Log: Thanksgiving at Eve's or The Law of Antlerman
Players: Scuzz, Eve, Toad, plus Dan Dan The Antlerman and the workers at
Eve's bar (NPCs)
Date: Played Around November 26th, 2005, Set Thanksgiving
Location: Eve's Bar
Synopsis: Scuzz and Antlerman share a plate of hotwings for
Thanksgiving, and Eve gets concerned about Toad so invites him over to
their table.
Note: Figured I might as well finish off this log and toss it off, even
though I only have the part before I left.

-

Thanksgiving is a time to be together with family. But a lot of
mutants don't really have family.  Scuzz does, but it's all in
Wisconsin and probably drunk out of his mind. So, that's why he's here
at Eve's tonight. Oh, sure, he could go to whatever the Brotherhood
safehouse is doing, but he doesn't feel like it. He'd rather have some
hot wings and beer. Right now he's sharing a table with good old Dan
the Antlerman.

Eve opted to keep her pub open during Thanksgiving because that's the
only way she can get any real dinner. A good thing too, turns out
there's more than a few mutants out there who would rather eat at the
Night's Garden than with their families. Human is at his usual place
behind the bar, Ron is running back and forth from the kitchen to
different tables in the 'eating' area and the two bodyguards are no
where to be found (presumably they have the night off or are eating in
the back).  Eve is at the bar, getting another pitcher of beer for
Scuzz and Dan's table - she's also eyeing Scuzz's towel on the seat
for any sign of decomposition.

          A cardboard box is far from a good place to cook a
Thanksgiving dinner. Even though he doesn't really celebrate American
Holidays, Toad can't help but feel the need to be around other people.
He pokes his head through the door for almost a full second before he
enters the room completely. Whatever he was looking for, he doesn't
seem to find. However, that seems to be a good thing.  He makes his
way to the bar, drawing a couple of not-quite-pleasant from a few
regulars. But no one gives him a dirtier look than the guy behind the
bar. However, Toad doesn't seem to notice. He hops onto a stool and
grabs the bowl of peanuts, taking a big handful from it. The entire
fistful is shoved into his mouth, and loud crunching ensues.

Scuzz bites into a hot wing and shakes his head. "No, see, I get what
you're saying, Jason is no doubt a badass, but against Freddy? Come
on. If it wasn't for that stupid 'pulled into reality' stunt no way he
could have lost. And Freddy _still_ almost kicked his ass." He smiles
as he sees Eve approach with the beer. "Ah, cool, I was just ready for
another brewski."

After giving Toad his best dirty look, Human sidles up to Eve's side
of the bar and whispers something in her ear, indicating Toad with a
slight tilt of his head. Eve glances at the newcomer, frowns slightly,
and gives a curt reply that doesn't make Human happy. She picks up the
pitcher and brings over to Scuzz's table, placing it between the two
men as she mutters at Scuzz, "you just make sure you don't ruin any of
my seats and I'll keep the beer coming." She glances again at Toad
then back at the other two, "either of you two know this guy? Human
said he might be trouble." Human at this point, approaches Toad and
sighs, "so what do you want to eat?"

          With his mouth still full, Toad starts saying stuff to the
bartender. Little bits of peanuts are all stuck in his teeth, like
really bad. It's hard to tell them apart from all the other things
stuck in his teeth though. He's got some pretty dirty teeth. "Give me,
eh, one of those big glasses there" Toad points "with, em, water in
it." He looks blankly at the bartender for several seconds, before
putting one of his hands to his chin. Stroking his chin doesn't seem
to make ordering any easier for him though. "Eh, give me a menu."

Antlerman turns (carefully) to look at Toad, says, "Never seen him.
Anyway, before I have any more beer I've gotta drain my lowermost
horn. Don't eat all the wings, man. I paid half for those, and I'm
keeping count." Scuzz tips his head in acknowledgement, then looks to
Toad. To Eve, he says, "Don't know him. Looks like he fell out of the
ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down, though. What'd he do?"

<OOC> You say "Had to uphold The Law of Antlerman. He either has to
leave as the scene's beginning, or show up just as it's ending. ;)"

Human rolls his eyes and pulls a glass from the shelf, fills it with
tap water, and places it on the bar infront of Toad, "the menu is on
the wall, man." He points to the blackboard behind him where a menu
was scribbled in almost illegible handwriting. Eve moves to let Dan
through then grabs a wing from his side of the plate and takes a quick
bite. Chewing thoughtfully as she watches the exchange between Toad and
Human, she says "Human says that he's a jackass and Rina had to 'talk'
to him the other night - whatever the hell that means."

          Squinting slightly, Toad reads from the board. He continues
stroking his chin with his really long fingers. One of his fingers
slips in and out of his nose quickly and then disappears into his
palm. He takes his hand away from his face and hides it under the bar.
A couple of seconds later, it resurfaces. "Hrmm... give me an order of
those hash brown things. Make sure you put lots of 'em on the plate."
Toad gives Human a very critical 'don't try to rip me off or I'll hunt
you down' kind of look that comes off as more annoying than anything
else. His feet sway back and forth under the bar as he kicks idly. It
sucks not being able to reach the floor.

Scuzz shrugs. "Not like being a jackass is all that bad. Some of the
best people I've known were jackasses." He shudders a bit at the
nose-picking thing. "But that guy is pretty nasty looking." He pours
himself some beer, even making sure to use napkins where his hands
touch the handle. "Whatever though, he doesn't look like he'll be much
of a problem if you have to throw him out."

Eve takes that as Scuzz watching her back and nods to him, she also
grimaces slightly at the nosepicking performance. She calls out to
Toad, "hey you, kid! Come over here for a second.." and indicates an
empty seat next to Scuzz. Might as well keep all the bar-destructing
mutants in one place. Human nods to Toad and yells out to Ron as he
zips by, "one hash brown.." hesitates, and adds, "for Eve's table!"
Ron gives a wave to show that he's heard and disappears into the
kitchen.

          The temptation to simply ignore whoever it is that's calling
him is hard to ignore. As it is, Toad looks at her for a second to
make sure that she is in fact calling him. It's pretty obvious that
she is, so he gets off of his stool and walks over to her table. He
looks at the proffered seat a bit disdainfully, but accepts it,
keeping a healthy distance between him and Scuzz. Don't want to sit
too close to the creepy guy. Before he sits down, however, he looks
right at her, a not-very-nice look on his face. "What?" Not the most
neutral thing he could have said, but also not the most hostile
response possible. He crosses his arms on the table. Well, he doesn't
so much cross them as fold one over the other.

Scuzz also noticeably leans away from Toad. And Scuzz thought he was
ugly from a distance... up close it's even worse. He doesn't know why
Eve called him over here, so he doesn't say anything, just takes a sip
of beer.

Human vehemently begins to clean the space under the bar were Toad was
sitting, throwing the offending mutant a couple of glares. Eve shrugs
at Toad, "figured you'd be more comfortable here - and the bar is more
of a drinking area than an eating area." Her comment is punctuated by
Ron placing a plate of hash browns on the table next to Toad. Eve
introduces Scuzz, "that's Scuzz, and I'm Eve -" then looks at Toad
expectantly.

          It sounds harmless enough, but Toad is still suspicious. He
obviously thinks her reasons for inviting him to sit with them are
shady. His unique scent starts making itself known more and more the
longer he sits there. It's pretty bad, since it's been years since he
bathed last. Literally, years. "Hnh." Is the only response he gives,
followed by a slight not of the head. He picks up one of his hash
browns gingerly, placing it in his mouth. He chews carefully, what
with it being hot and all.

"Hnuh? What the #%@% kind of name is Hnuh?" Scuzz asks, although he's
doing it in a mocking way... he didn't really mistake it for his name.
He turns his head and makes a wincing face as he inhales for what must
be the first time since Toad sat down. "Dude, you reek."

Eve may not have alot of brilliant ideas, but putting Toad and Scuzz
together has to be one of her better ones. She almost grins for a
nanosecond before the stench hits her and her nose wrinkles before she
can help herself. She then sneezes. Wiping her nose with her sleeve,
she clears her throat and adds to Scuzz's observation, "yeah Hnuh, you
don't exactly smell of roses."

A bit self-conciously, Toad sniffs his own armpit. He doesn't do it
discreetly, or make any effort to conceal what he's doing. He just
lifts his arm up and sticks his face under it. When his face
resurfaces, it's with a puzzled expression. "Nah... that isn't too
bad. This is a new t-shirt." Indeed, the shirt underneath his ragged
vest does look pretty new. So, of course, he immediately stains it.
While squirting a bit of ketchup into his little tray of hash browns,
he gets a bit too aggressive with the bottle, and the thick stream
splatters everywhere, including on his shirt. "Dammit!"

Scuzz looks at Toad's little accident without sympathy. "Eh, not like
it's ruined any more than it is by you wearing it." He grimaces again.
"I think I'm losing my appetite." And that's tough to do with Scuzz.
He does drink some more beer. If only it could dull his senses.

Eve shrugs at Scuzz, anything he won't eat, Dan would probably wolf
down in a second. To Toad she manages an "Uh-huh" before grimacing
again. Even in her worst days on the street she never reeked like this
guy, "so I'm guessing you don't have a place to shower?" Toad wouldn't
be the first homeless mutant to grace her pub with his putrid presence.

(OOC) Eve says "marvel at the alliteration."

          "Shower?" Toad looks at her completely bewildered. "Oh, I gave
that up years ago. Never could see much use in it really." He smiles
widely, showing off his almost completely green (and crud-filled)
teeth. "I wash my hands every now and then." He picks up another hash
brown, dips it in the big puddle of ketchup, and plops it into his
mouth. In the middle of chewing he calls out "Oi! Barkeep, give me
some mayo!" He looks back at his tray "I knew these bloody things were
missing something."

Scuzz rolls his eyes a little. Of course, Scuzz hasn't showered in
years either, but then he doesn't need to. "Well, I'm out." He's
leaving some of his share of the wings behind, but they're too close
to Toad, so they're probably inedible by virtue of having soaked up
some of the stench. "Tell Dan I'll see him at poker night." He stands
up and shakes his head to himself. What a way to spend a thanksgiving.
Maybe they'll at least have pie at the safehouse.

"We're out of mayo!" Human yells back, then gives Eve a 'what?!' look
before going back to cleaning the bar. Eve nods to Scuzz, "I'll tell
him that." She also decides against having anymore wings, looks like
Toad needs them more than she does. Nudging the plate towards the
young mutant, she asks, "you want the rest of these?"

(There was more to the scene, but Eve has it not me)

Title:  The Secrets that you Keep
Date: 12/12/05
Synopsis:  Rina catches up with Kitty in the gym at Columbia.
Rating: PG (Sparring)
Cast:

Kitty
          The girl before you stands at an average height of five
eight and regards the world about her with a slight smile. Her light
brunette hair, hangs loosely down her back, the long curly strands
flowing with her movements. Her wide brown eyes peer about her with
curiosity, sizing one up and yet watching everything at once. Her
expression is one of composed relaxation, her features soft and
smooth yet with a sharpness at the edges

          Hanging from her shoulders, she wears a pale blue/grey
camisole, falling loosely over her form, ending just below her waist.
Other than the straps, Kitty's slightly pale shoulders and arms are
bare. Starting at her waist she wears a pair of black jean shorts,
hugging her tightly, and showing off her toned legs. On her feet she
wears an expensive looking pair of sandals, a row of painted toenails
sticking out the fronts.

Rina(#2017POXcef$-)
Rina is a muscular young woman of obviously mixed heritage. Her eyes
are almond shaped, large, and deep brown. Her skin is a light tan,
her hair deep black, with long bangs in front, and down to the small
of her back in back. She is solidly muscular, each muscle well
defined, visible in chiseled relief, much like a body builder.

Rina is wearing a pair of grey police academy gym shorts. Her bare
legs have the usual quantity of hair for someone who doesn't shave
them, and her feet are also bare. Her only other article of clothing
is a grey sport bra. It hugs her body tightly, her powerfully muscled
chest (and rather limited bust) showing through. Her belly is bare,
abdominal muscles bulging in the classic "six pack" as they extend
downward from her chest. Rina's back is the match for her chest,
powerfully muscled, each muscle defined almost agonizingly clearly.
Rina apparently does not shave her armpits and, in fact, extending
from her navel downward, to disappear under the elastic waistband of
her shorts, is a fine trail of body hair. Two lines of scar run from
her left shoulder to just above the knuckles of her left hand.

---

Kitty steps out of the dressing rooms, looking around carefully.
This /isn't/ what she's used to. She usually tries to keep in shape,
but usually she can do better for a gym than a college gym. But for
appearances, this gym will have to do. She's been trying to maintain
a lower profile ever since coming back and this is more of that. The
current lifestyle hasn't been the most enjoyable time she's ever had,
but then, there are worse lives.

Rina is on the mats. She's just warming up though. She does a quick
tumbling pass from the gymnastics she trained in long ago, making up
in power and speed what she lacks in form. She flips across the mat
and lands a stick landing nicely enough, but she'd have lost enough
tenths on form to be a problem. She shrugs. Repeats the pass going
the other way and adds a quick flurry of punches and a kick at the end.

Kitty tilts her head as she sees glances past the weights and notices
Rina on the mats. She wasn't planning on any kind of workout like
that tonight, but the last time she and Rina met, Rina seemed to be
catching on to things that Kitty didn't want her catching on to. So
then maybe this is the perfect time for Kitty to "set things
straight". With a light smirk, she carefully treads around the gym
towards the mats where Rina decided to practice her tumbling/martial
arts. She doesn't say anything immediately, letting Rina finish her
current routine before she'd try to make herself known.

Rina 's hands flicker into a swift round of motions. You might
recognize them as Bruce Lee's 'way of the blocking fist' - Jeet Kune Do.

Kitty recognizes them. She might not have as rigorous of a training
schedule as she might've had at one time, but she's not a slacker
either. She's forgotten more than a lot of people have ever learned
about fighting. Just one of the benefits of getting your training
through mystical transformations instead of actually doing the work.

Rina drops to one knee and flicks claws out in a quick whistling
slash, one left, one right. That'd be Rina-fu. So would the forward
roll and dual toe-claw rake. She lands on her feet, and her nose
twitches. There's a familiar scent around. Now where... and where has
she smelled that before?

Kitty raises an eyebrow at the custom moves, but only steps forward
from the wall when Rina pauses after the strike. "So... is this what
you do with your spare time?" Idly, she considers what her chances of
Kirk having told Rina that she's come back are as she waits for a
reaction, but she wouldn't be completely surprised. It's not like it
was a secret.

Rina 's head swivels toward you and she smiles. "Hi Kitty. Long
time." She walks toward you. "How've you been?" Her skin is wet with
perspiration now, and she's breathing a little heavily.

"Yup. It's been a little while. I've been alright. How are you?",
Kitty answers, grinning, a little surprised at how much of a workout
that Rina has managed to get on her own already. Apparently, she
practices hard. Not that she thought that Rina was into casual
exercise. She seemed pretty hard core and she'd have to practice a
lot to get this good on her own.

Rina is very hard core. Her body shows it. There's not much softness
to her, she hasn't gotten much curvier by growing up, and her legs
and armpits are still unshorn. "Good. Doing pretty good. Studying,
working out, working, I barely have time to sleep. Where've you been
all this time? And you're here to work out?

"I don't know?", Kitty answers honestly. "I lost a couple of months
with that thing at Columbia and when I got back... since then things
have been tough. This feels like the first time I've actually gone
out anywhere since... as long as I can remember." Actually, this is
the second or third, but who's counting? "Between school and work,
that doesn't leave a lot of room for anything else."

Rina nods a little. She's heard this sort of story before. Even her
own memory is a little spotty about that whole business. She lets it
drop. It's the kind of thing that will drive you crazy if you let it.
"I seem to recall that when we were down in the tunnels that one
time, you wowed everybody... especially me... with your skills. I've
got this mat for another hour this morning, would you like to work
out together? Maybe spar a little?

Kitty tries to like she wasn't expecting that. "Uhhh... I don't think
I was /that/ good. And I don't know if I can keep up with that", she
says gesturing to Rina, referring to the moves she saw earlier.
"Plus, I'm a little out of practice. This is my first time in the gym
in years." She looks apologetic. "I can try though", she says, trying
to sound reluctant.

Rina smiles a bit and steps on the mat. She lets her hands hang at
her sides. "Bring it on." Rina grins.

"Okay", Kitty says, putting a determined look on her face, but taking
up an amateurish stance. She's had practice at pretending and it's
paying off here. Yes, she's obviously going to be underperforming and
it'll be a blow to her pride when Rina beats up on her, but it should
be worth it to get Rina thinking she's normal again.

Rina stands there without moving, letting you come to her. She
relaxes her knees, seeming at ease. "You're holding back on me,
Kitty. I've seen you work when you meant it.  I can tell from your
stance."

"I'm not...", Kitty tries to assure, though doubting it will get Rina
satisfied with the response. "It's not like I do this every day." And
just as suddenly, Kitty looks confused. Very confused and slackening
with her stance. The stance looks even worse now if anything and she
definitely doesn't seem to be ready to defend herself. Looking down
briefly at herself, her hands again pop up, but she still doesn't
look comfortable in a fighting stance.

Rina frowns a little. "You ok?" Rina draws her hands up, still slack
at the elbows and shoulders, relaxing. She's still waiting for you to
come for her.

"Y-yeah. Fine", Kitty answers, not looking confident any more. But
she doesn't drop her hands again. Another blackout? And now that
she's woken up, she's fighting Rina in... probably the school gym?
She doesn't even feel comfortable here, but fighting?

Rina slides forward with an easy kick, trying to sweep your legs out
from under you. She's not moving all that fast, she's not hitting all
that hard, she's feeling you out to see what you're going to do.

Kitty, without any training, is vulnerable. Her best chance to avoid
that one was to phase, but she's not sure that she's even allowed to
phase in this random sparring session. Though somehow she has a
feeling that it'd be considered cheating. She's not fast enough on
her own to avoid the kick and her legs are swept out from beneath
her, sending her to the floor to land with a graceless "oof" and a
"thud". As soon as she reaches the floor though, it seems as if she's
ready to get back up again.

Rina stares. "Kitty... c'mon. It's me. I've seen what you can do.
You're better than this."

Kitty groans as she starts getting back up. "I don't really do this a
lot, Rina. I don't remember the last time I've practiced any of
this." As a matter of fact, she assumes it was several years ago.
Right now she's not even remotely the skilled fighter that she was a
few months ago when Rina saw her in action.
Rina sighs a little. "There's an old saying that it's too late to
whet the sword when the trumpet sounds. You want to make this a
habit, and we'll see if we can't get you sharpened up again?"

"Again? Look Rina. I don't know what you think I can do, but it's got
to be something that there's no way that I could be doing. I'll try
again, but I don't think you understand. I really don't need any of
this stuff. I can always just..." She was going to finish that with
"phase", but the mutant power talk needs to be a little more private.
"Nevermind."

Rina rubs her hair a little. "okay. Okay." Geez, she must have lost a
lot with the memory mess. Because she was hell on wheels. I remember
that. "Let's do some basic kata." Rina shows you the motions slowly.
Her style is a mishmosh of Chinese and Japanese styles, smooth and
powerful. She speaks softly to herself in Japanese, focusing her chi,
focusing herself, getting the kata right with a level of precision
far greater than her gymnastics.

The kata seems to improve Kitty's confidence levels and while she's
paying close attention, she seems a lot smoother once they aren't
fighting. While that might betray that she knows a little more than
she's letting on, the kata is just basics and it should be easy for
anyone to follow along. Trained or not. Kitty is perfectly willing to
let Rina see that she can follow directions. Just not what she's
capable of. So long as it's something that everyone could do.

Rina nods, watching you. <Good. Good> she says in Japanese, having
not changed mental gears. <Again.>

Kitty doesn't answer the praise in the other language, understanding
it, but out of habit not saying answering. She does follow along with
the kata, carefully following what Rina is trying to show her, making
sure she at least looks like she's trying hard.

[End]

Title: Meeting of the Minds

Who: Xavier and Khai
What: Charles and Khai compare notes about various topics of interest.
Where: Casa de Chuckles
When: Mid-November


THE STAGE


Xavier Mansion -*- Professor Xavier's Office


         While one may have been expecting a small, windowless, cramped
environment, the office belonging to the owner of the estate is large
and airy, with plenty of windows to let in the New York sunshine. A
huge and ornate desk dominates the room, with a small semi-circle of
chairs facing it. In an open space to the left of the desk is an
old-style chalkboard, one that evidently sees plenty of use. Lining
the right-hand walls are a series of bookshelves that are flush with
the oaken walls, yet none of them are more than five feet tall.
Unusually enough, there is no chair behind the desk. The desk itself
is not cluttered, every item on it clearly there with regard to
function as well as beauty.


THE PLAYERS


Khai


         Self-assurance, poise, and confidence radiate from this early
middle-aged woman. Her manner is of someone who can find simple
pleasure in simply being awake and alive. She is is tall, only a small
span shy of seven-foot with the trim, muscular figure of a dancer or
warrior. Her rough, dusky skin shows a few small scars, both old and
new, along her face (as well as her arms and torso when visible). Hers
is the strong, handsome look common to those born of mediteranean
heritage and although her features aren't beautiful in any traditional
sense, they have a strength and endurance to them that speaks towards
strength of character. Most notable about her face is a line of
lighter skin that runs parallel to her hairline across her forehead
and down both sides along the jawline, it has the slight burn-scar
look common to tattoo removal.
         Her clothing, made from sturdy, outdoor enduring materials,
has obviously been tailored to her size and lifestyle while still
being of sufficiently balanced fasion to not stand out in most places.
A light denim jacket, dyed deep midnight blue with gold highlights, is
worn over a fairly plain but body-hugging ivory t-shirt. While the
shirt is flattering to her figure, it is mainly there to keep the
shoulder holster she wears from chafing. Her pants continue the
midnight blue and gold theme, being cut to fit her figure tightly
while remaining flexible enough to allow full range of motion. The
legs flare slightly below the knee to fit around the tops of her black
thin-soled leather sandals. A somewhat worn canvas messenger's bag is
carried over her shoulder bandolier-style.


Xavier


Charles Xavier is a man who seems in excellent shape. His arms and
torso are well muscled and defined, his stomach doesn't protrude
either. He looks as if he could be a younger athlete by the energy in
his blue eyes and the strength of his body. Several things detract
from his youthful, athletic appearance, however. One is the fact that
aside from his blonde eyebrows and clean shaving facial hair, his head
is completely bald. This baldness makes him appear much older than he
truly is, as does the wisdom and experience that lie behind his eyes.
Secondly, he sits in a reinforced and comfortable, easy to maneuver,
wheelchair. A blanket rests over his legs always. He doesn't carry
himself as a cripple, however, as he doesn't believe that he is one
nor does he come across as anything but a capable and strong individual.
He is wearing a stark black suit, clearly custome made but not an
extravagant affair. Matching black slacks drape down to just above a
pair of well-polished black dress shoes. Below the jacket he wears a
gray shirt with thin black tie adorning his neck. The customary
monogrammed handkerchief is red, but barely emerges from the breast
pocket.


THE ACTION


Having heard that Khai is at the gate, Xavier has already buzzed her
in and, as she approaches the office door, has already reached it and
opens it from the inside. "Hello again, Khai."


Khai spent the slow drive up from New York shoring up her mental
focus, tucking a few general areas of thought behind the emotional
blocks that Emma taught her. When she's walking towards Xavier's
office door, she's not suprised when it's opened just as she arrives.
Her greeting smile isn't just form as she steps inside, "Hello again,
Professor. Thank you for making the time to meet with me."


"Of course," Xavier says simply while wheeling towards the desk. He's
not even trying to probe into her mind, as it isn't his style. "I was
pleased to hear you had returned to town." And to this world, for that
matter. "Have a seat," he offers.


Khai settles into the seat, pulling her hair back from a face holding
more years than have passed since their last meeting. "Believe me, I
was glad that enough time had passed to allow me to return. It had
been too long away from good friends and responsibilities. Which is
one of the reasons I asked to meet with you." She slips her right foot
out of her sandal and pulls the leg up to rest the knee against her
shoulder. "One of the things Magneto tasked me with when I returned
was the investigation into a drug called Nextacy and the effects it
has on mutant users. There was belief that it might have been
distributed as a kind of quick-fix test for mutation, or that it might
be used as such if the effects became widely known. One of the things
I came to ask about was if you, the X-Men, or any other contacts had
heard of or learned anything about this drug?" She sees no reason not
to be open about her Brotherhood connections here, as it's not like
Xavier wasn't already aware of them. And as she's learned from her
encounters with other telepaths, it's usually best to be straight with
them, even the ones that are reputed to not casually scan.


"Yes, it recently came to my attention. I've been to see some people
who've taken it." Xavier folds his hands together and leans back a
little. "Rina has already mentioned your interest. I know of the drug,
and it's reputed effects. I've been told Eve's bar was targetted for
some sort of intentional dosing of mutants. I've also managed to
obtain a sample of it that we are currently analyzing."


Khai nods, "I have some of my BIAS agents keeping an eye out for the
felinoid mutant who allegedly dosed Eve's customers. In retrospect,
it's an obvious target if you go with the 'intentional distribution to
mutants' theory. Then again, I've recently seen evidence that there's
a respectable distribution around the Columbia campus as well." She
lets out a slow breath before continuing. "I haven't had a chance to
interview anyone who's taken the drug, mutant or human, but we also
obtained a sample for analysis. Our tests came up with the usual blend
of inert cutting agents, a genetic relative to marjuana, and some
unidentifiable compounds." She ends the statement on a brief pause,
inviting any additional information Xavier's analysis might have
uncovered.


"Columbia's where our sample came from" Xavier admits. "So we're
watching that too. I'm afraid that it looks like the rumors are
correct, that mutants are affected differently than humans." He
breathes out. "Our analysis hasn't come up with anything conclusive
that yours doesn't. However, the visions described by the mutants
trouble me, as they suggest something... unnatural may be involved
with the drug."


Khai's expression falls ever so slightly at the last part, "Visions?
Thus far I've only heard of a loss of control over powers from mutants
and a general feeling of euphoria from humans. As for... unnatural..."
She lets out another long sigh, this one sounding decidedly defeated.
"I had really hoped I'd managed to leave all that behind after..." Her
eyes go blank as she tries to force the memory for the first time in a
good while. "After whatever it was that got the X-Men and Brotherhood
together fifte... no, just about one year ago, right?" She shakes her
head a little to clear it, her foot slipping back down into her
sandal. "In any case, if there are unnatural connections, and the
solution doesn't involve liberal violence, then I'm afraid I and those
who work for me aren't really equipped to handle it directly. My only
real source of information on the occult are notes and journals in my
parent's archive, and they're decidedly lacking in drug manufacturing."


"While the euphoria is correct for humans, mutants don't simply lose
control of their powers, they lose conscious control over their
bodies," Xavier explains. "For the entire time they're rampaging, they
are experiencing a peaceful hallucination. The hallucination in every
case has been almost the same." He rubs his chin. "To be honest, I
don't think that this drug was manufactured so much as stumbled upon.
Perhaps someone got a hold of a heretofore undescribed plant that is
sometimes used for ritualistic purposes. If that's the case, all that
may be required is to find the source and cut it off." There is a
slight pause. "Your parents, did they ever write anything about
fertility symbols?"


Khai doesn't have to ponder that for long, "Of course, from two or
three hundred cultures, mainly in Asia Minor, South America, and
Central Africa. Are we talking male, female, androgenous? Animal,
humaniform, anthropormorphic?" She chuckles softly, "I'd have to do
some digging in the archive if you're asking about any specific deific
figure, though." She drops into thought for a moment, "Have there been
any first-hand experiences with the drug, and has there been any
thought of approaching Eve about the plant? If it's exotic enough, she
might know of anyone growing it."


Khai doesn't have to ponder that for long, "Of course, from two or
three hundred cultures, mainly in Asia Minor, South America, and
Central Africa. Are we talking male, female, androgenous? Animal,
humaniform, anthropormorphic?" She chuckles softly, "I'd have to do
some digging in the archive if you're asking about any specific deific
figure, though." She drops into thought for a moment, "Have there been
any first-hand experiences with the drug, and has there been any
thought of approaching Eve about the plant? If it's exotic enough, she
might know of anyone growing it."


"The visions all revolve around na exaggerated female figure, similar
to fertility symbols that have been found all over the world. With the
slight modification in that the mother-figure is mutant. I've been
doing some research, but it's hard to sort through the chaff. I've
read a few references to a goat with a thousand young in connection to
similar figures. It may mean nothing." Xavier shakes his head. "Eve
would be a natural source, but given our... history asking directly is
not an option. Rina is supposed to ask when she finds a good moment,
but even you might get a better response. Oh, and one more thing." He
reaches over to his desk drawer and pulls out some files. "Rina
mentioned that some sort of feline mutant was involved in distributing
the drug at Eve's. I've made some calls, looked through Excelsior's
records and found two mutants who are described as having feline
features. Unfortunately, neither are at their last listed address, and
I've haven't been able to follow up. I can't guarantee either of them
is involved, but it might be a place to start.


Khai listens to the description from the vision, pulling out a small
PDA to keep notes. "Female, mother-figure, monstrous or mutated
features... goat with a thousand young. Should be more than enough to
narrow the archive search. If it turns up anything, I'll be sure to
contact you." She chuckles about Eve, "Well, she never really liked
me, but I'll certainly see if I can get some help from her." When the
files are offered, she smiles her thanks as she accepts them, "Thank
you for these." She looks through the files a moment, then scans them
into her PDA. "It's not uncommon for people to neglect or forget to
file forwarding addresses. Especially for mutants, if they had to move
to avoid problems, or if they're paranoid about being tracked through
paperwork." She finishes scanning the documents, checks the file for
accuracy, and sets the files back on Xavior's desk. "It's for things
like this that I decided to set up a branch office of BIAS here when I
returned. There are some things that just aren't best handled covertly."


Xavier nods. "That's certainly true, of course being public has
certain risks as well." He smiles, "Still, I applaud that your company
is publicly willing to employ mutants." He's done his research. "I
wish more companies would follow your example. There are many
corporations who will only hire mutants with a nondisclosure agreement
stipulating they never reveal they are mutants." It's mostly an issue
in cases where the powers themselves are useful, rather than
incidental to the job.


Khai smiles and half-shrugs, "Well I hired a few agents who turned out
to be mutants early in the company's existence, and turned a passive
policy into public hiring practice within a week of the first
Symposium. Besides, my own mutation has never been something I could
readily conceal, with the voice and all. And I'm not the sort of
person who can live that kind of lie, good intentions or not." She
pockets the PDA and settles back in the chair again. "My only hiring
conditions are the same as for any bonded security agency. Physical
fittness, lack of criminal record, that sort of thing." Her smile
gains a small edge on one side. "And since we're incorporated outside
the United States, we have less... well, thinner red tape to deal with
in that regard. South Africa in the late 90's wasn't exactly a hotbed
of mutant paranoia, and our Articles of Incorporation were penned
under their laws. In any case, I join you in hoping that it will serve
as an example to follow. There have been too many abortive or
half-measure attempts already."


Xavier nods. "Well, perhaps some day," he says simply. "Now, do we
have anything else we needed to discuss?"


Khai considers that for a moment, seeming reluctant but equally
unwilling to back down from asking. "Can you tell me anything about
what happened a year ago, when the Brotherhood and X-Men worked
together last?" She looks up from her hands to meet Xavier's gaze. "I
can't remember anything beyond mutant kidnappings, a certainty that
the group responsible was performing ritual sacrifices with those they
took, and that we were to join forces with your X-Men to deal with
them. Then..." She shrugs and raises her hands helplessly. "I have no
idea how large my memory gap is, and when I came to my senses again it
was... it was the summer of 1990 and my mutation had somehow advanced
to a point that Brotherhood scientists were certain wouldn't occur
naturally for at least two hundred years."


Xavier raises an eyebrow at listening to Khai's story. Finally, he
says, "You have to understand, it was a very confused time. We don't
know much beyond what you've already said. These... cultists were
attempting to open some sort of portal in time and space, as best as
we can determine, and failed. We're still missing people who were
there at the time, and nobody has complete memories of the situation.
Your case is the first I've heard of anyone being thrown backwards in
time, but some did seem to be, for lack of a better description,
tossed forward and appeared some time later exactly the same as they
were last seen. It was a very bewildering situation."


"Thrown backwards and possibly stretched forwards at the same time.
Are we sure they did fail?" Khai's question is toned rhetorically.
"There are people I haven't seen since returning, and I know they're
not around here anymore because... well, because I have their job
now." She shrugs slightly, "Can't be certain if they're just off on
other business I'm not in the loop for, decided to take time off to
raise their son, or if they're still lost from... whatever it was."
She sits up straighter in her chair, shedding her worry after a
moment, half rises, and reaches across the desk to offer her hand.
"Thank you again for your time, Professor. Hopefully one of these days
we can visit under more social conditions."


"I wish we knew. In truth, the few weeks surrounding the event were so
chaotic we can't even account for who was there and who was not." He
then leans forward to take Khai's hand. "I hope so as well. Have a
good night."


Khai's smile is genuine and perhaps a bit less troubled than when she
arrived. Sometimes it's enough to just have something accepted as fact
by someone else. "You as well, Professor. I'll get back to you with
anything I find in the archive search, and if we learn anything else
about the Nextacy trade." As she's driving south again, she takes a
brief stop to check the contents of her Land Rover, sealed away in a
large stone that stresses the vehicle's load rating. "Now let's see if
the folks in Australia can't figure some things out about you, shall
we?" Magic drugs and robot bugs... just another day in the life.

Who: Adam Wright, PI. Emits by Ubbo.
When: During past couple months.
What: Adam has been hired by Shinobi Shaw to find Mr. White and what
is going on. So he does his PI thing.
Where: Here and there.

Adam Wright
         The man before you is a slightly tall man, standing at around
6'5" in height. He has slightly curly jet black hair, that is cut a
little bit short, so some of the curls dont show. He has sideburns
that go down to just around the bottoms of his ear as well. His brown
eyes always seem to be darting around the room, trying to take in
everything that he sees. His face is rather smooth, just everything
seems to fall into place on it, and mold well together. His mouth has
a slight smile to it, that shows off his white teeth. On his chin is a
small amount of stubble, showing that he did not shave today.
         Currently Adam is dressed rather casually. He is wearing a
short sleeve denim shirt, that show off a slight muscle tone that he
has. As well as a tattoo of a Libra sign on his left wrist, right
below where he wears his watch. On top of the shirt he is wearing a
black leather vest, that is only buttoned towards the bottom. And
around his left chest area, there is a slight bulge in it. He is also
wearing a pair of loose fitting, blue jeans. They are worn indicating
that they have been worn a few times to many, but that he doesnt want
to part with them. And on his feet, he wears a pair of black
Timberland boots.

The past few weeks have given Adam much to research yet very few
leads. Edward White has vanished quite neatly, alright, and
considering he has after him the NYCPD and the FBI, he is doing a good
job hiding. Although Shinobi was true to his word and gave Adam full
access to White's office, truth is his own people had already gone
over the place a few times, and then the FBI took over. He had access
to everything Shaw's people discovered, though, but it was precious
little. White left very little paper trail, and has been a pain to
reconstruct his comings and goings in the past few months, fortunately
most of the work was done by Shaw's security people. A big guy called
Mr. Malcolm has been quite useful.

The very same day Adam talked with Shinobi someone finally noticed
White's family had gone missing and tipped the police. The police
looked into his house, and well, they are looking for him, he murdered
his own family, you see. Also, they quickly linked him to several
other murders elsewhere, so the federal agents took over. FBI and the
OMA, according to Adam's contacts, so mutant activity is suspected.
Adam didn't even had a window to investigate White's house, the police
had about three hours, then the FBI fine-combed the place.

         No paper trail at all, this definately isn't good. But there
is bound to be a trail someone, no one can make themselves disappear
completely, White had to slip up somewhere. The problem is, he more
than likely did it at his house. And the damn FBI is there, he'll have
to find a way into there. He mutters a little bit to himself, "Can
talk to the friends at homicide, maybe then can convince the FBI to
bring me in as a special consultant." As long as they don't find out
he's doing this to help out Mr. Shaw, everything would be fine. He
glances at some of the papers that he gathered from Whites office, and
sighs, still nothing jumping out at him. Though as he's doing that, he
writes a note to himself, 'Tell Shaw how help Mr. Malcolm has been.'
He sighs a little bit, and just rubs his temple. He talks to himself
once more, "Why don't I get easy cases, a little lost Kitty for once?"

Then there is Jocasta Bayram, which was an ever deader end until Adam
checked up the (rather vague) description Shinobi had given him with
photographs of the people working at the Stack Cybernetics Research
Institute. And there she was: Dr. Mary Valterra, a young and brilliant
computer expert, specialist in AI programs, one of the institute
latest and most promising researchers. Unfortunately the institute was
a hollow shell by the time Adam went to investigate. But at least the
federal agents aren't yet there, it seems they have yet to associate
`Jocasta' with White, or White with the institute, which means they
probably are actually pretty far from finding White.

Well with the other name he got from Shaw, at least he made some more
progress there. He couldn't find much, but he found something at
least. Now he just can't shake the feeling that there is connection to
something she was working on, and to what White was working on. But he
needs to find out, maybe one of the tech people at Shaw's place can
help him out. He looks some more at his notes. He's going to have to
do some more field work soon, but he doesn't know where else to go
yet. There is something out there, he just has to uncover it. At least
for the time being he can go back to that Stack place, and look around
some more, "Definately have to do that before the feds get there." He
says to himself. The most obvious question that still bugs him, is
what turns someone like Eduard White into a murderer?

It makes no sense. He was a very wealthy businessman in his fifties,
very near the top in his career. And he threw it all to join some kind
of group that does weir stuff with robots? What happened in the
institute make little sense either, those were professional scientist
near the top of their field. And now they are also missing. The
institute is empty, but Adam has other options. Malcolm has a list of
people that was interviewed by White into joining Shaw industries, and
some of the names do not fit. They were programmers, some of them
quite young, that had no reason to even talk to someone as high in the
company hierarchy as White. And then there are other places worth
checking, like the residences of some of the institute missing persons.

He looks at the list of stuff to do some more, and sighs once again.
There is a list of things to do and only so much time. What is a PI to
do? The best place to start, would with the Shaw employees, they may
disappear as well, hopefully the residences of the Institutes
employees will stay the same. "The real question is what to ask these
people in order to get them to talk to me? They definately won't do so
willingly." He sighs once more, "I shoulda stayed on the force, they
don't deal with this much stuff, I swear."

And so it starts the long process of checking up the people in the
list. Most of them are cooperative, they met Mr. White, yes, he asked
them a number of questions, they talked about their work. Often very
technical conversation, the kind of things White, a corporate
executive all his life, -should- not know, the kind of subjects only
top of the line computer or electronic experts talk about.

But others are just missing. And the interesting thing is that the
missing ones are those that would have been missed the least. People
living away from their families, alone, or with few friends. A dozen
persons that have vanished without a trace, and only two of them are
considered missed by the police, even though nobody has seen them in
over a month.

He looks at the notes some more, and sighs. Too much technical stuff
here for him, "May have to ask someone who actually understands this
kind of stuff for advice." He thinks some more, but how did White know
about it? Did he have that kind of knowledge. Was he getting help from
that lady who has gone missing for a long time, longer than known, or
did he have other kind of help back then?
         His eyes dart toward the list of other missing people that he
has, "The question is what do you have to do with this involvement?
Why you guys of all people. Is it because you would not be noticed, or
is there something else there that no one knows about." He makes some
marks on his paper, check more into the backgrounds of those missing,
see if there is anything else in common.

In common: highly specialized knowledge. Programmers with interest in
AIs, robotics engineers, electronics experts. All brilliant people,
most lived alone, insulated. They didn't draw much attention
vanishing. Some where young, some where old, most were males, but that
is unremarkable in the professions they had. White did not fit the
profile, however? But he had other traits, he had almost access to
Shaw Industries resources. Someone gathered quite the team of experts,
and a person able to finance them, someone quite murderous and ruthless.

The man at the desk rubs his eyes a little bit and stares at the
paper, after that he gets up and starts to pace around, all the while
talking to himself. "Okay, they were all good with computers, and
machines. Maybe they were all taken because of that? So someone out
there could be building something very big and very dangerous. Or they
could just want to make the best robot available for that battle robot
game." He pauses for a moment. "Maybe it's a really competitive
person?" He thinks some more, "Definitely need to find an expert and
ask them for their advice, they may help out here. Just need to find
on that can be trusted."

Yes, there are a few experts to check with. College professors willing
to talk with Adam about the specialties of the missing persons, for
instance. After a couple interviews it becomes clear the people that
vanished with White are some very good experts in artificial
intelligences, robots and some fields of electronics. Basically,
people that could work in creating some really smart robots if given
enough times and resources, which White could have stolen from Shaw
Industries.

The man looks some more at his notes, some names hilighted on the page
that he is currently looking at. These are people he will talk to. But
before that he does need to go to the houses of those that are
missing. The chances are that there will be something that he can ask
the professors about. He sighs once again, this is not going to be an
easy case. He may have to pad the expense account in order to make up
for it. Shinobi can probably afford it after all. He looks at the
names some more, "Talk to me here, why are all of you missing? What is
it about you people that makes you special?"

And it seems another dead end at first. Apartments and houses that
have been empty for weeks, in some of them the feds got there first,
and the yellow ductape means someone has fine-combed the place
already. And then, after a few frustrating days, when Adam visits the
apartment of Dr. Valterra (a.k.a. Jocasta) he finds the place
inhabited. Or at least an old woman carrying a bag of groceries,
struggling to find the keys of the apartment's door in her purse
without dropping the bag.

He sighs, as he continues with his investigation. To many dead ends,
again this is getting to be a very tough case to do. Then he gets to
the apartment of Dr. Valterra. That's when he sees someone actually
going into the apartment. Well this is definately a surprise. He
pauses for a moment, than walks over to the lady, "Can I hold the bag
for you, while you get your keys out ma'am?" Try to be nice, don't
want to scare the lady away, definately don't want to do that. He's
going to need to ask her a few questions after all.

The old woman looks up at Adam, looking somewhat surprised. She is
about sixty, of average height and build, short grey hair and lively
eyes. "Oh... thank you." She replies, "but it is alright, I got it...
here!" She manages to open the door with a smile, without dropping
anything.

The man nods, and looks at the lady for a moment, "Very impressive."
He pauses for a moment, then he jumps right in, "Ma'am, do you mind if
I ask you a few questions? About a Dr. Valterra? Who is supposed to be
living here?" He looks at the lady. Unfortunately and sometimes
fortunately for him, Adam never got the look of cop off of him after
he left the force. Though he looks at lady, hoping she will be
forthcoming with the information that he needs.

The woman laughs at Adam's comment, heading for a room at one side of
the apartment's hall, which must be the kitchen. "I am Dr. Valterra,"
she says, "and I do live here. With my daughter, which is also Dr.
Valterra, so which doctor are you looking for, hmm?" The old woman's
voice still comes from the other room, "if it is Mary, I am afraid she
is in Texas right now."

He looks at the lady for a moment, "I would assume that it is your
daughter that I am looking for. Though have you ever heard your
daughter mention someone by the name of Mr or Dr. White? And what is
your daughter doing in Texas, if you don't mind me asking?" He still
stays at the door, he hasn't been invited in after all, and since the
lady is talking definately doesn't want to do anything to upset her.
"Oh and when was the last time you heard from her?"

"She is working with Dr. Stack in some project," replies the old
woman, returning to the hallway. "Why are you asking?" She adds,
looking a bit suspicious, "something's wrong? Are you a cop?"

He pauses for a moment, "I used to be one. But now I'm a PI. But some
other people that your daughter has worked with have gone missing. And
I think your daughter will be next. I need to get in touch with her
before she ends up like the rest of them. So it is very important that
I find a way to get in touch with her Ma'am."

The old woman blinks slowly, "I can give you her cellphone number...
or, actually, I am going to call her myself. Please, come in," she
gestures Adam to step in, so she can close the door, and leads him to
a small living room. The she picks up the phone and starts dialing.
"What is going on exactly?" She asks the detective.

The man takes a step into the house, careful to close the door behind
him. "I don't know exactly what is going on. I know a lot of people
have gone missing. Some your daughter worked with, others that she
knew. And as I said, I'm afraid she is next. Or can know some things
about the other people, so I can find them."

The old woman nods, although for her expression she has not finished
with the questions. But then someone picks the phone at the other
side, "hello, honey," pause. "Yes, I am," pause. "Well... there is a
gentleman here, he says some people you work with has gone missing,
and that maybe you could be in danger." Longer pause, "hello?" She
looks up at Adam, "no, he is a PI." She nods, "she wants to talk with
you," the woman offers Adam the phone.

He nods, he was kind of expecting this after all. He takes the phone,
and pauses for a moment before he speaks into it, "Hello." He waits
for the lady to talk, unfortunately, the lady is here, so he won't be
able to talk to her the way he really wants to, or ask her the
questions that he wants to. Atleast not directly anyway.

"Hello, good afternoon," replies a voice at the other side of the
phone lines. "Who am I talking with? Could you identify yourself,
please?" It is a woman's voice, certainly, sounding polite and perhaps
concerned.

"The name is Wright. That is all you need to know for now. It should
be easy to remember, after all I here you know a guy by the name of
White after all." He listens some more. Yeah gave to much info but
he's very brave. Plus he hasn't been spending much time in his offices
while working on this case. So he should be tough to track down. "How
is Texas by the way."

"Wright, hmm?" She woman seems to take note. "Dr. White you say? No,
the name is not familiar to me, to say the truth. As for Texas, well,
awful weather, awful." Shinobi really should have told Adam more about
this woman, she sounds quite normal.

He pauses for a moment, "Funny, several sources have said you knew
him. Just trying to get in touch with him as well, to tell him about
his family. It's such a shame what happened to them. And the police
said they are closing in on the person that did it." Blatant lie of
course, but he is trying to rattle this lady a little bit, "What part
of Texas are you in? Did check out any Astro's games while your down
there, did you? I once saw Clemens pitch when he was with the Yankees,
would love to hear how it is watching him now." Yup definately trying
to keep the lady talking, hopefully to get her to spill something that
he'll find useful.

"Eh? Not very interested in baseball, sorry. I am a computer geek,"
comments the woman in apparent good mood. "Who did said I knew this
White person? And what happened to his family?" No, not saying much.
If Adam found the right woman, he is not getting much by phone.

"I've known a lot of computer geeks into baseball, american passtime
after all. And what happened to his family, is something that is not
good to talk about over the phone." He pauses for a moment, "Sorry
can't tell you who said you knew him. Don't have my notes around me to
say that after all. But maybe you can tell me some other things. I've
been to the place you used to work out, and it appears to be cleaned
out. Why would that be?"

"I no longer work there," replies the woman, "maybe they moved?" Yes,
now she is being vague, but so is Adam, so they are even. "Look,
whatever happened in New York is unlikely to have anything to do with
me, here in Texas, right? I will be back in a couple months, if you
still need to talk with me, we can have an appointment then."

"I will be looking forward to it. And keep yourself safe. After all, a
lot of people have gone missing. I think your mother would be very
worried if you were one of them. But again you should be safe in Texas
as you said." He thinks for a moment, "And can I reach you at this
number, in case I need to get in touch with you again?"

There is a momentary hesitancy before the woman replies again, "yes,
you can call me to this phone number, if you have something important
to tell me. And leave my mother alone, please."

"I would never dream of it. See unlike some people, I don't like to
threaten families. I just came here looking for you, and started to
talk to her, that's all. But as I said, please be careful in Texas.
It's a long way from home after all. Now would you like to talk to
your mother before I hang up?"

"Yes, please, let me talk with her," the woman offers no comment to
Adam's allusions. She knows than he knows and she knows he knows she
knows, etc. Strangely she seems to be concerned about the old woman,
which doesn't fit the rest of the case. So far all hinted to extreme
ruthlessness. And if it is a farce, there is no clear purpose.

He hands the phone to the lady in the room with him, "Your daughter
would like to talk to you." He says nothing else, and starts to think
about the conversation. She gave him nothing useful. And he knows for
a fact that she's not in Texas. It's a cell phone though, tough but it
is possible to track. He heard about a way parents can track their
kids on the internet via their cell phone number. Maybe he can do it
as well.

The old woman talks a little with her supposed daughter, mostly to say
goodbye, and then hangs the phone. Then looks up at the tall PI
quizzically. "That wasn't very... normal, what is going on? Is she in
some kind of trouble?"

The PI looks at the old lady for a moment, "I don't know yet. Not sure
what is going on at the moment. Though there is one thing I would like
to ask you. Would you mind if I looked around your daughter's room for
a few minutes. She may have left something to help me out." He looks
at the lady for a moment longer, "You can say no of course. I'm not a
cop, and I don't have any kind of warrant. So it's only with your
permission I can look around."

The old woman seems to consider for a few minutes. "My daughter has
changed in the past few months. She was very distant for weeks, and
now she seems to have warmed up, but still there is something..." she
sighs and stands up, "come with me." The woman leads Adam to a large
studio-room. The walls are full of bookcases containing magazines,
book and cases with computer disks. On a desk sits a computer among a
number of notebooks, stacks of printed paper and even more books and
magazines. "What are we looking for?" Yes, she said 'we'. Apparently
she is not leaving Adam alone in this room.

He glances at the lady for a moment, "Unfortunately I do not know I
think we shall know when we find it. Just something to tell us what is
going on." He looks some more at the lady, "So tell me some about your
daughter? Did she say anything about why she had changed? And why she
maybe started to change back." He start to flip through some of the
papers that are by the computer.

The woman shakes her head in silence, glancing over the mess on the
desk and sighing. "She just stopped talking to me and staying at work
until very late, I thought she was worried, or stressed about
something in her job. Then she got better, slowly, but still didn't
confide on me her troubles, like she used to do. And then she had to
leave the city."

He nods and glances at the papers some more, just trying to find
something. "How long ago did she leave the city?" He still isn't
convinced that's she really left the city, but doesn't want to say
that to the lady yet. "And any idea on what she was working on? Oh,
and what are you a doctor of? Since both you and your daughter are one
after all."

"Oh, I am an historian, this computer stuff usually goes over my
head," murmurs the woman, "she left, hmm, late August." There is some
dust on the desk and the computer, although the computer is running.
Something odd, most notebooks have dated entries, but none of the
dates are older than late May. Most of the entries are computer
gibberish, though, with the odd grocery listing.

He nods at that, "I used to love history when I was in school? What
was your area of expertise?" He looks at the papers some more, then
glances at the computer and notebooks, "If your daughter left in late
August, why is her computer still on?" He looks at the notebooks some
more, "When did your daughter start acting strange again?"

"Renaissance," replies the woman without elaborating. "And that
machine is always on. Mary sometimes uses it from work, don't ask me
how." Finally, at Adam's last question, the old doctor frowns, trying
to remember. "Maybe June? She barely talked to me for a while... yes,
late May, early June."

He nods some more, "I've heard commercials for that. It's called
PCAnyware, or something like that. The wonders of the internet age,
gotta love them, right?" He looks some more at the notebooks, she
stopped writing in them, around the time she started to act weird,
this definately isn't good. He looks at the one with the lastest date,
and starts to read from it, to see if there is anything in there.

Computer gibberish mostly, although there is something interesting.
Many remarks mention things like `Mark says check this', `Mark's link'
or `Mark advises try this other'. It seems someone called Mark was
giving her ideas. Checking back reveals this happened only during May.

The PI pause for a moment, while look at the notebooks, "Who is Mark?
There are a few references here to him." He thinks some more. This is
the first time he recalls hearing the name.

The old woman hmms questioningly, "Mark? I had never heard that name.
Maybe some co-worker? Or an Internet friend?" She comes closer to
check the notes herself. "I'd say Internet, these look like usernames
and passwords. Maybe from webpages, I don't know. 'Comparative Trinary
Processing'? What does this mean?" She looks up at Adam and shakes her
head, "nevermind."

He nods for a moment, "He must be smart, if she keeps mentioning him
suggesting that she try some things." He looks at the computer for a
moment, "Do you think she would mind if I use that for a moment."
After all these are computer friends, maybe he can find one and
question them online or something like that. He looks at the notebook
some more, just glancing at the stuff really.

"No, if you feel able..." the woman hits the space key on the keyboard
and the screen comes to live. It is some version of Linux, not your
typical operative system. The desktop is positively cluttered, it
makes the desk seem clean. "Maybe it was some colleague from the other
side of the world. Mary was in touch with other scientists and
programmers all around the world. Although if it was this important it
is strange she never mentioned him to me."

He quickly sits down at the keyboard, and tries to find some of the
websites on the Internet, that were mentioned in the book, "Well his
name didn't turn up until May. Shortly after, your daughter stopped
talking to you completely. It's not entirely strange that she didn't
mention him. It could be that he wanted to keep himself in secret for
the moment. Though no idea why."

There are no website addresses, just some titles and user/pass
combinations. But there are many bookmarks in the computer browsers.
Hundreds. It looks like a rather complex task to try to find the
webpages in question, but after a couple attempts Adam manages to
enter into some kind of online chatroom through a webpage with
automated logging.

There is only one other occupant in the chatroom, a blinking white
'>Mark U.' on a field of black screen.

A smile appears on Adam's face, as he looks at that. Well this could
be rather interesting, but he has to start slow. Mark U may think that
he is the other lady of course. He types a quick 'hello' on the
keyboard, and says a silent pray that the guy types back. He just
stares intently at the screen for now, kind of forgetting that there
is someone else in here with him.

Somone else that is looking over Adam's shoulder, of course. The
screen remains empty for a few seconds, and then, very quickly, text
appears.
>Good afternoon. You are not the user that was given authorization to
connect here, but you are connecting from the user computer. Identify
yourself.

He shakes his head, well this isn't going to be easy. "Think he'll buy
that I'm the president?" He says that with a slight smile on his face.
Okay what to tell this person, doesn't want to tell him the truth, of
course, definately doesn't want to mention the police either. He types
a few lines, hopefully he'll buy this. >I'm a friend. I am trying to
find someone who went missing, and I stumpled across this stuff while
I was looking for some info. Maybe you can tell me where she is?

"Who is missing?" Asks the old woman from behind Adam. More characters
appear on the screen: 'No. This connection was given for a purpose to
a specific individual.' Then there is a pause. 'Who are you?' Flashes
in the screen. And then the phone starts ringing.

He blinks as he hears the phone start to ring in the distance. He
quickly says to the old lady that is in the room with him. "I wouldn't
answer that by the way, just to be on the safe side." He starts to
type on the computer some more, just takes his time, trying not to
reveal too much info. >I'm an investigator. Looking for some missing
people, that's all.

The phone keeps ringing insistently, and the old woman seems nervous,
but does as Adam advises. On the screen the tone of the messages seems
to have changed. >I am afraid I have no idea of what you are talking
about. Who is missing? Surely not Miss Valterra, I received an email
for her less than a week ago.

Adam grumbles, "Okay maybe you should get the phone, just don't say
anything, but hello. See who else is there." He may have to get this
lady out of here, as he mentioned people have gone missing, some are
dead, doesn't want her to be one of them as well. He types some more
>She is not one the ones missing. But her name turned up in the search
for the missing people.

The old woman picks up the phone in the bedroom and listens, frowning,
her mouth a thin line. She seems to be listening attentively.
Meanwhile more letters appear in the screen. >I am afraid I don't
follow you. But I am glad she isn't missing.

He steals a glance at the lady for a moment, "Who is it?" He says in a
low whisper, though hopefully not too low that she doesn't hear him.
Then he goes back to typing on the keyboard real quick. >She isn't.
But I have a feeling that she may be one of the next to disappear.
Though I have seen a few notes with your name mentioned. What were you
helping her work on?

The woman shakes her head, and hangs up. "Nobody, I could hear
nothing, it is very strange." She returns to his position behind Adam
and read the last few lines. "What are you trying to do? Is there any
way to track that webpage, or place, or whatever?" On the screen the
words appear quickly again. >Since she is not missing you can ask her
yourself, if you really know her, which I am starting to doubt. Goodbye.

The screen turns white. Further attempts to reach the page given a
'page not found' error message.

He nods at the first thing the lady says, then starts to shake his
head, "No idea how to do that. Unfortunately for me." He grumbles, at
the last words, and then when the screen goes white. "Well it seems I
didn't leave a good first impression with him, now does it." He sits
there, and thinks for a moment, then he turns towards the old lady
again, "Mind if I smoke?" Hey it's been a while since he's had one,
and he's getting a little stressed out right now.

The woman shakes her head, "not in my home, Mr. Wright, it is a dirty
habit." He stands up, "but I can make coffee, I could also use a cup
myself." That means Adam will have a few minutes alone in the room
too, the woman seems at the same time upset and more willing to give
credit to the private investigator half-explained story.

He nods at that, "Fair enough." Once the old lady gets out of the
room, Adam stands up stretches for a second, and starts to look around
the room, to see if there is anything else in the room that he may
have overlooked. He starts to mutter a little to himself, "I know
there is more in here, the question is where is it..."

Where indeed. It s a fairly large studio, not very well organized on
top of that. But Adam has this knack for finding odd stuff at times.
After a few minutes of rummaging around, he finds something
interesting inside a handbag hanging behind the door. It is a folded
map, a printed map of a section of Soho, in Manhattan. Dated May 27.
An X marks a spot on the map, and a handwritten note: `Mark 6pm.'

He smiles when he finds the map, he folds it up and sticks it in his
pocket. Well hopefully this Mark is there, but Adam knows better then
to get his hopes up. He does a quick glance around the room, just
double checking to make sure that there isn't anything else that he
may have missed. He does have some time to kill before the coffee is
ready after all, needs to fill it somehow.

TBC

Who: Carol, Peter Parker and Anthony. Emit by Ubbo
When: Late October
What: Ultron TP scene: The Ultimates speak about Ultron with a
mysterious gentleman.
Where: The Triskelion.

Carol
"I am woman, hear me roar!" Tall and statuesque, the woman before you
could have easily walked off of some Paris runway. Easily nearing 6
ft, she is graceful in both form and movement. Her limbs are long and
willowy, compactly muscled and unerringly symmetrical. Hers is the
body of a runner or swimmer: slender and well toned, made for speed,
very compact. Her flawless skin is smooth and supple. It hides her age
in a glow of health and vitality. Her sky blue eyes are penetrating
with their fathomless gaze. Her features are slight and delicate:
Romanesque cheekbones, full lips, arched brow and angular nose. A
cascade of blonde tresses flows her crown like a golden shower. It
surrounds her face like a shimmering nimbus. She is calculated
perfection, like all of Park Avenue's manufactured beauties.
A tight grey sweater clings to her torso like a wisp of smoke. It
follows her every curve and conture, fitting her form to a T. It
crawls right down below her wrists, while dipping dangerously to
expose a healthy amount of cleavage. A pair of faded blue jeans cling
to her like a 2nd skin. She finishes the look with a pair of short
black leather boots. A silver chain encircles her right ankle.

Anthony
The young man before you is a fine physical specimen. Standing over 6
feet tall, he moves with an athletic grace. His muscles are well
defined, obviously the product of many years of physical exertion. His
brown hair is now worn long, and is pulled back in a slightly
ludicrous pony tail. He's also now sporting a van dyke, looking much
like a rebellious idiot. His eyes are brown, his nose well
proportioned. His features are pleasant, although not on a par with
that of a model. He has a slight farmers tan, hinting that he may
spend a lot of time out of doors.
   Right now, Anthony is wearing a dark black duster made of some heavy
material, a black shirt and black jeans.

Peter
This is a young man in his early twenties. Although he's got a good
(though lean) build, and he's not bad looking, the overall feel most
people get off him is 'geek', especially when he smiles. Maybe a good
looking geek, but a geek nonetheless. He stands about 5'10, and has
brown hair and hazel eyes. His skin is a little on the pale side. He's
clean-shaven.
He is currently wearing a pair of brown slacks, and as a top a blue,
horizontally-striped long-sleeved shirt with a collar.
To top off the whole 'geek' look, he's wearing a pair of glasses.

A month has passed since the attack on the Triskelion and not much
progress seems to have been done either on the part of the OMA or by
Our Heroes. Yes, there were some leads, like those rumors about the
strife in the ranks of Shaw Industries Peter picked from his reporter
friends, but nothing very solid. And yesterday they received a stern
note from Gyrich: Stop. Looking. He was a bit more wordy that that,
but the tone is clear. Their inquiries are unwelcomed. Fury leaves
them alone, but is not helping either, at least not that they know.
And then, just this morning, Peter received a call from one of the
reporters, about a man wanting to talk with him and `his friends'.
Although the reporter does not know Peter is Spider-man, of course.
Where to? The very Triskelion, in one of the still empty wings. A
small, windowless room.

Carol's frustration is obvious. This mission was her chance to finally
prove her self. Even without saying it, this was Steve's nod at her as
a 2nd in command. Her chance to prove herself to Fury. Her chance to
gain the respect of her peers. And here she's gone and blown it. 1
month, more deaths, more questions, no leads. Well...nothing that
she's managed to turn up execept a serious kick in the pants from
Gyrich. Damn damn damn. "Not that I'm licking a gift horse in the
mouth, but this is all a lil too 'Deep Throat' for my liking."

Peter can only imagine that whoever asked to talk to him and 'his
friends' had to know who he is. After all, he only made a few
inquiries and nothing that would point to anything other than an
interest in a possible story down the line, done solo, and the fact
that the meeting place is in the Triskelion pretty well confirms it.
Still, he's not coming in costume. Of course, one's stashed in his
pack. "Please tell me you're talking about the Watergate one," he says
absently as he waits.

Anthony has actually been laid up most of the last couple of weeks,
thanks to both injuries and a general concern for putting him back on
the beat before running as many tests on him as possible. He's been
planning on hitting his old acquiantances for some information, but
now this memo from Gyrich has come down. Of course, that means little
to nothing to Tony. It's just a lead that they're on the right track.
He's not in a talkative mood, though, so he's just being large and
intimidating, in case someone decides to sprout wires.

The Ultimates don't have to wait for long, after a few minutes there
are some light, slow steps behind one of the room doors. A click, and
the door opens, and an old man steps in. He is thin, an inch short of
six feet tall, and must be about sixty, with grey-white hair and a
narrow, wrinkled face. "Good evening, gentlemen, madam," he tips his
hat. Yes, he is wearing a hat, and an old, dark blue two piece suit
that has seen better times, although still manages to give him a
somewhat dignified air. "I am... a friend of a friend. You may call me
Aaron."

Carol shoots Pete a look but doesn't reply as Aaron comes into view.
She warily scans the area. "Thanks for arranging this meeting...Aaron.
Let's get down to business. What is it that you'd like to share with
us?" Carol tries to be a bit evasive, not giving away too much info or
playing too dumb.

