United Heroes MUSH - User contributions [en]

10799/Such a Burden, Trust

2020-02-06T05:47:32Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/20 |Location=Royal Palace, Asgard |Synopsis=Loki and Sif commiscerate after dealing with the Avengers and allies. |Cast of Characters=138,1..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/20
|Location=Royal Palace, Asgard
|Synopsis=Loki and Sif commiscerate after dealing with the Avengers and allies.
|Cast of Characters=138,115
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' Loki is visible when Sif joins him on the other side of the portal. They're on the balcony outside of Sif's royal quarters, at the Asgardian palace. Loki, while visible, has his back to the portal, as if he feared no additional assault of tiny Wasp-like 'heroes' coming to be upset at him. Loki moves indoors, headed to the small fare of food that seems to have been set out for Sif's late lunch. He picks up a group of grapes and dramatically tosses himself onto the couch nearby, as if he were QUITE put upon with the whole episode, and deserved to rest. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' A last ringing sound comes from the sheathing of Brumeoalfold as its wielder steps through the aperture in reality from the cold rooftop of New York and into the far more mild late-afternoon sunshine of Asgard. Sif takes a moment to pause and look back over her shoulder with an outright venomous glare, as if the rent upon reality were to blame for all of her woes. It slips shut without further interference from anyone on the far side. While Loki moves into the living quarters proper, the Vanir Princess lingers on the balcony. Her hands rest upon the waist-high stone-carved railing and she leans her weight forward, her head dropped briefly in a show of lost composure. One fist thumps upon the stone with a muffled 'clank' of gauntlet disturbed. Then, straightening in place and assuming a more neutral set of face, she turns and enters her own rooms. "That went as well as to be expected, I suppose," says she with refined irritation rife in tone. A plate is set with various victuals from the late lunch and she seats herself with far more silence than to be expected for someone still in battle armor. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' "No, it was much, much worse," Loki says, eating a grape, and then relaxing back, his head lolling some onto the arm at the far end of the couch. His eyes close, his expression twisted: a mix of things. He releases a breath from his nose. "Unrelated to the midgardians being complete fools, to not realize it would be best to go along with me, that I might know better than they," Loki begins. "Unrelated to that - the mad Titan knew far too much. About the Stones. About /Asgard/. His information might be better than ours. And /that/ is what is much, much worse. Being /behind/ in information." 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Sif too sighs and glances over at the reclining mage. "I might play doubt's advocate for a moment, Loki, and wonder if the Titan was attempting the same gambit you might play -- or, rather, played upon the Midgardians. A claim to know what one might not, at risk of either being revealed otherwise or gaining information from a mouth spurned loose from surprise." Her cluster of grapes ends up a process in slow removal of fruit from stem and the recipient of a great frown. "It would take little to remove this Mikonia from their prison and less to gain any answers from her, but I would..." A small shake of her head. "I would preserve the Midgardian trust in our people unless necessity dictates we remove her." 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' Loki inspects the ceiling, eyes open and narrowed, then glancing to Sif. He's taking in her words, but not a lot reads on his face. He's a mask for the moment: a mask that then eats two grapes, and turns his eyes to the ceiling. "While I didn't sense a stone, that doesn't mean he doesn't have one. Or several," Loki replies. "The stone of reality should be entirely able to mask its presence." There's some interest there, an unhealthy curiosity in a stone that can /change reality/. It would appeal to an illusionist. "Are you suggesting I gave up information, that I was tricked?" Loki asks. It isn't sharp, but it is a little chilly. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' "It is claimed he is the Mad Titan. If he had several stones, why use words to try and force our hand? Why not come in and raze us to the ground as he did the entire planet beneath our feet?" Sif reasons as she looks over at the master-mage, a grape held between thumb and forefinger in paused process. "And no, Loki, I am not insinuating that you were anything less than clever in your way," she's sure to clarify before her gaze returns to her plate, sliding away from him. More grapes join the pile growing next to the cutlets of fowl and the collection of leafy greens beside a thick slice of dark bread. Stripping the cluster has the motions of a redirected fidget. "I am merely, as I said, acting as doubt's advocate that we may plan and regain any lost ground if the Titan has indeed bypassed us in our search." 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' "Well," Loki answers, accepting her careful clarification, it seems, about what she was insinuating. "What I most suspect is that either he was out of range of us in some way, or is ... fine with knowing where the Mind Stone is, even if it's a long shot about getting further stones." Loki scowls, rolls his eyes. "If it were me, I'd have allowed it. I'd know where it is - after all, who gives /up/ a stone?... so I would expect it would be in Asgard, I could get it anytime. Then... and then perhaps I would wait to see if the person went to check on the other stones, if he did know of more, after my threat." Loki flutters his fingers against the last of his grapes. "Considering that I was tempted to go collect the Mind Stone to keep it closer and safe, that may well be the angle. I /am/ tempted. After all, we could use the stones against him, obviously." 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Silvery armor chimes quietly against itself as Sif turns in her chair, now looking at Loki with lips parted first silently. Her grapes seem forgotten. "Loki, no. You said that gathering the stones together will only draw more attention -- that the stones themselves know of each other, that they have a familiarity or - or a sympathy to one another. Please: do not be tempted by this. If anything, we should hide the stone we have," she counsels, swallowing hard. "You saw what became of the world we visited." Perhaps shockingly, a glistening fills Sif's eyes. They quickly flicker downcast and away, her mouth a thin slash. Just as soon as the fracture in her calm shows, it mends and she exhales slowly. Her murmur is for her plate: "Asgard will perservere." It has the force of will behind it, as if it would be a known by proxy of leaving her lips. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' Loki chuckles softly. "I said I was tempted. Not that I was going. I positioned the stone away from here for a /reason/," Loki says, throwing his legs off the couch. He stands with sleek agility, and saunters over towards Sif's position at the table. At first it may just appear that he wants more grapes. Instead, though, as he crosses behind her chair, he drops one hand to her armored shoulder, touching lightly there, then extends his hand down in front of her over the shoulder, palm up, an offer of contact, or maybe even comfort to her. "I did what I did to create a point of contact, of information. I'll go back and learn what I can, if it's necessary," Loki says, quietly, as if that information were particularly of a private nature. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Sif's fine profile can be seen to drop in a curt nod, as if to silently say 'Good' to the mage's reminder that the stone is, in fact, nowhere nearby Asgard itself. The last grape is dropped to her plate and she sets the empty skeleton of the vine aside even as he crosses behind her. Loki will feel her shoulders rise and fall by a minute amount beneath his palm. Up comes her own hand, still gauntleted and covered by well-worth leather but for her fingers. With gentle pressure, she takes the mage's offered hand and squeezes it. Her face then turns to press cheek against his knuckles, as if they were to pillow. Her skin feels warmer as if she were fighting down a flush of emotion. Sif's eyes close and shut a touch harder than this, lines appearing at their corners. "Would that you did not need to, Loki," Sif near-whispers heartfelt. "It is...it is all so new still. I do not want to lose it. Any of it." 
}}

10967/You Say Po-Tatum, I say Po-tah-tum

2020-02-03T15:09:40Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/02/03 |Location=Main Foyer - Xavier's School |Synopsis=The awkwardness of inter-universal travel becomes quite clear to residents of the X-man..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/02/03
|Location=Main Foyer - Xavier's School
|Synopsis=The awkwardness of inter-universal travel becomes quite clear to residents of the X-mansion that evening with the arrival of Tatum O'Neal.
|Cast of Characters=117,296,8765,56
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:117|Tatum (117)}} has posed:'''     Sunday, the day before school. Things have quieted down and the younger students have already head to their dorms. All in all, it's just a nice, quiet and uneventful evening at Xavier's School for the Gifted. For anyone that has been there for a while, that very fact is reason enough to know something is going to happen soon.     As if on cue, a wind starts to pick up in the main hall of the mansion. But Ororo is nowhere to be seen. The wind picks up, starting to wind into a whirlwind. A beautiful antique vase falls off of one of the tables, smashing on the floor, the shards adding to the danger of the indoor tempest 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' Not long after the vase falls, a few footfalls are heard at the top of the stairs up on the landing. "What is it?" Kitty Pryde can be heard asking of the small purple dragon that has landed on the railing. Lockheed is looking down at the whirlwind. As is Kitty when she gets to the railing to look down. "Ok, who's messing around?" she asks loudly enough any students in the area and causing the phenomena will hear her. Lockheed gives a little hop assisted by a flap of wings, landing on Kitty's shoulder as she begins heading down the stairs. She's wearing a pair of socks and sweats and a t-shirt, and her hair is a bit mussed up as if she'd maybe laid down for a nap before Lockheed roused her. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Though it had only been since July, one of the mansion's residents has been around long enough to know the folly of even /thinking/ the Q-word... or so one would think. A winged teen girl, perhaps about sixteen or so, pads out of the kitchen with a big red thermos in hand, cradling it as if it contained the elixir of life. Perhaps to her, it did. Her hair is long and loose, pale gold save for one small, thin braid dangling to the left side of her face, capped with three little silver beads on the end. She's in what must be her sleepwear de rigeur--a pair of red tartan sweatpants, baggy bray tank top, and big, floofy Old English Sheepdog slippers. A quiet night, right? Right!      Wrong!      The whirlwind, with its cause unknown, catches her off-guard, and she keeps her large, sweeping white wings tucked in neatly behind her, darting for cover behind the kitchen door. "What the heck..?!" Was Miss Munroe playing a prank in preparation for April Fool's Day? 

:'''{{#var:117|Tatum (117)}} has posed:'''     As the whirlwind grows in intensity, a portal is created about 9 feet above the ground. Swirling and crackling with lightning, for anyone willing to look up into it, it looks as if the eye of the storm goes up and up forever. Other students come out, the older ones that don't have such an early lights out time.     Confusion. People are shaking there head in answer to Kitty. None of them are doing it. The noise of the wind roaring is getting to the point people are having to yell to be heard. Water starts to fall from the portal. It is hard to make out but a scream can be heard in the distance. 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' Kitty phases herself and Lockheed to avoid the wind and lightning. "Hambone, go... never mind. Michael, go up and get Ororo quickly," she calls, going for the student closest to the hallway to the attic before realizing which student it was and selecting another. "Everyone stay back please," she says to the students. "Grab any teachers that you see." Kitty's normally not here this late, finishing up her guidance counselor duties and then heading back to the city. She can't decide whether she's glad of it or not as she moves a little nearer to the portal. "Lockheed, if it's Mikonia remember her forcefield stops fire," she tells the little dragon, "But she had trouble seeing through it." Kitty continues down the stairs cautiously. This portal is nothing like the one that sent Tony Stark, Captain America, Captain Marvel, and Rogue to another planet, but that doesn't mean it isn't related to that threat. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon frowns deeply when she heard that scream. Damn. That did not sound healthy. She deposits her thermos on the counter island in the kitchen, and wraps her wings around herself, ducking out into the hallway. The water might soak her hair, but wherever her wings have covered, remain dry. Even her feathers might as well be those of a water bird, with the bizarre rain rolling right off of them.      A healer's work was never done.      Shielding her eyes, the winged teen searches for Kitty, staying to the edges of the fray--but close enough to be of some assistance if need be. "Ever seen anything like this?" she asks, oddly calm for the moment. 

:'''{{#var:117|Tatum (117)}} has posed:'''     The screaming from within the portal gets louder and louder. For those that dare to look within, there is a dot that is growing in size, limbs forming as it gets closer. It seems that the screaming is coming from whatever is falling towards the mansion from within.     It feels like forever but in reality is only a few seconds when a woman in black leathers, that look reminiscent of the X uniform, lands with an unceremonious thump on the floor with a loud "Whuff!" escaping her from the portal. Upon landing, the portal sucks into itself and is gone with a loud CRACK as the air in the room is suddenly emptied of the portal and needs to refill the area.     Rolling onto her side, looking beaten and badly bruised, a woman with jet black hair uses a baton to push herself up to her feet. She looks up at the ceiling, scowling. "The least you could do is work on the landing! You are in so much trouble when your grandfather finds out about this!" 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' Kitty shakes her head to Shannon, having to yell to be heard. "Not quite like this, no!" she yells. Teleporting discs, purple Blink portals, green Khundian portals. Portals made by Gateway twirling a bullroarer. But never one with the weather accompanying it. Kitty hears and sees the figure that is descending towards the portal. There is a brief thought of trying to phase the person to stop them hitting the floor, but if she lost her grip the person could materialize in the floor and be killed. Given she's worried its someone in service to the Mad Titan, that might not be a bad outcome. Instead she waits and watches as the person hits. Kitty and Lockheed step back, even phased, as the portal closes, not taking chance. "You really should phone ahead before dropping in... Miss...?" Kitty says to Tatum as the storm and portal fade away. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Torn between caution and seeing someone who's hurt, Shannon just shakes her head. Damn it, she'd just gotten -out- of the medbay, and had no wish to wind up back there anytime soon! Yet there was just no way she could ignore someone who was hurt--whoever that might be. Trickster gods, friends, or foes, she just couldn't stand idly by. "Miss?" she calls out, keeping her voice soft and low, her tone soothing. "Please, come sit down? You're hurt." 

:'''{{#var:117|Tatum (117)}} has posed:''' The woman looks like she's been through hell. Her X uniform looks like the portal really beat her up, with tears, cuts, and blood. She winces as she struggles to her feet and looks around. She seems to recognize Kitty and nods her head. "O'Neal. Tatum O'Neal. Do you happen to know this world's designation?"     Tatum, as she calls herself, looks about at the students and tries to offer a smile in an attempt to be comforting. She tries to guage their reaction to her X-Man uniform. Do they know that the staff are part of the elite team of mutants? Or is this one of the worlds where that is all kept hush hush?     An angel offers her a seat and the woman smiles. "Warren? So, you're a woman in this universe? Good to know." 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' "One side!" Storm orders crisply. There is a crackle to her voice that's quite rare for the teacher, outside of a crisis, and students flatten themselves to the wall as she literally flies down the stairs. Ororo's wearing loose-fitting linen pants that bare her calves, and a plain white tee with no adornment. On the ground she surveys the situation; the newcomer, Shannon, Kitty, the mess in the parlor. Her hair's lately worn tumbling and flatteneed, and as she's just got up from bed, it's in a bit of a mess around her head, a frost, frazzled corona. "Bedtime. /Now/," she tells the other residents-- and anyone who isn't the trio of women in the foyer almost evaporates into thin air. Literally, in one case! Ororo turns to Tatum and takes a few steps forward. One hand lifts in a gesture of peaceful intent-- but she *does* maneuver to try and put interdict her person between the newcomer, and Shannon and Kitty's position. "Welcome to the Xavier Institute. I'm Ororo Munroe, one of the teachers here," she tells Tatum, warily. Her eyes are all white, and the imposing air pressure around her suggests her relaxed posture is not entirely careless. "Before we all sit for tea, I'd like to know your name and intentions. Miss...?" 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' Kitty is eyeing the tattered remains, seemingly recognizing enough of the costume if perhaps not the person. "Tatum you say?" Kitty asks. "Tatum O'Neal?" Her eyes widen a little bit. "There was someone by that name but never really knew her," Kitty says, trying to dredge up from her memory what bits she had seen in some of the files. Kitty was at Oxford for awhile, so some came and went from the X-men while she was gone. As Ororo arrives, Kitty gives her a nod. "Arrived in a portal surrounded by a twister and lightning." Lockheed is resting on Kitty's shoulder. "This isn't Warren," she says. "He's, Warren. You're not from this reality?" Kitty asks, looking a little wary. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon's eyebrows loft and she chuckles lightly, shaking her head. If allowed to do so, she guides Tatum to sit down on the stairs, watching her carefully for any particular movements or outward signs of injury that might indicate something more severe, perhaps internal. "No, I'm not Warren. He is here, though. My name's Shannon. I'm one of the students here, Miss O'Neal." As for the rest, gifts and all? Yeah, she'd just let Kitty or Miss Munroe do the talking there. 

:'''{{#var:117|Tatum (117)}} has posed:''' As Ororo's voice calls out to the students, the newcomer looks up with a face alight with joy. She nods, as if seeing the familiar face makes everything right in the world. The only thing is, unless one was at the school 3 years ago, this is not a familiar face. To Ororo however, this face looks remarkably like the old Home Ec teacher and Dr. McCoy's fiancee. "You don't know me. I know. I'm from another universe. It's a lot to explain. Hank has tried explaining it to me at least a dozen times now and I still don't get it."     If she is being honest, the Tatum O'Neal from this world disappeared three years ago without a trace. Hank said she had gone missing from the timestream. Whatever that meant. "No. This is my... sixth world?" She raises a hand to Shannon as she approaches. "Please, don't touch. I'm a null. I take away powers. Don't want your wings falling off. I doubt it would be comfortable." She sits down, looking exhausted as the chair wobbles unsteadily from the tempest that had just taken place. The floor is wet. "The person that keeps sending me to other worlds... it was raining where I was. " She gestures to the floor. "Sorry." 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' "It's quite all right, Tatum," Ororo says, and her voice shifts to something more reassuring than stentorian. The white film fades from her eyes, and the pressure in the room returns to something closer to barometric norms. "Shannon, would you be a dear and fetch some tea? Quickly please, and be mindful of close contact. She's not lying about being a null." The word is said in a clinical sense, rather than the disdain some mutants use. Ororo steps closer to Tatum, without intruding inside her arm's reach, and slips to her knees in front of the chair. It puts her head closer on a level with Tatum's and offsets some of the intimidation factor of Ororo's height. "Before we get into the details, are you unwell? Do you need medical attention?" she inquiires, her tone quite gentle now. 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' Kitty's initial concerns are slightly mollified as the more immediate concerns about who or what Tatum might be seem to be unlikely. She glances to Ororo, falling into the background as the senior X-man takes the lead. "Hank's fiance," she repeats, eyebrows going up just a bit. Up on the stairs, Hambone says, "Oh wow, this is going to get retweeted so much!" Kitty glances up and winces. "To bed, now," she says, nodding to Ororo that she'll clear out the rest of the students, and then heading up the stone. "James, you know I'm the server admin, right? Send that tweet and... well, I'll let you imagine just what I'll do. But I'll get Ellie's help with the photoshop." Hambone groans. "Oh man." He hits delete and puts his phone away as Kitty shoos him upstairs. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon nods, offering all three a warm smile and sketching a bow--out of Tatum's reach, of course. Well, that was one person she wasn't going to be able to heal. "Of course, Miss Munroe. I've got some in my dorm, won't be but a few minutes to heat up the kettle." The winged teen scurries up the stairwell and heads for the east wing and her dorm, disappearing for several minutes.      When she does return, she's got an old but well-loved découpage tray in her hand with brass handles, old tea rose cutouts that look to be straight out of a Victorian era Valentine's Day card forming the central motif. There's a white electric teakettle with steam coming out of the spout, four plain white mugs, and a small mahogany tea chest. "I wasn't sure what kind you wanted, so I just brought down the whole thing so everyone can choose." 

:'''{{#var:117|Tatum (117)}} has posed:''' Tatum looks shocked at Kitty as she meantions how Tatum was Hank's fiance. "Wait, there was a me in this universe?" She looks confused. "That's never happened before. I've always been sent places where I hadn't been born into that reality." She takes a deep breath. "That's a new twist. Going to make this time through more awkward than the normal."     The Null shakes her head to Shannon. "Nothing a trip to the medbay won't fix. Some broken ribs and other fun stuff. It was a hell of a fight but we sent him packing back to whatever place sourced him. I hope." She then sighs deeply, or tries to, wincing from the broken ribs. "Hank has told me often enough to not give details of the other worlds so as not to mess up your own natural order. I would give you more details, but Hank would have my hide. No matter what world I've ended up in."     The sight of the tea tray gets a laugh, only for Tatum to stop and groan, placing a hand over her side. "Chuck has you all doctrinated in the healing properties of drinking earl grey tea? Some things never change." 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' "Oh dear Mother, another one," Ororo says, and heaves a long-suffering sigh. She uplifts a palm at Tatum, and shakes her head. "And-- no. I don't need to know about alternate versions of myself. I very much regret not buying into that timeshare in Coral Gables, and I don't need the spectre of regret following me." Her hand drops, and the twinkle in Ororo's eyes indicates she's being more disarming than literal. When Shannon returns, Ororo's retrieved towels and blankets, and stoked the fire in the antique New England mantle. "Shannon, thank you for being a dear," Ororo murmurs, and helps set drinks out. Once everyone's got a proper cuppa in hand, she lifts her chin at Tatum incrementally. "So it's still Tatum then, yes?" she hazards. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon winces in sympathy, offering Tatum a wry smile. "Just make sure they don't serve you Jello," the younger mutant quips. "I've come to understand the Captain's lack of fondness for the stuff all too well."      Within the little tea chest is actually an assortment of varied teas. Yes, Earl Grey is among them, but so is Irish breakfast tea, chamomile, peppermint, lemon zing, orange spice, peach green tea, and a few other varieties--including rooibos. A smile is given to Miss Munroe, and she dips her head by way of acknowledgement. "There's little that can't be solved over a good cup of tea." 

:'''{{#var:117|Tatum (117)}} has posed:''' Tatum chuckles, in spite of the pain at Ororo's regrets on time shares. "Thank you for understanding. Most people want to know who they were with, or how successful they were. And Hank has made sure I knew that even the smallest detail could cause ripples that become major problems later. So, I keep the worlds behind me right where they are. Behind me."     The raven-tressed woman in the X uniform makes eye contact with Ororo and then glances down at what she herself is wearing and then nods over to Shannon. The silent communication is clear. Is the teen in the know about what the uniform means. Is she breaking any secrets. 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' "Ah, well. I've tried to live life with few regrets," Ororo assures Tatum with a smile. "I made my choices long ago, and part of making choices is living in contentment with their consequences." When Shannon glances away, Ororo shakes her head very minutely at Tatum and lifts a reassuring hand. Not quite inviting the other woman to surrender all the secrets in her head, but putting her at ease with just a gesture. Ororo is quite deft that way. "You could almost pass for British, Shannon," Ororo informs the winged girl. "I'm sure Kitty will come say hello later, too, once she's wrangled the last of the children into bed, Mary Elizabeth, I can *hear* you breathing by the stairs," Ororo says, sipping her tea and staring straight ahead at Tatum. Theere's a shocked gasp and the pattering of invisible feet, and Ororo's sky-blue eyes roll with a tolerant exasperation. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      For her part, Shannon does not seem at all shocked by the tattered X-uniform that Tatum is wearing. However, neither does she make a big deal of it, just smiling and winking quickly at the newcomer. Beyond that, she said nothing on the matter, until some indication otherwise was given by Miss Munroe. "That's a first, Miss. Is it that weird for kids to like tea, that I could pass for British?" She shrugs, and grins impishly at both. "Okay, so mom passed on a love of music, tea, and antiques to me."      The remark about the Professor and the virtues of drinking Earl Grey tea, have her thinking, though. She shrugs, and smiles a little bit. "Have yet to meet him. But then again, I kept hearing about Warren from day one here, and found out he wasn't a myth after all around Christmas. So who knows, there's hope yet." 

:'''{{#var:117|Tatum (117)}} has posed:''' Mary Elizabeth's pitter patting footsteps brings a smile to Tatum's face. "So, I've been here before? And you say I was Hank's fiance? That means I can only be in one of two worlds." She pauses a minute, letting the weight of that realization truly hit home. She licks her lips slowly and takes a deep breath, regretting that decision almost instantly as she winces in pain. "What class was I teaching here? Was I music or home ec?"     She sips at the tea and a smile spreads on her face. Whether tea actually has the powers to sooth or it's just conditioning from the Professor, a cup of tea really does make everything better. "Well, you haven't hit on me in the five minutes I've been here, so I can already tell that you're nothing like Warren. You'll meet the Professor. He's just a very, very busy man." 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' "Our Warren's not *quite* so bad," Ororo says. Her tone suggests she's mustering more solidarity than fact to her aid. "But... last that... *a* Tatum was here," the goddess says, carefully. "She was teaching Home Ec. If that's familiar footing for you at all," she offers, hastily. Clearly, this isn't the first interdimensional refugee that Ororo's fielded. "You'll understand, I hope, if you're invited to stay in the guest quarters tonight," she bids Tatum. It's hardly a pile of hay in the barn; the guest quarters are quite lavish, in their way. "Charles will, I'm certain, want to meet with you tomorrow." A little complex body language is expressed in a shrug and gesture; security is inconvenient, but mandatory. And, quite necessary. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon lets out a soft little sigh, perhaps a bit heavier than a girl her age ought to. "Ha," she almost spits out. "As if that'd do any good anyways. I'm pretty much kryptonite." She shrugs, and puts a smile on her face, the expression at direct odds with the venom she just directed at herself. Her wings ruffle lightly before settling in once more behind her, tucked in neatly and well out of reach.      A slight nod of agreement is given, the teen's tone becoming much more mild at the shift in subject. "I'm sure I will. Myths do, after all, often prove to have a basis in reality in the end. Other matters do need to come first, it's all good." 

