walk. Marley was almost tempted to tell him to go, like he were the dog and not her, but she resisted because it wasn't that humorous and she didn't want to push her luck too much.

Marley listened as he spoke, instantly intrigued when he mentioned gunsmith. She'd never really considered that to be a job before. Then he cut himself off abruptly and she looked at him like a child who had been denied the latter half of a bed time story. The next words earned a laugh. Oh, if only he knew! He might have sold guns and saved cripples from the road, but she went on all sorts of dangerous missions and helped save people from burning buildings. "I don't mind," she said in a rather chipper tone, "I think it's interesting. I can shoot a gun, you know."

She had to take fire arms training and she wasn't a terrible shot at that, among the top. She'd started off terrible but the girl had spent hours upon hours just shooting at a target until she could hit it dead on.

Marley considered what else he had said. If he had a job in New York, then he obviously didn't live here. He confirmed her thoughts a bit later and she wondered what he was even doing in Los Angeles if he wasn't from here. That was definitely a long ways away. The pink haired girl gave him an odd face. He was definitely abnormal and definitely a super. She would have to mention him to the Avengers. They could deduce if he was a good guy or bad guy and make use of him.

"I'm not worried about you stalking me," she stated. That was really the farthest thing from her mind. Even if she didn't live in a superhero academy, she still had fire powers and she had no qualm setting him on fire if he was going to attempt to make her a paranoid wreck. She knew people in high places too that would gladly come to her rescue even if she did not set him on fire!

Marley noted that he said rust and ruin a lot and she wondered where the hell that was form. He was criticizing her apology though before she could ask and she looked away. While she might have been saying she had him and thus did not need a wheel chair, it didn't change the fact she felt like an inconvenience. He could have left her and she would have been fine, but she also sort of wanted some company and didn't particularly want him to go either. It would be no fun uselessly sitting in one spot. His refusal to abandon her earned a warm smile. "All right. It does't seem there's any talking you out of this," she said.

It was mere seconds after she had even said it that they were suddenly in the air all over again. Marley let out a shriek of surprise, grabbing a fistful of his coat, her other hand grabbing at his shoulder, nails practically sinking into the fabric. She swore and she cursed as if she were a dying girl spiting her killer. She barely even heard him, too busy lamenting over how fucking horrifying this entire situation was. Her face shoved into his shoulder and she hissed all sorts of profanities under her breath. He did not stop, did not land, and at his words, Marley forced herself to peek up at him like some sort of wet, angry cat that would find him in his sleep and rip his face off.

"I don't care- anywhere. Let's- ice cream parlor. Let's get some fucking ice cream, okay? God, what is it you say - rust and ruin!" she hissed. Marley drew away a little bit more and reluctantly looked down at all the little people. She shuddered but forced herself to stare because it wasn't that bad, just unsettling. She did not like heights and it wouldn't surprise her if this bastard knew. Next time, she would rip his hair out by the handfuls.

[STEEL MINISTRY]

In contrast to Marley's curses and general dislike of the experience Fletcher seemed to be having the time of his life. Still Burning Pewter he was unaffected by the girl's deathlike grip on his shoulder, barely even feeling as her fingers dug into his flesh through the fabric of his coat. Seeing how much she obviously disliked flying through the air Fletcher could only break out into a wide grin before making things worse. Giving a rather enthusiastic Push behind him he felt his body flip foreword and curl around his companion, spinning them both into a midair somersault. Thankfully the centrifugal force of the flip was enough to keep the bag of groceries in place, otherwise Fletcher would have been reduced to picking it all up off the roof of whatever store they were over top of. That would have sucked.

"Ice cream? Didn't I just finish talking to you about the danger of cavities?" he taunted, flinging them both over the edge of the building and towards the ground. At the last second he tugged hard on the sign behind them with an Iron Pull and making them decelerate quickly and taking all of the force out of their landing so that they hit the ground with barely any kind of jostling. Acting as though falling out of the sky were completely normal Fletcher turned and headed for the ice cream parlor, finagled the door open with one boot shod foot, and strode confidently inside.

Fuck people and their stares.

Picking a table at random Fletcher made for it and pull a chair out with his foot. Bending down he helped situate Marley comfortably in the seat, then turned towards the counter of the shop and began scanning the list of ice cream flavors on the glowing plastic boards situated above and behind the work area directly behind the counter.

"So you know how to use a gun, huh?" he inquired, alluding to her comment from earlier. "And where'd you learn to do something like that? Can't see any reason a crippled girl would ever need to learn how to handle a gun. Unless you're some sort of super secret spy agent or something." Because that was totally likely. Agent double-oh-No Legs, reporting for duty. Pffft.

"Any idea of what you want?" he asked, turning back to face her. He chose to pointedly ignore any death glares aimed in his direction for the shenanigans on the roof. Somebody needed to learn to enjoy breaking out of one's comfort zone. Besides which, how many crippled girls could say they'd been whisked into the sky by some Super and giving a free air ride? Not many, that's what.

[HOT WHEELS]

Just when she was considering getting use to this whole being up in the air thing, Marley felt the entire world turn. It was an odd feeling to not see it so much as to feel it, kind of like a rollercoaster with your eyes closed. And that, arguably, made it worse because she just knew it was happening but couldn't watch it happen. Marley let out a shriek of pure, unadultered terror and, for a few seconds, began to hyperventilate before calming down. Her legs moved useless with the motions and she couldn't feel it, but sense it rather, and that seemed to make things worse.

"Cavities are the least of my worries right now," she snarled. In the midst of his terrorizing, Marley had thrown one arm around his neck, almost threatening to suffocate the poor man. She seemed to still be unaware of it, or maybe she was and just refused to let go as some sort of impending death threat. Like, if he did that again, she'd snap his neck, even if that meant falling to her death because Fletcher was dead. Or she'd suffocate him until he stopped or passed out. She really wouldn't have been picky because either way, she would have happily used his body to soften the impact.

They landed at last and Marley shuddered, daring to look out at the comforts of the ground. She removed her arm from his neck although did not relax in the slightest. How could she? Too bitter to even help him open the door to the parlor, Marley merely watched him, for a brief moment, struggle to open the door. It was a huge relief in more than one way to finally be set down. She situated herself and pushed her legs together, pulling the one over the other so that her ankles were crossed. She pulled her hair out of the pig tails it was in and ran her fingers through the toussled strands.

"I think it makes sense. I'm a crippled girl after all. If a robber were to break into my home when I was all alone, I don't think I'm going to do much punching him with my fists," Marley replied, still fixing her ruined hair. She did not opt to glare at him, but merely kept her gaze away and in the few moments she would look at him, it wouldn't be a glare, but rather a withering scorn filled glance, the kind that could make blood run cold and fires go out and lights flicker. "I want cheesecake ice cream with a chocolate glaze and some cherries," she replied, giving him her brief look of contempt before looking away.

"What are you going to get? You should get something. Maybe some frozen yogurt. Have you ever had that?" she asked, grabbing a few napkins. Marley pulled her hair into its former two pig tails and then began to mess with the napkins. She tore them until they were squares and began to idly fold one into what looked like a crane.