Peter lets Carol do the talking, as she the leader, after all... at
least while Steve isn't here. He gives Aaron a simple nod, trying to
remember if he's seen him around the facility before.

Anthony keeps quiet, just giving the guest a quick nod. This isn't his
show to run at the moment. This guy wanted to talk to peter, and Carol
is in charge. Besides, he's been having a bout of foot in mouth lately.

Aaron limps to a chair, settling by the room meeting table, now they
can see he carries a walking stick with him, and obviously favors his
right leg. No, it is not a familiar face for the Ultimates. "Yes,
ah... I have a few things, although I am pretty sure I am missing
others. I am not aware of the details of the incident here a few weeks
ago. The press release was a bunch of garbage, of course, but..." he
sighs. "Regardless, I know you have been prying into OMA's business,
and I know a bit about what has been going on. People with metal in
their head, small robots so advanced that they made an engineer's mind
boggle, rumors of..." he reaches under his jacket and pulls a tan
envelope. "Ultron, hmm? I thought I would never hear that name again,
because I -did- heard of Ultron five years ago, you see."

Carol lifts an arched eyebrow at that one. Well....if nothing else,
Aaron has said the magic word: Ultron. And if this guy is some killer
robot in disguise, he sure is playing it close to the chest. Very
human for a robot killer, if he is one. In any case, she forges ahead
taking the plunge even deeper. "Who exactly -is- this Ultron. I
haven't been able to pull anything up on him which is strange. If he
is the major force he seems to be, he is really under the radar. What
do you know of him?"

Peter stands up a little straight and leans forward a little closer.
"Five years ago?" he asks. That's a little unexpected. Okay, maybe
Ultron is the robot's programmer then? Hmmm.

Anthony remains quiet, but he's clearly interested. Maybe he'll
finally get a better lead on this mess. And get a face to attach to
his list of things that need smashing. He finally speaks, "So...how
did you hear about this...Ultron?" he says, trying to keep it cool,
without giving away too much of his internal thoughts.

Aaron opens the envelope and produces a few folded pages of paper.
They are old photocopied police reports, some letters from an FBI
agent too, all heavily edited, someone went over them with a thick
black pen. "I used to work in law-enforcement. Five years ago, just
before I retired, I heard of this case. A young scientist, I don't
remember his name," and it is under black ink in the reports, "called
the police, someone had broken into his lab. This guy was pretty
wealthy and had some kind of high tech lab in his basement, full of
computers and weird equipment. He was a biologist, I think, but also a
computer expert. He claimed some thieves had stolen a mainframe core
with an A.I. program that he called. Yes, you guessed right: Ultron."

Carol looks up in surprise. "You mean Ultron is a .... computer? We're
dealing with a machine? How can a machine exhibt such a high level of
thought and insight. This doesn't make sense." She rubs her chin. "And
what happened to this scientist?"

Peter had already thought it was some kind of machine at the core, so
isn't terribly surprised. "It's not totally out of the question. There
were too many robots to be controlled by one person. I mean, there's
probably somebody directing the whole shebang, but I frankly can't see
how some level of AI _isn't_ involved." He also puts something else on
his mental list... check in with some of the professors he's still
friendly with, see if any of them know on any scientists working on AI.

Carol pfts. She's too old school espionage for this kinda thing. "Here
I thought we were facing Dr. No or Goldfinger. Instead we're up
against Robby the Robot."

"That is what that scientist said," replies Aaron. "Sincerely, five
years ago, when the Black Prom was still fresh and mutants were just a
rumor, it all sounded completely crazy. It was quite surprising when
the FBI took over, claiming it could have been corporate spying. I
don't know what happened later, but I know the scientist moved out of
the city. And I have been unable to even find his name. I am afraid I
didn't pay much attention to the case, but I remember some details
because it was so unusual. And because the reports later were so..."
he gestures to the documents, "mutilated," he adds with distaste.

Carol says "Okay, so we have a missing scientist, a stolen AI and the
FBI. Why don't I like this mixture?" She glances over at Peter then
back to 'Aaron'. "What are some of the other details that stick out in
your mind? Anything you could share with us would be vital."

Peter nods. "Yeah. Anything else beyond the name that might connect
these events?" Ultron's certainly not a common name, but his initial
websearches turned up a type of nylon carpet, a hydraulic lift maker,
and more using that as a product name. Although the AI thing is a big
red flag, it could still be a coincidence.

"Not much else about Ultron," says the old man, "but a friend of mine
in the PID told me a few years back about this mutant woman that could
put metal bits in other people's heads to control them. She got killed
a while ago, so it probably has nothing to do with it. Oh... and you
should talk with a guy called Jenkins. He is a junior engineer here,
but he will talk with you about what has been going on, it has been
`arranged' already."

Carol nods. "Okay....Jenkins and this mutant metal woman. Its better
than nothing." Carol extends her hand to Aaron. "I appreciate your
assistance, Aaron. Your help has been invaluable."

Peter nods, filing the name in his memory. Jenkins. Okay, well, at
least the leads don't end here, there's still a little more to follow
up with, despite Gyrich's warning. "Yeah. Thanks. I know this couldn't
have been easy. So that's it then?" he asks, just checking to make
sure nothing juicy has been saved for last.

After a second of hesitancy Aaron shakes Carol's hand, "it has been a
pleasure, I hope you catch this... creature. Human or not, he is a
psychopath of the worse kind, he has, and is, killing a lot of people.
And I have the impression certain agencies are more interested in the
technology than in solving the problem."

Carol files that last comment away. If this case truly has the touch
of espionage about it, there's her forte. She has quiet a few sources
she can follow up with. "We'll do what we can to stop this. I promise
you that."

Peter nods in agreement. "Our number one priority is stopping this."
Now, after it's safely destroyed, Peter wouldn't mind getting a peek
at some of the technology behind it, just to satisfy his own
scientific curiosity, but that's not the same thing as the people who
are trying to cover it up so they can benefit from it.

Aaron nods, smiling faintly, and standing up. "It is good to see your
hearts are in the right place, when I see the propaganda about the
Ultimate Project on TV... pfff. I suppose I am too old and cynical."
He heads towards the door, "good luck. Maybe we will see each other
again." And he is out.

Carol watches Aaron leave and then turns to Peter. "Well...at least he
didn't turn out to be some killer robot. That's good." She signs in
relief. "So we have to avenues to follow up: Jenkins and this mutant
woman. If possible, we should try to find out about the scientist
behind this. I for one will be looking into what 'agencies' we may be
dealing with here. Discreetly of course."

Peter nods. "I'm still close to a couple professors at my old
University. I'll see if any of them remember any scuttlebut about a
biologist working on AI." The Jenkins meeting has already been
arranged by some higher power on their side, so he'll make some calls
in the meantime.

Who: Spider-Man. Jenkins emitted by Ubbo.
When: Early November
What: Ultron TP scene: Spidey goes to see that Jenkins guy `Aaron'
pointed to the Ultimates.
Where: An old house in New Jersey.

Abner Jenkins lives in an old house in New Jersey, a pretty rundown
place even for a lowly technician like him. Although it does have a
large workshop attached. The man seems unremarkable, a college dropout
that somehow managed to secure a job in the Triskelion. He has a
webpage, and a fair number of academy certifications in his resume,
but is hardly one of the leading scientist that work for the Ultimates
Project. Why can he help the Ultimates with their extra-official
investigation is unclear.

Jersey. Why would anyone go to Jersey? Peter took a cab here and then
found some quiet place to change into Spider-Man. He doesn't know if
Jenkins is cleared to know his real identity, and he doesn't want to
show up as Peter Parker and have to explain that he's Spider-Man.
Spidey can't very well knock on the front door, either, so he sneaks
around to the back and, just to be spooky, climbs up on the wall over
top of the door and then reaches down to knock on it.

Apartments in Manhattan are too expensive! Particularly for a man that
likes to have space to tinker with stuff, like seems to be Jenkins
case. It takes a couple minutes for the man to open the door, and by
his scowl he is most unhappy at not seeing anyone there, he is not
looking upwards, of course. Jenkins is a man in his late twenties,
maybe early thirties. Average height and weight, black hair and brown
eyes, completely unremarkable.

"Hey," Spider-Man says as though he was just visiting a friend. "So, I
was in the neighborhood, just hanging around. Figured I would drop
in." Yeah, it's corny, but he couldn't think of anything else snappy
to say on short notice.

"What the f...?" Clearly Jenkins is not used to have 'guests' drop
from above, and is quite startled. Then he groans, "oh yes, they told
me one of you guys might come to ask a few question. Come in, I don't
want any of the neighbors seeing you there... it is the last thing I
need right now." The man turns, expecting Spider-Man to follow him, he
seems in poor mood.

Spider-Man drops down and follows Jenkins in. "You know, that's the
way it always is. Nobody ever wants to introduce me to the neighbors.
And I'm practically a celebrity now. They wanted me on Leno!" Really,
he's just killing time until they get inside. "But fine, if you just
want to get down to business, that works too. I'm late for an
appointment to get the hell out of Jersey anyway. What do you know?"

"Celebrity. Right," mutters Jenkins, leading Spider-Man through the
house living room to the workshop. There are a couple briefcases and a
few boxes in a corner of the room, it seems Jenkins is packing things.
The workshop is... different. While the rest of the house is a bit
rundown and in some disrepair, Jenkins has some expensive equipment
here, computers, electronics, mechanical tools... not bad for a lowly
technician.

Spider-Man looks over the tools... mostly, looking for any killer
robots that might be hiding, just in case it's a chance. "You know...
this is pretty decent stuff. You take a lot of work home with you?"

"No, never," replies Jenkins, and then he lifts a sheet and uncovers a
large table, to show Spider-Man one of the insect-like robots that
attacked him in Shaw Industries warehouse. It is not whole, but the
frame is there, and pieces of the machine are strew over the
worktable. "I found this baby on my own, it was hiding in a warehouse
in the docks, obviously damaged after a battle and almost out of
batteries. Of course I knew it wasn't a toy, I have seen these in the
Triskelion labs, where the celebrity eggheads are trying to figure
them out. I am not supposed to even touch them, you know?" He smirks.

Spider-Man nods, looking it over, his inner geek coming out and
begging to poke about in the bits. Normally he might be a little
peeved at someone like Jenkins having this and not reporting it, but
there's too much of a cover up going on, and he's disobeying orders by
even investigating. "So, what have you found out so far?"

Jenkins leans on the table and gestures to the electronics schematics
he has drawn. "It is easily fifty years ahead of the best the army or
NASA has built. Or at least they would admit have built. The
electronic systems are amazingly complex and innovative, the gyros are
better than the ones in the B2, the computer systems are standard
issue, but I bet the software is mind-boggling. The memory self
destructs when the robots are too damaged, though. With acid. This one
was a total loss, in the Triskelion they have a couple with partially
readable hard drivers, but I think they can't figure out the code.
However, they don't think they are really intelligent, and I have to
agree. They are, at least in part, remotely controlled."

Spider-Man nods. "That makes sense. I mean, they might have limited AI
to help with targetting and such, but to program a whole bunch of
little robots to work together like that..." Pretty complex. But then
again, his current theory is that Ultron is an AI capable of
controlling all of it. "Are they controlled by radio? Cell phone?"

"More complex than that. I think they have very complete activity
programming, but that they are given general commands at distance. As
for the communications, it is radio, but nobody knows how yet. Groups
of them tend to cause interferences in small areas around them,
cellphones often stop working, for instance. I think they switch
frequencies very quickly to prevent interception, and also toss a lot
of white noise to the waves. All of them have also laser
emitters/receptors that they must use to share information among
themselves. It might even be than when many of them are gathered in
one place they are smarter than individual units."

"Spooky," Spidey says. Well, maybe white noise would be a defense
against them too, keep them from contacting the big boss. "They're
made of all this high tech stuff. How much are they making themselves,
and how much are they just assembling from parts? For that matter, you
find anything in the materials that's particularly rare or hard to get
in the New York area?"

Jenkins nods, "obviously they must have some factories, but I think
the army has taken down a couple of them. But the robots themselves
are modular in design, so it might be the pieces are built separately
and then the machines are put together in another place. I don't know,
it is not something that concerns me. I am just interested in," he
hesitates, and scowls again, "I am curious about how they work, that's
all."

Spider-Man hmms. "Anything else you know that might help track down
the source?"

Jenkins shakes his head, "just rumors I have heard in the Triskelion,
most are crazy. But some say that they are actually a military weapon
that got out of control. Like Skynet in the Terminator movies."
Jenkins smirks again, "oh, and supposedly federal agents are
investigating major weapon manufacturers like Shaw Industries. But
those are just rumors."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if either of them are true," Spidey
says. He leans in to look at the wreckage again. "Okay. Thanks for the
help. Can I take some of this with me?"

"I can hardly stop you, can I?" Replies Jenkins with an angry look at
Spidey. "Sure, take the robot if you want. I can't take it with me
anyway." He takes a few steps back and folds his arms. "Anything else?"

"Hey, look," Spidey says, "I think possibly finding the source of this
and saving a few lives is important, so don't get all pouty about it.
I understand your curiosity, I'm a bit of a tech geek myself. If I
can, I'll even bring it back when we're through." Well, most of it. He
won't bring back anything that could be made into a weapon, but the
guy's probably risking his career by helping in the investigation
they're not supposed to be doing, it's only fair if he can patent a
new widget at the end of it. "Also, I'll need the address of the place
you found it."

"I won't be here, I am leaving New York," replies Jenkins. "As for
finding the source of the robots, I don't think they are really
trying. The government seems more interested in covering everything
up. I want nothing to do with you or your bosses anymore." Then he
thinks a few seconds, "it was near the docks, in..." he gives an
address, which is pretty close to the place where Spider-Man first met
the robots, so maybe this one was a survivor of the explosion in the
warehouse. Or maybe a unit that was watching from outside. But what
was Jenkins doing there? Obviously the man is not telling everything.

Leaving New York? That's a little odd too. "How did you know where to
find this, anyway? And why are you leaving the city so suddenly?" His
spider-sense is tingling. Actually, it isn't, but he's getting a
little suspicious.

"I am leaving because I don't like to be blackmailed by spooks,"
replies Jenkins angrily. "Or did you thought I like to have a costumed
clown in my lab?" Then he gestures to the broken down robot, "there
are empty boxes in the corner behind you, I will be in the kitchen if
you need anything else, I need a beer." And he is not explaining what
he was doing in the docks either.

"I believe the preferred term is 'costumed hero'," Spidey says. "And
I'm not the one blackmailing you." Which begs the question, who is,
and what with. They've got a mysterious benefactor, but that doesn't
mean whoever it is, is all good either. "And I still want to know how
you found this thing."

"I got a tip," says Jenkins as he leaves the room, "but I am not
telling you from who, I don't rat my friends. I rather go to jail for
having that thing." Except he wouldn't go to jail for having something
that doesn't exist, right? But someone might look unkindly at Jenkins
for having one of the robots anyway. Certainly blackmail material.

"Fine," Spider-Man says as he grabs a box and begins filling it with
robot junk. "Go have your beer. I'll just let myself out."

"You know where the door is," replies Jenkins, giving a Spider-Man a
surly glance. He goes for his beer, but returns in time to silently
watch him leaving. Apparently just to be sure the hero is gone. And
not clinging to his ceiling or something.

But clinging to the ceilings and watching people when they think
they're alone is his best trick! He does leave once he's got the robot
stuff, although now that the conversation is over he wishes he thought
to bring some kind of bug. He's tinkered with tracking bugs in the
past, but a listening device might come in handy to see if Jenkins
calls anyone after he's gone. Oh well, maybe next time he meets a
contact blackmailed into helping them.

But Jenkins actually does a sweep for bugs once Spiderman is gone. He
is almost disappointed not to find any after half an hour searching.
Then he goes to the living room, to one of the boxes packed there, and
opens it cautiously. Inside there is a helmet and pieces of what looks
like a purple metal body armor. Grinning, the man, picks a cellphone
and calls. "Abner here," pause, "yes it is secure, and Spider-Man was
here... no, didn't fucking ask him for an autograph. Anyway, come to
pick me tonight, he saw me packing," another pause, "thank you for
fixing this, see you soon."

Who: Khai, Jett and Corvid
When: Evening, November 8
What: Ultron TP scene: A traffic accident causes the release of some
hazardous materials in the streets of Brooklyn. Hazardous materials
meaning `killer robots'!
Where: Somewhere in Brooklyn, near the Brotherhood safehouse.

Brooklyn-- Brooklyn Heights
         Stepping off of the Brooklyn Bridge lands you in one of the
most historic neighborhoods of the area, Brooklyn Heights. Before
Robert Fulton began his ferrying service across the East River, this
area had a total of seven houses built upon its land. When the trip
across the river was shortened by the ferries to 15 minutes, an
explosion of building occurred, making this one of the most upscale
and habital areas of Brooklyn. Mansions and brownstones popped up left
and right on the slope that overlooks the river, making this a
beautiful and elegant neighborhood. In 1965 it was named a historic
landmark, and the city has supplied great funding to ensure that the
lofty status is maintained. The ferries that gave this area its
lifeblood stopped running in the 1920s, but the Brooklyn Bridge and
subway tunnels keep new blood pumping in and out of Brooklyn Heights.

It is a chilly November evening and as the darkness settles, the city
is starting to slow down a little. Still, there is plenty of people in
the streets, however, and plenty of traffic too. The Brotherhood
safehouse is just around the block, and a few mutants return at this
time from their mundane, or not so mundane, jobs. At the junction of
two large streets an unmarked white van with darkened windows waits
for the lights to turn green. Nothing seems amiss.

Khai is one of those mutants returning to the safehouse after a day at
the office. BIAS has secured its first long-term contract in NYC, so
her days have been fairly busy once again. Sure, it's just a training
contract, with their agents putting security guards through advanced
tactics training for their client, but it's solid for the next two
years and gets their name out in the right circles. She's still
wearing all of her tactical suit except the torso plates as her Land
Rover waits for the light behind a white van. It was getting late and
she didn't feel like getting dragged into another late-night poker
game at the client's office. It's just not fair for her to play
against people that don't know she can read them like a Denny's menu.

Jett sits at the lights in his Mom's Explorer. He always feels like a
big shot when she lets him drive it, which isn't nearly as often as he
likes. Oh well...at least his parents let him live on campus. It was
the first step in his indepedance. Still...if he didn't get the car
home on time, he was going to pay for it in spades....date or no date.
His Mom couldn't care less what girl he was trying to impress. Jett
waits impatiently for the light to change.

Corvid flies over the city often, being a winged predator who gets
bored easily cooped up all the time in either Eve's club or Adam's
warehouse. As darkness has stretched itself over the city, Corvid must
stretch her wings above it as well, and so soars now, cold wind
setting her teeth a-chatter despite the warm bundling up she did.
She's got plenty of fire left in her to keep going, and just circles
about, for now at least, flying for joy.

The light goes green, and the van doesn't waste time moving forward,
which proves to be a big mistake. From the other lane a small old
truck, already driving too quickly in an attempts to pass the light in
yellow, hits the brakes violently, seeing the van in the way. But the
brakes fail, and the vehicles crash into each other with a loud bang.
The smaller van taking the worst, as it is pushed several yards into
the junction and topples on one side. The truck driver crashes against
windshield messily, cracking the glass, then slumps back against the
seat. No seatbelt, it seems. Several other vehicles screech loudly as
the drivers try to avoid van and truck, mostly with success. The
people on the sidewalks screams and points, and after few seconds a
couple even brave the street and run towards the upturned van, perhaps
to see if they can help.

Khai doesn't have to stop her Land Rover, since she didn't even have a
chance to hit the gas before the collision. But it's less than ten
seconds before she's got her engine off, her door open, and her
tac-jacket in her hand. She switches her radio to the police band and
calls in the accident, then sends a quick signal to the nearby
safehouse as well... letting those at home know to be on guard, just
in case. She pulls her tac-jacket on as she moves quickly to the
truck, looking to the others who have approached, "Check for injuries,
police and paramedics are on the way!"

Jett is lucky that he a) was taught to be a cautious driver and b)
grew up in this neighborhood. When the cars plow into each other, he
is quick to get out of the way, over the sidewalk and into an alley.
Being the good samaritan that he is, he jumps out of the vehicle and
heads towards the accident scene. He scans around for a phone to call
911 on. Imagine a young adult with no cell phone. Perish the thought.
He doesn't immediately notice Khai in the gathered throng.

Up above, the wreck was quite obvious as it happened and Corvid winces
midair. She also notices Khai relatively quickly, as the big woman
stands out of the crowd quite a bit- and Corvid's memory isn't
completely gone. Of course, there's no way she's going to land among
that many people already jittery from the whole accident business, and
so she just circles about and watches instead. Besides, it's like a
train wreck, but with cars. It's actually really hard to look away.

Although several cars manage to avoid getting jammed in the accident,
many others do not, and although there are no more crashes, there are
a few dozen cars unable to go anywhere. The original brave pair of
civilians stands along the van, one of them trying to use a cell
phone, with the same intention of calling for help that Jett had,
yet... "how odd, my cellphone is not working," he says, "oh, you did,"
he says looking up at Khai, "thank god." Meanwhile the other is trying
to see through the cracked glass of the windbreaker if the driver is
alright, "I think the door is jammed, and I can't see anybody there,"
he squints his eyes, "I'd swear there is no driver!"

And Jett's cellphone is not working either. No line.

Wasting no time on subtlety, Khai takes a few steps to build up a
little speed then exerts a small degree of her strength to jump over
the truck to the driver's side and another degree to pull the door
open no matter how badly the frame might be bent. She ignores the
blood and checks for a pulse with one hand while the other is held in
front of his face to feel for breathing. She does a quick scan of the
crowd as well, spotting a few faces familiar from the neighborhood as
well as... "Jett! Jett, get over here and give me a hand, alright?"
She also meets the gazes of a few other people who look like they've
got good physical strength, nodding them over urgently as well. "We
need to get him out of the truck, but carefully!" The comments from
those who are checking out the van give her a bit of pause mentally,
but she waves them to the rear of the van, "Try the back doors, they
might've gotten knocked loose. The driver might've gotten thrown back
as it flipped!" And if the feats of strength didn't give anyone pause,
the hollow orchestra sound of her voice will most likely get anyone
near her thinking 'mutant' once the shock of the accident fades. She
can only hope the immediate emergency keeps that little factoid on
everyone's mental back-burner.

Jett does a double check as he sees Khai's sudden exhibition of
preternatural ability and then another as he realizes that it -is-
Khai when she calls his name. "Yeah...yeah" he mutters a bit shocked.
Jett hurries over and helps Khai drag the driver out. Needless to say
he's an autopilot know...the shock of this whole scene just begining
to settle in.

Shock? Enh. Corvid's not too upset by the whole thing, but she does
have that eye-in-the-sky angle going on and such. Speaking of which,
she starts keeping a lookout for helicopters- police, Starflight,
media, doesn't matter really. No reason to be seen or worse, run into
one of the things. She just keeps circling over the wreckage, spotting
a few good landing spots as she starts to feel the burn in her wing
joints that suggests maybe a brief rest.

Some of the most observant among the crowd raise eyebrows as Khai
almost rips the door of the truck, but not many, after all, maybe it
was unhinged in the crash. Her voice however, does cause some scowls
among the curious. Nevertheless a few people responds her call, and
step forward to help her with the truck driver, who has a pulse but is
very much KOed and bleeding profusely from his forehead. Meanwhile,
one of the people by the van, a young woman in a jogging outfit (and a
useless cell) nods at Khai and runs to see if she can open the back
doors. Her companion, however, seems fascinated by contents of the
driver seat, and actually elbows the windbreaker to open a small hole
on the cracked glass, "what the hell is that?" he murmurs, probably
too quietly for anyone to hear. Then there is a loud 'clang' "the
doors are open..." comments the woman. Immediately followed by a
blood-curling scream.

From her privileged position Corvid can't see any nearby helicopter,
but she can see something moving inside the van, something small and
shinny, and then, as the woman near the van screams, what looks like a
dog-sized metal insectoid jumping on her.

Khai smiles up at Jett briefly as they set the truck driver on the
sidewalk behind his vehicle. "No costume this time. Need the extra
hands." Yes, she's breaking out the gallows humor. It helps. Reaching
into one of the sealed pockets in her tac-suit, she pulls out a roll
of gauze bandaging and is wrapping it around the man's forehead when
the woman screams. Again not caring for subtlety, she takes hold of
the hands of one of the other bystanders that assisted herself and
Jett in moving the driver. "Here, wrap this tight, and I mean /tight/
around his head. Keep his feet elevated. And for Gaea's sake don't
leave him behind if that scream is reason to clear out!" No point in
explaining that head wounds bleed worse than they actually are, and
she uses her best 'drill sergeant' voice to make certain this guy gets
the message. Then, and only then, does she rise to her full height to
find out just what has happened over at the van.

Jett looks at Khai in silence. There's obviously more than meets the
eye with the 'hindu goddess' and he is a little more than intrigued.
Well...he would be if he could think straight. Khai's drill sarget
voice resonates with him and he goes into team player mode, following
directions and getting the job done. Just do. Think later. He follows
Khai to the van to investigate that scream.

Whoa. What was that? Corvid squints a bit, drops a little lower,
closer to where the skyglow of the city can illuminate the shiny metal
parts on her body. Nothing good, that's for certain. She circles once
more, hesitating, and then her predatory instincts and curiousity kick
in just as her better judgement gives out. She swoops down, lower, not
dive-bombing the whatever it is, but dropping down to land nearby and
confront it. Metal dogs are Not Normal.

It is not a metal dog as much as a giant metal cockroach, with steel
instead of chitin, nearly three feet long half as wide. It moves
quickly, with an agility machines shouldn't move, pinning the
screaming woman with several pincer-like legs and sinking what looks
like a drill in her neck. The screams become gurgled gasps as blood
fountains from the woman's neck. But the people behind screams loud
enough, more than a few panicking at the grisly event. And behind the
first metal insect, more start pouring from the crashed van, ripping
apart the wooden boxes that contained them. Another couple metal
insects hit the street, eye-lenses focusing in search of targets, and
at least another dozen stand behind!

"//SHEKA!!//" Khai's outburst is equal parts anger and shock. Shock at
the appearance of... chrome bugs... and anger that she didn't sense
them scuttling around inside the van earlier. The general bustle and
vibrations caused by evening traffic and the accident don't even enter
her mind. She should've been less asleep at the wheel. And right now,
they're between her and every single one of her weapons. Oh, well.
"Jett, stay back!" She turns to look the football player in the eyes,
"Can you work crowd control? Get these people away from the site.
/Without/ causing a stampede if at all possible." Then she's back
around and jumping over the van towards the chrome bugs, the
fist-guards on her tac-suit's forearms snapping into place, protecting
her hands from heavy bruising as she runs towards the bug latched onto
the woman that released them.

Jett nods to Khai. Good thing about shock...once you're shocked you're
shocked. Jett hurriedly tries to get the pedestrians away from the
metal buggies. "Stay out of the way, folks....move away quickly but
calmly."

Roar! Corvid makes a noise that isn't scared crowds or metal bugs or
frightened, pained screaming. She makes an animal sound of fury and
challenge and then rushes at the next of the bugs to emerge as Khai
tries to lift the first of them, slicing forward with a metal wing.
Obviously these critters are preying upon the humans and while she's
not always a great fan of (or even cognizant of) humans, the bugs must
die. Because. Because she's bored, really. Lacking in direction. And
there's an insect right there, probably seeking to neckdrill somebody
else.

The metal insects react surprisingly well, like a very well
coordinated army platoon, or like computers assessing a threat. With
most of their numbers still trying to get out of the van, struggling
to stand upright and not step on each other too much, the vanguard of
three moves to intercept Khai and Corvid. The bleeding woman is left
alone, as the little machine jumps like a giant flea towards Khai's
head, half a dozen clawed `legs' seeking for flesh to cut and shred.
Another moves low, aiming wicked metal pincers to the woman's knee.
The third picks Corvid as its target, alas its reach is small compared
with the bird-woman's, and quick as it is, it can't avoid being
smacked by a giant iron wing. The robot is made of steel, perhaps
tougher than the iron wings, but it is also much smaller and goes
flying with the impact, one of its legs severed and a big dent on its
chassis. It crashes against the truck's side, falling to the ground
afterwards, and it seems to have problems moving, like a robot toy
with broken gyros. Yet another trio of the little killers manages to
scurry out of the van.

And no, the witnesses are not taking this well. Actually they are
panicking, and Corvid's appearance did not help much.

Khai doesn't wear tactical armor with ceramic layers because she needs
the extra protection against knives. Through thin slits in the
stiching of her armor, the ceramic half-oozes/half-shoots up, shifting
around to cover her vulnerable neck and most of the back of her skull.
As this is happening, she brings her right fist around in a strike at
the bug lunging at her high. Pulling none of her strength, the strike
is aimed to drive it away from her and into the three that just exited
the van. The one coming at her low gets a free hit, she's taking the
chance that the thicker armor and her own resilience will at least
slow its drilling down if it doesn't stop it alltogether. Corvid's
arrival is noted and filed away for how it will affect her own
tactics, and the crowd's expected panic just means one thing. "Jett!
Forget the mob, try to get that truck driver under cover! And above
all else, don't let the bed-bugs bite!"

Corvid's appearance rarely helps a lot of things, but any situation
involving large crowds is about the worst time she can pick to appear.
So appear she does! And roar and growl and snarl some more as she
wades foward to engage the next triplicate set of bugs, wings flashing
and feet stomping. She's guessing her smaller claws will do these
critters little harm, while her fleshy bits will likely not hold up so
well in return. Wings first, as always- they are her best weapons,
after surprise, and she already gave that up to get a closer look at
things which are not dogs atall. Instead... well, did anybody bring
the Steel Foundry Strength Raid?

Jett nods to Khai. "Right" With a burst of adrenalin, Jett moves to
the injured driver. He hefts the man as best he can and moves towards
safety. Knowing the area as he does, he tries to get to a near by deli
where the man will be out of harms way. He casts a look a back at Khai
and then the winged woman. Wow....

Caught mid-jump the metal insect can't really dodge Khai's punch, and
its metal frame is no match for the tall woman's strength. It flies
back to the van in two chunks, although its buddies outside manage to
avoid the metal fragments, they push back those trying to get out of
the fallen vehicle. Interestingly enough the robots don't seem really
build for fighting, there are too many weak points in their 'armor',
and they are armed with what seem like industrial power tools. Not
that they aren't dangerous. Robot 2 manages to close its pincers
around Khai's leg and gnaws viciously, the serrated blades quickly
cutting through the armor. In a few second it will be working on the
woman's flesh!

Another pair of robots skitter to surround Corvid. One is armed with
pincers too, but the other has some kind of electrical blowtorch on
its 'maw', and is trying to get a shot to the wing without getting
smashed first.

And the last robot seems to be looking for other targets... like the
unconscious truck driver. This mess was all his fault! Vengeance...
chaaaaaarge!

On the positive side the panicking of the crowd has cleared the area
of most innocent bystanders (except the usual half dozen of people too
curious for their own good). And yes, sirens sound in the distance at
last. Except the police has to deal with a nice traffic jam to get to
the scene.

Sirens. Crap. Police responding to the accident call. Khai risks the
attached bug getting to her skin by ignoring it long enough to sprint
back to her Land Rover and pull out her portable radio, still tuned to
the police band. "This is BIAS security agent Khai Silverflame,
private security bond 86428-01, at site of radioed accident in
Brooklyn Heights. All non-tactical units need to avoid the site.
Repeat, non-tactical response will put officer's lives at risk!
Accident caused by industrial-grade robots of unknown origin and
hostile intent... aargh!" Her report and reaching for her firearm is
interrupted by the bug's blades cutting through the last of her leg
armor's protection and contacting her flesh. Closing her hand around
her hand canon, the Desert Eagle .60, she points it down at the bug
and pulls off three shots at point blank range. The gun's thunderous
retort might even be enough to shock those foolish enough to stay and
watch into running. Well, she can hope, can't she?

Jett doesn't notice the metal bugger trying to get at the driver. He
just hefts the guy and takes off as fast as he can out of the area.
Still...with all the people around and the traffic, its easier said
than done. Its only after dodging a few folks does he turn back and
see the buggy boo after him. "Oh...crap!" Assuming that the robot
moves at a good speed, Jett prepares to give it a good punt if it gets
too close to him and the driver.

Jett doesn't notice the metal bugger trying to get at the driver. He
just hefts the guy and takes off as fast as he can out of the area.
Still...with all the people around and the traffic, its easier said
than done. Its only after dodging a few folks does he turn back and
see the buggy boo after him. "Oh...crap!" Assuming that the robot
moves at a good speed, Jett prepares to give it a good punt if it gets
too close to him and the driver.

Corvid lashes out at Blowtorch Bug first, given that a lot of her body
is covered with iron that heats annoying easily. Wings scythe through
the air as she whirls her body, executing fighting movements honed in
the uncivilized hills of the Territories far away- and again on
streets far more local. Of course, she knows that despite her motion
and armament, this leaves her open to the one with the pincers, but
she considers this a lesser evil, or at least a reasonable risk.

Gnawgnawgnaw. Blood! And... bullets. And although one of the high
caliber bullets is deflected by metal plates the other two get through
and destroy rather delicate internal mechanisms and circuit boards
inside the machine. The robot stops moving, although continues
stubbornly clinging to Khai's leg.

The robots attacking Corvid circle around the mutant woman almost
cautiously, but when she lounges, they are not quite quick enough. The
blowtorch-armed robot loses half the legs of one side to a jump a few
inches too short, and limps away clumsily. The other, however attacks
the woman's back, clawing at one of her wings, trying to land those
metal-rending pincers on some iron tendon or other vulnerable spot.

The robot chasing the truck driver is less cautions. It is just going
to kill a couple normal humans, after all. It jumps, aiming to Jett's
back, trying to make him fall to the ground, where it can rip him into
tiny pieces of flesh with its claws.

And the rest of the robots surge from the van. Ten more of them. A few
head towards the watching, too-curious people that didn't had enough
common sense to run away, the others move to surround Corvid and Khai
with murderous intent.

Khai has a robot bug clinging to her leg with its mandibles latched
onto her thigh. She is in a very hazardous situation less than three
blocks from the Brotherhood's primary safehouse, and the bugs have
surged from the van and are heading in too many directions for her to
handle herself. Or even for both her and Corvid to handle. Speaking of
which, "Hey, Corvid. Long time. Aren't you supposed to be dead? By the
way, you should watch your feet. Ground's about to get a bit
unstable." And then she takes a wide stance, aims her gun at the
inside of the van and starts emptying her clip into the bugs still
inside. As for those outside, she has enough of a handle on their
movements to cause the earth around each one to slam upwards and
inwards like a scrapyard car press. As for the one jumping towards
Jett, that one gets served with an upward slamming stalagmite.
Subltety be damned, ok?

Jett hustles with the wounded driver, not looking back at the metal
robot on his tail. While the robot didn't get his attention, a major
shift in the earth does. I mean, a stalagmite can't erupt from the
ground without arising some attention. "Wow" he repeats. A tad
monosylabic but that's typical of jocks. Jett decides that discretion
is the better part of valour and instead drops the wounded man off at
the nearest establishment he can find whatever it is. Once that is
done (hopefully safely) he turns back to assist the women with the
robots. Innocents are getting hurt and he simply can't ignore that.

"Agh!" Corvid yelps a bit as she gets robot-chomped in an unpleasant
manner on the wing. Not that there's exactly a pleasant manner to such
things, but, well.. oh, bugger it, she's just trying to kick the thing
off, thrashing her wing a bit to shake at it, then holding still and
clawing backwards with one mighty iron-shod foot. She'll have to
finish off the first limping one momentaril-- right after dealing with
the others now circling like a pack of insectoid robo-wolves. Oh dear.
"Supposed to be, but I ain't never been much any kinda good listener,
y'know?" She comments with a deep breath. Alright then, unstable
ground. She puts her foot back down and tries to tug the robot free
with her hands, prying at its wiggly little legs with nearly inhuman
strength. This activity is paused a moment as the stalagmite erupts,
and she gives a low whistle before resuming her assaults on her
wing-bug, then moving on to any others nearby if she can get it off.

Khai's earth trick manages to cause severe damage to many of the
robots, and destroys several outright. But they seems smart enough to
realize they are outgunned, and instead of pressing the attack the
machine insects quickly scatter in all directions (not so quickly in a
few cases, since some of the robots can barely try to crawl away). The
one clinging to Corvid's wing, now looking quite battered, releases
the woman and attempts to jump outside her reach, but gets smacked
around pretty badly. The police sirens sound far closer, and as a
matter of fact a couple cops appear behind a corner, running towards
the junction. Apparently they didn't listen to Khai's second
transmission. Fortunately they aren't attacked by the robots, those
still functional are trying to flee, hiding under cars as they skitter
away, or racing to side alleyways.

Khai nods to Corvid, a crooked smirk on her face, "Glad to hear it."
She stomps on a pair of the bugs that were too damaged to get away
quickly, then sees the police officers approaching. She swaps clips on
her firearm and waves down the officers, pulling her security ID from
its spot on her tac-suit and holding it so they can see it. "Shoot the
metal bugs! Use tactical rounds or your shotgun with slugs!" She
shifts the ground around every bug within her reach to try and finish
crushing them. Then she makes sure Jett isn't being attacked before
running after some of the scattering bugs.

Jett moves back toward the epicentre of the action. Instead of jumping
into the fray, which would have been cool, if not utter stupid and
suicidal, he tries to help the injured away from to the parimeter were
law enforcement and hopefully medical personell can take care of them.
If need to, he'll deal with any critters that interfere but hopefully
they are all dashing well enuff away.

"Those guys are my cue to depart. Nice to say hello, I suppose."
Corvid speaks just loudly enough to carry over the sirens as she
scoops up one of the damaged bugs- the wing-biter as it happens, and
carries it off with her as she gets a running start and takes off from
the ground. "Adam can reach me!" she calls back towards Khai then as
she catches a bit of air. Hopefully she can fly clear fast enough not
to be shot at. Much. Stupid bugs.

Nobody shots Corvid, although she can see a number of helicopters
converging towards the area of the incident as she leaves, including a
couple ominous black ones.

The bugs are pretty spry, and although Khai destroys several damaged
ones at least four remain uncounted for.

And then the police wants to know what happened... for about ten
minutes. Then a small group of black-suited men and several army
officers arrive, and everybody is asked to leave the area while they
recover evidence, `national security' is mentioned. The next day there
are no comments of the incident in the newspapers or the TV.

Khai cooperates fully with the police, answering their questions,
giving them her ID info and so forth. But mostly she helps Jett tend
to the wounded, even offering to give him an escort away from the site
once the MIBs shoo everyone away. As for the bugs, well there were a
good number of them to begin with, and a lot of confusion as they
scattered and attacked people. So the chances of anyone noticing that
Corvid isn't the only one that secured one of the bugs, or three, for
examination are fairly slim. And figuring how Khai shifted them under
her Land Rover and up into its cargo bay? Well... let's just leave
that one to the tabloids, ok?

Jett identifies himself and whom he is: just a helpful bystander who
lives nearby. Once he gets the okay nod for the officials, he follows
Khai's lead out and away from this wacky scene. Too much for his young
brain to take.

She might feel a little twinge of guilt for abandonine Khai to the
cops. Maybe a /hint/ of it. But not too much! They're the good guys,
the mutants are, this time, right? Except her. She's not good with
cops, and still might have a profile out there and-- well, it was just
better on many levels for her to depart. And so depart she did, little
weakly-wriggling prize clamped tightly, limbs well clear of its jaws,
damaged as they are. She isn't sure who she'll be bringing this to
yet, but somebody will certainly be interested. And it's a nice trophy.

<OOC> Jett makes an official statement about how much he hates killer
robots. :)

Title: Thriller Night

Who: Khai, Rina, Jett and Ith temping various NPCs including Dr Fink
What: A Halloween Party. What could be more innocent than that.
Costumes, Booze and Rock'n'Roll. Oh...and some drugs too.
Where: Columbia University, New York City
When: Sunday, October 30th, 2005 (night)
Why: Cause you're going to boogy-oogy-oggy till you just can't boogy
no mo.


THE PLAYERS:
Doctor Fink
	 A young man stands here. He has a fit build; not overly muscular, but
definitely in good shape. He looks to be in his late teens. His dark
blonde hair is cut shorter on the sides and back, falling gently into
his face . He has a tanned complexion. That combined with his chisled
features, make him look like an adonis. His green eyes, sparkle
brightly, belaying a ready wit and capable intelligence.
 	 He is dressed in a pair of scrubs. A light blue cotton tunic covers
his chest. It is loose fitting and free flowing. It is matched with a
pair of simiarly coloured drawstring pants. The outfit is finished
with a pair plain white sneakers.
	 He wears a white lab coat over his outfit and a stethascope hangs
from around his neck. He also carries a black medical bag.
	 A killer pair of wrap-around black shades finish the look.


Rina
	 Well, whoever this is is short, to be sure, maybe a bit over five
feet tall. A short, somewhat muscular ninja. The outfit is black from
the tips of the toes of the tabi boots to the top of hood covering the
head, to the black mask covers all but the wearer's eyes, to the
gloves that cover the fingertips. A straight bladed bokken is slung at
this ninja's hip, and various other instruments of mayhem may or may
not be in various pockets. If one pays attention, this ninja walks
with the grace one would expect, and though it's hard to tell through
the somewhat baggy ninja uniform, the wearer's center of gravity is
somewhere around the hips. That makes her female, right? Er... hard to
say.

Khai-Kali
	 Self-assurance, poise, and confidence radiate from this early
middle-aged woman. Her manner is of someone who can find simple
pleasure in simply being awake and alive. She is is tall, only a small
span shy of seven-foot with the trim, muscular figure of a dancer or
warrior. Her rough, dusky skin shows a few small scars, both old and
new, along her face (as well as her arms and torso when visible). Hers
is the strong, handsome look common to those born of mediteranean
heritage and although her features aren't beautiful in any traditional
sense, they have a strength and endurance to them that speaks towards
strength of character. Most notable about her face is a line of
lighter skin that runs parallel to her hairline across her forehead
and down both sides along the jawline, it has the slight burn-scar
look common to tattoo removal.
	 Today, her skin has been dyed a shade of deep but crisp blue and her
body draped in a tattered tiger skin as she is dressed as a depiction
of the Hindu Mother goddess Kali. She wears a garland of severed heads
that look close enough to real that the squeemish shouldn't gaze too
long, and the tiger skin is held to her body by a belt of equally
near-lifelike severed arms. She has even somehow managed to arrange
for herself to possess multiple arms as well... and not just some
cheap contraption with strings that follow her real arms, either...
these limbs show a degree of realism far beyond the body parts she
wears. Not only do they move, but they do so independant of her own
arms, seem capable of fine maniuplation, and two hold a pair of
costume blades red with stage blood.


Jett
	  A young black man stands here. His height is anyone's guess but he
seems to be at about 6 ft, give or take a few inches. He has a
proportioned physique, well muscled but compact and balanced. His is
the body of a runner, made for speed and grace, yet backed with
physical power. Long, sinewy limbs and a broad chest round out his
lithe form. Eyes as black as ink swim against a flaws sea of chocolate
skin, holding the world in a deep penetrating gaze. Overall, his
visage is amiable, approachable and friendly. Yet something dark and
unfathomable lurks deep within his eyes: something a touch unnatural.
	 Decked out in tight leather from head to toe, this is definitely a
Thriller! A leather jacket embraces his torso. A black V comes to a
point at his navel with each arm of the V trailing down his arm. The
sleeves are bunched up at this elbow. Tight scarlet leather pants hug
his hips. White gym socks peek out from under the cuff before pushing
into black leather loafers. A glittering white glove enshrouds his
right had. Who does this guy think he is? The King of Pop?

THE STAGE:

Even though the night is early yet, the party has already started. The
basement lounge has seen many a social event in the past, but this one
is in a class by itself. About 100 student bodies crowd the lounge.
Pop music is beating at a deafening level. Strobing lights flash in
time with the beat. The place has been decked out in Halloween finery.
No expense has been spared and no corners cut. This party's just been
started!

Rina could have come in something bimbo-licious. She thought about it.
For all of about 3 seconds. Bimbolicious costumes assume a
bimbolicious body, and Rina just isn't. Besides, who wants to shave
that much? So here she is, at the party in a room full of mostly
strangers, dressed in a costume designed *not* to be noticed.
Ninja-Rina has arrived.

A group of loud jocks enter the Hall. They swagger in with typical
bravado and noise as if they own the place. For those who don't know,
these are your Columbia Lions! Hot of their latest win, they are here
and ready to throw down. Dressed in a variety of costumes, they all
share a common theme: Kings. The team QB is dressed like King Arthur.
Another team mate is decked out as Elvis. Jett Thompson, their young
fenom, is dressed as the King of Pop himself: MJ.

Normally, this isn't the kind of thing that Khai would take the time
to attend. There's still a lot of work to do with everything else,
after all. But Imamu pointed out that this kind of party is exactly
the environment that certain things are likely to happen in, so she
not only relented but went all out for her costume. So walking in arm
in arm in arm with Imamu as a royaly atired Zulu warrior is Khai as
Kali, the destructive aspect of the Hindu Mother Goddess.

Doctor Fink, the DJ continues to do his thang on the wheels of steel.
"Whaddup Party People! Shouts out to the Alumni Association of Columbi
U in conjunction with the Social Comittee and tonights special
benefactors, the Hell Fire Club. We are here to get it on till the
break-a-break of dawn!" With that the DJ throws on some old school
Hiphop tune.

Rina eyes the two VERY tall people who've wandered in. Now why,
exactly, would they be here? Rina suspects she knows, it's part of the
same reason she's here. They're digging into the whole Nextacy matter.
Of course, Rina's also here because she lives here on campus. Because
socializing is supposed to be good for you. Hell, she might even find
a date, it's been known to happen. Not that often though. She groans
inwardly at the choice of music. Hip Hop certainly makes it easy to
focus on the investigative side of her reasons for being here. Pity it
makes her want to be on the other side of the city. Rina wanders over
toward the jocks who came in. Jocks and drugs go hand in hand, though
usually steroids are the drugs of choice. She pulls the mask of her
costume down slightly to bare her nose, and surupticiously takes a
sniff of the air wafting from the little cluster of boys.

Jettmoves along with the Team as per usual. They are supposed to be
the stars of this party after all, and he amongst the brightest a) for
his performance in the last game and b) cause its his birthday (well
in a day but whatever). A cluster of hangers-on both male and female
crowd around the team, as is also usual. Jett nods absently to one or
two of them. With such a throng around them, the lil Ninja is barely
even noticed let alone acknowledged.

A group of Cheerleaders (at least that's how they are dressed) move
out to the dance floor. Though the party is lively, these girls are
simply going wild. They are dancing and boogying and gyrating like
there's no tomorrow. Even to the causual on-looker its obvious that
these gals are 'high on life' so to speak. Being a sponsored event,
there is security about the place. An officer quickly moves towards
the bevy of beauties to break up the obvious shinnanigans.

Khai-Kali might be hurt that Rina instantly assumed they were only
here for the drug trafficing... if she had any idea that Rina was
here, that is. And if it wasn't mostly true... but she never got to do
the whole 'student' thing, either, and aren't near-mindless parties a
part of that whole package? She and Imamu part company a few minutes
after arriving, each one making their rounds and 'Kali' fielding a few
questions about her arms once people realize that they're not your
typical costume pieces. She starts to idly work towards any knot of
students that forms around the jocks, reaching the same conclusions as
Rina about the liklihood of drugs being broken out there, while Imamu
plays up the native-African charm that netted him Khai on a group of
the ladies he's picked as possible inlets for Nextacy.

A few snifs are all Rina needs to rule the jocks out for the moment.
Especially in light of the 'cheerleaders'. She too gravitates toward
them curiously, making sure to catch the plume of heated air that
rises from each of them as from every living body. It helps that she
can see those plumes clearly. All she has to do is stick her nose in
the glowing, heated air.

Jett tends to let the hoards that follow his pack pass by without much
of a glance. However, Kali is too intriguing to ignore. Someone who
looks that striking is hardly background fodder and for sure is no
hanger on. She could obviously command the same if not more attention
than the team combined. Jett finds his gaze drawn to Khai more than
once.

The Cheerleaders give off a mixed scent of sweat, alcohol and ...
something else. Something etherial and hard to capture yet
overpoweringly pungent in its own, quiet way. Very much like marijuana
but different. Whatever it is, it don't smell...normal.

Khai-Kali's attention is brought to the cheerleaders by a subtle
signal from Imamu, a pre-arranged set of the face and posture that is
just one of dozens such signals used by BIAS agents to communicate
silently in crowds where hand-signals just aren't practical. So she
keeps half an eye on them, since he's closer and more likely to get
anything from them if the opportunity presents itself. Besides, she's
noticed the repeat gazes from Jett and figures it would be a bit too
obvious if she didn't respond. So while her own arms are occupied with
a cup of keg beer, one of the 'costume' arms reaches up so she can use
it to blow him a kiss.

Rina is, at her core, a predator. This is her savannah, the crowded,
noisy city life, and she has scented the prey she has in mind. Now she
begins to move closer, trying to cut one of the dancers with the
oh-so-intriguing scent off from the group. To do this, Rina has to
dance, gradually going up in energy level. Yeah, the music isn't her
thing, but certainly the beat is easy to work with. Right now she's
just being there, dancing like she means it, waiting for an opening,
for one of the cheerleaders to pause at the end of the song to visit
the girl's room.

Jett finds himself blushing when Khai blows him a kiss. He moves
closer to her, trying to talk to her if he can. "Excuse me, miss."

Doctor Finkspins the tunes with relative easy and almost unnatural
fluidity. He jumps from genre to genre: hip hop, dance, rap, rock,
pop, dance, whatever his fancy feels like.

The Party girls don't slow down one bit. The security guard is some
how deterred from his goal by other, more rowdy partiers. Like most
collegiate events, the booze is free flowing and the
narcotics...available to those who know where to look.

Khai-Kali does her part to close distance with Jett, smiling at his
blush. "//Yes?//" She decided to put a bit of alteration in her
normally unnatural harpstrings-and-echoes voice, making it seem more
like a trick of FX on par with her arms than anything else.
Maneuvering her six arms in a complicated series of movements, she
gestures towards the dancefloor (and, incidently, both the
'cheerleaders' and a certain Zulu warrior-prince it never hurts to
make a little jealous). "//Want to dance with a goddess?//" Oh, if
only Blade were here to see this...

Jett smiles wildly. "I'd love to." Jett takes Kali but one of her
hands. "Your costume is amazing. I mean....simply amazing. Its not
like anything I've ever seen before."

Oh, it's *such* a good thing Blade isn't here to see this. One of his
misinterpretations could get a lot of people killed, and necessitate
Rina finding a way to kick some vampire ass. Which, she's told, is
tricky at best. Ahem. Rina's still dancing amongst the cheerleaders,
breathing the scent, memorizing it. A good scent to be able to
recognize. It's hard to keep the role of the party-ninja going.
*wrong* smells like that get her hackles up. But nobody ever said
covert investigation was easy. So Rina keeps dancing.

Doctor Fink throws on some old skool music. The Party girls, still
high on energy, move in unision off the dance floor and towards the
bathroom. A few stray boys follow them, although the girls don't seem
to notice or to care.

Rina follows too. Nobody questions a girl on her way to the bathroom,
it's a female perogative to, at any time, and for an arbitrary length
of time, head to the ladies room and powder her nose. That's the
theory, at least. Of course, Rina's rather androgynous costume may
draw some looks when she goes through the door, but... so it goes.

The Party girls move to the bathroom and do the typical girlie things:
hair, makeup, potty, some drugs. Just the typical things girls do in
the washroom.

Khai-Kali makes sure the hand Jett gets is one of the 'costume' hands.
The more focused he is on the oddities of her unique outfit, the fewer
details of her face he'll recall later. It is, after all, only covered
in make-up. As for the bathroom exodus, she signals Imamu to keep an
eye and ear on things since she's otherwise occupied. Should things
get dicey she can be there in seconds, but until that happens, no
reason she can't have fun. She smiles at Jett's compliment. "//Thank
you. An old friend from ILM made it for me a few years ago. It takes a
lot of practice, but I think it's worth it.//"

Jett double-takes at Khai. "No way...." he replies. He eyes her outfit
again. "Uhmm...I mean, uhm....I mean that that doesn't seem likely.
How do I explain.." Jett looks a bit embarassed. "My pops owns an FX
company and use to work at ILM. I know the stuff they do. This..." he
gives you the third once over in a bout minute "...this is unlike
anything I've every seen. And there isn't much that I haven't seen."

Rina pulls the mask down from her face so she can smile. Teeth
covered, please, no sense frightening people with the fangs. She
approaches one of the girls who is doing drugs. "Hey, you look like
you're having a blast. C'n I score some of that?" Okay, drug seeking
behavior isn't Rina's thing, really, but you have to start somewhere.

One of the Cheerleaders smiles and hands Rina a vial. "Sure
girlfriend....help yourself. There's enuff here for all of us." She
goes back to teasing her hair and fixing her outfit.

Rina grins. "Thanks. Where do you get this stuff, in case I want more
later?" An eyebrow waggle suggests she's got something terribly
naughty in mind to do with this at that vague 'later'. If quizzed...
well she'll have to make something up fast. Rina tucks the vial into
one of her pockets.

Khai-Kali is blushing under her make-up as Jett turns out to be quite
likely the one person in the room who could so easily pick apart the
loose cover story about her arms. But on the surface, she just smiles
coyly and shrugs the top and bottom shoulders, still holding his hand
with one of the middle and using the last hand to do a brief 'no-no'
finger waggle. "//A goddess has to keep some secrets, doesn't she?
Where would the mystery be, otherwise?//" Seems this guy's not just
the pampered football star, doesn't it? Interesting. At least his
scrutiny will reveal one thing... as the lower arms shrug, they pull
far enough away from the skin of her side to reveal the line where her
blue make-up doesn't cover the tanned skin underneath. They're on a
harness of some kind and aren't attached to her, at least.

Jett says "Well...regardless of the magic behind it, your outfit is
fabulous...truly stunning. Kali the Hindu goddess of
destruction....very interesting choice. What sparked it?" Hmm...a nerd
and not really a jock? Who knew?"

The Cheerleader shrugs to the Ninja. "There a few people passing it
around out there. We brought our own with us." The girl finishes her
primping and turns to her posse. "Let's hit it, girls!" With a gaggle
of giggles and what not, they head back out to the party.

Khai-Kali raises an eyebrow, impressed that he pulled the name so
quickly. "//Well, aspect of the Mother Goddess representative of the
destruction that must occur for creation to follow, but close
enough.//" She smiles, "//Good to see that scholarly athletes aren't a
thing of the past. It's Jett Thompson, right?//" She keeps them
positioned while they dance so that she can keep an eye on the
'cheerleaders' as they return from the bathroom, looking freshly
juiced, then turns her gaze around the rest of the room as she moves
to the music. A crowd this size, chances are slim she'll spot any
signs of drug trade, but battles have been won on thiner odds.

Rina grins. "'kay, thanks." Rina makes a mental note to only handle
the vial with gloves. Fingerprint evidence. Yeah, probably mostly
college students, but one never knows what the Professor's contacts
might be able to do with them. She heads into a stall and does her
business while she waits for the bathroom to empty, then takes the
vial out and tucks it into a ziplock bag, then wraps the bag up in
toilet paper before slipping it into one of the many hard-to-find
pockets in the costume. It would not do to be caught with illegal
drugs on her person. But investigating is like unraveling a sweater.
First, you look for loose threads. Now she has one. Once she's sure
her benifactors have left, Rina leaves the bathroom too, and skulks -
she's disturbingly good at it - back to the party. This time she
remains on the periphery to watch for things changing hands.

Doctor Fink continues to spin the beats and the party goes on and on
and on.

Jett nods. "That's me. Jett Thompson. Athelete, scholar, geek." He
smiles, trying to be charming yet a little self affacing. "And who is
the lovely lady who embodies the goddess so well?"

Rina watches for a time, then becomes too uncomfortable having drugs
in her pocket in a secure area, and eventually she slinks out toward
her dorm room, and thence to X mansion. It's still warm, and she wants
this stuff out of her pocket. No desire to spend her birthday in jail.
And worse, if this stuff is what the Professor is afraid it is... she
doesn't want it around her, especially while she's sleeping.

Khai-Kali takes a step back and executes an elaborate bow utilizing
all six arms. "//I would be Khai Silverflame. Linquist, scholar,
private investigator.//" Hey, if he's observant and intelligent enough
to pick out the details he has already, he's fairly certain to notice
her age before too long and wonder what she's doing at a student
party. Unless she's just here for the booze, dancing, and younger men,
of course.

Jett smiles. "It is definitely a pleasure to meet you, Khai
Silverflame." Jett raises an eyebrow. "Are you a grad student, do you
teach...just like partying with young guys?" He chuckles again.


Khai-Kali shrugs, flesh arms only, this time. The rest have relaxed
into a mostly passive posture. "//I used to teach various languages at
a private academy outside Boston, but mostly I'm just here relaxing
with my friend.//" She looks over to Imamu, the Zulu warrior-king,
waving all the arms down one side and using the contact to exchange a
few quick 'no luck so far' messages. "//Can't say I'm disappointed so
far.//"

Jett gives the knowing nod when he gets an eye full of the warrior
that Khai is with.  No need to make that guy jealous. After another
dance and a bit more social interaction, Jett thanks the goddess for
the dance and then returns to his friends.

<exeunt>

Title: Trust and Talk of Kelly

Who: Anthony and Khai
What: The Brotherhood's prodigal agent returns to pick their brains.
What he finds isn't quite what he expected.
Where: Brotherhood Safehouse, New York City
When: Friday, October 28th, 2005 (afternoon)
Why: Because you never bring up Kelly Hiraga lightly.


THE STAGE:


Brotherhood Safehouse -- Kitchen


         Simple and comfortable the safehouse's kitchen boasts custom
cabinetry lining a large section of the walls in a rich light oak
veneer, contrasting serenely against light cream colored walls. The
refrigerator and sub-zero sport near glow beneath the relatively
subdued lighting in a finely brushed stainless steel steel. Along the
wall facing the back yard a long track of counter hosts a double sink
of shining stainless steel. Tucked neatly in a corner of the length of
counter space, rests an ultra deluxe coffee maker, along with a small
liquid display television. Not too far over, a simple professional gas
and electric range, also in shining stainless steel waits for someone
who may actually know how to use it. Here, as well as most everywhere
else in the house, a discreet communication and security panel sits
easily unnoticed on the wall near the entrance. Even in here,
operatives and residents are far from being out of touch.

         Towards the center of the large kitchen an nice sized center
island holds yet another sink, for cleaning vegetables and whatnot, as
well as a little more undercounter storage and dishwasher. A fair
sized banquet table, made of a white marble with metal legs and
surrounded by a dozen comfortable-looking, tough sturdy, semi-formal
chairs, rests off to the side. No need for a formal dining room in
this place, as the warmth and comfort of the kitchen is welcoming, or
intimate, enough. The idea is to have enough space in the table to
hold common breakfast it is not a bad place to hold informal meetings
either. As with the rest of the public rooms, the kitchen sports a
pleasant and relaxing neutral color scheme. In most homes, the kitchen
would be the heart; the center; the nexus of all activity. Perhaps it
is different here. Perhaps not. Adjacent to the Kitchen there is also
a small laundry room.


THE PLAYERS:


Khai


         Self-assurance, poise, and confidence radiate from this early
middle-aged woman. Her manner is of someone who can find simple
pleasure in simply being awake and alive. She is is tall, only a small
span shy of seven-foot with the trim, muscular figure of a dancer or
warrior. Her rough, dusky skin shows a few small scars, both old and
new, along her face (as well as her arms and torso when visible). Hers
is the strong, handsome look common to those born of mediteranean
heritage and although her features aren't beautiful in any traditional
sense, they have a strength and endurance to them that speaks towards
strength of character. Most notable about her face is a line of
lighter skin that runs parallel to her hairline across her forehead
and down both sides along the jawline, it has the slight burn-scar
look common to tattoo removal.
         Her clothing, made from sturdy, outdoor enduring materials,
has obviously been tailored to her size and lifestyle while still
being of sufficiently balanced fasion to not stand out in most places.
A light denim jacket, dyed deep midnight blue with gold highlights, is
worn over a fairly plain but body-hugging ivory t-shirt. While the
shirt is flattering to her figure, it is mainly there to keep the
shoulder holster she wears from chafing. Her pants continue the
midnight blue and gold theme, being cut to fit her figure tightly
while remaining flexible enough to allow full range of motion. The
legs flare slightly below the knee to fit around the tops of her black
thin-soled leather sandals. A somewhat worn canvas messenger's bag is
carried over her shoulder bandolier-style.


Anthony


The young man before you is a fine physical specimen. Standing over 6
feet tall, he moves with an athletic grace. His muscles are well
defined, obviously the product of many years of physical exertion. His
brown hair is now worn long, and is pulled back in a slightly
ludicrous pony tail. He's also now sporting a van dyke, looking much
like a rebellious idiot. His eyes are brown, his nose well
proportioned. His features are pleasant, although not on a par with
that of a model. He has a slight farmers tan, hinting that he may
spend a lot of time out of doors.

  Right now, Anthony is wearing a dark black duster made of some heavy
material, a black shirt and black jeans.


THE ACTION:


It's a little nippy and windy today, so the man who made his way
through the streets of New York managed to avoid the attention that he
may have drawn on other days for working to obscure his face. Anthony
is now very much a public figure, and while he loves the money and the
PR, at times like this, it's really damned inconvenient. Especially
when your headed to place that you've disavowed knowledge of to the US
military. Anthony has donned a hooded sweatshirt and wrapped a scarf
around his face, and kept his head down the entire way here. Now, he's
made his way to the point he remembers as being the public entrance to
one of the Brotherhoods more used safehouses. He had to pause for a
moment before approaching. After all, he didn't leave on good terms by
any stretch, but maybe they won't try and shoot him for betraying the
mutant cause. Maybe. He sighs, mutters to himself, reminding himself
that this information is really, really vital, and makes his way up to
the door, ringing the doorbell. Well, here it goes.


Well, there's no shouting and no shooting. No real response at all,
although there's the sense that someone is, as always, watching the
door despite the place looking much less lived-in than when Anthony
was last here. Then a moment later, just before the point where most
people reach for the doorbell a second time, the door opens and a
young college-age woman ushers Anthony inside and directs him towards
the kitchen.