:'''{{#var:117|Tatum (117)}} has posed:''' A slow nod of head as she is told that Home Ec was her class here. She looks deep in thought, her eyes darting back and forth as she tries to put timelines together. Her train of thought is derailed by mention of the guest suite and of meeting with Charles the next day. "Naturally," she agrees with a nod. Security, keeping the teens safe until they are able to take care of themselves, is paramount.     Tatum shakes her head over to Shannon. "No you're not. I can tell you right now that most teenagers, boy or girl or anything in between are all mostly too scared to try asking a person they like out. You'll find yours. Probably when you least expect it." 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' Ororo shakes her head, rising. "And, I think that's enough discussion for the moment. The last thing anyone needs is advice from someone who's seeen it done already, but better." She offers Tatum a polite hand up, but thinks better of it, and instead clasps her own hands and gestures grandly at the door as if Tatum were a distinguished guest. "Please. I'll show you to a warm bed, at least for tonight. When the sun rises, we'll have more to discuss, I'm sure," she bids the newcomer. "Shannon-- I'm quite sure it is past your bedtime," she reminds the younger woman. "Would you please count heads on your way to dreamland?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "Of course, Miss Munroe. Sleep well when you get there, and I'll see you in class tomorrow. Oh, and Miss O'Neal? Welcome. Or welcome back, whichever applies." Shannon sketches a somewhat theatrical bow to the pair, her wings snapping out briefly to their full span. The tea things are collected and put back on her tray, with the young woman slipping back upstairs to the student dorms. She does make a brief round of both the boys' and girls' dorms, listening near each door to make certain, without intruding, that all is well, returning to her own room to drift off to sleep. 
}}

10966/Fine Mead, Good Chocolate, Terrible Television

2020-02-03T15:09:32Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/02/03 |Location=Queens, Fairchild's Condo |Synopsis=Thanks to her millenia of experience, Sif assuages Cait's worries about romantic entanglem..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/02/03
|Location=Queens, Fairchild's Condo
|Synopsis=Thanks to her millenia of experience, Sif assuages Cait's worries about romantic entanglements
|Cast of Characters=115,1120
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Time spent in Asgard is never wasted. However, sometimes, the Princess of Vanaheim wishes for simpler faire and fond company on the world of Midgard instead. A summons on her phone via text set the time and place for the rendezvous: Caitlin's condo in Queens. Sif arrived not so long ago looking as if she'd fit in on the streets of New York City itself rather than in any high court of the Asgardian palace, but she did bring two things: a bag of more comfortable clothing yet and a corked jug of Asgardian honey-mead. Now, she sits enthralled by the vision she's seeing on the television screen. Within the oversized terry-cloth robe, its color black as night, the Aesir woman can't help but put her fingers to her mouth against a smile. It breaks: Caitlin won't miss the sudden riot of laughter. "By the Fates, that bird, it is -- it is -- hanging upside down with its plumage awry and bubbling its chest! These things exist here on Migard?!" Of course, David Attenborough continues urbanely narrating the fine mating dances of tropical birds of paradise all the while. 

:'''{{#var:1120|Caitlin Fairchild (1120)}} has posed:''' "I keep forgetting how little of Mid-- Earth you've seen," Caitlin says to Sif. She's dressed in much the same attire; ochre brown yoga pants that flow loose past the knee, rolled down to her hipbones, and a sleeveless halter tee sporting very washed out pink and yellow horizontal stripes. Her hair's pinned up behind her head as if she's ready for bed, but instead stands in the kitchen with a gallon-sized bowl on her hip and an egg beater in her right hand that moves like a powered whisk. "I think they're in Bermuda?" she hazards. "Or South America. I've been to the African jungle, I was part of an envoy to Wakanda once," she tells Sif. The whisk is lifted and she gives the dripping chocolate batter a critical eye, gauging consistency. "But I've never been to the Amazon, and I haven't see much of India or China or anything like that." "We could go to the zoo sometime," she offers, and starts pouring the mix into a stack of muffin molds. "They've got a lot of wildlife there. Stuff from all over the world, even. The New York Zoo is one of the best in the country." 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Sif continues nibbling on the very end of a fingernail and watching the continued escalation of 'ridiculous' bird of paradise mating dances. Her shoulders jilt soundlessly in silent laughter until, again, it bubbles up. Her head falls back onto the couch and she outright cackles. "I -- oh, one moment, please," and the Princess wipes at the corner of her eyes. "I would appreciate a visit to the zoo if only to further educate myself on matters." Her fingers gesture to the television off of their resting place in her lap. "The narrator mentioned South America, I believe, as to where these creatures live, in the Amazon." Chrome gleaming through the consistency check of the batter has Sif looking over and then rising to be drawn by curiousity to the kitchen. The immediate area is delightfully redolent of cooking. Sif leans a hip against the counter, her arms loosely folded, to watch the delivery of each dollop to the muffin molds. "I daresay I will need to bring one of your creations back to Prince Loki. Even he would not be able to resist it," she comments with a smile. A pause and then she asks, with mischief in her ice-blue eyes, "...do you think, if I asked him, he might change into a bird of paradise and emulate one of those dances?" It's too much. Cue giggling again. 

:'''{{#var:1120|Caitlin Fairchild (1120)}} has posed:''' Caitlin giggles explosively at that proposition, and immediately tries to cover her mouth with her hand. She succeeds only in whipping a line of chocolate batter across the kitchen, which provokes even more chortling amusement from the redhead. Her nose and ears are just a bit red; she sets both bowl and whisk aside, and reaches for her glass of mead as well. "Oof, this is making me super goofy," Caitlin admits, and swallows a titter with a gulp of wine. "Oh my. Yes. The zoo. And you can bring Lokio-- Lo-- Prince back whatever you want, I always make extras." She looks from the TV to Sif, then back again, then rests her elbows on the counter with a mischevious expression and looks up at Sif. "But I'm not sure I could tell the difference between him and the bird as it is," she whispers, and breaks off in another peal of helpless giggles. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' By the time Caitlin manages to wrangle the whisk's sudden splash of batter, Sif has needed to retreat to a kitchen chair to sprawl indecorously in her own buzzed state. She's slouched with a legging-clad leg stretched out here and there, bare-footed, and she clutches at her waist. "Prince //Loki//," she reminds her Midgardian friend and ally. A blown sigh through pursed lips and again, the Vanir Princess wipes at the corners of her eyes. Caitlin's claim of avian confusion has Sif at first blinking -- the audacity?! -- but then, she can't help another peal of laughter. "Now -- now, see here! He is not -- not all of the time, Lady Caitlin! He has his pride, ye-hes, but so do we all!" Sif flips a hand at the red-head a few times even as she tries clearing her throat to stop the giggling. It works. Mostly. "But even you admit it! His plumage is fine, is it not?" Now Caitlin gets a conspiratorial little grin. "He is a handsome man." 

:'''{{#var:1120|Caitlin Fairchild (1120)}} has posed:''' Caitlin's athletic shoulders rise and fall unevenly, and a little look of shy embarassment crosses her face. "I-- I mean, yeah, he's objectively very handsome," Caitlin agrees. She fidgets under the weight of Sif's grin, weight shifting. Fortunately, all the furniture in Caitlin's house is built with the megaton redhead in mind, who is on the same scale for mass as the Asgardian finest. "He's not really my *type*, is all," she clarifies, and resumes pouring the batter. "I guess-- I mean, can I ask you honestly?" she inquires of Sif. She hesitates as if worried she's going to offend her friend. "I'm not sure I get it. He's very ... uh.... roguely. Roguish? Roguish," she amends. "He seems like he's very tricksy. But he's done some bad stuff, too." Asgardian mead seems to be robbing Caitlin of some of her vocabulary, though at least her cooking skills aren't affected. "And he... I mean, he seems to make you really happy." She sounds baffled by a lack of relative worldly experience. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Sif's smile goes quietly pleased at the agreement. She knows to be patient with the young Midgardian when she asks these more pointed questions. Caitlin is thoughtful moreso than most of her friends, given more are inclined to rush into battle or conflict without much further consideration. "He is roguish," the Vanir Princess concurs with that light note of amusement still wending through her tone. "Here, allow me to fetch my mead, I left the glass near the couch." Rising, Sif pads into the living room to pick up and bring the drink with her back to the kitchen chair. She settles onto it as if it were a seat of honor and tucks the long skirting of her terry-robe better over her crossed legs. "I understand where you might be concerned. I am also not offended. Loki does make me happy." Her smile lessens without disappearing entirely. "I am also more than aware that past behaviors do not sit well with Midgard as a whole. Sometimes..." Her pale eyes slide off to one side as she considers. "I mentioned pride earlier. I think, sometimes, our pride takes precedence over other things that require care...that require an understanding that we may..." By her small frown, Sif is struggling with the mead as well. She eventually rolls her eyes at herself. "I like to think myself a good example for him, in my way. I do not seek to influence him against his self because that would be heinous behavior. I wish..." Another sigh. "I wish that the worlds would see him as I do. He is not all tricks. There is a man in there who is finding the will to trust." 

:'''{{#var:1120|Caitlin Fairchild (1120)}} has posed:''' Caitlin shrugs again, with an uncertainty that's more adolescent than obstreperous. "I... I mean, that sounds really noble," she admits, and tilts her head as if seeing Sif's side of things. "He's been there for some kind of big stuff lately. Helped out with things, hasn't he?" she hazards. The redhead sets about moving the cupcake moulds into her oven, one so large it possibly was taken from a commercial kitchen during her remodel. There's a distinct lack of Non-Caitlin clothing and attire around; the condo's even quite tidy again, compared to Sif's last visit. "I'm sorry, it's really none of my business," she apologizes to Sif. "I shouldn't pry. Gosh, that mead is good." Another quick gulp is taken, a bit more liberal than her earlier modest sips. "Well, I guess at some point I should apologize for pouring water on him," Caitlin says with a heavy sigh of repentance. "I feel kind of bad about that now. I really thought that was helpful. At the time," she clarifies. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' "We endeavored to help the Avengers with their lost teammates, yes. I believe they still have a captured agent in their care. What of her current state, I know not." Sif shrugs, uncaring and understanding both of her lack of knowledge in these matters. "I do not judge them for being distrusting of Loki, but he and I did give aid when it became necessary off-world. I hope they find their missing friends. I have not heard word yet of their return." Sif too sips more heavily at her mead and savors the sweetness on her tongue. It leaves a sheen to be appreciated; the aftertaste lingers like a breath of summer. "You need not apologize to me. You are a friend and you were curious. If I had cared, I would not have answered as I did. He will appreciate an apology, if for the basis of it. It was water, not wine or something more dangerous yet," the Princess reminds Caitlin with a kind smile. "Between us, I do chuckle from time to time at it. It was an honest reaction to being startled." 

:'''{{#var:1120|Caitlin Fairchild (1120)}} has posed:''' "Well I wasn't going to *hit* him," Caitlin huffs, with a feigned severity. "That would have been rude. Also, he was invisible, and you only swing at invisible things so many times before you realize how dumb you look when ya do it." "Well, I'm make him some apologies. Cupcakes. Apologycakes." Caitlin titters once more. She rests her elbow on the counter, and props her chin on her palm. She only sways a little-- thank goodness the floor sounds like it's recieved extra structural reinforcement so her footsteps aren't thundering around for her neighbor downstairs. "You're a good friend too, Sif," she tells the Princess. "Yer really pash-- pes-- you're cool with me. I've never--" She straightens and makes as if to push her hair around, and then realizes it's done up and out of her face, so she has nothing to fuss with. "I've never dated. Diana won't talk about it, and Carol just blows me off when I ask her, so--" Her shoulders rise and fall. "Outside of some really bad anime, this is about as useful as anyone's been when it comes to that whole thing." 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' "Loki would like apology-cakes," her Vanir friend agrees and laughs that her own eyes twinkle. Only a sip of mead is left when Sif comes up for air after the next tilt of glass and she swallows, blinking at Caitlin in innocent curiosity at this sudden turn of conversation. "Oh, Lady Caitlin." Her smile grows even more fond, surely sweetened by the mead; it makes the Aesir warrior-goddess more transparent yet. "You know you may ask anything of me. I count you as friend and true confidant. You have more honor and spine than half the preening popinjays who think themselves better than all else. If mine own experiences offer any wisdom, I am glad for it. Granted..." Her fingers draw a pensive circling off of her lap. "Asgardian courtship is not as quick or public than Midgardian courtship. It is heavily influenced by manners and social standing. There is little to do with things such as Tindr and Netflix." 

:'''{{#var:1120|Caitlin Fairchild (1120)}} has posed:''' Catilin's face screws up in a horrified expression, and she shudders with repulsion. "Ew. Eww! Eww! No! TMI! Too much information!" she says, and her hands make several negative slashes through the air. She steps back into the kitchen and busies herself with the mundanity of cleaning several spoons in her sink, back to Sif. "I don't-- I know a lot of people in college who were into that. Before, before--" she gestures vaguely at herself; positioned as she is, quartered away from Sif, her face is hard ot see. "This happened, no one looked twice at me. Afterwards, I had stalkers crawling out the walls." She snickers. "Well, I did make one walk through downtown with an Arby's sign wrapped around his head. That was pretty funny," she reflects. Caitlin glances at Sif, then sets the utensils in the sink and turns. Her eyes find something on the floor to stare at, down and to the right, and she rubs her tricep with her free hand. "I guess... I mean... I worry, like... how do you know? When someone's.... you know. ....'Someone'?" 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Sif blinks in surprise at the outburst. She looks down at the last mouthful of her mead and up at Caitlin's back as if to blame the drink for the current state of affairs. Rather than defend herself just yet, the dark-haired Aesir listens as her friend fumbles her way to the point of just short of scuffing the floor. Bare toes curl against the flooring of Caitlin's condo and stretch again. The red-head is subjected to a thoughtful pale-eyed look now. "Firstly, Lady Caitlin, 'courtship' is precisely as it sounds. It is now lewd or unrefined. Your world's legends of knights and high romance? They do stem from somewhere." Sif tucks her chin to give Caitlin a little smirk. "And insofar as knowing as to if someone is, as you say, 'the one'? A mystery, my lovely friend." Sif's shrug and lift of hands is graceful despite the mead. "I have seen no set pattern of behavior in all my time on Midgard or else-world, on planets not even you have entertained dreams of. What I do know is that there is always risk to be had and to be challenged with courage. You do have a song well-known by the songstress Pat Benetar called 'Love is a Battlefield', do you not?" 

:'''{{#var:1120|Caitlin Fairchild (1120)}} has posed:''' "Know it? I can play it on my cello," Caitlin scoffs. "But mad points for trying to flex on me with your knowledge of Midgardian music," she salutes Sif. The brawny ginger retrieves her drink and moves toward Sif, then grabs a pillow and sinks onto the floor not far from the chair. Her weight shifts to a hip and she props herself up with one palm. "It'd be nice to be on Asgard though," she says, wistfully. "You've got such a proper way of doing things. Even courting someone. I bet Loki did all of that," she says, sighing. "I mean, whatever it is you do. Flowers at dawn, duels over dinner, a pair of live rabbits. Here, it's..." She makes another face. "I mean-- I've had to be quite firm with people at the Hall of Justice. Even at Stark Industries. 'Hey come over, let's watch that Netflix documentary'-- what's the appeal there? I *have* Netflix here. And ice cream. And all my comfy clothes," she points out. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Caitlin's salute receives a very buzzed and Midgardian finger-gun, complete with thumb-trigger. While the younger red-head gets herself comfortable, Sif does the same on the chair. Now she's curled up within its curved back with both legs drawn up beneath the long skirting of the terry-robe. An elbow on the chair's arm lets her rest her chin on her palm, tilting her head at a charming angle. "I see no appeal myself, especially in the veiled insinuations with watching Netflix as such. Comfortable clothing and ice cream are far superior to poor flirting, in my opinion. I am glad that you feel confident enough to turn down those pissants who dare attempt your affection for no more than your physicality, Lady Caitlin." A firm nod accents Sif's opinion. "Loki was generous in his courting. I received...nearly an entire garden," she says with a glance down at her hands in her lap, almost shy. Almost. Her grin is bright as she looks up at Caitlin again. "He knows my delight in winter honeysuckle. It climbs along my balcony now." A sigh. "Lady Caitlin, you do realize that I will gladly see that anyone who attempts to court you passes muster?" What a thought: the Asgardian Goddess of War sitting at the table, idly polishing her sword in full armor. FALSE-HEARTED SUITORS BEWARE. 

:'''{{#var:1120|Caitlin Fairchild (1120)}} has posed:''' "Well, I..." Caitlin trails off, looking into her oven. "I guess just.... if I'm ever doing something stupid, tell me, okay?" she requests, quite plaintively. "I feel so stupid," Caitlin confesses. "I can dissect a brain or do complex cellular comparative anatomy, but ... everyone I know is seeing *someone*." She glances about, and lowers her voice conspiratorally. "I think even Diana has a boyfriend," she murmurs, and seals the wake of the words with an index finger to her lips. "But don't say anything about it. She wouldn't want me talking about it." Cait's eyes fly wide, and she claps hands over her mouth. "Oh golly! I said something!" she realizes, with a low wail. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Caitlin might bemoan her mead-loosened lips, but Sif in her chair breaks into delighted cackling. It means tossing back her head again in pure amusement before smiling at her red-headed hostess from the plinth of her palm and forearm. "I will not repeat what you have said, Lady Caitlin. I have no wish to cause strife between you and the Lady Diana. That she has a companion is glad news to me. Should she choose to tell me, in turn, I shall feign flawless surprise." Sif places her fist against her heart as ritual action. A glance over at the oven has her pursing her lips. "I cannot, however, promise to be anything less than ebullient about your creations. I see...ten minutes left on the timer. I shall abide." She does give Caitlin a contemplative look and then grins mischievously yet again. "Now, tell me: if your suitor were to offer a dance as courtship, what would it be? Please, tell me it would involve many feathers and much gyrating." Poor Caitlin. She can't get a break -- but it's all in good fun and from good mead in good company. 
}}

10964/Office Spaces

2020-02-03T15:09:23Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/02/03 |Location=Four Freedoms Plaza - Ground Floor |Synopsis=Its an office workday on a Sunday Not Funday. |Cast of Characters=25,1702 |pretty..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/02/03
|Location=Four Freedoms Plaza - Ground Floor
|Synopsis=Its an office workday on a Sunday Not Funday.
|Cast of Characters=25,1702
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:25|Sue Storm (25)}} has posed:''' Its a weekend, but there's still work to be had and since Sue has hired 5 new assistants she has plenty of leeway with asking one of them to come for work hours. There's a big project tomorrow that is being presented publicly and Sue has had to delegate work to Sophie all day. Sending Sophie around the building to deliver things and check on other things to be brought back to Sue. Its been about six hours of this though and Sue's coming to check on Sophie. She's holding a couple of cups of hot coffee for both of them as well, some tastey latte's from the cafe a few floors down. 

:'''{{#var:1702|Stepford Cuckoos (1702)}} has posed:'''     "I'm sorry Misses Storm-Richards, I know I was supposed to come back to you as soon as these papers have finished printing, but..." GRUNT!     Sophie goes to kick at the machine with the inside of her foot. "Bryan said this is the best way to make it work faster and it's not even doing anything any more." Sophie says, her hair is disheveled and strands hang loose around her face. The blonde seems almost out of breath too though she's been fighting the printer for at least thirty minutes, like one of the guys from Office Space. "This thing. I think it's true evil." 

:'''{{#var:25|Sue Storm (25)}} has posed:''' Sue shows a grin at the young woman's plight and offers her a cup of coffee. "Here, this'll help take the edge off. Or add on to it. One of the two. I'm not really sure which." She'll then sip from her own and look to the copy machine. "Normally I wouldn't like seeing an employee abusing office equipment, but that particular printer is infested with an evil spirit, so I'm told. We called the Ghostbusters home office, but they just told us their base investigation fee was five grand, so... we'll deal with the ghost." Sue shows a grin to the Cuckoo and then leans a shoulder against the doorframe. "Hows your first day going? Two more hours and you'll be a free woman again." 

:'''{{#var:1702|Stepford Cuckoos (1702)}} has posed:'''     "Ghosts aren't..." Sophie pauses and she seems to look into the wall itself as her eyes glaze over for a moment and then they clear back to normal and she squints her eyebrows above her nose. "Are-Are ghosts really real?" She asks Sue directly, sharply and with pure curiosity, but before Sue can answer that, "Oh, it's a lot more stressful than I thought and people seem to be looking at me funnily, like... I sense a lot of malice and envy from those around." 

:'''{{#var:25|Sue Storm (25)}} has posed:''' "No, you're attractive, thats why people are looking at you." Sue casually replies with a calm voice as she takes another sip from her cup. "You, and your sisters, do have a bit of an intimidating far-off gaze, but it works for you, so don't fret on that any." Sue glances back out into the hallway as a couple of employees walk past. "I'm still waiting on that schematics update, Tom." She says to the back of one of them. The man turns around and gives her a casual response about it being 'on the way.' Sue looks back and lets her smile for Tom fade away, after he walks off she mutters. "Putz..." She then focuses her gaze on Sophie again. "Youtube says ghosts are real and thats all that really matters any more, right?" She does a little half-smirk before nodding once. "Malice and envy are what make office buildings work. Its like diesel fuel for a semi-truck." 

:'''{{#var:1702|Stepford Cuckoos (1702)}} has posed:'''     "I think I understand." Sophie says looking to Sue as the printer starts to hum and then vibrate loudly behind Sophie causing the woman in a charcoal suit to jump and clutch the binders she's holding to her chest as she screams and runs towards Sue as quickly as she can. "I'm not so certain if I believe it or not, but can we call someone?" Sophie asks as she puts her back to Sue so she's between her boss and the possessed printer. "A lot of minds around here seem to think either option of yes ghosts or no ghosts. So I'm not sure where I stand, youtube or not." The girl sounds almost robotic and afraid to make her own conclusion without reading the minds of those around her first. 

:'''{{#var:25|Sue Storm (25)}} has posed:''' Sue smirks at the woman rushing toward her. "It won't eat you, Lacy, its just a broken gear in the paper dispenser." She takes another sip of her coffee and then moves to set it down on a nearby table. "I've seen a ghost." Sue says to Sophie while approaching the copier then. She starts to open the machine up with an experienced touch to the proper places. "Once when I was helping the police with a case down near Battery Park. It flew right out of the back of a building when the door was thrown open, it stopped in the alley and just spun around and stared at me. A nasty little thing, four arms, two mouths and beady red eyes." As the copier comes open, Sue sets parts of it aside and starts to get her hands inside of it to fix it herself. 

:'''{{#var:1702|Stepford Cuckoos (1702)}} has posed:'''     "You've actually seen a ghost?" Sophie asks, blinking a few times watching her boss do /her/ job and it takes a moment before it clicks what's happening and slowly, Sophie steps up to the still possibly haunted printer and then she lowers down to rest on her knees and puts her face down near Sue to watch the woman's hands reach into the printer and work expertly.     "Oh. I was afraid to open it and break something. But..." Sophie trails off as she watches Sue work and listen to Sue's mind as she goes about unjamming the Packard and it hits Sophie in that moment as well, "Did- Did you call me Lacy?" 

:'''{{#var:25|Sue Storm (25)}} has posed:''' Sue has to release a little laugh. "Yeah, I mean, if that thing I saw wasn't a ghost, then I sure as hell would like to know what it was." She replies as she digs around inside the machine and then there's a pop and a snap and she pulls out a small little plastic wheel. She holds it up and nods her head lightly. "See?" She points at it. "These little cheap ass plastic things? They always break, right there." She motions to a snapped off feeder groove where it clearly broke. Her eyes then go to Sophie. "I promise I won't blame it on people kicking the machine." She states with a smirk. Sue drops the broken wheel down on the table and reaches for her coffee. "Come on, I'll let you tell the tech guys what to do. Bossing them around is pretty fun." She heads for the door to the hallway again. "And no, Lacey was the one who ran away clutching her magazines that she hides in those folders and thinks I don't know whats actually in there." 

:'''{{#var:1702|Stepford Cuckoos (1702)}} has posed:'''     "I didn't break it, Bryan told me that's how you fix it." Sophie reiterates as she looks at the plastic sproket and frowns, taking it from Sue's grip and standing back up to her feet.     "Bryan!" Sophie says as she starts to storm out of the room leaving the binders and the printer and her boss on the floor. "Bryan get back her so I can beat you up." She must have picked that up at the mansion. 
}}

10963/Know when to hold'em...

2020-02-03T15:07:57Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/02/03 |Location=Boathouse - Xavier's School |Synopsis=Cards are held, foldeded, some walk away, others run. No one counts there money while si..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/02/03
|Location=Boathouse - Xavier's School
|Synopsis=Cards are held, foldeded, some walk away, others run. No one counts there money while sitting at the table.
|Cast of Characters=14,8765,248,114,9293
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' The little fliers had been up for about a week in the Rec Room, teacher's lounge, and on the student bulletin board. An open invitation to anyone who wanted to enjoy a friendly little poker night over at the boat house. Snacks were prepared, cards shuffled by a "Neutral third party", and the clock eases on to the appointed time as Remy makes sure the final preparations are ready. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      As promised the week before--despite ensuing events that necessitated a visit to the medbay for a few days--Shannon is coming out of the kitchen bearing a tray of snacks. She's got her hair pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of the food, and she's wearing simple light blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and her old white sneakers. As always, there is the little brown leather bag tied onto her belt, in case of minor injuries. The tray is filled with a mix of stuffed mushrooms, and potato skins olé stuffed with salsa, cheese, and topped with sour cream. "Ooof... hope folks are hungry! Where do you want this tray, Remy?" 

:'''{{#var:248|Megan Gwynn (248)}} has posed:''' Megan Gwynn doesn't really play poker, mostly cuz she tends to be pretty bad at betting and probably tends to lose lots of money thanks to her inability to keep secrets or straight faces. But this might be fun to watch and those snacks look super tasty! "Ooooh did you make em yourself? I'd be happy to help eat them!" she giggles as she peeks over Shannon's shoulder. 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops sits at a chair and mostly keeps his own council, watching the younger members of the team with a mixture of bemusement and quiet authority. His eyes, of course, remain hidden behind ruby quartz lenses, ideal for poker, their shimmering surface reflected the faces of the others as they pass. He has a soda with a straw sticking out of the neck of the bottle and a few pieces of cheese and crackers set aside for himself. He'll wait patiently for the game to begin and try not to be too much of a party pooper. Provided things didn't get out of hand, of course. 

