Criminal Reality (Open)

Participants: Ripley Ryan /Open
Open/Closed: Open
Location(s): New York's back alleys
Time of Day: Mid-afternoon
Weather: Humid and overcast.
Summary: Ripley Ryan is the host of the reality stone, and with that comes an incredible power that she can't fully control. Trying to ease herself in to a life of villainy, she's realised being a criminal isn't as easy, rewarding or glamorous as some people make it look - especially when you still have to deal with the dross that plagues every capital city, never mind other heroes and villains...

She flexed her fingers a little, blue eyes darting between the two men that barred her way. Both were bigger than her – one at least twice her height, while the other could easily have been four times her width. Beyond them lay the side door to her run-down apartment building; her destination before being cut-off by what she assumed were would-be-muggers. She'd been so focussed on looking at the floor and her tattered converse that she hadn't noticed them step out from wherever they'd been hiding – not until she'd bumped into the broader of the pair.

Having bounced off him a little, putting a stride or three between them, Ripley had affixed the duo with a long stare, almost matching the intensity with which they stared at her. However, unlike the rather sinister grins they wore, the former reporter's face instead bore a look of mild frustration – perhaps not the abject fear back-alley criminals might have expected, but far from confidence or self-assuredness.

If they knew who she was, what she'd done, what she was capable of, they certainly wouldn't have looked so sure of themselves. Ripley Ryan had gone toe-to-toe with Captain Marvel (and nearly killed her, before in turn nearly being killed), escaped The Raft, and she'd previously stored more power in her little finger than both thugs combined. And that was all before she'd become the living host of the Reality Stone.

For some unknown reason, and through means totally beyond her comprehension, the red infinity stone had chosen to reside within her – a human, who had wanted to be a heroine but had ended up a villain. It had come to rest within someone who had, through rather unscrupulous means, gained more power than she'd dreamed of, and then been made weaker than she'd previously imagined possible.

In theory, with control of the stone, 'Star' existed as one of the most powerful beings on the planet Earth. And more worryingly, Ripley Ryan had no idea how to begin utilising the vast power she wielded - she just knew she could.

“You know the drill. Hand over your bag and you don't get hurt.” It was the taller, ganglier of the pair that spoke, while the stockier male cracked his knuckles, illustrating how she'd be hurt should she refuse his partner's request. “Nice and easy now, just pass it over.” Rather than comply, Ripley took a marked step back, her eyes narrowing a little. She clutched her bag tighter to herself, outwardly showing her defiance.

The thugs shared a knowing look, one they'd no doubt shared before, and with surprising speed, the taller, thinner man lashed out with an open palm – his arm length easily making up the distance his quick stride didn't – catching Ripley firmly on the side of her face. Completely unprepared for the strike, Ryan's small form almost pirouetted on the spot, before she dropped to her knees and pressed her hands to her stinging cheek.

The flesh was warm from the blow, and she winced a little, before gritting her teeth.
“Now look what you made me do. If you just give us the bag, it won't have to happen again.”
Despite the men taking two steps closer to her, almost standing pressed to the side of her kneeling form, the words spoken seemed distant and quiet, for Riley wasn't focused on them. Instead, she had turned her attention inward, summoning the power of the Reality Stone.

Within moments, her eyes blazed a bright crimson, and she formed disparate mental instructions for the stone to follow – instructions that would only be carried out when given voice. Snapping her gaze upward toward her assailants, she glared, and both faces drained of colour upon seeing the colour of her irises.
“Now look what you made me do,” she quipped, before thrusting out a hand toward the broad male, directing one simple command. “Go away!”
Hurled from his feet, the thicker thug was cast back down the alley with incredible force. However, before he could collide with anything, Ripley added to her former thought. “Forever.” Upon that word leaving her lips, he vanished – his form crumbling into a fine dust that floated for a brief second on the humid New York air.