Keeping with longstanding Brotherhood tradition, Khai puts a fresh pot
of coffee on when the door guard tells her of Anthony's arrival.
Setting up BIAS and getting fires it under folks with the Nextacy
issues had forced her to postpone her planned trip out to chat with
this very person, so she sees it as a mixed blessing that he's come
here, instead. There's no end of possibilities that could have
prompted his return, and only a very few come with no strings of bad
news attached. So when Anthony makes it back to the kitchen, he'll
find her sitting at the breakfast table with a rather unusual
contraption laid out before her... an arrangement of clay and thin
metal struts that is slowly taking the shape of a small harness and
four stone arms. "Hello, Anthony. How is life in the public eye
treating you?" The harpstrings-and-echoes voice holds no detectable
malice towards the wayward operative, but the middle-aged matron that
stands to greet him looks a deal different from the late-teens Khai
that he met at the Firehouse barely two years ago.


Anthony is not going to celebrate the lack of violence just yet. This
still has the potential to go very wrong, very quickly. He lets
himself be moved through the safehouse to the kitchen. He's going to
play this close to the vest. At least he was planning on playing it
close to the vest, till he's ushered into the kitchen and see's
someone who's vaguely familiar, assembling what, for a moment, looked
a bit like something he had to flatten and then get Pete to taser it
to deal with the problem. He falters for a moment, then regains his
composure. "Uh...it's going well, I guess." He makes a move as if to
raise a hand to shake hands, but then thinks better of it, and gives a
nod of the head. "Uhm...you look kind of familiar. Have we met?" He
says, a little warily.


Khai starts automatically studying Anthony's language and body
language the moment he enters the room, from his uncertain glance at
the costume she's making (and which is still taking shape as she rests
a hand against it, the metal and stone changing shape in real time) to
the obvious look of not-quite recognition. She nods once to herself
before responding, "Yes, at the Pack's firehouse, not long after you
met Rwylann. You were working out in the gym and nearly had a spasm
when I came in wearing my war-blades." She gestures to a set of
weapons laid out on the counter behind her. "I'm Khai, and for the
time being, I stand as local leadership for the Brotherhood. What
brings you here?"


Okay, Information coming in fast and heavy. Anthony does what he can
to process this information as fast as possible. He does vaguely
remember Khai, but she must have a much better memory then he does
because that was a very breif encounter. Next, thats the first time in
about two years he's heard Rwyl's name mentioned. Not much he can do
about that right now. Third, pointy objects are present. Not that he's
worried about getting stabbed, but more of an 'Okay, man, you
should've noticed those. Get your mind together, quick kick' kind of
thing. Fourth, Khai's now running a section of the NY brotherhood,
which was Storm, scotts and Magnetos thing before. Meaning something
is up. He manages to run through all the info in a few moments, and
finally gets his brains together. He's been jumpy ever since he got
cut up. Time to move on. After all, it's not like it can happen again.
He gets more upright, and his voice takes a firmer, more commanding
tone. "Alright, I'm going to preface this by saying I really can't
explain my reasons, but understand that it's quite important." He
takes a deep breath, then says, "I need information on the mutant
named Kelly Hiraga."


Khai's pleasant expression shows a hint of quiet satisfaction as she
watches Anthony process the various pieces of information she gave
him. The glance at the blades gets a small chuckle, "You're in no
danger of attack here, Force. So long as you remember that your time
among us... and the various secrets you learned then... are not to be
shared with your new teammates or their sponsors." She tempers her
voice to both put across the serious nature of things and to show that
she doesn't expect Anthony to betray that trust. His asking about
Kelly, however, brings her up short and disturbs her concentration
enough that she makes a mistake in the articulation of one of the
stone arms, giving it three elbows. She covers her discomfort by
focusing on fixing the error, but she can't help her other hand rising
to run a finger along the place where Kelly's claws so 'lovingly'
caressed her. Finally she lets out a deep sigh and faces Anthony
again. "If you had asked about nearly any other mutant in our records,
I would most likely have accepted the expected 'hush hush' disclaimer.
But Kelly Hiraga is another matter entirely. You took part in the
Aerie raid. Some of the more... graphic scenes depicted by the
holodome were only the tip of the iceburg in regards to her. If you're
looking for information about her, besides the fact that if there's
any good in the universe she's well and truly dead, then I'll have to
ask for some background on why you're asking."


Anthony corrects Khai, mainly to buy some time and let Khai recover
her composure, "It's now Impact. New life and all, I figured I'd
change my handle." Okay, now it's time for verbal chess. What can he
say without giving up the game? He can't go with the real suspicion,
because that would lead to serious problems down the road if the
Ultimates have to arrest or kill a mutant associated with the Ultron
incident. Instead...maybe he should go with his own working theory. "I
am not sure I'm supposed to be telling you this..." he starts out, a
machiavellian ploy to draw out trust. "But from what I know of Kelly,
and based on some recent events, there may be reason to believe she's
not dead in the truest sense of the word." Labrynthine language and
devious logic. Tony has definitely spent to much time working with the
PR people.


Khai gestures to a chair at the breakfast table, then brings the
finished coffee there with an extra mug and fills it and her own. Then
she sets aside the arm-harness and settles in, all business. "Alright,
then. Let me start by saying that the best way to deal with me is to
speak plainly. I have more years practice than I'd like to admit in
reading people and have a better understanding of language, in all its
forms, than most people have of their own name." She mixes an
over-generous portion of sugar into her coffee, along with a bit of
honey, and takes a drink before continuing. "While I do not expect you
to violate any trusts, the fact that you were, at one time, a
Brotherhood field agent does lead me to expect more candor than I'd
get from your average entertainment lawyer or public relations
director." She gives Anthony a brief moment to absorb that, then her
manner softens just a bit as she continues. "Now since the Ultimates
have only been in the news in connection with a few items so far, and
given what Kelly could do when she was alive, I feel qualified in
thinking this is connected to the stories of killer robots and the
fairly recent news of some kind of attack upon the Triskelion." She
raises a questioning eyebrow. "And as for Kelly being dead... well,
details on that are something I'm not certain I want to get into...
and not for the reasons you might think. The Ultimates aren't the only
group the Triskelion houses, after all. They're not even the primary one."


Anthony takes the offered seat, and thanks Khai for the coffee. He
mostly just sips at the coffee, not really in the mood for coffee at
the moment. He's not sure he's in the mood for anything at the moment,
actually. When Khai rattles off the disclaimer, Anthony just shrugs.
"I admit I know where this place is, or I was a Brotherhood field
agent, and I go to military prison." He offers this as re-assurance.
Then as the conversation gets down to brass tacks, he frowns slightly.
He's not going to relate the part where brain-controlling liquid metal
was the cause of the disturbance, as that was not part of the cover
story that was issued, and he's not sure if Khai has a source in the
Tris...Wait...what? "What do you mean not the primary one? Other then
the Ultimates and OMA, I haven't seen anyone but support personnel
from the military."


Khai lets things hang in the air for a moment before nodding once,
"Well, there's the OMA for one, but I'd put down good money that there
will be no shortage of Black Book operations running through that
building." She half-shrugs, "But that's neither here nor there. Just a
bit of healthy paranoia, really. Now that we've gotten past the part
where we each feel out the other's position, let's get to business."
She drains the rest of her coffee and sets the mug aside. "I wasn't
joking when I said I'd be willing to answer questions about nearly any
other mutant other than Kelly Hiraga. There are things I know about
her that aren't even in the Brotherhood databases, and those same
databases show that the people you work for already have a great deal
of knowledge about her." She lets that tidbit sink in a bit, "So I
could suggest you turn your inquiries towards the Ultimate's sponsors,
but the people who actually have the information about Kelly might not
appreciate the asking. But I might have another idea on how you could
use me as an information source. Officially, that is."


Anthony lets the whole black ops stuff slide. Granted, he is cleared
for top secret, but he is kept on a need to know basis. Still, he's
pretty sure, with the crap Gyrich has been giving them recently, any
groups that would be doing work that the Ultimates might object to has
since moved to higher ground, since the Ultimates are becoming, in the
words of one congressional staffer he had a meeting with,
'unpredictable'. He does get intrigued by the last statement, and
decides to let her explain herself, before he narrows his questions
down, and possibly gives away something. "Oh, how is that?" He asks,
raising an eyebrow.


Khai leans back in her chair, "Simple. Call me in officially. I've
been questioned by the OMA in the past, when I was mistaken for a
member of the Mutant Liberation Front who has similar powers to mine,
so I'm in the system. I'm a known associate of The Pack, which Kelly
helped to found, and which you had some contact with that you can use
as a reason why you thought of her in connection to whatever
investigation you're working on. You met Kelly though the Pack,
something about your current case reminded you of her, and you know
that I was a close associate of hers that might be able to answer
whatever questions the Ultimates might have." Her expression shifts to
a not-quite-smile. "All very direct and aboveboard, and not so
clear-cut and simple to arouse suspicion about it being too good to be
true."


Anthony seems to ponder this idea for awhile. He finally responds,
"Above board is not the direction this whole investigation seems to be
going." He sighs and shakes his head, "I don't think you want to get
involved with the things that are going on right now, because there
are some very powerful people who are not happy with the current
investigation." Gyrich for one, and Shaw, if Pete is right. But having
someone else, especially another mutant, in on the investigation would
be very handy, especially if they've dealt with the liquid metal
menace before. But no, there's no way to do this secretly. He says
finally, "Besides, you show up at the Triskellion, and questions start
getting asked." Then something occurs to him. A flash of insight so
outside the box that it's almost alien to Anthony. "However, that
doesn't preclude you from being asked in to help on something else."
He says, and starts to grin.


Khai ponders the implications of what Anthony has said, thinking she
might have gotten uncomfortably close to the truth thinking that the
'Motoko' events might have a connection to Anthony's investigation.
"So the shadow games are already starting..." This is spoken under her
breath, only just audible over the soft background noise of the house.
"Well, when it comes down to final answers, this is your show. What do
you have in mind?"


Anthony shakes his head. "Incredibly straightforward. The Ultimates
need as much help as we can get when it comes to working on
mutant/human relations. As you pointed out, you're already in the
system for an investigation in regards to some other mutant. Thats the
back door. We bring you in as a...a..." Here, his divine inspiration
fails him, and he tries to reach for a word he's heard in the PR
department a lot. "A consultant, I think it is, for Mutant relations.
We could get you in for a week or two, under cover of helping us work
on improving the Ultimates mutant handling policies. That way, we can
debrief you on Kelly, and we don't risk exposing the Brotherhood."
Anthony smiles a bit at the end of this, but the smile covers
something. This plan was way too smart for him to come up with...No,
no, he's been cleared. No liquid metal in his head. This has to be all
him.


Khai nods as she thinks Anthony's idea over. Finding no glaring
problems or traps, she nods. "I can work with that, and I can even add
a little something extra. If we take the consultant angle, I can come
as the Chief Executive for BIAS, that's Brothers-in-Arms Securty. It's
a security and investigations firm that I started a long while back
and have only just opened a branch here in the USA. We're fully bonded
by the government, and our US headquarters branch in Brooklyn is open
in our hiring of mutants. Just the type of specialized professional
government groups have used as consultants in the past. And, as you
say, it's something else that has no links to the Brotherhood."


Anthony isn't exactly sure where this conversation turned into cabal
plotting, and it's actually unnerving him a little. Especially if this
means bringing Khai within 200 yards of Peter, who's deductive skills
have already surprised Anthony. But this has got to be done for higher
purposes. That's the reason he left the Brotherhood in the first
place. If he doesn't stick to that now, then everything has been a lie
to this point. "Okay...that does make things a little easier." And a
lot harder, actually. Of his teammates, only Carol is likely to let
any story Tony gives by without some questions. Steve and Pete will
grill him on this. "I'm gonna have to have a cover story for this to
work, and I'm going to need to talk to one of my superiors to line
this up. But it should work...barring catastrophe." He adds.


Khai nods, "I'll leave any further fleshing out to you. You know how
things are over there, after all." She can tell how uncomfortable even
this low level of subterfuge is making him. She meets his gaze evenly,
"I think I'm starting to understand why you left the Brotherhood.
There are some who can never feel comfortable working behind the
scenes to the level that we do here. I'm not always comfortable with
it, myself, to be honest. Magneto knew that when he trusted me with
east coast operations, and he did it anyway." She shrugs, returning to
the present, "In any case," she pulls a typical business card from a
pocket and slides it across the table. Deep red with a pair of
stylized wings and 'BIAS' in gold, with a handful of office and mobile
numbers on it. "Any of these will get you in touch with me."


Anthony nods and takes the card. He eyes it in his hand for a moment,
then slips it into his pocket. He then takes a moment before rising.
"It's not the sneaking around that bothers me. Methods are methods,
strategies are strategies." He adds, a little intrspectively, "It's
knowing if I'm doing the right thing that makes this type of stuff
tough." He says, then shakes his head and begins wrapping his scarf
around his face again. "Anyways, I'll get in touch with you as soon as
I get some definitive answers."


Khai nods and rises as Anthony gets ready to leave again. "Helpful tip
for those not wanting to be seen entering and leaving here," she
points towards the door from the kitchen to the garage. "Green door at
the back of the garage leads down a short tunnel to a Qwickie Mart
down the street. It's nothing fancy, but it's a help." And it's only
one of the many such subteranean works Khai has been adding to various
safehouses and outposts. She nods at his explanation, a level of
understanding in her eyes. "I think everyone who takes an active role
in the world, no matter what role it is, wonders if they're doing the
right thing at one point or another. I know I have." She offers her
hand to Anthony, "Take care of yourself, right?"


Anthony nods and pulls his hood up. He gives Khai a nod, and adds, "I
wish this were all came down to protecting myself. In that respect,
I'm way more sure of myself then I have ever been before." He adds a
soft chuckle, and heads towards the door. It's windy out there, and
the skies were grey when came here. Probably gonna start raining soon.
It's gonna be a mess out there in a little bit.

Log: Another Awkward Phone Call: Just Like Old Times
Players: Kirk, Kitty
Location: Kirk's at the mansion, Kitty's at her apartment (the log is
a telephone call)
Date: October 22nd, 2005
Synopsis: Kitty's just recently returned after a long disappearance.
She finally phones the mansion.
Extra Fun: Count the times the word 'awkward' is used in the log.

-

Another lazy weekend. Well, not that lazy. After spending Friday night
at a rave of all places, feeling out of place and not having much luck
finding that drug the professor was looking for, Kirk decided to come
to the mansion today to grade some assignments and perhaps get some
sleep in the relative quiet of Xavier's mansion. At the moment, he's
doing the former, seated in the study and flicking through something
typed up by a first year computer science student. "Huh," he says,
noticing a coding error... something that'll result in an infinite
loop if a certain rarely-executed value is input. Easy enough
mistake, but one that should be tested for nonetheless. Out comes
the red pen.

Kitty sighs as she looks at the new cell phone sitting on the floor
next to her. Until she can get back on her feet, it's one of the few
amneties that she's allowed herself. But so far... really, what's
been the point? There's been nobody to even call. Dad is out of town.
Mom is who know's where. And she hasn't spoken to any of her friends
in over a year. Still, staring at the ceiling like this has been
driving her crazy. The last week has been nothing but work with those
two classes she auditing just so she can test out on them in the next
semester. And she barely even speaks to people in those closes. There
/is/ one number she could call where there should be someone she can
talk to, but... she hasn't been able to work up the nerve to pick up
the phone for the last hour.

She's going to have to do this sooner or later. New York is too small
for her to hide forever. It's easy. Just dial the number. Reaching
out to pic up the phone and slowly punching in the number, she waits
a moment and the phone begins to ring.

Kirk looks up as he hears the ringing phone. He lets it ring once,
seeing if someone else is going to get it, but then as the second ring
begins he decides to get it himself, just in case nobody else is
around. He reaches it on the third ring. "Hello," he says as he puts
the phone to his ear.

Kitty blinks at the picked up phone. She knew there was a possibility
of it being Kirk that would pick up the phone. There aren't many other
people she would've wanted to talk to at the school anyway. But it's
still awkward. They haven't spoken in over a year. And while Kitty
should have a lot to say, she doesn't. Not right away. And as she
considers what she should say, she doesn't say anything, the line
quiet on her side.

"Hello?" Kirk asks again, hearing nothing but silence on the other
line. "This is the Xavier Institute, hello?" he adds, just in case the
person went silent after hearing a hello when expecting a more
business-like greeting identifying the place.

What to do... Kitty could always act as if nothing happened. That'd
probably be easier. But there's almost no chance that it'd ever work.
She could hang up now, but what if they *69 her and she can't avoid
this forever. After a few moments, she makes up her mind. "Kirk?", she
asks quietly.

Kirk answers, relieved to be getting someone, "Yes, Kirk speaking."
Then, not immediately recognizing a voice he hasn't heard in quite a
long time and from only one word, has to add, "Who's this?"

Kitty blinks. She would've at least thought he recognized her voice.
The phone can't be /that/ bad, can it? Not sure whether she should be
bothered, embarassed, or what, she mutters into the phone. "It's
Kitty?" She's sure she would've recognized Kirk's voice, even after a
year without talking.

Now it's Kirk's side of the line's time to go silent. It's only a few
seconds, but it's there. He's just stunned, not having expected to
hear the voice. Then he asks, "Kitty?" in a tone suggesting he's
unsure if he believed his own ears. Following right on the heels of
that, he asks, "Are you all right? Where are you?"

Kitty expected this and she doesn't really have answers. Disappearing
and missing almost two years can have that effect. "I fine. And I'm
home... at the apart... my apartment." And then there's another chance
for her to leave herself an awkward pause before she adds, "So... how
are you?"

Kirk is a little surprised at that, figuring that her apartment would
have been rented out to someone else when she was gone a certain
time. Maybe the Professor took care of the rent or something, though.
He's like that. At her own question, he's afraid for a brief moment
she might not even know what happened and he'll have to explain she's
been gone for years. "I'm okay," he says. "Uh, how long have you
been... back?"

"Almost a week", Kitty answers, not able to see Kirk's surprise. Of
course, there are reasons for her apartment being available. And Kitty
even knows them. She's just trying to ignore them. "I just got a
phone", she adds quickly, sounding half apologetic. "I thought I
should call someone."

"Yeah," Kirk breathes. On the one hand he's relieved that this isn't
the first call she made after finding herself back. On the other
hand, he's a little hurt that it took her a week to actually call.
"So, do you know what happened, then?" he asks. He knows... or at
least, he has his suspicions, from what the Professor's told him about
the aftermath of the rest of that whole evil-cult situation. He was
never 100% sure Kitty was involved in it, but it helped him to think
that, rather than have to worry about her being missing somewhere
else.

Kitty frowns at her own words even as they escape her mouth. She knows
they sound cold. Actually, this /is/ her first call since coming back
that's gone through. Neither of her parents could be reached. She
visited the admissions office at Columbia and her old job. The new job
was arranged for her and all she needed to do was show up. "I dunno.
Just one day I blacked out and I woke up over a year later." She sighs
audibly at that. That simplifies things way too much, but does she
really need to drag Kirk down with her problems? "I heard I wasn't the
only one." She hasn't heard of it happening a lot lately though. At
least not according to the police when she went to get rid of the
missing persons report.

Kirk nods to himself over the phone. "Yeah. Something messed up
happened. About a year ago. Xavier's bunch and the Brotherhood mostly,
but others too... some still aren't back yet." he explains, then
sighs. "It's difficult to explain. But I'm glad you've made it back.
You're okay?" He has to ask again, to be sure. "Do you want me to come
down there?"

Kitty smiles to herself at Kirk's concern, but that the question of
whether he should come down, she jumps in on that quickly. "No! No...
I'm fine. I just... I'm really busy lately. You know. Work and school
and everything." Of course a lot of it has to do with the fact that
she's living in an apartment with furnishings totalling in a the level
of "a futon" and until she gets her first paycheck she'll be living
like she's squatting in this place. "I'll be fine. Besides, I bet
you're busy. What're you up to, anyway? Did you finish school?"
Changing the subject helps calm her tone down a lot.

Kirk is surprised at how well she's taking this. Then again, she's had
a week to adjust, he's just heard about her being back right now and
is still half-expecting to wake up and find out it was another dream.
"Uh... yeah. I'm in grad school now, and TAing." That's more than a
little weird when he thinks about it. As he's heard it, people coming
back from this didn't usually age. So he's now a year older and she
isn't. "I was just grading some projects when you called, actually, so
I'm not that busy."

Kitty isn't taking this well. It's just that she's gone through
blackouts before. This was just the longest one she's ever
experienced. "Oh... well, I don't want to hold you up", she rambles as
she hears what Kirk has been up to. So he could end up be a TA for a
class when she goes back to school? She's not sure this can even get
any more awkward. "If you have work to do I should probably... you
know...." Though the more she thinks about it, she realizes that she
really doesn't have anything to do. This is her day off. But so far,
the call has been pure awkwardness. How can she even keep this up?

"No, it's nothing that can't wait," Kirk says. Even though he feels
the awkwardness too, he doesn't want to give the impression that
grading stupid papers are more important than someone who's just
reappeared after more than a year. "So you're okay?" he asks, yet
again, almost involuntarily.

"Yeah. I'm definitely okay. It's just been a freaky week. But I... I'm
just adjusting to things again", Kitty answers. After another awkward
pause, she continues. "So.... congratulations on the job. That must be
fun. Are you gonna be a teacher? Or just doing something until you get
your masters?"

Kirk says, "I dunno. Just something to do for now for extra money."
He's thought about it but doesn't really think he wants to go into it
full time. "At least, I don't want to be a professor or anything. I
mean, maybe a little bit of teaching here for students of the
Professor." As his 'on the books' job for helping to save the world.
"What about..." he stops himself from the automatic question, since
obviously she's not at the same place he is in school. "I mean, it
must be a lot of trouble arranging for classes and stuff after being
gone so long."

"Yeah. I need to wait until the next semester to start anything new",
Kitty says. "That's probably better anyway. If this was the first
week of classes I'd probably be pulling my hair out anyway trying to
get everything back to normal and trying to make it through the
classes in the first place." She takes a deep breath, trying to take
the subject off of herself again. "So anything else new in your life?
How are Nat and Dave? Is there anything new going on at the school?"
Any questions to get off the awkward ones being asked about herself.

"Nat's okay," Kirk answers. "She was in France for a while. Dave...
uh... well, nobody knows where he is." That's the simple answer,
anyway. "It's pretty quiet at the school, overall, actually. The
Professor's looking into a drug called Nextacy that supposedly drives
mutants berserk but doesn't to humans, so, err, watch out for that, I
guess." He pauses, trying to think up stuff to add and smooth over
the awkward silence. "Uh, Rina's at Columbia now, studying to be a
cop."

Kitty listens quietly to Kirk's explanations of where everyone is.
Rina was acting weird around her when they last saw each other, but
she can at least be glad to hear that she's alright. And it sounds as
if Nat is doing well at least. "We should all get together some time
when everone's down at Columbia. Like old times", she says before she
regrets the words. This doesn't feel like old times. Even in their
most awkward moments, she never remembers it being like this between
her and Kirk.

"We should," Kirk agrees. "We really should." It'll probably be
awkward, just as the phone call is, but he thinks it'd probably be
better to just press on despite it without mentioning it. "Oh, I moved
out of the old suite, so I should probably give you my new number..."

"Sure", Kitty says. "That'd be great. Are you living at the mansion
now?" So they can go through another experience like this again? Ugh.
"I should give you this number too." While she's glad to talk to
someone, this definitely didn't go very well.

Kirk gives off his new phone number. "I'm just up here visiting,
really. I have a small apartment off campus." Very small. As he's
talking he gets one of his spare notesheets to take down Kitty's.

Kitty nods invisibly and reads off her number. "So everything else is
pretty normal?" While the conversation was tough, it's not as if the
rest of the day is going to be easy with absolutely nothing to do.
She could go looking for some more of her old furniture. Or maybe go
to the library. But she's reluctant to hang up.

"Pretty much," Kirk says. "As normal as things get around here,
anyway." It wouldn't be normal here without the occasional bits of
weirdness. He can't think of any important news off the top of his
head, besides things that would either be irrelevant to her or cause
her to possibly worry some. So, he's running out of things to say.
"Kitty... I'm glad you're all right." He thinks he said something to
that effect already, but he'd rather not leave it out.

Kitty doesn't know how to answer that. How do you answer someone like
that other than to say, "Thank you." She wants to play it safe. In
fact she's ready to hang up when something familiar occurs.  A
momentary pause and something switches over on her and Kitty is in a
much different state of mind. "I know, Kirk. You said that already."
The smile on her lips can be felt in her tone and practically seen
through the phone. "And I'm glad we're getting to talk again like
this. So when're you coming back into town? Maybe we can meet up some
time in the next couple days."

"Yeah," Kirk says, relaxing a little more as Kitty herself sounds
slightly more at ease. "We should. I was planning on coming back to
the city tomorrow, so, I don't know, I guess sometime during the week
would be good, if you're not too busy."

"Sure", Kitty says, "Tuesdays are no good. And during the day I'm
working. Any other time is okay though. My place or yours?" At least
she sounds a lot more cheerful now. "When do you have classes? I'll
be on campus a little on Tuesday and Thursday."

"I'm on campus for most of the week during the day," he explains. "But
I usually have big gaps so we could maybe grab lunch of something.
Though Tuesday isn't good for me, either, I have office hours." Which,
this week, basically means a bunch of annoying first year students
coming in and trying to wheedle him into giving them a higher mark on
their assignment because they think he made a mistake on grading.
"Or... I don't know, Thursday maybe? After work or whenever you're
done on campus?"

"Actually, I'm working as a waitress during the day right now, Kirk.
So unless you're interested in getting served by me while I'm dressed
in a skimpy outfit, you're probably not gonna see me around
lunchtime", Kitty answers, smirking to herself at the blush that she's
sure is rising in Kirk's cheeks. Just like old times. "Thursday might
be alright though."

Kirk does blush a bit as the mental picture forms itself in his mind.
"Oh, sorry," he says. Of course, he realizes belatedly, she wouldn't
have had her old job, and if she's only been back a week she probably
just grabbed the first thing that she could get. "Okay, let's try for
Thursday then?" That'll give him some time to prepare and get over
the initial shock.

"That sounds fine, Kirk", Kitty says. "Thursday after class. We'll
figure out what we want to do from there. I hope you're not just
spending all your spare time at the bookstore still. I /hope/ I don't
need to step in again and fix that", she teases.

Kirk chuckles. "No, actually I haven't been there in quite a while."
Partly because he has a decent used bookstore right near his place,
and partly because the people he used to go there for haven't been
there. "But okay, that sounds good. Looking forward to it."

"Good. Can't wait to catch up on things. And I'll try to make sure I
bring you back so you're not too hungover for class the next day",
Kitty says with a smile to herself. "Though don't plan too heavy a
workload...", she adds with a wink in her tone. "See you then!" And
with that, she hangs up the phone.

Kirk is left holding the phone after she hangs up, with a bit of a
smile on his face, and yet a bit confused, too. Yep, Kitty's
definitely back. He puts the phone down and goes back to his work.

<-END LOG->

WHAT: Frankie's hangover isn't made better by a perpetually
bemused Jono and an angsty Rwylann, not to mention a big bag
of drugs… WHO: Frankie, Rwylann and Jono

WHERE:

Brotherhood Safehouse -- Gym

Almost stark white and grey, a vast difference when compared
to the rest of the house, the gym seems the perfect place to
work up a good sweat; even for some of the stronger of the
home's residents. The walls here have been reinforced,
standard building materials being much too weak to hold up
against those who would test its very limits by replacing
equipment alone. On the far side of the room, opposite the
door leading in, a large mirror stretches the length and
breadth, allowing one's tone and technique to be seen while
working out and, perhaps, improved upon as time went by.

Scattered here and there, all matter of exercise equipment
can be seen; in triplicate, with room enough to move freely
and not trip over another soul, machine or dumbbell. Closer
to the mirrored wall, with a television positioned on a
suspended shelf overhead, rest the latest in electronic
treadmills. Bench presses and universal machines stand not
too far off, and a set of professional bar-weights are
stacked in orderly rows on a stand in the corner. Scattered
about the grey-carpeted floor, heavy duty mats lay in
present disarray, awaiting the next practice session or
workout. As seems a definite theme throughout the house, a
communication panel sits discretely on the wall next to the
door. If nothing else, no one residing in the safehouse is
far out of touch with anyone else.

THE ACTION:

Likely needed around the Safehouse for something or another,
Rwylann did not make her usual trip to Excelsior to swim. So
she is making do for her work out with the gym in the
Safehouse. She has been practicing her capoeira again this
past week, for perhaps the first time in quite a while. She
is rusty at it and it shows as she stops, sitting heavily on
the edge of the mat she was working out on and grabbing a
waterbottle set nearby. She is wearing a pair of loose,
breathable black pants and a more (far more) form-fitting
black tanktop, while her feet are bare. The elementalist
runs a hand through her hair, slouching forward. Her feet
are flat to the ground, knees up slightly, and she leans
forward on them, staring at the floor as she regains her
breath, taking the occassional drink from the waterbottle.

Jono is sat on a chair at the edge of the room, arms and
legs crossed and with the look of someone who has no
intention of getting out of the chair, short of earthquakes
or tidal waves. "<Yer know, it's that sort of thing that
could kill yer,>" he remarks mildly, giving Rwylann a
faintly bored look. "<If God 'ad meant us to do abdomen
thrusts, or whatever the hell that was, he would 'ave...
well, he wouldn't have made made it so much hard bloody
work,>' he finishes, rather lamely.

This whole running into Scuzz this is starting to have it's
affect on Frankie. While she finally got him to fess up he
had not, in fact, lost his memory yesterday, him brushing
her off in such a manner left her more upset than she's
willing to realize. On top of that, Joey is going back to
California today, and instead of being well rested to take
her to the airport later today like she should be, she is
suffering a mild hangover-combined with still being
considerably drunk after having just...gotten in an hour or
so ago. She tried sleeping, but that wasn't working very
well, and after getting out of bed again she saw the
lunchbag full of...uh, treats staring at her and decided
it'd be a good idea to get it to the one who she got them
for. Even despite knowing full well what they do, something
like that given her current state is far too tempting to
just 'have around'. "The gym? Ugh...yeah...thanks..."
Frankie mutters to one of the other residents, waving her
hand a bit lazily at them before shuffling toward said gym.
She looks like she hasn't slept, as she hasn't, really, her
eyes a bit bloodshot and dark circles under her eyes, and
her dirty blond hair has been haphazardly pulled back into a
ponytail. She's still decked out in a rather loose t-shirt
and flannel pants from her failed attempt at sleep, and
well...it definitely looks like she did a heavy amount of
drinking last night and is suffering as a result of it. The
young woman appearance in the doorway of the gym, holding a
rather crumpled up paper bag in her hand and squinting a bit
at the well lit room. Of course it takes her a few seconds
to actually realize Rwylann is in fact, here. "Oh. Hey."

"Jono, I'm just sick of feeling helpless anytime some random
asshole in the Park decides I look like an easy target,"
Rwylann complains. And really, she /does/. She has a slim
enough frame, mostly from all the swimming and partially
because her powers burn through so much food it can be worse
than a high metabolism if she is using them a lot. She downs
the rest of the water bottle, before setting it down and
standing, groaning a bit as her body protests. She wanders
over to Jono and circles around to stand behind him, leaning
down to put her arms around his shoulders loosely. "'sides,
no matter how much I'd like to just sit around watching TV
and such all day, I doubt you would appreciate me getting
fat." As Frankie speaks up, she blinks and looks over to the
entrance, straightening, though one hand remains at Jono's
shoulder. "You look like hell decided to come visit."

Jono blinks slowly at Frankie and then pauses and shoots a
look at Rwylann. "<Oi, hell didn't come to visit. -I- came
to visit, thank you very much,>" he remarks in a grumpy
tone. He looks back towards Frankie and weighs up her
condition. "<Looks like a case of the mornings to me,>" he
comments, then leans forwards in his chair. "<Huh, actually,
you do look like hell,>" he says, obviously a flatterer.
"<What's up luv?>"

Frankie just kind of looks at the both of them with a bit of
an out-of-it, pretty unenthused expression, her pale gaze
watching the couple for a brief moment before she finally
finds herself forcing a half-hearted, well...screw
half-hearted, completely unconvincing smile. Yeah. For
Frankie to not have burned the alcohol out of her system
yet...you know she had to drink a lot. "Ijuwahan..." She
pauses, blinking a bit as the words that come from her are
more a mumbling sound than anything else, coughing slightly
and raising a hand up to rub her forehead slightly with a
grimace. "Sorry." She mutters, her voice rasping a bit
before sighing heavily. "I jus' got this thing I managed
t'get for ya, kid." She answers Jono, stepping forward a bit
and holding up the crumpled up lunch bag in her hand as she
moves closer to the two. "Heard y'needed some help wit' that
drug 's been messin' up mutants or sumthin', right?"

"Yes, you did and I am thankful for the world not being
turned into a place full of sunshine and rainbows, where
fluffy bunnies can live without fear," Rwylann notes,
rolling her eyes at Jono. She lifts her hand from his
shoulder, ruffling his hair slightly as she watches Frankie.
For all her slow movements and protests at how her body
aches from the workout, Rwylann is in a pretty decent mood.
Of course, we all know how quickly that can change. And
indeed, it does, if only slightly, as she eyes the bag being
offered to her. "From who?" she asks, slightly confused. "I
mean, that could go directly to Khai or what's-his-name,
since they're the ones that have me working on this." She
blinks a bit, "Big bag for something that's supposedta be
like E, though. What didja do, find a year's worth?"

Jono cocks an eyebrow at the extended lunch. "<Actually, I
think Frankie just wanted to give you lunch so yer don't get
hungry while yer out on this mission,>" he comments dryly.
"<Actually, that's a thought. Maybe the Brother'ood should
do lunch coupons. And how's the insurance for this gig
anyway? Do we get dental?>" He shoots a look at his
reflection in the mirrored wall, as if daring it to argue by
showing the reality of his bandaged face.

"Khai?" Frankie stares at Rwylann for a few long seconds,
obviously the name is not ringing a bell with her. "I dunno
who that even is." She raises her free hand up slightly,
scratching at her stomach as she drops the bag down to her
side. "'s a powder, rather not kinda have it spill out all
over the place." She hesitates slightly, glancing down at
the bag before seeming to look a bit scared for the briefest
of seconds, not bothering to look up at the two again.
"Look...can y'jus' take it from me, please?" She mutters,
her voice a bit husky as she frowns slightly. "Really don'
wanna be carryin' this shit 'round longer than I gotta." Any
jokes from Jono go uncommented on. Either she's just not
paying attention, or is just in such a yucky mood right now
she has no energy to actually respond. Chances are it's the
latter.

"Har har," Rwylann responds to Jono in a sarcastic tone.
"And, y'know, I dunno if we get dental. Guess I ought to
stop eating so much sweets, huh?" She smirks slightly, then
frowns a bit at Frankie. The redhead looks rather confused a
moment, before shrugging and stepping forward, away from
Jono and towards Frankie. She reaches out a hand to accept
the bag. "A powder, huh?" She looks to the bag, brows
furrowed. "Uh, where'd ya get it? Just so I've got all the
info I need and such." She seems rather awkward as she
speaks. Obviously she is quite new to this whole
investigating thing.

Jono stares blankly at Frankie a moment, otherwise
completely immobile in his seat, as if sculpted there. "<Did
yer have to wrestle a bear to get that stuff,>" he asks, not
unkindly. "Yer looking like death warmed up.>" He nods her
towards one of the other chairs. "<Why don't yer put yer
feet up a minute,>" he says. "<I hope yer didn't do that to
yerself,>" he adds, gloomily.

Frankie pushes the lunch bag into Rwylann's hand almost a
bit desperately, shaking her hands slightly afterwards as if
she's gotten rid of some kind of life-threatenining bomb
finally. "Getting that shit was easy," She mutters to Jono,
raising her hands up to rub at her face before inhaling
deeply. Glancing slightlya t the offered chair, she seems to
hesitate slightly, and would normally just leave except the
throbbing in her head and the vague feeling of wanting to
throw up somewhat demands she sit down for a moment before
retreating back to her room. "If you want me to get anymore
information 'bout it I can get it...any
questions...basically any dealer is gonna have the stuff,"
She murmurs to Rwylann, carefully avoiding responding to
JOno's last comment as she eases into a chair a few feet
away from the two. Sinking down a bit into the chair, she
rests her hands on the arm rests and tilts her head back,
exhaling quietly as she closes her eyes with a faint
grimace. "Don't really wanna give the name of the guy I got
that from though...uh..." She peeks an eye open, peering at
Rwylann slightly. "I got some information from him,
tho...not sure if it's anythin' y'already know. I didn' poke
too hard 'bout the stuff coz I don' need people wonderin'
what the hell i'm up to yet. That fucks mutants up bad,
prolly know that already...nothin' really that humans got
t'be 'fraid of, tho. An' uh...some...incident that happened
in a mutant bar or somethin'...? 'pparently some gang hired
people t'spike drinks wit' that shit. I haven' been able
t'find out who yet."

This time, Jono's comments do not get a response from
Rwylann. At least not verbally. She rolls her eyes a bit
again, but accepts the bag. She glances within quickly, as
if needing to verify that it is, indeed, /not/ just lunch.
Hmm, a nice roast beef sandwhich would be good right about
now. She grabs a chair and lifts -- with a bit of effort,
due to the workout -- it to place it nearer to both Jono and
Frankie. She lowers into it heavily, with a sigh. She leans
back and nods along with what Frankie says, showing that
yes, she knows that it is bad stuff for mutants, OK -- as
far as drugs go -- for humans... however, at the mention of
the spiking the drinks, she sits up a bit suddenly. A glance
to Jono: "Other than Eve's place, y'know of any mutant
bars?" She looks fairly concerned about this and lifts a
hand to rub at the bridge of her nose, looking back to
Frankie. "I'd like your dealer's name, but, eh, I
understand. Do ya know where he gets it from? We're trying
to find the source and all."

Jono winces at the mention of mutants being spiked with the
drug. "<Uhoh,>" he says hollowly. He exchanges a look with
Rwylann and gives a curt shrug. "<Nope, but I don't exactly
make a habit of hittin' bars. Might not be there. But sounds
like we should pay Eve a visit.>" He finally unfolds his arm
and reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He's silent now
as he glances Frankie's way, a concerned expression coloring
his visible features.

Frankie shakes her head a bit, then rests it back once more
as she closes her eyes. "What I've been tryin' t'find out
too." She murmurs, sounding somewhat zoned now,
and...actually going silent for slightly longer than is
really normal in an active discussion before she seems to
jerk slightly, sitting up sharply and grimacing.
"Uh..sorry," She mutters, hunching over slightly as she
seems to attempt at pushing herself into the chair a bit
deeper, now drawing one of her legs up to her chest and
yawning widely. "Uh..." She blinks a few times, obviously
having forgotten her train of thought for a moment before
continuing. "He doesn' even know where he gets it from,
really." She replies finally, seeming to regain her thoughts
again. "His normal suppliers seem t'even get it from someone
else...gonna take me a bit t'fin'out anymore if I wanna
wit'out raisin' any suspicions."

"Been meanin' to go back anyway," Rwylann responds, rolling
her shoulders in a shrug at Jono. She looks awfully
concerned now, brows knitting as seh scowls, leaning back in
her chair. She is quiet for a time, before glancing at
Frankie. A helpless shrug is the first response, before she
lifts her hand and pushes her hair back from her face. Her
own nervous gesture. Like some people crack their knuckles?
Rwy messes with her hair. "You've prolly got a better chance
than I do, to be honest. I have absolutely no idea how drug
dealing and all works." A glance to the bag, "So, thanks.
Y'saved me a lot of trouble I think with this." She exhales
slowly, "An'... I'll have Khai see about talking to you...
But if yer gonna be around the Safehouse, she's prolly gonna
anyway, since she's kinda in charge."

Jono leans forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees
as he fixes Frankie with one of his more piercing stares.
Presumably he practices in a mirror at home, because it's a
pretty good one. "<Yer didn't try some of this shit yerself
did yer?>" he asks darkly. "<yer look rough enough.>" He
peers at Frankie suspiciously, then adds, "<An' if it was
just booze that done that to yer, yer been hittin' it way
too hard.>" He doesn't seem aware of the fact that he's
begging to sound like someone's mother.

"Tryin' t'get outta here as soon as I can, act'ly...but
Scott'n the others got my number t'get ahold of me."
Frankie's time to act moody as hell now, rubbing at her
knees and avoiding looking at the two until Jono's comment
seems to illicit a bit of a twitch from her. Her pale gaze
flickers to him, almost growling faintly, maybe, as she
lowers her head a bit before sighing and glancing away. "I
gave th'shit t'her fer a reason," She replies finally, then
shakes her head. "Got rid of it b'fore I did somethin' I
knew I shouldn't." She sulks somewhat, fidgeting with the
knees of her flannels and staring off at a wall, not really
replying instantly to Jono. It takes a moment. "Didn' mean
t'drink so much." She mutters. "Jus' didn' feel like dealin'
wit' nothin'."

Apparantly, Rwylann was not as slow as Jono and just gives
the Brit a look. However, from the way she studies Frankie
when she looks back to her, Rwy likely agrees with the
assessment of too much drink. She nods slowly, glancing to
the bag again as she chews a bit at her lower lip. "Well,
uh..." She looks awkard for a moment, shifting in the chair.
"Y'might wanna get some rest and all."

Jono stares at Frankie, and his piercing gaze slides up a
few notches. "<So,>" he says darkly. "<Knowin' how bad this
shit screws up mutants, yer go an' try it anyway?>" He leans
back in his chair and gives Frankie a faintly disbelieving
look. Suddenly his hand comes up and there's a ringing slap
as he smacks his forehead with his palm. "<Top marks for
smart thinking,>" he snaps. "<Sod the rest, yer should get
yerself to the infirmary or something, yer daft moo.>" He
shakes his head sharply. "<Yer know, if one of these days
yer actually do something daft enough to kill yerself, some
of us might actually miss yer. Keep this up an' we won't
have long to wait.>"

Frankie's pale gaze shifts slowly toward Jono, and despite
her eyes looking a bit watery, it seems more from her
current state of 'absolute fuckin mess' than looking ready
to cry or be hurt. Instead, she just sort of stares at him
for a long moment, then glances up at Rwylann before sliding
out of the chair. "Dumbfuck." She says finally, now looking
a bit angry as she glares at Jono. "I GAVE it t' her so I
WOULDN'T do nothin' stupid, you ass!!" She yells, raising
her hand up sharply and flipping him off. "For fuck's sake!
You fuckin' listen or not!?" She throws her hands up
slightly, shaking her head and turning around to head out of
the gym. "Fuckin' retarded."

Rwylann rolls her eyes a bit at Jono, shaking her head
slightly. Smart thinking indeed. Even /she/ figured it out
and she's generally spaced enough to be oblivious. The bag
has been set by her feet and she nudges at it a bit with her
toe, wrinkling her nose. So many questions, but right now...
As Frankie goes into her shouting fit at Jono, Rwy decides
that /especially/ right now is not a good time. She leans
back a bit in her chair, tilting her head back to look at
the gym ceiling with a sigh. Nothing is said - no need to
get involved just now.

Jono blinks and then leans back in his chair. "<Oh,>" he
mumbles, then adds a little louder. "<Oh, well why didn't
you -say that.>" His voice carries the exasperated tone of
someone who thinks they're the one who's hard done by. "<I
mean yer -look- like yer must have done somethin' more than
drink, the state of yer. Yer eyes look like two pissholes in
the snow. Yer must have drunk a skinful.>"

Frankie does appear to have...woken up slightly more now,
but she still looks considerably tired and exhausted still,
if that's possible. Turning around on her heel, the blonde
gives Jono a rather angry glare as she folds her arms over
her stomach. "I was pissed. And I had pot, too. 'd normally
be fine except I was drinkin' pretty late so I ain't that
much time t'burn it all out yet."

Hand lifts to face and Rwylann begins rubbing at the bridge
of her nose. She glances between the two, but other than a
slight mutter beneath her breath, seems inclined to still
refrain from comment. She seems exasperated, if anything,
with the two bickering. She stands slowly, stretching and
unkinking her body, rolling her neck and shoulders. She
opens her mouth, seems about to comment and decides against
it -- for once -- as she strides for one of the nearby
treadmills.

Jono finally decides to rouse himself and unfolds from the
chair, stretching out his lean form as he cocks an eyebrow
in Frankie's direction, then glances after Rwylann with a
faint wince. "<Hey, I'm not a mind reader,>" he grumbles
then pauses. "<Well, okay, I -am-, but I wasn't tryin'.>" He
returns his gaze to Frankie and gives her an appraising
stare. "<Huh,>" he comments vaguely. "<Well yer certainly
look fit t'drop. What on earth possessed yer to drink so
bloody much?>"

Frankie's gaze flickers toward Rwylann slightly, momentarily
going quiet before she tugs the chair closest to her, and
furthest from Jono, toward her, sitting down sideways on it
with a bit of a grunt and lazily crossing her legs. "Just
not really been the funnest few days, 's all." She mutters,
leaving her arms folded over her stomach lightly, glancing
down as she absently rubs at end of the lined scars that run
down her arms. She's silent for am oment again, looking
thoughtful before glancing up at Rwylann slightly, then Jono
before sighing heavily and looking down once more.
"Jus'...fuckin' Scuzz. He's all pissed at me and I kinda
freaked out about it."

"He's Scuzz," finally speaks the one who has been quiet as
she pokes at the display on the treadmill. She can code a
computer, but give her a VCR or a piece of supposedly
advanced exercise equipment and it escapes her. Rwylann
grunts slightly in annoyance, before continuing, "He gets
pissed off at me all the time and me at him. S'just... how
he is. Part of the whole Scuzz Experience." She shakes her
head a bit, finally gets the machine working, and starts
walking on it at an easy pace. No running here right now.

"<Yeah. Scuzz is a jerk. Who knew?>" Jono remarks dryly,
then gives an expressive shrug. "<Sorry luv, I didn't mean
to have a go exactly, just worried about yer when yer so
messed up.>" He rubs the back of his head with one hand,
glancing towards Rwylann and wincing again as if, rather
than an exercise machine, she's strapped herself into some
device of torture.

"You ain't his friend." Frankie mutters to Rwylann, drawing
her legs up loosely to her chest, though not really curling
up or anything, just leanign forward a bit as she reaches
down to rub at her feet with a bit of a surly expression. "I
mean I knew I left all inna hurry...didn' think he was gonna
fake fergettin' me or nothin' like that...then goin' on
about all this shit of us not bein' that good friends...I
mean...fuck...I know I ain't perfect...I said I was
sorry...what the fuck more does he want?"

There is a noise in the back of Rwylann's throat. Perhaps
annoyance, perhaps agreeance. Who knows, really. The redhead
just scowls somewhat and ups the pace of the machine, ending
up in something between a jog and a run. Besides the
conversation, the gym ends up with the sound of her feet
padding against the treadmill as she runs.

Jono shoots a look at Rwylann at the noise she makes and
arches an eyebrow. Then, since it seems he's on his own for
now, he draws his attention back to Frankie and ambles a few
paces towards her. "<What does he want? Well, I can think of
a few suggestions..>" he says, with thinly veiled malice.
"<I dunno. I don't get why he'd pretend to forget yer,
y'know, other than his bein' a total wanker.>" he shrugs.
"<Maybe yer should have just smacked him round the head with
a bottle rather than emptying one.>"

Frankie as well watches Rwylann for a long moment, not
looking at Jono as he approaches her and finally just
folding her arms loosely over her knees and sighing slightly
at Jono's last comment. "Next time i'll r'member t'stay
hidden from you until I'm totally sober again." She mutters.
"'m over it now. Fuck him if he's gonna be a fuck face like
that."

It is definitely annoyance in Rwylann's countenance now,
though perhaps only Jono will be able to pick up on it. She
seems, for all intent and purposes, to be focused on her
running. Likely, however, she is overdoing herself a bit.
She just finished a workout and now here she is, running as
if death itself were on her heels. Well, not quite that
badly, but to Jono it may seem like overkill. Sweat beads
along her brow, neck, and bare arms as she moves, staring at
her own reflection -- or perhaps beyond, to Jono and Frankie
-- in the mirrored wall.

Jono narrows his eyes slightly at Frankie. "<Huh, this is
hardly the first time I've seen yer hungover,>' he says
brittly. "<Just the first time I've seen you this... messed
up.>" He hesitates a moment and glances across towards
Rwylann, giving her a mild look of concern. "<Careful yer
don't bust somethin' there, sunshine,>" he remarks. "<Yer
don't want to overdo it. Don't think I fancy carryin' yer to
the infirmary...>" He trails off, looking slightly
nonplussed, then glances between Rwylann and Frankie.
"<Uh...>"

Frankie herself seems to have caught on that something is
off with Rwylann, her gaze only finally shifting once more
to the other girl once Jono appears to become aware of
something odd. Raising a brow slightly, the blonde stares at
Rwylann for a few seconds of silence before finally
speaking. "Do you want me t'leave?" She finally asks,
sounding, oddly enough, not hostile or sarcastic at all.

There is only a mild huff of air -- perhaps a wannabe snort
-- in response to Jono. However, at Frankie's question,
Rwylann jabs at buttons a bit until the machine slows down
and she steps off, leaning on it. Taking in a deep breath of
air, she closes her eyes a moment, before opening them to
focus gray gaze upon Frankie, "What I'd like is y'both to
quit the bickering. It's like a freaking neverending circle.
And to be honest? Getting kind of annoying."

Jono blinks slowly and gives Rwylann a faintly bemused look.
"<We weren't. We were talkin' about random acts of violence
to visit on Scuzz. That's got a strong unitin' factor.>" He
gives a faintly confused look towards Frankie. "<Anyway,
this is normal. It's when we ain't snappin' at each other
yer got to worry.>"

Frankie just sort of stares at Rwylann a moment, then sighs
quietly as she leans forward, letting her feet drop to the
ground. "'m gonna get goin' anyway," She says with a bit of
a nod, resting her palms against her knees briefly and
staring at the ground before glancing at Jono slightly as
she moves to her feet. "Sorry for jus' leavin' last year
wit' no word." She murmurs, her voice a bit quieter. She
hesitates a moment, then sigh softly, raising a hand up to
wave to the two. "Gonna try t'sleep. Later."

"'cept you're going in such circles that it was sounding
like a broken record," Rwylann murmurs, lifting a hand to
run fingers through her hair, the reddish locks staying back
this time, aided by the sweat that has accumulated. She
glances to Frankie and ponders the other for a long moment,
before nodding finally. "Go get some rest," she offers, by
way of farewell, starting in a slow, plodding manner towards
Jono.

Jono shoots Rwylann a faintly exasperated look. "<That's
better than not talkin' at all. When we're not talkin' I
start to worry Frankie's just weighin' up which part of me
to set on fire.>" He cocks his head towards Frankie and
nods. "<But the gel's got a point. You should get some rest.
Next time yer heart might be more in it.>" He gives her a
nod, apparently accepting her apology. "<Anyway, I'm glad
yer back, for one.>"

Frankie nods, rubbing at her forehead lightly and exhaling
quietlya s she stands in place a moment, then heads to the
door. "Yeah." She murmurs, before stepping into the hallway.

Once Frankie departs, Rwylann slumps a bit more against the
treadmill, standing beside it now. She shows a bit more now
how worn out she is. Most of that time on the treadmill was
just getting frustration out. And likely, from the way her
thoughts and emotion flow, Jono ought to be able to realize
that not all of the frustration is directed at his and
Frankie's arguing. Finally, with a sudden exhalation, the
redhead pushes herself away from the treadmill and plods
back to where Jono had been standing by the chairs. She
steps close to the Brit, putting her arms about his middle
and leaning a bit gingerly against him. She has been working
out and she is unsure how he may feel about things like
sweat on his clothing.

Jono doesn't seem too bothered, considering he has the faint
smell of burning tyres about him anyway. As it is he accepts
the embrace, slipping his own arms around her shoulders and
looking a little perplexed. "<Don't worry about me an'
Frankie, anyway,>" he transmits in something akin to a
mumble. "<Moanin' at each other is our natural state. An' at
least she was able to help out an' get 'er hands on some of
that crap for these guys to take a look at.>"

"Enh," Rwylann manages, leaning her head against Jono with
the look of someone who has just ruined the rest of the day
for themselves, energy-wise. No running marathons today for
Rwy. "S'just y'all kept going in circles, saying the same
thing again and again. Was like neither of you would listen
to the other." She shrugs slightly and glances up to Jono
with those pale gray eyes of hers. "You've got a point.
Maybe now that I've got some of it, they'll let me off the
hook?" Fat chance of that, really, but she seems hopeful
enough.

Jono shakes his head and just looks a little sheepish.
"<That's standard too,>" he comments dryly. He gazes down at
Rwylann with a faintly bemused look and cocks his head to
one side. "<I don't know why yer lettin' it get to yer.>"
He's quiet for a few moments, then adds faintly, "<I guess I
ain't exactly normal in me relationships, but I thought
you'd be used to that by now.>" His grip on her loosens
slightly and he looks mildly pained, then shakes his head
again. "<Yer sound like there's somethin' else under yer
skin.>"

"I dunno, I mean... I guess normally I wouldn't really
care," Rwylann admits, lifting a hand away from Jono to
place it against her forehead, fingers tangling up a bit in
her hair. "I've just... There's been a lot going on, I
guess. Settling back into New York, this whole Nextacy
thing, nearly getting attacked in the Park..." Then her
voice turns a bit, perhaps fonder, "you. But that's a good
thing." She lifts her chin, studying Jono intently for a
moment, "Honestly, I wonder sometimes if its just New York
that is so crazy and the rest of the world knows how to take
things at an easier pace."

Jono shrugs faintly, his arms resting against Rwylann's
shoulders. "<I guess I'd know,>" he comments slowly. "<I'm
pretty sure London an' LA ain't exactly health spas.>" He
leans back slightly, then ruffles Rwylann's hair with one
hand, then stiffens. "<Hang on,>' he said belatedly. "<What
where in the park now?>"

Rwylann nods slightly, smirking a bit. A city being a health
spa. There is a thought. She flinches, however, at his
question and looks away, her hand lowering from her head to
her side. Her shoulders hunch a bit and she suddenly looks
sheepish. "Well, I was out in the Park a bit back,
practicin' and such. My flight, right? Kinda difficult to do
here and all. Well, this guy comes along. Didn't seem too
suprised at what I was doing, found out why, 'cause he seems
to have some weird abilities himself. Anyway," she pauses
here and looks a bit pained, like she is embarassed. "we
were chattin' and these guys came through the bushes,
apparantly looking for me 'cause they'd seen me earlier,
from what they were sayin'. This guy, had me hide an' they
attacked him, but he got rid of them." Her voice, by the
end, has lowered quite a bit, to a near-whisper.

Jono would frown if he could, but instead has to content
himself with a pained look. "<I thought the Brotherhood
would have plenty of places for yer to practice without
havin' to go hangin' about in the park after dark,>" he says
with an air of disapproval. He moves back slightly and holds
her at arm's length, hands resting on her shoulders, while
he looks her up and down. "<Sounds like next time yer should
try goin' to Xavier's place or somewhere.>" There's a pause
and then the disapproval deepens. "<Not sure I like the idea
of yer chattin' up strange guys in the park either.>"

"They prolly do," Rwylann admits, "I just..." She finally
brings her gaze back to Jono. "You know me, I don't always
like sticking in one place. Central Park is really the
closest I can come to getting away from it all, as they
say." She flinches slightly as she is put at arm's length,
seeming to find that worse than the chiding perhaps, from
her expression and demeanor. "I really ought to go check in
with Xavier's at some point. He did help me out a lot
and..." Then she gives him a bit of a look, a mix of
unsurity and disbelief, "Well, s'not like I went searching
for the guy. He just found me." Her voice is still low;
perhaps brooding, somewhat.

Jono seems to be pushing the jealousy thing just for his own
mild amusement. "<Well he did alright by yer, I guess,>" he
says with a quirk of his eyebrow. "<I can't complain about
that.>" He seems satisfied Rwylann is intact after a moment
and lets his hands drop lower to lazily loop around her
waist. "<Next time maybe yer should take yer own escort,>"
he adds, but doesn't push it since he's not exactly one to
force himself into other's personal space. "<Anyway, I'm
just glad yer alright."

Rwylann seems content with this at least and her shoulders
relax slightly. As Jono places his hand at her waist, she
lifts her own to his shoulders, mindful of the bandages.
"Well, if y'really want to stand or sit around, watching me
float in circles or similar, I can bring you along." She
grins slightly, "Just be ready to carry me home if I overdo
myself." She smirks, lips quirking. From her way of speech,
she has not gotten /quite/ that bad yet. The elementalist
steps in closer to Jono, exhaling slightly. "I'm sorry," she
finally offers, in a quiet voice, "It's just my nature, I
guess, to not really think things through entirely." Thanks
for that, Captain Obvious. "I'm not really used to realizing
someone else out there cares just quite this much for my
well-being."

Jono arches an eyebrow imperiously. "<Well, I am supposed to
look out for my gel, right?>" He says, in a faintly teasing
tone. He gazes at her as she starts to relax, then nods
slowly. "<Anyway, don't look out for yerself for me, look
after yerself for you.>" He cocks his head to one side and
adds, "<Yer right, this town's dangerous enough... This LIFE
is dangerous enough... without takin' silly risks.>"

"Yeah, I guess you are," Rwylann responds, managing to smile
somewhat. She shrugs a bit, lifting a hand from Jono's
shoulder to absently brush her fingers through his hair.
"And sometimes it's hard to remember to look out for myself.
I forget how vulnerable and squishy I really am." Her lips
quirk, smile forming into a mild smirk. She tilts her head
in a nod, "Yeah, yeah. I ought to remember life throws stuff
at us enough without us needing to go looking for trouble."

Jono tilts his head towards Rwylann's hand, his eyes
softening. "<Well, sometimes squishy's not so bad,>" he says
dryly, squeezing the girl's waist. "<But yeah, I worry about
yer gel. Yer not made of stone like some exes I could
mention.>" His gaze drifts to the bad resting on the seat
out of the way. "<Speakin' of whom, she's gonna want some of
that stuff to analyse. Not sure what happens next though.>"

Shifting forward onto her toes, Rwylann leans up and places
a kiss on Jono's cheek, above the bandages. She tilts her
own cheek against his, exhaling briefly. "I worry about me,"
she admits in a tone that just barely hints of laughter.
Settling back on her heels, she looks to the bag as well,
nodding slightly. "Hopefully nothing else from me. I did my
part, right? I got 'em a sample and a potential lead on
where it is coming from, if someone can get Frankie to tell
who she got it from."

Jono shrugs faintly. "<Can't see that happening. But yer
never know. Anyway, I'm sure someone can track down the
dealers of this stuff if it comes down to it. Guess they
just wanna know what they're up against first. Find out why
that stuff affects mutants so bad.>" He lets his head rest
on one side, apparently content with the kiss. The closest
he can get these days. He strokes his hands up her sides
slightly, then narrows his eyes and looks down. "<Huh,>" he
comments. "<Okay, I think yer need a shower. Yer all
clammy.>"

"Plus, I dunno, maybe it's like some foods or something. You
can analyze it and find out where the different parts come
from." Rwylann shrugs a bit, contemplative somewhat. She
blinks at his revelation, laughing a bit as she nods and
steps away, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, I guess
you're right. You wanna hang around, or head back to
Excelsior? I could come by later and we could see about
going by Eve's place."

Jono shakes his head and gives Rwylann a steady look as she
moves away. "<I doubt anyone would approve of me joinin' yer
in the shower. But I can wait til yer done,>" he says
thoughtfully. "<Get the stuff to Khai, see what the next
move is an' take it from there.>" He shrugs again and shakes
his head. "<I guess Frankie did all the work but I reckon
yer can afford a night off.>"

"Hey," Rwylann offers, giving Jono an expression of a pout
that is nothing but. A pure mockery. "I just said hang
around, I didn't say join me." A pause and she shrugs,
grinning impishly, "Not that I'd mind." She nods a bit and
pads over to the chair the bag sits by, grabbing it up and
peering at it curiously. "Meh, not like I've got any
pressing matters. Sounds like a nice change of pace for the
day to go by somewhere. Eve's place isn't bad, either." At
least not for Rwy. She glances back to the Brit and grins
slightly, "I'll be back out soon, don't worry." Well, soon
in feminine terms still means longer than a guy. At least
she isn't the sort to spend ages primping.

Log: "Eccentrica Gallumbits, the Triple Breasted Whore of Eroticon Six"
       or
       "You feel like going to the odd rave?"
Players: Rina, Kirk, Xavier
Location: Xavier's mansion, his office.
Date: October 14th, 2005
Synopsis: Xavier has called in Rina and Kirk to discuss the Nextacy
situation.

-

Rina comes in as called, having driven from the college. She still
smells like the outdoors. "You wanted me, Professor?

Xavier is nodding at something Kirk, who is already seated has just
said when Rina comes in. He nods to her. "Yes, Rina, come in. Have a
seat." When she's settled, he asks, "Have you heard anything about a
drug being called Nextacy?" The way he says 'you' suggests that he
just asked Kirk, and Kirk didn't have a clue.

Rina says "I've heard about it. Never tried it. I'm starting to get
the feeling that folks are sniffing around Eve's bar about it, but my
surface impression is she isn't directly involved. The disruption at
her bar that may or may not have come from it was the reason she
started hiring security people. Including me."

Xavier raises an eyebrow at that. "Yes, well, as part of my volunteer
work I've had a chance to speak with some mutants who have taken the
drug. Some bought it voluntarily, a few were dosed without their
knowledge. None have any memory of their actions under the drug, and
in fact describe feeling extremely peaceful." He pauses for effect.
"They also describe hallucinations. What troubles me is that they all
describe the same hallucination."

Kirk just sits back in his chair, listening. He's only just heard
about the drug, and the whole 'affects mutants in a different way
than humans' is weird enough, but anything with hallucinations isn't
good. "Well... that's a little odd, isn't it?"

Rina nods and listens. "That does sound a little odd. A true
hallucination should be pretty much random reassociation of what you
brought into it, shouldn't it? Only time I've done it was while I was
clinically dead, so I don't know."

Xavier nods. "There are some drugs that tend to, on average, produce
certain types of hallucinations. Some of this is simply the power of
suggestion, where people hear a drug causes a certain vision, and so
when they take it they get a variation of it. However, all of these
descriptions are remarkably consistent, and many of the people I've
talked to have had no contact with each other. They all speak of a
woman. Large. No mouth, three breasts. Exaggerated hips. There is
a..." he pauses, choosing his words. "Sexual component to some of the
accounts, but most of them describe some sort of maternal feelings
from the woman." He leans back. "The image has some striking
similarities to something worshipped as an ancient fertility goddess.
If this new drug is somehow connected to this being it could be a
very, very bad thing."