:'''{{#var:9293|Kaida (9293)}} has posed:''' The sound is barely there but it is like a fast padding of feet. Tiny feet to be exact. A moment later, Kaida is leaping up, flipping and landing on the table with snacks and immediately snatching up a potato skin and chowing down on a full quarter of it in short order. She then holds the rest above her head and grins, "Am I late?" She then takes another bite and hmmms a little. Where does she put that food? It's kinda unclear but she sure can eat. 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' Remy LeBeau grins a little bit at the mouse girl, "N on petie, yah right on time." He says as he pops a stuffed mushroom in his mouth and then lays out 1,500 worth of chips for everyone at the table. He casually tosses Scott a deck of cards, "Care ta shuffle up an' deal. Figure dey all gonna trust yah more den me." He says with no rancor whatsoever. 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops raises an eyebrow, "I'm not sure it would make much difference. You're probably capable of cheats that wouldn't require you to hold the deck for much more than a second. There's no mechanical means or guarantee I can use to keep you from doing it. Only honor. Only trust," he says, even as he does, indeed, flicker the cards back and forth hand to hand, shuffling them into one another. "And that's entirely in your hands, whether you can live with deceiving your friends and allies...or not," he says, sliding the deck across. "Your deal, Monsieur." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon somehow, through some miracle, manages to find a clear spot to set down the tray. And it takes just about five seconds for Remy, Megan, and Kaida to all make for the mountain of snacks; her eyes are agog as Kaida manages to put away as much of a potato skin as she does, that's almost as big as she is! "Holy Hades there, girl, where do you put it all? You got a black hole hidden somewhere in your stomach?" To Megan, she smiles and nods. "Yeah, I promised Remy last week before I wound up in the medbay that I'd make the snacks tonight. Got lucky enough to be able to keep that promise." While it looks like Scott's got some cheese and crackers, she motions to the tray, sliding into a chair a small ways around the table. "Got plenty of snacks if you like." Yeah. This game was going to be new territory for her. Baptism by fire. Fun times ahead. 

:'''{{#var:248|Megan Gwynn (248)}} has posed:''' Megan Gwynn bites her lip as she watches Remy shuffle cards. "Soo ummm how exactly do you play Poker?" she peers around for a spot to sit and squeaks in alarm as Kaida darts up and grabs snackies a moment before she does herself. "Oooohiii Kaida!" she relaxes visibly, "Sorry, thought you were uh, something else..Erm! I mean someone, Err yeah you know what I mean..." 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' Remy LeBeau grins a little bit and does a sort of slight of hand trick, tossing a card and sending it spinning to in Megan's direction to land with "Rules for Texas Hold'em on one side and "Winning Poker Hands on the other." He grins a little bit. "Yah catch on quick enough chere, Ah promise." To Scott he nods his agreement and smirks, "Oh Ah'd nevah cheat a friend mon ami... At least not when de stakes ate literally non existent non?" he says amused, Then he quickly deals out two cards to each player and burns one. "So how everyones week, hmm?" 

:'''{{#var:9293|Kaida (9293)}} has posed:''' Hopping over to her spot, Kaida bites more into her snack and then sets down her food. She then looks over at Megan with a smile, "It's pretty easy." She nods her head and then looks to Shannon and blinks. She then blinks at Cyclops before squinting at Remy. She hmms and then tilts her head, "I'm not sure about all this back and forth but ok." She looks to Cyclops and then to Remy before back again. She then looks down at the cards and peeks under them carefully. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "Don't suppose you have another one of those cards you just flicked over at Megan, do you?" The winged teen just gives a sheepish grin, looking completely, totally lost as she looks down at her cards. Blackjack, this was not.      Oh, now there was a loaded question. She scratches her head a little bit, ruffling her wings as she considers how much to answer--especially with Scott sitting just a couple chairs down. "Eh. Slow week, got stuck in the medbay again. What about everyone else?" 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops mmmmmmmmmms at Remy's reassurance, showing a certain amount of skepticism, but it's amused skepticism more than anything too serious. If he didn't trust Remy properly, the man wouldn't be anywhere near the Mansion in the first place. "Routine week, as usual. Working on some new Danger Room scenarios," he says. "Making sure all the paperwork's filed to keep our licensing up to date. Almost got drenched in mud at Rogue's birthday party." 

:'''{{#var:248|Megan Gwynn (248)}} has posed:''' Megan Gwynn blinks, catching the hand dealt with her, peering at the rules. "Umm...I hope I can do this..What do we get if we win?" Yeah, Meg's poker face is already unconvincing as she peeks at her cards. 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' Remy LeBeau gestures with his head over towards a cabnet not to far away. "Bottom drawer is full of decks, Shoul' eit'er be de first or last in any of dem." He informs Shannon smiling. The Cajun raises an eyebrow at Cyclops and tilts his head "We /licence de Danger Room?" he asks amused, though he just makes a non-commital "Hmm", at the mention of Rogue's party. Since the pair agreed to stop seeing each other they've kept a polite but noticable distance. 

:'''{{#var:9293|Kaida (9293)}} has posed:''' A smile is given to Shannon and then at Megan before she looks down at her cards and then she blinks and grins, "Hey! When do I get to go into the Danger Room? I wanna fight the biggest, meanest thing you got!" She nods her head and leans forward a little with a smile, "I gotta perfect my techniques for giving bad guys a good solid punch and a kick and a slash!" She nods with a grin before she looks to Remy and pats the table a little, "We starting the betting?" She looks to Shannon and then at Remy, "Shannon is on your left. Should be her go, right? And did we even ante? Come on!" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon steps away for a moment, making a beeline for the cabinet and retrieving another deck of cards. The only one that makes it back with her is the one with rules of the game. She furrows her brows a little bit, glancing over the information quickly as she returns to the table, nibbling on a stuffed mushroom. "Welp... baptism by fire, n'est-ce pas, monsieur?"      She smiles a bit over to Kaida, and nods a bit. "Trust me, no sense looking for trouble, it finds us well enough on its own. But... yeah, training. Good idea."      Oh crap. Now she was put on the spot, absolutely and completely lost as to what to do. "Scheisse." 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops shakes his head, "Not the Danger Room, although there is some proprietary technology in there on loan from certain geniuses with whom the Professor is acquainted. The licensing is for educational purposes. Unless you want the students to have worthless diplomas, we need to be accredited, just like any school. That means red tape. Luckily, I excel at red tape," he says. He considers his two cards, flicking his attention over, "Our meanest and our biggest are very different things. Colossus is our biggest, but far from mean. The Wolverines are among our smallest, yet you'll find none more dangerous." 

:'''{{#var:248|Megan Gwynn (248)}} has posed:''' Megan Gwynn giggles at Kaida, "Can't Wait to see you in the danger room..The way you tackled those goblins? That was sooo badass!" she'll never underestimate Kaida again! But back to the game, she bites her lip, "Um so we basically wanna get the best hand possible by passing on cards and calling someone's bluff or choosing to fake it.." or something. 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' Remy LeBeau grins a little bit and says "Actually Kaida, yah on de small blind, dat's 25 chips. Scott's on de big foh fifty. Dare no ante in Hold 'em." He offers Scott a grin and adds, "But de question is how c'n yah really be sure if de tape is red on not hmm?" he asks gently teasing. He makes a face at his cards and tosses them away, going to a small fridge and coming back with three sodas and two beers. No prizes for guessing who gets which. 

:'''{{#var:9293|Kaida (9293)}} has posed:''' LOoking over at Cyclops first, Kaida grins, "I'll take 'em all on!" She states and nods her head before she makes sure her blind is paid and she waves a hand at Remy, "Blind, ante, whatever? We need to play!" She nods her head and grins as she looks over to Shannon to choose to hold, bet or fold next. She grins a little at Megan and giggles, "Yeah, those goblins had it coming though! They better be glad I chose to be gentle with 'em." She nods her head, "Well, that and I really didn't have the space to get up to full speed." She grins and then takes another big bite out of her potatoe skin and then another. SHe's made it through over half that thing at this point. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon hmmms lightly as she peeks down at her cards. "So, that puts Megan or me next in line for betting?" Hopefully one of the sodas in question is a root beer--and if it is, well, there's a pretty fair guess as to who it's going to! "Who, by the way, has got the world's lousiest poker face -ever-."      Kaida's bravado is met with a shake of her head. "Logan might have a heart of gold under all that, but lemme tell you, he doesn't go gentle on you even in sparring. So be careful what you wish for."      Aaaaaand... it seems she's next to bet. Shrugging, she tosses in 50, not quite sure what else to do. 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops tosses in his fifty, "I wanna see the river, at least," he says casually. He levels his gaze at Remy, "You should have figured out by now that I almost always know more than I let on. I know the red from the blue, I promise. I know you don't understand how, but that's okay. I like to keep you guessing." "None of you should ever go gentle on one another in sparring. Nothing wrong with a few bruises and I'd rather you be overprepared than underprepared. Sabretooth isn't going to sheathe his claws for you, I guarantee." 

:'''{{#var:248|Megan Gwynn (248)}} has posed:''' Megan Gwynn bites her lip, trying to follow, tossing in her chips too, staring at her cards, "Welp, here goes.." she cringes at Cyke, "Not a big fan of bruises, eep...But I guess you're right." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "Sabretooth..." It takes Shannon a second, the winged girl pursing her lips in thought. "Victor Creed?" What the heck had the girl been getting involved in? She peers at Kaida, shivering a little bit. For once, the girl's diminutive stature had worked in her favor. Her own, however? She fervently hoped the guy had a memory like Swiss cheese.      "Okay, so... everyone got their bets in?" She peers over at Scott, looking utterly confused. "Not to sound like a total newbie, but what's 'the river' in this game?" 

:'''{{#var:9293|Kaida (9293)}} has posed:''' Tossing in Fifty as well, the girl nods her head as she looks to Cyclops and then hmms, "Yeah, but I don't wanna hurt anyone." Kaida shakes her head, "Not too badly anyway." SHe nods again before she looks at her cards again and then sits right in front of htem, casually taking another bite of her potato and hten looking to Shannon and smiles, "It's when hte cards are laaid out that we can all use to make our hand." SHe knows that much. 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' Remy LeBeau raises his beer in Scott's direction to that last bit in a salute of complete agreement, though he says "Yah mean de Flop fearless. De River is de /last/ card." Having already pitched his own cards in he leans back slightly. "Now Ah know it's a training tool, an' not a toy an' all dat.." He says with a grin, "But be honest, yah ever been tempted ta put some games in dare? Ah mean coul' yah imagine how awesome Clue woul' be in de Danger Room? Or Risk?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      There is a look of pure conspiratorial glee as Shannon's eyes light right up. Sure, the Danger Room was well-named. But every once in a rare while... "You know," the winged healer begins. "...one could make a very good case for it on the grounds of sharpening deductive reasoning skills in a much more immersive environment. Maybe throw some little twists into a normal game of Clue, things that wound encourage or even require teamwork to solve the mystery." Ohhhh yeah. The girl was on board with this idea! 

:'''{{#var:9293|Kaida (9293)}} has posed:''' A shrug and a nod, "I could see that being fun. Still would like to fight something in there." She grins and nods her head as she continues to play but she starts to focus in on her cards more, peering under her two cards again before looking at what is happening before her. A unique angle to be sure. 
}}

10961/The Ties that Bind

2020-02-03T15:07:47Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/02/02 |Location=Scott's Room (North Halls), Xavier's School |Synopsis=Scott and Lorna have a chat, catch up, and discuss politics. |Cast of Ch..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/02/02
|Location=Scott's Room (North Halls), Xavier's School
|Synopsis=Scott and Lorna have a chat, catch up, and discuss politics.
|Cast of Characters=114,128
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops had been taking a bit of private time for the weekend, staying in his quarters. Which isn't to say that he's actually idle. Instead, he's reviewing performance statistics from the Danger Room while listening to a podcast. He has a cooled cup of coffee on his desk and a half-eaten bagel that he forgot to finish sitting on a dish. Scott's wearing a simple black sweater, trimmed in dark blue, along with slacks and dark socked feet. His eyes, as usual, remain obscured, the dark-tinted ruby of his trademark glasses set carefully in place. He hears a knock on the door and pulls out his earbuds, "Come in," he calls. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna swung the door inward with a wave of her hand as she moved. It was fluid, and done without thought. The Princess of Genosha was rarely at the Mansion anymore these days. She had begun to split more of her time with Roberto in his apartment in Manhattan and with the island nation she was heir to. Still, she tried to drop in every now and then, tried to maintain some exposure to the Danger Room, and even tried to read reports now and then. She tried. But her presence had been dropping off more and more as of late. So she thought it best to pester Scott herself. "Hey, I was hoping you'd be in. Glad I had a chance to catch you...got a minute?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. The greenette wore a simple sweater that hung low on her shoulders in a soft teal color and a pair of jeans and knee high black boots. A simple outfit, all things considered. 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops nods, "Of course," he says, rising to his feet. He wasn't prone to deferring to anyone on the basis of royalty - he was far from a monarchist, more like the type who overthrew them. Still, he respected Lorna herself and he had decent manners. "What can I help you with, Lorna?" he says, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'd offer you something, but as you can see, I'm not keeping up much on the creature comforts." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna smiled warmly, and shook her head, clearly not off put by Scott's more practical side. "Oh, please, don't worry about it." She flapped a hand in his direction and made her way over to a more comfortable distance to chat. She reached up to drag her hands through her hair, and sighed before she let them drop away to hang at her sides. Finally, she made to find a place to sit, wherever available. "I wanted to talk to you about my... lack of presence around here recently. I know, I agreed to be a member of the team, and I am still willing to do so.. I just.. I dunno, I'm being pulled in too many ways to hang out here most of the time. And I just.. I wanted to let someone know that it's not because I don't value the team or anything." 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops shakes his head, "I didn't think you did," he says, resuming his own seat. "While I know I have a reputation for being strict, I do recognize that being a part of the team isn't necessarily the center of your life. I'm aware you have other commitments. We can certainly formalize a shift to reserve, if you think it would be appropriate. Being available to try and help when you can is being part of the team. 'Hanging out', as you say, isn't really part of the job - something I'd like to remind some of the others on occasion," he says with a half-smile. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna laughed, "If you give me a schedule of mandatory training sessions I'll be there as much as I can. And even when you call me I'll answer... depending on the crisis." She murmured, crossing her legs as she leaned back in the seat she's taken over. She sighed, her gaze going distant and distracted for a moment. The green haired woman paused for a moment, letting her hands fall back to her lap as she thought. "I will be out of touch for a bit. I have some personal things to deal with, and I'm hoping to be back within a week.." She trailed off again. "But otherwise, yeah. Reserve might be a safer bet. You know I value everything we do here... It's just the people of Genosha need me too." 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops nods, "You have to decide what your responsibilities are for yourself. It's not for me to set or judge them," he says. "You've proven yourself an asset and will be always welcome to participate when you can. I try to keep from making things mandatory unless we're dealing with actual emergencies, in part because we have so many disparate lives and, more thankfully, because we have a well-rounded roster that is often well equipped for different threats." "I understand that I set a certain example because of my focus on the team and the school, but that's my path. It doesn't have to be anybody else's." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna smiled again, exhaling a breath that she'd sucked in. "Thanks Scott, I appreciate it. I wish I could dedicate myself to this school.. but at the same time? Knowing that you're here makes a world of difference. These kids are lucky to have you here." She murmured softly, and shrugged once, as she shifted in her seat and propped her chin up. "So long as you don't drop from over working yourself and actually take some time to take care of yourself in between all of it." She added, almost as an after thought. 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops shrugs, "Well, I admit, I don't always do that. I ride my bikes now and again. Take the occasional fishing trip or a chance to fly. But the growth of this place has been immense and my attention is usually needed here. Luckily, I can handle a lot of steam, so I don't have to let it off too much," he says. "And I'm glad you think I'm doing well. I don't always think so, but I've been told I'm a wee bit judgmental," he says. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna waved a hand in the air as if dismissing Scott's comment about being judgemental. "It's your job to be judgemental and people's lives are on the line when you make a call. It's not a bad thing. I trust you to make good judgement calls for it. I mean.. c'mon. It's easy to complain and say you're a stick in the mud.. when the person isn't the one making those calls. You have to do that. You make those calls and you live with what happens. Not everyone can do that." She murmured. A green eyebrow hitched upward, "It's not unlike being in government. People will love or hate you regardless of what call you make at the end of the day. But those that know you, understand why." 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops smiles, "I appreciate your understanding of the situation. I don't mind taking the heat. As you say, it comes with the position. Nobody likes the person who reminds them of their chores and keeps track of how they're doing. A little resentment can be good motivation, too. Sometimes I even try to get it out of them, to get their fire going," he admits. "How are things in Genosha, by the way?" 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna shrugged once, and reached up with her fingers to twist a fine gold chain of a necklace between her index finger and her thumb. "You deal with far more than I'd want to in this school and as team leader. But I still respect you none the less Scott." She smiled and as he asked her how Genosha was doing she grimaced. "Issues with my father and a few other odds and ends. Mostly personal issues, you know? By and large Genosha is fine. The Council keeps me on my toes though, and I'm still struggling to get Genosha to engage with the wider world. I still don't think my father's isolationist policies are smart.." 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops considers, "As I respect you, Lorna," he says. "I agree about your father's policies. I understand the impetus behind them, especially in the wake of the Sentinel fiasco, but cutting ourselves off is only going to frighten the humans more. Plus, without transparency, they're just going to speculate about what's happening beyond the border. And such speculations are rarely flattering. They're going to think the worst of him - and you - unless they can demonstrably see otherwise. It's unfortunately a side effect of being a public figure." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna crossed her arms in thought, her lips pursed together briefly as she considered Scott's words. "I agree... He thinks that Genosha should only rely on Genosha.. He's a fan of hard power. But I think in order for Genosha to survive we need to focus on our public image. Branch out. Make alliances. We need to focus on soft power, like South Korea. We need to get people to like us on some level. Less open hatred. I don't like the idea of most of the planet wanting us wiped off the map." She sighed heavily and shook her head. "But that does go with the public part. People hate my father, and it makes alliances hard." 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops nods, "His worldview is antiquated. It's too be expected, given his age and experience," he says. "But friendship will get him farther than fear, I think. I've had to learn that myself. I understand wanting to make the world bend to your will. But it's easier to convince it to come to you than to push it from behind," he says. "At least, in my opinion. I hate to say it, but your father has earned his reputation. I may sympathize with his motivations and even respect his capabilities and his resolve. Personally, I think Genosha would be better served with someone less polarizing as their figurehead. No pun intended." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna mirrored Scott's nod with one of her own as she recrossed her legs and shifted in her seat. "It's true though, everything comes down to his experiences over the years. He still hates South America for the part it played in taking in Nazis. I mean, it's been over seventy years. Those people are mostly dead. And the US played a hand in it too.. but he still holds that anger." She sighed and shook her head again. "He's very much trapped in the past. I know we have to move forward to truly help Genosha to be the best it can be. We're part of this world after all, we can't ignore it." She half smiled at Scott's pun on polarizing and the alike and almost laughed. "You're not the first to say so. More than a few people have told me to my face.. that if I was Queen an alliance would be a different story. Do you know how frustrating that is? To be told that?" 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops considers, "Is it frustrating because you don't want it or frustrating because you do but feel that wanting it would be a betrayal? I can't deny you'd be the better leader, but I understand the reasons - and the loyalty - that keeps you from doing so. I don't think I could depose Charles, even if I thought it was the right thing, no matter the choice he made. Maybe I could. But it wouldn't be easy. I, at least, don't think that day will ever come for me. But will it for you? What if your father falls into his old ways? What if he decays in some way, sinks into dementia and becomes a threat, not only to the world but to Genosha itself? Even to you?" He shakes his head, "I don't envey you your position. It is a brutal world and the consequences are overwhelming." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna shrugged, "Mostly, yes. I love my father and I disagree with him plenty. But I don't want to dispose of him to seize the crown either. It feels ... wrong, to be named his heir and want to take the crown for Genosha's benefit.." She sighed heavily and angled her gaze to her hands, her lips pursing together as she considered what to say and what not to say. "I don't want the crown right now, some day? Yes.. I do.. I think I can help Genosha and her people. But right now..? No. I have too much that I want to do for the world. And having that crown would limit my ability to do so. I couldn't be part of this team. I couldn't fly all over to help people. I would have to have a very painful conversation with Roberto.. He still doesn't approve of the monarchy and with us dating..?" She spread her hands out in front of her. "My father warned me already on that. Everything I do is public. Everyone is watching me.. I can't handle being Queen yet.." 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops nods, "If you don't think you're ready, then you're not ready. I trust you'll be ready when you are," he says. "How much leeway do you have in terms of your public stances? I'm sure your father likes to see unity, but the world could be receptive to the idea that he's not a dictator. That he allows for dissent and diverse ideas. Simply knowing that Genoshan policy isn't a monolith, set by one man. I'm sure many governments see you and your councils as window dressing." He raises a hand, "I'm speculating out loud. Again, it's your decisions to make. I'm just playing Monday morning quarterback." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna arched a green eyebrow upward, "Roberto is convinced that my father is a dictator and that there's nothing to the constitution or the council. If I can convince my boyfriend and the public that I'm allowed to enact policy beyond my father's desires.. sure. I would. But I have a feeling nothing I say or do publically would make much of a dent there. People are waiting for me to fail. Or they're already convinced that I'm nothing but a puppet.. Who knows.." She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I have as much leeway as I truly want.. I've got into.. well not quite screaming matches but close, with my father. I dunno what else to do.." She reached up with both hands and dragged her green locks back from her face. "If he did something I truly disagreed with though? Something that would endanger Genosha?" She trailed off, lifting her gaze to meet his. "My father has continuously stressed that my duty is to Genosha.. and I made a vow as heir to do the best I can by it.. and I will." 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops meets the gaze directly, although it can be hard to tell given his glasses. The shining surface of the ruby quartz reflects Lorna's own face back to her. "I have no doubt of it. Just as I would defend this place, these people, with every ounce of strength and skill I possess. I've put your father down before and I'll do it again if I have to. Luckily, we are at a point in all our lives where mutants need to stand together. I think we would all like to be on the same page rather than fighting amongst ourselves, especially when our mutual enemies have so recently demonstrated their ruthlessness and their thirst for our blood," he sighs. "You're right. I don't know if anyone could ever truly be convinced. There's a lot of bad road and a lot of burnt bridges. Quite literally, in some cases. I am, by nature, a cynic. But Charles Xavier has alwasy tried to teach me to have hope. Maybe that can be a lesson you take back to Genosha with you." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna met his gaze, or at least tried to through the ruby sheen of his glasses. Green to his red. Not that he could tell through the rosy hues that made up his vision. She smiled thinly, "I know. And the kids here don't know how lucky they are to have you here. They really don't know what it is to live without that.." She exhaled a breath, dropping her gaze and shifting on the chair again before she finally stood up. "People have long since made up their minds about me and my father.. and Genosha. All of us. We can only do our best. I don't really agree with the hope factor.. but I like it none the less." Her smile warmed then. "Guess we're both a bit cynical these days." 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops rises as well, nodding, "The times certainly seem to justify it. We can change the times if we try hard enough. At least, some of us can. Lucky for us, we get to be among the few," he says. "Like I said, you're always welcome. And if you need our help - if you need the X-men - say so. We wouldn't come to the help of a specific nation or a world leader. But we would come to help a member of the family." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna shifted her weight on her heels, the boots she wore clicking softly against the floor of Scott's room as she moved. She smiled again, exhaling an amused breath. "Well, same here, for all that I'm a public figure, you know I'll always come back if you want or need me about." She paused, thinking for a brief moment. "Even if it's against my father. I would rather be there than not be." She added, "Thank you Scott, we should try to catch up more often. Get something to eat and just chill out sometime." 

:'''{{#var:114|Cyclops (114)}} has posed:''' Cyclops nods, "I'd like that," he says. "Say hello to Roberto for me. Tell him he'd better treat you right or he'll have more than your father to answer to," he says with a half-grin. "Take care." 
}}

10959/Train the body, Train the mind.