There was a strange, uneasy silence as both the remaining criminal and Ripley stared at the formerly inhabited spot. Then tall and gangly started to run, flailing his long arms and shouting for help.
“Watch out for that bottomless pit!” Ripley called after him, and before he'd made it ten feet from her, the ground beneath him gave way, and he dropped into a yawning darkness, most easily comparable to a black hole. Beneath his feet, or indeed, the space his feet had once been, the blackness swirled for almost a minute, before Star commanded, “Close the portal.”

And then it was gone, and the back steet looked just as it had before its reality had been stretched and warped.

"I don't suppose you have the ability to bring that second one back?"

Behind the woman, from a crossroads of narrow alleys, a figure stepped out of the shadow. Christian gave a gentle, passive smile at her. He wore white head-to-toe; form-fitting slacks, shoes, a long-sleeved sweater and, draped over his shoulders, a suit jacket. "You see, he had something of mine."

Christian maintained his genial, calm, conversational air. On either side of him, figures emerged. Men dressed in black combat suits lined with accents of crimson, whose faces were entirely obscured behind emotionless pale cream-colored masks. They had weapons, but they were down on Christian's order.

Sensing that the sight of an armed escort might spook the woman - justifiably so - and now aware of a fraction of her power, having witnessed the fate of the muggers, Christian had no desire for things to deteriorate past the threshold of courtesy. He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, the jacket slung on his shoulders somehow miraculously staying in place.

"Just a precaution. I don't really care for the company, either, but it's protocol when on a business call." Christian's easy smile stayed fixed in place, pouring on the effortless charm that'd been bred into him as a Frost. Really, asking if the woman could undo what had just been done was a technicality. Christian hoped she'd say she couldn't. That cleared up his agenda for the evening very conveniently.

Ripley Ryan

"I don't suppose you have the ability to bring that second one back?"

Ripley nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of another voice, wheeling around, hands raised defensively – as if she was about to be struck. Natural instinct – no matter how strong she’d been after Minn-Erva’s tampering, nor the vast power at her fingertips as the host of the reality stone, she’d been a mere mortal for far too long to just forget reflex reactions – and she had just taken a backhand from a random street thug. Peeking around her arms, she noted a tall, blonde man step out of the shadows from further down the alley, dressed impeccably in white. He definitely wasn’t from a part of New York that she was familiar with – just to look at him suggested he had money.

"You see, he had something of mine.”

He had a snooty, airy tone that matched his attire. Slowly, Ripley lowered her hands, remembering herself and the power she now possessed, former confidence returning. Her brow narrowed a little as armed men in dark combat fatigues joined the white-clad male, and once again, a crimson hue flickered about her irises. She hadn’t realised the shadows were dark enough or deep enough to hide that many people.

Glancing between them all, her mind raced. They’d just seen her kill two people. They were dressed like they could be from super-max super-power prison, and they just happened to be in the alleyway leading to her apartment. However, the posh guy wanted the man she’d dropped into…well…somewhere, and they could easily have attacked her while she’d dealt with the muggers who’d wanted her bag, if that had been their intention. Could she vanish this group too? For sure. But she was trying to lay low, trying not to dust every single person she crossed, in case she caught the attention of the Avengers and wound up back in the Raft, or somewhere far, far worse.

"Just a precaution. I don't really care for the company, either, but it's protocol when on a business call."

He raised his hands in a show of mild surrender, and Ripley relaxed a little. Sort of. Barely at all. However, it encouraged her to go with a less aggressive approach than she might naturally have adopted: she didn't need to make unnecessary enemies or draw unwanted attention to herself. “I don’t know if I can…bring people back. I’ve never tried.” It made a great deal of sense that she could – it seemed, after all, that she could do pretty much anything. Reality was her plaything. Pointing at the armed escort, she continued. “I can give it a go, but they stay there. And you forget everything you saw. Right?”

It hadn’t occurred to her that she could erase their memories and just go about her day.

Christian Frost