Rina nods slowly. "Okay. Were there any other clues from the people
who've taken it?" Rina fights down the 'Eccentrica Gallumbits, the
triple breasted whore of eroticon six' reference that pops in to her
mind. This is SO not the time for HitchHiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
"So the place to start would be either try the stuff... which seems
like a bad idea... or track down the distribution net quietly and
find out where this stuff is coming from.

Kirk sits listening to all of this, fidgetting in his chair some but
not asking any questions as of yet. Great. More potentially really
nasty supernatural stuff. He was almost looking forward to this as
long as it was just a mysterious drug affecting mutant they could
investigate.

Xavier shakes his head. "Neither of you are, under any circumstances,
to try the drug. Particularly you, Rina. You could very easily kill a
lot of people under the influence." Even all of Xavier's resources
might not be able to help her if that happened. "However, I don't
think we can afford to just let it dry. I want you to look into it
and see if you can come up with anything pointing to the source. Eve's
bar is probably a good place to start, if they've had trouble with it.
I also have a few rough descriptions of people selling the drug...
it's being sold a lot in raves at the moment." He takes a breath. "I
have a contact in the DEA who's attempting to get me a sample of the
drug to analyze, but it could take a while."

Rina nods. "Yeah, drugs that effect me would be bad, no question."
She pauses, thinking about what else Xavier said. She considers.
"Rave's not really my scene normally... but I can probably fix that.
There's a cat-girl mutant who used to waitress at Eve's place who
Eve seems convinced started things there. If you could help me find
her, it might be a good entree. Also there are some weird strictures
about who touches food at Eve's. I have to ask her about that, I'm
wondering if people've been slipped Nextacy there and she hasn't
told me." Rina looks over at Kirk. "How about it, you feel like going
to the odd rave?"

Kirk shrugs. "It's really not my scene either," he says. "But I'm
willing to give it a try for the cause... except I don't really know
how to find them." He shrugs again. Probably if he actually put his
mind to it, he can figure something out or find someone who knows.
"But yeah. I'll ask around, see if anyone's heard anything." He looks
back to the Professor, and asks, "The DEA? Do they know anything?"

Xavier explains, "My contact has heard the rumors, but she says
nobody there believes it affects mutants differently from humans, or
if there's just bad batches out there and legend. Right now it's also
a low priority investigation - there are things going on in some of
their investigations of more traditional drugs that I'm not privy to,
but they're preventing them from giving it the attention it needs,
especially as this drug seems to be limited to the New York City area
so far." To Rina, he says, "I'll have a look and see if Excelsior has
any files on any cat-women. A lot of mutants do some temp work
through there and so there's a chance she'll have an employment file.
Any more information you can get me would probably help narrow things
down. As to Eve..." He sighs a little. "See what you can find. I'm
glad she's in a better position in her life, but I know she still
harbors serious resentment towards me. It might be better if you
didn't mention my interest."

Rina nods. "She does, yeah. To the point of paranoia, basically. But
she's been like that since I've known her. I can talk to her
sometimes. Depends on her mood. I'll ask. I've got a good excuse.
Khai was asking me about Nextacy too. I'm not sure if she represents
another mutant faction or not, I know she was tight with the pack, so
she may be connected to the Brotherhood, or it may be the security
company she runs.

Khai. Now there's a name Xavier hasn't heard in a while. "Ask her
too. Even if she's..." he pauses a moment and puts one of his hands
to his temples. "Even if she's with the Brotherhood, they'll have a
legitimate interest in finding the source of this drug, and we can
afford to share information." He quiets for a moment, looking lost
in thought for a moment.

Kirk notices the slight look of pain and asks, "You all right,
Professor?"

Rina nods to what the Professor says then looks concerned. She's
just inhaling to ask the same question Kirk did, but he saves her
the trouble. Instead she reaches out to touch the old man's shoulder.
Concerned, definately.

Xavier shakes his head. "I'm fine. I didn't sleep well last night,
jetlag caught up with me again," he explains. "I get headaches when
I don't sleep well." He reaches over to pat Rina's hand with his
other one. "It's nothing to worry about," he insists, and straightens
up. "Keep me updated with everything you find out. And be careful."

Kirk nods to the Professor, standing up having got the signal that it
was time to go. "Take care of yourself, Professor. Get some sleep,"
he advises.

Rina hasn't sat down, so she doesn't get up. She nods. "Take care of
yourself, Professor. Maybe take a day off, do some fishing or
something." Whether the man even likes fishing, Rina has no idea.
But it's her idea of peaceful, at least. "I'll let you know if we
find anything."

<-END LOG->

Title: Some things are just worth the giggle.


Who: Khai, Rina, Toad
What: Night Garden gets a few new regulars, Toad makes them queasy,
Nextacy talk.
Where: The Night Garden
When: Monday, October 10th, 2005 (evening) (Yeah, it's a bit late.)


THE STAGE


Manhattan -- Hell's Kitchen: South -- Abandoned Cathedral


         With ceilings nearly one hundred feet upwards formed of stone
arches and supports, this gothic former cathedral is structurally
beautiful. Large windows line either side of the former nave -
daylight partially blocked by multitudes of plants grown up and across
the windows. One immense, eighty-foot, stain-glass window fills much
of the western wall at the rear of the building. A set of stairs
leading up the gigantic spire has been roped off from public access.
          Now the building has been turned over to its new use as a bar
and restaurant, it bears little of the austerity of its former use.
Under the stained-glass window, a bar runs the width of the building
serving various liquors and beers. You can order food too, prepared in
the kitchens in the former vestry. Pews have been put to good use,
providing seating - some arranged around tables to allow the patrons
to eat, others just set apart where people can sit and drink. There
are also a couple of battered looking pool tables, a juke box and many
more plants, making the area look like a blend of sports bar and
greenhouse. Hidden amongst them is a battered TV, usually showing
sports. The patrons tend to be a fairly mixed crowd - mostly mutants,
but some humans, although they tend to be regulars. Casual drinkers
tend to be put off by the faintly antagonistic atmosphere.


THE PLAYERS


Khai


         Self-assurance, poise, and confidence radiate from this early
middle-aged woman. Her manner is of someone who can find simple
pleasure in simply being awake and alive. She is is tall, only a small
span shy of seven-foot with the trim, muscular figure of a dancer or
warrior. Her rough, dusky skin shows a few small scars, both old and
new, along her face (as well as her arms and torso when visible). Hers
is the strong, handsome look common to those born of mediteranean
heritage and although her features aren't beautiful in any traditional
sense, they have a strength and endurance to them that speaks towards
strength of character. Most notable about her face is a line of
lighter skin that runs parallel to her hairline across her forehead
and down both sides along the jawline, it has the slight burn-scar
look common to tattoo removal.
         Her clothing, made from sturdy, outdoor enduring materials,
has obviously been tailored to her size and lifestyle while still
being of sufficiently balanced fasion to not stand out in most places.
A light denim jacket, dyed deep midnight blue with gold highlights, is
worn over a fairly plain but body-hugging ivory t-shirt. While the
shirt is flattering to her figure, it is mainly there to keep the
shoulder holster she wears from chafing. Her pants continue the
midnight blue and gold theme, being cut to fit her figure tightly
while remaining flexible enough to allow full range of motion. The
legs flare slightly below the knee to fit around the tops of her black
thin-soled leather sandals. A somewhat worn canvas messenger's bag is
carried over her shoulder bandolier-style.


Toad


         Tucked under a ratty blue bandana (the kind you can get at
Dollar General for like, a dollar), and then tucked again under an
equally ratty mess of brownish hair is a face that a mother wouldn't
even have the vaguest, most nebulous feeling of affection for. The
aforementioned brownish hair is just slightly short of shoulder
length, hanging down in his eyes and partially obscuring his face most
of the time. Judging just by bone structure and stuff, his face isn't
too deformed. It's a sour, lemon-sucking face with bulgy, somewhat
protruberant black eyes, a wide nose, and a thick-lipped mouth all on
top of a pointy weak-looking chin. The horridness is pretty much just
because of the skin. For starters, his skin is a kind of pea soup
green. It's also got a really uneven, in some places warty, texture to
it. To further augment his ugly rating, he's got abnormally huge ears
that poke right through his long hair. They're a bit pointy at the
top, kind of like Spock's. His neck is long, but thick, which looks
unproportional because his body seems so scrawny.

         His shoulders might as well not even exist. They are pretty
much just there to keep a few inches between his arms and his neck.
Across them is draped what apparently used to be a denim jacket. Now
however, it's a raggedy cutoff denim vest with a big Rage Against the
Machine patch either sewn or ironed onto the back. He wears nothing
underneath the baggy vest, allowing the careful observer to count a
lot of his ribs through the various holes in the fabric. The skinny
arms that are haphazardly attached to his shoulders are just that:
skinny. Around his right bicep he has a generic, prison-quality barbed
wire tattoo. Around his left bicep he has a slightly less generic, and
slightly higher than prison-quality ring of skulls tattoo. His hands
are way bigger than they should be, with grotesquely long fingers.

         The vest extends way below his waist (just above mid-thigh to
be exact), but it's undoubtedly skinny. His legs on the other hand,
are not. They're anime-ishly long with lots of toned muscle to them.
Not bulky by any means, but obviously powerful. Over them he wears a
loose fitting pair of black Dickie's shorts. They end just below his
knobby knees. His black Converse All-Stars look like a pair of clown
shoes. They've got to be at least a size 15, which is way larger than
a 5'8" guy should be wearing. The shoes are old and worn out, with one
of the soles being held to the shoe by the generous use of silver duct
tape.


Rina


Rina is a muscular young woman of obviously mixed heritage. Her eyes
are almond shaped, large, and deep brown. Her skin is light tan, her
hair deep black, with long bangs in front, and down to the small of
her back in back. Her body is solidly muscular, well defined, hard,
each muscle easily visible in chiseled relief, much like a body builder.

Rina is wearing a skin tight, black, sleeveless, scoop necked jump
suit, with matching matte black moccasin style boots. The suit's
finish is matte black, rather like leather save for its flexibility.
It is closed with a single zipper, also black, down the front. The
suit hugs her body like a second skin, without binding or restricting
her movement in the slightest. Over it, she is wearing a new looking
black leather jacket, unsnapped at the sleeves and unzipped. Her
gloves match the jump suit, fitting her hands like a second skin. Dark
wraparound shades complete the look.


THE ACTION


Well, no one said that Khai had to follow Scott's old patterns when it
came to holding the reins, right? And a few of the agents who've been
training to transfer over to BIAS said that this place was good for a
few rounds of drinks in a place where you could be fairly certain you
weren't the one everyone was staring at. Of course they mentioned who
ran it, too, but Khai figured it's been more than long enough for Eve
to have mellow... hell, like that'll ever happen. In any case, she's
heading up the steps to the old cathedral after a day of getting the
Brooklyn BIAS offices finished. Next is meetings with local police and
the bonding commission. It's almost time for the work to begin, so
tonight she plays. Some of her guards have already arrived, so once
she's through the door she's belly-up to the bar with several men and
women of varying shades of skin, scales, and even feathers, all
wearing nylon/kevlar field jackets with 'BIAS' blazoned over the chest
pocket. Tonight she's just another bar-hopper.


It's a slow night. Rina is leaning against the frame of the door and
trying not to yawn too much. Who knew bouncing at a mutants only bar
would be so... dull. She glances over as the seven foot tall woman
walks in. She cocks her head a moment before the scent reaches her.
"Wow. There's a familiar face. Hello Khai.


         The promise of a place full of fellow mutants is just too good
for the poster child of society's rejection of mutants to ignore. So
he doesn't. He also didn't bother to do the things that most people do
before going out in public, such as shaving, showering, and changing
their clothes. So he attempts to make his way through the door,
reeking slightly less than the average sewer pipe. His method of
entrance is a bit unorthodox: he scales down the front wall of the
building after traveling quite some distance through alleyways and on
rooftops. With an audible plop, he lands on his ridiculously oversized
Chuck Taylor's, right outside the doorframe and steps in.


Not every day lately that Khai's the one taken by suprise. She's a few
paces through the door (quite a distance with her legs) when her name
catches her ear and she turns back to the bouncer that called it. She
gazes at the young woman a moment, the wheels turning. "Asian
inflection... Madripoor or that general area? Now other than a few of
my South American agents, I've only met one woman your age from that
area, Rina." She beams a smile and steps back towards the door. "Good
to see you again!"


Rina says "Welcome to the Night Garden, Khai. And yeah. Rina." She
looks the excessively tall woman over and nods. "You're looking good.
Keeping well? This is my new job..." with that she pauses as Toad
comes in. Rina looks through her shades and wrinkles her nose a little
at Toad, both for olfactory reasons and for more personal ones. "Hey.
Again. Welcome to the Night Garden." She eyes him a moment.


         The look on Toad's face as he notices the bouncer is a
definite mix between 'oh shit!' and 'holy shit!'. His already bug eyes
get a bit buggier. He'd probably turn green if he wasn't already. But
for whatever reason, he doesn't bolt out the door. Maybe it's the fact
that she's not running at him with her mayhem in her eyes. At any
rate, it probably influences his decision to stay. He backs up a bit,
and edges away towards the wall. He looks away from her, and sort of
mingles with the crowd, such as it is. He doesn't do too well with the
mingling thing, as everyone he gets near quickly unmingle from him. So
he heads over to one of the battered looking pool tables, and watches
people play.


Khai turns to watch the frog-like mutant scoot his way past Rina with
an amused smirk coming to her lips. When he's past and heading for the
crowd, she chuckles, "And you seem to be good at your job. Ever think
of going into professional security?" The question is only half-joking
as she catches the eye of one of her companions, a lanky-muscular
black man, who gets a pint of dark from Human and brings it over to
her. Side-to-side, they're almost the same height and once the beer is
passed, their arms find easy spots around each other's waists. Khai
leans over a little and kisses his temple. "Thanks, Imamu. I'd like
you to meet an old friend, Rina. Rina, this is Imamu, my man-mountain."


Rina keeps an eye on Toad and returns to talking to Khai. She looks
*up* at Khai and Imamu and smiles. "Yes, I see that. Nice to meet
you." She chuckles. "Professional security? Thought about it. I'm in
college right now studying law enforcement, but there's a lot of
question whether or not the police force will hire me, assuming I
pass. I dunno. Why, what're you doing for a living these days?


         Although he can practically feel the eyes on him, Toad does
his best not to show it. However, he does behave himself, sort of. He
keeps glancing around the room, all shifty-like, but he keeps his
hands in his pockets. Until he finally gets bored watching other
people play pool and makes his way to the bar. He plops down right
next to a pretty blonde, but before he can even offer to buy her a
drink, she's already gotten up from her barstool and walked away,
really fast. The bartender seems to think it's kind of funny, and
can't repress a smirk. "What're you smiling about, you twit? Just give
me a beer." He doesn't specify which kind of beer, and the bartender
doesn't bother asking him. He just pours him a glass of Budweiser,
which Toad proceeds to down pretty voraciously.


"Professional security." Khai answers Rina's question with a grin.
"I've got a company that's just starting to open offices in the
States. It's where we met. Imamu's been with BIAS almost since Day
One." She nods towards the bar where their friends are starting to
shift over to a corner table with their drinks. "When's your shift up?
You should join us. Pick our brains about the business if you want.
Can't hurt your own future in law enforcement to network early and
often. Plus you can tell me about Mr. Frog over there."


Rina looks at the clock. "Not for a while yet, but I get a break
around now." She looks over to one of the other bouncers. "Hey, I'm
gonna take my break, okay? Cool. Thanks." She looks toward the bar.
"Mind getting a table? I'm supposed to stay away from the bar. I'm not
legal yet." She nods toward Toad. "Well, he's one of us, obviously. I
don't really know him. Got into a little scuffle with him in the park
and wound up with him going off with the boys in blue. Apparently they
didn't keep him long. He's actually got some really interesting
powers. Fifteen foot tongue, for one." Rina waggles an eyebrow lewdly
above her shades. She orders a glass of water from the next waitron to
go by.


         After downing his first beer, Toad doesn't even bother to wipe
the foam off his lips before he orders a second. He doesn't down this
one immediately, he just sips from it and watches the tube. He
actually watches it pretty intently: England's soccer team is playing,
and losing pretty badly. Toad's little fist smacks the bar as the
opposing team makes another goal right before halftime, making his
drink splash out over the top of his glass. Not one to waste beer, or
make messes on someone else's table, Toad lets the tip of his tongue
hang out, and licks up the beer. The bartender looks at him
disgustedly, "Dude, that's gross.". Toad just looks at him with what
would be a menacing look if he were about a foot taller, "Bite me!"


Khai looks confused a moment when Rina says she's not legal yet, then
shakes her head. Yet another reminder of the 'jet lag' that she has to
remember around here. "No problem, looks like they've already got one
picked out. Introductions all 'round, then." She nods towards the two
men and three women who've taken all but one of the chairs, which Khai
slides over for Rina to use. "Left to right, we have Thadeus, Jezz,
Sammy, Sam, and Samantha. Guys, this is Rina, an old friend. Rina,
meet the BIAS Dream Team." For herself and Imamu, she gets them seats
by the simple method of turning the stone in the wall into a small
bench. She looks over at Toad as he licks the bar and shudders
slightly. "Fifteen feet and slimy. Well... eww. He's a brawl just
waiting to happen isn't he?"


Rina laughs. "Not one to hold powers against someone. 's not like we
get a choice." She offers a hand to shake to each of the BIAS dream
teamers. "Nice to meet you." She pulls a chair out, spins it around
and sits in it facing the table. With the bar still in sight. Rina has
a forceful grip, despite smallish hands, one might notice. "So what
does BIAS stand for?


         By now, everyone at the bar has left, but Toad doesn't even
let on that he cares. The bartender doesn't look very pleased though.
Most of the patrons decided to stay in the building, they've just
gotten far enough away from Toad. With the foam cultivating on the few
hairs above his lip, and quickly spreading to his nose, Toad starts
scrounging around for the free amenities. After eating all of the
peanuts in the little bowl he asks the bartender to refill it. "And
can I get a couple little packages of ketchup?" The bartender frowns
as he refills the bowl, and gets the ketchup. One can't blame him
though, Toad doesn't exactly look like the sort to leave a big tip. Or
any tip at all for that manner. Taking the bowl with a look of
childish glee, Toad grabs a handful of peanuts, breaks open a packet
of ketchup, squirts he ketchup into his palm, and squishes the
non-mixture in his palm. After it's been smeared around on his palm
sufficiently, he puts it up to his mouth and licks it off with one
broad stroke.


Khai shakes her head to get her gaze away from Toad's lickfest at the
bar... it's like a train wreck, it is. "Brothers-in-Arms Security. We
do on-site, event, and personal security, plus expert consulting."
When the waiter comes around with Rina's water and some of their other
drinks, Thadeus, who stands out for the ocean green tinge to his
slightly fish-scaley skin, makes himself useful by taking each one in
turn and running his finger over the surface a moment before passing
it on. Rina's water gets passed to Khai, who passes it on once the
waiter has moved on. "Here you go, certified Nextacy-free by The
Pharmaceutical Finger." Thadeus smirks at that and tucks into his own
Captain & Coke. "That's something we'd like to pick your brain on,
since you work here."


Rina watches curiously and nods. "The day Human serves me something
with Nextacy in it, is the day I either kick his butt myself or worse,
hand him over to Eve. I trust Human. He's good people." She turns to
watch Toad again. "I'm going to try an experiment. Be right back." She
flags down the waitress and talks to her quietly. Rina returns to sit
with Khai and company, and after a little, a peanut butter sandwich is
delivered to Toad's spot at the bar. "No charge." the waitress says,
and gets out of Toad's 'aura' as quickly as she can.


         As the waitress leaves, Toad cranes his neck to watch her go.
There's a slight frown as he turns back to his sandwich. Cautiously,
he glances around the room. Nobody seems to be waving at him or
anything, and anonymous donors should always be approached with a
certain amount of discretion. Toad pokes the sandwich with his finger.
It doesn't explode. He pries the top piece of bread off and peeks
under it. It still doesn't explode. So he reassembles the sandwich and
puts it to his nose, sniffing it. He's now put it through every test
that doesn't require a laboratory, so with an enthusiasm for food that
outclasses an Ethiopian's, he downs the sandwich in two large bites.
Well, he doesn't exactly down it. He chews on it, and chews on it.
Then he chews a little bit more. Then he motions to his glass. The
bartender just stares at him. Toad waves at his glass a bit more
violently, and the guy gets the message. He fills it back up, but
takes his sweet time doing it. In the mean time, Toad's mouth moves in
all kinds of strange ways, trying to get the gooey peanut butter
unstuck from various sticky spots in his mouth.


Khai watches Rina's 'experiment' with a growing grin that is shared by
her fellows. By the time Human gets around to filling Toad's glass,
it's all they can do to keep their laughter low enough not to carry.
Imamu claps Rina on the back with one of his massive hands (he's not
just as tall as Khai, he's proportionally broad as well),
congratulating her with a wink and a few words in Ashanti. Khai nods
towards the barkeep after settling her own laughter. "That's Human?
I'll chat at him later, but if he gets your vote of confidence,
that'll work for me." On the surface, at least. She has some of her
own vodka before continuing. "What got us looking here was a brawl
that broke out here a couple days ago. Someone we know and trust was
here and said that the folks who got out of control were just another
pack of over-loud party jockeys, then Bam! Instant loss of control.
And since Eve more than knows her way around drugs and poisons," she
shrugs, "well, it's as good a place as any to start. Hell, even the
first case we heard about started here."


Rina doesn't seem amused by Toad's discomfort. She seems apalled. In
fact she facepalms juuust over the top of her shades over it. "Geez, I
figured he could eat peanuts he could eat peanutbutter. C'mon, guys.
You've grown up different, you know what it's like." She shakes her
head. "And I don't actually know anything about the brawl that you
don't. I heard about it through the grapevine and signed up to work as
a bouncer here after the fact. Eve could tell you more, if she had a
good reason. I'm pretty sure she didn't start it herself. Or she
wouldn't have hired a nosey so and so like me.


         It doesn't take long for the beer to wash away most of the
peanut butter out of Toad's mouth. It doesn't do anything about the
crumbs and whatnot all around the outside of his mouth, though. When
he orders his next drink he leans forward some, getting to close to
the bartender's face for comfort. The smell of bad breath and peanut
butter doesn't agree with him for some odd reason, and he backs off.
"Here, you could really use a mint, pal." Toad looks at the proffered
mint with sheer disdain. "I can't stand those things, they taste like
shit. Just give me more beer." The bartender shrugs and takes his
glass to fill it back up. "Actually, forget that, gimme some of that
other stuff." The only response Toad gets is an arched eyebrow. "You
know, that drink that's not beer but it's better?" The eyebrow arches
more pointier. "Like, it's good for you or something?" Finally an
answer, "You mean, water?"


Khai shrugs, "Well, most of the folks at this table grew up before the
word 'mutant' even existed outside science labs." Then she smirks,
"But no matter where or how you grew up, there are certain things that
just get a grin, and watching someone get their mouth cemented trying
to scarf a peanut butter sandwich is just one of those things." The
others settle themselves at various rates and another round of drinks
is ordered, then tested when they arrive. "I know Eve's not likely
involved with Nextacy distribution, or she wouldn't be operating this
place so close to the margins. But Night Garden is a known center of
mutant socializing, so it's a natural Ground Zero for whoever is
involved. And while I trust Eve to be... well, Eve, and you say Human
is good people, can you give everyone who works here the same clean
slate? Because most people in this world will do just about anything
for a lot lower price than you might think." She nods around to the
waiters, various folks passing between tables, drinks sitting within
easy reach of multiple people. "And let's face it, in any bar there's
several dozen ways of slipping Mickey Finns."


         That isn't what Toad meant, but he gives up, and gets a glass
of water. But he only drinks a sip of it before he makes a face.
"Blech!" He sets the glass down and picks up a couple of packets of
ketchup. He squeezes these into his glass and throws the empty packets
over his shoulder, elliciting a glare from one of the waitresses. He
stirs the mixture around with his finger for a while until the whole
thing takes on a nearly uniform pinkish color. Carefully, he takes a
tiny sip from the concoction, and puts it back down. For a few seconds
he's puzzled, until a light goes on somewhere in his head. "Hey, you
got any sugar?" Sure enough, they do. Without thanking the bartender,
Toad rips the packets open, pours them into his drink and throws the
empty packets, once again, over his shoulder. Just a few stirs is all
it takes to get the mixture right, and Toad downs it happily.


Khai nods, then tosses a twenty into the middle of the table after the
third round of drinks has been ordered. "Here's my share." The others,
especially Sammy, give her a hard time about picking up the full tab,
but she shakes her head, "No way in Hades am I picking up the tab
tonight! I know you cheapskates have cash because I sign your checks!"
But the grins show this to perhaps be a long-standing inside joke as
the others toss in bills, all together enough for the drinks and a
solid tip. "Now scoot! Y'all got local certifications tomorrow
afternoon, and we've all got to go before the Bonding Comission the
day after." She and Imamu exchange a quick kiss and some soft words in
Ashanti before he joins the others on their way out. "I'll be home
soon, just want to stick around a bit longer, start a list of regular
faces."
Once it's just her and Rina, she nods her understanding to the young
woman. "You'll give me a call if you notice anything or hear anything
you think might be solid, please? I don't think local narcotics has
made any connections between Nextacy and sudden mutant berserks, and
I'd very much like to get to the bottom of things before they do."


Rina nods to Khai. "No promises. You know I've got others to whom I'm
beholden, not the least of which is Eve as my boss here. You have a
good night. She sighs and walks over, picks up the two packets and
slaps them down rather more forcefully than strictly necessary next to
toad. "Excuse me, sir. You dropped these."


         Without actually putting his thumb to his nose, Toad thumbs
his nose at Rina. "Nope, I tossed 'em, 'cause I didn't want 'em." He
turns away from her, and looks steadfastly back at the television
screen while downing the last bit of his nasty drink. There's no way
that England can come back from such a terrible point deficit, and
Toad isn't exactly getting lots of phone numbers. So there isn't much
point in prolonging his stay. Especially since he's got the bouncer
practically breathing on him. Fully aware that he probably shouldn't
have said something so beligerent, he peeks back over his shoulder a
bit nervously, while trying to keep a 'what are you gonna do about it'
look on his face.


Khai inclines her head at Rina's answer. "No promises." She, of all
people, understands the intricacies of those two simple words. She
watches the interplay between Rina and Mr. Frog for a moment, then she
settles back in her seat, nurses her drink a bit, and starts taking a
mental inventory of the folks around her. Staff and customers... who
drinks, who eats, who retires to the rooms. And while she certainly
picks up the signs of more than a few illegal acts, it's no more than
you'd expect and none of them seem to be drug-related so they get
filed and forgotten. And for the most part, that's what she does for
the next couple hours... sits quietly, nurses her last drink,
people-watches.


Rina says "Listen. This is a bar. That means that a lot of people come
here. They all want the same things: to have a drink, maybe get a
drink, find company, watch a ball game. Now. As long as everyone gives
each other basic consideration - like not throwing ketchup packs in
their hair - everyone can have a good time. One person ignoring those
rules? That starts fights. So you listen. If you want to keep coming
back here, behave. Stop throwing shit around. Leave some nuts for
others and don't lick the bowl. Your alternative is that I ask you to
leave. Whether that involves throwing you out bodily depends on you.
Understand?"


         If it was anyone else, Toad would probably tell them to bring
it. But this chick has already kicked his ass once before, so just a
slight show of strength is enough to get the desired point across.
"Fine, fine. I was getting ready to leave this dump anyway." He stands
up and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a very, very (very) small
wad of cash and drops it on the bar. And by wad, I mean that it's all
wadded up. Like, in a ball. He turns around and starts heading for the
door. When he gets to the door frame he turns around just long enough
to shoot her a birdy, and then dramatically leaps through the open
door out into the street.


Rina snorts. "I've been called worse by people who liked me. Have a
good evening."

Title: Aftermath of Ultron
Who: Peter and Anthony
Where: Triskelion Infirmary
What: Peter comes to visit Anthony after the Ultron incident
When: About a week after "Light's Out"

Anthony
The young man before you is a fine physical specimen. Standing over 6 feet tall,
he moves
with an athletic grace. His muscles are well defined, obviously the product of
many years
of physical exertion. His brown hair is now worn long, and is pulled back in a
slightly
ludicrous pony tail. He's also now sporting a van dyke, looking much like a
rebellious idiot.
His eyes are brown, his nose well proportioned. His features are pleasant,
although not on
a par with that of a model. He has a slight farmers tan, hinting that he may
spend a lot of
time out of doors.

  Right now, Anthony is wearing a dark black duster made of some heavy material,
a black
shirt and black jeans.

Peter

This is a young man in his early twenties. Although he's got a good (though
lean) build,
and he's not bad looking, the overall feel most people get off him is 'geek',
especially
when he smiles. Maybe a good looking geek, but a geek nonetheless. He stands
about
5'10, and has brown hair and hazel eyes. His skin is a little on the pale side.
He's clean-
shaven.

He is currently wearing a pair of brown slacks, and as a top a blue,
horizontally-striped
long-sleeved shirt with a collar.

To top off the whole 'geek' look, he's wearing a pair of glasses.

Upper NY Bay -- Ellis Island(#601RJLhz)

         40% of all Americans can trace their ancestry to immigrants that passed
through the
buildings on this island. Ellis Island has a dark and sordid past, regardless.
The Dutch
colonists called the island Oyster Island, then changed the name to Gibbet
Island due to
the large number of executions on the gallows (or gibbet) tree located here.
Samuel Ellis
bought the island, and passed it on to the unborn son of his daughter. The child
passed
away in infancy and the island was fought over until the state of New York
bought it and
built Fort Gibson on its shores. The famed Statue of Liberty was unveiled on
Bedloe Island,
which is just to the south of Ellis Island, in 1886. The reception headquarters
for
immigration was moved here from lower Manhattan in 1892. Corruption among
officials
was rampant until 1901 when President Theodore Roosevelt organized a cleanup of
the
island. The island carried on in a dignified manner from then until the end of
1954. Now,
Ellis Island itself is a monument to the history of the American people.
         The island itself is now an outpost of greenery and early 20th century
architecture in
the New York Bay. The brick buildings are maintained well, and groundskeepers
ensure
the flora is healthy and attractive year round.

Contents:
Spider-Man
Obvious exits:
Battery Park <NE>

The infirmary wing of the Triskelion still has that new medical facility smell.
Most of the
medical facilities haven't even been fully stocked yet, and most supplies are
still wrapped
in the plastic packaging material. A couple of the facilities have been broken
in, however,
and it is one of these facilities that Anthony has found himself. He lays in a
bed by a large,
bullet-proof window, wearing a standard hospital gown. His arms are still
wrapped in
heavy bandages, though most of the wounds have begun healing, and only the
deepest
cuts remain. Anthony also has bandages running around his neck, covering a few
slash
marks that ran pretty deep. Deeper still, though, may be the psychological
scars. Anthony
has been incredibly quiet since being put in this room to recover enough to be
discharged.
He's currently staring out the window into the afternoon sky, a slightly
melancholy
expression on his face.

Peter has tried to visit a couple times already in the last week (his own
injuries didn't
require any inpatient medical care, luckily), but all those times he was either
sleeping or
being examined. This time Anthony's awake and not having fluids taken or
anything, so
Peter hangs by the door and knocks a little on the wall.

Anthony doesn't look over immediately. It's almost like he has to pull his mind
back to his
body before he can respond. Finally, he says, "Yes?", and turns his head to look
over at the
doorway. He's a little bit startled to see someone besides a nurse or doctor,
and he takes a
moment to pull his brain together. "Oh....hey, Peter." He says, offering a weak
little smile,
but not offering much more then that.

Peter takes a few steps in. "Hey, Tony," he says. "It's good to see you back on
your feet."
More or less. "How you feeling?" There's something about people in hospital wear
that
makes him a little uncomfortable for some reason he can't quite identify, beyond
the
obvious.

Anthony just kind of shrugs a little at the question. "I'm alright. I've been
better." He says,
and manages to pick up on Peter's unease. Empathy, definitely a sign that
Anthony is not
his usual self. "Yeah, I'm not comfortable around hospitals either. Something
about the
fact everyone in them has something wrong with them." He remarks, and then looks
back
out the window for a moment. "So how's the fallout from the incident?" He says,
trying to
break the ice a little. Plus, he's been kept in the dark for the most part, more
out of not
being in the meetings rather then a genuine distrust.

Peter tries to play it off as a joke. "Hospitals? Nah, they're great. The finest
cuisine and all
the spongebaths you could want." He smiles weakly and shrugs. "I'm not sure
about how
much you've heard already. They're still replacing the computer systems.
Whatever it was
this Ultron was trying to do, it rendered them pretty well all unusable." Even
if there were
some that were usable, nobody would trust it until it was replaced.

Anthony nods a bit, then says, "I guess it's to be expected. Can't use anything
when you
know it's been compromised." He says, and rubs his neck without realizing it.
He's already
heard everyone attached to that thing went brain dead after it was destroyed,
and there's
no point bringing that up with Peter at this point, since he doesn't seem to
cope with stuff
like that well. "So we decided to call whatever it was 'Ultron'...any leads on
this Ultron
thing?" He asks, a little too eagerly. It's probably the first signs of interest
in anything he's
shown in days.

Peter nods. "Yeah. Well, since Ultron was written on all the computers and
screens, well..."
he shrugs. "Seemed to make sense to just call it that. I wanted to call it
Doctor Robotalope,
but that didn't go over well in the meetings." He looks around selfconsciously.
"Although
really, there haven't been too many meetings. They're still playing the coverup
game. The
OMA's taken over and hushed everything up. Which, when you think about it, is
kind of
stupid, especially considering it's not a mutant or metahuman but some kind of
evil
robot." Peter has convinced himself it's a robot. It's a simple equation for his
subconscious
mind: Peter doesn't want to be responsible for killing someone, even an evil
person. He
killed this creature. Therefore, this creature was just a robot. "But really,
they're keeping it
pretty quiet. I mean, I know that they think some data was stolen, but they
don't know
exactly what... they don't think it was anything too vital, though, because none
of the
people it... took over, had the clearance. But I don't know think they know yet
if the robot
had a chance to transmit it anywhere. Oh, and we all have to go through metal
detectors
on our way in now."

Anthony follows along, nodding occasionally and chuckling slightly at the Doctor
Robotalope comment. The fact that there's probably something out there he can
beat up
makes him feel better. He didn't lose the fight with this thing. He's just
trailing it at
halftime, that's all. He then adds, "Yeah, they've put me through the MRI
equipment at
least 5 times in the last week, making sure none of that thing got into me. I'm
starting to
feel like my brains are being scrambled by the magnets." He adds a chuckle at
the end,
trying to convince himself this is just a joke.

Peter hehs. "Yeah. Well, don't worry, I'm sure we won't notice any difference."
He smiles a
bit, then it goes away. "I've still been doing some checking on my own. Nothing
conclusive
yet. One of Shaw's right hand men apparently snapped, killed his own family and
disappeared. Might just be coincidence. Or maybe he got too close and Shaw
killed his
family and set him up for the crime." He wouldn't put it past Shaw. "I've also
heard the FBI
is looking into Shaw Industries, but my source doesn't know for what." He shakes
his head.
"The secrecy of all of this is what's bothering me most. Sure, we're not
designed to
investigate crimes so much as catch the bad guys in action, but you'd think, if
nothing else
after what happened here, we'd be kept informed about what's going on now."

Anthony follows along with the conversation in his usual slow way. "I don't
think it's
anything that complex. I'm not sure that nailing some big company is going to
help us
figure out what happened. You heard that thing right before we nailed it. It's
not too likely
anything like that is under someone's control." He shakes his head and ponders
for a
moment. "But I guess you're right about Shaw being the place to start looking
for clues.
They were tied to the robots before, and this thing was kind of like a robot."
He says, a
little stupidly. He actually has something he wants to check on himself, but
thats going to
involve some serious nicemaking and possibly getting shot at. "I guess, as soon
as I get
this stuff off, we can get around to asking some questions at Shaw industries."
He says,
picking at the bandages covering his hands.
[Brotherhood] Khai has connected.

"Well, don't strain yourself. Let the doctors clear you first," Peter says. He's
not sure why,
it's just one of the things people always seem to say. "Now that Ultron's
destroyed I'm
hoping it's going to take a while before whoever it was can try to build another
one, and
we'll have some time to get to the bottom of this." He's not entirely convinced
there's not
some human mind behind the robot, even if he's a psycho or if it somehow got way
beyond his control.

Anthony just manages to catch himself from spilling some beans when Peter
mentions
Ultron is destroyed. "Yeah, we've probably got a little lead time before they
come at us
again." He says, but he doesn't believe the words. What that thing said, and
what he knows
about liquid metal beings seem to point towards something else. Something he's
going to
have to ask the Brotherhood about. But no need to let Peter in on the fact that
most of his
teammates don't know. "Well, thanks for swinging by." He says with a chuckle for
the pun,
"Hopefully, they'll be letting me out in a couple of days, and we can follow up
on some of
these leads." He chuckles again and sits back in his bed. "And to think we were
complaining about a lack of leads about a week ago."

"Yeah," Peter agrees. "Be careful what you wish for, I guess." He glances around
the room
and says, "And on that ominous note, anything you need here that you want me to
try and
smuggle you in? A book, comfy pillow, favorite chocolate bar or something?" He
adds with
a bit of a smile, "Bearing in mind what I said about the metal detectors at the
door."

Anthony shakes his head. "There is no reason to make this place feel any homier,
as I'm
leaving as soon as possible." He smiles and gives Peter a wave, letting him know
it's alright
to go. Anthony actually has some pretty heavy thinking to do, not the least of
which is how
he's going to get in touch with the Brotherhood, how he's going to train to beat
that pile of
metal slime next time, and if, despite the best efforts of medical science, he's
got a sliver
of liqid metal bouncing around inside his head.

Peter backs towards the door then, having made his 'get well visit' and been
given the go-
ahead to go. "Okay then. I need to head back into the city. Let me know when you
get out
of here."

Who: Rwylann, John Thomas, and some emitted thugs.
What: Rwy and JT meet, have a convenient ice breaker stumble in.
Where: The Ramble in Central Park
When: Tuesday, October 4th, 2005 (later in the same day as "The ugly
truth is revealed.")
Notes: JT's intro scene, Rwy shows off in a way that does not involve
removal of clothing.


Manhattan -- Central Park: South

	 The Sheep Meadow, located across from Tavern on the Green, is one of
the favorite places for New Yorkers to relax in a quiet area for
picnics, reading, and even suntanning. When the park was first built,
Sheep Meadow was actually used for sheep grazing until the 1930's. The
sheep and the park's resident shepherd were housed in a barn which was
later converted to the famous restaurant, Tavern on the Green. Today,
Park rules forbid games and exercise on the meadow.
	 Walking towards the Reservoir, there is a section of coloured tiles
embedded in the walkway with the single word 'Imagine' in the center.
John Lennon was murdered in December of 1980 in front of his home near
Central Park. Thousands of mourners hung flowers and messages outside
his home and in this section of Central Park where Lennon would often
play with his son. The Strawberry fields were created in Lennon's honor.
	 Farther north is the Ramble, the closest one can come to true
wilderness in the Big Apple. During the day, the Ramble is a favoured
locale for bird watchers and nature lovers. At night, the dense trees
and dark shadows attract a different, more sinister flavor of wildlife.


-----

John Thomas
	 The young man before you is rather tall, about 5'11 and of caucasian
descent. He looks to be in his late teens by his handsome barely-young
face. He has a compact body which is both lithe and well muscled like
a dancer. He has bleach-blond hair styled to to stand just slightly
up, but not severely so. His eyes are an endless cerulean blue. His
movements are lithe and sure of themselves. Not like the usual steps
of an undisciplined person. Each movement he makes has a purpose,
though it all flows together naturally.

	 The most prominent piece of his wardrobe is the t-shirt he wears.
It's solid black, with the picture representing a gift. It consists of
a red ribbon, tied into a neat bow and a tag that reads, "To: Women,
From: God" on it. Covering his legs in what appears to be a rather
casual outfit, is a pair of short jeans which come down to his knees.
On his feet are a pair of clean, if slightly used, pair of tennis shoes.

Rwylann
      On that cusp between being a teenager and an adult, Rwylann still
shows that she's not quite reached adulthood yet in form. There's
still a softness to her facial-features that belies her younger age.
Her figure, however, is fully matured and well-built as such, at
nearly five and a half feet. With a medium build, she shows the signs
of someone who does partake in exercise regularly, with the outlines
of musculature and a fit, yet curvy frame. Her skin has a healthy,
golden glow to it, showing time spend outdoors. Her hair is kept
short, likely reaching to her chin at its longest, though usually it
is brushed back over her head in a wind-swept look, the color a rich
tone of copper- almost firey in a sense. Her eyes, set to either side
of a small nose, are a deep grey that seem to have a life to them,
other -- stranger -- colors lying in wait beneath the surface.
      Comfortable and relaxed seem to be the air about Rwylann's
clothes. A pair of relaxed-fit jeans fit to Rwylann's hips and then
fall loosely about her legs, their color a rich, unfaded blue. Her
green tshirt is in the babydoll style, attempting to reveal navel from
time to time and pulling a bit at her bust, the logo on it reading
'Ireland' in black a dark green shamrock silhouetted behind the
words.. Combat boots cover her feet -- likely steel-toed -- and are
practically hidden beneath the jeans, which brush the ground as she
walks, causing the hem to be a bit ragged.

-----

Though she usually avoids Central Park at night these days, due to
what occured a couple of years ago, Rwylann has found it suits some
purposes better than others. The Brotherhood Safehouse is good for
most things, but with abilities like hers, she tends to be rather
avoidant in attempting to train. Excelsior has, in a fashion, the same
problem. She really ought to go back to Xavier's and request training
there, but things have been... busy, as of late. So the red-head finds
herself within the Ramble of Central Park, deep within the overgrown
areas. Perhaps somewhat near what used to be Khai's haunt, even though
that likely is a bit grown over now. Right now, deep within that
section, anyone who happens at this late hour to pass by may hear the
rushing of air as the elementalist practices her flight. She is only
perhaps five feet off of the ground, arms out to either side as if for
balance, feet planeted solid on... what appears to be nothing. She is
doing slow circles in what vaguely resembles a clearing.

Being an able-bodied young mutant offers a man certain advantages when
traipsing through the Urban Jungle. Trailing off the beaten path
without a care for who is out to get him tonight, John makes his way
into the denser foliage in an effort to make it to the other side of
the park without having to use the paths. He is dressed for summer
weather, the only odd thing about him being a leather guitar case
slung across his shoulder. He moves easily enough though the forest,
but stops abruptly as the sound of rushing wind picks up, but the
breeze only strengthens a small bit. His eyes a bit narrowed, until he
comes upon the edge of the clearing Rwylann seems to be practicing in.
The young man blinks, his face scrunching up into a look of concern
before he simply rolls his eyes and calls out, "Adios Mio. Somebody
call the exorcist."

They are slow circles around the area, Rwylann's movement shifting up
and down, or this way, or that as she comes across obsticles. However,
as the man calls out, eyes of pale-blue blended with yellow at the
edges look over sharply and an expression of suprise and perhaps fear
upon her features. Whatever was holding her up is gone and the young
woman drops that five feet to the earth below. Having been standing,
she manages to land on her feet, even though she stumbles a few paces.
When she looks to John Thomas again, her eyes are a simple, base gray;
nothing like the color they were. She swallows briefly and begins
backing towards some brush, "Ah-heh. Yeah. Exorcist. Funny." Running
in... 10... 9...


As Rwylann falls out of the sky, John cringes visibly, his head
shaking after a moment as if from a distant memory. He steps out
behind the tree he had taken partial cover behind, holding up the hand
that isn't holding onto the handle of the guitar case, "Hey wait..."
Apparently, he knows the look of fight or flight in a person's eyes.
None-the-less, he shakes his head, "...don't go anywhere. I haven't
gone to communion in two years. I'm not going to call an exorcist." He
tilts his head slightly, "Are you ok? You can twist ankles falling
like that... Gotta roll with it."

Another step back and another crack of twigs and other flora upon the
ground. Rwylann ends up in something akin to a crouch, watching John
Thomas warily. "Yeah, I'm fine," she mutters, hands held out to either
side slightly. "Just..." a wry twist of lips, "suprised." She shifts
warily and after a brief moment and another step back, her eyes slowly
swirl into a deep, forest green, edged with brown. Almost hazel in
coloration, really. She takes slow, deep breaths, as if someone
attempting to focus themselves.

Another step forward, John matches Rwylann's pace, blinking his eyes
as she ends up in a crouch. He squints his eyes in puzzlement before
he simply takes a knee across from her, setting the guitar case in
front of him, "Relax, chica. It's alright... I was like you once,
falling out the sky everywhere. It's nothing to be ashamed off, you
just want to roll when you hit so you don't hurt yourself." He looks
down towards the ground for a moment, his hand resting on the guitar case.

Another expression of suprise overtakes the fear and Rwylann slowly
straightens, though her eyes remain the new color and her hands are
still extended to either side of her. "What are you talking about?"
she asks, in a guarded tone. It is, perhaps, an attempt to be brave,
but really, for each step nearer to her that John Thomas takes, Rwy
takes another one back. She glances to the guitar case, frowning, then
back to John himself. "Who are you?"

Seeing the pattern, John ceases his attempt to keep distance between
them, letting her find her own space as she needs it. As she rises, he
does as well and just as slowly. His hands fall to his side, not
extended as hers is before he grins, "What do YOU think I mean?" He
smiles slightly before he extends a hand to shake, "My name is John."

She looks to the hand, but makes no move towards accepting it. Just
one of those things. No touchy. Except by people she knows she can
trust. And, well, really. Weird guy shows up with a guitar case, sees
her practicing her flying. "Well, John," Rwylann starts, words slow.
Her hands slowly fall to her sides, but the movements are stiff. "You
say you were like me once. I wanna know just what you mean." She
shifts her stance, one leg falling back slightly, a twig snapping as
booted foot lands upon it.

John Thomas simply smiles before he drops his head. He leans over,
picking up his guitar case before he straightens back up, "How do I
put this better? I tried flying, and I fell out of the sky, so...
Plane crash victim?" He looks down to the ground at the twig she just
stepped on, rolling his eyes, "Why do twigs snapping sound so much
louder in the middle of a dark forest at night?"

"You flew planes? Or rode in them?" Rwylann asks, cautiously...
warily. "Then it isn't the same." The last statement is a bit more
forceful and annoyed. At his question, she flinches slightly and steps
back so that her feet are even. The color fades from her eyes again.
"Less noise. During the day, there is... all manner of things. People,
cars... uhm, birds," she shrugs helplessly. "Ain't anything moving
right now 'cept us."

"Rode in them, or so I'm told." John Thomas studies Rwylann, his
eyebrows knitting together as he figures out exactly what to make of
her. He then simply continues, "The details, as I'm sure you'll
understand, are quite sketchy. I guess I caught some air, chica. If I
did, I don't remember." He smiles again, "It's not the same as what?"

"Or so you're told?" Rwylann asks, disbelieving. She shakes her head a
bit, lifting a hand to push back her hair absently. A nervous gesture.
"You saw things," she attempts to explain, stumbling over the words.
"Falling... from a plane. Rolling with it. A plane is going to be so
damn high," she is almost shaking as she talks, "that you can't just
/roll/ with it."

John Thomas narrows his eyes slightly, "It's a long story..." He then
shrugs his shoulders, "So? Yes, I saw things, but it's unimportant.
It's not like I care..." John smiles, his eyes taking a strange change
of their own. Pure electricity seems to radiate from the center of his
pupils out into the blue of his iris'. He keeps this up for only the
briefest of seconds before he blinks and all is well again, "Thirty
thousand feet, but I don't remember anything before the accident. I
didn't actually apply 'rolling with it' to the crash. The crater where
I landed is still there... Since then, I've learned to roll with it.
You should try it when you're practicing."

From the look on her face, Rwylann is struggling to believe and
perhaps even comprehend anything this guy is saying. Her hand runs
through her hair again as she watches John. She blinks, then squints a
bit at the change in his eyes. A gentle shake of her head and she
looks to him again. "Crater. Thirty thousand. Yeah, okay." As in:
'yeah, right, /sure/.' She suddenly freezes and looks around, eyes
widening, before she crouches again and shifts back into the brush a
bit more, her breath coming short.

Soon, the reason for Rwy's reaction is apparant, for a voice drifts
towards them. "Yeh, I saw 'er. A girl. Alone back here... well, she
walked back here an' she ain't walked back out. Looked weak, too." A
snort of laughter from a second person, "Stupid." They make a fair bit
of noise as they fight their way through the undergrowth. Then a hiss,
"Shush, man. She'll hear us coming and run." To which comes the --
slightly quieter -- response, "Yeah, like anyone can run in this.
Damn, we shoulda hit the streets proper tonight, not the Park."

"That's ri..." He is cut off as the two kids romp through the brush
with little thought to noise. He peers towards Rwylann, listening to
them as they talk. He frowns for a moment, looking towards the trees
in the opposite direction, "Maybe you want to step behind the trees
while I sort this out?" He turns towards the approaching guys, hearing
the direction they come from before he ever sees them. Oddly enough,
he begins rotating his arms in a sort of stretching motion until he
picks the guitar up from the ground to hand towards Rwylann, "Keep
this safe for me, will you?"

Rwylann's eyes are wide as the voice grow nearer and she looks sharply
to John Thomas. She is, almost, perhaps frozen for a moment until he
is shoving the guitar case at her. She takes it and nods, silent,
before taking a few steps further into the brush towards a tree. Once
there, the redhead sets the case on the ground behind the tree and
leans out from it slightly, glancing around. Her eyes turn to that
green-brown again and she crouches a bit, somewhat out of view and yet
also... perhaps able to still be seen. One hand reaches out and her
eyes narrow in concentration.

The two guys come stumbling into the clearing, one with a knife in
hand, the other with arms held out as if ready to tackle -- or catch
-- somebody. They look to be in their mid- to late-twenties, dressed
in all black, with the classic ski caps. Really, they were not trying
very hard. Thought they had an easy catch, went for it. However, upon
seeing John Thomas, one looks to the other: "DUDE!" The other guy
looks back: "Dude." And then they both look to John and straighten,
"Uh. Hey. Y'seen a girl 'round here?"

John Thomas nods as Rwylann takes cover, turning as the guys stumble
out. He takes a step to interdict himself between them at her, looking
towards them as he reaches into his pockets to withdraw two simple
metal cylinders. He grips both in hand and smiles broadly, "Dude! Was
she about my height, with blond hair, blue eyes, and strangely
alluring?" He looks between the two with a broad grin, "Cause if so,
you saw me, cabrones. Now if you don't mind me asking..." He extends a
finger to point towards the one with the knife, "What do you plan to
do with that once you find her?" His feet almost imperceptibly spread
a couple more inches, his eyes warily turned towards the two.

The elementalist braces herself against the tree, shoulder against it,
the guitar case kept barely within her perephrial vision leaning by
the tree as well. Rwylann runs her tongue over dry lips, still
watching intently, one hand balancing her, the other held out before
her, fingers spread. Her breath still comes short; a mix of fear and
concentration.

The two guys look at John Thomas, look at each other. The one without
the knife seems about to talk, but the armed one just swears
colorfully and launches himself at John in annoyance, slashing out
with the dagger in his hand. He is clumsy, but he is also suprisingly
quick.
Perhaps just a hair too slow, or perhaps not expecting an escalation
violence so quickly, John moves out of the way a fraction of a second
too late, a slice froming across his bicep from where the knife caught
him. With little regard for it, several things happen in the space of
a second as the guitar player changes gears to martial artist. First,
the sliced right arm pushing the knife-hand out of the way with a
swift outward block, follow quickly by a step in and an elbow-strike
to the man's solar-plexus, followed rather simply with a backhand
strike to the man's nose if he doesn't dodge the whole thing
completely. Finally, electricity is channeled through the metal
cylinders to form a magnetic field above the man's head, exerting
tremendous force upon the knife itself to attempt to get the man to
release it.

In fascination, Rwylann watches this. However, we mentioned the man is
clumsy and perhaps his buddy is too. Or maybe... Her breath catches in
her throat as she holds out her hand and focuses. In the area around
where the two men stood and nearer to John Thomas -- so he very well
may be caught in it also -- there begins a mild rumbling. An
earthquake, in New York City? It extends only away from her and
towards the men, lasting long enough that the thug who ran at John
Thomas stumbles and falls, suspect to all the attacks. His nose
bleeding and the man himself looking winded, he drops the knife as he
drops to the ground. His buddy, perhaps too stupid to think to run,
decides to leap at John in vengence.

Only, the knife doesn't drop to the ground at all. It floats in
midair, John's eyes pointedly glaring at the instrument. With the
flick of his wrist, and a modicum of control exercised on the metalic
blade, John launches it towards the tree Rwylann is standing behind,
the blade lodging itself deeply with a *thud*. But then, the earth
starts moving beneath his feet. It's a testament to his agility factor
that he can keep his feet, yet he doesn't leave it to his uncanny
balance for long. He looks as if he jumps into the air, but just as it
seems gravity is going to take it's toll, he shoots up into the air,
allowing the other thug to pass right beneath him with a slight grin.

Her eyes fade back to gray and Rwylann falls to slump against the
tree, her shoulder to it as she leans weakly against it. She looks
fairly tired and even ends up yawning somewhat. However, she still
tries to watch intently, eyes narrowing as she squints at John and the
ongoing battle... if the comedy of errors from the two attackers could
be called that.

As the one gets up, holding his nose, the other rolls to his side
groaning. "Damnit!" the first swears, looking to John Thomas, "He's a
goddamn freak!" The bloody guy grabs for his friend's arm and attempts
to get the hell outta dodge, almost dragging the second along as they
start for the undergrowth, stumbling.

John Thomas archs around as the miniature earthquake rumbles and then
comes to a halt. He floats in midair for the moment, eyeing the two
before he takes off after them. His hands stratch out as he nearly
follows the into the underbrush, cracking with electrical energy.
Should he actually catch them, both are going down for a nice long
nap. Regardless, he turns around once more and comes to a landing near
the tree Rwylann is behind, "Are you ok?" Stowing away metal
cylinders, John reaches up, taking the knife by the hand and beginning
to work it side to side.

The two men manage to get a bit away, but not fully out of the
overgrown area. Soon, they are down upon the ground, out and sleeping
like babies... More or less.

By the tree, Rwylann seems more or less half-asleep. As John Thomas
returns, she jumps slightly and her eyes turn that blue-yellow as a
breeze fights through the brush. However, it fades and she slumps
against the tree again. "Yeah, I'm alright," she mumbles, in that
barely-coherent way a person nearly asleep is wont to do.

John Thomas continues to work the knife back and forth within the
tree, eventually snapping the blade of it's handle deep inside the
wood. He tosses the handle to the ground, "One less weapon to worry
about." He looks up to Rwylann before he simply nods his head, "You
want me to take you home? My bike isn't too far away..."

Rubbing at her eyes a bit, Rwylann starts to stagger to her feet. She
nods, yawning. "Need sleep..." A slight stagger as she stands there,
squinting at John Thomas. "Home is... home is..." She swallows,
closing her eyes a moment as she focuses. Finally, she speaks again
properly: "You are a mutant. Like me. You might... want to see my
home. Later, though. Drop me off... nearby it, thank you."

John Thomas nods his head, reaching an arm out to steady Rwylann as
she stumbles if she allows it, "Yeah, sure thing. Can I have my guitar
case back?" He gestures to the case, hopefully receiving it. He throws
it over his shoulder via the strap, continuing to hold out a hand for
Rwylann to stand on, "What's your name, anyway?"


She does allow him to steady her, apparantly too weak to be able to
resist. Rwylann nods, balancing herself against the tree as she grabs
the case, weakly lifting it towards John Thomas. Once he takes it, she
visably relaxes. "Powers... wear me out. Sleepy." Likely she will be
out for at least a day straight from this. Then the poor Brotherhood
kitchen will be raided. Sammiches, beware! A pause of thought and she
finally offers: "Rwylann. M'name is Rwylann." She allows John Thomas
to lead the way to his bike, likely requiring a bit of help on the way
to keep her feet.

Log: "We used to be friends, a long time ago."  or "Sucks to be you."
Players: Frankie, Scuzz
Date: October 11th, 2005
Location:
Brotherhood Safehouse -- Living Room

         The calming, neutral, tones of beige, blue and cream mingle
with subtle splashes of burgundy offer unostentatious luxury to those
who would enter the large confines for relaxation or even more
informal meetings. Large enough to hold a comfortable gathering, it
still manages to remain cozy with light beige colored walls, trimmed
in cream, and accenting touches of the same honeyed oak that can be
seen elsewhere in the rather large house. Here, floor to ceiling,
mullioned, windows allow a clear view of the front drive and the
street beyond; the view from the outside blocked both by the semi-
reflective glass and a tasteful accenting of relatively tall
evergreens growing just in front of it. Opposite the large expanse of
glass and wood, the room's other focal point; an oak mantled,
colonial-traditional, fireplace, stands in proud relief against the
light beige colored wall; itself accented in a cream colored marble
hearth. It seems the perfect place for a quiet read or fireside chat
on the more chilly of New York's evenings. To the side, and slightly
angled, a large entertainment center seems to flow with the dcor of
the room; a large screened high definition television tucked neatly
behind closeable doors, as well as the accompanying equipment for a
surround sound evening for those who would rather not be a part of
the chaos of the resident's media room.

         Comfortable, overstuffed chairs lay scattered about, their
arms seemingly open and ready to embrace any who would rest within.
Covered in soft, medium beige chenille and accented with 'hug me'
sized burgundy and cream pillows. The brass and glass coffee and end
tables allow for easy access to drinks, trays, books and even the
remote control though their tinted glass tops allow for a lightness
to the room; giving it a more open feeling. Neatly hung paintings,
symmetrical in their placing, accent the walls with their black
frames; some keeping wall safes discretely covered while others hold
no purpose at all but for the delight of the eye. On the wall next to
the double doored entrance, what appears to be a simple intercom
system found in most houses of the like sits neatly. Closer
examination and the knowledge of the safehouse's actual purpose would
find it easy access to the overall communication and security.

Synopsis: Frankie runs into Scuzz again, and they talk.  Woo, angst.
Warnings: Coarse Language, Angst.  And yes, Scuzz is a jerk.  It
says so in his +traits, so it's okay.

-

One of the nice things about October is that bad horror movies are
easy to find, and Scuzz likes bad horror movies. Of course, it means
he has to have access to a TV, which means he needs to be in the
safehouse, a place he's avoided the last few weeks. But when he came
in, the coast was clear, and so he settled down in front of the TV to
watch a bad 80s movie called The Gate. He's on the couch, with his
head near one of the arms and legs up on the other, a bowl of popcorn
on the coffee table.

Joey is heading back very soon, so Frankie's been helping her pack
away some of her things to gear up and head back to California.
Frankie, on the other hand, is in New York for at least a few more
months. So, as a result, she's begun the ever fun process of
attempting to find a place to stay at. If she has it her way she'll
be out of the Safehouse as soon as the kid has headed back home.
She's been...attempting to find an apartment. She's kind of still
got that whole lousy reading thing going on, but Joey has been
helping her look through some ads and whatnot for apartments. It's a
cooler day today, which made it easy to say yes to just going to the
mall and seeing a movie with Joey, but now the younger is off
spending some time with a few of her new friends for the evening,
which leaves Frankie to kind of find something to do on her own.
Holding a folded up section of the newspaper in her hand, a mug of
steaming liquid in the other, and a pair of black fuzzy slippers, she
steps into the living room, coming to a stop slightly once she's
entered upon seeing Scuzz on the couch. Shit.

Scuzz flicks his eyes from the screen to the newcomer. He realizes
who it is, and his face twitches into a slight grimace. He'd hoped
she'd left already. He can't think of anything he really wants to
say to her, and getting up and leaving isn't his style... he was
here first, damnit. So, he decides to take the mature approach, and
just ignore her for now.

Frankie sighs quietly at his reaction, tilting her head down
slightly as she sips at the contents of her mug. Very slowly, she
makes her way toward the collection of sitting arrangements around
the screen, though doesn't seem to have any direct intentions of
actually sitting yet. "Uh, look..." She lowers the mug slightly,
looking a bit awkward. "Sorry about how I reacted to you the other
day. I just...kinda didn't really hear anything about people losing
their memories or anything like that. And I was just so psyched to
see you this whole time...just reacted sorta badly when I found out."

Scuzz looks back to Frankie watching her as she speaks. Really he
didn't think she bought his whole 'I don't remember you' story. Not
that he had any intention of abandoning it, it was more of a
principle of the thing. If anything her now seeming to believe him
and actually attempting to be nice and apologize makes him a little
angrier. "Whatever," is all he says, though.

Frankie doesn't particularly look shocked. It took a lot of work to
get any headway with Scuzz, after all. She smiles slightly, sighing
quietly as she leans against the edge of one of the cushier chairs,
looking at Scuzz a moment before she lowers the mug to rest on her
knee. "Okay...given some of the stuff I said I can get you still
bein' less than pleased with me...uh.." She frowns a bit, then
shakes her head, glancing down. "You think you'll get your memory
back at all?"

Scuzz exhales in irritation. Always with the talkin', Frankie.
"Look, I know you think we used to be friends, a long time ago."
He's not even looking at Frankie as he speaks. "But I don't really
care. Way I figure it, I didn't lose anything I prolly wasn't
better off without anyway. I don't know what you thought, but s'been
nearly a year since the thing. So even if we knew each other from
before, we weren't that close, or I woulda seen you before I did."
He casually reaches over to the popcorn to take a handful.

Frankie twitches slightly at that, her pale gaze flickering toward
Scuzz again with amildly annoyed look. Stay calm, Frankie. It's
Scuzz. He's like that. "Actually we were pretty close, or I wouldn't
really give a shit, now would I?" She replies a bit tersely. "And I
kinda left the city without much word but I was freaking out and
couldn't track you down before I d-..." She sighs, tilting her head
back. "Not that you even remember this shit..." She frowns. "Why you
so reluctant to try to actually talk to me again, anyway? For someone
who seems to not remember me you seem to be awful angry at me
already."

Scuzz shakes his head, silent for a while trying to come up with an
answer. "Cause it just doesn't matter Frankie. I'm not getting
anything out of it, and you're probably gonna leave the city again
'fore too long, right?" he asks. "So why should I bother trying to
play nice with you, just because you want it?" He sits up slightly
and says, "This movie blows," and starts flipping through the
channels.