2020-02-03T15:07:37Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/02/02 |Location=Turtle Lair, Williamsburg |Synopsis=FURRY MISSILE ATTACK! Oh, no, just Donatello and Pippi training. |Cast of Characters=8130,..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/02/02
|Location=Turtle Lair, Williamsburg
|Synopsis=FURRY MISSILE ATTACK! Oh, no, just Donatello and Pippi training.
|Cast of Characters=8130,96
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     It was a delicate transaction of movement. Easing up on one foot meant pressing down on another, meant shifting her tail, subtlely her shoulders, tilting her jaw just a little bit as Pippi waggles in mid-air, balanced precariously on a stack of chairs borrowed from the kitchen, off-balanced on the top of the back of the chair, the wood creaking around as she reached out with one hand, her other arm behind her, attempting to reach a rainbow-colored tennis ball that had gotten lodged up in one of the pipes. 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' It'd be an easy thing to say something, disturb, but it would also risk a startle that could send Pip tumbling to the floor. Donnie is out of his work room, watching, keeping quiet while he ponders what will happen next. Should he intervene? He has a shuriken out, ready to use to dislodge the ball if he gets an opportunity. He is also looking at the step-ladder Pippi may not know how to use. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     Pippi is short, the step ladder would have been too small! Besides, who doesn't like a challenge?     "Just... a little... clo--" Pippi states, and then one ear picks up. Her nose twitches, and she turns to greet Donatello with a smile and a wave!     "Hi Donnie! Don't mind m-eeeeeeeee!" she squeaks, the chairs tilt a little too much as she waves, and she tries to grab onto one of the pipes, misses, and as the chairs go to one side, Pippi goes to the other, arms flailing a bit! 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' She's seen him! It'd be cruel to let her tumble, especially as their family. Donnie moves when she starts to fall, sliding up in a kneeling posture in order to pop up, a hand going to hook at her ribs to hold her up while a foot goes out to hold one of the chairs and steady it. "Hey now! See! You shouldn't use chairs Pip, gonna get yourself hurt, or the lair!" not willing to move unless he knows for sure she's not going to fall. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     Pippi has one leg still on a chair, Donatello holding her, ears up in alarm as she gives an embarrassed smile. "My hero?" she questions, and ubs the back of her head before she pushes off the chair, over Donnie's arm and nimbly summer-saults to a crouch.     Where the tennis ball aforementioned dislodges itself, falls, and bounces off her head with a hollow sound, before rolling off.     "I know I shouldn't use chairs after the lightbulb mishap, but the step ladder doesn't have enough steps!" 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' "Then use boxes, they're more stable. We've got a few slat crates around here." Donnie watches the ball roll for a moment before his eyes are back on the Pup. "Gotta make sure you have a broad base. Or we're going to have to really work on your jumping, so that you don't muss up yourself on a balancing act!" He still laughs a little at the notion but also begins looking around the room, as if to discern how to set up a 'course' 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "Donnie, I was an /agility dog/. I'm good at jumping!" Pippi protests as she plunks down to the floor, looking around the room herself. "I mean, you've seen me at that rooftop playground, right? All over the jungle gym, up and down the slide -- just gotta work on the whole 'light foot' thing." Pippi replies as she rubs her head a moment, "aanad maybe my balance. A little bit. Growing out my hair makes my head feel weird. 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' "Yeah maybe, but this isn't long distance or the like. This is precision, right?" Donatello studies her a moment, lips in a line, "I mean, how good are you at jumping off a wall, running on a ceiling, then dropping down while grabbing something off of a post?" brow ridge raising, "Or moving between buildings to climb?" 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "I use the stairs!" Pippi protests, "and I can wall-run, at least, for about ten feet... last time I tried to building-bounce I put myself to the wall so hard I saw stars." Pippi admits, rubbing the back of her head. "Pretty sure I left a dent in the bricks." 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' "All the more reason to practice, Pip!" Donnie laughs. "You need to practice jumping and then pushing off about twelve feet, to land on the next building. Once you can gauge that distance right you can go further distances without trouble." The purp turns and points at the far wall, the clear one for training. "I mean, give it a try, you've space in case you go to far." he walks over himself, marking out a line after using a tape to measure out the distance. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     Pippi glances over to the wall, rubbing the back of her head a moment before she shifts her weight, and gives a shrug. "I've got no problem hopping alleyways, Donnie -- sticking the laaandings sometimes..." Pippi states, but she looks to the wall with an apologetic glance, shifts her footing, then attmempts to circle round, running at the wall, getting a good speed up before she attempts the wall-run, and ends up catching her claws on nsome brickwork and gets a good eight feet in before she has to tumble off. 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' "I mean run on, and jump twelve feet towards me, Pip. Not a twelve foot run." Donatello grins and moves to stand at the line, watching her, "It's all about control, so you need to stick the landing when you jump off the wall, like you're going to be jumping up higher and higher - without smashing through the wall." 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "Oooh. That makes more sense." Pippi states, and she shifts her weight, eyeballing the wall, and then she exhales, makes a run for the wall, runs up it a few feet and then with a snapped crouch she pushes off.     And Donatello might find a red-and-white furry missile with bright pink hair coming his way! 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' He was expecting it, so one foot shoots back to brace when Pippi is coming his way. Eyes scrunching in anticipation of the brutal whupping coming his way, the Purp Turp holds arms out to try and reduce the force. "Slow-fall techniques, Pip!" 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     Pippi is, thankfully, light. So although Donnie gets a superstrong doggo to the shell, it's not as bad as it could have been, and Pip's turned so that her back is against Donatello's front -- that way poor Donnie doesn't get a muzzle to the face!     OOF!" 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' Shoved hard, feet skidding along the floor - Donatello leans into her to keep from being bowled over - but it's not an easy thing. Oof might be the most accurate word, he says it too when the air is forced out of his lungs. "See... Finesse... " and bruised ribs! 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "Finesse is not my strong suite. Strong is my strong suite." Pippi replies, having gotten the breath knocked out of her by landing against shell.     "You gonna be all right there, Donnie? Hate to accidentally put the hurt on one of my brothers!" 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' "No, I'll be fine. Don't worry. Finesse is a strength too, like we talked about with your punching and strength training, remember?" Donnatello pats her back, taking a few breaths and rolling his shoulders. "Alright! Again!" 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "Uuuurggh... whhyy... so eager to get another face full of fur?" Pippi asks as she straightens up, and gives a huff as she leans back. "Was it the butt? Bet it was the butt." she jokes.     Yes, it always turns to butts between Donatello and Pippi. The butt of long running jokes. 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' A short bark of a laugh at that, "Get to it, another run or I'm going to smack it!" Donnie shakes his head and points at the wall, "This is important Pippi as much as for you as the rest of us. To make sure you have all your tools in the field eh?" He moves back to position, and prepares to brace again, expecting to get krumped into pretty hard. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "Whoa, whoa, hey! My butt is not for smacking!" Pippi protests, and she takes off running at the wall again, taking three steps up and then hopping off!     This time she doesn't come flying at him as hard, and ends up mis-judging the other way. She tumbles, top-over-teakettle, and ends up in a heap a couple feet away from Donnie's feet before she flops out, belly-up.     "Okay, so I need just a little bit more." 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' His hand is out to her to take and be lifted with when she comes to a rest, and Donatello is still smiling, "A little more gets more progress than overdoing it eh?" happy to help her up, "Just try to jump a foot further than you intend to jump. Enough power to get there, not enough to bowl someone over, eh?" Donnie looks to the wall and back to her. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "All right, smarty-shell," Pippi states as she draws in a breath, stretching her lungs again. Hooboy.     "Why don't you show me how it's done?" 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' A chance to show off isn't always present, but when challenged there is a moment of geometry and base physics equations run through his head before Donatello suddenly surges forward, flipping over Pippi as he goes before he is up and along the wall. Not a sprint, but definitely an attempt for speed before leaps. It's a careful, not the brash work of Raph, enthusiasm of Mikey, or the hard control of Leonardo. It's Math. It's all math. Force and positioning, where to put his feet for leverage and then the bending of knees before the leap to carry him across and land at that drawn line. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     Calculated and conceise, just the way Donatello would have it, and Pippi gives a soft breath out, her shoulders sagging as her tail limps down. "Yeah, ask the expert, get the expert example." she states, and she looks at Donnie as she rubs the back of her head. "you guys all make it look easy!" 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' "Maybe, but because we've been doing it for years, Pippi. You're learning, there are things we'll always be better at. But none of us can throw a truck into lunar orbit, can we?" Donatello steps up to throw an arm across her shoulders. "Don't cut yourself down, Pip." 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "I can't throw a truck into lunar orbit! I can only throw it like, thirty feet!" Pippi protests, and rubs the back of her head.     "Did you have difficulty learning all this stuff when you were starting out, Donnie?" 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' "Yeah, and when we messed up Father would make us do flips, or run laps, or keep going until we were too tired." Donatello gives a small squeeze of his arm "Pip, everything is difficult when you start out. But it gets easier. You know that, you've been improving on other things you're working on, aren't you? You didn't put us into the wall across the den, did you?" 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "But the wall has more mass and would have pushed me into it!" Pippi states, mixing up mass and gravity and a couple other Newtonian laws, but she seems to realize this, and pauses.     "Huh.... maaaybe not, I should leave the physics-i-nessing-ish-stuff to you." Pip gives a huff. "What did you have the hardest time with?" 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' "So, what if it's a thin wall and you need to push less? Finesse, Pipi." his other arm reaching to boop her in the nose with one finger. "I have the hardest time with most people. I am ok with you, but most everyone else I'm horribly awkward." 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     BOOP. Pippi's muzzle wrinkles slight at the nose boop, her eyes closing a moment.     "Well, how come? Just get nervous 'cause you're so much smarter than 'em? I mean, everyone knows you're smarter than me. Most everyone's smarter than me." 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' Donatello frowns at that and bops her nose one more time. "Enough of that talk Pip, not a matter of smarts. Is a matter than I'm a big geek and people don't like geeks generally. We make them annoyed, we seem like we want to lord over we're smarter. So I overcompensate and I come off like a creep I bet." 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "I wouldn't know. I don't know very many creeps, but I like you just the way you are? Smarts and everything!" Pippi states, her tail giving a wg. Good thing about Pip, he rfeelings are literally on her sleeve.     "So you're a geek! You're also a turtle. I'm a dog. We're ninjas. They're humans, and Star Wars is better than Star Trek. With the swords and space wizards and whoooooom!" Pippi states, imitating the swing of a lightsaber.     "Jus'.. be yourself. They either like you for you, or they don't." 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' Donatello bows his head, "It's often easier said than done, to be yourself." lips in a hard line for a fraction of a second. "It's difficult when you get in your own way. Just like you do when you think you're good enough Pip." Arm still around her, Donatello gives yet another squeeze, "But you learn very quick and understand a lot better than you do." 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "I don't know how to be anything except myself, so I find it pretty easy... but who I am now, and even who I was when you first met me on the docks are different Pippi's. I used to be scared of a lot of things. I'm not as scared anymore..." she reaches up, and rubs her muzzle, where a wound she received from The Shredder's machinations has scarred over and causes the fur to follow the skin there.     "And some of the lessons have been really hard! But I have good teachers, like Sensei, Leo, Alopex and you to help me along." 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' Another nod, a consideration, the look to her muzzle where she rubs, "Well you're a pretty good teacher too, Pippi, you'll understand why later I expect, but just accept that you are right now eh?" Donnie's brows knit again. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "What? Me? A good teacher? No, no I don't think I am." Pippi gives a bt of a laugh, and gives Donnie a very soft thump on the shell. "But I'll accept that I'm right about something!" he winks, and her tail wags agian, thumping a bit against Donnie. 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' He laughs at the thumping and shrugs. "Don't sell yourself short, I mean it. You teach us things, we teach you. It's a far better thing than you realize. And some of the lessons come later." he sighs and furrows his brow. "I'm sure Leo could explain it better than me." 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "Later? You mean like complicated ninjitsu abilities or az-tral projects or tea ceremony?" Pippi's ears perk up, "because I've bene working really hard on the fine motor control for tea ceremony but I don't think that translates well to anything else." 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' "No, more just later when you take time to think about it, about all of us and see how you've influenced us, the same as we've influenced you." letting her thump his shell still if her tail is still wagging, "And you'll get it down foe the tea stuff in time. Practice, practice practice ok? If it takes a long time, it's fine, you're super strong. It all comes to finesse, and you're better at that than you give yourself credit too." 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "Uuugh" Pippi lets her shoulders sag. "Practice, practice, practice means patience and tiiiiime. I don't want to wait to be good at fine motor skills, I want them noooooooooow." Pipi whines loudly, obviously joking around before she stretches her shoulders a bit. "I didn't hurt you when I landed on you, did I?" 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' Donatello shakes his head, "I mean you were still slamming into me a bit but it didn't crack my shell, maybe skidded my feet a little raw. That's fine. Good steps." Donnie laughs, "Before you'd have bashed me over and I'd be getting dragged to a couch to rest. So a good improvement." 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "Good. I think people would get mad if I were to suddenly just start hurting you guys. You're my family!" she tates, tail wagging a moment before she reaches up, an ruffles her fingers accross Donatello's dome the same way some folks do to her hair, and then plops down on the training room floor.     "Don't tell Leo or Alopex about the chair tower though, all right?" 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' Donatello laughs at that and shrugs, "I mean I can't promise, it might come up some day." getting his snickers under control. "If we get a bit thumped up too in training it happens, believe me. Raph and Leo don't hold back often when they're sparring. I've a few scars... So do they." 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     Pippi's nose wrinkles.     "Yeah, I got hit by Leo a couple weeks ago in the side. Kinda sensitive there..." Pip states, and she rubs at her left side a moment as she frowns, then rubs the back of her head.     "So, what now, Brains?" 

:'''{{#var:96|Donatello (96)}} has posed:''' "Keep going at it, or we go eat pizza and drink slurpees?" I mean... Slurpees. He's expanded the machine. The ice maker is hooked into city water, crushes, and such. So may syrup bags. Donnie is a sugar prepper, clearly. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "Hrrm, tough call, continue to launch myself at ninjas or slurpees..." Pippi states, and gives a grin.     "Slurpees and pizza." 
}}

10958/Meet the Caradenzas

2020-02-03T15:07:22Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/02/02 |Location=Cambridge, Boston, MA |Synopsis=Sam Guthrie and Alexis -- returning to Allegra Caradenza, visit her parent at their home in Ca..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/02/02
|Location=Cambridge, Boston, MA
|Synopsis=Sam Guthrie and Alexis -- returning to Allegra Caradenza, visit her parent at their home in Cambridge, Massachusettes. Things don't go precisely to pot, but they don't g o to plan either.
|Cast of Characters=9059,1258
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     The flight included some snow, some cold, and a little turbulence to a park nearby. Allegra had cleaned up and wasn't wearing her normal, casual clothes, but smart gray trousers, brown boots and a gray jacket, though she'd opted for her hood and the flight goggles to protect her head a bit from the wind. It was a quick, brisk walk to a very imposing home near the Cambridge Common, its gray exterior and slate blue roof, its manicured front garden showing signs of being tended even in the dead of winter in New England. Dry, powdry snow listlessly wanders between Harvard and MIT students as evening sets in.     Alexis stands at the corner, near the corner of the spiked, wrought-iron fence, and breathes out in nervousness. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie would have gotten advice on what to wear from Alexis. His first choice having been black dress pants and a royal purple button up. Sorta his go to for looking presentable. He would have brought a duffle with them that he could either carry or stash somewhere so they could clean up a bit after the flight. Now, he walks along with you. His hand holding hers, and says "I am with you Allegra." He makes sure to use her real name. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "I know, Sam." her gloved hand squeezes against Sam. "I know."     And she turns, and walks to the gate, passes through, pulling sam along, and walks up to the imposing door. It has a knocker in what might be titanium in a stylized C, and a keypad and fancy tech doorbell, which Allegra presses, and holds her breath.     "Caradenza residence. State your business, please." a gentleman's voice answers.     "Good evening, are Signor and Mrs. Caradenza in?"     "May I inquire as to who is asking?"     "... Allegra Caradenza."     There is a pause. Three heart beats, and then the door is thrown open.     A woman in her forties has answered it, her mousy brown hair showing lines of elegant gray. She has light gray eyes, and looks just like an older, paler version of Allegra herself.     The genes must run strong.     The two women look at one another, almost unsure where to go from here. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie will give the younger woman just the barest of nudges towards her mother. He stands there with her. He will give Allegra's hand another squeeze. Sam is watching the two but also keeping an eye on the area around. he is hoping for this to be a good time, but they are sorta in the enemy's camp and he keeps alert. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     At Sam's nudge, Allegra gives an awkward smile, her shoulders rising up as she begins with "Hi M-" --     Before the older woman reaches out, grabs Allegra, and wraps her arms around her, eyes brimming with tears.     "What in God's name is going on--" comes a voice from inside, and a shorter gentleman appears. He has Allegra's coloring, that deep olivey bronze, the black hair and dark eyes, and he tands, agape a moment as he looks at Amelia and Allegra, and then he takes a deep breath, straightening his jacket a brief moment and trying not to look too emotional.     "Amelia, Allegra, why don't you come inside and stop trying to heat all of Boston?" he asks, his accent softened slightly, before Amelia Caradenza draws Allegra in, the two speaking in hushed tones as Filipe Caradenza takes over.     "I apologize for the lack of introduction, it has been... some time since she's been home. Donovan? Please take the gentleman's coat." he calls out, and a butler appears from the side, wearing a smart black suit and silver tie. He offers his hands for Sam's jacket, Allegra removing her own, folding it over an arm.     "Where have you *been*? No calls, no mail, my heart has been in my throat for four years, Allegra!"     "Mother... I know, I ... I had to sort myself out after the event. Nana knew I was all right."     I suppose you'll be wanting the details of the reward then, Mister...?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie takes his jacket off and hands it to the butler, and actually tells the man "Thank you." He then towards Allegra's father, and says "Guthrie, and Ah am not here for a reward sir, I am here with your daughter." He stands up up straight and tries to stay in a bit of a formal stance. Allegra is my friend and Ah wanted to be here for her. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Certainly, Mr. Guthrie." the butler replies, and turns to take Allegra's jacket as well. He's a very stately looking gentleman.     "This gentleman is a friend of yours?" Amelia asks, and Allegra blushes, he ears turning just this sid eof red.     "Ah... mother, this is Mister Samuel Guthrie. He's a teacher at the school I teach at now."     "/Teach/?" Amelia blinks.     "Sam, may I introduce my mother, Amelia Florin-Caradenza, formerly of the Metropolitan Opera, and Signor Filipe Caradenza, dancemaster at the Boston Ballet." she steps over to Sam a moment, and she reaches for his hand.     "Sam's been encouraging me to come home for some time." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie will take the ladies hand and lean down brushing a soft kiss on her knuckles in greeting "Ma'am" He says to her "A pleasure to meet you. " He offers a bit of a goofy smile, and adds "Ah have always believed family is a very important and wanted to make sure Allegra as not loosing an important thing." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "A pleasure, Mr. Guthrie." Amelia gives a smile. "No doubt that's impressed upon Allegra." she takes a breath, and looks to the short Allegra and tall Sam, and then gives an amused look to Allegra.     Who presses her lips together a moment, and breathes out in a little puff of air. "I'm... I'm sorry if we've come at a bad time, but I don't think it could wait. My coming home. VIsiting, really. I've been living in New York City and Salem Center." she explains, standing in the hallway.     Filipe gives a soft huff. "Have we all forgotten manners? Talking in the hallway, come, join us in the study. Mr. Guthrie, Southern gentleman -- bourbon? Or are you a rye whiskey type? I prefer Sambuca myself, but I keep variety spirits on hand in case of visitors."     "Donovan, would you please have one of the girls fetch tea and refreshments for our guests before my husband pickles the poor man's liver?" Amelia asks gently, and gives a smile, trying to herd everyone to a different room. They pass through the parlor -- the formal livingroom with white furniture and ebony wood and gold accents. It's classy and very, very clean. The next room, in the corner of the front of the house is a study. It's decorated in mahogany tones, has an antique globe and a fire going, and a fully stocked bar, which Filipe steps behind. There's a raised floor behind it so the short man can look Sam eye-to-eye. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie stays close to Allegra, and at the question of her father, he will say "I am driving but thank you." Which he sorta is, just driving himself. He will not even make a face at the mention of tea knowing it will be hot. He returns the man's gaze, giving him an even stare, not trying to challange, but also not being submissive. "Allegra seems to have a real talent as a teacher, she has a gift for connecting with the students, and not only enhancing their love for music but also introducing them to types they are not used to. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Oh come now, a little sip of something won't affect too much -- have you seen the way people drive in this city?" Filipe asks, decanting a bottle and pouring the rich brown liquid into two highball glasses. "And of course she does, she's my daughter. Brilliant violinist, pianist, singer, dancer, just had a bit of stage-fright, but you're ready to come back to the stage, aren't you Allegra? Teaching can wait!"     "-- but I like teaching, and I'm even working earning a degree in education."     Amelia seats herself in a comfortable chair, and Allegra sits down on a couch, plenty of roomfor Sam to join her there or Filipe at the bar.     "So, you teach, boy? What subject?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie stays with Allegra, sitting down with her, and to her father "No thank you sir, just because someone else does something that is not safe there is no reason for me to. I am a guidance counselor as well as teachers assistant for some of the science classes." He will tell them. The habit of calling him boy may erk him but he tries not to show it. "Allegra is very talented in anything she sets her mind to, and will excel in anything she chooses to do." He does put perhaps a bit of extra emphasis on the word She. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Guidance counselor and science teacher? Noble profession, teaching. I always had a healthy respect for my mother-in-law for her dedication to it." Filipe states, and he join them, sipping his own burbon as he watches Sam. "Which school? Juliard? New York Academy?" he inquires.     Alexis looks up to Sam, and then just softly states:     "We teach at the Xavier School." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrienods, and says "A private school in upstate New York." He will help with a bit not giving a lot more information on the school. He looks to them, and says "So, Allegra has told me a bit about you both, and you Ah must say she seemed to come of her talents through two very talented parents." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "She is greater than the sum of us." Amelia states gently, as maid comes in with a tea tray. She immediately starts service, first for Amelia, who apparently likes hers sweet, and for Allegra who has no sugar to hers. And to Sam -- a little carafe and a tumbler with ice.     "Miss Allegra mentioned you don't like hot tea, I apologize for the presumption." the maid gives a small smile.     "Thank you, Mel." Allegra gives a smile.     A platter of thin cucumber sandwiches and a few cookies are set out as well.     "Pity she chose to eschew the stage for teaching. /Teaching/." -- and he exclaims something in Italian, to which Allegra answers back, though the smug expression on her face was hard to hide. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie will look over to Allegra and smiles a bit, he was prepared for hot tea and was not going to complain. He says "Thank you." to the maid as well. He does not catch the Italian as not one of his languages. He will look over to Allegra's mother and aint sure what else to say for now, so will sip his tea quietly. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "English, dear. I'm not sure if Mr. Guthrie speaks Italian, and if you must curse please do so where you might not upset the guest." Amelia states, setting her cup down. "And Allegra... you've been gone for four years, what have you done in that time?"     Allegra looks uncomfortable.     "... street performance, mostly. Lived in shelters. I was afraid to come home, that I would be a disappointment." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie will give Allegra's hand a squeeze in reassurance as he knows she is getting to the part that will be hard for her. He does tense a little bit, ready to defend her if her dad goes bonkers. Sam has known many an anti mutant person over the years, and some of those who have reacted badly even to their own children. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Because of the strage fright? Oh, my darling, everyone gets it from time to time --" Amelia starts up, and Allegra sets her cup down.     "No, mother, not the stage fright. You remember how when I was twelve, I broke out in that awful rash?"     "How could I forget? You looked so miserable in the pictures..."     Allegra raises her hands, and she turns them over. It start with her fingers, pooling blow along the skin as the crystaline structures reflect the light, twisting in prismatic display.     Amelia looks with surprise, but as predicted, it's Filipe who looks dismayed. HIs hand trembles. The drink lowers to the table, and his eyes turn hard as he levels a look at Allegra.     "Is that why you came back?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks over watching both of their reactions and says "She loves you both and missed you both. More why she was away than why she came back I believe." He says in a bit of defense for her. "It would be a horrible thing to let something like this put a wedge between someone you love. " He resists the urge to remind them that her being a mutant means that at least one if not both of them carried the genetic triggers for it. He does not wish to cause a possible divide between the parents more than that has to be. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "A horrible thing is that my daughter -- my own flesh and blood, has become one of those terrorist /freaks/!" he states, and motions with his hands, pointing angrily at hers. "And not even a useful power! Useless mutant! Filth! Non hai capito una sega!" he curses, turning as he fumes in rapid-fire Italian.     And Allegra, understanding every word, goes pale.     And then paler than pale.     Until she's just deathly white in lieu of her own skin, then she stands up, suddenly, upsetting her teacup and saucer and begins to shout back, color coming to her cheeks and ears as an angry, ugly red.     Amelia, unpeturbed, sips her tea.     "So, Mr. Guthrie, while I must apologize for my husband's unruliness, may I ask if you, too, are gifted?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods too Amelia , and says "Yes ma'am, and neither of us are terrorists. " He will stand and steps beside Allegra, and says "In fact I believe a terrorist is more someone who acts against someone who has done them no harm to others. Those who would hate and act upon someone because of their beliefs, the happenstance of their birth, be it color, race, human, mutantdom or what. We are all one people and treating someone as if they are less for any reason I feel is very wrong." He adds "I do not deny their are mutants who choose to do bad, but there are humans who make the same choice. If we have to separate people, I believe it should be more by choices than something that can not be chosen. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Mutants are demons from hell, arriving in the flesh to bring about the fall of mankind! Filth, terrorists, whores!" Filipe snarls, "You can take /that/--" he points at Allegra, who is still an angry mishmash of colors, "and get the Hell out of my home before I have you both arrested! Be/gone/!" he slams the glass down, shattering it, causing a tremmor through the table and knocking a picture frame to the floor, where the glass shatters.     Amelia finishes her tea, calmly, and draws herself up.     But Allegra is faster, and of all things she slaps her father accross his face, tears running down her cheeks though she stands, defiant. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie will take a moment while both father and daughter are distracted and hands the Amelia a card. It is for the club, and has his name and number on it. He will then steps closer, and put his arm around Allegra "Mutants are not evil, no more than Italians were evil after world war two. All people are hated or feared by someone for some reason. Your daughter loves you both, and your hatred has cost you four years with her. Now your going to let it cost you even more. I hope and pray for you that the good lord will help you see past this hatred and hardness in your heart, and find your peace to one day accept your family as they are." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "I am Allegra Caradenza. I am your /daughter/. And now that we have established that four years have gone by that I would have rather be homeless and starving rather than bring shame to you I will let the shame be yours to carry now." she states coldly.     "Thank you, Mr. Guthrie, next time I visit New York I shall stop in." Amelia states gently, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder.     "Donovan, please bring our guests their coats, I'm afraid the visit will have to be cut short." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie will look to the mother, and says to her "We will be looking forward to seeing and hearing from you." He tells her, giving her a clue of what Allegra means to him. To her father, he will just shakes his head and squeezes Allegra's hand "We should go hon, hopefully someday soon he will see what a wonderful thing he is giving up not wanting to be part of your life." He is ready to step between father and daughter if need be. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "I told you to get out." Filipe states, enunciating every word carefully between gritted teeth.     And Allegra turns, giving a soft 'Thank you' to Donovan as he holds her jacket open for her, and she turns to stare at the door as if she were trying to burn a hole in it. Donovan hands Sam his jacket quietly, with a soft apology on behalf of his employer. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie will put his coat on, and will lead Allegra back to the door. He looks to Donovan, and says "Thank you again, and I hope your day goes well." He expects the staff will have a rough day dealing with Filipe." He will walks with Allegra "Sorry it did not go better love, but there is some hope." He will tell her explaining later. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "I don't know what I was expecting. This was a mistake. Now instead of having a missing daughter he hates me vehemently and I never should have agreed to this business in the first place. I should have just stayed at the school, kept my head down and--" she trails off, leaning against Sam as Donovan opens the door, and she steps out.     "... no. It's his shame. Not mine. I shouldn't hide who I am anymore." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks to her, and once they are out of ear range of her father he will look to her "You will hear from your mother after this love, Ah gave her contact information, and she said something very important that tells me. She will be a part of your life, even if she has to be subtle with it. She asked if Ah was gifted, not if Ah was a mutant or cursed or what not." He will pull something out of his pocket. A mini cerbro he had used recently on meeting a new mutant for the school, and looks to see if it is picking up anyone nearby besides them. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Cerebro?" Allegra asks, and she pures her lips a moment and...     Realistically, it lights up. Cambridge is a hotspot for college students, people all over the world -- and yes, even in the house they were just in, there was a mutant. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "I got a suspision." He tells her. He will put an arm around her. He will say to Allegra "It is a mutant detection device, there is a much better version in the school, that the telepaths can use. The smaller hand held versions just pick up in the area nearby and don't tell much about them." He looks back to the house, and asks softly "There ever been anything unexplained you have noticed around the house?" 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Sam, I hardly spent time there. I was always with my grandmother." Allegra replies quietly as they walk, though she does look back over her shoulder at the house one last time before she picked up the pace.     "Boston was never really home anyway." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Well hon, now your not hiding any more, I know your dad's reaction sucks ass, but tell me love do you feel freer?" He resists the urge to flip the man off. While wondering if her mom might be a mutant as well. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "I... I do. I feel like I can be me again, and not have to hide. It's his problem, not mine." she replies quietly, leaning against Sam.     "Thank you for not punching him out for what he called me." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks to her, and offer her a smile and says "Ah told you Ah would try my best, plus to be honest your slapping him had more meaning than even if I stomped a mud hole in his ass you could drive a semi through. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "... that has to be the second most Southern thing I have ever heard you say." Allegra comments.. The snow and wind pick up a little bit as they walk, wiping away their footprint in their wake. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie wraps his arms around her, and says "Lets head home." He will kick in the blastfield to get them back to where their bag is, where she can get her goggles and be ready for the longer flight home. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Yeah, let's go home." Alexis states, her arms linking with his.     She doesn't even hide her face on the long flight back, this time. 
}}

