Marc and Alana got off their trains. Each hoped their “meeting” would not be as horrendous as their prior two. Before heading over to Clarke’s they went to their respective banks.
They both smelled smoke and saw a haze in the air. It was emanating from the direction of the U.N. Their eyes wandered that way. The smoke thickened. Normal people would have walk in another direction. But they headed toward the source of the fire.
There were a few madmen and women lighting trash cans on fire while ranting about the world. Sirens were heard in the background.
Marc and Alana raced toward the criminals. Alana knew she couldn’t shoot her most powerful weapon, wine. It would make the fire burn brighter. But she knew she had to do something. Marc saw them. He didn’t want to get dirty. He was in his favorite Lacoste shirt and Gap jeans. He wanted to look nice for Alana. He knew he had to stop this madness.
One of the crazies bumped into him. He pushed her away. She charged into him. He ducked. He had no desire to expose his powers at the UN. Alana was trying to put out one of the fires when someone picked up a flaming trash can and tossed it at her.
She went nuts. She kicked the can down. But got minor burns on her legs. The person who threw the can was laughing. She ran up to him and punched him so hard. His mouth fell wide open. She unleashed pounds of figs down his throat. He fell down and choked. He passed out. She walked away from him.
Meanwhile, Marc was engaged in a fight with the woman who shoved him. She was throwing garbage at him. His arms bulged. He opened his hands as pomegranates flew out his palms. Several hit the woman right in her head. He shot barley and honey. Finally, he entangled her in his weapons. She started crying. He checked to see if she was ok. As he turned around to run an EMT was racing toward them.
He knew he had to be swift. Alana was racing ahead and shooting wine at a woman who was wielding a machete. She usually fought with grape wine. But started drinking an amazing Israeli pomegranate wine and added it to her repertoire. She knew she would probably hit Marc with it. But wanted to practice to make sure it was effective.
The two kept at it. The NYPD eventually arrived. One of them tripped over one of the trashcans.
Marc and Alana started running toward Clarke’s. They were texting each other that they’d be late for their get together. But both understood why.
Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc. 