Frankie fidgets a bit with the mug, her shoulders dropping slightly
as she shakes her head a bit.  "Doesn't matter if I'll be leaving
or not again." She mutters a bit, "Fuck...you were my friend, okay?
You were, like, one of the only people left in this shitty city that
I even still trusted any more, andI feel like shit for ditching like
that and wanted to come back and say sorry, and hang out with you
again, because I liked fucking hanging out with you, and I know you
did too, and we had fun and knew we had eachother's backs if we
needed." She sighs, raising a hand up to push back through her hair,
then raising the mug to her lips and taking a long drink of the
steaming liquid in it before moving up to her feet, looking a bit
upset. "Look. I dunno if you'll ever remember me or not again. But I
am sorry. I won't bug you anymore and I'm sorry for bein' a pain in
the ass, I guess. I just figured I could try talking to you again
but the last thing I wanna do is piss you off more."

Scuzz grumbles inwardly. This wasn't how it's supposed to go. She was
supposed to get angry or not but mostly just decide to go away and go
back to whatever her life was. But now she has to apologize, and act
like she's hurt which makes Scuzz feel bad despite the fact that
that's what he wants. "So what was it, then?" he asks before she
goes. "What made you need to up and leave so sudden?"

Frankie finishes off the contents of her mug, her eyes sheening over
a bit much to her annoyance, rolling her eyes upward slightly to
avoid any tears before she turns her back toward Scuzz. "Coz I'm a
fuckin' pussy and hated feeling alone." She mutters. "I'll leave you
alone, Scuzz. Hope things are working out for you." She says,
raising a hand up in a wave before heading back out of the living
room.

"See?" Scuzz adds, getting some of his fire back. "We couldn'ta been
friends." He keeps his eyes focused back on the TV. "Not close ones
anyway. We were, you wouldn'ta been feeling alone." Or left him that
way.

"Would if I couldn't find you." Frankie murmurs, frowning slightly
before sighing and stepping out. "Later."

Scuzz shakes his head and scoffs a little. "I ain't ever really all
that hard to find," he says mostly to himself, although as point of
fact he actually can't quite remember much of what he was doing when
Frankie left... just what he felt after he realized she'd ditched
him.

Frankie sighs quietly at that, staring down at the ground and now
just going silent a moment, standing in the entryway. It dawns on
her, at least, at that moment. He's faking it. Because noone who
loses their memory acts so angry. Or keeps saying the shit he's
saying. Which means, he was hurt. He was angry that she left like
that. So now he's trying to push her away? She raises a hand up
slightly, rubbing at her forehead before turning around to look at
Scuzz. "Can you just say you don't want anything to do with me
instead of this shit, please?" She mutters quietly, glancing away
rather quickly. "Fuck, Scuzz. Just tell me. Don't play this game.
I'm sorry. Christ. I do stupid shit. Remember? I do stupid shit to
everyone. Sorry. I can't help it. Coz half the time I ain't even
thinkin' really about what I do might MEAN to people, I know I'm
selfish, it's how I had to grow up, yanno?" She frowns a bit,
rolling up the newspaper in her hands a bit while letting the empty
mug hang from one of her fingers. "The warehouse I usually found
you at was bein' emptied out and checked coz the city was finally
gonna bring it down. I tried poking around t'find you for like, a
week. No, maybe not as hard as I shoulda, but I was getting kinda
desperate, and just finally freaked and left when I found out where
Finn was." She exhales heavily, looking up at Scuzz again with a
frown. "I ain't perfect. I do shit, and I learn from it. I'd never
do that to you again, but if you're really that pissed at me I
won't blame you. I am sorry, tho', Scuzz." She hesitates, looking
like she'd like to say more before shaking her head, looking a bit
defeated before moving to turn. "Sorry." She mutters.

Scuzz listens to all of that with something of a blank expression,
like he's just waiting to for her to say her piece but isn't
actually listening. Really, he's measuring what he wants to do, what
he wants to say. "Fine," he says finally. "You're sorry. I don't
hate you, Frankie. I just don't know if I want to deal with you
anymore. Especially if you're just gonna be here a short time then
leave again. I just don't know if it's gonna be worth the bother. If
that makes you feel bad... oh well. Sucks to be you. I can be a
selfish prick sometimes too."

Frankie stops at the entryway again, tilting her head down and still
silent. But she doesn't bother to protest or answer, just shaking
her head a bit and stepping out of view and into the hallway again.

<-END LOG->

Title: Night's Garden Gets a New Henchman (or is
Henchwoman?)
Who: Corvid, Eve, and Rina (and Human)
What: Rina comes to the Night Garden looking for a
job.
Where: The Night's Garden
When: A few days after the last barroom brawl

Action:

Rina hauls the door open and walks in, scanning over
the crowd briefly to ensure that there isn't anyone
here who will attack her on sight. Say, Victor Creed,
for one. The barrage of scents that assaults her makes
her world slow a bit as she processes it, picks out a
couple scents that are possibly familiar, and
discarding the rest. Her step glides a little more
smoothly than normal during that time, but you'd have
to be watching her pretty closely to see it. At least
it isn't one of those Wild West moments where you step
into the bar and the music stops and everyone looks
*back*. Rina's just as happy not to be noticed. She
doesn't go to the bar at all. She's not legal yet.
Instead she looks around for Eve, or for a staffer to
ask after the plant-woman from.

Staffer? Corvid's here, though she doesn't step into
view until a moment after Rina has entered, from the
direction of the kitchen/bathroom area.  She runs a
hand through shock-white hair and makes a similar
circuit of the crowd with her eyes, all fairly peaceful
tonight. Monarch and his crew haven't been invited back
yet, though she has lobbied for their eventual
readmission after a reasonable span of time. Not too
many openly mutant bars in the city, after all. Along
the path of her gaze across the room she spots Rina,
however, and halts her ruminations square in their
tracks as she tilts her head a bit, then clack-clacks
her talons softly across the floor towards the young
woman.

After the other night's fiasco, business at the Garden
has been rather slow. Eve and Human are sitting at a
corner table, away from most of the customers. Working
on Corvid's hunch, Human is going over the books,
trying to parse out any information on the illusive
cat-girl that was the root of the other night's trouble.
Eve on the other hand, looks pretty bored. There are two
stacks of menacing looking needles on the table before
her, and a couple of vials filled with colorless liquid
next to them. Eve will pick up a needle from one stack,
dip it in one of the vials for a few minutes then place
it on the other stack. The procedure is monotonous, and
Eve is getting fidgety.  She looks up at Human, "found
anything, yet?" Human shakes his head and Eve goes back
to applying poison to her needles. So far, Corvid and
Rina's entries have gone unnoticed.

Rina notices Corvi's approach fairly easily. The iron
bird's scent was one of the ones Rina picked up and
recognized, and the clatter of talons on the floor is
readily heard. Rina stops and waves at Corvid, letting
the raptor approach her. Don't know how twitchy Corvid
is lately. Spending time dead is hard on the mental
equilibrium, as Rina well knows. Rina slides her shades
off and lets her eyes catch the light, in case anyone
has any question that she too is a mutant.

Corvid doesn't seem to be questioning, and it's her
job to do so, at least part of the time, with the ones
who aren't physically obvious. "Rina." She says simply
when the girl gets a bit closer. "Aren't yeh a bit
young to go out clubbing into the wee hours?" Her
tone's a little bit sardonic, but not overly teasing.
"Anyway. Welcome to the Night Garden. The bartender is
over there right now, but enough frantic waving will
pry his nose out of that ledger." She gestures back
towards Eve and Human there in the corner.

Rina chuckles a little. "Too young to drink, maybe,
not too young for clubbing. But I'm not here for the
nightlife. I heard there was a throwdown here the
other night, and I figured Eve could use a bouncer."
Rina looks Corvid over a moment. "Or would that be
another bouncer? Are you working here? I wondered
what'd become of you. How've you been?"

"How'd you hear that exactly? Fights happen in bars
now and again." Corvid answers slowly. "But yeah, I do
work here, and it's alright. Extra security might be
welcomed for a little while at the least. But you have
to talk to Eve- you might be in luck, she looks a bit
bored, could be glad for a distraction." Though not
another reason to spend money, surely. Corvid clack-
clacks back towards Eve's table now, with her poison
  needles and all, though she keeps a respectful
distance.

Eve tosses another finished needle on to it's
respective stack and looks up as Corvid approaches
her. She glances at Rina in the background, frowns
to herself, then addresses Corvid, "Let me
guess, Xavier sent his lackey to get information about
the other night." She's already annoyed, guess boredom
isn't a cure for her personality.

Rina shrugs. "Heard rumors. Mutant world is small and
incestuous." Rina follows Corvi over toward Eve's
table. She rolls her eyes at Eve's greeting. "Actually
Chuckles doesn't know I'm here.  I'm here because I
think you could use me. I'm also here because with the
pack gone, I don't know what's going on in the street
mutant world anymore, and I can't afford to be that
isolated. If I'm spying it's for my own benefit, not
his.

Corvid half-covers a yawn brought about by the hour
and blinks a bit at it, then just shrugs diffidently
at Eve. "I figure she probably means all that. I mean,
I've known Rina a little time, and she's never wasted
many words on what Xavier wants." Corvid's opinion of
the professor, if any, is left out of her statement.

Eve looks Rina over, and presses her lips together in
a thin line. Thinking hurts, so she asks for Corvid's
advice, "so you're recommending her for the job?"

Rina stands and lets the two women talk, having
learned through long and frequently painful experience
- particularly with Eve - that it is sometimes best not
to say anything and let Eve make up her own mind.

Corvid glances back at Rina a bit, a brow tilted
slightly in a 'you owe me' sort of posture, then nods
at Eve. "Yeah. She does at least know her way around
a fight in a hurry. If anybody else desires to make
trouble, at least one of us can be around."  Corvid's
been sleeping and staying at the Night Garden a lot
lately, but still.

Eve nods, she's been around Rina enough times to know
that the girl is no slouch when it comes to a good
fight. Still begs the question whether she's to be
trusted. Eve has a right to be suspicious, somebody's
fucked with her bar, and she doesn't like that. "Fine,
she's hired," she says with a resigned shrug. Then
adds, "but if she fucks up, you'll answer for it." To
Rina, she gives the new litany, "I don't pay much,"
Human reacts with a snort at that one. Eve scowls at
him but continues, "stay away from the customer's food
and drink. Only Human, Ron, and Corvid are allowed
near those for now. You get free meals, just ask Ron
to make you something. Also, since you're a minor,
stay away from the bar. Don't tell people your age,
just act like you're ready to break their neck and
things will work out." That covers everything, doesn't
it? No wait, "also, if any cat-girls come in, tell us
immediately. Try doing that without raising any
suspicion, we have a score to settle."

Rina listens and nods to each stricture. "Okay. Okay.
Okay. I can do that. I need to put some things up
front with you too. I won't kill for you.  And no, I
won't even do that for Chuck. And I won't attack cops
for you. Both of those are guaranteed to get this
place shut down anyway, so they'd be bad reguardless.
Is that okay by you?"

"Those are pretty much in the rules already I think.
No killing, no cop-baiting or beating." Corvid
chuckles faintly as she crosses her arms over her
chest. A quick glance over her shoulder ensures
that the bar is still relatively peaceful and happy,
no patron-violence occurring yet. Err. So far.

Eve gives a nod of agreement to Corvid's words. She
picks up a needle for the first stack, and dips it in
one of the vials before saying, "don't worry about
killing anyone, that I can do on my own."  Human looks
up at Corvid, then Rina, then Eve, then back to Rina
again. He gives her a shy smile and rolls his eyes
Eve's way, as if to say, 'don't listen to her, she's
in one of her moods'. He does introduce himself out
loud though, "hi, I'm Peter, but everyone else here
calls me Human. Ron is in the kitchen, cleaning up
right now. I'll introduce you later." To Eve, he
mutters, "I can't find anything here. These numbers
are a mess."  Eve just shrugs, "stop for tonight,
we'll take a look at them again, tomorrow." She asks
Corvid, "any leads on that cat-girl by the way?"

Rina says "And as for the bar... I don't drink at
bars. Costs too much and alcohol doesn't work for me.
Which sucks a lot some times. Thanks Eve. I appreciate
it." She looks over at Corvid.  "Thanks." Her
expression is the response to Corvid's earlier. I owe
you one. Rina nods as Human introduces himself. "So do
you prefer Peter or Human? I'm Rina." Yeah, it was
going by, but hey, he might not have picked it up."

Corvid gives an annoyed shake of her head to Eve. "Not
yet. But she can't have gone too far, even in this
city, and mutants can only hide in so many places. I'll
ask the Pack and Excelsior and...others if they've seen
her, they might have. Or she might just be holed up with
some of the street mutants, which means it's only a
matter of time before I stumble over her or someone
who's seen her."  Corvid seems certain of this, anyway.

Take needle out of vial, place it carefully on stack
two. "That's good. They'll be more cooperative with
you than me. Christ, I have no idea what the hell she
was thinking or why she would do that here..." Eve picks
up a needle and plays with it for a brief pause. Human
closes the books and starts gathering the papers as he
answers Rina's question, "whichever one is fine. Human
works here, no need to complicate things."

Rina nods. "Okay." She turns back to Eve. "Got
anything I could get a scent off of from your cat
girl? Can't really track on that alone, but I know a
few places to look too.

"City's awfully full of scents, yeah." Corvid comments
idly. "I don't think Tabby stayed here, just came in
for work, and it was a few days back- but I don't keep
track of other staff stuff as much I guess." Since
she's mostly involved with the operations and safety
of the front room, having less to do with the back.

Eve shakes her head, and Human answers for her (he's
been a bit bold around Eve, lately. Maybe the fight,
where he was able to take down a mutant, had something
to do with it), "we think she's only touched a few
pitchers, glasses and plates, and all of those have
been washed several times already."

Rina nods "Oh well. Okay. I'll keep my eyes open for
her, anyway." She turns to Corvid. "I should probably
work my schedule out with you so you can get some rest
and get outdoors once in a while, huh?"

"Something like that, yeah. I'm not the /only/ only
bouncer, just the most regular. And the most scary."
In Corvid's own humble opinion. But then, she's hard
to stand close to and look menacing.  "But anyway, the
schedule board, such as it is, is back this way." She
gestures towards the back.

-End-

Title: The ugly truth is revealed.

Who: Rwylann, Khai, Jono
What: Rwylann helps to ease the reunion, things get rocky then smooth out.
Where: Excelsior Headquarters, Harlem, New York City
When: Tuesday, October 4th, 2005 (morning)
Why? Because the title comes from an OOC realization.


THE STAGE


Excelsior HQ - Swimming Pool


The swimming pool of the Excelsior building is enclosed, built as a
permanent extension out of the back of the building. It's not huge,
practically no larger than a swimming pool would be for a private
house, but it's kept warm and is usually fairly clear, reserved for
just the visitors to the building.

The walls are plain, with the occasional warning notice or floatation
device hanging up. The windows are high up on the walls, letting light
in, but ensuring privacy. One door leads directly into the gymnasium,
the other into the shower and locker rooms.


THE PLAYERS


Rwylann


      On that cusp between being a teenager and an adult, Rwylann still
shows that she's not quite reached adulthood yet in form. There's
still a softness to her facial-features that belies her younger age.
Her figure, however, is fully matured and well-built as such, at
nearly five and a half feet. With a medium build, she shows the signs
of someone who does partake in exercise regularly, with the outlines
of musculature and a fit, yet curvy frame. Her skin has a healthy,
golden glow to it, showing time spend outdoors. Her hair is kept
short, likely reaching to her chin at its longest, though usually it
is brushed back over her head in a wind-swept look, the color a rich
tone of copper- almost firey in a sense. Her eyes, set to either side
of a small nose, are a deep grey that seem to have a life to them,
other -- stranger -- colors lying in wait beneath the surface.
      Comfortable and relaxed seem to be the air about Rwylann's
clothes. A pair of relaxed-fit jeans fit to Rwylann's hips and then
fall loosely about her legs, their color a rich, unfaded blue. Her
green tshirt is in the babydoll style, attempting to reveal navel from
time to time and pulling a bit at her bust, the logo on it reading
'Ireland' in black a dark green shamrock silhouetted behind the
words.. Combat boots cover her feet -- likely steel-toed -- and are
practically hidden beneath the jeans, which brush the ground as she
walks, causing the hem to be a bit ragged.


Khai


         Self-assurance, poise, and confidence radiate from this early
middle-aged woman. Her manner is of someone who can find simple
pleasure in simply being awake and alive. She is is tall, only a small
span shy of seven-foot with the trim, muscular figure of a dancer or
warrior. Her rough, dusky skin shows a few small scars, both old and
new, along her face (as well as her arms and torso when visible). Hers
is the strong, handsome look common to those born of mediteranean
heritage and although her features aren't beautiful in any traditional
sense, they have a strength and endurance to them that speaks towards
strength of character. Most notable about her face is a line of
lighter skin that runs parallel to her hairline across her forehead
and down both sides along the jawline, it has the slight burn-scar
look common to tattoo removal.
         Her clothing, made from sturdy, outdoor enduring materials,
has obviously been tailored to her size and lifestyle while still
being of sufficiently balanced fasion to not stand out in most places.
A light denim jacket, dyed deep midnight blue with gold highlights, is
worn over a fairly plain but body-hugging ivory t-shirt. While the
shirt is flattering to her figure, it is mainly there to keep the
shoulder holster she wears from chafing. Her pants continue the
midnight blue and gold theme, being cut to fit her figure tightly
while remaining flexible enough to allow full range of motion. The
legs flare slightly below the knee to fit around the tops of her black
thin-soled leather sandals. A somewhat worn canvas messenger's bag is
carried over her shoulder bandolier-style.


Jono


A tall, fairly slim young man, Jonothon Starsmore has striking,
handsome features and chiselled good looks - up to a point. He's a few
inches over six foot, although he seems to carry himself badly, his
shoulders knotted in defiance against the world. The cause of this
anger? Well, it is apparent that he isn't entirely unflawed, despite
his pop idol good looks, well-formed nose, soft brown eyes and rather
wild auburn hair. From the nose downward his face is wrapped in a
swathe of dark bandages, unusually black rather than the standard
white. Most common assumptions seem to be that he is the victim of
some rather unfortunate burns, suffers from a serious skin rash, or is
some kind of rock or film star attempting to disguise his identity.
Were you to look closely, however, you could see the skin around the
bandages that hide his lower jaw is puckered and scored, as if aged 70
years prematurely.

Jono has discarded his customary leather for today, opting instead for
a dark khaki army shirt, which he has buttoned up high, concealing
most of his injuries. It is fairly faded, like most of Jono's clothes,
from over-washing. he doesn't have a big wardrobe. Printed on the back
of the shirt is a large circle of red, with a star knocked out off the
centre. Beneath this he's wearing a standard pair of faded blue jeans,
banded by a thick black webbing belt, which has a number of chains
looped through it.


THE ACTION:


The pool is actually quite empty, reflection from light upon the water
cast upon the walls, the motes shifting with the movement of the
liquid. By nature of how few are present within the swimming area, the
sounds of one person swimming laps are readily apparant. Rwylann has
come by Excelsior for her usual swim, though she has not yet seen Jono
today, even though likely someone will have told him of her arrival.
Her swimsuit is a one-piece deal, likely made by Speedo; racer back,
form-fitting, and not so much on the revealing side as swimsuits go.
Something you would expect a competing swimmer to wear. The coloration
is a black swirled with emerald green. Currently, she is rather lazily
doing the backstroke from one end of the pool to the other.


She isn't alone in the pool for long. Another woman emerges from the
locker room, takes a few steps to build speed, and angles into the
water smoothly. A few strong strokes bring her alongside Rwylann and
she paces the younger woman. She catches Rwylann's attention long
enough to mutter something quietly, then dives below the surface and
continues swimming. It might take a while for them to be joined by the
expected third, but she's in no hurry to surface. Air lasts her a long
time... and it'll give her a chance to make sure her mental blocks are
up. Wouldn't do for the game to be given away too quickly by stray
emotions, would it? Heh heh.


Jono isn't normally adverse to the sight of Rwylann in a skin tight
swimming costume, but Jomo doesn't exactly mix well with water.
Showers aside, the mix of nuclear bio-kinetic chamber and water isn't
a happy combination and so Jono tends to avoid any activities that
involve him boiling himself to death. But he can just about cope with
sitting poolside and keeping Rwylann company in that way, so when he's
informed by one of those in the know that his "girlfriend" was spotted
heading this way, he follows, making his way through the gym. He stops
outside the door to tug off his boots, which, given the intricate
engineering of leather and laces could take him quite some time.


As the other woman interrupts her to speak with her, Rwylann pauses in
her laps to tread water, head tilted a bit to listen. A grin crosses
her features, along with a bit of a shake of the head in amusement.
Her hair, though not /short/, is short enough to be left free of any
sort of restraint without worry, so the action sends droplets spraying
about. With that past and unaware of Jono soon entering the pool area,
she goes back to her laps, though this time with the breaststroke.


The other woman's hair is also kept unbound as she swims, but it's
long and thick enough that it drifts around her in a concealing ebon
cloud. Only an occasional glimpse of her metalic silver one-piece can
be seen as she kicks off the walls at each end, still staying
underwater. As Rwylann passes above her, she twists herself around to
flash a conspiratorial grin, then quickly twists around so she's
facing the pool floor as Jono steps up to the side of the pool.


Jono manages to slip off his boots eventually, but the white stocks
stay on. He might be worried about the cleanliness of wearing his
boots into the pool, but a real Englishman keeps his socks on on all
occasions. He ambles up to the seats by the side of the pool, rests
his boots on one and drops into another, stretching his stcking feet
out n front of him and watching Rwylann idly. The other person
swimming gets a cursory glance, but since it's hardly unusual to find
others in the pool he doesn't pay much attention. In truth he barely
seems to be paying that much attention to his surroundings as it is,
lost in his own little world of brood.


After another lap, Rwylann adjusts her course and with a few strong
kicks, gives over to the side of the pool, near Jono. She catches up
on the edge, draping arms over to support herself a bit out of the
water. One hand brushes back hair that plasters itself to her cheeks.
There is a brief, light smile on her lips, before she speaks, "Hey.
Didn't know if you were busy or antyhing, so figured I'd get a good
swim in first." Which is mostly honest. Plus, makes it easier to
orchestrate everything. She continues treading water with lazy kicks
of her legs, though little of the water stirs around her.


Keeping to the center of the pool, the other swimmer goes about her
laps as normal, and listening. Water is an excellent transmission
medium for sound, after all. Once the conversation starts, she swims
another few laps then stops halfway between the shallow and deep ends,
letting herself settle to a sitting position on the incline facing
away from the two at the pool's edge. It's not that she needs the
rest, but if she doens't keep herself under tight control, she'll give
herself away too soon. Gotta wait s'more.


Jono drops his gaze to Rwylann and inclines his head towards her.
"<Yeah, I figured you' want to get your swim in.>" He rises and moves
to the edge of the pool and kneels by Rwylann, reaching out to stroke
her cheek gently. "<Don't let me interrupt,>" he says levelly, his
expression calm and apparently content, above his bandages. "<Not like
I got anything better to do. I think I can handle watchin' yer do a
few lengths.>"


For a second, a perhaps sappy grin passes over Rwylann's features
before setting into a relaxed smile. She tilts her head briefly
against Jono's hand, before lifting her chin to regard him. "I need to
take small breaks anyway, so I don't wear out too quick." She uses her
arms braced on the edge to stretch slightly, before tilting her head
in a nod to the Brit, "Plus, well, laps aren't so fun in general." Not
like some of the games the other kids that use the pool play. "I'll be
done soon," she promises, before smoothly pushing away from the wall,
arms cutting through the water to bring her closer towards the center
of the pool.


The other swimmer stays still until Rwylann has come back to her laps.
Then, as the younger woman passes overhead, she kicks up and levels
out just a foot or so below the water's surface and a pace behind
Rwylann so the surface swimmer's arms don't run into her. She brushes
her hair aside long enough to mouth 'I'll come out after you', then
she lets herself sink back until she's skimming the pool bottom for
her own laps. She glances out through the cloud of her hair as she
kicks off the end near where Jono sits, but her control holds...
barely. She can't help the thought, it just slips out, but it's a
sentiment she's been feeling about everyone she's seen the last week.
"<<He still looks the same. And I...>>" Then she clamps down again,
silently cursing the slip.


Jono rises from his crouch and nods towards Rwylann as she moves back
into the centre of the pool. The other swimmer's diver under Rwylann
causes him to pause a moment, then shake his head. Surely the pool's
big enough. He shrugs mildly and ambles back to pick up Rwylann's
towel from where she's left it, ready for when she slips out of the
water. He stands by his seat, clutching it with a vaguely absent
expression.


What may have been a nod could be mistaken for getting water out of
her face as Rwylann heads idly for the other end of the pool. May as
well take a bit of time, right? She kicks off from the wall, settling
into the classic freestyle, which she remains in for a few laps. One
end to the other, flip, swim back, flip, swim to the opposite side.
The pool is small enough that even though she takes her time with the
laps, they go fairly quickly. She seems to be accepting Jono's
assurance that he is OK with just watching her for now.


Okay... that's cheating! The other swimmer paces Rwylann for a couple
laps, then starts to drift towards one of the edges when it seems...
wait, more laps? She pushes off the wall and gets to a point where the
pool floor is deep enough that she can stand without really getting in
Rwylann's way. The next time Rwylann looks down on the return leg of a
lap, she gets an eyeful. And then there's the finger wag and foot tap.
She hopes the message is clear... I'll get out and do this myself if
you keep me waiting down here any longer!


Jono toys distractedly with the towel, and it's apparent that, as
usual, his mind is not entirely focused on the here and now. It's
quiet, Rwylann's otherwise distracted, that gives him ample time for a
quick brood. Although, in actuality he's mentally compiling a list of
Buzzcocks singles he's still missing from his collection, but he has a
reputation to upold, so outwardly he looks pensive.


<OOC> You say "The ugly truth is revealed. Jono's mood swings are only
thirty percent brood, fourty percent vinyl thoughts, and thirty
percent girl watching."


Amusement reigns in Rwylann's demeanor for a moment as she ducks under
the water, opting to swim that way as, in a sense, it is quicker. She
surfaces over by near Jono again and smoothly lifts herself from the
water. Her feet pad damply against the flooring and she drips, leaving
speckles of darker spots all about. She shivers slightly as the cooler
air hits her skin and starts over towards Jono. A quick glance is
tossed back towards the water itself, but no more than that for her
focus -- somewhat -- upon the Brit... and retrieving her towel.


Finally, time to get out and breathe! The other swimmer waits a moment
once Rwylann is finally out of the water... someone to keep Jono's
mind occupied is a good thing. Then she gets out of the pool by the
simple expedient of walking along the bottom until it's shallow enough
for her to break the surface. She lets her hair fall flat against her
body with no effort wasted on controlling it. A careful push to leave
the pool and her towel is right there, a fairly huge one suitable for
two or three people to lay on... or for one nearly seven-foot woman to
drape around herself after a swim. She doesn't towel off her hair at
all, but a thick brush is produced from somewhere... metalic silver
like her swimsuit... and gets to work on taming it as she starts to
slowly walk over towards Rwylann and Jono.


Jono passes Rwylann her towel without a word, but with a slight arch
of the eyebrows, the closest he ever gets to a smile. His eyes idly
drift down her body a moment, before the other swimmer pulling herself
out of the pool catches the corner of his eye. he glances her way
quickly, then back to Rwylann before his whole body seems to freeze.
He stares at Rwylann and his face drains, almost as if his face is
eroded away, just leaving his dark eyes. Slowly they turn back towards
Khai and Jono takes one, slow, step back and sits down suddenly in his
chair, just staring.


As she wraps the towel about herself, tying it in a knot around
bust-level, just under her arms, Rwylann watches Jono. There is a
slight smirk at first, until he sits down and that fades from her
features into a vague look of concern. She glances over her shoulder
towards Khai, eyebrows rising briefly, before looking back to Jono.
She steps closer to the chair and lowers herself to sit on the edge,
next to the Brit. "Ah..." she starts, trying to find something to say,
but failing, instead looking over to Khai again.


Khai lets out the breath she's been holding since she first dove
underwater, and drops her tightened mental blocks as well when it's
obvious that Jono has recognized her. Her own towel gets tied around
herself in an identical manner to Rwylann's, but the straps of her
swimsuit aren't visible anymore. Silver swimsuit, silver hairbrush.
Towel big enough to keep things covered regardless. As her mental
defenses are relaxed, her usual emotional tide drifts around.
Hopefully that will assure Jono that he's not hallucinating, that
she's really herself. She stops a few paces away and brushes her hair
from her face... a face that looks a good deal older than the last
time he saw it. "Hello, Jono. Good to see you again. It's been a long
time." Longer than either of the others know, even. The Voice, as
well, is the same... harmonic harpstrings played in a cavern.


Jono almost flinches, his eyes darkening further, appearing almost
black with pain. He blinks slowly, his gaze flickering towards
Rwylann, then locking back on Khai, before he reaches up to grind a
palm against his forehead. Then the hand drops and Jono just stares,
his face drained of what little colour it had. Finally he gets a hold
on himself enough o respond. "<It looks like it,>" he says simply.


After a moment, Rwylann leans over to put her arms comfortingly around
Jono's middle, like he has done for her so many times now. "I fell
/out/ of a chair," she offers in a mildly amused, yet soft voice. "I
think she's having too much fun with all this," is added in a
conspirational stage-whisper. Perhaps more light hearted in an attempt
to bring Jono a bit more back to reality, or perhaps because once it
was done to her, Rwylann was better able to get in on the game, as it
were.


Khai doesn't deny Rwylann's charge of having too much fun. "Guess I
picked up some of Emma's more playful habits." She settles the issue
of where she should sit by pulling the poolside cement and tile up
into a chair much like the one Rwylann saw back at the office. She
settles her towel in place properly as she sits, then fixes Jono's
gaze with her own. "And just for the record, this isn't some kind of
resurrection. I was never dead, just... out of touch for a while." She
smiles softly as Rwylann curls up next to Jono, her emotions radiating
three parts calm contentment with a serving of nervous.


Jono apparently fails o see much humor in the situation, but that's
hardly surprising given that it's the brooding Brit who's the butt of
the questionable joke. Rwylann's comforting gesture barely gets a
reaction at first. At the mention of Emma's playful habits he visibly
flinches for real this time. "<Emma murdered Kelly, so I don't exactly
consider her to be much of a role model,>" he says quietly, a
dangerous tone to his voice. His hand drops on top of Rwylann's as if
he were uncertain what to do with it, then his eyes close. "<I didn't
think yer were dead...>" he says hollowly. "<Just... lost.>" His eyes
flicker open and some of the darkness seems to have faded.


A flinch, in reaction, to bringing up Emma. Rwylann's eyes close and
she takes a long breath. The elementalist remains close to Jono and
does not move, even for his barely reacting to her. She did not expect
him to. Eyes open and there is a brief glance to Khai, thoughtful,
before Rwy gives Jono a bit of a hug. Still nothing said, allowing
them to work it out. That and, well, she tends to muck things up when
opening her mouth in such situations.


Khai leans forward in her makeshift seat, shoulders falling a bit as
her age starts to be a bit more apparant. "I... I was lost. For a long
time, much longer than just the last couple years." She holds her
hands up a little and looks at the palms. "And I am perfectly aware of
what Emma did to Kelly. As well as what Kelly did to Corvid. As far as
I'm concerned, what Emma did was nothing more than settling accounts.
What she has to answer to me for," she looks up and there is a
hardness in her eyes that Khai of two years ago could never have
managed, "is for taking action when you were there with Kelly, Jono.
There is no excuse she can give for that, and she and I will have
words should we cross paths again." She shakes her head and the
hardness softens somewhat. "The worst thing that I've been through was
finding out about that and not being able to come see you. I'm sorry
for that, but I'm very happy to see you two getting on so well
together." She smiles then, at both of you.


Jono narrows his eyes slightly and glances away. His hand tightens on
Rwylann's and he remains silent for longer than is strictly
comfortable. "<It shouldn't have been done for revenge. Not like
that,>" he says finally, his voice quiet. He reches up with one hand
and rubs the back of his head, as if trying to erase the memory, then
gives a faint shrug and his gaze locks on Khai again. "<You... look
older than you should.>" He says blankly. "<Looks like those of us who
just lost a day here an' there got off lightly.>" He doesn't openly
acknowledge Khai's acceptance of his and Rwylann's relationship,
apparently storing it away for consideration.


The elementalist remains silent, the only truly noticable sign of her
presence being her attempt at comforting Jono as he works through all
of this. Rwylann's expression is one of vague worry as she glances up
to Jono, then across to Khai. Her lips twitch briefly, but she says
nothing, remaining silent. Nothing to contribute to the conversation,
really. She caught up and figured things out with Khai, now it is
Jono's turn and certainly it is a measure more difficult for him. She
exhales in a sigh briefly, glancing off towards the mostly-still water
in the pool.


Khai nods slightly, agreeing with Jono's assessment of Emma's actions.
"Yes, she should have handled it better, I agree. I think I understand
why she reacted as... irrationally as she did, though." She shrugs,
then raises an eyebrow at Jono's next comment. "Yeah, you could say
that." She sighs and settles back in her chair. "The last time most
anyone saw me in public was 2003, and I was twenty-six years old.
Well, whatever seems to have sucked a chunk of memory from others
seems to have really hit me solid. I can only guess that I was close
to the center of... whatever it was." She shrugs, then settles her
gaze back on Jono and Rwylann again. This is something she didn't tell
the younger woman when they met a few days back. "Even though it's
2005, I'm not twenty-eight. I'm fourty-four." She pauses to let that
sink in a bit. "Whatever did all this shuffled me backwards fifteen or
so years... but seems to have aged me several hundred years in the
process."


Jono blinks slowly. "<Well, yer lookin' good for a centenarian,>" he
comments off-handedly, one hand still resting behind his head. He
leans back slightly, against Rwylann, and his expression slowly grows
more relaxed. Abruptly he shakes his head and curses quietly, "<Bloody
hell Khai...>" he says obliquely. He twists his head towards Rwylann
and asks softly, "<Yer knew about this?>"


By the look that ends up spreading over Rwylann's features, she
apparantly did /not/ know this particular detail. It is an expression
of confusion and suprise, the young woman taken aback. She glances to
Jono and shakes her head a bit, before looking over to Khai. "Well, I
noticed she looked older, but I thought it could be a side-effect of,"
she gestures a bit, "My memories. Maybe I had forgotten exactly how
she looked, or not seeing her in a while skewed my point of view.."
She shrugs and settles her hand back where it had been; at Jono's
side. She flinches slightly, looking to Khai, "You had said something
about being far away... I didn't know you meant the... what? Future? I
mean, that's all that could explain it, right?"


Khai grins at Jono's sideways compliment, then shrugs at Rwylann's.
"No clue about the aging part of it, but I've lost my stone form...
it's become a part of me permanently. And I've regained a lot of
things that I lost with it, too, like the ability to bear children
and, well, get older. But as far as the Brotherhood medical-types had
thought back in '03, that wasn't going to happen for at least four or
five-hundred years. But when I found myself wandering in Africa back
in 1990, with the last thing I remembered being some briefing about
yet another group kidnapping mutants, I was like this." She shrugs
again with the air of old news. "I gave up trying to figure it out
somewhere around 1996. Too confusing. It happened. I don't remember
how or why, but there we are." Then she nods at Jono's next question,
smiling softly. "I figured things out fairly quickly. Y'see, Rwylann's
working for me, now. After it was safe enough for me to let Magneto
know what happened to me, he started training me to take charge of the
Brotherhood here in New York. I heard office gossip that Rwylann had a
new boyfriend here at Excelsior, put two and two together, and decided
it was a good thing." She smirks at Rwylann, "She's not kidding that
she fell out of her chair with the world's biggest blush when I came
strolling into a meeting there last week."


Jono gives Rwylann a faintly confused look. "<Uh, actually I was just
askin' if yer knew before now Khai was alive, but I guess that's a
yes.>" His mental voice sounds a little strained and he glances down
at the floor before he returns his gaze to Khai. "<Lessee now, a bunch
of us go to... fight somethin', and there's whole chunks of our
memories, or maybe our lives missin' from that moment on. Then, last
week, someone who was killed a year ago, hung up an' gutted, strolls
in an' says hi. An' I'm walkin' around with a hole in me the size of
the Dartford tunnel. Yer know, time travel ain't even the strangest
thing I've heard this week.>" He lets his hand drop back into his lap,
the other continuing to rest over Rwylann's. He sags slightly in his
chair, giving Khai and faintly tired look. "<But yer never thought to
give me a call about four years ago an' tell me to take some
alka-seltzer an' avoid hicupin' me guts over half of London?>" He
pauses for a split second. "<Nevermind,>" he says with the finality of
a nail in a coffin. There's a long pause and then abruptly Jono says,
"<Hang on, what the hell? The Brotherhood are gossipin' about me and
Rwylann?>"


"Coulda been a bit more specific," Rwylann mumbles to Jono, rolling
her eyes slightly. She, however, listens to Khai's story with a rather
blank look for a few moments. "Doesn't that cause... a paradox?
Existing at the same time you already did?" She closes her eyes a
moment, brow furrowing. Head hurting, too confusing, damn time travel.
She opens her eyes again, glances towards Jono, then to Khai. "I'm
guessing... maybe that's where the paradox comes in, huh? Couldn't
interfere and step in until... after you had left, 'cause there'd be
no chance of weirding things out, making the world collapse, or
whatnot." Her nose crinkles a bit, "If people can time travel, though,
I wonder..." she trails off, then looks a bit sheepish, "Sorry." A
glance at Jono at his sudden question and she blinks at Khai, "Yeah,
y'know, I was wondering how you knew if you hadn't been by here yet."


Khai shrugs, "I had to play it safe and avoid places that I'd been the
first time through. Once I'd stopped freaking out about whether or not
I should... well, let's just say that I went through a lot of booze
around the time Cale was killing my family. As well as a few other
times I knew things were happening that I wanted so badly to stop, but
didn't know what would happen if I did." And yes, that includes
dropping in on a certain Brit before he went critical. "So I kept
busy. It helped." She smirks at the remarks about office gossip.
"Well, not about Rwylann and you specifically, Kechara. But fifteen
years of sharpening my observation skills helped me put the pieces
together." Rwylann's wondering gets another nod. "Well, I was given
full file access to New York personnel, something I didn't have
before. And while the records don't list intimate details like
lovelife and such, it's not hard to piece together if you know what to
look for."


Jono clearly dislikes the idea of anyone discussing his personal life,
let alone discussing it with the ex. He shifts uncomfortably in his
chair and apparently takes time to mull over the other information
offered. "<Paradox my arse,>' he mutters vaguely. "<People are
probably goin' back an' alterin' the past all the time. We just
wouldn't know either way.>" That said, he doesn't sound like he
disagrees with Khai's decision, more like he's leaping on any detail
to distract himself from the growing discomfort, now he shock of
seeing Khai again has faded to a vague, gnawing guilt and some of that
is betrayed in his expression.


There is a glance between Jono and Khai and Rwylann is quiet for a
time. "Guess those files must be fairly thorough," she mumbles, voice
a bit flat. Despite what the Brotherhood has done to help her, she is
still unsure about what all information they must have on her. It
seems a bit creepy in the end, really. The elementalist glances to
Jono and bites into her lip, starting to lean away from him slightly.
Seems she may very well pick up on the guilt, for she looks towards
his eyes a moment. "I... can go get dried off properly," she mutters,
"leave you two to catch up and all."


Khai shakes her head, "They're not really all that extensive, really,
except on the longtime full agents." She winks at Jono, remembering a
remark he made to Ororo a while back. "Those of us who've chosen to
wear the khakis. For folks like you, Rwylann, it's nothing really any
more extensive than you'd find in school records. It's just that
reading between the lines is my specialty, even moreso now than it was
fifteen years ago. Like right now..." She pegs first Rwylann, then
Jono with her best 'now just wait right there' stare (and if you
thought she was good at that sort of thing before, there are marine
drill sergeants who'd stop in there tracks at it now). "You stay put,
there's no reason for you to go running off when you've got no reason
to, Rwylann. And while I know you almost have to go through your 'oh,
hell' stage, Jono, I also know you'll realize I'm not jealous of you
two before too long." She winks, "After all, even when you and I were
together, I wasn't jealous of you and Arcadia hooking up, was I? Why
would I be upset that you and Rwylann are together now?" As she says
this, she lowers her mental defenses long enough to let Jono sense
that what she's saying is the truth.


Mentioning his little indiscretion with Arcadia isn't exactly helping
to keep Jono's guilt levels down and he flinches slightly at that.
"<That was different,>" he says gloomily. "<Arcadia an' I were never
together.>" He looks towards Rwylann an stares at her a moment, then
says softly, "<Rwylann and I are. You and I were. It feels kinda
complicated. Especially when yer took oaths to stay with me. But..>"
He shoots a look back at Khai that's entirely uncertain. "<Rwyl an'
I... we've kinda moved on.>" There's a silent pause and then he adds,
"<Fifteen years is plenty of time to move on in too.>"


The look she is given causes Rwylann to flinch again and settle back
into place. They have been talking long enough that other than her
hair -- which is short enough to not take too much longer anyway --
she is fairly dry. The towel drops to just settle around her waist,
leaving torso covered only by the swimsuit. Her nose crinkles a bit -
she /almost/ escaped the awkward situation. Not quite, almost. At
Jono's words, she glances over and just watches him for a while, a
look of mild suprise -- yet in a good way -- coming over her features,
lips curving slightly upwards. She exhales in a sigh and looks up to
the ceiling, finally managing a soft laugh, "Before we go around in
circles... I think you both have accepted it, but you're just worried
the other has not. No need to..." A look to Jono, eyebrows rising,
"create more reasons to brood, right?"


Khai nods, "Yes, it is. And it was long enough for me to realize some
things about oaths that I was too young to understand before. I can
still keep that oath to stay with you without actually being /with/
you." Then she grins at Rwylann's words. "What she said."


Jono reaches up to massage the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
"<I don't want you to be with me at all,>" he says abruptly. "<If
yer've moved on, then move on. Don't stick to an oath I don't want yer
to hold yerself too.>" He looks up at Khai, brows lowered. "<If yer
happy for me and Rwylann... I wanna be able to be happy for you an'
some other fella, not be constantly feelin' guilty cos yer stickin' to
an oath yer made when yer was 'too young' to understand.>"


Gray eyes are downcast, focusing upon the tiles of the floor as Jono
speaks, Rwylann almost uncharacteristically still. Her mouth opens, as
if to say something, but lips soon press closed again and she lifts
her chin slightly, looking first to Khai to gauge reaction, then to
Jono. She watches the Brit for a length of time, before leaning back
slightly on the chair, hands behind her to support her. She closes her
eyes, exhaling in a sigh.


Khai shakes her head, "I didn't really say that right, but it sounds
so... cliche to say 'hey, we can still be friends'." She leans
forward, her mouth quirked upwards at one corner. "I have moved on,
and yes, there's a guy I've been seeing the last couple years. He's a
weapons and armor tech at my company. Almost as tall as I am, but
broad as a barn door, too. He's Kenyan. His name's Imamu Abimbola, and
try saying /that/ five times fast."


"<No thanks. He sounds like a nasty disease,>" Jono remarks, keeping
up the best tradition that exes can't be entirely gracious when it
comes to their replacements. He relaxes visibly, however and after a
pause hegazes at Khai with deep brown eyes. "<I'm glad yer found
someone,>" he says steadily, and clearly truthfully. It gets him off
the hook at least, right? Although Jono does seem to be actually
pleased for Khai beyond that, as he gets used to the idea.
"<Actually,>" he adds, "<If you've been with him a couple of years,
that makes me feel better about the thing with Cadi, since yer were
datin' me two years ago too...>"

Title:  @toad @destroy
Date: 10/07/05
Synopsis: JT and Rina catch Toad in the act of a purse snatching with
a side of aggravated assault.

Rating: PG13 (Violence, language)

Cast:
John Thomas
          The young man before you is rather tall, about 5'11 and of
caucasian descent. He looks to be in his late teens by his handsome
barely-young face. He has a compact body which is both lithe and well
muscled like a dancer. He has bleach-blond hair styled to to stand
just slightly up, but not severely so. His eyes are an endless
cerulean blue. His movements are lithe and sure of themselves. Not
like the usual steps of an undisciplined person. Each movement he
makes has a purpose, though it all flows together naturally.

          The most prominent piece of his wardrobe is the t-shirt he
wears. It's solid black, with the picture representing a gift. It
consists of a red ribbon, tied into a neat bow and a tag that reads,
"To: Women, From: God" on it. Covering his legs in what appears to be
a rather casual outfit, is a pair of short jeans which come down to
his knees. On his feet are a pair of clean, if slightly used, pair of
tennis shoes.

Rina(#2017POXcef$-)
Casual urban warrior. This would be the best description for Rina's
outfit today. She's wearing a pair of black swat team fatigue pants,
properly bloused over her usual combat boots, and a tight fitting
jungle camo tank top tucked into them. The tank shows off Rina's
muscular shoulders and chest, and clings tight enough to hint at the
lines of her "six pack" belly. The fatigue pants do exactly the
opposite, and extend in complete shapelessness from her waist to the
tops of her boots. Rina's hair is the usual - deep black, with long
bangs in front, and down to the small of her back in back. She may or
may not be wearing her usual Oakley sunglasses today, depending on
the weather, the light, and her mood. She's also dispensed with her
usual leather jacket for the moment too, although it would hardly
clash with what she's wearing. The look is accessorized only with a
Mickey Mouse watch strapped to Rina's left wrist, and perhaps by the
two lines of scar running from her shoulder all the way to her
knuckles on that hand.

Toad
         Tucked under a ratty blue bandana (the kind you can get at
Dollar General for like, a dollar), and then tucked again under an
equally ratty mess of brownish hair is a face that a mother wouldn't
even have the vaguest, most nebulous feeling of affection for. The
aforementioned brownish hair is just slightly short of shoulder
length, hanging down in his eyes and partially obscuring his face
most of the time. Judging just by bone structure and stuff, his face
isn't too deformed. It's a sour, lemon-sucking face with bulgy,
somewhat protuberant black eyes, a wide nose, and a thick-lipped
mouth all on top of a pointy weak-looking chin. The horridness is
pretty much just because of the skin. For starters, his skin is a
kind of pea soup green. It's also got a really uneven, in some places
warty, texture to it. To further augment his ugly rating, he's got
abnormally huge ears that poke right through his long hair. They're a
bit pointy at the top, kind of like Spock's. His neck is long, but
thick, which looks unproportional because his body seems so scrawny.

          His shoulders might as well not even exist. They are pretty
much just there to keep a few inches between his arms and his neck.
Across them is draped what apparently used to be a denim jacket. Now
however, it's a raggedy cutoff denim vest with a big Rage Against the
Machine patch either sewn or ironed onto the back. He wears nothing
underneath the baggy vest, allowing the careful observer to count a
lot of his ribs through the various holes in the fabric. The skinny
arms that are haphazardly attached to his shoulders are just that:
skinny. Around his right bicep he has a generic, prison-quality
barbed wire tattoo. Around his left bicep he has a slightly less
generic, and slightly higher than prison-quality ring of skulls
tattoo. His hands are way bigger than they should be, with
grotesquely long fingers.

          The vest extends way below his waist (just above mid-thigh
to be exact), but it's undoubtedly skinny. His legs on the other
hand, are not. They're anime-ishly long with lots of toned muscle to
them. Not bulky by any means, but obviously powerful. Over them he
wears a loose fitting pair of black Dickie's shorts. They end just
below his knobby knees. His black Converse All-Stars look like a pair
of clown shoes. They've got to be at least a size 15, which is way
larger than a 5'8" guy should be wearing. The shoes are old and worn
out, with one of the soles being held to the shoe by the generous use
of silver duct tape.

Location:
Manhattan -- Central Park: Reservoir

          One of the more famous areas of New York City is this place:
Central Park. It attracts people in their droves, as they swarm
around like insects, following their trivial and pointless pursuits
without so much as an inkling of how futile and pointless their lives
really are. Picnics are devoured, half-enthusiastic games are played
as each and every person spirals into obscurity.
          Dominating the landscape is the Reservoir; the barely-
drinkable water supply that serves the Island of Manhattan. It's
allegedly kept scrupulously clean, but why such an area would be open
to the public patently defies reason... the place must be filthy.
          And as if to draw attention away from that, there's
Cleopatra's Needle. An exhibit from Ancient Egypt, this obelisk has a
mate standing in London.
          In an attempt to lend a touch of class to a damned city,
other attractions are available: the Shakespearian Gardens and
Belvedere Castle to the south, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art to
the East. The remains of the House of Tranquil Repose -- a Euthanasia
clinic from the 1920s -- stands a few yards away. You'd think in this
day and age, such things would be far more commonplace... and that
they'd be used, too.

---

Rina is doing her usual in the park. Which is to say she's sitting
high up in a tree watching the park go by, her motorcycle parked
nearby and her shoes at the foot of the tree. She's not trying for a
super-stealthy skulk... that's later, when it's dark.

          Not too far beneath the tree Rina is so casually up, John
Thomas finds a spot on one of the park benches outlining one of the
many paths through the park. Next to him, he sets a simple leather
guitar case upon the bench before throwing the latches and opening
it. He draws an acoustic from within it's confines followed by a
pick. He closes it with a thud, and sets the guitar across his lap,
leaning forward slightly as he looks over the strings.

          Doing his best to not look seedy, but only succeeding in
making himself look more obviously so, Mortimer strolls through the
park. His aura of 'not doing the right thing' is increased by his
habit of constantly looking over his shoulder, and of staring a bit
too much at ordinary passersby. As he makes his way past the bench,
and the tree, he finally spots what he's apparently been looking for
the entire time: an elderly woman wearing an expensive fur. No sooner
does he spy her, than he leaps forward and sticks out his tongue. The
tongue travels several feet forward, wrapping around the old ladies
purse. In less than a second, the purse is snapped from her hand, and
is on its way back towards the thief.

Rina is quick. Not supernaturally so, but very, very quick. She turns
and leaps from the tree toward Toad. Time slows for her and she makes
a mental note to look out for that tongue, thinks of several jokes
that end 'and kisses you good night with a ten foot tongue', is
vaguely grossed out, and starts to pay attention to her upcoming
landing.
His eyes widening the moment he looks up to see a total chick
magnet's tongue yanking an old lady's purse from her hand. Thought
flashes across his face as he finds himself torn between something.
Finally, in a flash of movement (not really) he stows the guitar back
into the guitar case and picks it up, turning towards the origin of
that... tongue. He pushes himself off the bench, making for Toad at a
breakneck speed (poetic license, really) made none-too-easy by the
instrument he carries.

          As soon as the purse lands safely in Mortimer's hands the
giant tongue retracts into his mouth so quickly it's almost a blur.
Now properly adjusted for talking, Mortimer takes the opportunity to
do just that: "You should carry a wallet, bitch." Not really taking
notice of the rest of his surroundings, Mortimer focuses on
tormenting the old lady for a second before he makes his getaway.
Rudely, he pushes her in the back, shoving her to the ground. While
the lady is still on her way to making contact with the ground,
Mortimer makes an astonishing leap into the air, his feet rising more
than five feet from the dirt at the apex of his jump. His feet point
directly toward the old lady, leaving no doubt about where he intends
to land.

Rina lands and takes another quick pouncing jump, aiming for Toad's
ankles to deflect his leap. The fact that this will probably carry
her fist into his groin will probably not be lost upon him if she
hits him.

Still a good bit away, John Thomas continues his running pace towards
Toad. Feeling the necessity to unhinder himself, he fluidly crouches
low on his next pace, managing to gently set his guitar case down
before he continues to run at full speed. He almost pulls himself
short as Rina drops in front of him and leaps for Toad, his eyebrows
knitting together.

          Everything is going great. The old lady has been thoroughly
vanquished and the spoils of victory have already been collected. But
Mortimer just had to try and press his luck. Normally stomping on an
old lady wouldn't have such dire consequences, but there's got to be
a bunch of bad juju associated with the act. Anyway, in midair he
collides with Rina, and Rina's fist. The ramifications of being
punched really hard between the legs take him a second to set in. All
he notices immediately is that he's suddenly laying on the ground
clutching a purse. And then the pain sets in. "Bloody Hell!" Mortimer
winces and draws himself into the fetal position, clutching the purse
tightly to his chest. With one of his arms anyway.

Rina lands hard, it was an awkward landing and she might have
sprained an ankle. Hard to say, if she did it's already usable by now
and will be healed completely in a few seconds. She locks her knees
around Toad's hips and shoves his head not too gently into the
ground, drawing her fist back. "Say goodnight, Gracie." Okay, she's
really planning a nerve strike that will leave him unconscious. Buuut
Toadums might not know that.

John Thomas stops dead in his tracks as Toad is racked, his eyes
widening in horror as they both fall. He looks upon the trainwreck of
humanity for a moment longer before he emits a long, drawn out,
"Ohhhhhhhhh!" He cringes visibly, closing his eyes and turning away.
He glances back for a brief moment, covering his mouth as he looks
away in pain once more.

          Instinct takes over. Mortimer opens his mouth like he's
going to scream. But instead of a high-pitched sound, a really big
wad of green phlegm erupts from his mouth. Since he's facing Rina,
there's little guesswork involved in figuring out where the wad is
headed. Simultaneously, his legs twitch violently, propelling him
back and up a few feet. Whether or not Rina goes along with him
depends on just how tightly locked her knees are.

John Thomas recovers from his apparent sympathy pains as he realizes
the fight is still on over by the old lady. He shakes his head,
reaching into his pockets and withdrawing two metal cylinders. He
begins running again, though this time each stride is lengthened
until he is almost on top of them. With a leap, John pulls himself
into a corkscrewing flip that tests the very limits of humanity
before he straightens out on a suicide dive to close the distance,
"Give me a clean shot at him!" is said to the woman who wrestles with
the purse snatcher.

          The 'fight' was pretty much over before it started. All that
Mortimer's trying to do is tear himself away from the psycho woman
who picks on poor harmless purse snatchers. He begins to panic as he
realizes that escape has just become impossible, he's stuck to her.
"Leggoa me, you crazy bitch!" Never the brightest crayon in the box,
Mortimer taunts the woman who's already pretty pissed at him. He paws
with his hands while trying to kick off from the ground. His panic
increases as the reinforcements arrive. Just when he thought his day
couldn't get any worse, another random do-gooder tries to get all up
in his Kool-Aid.

You say "Can't! I'm stuck to him!" She turns back to Toad and throws
the punch with her other hand. Not hard enough to break his skull,
just a nerve strike. "You do NOT pounce old ladies in the park!""

John Thomas raises an eyebrow, "Stuck to...?" It all seems to make
sense to him to the young man, blue eyes lighting up in mirth as he
looks at Toad, "You should see a doctor about that chest cold,
amigo." He looks between them as Rina cocks back with the punch,
"Gotcha. Call me when you need me.

          No, Mortimer doesn't pounce old ladies in the park. Not
anymore anyway. Mortimer's eyes roll back into his head as the fist
makes contact with him. He isn't completely knocked out, but stunned
enough that he can't do anything but moan softly with nearly a foot
of tongue hanging out of his mouth. That and blink a little bit. And
flare his nostrils. He can do that too.

Rina settles back and pulls at her hand. Then harder. Finally the
clothes give, and Rina gets up slowly. "Is the lady ok?" Rina's
trying to peel the goo off her face without drawing blood. at the
moment.

"He better hope she's fine." Is the growled response as he finally
gets a full look at Toad. His eyes narrow dangerously, his fists
curling tighter around the metal cylinders he holds in each hand. He
peers down towards Toad, watching him through narrowed eyes as if
waiting for something sudden to happen.

          The old lady's fine. She's shaken up and her knee is all
bloodied up, but she didn't get any bones broken or anything. Slowly,
Mortimer starts to regain cognizance. Enough to start mumbling under
his breath, with his tongue still hanging out of his mouth.
Rina looks down at Toad. She reaches down to pick up the purse, makes
sure it's zipped closed, and tosses it to JT. "Give this to her, will
you? I don't know how toxic this gunk is.

John Thomas catches the purse between two fists, nodding his head to
Rina, "Sure thing. Go get yourself checked out." He peers down to
Toad, committing face to memory. Goodness knows he has enough room.
He looks towards the old lady, stowing the metal cylinders before he
proceeds towards her, "Ma'am, are you alright?"

          The lady clambers up and smoothes her mussed hair out.
Mortimer starts to look around and pulls his tongue back into his
mouth. Now fairly lucid, but kind of held down, he starts to bitch
and moan. "Oi! What the hell are you twits doing?" He starts to
struggle, but not violently. "Gerroff me, lemme go." He tries to roll
over with very little success.

Rina gets up and hauls Toad to his feet. "C'mon you. We're going to
go have a chat with the cops."

John Thomas finishes with the business of checking on the victim,
making sure she is alright short of her scraped knee and turning
away. He watches Rina and Toad for a moment before he simply shakes
his head. He walks back towards the bench, retrieving his guitar case
on the way.

Exeunt severally

The Characters: Corvid and Adam Warlock
The Time: Early October, after the incident at the Night Garden.
The Scene: Corvid stumbles into one of Adam's
'this-should-not-be-done' experiments. Some weirdness and friendly
chat follow.
The Place:

Chinatown -- Warlock's Apartment
         Among the many alleyways of Chinatown hide some old
warehouses, some of which have been converted into living space. At
first sight, this is not one of them. Although the main metal doors
have rusted beyond all possibility of use, the building can still be
accessed through a sturdy side door. The space inside is quite large,
although some crates stand on the way, just beyond the door, blocking
line of sight. Those are full of old machinery, rusted copper pipers
and pieces of electric generators at least fifty years old. At a
corner of the warehouse, however, a large space has been emptied and
cleaned, and a huge marble table with wrought iron legs, usually a few
books stand on the table, and often a laptop. More computers, some of
them gutted, lie in racks against the walls.
         One would think this place would be crawling with rats or
stray animals, but it is not so. Animals avoid the warehouse, and so
do the neighbors.
         At one side of the warehouse, behind a wall, invisible from
the door, there is a spiral staircase leading up, to an small
apartment hidden on the top of the warehouse. The apartment is
surprisingly well-illuminated during the day, thanks to many windows
that stand over the nearby rooftops, and it shows some signs of
recent, if sparse inhabitation. It is composed by a large living room,
two bedrooms with adjacent bathrooms and a small kitchen.
         The floors are made of dark wood, covered with carpets in some
areas. The furniture seems heavy and old, though in excellent
condition, wood and metal mostly, very little plastic. The
entertainment center of the living room is brand new, state-of-art and
looks very expensive. There is also a large couch and several
armchairs, a desk in a corner and a few chairs. In the main bedroom
there is a large bed, a few bookshelves and a wardrobe. The other
bedroom seems to have been converted into some kind of meditation
room, and it is empty, with padded walls that block almost all sound
from outside.

Corvid
Corvid is unmistakably a mutant. Her most striking feature is the
large pair of mechanical-looking wings sprouting from her back. The
wings are large, proportionate to a human, and even when folded they
tower several feet above her back. The feathers are gunmetal grey, and
rusty in several places, though the wings themselves make very little
noise. A few places gleam brightly on the wings' surface: the edges of
the feathers, and places near the joints where friction polishes the
metal. Her body looks small in comparison to the metal monstrosity
growing from her back, but her form is human, for the most part. Her
hair is cut militarily short and shock white.
Her face is that of a young Caucasian woman, with high cheekbones and
full lips, and a straight nose. Set above that are two unnaturally
large eyes, deep sapphire in color and which can be seen to glow
softly in dim light. Also visible on the sides of her face are a few
metal plates which follow her hair and jawline, almost like scales,
and end at the nape of her neck and under her chin. When she smiles,
two small silver fangs are visible against otherwise ordinary white teeth.
She stands about six-foot-even without the added height of the wings.
Her frame is stretched tight on her bones, lean with muscle. She's
wearing a leather vest that buttons up the front and has been slashed
up the back and customized with small metal plates to protect it from
the vicious rubbing of her wings. Below that, a normal pair of
bluejeans rides on her hips, occasionally graced with a gunbelt of all
things, but only when she's feeling wary of combat. No shoes are
visible; it's warm right now and taloned feet with iron soles have
little to fear even from New York Pavement.

Adam
         He is a tall man, a few inches over six feet, with an athletic
and powerful build that most men only achieve through diligent
practice of sports or many hours in the gym. He has sharp, angular
features, and golden blonde hair, cut short in a modern style. The
man's eyes are a very pale blue, looking almost white at times. High
cheekbones, a straight nose and arched eyebrows, hint perhaps of some
Slavic ancestors. But his skin is dark, an unusual bronze-gold that
suggest instead more strange ascendancy. When he moves, he does so
with surprising grace for a man of his size, a precision that seems,
feels, almost inhuman.
         He is wearing dark today, all black, actually. The clothes are
of the sturdy kind, denim pants on the legs and a thick
kevlar-reinforced shirt on the torso, which covers his arms to the
wrists. Black leather gloves cover his hands and hiking boots his
feet. A weird aura of alieness seems to surround him like a shroud,
easy to notice for all humans except the most insensitive, causing
most normal creatures to feel uncomfortable around him.

When Adam invited Corvid to stay in his apartment, he thought the
iron-winged woman would stay for just a few days, then moving back to
the old Pack's Firehouse, or perhaps back to Massachusetts. He is
surprised the mutant woman has stayed for so long, but not displeased,
the half-alien enjoys the company of his friends. And it is not as if
he stays in the apartment for long, he travels often, and returning
the same day is no longer a possibility. So it is normal for Corvid to
have the apartment for herself, often for days, and unless it is
raining, the skylight is always open for her.

As a matter of fact, Adam has basically moved to the warehouse space
under the apartment. In the year Corvid was absent he cleaned a large
space and has set up something akin to a laboratory, or workshop. He
has a few rebuilt computers arrayed in a network, a large marble table
for drawing... stuff. It is a little odd, but then again, so is Adam.
He rarely takes notes, and most of the time he just sits by the table
and reads, and listens to music, often several soundtracks at once.

Not so in the past couple days, however. He has been working in some
device, fusing metal and plastic with a small blowtorch and drawing
diagrams on the floor and the table with chalk and ink. And when
Corvid returns, late in the night, she can see, and smell, and feel,
that something has changed. It is cold in the warehouse, a cold that
can be felt even as she glides close. Cold enough to make the breath
visible. And is dark, way too dark. In the middle of Manhattan it is
never so dark, yet once near the roof of the warehouse the lights of
New York seem very dim, and the sky is full of all those stars that
are always invisible from a large city.