10957/Finding Balance

2020-02-03T15:07:11Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/02/02 |Location=Library - Xavier's School |Synopsis=Shannon and Colossus meet in the library for some hot mulled cider (non-alcoholic, of cour..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/02/02
|Location=Library - Xavier's School
|Synopsis=Shannon and Colossus meet in the library for some hot mulled cider (non-alcoholic, of course!), talk of the recent patrol, and life lessons.
|Cast of Characters=284,8765
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     It is in the warm confines of the library in Xavier's mansion that things can sometimes seem their most homey. Especially on an evening such as this with the embrace of winter so clear outside. That shock of white with the freshly fallen snow and the chill of frost upon the windows, it lends a feeling of old man Winter's caress. Though inside the library he's held off by the crackle of the fireplace and the warmth and coziness of the decor.     For Piotr Rasputin it is ideal. Especially with his freshly made mulled cider in its mug on the end table beside him, right next to a thermos of more since the tall Russian knows he is likely to have more than just the one mug's worth.     In his lap is an old leatherbound book that he is perusing, occasionally taking a sip from his mug. Turning a page. Enjoying the atmosphere of such a night as this. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Free of the medbay at last and newly returning from a trip to Salem Center with some friends, a familiar winged figure tiptoes into the library. It was a place of quiet and normally of solitude. Little droplets of melting snow cling to the ends of her mostly blonde hair, and linger upon her white tunic sweater, like a dusting of diamonds gifted by old man Winter. Her boots have been left behind in her dorm, leaving the girl in her stocking feet. She carries an old, well-loved volume of some sort, one that bears the image of a Pegasus rearing, neighing a challenge to some unseen foe.      The sitting area by the fireplace, however, was already occupied. Shannon pursed her lips slightly, reluctant to disturb another in the midst of their own thoughts. Still, the crackling and warmth of the flames was tempting... 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     Though it is a place of solitude and the library is larger than most, it is not so big that the arrival of another is entirely unlikely to go unnoticed. Piotr looks up, bright blue eyes looking across the way to met Shannon's gaze and he smiles. One hand lifts the mug a bit as he signals his greeting at first merely with gesture and then with words, "Privyet, Shannon. Join me, do." He motions with a nod to the other of three chairs set up in a semi-circle around that fireplace.     And he lifts his chin, "I have made mulled cider," Non-alcoholic of course, "Would you care for some?" Though there is not another mug he does have the top of the thermos available at hand to serve in that role.     In his lap he has a book that declares on the spine prominently the word simply depicted as 'ROME' and beneath it the name of the author, harder to discern but a single word for the name. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Who could refuse an offer like that? Keeping her wings tucked in neatly behind her, Shannon makes her way over to join Colossus, seeming perhaps a bit smaller inside than usual despite the smile tugging the corners of her lips upwards. "Spasibo... hopefully that's right?" Her pronunciation is far from perfect, yet hopefully the intent was understood. The mention of mulled cider draws a light laugh from her, and she wrinkles her nose a bit. "Better you make it than I. The last time I tried it, I went a little heavy on the cloves and had a numb tongue for the rest of the night." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     A nod is given to her, her smile returned back to her as he leans forward to take up the thermos and remove the cap. "Then all the more reason you should have some now, yes?" And as he says that he twists the top off of the container and flips the lid over, allowing him to pour some of the still steaming liquid into that plastic container. That is then set upon the table between the and he will break off the top of his cinnamon stick to place it in hers.     There, now with that cobbled together cider he extends it toward her and lets the smile return. "I see you are doing better, Shannon. I am glad." That said he closes his book mostly, though holds his place with one fingertip. One large leg crosses over his thigh as he tilts his head toward you.     "How do you feel?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon accepts the improvised cup of spiced cider with a smile of gratitude, setting her book down on the table nearby; the wording on the spine proclaims the volume to be 'Greek Myths and Legends', bearing no hint of a label that might otherwise mark it as a library book. Perhaps it is a volume from her own collection? Her jeans barely whisper against the chair as she sits down, curling her legs up beneath her and settling her wings into a more relaxed pose.      For a few moments, she stirs the cider slowly with the cinnamon stick, actually taking it out and nibbling on the end, with an evident fondness for the spice. "That... is a loaded question," she begins, her voice quiet. "Physically, I feel much better. But the nightmares will probably linger a few more days." She shrugs, a bit nonchalant about the whole thing. "I'm not certain how much you heard about the whole incident...?" 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     The tall man's eyes hood a little as his brow beetles, a touch of concern assuredly as he tilts his head to the side. A nod is given as she speaks as he follows along with her words. When she mentions feeling better physically he gets a small smile as if relieved and then straightens up in his chair a little at the mention of nightmares.     "Da, time is usually all that can help when such preys upon one's mind." Then he tilts his head to the side at her question. "Only what little was in the after action report. I would be interested in hearing your side of matters. My sister does not often speak of such at length." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "Things would have gone much worse, had it not been for your sister and Gwen. Wish I had half their courage and smarts." The firelight dances in Shannon's pale azure eyes, the winged girl enjoying the aroma of fruit and spices in her cup. It's a comforting, homey scent, a bit of cheer to steady the nerves and soothe the soul. She takes a small sip, gathering her thoughts.      "It started as what should have been a routine patrol. You'd think we'd know by now that routine, isn't. I spotted the smoke out over the water, and it turned out to be a ship in distress. Or, more precisely, being hijacked. Either it was one of Mr. Stark's vessels, or it was from someone who does business with him, because some of the crates on board bore the logo."      The winged teen cracks a bit of a smile, her eyes twinkling with a hint of what could almost be termed glee. "The crew of the ship were being held on deck towards the stern of the vessel. There were about fifteen we saw, including the captain, being guarded by three of the hijackers. I dropped two of them with a flying drop-kick from behind." She actually laughs for a moment, shaking her head. "Remind me not to tick off your sister. I don't think I'd want to wind up in an infinite loop between two portals like she did to the third person who was holding the crew captive." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "I am sure they are saying the same thing about your presence, Shannon." Piotr says after her first few words, but then he falls silent for the time, turning to listening as his eyes follow her lips at points only occasionally returning to her gaze. Perhaps it helps him with translating what she says, or perhaps it is more habit from his learning.     At the mention of Stark his eyebrows lift with curiousity and he nods again, one hand lifting to gesture that she should continue though she had not shown a sign of halting. He takes a sip of his cider and watches as she elaborates.     Then she mentions Illyana's efforts and his lips twist upwards, warm but there is still a hint of concern. Perhaps just at the prospect of his sister in harm's way.     "What happened then?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon sighs a little bit, her grip tightening on the cup in her hands. It is as if she is drinking in the warmth to steel her nerves to continue the tale of the patrol gone awry. "I heard one of the hijacker's radios go off. Someone was talking about setting charges, and whatever those goons were after was ready to be taken off the ship. Gwen and Illyana went to the bow of the ship to take care of things, and I took to the air to see if I could spot the charges." She grimaces, shivering and taking a long sip of the cider. "Oh, I found them, alright. Three satchel charges. If I'd have had any sense I'd have seen if Illyana could've portaled them out of there. But my only thought was getting those charges the hell off the ship and into the water, because it seemed pretty likely they were going to be set off remotely."      She shivers a second time, her voice gone a bit quiet. "I did manage to get them out over the water and drop them. But they were detonated, and I had no time to get clear. The last thing I remembered was being knocked out of the sky and hitting the deck of the ship, hard. Next thing was, I woke up in the medbay with my midsection wrapped up, my wings in splints, and one nasty egg on the back of my head." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     A nod is given slow and steady as he listens to her replay of the scenario. He frowns a little and takes another sip of cider, then says quietly. "Very heroic of you." Agreeing that her actions to save the others from the blast charges was a good one. He unfolds one leg then crosses it over the other, shifting his weight to the other hip as he looks on at her.     "But yes, it is best in such conflicts to have the capabilities of your comrades in mind as well as your own. Would have been more wise to allow Illyana to aid."     But then he holds up a fingertip, "Though such connection and forethought often only comes with time and practice. Is best to train with the people you intend to go into conflict with as much as you can. To become second nature, these thoughts. So you did well."     Then the smile, "But always room for improvement. I am glad it did not cost you too dearly, this lesson." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shrugging a little, she smiles faintly. A faint hint of rose tints her cheeks at the compliment of her actions. "Just doing what had to be done. I'm no hero." Shifting a little bit in her chair, she nods in agreement to his wisdom in regards of the capabilities of one's teammates. "There is a lot I don't know about her gifts. But if it looks like I'll be going in the field with her, you're right, it'd be wise to train with her more often. I'm more frequently paired with Bean, if anybody. And that's if I'm let out in the field at all."      Pinching the bridge of her nose lightly, the winged teen shakes her head. "It's difficult, being in this position. On one hand, I know the teachers want to do their job and protect us. I had a similar talk with Kitty about this. The teachers want to protect us, but sooner or later trouble will find us, even if we don't go looking for it. How can there be balance between the need to prepare properly and actually get out in the field to do some good out there, and the need for the teachers here to keep us safe? Is there a way to find that balance?" 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "You have time, Shannon." Piotr says as he remains seated there in his chair, the book pulled over to rest upon his lap. "Not too long ago... most of us did not have the choice to be able to take the time needed to train. For there were... matters most pressing." Which might be an understatement considering the trials and tribulations they had to face when many of the X-Men were first to be X-Men.     "Take that time to focus on training, for self-improvement, and finding your niche from which to operate. Your time has not come yet, da? And it is a good thing. For it is ever a dire day when duty and sacrifice calls."     He smiles gently, one large hand lifting to push through his short dark hair and then that hand rests upon his shoulder. "My advice to you is this. Prepare. Gain what experience you can safely. But be ready for the call. It may be us at one time coming home and asking for everyone's help against a threat to the world. Or it may be simply in a friend asking you for life advice that you can grant. Do not view either path as a lesser one." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "If that call ever comes. It'd be nice to be needed sometimes." The wistful note quavering in the girl's voice betokened too many times of longing, needing to help, and often being left without the opportunity to do so. The mention of the lack of choice to train has her furrowing her brows, and tilting her head slightly to the side. Just what had he and the others gone through? What trials had they endured?      "Life advice? From me? Ha. Maybe someday, when I get to be your age, perhaps." There is a hint of laughter in her voice, a bit of teasing to chase away the more somber mood of the moment. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "So old as me, indeed. The oldest of old X-People." Piotr tells her with a half smirk. He takes up his mug and takes another sip, only to find it mostly empty. Then he gauges how much is left in the thermos. He crinkles his nose. "Bah. I seem to be out of cider." He starts to push himself to his feet. "This was a fine talk, Shannon. Thank you for sharing with me."     That said he turns and moves toward the door and then asks sidelong, "Is there anything I can get you?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon shakes her head, and smiles a little bit. "Just the chance to maybe be of help to you one day. You and your sister have both been very kind and that means a lot. Thank you." Finishing her cider, Shannon replaces the improvised cup back on top of the thermos, and scoops up her book from the table. A whisper of fabric against the chair, and she is on her feet, bringing the thermos back over to Colossus. "It would be nice to give a little back to a friend who has given so much." 
}}

10956/A Cider for Piotr

2020-02-03T15:07:00Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/02/02 |Location=Ororo's Attic - Xavier's School |Synopsis=Piotr returns to Xavier's, and brings Ororo a gift of mulled cider! |Cast of Charact..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/02/02
|Location=Ororo's Attic - Xavier's School
|Synopsis=Piotr returns to Xavier's, and brings Ororo a gift of mulled cider!
|Cast of Characters=284,56
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     At the large double doors of the entrance to Xavier's mansion there is a little cascade of snow, freshly fallen and powdery. Just a faint brush of hands sending the flakes off the tall man's shoulders and to the ground where they melt into glistening beadlets of moisture around those heavy work boots even as the X-Man dusts himself clear of old man Winter's touch.     It takes him a few moments to unwind that scarf from around his neck, his beanie cap already set to the side and hanging from the coat rack, only to be joined by his black pea coat he so often wears.     Once that's done and he's divested of all the gear needed to venture out on a night like this, Piotr Rasputin turns and calls into the mansion proper from the foyer. "Hello!" His voice carries, deep and resonant. "Is the kitchen in use?" He asks as he starts to walk past those tall wending stairs so nearby with what is apparently a large paper bag of supplies tucked under his arm. 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' % "Hello! Who is yelling indoors?" someone calls back, in a lyrical and heavily accented voice. There's merriment in it, though, and Ororo emerges from a door on the other end of the hallway. A delighted grin splits her features, and when Piotr gets close she offers to help relieve him of one of the bags with one hand, and offers him a sisterly hug with one arm and a chaste kiss to the cheek. "It is so good to see you, Piotr," she informs him. "Come, I was just making some food for myself. Are you hungry?" she inquires. Ororo's sole nod to the cold weather is a hand-knit shawl in a kaleidoscope of colors draped over her shoulders, pattered like a god's eye. The simple dress she wears hangs to her ankles, also hand-sewn, and sporting intricate patterns vaguely reminiscent of Delhi. With her hair worn loose and flowing today, the punk goddess is parked in her closet and the domestic goddess seems in full force. "How are the roads coming in to Westchester?" she inquires, convivially. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     The young Russian's smile blossoms all the more as he steps toward the kitchen and now Ororo who helps him with his burden. "Ah, Ororo!" He leans his head down and to the side, accepting the kiss as if it were his Great Aunt granting it so kindly. She is given the second sack though it is decidedly light and within she likely sees it is mainly a mix of small packages with some spices, and several oranges.     "I shall await til you are finished then, yes?" He strides down the hall and then turns, "I am not hungry, no. Though I had... a 'hankering' is it called?" That said he shoulders the door open and then holds it for her to enter with her usual grace.     "Though if you can spare one burner that should suffice for me." That said he sweeps into the kitchen and begins to divest himself of the other bag, though this one seems to hold several quarts of apple cider, visible once he starts taking them out of the bag.     "The roads seem fine. Slippery down the street where there is that small... reka? The creek? Perhaps it has overflowed a little and frozen."     That said he starts to prepare as he can. 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' Ororo seems quite at home in the kitchen, and is busy with a crock pot and a large pot-- almost a cauldron-- simmering on the stove. It's easy enough to make room for the burly Russian, and she does so quite oblingingly. The pot simmers, redolent with the scent of spices, meats, and root vegetables. "I'll ask Bobby if he can do something about it. I'd hate for someone to wreck their car," Ororo tells Piotr. She stirs the large pot, making a sturdy soup bone bob once against the surface of the soup. The preoccupation with food is something Piotr might well know; in America, a hot meal is never furthur away than the nearest gas station. In other countries, it's an ongoing labor, constantly preparing food and keeping it ready for hungry family members. Stone soup is often where scraps and leavings from other meals ends up and provides a ready source of sustenance. "Do I smell cinnamon and... cloves?" she hazards. Her bright blue eyes sparkle in excitement. "I never get tired of that scent. What on Earth are you making?" she asks, and peers into the bags again with mounting curiousity. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "It is..." Piotr says as he helps clear an area but his lift of eyebrows signals a silent question as if making sure it's okay for him to take up this space. But if he truly seems to not be interfering with her efforts then he will stake his small claim. "Some allspice. And da, cloves and the cinnamon."     As he speaks he produces each item, setting them on the prep island and then folding up the paper sacks to toss them in the recycling bin once they're empty. "Some oranges, and some cider. I had this... urge to sit next to the fire and have this to drink. You are, of course, welcome to join me."     As he finishes speaking he's already digging into the cabinetry to find an appropriate sauce pan and cover. There is some discordant clanging as he pulls them free and he winces a little, shooting a silent 'sorry' in her direction before he turns back to the stove.     "Though is nothing compared to your efforts, Ororo. It smells delicious. Had I known I would not have eaten earlier." 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' "I would enjoy that," Ororo tells Piotr, and smiles again. "And this is nothing special. There are always leftovers this time of year, and I find every enjoys a hot bowl of soup. I hate seeing food go to waste. It's not for everyone," she admits, stirring the pot slowly with the ladle. She sniffs, samples, and reaches for some of the spices over the oven. There's a bit of friednly jostling with Piotr but she expresses no territorialism, and smiles reassuringly when he makes a clattering of pots and pans. She even helps him by retrieving a decanter he'd likely need. "So are you back for a while this time, I hope?" she inquires of the burly Russian. "It would be good to have you around. Nothing keeps the children in line like that scowl. 'Is problem here?'" she quips, in a pretty good imitation of his accent, and a comical pitch of her rich alto voice. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     It is something rare to share a kitchen with another who finds the process of cooking an enjoyable one and the jostling is the barest of hurdles. He takes little time to get the ingredients prepped and the cider poured, setting the sauce pan upon the heat and then getting clear of Ororo's way. It's against the counter nearest the window that looks out upon the rear grounds that Piotr makes his home, arms folded over his broad chest as he smiles in her direction.     "I am home until some emergency or another calls for our attention, yes?" But then she does her best effort of a Piotrpression and she'll hear him exhale a bit sharply, something that likely would be a laugh if he was more effusive. Or less Russian. But the smile is warm when she looks to him again.     With perhaps a little more exaggerated accent he tells her, "Is not always so. Sometimes I have but to look at them. Like so." And his eyes narrow as he gives her his best Dolph Lundgren crossed with Clint Eastwood stare. Which considering the time they've spent growing up together in this school, might be all the more ludicrous seeming.     "Though, in truth," His tone lightens, "Since I have been back most have been very polite. Save for Julian. He had the detention yesterday." 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' "Three times this month," Ororo sighs, and her shoulders heave under the shawl. "He's going to be working in the greenhouse until he finishes college, at this rate." Ororo is a strong fan of manual labor as a corrective punishment. "Perhaps you can pull him aside and talk to him. Do one of those men things you do-- take him ice fishing, share a little vodka, talk about feelings without making eye contact." Ororo's itchy fingers have her poking at the simmering cider just to make sure it's not burning, but she manages to largely refrain from dipping her literal soup spoon in Piotr's proverbial (and literal) bowl. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     Another snort of an exhale, though this one closer to a laugh as he leans forward and stirs at the cider for a moment. "Already I took him for the chopping of wood." Piotr says, eyebrows climbing as he continues to stir, the whisk making a faint metal on metal scraping sound against the inside of the sauce pan.     "What is it I should do next, make him wrestle bear?" Those last two words are spoken with a little more of an accent as if to complete the mental image he just conjured. But then he casually nudges her with his hip to make her not even think of dipping her nasty soup spoon into his bowl.     "There is perhaps something else preying upon his thoughts." He says thoughtfully and then his eyes distance before he looks back to Ororo. "Perhaps he is performing? To gain attention of girl?" 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' "That's as good an explanation as any. Either that, or cabin fever," Ororo agrees. She oofs theatrically and staggers sideways, going back to dicing potatoes with a deft flickering of a large cutting knife. "Either way, I'd take it as a favor if you'd pull him aside. He respects you," she assures Piotr. "Anyway," she says, waving the issue off with a free hand. The roots are added to the soup bowl and more stock is poured in. "Have you seen your sister lately? She's been a bit absent lately. I do worry about her not socializing enough," Ororo frets. "She pretends that she's not lonely, but I can't help but feel like some more human contact would be good for her." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     She can likely see the way he grimaces slightly at the prospect, though he lifts his eyebrows upwards and agrees with a small nod. "Very well, I shall find a reason to take time with him. Perhaps I shall ask his help tomorrow when I must go into the city." That said he pushes the sauce pan a little with one hand, getting some of the spices to settle more and to cause the orange slices to shift.     "Illyana?" He then asks, as if she meant someone else. He nods again, though there's a furrow to his brow. "We have caught up, and had a fine talk some nights ago. She has told me some of what is going on in her life."     He straightens and then moves toward another of the cupboards, pulling open the door and digging around for some suitable mugs. Two are claimed for now and he takes them back to the prep island where he'll set a cinnamon stick in each before he turns back toward her.     "She has told me of a great dragon. Of some of the troubles that have crossed her path." A pause as he looks to the side, "And that she is dating Douglas." Their old comrade. 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' Ororo does fully move aside and finds a clear stretch on the island nearby; she folds her arms across her stomach and waits patiently for Piotr to finish preparing the beverages. Fingers push her cascading white hair from one side to another, revealing a flash of smooth-shorn skin at her temples. "Douglas? I am glad they're enjoying each other's company. They always struck me as a cute couple," she tells Piotr. A smile flashes across her face. "You tell her though, if she needs help, she needs only ask. I do adore her so; there is family here if she needs it." When the mug is offered she extends both hands to take it, and offers a salute with the rim towards the Russian. Ororo takes a slow sip, and her eyes lid in blissful content. "My goodness, that is precisely what the doctor ordered. Are you sure you're not a precog? I didn't even know I was craving this," she teases him. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "I think," Piotr begins as he starts to pour the now lovely mulled cider into the mugs, the pot tilting on its side as he very gingerly makes the transition from preparation to serving. "That he may be avoiding me." The second to last word coming in a little hard on the 'ing'. A small smile plays on his lips, "Which is foolish. Perhaps expecting me to glower most dour and threaten him with what I would do to him if he hurts my little Snowflake."     Piotr then sets the sauce pan back down, making sure the burner is off and then he takes up a seat opposite her there at the middle table area. Settling in gingerly upon the chair, in case it might not be able to support his considerable weight, he meets her eyes with his own and smiles. "When in truth nothing I could do could compare with whatever form Illyana's wrath would take."     Which, is rather very much true.     As she praises his choice of hankerings, Piotr chuckles and lifts the mug to clink it gently against hers. "It was the weather that put in mind for it, da? Perhaps thus it is in truth your subconscious that let the wind be a little stronger. The snow a little heavier. And the chill a little greater. Just so, to convey your urges for such a thing, yes?" 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' "Possibly," Ororo says, with a grin. "But the cold doesn't bother me much. It's all Mother's weather, after all. The desert and the arctic alike are both part of her; why should I be more comfortable in one than the other?" "But this reminds me of cold nights in the desert, and drinking hot meals out of an old soup cup. When I was a very little girl," she clarifies. "There is something wholesome and hearty about a warm beverage. It goes right to the soul." She sips, smacks her lips, and uplifts her chin at Piotr. "Are you staying for the spring term, then? It'd be nice to have you in the teacher's lounge again. I'm still teaching botany and language classes; having you back in the art studio would be wonderful. We have some very talented young students in need of some mentorship in that regard." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     As Ororo shares a small window into her life, Piotr meets her smile with his own. He sets his mug down upon the tabletop, both his hands curled around it as he holds her gaze. "Is good that you try to give others some connection to that touchstone of your past, Ororo." He lets his eyes drift to the stone soup that is smelling so good.     Then back to her as she asks further about his plans. At first there's a nod. "Da, I have plans to resume teaching at least some art classes depending on the amount of interest. And to take up what physical education needs tending to." His eyes furrow as he looks off into the distance as if gathering up his plans before sharing them.     "Also I was thinking of teaching a class in Mutant Town, though I know not how it shall be received." He smiles and looks back to her, "Ah, and I have accepted a part time position at Nevinsky's Gym in Little Odessa. If only to perhaps meet new people." 