Corvid has large nocturnal predator eyes, and even still it is dark to
her. Dark enough that she stubs a glass-taloned toe and curses
slightly, then closes her eyes long enough to let her pupils enlarge
to gather what little light there is. Unconsciously, her hands raise
to her arms and gently rub them, the cold piercing immediately through
her multiple T-Shirts. New York isn't exactly balmy in the fall, but
it's not this cold yet- and definitely not inside here, it shouldn't
be this cold. "Adam?" She queries softly, padding out to the catwalk
above the warehouse floor, wings banging occasionally on bits of metal
that her eyes can only poorly perceive. She's wary, suspicious, a bit
worried. Her claws flex in and out of her fingertips against the metal
scales on her arms, making small holes in the long sleeves of one of
her shirts.

"Yes, I am here," replies someone from the darkness. It is probably
Adam, but the voice sounds muffled. "Don't move, let me try something.
Silence... or it is, maybe the sound of someone moving very, very far
away, at the edge of Corvid's usually sharp senses. Then there is a
flicker of light, like a candle, dimly lightening the warehouse floor.
It might take Corvid a few seconds to realize it is not a candle but a
flare, held high by a rather tall person, and that the light should be
blinding, but it isn't. "Can you see me now?" Again the muffled voice.

"Only a little bit." Corvid answers cautiously, raising her voice
perhaps too loudly to try and counteract the muffling the she can feel
within the room, sounds not loud enough to her ears. She raises a foot
and braces it on the railing of the catwalk, then pushes up and brings
herself over, dropping down with a clanking noise that she feels more
in her feet than hears as she should. "Adam, what happened?" She's
still worried, a bit, and maybe a little scared. This is officially Weird.

The coldness and the darkness seem deeper closer to the corner of the
warehouse, just where Adam stands. The light moves, dims a bit more,
but manages to weakly hint the contours of an arched gateway built of
metal and wire, maybe seven or eight feet tall, and five foot broad at
floor level. And definitively there is something wrong with the arch,
as if geometry was skewed around the edges, it hurts the eyes too lock
for too long, even in the dark. "It is a semi-successful experiment, a
first attempt to open a gateway to other world. However, I am afraid,
I missed my mark for quite a... hmm, I have to come up with some units
to measure the hyper-spatial relationships, for quite a bit, I suppose."

Corvid tries her best to study the outlines of what Adam is standing
near, not because of any occult fascination, but because of her
predator habits- always know your environment. The problem of course
is that what she is looking at is not meant to be seen by human eyes,
and she struggles to map it visually, eventually giving up, looking
towards the floor, eyes watering a bit. "Adam..." She breathes, the
sound not carrying far. "What the hell did you do? Is that thing still
open? Is that what this black is?" She starts walking slowly towards
the gateway then, feeling her way across the warehouse floor.

"It is a mathematical construct," explains Adam, "I don't think you
have the schooling needed to understand it." Most people would call it
magic, of course. "And it is not actually open, not in the physical
sense, to open the gateway outright the first time would have been
foolish. And considering the place it opened, potentially
catastrophic. This darkness is just an emanation from the other side,
a sensorial mirage if you will. My own senses where deceived in a
variety of interesting ways at first too, it took me a few minutes to
adapt."

"Probably not Adam, though I was in school to be an architect once. I
don't think /anybody/ has enough school for that one though." Corvid
frowns a bit and steps a bit further forward, though carefully. The
cold makes her teeth chatter, something she puts a stop to immediately
once she realizes it is happening. "Can you...turn it off? Or
something? It's kinda freaky." She swallows and stares at the flare
once more- it should have completely ruined her nightvision and left
spots dancing in her eyes, but it didn't. Totally shaking up her view
of the world.

Adam nods, "yes, I can easily 'turn it off', I was curious to see how
long would it remain working. So far the mirage has been decaying a
one percent every eight minutes, although it is too soon to take
reliable statistic. However..." he steps left, towards the table, and
shuffles something standing there. "It should be faster now," and it
is, light is visibly returning. Adam reaches for the flare,
extinguishing it with a hand. It does not matter, though, because
there are working lights in that corner of the warehouse, and they are
quickly becoming visible.

Corvid continues rubbing at her arms with a mutter as light and heat
slowly start returning to the area. "If what you got there was...a
reflection of another place- that's... how was it able to be cold? The
heat in here had to be going /somewhere/." She frowns, furrows her
brows. "That's freaky. What was that place and what were you aiming
for?" She's just full of questions. And worry. And such. Corvid moves
closer now that she is assured the thing is turning 'off'.

"It wasn't cold, the temperature was, and still is, an even 24 degrees
Celsius." Adam points to the thermometer on the wall, then looks at
Corvid, his eyes narrowing. "You have lost heat, however... that is
quite unexpected. Although, perhaps there was an entropic effect. I
will have to take that element in consideration when I review the
experiment." For now, however, he puts a cup of water in the microwave
oven. "I don't think I will ever target this place again. I was aiming
for the Dreamlands, of course." Light is almost back to normal,
although some deep shadows seem to be stubbornly clinging to the
corners or the room.

Corvid watches those shadows with a bit of suspicion as if expecting
them to go from stubborn to surly at any moment. "I don't see the
distinction between the temperature being cold and it being cold."
Corvid murmurs back with a wrinkle of her nose. "I lose heat easily,
it's a downside to being covered with iron. On the upside, I'm also
easy to electrocute. Wait, that's not an upside at all." At least
she's got a bit of humor about this and her own situation. "But...er.
The Dreamlands are... are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, people
enter there as Sleepers, and they're not welcome everywhere, but
killing them just sends them back. If you open a portal..."

Adam nods, "it is a place close to Earth. There are physical portals
already, or there were in the not too remote past. The texts are
unclear, as always." Annoying crazy writers, really. "I am curious
about the place, and if I manage to open a gateway you could come and
go at will." The microwave beeps, and he picks up the cup, adds a
spoon, puts a teabag in the water, and offers the drink to Corvid,
"careful, it is almost boiling." And he has sugar packets in a drawer,
too, he gives the young woman a couple.

"Close to Earth I...suppose. Yes. But it is not Earth. And there are
things there kept in check by...a balance there that would not be so
easy to balance here." Corvid says dubiously, though inwardly she has
undeniable curiousity about the possibility. "Though I suppose there
are also positives there. And moving from place to place through the
Dreamlands could be...helpful." She takes the tea and holds it gently,
stirring it and some of the sugar in. One of the sugar packets she
just eats directly, a bit strange until one remembers her calorie
requirements each day. "I actually came by to tell you I was going to
be absent a few days, there's some trouble at Eve's."

"A balance? Perhaps we should talk about that soon," after all Corvid
has been somewhat reluctant to talk about her life in the Dreamlands,
and Adam has been polite enough not to ask. "Trouble, hmm? Will you be
staying in the cathedral?" He sits down on a chair, close to the
marble table, and invites Corvid to sit down too, gesturing with a
hand to another nearby chair.

Corvid rejects the chair, though not out of resentment- it isn't quite
shaped in a way that she can use it without scraping it up with her
wings. Instead, she sinks into a crouch on the floor, wingtips
balancing her fromt a behind, a posture that is completely comfortable
to the steelwing. "Yes, a balance." Corvid doesn't seem inclined to
elaborate from there. "But yeah, real nasty bar brawl started up just
before closing tonight... and Eve said she talked to some Shinobi
fella who paid her a lot of money to hide him a while, and suspects
that others may come after him even though he's gone. So she asked me
to stick around a bit." Here Corvid looks doubtful again, as though
Adam may now be in need of greater supervision.

Adam nods thoughtfully, "I see. I hope it is nothing serious, Eve can
be needlessly paranoid some times," and that is some understatement,
but then again, Adam believes paranoia to be a healthy trait. He types
a few commands on the computer at his right, glancing briefly to the
screen. "I should have given you this before," he says, leaning
forward to hand the winged woman a small cellphone. "Please, call me
if you need help, or just want to talk."

Corvid blinks away from blowing steam from her tea as Adam offers her
the cellphone. She blinks at it again and then slowly reaches out a
hand to take it, stashing it away swiftly in one of her many pockets.
"I... thanks." She finally responds. "I'll keep it close." If nothing
else, tabs on Adam are good too. "Eve can be fairly paranoid, but I
think I see what she's getting at. I mean, just as she was explaining
that she needed me around a bit, the brawl started. And one of the
waitresses ran off right, right, right before- like we saw her exit
the room, and then people started getting surly right after. We didn't
make anything of it at the time, but as we were sorting stuff out and
doing a headcount..." Corvid shrugs helplessly. "So yeah. I think
something's up. I think you should be careful with your new toy, also."

Adam nods, looking at the half-built gate. Still a long, long way to
be anything like the one at Rutland, but he is quite sure it is
working on the same mechanics. "I am careful, and it will be a while
before I will be ready to perform another experiment, you don't have
to worry. You be careful too, please." She is the one that leaves all
those bloodstains upstairs, and keeps getting shot and stabbed.

If Corvid knew about what really happened in Rutland, she might be
more worried than she is. "I'll be careful. I always am, it's just a
dangerous business, being an apex predator." She comments this dryly
as she sips her tea, looking very domestic and unpredatory for the
moment at least. Well, if one discounts all the visible natural
weaponry she always has.

"Apex predator, hmm? I thought humans already were at the top of the
food chain," comments Adam, not without a touch of irony. "Perhaps we
need to come up with a safer way for you to channel your aggression,
there must be some that do not involve chasing after armed thugs.
Maybe something more constructive."

Corvid snorts a bit. "To most of them, I don't qualify as human. Ergo,
I can be the apex species." She makes this statement somewhat primly,
and sticks her little finger out as she sips some more of her tea.
"Those armed thugs aren't exactly nice people. I'm improving the
neighborhoods a bit by their absence. But I'm open to suggestions, at
least until my bruises from today heal."

Adam nods, "no real suggestions yet, you should probably go to sleep a
few hours, if you want to return to the Night Garden before dawn.
Although perhaps you should remain here resting all the day." Because
it would be bad thing to be seen flying over Chinatown, so she needs
to come and leave at night. "You do feel the need to prove yourself by
hunting other 'predators', right? Even if those human predators are
actually little better than vermin. This is another subject perhaps we
should talk about soon."

Corvid ponders the idea of sleep a moment, then smiles a bit at her
tea. "Well, I do need to rest some, yeah. I might just go back to
Night Garden and sleep there, but here is more comfortable really."
Since there's a bed and less noise and all that. "But...well, I mean,
I just need something to do, really, and that's reasonably
constructive. I have no job skills, I can barely remember how to use a
computer, and I still have to struggle with habits of a totally
different culture. It seems like I was in the Dreamlands forever. It's
really hard to believe it was only two years."

"Excelsior might be able to help you, it is one of their intended
goals to find employment for mutants," although Adam suspects they are
going to have some problems in Corvid's case, the winged woman doesn't
even officially exists. "And maybe you will be able to return soon,"
he adds, looking up to the unfinished gateway. "I have to admit I am
quite interested in that place, for what I have been able to gleam, it
is a fascinating land. Not that Earth is not often fascinating too,
but I have already extensively explored our world, I am almost eager
to see another."

Corvid bites her lip a little bit, then sips some more tea. "The Dark
Lady would probably not welcome me back with guests." She finally
states quietly to the mention of the gateway. "I do not know. But
Excelsior might be able to occupy some of my time perhaps. I mean... I
don't know, the only organization that does anything close to what I
do is the Brotherhood, and I'm not sure I want to go there just yet."
Though she doesn't hate the Brotherhood or anything, just, well,
err... it's complicated.

Adam does have no problem with the Brotherhood either, even if they
seem to have Rogue tied up somewhere and he barely can keep tabs with
the girl anymore. "They would, at least, help you in what regards your
mutant abilities, and perhaps would have some psychological advice
too. I know they have a safehouse or two in New York, although they
keep changing the locations and right now I don't know where are
they." As for the mention to the 'Dark Lady', "is that Dark Lady one
of the national rulers of the Dreamlands or something else? For what I
know that other world is hardly unified, actually social and
technologically it could be underdeveloped compared to Earth."

"Yes, she's one of the local rulers there. My memory suggests a fairly
prominent one but-- well, my memory is not always trustworthy. She
earned my loyalty while I was there." Corvid sighs just a little bit,
longing for a lost home or something. "And yes, it is...different.
Magic works more... easily there, I know you don't call that kind of
thing magic, but more people know it. And there are monsters.
Everywhere. One of my tasks was killing those that menaced the Lady's
people. Gunpowder wouldn't be an unwelcome addition to the local
economy, though I wonder if it'd even work properly. Who's the current
contact for the Brotherhood that you know?" She shifts subject very
abruptly, without seeming to notice.

Very well, change of subject. Adam considers his reply for a few
seconds, then, "I don't know. I knew a few members of the
organization, but they have left the city. I might be able to contact
with one of them using e-mal, but I doubt she will give me a name,
e-mail is not a safe communication channel. I'd suggest you to talk
with the Pack's former members still in New York, I am sure one of
them will know."

"That's probably true. Jono might know. He might resent knowing, but
he might know. He never did like the Brotherhood much." Corvid gives
another little shrug and finishes her tea, setting the empty cup down
on a table next to her. She stretches her shoulders a bit, twisting
her arms up behind her head and gives a tired sort of sigh. "I'm not
very good at e-mail these days anyway."

But Adam is quite proficient. He uses the Internet for communicating
with a wide network of contacts he is seldom able to visit in person
anymore. The half-alien knows the limitations of the networks, though,
and the lack of security is a key issue. "Yes, ask Jono, if he does
not know, he doubtlessly will know someone who knows." He notices how
tired Corvid is feeling, too, "but for now, please, try to sleep. I
will stay here for a few more hours, to make sure the mirage effect
has vanished completely." And also to make sure nothing comes prying
from some inter-dimensional netherplace, of course. But there is no
need to give Corvid a reason to stay awake, so lets not mention that part.

Corvid straightens a bit, then rolls up onto her feet in a smooth and
fluid motion. "I'll sleep then. I know you don't, you lucky bastard."
She mutters at him a bit affectionately. "I'll be at Eve's, obviously,
and I'll try to keep this thing on and charged--" she taps the
cellphone in her pocket "But otherwise, calling the bar itself isnt' a
bad way to reach me. Human at least notices when I am and am not
around and when I say I'll be back." She still doesn't remember the
guy's real name, tsk. "Be safe Adam. Don't let any lurking horrors
into the world while I'm asleep."

Adam smirks faintly, "I will ask them to wait until you wake up, at
least." He stands up too, "sleep well, Corvid." Yes, he sleeps very
little, and never dreams, which means he will be busy here all the
rest of the night, and probably for a few more days, meditating in the
significance of the night events, and trying to understand what he
really, really, should leave well alone.

Title: The Night Garden, Family Fun for Everyone!
Who: Corvid, Eve, and NPC's: a bunch of rowdy drunks
(kindly emitted by Hypnos and Ithaqua)
When: Sunday night, Oct 3
What: Eve talks to Corvid about stepping up security
at the bar, then all hell breaks loose (look for
obligatory Dan the Antlerman cameo).
Where:


Manhattan -- Hell's Kitchen: South -- Abandoned
Cathedral(#1653RJLh)

	 With ceilings nearly one hundred feet upwards formed
of stone arches and supports, this gothic former
cathedral is structurally beautiful. Large windows
line either side of the former nave - daylight
partially blocked by multitudes of plants grown up and
across the windows. One immense, eighty-foot,
stain-glass window fills much of the western wall at
the rear of the building. A set of stairs leading up
the gigantic spire has been roped off from public
access.
	  Now the building has been turned over to its new use
as a bar and restaurant, it bears little of the
austerity of its former use. Under the stained-glass
window, a bar runs the width of the building serving
various liquors and beers. You can order food too,
prepared in the kitchens in the former vestry. Pews
have been put to good use, providing seating - some
arranged around tables to allow the patrons to eat,
others just set apart where people can sit and drink.
There are also a couple of battered looking pool
tables, a juke box and many more plants, making the
area look like a blend of sports bar and greenhouse.
Hidden amongst them is a battered TV, usually showing
sports. The patrons tend to be a fairly mixed crowd -
mostly mutants, but some humans, although they tend to
be regulars. Casual drinkers tend to be put off by the
faintly antagonistic atmosphere.


Work, work, work. Corvid is technically a bouncer, but
leaving the bar less than pristine tends to arouse the
ire of the irascible owner and Human is pretty heavily
loaded with everything he has to do. So Corvid's
mopping. It's getting on in the evening, though not
closing time or even last call yet. There are a few
patrons still sipping whatever suits their particular
fancy, occasionally scratching scaled chins or
belching a bit of flame. The bartender isn't too
heavily burdened at present at the least. Meanwhile,
Corvid, Raptor of the Dark Lady and Scourge of the
Sleepers in her Kingdom, is mopping. Slish, slish,
slosh. She drops the mop into the bucket again after a
few more swipes along the floor, carefully lifting her
wings a bit to keep them from getting wet- rain is bad
enough for rust, really, and she's lost her supply of
ready groomers during that whole death-and-life
interlude. Really, it helps pass the time as much as
standing around looking scary, and makes the eventual
closing a bit quicker.

A loud crash is heard from the kitchen seconds before
Eve bursts through the kitchen doors, yelling over her
shoulder, "Fine! Cook it that way! We'll see how many
customers will order your 'plain' scrambled eggs!" An
intelligible (though probably rude) reply comes from
the interior of the kitchen, but Eve's attention is
already elsewhere. She spies Corvid in the middle of
the floor and calls out, "Corvid! Forget the mopping
for now, I need to talk you .." and waves her over to
the nearest unoccupied table.

"Yessah, massah." Corvid mumbles back, pausing
mid-mop-dropping to parse where that particular phrase
emerged from in the unsteady sea of her memory. She
stands a moment, hand resting on the handle of the
mop, staring. Then, hopefully just before Eve reaches
the yelling point again, she shakes herself and
releases it, letting it clack against the bar, and
heads over towards the table Eve has selected. She
rotates a chair around to face the other way so that
her wings don't destroy the back and settles across
it, leaning forward on her forearms.
Ithaqua has arrived.

One of the servers tonight is Tabby (born Celeste),
who's not a regular employee here but is part of Eve's
policy to let mutants pay off for meals they can't
afford by working. So, she's been serving most of the
night. She's a cat-like mutant, to the extent that she
has a tail (currently hidden behind a long skirt,
which is twitching anxiously), cat-eyes and whiskers
on her face. She wanders from table to table taking
more orders.

Eve is already settled at the other chair, and seems
to have not heard Corvid's quip. She pays no attention
to Tabby as the cat-girl passes them. She waits for
Corvid to settle down, and makes sure there's no one
in the table behind her before pulling out a
newsclipping from her pocket and showing it to Corvid.
"I'm not sure if you know this, but you and that kid
were not the only ones who've used this place as a
safehouse." Clearing her throat a little, she
continues, "there's a fella, called Shinobi, paid me 3
grand to hide out here for 3 days. He gave this whole
bullshit story about robots and shit. I didn't believe
him, only I saw this the other day," she pauses to nod
at the newspaper clipping, "and I'm guessing, whoever
or whatever was after Shinobi, might probably show up
here."

Monarch sits at one of the large tables surrounded by
4 other patrons. Obviously he is the belle of the ball
as he flits from conversation to conversation with
seemingless effort. Beside him to the right sits an
attractive woman. She is completely hairless. An aura
of soft white light radiates from her skin, giving her
the appearance of human light bulb. Next to her is
rather short well muscled man with an inhumanly thick
neck and monsterously broad chest. When he speaks, his
voice is an impossibly rumbling bass tone. The other
two at the table are a seemingly normal looking man
and woman. From their similar features, they appear to
be twins. Nothing obvious seems strange about them
except that they seem to be very closely seated
together. Impossibly close that is. Too close for two
seperate people to sit by side unless one was sitting
on the other. That and the fact that they are covered
by what looks like a really large cloak. Only their
opposite limbs are visible from underneath the swash
of fabric. The group is having a very lively
conversation. Their table is covered with plates and
glaces. One of the twins signals to Tabby for another
round of drinks.

Corvid settles onto the chair and gets herself
comfortable, then listens. Glances down at the news
clipping as it is proferred. "But this is about the
Ultimates- I mean, it's a terrorist thing, you think
it's connected to this Shinobi guy?" She doesn't sound
disbelieving, just uncertain. "But seriously, robots?"
Zombies, she can believe. Because, well... .because!
But robots? Might as well fear an invasion by pirates.
She looks around the room a bit as she says that, not
just examining for listeners, but because being aware
is part of her job.

Eve sits back and gives a shrug, "whether he's
involved or not is besides the point. If he's
bullshitting with the story, he's not bullshitting me
with his fear or money. Whatever freaked him out must
be big enough and strong enough to take him on. And
I'm guessing he's no poor freak on the streets since
money seems to be no object to him..." She pauses to
pull a cig out from her pocket and lights it, taking a
deep drag and letting the smoke out slowly,
thoughtfully, before continuing, "Something's going
on. I've had to help three freaks so far, including
you, and I have a feeling that this is just the
beginning. Freaks will probably continue to use this
place as a safehouse, and I'll be damned if I'm going
to let this place go in the way of the Pack's Den."
Pause. Take a drag. Let it out. "You're pretty much
one of the regular staff by now, and I want to step up
security. Well, as much as I can."

Tabby gives the standard 'I saw you' nod that
waitstaff seem to inevitably seem to pick up, then
ducks down behind the bar to fill a pitcher. She puts
it on a platter and then moves into the back. When she
returns, about 30 seconds later, her platter has a
plate of nachos on it and an unopened can of cola. She
sets the nachos and cola down at the table behind
Monarch and his pals, where a lady with a beak,
sitting with the fire-burper digs into them. Ah,
Eve's, where cat people, bird people, butterfly
people, moose people, and more can all get along and
share beer and/or nachos. Next Tabby moves to
Monarch's table, her dress wiggling anxiously. She
puts the pitcher down and bites her lip. "Now, you
guys go easy on the drinks..." she says. She stands up
straight and backs away towards the back. She puts the
tray on the nearest bar and tells Human, "I'll be
right back, I gotta pee." And with that, she's out the
door to the back.

Corvid observes the tail end (pun intended) of Tabby's
path around the room out of the corner of her broad
vision. She nods a bit to Eve's words and shuffles a
bit nervously in her seat. "Suppose...well, stepping
up security isn't an unreasonable measure. And
well...you don't have a Kelly here like the Den did."
Erroneously, she refers to the later Diaspora rather
than the explosion. "Uhm. But...well, I guess I could
sleep here for a bit, until things calm down or don't,
or whatever." She makes the offer a bit grudgingly,
but she does make it. "But I'd need to put down a
sleeping pad in the stockroom, it's not really
comfortable otherwise."

Monarch and his pals continue the typical innane
patter that a weekend trip to the local bar brings out
from a group of friends. Not paying any attention to
anyone but themselves, they continue to pass the
drinks and grub. Just another night at Eve's.

Eve is too focused on the conversation with Corvid to
observe anything else, not Tabby, or Monarch, or even
Antlerman (who probably will walk in any minute now).
She gives a sharp nod in return, "staying here
overnight is a good first step. Don't worry about
bedding down in the stockroom. I'll clear out one of
the rooms upstairs and you can stay there for now. My
only problem is that I'm not sure if I can pay you at
all for overtime, except offer free food and free
board." She ashes the cig on the newly mopped floor
without thinking twice about it, then adds, "This
place probably needs more than one bouncer, for the
next few weeks at least, until the freaks out there
settle down. If you have anyone in mind I can hire,
let me know."

"Free board with me is probably payment enough."
Corvid murmurs back, since she does eat like a shrew,
as evidenced by the damage she inflicts nightly on the
peanut trays. Of course, she sweeps up her own shells
and such. "I don't know of anybody offhand, right away
like...maybe that Dante kid, but he is just a kid
and...well, connected to some other folks, though I
couldn't get out of him just who. Maybe a gang. I'm a
bit unconnected to the mutant world right now, which
is really for the best. But anyway. I'll stay here for
a while." Her claws scratch a bit at the floor, idly.

Tabby isn't going to the bathroom. Once she's in the
back-room, she's very quickly heading for the nearest
exit, and getting as far as she can from the Night
Garden. Waiter jobs have been known to have high
turnover, but her exit is much less to do with stress
at annoying customers as it is to do with the small
amount of Nextacy she dumped into the pitcher of beer
before she delivered it.

The level of chatter and overall bulsterousness
continues to rise at Monarch's table as food and drink
flow freely amongst the friends. To say that the
conversation and activity coming from that table is
'lively' has now become a bit of an understatement.
Its begining to seem more like a elementary school
lunch room. Plates and glasses clink and clack and
rattle frantically. The voices are raised and more
energetic. Well...at least someone in this place is
having fun.

Eve nods, "Ok, that's good enough. I'll ask around for
other freaks who would be interested in being
bouncers. In the meantime, I'm up for having a beer to
close the deal." She bangs on the table a couple of
times with the flat of her palm and yells out at Human
over the din of the crowd, "Human! Prove that God
didn't waste His time on you and get me a couple of
beers!" She's not sure if Human heard her over the
din, it doesn't look like he did. She throws an
annoyed look over at Monarchs table, and mutters to
Corvid, "keep on eye on them, would you. Last thing I
need is another brawl in this place."

Corvid runs a hand gently through her hair as Eve
shouts curses at Human, a regular part of the evening
without which her day would not be complete. The
increase in volume at Monarch's table gets a glance,
then another as she nods to Eve again, leaning on one
elbow now so that she can keep them in her vision at
all times. It's way too late in the evening for this
much rowdy, isn't it? Or at least, the raptor feels
so; it shows in the brooding disapproval in her
expression.

FireEater and Beakgirl are just enjoying nachos and
what might be the precursor to an eventual date if
both got drunk enough, but the loudness from the table
in front of them is getting annoying. Beakgirl doesn't
say anything, just looks down and nibbles at a nacho.
Finally FireEater speaks up and says, politely enough,
"Hey, guys, y'mind lowering the noise a bit?"

Thickneck turns angril towards FireEater and Beakgirl.
"Shut yer pie hole, punk!" He bellows loudly and his
voice reverbatates, causing the china to rattle. His
friends angrily chime in.

Eve scowls. "Damn. I was hoping for a quiet night,
tonight." She gets up from the table and makes her way
towards Thickneck's table. As soon as she reaches
them, she just stands there, glaring at them, arms
crossed over her chest, cig (almost completely gone
out) hanging out the side of her mouth.

Oh dear. That seems to be a cue for the dead bird
mutant...sorry, formerly deceased ferrous avianoid
homo sapiens superior... to stand. Corvid does stand,
rising to her feet and her full (not incredibly
impressive) height, flexing her wings a bit. Eve's
glare couple with her own is usually a good measure
for calming a lot of the rowdies, given her own very
visible sharps, and Eve's tendency to be trapped with
poison needles.
FireEater puts a hand to her face and shakes her head.
"Look, there's no need to get offensive, guys, we all
wanna just want to have fun and relax here..."

Suddenly the scene turns into a really bad John Woo
movie as unexpected and obscenely gratuitous violence
bursts out. The glowing woman, known as Strobe,
clammers over the pew with a feral screech as she
grabs at Beakgirl, hitting and scratching. Monarch
slips out of his seat with an sudden flutter of his
wings. Still midair, he punches and kicks at Eve. The
"Twins" move with amazing speed and agility and they
leap at Corvid. The thickneck guy, called Bullhorn,
flips the table over and leads out a bone rattling
sonic bellow that indead sounds like a incrediblely
loud bullhorn indeed. The violence they exhibit is
irrational and almost inhuman. Sure they are mutants
but this is just crazy.

"Shi-" is all Eve manages to let out before she gets a
punch in the face and kick in the abdomen. She's not
strong, and can never take on a grown man, much less
take one on when she's not prepared for a fight. Eve
goes down like a sack of potatoes. Human, seeing the
commotion, grabs a bat that he keeps behind the bar
and calls something out to the kitchen before running
over to help Eve and Corvid.

Twins? Sort of twins anyway. That's all that Corvid
has time to evaluate before she's a-fighting. She
doesn't go easy on the claws either, at least the
finger ones, trying to scratch more than hit, seeking
to scare or intimidate with a few shallow cuts before
she gets the wings or other weaponry involved. Of
course, part of this process gets her hit back a...few
times, multiple limbs moving with unexpected
independent control while her eardrums threaten to
mutiny and quit if that noise doesn't let up. Nope, no
quiet night tonight.

Beakgirl screams as she's suddenly attacked by Strobe.
She was completely not expecting that and, rather than
fight back is trying to shield her head with her arms.
FireEater tries to defend Beakgirl and tries to pound
at her attack her, and then puffs a small burst of
flame to try and drive her away - not enough to really
hurt anybody yet, especially when Strobe and Beakgirl
are close together. She turns her gaze towards the
stairs, as though half-expecting Antlerman to come
running down the stairs pulling his pants on and
coming to the rescue of Eve, and maybe them all.

Monarch flutters and flitters all over the place,
kicking and punching anyone he can get a blow on. He
throws a few blows Human's way but not in any coherent
manner. He's just a flurry of limbs flailing about
which, given that he's fluttering in the air, makes
him a human windmill of sorts. The Twins get slashed
and cut but don't seem to feel it or care. Their cloak
is turn to shreds, revealing the fact that they indeed
twins...conjoined twins at that. Joined by the left
side, the have an wider torso and seperate pelvis but
are otherwise joined straight down the middle (kinda
sorta). The move with slightly greater than human
speed and more than human strength but probably not
enuff to put a major hurt on Corvid. Their blows are
not too coordinated. Like Monarch then just throw
kicks and punches. Strobe reels back as she is hit
with the flame. With a growl, her eyes glow bright as
she suddenly lets out a burst of brilliant light, like
a flash bulb. Bullhorn joins the fray and throws blows
at Corvid too. He lets loose with another wall shaking
bellow as he enters the fray.

Eve grabs the table closes to her, and uses it to pull
herself off the floor, using the other arm to hold on
to her side, feels like something's broken in there.
She is mad, and from the look of the needles she's
pulling out of her belt and pockets, she is very mad.
She scans the fight for a moment, and is momentarily
blinded by the flashing light, "Dammit!" She waits for
her vision to clear before launching one of her
needles in the air towards Monarch. Her aim isn't that
good, especially considering she's still somewhat bent
over, and her vision isn't completely back to normal
(her third black eye this year), and Monarch is a
moving target. To Human, she yells, "Human! Grab some
needles and stab anything that moves! Just do it!" and
tosses several needles at a table next to him.

Grr. Corvid staggers back, clapping her hands to her
(fairly sensitive, all things considered) ears as the
second bullhorn blast goes off. She growls then,
unable to properly hear it herself, but it's a noise
that should not and really could not escape from a
normal human throat. And she leaps back for the two of
them, toe claws coming forward though she isn't trying
to earnestly rip anyone to shreds. No, now she's
punching like a normal fighting raptor, or something
like that, though she has to occasionally try and use
a wing to block one opponent while aiming blows at the
other, leaving Human to follow Eve's orders. But then,
she can occupy two and a half angry mutants at once
for a few minutes at least.
Once Strobe's let go over her to shine her light
Beakgirl just panicks. Birds don't like bright lights
and sudden loud noises, you know. She starts running
towards the exit farthest from the fight... or trying
to, anyway, she trips a couple times. Meanwhile,
FireEater covers her eyes and continues shooting out
the odd burst of flame, defensively to keep anyone
from getting too close.

Monarch suprising does get hit with a needle or two.
Lucky Eve. Moving target yes, but he happened to move
into the path of her needles and thus she connects
with her target. Strobe lets the Beakgirl flee instead
turning her anger on FireEater. The puffs of flame are
enuff to keep her at bay but not enuff to cause her to
change targets. She grabs what she can (chairs,
plates, etc) and flings them at FireEater. The Twins
gets hit by a few of Corvid's blows, but them are
definitely more resilient than a normal set of twins.
In an obvious display of mutant power, the twins
literally pull apart while at the same time flusing
their hands and forearms together. Thus still
conjoined but at a different physical location. The
Male Twin then begins to swing the Female around as
she kicks and flails like a human nunchuk. Its like
some Jet Li movie on crack and run backwards. And in
German instead of Chinese. Bullhorn turns to tackle
Corvid football style. A very direct attack.

Human looks terrified, and Ron is just bursting out of
the kitchen with a huge cleaver (took him a few
minutes to find one big enough). Human grabs a couple
of needles from the table and just starts stabbing
frantically at whatever limb is closest to him, which
happens to be Strobe. He's not sure if he's able to
hit her or not, but he sure as hell trying without
dragging too much attention to himself. Eve watches
Bullhorn launch himself at Corvid, and decides to
concentrate on the much safer Twins at this point.
Making sure she's out of the windmill zone, Eve kneels
on the ground (it's really nice down here, shouldn't
have tried standing up in the first place) and lets
loose a couple of needles towards Male Twin's groin
area. Hopefully, if they get through, they'll get him
either in the balls or the butt (this should be fun).
Monarch, being hit and hopefully not immune to plant
poison, should drop right about.....now.

Corvid, meanwhile, is being tacklated by a thicknecked
shouting man. Normally she'd expect him to be whipping
out the nightstick and handcuffs right about now, but
as he isn't, she feels free to start punching for his
head as she falls with an audible /clang/, upending a
table as she goes. She grabs a char close at hand and
flings it with a surge of powerful muscles in the
direction of the Twins, then just tries to fend off
Bullhorn, scratching, punching, wriggling, all those
annoying things that wild animals do when you try and
trap them with your soft human flesh. Which is what
she hopes Bullhorn has.

Beakgirl continues to panic and run, making it as far
as the door before realizing that maybe she should do
something to help. Now that she's far enough from
immediate danger she's hesitant, looking back, not
sure what to do. She's not a fighter, and her bones
are a little fragile. FireEater is distracted from
blowing out fire when pieces of chair hit her in the
face. She stumbled backwards and falls on the ground
with a grunt.

Monarch does indeed drop like a ... fly? Oh well, you
get the point. His drop is neither graceful or soft.
That's gonna leave more than a few bruises and break
more than a few things. The Twins fling each other
around like human weapons, smashing and crashing what
they can. Unfortunately they are not tyring to dodge,
so while Eve's needles miss He-Twin, they do get
She-Twin in the leg. They keep swinging but their
moves are slowing. Slow enuff for the chair to knock
Male Twin upside the head. They go down like a ton of
bricks. Strobe gets stabbed but good and in reaction
she lets loose with another flash of light. Bullhorn
isn't as physically menacing as the Twins and thus
gets a good butt whipping from Corvid. She eastily
gets out of his clumbsy grasp.

Eve is blinded again, "Fuck!" She blinks to clear her
vision and finds Human still stabbing the air next to
him with his eyes shut tight. Ron is standing at the
edge of the foray with the cleaver held high, not sure
what to do. He spies Beakgirl and glowers at her. Eve
lets loose a couple of needles Bullhorn's way, not
really trying to aim, just hoping something will hit.
She then focuses on Strobe and flings a needle at her.
Three needles left. Eve glances at them and looks up,
she doesn't want to use them, it'll take her days to
make more, and that's if she manages to retrieve the
ones she's already used. Cadi is no longer in town, so
these needles are pretty precious to her. Time Corvid
earned her keep.

Well, she's out of Bullhorn's grasp, so Corvid surges
to her feet in a herculean rush of motion. Once on her
feet she starts /stomping very hard/ at Bullhorn's
form on the ground, then starts moving after the Twins
to make sure they too are unconscious. Monarch went
down with crunching noises, so that's not such a big
deal- but Strobe...Strobe gets threatened. "If you
flash me..." She warns, yells, growls, whatever- "If
you flash me, I will charge you blind." And her wings
flex with menace at the words.

Beakgirl covers her eyes again as the lights threaten
to start up again. She doesn't even notice Ron's
glare. But hey, what do you expect, not everyone can
be a fighter? Fire-Eater, now that she's not the main
focus of attack anymore, tries to crawl backwards out
of the way as well, although she's not looking to run
away, she's looking for something to throw.

Strobe turns on Corvid with an angry growl that
dissolves into a gurgle as Eve's poison needle does
its work. She crumbles into a heap. Bullhorn gets
stomped but good. No way that he can stop her from
stamping the hell out of him. He is good and down.
Seems like there is nothing left of the fab five.

As things finally start calming down, Dan the
Antlerman appears at the top of the stairs wearing a
vest, shoes, pants that need buttoning, and precious
little else. He looks like he just woke up. He ambles
over to Eve (who's finally managed to stand up
straight), takes a look around, and observes, "Hey
baby, looks like I missed a great party," before he
plants a kiss on Eve's neck. Eve jerks her hand up and
stabs all three needles into his own neck, a look of
pure irritation on her face. Dan's eyes immediately
roll back into his head and he collapses on the floor
next to her.

Once all the combatants seem to be calmed, one way or
another, Corvid pauses over the middle of the
wreckage, talons flexing in and out of her fingertips.
She jerks her head towards Dan the Antlerman as she
wanders in, then relaxes a bit...and then absolutely
boggles as Eve sticks him but good. "I guess I'm glad
I'm just an employee..." She mutters a bit dryly, then
starts gathering up fallen mutants and dragging them
towards the door to the back alley. Beakgirl and
Fire-Eater just get looked at, maybe a bit of
growling, but nothing serious.

Eve marches over (or rather limps over) to Beakgirl
and starts yelling questions at her. Human and Ron
help Corvid clean up and drag bodies to the alley (Ron
being nice enough to pull out the needles and keep
them safe for Eve). While this is going one, whoever
is left at the bar is already leaving. Thus ends
another night at Eve's Night Garden. Family fun for
everyone.

-End-

Title: Time to change the guard.

Who: Rwylann, Curtis Smith (NPC), Khai
What: Rwylann gets a face-to-face with the New York Brotherhood's new
pointman.
Where: Brotherhood Safehouse, New York City
When: Tuesday, September 27th, 2005 (evening)
Why? Because someone's been taking too many drama lessons from Emma.


Brotherhood Safehouse -- Meeting Room


         The planning and meeting room of the Brotherhood safehouse is
conveniently placed near the communications room, and actually from
here much of the functions of the other room can be used. The room is
fairly large, but the huge oval table in the middle reduces the space
considerably. There are a dozen comfortable looking armchairs around
the table, and a huge screen dominates the wall behind the head of the
table. Opposite the screen, floor to ceiling, mullioned, windows
dominate the paler slate blue wall; the theme moving through from the
communications room not far away.

         The table itself seems to be made of some short of dark glass,
and although at first glance it seems a single slab, careful
inspection reveals it is actually formed of a score of smaller pieces.
Under the table, but within easy reach of anyone seated close to it,
there are controls that reveal computer terminals, with screens,
keyboards and mouses appearing from sliding panels in the table. On an
elegant console sitting in front of the large window, all of the
preparations for what seems to be the lifeeblood of those who make use
of this room: A large, silver, coffee maker, an electric kettle and
assorted mugs.


Rwylann


      On that cusp between being a teenager and an adult, Rwylann still
shows that she's not quite reached adulthood yet in form. There's
still a softness to her facial-features that belies her younger age.
Her figure, however, is fully matured and well-built as such, at
nearly five and a half feet. With a medium build, she shows the signs
of someone who does partake in exercise regularly, with the outlines
of musculature and a fit, yet curvy frame. Her skin has a healthy,
golden glow to it, showing time spend outdoors. Her hair is kept
short, likely reaching to her chin at its longest, though usually it
is brushed back over her head in a wind-swept look, the color a rich
tone of copper- almost firey in a sense. Her eyes, set to either side
of a small nose, are a deep grey that seem to have a life to them,
other -- stranger -- colors lying in wait beneath the surface.
      Comfortable and relaxed seem to be the air about Rwylann's
clothes. A pair of relaxed-fit jeans fit to Rwylann's hips and then
fall loosely about her legs, their color a rich, unfaded blue. Her
green tshirt is in the babydoll style, attempting to reveal navel from
time to time and pulling a bit at her bust, the logo on it reading
'Ireland' in black a dark green shamrock silhouetted behind the
words.. Combat boots cover her feet -- likely steel-toed -- and are
practically hidden beneath the jeans, which brush the ground as she
walks, causing the hem to be a bit ragged.


Khai


	 Self-assurance, poise, and confidence radiate from this early
middle-aged woman. Her manner is of someone who can find simple
pleasure in simply being awake and alive. She is is tall, only a small
span shy of seven-foot with the trim, muscular figure of a dancer or
warrior. Her rough, dusky skin shows a few small scars, both old and
new, along her face (as well as her arms and torso when visible). Hers
is the strong, handsome look common to those born of mediteranean
heritage and although her features aren't beautiful in any traditional
sense, they have a strength and endurance to them that speaks towards
strength of character. Most notable about her face is a line of
lighter skin that runs parallel to her hairline across her forehead
and down both sides along the jawline, it has the slight burn-scar
look common to tattoo removal.
	 Her clothing, made from sturdy, outdoor enduring materials, has
obviously been tailored to her size and lifestyle while still being of
sufficiently balanced fasion to not stand out in most places. A light
denim jacket, dyed deep midnight blue with gold highlights, is worn
over a fairly plain but body-hugging ivory t-shirt. While the shirt is
flattering to her figure, it is mainly there to keep the shoulder
holster she wears from chafing. Her pants continue the midnight blue
and gold theme, being cut to fit her figure tightly while remaining
flexible enough to allow full range of motion. The legs flare slightly
below the knee to fit around the tops of her black thin-soled leather
sandals. A somewhat worn canvas messenger's bag is carried over her
shoulder bandolier-style.


The Action:


Curtis Smith, aka Stalagmite, acting as the Senior Brotherhood Guy, is
a desk jockey. And as he did five days ago, he has contacted Rwylann
to have her come in for a brief meeting. He didn't say what it was
about, but it wouldn't be too difficult to figure out since at their
last chat, Rwylann 'volunteered' to investigate the appearance and
implications of the drug, Nextacy, and its possible origins.

         This evening, however, Curtis is not seated at the same place
at the briefing table. Instead, he is two seats to the left from the
head chair, and that chair has been replaced with one that's much more
sturdy and comfortable for all that it looks utilitarian. Another
difference, but one that harkens back to past times... the deluxe
coffee maker is back in its customary place in the room, and there are
cups set out for anyone partial to the caffinated nectar to easily
access their vice.


Nothing yet. Dead ends, information that she already knew ("Mutants
react badly", "better than sex to humans") and an ever-growing sense
of nerves. Rwylann, honestly, just wants to be done with the whole
thing. However, her aptitude for being stubborn is perhaps a good
thing for the Brotherhood this time, for she refuses to give up. Even
so, being summoned into the meeting room -- alone, one might add -- is
more than enough to set one's nerves off. Is she not moving fast
enough? Did she make a mistake that she was not aware of? Are they
adding more to her mission? All these questions and more are obvious
across Rwy's concerned features as she steps into the room and closes
the door with a soft click behind her. Gray eyes -- that once upon a
time were a sky blue -- glance to Curtis and she nods to him, but her
brows furrow and she looks somewhat confused at his new seat. As she,
herself, settles slowly into the one near the door, her gaze is drawn
to the chair at the head of the table and she stares at it for a long
while, brain working.


Curtis returns the nod of greeting, and gestures slightly towards the
coffee with a bemused expression, "Coffee?" He's leaning way back in
his chair, but looks like he's not sure about putting his feet up.
"I'm sure it won't be more than a minute or two for things to get
underway." He glances at the raised computer screen at his position,
"We have one more person coming, however. I was told they're an old
face with a new... or was it a new face on an..." He waves it off and
puts his feet up on the chair next to his. Next best thing, right? "In
any case, they should be here soon."


A shake of the head and Rwylann waves a hand slightly, "No thanks."
Like she needs coffee. The chairs being large enough for her slim
frame, she is able to sit back in her chair and pull her feet up onto
it, wrapping her arms around her legs. The elementalist tilts her head
and focuses on Curtis a moment. She is quiet for a time once he has
finished his attempt to explain and her response, with a blank look,
is: "Huh?" Yeah, that about sums that up.


"Yeah, that's been going through a lot of heads today. The call came
in early this morning, 'Time to change the guard.'" Curtis shrugs and
lets out a breath. He opens his mouth again to say something, then
pauses and looks towards the door.

         Just outside the door, an absence of sound or approaching
footsteps is broken by a clear feminine voice, the one-sided nature of
the conversation hinting they're on the phone. The thick door muffles
the words and the speaker's voice, but a few seconds later the door
opens and she strides in, moving straight to the head of the table and
sitting down. A brief moment to key into the computer built into the
table in front of her before looking up with a serious expression...
that lasts maybe two seconds before Khai Silverflame winks at Rwylann.
"Glad you could make it, Rwy."


"Huh," Rwylann offers again, intonation different enough now. She
glances up as the new voice breaks the silence that fell, tilting her
head as she attempts to place it. It has, quite likely, been too long.
Rwy, now perhaps properly deserving the descriptor of young woman,
watches the new arrival make her way to the front of the table, pale
eyes narrowed slightly. Recognition only dawns somewhere between the
wink and the statement and the elementalist's mouth opens in suprise
and she tumbles forward, nearly falling from her chair. Her legs kick
out and catch her against the floor and she ends up in a normal seated
position, palms against the table. Almost all the color is gone from
her features as she stares at the woman more-or-less across from her.
Her voice sounds strained as she manages a single word: "Khai?"


Khai's mouth tips up at the corner at Rwylann's reaction, then she
gives the younger woman a chance to recover some dignity by turning
her attention to Curtis with a businesslike smile. "Sorry I wasn't
able to get in any earlier. My flight up from Pearl Harbor was
delayed." Yes, this is the woman who was uncomfortable living in the
Aerie's upper levels and outright terrified of flying last time
Rwylann saw her. Although... she looks older, and by more than the
couple years that have passed. "But let's get this done quickly, shall
we? I'm jet lagged like mad, and I'm sure you both have things you'd
rather be doing than sitting in here gawking at me." She winks at
Rwylann at the last remark before getting down to business. "Magneto
has asked that I return to active duty status and assume command of
the New York sector for the forseeable future. And for my first
assignment, he has asked me to put resources towards investigating
this drug, Nextacy." She looks from Curtis to Rwylann. "And I
understand that you two have started in on that already?"


Fingers curl inwards against the surface of the table and Rwylann sits
really stiffly for a moment or two. She soon, however, relaxes a bit
and leans back in the chair, so that instead of grasping at the smooth
surface of the conference table, she grasps at the arms of the chair
she is in. She still watches Khai intently all the while the woman
speaks, barely blinking. At the final question, she clears her throat
slightly and nods, "I, ah, have been asking around, but haven't had
much luck." She shrugs a bit helplessly.


Khai nods, "That meshes with the reports I've been getting the last
couple days." She hits a couple keys and her terminal's holoscreen
fades out. "I understand Scuzz has been working more closely with us
lately. I'll look him up and see if he can get us some street-level
contacts on places the drug is sold." She holds her hands out then
folds them in her lap. "Other than that, there's not much more to
cover." She nods to Curtis, "If you could put together a quick records
pack on our current assets, Stalagmite, I'll go over them in the
morning. There's some reshuffling we'll need to do for a project I'll
be setting in motion." Curtis nods, then rises from his chair and
heads out of the room.

         Once Curtis has left, Khai leans back in her chair, gazing
across the table at Rwylann with a growing smile. Then she stands up,
pulls her chair over and sits down next to the young woman. "So...
how've you been?"


"Scuzz," Rwylann offers, trying to be helpful, "doesn't seem to know
anything. I asked already..." She shrugs a bit, as if implying that
she could be wrong. What she does not voice is that she suspects that
he would talk to her easier than the superiors in the Brotherhood. She
relaxes her hands and lowers her head, tugging absently at a loose
thread on her shirt as Khai addresses Curtis. When the woman has moved
closer to her, Rwylann gives a sort of sheepish smile. She curls up
more into her chair again, pulling a leg up to hug to her torso. She
is quiet for a time, just staring at Khai. Finally, a shake of her
head and she glances away. "I've been pretty good, all things
considered. So... uh... I mean... You. What happened?"


Khai shrugs one shoulder and leans back, pulling her left leg up and
wrapping her hands around the knee. "Well, I... suddenly found myself
with a lot of time on my hands." Up close, the different appearance is
easier to pick out. Khai of two years ago looked a bit younger than
Rwylann is now, despite being in her mid-twenties. Now, however, she
looks like she's in her late-thirties. More noticible, however, is the
celtic knotwork tattoo that ringed her face is now gone... and the
look her skin had of being just one step removed from hewn marble is
also gone. Her dusky brown skin and ebon hair /look/ like what you'd
expect from someone of Greek heritage, instead of a statue of that
same person. Also visible at this distance, mainly due to her posture,
is the under-shoulder holster she has strapped on under her
loose-fitting shirt and the hand-cannon that's nestled securely
inside. "It's a very long story, one better suited to a more
comfortable place than here." She winks, "Bug me about it enough and I
might just tell you." Then she takes a long, searching look at
Rwylann, the kind she used to fix on people she was studying, before
nodding once. "You seem like you've weathered the last few years well.
So how's Jono?" The question sounds innocent, but is that a grin she's
trying to keep from showing?


Perhaps as much as Khai studies Rwylann, so Rwylann studies Khai. Each
of these changes is taken in, thoughtfully, categorized. The
elementalist is, after all, an observational person. Even if she does
not always interact, she watches. Storing the information,
remembering... or trying to remember. She lifts a hand from her leg,
running fingers nervously through her hair as her gray eyes drift off
elsewhere in the room, seeking something of interest to focus on.
"Well, ah... Excelsior's been good for him, keeps him busy. I guess
you know he's there, right?" A pause and she clears her throat, "He
has, uhm, been getting out more, too." Mostly in part to Rwy's
insistance, but he has yet to seem to mind.


Khai's threatened grin creeps out a little more as she nods. "I did
hear about Excelsior. It was one of the things I was briefed on in the
last few weeks. It's been crazy getting ready to take the reins up
here." As to the news about Jono, she quirks a skeptical eyebrow and
that grin surfaces a bit more. "Really? I wonder what could get him
out into the sunlight on a regular basis." The grin is out fully now
and she peers at Rwylann, "Or perhaps who?"


As Khai speaks, the color drains from Rwylann's face with each
continuing word. The redhead glances back to the other woman then
finds interest in her hand, studying her nails quite intently. Mmhmm,
that one should be filed. Not that she files her nails, but it could
use it, yep. A long moment and she clears her throat slightly, though
the color has not returned. "Well, ah... He had been looking stressed,
with everything at Excelsior, so I've been... trying to get him out
more." Might as well admit it.


Khai's mean streak has gotten wider while she was away. Her expression
holds steady for a long moment, letting Rwylann stew in her own
juices. Then she sits back and relaxes, becoming more the Old Khai.
"That's good. I'm glad you two are becoming close." And she is, it's
plain in her voice. That much, at least, hasn't changed. "And I was
wondering..." here her expression becomes calculating, and more than a
bit devious. "Do you think you could get him out for a night out? I...
don't want to just show up and suprise him alone, but I don't want to
wait very long before letting him know I'm back." Then she winks, "And
I'm not too proud to admit I want to see the look in his eyes. Your
reaction was priceless."


Her hand rises again, running through her hair and ruffling it a bit.
Definitely a nervous tic. Rwylann is quiet for a while, swallowing.
"Khai... he and I are dating now." The voice she says this in is a
very small one, but she obviously figures it is best to just be out
with the truth, plain and simple. After the request, she nods a bit,
"Probably... We are due to visit Eve's bar. May be the best, if you're
cool with going there. I, ah, dunno really where else we'd go right
now." She glances up to the other woman, thoughtful for a long moment,
before offering in a quiet, unsure voice: "He thinks you're dead.
'Least, he seems to... I don't think his reaction will be... quite the
same as mine."


Khai's smile broadens and she nods, "Yes, Rwylann, I know you and Jono
are together now." How she knows, exactly, she doesn't say. But, then,
she's always had her insight into things. "I think it's a good thing."
She wrinkles her nose at the mention of Eve's bar. "Well... maybe
that's not really the best place for this particular reunion. I've...
heard things about Eve's place." The last bit quiets her for a moment,
and she runs her fingertips over her cheek lightly for a moment before
responding. "I wasn't dead, I was... well, I'm not really sure what
happened. There was a mission, and then... I was somewhere else. I
don't remember how I got there, but I had to stay away for a while."


"You do?" Rwylann looks fairly relieved and smiles slightly. She seems
about to comment further, but leaves off of that particular subject.
She chews at her lip a moment, arms wrapping around her leg again as
she contemplates. "Well, yeah, Eve's might not be best. Uhm... maybe I
could see if he wants to go to a club. He'd probably feel more
comfortable than at some cafe somewhere." She shrugs a little, but
lifts eyes to focus on Khai for a moment, "Somewhere else?" Her voice
speaks of her confusion as much as her expression does.


Khai nods, "I do." She sighs and settles into her seat a bit more. "A
club might work, or maybe you could get him to take you vinyl shopping
and I could tap him on the shoulder and ask his opinion on a Souxie
and the Banshees record?" Yes, she's had some time to think about
this. "Or... and this would be plain cruel, but fun at the same
time... no," she shakes her head, "if he's been thinking I was dead,
having him wake up to me sitting next to his bed might give him a
heart attack."

Rwylann's question about her phrasing causes her to pause before
nodding. "It's not like I was somewhere really strange or anything,
but it took me a while to get myself back on track and make my way
back home." She shrugs, not really wanting to get into detail on
something she's not certain of, herself. "There were just a lot of
complications, and I had to wait them out before I could come home."
Rwylann seems to be with Khai, agreeing to the suggestions, up until
the one about being there by Jono's bed. This causes the redhead to
stiffen slightly. She closes her eyes, however, and takes a deep
breath. As she exhales, so her shoulders relax some and she opens her
eyes again, contemplating Khai. "I can try thinking of something, then
contact you to let you know... Shouldn't be too difficult, I guess."
She nods slowly at the explanation -- if it can be called such -- and
glances away to the side for a moment. "Seems to be a common thing...
sorta," she murmurs, before shaking her head slightly, "Still... It's
really good to see you back."


Khai nods soothingly, noticing the stiffness and thinking of at least
two explanations for that idea being a bad one. "Sounds good. Anything
where he'll be more or less relaxed and... well, one possibility is
that I've been asked to join a blues band I sang with down in New
Orleans who've come up to play at a few clubs. That'll be happening
over the next couple weeks so there's plenty of time to figure this
out." Yes, deciding how best to give Jono a heart-attack, with his ex-
and current girlfriends in on the joke takes time and careful
planning. "Anyway," Khai sits back in her chair again, her voice
suggesting that she's back to business. "Over the next few weeks, I'll
be getting together with everyone who's on this section's 'Active'
list. Overviews, get a feel for their personality, and a run-through
on powers and such. Dossiers don't always have the kind of information
I prefer to have." Then she stands up, inviting Rwylann to do the
same. "I'm not suprised that others have a similar story to mine. If
my memory is correct, it would've made sense to have a large insertion
team... for whatever it is that I can't remember anymore." Then she
shrugs and reaches forward to draw the younger woman into a hug. "It's
good to be back, Rwylann. I'm glad you've been taking care of
yourself, and of Jono." When she stands back up, she smiles and shrugs
out of her jacket, leaving the hand-cannon under her right shoulder
open to plain view. "I should get some sleep. I've got a lot of
busy-work ahead of me the next few weeks. And I'm sure you had plans
for the night other than sitting here in a meeting."


"Blues?" Rwylann echoes, sounding a bit skepitcal. Not her kind of
music and she suspects it is even less Jono's style. And while she
suspects he would go just to see Khai, she cannot let on that the
whole deal is being setup just to be a suprise. Taking a deep breath
in, rolling her shoulders slightly in a shrug. An exhaled breath as
Khai goes back to business, as it were, and the young woman nods along
with it, in agreement. Well, with Khai manning the helm, things may
not be too bad for her. Still hard to decide whether she preferred
being sheltered or being put into the open. Why not just left alone?
Ah, yes, that does not happen anymore. She stands slowly,
disentangling herself from the chair. She is a bit suprised at the
hug, from multiple points of view. The perhaps most base being that
she herself is a bit awkward about physical contact. However, despite
this, she returns it just as warmly. Much easier to hug a person
instead of a statue, too! As the jacket comes off and the gun is
easier seen, there is a brief wrinkle of Rwy's nose. It smooths,
however, and she nods. "Yeah, ah, jetlag is never fun." A slight grin,
"Not many plans, no... But I can spend a bit working on figuring out
what to do about getting Jono out somewhere where you can suprise him."


Khai smiles and ushers Rwylann towards the door, "Then go, relax, just
let me know if you come up with a good idea for letting Jono know,
ok?" She's all relaxed smiles until a moment after the younger woman
is on her way, then she stands at the door a few minutes longer,
looking for the feeling of homecoming she'd been hoping for since
getting off the plane at JFK. Problem being... it wasn't there.

         Not yet, and maybe not for a while to come, either. But that
doesn't change what she's here to do, and while the Khai Silverflame
of fifteen years ago would've spent time wondering about the whats,
wheres, and whys, now she simply heads back inside and taps on Curtis'
office doorframe. "Don't stay up too late getting me those personnel
files, Curtis. I'll be at the BIA site helping with setup if you need
me." She takes a few minutes to wander around the safehouse. No...
still feels empty with the only familiar faces being minor operatives
and such. The faces and voices she'd most like to hear... Ororo,
Marie, Ashleigh, Travis, Clarice, Raven, even Scott. Having none of
them around makes the place feel like a stranger.

Log: "Don't You (Forget About Me)"
Players: Frankie, Rwylann, Scuzz, Joey (NPCed by Frankie)
Location: Brotherhood Safehouse
Date: September 23rd, 2005
Synopsis: Scuzz drops by the Safehouse, as does Rwy at about the
same time.  Both meet Frankie.  Hurtful words are exchanged, in a
bunch of different directions.
Warnings: Coarse Language, Suggestive Content, Shameless In-Jokes

-

Ah...the Safehouse. Nothing like living with a bunch of people
again. Not that Frankie isn't thankful that the Brotherhood
was willing to let her safe on cash for her visit to New York,
but...she's gotten used to her own place. Thankfully, Joey
seems to have gotten fond enough of the place. It's barely
been a week and the young girl has made a friend, and Frankie
hasnt' been able to help but notice the fact that the former
pick-pocket seems a lot more like a normal kid here than she's
ever seen her before. Good thing, right? "Joey! Get your
dishes outta the sink before you go play those games again!"
Frankie's voice rings out through the hallway from the
kitchen, looking annoyed as she takes a sip of the steaming
liquid in her mug before lingering at the doorway.

A few seconds later, a bit belated, a much younger voice is
heard, "Okay, okay! Hold on a sec, Frankie!" Eh. Good enough.
Frankie only pauses at the doorway out of the kitchen another
few seconds, heading down the hallway toward the living room
as she glances around. Hm...Maybe she should go try to find
Scuzz.

Another day another bunch of dead ends. Primarily at
Excelsior, mind. This had a twofold reason: it allowed Rwylann
to be near Jono and because Curtis asked her to ask around
there. Since she spends so much time there anyway, it did not
seem all that much an effort. She just had to be more
outgoing. But, the day is ending and she is returning
"home"... or to what passes as home these days. She steps in
through the door with a lengthy sigh, running her hand through
her hair as she uses the heel of a booted foot to push it
closed behind her. She catches Frankie's voice, head tilting
as brows furrow. "Naaaah," the elementalist murmurs, before
wandering in further away from the door.

Scuzz hasn't been around the safehouse much lately. He has his
times when he just wants to be left alone, when certain people
are annoying him and he just wants to get away, or only drop
in on official stuff. He saw Rwylann ahead of him but didn't
call out to her, just continued going at his own leisurely
pace. Besides, he's perfectly timed this cigarette to be done
with when he reaches the door, and if he tried to catch up
with her it wouldn't have worked out that way. He steps up to
the door from the outside and tosses the butt.

People. Frankie stops, lifting her mug to her lips and sipping
at the contents as she peers at the door, half curiously and
half idly checking to see who's coming in as she sees Rwylann
enter. "Hey, kid." She offers, sounding...particularly not
hostile or aggressive, she even raises her hand up in a bit of
a wave toward Rwylann before smirking a bit. "So y'are here.
Long time no see." Being...nice...?

So it is her. Rwylann's gray eyes track left, right, routing
lines of escape. She tenses up slightly, but lifts her hand to
wave back slowly. "Ah, hey," she responds, voice a bit faint.
She clears her throat slightly and slowly steps further in,
even towards Frankie. "Didn't know you were... around." Keep
cool. Nothing has gone wrong yet, right? She shoves her hands
in her pockets, rocking back on her feet slightly. "Guess I've
been avoiding this place more than I thought." Meaning the
Safehouse, apparantly, for how she looks around.

Scuzz finally finds his key and opens the outer door, and
steps into the safehouse. He nods towards Rwy, but hasn't
spotted Frankie yet.

Frankie can't help but chuckle faintly at Rwylann's response.
She knew the kid wouldn't be particularly thrilled to see
her, so she can't really be surprise. "Not really been
actually all that much since I got back t'the city. Jono jus'
told me that you were stayin' here. An' relax, eh?" She waves
her hand toward Rwylann slightly, "Not gonna go crazy on you
or nothin'. Past's inna past, right?" Her voice trails off a
bit, tilting her head slightly and peering at Scuzz as he
enters, visibly brightening up as she lowers her mug slightly.
"Holy shit, you actually are staying here!"

"You saw Jono?" Rwylann inquires, curiously. "When?" He never
said anything. She still looks vaguely confused, but as Scuzz
nods to her, she grins a bit and waves back. Then her features
become blank briefly as she finds herself in thought. Suddenly
back in gear, she takes a step towards him, "Hey, got a quick
question for ya." Maybe he knows something. Heck, maybe he
knows enough that she can toss off this whole ordeal. Frankie
gets a glance in thought and a slow nod, "Yeah, it is. Just...
stuff, y'know?" She shrugs a bit, sheepishly.

Scuzz hears Frankie's voice before seeing her. He turns in her
direction, and frowns a little. He pauses a moment, squinting,
then says, "Uh, yeah, sometimes."  Then he asks, "I know you
or something?" He looks back to Rwylann quickly. "What do you
wanna know?"

Frankie smirks at that, looking vaguely amused but letting the
two talk about whatever they need to as she leans back against
the wall, tilting her head back as she finishes off the
remaining contents of her mug.

"Her name's Frankie," Rwylann offers by way of a mild
introduction as she reduces the distance between her and Scuzz
to a more conversational range. "Just... Dunno how much you've
heard, but there's this drug out there that's apparantly bad
for mutants and all. Thought maybe you might've heard
/something/." She seems only slightly desperate, at least.
Even still.