:'''{{#var:56|Ororo Munroe (56)}} has posed:''' "I think you'd be very well suited for that," Ororo assures Piotr. She beams a smile. "But perhaps let someone else do the physical education?" she says, with a lilting tone of good humor. "I've seen how you eat. Let some of us who worry about our metabolism help with diet and exercise," she says, and pats her admittedly trim tummy. "You and Logan can toss boulders all day and barely break a sweat, but some of us *do* need to follow a more traditional workout plan." She eases off the counter. "It's quite late for me, so I think I'll turn in. I'm glad you're here, Piotr," she says again, and gives his forearm a quick squeeze. "Thank you so much for the thoughtful drink. Do come up and say hello later, my door's always open," she reminds him-- the attic, a refuge for anyone who needs some space from the clamour of the sometimes over-crowded mansion below. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     The mug is lifted to her in a small salute as he watches her depart, "Thank you Ororo, I missed you while I was gone." That said he watches her as she makes her departure and takes another sip before he looks around and hrms to himself. Already mentally making a list of what he must do to clean up. That decided he rises and starts to do so. 
}}

10955/Surviving Infinity: Mostly Surviving

2020-02-03T15:06:49Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/02/02 |Location=Medical, Avengers Mansion |Synopsis=Pepper checks on an ill Tony. |Cast of Characters=22,83 |Tinyplot=Surviving Infinity |pret..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/02/02
|Location=Medical, Avengers Mansion
|Synopsis=Pepper checks on an ill Tony.
|Cast of Characters=22,83
|Tinyplot=Surviving Infinity
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:''' There were two messages for Pepper. The first? That the Avengers got an emergency contact from Tony, and were going to respond. It included a request for medical assistance, suggesting an injury of some type. That happened at about ten at night. Where? Off-planet. A big group of them went to deal with it, and there was no information for just over an hour. Then, the next contact was again JARVIS, giving update. The team had returned safely, via Bifrost. Both men, Tony and Steve, were under care in individual rooms of Medical, but were not marked in serious condition. Dr. Pym was on Tony's case, Dr. Banner on Steve's. 

:'''{{#var:83|Pepper Potts (83)}} has posed:''' Pepper's initial response was relief. A message from Tony. He was alive and found a way, just as his message said he would. She never doubted he would be trying if he could. Her concern had been he couldn't. Then the rest of the message. Medical assistance needed. That shifted her gears from relief and happiness to a bit of frantic. There was nothing to do but wait. She found herself moving restlessly around the penthouse. One moment, sitting and trying to look at paperwork, the next off in the kitchen doing some dishes by hand. Then she would get frustrated with that and be off straightening cushions on the couch. It was just her trying to find anything to focus on but the worry. When JARVIS gave the information they were back, she was out the door like an arrow fired from a bow. Happy was downstairs to meet her, the car ready and waiting at the curb. The trip was a blurr for her. Everything was a buzz of thought after thought, chasing each other through her mind. At the mansion, she was given an escort to medical where she slipped in and immediately moved to Tony's bedside. Her state of dress showed was more casual than she generally wore in public. Jeans, a pair of flats, a white button up shirt. Her hair was down around her shoulders. 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:''' Of the two split occupied rooms of medical, Tony is on the right (Tony is always right). There's some scattered sounds from Steve's side: he probably has visitors. Tony's side is quiet: but that may be more of a sign of the doctor in charge of the room than anything else. Dr. Pym has never been friendly on visitors. He's on his way out when Pepper arrives, but isn't particularly forthcoming, just waves her in while he disappears into another room. Tony looks like he has the flu, but he doesn't look terrible, considering the cases that could have been going through Pepper's head. He had his eyes shut at first, relaxing, but he hears her approach with the click of her heels, and opens his eyes around the same time as she ends up at bedside. A smile smoothly arrives: tired but always up to smile at her, no matter what. "Hey," Tony says simply, offering a hand. 

:'''{{#var:83|Pepper Potts (83)}} has posed:''' "Tony." A simple word, said in a slightly breathless tone as Pepper closes that distance so quickly she might as well have teleported across the small room. Her hand slides into his, her other hand wrapping around the outside of it as she clings to him as though through her will alone, she will keep him from ever disappearing again. She can't help smiling just to see him there, moving, alive. Quickly she looks him over for any obvious injuries but then focusing back on his face as she squeezes his hand. "I was so worried. Are you okay? What happened? Where have you been?" Too many questions, too quickly. She takes a breath and her smile softens. "I got your message. I knew you would find a way. You always do." 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:''' Tony snares her hand and weaves his fingers with hers, pulling her hand towards him with a somewhat loose tug to set their tangled fingers on his chest. There's a little 'clunk' as the impact of it hits the edge of arc reactor. Just bringing her closer, too, hand holding her hand there. "Yes, I've just got a space-flu. I'm loaded with space-antibiotics, and I'll be back to ordinary color soon enough. Maybe not as soon as Captain Cheater and his immune system from a bottle, but if he were playing by the rules ... AND it were a competition -- I'd win," Tony rambles. Tony's chatty: he'll really be okay. He clears his throat with a cough but grins at her briefly. "Normally I'd request a kiss, but then you'd be on these pills too. I'm feared contagious, if you believe Pym." 

:'''{{#var:83|Pepper Potts (83)}} has posed:''' "If he believes you are contagious, humor him and stay put until he gives the all clear," Pepper suggests. Which is another way of saying that he needs to follow doctor's orders, even if he thinks he is smarter than the doctor. Or if he's simply going to be stubborn. If she figured it out, he likely can too. Pym allowed her into the room so it can't be that contagious. He likely is telling Tony it's contagious to keep him from wandering out of the building immediately. Or Pym doesn't care if she catches it. That's not nearly as amusing to think of. He does have the bedside manner of a honey badger typically, after all. Something to not think about. "I suspect that if it were a competition, playing by the rules or not, that you would win," she points out with another of those smiles. She does release her second hand from where it was covering his atop his chest. Only to bring her hand up to his cheek, pressing her fingers there softly. Her voice drops lower in volume. "I think it would be worth having to take the medication to have a kiss. I've missed you so much, Tony. What happened?" 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:''' "I do know that him being an asshole does not make him automatically /wrong/," Tony replies, grumpy, but not unwilling to face reality, so long as it's on his own terms, that is. Tony turns his head towards her more as she touches his cheek. He needs to shave, there might be some memories of the state of his beard reminding her of what he looked like when he came back from that cave of hell, so many years ago. But this time, it's different: she's with him, able to react with him on a level that allows, even welcomes, the touch to his face with her palm. The touch registers in Tony's dark and slightly feverish eyes. His face is pale and hot to the touch, as his fever hasn't broken from the medicine quite fully: not yet. Tony releases a breath through his nose. "A villain is after some powerful relics that are here on Earth," Tony says, simplifying, but not skirting the truth: he trusts Pepper absolutely. "Infinity Stones, they're called. We have had a few of these universe-altering power relics here. So, this villain sent one of his lackeys to come look for it. She ambushed Steve, Carol, Rogue and I, and we fell into different portals, that led to traps. I assume to interrogate us later. We escaped ours, and got stuck on the planet. Basically a painful episode of 'Survivor'; camping in the woods with the boy scout." It's rueful, but Tony doesn't describe Steve unkindly. "I figured out a way to get a message back here... and here I am, awaiting kisses." 

:'''{{#var:83|Pepper Potts (83)}} has posed:''' To be honest, he looks wonderful to her. Despite the scruff. Despite the slight loss of weight. He's there. She could feel him. Her hand remains on his cheek for long moments then, slowly, reluctantly, she draws it away. A quick brush of fingers through his hair which needs a trim. As he explains, Pepper focuses fully on his face, watching his expressions, weighing his words. None of that sounds good. At all. "Like the Tesseract." Not really phrased as a question. It was a world altering relic and there was a global attack involving it. What could more of those things attract to Earth? "At least together, you were able to pool your training and help one another." To make a positive of the situation. Alien planet, probably had a time figuring out what was or was not safe to use to keep them alive. She can't even begin to imagine what hardships they might have faced. When he finished, her smile was back, amusement obvious. "More than one? Mr. Stark, you are being positively scandalous." She purses her lips "Forgot who I was speaking to for a moment. Of course you are. It's your modus operandi." A slow evaluation of him as she looked into his eyes. "I think it's worth it." Then she began to lean closer. He had a chance to stop her, of course. If he really was worried about catagions. 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:''' In fact, Tony does stop her. He doesn't have the energy to lift his hand very far, but he does lift it. "Pep, in truth? I don't want you sick. I've been vomitting my guts out," Tony says, which likely makes him less appealing to put her lips on. It also speaks a great volume of what he does feel towards her. He's protecting her: above his own desires. It's subtle and said in an offhand way, but there's the clear, direct evidence of something immense between them. "And Pym deliberately is NOT shrinking the pills as much as he could be," Tony growls, more towards the door. That might not be paranoia: it's probably outright true. And maybe deserved? Tony's eyes come back to Pepper. "So the plural there on kisses is for the interest I intend to have raised over time here," Tony quips. Of course he wouldn't just let that tender moment survive, he has to chatter more. 

:'''{{#var:83|Pepper Potts (83)}} has posed:''' As soon as his hand lifts, she stops. No pushing, no forcing him to interfere in her motion. Pepper gives a nod, dropping her gaze to their joined hands on his chest. A light squeeze then she is looking back to his face. Always watching over her, protecting. Even when he's the one that needs to be cared for right now. It's his way. So many people don't see all the qualities she knows are there, the ones that have her feeling so strongly for him. This is just another moment that verifies it all. Until he chatters. Good feeling over as she laughs very softly, shaking her head. "Thirty-One days worth of kisses? That might take some time. I'll have to keep an afternoon open on our schedules." Her own teasing since he better not be anywhere near that office for a long stretch. 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:''' "All of my time should be alloted as 'advanced R&D', as I have researched exactly how annoying it would be to have limited tech on a planet where the locals try to feed you space slugs. It is the absolute worst possible version of room service, Pep. The tent was smaller than my bathtub," Tony laments, though his rolls his eyes a little bit in a way that suggests a bit of fever delerium in there. "Speaking of that. I have put in more than one request for a burger," Tony says, with one finger raised pointedly, trailing the IV cable. "And I do not buy for one moment that Pym forgot. He is the worst assistant. In addition to maybe even being /the worst/ in a more general way," Tony continues, happy to have someone to throw under the bus. It's a normal pattern for Tony: being sick or bedridden garners this behavior, when he's on the mend. He does lapse his head back tiredly, letting his eyes close for an overly long moment. His energy at seeing her is starting to wane back down. But again, there's that shadow of trust: letting her see that he isn't perfect. 

:'''{{#var:83|Pepper Potts (83)}} has posed:''' "I'm sure he is not nearly so bad." While he might have a bad bedside manner, Dr. Pym is brilliant and she has no doubt he is taking excellent care of Tony. Despite Tony's grumblings. She tries not think about eating space slugs. It sounds horrifying. While insects might be something many people on the planet ate, she wasn't going to be one of them by choice. "I'll have Happy get you a burger while you rest a bit," Pepper suggests with another squeeze of his hand. She isn't going to leave. She can't. Even if he falls asleep, she needs to be there with him for now. To make certain he doesn't poof into smoke. 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:''' Tony lifts his free hand a bit, indicating two fingers. "Two cheeseburgers," Tony decides. He hasn't let go of her hand... He isn't expecting her to leave, though he does seem to be trailing off into unconsciousness. "With fries..." Priorites. 
}}

10954/Teen Burger Night

2020-02-03T15:06:27Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/02/02 |Location=Burger Joint - Salem Center |Synopsis=X-Students meet a Power Pack member and giant burgers are tackled. |Cast of Characters=8..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/02/02
|Location=Burger Joint - Salem Center
|Synopsis=X-Students meet a Power Pack member and giant burgers are tackled.
|Cast of Characters=8876,8765,9029,8925,9322,248
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' There's a light dusting of snow outside, easily cleared off the roads to make them passable, but most people are indoors. However, having recently returned to Earth, Alex was so feeling the urge for a burger. Because 31st Century burgers just aren't as great. Having already placed his order, he's over in the corner where an old arcade machine is set up and he's button mashing like whoa. "Come on, come on, I got you... hyperspace!" he says excitedly as he presses the button to warp his little 'Defender' ship... ...right into an alien swarm. And out bombs, he's quickly overwhelmed. "Drats!" He's dressed in a jersey style shirt over a long john style colored shirt, with blue jeans and a pair of tennis shoes on as he puts in his initals as 3rd place and moves to sit at a table to wait for his food. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Jello. It was the bane of medical centers everywhere. And right now, Shannon wanted -real- food. By real, one can read 'greasy food that neither my friends nor I have to cook' here. So there was just one solution to be had.      Burgers.      Yes, that's right. A greasy, juicy slab of ground beef on a bun. But this time, not any old burger would do. Oh, no. Such delights were best shared, so what's a girl to do?      Why, order a Giant Burger to share with friends, of course!      She's dressed in her favorite blue jeans, cream tunic sweater, and caramel suede boots, with her goofy red and white 'Where's Waldo' hat holding her little blue braid in check, on the left side of her choice. With a grin at Gwendolyn, she actually... cackles? "Hope you're hungry. I've heard these things are -massive-!" 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:'''      With Shannon finally out of the infirmary, it was Gwendolyn's goal to get her to do something that was not in the infirmary first and something social second. While she isn't the biggest social butterfly, Gwendolyn knows when to get people outside of the four walls that they were confined to over the past few days, so when the suggestion of burgers was made, there really wasn't a tough decision to be had. She had called the Uber while the conversation was going and the pair of them were on their way within the hour, after telling people where they were going, just in case people wanted to be fashionably late.      Forgoing the imager since this was in Salem, Gwendolyn's mutation - antenna on her head and insect-like plates and spines on her arms - were visible, although the wings were folded away and her visor was covering her eyes like a pair of high-tech sunglasses. "I checked. No jello anywhere on the menu here." she says cheerfully, holding open the door to allow the winged woman priority entrance. "Garcon!" Gwendolyn says cheerfully. "Your finest booth!" 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' The cashier at the counter chuckles. "You got your choice tonight, and they all offer excellent views!" he calls back out to Gwendolyn. Then he calls out. "Order for Power! One double double, onion rings and neopolitian shake!" Standing up from his table for two where he was the only one sitting, the blonde makes his way up to the counter. "That's me." he offers, taking out his reciept to show it to the cashier, before accepting his tray. Lifting it up, Alex turns, and when he spies the pair, he stumbles for a moment, dropping his tray before he acks, and the tray and food stops in mid-air, surrounded by a field of white with black dots as it rises back up to him. "Oops." he says, aheming to himself slightly. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "Why, merci, madamoiselle Gwen!" Shannon keeps her wings neatly tucked in behind her as she slips through the door, not at all keen on anything happening to them again! As soon as she's through the door, however, she stretches them out a bit, flexing them slowly as if perhaps working out some cramps in the muscles. Or just enjoying the feel of being more mobile. "Sure hope Bean got that text, 'cause I think it's going to take all three of us to eat one of those Giant burgers!"      And then... the tray drops. Her eyebrows loft as things just seem to hover mid-air. "Nice catch!" she calls out, her lips quirking upwards in a smile. "You okay?" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     Did Bean get the text? The answer to such as question would necessarily have to be along the lines of pointing out the particular certainty of which branch of the faith the Bishop of Rome follows, or the arboreal sanitary arrangements of the predators of the genus Ursus. In short, Bean got the text. Bear, on the other hand, had insisted on playing in the park a bit longer before going back on the job, and now trots in ahead of the teenaged mutant surely future hero (of the non-turtle variety). Trots in wearing his bright yellow high-vis jacket, making way for his human-looking handler.     Today, in fashion that never goes out of style, Bean is rocking a jacket over his plain grey hoodie, and even has deigned to wear a non-descript black cap with no team affiliation unless 'The Snow Dusters' are a team somewhere. It doesn't take him long to spot Shannon and Gwen, walking over with his usual confident gait, preceded by the ever faithful German Shepherd. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:'''      "So what, exactly, are we eating here? I mean, I've had burgers before - even big ones, but the way you described this place was like a bizarre food challenge that seems solely designed to make clothes not fit.". Gwendolyn may protest weakly, but she came along willingly, so it seems she's capable of putting in the time to make this worthwhile and give Shannon an idea of how a Cajun girl can eat!      The door is closed behind and Gwen gives a once-over to the place, waving at the sight of Bean and his faithful companion. "Hey." She tugs at Shannon's wing with gentle fingertips to get her attention. "Burger finishing crew has arrived." and with that arrival,she claims the largest booth in the corner, making sure there is room for all. "Cool.". she calls from her spot, scanning the menu and getting about halfway down before she feels her waistline expand just from reading it. "That a telekinetic ability you have there?".      This is a big change from when Everyone first met Gwendolyn. she's more comfortable with being a mutant, and points out things when in a safe place, like a burger joint in the middle of a fairly mutant-friendly town. 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' Busted. Alex adjusts the tray slightly once he catches it, and the young blonde looks down at his meal. Only one onion ring spilt! Then of course, there's the girl calling out to him, and his cheeks warm with heat. "Not really telekentic. I don't think." he shrugs his shoulders, unsure for the moment to approach the table with the two ladies or return to his own seat. "Gravity manipulation. I mean. Kind of the same thing?" he suggests. "In the quantum physics type way." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon waves over to Bean, grinning. "Hey! Glad you could make it!" As tempting as it might be, she does not give the German Shepherd any scritches--not with that yellow vest on in public. Her eyebrows go up, and she peers at his hat. "What's 'The Snow Dusters'...?"      Gwen's question is given a very simple answer, as the winged girl gestures towards the menu. "The burger to end all burgers. The Giant Burger. Every place seems to have its own food challenge, and this is the one for here!"      Alex gets a little bit of a smile, and she steps over to help him with his tray. "C'mon, there's some room over here to set that down and sort things out, if you want to join us? I'm Shannon, by the way. The girl with the really awesome glasses is Gwen, and this is Bean, with his canine companion, Bear." 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     A burger needed slaying, a burger is going to be slain. The mighty have been called to battle, and today they shall feast until they can feast no more. Except, of course, Bean is well known for his appetite when on some kind of training schedule, which is all the time he does not spend in the medical bay. How the gym equipment has suffered lately...     "You raise an interesting point." he nods to Alex as he sits down, on the outside portion of the booth so he can keep Bear sitting next to him. "Can telekinesis be described as manipulation on the atomic level of the object being manipulated, or is a local field altering reality to effect the change upon it? At what point does one become indistinguishable from the other? Studied much quantum physics? I'd love to hear your take on it."     The cap gets a tap, and the snow dust falls off, leaving it bare. Someone was doing something strictly non-essential there... a sense of humor might be rubbing off on the teutonic mule. "Technically I'm Sam, but everyone calls me Bean, so why protest at this point?" 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' "I'm going to hate myself in the morning for trying this, aren't I?" Gwendolyn asks, eyeing the warnings printed on the little laminated signs on the table that she chose. Sure, free if you eat it all in an hour - that's not going to happen because dammit, she's going to be a little ladylike when it comes to that sort of thing - but if it's cooked well, she'll certainly give it a shot. Bear, as he approaches, gets a little wiggle of her fingers. It's good that she chose a booth in the corner - plenty of room for Bear to get out of the way.      Gwendolyn rolls her eyes - at least, t hat's the head movement she gives, her eyes hidden by the goggles, at Bean's questioning of Alex's powers. "Can we not delve into the mysteries of the universe right now, Bean? We've got a burger to deal with. Oh, and a strawberry shake if they have them?" 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' A heartbeat of thought, and the blonde moves to join them at the table. "I sort of brought my own?" he asks, gesturing to his own meal sas he moves to sit where allowed. After settling down, he chuckles. "Just a little, when Lar and Braniac get to arguing on it." There's a brief roll of his eyes at that, as he sets the meal out to move the tray to the side. Though everyone else is offering introductions, he figures he should as well. "Alex. Alex Power." That may ring some bells for some of those that know of the adventures of a very young Power Pack. At least he's grown up a little since then? 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Unfortunately, Shannon is not one of those that has heard of the Power Pack. She slides into the booth, scooting over to make some room. "Nice to meet you, Alex." The other two names get a bit of a raised eyebrow from the winged girl, however. "Ummm... Lar? Brainiac? Those are pretty unusual names." The question as to their identity remains hanging in the air between them, though she doesn't ask outright.      Glancing over at Bean, she chuckles lightly. "Well, everyone keeps getting you mixed up with Sam Guthrie, so yeah, Bean just -works-. Saves us a lot of headaches in the end." She grins at Gwen, letting the two gentlemen present discuss quantum physics and how they pertain to superhuman abilities. "I'm not understanding a word those two are saying, are you?" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     The name is, it turns out, familiar. Bean remembers it, remembers the team affiliation, and their place on the 'local enforcement threat' list. The whole takes about a second or two of combing his memory, although it doesn't affect his smile or general expression. "No discussing the mysteries of the universe, high energy /or/ particle physics, or anything more complex than high school geography, understood." He adds a wink to Gwendolyn. Who is this creature and what have they done to the real Bean?     "Can I at least tell people why cartoon bombs are shaped like that?" He points out what might be called the motif of the decor. After all, he loves a good anecdote. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:'''      Gwen shakes her head. "Not in the slightest. I just let them talk about whatever it is they talk about and then, if it matters to me in the slightest, I'll chime in." Gwen, too, is unfamiliar with the Power Pack, but Alex seems friendly enough, so he fits into the world as well as can be expected. "It's also your fault for being named Samuel, Bean. At least we don't have a cat called Bean, then we'd have to refer to you as Human Bean all the time, since the cat had the name first." Yeah, GWendolyn's babbling a little. Why, she has no clue.      "So...this massive burger. Do we just wait and then they bring it to us after we sign the releases and warnings, or do we hit a red button beneath one of these bombs to set it off?" 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' "I have some weird friends." Alex admits with a chuckle. "And that's their names." There's others, but he's not going into that at the moment. "So do you go to school around here?" he asks curiously, before his attention is taken with talk of bombs and burgers and he glances at his own food. And then he's pushing his onion rings to the middle of the table to offer to share with the others. Because as much as he'd love to bring up smartship 'Friday' and all of that, he's learned not to you know, share all of his secrets in one night. Taking the paper off the straw, he moves to put the straw in his shake to take a drink. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Oh, yes. Sooner or later, someone was bound to ask the question about school. With her wings, Shannon couldn't exactly say just -where- she attended. So how best to answer that sticky question? With a truthful, yet evasive answer. "I was mostly homeschooled," she replies, reaching for one of the onion rings. She twirls it around on her finger for a moment before chomping down. Who says you shouldn't play with your food?      To Gwen, she shrugs. "I don't know if they have waivers and releases for this one. And who gets to place the order?" Bean gets a nudge, and she chuckles. "That quantum physics talk actually made a weird kind of sense. Sort of. Kind of. Okay, maybe not much but it's still fun to listen to." 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     Who gets to place the order? Egads, certainly not Bean. He actually still hasn't passed that test, which is coming up soon alongside the 'riding the subway without collateral damage' test. Sure, he's had some burgers, sometimes even by himself, but always supervised in some way. 'Ordering' is a subject still very much on his to-do list. "Hey, I'm only here to provide the digestive support." is his public reason, with the usual fixed smile.     "Quantum physics is a pretty amazing topic. The more you study it, the more you realise that some of the earliest physicists were literally making it up as they were going along, and somehow managed to be right at the same time. Except for Heissenberg, who had a built-in defense against scrutiny. Possibly. Can't be certain on that one. Literally." A bit of a joke for the other table guest? Possibly.     "I got most of my education in a very selective private school. Now I go to... well, a very selective private boarding school." And he hangs around with mutants without the blink of an eye. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:'''      They all do, really, and it's not something that's spoken aloud outside the walls of those hallowed halls, but they all share the same conspiritorial grin from time to time. "Okay then, if Bean's not going to order, I guess that leaves it up to me." She does snag one of Alex's onion rings from the middle, giving him a small salute of thanks before slipping out of her seat in the booth - having to pass over Shannon to do so - and heads to the counter.      From the table, you can't exactly see what she's ordering, but the gestures towards the sign advertising 'The Big One' and pointing to the table where the other two....er, three are sitting? That gets the woman behind the counter nodding and, as Gwendolyn walks away, she stops and points to the shakes. One please. It's paid for, too, with her little bit of allowance saved up and, when she returns, she gives everyone a look and a grin. "So, we eat it all, it's free and we get the cost of the burger back, PLUS t-shirts. Can your gravity make some more room in your stomach for this, Alex?" Gwendolyn teases a little, not having to introduce herself since Shannon already did so. 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' Alex was just about to place the order when Gwendolyn did so. "I was more asking if you all went to school together. But that's cool. I took my GED to get early graduation. It was so I could do some things on the side and all..." he trails for for a moment and takes an onion ring after Shannon, giving her a smile. "Now now, Bean. We keep saying we can't talk about physics and then come back to it.' he teases Bean, before he lifts his blonde brow. "So why does a bomb look like that anyway?" he decides to ask. It may be some information he can use to finally beat Braniac in Trivial Pursuit some night! 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon simply glances between Bean and Gwen with one of those 'Let's talk later' looks, even as she becomes a speedbump to Gwen en route to the mastery of a gastronomical challenge. "Oooo, t-shirts? If you need yours altered later, let me know." Adjusting clothes to better fit those with wings? Yeah, she's got dis. She smiles a bit to Alex, reaching for another onion ring, nibbling on this one slowly "So what kind of things on the side do you mean, Alex?" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "Thanks, Gwen!" Bean calls after her when she goes to put in the order, finally helping himself to an onion ring. That at least occupies his mouth until Gwendolyn is back... well, that and taking the leash off of Bear, a sure signal to the Shepherd that they're going to be here a while and he's free to lay down and rest. Of course most of the time he carries his own leash anyway, but symbology is still important. Laws possibly not as much.     "Well, these days when we think of bombs, we think of..." and here he has to /very/ quickly veer away his train of thought, lest he gives away some things that should not be discussed in public "... sticks of dynamite with some kind of timer attached, right? Well, originally a bomb was actually shaped like what it looks like in those pictures. A hollow metal ball, with a spout to fill it up, that gets filled with black powder. Then you'd ram a cork or a shaped bit of wood in the spout, stick a fuse through it, and light the fuse. They usually got used as part of an artillery train, cannons and howitzers mostly. You would take a pre-filled ball, load the cannon, light the fuse on the bomb, and then fire it at the enemy. Cutting that fuse so the bomb would explode at just the right time was almost an art. When fired from a field gun, they're usually referred to as shells rather than bombs, with the solid rounds known as shot. They were surprisingly underwhelming. Or, at least, most of the enemies being shot at preferred to be shot at with shell, which was less likely to kill. So, in short, they look like that so you could fire them out of a cannon."     Of course Bean would know that. 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' As he listens to the story, Alex considers and then chuckles. "Well, that is something I didn't know." he says with a thoughtful look, before he sighs. "They'll probably be able to guess that though." Reaching for another onion ring at the same time as Shannon, their fingers bump for a moment, and he draws back with a laugh. "Sorry! Ladies first." he says with a grin, before taking one after she does. Though there comes the question of other stuff. "You know, things that involve that gravity manipulation thing you saw earlier." he finally decides as he chews on the onion ring. He's trying to feel out a trust level, but he just met everyone. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      It doesn't take much for Shannon to figure out just what Alex was implying, offering a nod of understanding and a knowing look. Her cheeks go a tiny bit rosy as they reach for an onion ring at the same time, grinning a bit sheepishly. "Merci. Even though you're being kind enough to share these with us."      Bean's story is listened to with rapt attention, her brow arching, and she smiles lightly at him. "Wow. Almost an art? Doesn't sound like 'almost' to get those things to explode at just the right time...." Her voice trails off and she shivers a little bit, her jovial expression fading for a moment. Her wings begin to furl themselves around her like a feathery cocoon, and she just goes very, very quiet.      But, at least the burger was arriving at the table! And the thing was -massive-. By itself, the burger patty looked as if it weighed around 10 lbs, and was skewered to hold it together. On the top was a large dill pickle, and--just as if it was a cherry on top of a savory sundae--a normal size burger. And let's not even get into the mess of fries and onion rings that surrounded the burger behemoth! One could almost hear the table groan as the server set it down with a grin and a wink. "You kids enjoy! Good luck!" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     That reaction. That was why Bean didn't want to go into too much detail about modern explosives. But at least he gets to see it before exposing Shannon to the simulation he'd been working on. Mental notes made. And even as these mental notes are being recorded, Bear stirs from where he lays, worms his way under the table and lays his head in Shannon's lap, looking at her with those big, concerned eyes.     And then, of course, the burger arrives. It is, truly, massive. A behemoth. Attended to by its lesser brethren and sistren, surrounded on all sides by still more food. The teen looks at it, raises his left eyebrow just a fraction. "Is that one portion or just the appetizer?" Bold words indeed. It looks like cutlery is almost mandatory to tackle the beast. "Alex, you want the superposition extra?" 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' When the behemoth arrives, Alex's eyes widen. "If this were a supervillian, we'd be in some trouble here." he says with a smirk as he gestures to Bean. "No, by all means, your friend paid for it, I'll let you go first." he offers politely. Though when he catches Shannon's blush, his own erupts on his fair features as he swallows hard and covers that up with a sip from his shake. "But, the battle will be joined or something, and we'll conquer this burger yet!" he decides to offer up enthusiastically. Then adds, "I should have brought my little brother, Jack, with me. He'd probably eat the whole thing by himself." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      It takes Shannon a moment to realize that Bear's head is in her lap, right through the barrier of feathers surrounding her. It forces her to unfurl her wings, reach down, and gently scritch that wonderful doggo right between the ears. "Hey," she almost whispers. "I'm okay, Bear. Shhhh... it's all good, buddy." One hand remains on the dog's head, and the other reaches for some of those fries that surround the behemoth burger like some odd, spiky golden cloud. "Guess that depends on the supervillain," she remarks. "But yeeeeeah, this would be a doozy!" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "Where would this fall on the super-villain scale?" Bean asks, innocently, as he frees the top burger... and since he doesn't want to handle what is essentially a giant spike, he does so by breaking the burger in half and dislodging it that way. More than one way to un-skewer a burger, hah.     Bear does not take things like this for granted. It's impossible to deceive the canine specifically trained to detect signs of shock and flashbacks. The head is joined by a paw, and the general motion appears to indicate that pretty soon Shannon is going to have a very friendly German Shepherd in her lap. 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' "Probably less than Galctus, better than Stilt-Man?" Alex suggests. "I mean. Power of stilts? I guess if you want to be a high rise peeping Tom." When some of the burger is offered to him, he lifts it up with his twisting of gravity and floats it over to him to start in on. Though with the attention on Shannon and her wings, which he takes notice of, there's some confusion that touches his features. "If I have made you uncomfortable, I apologize?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Very slowly, Shannon's wings continue to unfurl, her hands otherwise occupied with paying attention to Bear, leaving her unable to take part in the burger challenge for the moment. She begins to relax a little, forcing herself to take several slow, deep breaths, to calm her racing heart. Her color begins to return to normal as her focus shifts to the present. "Huh..? Noooo, no you didn't, Alex. Just... had a reeeeally bad day a few days ago, got busted up but good. That talk of explosives kind of freaked me out for a minute. It wasn't you." 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "Interesting scale." Now there's a different smile on Bean's face. He now knows more about Alex than he perhaps wanted to share, or maybe he's just amused there really is a villain out there known as stilt man. "Power of stilts is a bit pointless unless it also comes with the power of perfect balance." Chomp. The smaller burger is starting to meet its demise.     With Shannon's heart rate and blood pressure returning to normal, Bear stays where he is. That does mean that there's a very large dog head in Shannon's lap, with a pair of very concerned doggy eyes constantly looking up at her. The Shepherd's tail wags under the table, brushing against Alex' shoes.     "Yeah, sorry, that was my fault. I should have known better. Guess I'm a bit immune to it, my private school was a bit martial in nature." Ah, military school then? 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' Hiding things isn't exactly Alex's strong suit. Then again, he's with mutants, so he's taken some liberties with assumptions - which are confirmed with Shannon's words and he lifts his gaze to her in concern. "You're alright now though? Your wings are very pretty." he admits as he works on eating the part of the burger he was offered. And then he glances down when he feels something on his ankles and he laughs. "I think your dog is happy to have done his job. He's a very good boy." he offers in praise as he gives a shrug of his shoulders. "I mean. I had some adventures when I was younger." he finally relents as he looks at his hands. "I'm not a mutant." he finally admits, perhaps worried now that he's said that they will ask him to leave the table as he takes a bite. "But it is a long story." 

:'''{{#var:9322|Josiah (9322)}} has posed:'''     Josiah had spent most of the day putting up fliers for the revival service he is a part of. Having a bit of money, he decides to enter the burger joint. He see's shannon and he approaches the group. "Why you do get around Chere." He says with a smile, his louisanna accent showing before he clears his throat and decides to sound more like a normal person. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     Right. Okay. Bean is not the sharpest spoon in the drawer when it comes to what might be referred to as matters of the heart, but even he can't fail to spot that one. Mental gears shift slightly, which includes updating his assessment of Alex in case he needs to fulfill his solemn promise to Shannon. "Oh yeah, he's the best of boys, and he knows it." Bear is, in fact, wearing his yellow 'support animal' jacket, which might make people wonder exactly why Bean needs one. As if understanding every word, and in his case that might be a literal truth, Bear wags his tail a bit faster, nudging happily into Shannon's hand before retreating back under the table. Another job well done!     Even as he eats, Bean's head turns to Josiah, with the intensity and same sense of purpose as an anti-air battery starting to track a target. At least he makes sure his mouth is empty before he nods a greeting. It even has a smile attached. "Hi there." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon glances up a bit and smiles, waving to Josiah as she recognizes him. One hand remains on Bear's head as she idly strokes that soft, short fur. "Josiah, hi! Bean, Alex, this is Josiah. Sam brought me to his revival meeting last evening. I'd still be in a bad way if he hadn't helped heal me. Josiah, this is Samuel, who we sometimes call Bean so we don't mix him up with the one you met. And this is Alex." Gwendolyn seems to have stepped out for the moment, but she shrugs, and smiles. "Come join us? This is one behemoth burger that needs eating!"      Alex's concern is met with a light touch of her hand on his, though the gesture is kept very brief. She nods, and smiles a little bit. "I'm alright now. Got knocked out of the sky, took a bad landing right onto my wings. Busted both wings, broke a few ribs, and wound up with a nasty egg on the back of my head a few days ago." Wait, a few days? "Nature did what nature does, and I had some help from Josiah along the way. It would've taken a couple days longer if he hadn't stepped in." 

:'''{{#var:9322|Josiah (9322)}} has posed:'''     "IF you do not mind my joining you. The last thing I want to do is intrude." Josiah says as he waits for their answer before sitting down. "I am starving. I been busy putting up fliers." He says as he offers a hand to the various people present. "I happen to be a mutant like Shannon here. I can heal injuries and even call up energy to make weapons armor, wings, and barriers." He says as he steals some fries. 

:'''{{#var:248|Megan Gwynn (248)}} has posed:''' Megan Gwynn yawns tiredly as she steps into the burger joint..She is clearly sleep deprived, having stayed up all night to rebake those darned choco chip cookies after a certain *someones* trashed her first attempt. Nothing like a juicy greasy burger to fix the spot of an empty stomach! She peers around as she steps in, stepping to the front to order a teen burger before glancing around for an empty seat. 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' The touch to Alex's hand is returned, but he doesn't try to hold on when Shannon withdraws. "A few days? That's pretty amazing. I'm glad you're back on your feet. And apparently, thank you, Josiah. I'm Alex." To seperate who he is from Samuel, as the three of them were working on the giant burger challenge on the table. He considers for a moment, and he reaches up to rub the back of his head. "I'm not a mutant, but I have powers?" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "I will neither confirm nor deny my status as a mutant." Bean mentions offhand, helping himself to some actual burger. There are plenty who are partaking of the fries and onion rings, but The Beast is still whole. Such shall not stand! And clearly, he's not going by Silver Era rules explaining his abilities, if any, on the first meeting. "Thank you for helping Shannon, Josiah. Please, join us." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      While there weren't really any empty spots, the booth where the group was sitting looked as if it might have a spot or two open. Shannon smiles to Josiah and nods by way of answer to his question. And this was just about a heartbeat before she spotted Megan. She waves over to the pink-haired girl, and smiles. "Hey, Megan! Had a hankering for a burger, too? We're trying the Giant One Challenge." Said behemoth was still intact, so about the same time as Bean has that look--the one that says 'You die now' to the burger--she herself is reaching for her knife, to cut a wedge out of the meaty treat as if it were some sort of cake.      "Ugh, we're going to need a few days of marathons to run this off!" 

:'''{{#var:9322|Josiah (9322)}} has posed:'''     "What is good for the soul isnt too healthy for the body." Josiah says with a smile as he watches the group and eats more fries. He then looks to bean and grins. "I been trying to bring more mutants to my sermons, but people think I force feed religion down their throats. I prefer to share thoughts with others on the various stories in the good book." He says as he watches the pink haired girl now, studying her. 

:'''{{#var:248|Megan Gwynn (248)}} has posed:''' Megan Gwynn glances towards the booth where a handful of familiar people sit...Okay, Maybe only some of them are familiar faces, one in particular causes her to bite her lip nervously and she turns back to the counter to make an extra order. Moments later she smiles and waves to Shannon, although her smile for Bean is a bit more hesitant, knowing how she nearly let the cat out of the bag so to speak. "Erm...Hi guys! How's it going?" her red eyes pass over the unfamiliar faces, offering them a cheerful smile and nod. Ooh, new faces..Cool! I'm Megan, nice to meet you.." she places a tray with a large slice of delicious looking cherry pie adorned with a swirl of whipped cream in front of Samuel, clasping her hands in front of her, bowing her head slightly as if seeking forgiveness, "Erm...Bean...? I'm really really really REALLY sorry about being totally tactless and absolutely careless the other day...Yknow..At the nightclub...? Will you forgive me? I dunno if you like cherry pie but I really hope you'll accept it as a peace offering...?" she practically pleads, clearly feeling really bad for her prior indiscretions..It's probably no secret to those who know Pixie that she can be a wee bit of a motormouth at times.. 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' As there are peace offerings and such being made, Alex gives a grin. "I should take some of that pie with me when I go back." A smile is offered to Megan when she arrives. "Hey. I'm Alex." he offers as feels his phone vibrate and he takes it out to frown. "Of course she'd want to know where I am." he says with a small sigh. "I don't have too much longer, my little sister is grumpy that I went out." 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "Which God?" It's an off-hand comment again, but Bean already knows the answer. He just wants to see what the response is before he changes the topic. "Met a few, going to be introduced to another soon, so..." And his smile actually grows wider for a moment. "'Proof denies faith'" Ah, now what book could he possibly have quoted that from? At least Babelfish didn't come into it yet.     Having finished his chunk of Monster Burger, he smiles over to Megan and waves her into the booth. "C'mon, sit down. And don't worry about that whole thing it was... just never mind. I've completely forgotten about it already." Cherry pie, it seems, buys forgiveness. And he's well aware of his reputation, so he's not too surprised that it took a while for Megan to work up the courage to do this. "Join us? We can't do this just by ourselves, this is a team effort if ever there was one." 

:'''{{#var:9322|Josiah (9322)}} has posed:'''     Josiah smirks. "I am aware of thor. To be honest each culture has its own views on gods. I however prefer the christian god, since it is what I was raised with." He says. He then raises a hand and white light forms in his hand in the shape of a knife and he cuts a piece of the burger off and then the light becomes light and vanishes. He then munches on his piece of burger. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon nods and smiles a little bit to Alex. "Aww! Kind of sweet she's checking in on you." She takes a pen out of the little brown bag that remains ever tied to her belt, a napkin from the table, and scribbles something down on it. She nudges the scrap of paper over to Alex, though doesn't really expect anything to come of it. "Well, if you've got to go, be safe, okay?" Bean's comment, and his elucidation upon his words, get a bit of a smile from her. "Don't forget, there's one that works at the club with us, too," she adds, with a bit of an impish smile given to Megan and Josiah as well. For her part, as the other girl makes her apologies, she goes silent, just watching the entire exchange. See much, hear much, speak little. She smiles a bit over at Josiah, and shrugs. "Thor's rather nice, actually. So's Poseidon, and Hercules." She looks about to add another name to the list but stops herself right there. Yeah. No. Speak the name, and let's not have those horns appear! 

:'''{{#var:8876|Alex Power (8876)}} has posed:''' Given the scrap of paper, Alex looks at it and his eyes widen before he looks up at Shannon and he smiles a bit brighter. He gets out his phone and immediately puts in the information before tapping a few buttons and pressing send. >> Got it. Call you soon? With Shannon's information saved to the phone, Alex gets to his feet. "I live in the city, but I hope to see you all again soon!" And with that, he's heading towards the door to make his way back home. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "Oh yeah, behind the bar, isn't he?" Bean seems to remember the new bartender. Not that he spends a lot of time on the club floor, climbing around in the rafters keeping the lights and electrics going.     Surprisingly, Alex will already have his number.     And it is finally time to begin slaying the beast. 'Stab it with their steely knives'? Don't mind if he does. With a single deft motion, he picks up his knife, spins it end over end in his right hand several times and then stabs it down into the burger, to carve out his next piece. "I'm not big on religion. I prefer my gods where I can see them." Still, he smiles to Josiah. "But a good sermon requires good oratory, and public speaking skills are much in decline these days. From a purely philosophical point of view, I wouldn't mind hearing one that is properly delivered." The burger? It has to share time with a bit of cherry pie.     Eating commences in earnest now. 
}}

10917/How Do You Do It

2020-01-29T08:00:24Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/29 |Location=Roof Tower - Xavier's School |Synopsis=Jean was shocked by an unusual experience and calls on a friend with experience in such..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/29
|Location=Roof Tower - Xavier's School
|Synopsis=Jean was shocked by an unusual experience and calls on a friend with experience in such matter, finding yet again what an admirable woman Carol Danvers is.
|Cast of Characters=47,244
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:47|Jean Grey (47)}} has posed:''' Jean has had another powerful nightmare, she had encountered another instance where somehow her reaction was wrong. Not quite herself, not entirely explainable. She even realized at one point she was looking at someone and feeling nothing towards them, a very stark anomaly for her. There was only one other person she could think to consult with, having experienced anything along the lines of her recent experience, and so she telepathically reached out to Carol Danvers, to check if she can meet her for a rooftop chat. 

:'''{{#var:244|Carol Danvers (244)}} has posed:''' Carol hadn't come up to the Mansion itself in a while. Since before she went missing through the portal with Rogue, which had been all over the news on New Year's Day. But she'd returned, and even made it out to Rogue's 21st birthday party. But she hadn't managed to catch up with Jean, and so when she got that little telepathic pager alert she was quick to drop everything and head that way. She appears in the sky like a shooting star, glowing as she lowers down from the heavens to come to a soft landing on the Mansion's rooftop tower. She takes a few steps towards Jean, going so far as to wrap her arms about her shoulders and draw her in for an uncharacteristic hug. "I'm glad to see you." 

:'''{{#var:47|Jean Grey (47)}} has posed:''' Jean looks a bit detached as Carol approaches, offering her a small wave of her hand, before being drawn to an unexpected embrace. She eases a bit at the warm gesture, and whispers, "thank you for coming, Carol, I needed to talk to someone who might understand." She moves to sit down on the roof, making sure the immediate area is clear, before proceeding, "I wasn't at Rogue's birthday because of what something...but I'm still not sure about it. But I figured I could ask you about something similar..." she then turns to look Carol intently in the eyes, wincing a bit as she murmurs, "I'm sorry if it's inappropriate to ask of you, but, you remember when your memories were first restored after you lost them, but after they were restored, you had zero emotional connection to any of them? Like they were foreign or something?" 

:'''{{#var:244|Carol Danvers (244)}} has posed:''' "Yeah," Carol says with a nod, picking up the thread straight away. She might have forgiven Rogue, even moved on to the point of treating her something like a surrogate daughter, but the pain of those wounds still lingered even if they had more or less healed. She moves towards the edge of the tower, sitting down upon it and crossing her arms low over her stomach. She watches Jean quietly, studying her to try and learn something of what bothers her - she can't read minds like her, but she can read bodies. "Like you're seeing pictures in a book. You know what they mean, but they're missing a dimension. They're flat. Why? What happened?" 

:'''{{#var:47|Jean Grey (47)}} has posed:''' "I think I experienced something, similar, or at least, something that might have felt like it..." Jean mutters, a bit distraught, feeling a bit more at ease to let go in the presence of Carol and without a student about. "I was away at home on the weekend, and when I looked at my parents, at my sister, they felt like strangers...like I didn't want to be anywhere near them. Like they were wasting my time, and I don't mean as a joke," she stops herself from rambling, squinting a bit and adding, "I mean it is bothering me now. So clearly, it wasn't as long lasting as what you experienced, but it freaked me out." She reaches out to embrace Carol again, if allowed, and speaks more quietly in her ear, "how do you cope with that?" 

:'''{{#var:244|Carol Danvers (244)}} has posed:''' "I don't know if the answer is going to help you here, Jean," Carol says with a sigh, "But it's really just ... I don't know, what's a good word? Academic. It's academic. You just need to remind yourself that it's all just chemistry. Everything you think and are? It's stuff sloshing up against other stuff." There's a pause and she laughs, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. "That sounds awful. Not what I mean. Of course there's more to it than that. But your emotions? When they feel wrong or just - you know, absent? That's that stuff not sloshing together right. You know you should care about them. Maybe it's something about the power you have that makes your mind process memory differently - you'd have to talk to Professor Xavier about that - but you just need to remember what you should feel. Convince yourself that the memory is what you want it to be, rather than what it is. Eventually you're going to make that connection in your head. The same way you get attached to an old jacket over time." She shakes her head again, puffing out her cheeks and sighing: "I sound like the most demented self-help guru you've ever heard, don't I?" 

:'''{{#var:47|Jean Grey (47)}} has posed:''' Jean looks truly and deeply stunned by Carol's response. It's so realistic and ground in biology, which is about as far as possible from her usual emotive take on things. Carol's insight and candor just winds up jarring Jean a bit, as she maintains the embrace for a moment before starting to let go. For whatever reason, she feels a bit cold having processed Carol's brutal honesty. "I haven't said that to anyone since I returned from space, but, I'm scared," Jean whispers to Carol, taking in her advice to seek out Professor Xavier. She goes silent for a moment, but a giggle escapes her despite her efforts to avoid it, when she finally admits, "yes! You kinda do!" 

:'''{{#var:244|Carol Danvers (244)}} has posed:''' "I know I tend to just think with this," Carol says, tapping her chest where her heart is - almost as though she's read Jean's mind herself, "And that works. It gets you where you want. But sometimes this fails you, and you've gotta approach it like a problem. When you're flying, guts and instinct don't always fill in the gaps. Sometimes it's arithmetic. A problem with a fixed solution, and you need to take your heart out of it." When Jean says she's scared, Carol moves to stand alongside her. An arm lifts to wrap around her shoulders, drawing her in a bit closer and resting her chin atop the woman's head. It's a show of affection, probably one that's hard to come by in a place where so many people look to her for guidance - a mentor rather than a person. "You be scared. If you're scared, that means those memories still mean something to you somewhere. There's still a thread. You just need to find it and grab hold of it." 

:'''{{#var:47|Jean Grey (47)}} has posed:''' "You know what they used to call me at this school when I was younger? The bleeding heart," Jean confesses sheepishly, pointed at a weakness of hers well known to any who has been around her long enough. She cares too much, about everyone. She tries to fix the whole world. It's a losing endeavor. So the thought of taking her heart out of the equation is a hard one. Particularly when she had that empathy encouraged and drilled into her, seeing how otherwise devastive her power would be if she wasn't the person she became. Jean melts into Carol's affectionate touch, appreciating the ability to let go and not be the rock, as she whispers, "you've carved a path for yourself, Carol, but you gained a whole different level of wisdom in the process. Thank you for coming when I asked, I think as disturbing as it may be, I needed to hear this." 

:'''{{#var:244|Carol Danvers (244)}} has posed:''' "You've always got me to lean on, Jean," Carol promises, not removing her arm and giving her shoulder a warm-hearted squeeze, "If you ever need to get out of here? Take a day off? A weekend? I'm here. We'll go to Starling or something. Hell, we can go to Disneyland. I keep promising to take Rogue and Cait there and I still haven't done it." Once more she smiles, another squeeze: "Just take care of yourself, okay? You might carry the school on your shoulders, but that doesn't account for nothing if you let those foundations crack." 
}}

10915/Bludhaven Evenings

2020-01-29T08:00:07Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/29 |Location=Melville, Haven |Synopsis=Nightwing and Batgirl catch up on the rooftops of Bludhaven. |Cast of Characters=49,1134 |pretty=yes..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/29
|Location=Melville, Haven
|Synopsis=Nightwing and Batgirl catch up on the rooftops of Bludhaven.
|Cast of Characters=49,1134
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:''' As so often seems to be the case up in the Bludhaven environs, the evening sky is overcast, a steely dark grey that blots out any trace of the night sky above. A cold, biting wind sweeps in off the Atlantic Ocean making it a particularly unpleasant evening. Though at least it is not raining nor snowing. That's something right? In a city like this it sometimes is quite the search to find something good to latch on to. At least if you don't know where to look. Fortunately for Dick Grayson, he has called Bludhaven home for awhile now. He might have other homes -- hey, he's pretty flexible afterall -- but this is one of them. And while the city might seem to be a dingy reflection of Gotham that doesn't mean it lacks its fair share of good people. People Dick has come to like and respect. People that keep him here in this city as it's protector even when others might have given up on the place as a lost cause. Even when he might have wanted to a time or two himself. For this evening however he has doned the black and blue of his costume, has slipped the mask into place and has taken to his usual perch up above the city streets, moving over the rooftops with that casual ease that comes both from his natural athleticism and years upon years of practice. The streets are quiet -- so far -- with apparently even criminals preferring the warmth of indoors to the possibilities offered up by the nighttime streets... 