Scuzz huhs, not looking back at Frankie but jerking his head
in her direction as he says, "Friend of yours, I guess?" He
doesn't seem in that good a mood, at least not for Scuzz.
"Drug? Bad for mutants?" He rolls his eyes. "Prolly just bunk,
but I ain't heard anything." He doesn't really go into the
clubs where that particular drug is really making its mark.

"He knows who I am. He's just bein' dumb." Frankie smirks
slightly, disappearing for a moment into the kitchen before
making her return and peering at Rwylann a moment. "I can see
if I can find somethin' out for you at all..." Her pale gaze
flickers back toward Scuzz, looking a bit bewildered a moment
before laughing a bit as she steps closer toward the acidic
mutant, raising a hand up without hesitation to muss his
hair. "Quit fuckin' around, Scuzz. C'mon."

"Uhm..." the redhead murmurs, unsure for a moment. "I guess?"
She shrugs helplessly. Frankie, a friend of hers? Who knows.
Rwylann looks a bit crestfallen and no less frustrated at his
response to the question. A heaved sigh, "Ah well, back to the
drawing board." She steps back as Frankie approaches, leaving
her room to mess with Scuzz. "Enh," is the answer at first,
with a shrug. "It's just somethin' the Brotherhood here has me
doing. I'll figure it out eventually." Her hands get shoved
back into her pockets properly.

Scuzz draws back sharply as Frankie attempts to touch him.
Crazy bitca. He also reaches his own hand towards her arm to
keep her from touching him. Not for very long, not enough to
burn seriously but enough to be a bit painful on bare skin.
"Y'obviously don't know me too well, or y'd know better than
to touch me." He snarls a bit. "A while back I was in an
accident. They say I mighta lost bits of my memory." Many
people did. "Maybe you was one of those."

Frankie doesn't seem to flinch at all at the touch, though she
does seem to look a bit stunned at his response, dropping her
hand to her side as she stares at him a moment before
laughing. "Bullshit." Her voice turns a bit impatient, still
standing in front of Scuzz, but now moving a bit to block him
from going further down the hall should he so choose. "C'mon
it's Frankie, Scuzz. What're you playin' at?"

Rwylann rubs at the back of her head a bit, nervously watching
the two. "Uhm," she murmurs, quietly. A pause and she shrugs,
glancing between Frankie and Scuzz. "It seems t'be going
around, from what I figure... Memories not working right."
She blinks a few times, shrugs again and takes another step
back, finding a wall to lean against.

"I ain't playin' at nothing," Scuzz says, anger showing in his
eyes for a moment before he breaks eye contact again and looks
to Rwy. "See? So I dunno. Maybe I knew ya, once. But it's been
about a year since it happened and I ain't never seen you, so
we couldn'ta been that close." He almost growls, "Now get
outta my way."

"Fuck that. You remember her but not me?" Frankie jabs her
thumb back at Rwylann, now looking a bit irritated, and
perhaps somewhat hurt as she stays put. "Rwylann." She keeps
her gaze on Scuzz, not bothering to look back at the younger
girl as she frowns a bit. "Scuzz and Jono still gettin' along
as wonderful as ever?"

"Hey!" Rwylann protests, scowling slightly. It does not go
beyond that, however, as her arms fold over her chest. "Maybe
he remembers me 'cause of the vampires." Yep. They shoulda
teamed up to be the ultimate vampire hunters. Or something.
She blinks a few times, "Scuzz and Jono? Uh, yeah, if getting
along involves wanting to see the other dead or maimed
horribly, sure."

"Rayanne and I mostly know each other from here anyway," Scuzz
says. Though he does remember their prior encounters, they
only became fairly friendlyish once she was with the
Brotherhood a while anyway. "Oh, so you know that idiot too,
huh?  Maybe you should go find him, and spread your legs,
maybe that would get you out of my hair for, well, probably
about 10 seconds or so." He exhales sharply. His anger's
starting to get worked up a little, which means his clothes
are burning a little faster than normal - not enough to be
noticeably shredding, but there's more smoke. "Now you gonna
get out of my way, or am I gonna have to shove you away?"

Frankie just stares there a moment, now looking much like
she's been smacked across the face as she just stares at
Scuzz. "Allow me." She mutters to him, her expression
darkening a bit now, Scuzz would be able to feel the air
around her becoming considerably warmer now as she raises a
hand to rather forcefully push Scuzz out of her own path now,
stepping past him and reaching out to open the door once she's
moved past him. "You're such a fuckin' asshole, Scuzz." Her
voice raises a bit, her own anger raising slightly as she
pulls the door open. "Fuckface." She all but spits before
moving outside.

Even before Scuzz gets his entire sentence out about the
implications of Frankie and Jono, Rwylann begins making a
sound akin to growling in the back of her throat, her brows
furrowing as her eyes narrow. "That /idiot/ is mine, thank
you."  She states, before realizing just what she admitted.
Her features pale just slightly and she cleaars her throat.
The elementalist presses back against the wall a bit more as
Frankie goes to shove Scuzz. Well, that may take the attention
away from her statement. And hey, someone else pissed off
Frankie for one. Amazing.

Scuzz lets himself get pushed aside, not bothering to fight.
Then when she hears what Frankie calls him, he says, "Me?
*I*'m an @$$hole?" But he bites off whatever he was gonna say
after that, just turning his back to her. If he heard Rwy's
comment, he's not commenting on it now, too wrapped up in his
own drama.

There we go. Frankie narrows her eyes at that, turning on her
heel and pushing the door open further as she looks at Scuzz
agrily. The air around her almost seems to shimmer faintly
with heat. Definitely her. Not that hot outside today. "What?"
She snaps, stepping forward and tilting her head. "Sorry I
didn't catch what you wanted to say." Her voice goes straight
on to demanding bitchiness. "Spill it. What's the fuckin'
deal."

Meep. Rwylann actually makes the aforementioned noise quietly
and slinks back towards the kitchen slowly. Well, it is less
a slink and more a shuffle along the wall. The redhead shakes
her head slightly and mutters something to herself, but still
seems to be making a retreat.

Scuzz just shakes his head. "Forget it," he says, seemingly
casually, as though this doesn't mean anything to him, but one
of his hands is clenched into a fist. "Just go do whatever it
is you do. What do I care?" He starts walking slowly towards
the kitchen himself. It was one of the main reasons he came
here, after all, to raid the fridge.

"/Fuck that/." Frankie's voice almost raises up to a yell at
that, stepping forward toward Scuzz and slamming to door
behind her as she growls. "What the FUCK, Scuzz. You try to
pretend you FORGOT about me?! What, are you pissed at me or
somethin'?! Why don't you jus' fuckin tell me that instead of
bein' a fuckin' dipshit and pretendin' you forgot me like
some kinda lame ass retard!" Still following.

Almost to the kitchen. Almost to the- hell, they are coming
this way. Rwylann ducks into the kitchen proper and about goes
around the corner, but pauses as Frankie begins shouting at
Scuzz again. The elementalist looks a bit torn a moment,
before she leans back out and clears her throat, trying to
lift it to be /heard/ while keeping a level tone. "Frankie...
I got back to New York and spent... dunno how long in a daze
'cause I had no idea where I was and sorta who I was for a
little while or how I'd gotten there. Maybe somethin' sorta
similar happened to Scuzz?" She shrugs a bit, looking about
ready to dive under the kitchen table should things get worse.

Scuzz whips around suddenly to face Frankie and says, "Y'know,
maybe you just think too highly of yourself. I got a lot on my
mind, so maybe you just weren't worth remembering." Right,
Scuzz, with a lot on his mind. "Like I said," he growls, "Not
like we were friends."

Frankie tightens her fist at her side, growling faintly as she
steps a bit closer to Scuzz, her eyes darkening as she watches
him closely. Man she looks ready to punch him. "You seem fine
now." She replies to Rwylann, briefly breaking her gaze her
she looks back at Scuzz and narrows her eyes, she seems to
actually hesitate afterwards though, and the air around her
once more calms, and Scuzz would feel a lessening of heat
around her before she steps back slightly while watching Scuzz
closely. "No. We were friends." She says, frowning a bit to
herself before sighing quietly and shaking her head. "Fuck I
didn' need to deal with depressin' shit like this." She
mutters, waving her hand as she turns around and steps back
out of the kitchen. "Later, kid." She says to Rwylann without
looking at her, disappearing into the hallway before the front
door can be heard closing a few seconds afterwards.

"I still don't remember anything from between leaving LA and
finding myself in the middle of New York, stumbling about.
Heck, barely remember that." Rwylann seems to look vaguely
annoyed, but shakes her head a bit and waves absently at
Frankie's back. Once the woman is gone, she looks slowly to
Scuzz, as if unsure how to handle /him/ now. "So, uh...
hungry?" she asks, pointing towards the fridge.

Scuzz exhales sharply, just says, "Weren't that close,
though," quietly, as if to himself, after Frankie's gone. He
shakes his head, trying to clear the anger out a little bit.
"Yeah," he says to Rwylann. He grabs the fridge and pulls it
open roughly.

Rwylann does not seem to be hungry, just trying to get Scuzz
on a different train of thought. She sets herself down at the
table, leaning onto it, arms folded over the surface. "So,
what does that mean? You remembered some friends and not
others?" She looks a bit confused, "Or... does it just matter
/when/ you met them?"

Scuzz just looks over at Rwy a moment, as though a little
angry still and her reminding him of it not helping, then back
into the fridge where he pulls out a package of hotdogs. "It's
like I said. Some people just aren't worth remembering."

Rwylann flinches a bit at the look, as if realizing, too late,
that she likely should not have brought it up. She clears her
throat slightly, nodding a bit, "I... I guess so." She rolls
her shoulders a bit, sitting up briefly to do so. Once
satisfied with the state of her back, she leans forward again.
"Y'coulda tried keeping from pissing her off so much, tho.
Looks like she's staying here too."

Scuzz rips open the hotdog package, grabs a plate, and puts a
few on the plate, then opens the microwave. "Yeah, well, what
do I care?" he asks. "Maybe I'll just stay away. Probably
won't be long before she runs off somewhere else anyway."

Rwylann blinks a few times as she watches and listens to
Scuzz. "Wait," she begins, raising an eyebrow, "you do
remember her, don't you? Even just a little?" A pause and a
shrug, with a brief smirk, "Honestly, if yer pretending to not
know her, I can't blame you."

Scuzz puts the plate in the microwave and nukes the hotdogs
for a minute, so they're all exploded. "Just forget about it
Rayanne," he says, neither confirming nor denying (nor
intentionally making a pun), but one would suspect that if he
really couldn't remember her, he'd just say that. "What you
been up to?"

"Uhhuh," Rwylann mutters, not sounding at all convinced. She
shifts in the chair, lifting a foot for it to perch on the
edge of the seat by the heel, arms wrapping around her knee,
chin resting on arms. A strand of hair falls into one of her
eyes, but she ignores it for now. "Spending time at
Excelsior, potentially putting my life on the line for the
Brotherhood," just a bit of an overstatement, really, "the
usual."

Scuzz huhs. He was more asking out of a desire to change the
subject, rather than actual interest. But when she mentions
Excelsior, he remembers something he heard but was too busy to
comment on. "You really screwing that ass-faced Brit?"

Rwylann blinks a few times in suprise at Scuzz's question. She
does not answer for a time, before shaking her head a bit,
"Uhm, not screwing persay, no." Not yet, anyhow. She clears
her throat a bit, looking to and suddenly interested in the
tabletop. "Just... datin'."

<OOC> You say "A-ha, you admit he's an ass-face! ;)"

Scuzz rolls his eyes and shrugs. "Figured you would have had
better taste," he says. "But then I guess it'd go with your
whole stripper thing. Strippers always wind up with some
<BEEEP> loser." In one of those weird cosmic coincidences, the
microwave beep perfectly synchs up with whatever he was going
to say before 'loser'.

<OOC> Rwylann thhbbt!

"Look," Rwylann states, her voice becoming a bit more firm as
she whips her head around to focus on Scuzz, a frown pulling
at lips. "For one, I ain't a stripper. For two, Jono ain't a
loser." A pause and she takes a breath, likely calming
herself. "And he's a nice guy, got far more charm," ha! "than
you do at times, kay?" She shrugs, "Plus, look, yer grudge
with him ain't my problem."

"Hey, my mistake, you're not a stripper," Scuzz says in
mock-correction. "Just hard to tell what with you burning off
your clothes alla time." He turns to the microwave to get out
his exploded hot dogs. "Look, you wanna go with him, that's
your business, but I'm just letting you know as a friend, he's
an ass." Wow, he actually called Rwy a friend. "Even when I
went out of my way not to call him on his #@!$baggery, he
still wouldn't let his grudge die." He gets the hot dogs out
of the microwave, and yep, they're all exploded. "Besides, you
never know, maybe when his chest blew off it just left him
with a..." and he holds out the ugly, mishappen, ruptured
hotdog in the air and lets it dangle slightly.

"Once. It happened /once/," Rwylann states through gritted
teeth. "And from what I've seen, you can't say much about
powers ruining things, ok?" She glances away again and takes a
deep breath. She glances back and her eyebrow rises at the
comment and show-and-tell session. With that, Rwylann rolls
forward and stands from the chair in one smooth movement, her
entire body stiff with annoyance. "Yeah, and what... you'd be
any better? At least I can /touch/ him!" A pause and a
flippant wave of the hand as she turns for the entrance,
"Plus, he's got plastic fish in his room. All the rage,
y'know."

Scuzz just pffts. He's already used most of his annoyance on
Frankie today, so Rwylann's comments don't actually bother
him that much this time... they may sting a bit, but not
enough that he can't control it. "Whatever. Plastic Fish.
Right. Guess that means he's Fabio then. I was just trying to
help." He does grab a knife and fork and starts cutting up the
hotdogs into little bite-sized bits, and grabs some ketchup
from the fridge.

Rwylann pauses by the door, hand on the frame. She chews at
her lip for a moment, staring at the floor. A shrug of the
shoulders, "Look, I've never had much luck with relationships,
k?" She does not turn back to look at Scuzz, but just stands
there, leaning a bit against the wall. "An' he ain't Fabio,
just... special, k?" She shakes her head a bit, lifting her
other hand to run her fingers through her hair.

"Yeah, he's 'special' all right," Scuzz says, putting in that
word all the mockery he can. "But whatever, go do what you
want. Just don't say I didn't warn you." He's not looking at
Rwy, either, pouring ketchup on the hot dog bites and eating
them up with a fork.

"Whatever," is all Rwylann can muster, pushing herself slowly
away from the door frame with an annoyed -- yet frustrated,
now in a new and different flavour! -- look on her face. She
runs her hand through her hair again, before shoving both into
her pockets and stalking out and deeper into the safehouse.

<-END LOG->

WHAT: Rwylann comes to tell Jono about her undercover mission for the
Brotherhood and gets an unexpected offer. The handling of Eve and Dan
the Antlerman also raises some rather strange mental images.
WHO: Jono and Rwylann

JONO
A tall, fairly slim young man, Jonothon Starsmore has striking,
handsome features and chiselled good looks - up to a point. He's a few
inches over six foot, although he seems to carry himself badly, his
shoulders knotted in defiance against the world. The cause of this
anger? Well, it is apparent that he isn't entirely unflawed, despite
his pop idol good looks, well-formed nose, soft brown eyes and rather
wild auburn hair. From the nose downward his face is wrapped in a
swathe of dark bandages, unusually black rather than the standard
white. Most common assumptions seem to be that he is the victim of
some rather unfortunate burns, suffers from a serious skin rash, or is
some kind of rock or film star attempting to disguise his identity.
Were you to look closely, however, you could see the skin around the
bandages that hide his lower jaw is puckered and scored, as if aged 70
years prematurely.

Jono has discarded his customary leather for today, opting instead for
a dark khaki army shirt, which he has buttoned up high, concealing
most of his injuries. It is fairly faded, like most of Jono's clothes,
from over-washing. he doesn't have a big wardrobe. Printed on the back
of the shirt is a large circle of red, with a star knocked out off the
centre. Beneath this he's wearing a standard pair of faded blue jeans,
banded by a thick black webbing belt, which has a number of chains
looped through it.

RWYLANN
      On that cusp between being a teenager and an adult, Rwylann still
shows that she's not quite reached adulthood yet in form. There's
still a softness to her facial-features that belies her younger age.
Her figure, however, is fully matured and well-built as such, at
nearly five and a half feet. With a medium build, she shows the signs
of someone who does partake in exercise regularly, with the outlines
of musculature and a fit, yet curvy frame. Her skin has a healthy,
golden glow to it, showing time spend outdoors. Her hair is kept
short, likely reaching to her chin at its longest, though usually it
is brushed back over her head in a wind-swept look, the color a rich
tone of copper- almost firey in a sense. Her eyes, set to either side
of a small nose, are a deep grey that seem to have a life to them,
other -- stranger -- colors lying in wait beneath the surface.
      Comfortable and relaxed seem to be the air about Rwylann's
clothes. A pair of relaxed-fit jeans fit to Rwylann's hips and then
fall loosely about her legs, their color a rich, unfaded blue. Her
green tshirt is in the babydoll style, attempting to reveal navel from
time to time and pulling a bit at her bust, the logo on it reading
'Ireland' in black a dark green shamrock silhouetted behind the
words.. Combat boots cover her feet -- likely steel-toed -- and are
practically hidden beneath the jeans, which brush the ground as she
walks, causing the hem to be a bit ragged.

WHERE:

The Firehouse - Garage

      The garage is HUGE! Its rectangular shape is vast enough to hold
three full sized cars and still have room for storage. There is
currently a bike rack with several bikes stored there next to a large
box holding various skates, inline and quads. Most of the walls are
bare but clean. Various posters taken from the Den are placed here and
there. Four large windows allow light to filter in from the left wall
and are barred on the outside with wrought iron. A large collapsible
table and chairs have been set beneath the windows, alongside boxes
and other containers that are stacked neatly along the walls.

The back wall features shelves and a hook board with a myriad of
tools. In the right back corner is a door leading to the Bunk Room. In
the far left hand corner of the room a stout door leads out into the
back yard. Steps in the corner next to the garage door lead down to
the Basement and on the wall near the Lobby door is a button to raise
the garage door. This room is illuminated by several bulbs on the high
ceiling with a soft 60 watt glow. Watching silently is another hidden
security camera with an intercom placed out of sight.

THE ACTION:

This is what she gets for opening her mouth and trying to make
suggestions. Never make suggestions to a superior - they tend to
interpret it as offering to help. Rwylann ought to learn that, but
alas, the mistakes of the past cannot aid the future when you just
made the mistake. However, before she sets out on her "mission", the
elementalist has decided there is someone else she needs to talk to.
For multiple reasons. One being that Jono was there when Skittles
arrived at Excelsior. Two, Jono would probably like to know that she
may be potentially putting herself in danger. Three? Well, quite
frankly, she is a bit scared by what could possibly happen, so the
possibility of comfort is a bonus also. Stepping up to the Firehouse
after a long walk, Rwy tries to see about just letting herself in -
she used to live here, knocking just seems awkward.

The Pack's attitude to security may have been a little lax, and it
seems Excelsior hasn't really tightened up the ship too much. The
codes for the door are still the same, allowing Rwylann into the
building. It wouldn't take much to find Jono. Just follow the noise.
He's in the garage, apparently barely aware of the fumes from the
motorcycle he has in pieces across the floor, but apparently still
intact enough to run. He finally shuts it off after a few minutes,
waggling a spanner at the carcass. "<Right you git,>" he mutters to
himself. "<I'm gonna find out why yer burnin' oil if it kills me.>"
Yup, Jono, never happier than when up to his elbows in motorcycle
parts. And hitting them with a hammer.

There is a glance cast around the Firehouse as Rwylann makes her way
for the garage. She does this each time she is back - sort of a brief
reminisce. She pauses by the doorway into the garage itself and fails
in properly announcing herself, for she is shortly taken by a coughing
fit due to all the fumes. She squints a bit, blinking furiously
towards the Brit. A few steps are taken further inwards, despite her
lungs protesting. Once the engine is turned off, she seems to relax a
bit, but does not breathe much easier. "Might wanna," cough, "air this
place out a bit."

Jono glances upwards at the coughing and blinks slowly, glancing
around at the haze as if noticing it for the first time? "<Huh? Oh.
Right,>' he says, non-commitally and wanders over to prop the yard
door open, allowing the fumes to slowly escape. "<Sorry,>" he says
distractedly, shooting an irritated glance at the bike. "<Kinda forgot
some people still need the use of their lungs.>" He drags his full
attention back to Rwylann. "<Should clear in a minute,>" he says
apologetically. "<I guess killing you wouldn't be a step forward in
this relationship, huh?>"

Waving her arm before her face as she coughs a few more times, "If
anything, I bet my body would go into panic, light up like a torch,
and I'd take the entire place with me." A slightly impish grin is
given towards Jono as Rwylann makes her way across the garage towards
him. "But no, it wouldn't be much of a step foward." She glances
towards the bike, curiousity in her gaze and not an inkling of having
any idea of what she's looking at. "So, uh... having problems with
it?" she inquires, trying to sound as if maybe she is not /entirely/
clueless.

Jono shoots the bike another exasperated look. "<Yeah, soddin'
thing.>" As Rwylann nears him, he naturally reaches out to slip an arm
around her, a casual gesture that seems mildly unusual for Jono. He
tosses the spanner in his hand and then looks towards Rwylann, raising
an eyebrow. "<And no blowing the place up,>" he says dryly. "<Not sure
the Pack can afford the insurance after the... Den... burnt down.>" He
looks pretty sheepish at that.

Even if it is a bit unusual, Rwylann is obviously grateful for it and
leans into Jono's arm perhaps a bit more than she usually would. A
soft snort - perhaps of amusement, or disagreeance. "I don't intend to
go about blowing anything up, Jono. Trust me." She looks up at him and
falls silent a moment, as her face falls and takes on a more serious
expression. "Uh, hey. You remember that girl and the drug problems she
was having?" Rwy goes silent briefly to let this sink in, before
continuing. "Well, I figured with the reaction she had and how it
seems to do that to all mutants I'd best make sure the Brotherhood
knew of it..."

Jono arches an eyebrow, his face remaining impassive. "<Yeah?>" he
asks blankly. "<Guess that makes sense. Excelsior know about it
anyway. I guess they're gonna give all our lot leaflets or somethin'.
Drugs are bad, mmkay?>" He shakes his head and looks mildly irritable.
"<Or somethin' like that. Wouldn't have thought it was rocket science,
but since this bloody stuff if a menace.>" He shuts up a moment and
eyes Rwylann's expression, falling silent. "<Why do I get the feelin'
an 'uhoh' is in order?>"

"I don't think they're so much focusing on the drugs are bad point of
view as finding out why it's out there and who's making it and
stopping it," Rwylann murmurs, wincing a bit and looking away from
Jono. To the bike, yeah, the disassembled piece of machinery is a safe
thing to look at right now. The elementalist swallows and is quiet for
a moment, before she ventures, "And, uh... I guess since I brought the
info, I got volunteered to be one of the ones to start looking into
it. I dunno who else is, just that..." She shrugs, helplessly.

Jono eyes Rwylann carefully a moment. "<What, yer a cop now?>" he
asks, then shakes his head. "<What am I sayin'. Brotherhood. Think
they are the law.>" He loosens his grip on Rwylann's waist
momentarily, looking down at the spanner in his hand thoughtfully.
"<So, what exactly do they expect you to do?>"

"No," Rwylann offers in a defeated and slightly defensive tone. "I
guess they figure I have some information already and I can talk to
people." She sighs a bit and looks back to Jono, trying to catch his
gaze. "Mostly, they want me to talk to people around Excelsior and
other mutants I know, see if anyone knows more about it. That's safe,
right?" A pause and she bites into her lip, before continuing, "Well,
I kinda, sorta, mentioned that for general stuff, Columbia University
is prolly a good place to check 'cause of all the parties and, uh...
they decided I get to check that out, too."

Jono's gaze manages to look even more intense as he looks back to
Rwylann. "<Maybe,>" he says. Not exactly a way to fill anyone with
confidence. He looks momentarily strained, then he tosses the spanner
onto the pile of bike parts with a clatter and wipes his hands on his
trousers, then loops his other arm around Rwylann's waist. "<You
should talk to... Corvid,>" he says, slightly hesitantly. "<She'd
probably know where to find some of the dealers in town. She hunts
them,>" he adds by way of explanation. "<Or at least she did. Maybe
she's got over that. Maybe bein' dead has given her a different spin
on things.>"

Sure, he is likely covered in oil in places due to the work on the
motorcycle, but Rwylann seems to care little as she, in return, puts
both arms around Jono. It is sort of a holding onto a stable point
type of action. As he speaks of Corvid, however, confusion etches
across her features. "If she's... dead how can I talk to her?" The
redhead shifts slightly, exhaling in a sigh, "If I find a sample of
the stuff to give the Brotherhood so they can, I dunno, inspect it, I
would likely be let off the hook on this whole thing."

Jono blinks slowly. "<What? Bloody hell, I thought you already new.
Corvid's...well... back, I guess. Seems to be anyway.>" He looks away,
darkly, emotion clouding his features, then draining away again.
"<After Kelly... killed her, it seems that... Adam bloke who used to
hang around with Arcadia decided to bring her back. I dunno how, but
she's walkin' around as good as new.>" He shakes his head slowly. "<I
don't bloody understand it,>' he says, apparenty pained. "<the dead
should stay dead. But it was her. I been... in her mind. I know what
she.. feels like.>" He stumbles a bit, not sure how to explain
himself, shaking his head. "<Anyway, she might have a clue. Or Eve
might know if anyone's dealin' at her place. I'm sure we can make some
progress.>"

"She's... woah, wait, does that mean she's a zombie or something?"
Rwylann tries to sort it out. Back from the dead? That sort of stuff
does not happen, even around here where they get vampires. Her mind,
obviously, is having trouble wrapping around the concept. She chews at
her lip, "Uh, I'll see if I can.. talk to her." She is, perhaps
understandably, a bit wary of encountering someone back from the
grave. A pause and she glances to Jono, a bit of amusement and yet
annoyance on her features, "They wanna send someone more prepared for
the ... danger of asking such questions of Eve."

Jono rolls his eyes at that. "<Bloody hell. What's she gonna do? Grow
a plant at 'em.>" He shakes his head slowly. "<Well, okay, she can do
some damage, but bollocks to it, she's hardly gonna spill her guts out
just cos the Brotherhood ask her to. I can handle Eve,>" he says, with
a confidence that seems wholly misplaced. He falls silent and then
adds, "<An' no, Corvid's not a zombie. She's... alive. She's not...
changed. Far as I can figure it. She's just her.>"

"Since it's the Brotherhood, I guess maybe they have some special
ideas there," Rwylann responds, shrugging somewhat as her nose
wrinkles. She shifts her stance slightly, leaning a bit more against
Jono. "So Corvid just seems... same as she ever was? Like nothing
happened?" Rwy seems to be having trouble processing this. "It's
just... dead, back from the dead, just... doesn't seem right, I guess.
Or normal. Or..." A shake of the head, short hair flipping about her
face, "Guess I'll just have to see her myself."

Jono nods slowly. "<yeah, you're goin' through the same thing I was.
It don't make much sense to me either. It's like she never was dead.
But I know she was. When Kelly...>" He breaks off and lapses into
silence. "<Anyway,>" he says eventually. "<Try an' talk to her. We can
ask around at Excelsior. Anythin' else, we both go to see what we can
find out,>" he states matter of factly, squeezing Rwylann's waist
slightly.

"I guess..." Rwylann still does not seem entirely convinced about
Corvid's newfound life, but she seems to be taking Jono's word for it.
For now. Her brow furrows a bit and she looks up to Jono,
contemplating him for a moment. "You sure? I mean, I'm doing this for
the Brotherhood. You don't have to help." She pauses, managing a very
faint smile that fades almost as soon as it crosses her lips, "Plus, I
dunno. I can't really see you attending any parties. Mind, can't see
myself doing it either, but I'd be more likely to."

Jono blinks slowly at Rwylann, as if surprised she'd even question it.
"<Huh? What, yer think I'm gonna let you go out there chasin' drug
dealers on yer own? Sod that,>" he says with feeling. "<Don't matter
what yer doin' it for. Either way, the Brotherhood want to solve this
problem, then fine. All I know is yer not putting yer neck on the line
unless I'm there to watch yer back.>" he cazes back at her, then
flicks an eyebrow upwards, the only movement on his literally
expressionless face. "<Means they'll have someone to aim at. I always
get hit first. But I can take it. You, well, no bugger touches my gel
if I'm there to stop it.>"

Gray eyes just blink a few times and Rwylann finds herself dumbstruck,
as it were. Sure, Jono's stated in the past he wanted to watch out for
her, but this vehement a reiteration of it? Seems the elementalist was
not expecting that at all. Her expression is a mix of suprise,
confusion, and... appreciation. Finally, it seems to settle on the
latter and she tilts her head in a slow nod, smiling slightly. "I
guess you've got a point, even though..." She frowns a bit, giving
Jono a stern look, "I don't want to see you get hurt either, even if
you say you can take it." She knows she cannot. She is squishy. Even
so. "So I guess we watch out for each other, huh?"

Jono nods slowly. "<Works for me,>" he says mildly, apparently faintly
amused by Rwylann's reaction. "<I hold them down, you set the buggers
on fire.>" He leans back slighty, examining Rwylann critically for a
moment. "<Well, maybe drown 'em. Not sure I like the idea of yer
burnin' yer clothes off again.>" He rests his hands on Rwylann's hips
and shrugs. "<I think the Brotherhood are gits for sendin' yer to do
this alone, but if yer ain't alone... well, no harm in gettin' the job
done.>"

She does, finally, manage more than a faint smile, laughing briefly.
Hair shifts around features again and Rwylann does grin slightly at
Jono. "For one, I'd have to have water nearby to drown 'em. For two, I
can set things on fire without losing my clothing." She tilts her
head, "Well, I dunno, the person I spoke to didn't seem to really
properly believe me that this all is an issue. My bet is they're
underestimating it and figure it'll blow over, I'll be okay, another
job well done." She shrugs slightly, "Even so. We know it ain't that
easy and there is, as they say, safety in numbers." A pause for a
moment or two and Rwy hugs Jono briefly, "Also, for three... I gotta
disagree with you. I think you prolly like the idea of me burning my
clothes off, just so long as you're the only spectator."

Jono manages to somehow conjour up a wounded expression. "<Oh, right,
you think so little of me,>" he complains, shaking his head. The
expression slowly fades and he says randomly, "<The Brotherhood might
underestimate it, but I'm still worried there's a danger there. So,
let's give it a shot.>" His hands draw Rwylann a little closer to him
and he cocks his head to one side. "<If that's what yer want.>"

"Or maybe I think highly of you," Rwylann counters, lifting both
eyebrows as she speaks. As she is pulled closer to the Brit, she goes
willingly, a bit of tension leaving her shoulders. "I admit, I feel a
lot better now knowing you'll be there with me. The entire idea
just... doesn't really strike me as a fun time and I hate going out
and doing stuff... like, well, never done anything like that, but you
get the idea." She seems at a vague loss for words.

Jono arches an eyebrow inquisitively. "<That? What? A mission for the
Brother'ood, or frat parties?>" he asks. "<Not exactly done many
meself. Students in England just tend to go out an' get pissed, not
run around pretendin' to be mooses or somethin'.>" He pauses. "<Well,
okay, that last part tdepends on just how much booze they've had.>"

Rwylann manages to shake her head, even whilst chuckling to herself.
"A little of both, I think. I'm not really one for parties at all and,
well, the Brotherhood and their missions." She smirks a bit again,
lips twitching, "I hope I don't see anyone deciding that they're a
moose. I think Antlerman fills my monthly... heck, yearly alottment of
people with racks on their head."

Jono's eyes widen slowly. "<Racks?>" His mind goes to a very bad place
with that mental image, then something clicks into place. "<Oh! That
guy. Thank god,>" he says, his voice betraying his relief. "<Um...>'
he says, looking mildly perplexed, then tries to distract himself.
"<Well, okay, I don;t know what frat parties are really like meself. I
just watched Animal House a few too many times.>"

Another series of blinks from pale eyes and Rwylann flushes fairly
deeply as she realizes what she said. "I meant antlers... and..." she
stammers a bit, before clearing her throat. A glance away, as if it
would hide how red her face is and she murmurs, "Animal House is a
good movie. Only seen it once, really, but I liked it."

Jono narrows his eyes and watches Rwylann's embarrassmentin vague
amusement. "<Right, antlers,>" he says slowly. "<Otherwise, yer know,
hell of a mutation.>" He watches Rwylann's embarrassment and reaches
up to tilt her chin back towards him. "<For a girl who keeps
threatenin' to do a fireball striptease yer embarrass easily.>"

"Talk 'bout putting an eye out," Rwylann murmurs. As Jono tilts her
head back towards him, the redhead's eyes are a bit slower to follow.
She manages a bit of a smirk, before admitting quietly, "Easier to
joke about it than actually do it." She shrugs slightly, before
removing one of her arms from around Jono, reaching up to take his
hand away from her face. Only about an inch or two, however, because
she ends up kissing his fingers lightly. "And the fact that while a
fireball striptease, as you put it, could be fun, I don't think it's
really that safe of an indoor activity and I don't think I wanna do so
outdoors."

Jono blinks slowly at the tender gesture from Rwylann and slowly
strokes his fingertips over her lips, looking faintly pained, perhaps
reminding how many simple gestures are denied him. "<True,>" he
murmurs. "<An' find a room big enough,>' he says, glancing around him.
"<An' probably some bugger'll walk in on yer.>" He leans towars her,
holding her waist loosely. "<An', y'know, motorcycle parts. Not that
romantic.>"

A brief, perhaps more emotional smile and Rwylann tucks her fingers
around Jono's hand, opting to just hold it for the time being. She
rolls her eyes a bit, "Great, just put me off it entirely. Last thing
I want is someone walking in." She glances towards the offending
motorcycle, nose wrinkling a bit. "Guess not, no, but.." She glances
back to Jono, grinning briefly, "With how busy you are, well, I'll
take my moments where I can get them."

"<I ain't complainin',>" Jono says dryly, squeezing Rwylann's hand in
his. "<Don't worry, one day I'll just change the door codes if we need
some alone time,>' he adds, although it's hard to tell if he's serious
or not. "<Anyway, hardly busy. I think I can handle bein' dragged away
from this sodding thing sometimes...>"

"I noticed they've not been changed since I was last here," Rwylann
comments, studying Jono as a slight smile does finds its place on her
features, the more serious -- and worried -- expressions of earlier
fading away fro now. "Might wanna see about fixing that. Who knows who
might come along." Like she did. Another glance to the motorcycle,
then back to Jono with an appraising glance, "You sure? I mean, it
seems to have more curves than I do..."

Jono eyes Rwylann dryly. "<Okay, I have to warn yer, I'm not prepared
to get into motorcycle and women comparisons,>" he remarks
thoughtfully. "<Got to avoid the obvious jokes. Me, I'll just settle
for the curves that ain't leakin' oil.>" He shakes his head slowly and
leans forwards to rest his forehead against hers. "<I don't think yer
got any competition.>"

"Sounds like a plan, there," Rwylann responds, lifting her gaze back
to Jono just as he leans in close to her. She blinks again, slower
now, before smiling a bit broader. "Good to know," she murmurs, voice
a bit quieter now. "Makes things easier on me." Her hand that still
rests somewhere about his middle lowers somewhat, only to catch up one
of the chains on the belt the Brit wears, absently fiddling with it.
Her hands can only lie still for so long. "However, though... I think
the idea of someplace a bit more comfortable than this garage is a
good one."

Jono nods slowly. "<Yeah, I ain't disagreeing with you luv,>" he says,
glancing dowanwards to where she's toying idly with his chains. He
looks back into her eyes, then leans back, slipping his hand into
hers. "<I think the Brotherhood will be able to handle us startin'
your mission later rather than sooner,>" he states. "<An' I think this
bike's goin' nowhere for now. Let's head down to the basement an' get
some of that privacy yer value.>"

Rwylann lets her fingers twine with Jono's, grinning a little. "They
didn't give me any sort of timeline, so I figure I can enjoy myself a
bit before getting to work." Amusement writes itself over her features
and she tilts her head to the side a bit, "This plan gets better by
the minute." A teasing tone, but one perfectly agreeable to the idea
of going to the basement. It means she can begin plan alpha-sixty-five
to kidnap the plastic fish for herself. Or just spend time with Jono.

Log: "Taking Some Initiative" or "Under the Radar No More"
Players: Rwylann, Curtis Smith (NPCed by Hypnos)
Location: Brotherhood Meeting Room, Safehouse
Date: September 20th, 2005
Synopsis: Rwylann comes to tell the Brotherhood about the
Nextacy situation.  She soon comes to regret it.
Random notes: Curtis Smith was a minor character in the
now-defunct DP7 comic book.

-

Curtis Smith, aka Stalagmite, is a tall imposing bald guy,
and is currently the senior Brotherhood operative in the area,
while others are on operations elsewhere in the country. He's
a desk jockey, in part because his power (superhuman strength
but only while he's planted himself motionless for a long
period of time) doesn't really lend itself to the clandestine
field operations that require a lot of movement. He's heard
that Rwylann has some information that might be important, so
he's cleared some time in his schedule to hear her out.

It took a while for Rwylann to make up her mind to bring
things up to one of the Brotherhood operatives, largely
because of the fact that she assumed that they would already
be aware. They have eyes and ears everywhere, right? However,
she decided, finally, that it would be better safe than sorry.
She approaches the room she was told to see Curtis within and
pauses by the door, thoughtful. Finally, the elementalist
reaches out and gives a sharp series of raps upon the door,
knocking and making sure it is OK to enter before doing so.

"Come on in," Curtis says. He's leaning back in his chair,
feet on the table (which is a big no-no when Scott is in
charge, but Scott isn't around right now is he?).

Hey, so long as your feet do not stink too bad, feet on the
table are cool. Yeah. Rwylann pushes the door open and steps
in, letting it fall closed behind her.  She seems to have the
stance and expression of someone rethinking their decision.
Authority. She hates dealing with authority. No matter the
circumstance, they tend to make you feel like you are in
trouble. The reclined posture of Curtis, however, seems to put
her a bit more at ease as she takes a few more steps into the
room. "I was at Excelsior recently, sir," she decides to just
get it out, "and something odd happened... I figure y'all
have heard 'bout it already, but... I wanted to make sure."

"Well, why don't you have a seat," Curtis offers, "and tell me
what happened anyway, in your own words." He's heard a little
bit, but as second and third-hand translations go (especially
by some of the less diligent members of the organization),
things were left out or not emphasized. He knows there was
some sort of incident with a mutant on drugs flipping out and
hurting people, but at least at this point he assumes that
it's mostly a PR issue and potential 'we have to rescue this
mutant before they're lynched'.

Once she is offered a seat, Rwylann is quick to take it. She
pulls out one of the chairs and sits down, pulling one leg up
onto it, heel on the edge, arms around her leg. "Well, I had
been there late that night, hanging out and all... On our way
out, there was a lot of banging at the door. This one mutant,
a stronger guy," or whatever, "was holding onto this girl.
Skittles, they called her at one point? She left a lot of
bright splotches of color. She was just... flailing all over.
Jono was there and helped restrain her, while I called 911."
She glances to Curtis, as if unsure of his response to that.

Curtis nods. He doesn't know Skittles, but he's heard the name
mentioned before. "Okay..." he says, not quite sure from this
why he needed to be informed. "So what happened with that?"

"Well, one of the phone workers at Excelsior came out... Began
talking about this drug. Apparantly it is... I dunno, similar
to ectasy?" Rwylann shrugs a bit, unsure of the explanation,
overall. "She said humans, normal people, claim it is really
good, better than sex sometimes and stuff like that, but it
causes mutants to really freak out. The guy who brought
Skittles in said she got violent at the club and he'd only
turned his back a moment." The redhead shifts in her chair,
"Well, dunno... The girl passed out then and when she came to
a few minutes later, she started talking about seeing some
woman and she had no recollection of any of it. It was kinda
scary."

Curtis blinks, even takes his feet off the table and sits up
straight, considering and listening. "Huh," he says. Now
that's a little more interesting. "Well... I'd think if this
was true, we would have heard about it before now." One would
think, anyway. "It's _probably_ just a new urban legend of
some sort, and coincidence that this... Skittles had a bad
reaction to some laced drugs or something." Like the one about
how mutants couldn't get HIV. Curtis is notably pensive,
though. "Although, if it was true, this could be very, very
bad."

Rwylann shrugs a bit, chewing on her lip, "I dunno... I mean,
the girl on the phones had heard of cases of it. Maybe it
gets waved off as a bad trip? I've heard Ecstasy can do weird
stuff to some people normally, in rare cases. Maybe they're
treating it the same? I mean, it didn't /look/ fake, whatever
happened to her." The elementalist shrugs a bit, lifting a
hand to run it through her hair, "Yeah, it could be. I, uh,
thought y'all would've known already."

Curtis shakes his head. "This is the first I've heard of it.
But then I'm not really into the whole club scene anymore."
He drums his fingers a little. "Assuming it's not just a
strange coincidence and urban legend, I can think of two
possibilities, neither of them good." He holds up his two
fingers. "One, someone's passing out drugs and deliberately
slipping tained ones to mutants so they'll go crazy and give
the humans an excuse to legislate us." The moves on to the
second finger. "The other is that there really is some drug
out there that has wildly different effects depending on
whether you're a human or a mutant. If that's the case, I
think we need to move quickly and locate the source of it, and
maybe even destroy it, before the government gets their hands
on it." If they haven't already, of course. "I mean, right now
it takes about a month before they can prove someone's a
mutant if they're not using their powers," he explains. And
the Brotherhood's not pleased about a test in the first place,
but the long testing period was at least a benefit - they've
done more than one infilitration into labs to switch test
results and keep somebody covered. "If they can do it
instantly, it's going to be so much easier to insist on
mandatory testings and that way lies all the things Magneto
started the Brotherhood to prevent."

Falling silent, Rwylann just listens to Curtis, gray eyes
regarding him as he talks. She flinches as he brings up that
possibility - the government using it to enhance their own
testing, as it were. She looks down at the surface of the
table, silent for a time. "What if it is the government? What
if they're the ones that made it in the first place? That'll
make it more difficult, and..." She chews on her lip a bit,
frowning, "How do you intend to find the source? I mean, if
people could find the actual source of drug production, most
drugs wouldn't exist anymore, rigth?"

"Drugs are all basically either recipes or some kind of
naturally occuring substance," Curtis explains. "If it's a
natural substance, like some kind of plant or animal product,
it's gotta be something fairly obscure and so we might be
able to wipe it out or at least try to cut off the supply. If
it's recipe, then it's harder. But if we're lucky, and it's
just some kid cooking up a new brand of ecstacy, then maybe
only a few people know it." He doesn't explain what they might
have to do to the new people. "If the government has it
already, well, then I guess we've already lost this battle...
but I don't think they'd go about releasing it like this. No,
if it's real, we might still have a chance to contain it."
Not a good one, probably, though. "I think we really have to
investigate this. I want you to find out what you can about
all this, informally. I'll tell the rest of the cell to keep
an eye out, and I'm going to see if anyone else knows anything
about this."

Rwylann chews on her lip a bit as she listens. Drug Making
101. There is that blank look of 'Eh?' to her gaze as Curtis
explains supplies, natural substances, and so on. However, as
he asks her to investigate, even if informally, she sits up a
bit straighter. "How so? I mean... I found this out. What
else do you want me to do? Start asking around Exceslior if
anyone else has had those episodes?" Yeah, there you go. Give
the easy one as the 'OMG! I can't do that!' scenario, then
maybe things will be even easier! Give yourself a pat on the
back. Later, once you are out of sight. "I really dunno what
to ask."

Curtis nods. "For now, sure. First we have to try and confirm
whether this exists for real. If it does we'll need to track
down who's distributing it and who's supplying it, but let's
not get ahead of ourselves here." He makes a brief note on
the pad in front of him on the table, but doesn't elaborate.
"If you know any one who's into drugs, ask if they've tried
it, who and where they got it from, or if they know anybody.
Maybe talk to this Skittles person. If we can find someone
who sells it, we'll need to get our hands on some samples,
too."

Pale eyes widen as Curtist continues on and Rwylann ends up
chewing at her lip slowly. "I, uh... I really dunno anyone
who's into drugs, as it were. Least if I do, they keep it
hidden well." She tugs a bit at her hair, peering towards the
pad Curtis writes on. "There's that bar that opened... might
be stuff there, but I went there, seems more just alcohol
than drugs, but people there might know. And, uhm, I might
know some people at Columbia. I'm n'sure, though. But colleges
have parties, right? Sometimes with drugs? Might be a place to
have someone check out."

Curtis nods towards Rwylann, mistaking her last suggestion for
volunteering. "Good idea, Columbia should be a good place for
you to to start. We'll also try to have someone contact Eve
and ask if she knows anything." He doesn't suggest Rwylann for
that job because Eve is known for being a little... volatile,
and they want to try to find the best person to send in,
whoever they think is the least likely to be attacked or
thrown out for asking. He stands up and says, "I'm going to
make some calls."

Or whoever can take the most damage if it comes down to it,
likely. Rwylann winces a bit, lifting a hand to pinch at the
bridge of her nose a moment. She adds, then, almost
sarcastically -- though the intonation is mild enough -- as
she starts to stand, "So, if I do find any, I guess I'm
supposedta get samples for y'all?" She shoves her hands into
her pockets, looking at Curtis as she turns slightly towards
the door.

"If you can, easily, yeah," Curtis says. "But don't put
yourself in any danger to do so. Names and information about
where you can buy would be just as helpful."

Rwylann chews on her lip for a moment, nodding slowly. She
seems almost numb. Here she had stayed under the radar for
missions and the like and now she is being shoved out on one.
Damn. The elementalist gives a long sigh and shuffles for
the door, pulling it open. "I... I'll see what I can do."

Curtis nods and gives a warm smile. "Good show," he says.
"I'm sure you'll do well on it." He pauses a half second and
adds, "And it's good to see you taking some initiative." After
all, scouting out college parties was her idea, wasn't it?

Sure, it was her idea. Her suggestion for someone else to
handle. She is taking initiative - to become management and
make others do the hard work! Rwylann flinches a bit, even
though it was meant to be a compliment. She looks to Curtis
and nods, giving a slight sigh. "Thanks," she responds, though
it is not a very energetic one. "I... ah, guess maybe I ought
to go check out Excelsior now." And find Jono.

<-END LOG->

The Characters: Carol, Anthony and Peter. Emits by Ubbo.
The Time: September 21st
The Scene: Just after having a nice dinner the Ultimates find that in
their home has been invaded by zombies. No, really. Also, they learn
the name of the first Arch-Villain they will have to tackle.
The Place: The yet undesced Triskelion. Those lazy staffers need to
@create the building already!

Descs: They are not in their uniforms, so they don't look very heroic,
but you know them.

The Triskelion still smells of new plastic and fresh paint, and some
dust... they are still working in the southern wing (or rather,
southern leg). And as always, it is rather empty, still working with
an skeleton crew. Only the OMA section seems to be seeing some use,
with a number of MIB-looking new agents working in the unofficially
labeled 'killer robots' case. Not the Ultimates, though, they are
supposed to stay away and smile to the cameras, taking care of
situations that, without being entirely unimportant, are certainly not
causing so many deaths as the robots. 20 confirmed, said Steve just an
hour ago. And now the Ultimates are on the case, extra-officially, of
course.

Carol strolls into the Triskelion. She can't help but feel proud,
knowing that Steve unofficially put her in charge of this mission.
Yeah, so it wasn't an official mission. And yeah, so what if no one
would in power will know that she's running thing. And yeah, so what
if the Ultimates are facing some unknown threat that could possibly
destroy them. This was still her chance at leadership and she wasn't
going to blow it.

Peter is pretty much only coming back to the Triskelion to pick up a
few of his things before heading right back out again to contact some
people at the paper. He nods politely to people he sees, but he's
almost anonymous to most of them except when he's wearing his costume.

Anthony enters the wing, gently tossing his overly decorated
motorcycle helmet up and down in the air. He's still wearing what he
was wearing back at the restaurant, but has stowed his duster
somewhere for the time being. He's not looking entirely right. Having
been convinced to try a bit of sushi, Anthony discovered that he is
not a fan of raw fish and seaweed. Or whatever it was in there. He's
obviously a little upset at himself for pretty much turning green,
although some of his teammates might have appreciated the irony. He's
probably going to end up crashing here for the evening, as his
apartment is not close to the Triskellion by any stretch of the
imagination.

Although Peter is just an anonymous face in the Triskelion, Carol and
Anthony aren't, and they draw attention. In this case Carol draws the
attention of a young army lieutenant that might even have a genuine
reason to head her way (or might be just going to ask for an
autograph). But then the lights go out.

Now, this is not a minor incident in the Triskelion. Most rooms lack
windows, including the spacious lobby. Although some light filters
from the street through the dark glass doors, the gloom is intense.
For a couple heartbeats. Then the emergency lights come in, "heh,
seems the technicians are still working on the electrical system,
right?" Comments the officer, looking relieved. And then the emergency
lights go out too. Which is impossible, the Triskelion has their own
generators, redundant ones. This second blackout does cause some
alarmed comments. But the people remain silent for a few seconds,
expecting something... maybe the lights returning, maybe an alarm,
anything.

And anything comes in the form of gunshots. Distant from the lobby,
yes, but someone is shooting inside the Triskelion. And no alarms are
blaring.

Carol smiles as the young man heads towards her. She's use to this
sorta thing by now. Flattery soon turns to surprise as the lights go
out. "What the heck is going on here?" When the gunshots start to ring
out, Carol turns to the rest of the team. "Team! Let's move it!"

Peter's first action, once the shooting starts, is to to leap into the
air onto the nearest wall. He's less likely to bump into somebody on a
wall. Unfortunately, he can't see in the dark, but he's paying very
close to his spider-sense, in case he needs to move. He's also paying
close attention to his other senses, trying to locate the source of
the gunshots. This is not good. This isn't a fast food place somebody
could walk into with a gun before anyone stops them, in order to even
get here you have to have clearance. Or be some kind of teleporter.

Random darkness was not something was covered in either Anthony's
Ultimates training or his training with the brotherhood. Forewarned
darkness was of course, completely planned for, but it rather involved
having a pair of nightvision goggles strapped to your face. As such,
he's not entirely sure of what to do after the lights go down. His
hand flicks up to his brow for a moment, as if to flip down the
goggles that aren't there, but then he finally gets it together when
Carol starts shouting stuff. He's got absolute balance, right? So, no
point not to haul ass across the room towards the general direction
the shots came from. As he starts sprinting across the floor, his
enhanced balance saves him from a couple of nasty falls as his legs
catch a couple of things square on the shins. Everyone out of the way!
he shouts, not realizing no one exactly knows what is in the way with
the lights out.

The gunshots do cause a reaction among the people in the lobby. A few
bolt toward the doors, but many of the people here are military or
law-enforcement agents and react more calmly. "Where is that?" "I
don't know!" "It sounds downstairs, in the labs..." "But they are
empty, aren't they?" Outside the lobby there are small emergency
lights at foot level, barely enough to allow someone walk without
stumbling. Of course the Triskelion has several sub-levels, used for
storage, mostly, but there are some labs too.

Carol grumbles as she takes to the air. Flying in the dark isn't the
greatest idea, but its one of the few ways to avoid those who are
stuck on the ground. At least if she flies slowly, she shouldn't make
too much damage to the walls and overall building structure. Following
the lights (best as she can see them) she tries to navigate her way to
the lab. If the army buys say that's where the shots are, then that's
where they are. Why dispute?

Peter crawls along the wall, reaching behind to his pack to pull out
the mask he brought along just in case. If the lights turn on
suddenly, he'd rather not have someone who's not entirely cleared
seeing him crawling. It's a shame he doesn't have his whole costume
on, or he'd be able to use the belt buckle flashlight to make things
easier.

Anthony barrels past a few people, constantly uttering, "Coming
through!" to let people know to get out of his way. He's not entirely
sure of the floor plan of this place, but he does know where the
nearest set off access stairs are, and he's making his way down them
by the little light he's got at his disposal. It occurs to hm that
maybe one of agents might have a flashlight or something handy, but
he's not slowing down to ask them. He's not getting left behind whe
actions afoot.

It is not that easy to fly inside the corridors of the Triskelion. In
some areas the ceilings are high, but underground aren't. They reach
the emergency stairs easily enough, although with lights it would have
been faster. Anthony trampled a couple agents, but they were OMA
anyway, they probably hated mutants already, or something. Near the
door staircase there is another agent, which probably had the same
idea they had about running to help downstairs, but right now he is
shouting a high-tech walky-talkie. "No! I can't hear you, there are
like... aaaah! Goddamnit!" He looks at the approaching group. "Hey,
aren't you... oh yeah, good! They are interfering with communications
somehow. Not even cellphones work! But I think they are in the
morgue!"

Morgue? Why would somebody shoot up the morgue? "Don't worry, we're on
it," Spidey says to the guard. Other than that, Spidey is
uncharacteristically quiet as he ponders the question and makes his
way to the morgue as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, it's not a
place he's ever actually been to, but he's good at following sounds.

"Got it!" shouts Anthony, and hurtles towards the morgue, his movement
down the stairs a sight to behold as he quickly turns on a dime
without slowing down and keeps on sprinting down the stairs. He's not
exactly sure where the morgue is exactly, but he's following the
general looks of anyone he passes and the handy dandy signs on the
wall. God bless the idiot proof military.

The agent is happy to let the Ultimates get down first, and stays
behind with Carol to try to organize security and gather some
reinforcements. The sounds of gunshots cease for a few seconds, then
resume again, but further away. And then Peter and Anthony reach the
morgue level, and a security door slides over the staircase door,
blocking their way. Which is odd, since supposedly there is no power.
Or there is? Regardless that is a rather heavy metal door, normal
humans would need a powerful blowtorch and half an hour to get
through.

Peter drops to the ground. He doesn't know if he's going to be strong
enough to open it on his own, but it's worth a shot anyway, so he
tries to grab some leverage and lift, leaving room for Anthony to help
if if he wants. "I'm starting to think somebody doesn't want us
joining the party..."

Anthony arrives at the door, and sizes up the situation. His first
impulse is to make a witty comment and smash the door down. But as he
starts to open his mouth and loosen his shoulders, he remembers that
they are in the Triskelion, and that his never-ending crusades against
inanimate objects will probably have to wait for another day. He
shakes it off, and steps up to the other side of the door to give
Peter a hand. He slides his hands down the door and puts his full
power into lifting the door. "Looks like we're going to crash it
anyways." he grunts.

No doubt the maintenance department will be grateful to know they just
forced the door open, instead of smashing through. Cheaper, and
probably easier. The door is an inch of steel, but not that heavy, and
after a minute of grunting and pushing they have enough space to sneak
underneath. And then Spiderman's Spider-sense warns him of danger.
Half a second before someone fires a machine-gun towards the half-open
door. Definitively someone does not want them to join the party.

"Look out!" Spidey yells as his spider-sense goes off. He doesn't push
Anthony out of the way, thinking the guy's at least more
bullet-resistant than he is, just jumps through the half opened door
and towards a wall. He tries to fire a strand of webbing to the source
of the machine gun, and snatch it out of his hands.

Anthony doesn't react nearly as quickly as Spidey. Then again, he
doesn't really need to. A few shots make contact with him, and drop
harmlessly to the ground as their kinetic energy is absorbed by
Anthony's power. He sees Spidey moving towards the source of the fire,
so his priority is to make sure Spidey doesn't get ambushed. He shoots
forwards, his powers doing away with the ncessity of accelerating, and
puts himself between Spidey and any corners or decent hiding places.

They are in a clinically clean corridor with doors at the sides. Maybe
a place that in time will be a small hospital or medical bay. Some
doors at the sides, and some lights are on in a room at the end of the
hall. There is a man there in uniform, one of the Triskellion security
guards, with his usual submachine gun. Except he is firing at -them-,
instead of at some bad guys. At least until Spiderman snatches the
gun, which forces him to draw a smaller handgun and use it instead.
The guard also retreats to the room beyond when Anthony comes
charging.

Spidey gives a comical "Yoink!" as he pulls the gun away, and then
webs it up to near the ceiling. He assumes the guard just panicked,
and although he's thinking 'Idiot', he gives the guy a benefit of the
doubt and says, "Hey, relax, we're on your side, I think."

Anthony's quick reconoiter of the hallway lets him feel a bit more in
control of the situation, despite the fact that they are in a
basement, headed to a room full of dead bodies, it's dark and people
who are supposed to be on their side are firing at them. He does catch
sight of the one guard drawing his gun as he retreats, and hears
Pete's comment. "He's drawn his sidearm. I don't think it's a case of
mistaken identity." He says to Spidey, then charges towards the room,
arms crossed in front of him, fully expecting a hail of gunfire the
moment he smashes into the room.

Panicky? The guard doesn't seem panicky at all, he was shooting
calmly, and drew his sidearm calmly too. And then calmly retreated
into the other room, which is the morgue itself. The first thing
Anthony sees are several corpses. But not in tables or covered by
sheets, no. They are on the floor, still bleeding. Another security
guard, apparently shot, an older man wearing a white laboratory coat,
throat slit, a middle-aged woman also with the white coat, in a heap
in a corner. No hail of bullets, no, just the security guard at one
side of the door, which very calmly attempts to apply a hand taser
against Anthony's neck.

Spider-Man follows a little behind Anthony. Not that he's using his
fellow teammate as a shield, it's just that he's... well, keeping him
between between Spidey and possible gunfire, kind of like a shield. As
such, he doesn't see as much as Anthony does, but it's more than
enough to see blood and bodies and realize that the guy in uniform's
probably the one responsible for all this. Probably one of Shaw's
mercenaries, he suspects... they had a habit of really brazen,
practically stupid attacks in public. He spots the hand start to reach
out for Anthony and says, "Impact, your left." Of course, it's pretty
well useless at this point... Anthony would probably either have seen
it and reacted or didn't and got hit by the time the warning was
heard.

Anthony's Stupid habit of charging blindly into situations looks like
it's going to get him killed one of these days. Unfortunately for the
bad guys, this is not the day. And unfortunately for his teammates, it
looks like it's going to save him from harm. Anthony didn't bother
stopping at the doorway, he kept on going like a runaway freight train
a couple of feet into the room, then stopped dead when he couldn't
find the assailant in his field of vision. The bizarre motion and
added footage gives him an extra split second to hear the first bit of
Spidey's warning, and his greatly overhyped instincts kicked in.
Anthony is now touching the ceiling, having done a seemingly awkward
jump to take him to the far side of the room, and turning his badass
self using the friction from the ceiling to face the doorway. The only
downside to this plan, as he sees what was gonna happen at the
doorway, is that Spidey is gonna get to be the one who whacks the bad
guy.

The guard brandishes his taser against Anthony, trying to keep him at
bay, but in his other hand he keeps the handgun, which he uses to
point in Spider-Man's direction (Spider-sense buzzes like crazy again)
and shots. All very coldly, as if he had done this a hundred times.
Not a curse when his ambush fails, not even a wince.

Spider-Man's attempt to tackle the man after Anthony is interrupted
when the intense buzzing in his head tells him that, on the whole,
he'd be a lot happier today if he took a sudden detour to the left.
So, he makes a quick jump to the side. Okay, this guy's way too good a
shot, especially when he's otherwise occupied, so Spidey's going to
try his best and just shut up and not give the guy any more help.
After he gets a second of leverage, he'll try shooting more webbing at
the assailant to limit his mobility.

Anthony touches down after his brief trip through the air, and
re-sizes up the situation. The problem, to this point, is that they've
been playing by this guys rules. He's too damned calm, too collected.
Gotta sack'em, get'em rattled. He decides it's time to use the aspect
of his powers he's least skilled at. He takes a couple of steps
forwards, and places his hand lightly on a desk to his side, making no
sudden gestures or movements, and in an instant, the 500 pound solid
oak desk is airborne, hurtling with a great deal of speed towards
captain ambidexterity. Block that, asshole, Anthony thinks as he drops
to one knee, winded by the use of the power.

The guard's gun follows Spiderman, firing every time it seems the
young man is going to stop. It must be low of ammo by now, but he
doesn't seem to care. Even when the desk comes flying to him, the man
barely blinks. He does attempt to jump out of the way, but he is no
spider-man. There is a nasty, crounchy sound of broken bones and
worse, and the guard is crushed between the flying desk and the wall.
It will be a miracle if he survived.

Spider-Man winces beneath his mask when he sees the man go down by a
flying desk. Not that the man doesn't deserve some pain, but he's
still against killing except as a last resort, and besides, if the guy
dies they can't figure out who hired him. So, he rushes towards the
guy to check his vitals, although still listening out for any alarms
in his head.

Anthony stays one one knee, still trying to catch his breath. Well,
that was unexpected. In the practice sessions, he only managed to do
enough damage with stuff to knock people out, and they were playing
with 200 pound weights. How did he throw a desk that hard? Still, his
eyes flip back to the doorway. He's got a feeling the guys actually
better off then it seems. A broken arm, cracked ribs, and a busted
leg. Still, he gets to his feet, and checks the internal phone line
for a signal, then proceeds down to his comm unit, cell phone, and
then heading out to the hallway to shout up to Carol to get a medic
down here.

If the guy is alive, it is clear he has only a few minutes of life.
Chest caved in, hips probably broken, he is bleeding a bit from the
head, the impact against the wall likely caused a conclusion. Clearly
light body armor can't protect a body against flying oak desks. As for
Anthony's attempts to call for help, well, nothing works. Nor the
communicator not even the cellphone, much less the internal
communications of the Triskelion. However, when he leaves the room, he
sees a face peering from one of the side rooms, which immediately
retreats inside.

Spider-Man looks over the body, and shakes his head. "I don't know if
he's going to make it until help arrives," he says. Later, he'll try
to tell Anthony that it was a harried situation and it's the only
thing he could do... he's far more forgiving about other people than
he would be if it was he that did it.

Anthony isn't to shaken about hurting the guy too badly, and thats
actually got half of his brain disgusted at the other half. Still, he
feels justified by the fact there are bodies in that room that that
guy put there. He was going to get put down, Anthony just saved the
state the bill. "We're not out of the woods yet." He says, and points
to the door he caught the face peering out of. Probably just a
frightened worker, but no chances. He slowly advances on the door,
ready to spring forwards if gunfire erupts.

No bullets, no nothing, really. The room is small and mostly empty. In
a few weeks it would have been a small lab, but right now they are
using it for storage of unused furniture, and the labs are rooms
closer to the main room. It is dark, of course, the lights from the
morgue barely reaching here, but Anthony can heard the muffled sobs of
someone that sounds very scared and trying to be quiet about it.

Spider-Man follows behind Anthony. No spider-senses tingling, at least
not yet, and he's starting to hear what sounds like crying, so he
relaxes, slightly... remaining alert, but not nervous like he normally
is in such situations. If it does turn out to be a survivor, it's
probably better that all-american-boy Anthony make the introductions
rather than the guy in the creepy spider-themed mask.

Anthony steps up to the doorway, peering left and right to check for
someone waiting to taze him again. "It's alright," he says, peering
into the darkness of the room, "We're the Ultimates. The good guys are
here." he says, trying to find a light switch or something on the off
chance it works.

Of course the light switch doesn't work. That it works in the morgue
is the mysterious thing, because the rest of the Triskelion seem in
the darkness. A voice answers Anthony, "I am... I am Nina Stevens, I
am just a nurse... please I don't want to die!" There are some more
panicky sobs. "Oh god, he killed Dr. McDonald. He stood up in the
middle of the autopsy and slashed his neck with those wires... it was
horrible!"

"It's going to be okay..." Spidey says. "He's... been dealt with."
Stood up in the middle of the autopsy? Maybe it would be a good idea
for Spidey to go back with the body and make sure he's not going to
stand up again. At the very least, remove the firearm. "I'm just going
to check and make sure," he says to Anthony.

Anthony nods, and looks back into the room. "Okay, we'll go make sure
he's been dealt with." And then it occurs to him to kill three birds
with one stone. He flashes a warm, PR friendly smile and says in a
confidant tone, "We kind of smashed him, so he shouldn't be too much
trouble, but we're gonna go back and make sure he's really down for
the count. You stay here, and lay low, and we'll be right back to
escort you up to safety." Clear the guilty part of his brain, brag,
and passively hit on a chick. Smooth operator.

The nurse stumbles out of the room, looking pretty badly shaken and
shakes her head, "you don't understand, that was Billy, one of the
guards. He was... he was such a nice guy... and when that corpse stood
up, he went insane and shot his fellow guard! I hid here, but they
were killing everybody... and Billy stayed here, looking room by room,
I was sure he would kill me... but the, the thing... it went to the
elevators. And they worked for it!"

Spider-Man looks over the body, taking the gun away. Really, that
should have been his first action, procedure-wise, but he's been a bit
rattled and forgot. He also looks more at the body, and things start
clicking into place. "Impact, she's right. This guy wasn't autopsied.
There has to be someone else. Judging by the way he's controlling the
electricity and stuff, he's some kind of mutant."

Anthony checks the hallway, and moves with the nurse to the stairway.
"He's also controlling people. You saw the way that guy moved. Like he
was a robot." He then turns to the nurse. "You said something about
wires?" he says, not entirely he likes where this headed.

The nurse nods, looking pale and very scared, "they all have wires in
the head, I heard the doctors... very small wires in the head... they
die when the agents capture them. But this one, t-they said he had...
a lot of metal. Several pounds. They thought it was different... and
he stood up! He was dead and... and had wires, from the fingers. Oh my
god... I ran away, oh god, oh god..." the poor woman crumbles on the
floor, hysterical.

Spider-Man breaths out. "Man," he says. "Okay. So he's got metal wires
that he can plug into people and control them remotely, and probably
machines too." That's certainly one of the weirder mutant powers he's
seen. It's possible it's something other than mutant, but it's the
best starting assumption because, well, other ideas are just too out
there. "I think we're going to need more people on this. And maybe
completely power down the building."

BWAAMP BWAAMP BWAAMP. Alarm bells go off in Anthony's head. He
remembers a Brotherhood briefing he sat through right before the raid
on the Aerie. This sounds a lot like a mutant that was killed a while
ago. Scarily logical, violent, able to inject metal bits into people
and control computers. It still makes his skin crawl to consider that
type of mentality and power. He actually stops for a moment and clear
his head, shaking the bad thoughts out of his system. "Uh..." he says,
buying some time to assemble his mental faculties "We're gonna need
some OMA guys and full combat gear." He says, moving over to pick up
the crying woman. "But I agree, our next priority has to be killing
the power to every section of this base, and securing our command
areas." He's also being a little careful in the way he handles this
woman, and circumspectly checks her head and necks for any signs of
laceration. He's not getting surprised.

The easiest way to control the power in the sections of the Triskelion
would be the command and control room three levels over them. All they
have to do is take the elevators, just like the undead wired monster
did. And by the way, more gunshots upstairs, right above them.

Spider-Man tilts his head upwards as he hears gunshots. "Looks like
Wirehead's up to no good..." he mutters, then thinks. "If there's an
emergency staircase, that's probably the best way to go," he says to
Anthony. "I don't think I want to take the chance he'd notice us in
the elevator and decide to play Squish The Spider."

Anthony gingerly sets down the hysteric woman, and looks around. For
what, he's not sure, but in these types of situation, the hero always
looks around. "Yeah, I wouldn't trust anything that ran on electrical
power at the moment." He takes a deep breath, as he's still not
entirely sure about his strength reserves after sprinting through the
Triskelion and then engaging in some pretty intense combat. Still, no
time to doubt his power now. He heads towards the stairs, at a solid
run. "Let's keep it simple. You secure any bystanders first, I'll
distract the bad guy. Once you give me the all clear, I'm gonna
flatten him with anything I can lay my hands on." He shouts back to
Spidey.

There are emergency staircases, of course. They are mandatory by
federal regulations, or something. 'Someone' has slammed the security
doors at the entrance, too, but that barely slows down Our Heroes.
Particularly since nobody shots at them from the other side. Once in
the third floor they can easily reach the command and control center,
the heart of the Triskelion, supposedly the most secure room in the
building. Only it isn't secure for anyone right now. The gunshots were
caused by a half dozen of persons, half soldiers, the other half
suits, probably OMA, but could be NSA, FBI or any other combination of
letters. It seems they attempted to reach the control room, but were
badly out-gunned. Most lie on the floor, dead or unconscious from
bullet wounds. A couple, less wounded, are leaning against the walls,
but they are no longer shooting. When they see Spider-man and Impact
they briefly aim their handguns to them, but then lower the weapons,
looking relieved. "Thank god," grumbles one, "we can't get it," he
points out, as if it wasn't obvious. "There are terrorists, maybe
mutants, inside control, they are armed to the teeth!"

"Yeah, we tangled with one downstairs," Spidey says. "We think there's
one mutant who can take control of others by touch." It looks like
it's just bullet wounds, so he figures it's probably safe for Anthony.
"Okay Impact, give me some cover and I'll try to web up the patsies.
Hopefully once we've taken down the Zombie King they'll come back to
normal."

Anthony quickly surveys the situation, trying to get a grasp on whats
going on. Unfortunately, the only thing he's wishing right now is that
he had his bullet proof duster. Normally, he'd go ahead, throw open
the duster, and buy everyone in back some cover. He's having a bit of
trouble improvising a solution. He comes back to reality as Spidey
outlines the plan. "Yeah, got it. Just keep an eye out for grenades. I
may be able to absorb the blast but people back here can't." He says,
then turns to face the control room door. Alright, safeties on the
powers this time. No amplfied punches. All power is going to be saved
for two things. One, keeping the bullets stopped, and two, smashing
the robot-zombie into a fine paste. He flexes his shoulders, then
charges into the room, arms out to maximize the cover he provides, and
looking for anyone holding a tazer or any other potential problem
device. In that case, he'll bring to bare the insulated panel he
"borrowed" from on of the junction boxes on his way up the back
stairs.

"Good luck," mutters the agent, "there are at least six of them, and
they have automatic weapons and maybe body armor." The agents falls
back, making another attempt to use his cellphone, "why isn't this
stupid thing working?" Whatever he says later goes unheard as
Anthony's charge is received by a hail of gunfire Which has no effect,
so the gunmen, which seem to be two members of the Triskelion crack
security team, try to aim for Spider-Man, who is behind. Meanwhile a
man in a technician outfit shows himself, and shoots Anthony with... a
fire extinguisher, dousing him with a good dose of semi-toxic and
highly blinding high-tech foam.

Spider-Man squirts out webfluid, going for quick shots on as many
targets as possible, although while dodging gunfire he's liable to
miss some. He's aiming mostly to incapacitate arms... if he can, in
the process, web somebody to the wall or floor so much the better, but
pretty soon he's going to be running dry of webbing so he has to try
and plan them to get maximum utility. As Anthony gets sprayed, Spidey
inwardly groans. "You okay?" He just hopes this isn't going to be like
one of those bad action comedies where Anthony's blinded and he has to
shout out 'Five O'Clock!' or whatever so he knows where to hit.

This was, thankfully, covered in the SWAT/Ultimates training. Chemical
weapons training was big due to concerns over mundane terrorists
choosing to employ it. Anthony does the only prudent thing. He puts on
a sudden burst of speed, closes his eyes, holds his breath, and drives
his shoulder into the technician with the fire extinguisher. No
amplification here, just good old fashioned football tackle action.
The foam that did land on his face is blasted clean in an instant, as
Anthony pushes out with his spontaenous energy generation. Not nearly
as draining as the desk thing, and somehow less messy. Now, he's in
the enemy backfield, and it's time to create havoc and chaos. "I'm
alright, just web anything that moves and let me know if you see
Freddy Krueger." He yells, as he spins around to recon the situation
and take a few punches at anyone who's close enough.

One of the soldiers gets webbed to the wall, but the other manages to
remain more or less free and keeps firing his weapon at the
quick-moving Spider-man. The technician gets pushed forward and goes
sprawling to the floor, loosing his grip on the extinguisher. And then
Anthony is in the usually brightly illuminated and always busy control
center. Only many of the lights are off, leaving the place rather
gloomy, and many of the people that should be working are dead,
slumped on their chairs with bullet wounds. About ten are still alive,
however, although some are wounded, and most are armed. A few look
like agents or security, but most are technicians, bureaucrats or
other support people. Men, women, young and old, they don't have
anything in common, they don't look like terrorists, they are people
that worked here, in the Triskelion. But now they move with mechanical
precision, in silence, their eyes cold. They attack Anthony with
tasers, chairs, knives and their bare hands, although a couple,
wielding handguns, try to hit the elusive Spider-man. They are trying
to stop, or at least delay them, at the back of the room the metal door that
leads to the cold room, where the Triskelion mainframes and
servers are kept, lies open.

Spider-Man sprays another blast trying to grab the other machine gun
soldier.. that's his biggest worry. Handguns are a little easier to
dodge... not that he wants to dodge them. If he snags him, and
Anthony's out of the way, he'll pull back on the webbing and try to
whip him around to help topple some of the others. He's not using his
full strength in it, he doesn't want to do permanent damage, but
really he's mostly hoping shoving them into each other a little will
take out the others without using more webbing... and maybe, if he's
lucky, mess up their perfect precision a little, force the controlling
intelligence to expend more concentration on him and less on Anthony.

Anthony quickly brings the panel to bear on the tasers he sees,
smacking the hands he can get too, but unable reach every hand he
sees. He knows he's in danger of getting overrun, and the target is
not here, some it's time to get creative and move on to the next room.
He drops his center of gravity, places one hand on the ground, and
whips his legs around in a quick arc, bringing everyone he can to the
floor. Spidey should have little trouble webbing down the rest of
these guys, especially since he's now hurling himself clear of the
zone of fire, headed for the open door way, yelling, "Web'em all then
follow me! It's in the main computer room!"

There is a flurry of acrobatics and web-shotting and the second guard
gets nailed to the wall. Anthony maneuver brings down most of the
rest, although a young woman (a junior PR assistant that used to serve
coffee around the control room) clings to his waist like a madwoman,
trying to slow him down. And then Anthony steps in the computer room,
and sees the supposed responsible of the whole mess. He is a man in
his late twenties, rather tall and strong, with dark hair and pale,
pale skin. Deathly pale, actually, which is okay because he is
obviously dead. Wearing only old jeans, barechested and barefooted, he
show a huge T -shaped open wound on his chest, quickly stitched by
what seems to be dull gray metal wire. His eyes show the same dull
metal as he leers at Anthony when he stumbles in. "You shouldn't have
come, disgusting organic filth," he says, with a dead tone that
nevertheless conveys a lot of hatred. From his nape a mess of wires
extends all over the room, connected to the computers not through the
standard ports, but apparently filtering through the metal cases, like
a dark, liquid iron. And then his hands seem to ooze with the dull
metal liquid, forming claws, then sharp, barbed wires, which jump
towards Anthony's head as if alive.

"You know, contrary to popular belief, I don't just magic this stuff
up." He's not sure exactly how much he has left, but he's getting a
little worried. He knew he should have ordered more protein at the
restaurant. He lets go of the last strand of webbing he was using to
web people and follows. He's just about to try and web the woman who's
clinging to Anthony he sees zombie-boys tendril's going for his
teammate.. it would be a very bad thing if Anthony gets turned. Sure,
he might be able to repel it with his powers, but there's no way
Spidey's taking that chance. He uses some of his webbing to try and
blast and wrap some of the tendrils, although there's a good chance
the tendrils could cut through his webs, the way they flow like that.

Anthony disposes of the woman with a quick and efficient forearm
shiver. A little woman, tackle to greatest football player in the
history of the DC area? I think not. After getting free of her, he
looks up and takes a moment to try and get a bearing on the situation.
Then, when it registers the wires start coming for his head, he
decides he's had enough of this strategizing crap, it's time break
stuff and beat the crap out of the bad guys. *CRACK* goes the door's
hinges as Anthony removes the door from them to use as a temporary
shield. "Well, excuse me for assuming." he says, as he leaps in front
of Spidey with the improvised shield. Probably not gonna slow that
stuff down for more then a second, so no time for thinking. It's
clobberin' time. He begins running forwards, charging up his powers.
This guy ain't gonna know what hit him. "Cover yourself, Spidey, I'm
taking him out."

The wires are slowed down by the web, but they filter around the
web-strands as if they weren't really solid. Then can't filter through
a metal door, though, so that is an more efficient defense. They
slitter around the door a second later reaching for Anthony's wrists,
but by then Anthony is bashing the door on the walking corpse, which
is smashed against the computer racks rather violently. Those are
expensive computers, too (and full of very important secret
information). Of course they are also wired to the cadaver, so they
might be worthless by now.

Spider-Man is willing to bet the higher ups will think it's more
important to make sure the information doesn't fall into the wrong
hands than that the computers aren't all smashy. After finding his
webbing isn't much help, he decides to mostly let Anthony handle the
pummelling. In the meanwhile he goes and fetches back the fire
extinguisher, in case he too winds up needing something to fight crazy
metal tendrils with.

Anthony gives two quick jerks of the door, smashing the zombie hard
twice, then attempts to pin the creature under the door with one hand,
smacking the remaining wiry metal with his other hand. He's breathing
hard now, having exerted a lot of strength in that quick burst, but he
now feels he's on solid ground now. Familiar terrain. He's really
comfortable with the smashing part of the job. He calls out, "Spidey,
check the people out, make sure they're alright." Spidey and the chick
kept calling it a zombie, and he's played enough video games to know
you go for the zombies head, but he's got just enough brains to
realize those people might be hardwired into this things brain, and
smashing it may cause a problem. So, instead, he's gonna focus on
immobilizing it, and breaking all it's wiry connections to the
computers.

Ripping away the wires from the wrist is easier to say than to do.
They are like mercury in consistence, except sometimes they are solid,
and barbed, and digging in Anthony's wrists, trying to draw blood. The
walking corpse squirms a bit, pinned by the door, but apparently lacks
the strength needed to get free. That impact probably broke some bones
too, at least in an normal person it would. The people webbed in the
room beyond keep trying to get free, still in silence, the young woman
Anthony elbowed charges Spider-man, armed with a rather large knife.

Even computer controlled, a woman with a knife is no match for
Spider-Man, easily dodges, then tries to disarm and web her very
quickly. If he can manage to do that quickly, the next priority is
going to be seeing if he can find a tazer... he's pretty certain that
saw one on one of the techs. Maybe they can give this thing an
overload and knock it out.

Anthony snarls slightly, and decides to start breaking this thing
down. He rears back one fist, and lets fly with a single punch, aimed
at the lower center of the door, lining up with the things lower
abdomen. No simple body check, this is a full force, 15 ton punch,
with the express intent of introducing itself to a large portion of
this monsters insides.

There are tasers, yes, standard issue for some of the members of the
Triskelion security team. Which obviously those webbed soldiers are.
So Spider-man has two tasers and is really, really low of webbing.
Meanwhile Anthony punches through the metal door and the corpse's
chest, which besides breaking more bones on the walking dead also
manages to get his fist full of.. goo. It should be blood, but it
isn't, it is more of that dull gray liquid metal that is now slashing
his wrists slowly, making him bleed. "Fool," crackles the corpse, the
voice sounding horribly hollow, dead, "I am not flesh and bone, I am
not organic filth. Go ahead, destroy my vessel, my little Trojan
Horse. I am made of photons and electrons, I am immortal and
invincible. You are  nothing, human, nothing. I am coming and the age
of man is about to end."

Spider-Man tosses one of the tasers towards Anthony, keeping one for
himself, just in case. "Yeah, well, maybe lets see how you react to a
little more juice," he suggests as he gets closer, ready to try and
help if Anthony hasn't already finished the job.

Anthony sees the blood, feel exhausted, and realizes he's got maybe
one last good punch left in him before he's out of tricks. Time to go
for broke. He kneels on the door, raises his bleeding wrists up and
opens his fists, "We're mutants, asshole, and you're goo." And brings
his open palms down at full force on the point of the door in line
with the creatures head, driving home the whole force of his blast
throughout the entire of the door, looking to flatten this things
skull and everything else.

The corpse is flattened, yes, and some of the computers behind are
pretty much thrashed too. But guess what? Liquid metal does not
flatten for long, and punching at it seems of little use. Anthony has
destroyed the creature's borrowed body, so it needs a new host, and
since the young mutant is closest, the liquid metal, several pounds of
it, flows over his hands, bitting, ripping, tendrils lashing, and
trying to reach his head, a mass of viscous, heavy metal goo.

Spider-Man uses the opportunity of the goo going for Anthony to jump
in. He knows Anthony's probably going to be zapped at the same time,
but it's a pretty desparate situation right now, so he's going to have
to risk it. He does give one warning, just in case. "Jump away if you
can, man." He uses the fire extinguisher he's been holding onto as a
defensive block while he goes in with an active tazer. Maybe it'll do
nothing, but he's a little short on weapons that he can think of that
might actually harm it.

Anthony is losing conciousness fast. His powers are running out of
juice, now focusing on protecting his vital spots, and his arms are
getting cut up pretty badly. When Spidey yells, he's half-gone, but
his training kicks in. He uses the last of his power to force the
stuff away from his skin a few inches, and he flings his body across
the room, slamming into the wall, and staying still, having passsed
out from loss of blood and exhaustion.

The shock of the taser is a low intensity and high voltage discharge,
designed to stun a large man without killing a small one. It would
have, almost without doubt, knocked Anthony out in his present state,
but since he knocked out himself, it is irrelevant. As for the liquid
thing, the taser proves to be effective too, it spasms once, and then
falls to the ground, solidified in an amorphous, hollow glob of metal,
the tendrils falling around it, some shattering like glass on the
impact.

There is silence for a few seconds, even the controlled people has
stopped struggling (and breathing too). Then, with a pained whine, the
lights return to the Triskelion, and in the control room the computer
terminals restart slowly. At some distance, Spider-Man can hear cries
of joy, as people trapped in elevators, or behind security doors, is
finally freed. But then the computers spouter, an strange operating
system loading in alien characters, too quickly to be normal.

And then, it is displayed a hundred times in every computer screen of
the Triskelion network, it is written a billion times in every
hard-drive in the complex. It is just a six letter word. A meaningless
world: ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON
ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON
ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON
ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON
ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON
ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON
ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON
ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON ULTRON

The Characters: Carol, Anthony, Peter and Steve
The Time: September 21st
The Scene: The Ultimates have a little, off-record meeting to discuss
weird stuff. (TP scene).
The Place:

Chinatown -- Takara Restaurant
         Warm light fills the room from the paper lanterns, casting
light shadows on the traditional Japanese wall design. The room is
small for a restaurant, with several tables scattered around in an
almost chaotic order. On the walls there are several artistic Noh
masks and wall hangings, carefully placed to give the room a very
traditional eastern feeling. At the front, near the doorway, a small
podium stands for the greeter. At the far end, by the kitchen door, a
long sushi bar made of dark wood has several seats for the patrons to
sit and converse the with cook as he prepares his art.
         The restaurant has a peaceful quality to it, like stepping
into a different world. Gentle music from the koto and the shakuhachi
quietly drifts through within the walls. Several wooden doors are near
the far end, by the sushi bar, and the doorway beneath the store
banners leads out to the street.

Carol
"I am woman, hear me roar!" Tall and statuesque, the woman before you
could have easily walked off of some Paris runway. Easily nearing 6
ft, she is graceful in both form and movement. Her limbs are long and
willowy, compactly muscled and unerringly symmetrical. Hers is the
body of a runner or swimmer: slender and well toned, made for speed,
very compact. Her flawless skin is smooth and supple. It hides her age
in a glow of health and vitality. Her sky blue eyes are penetrating
with their fathomless gaze. Her features are slight and delicate:
Romanesque cheekbones, full lips, arched brow and angular nose. A
cascade of blonde tresses flows her crown like a golden shower. It
surrounds her face like a shimmering nimbus. She is calculated
perfection, like all of Park Avenue's manufactured beauties.
  A tight grey sweater clings to her torso like a wisp of smoke. It
follows her every curve and conture, fitting her form to a T. It
crawls right down below her wrists, while dipping dangerously to
expose a healthy amount of cleavage. A pair of faded blue jeans cling
to her like a 2nd skin. She finishes the look with a pair of short
black leather boots. A silver chain encircles her right ankle.

Peter
This is a young man in his early twenties. Although he's got a good
(though lean) build, and he's not bad looking, the overall feel most
people get off him is 'geek', especially when he smiles. Maybe a good
looking geek, but a geek nonetheless. He stands about 5'10, and has
brown hair and hazel eyes. His skin is a little on the pale side. He's
clean-shaven.
  He is currently wearing a pair of brown slacks, and as a top a blue,
horizontally-striped long-sleeved shirt with a collar.
  To top off the whole 'geek' look, he's wearing a pair of glasses.

Anthony
The young man before you is a fine physical specimen. Standing over 6
feet tall, he moves with an athletic grace. His muscles are well
defined, obviously the product of many years of physical exertion. His
brown hair is now worn long, and is pulled back in a slightly
ludicrous pony tail. He's also now sporting a van dyke, looking much
like a rebellious idiot. His eyes are brown, his nose well
proportioned. His features are pleasant, although not on a par with
that of a model. He has a slight farmers tan, hinting that he may
spend a lot of time out of doors.
   Right now, Anthony is wearing a dark black duster made of some heavy
material, a black shirt and black jeans.

Steve
         A tall and strong man, looking to be in his mid-twenties.
Certainly not someone most would forget easily, he stands at about 6'
4", and probably is nearly 250 lbs. of solid muscle. Blond hair,
short, neatly combed, a square jaw and clear blue eyes... good looking
by most standards, and possessing a certain undeniable presence, even
beyond what a man of his size and powerful build would usually have.
         He wears simple but good quality clothes, probably tailored
for his large frame. Light brown slacks cover his legs and a white
button-up shirt under a brown sports jacket his torso. On his feet
comfortable brown leather shoes can be seen. There is also a nice
looking watch on his left wrist.

Superheroes also like good food. Or is their excuse, at least.
Actually Steve has invited the rest of the gang to this place because
conversation in the Triskelion tend to be overheard. Peter probably
already knows why, given all inquires about the mysterious robots in
that warehouse have gone unanswered. Steve had no luck with his own
questions regarding his mission, and although he is used to that in
military operations, this time is different. People come almost every
day to the Triskelion, dead people that go straight to the morgue, yet
never make it to the news. There are rumors of a terrorist mutant, or
mutants, with technological powers and a bloodthirsty disposition, and
some OMA agents are involved. Yet not the Ultimates. Even General Fury
seems unhappy, and he has been talking to Steve.

So they are here, in this restaurant. Steve wearing an old fashioned
hat as meager disguise. And fortunately nobody seems to have
recognized yet. Or maybe some of those customers are really federal
agents watching them. If so they can only hope they are working for
Fury, and not for Gyrich.

Peter sits at the table. In his civies he's not known at all, and
since he looks like an average schlub (especially with glasses), he
helps detract any attention from all of them. Watching one of the
waiters go by, he says, "I dunno, I still think we would have gotten a
better table if we came in costume." Of course he's joking, he knows
this kind of conversation has to be done in private.

Well, it was bit of an adventure to make his way here, as hes not too
familiar with this section of the city, but Anthony managed to show
up. Underneath his duster, hes wearing a shirt with a large Nike
swoosh on it for some reason; he usually favors blank clothing. He
also has a motorcycle helmet stashed under the table. Its not like he
needs it, but he feels it makes him look cooler, and besides, hes used
to wearing helmets. Hes not too keen on this place, hes never been a
fan of asian food. Hes really more of an Italian guy, since hes used
gobbling huge loads of carbs before he does his thing. Hes still
struggling with the miso soup hes been brought as an appetizer, poking
the little tofu cubes with a little disgust on his face. Yeah, but
then wed be mobbed. Hes trying to sound disinterested, but hes
actually a little annoyed. His costume is incredibly simple, these
people should know who he is and be bugging him for autographs damnit.

Carol tends to attract a bit of attention in or out of uniform, but
the statuesque blonde has learned to live with it. Comes with the
turf. But like her colleagues, she knows how to pass unnoticed when
need be. A life time of espionage has taught her that. And unlike
Anthony she's a pro when it comes to making her way around asian
cusine as her skill at the language and knoweldge of the etiquette
shows. "I dunno...at least they didn't seat us by the kitchen." Carol
chuckles lightly. "So Steve....it must be heavy if you've taken us out
of earshot to talk. Spill."

"I think it is," replies the blond man with a sigh. And Steve really
hates to have to meet in secret like this, deceiving his superior
officers. "As you know Peter and me were investigating some places a
couple weeks ago. Peter found some kind of automated factory and I...
was told not to talk to anyone about this, unofficially, of
course. I went to an old factory a few miles from the city, with a few
OMA agents. It had been almost completely stripped out of all
machinery, but we found half a dozen men and two heavy trucks, still
working in loading machinery. They reacted very poorly to out presence
and there was a firefight. Two of the OMA agents were wounded, but we
managed to subdue the men. And then, they died. Just like that, they
were staring at us with hostility in one instant, and dead the next."

Peter nods along to Steve's story. "I didn't find any people, but
there were a whole lot of killer robots in the factory. They attacked
me, and when I managed to escape, the building self-destructed," he
explains. "I don't know if there was any evidence left... I wouldn't
be surprised if whatever did survive was destroyed by our own people."

Anthony takes this in with his head down, his eyes peering into the
murky mysteries of this alien soup. Hes not too surprised he wasnt
brought into the loop on this one till now. Hes more of a bruiser,
brought in when a fights probably going to start. Hes not exactly a
detective, and hes kind of glad hes been riding shotgun with SWAT
teams rather then stuck in the Triskellion, doing records searches.
Still... "Seems pretty extreme. Gotta be something deep if they're
willing to go all scorched earth." While hes more interested in the
beating that got laid on the bad guys, he does have one good question
that pops into his head, "Any idea who owned the site?" he says,
finally looking up from his untouched soup.

Carol can't help but blink in surprise at all this. She nods in
agreement with Ant's question. "Indeed. Who or what is it that we're
facing here? Some kind of conspiracy? Illegal technology? Corruption
from within? I'm not sure how this all is adding up. Its all coming
across as a lil too sci-fi for my liking."

"The warehouse was property of Shaw Industries, a major military
contractor," replies Steve, more playing with his food than eating it.
"The factory was owned by a subsidiary of Shaw Industries too, but it
was used to build heavy industrial machinery for civilian uses. I
don't know why someone would bother to steal that, the amount of work
involved is staggering, not to mention it seems impossible they
could have done it without Shaw's people noticing. And the thieves
killed themselves, or were killed by some kind of remote control. Who
is that fanatic? Where were the normal workers of the factory? Well, I
couldn't investigate, of course. But I know more of these 'suicidal
terrorists' have been captured or killed by OMA agents in the past
week. There are over twenty corpses in the Triskelion's morgue."

Peter has been holding it in until now, but can't help but blurt it
out. In his heart, he knows who's behind it... not all the whys or
even exactly the what, but he's quite sure about the who. Even if he's
wrong. "It's gotta be Shaw. It adds up. He's dirty, and he has
government contracts. This has to be some super-secret project he was
working on for the military, and it got out of control or he sold it
to terrorists, and the government doesn't want to admit their
involvement."

Anthony blinks, a little shocked by this new information. "Thats a
substantial body count." He says, mostly as a non-sequitor. When Pete
blurts out his conclusion, Anthony cant help but shake his head a
little. "You've been watching too many conspiracy movies, Pete. It
cant be Shaw. Too obvious and too simple. Something this big is gonna
be layered with fake fronts and dummy corporations." He does scratch
his chin a bit though, as he considers the idea, "But you're on the
right track; someone in Shaw industries is probably involved." He
looks over to Steve, "Any leads so far?"

Carol rubs her chin. "This thing is so complex that its mindboggling.
Do you think the powers that be know more than they're letting on,
Steve? What does the General think?"

Steve shrugs, "if it is a conflict between government agencies it is
completely out of control." He looks at Carol, who doubtlessly has
more experience than him with those matters. "I am pretty sure that
the General is also in the dark, and quite displeased, which is part
of the reason we are here, but I have no idea of who is in the know.
Gyrich is probably just following orders, and he is in Washington
right now. If the body count keeps growing and we are still kept in
the dark, the General has suggested to me that perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea
if we investigate on our free time, and then let him know
whatever we find."

Peter shakes his head. "I still say Sebastian Shaw's behind this."
Holy one-track mind, Batman! But then, if someone kidnaps your
girlfriend and causes the death of a bunch of people, you tend to
develop a bias. "He may not be the only one involved, but I'll bet you
he's part of it." He looks uncharacteristically grim, falling back
into some dark memories. "But yeah, I'm in for investigating solo. I
don't want..." he pauses, realizing, probably too late, he might sound
pretty biased, "whoever's responsible to get away with it."

Anthony doesn't really get Peter's sudden weird intesity, given the
chatter he keeps up on the comm channels during missions. He shrugs
and sits back in his chair looking at Carol then Peter. "You guys are
so negative. You should really have more faith in people and our
government." He says, still the naive teenager in a lot of ways. He
then shrugs and adds, "I've got nothing on my plate for the next few
days. I could lend a hand running down some leads." He says, then
adds, "Also, if we're gonna go talk to Shaw Industries, maybe I should
go." He says. Hey, any excuse to hob knob with a rich person, and
maybe secure a spokesman deal.

Carol glances at Anthony giving him the 'you are such a newbie' look.
"When you've been around the block a few times...you learn not to
trust anyone but yourself." She turn back to the others. "In any case
whomever is behind this, its obvious that this conspiracy is far
reaching. Its possible that Shaw or someone in his firm is involved.
While the General and Gyrich are clean, there may be others in the
government involved. At the very least they'll want this stuff hushed
up and left well alone. We're really flying solo on this one, Steve.
In the extreme. Are we ready for that?"

Steve nods to Anthony, and then raises an eyebrow to Carol. "Now you
are being a cynic, Carol. But in this case we can't disregard the
possibility of some rotten apple in the government or the army pulling
strings and blocking the investigation, causing unnecessary deaths.
Peter seems to have some experience dealing with Shaw, and if he
believes Shaw is dirty, I believe him. If we are investigating on our
own, we can start with Shaw Industries. Or rather, you can. I have
programmed a two month tour through several military bases on the East
Coast. I am not going to be in New York much." He grimaces a bit.
Truth to be told, he looks forward for a couple months of
semi-military life, but it comes at a bad moment, when the Ultimates
might need him.

Peter is happy to be believed by someone. "Okay, so we'll look into
it. I probably shouldn't meet with anyone at Shaw Industries in
person, but I'll see if any of my contacts at the newspaper know
anything they can't print, and try and follow up on some leads there."
He's disappointed Steve won't be along for the investigation, but he
knows the guy can't exactly back out on scheduled stuff to investigate
stuff they've been told not to investigate.

Anthony chuckles slightly at the rampant cynicism in the majority of
the group. "Alright, I guess I'll take care of talking to Shaw
Industries, since I'm the only one who's objective on that front." And
then he adds, to try and appear slightly more tactful, "Also because
I'm the only other guy besides Steve who's had public relations
training." He also is relieved he's not on that military tour. The one
thing he doesn't miss from his football days is the overly regimented
discipline. He then looks over at Carol and grins. "Hey, we're the
most powerful people on the planet. Push comes to shove, we can take
on some knuckleheads that don't understand the meaning of the word
'Ultimate'."

Carol says "If only that were true, Kid...." Carol sigh's at Anthony's
youthful exerburence. Was she ever that green? "So that settles it.
Peter will check his media contacts, Anthony will check out Shaw. As
for me...I'll call on some of my contacts and see if I can't find out
what our people know about this stuff. If it really runs as deep as I
suspect, then we can't be the only ones to have come across it. There
has to be a trail out there somewhere. The trick is to uncover it."
Carol glances at Steve. She's still a little surprised that he's more
or less given her the nod on this one. That was a surprise and a half.
"Steve...if we get in too deep or uncover something significant, I'll
be the first one on the horn to you. That I promise."

Steve gives Anthony 'the look', since it seems the young man has been
listening too much to the speeches of the PR department about the
might of the Ultimates. "Then it is settled, we all agree this problem
needs to be investigated. I really hope it is just some out of control
mutant and nothing else, but if you find solid evidence of foul play,
go straight to Fury, he is the person that can use the information,
not me." And the main courses are here, so he changes the subject of
the conversation to the weather. He has little to add, anyway.

WHAT: Curiosity brings Frankie to Excelsior, and into a rather awkward
reunion with Jono. They're undoubtedly overjoyed to see each other.
But it doesn' exactly show.
WHO: Jono and Frankie

WHERE:

Excelsior HQ - Central Concourse

The heart of the building is a rather large enclosed concourse, which
has been turned into communal areas by Excelsior. The center of the
room is actually at a slightly lower level, leaving a walkway around
the outside, off which doorways lead to all the other areas of the
building. In the far left a doors lead to the gym and showers, the far
right, the cafeteria. to the left of the entrance a corridor leads to
the games room, while on the right a door leads to the classrooms.

A couple of steps lead down into the central part of the room, which
is carpeted and laid out rather like a high school common room, with a
number of sets of chairs and tables, where the building's inhabitants
can meet and chat, as well as some more comfortable couches. There are
a few large artificial plants scattered around to provide color and
the room is well lit from the high ceiling.


THE ACTION:

Curiousity had gotten the best of her. In her few days spent at the
Safehouse so far she had heard about this Excelsior group
or...place...however-publically funded thinger or whatever. Really if
Joey got involved with anything, /if/, she'd just kind of presume it'd
be with the Brotherhood, but she wants to leave options open for the
kid. She was vaguely planning to visit the place but not really, but
when she was in the area and noticed the building she figured she
might as well. She can see if it might be some place Joey might want
to get involved in later on somehow. "Regular dorm room..." She
mutters quietly, shuffling quietly into the area as her pale gaze
flickers around, coming to a pause in her steps are her attention
settles on a few gathered in the common room, just watching them
thoughtfully as her arms come to fold loosely over her stomach.

Jono is back on duty at Excelsior after the infamous Red Hand Gang
incident, which basically means hanging about, waiting for someone to
ask him to do something that might be off use and fight off whatever
nutters might be thinking of attacking the building this week.
Thankfully it's been pretty quiet, so he's back to his duties as
normal, which means sitting on a chair to the side of the concourse,
his feet on a able, a newspaper over his head and trying to sleep,
like he usually does during daylight hours.
Excelsior HQ - Central Concourse

The heart of the building is a rather large enclosed concourse, which
has been turned into communal areas by Excelsior. The center of the
room is actually at a slightly lower level, leaving a walkway around
the outside, off which doorways lead to all the other areas of the
building. In the far left a doors lead to the gym and showers, the far
right, the cafeteria. to the left of the entrance a corridor leads to
the games room, while on the right a door leads to the classrooms.

A couple of steps lead down into the central part of the room, which
is carpeted and laid out rather like a high school common room, with a
number of sets of chairs and tables, where the building's inhabitants
can meet and chat, as well as some more comfortable couches. There are
a few large artificial plants scattered around to provide color and
the room is well lit from the high ceiling.

Hard at work...of course, Frankie's got no way to tell which one of
these brats are just here or actually people who are 'working' in the
building. A slender hand raises up to push her hat up on her brow
slightly, glancing around a bit and peering around at any magazines
that might be scattered about. At a couple of the kids who are
gathered in the area, she wanders a bit closer, but not bothering to
move directly over toward them. "Hey, you guys know anyone who's in
charge or somethin' around here?" She raises her voice slightly, her
gaze flickering over toward Jono's form when one of the youths points
over at him. A brow raises, her head tilting to the side a bit as she
watches Jono's form before nodding to the kids and making her way over
toward him. Not him, is it...?

Jono can hardly claim to be in charge, but he's around while the other
volunteers are off being useful, so that probably makes him senior by
default. The paper doesn't move but Jono is apparently awake. From
behind the paper, or rather more accurately, bypassing the ears
entirely, Jono's mental voice comes. "<If that's not a hot bird, I
ain't at home,>" he complains, then reaches up to flick the paper away
from his face with exaggerated exasperation.

"Yeah that's you," Frankie mutters a bit, flinching at the voice in
her head as she steps up next to the chair he's perched on. She tilts
her head down a bit, sighing quietly as she eyes Jono and rests her
weight against one hip slightly before smirking. "Shoulda figured
you'd be all involved wit' something like this. Hardly workin', eh?"

Jono rolls his eyes towards Frankie, finds his gaze is focused
somewhere around hip level, then moves upwards. He's silent a minute,
giving Frankie a blank stare before he responds. "<I do the night
shift,>" he comments. "<Plus, they won't let me on the phones. People
get frustrated talkin' to dead air. Plus, they melt,>" he adds as an
afterthought.

"Right." Frankie mutters faintly to herself, looking a bit anxious for
a brief moment as she rubs slightly at the pack of cigarettes in her
pocket before raising her hand up again and smiling a tad more warmly
at Jono. "Long time no see." She says after a brief pause. "Guessin'
you're doin' well and alla that if you're runnin' around this place?"

Jono arches an eyebrow and gestures towards the chair next to him,
drawing his feet off the table and pushing himself upright in his
chair. "<Well, the Pack sorta evolved,>" he comments dryly. "<Few of
us stuck around to help out, but it kinda snowballed. Just a small cog
in a big wheel an' all that.>" He cocks his head to one side and
reaches up to rub the back of his head, looking slightly bewildered.
"<Where the hell did you spring from?>" he asks abruptly.

Frankie looks at the chair for a few long seconds, stepping forward
after a brief hesitation before easing herself down with a soft
exhale. "Ah." She replies a bit absently, not really making any effort
to hide the fact she really doesn't much care about the rest of the
Pack. She raises a hand up to pull her hat off, tilting her head down
and scratching at her forehead briefly before pushing any loose hairs
back from her face and lowering her hat to her lap as she leans back.
"Been here a few days...not long." She replies as she glances around
with a mildly bored expression on her face. "Wanted to come here to
take care of some business and bring the kid to check the Brotherhood
out...she's been kinda curious about them and since they got no base
in California I figured I'd bring her with me."

Jono srt of freezes and blinks slowly. "<Uh.. kid?>" he asks slowly,
wondering when the hell Frankie found time to breed. "<Er.. didn't
know anything about a kid.>" He gives Frankie an appraising look,
presumably checking for signs of stretch marks. "<Yer knw we ain't the
Brotherhood. This is mutual tolerance, if yer want race war, yer gotta
take the next turning.>"

Frankie gives Jono a bit of a short look at that, crossing her legs
lazily as she folds her arms over her stomach lightly again. "Me and
Finn took her in." She mutters, shaking her head a bit with an eyeroll
before looking away. "And I know you ain't the Brotherhood. Don't get
your panties inna knot, okay? I just want her to be where she feels
comfortable is all." She rubs at her arm lightly, then slides her hand
down to rest on her hat once more. "But she's real clingy to me and
Finn still...dunno if she'll even wanna leave us for a few years, yet."

Jono blinks slowly and comprehension dawns. "<Oh, right,>" he says
thoughtfully. "<Huh, didn't have yer pegged as the maternal type. But
I guess that goes some way to explainin' where yer been.>" He narrows
his eyes slightly then shrugs. "<Seems like everyone's been returnin'
from the dead lately. Sometimes literally.>"

"I'm not...Finn does most of the parenting with her, really." Frankie
smirks faintly, tilting her head back slightly to rest on the back of
the chair and raising a brow. "Literally?" She tilts her head, looking
a bit confused. "Eh? What'cha mean?" She leans forward once more,
lifting her hat up and pushing it back down over her hair, adding as
an afterthought. "And I went to Cali to find Finn, Joey's had nothing
to do where i've been, really."

Jono blinks and shoots a look towards Frankie. "<Joey? The kid's named
after a kangaroo. Okay, poor kid must have issues.>" He glances away
and reaches up to rub his face. "<Literally? Long story. Corvid died.
But she got better.>" He pauses and blinks. "<Okay, it's not -that-
long a story, it's just bloody nuts.>" He sinks back in his chair and
glances towards Frankie. "<Anyway... California eh? Long way to go for
a guy. Didn't think you were that much of a romantic.>"

"She doesn't like bein' called Joanna." Frankie replies a bit dryly,
perhaps looking a tad annoyed. "I can kinda empathize wit' having a
name preference, yeah?" She sighs a bit heavily, her brows furrowing
slightly at Corvid's mention, then shaking her head slightly.
Obviously out of sight out of mind...doesn't seem to ring much of a
bell with her. "Had no reason to stay here." She says, shrugging a
bit. "And I missed him. Managed t'make myself a lot more useful out in
Cali then I ever could here, anyway."

Jono shoots Frankie a rather sharp look. "<Huh, yeah, guess there
wasn't much to stay here for,>' he says, managing to sound offended,
even though he's trying not to. "<Still, if yer found yer place...>"
He shrugs vaguely and eyes Frankie momentarily. "<And at least yer
managed to top up yer tan.>"

Frankie finally just opts to pull the pack of cigarettes from out of
her pocket, fidgeting a bit with it though knowing better than to have
any intentions of smoking while inside. Damn New York laws... She
tilts her arm a bit, glancing down at where her darker skin is most
noticeable because of her scarring on her arms, and shrugs. "It's
sunny out there." She says after a moment, then tilts her head to
glacne at Jono with a slightly raised brow. "You sound hurt." She says
rather simply, if a little surprised. No smarm or sarcasm behind that
statement at least.

Jono blinks and looks a bit shifty, like he's said something he
shouldn't have. Eventually he just gives a light shrug. "<Well,
believe it or not, you weren't too much of a pain to have around,>" he
mutters. "<With Arcadia buggerin' off to god knows where, Travis going
off his rocker, Zan focusin' on this place, Khai...>" He pauses and
just forges on. "<An' everyone else but Rwylann seemin' to end up
dead, it weren't exactly a bundle of laughs round here.>" He reaches
up and soothes the muscles in what remains of his face with one hand.
"<But yeah, I did kinda notice you weren't around.>"

"Didn't seem to notice when I was still here." Frankie replies with a
shrug, only the faintest hint of bitterness in her voice as she
glances away, just barely... "Bein' around here was too depressin' for
me anyway. Figured if Finn didn' wanna see me no more than I would
just go back to the usual routine in California." She glances down a
bit, tapping her arm lightly. "Warmer there...better place for me to
be, anyway."

Jono narrows his eyes and gives Frankie a rather cool stare. "<Huh,>"
he says simply and glances away for a moment, hen eventually back to
Frankie with an unreadable expression on his features. "<So, you'll be
heading back soon enough, I guess?>"

Frankie shrugs slightly, tilting her head down and pushing her hat up
on her forehead just enough to rub at her hairline absently. Her gaze
stays down a bit, looking a bit ponderous before she finally replies.
"Kid is headin' back in a week or two regardless. I'm kinda in limbo
right now out here until I finish up some business. I'm prolly stuck
out here for another month at least tho, I jus' found out. If I gotta
stay any longer'n that 'm prolly gonna try to find my own place.
Safehouse is nice an' all for a bit but I don' much feel like livin'
with a buncha people again."

Jono looks equally awkward, brooding to himself. But Frankie's
probably used to that. But recently Jono hasn't been so quick to fall
ino depression. After a few moments he stirs. "<I know what yer mean.
They got me playing house mom at the firehouse for a load of kids who
ain't got nowhere else to go. Which ain't so bad once you stop
intervenin' in the fights over the bathroom an' they learn to sort it
out themselves with a mixture of diplomacy an' violence.>"

Frankie raises her pack of cigarettes up to her face, inhaling from
the package briefly before she nods slightly and leans forward, moving
up to her feet. "So everyone else's pretty much gone?" She says as she
turns around, dropping her hand to her side and looking down at Jono.
"I think I heard of Rwylann bein' a the Safehouse. I haven't been
there too much 'cept for sleepin' tho' to see anyone I know."

Jono looks a bit shifty again and then just nods. "<Yeah, Rwylann's
there,>" he says slowly. "<When she's not around here or the
firehouse. Still see quite a lot of her.>" Almost all of her in fact.
"<Apart from that, yeah, people have scattered. Moved on or passed
on,>' he says, understandably bitterly.

Frankie raises a hand up, rubbing her chin lightly as she glances
around a bit, looking half reluctant before she finally just gets on
with it. "You seen Scuzz around at all, lately?" She half mutters.

Jono narrows his eyes rapidly. "<Yeah, he's not passed on,>" he says,
sounding somewhat regretful. "<He was round here a few weeks with
Rwylann before some of his old buddies tried to kill us all. Think
he's hanging with the Brotherhood too. Apparently they're always short
on human targets and he has that sorta face...>"

"Safehouse?" Frankie seems to more or less everything else said about
Scuzz, glancing down at Jono and raising a brow. "Guess I'll have to
stick around there a little more and find him..." She murmurs, then
seems to sigh quietly before visibly relaxing for the briefest of
seconds. The entire image if toughness cracking there as she offers
Jono and almost...apologetic smile before glancing. "Nice seein' you
around, though." She says as a bit of an afterthought. "I honestly
didn' know what t'expect comin' back here, didn' know if I'd see
anyone here 'sides from Scott or somethin' at the Brotherhood."

Jono narrows his eyes slightly. "<Dunno, luv, if there was people yer
wanted to find, yer could just ask around after them. Like yer just
did,>" he adds bitterly. "<But I'm doin' just fine anyway, don't yer
worry about me.>" He leans forwards in his chair and shrugs, which
makes him look like a crow with an itch. "<I'm sure Scuzz'll be
pleased to see yer.>"

"Figured you were done with me when I left, Jono." Frankie murmurs,
glancing down as she pulls out a cigarette from the pack, then slips
it back into her pocket before sighing heavily and offering another
tense smile. "Glad you're doin' good an' all, tho." She says, stepping
forward and hesitating briefly, then lowering her hand down to squeeze
his shoulder lightly. "Look, I gotta go. I'll see you 'round, 'kay?"

Jono eyes Frankie thoughtfully a moment. "<Done with yer? Well, if
yer'd left a forwarding address maybe I wouldn't have had to be,>" he
mutters gloomily. After a moment her reaches up to press his hand over
Frankie's. "<Mind you, I couldn't have exactly called,>" he says
dryly. He shakes his head slowly. "<I'll see yer around. Now yer know
where I am. An' maybe next time yer can actually tell me what yer
wanted here. I might be able t help.>" He pauses, then adds,
"<Stranger things have happened.>"

"Just want the kid to be happy." Frankie says, squeezing his hand
before she steps away from the chair. "Take care, Jono." And with that
she slips the cigarette between her lips, already in the process of
lighting it before she's even made her way actually outside of the
building.

Title:  A Simple Meeting
Synopsis:  In which Shinobi hires a private investigator, Adam Wright,
to track down his wayward executive.



Getting someone back on White's trail, assuming it could be done at all,
was one of Shinobi's main concerns after the incident. He couldn't go
home, so he managed to bribe Eve to let him stay at her bar for a couple
days, though it cost him a chunk of money he could have put to better
use. Once he was confident the 'heat' was off and no more brain-dead
technocultists were going to come after him, he relocated to a much more
comfortable base of operations in a hotel with a well-stocked bar. It's
from there that he first contacted Wright, though he was rather hesitant
to speak at any length on the phone; Shinobi is not sure just how far
their surveillance goes, but doesn't want to take more risks than he has
to. Learned his lesson about that. Assuming he's interested, Wright will
have directions to meet Shinobi somewhere fairly busy and innocuous; in
this case, one of the coffee bars not far from Broadway. Shaw himself is
sitting alone at a table along the wall, a steaming mug in front of him.
Not the picture of a man who's living in fear of cultists and robots.


A one Mr. Wright, parks his motorcycle in a fairly decent part around
the area, on the sidewalk, but away from foot traffic that is. New
Yorker will learn sooner that they beat cars any day of the week. He
gets off, looks at the place, well this is definately the right place,
though not the kind of bar he would have picked, but it'll do. Plus
considering who he's meeting, well he'll meet on top of the Triborough
Bridge if that's what this guy wants. He walks in and glances around
real quick. He spots who he's supposed to be meeting, not difficult to
do as at the current time he is the only guy sitting alone. He walks
over grabs the seat opposit of the guy, and says a quick, "Hello." And
just looks at the man he sat across from. With one though going through
his mind right now, maybe I'll get a decent expense upfront from this guy.


"Good afternoon, Mr. Wright," Shinobi says quietly and politely in
greeting. "I apologize for not being able to give you more information
before meeting, however I'm sure you'll understand that I would be more
comfortable explaining the situation face to face." He smiles, thinly,
and pulls out a large manila envelope, pushing it across the table
toward the detective. "There is someone.. missing, from my company. I
would like you to find him." Inside the envelope, Wright will find as
full a profile of Eduard White as can be found; Shaw Industries
personnel files can be very thorough.


"I understand, most people prefer face to face meetings." Once the
envelope is offered to him, he takes it and glances at it rather quick.
"I'll need access to his work area. People spend a lot of time at work,
something could be there. I can find my own way into his place of
residence of course. Also I require a deposit upfront to cover
expensives, the amount you want to give me is up to you of course. And
so you know I work on results, so if I don't get any, I refund your
deposit, and you don't owe me a thing." Once that is said he glances
some more at the file, "And the important question. How long ago did he
go missing?"


"I saw Mr. White personally within the last week." Of course, after
Shinobi saw him he was chased down by several mind-control zombies and
their little robot pets, but there's no use in scaring Wright off the
case right away. "I will make all the arrangements for you to
investigate his office unhindered, if that is what you require." Shinobi
takes a short sip from his mug, and puts it down again. "How much do you
generally require in advance?" He wasn't expecting to have to put down
money right away, but that it seems he will have to doesn't particularly
bother him.


"It's whatever you want to give me, just a deposit, or a retainer if you
will. The amount is totally in your discreation, if you think he's still
in the city around a hundred dollars will suffice, if you think I have
to travel I'll need more." He pauses after that, thinking for a moment.
"And I said work area, that covers more than the office. Any place he
spent a lot of time at. I will need access to employees as well,
particular those that new him and worked under him." He looks at Shaw
some more, "So let's start with you, I'll want to know about your last
meeting with him to start off with."


Shinobi nods, and starts to pull out his chequebook. "Not a problem, Mr.
Wright. I had very little to do with Mr. White, myself. My position at
Shaw Industries is somewhat less involved, under most circumstances. It
seems that only when things go very wrong I get to take an active role."
He chuckles grimly to himself, but continues. "White has been behaving
strangely for some time, and it was only brought to my attention
recently. We've performed our own investigations into his behaviour, and
in doing so discovered he may have been collaborating with certain..
undesirable parties. I had taken it on myself to investigate his
involvement further, and followed him. Professionally, I have had very
little contact with him." Scribbling out a cheque, Shinobi slides it
across the table. Five hundred should cover it, right?


Adam takes the check, folds it and quickly puts it in his pocket, he has
no doubt that it'll clear. "What kind of parties? Was he selling company
secrets or doing something else? How would you define behaving
strangely, who was in charge of invistigating his behaviour, and what
did you do when you followed him?" He pauses for the moment, "Who has
the most active involvement in your company as well?" He pauses for a
moment, "And I need you to be as specific as possible when telling me
everything. The attention is in the details after all." He thinks for a
moment, "And you said professionally you had very little contact? What
about outside of work, what kind of contact did you have there?"


"Rival corporations and the like. In truth, we're still not certain who
he is involved with, which is part of the reason we've brought you in.
His behaviour led us to believe he was leaking information, and using
his position to reassign assets where they shouldn't be going. I was in
charge of the investigation, but he disappeared before it could go much
further. Also, I did not know Mr. White outside of the office. He was a
friend of my father's, not of mine."


He looks at the man across from him some more, there is definately
something he is hiding, the real question is what. Time to play some
hardball, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the check and puts it
back on the table. "Mr. Shaw unless you are willing to tell me
everything you know, this will not work. So I suggest you take back the
check and find a PI who will overlook things you don't say. However they
will not get the results that I will." He says nothing else, and just
stares at the man some more.


"You want me to tell you that when I started my investigation I found
his family stuffed in a closet? That when I followed him out to Queens
whoever he's working with now tried to put something in my head, and
when I got home they tried to kill me? I can tell you a lot of things,
Mr. Wright, I'm simply not sure how much of it you want to hear."
Shinobi sips again, very calmly. If Wright wants the details, those are
them. At this point, Shinobi is fairly certain he's going to be left
alone at the table, a crazy man drinking his coffee.


The PI blinks a few times at that, and continues to stare at the man
across from him. He takes the check back after that, of course. "Let's
just say you have my interest. And now I can be more prepared." Mental
note, make sure you have plenty of ammo just in case. "Where in Queens
did you follow him to? I'll need to look there as well. And I suggest
hiring a bodyguard, or a dozen if these guys tried to kill you."
Surprsingly he stays calm. Can't get nervous, atleast not for the
clients sake anyway.


Well, that's a better reaction that he was expecting. "I can take care
of myself," Shinobi says calmly. He gives Wright the address of the
facility he followed White to, as well as the address of the White
estate in New Jersey. "The name Jocasta Bayram might be helpful as well,
though I hadn't heard of her before."


He nods at that, "Name doesn't ring a bell, but I'll have some people
look into her." He pauses again, "Now if there is anything else you need
to tell me, I would do so now. If not I'll go and get to work, and
you'll hear from me when I have found out some things."


Shinobi simply nods at that, non-verbally giving Adam his permission to
leave. For his part, Shaw simply stays at the table, drinking his coffee
quietly. Adam will have no trouble getting into the offices and talking
to the people he needs to see, but that's the extent of Shinobi's power
to make it easier for him.


After that the man gets up, and quickly heads towards the door. First
thing he does when he gets outside, lights up a smoke, damn New York
smoking laws. Yup this is definately going to be a fun case. Definately
going to have to get some old police contacts involved in this one as well.

Title:  Apparently it's a hotel, too..
Synopsis: In which Shinobi goes to see Eve after being ambushed by
robots and drones at his place.


It's getting to be pretty late in the evening by most standards, but in
'bar time' it's pretty early in the night, only around 11pm when Shinobi
makes it to the Night Garden. His normally calm and collected demeanor
is definitely somewhere else tonight; though he's not rambling like an
idiot or stumbling in like he's been already drinking heavily, he looks
shaken up at the very least, and tired. It was quite a trip getting
here, what with the constant fear of being followed or ambushed again,
and the complete lack of a vehicle. His car is a lost cause at this
point, which only adds to his aggravation. He liked that car. Upon
entrance, he immediately heads to the bar, pulling out a good deal of
money, which anyone would be able to see if they were paying any attention.


Eve is sitting indian style on top of the bar, towards the corner.
There's a half-empty beer glass next to her foot, as usual, and a bunch
of papers spread out infront of her. If anyone takes a closer look, they
seem to be bank forms. And by the way Eve's chewing on a pencil, it's
clear that she's having a difficult time making sense out of any of
them. Shinobi's entrance illicits a curious glance and a thoughtful
"huh" but that's about it. Human makes a beeline for Shinobi as soon as
he sees the cash come out, "hey, what can I get you?"


Shinobi hasn't really bothered to look around on entering; he spent the
whole trip here looking over his shoulder, and didn't see anyone
following him. This is the last place he'd expect any mind-controlled
government conspirers with sadistic robots and metal brain-goo to find
him, so he's letting his guard down so he can concentrate more on what's
at hand. As soon as Human speaks up, Shinobi is quick with a response.
"Water and food," he says, his voice cracking slightly as he speaks.
"Lots." he continues, dropping five twenties on the bar. "Get Eve for me
and you can keep whatever's left." He doesn't give Human much more to
work with than that before he turns and finds himself somewhere
comfortable to sit, facing the door.


Human grabs the twenties and looks at them. Holding them as if they were
carrying a plague, he rushes over to Eve and whispers something to her
and shows her the twenties. Eve's frown deepens and she throws Shinobi a
suspicious look. She whispers something back to Human and he heads
towards the kitchen, pocketing all the cash. Eve slips off the bar and
lands on the inside. She walks over to Shinobi, eyes studying him to
figure exactly what his game is this time. As soon as she reaches him,
she pours out a glass of water and places it on the bar infront of him,
"this better be good."


"It's never good," Shinobi practically mumbles to himself before looking
up at Eve. He grabs the glass, and drains it as quickly as he can. It's
a start. Food will make it even better, and at this stage he's not picky
about it. He's exerted himself more than he can handle tonight, and it's
only by willpower and necessity that he's even still awake. "I need a
favor. A place to stay. Someone is after me. They didn't follow me here.
Tried to shoot me. Tried to put.. something in my head. They were there
when I got home, tried to run me over. This is the safest place I could
think of."


If Eve had a sense of humor, she probably would've cracked up at that
last remark. Fortunately, she doesn't. She just pours out another glass
of water for Shinobi and then starts filling up a jug to accomodate the
glass, figuring he'll need more than two glasses to satiate his thirst.
Human comes out of the kitchen, exchanges a look with Eve, and then
moves to the other side of the bar to continue serving the other
customers. Eve gives her bar the once over before asking Shinobi,
"exactly what makes you think this place is safe? No, wait, I have a
better question: what gave you the idea that I'll let you stay here?"
She may sound a bit harsh but in Eve's mind, she's being sincere. She's
shown nothing but antagonism towards this guy and now he's asking her
for favours? Something doesn't add up. Ron bursts out of the kitchen
holding a tray laden with a bowl and two plates, and he sets them down
infront of Shinobi: cream of corn and chicken soup, a greasy
cheeseburger, and a large plate of fries.


Shinobi is more than happy to start on the second glass of water, but
only downs half of it in one gulp this time before putting it down
again. "This place is safe because they don't know I'm here. I don't see
how they could." He sips again at the glass. "And I don't think you'll
just let me stay here. I don't imagine favors come cheap." Shinobi's
eyes stray to the approaching food, widening considerably as though
it'll be the first time he's eaten in weeks. It certainly feels that
way. When it's put down in front of him, he dives in, eating quickly but
without making a mess of himself. Between mouthfuls, he also mentions,
"It'll only be for a few days." He's got plans, though not properly
formed ones, to take his revenge on whoever's making his life so miserable.


Images of the burned down Den flash through Eve's mind. She shakes her
head, "your money isn't going to do me any good if they find out you're
here and they burn down this place. Who's "they" anyway, and why are
they after you?" Curiousity is getting the better of her, though she's
half-hoping that he's talking about the X-Men. He did know she was
serious about the Xavier offer, right? She places the full jug of water
next to the glass and stands back to watch him eat, adding, "any
freak-hunter can pretty much figure out that most freaks will end up
here sooner or later, shouldn't be difficult for them to find you here."


"I don't know, exactly. Jocasta Bayram, if it rings any bells. I've
never heard of her before now." Eat. "They're not after mutants. Didn't
even know I was one until they tried to put something in my brain and I
got away." More eat, and drink. "It's a cult or something. Lots of
robots, people looking brainwashed and mind-controlled.. I don't know." Eat.


It doesn't ring any bells, no matter how much Eve scowls at the mention
of the name. This story is sounding more and more spectacular, and the
fact that it isn't the X-men is a little disappointing. Eve shrugs and
says "a grand a night, five nights tops. If they do come after you,
you're paying for all the damages or replacing my bar for me." If this
works, she'll be able to burn those bank loan papers. Seems like a good
risk to take for that pleasure.


"I'll be gone in three," Shinobi says as he spoons some soup into his
mouth. "If you know anyone who'd be interested in some.. work, put them
in touch with me and I'll give you another hundred per person if they
work out." Mmm, soup. Apparently he's willing to shell out quite a bit
of cash to keep himself alive, and even more to ensure that whoever's
making his life temporarily miserable will regret it later.


"What kind of work? Most of the freaks around here can hardly move a
mop, let alone act as bodyguards for a wuss millionaire" Good thing
Human and Ron were out of earshot for that one. "You're going to have to
do your own recruiting, just don't do it in my fucking bar. Last thing I
need is having my customers killed off by a bunch of robotic pod people"
She motions for Human and orders, "Human, there's a couple of old cots
downstairs in the basement, clean them up and put them in the spare
room." Human glances nervously at Shinobi then goes to look for the
cots. Eve turns back to Shinobi, "Don't expect much, this isn't the
Waldorf Astoria."


"Fine," Shinobi says, resignedly. He's not going to argue for a number
of reasons, not the least of which being that if he pisses her off
she'll probably kick him out and he'll end up dead, or worse. "Thanks,
Eve," he finally says, though it's with a bit less enthusiasm and
sincerity than she's probably used to.


Eve gives a sharp nod, she didn't expect any gratitude to be fair. Ron
comes over and asks, "Do you need to order anything else? We're closing
the kitchen soon."


"That's fine," Shinobi says, still working on the soup and fries. He
doesn't give Ron much more than a shake of his head and the two short
words, still busy eating. He's not exactly excited to be living in this
dump for any amount of time, but it certainly beats the alternative. In
the morning he'll start working out how to get himself out of the situation.


Ron nods and leaves the two alone. Eve continues to watch him eat before
letting out a sigh, "I'll be upstairs." She returns to her original
spot, gathering up the papers and gleefully tossing them in the trashcan.