:'''{{#var:1134|Stephanie Brown (1134)}} has posed:''' That wind tugs at the costume, not caring what advanced version of kevlar or other fibers it is. Trying to get inside and chill the skin, and whistling eerily where the tall buildings force it to divert and flow around them. That whistling is joined by another, less eerie sound. << So I was saying to myself today... self, where should we go tonight? And I replied, maybe take a swing down to Bludhaven. Who knows, we might run into a friend. >> The muffled sound of a bat grapnel can be heard wrapping around a rooftop antennae. Not long after, a dark shape flies over the edge of the rooftop, cape billowing as she returns to her utility belt the grapple gun that hauled her up the building's side. Batgirl walks over towards Nightwing, the blond flashing him a white-toothed grin. "So, do you come here often?" she asks. She has the eyelets on her cowl up. It's too dark to see the blue eyes, but one can probably imagine the amused light they hold right now. It's evident in her voice. "Just patrolling, or somewhere special in mind?" she asks. 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:''' There are, of course, reasons why Bludhaven is so often considered Gotham's dark, grimey reflection. When it is remembered at all of course. Unlike Gotham, Bludhaven has never had any glory days to look back on. Even today, as bad as Gotham can be, as many madmen as thy might have running about, there is still a spark about the place. A lure that keeps drawing people in no matter how many atrocities Joker or Mr. Freeze commit on the populace. The crime here isn't as bright, or showy or insane. It's just... sad. Unlike Gotham as well, Bludhaven can be a little more lonely for it's protector. An oddity, given the relative dispositions of the two heroes most related to the twin cities. The quiet crackle of his comm coming to life makes Nightwing's eyes widen ever so slightly behind that mask that conceals his eyes and his easy, loping strides across the rooftop gradually slow. "Oh, you definitely picked the garden spot of the state. Where better to meet friends new and old," he replies voice local, that sub-vocal mic easily picking up his words, carrying them clearly over hte line. Ahhhh Wayne Tech. What would they do without it? He is not difficult to find fortunately. Bludhaven's downtown core is hardly as densely packed nor boasting anywhere near the number of towering skyscrappers of it's more illustrious sibling. Still, as the quiet clink sounds nearby -- a sound that he cannot mistake for anything else -- a wry little smirk slides over his features as he walks over to greet Batgirl. "Hey, I figured I deserved a night out, and really, where else am I likely to run into interesting company?" he retorts lightly before giving a quiet chuckle. "Just patrolling. I haven't been back here too often lately. I felt the need to get the feel of the city again." 

:'''{{#var:1134|Stephanie Brown (1134)}} has posed:''' Batgirl flashes that grin at Nightwing again as he walks over to her. "I figure, it's got a view. Fresh air," she says, the biting cold wind trying to pull her words and send them scattering off into the night. "At least a four-star Yelp review if I've ever seen one," Batgirl says in light-hearted tones. The young woman gives a nod of her head at Dick's comment. "Able to refocus back on your stomping grounds," she says thoughtfully, knowing that there was a lot on Dick's plate when Batman was laid up with a broken back. One that he's recovered from now, at least enough to take on his patrols. Batgirl walks the remaining few feet between them, her cape drawn down along the windward edge to help lessen it's flapping. "Finished up my own area and thought I'd drop by. Also doing a little test of... oh, well short story is I'm making my own Batcycle. A first one. From scratch. It doesn't run quiet yet, but I tested a part out tonight." She gives a little laugh. "I'm so hopeless. Oracle is going to disown me," she says. Oracle passed on the legacy of Batgirl to her back in August. "But, I'll get it working," the stubborn blond says. 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:''' Donning the cape and cowl hasn't been Dick's dream for many, many years. Certainly there was a time in his teens where he always sort of expected to one day do so. It was unspoken, but there between him and Bruce. But dreams sometimes change as one grows up, and certainly his did. So while Dick might not have wanted to be Batman anymore, this is family. Theirs might be a strange, occasionally disturbing and frequently drama-filled family, but it is still his family and he wouldn't trade it for anything. He was needed, so he answered the call. Still, he certainly seems a little more relaxed now that he is back in his own duds, just a little looser somehow, that more customary grin allowed to make it's reappearance without concern about whether he was giving the whole charade away. "A little. Gotham's my home, but so is Bludhaven and I can't help but feel I've had to neglect it a little bit the past little while," he admits. "And besides, I always think I'm a little happier when I have just a little more balance in my life. The cowl doesn't lend itself to balance," he notes drily. Mention of her current project brings a renewed grin to his features and he nods at once. "Been there, done that," he agrees wryly. "And I don't think you have anything to worry about with Oracle on that front. Now, if you let your grades slip on the other hand..." he warns before flashing her another brief grin. "If you need a hand, don't hesitate to ask. I'm no mechanical genius, but I got the Nightbird put together to my likely so I'm clearly not all thumbs either." 

:'''{{#var:1134|Stephanie Brown (1134)}} has posed:''' Batgirl gives a laugh at the mention of grades that somehow manages to be warm and wry all at once. "Fortunately I'm managing on the grades," says the young woman who is a mild-mannered... wait, strike that. Who is a jovial, energetic college student by day, and a costumed heroine by night. "Though it's probably more my class list being a bit easier than normal this semester, if just as long." Batgirl lets out a puff of air. "Final semester? Going to be baaaad." She turns and walks over to the edge of the building to look out over the city. "If I get totally stuck I might ask for... ah... opinions," she says, looking over her shoulder to grin at the much taller Nightwing. "But really, I'm trying to go this on my own. I mean, the first Batgirl had to earn her way to where she is," she says quietly. Though the newest young woman to wear the costume might have earned it, she no doubt still feels that is a work in process. As stubborn as Barbara. Ok, /nearly/ a stubborn. 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:''' Really, a post secondary education is something that he probably should look into, having quit his own after one semester. As much to spite Bruce as anything else, back in somewhat more... rebellious days. Fortuantely he has grown a little since then. Unfortunately he can't say the same about his available time. Maybe one day. "I think she'll forgive a lot if you keep them up," he says with a confident laugh. He might not have the perfect frame of reference, but he can imagine. "Hard as it is I'm sure, try to find at least a little time to enjoy yourself too," he suggests. Because time management is sooooooo easy for the costume set. Dick can certainly relate to the desire to do this sort of thing for one's self. It is kinda like a rite of passage in their unique little family. Certainly he did the same when he first moved out here to Bludhaven. Putting together the Nightbird wasn't easy, but it certainly did give him a sense of satisfaction. "Understood," he says at once, raising a hand and knowing very well when to push something and went to back off. "But if you run into any issues don't hesitate to ask," he says, hesitating for just a moment before adding, "I know we all have a tendancy to want to prove ourselves. I'm guilty of it too. But one of our biggest strengths is that we have each other. Be smarter then the rest of us and don't hesitate to take advantage of that when you need to." 

:'''{{#var:1134|Stephanie Brown (1134)}} has posed:''' Batgirl takes her eyes away from the city, pivoting back to smile at Nightwing. The girl from the broken family life's smile shows just how much she appreciates having each other. "Yeah. It really is," she agrees with him. "And I'll try not to be too headstrong," she says, before pausing, turning her head as if listening to something. "Huh. Oracle must be out for coffee or something. Didn't think she could lay off commenting on /that/ one," Batgirl says with a warm laugh. She shrugs and smiles back to Nightwing. "So, how goes your fair city? Anything brewing down the road that you could use a hand with? I've been watching some drug dealers that I think are trying to make inroads on campus, but need to do some more surveillance before I know where all to hit," she says. "If you want in on that, another fist and elbow are always welcome," Batgirl offers. She looks back out at the city. "Interesting how each city feels so different from up here. I mean, feels different on the streets too. But from up here you can see them so differently. Like each has a different... I don't know. Texture to it?" she says, reaching out a hand like she could touch Bludhaven to experience that texture. 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:''' Of course he is all too familiar with Oracle's commentary as well and a little smirk plays across Nightwing's features at that. "Good grades. They bring you a lot of slack, I'm telling ya..." he insists with a quiet little chuckle. Like her, he walks over to the edge of the building, hopping up onto the ledge as if the drop waiting on the other side is nothing at all and just stands there with that easy balance that comes so naturally to him, overlooking the city spread out below. "Mmmmm, I know what you mean. I think you do what we do long enough it just becomes second nature, picking up on that," he says quietly, words considering now, the humor gone from them now, at least temporarily. Once more he tosses a glance her way, "There's always something going on around here. Though I'll admit, it's a quieter night then most," he conceeds. "I still need to get my finger back on the pulse of the city, admittedly. Part of the problem is that the major players around here keep changing over. The underworld is pretty cutthroat. Very survival of the fittest," he notes before giving a little shake of his head. "I'll dig around a little more, but then if the offer is still open I wouldn't say no to a hand. A team-up is always better then a solo show," he says with just a hint of a smile. "And absolutely, if you need a hand just drop me a line. I'm always done for busting a few heads together when they deserve it." 

:'''{{#var:1134|Stephanie Brown (1134)}} has posed:''' Batgirl glances up at the night sky. The clouds are scattered, giving only faint glimpses of the stars bright enough to contend with the lights of the surrounding cities. The wind whips the strands of long blond hair about her where they left to hang out of her cowl. "Cold weather. Nothing to cut down on crime like having to do it below freezing," she jokes before looking back to Nightwing. "Will do. And don't need to be a stranger, either. I know you're over here on your own turf, but always happy to go climb the Gotham Savings and Loan and hang out on the gargoyle's," she tells him. "I'll even bring subs from Minelli's if I know you're coming. What were you, meatball, provolone and Italian dressing?" she asks of his sandwich choice. 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:''' "I will never be a winter person," the dark-haired vigilante offers up with a smile almost at once, the breeze picking up enough to rustle the same. "But it does tend to put a bit of a chilling effect on crime. I mean, maybe not in Gotham. You have Mr. Freeze and the Penguin afterall. But the mobsters and gang members of Bludhaven don't seem to have the same love for the cold," he notes, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. Bruce may thrive on being grim and dour all the time. That doesn't really fit him. "Trust me, I have no intention of staying away. I mean, I feel like I owe Bludhaven some love after the last few months, but I really do think that keeping a healthy balance in my life does a whole lot of good for my mental state. I'm definitely inclined to wander a bit between here and Gotham and New York. It's not like it's a long drive afterall," he notes. "And that sounds like heaven. I've come to the conclusion that I'm pretty good with just about anything that I don't have to make myself. I think I need my own Alfred," he notes, lips curling into a playful smirk once more. 

:'''{{#var:1134|Stephanie Brown (1134)}} has posed:''' Batgirl breaks out in a big grin. "Everyone needs their own Alfred," she says. "Though I'm sure there's only one of him. There can't be anyone else as capable at everything that he is, anywhere else in the world." The young woman flips open a pouch on her utility belt and takes something out. A little packet of wrapped foil. She unwraps it and pulls out, "It's baklava from Alfred, cut in the shape of a bat. Here, there's two," she says, offering one to Nightwing before taking up the second herself. "And people always wonder what we have in our utility belts. Snacks, of course!" she says with a grin. "Oh, Robin and I tried this good Asian place that just opened by campus. I had a gift certificate to it so he came to help me order. Wish I had his knack for languages," she says with a sigh and a shake of her head. "Anyway, some night we don't do the dumpling place, we should go hit it," Stephanie says. She takes a little bit of the baklava and sighs happily. 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:''' Hopping down from the ledge and the long drop below just as casually as he hopped up in the first place, Nightwing takes the prooffered treats, unwrapping his and taking a bite, eyes slipping closed for just a moment -- given away by the fact that he too has let the starlite lense inserts slide away for the moment. "Mmmmmm, yeah, definitely no one else out there but him. It looks like I shall continue to cook for myself for the foreseeable future, damn it," he notes with a smirk before shaking his head and lightly nudging her in the shoulder. "You should know that I'm having a hard time of thinking about anything but Batman going for his batarangs and whipping out foil-wrapped baklava now," he accuses her with a grin. "Sounds like a plan," he agrees, still grinning. "And yes, it definitely comes in handy. But if you want to learn a language? Travel. Immerse yourself in it. You'll be surprised how quickly you'll pick it up. I mean, I know that's easier said then done, but..." he notes with a smile and a shrug of his shoulders. 

:'''{{#var:1134|Stephanie Brown (1134)}} has posed:''' Stephanie Brown breaks out in a warm laugh at the imagery of Batman tossing tasty Turkish treats at villains. "Oh, now you just gave me a visual of him and Penguin sitting around eating them, commiserating and bonding over them. Such is the power of Alfred!" she tells him, the very good-natured blond repeating the laugh. Batgirl draws a deep breath as Nightwing speaks of traveling. "You know I hadn't even been out of the country before? Heck, out of the few surrounding states. Until I went up to Angel Grove in Canada, to see my friend Kim. And, ah, went skiing while there too," she adds, glancing away and out across the city. "Though I managed to come back without tossing 'eh?' onto all of my questions. So I might doubt this whole travel technique to language," she tells Nightwing, looking back to him to laugh. "I'd like to travel," she admits. Her lips press together a little bit, and the muscles to either side tighten in a micro-expression that if noticed, suggests something more serious on her mind as she says it than just trips. 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:''' Hey, he's just generous that way, oh so willing to share. Besides, if he is going to have to struggle to keep a straight face the next time he sees Bruce, it's only fair that someone else is in the same boat. A soft snort of laughter escapes his and he shakes his head. "Clearly we've been going about this wrong the entire time. We don't need costumes or batarangs. What we should have been doing the entire time was have Alfred transfer to the kitchens of Arkham Asylum. Instant rehabilitation," he suggests before grinning widely. "You do know of course that I'm going to have to slip one of these into his ultility belt the next time I'm in Gotham, right? If I get caught, I'm bringing you down with me," he warns. What are friends for? "All I did travel, growing up. Not out of the country a ton, but enough.," he says before smirking once more. "I don't think Canada counts as having their own language. Maybe a dialect. You won't wreck my theories so easily," he counters glibly. Still, he doesn't miss the slight shift in tone, in expression and he nudges her shoulder once more. "Uh oh. I don't think you're picturing sunny beaches and fruity drinks with mini-umbrellas there." 

:'''{{#var:1134|Stephanie Brown (1134)}} has posed:''' Batgirl's mouth falls open as she finds out she's going to be made an accomplice to the crime. "If so then I'd better get my own bat bakl- wait. Bat-klava? Batklava in my own belt, courtesy of you," she tells Nightwing with a spreading grin. "Seriously though, the criminals wouldn't stand a chance if they had Alfred making them mind themselves." Batgirl was just starting to lose herself in a thought or two, probably related to that micro-expression, when Nightwing nudges her. "What?" she asks before her mind plays back what it heard him say. "Oh. Yeah, was just thinking about... ah... you know. Travel is expensive and all," she says. She clears her throat. "Just, have a financial... thing. And, I mean it's good. Really good. I just don't know if it's right for me or not," she explains. 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:''' Ahhhh, such a lost opportunity. One would have to figure that if anything could get through to the Joker it would have to be Alfred's cooking. Then again, maybe somethings are just too important to be risked. "One of these days. You won't know where, you won't know when. But boom, you'll go for your utility belt and you'll have a Bat-klava there," he says with a certain solemnness given life only by the dancing of his eyes. Finances are one thing that he has never had to worry too much about. Even without Bruce his parents, as it turns out, were very responsible. A good thing, considering the risks of their career. Still, he remembers growing up somewhere other then Wayne Manor. "Sounds like you have a fair bit to think about," he agrees slowly. "I'm sure you'll make the right choice," he assures her with that quiet confidence. 

:'''{{#var:1134|Stephanie Brown (1134)}} has posed:''' Batgirl laughs and says, "Just be careful if you try it with Red Robin. You never know what new security upgrades he's put on his outfit." She mimes being electrocuted as she touches her utility belt. "Of course, you two would probably enjoy defeating each other's security, so probably a warning that just makes you more eager to do it." Finances are something that have always been a problem for the young woman on the other hand. Along with her family life growing up, they had so much to do with where she ended up today. "I do," she agrees with him on the amount of thinking to do. "I wish I had your optimism on the outcome. Bastion of great judgment? I don't now that Oracle would go for that nickname for me," Batgirl says with a self-deprecating smile. "Well, anyway. Travel would be wonderful to do some day," she says, returning back to the original topic. "Any favorite places you've been to?" 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:''' Maybe it is an only child thing, that all the Robin's share as 'brothers'. Sure, one could call their occasional competitions immature. Dick prefers to think more that he's... young at heart. That's it. Certainly the unrepenitent grin that he shoots her suggests that her supposition is more then likely correct. She hasn't discouraged him in the least. Tim might have the edge in the brains department, but Dick is the wily old veteran. Let the best man-child win! Of course Nightwing has done this long enough now to know that a plucky attitude isn't always enough to carry the day. But a little optimism can make one heck of a difference at times. Besides, he has pretty good reason to trust in the judgement of most of those in their family. "Mmmm, Oracle might surprise you," he offers. Then again, she might not. As to her question, he answers almost immediately, "Space," he says before smirking at her. "But that's admittedly a little hard to do as a tourist," he acknowledges. Still, even when one is fighting for one's life, it is sometimes possible to stop and smell the roses. "You know, I've enjoyed almost everywhere I've been, even in different ways. Sometimes it depends on your mood, right?" 

:'''{{#var:1134|Stephanie Brown (1134)}} has posed:''' Batgirl gives a soft laugh and says, "Well, parts of New Jersey are tough to enjoy even with a good mood. But I take your point." She gives a little point with her finger towards Nightwing to emphasize his point. "Space, I would probably be terrified. Though I did get to go in Diana's invisible jet, and... I probably could have handled it in that. I'd just assume I was safe. Something man-made though would probably scare the crap out of me," she tells with a soft laugh at the end. Her lenses drop down for a moment as she checks the time. "I should probably head back. Just enough time to do some pre-work for a lab tomorrow. Don't be a stranger, Mr. Nightwing," she says. "Asian food night on Thursday I think, can show you that new restaurant." 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:''' He follows the direction indicated and makes a face, nodding his agreement. "I'm not entirely sure why it's called the Garden State. I think someone got confused," he agrees drily, turning back towards her for just a moment. He will be sweeping out over the rest of the city soon enough afterall. "Fair enough. Start small then. Hit France or Europe. Or maybe pick out a beach somewhere," he suggests with a wink. Then his lenses are up too, masking his eyes from sight and casting the world in the greenish glow of his nightvision. Dipping his head, he smiles once more. "Thursday night. I wouldn't miss it," he says, which is at best a half truth. He will indeed try to make it, but things definitely come up in their line of work. All of them, at one time or another, have failed to make a social obligation. "Good luck with the bike. And sorting out your financial thing," he says, hopping back up onto the ledge and flipping her a playful salute. Then he simply walks back over the edge, dropping out of sight before his shadowy form swoops back into view, swinging back out over the city. 
}}

10914/Breakfast at Chin's

2020-01-29T07:59:51Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/29 |Location=Two Bridges (Chinatown), Manhattan |Synopsis=Jack and Faora bond over magical threats. And pancakes. |Cast of Characters=144,1..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/29
|Location=Two Bridges (Chinatown), Manhattan
|Synopsis=Jack and Faora bond over magical threats. And pancakes.
|Cast of Characters=144,126
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' Christ, it was the same damn dream he'd been having for the last three nights. The worst part about it was that that old psycho Lo Pan was in it. Dead for months and still as cryptic as ever. "Mis-ter Bur-ton...did you truly think you would be rid of me? Know that I have cursed you with my dying breath. Your existence is an insult to my planned ascendance, and you will pay DEARLY." "Dave, you haven't changed. You're still an old basket case and the most powerful lech I know. Which Hell do they have you in? There are so goddamn MANY..." Jack was still flippant, even in his dreams when he seemed powerless to move. Lo Pan frowned darkly at him. "Did you think I was alone? That I would not have allies? THEY KNOW YOUR NAME!" Jack jerked awake, hand reflexively going for the knife he killed Lo Pan with, his voice sharp and sudden. "...bring 'em, on, Dave! Give it..." He looked around. He was in the sleeper in the Express. "Give it your best shot, Dave. I can take it," he muttered, rubbing his face. He drew the curtain back slightly, hoping he didn't wake Faora... 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' Faora isn't asleep. She heard his mutterings in his sleep, and she heard his outburst as he awakened. Her gaze is a thousand miles long out the front windshield of the truck. She isn't wearing her armour anymore, though. She is more aptly dressed to appear as common New Yorker. Blue jeans, a black leather mini trench with buckles, and a tee shirt bearing a cartoon kitten holding a red balloon on a string. She thought it was...ironic. "You have these dreams often," she says without looking back at Jack. It wasn't a question. 

:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' Jack looked at her for a few moments, rubbing his eyes. Well, she doesn't look as imposing as she did in the black armor. Gracie had said clothes make the woman as well as the man, and these clothes...made her less imposing, but in a good way. More approachable. But he had a gut feeling that armor was what she felt most comfortable in. "Yeah..." he said ruefully, running a hand through his hair. "Bad guy. David Lo Pan. Ancient Chinese sorcerer wanted to rule everything. First Chinese emperor cursed him hundreds of years ago. Shoulda put a knife through his skull, saved me the trouble of doing it last year." He pushed the curtain aside completely. "Dead for months and won't shut up. Says he has allies that are none too happy he isn't ruling the universe by now. He's kinda pissed." He pauses, then says, "Sorry. Pardon my language." 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' Faora waves a hand dismissively and shakes her head. "Your language does not offend me." She finally turns back to look at him. "Do you honestly think that a man like that had any allies at all who weren't his allies purely for the fact that, if they turned their back on him, he would stab them in it?" 

:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' Jack shrugged. "I used to know a bunch in Jersey. Mob-connected. When you haul loads, sooner or later you're going to run into organized crime. Especially independents like me. I heard about a planned coup. Five underbosses working together to get control, but the coup failed. The ringleader got dumped into a highway support column on some recent roadwork, but the other four were left untouched. So they went after the guy who blew the coup wide open to the main boss. Purely for revenge. So yeah...I think they might be a little hacked off at the guy who derailed their gravy train." 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' Faora watches Jack for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she turns back toward the windshield and crosses her legs, remaining quiet for a moment longer. "Then it sounds as if it's a good thing that fate brought us together." 

:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' Jack smiles wryly. "I dunno about fate. But then again, I didn't know about Chinese black magic, but I know what I saw and I believe in it now. And I trusted my friend, which turned out to be the best call I could make." He looked to Faora. "Listen, I'm not going to say I know what's coming. I know better. But this kind of craziness...I mean, ANYTHING could happen. You sure you wannna sign up for that?" 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' "I signed up for craziness and anything can happen the day I set foot outside my door with the determination that I would be a guardian." Faora looks back over her shoulder at Jack. "Don't pretend that you didn't sign up for it, too." 

:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' Jack chuckled. "Well, no one said, 'Time to be a hero.' One thing just...led to another. A favor for a friend turned into a gang war that turned into deciding the fate of the universe." Jack shrugged. "Well, Miss Faora...I don't see any reason I can say no. So...where do you call home, in case I want to seek you out?" 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' "I call this city home," Faora replies with the slightest of smirks. "But I'll assure you of one thing. If you are within a hundred miles of me, and call my name....I will be there before you can call a second time. But in case you're far from here..." She reaches back and hands him an item as if it is a priceless relic with which she is presenting him. It turns out to be a post-it note with her number, and a small communications device in the form of an earpiece. 

:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' Jack looks at the number, then nods. "Fair enough." She must mean by using the communication thing. Simply just saying her name? That's magic in itself. "Listen, I need breakfast. Want to join me at Jimmy Chin's? He's got a little greasy-spoon down the streets, and he makes some pretty good biscuits." 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' "Breakfast sounds like a respectable way to seal a deal," Faora replies, but she notes the way he looks at the earpiece, and she clarifies. "You can reach me with the comm, or by phone, if you are more than a hundred miles away from here. Please don't shout into either the phone or the comm. You won't need them if you are within that radius." She opens the door and begins to climb out of the truck. "I have a few more skills than I may have listed." 

:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' Those are some very toned legs, Jack had to admit. She was in shape, maybe better shape than he could imagine. But then, all superheroes looked like they hit the jackpot on the genetic slot machine. Luckily, he also had his charming personality. Jack climbed out of the truck, sliding the knife into his boot before shutting the door and turning to Faora. "Follow me." He grinned, then began walking up the street towards Chin's. 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' Faora keeps time with Jack as he leads the way. "Do they gave the eggs and the hash browns at Jimmy Chin's? I like the eggs and the hash browns." She is looking around curiously now. She has been in this part of the city so many times, but she never really stopped just to take it in. 

:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' Jack nods. "Yep. And bacon, pancakes, sausages, even chorizo sausage if you like that sort of thing...As well as some native dishes. I tend to stay aaway unless I know what I'm eating." Chinatown has its own style. Large, colorful banners hang above street level, advertising everything from salons to shops to marketplaces where fresh vegetables, meats, poultry, and fish are hawked and purchased. On these signs, the English is at the bottom, a footnote overshadowed by the large Chinese characters. Many signs have symbols or pictures denoting what they are selling. Jack reaches the door, then steps aside and holds it open for Faora. 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' "Thank you, Jack," Faora says softly as she moves inside, inspecting the place,and glancing at the food on other people's plates. "Are the spoons greasy, or is that a colloquialism?" 

:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' Jack chuckled. "A...what you called it." He waved to the cashier, who grinned and pointed towards a table near the window, which actually has a good view of the street in bother directions. "Jimmy Chin runs a tight ship. Cleans every night, cleans the whole place top to bottom every Sunday. I think Gordon Ramsey ate here once...or was it Anthony Bordeaux? One of those big-name chefs." 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' Faora's gaze runs up and down the street as Jack points to the table. "Well, if it is good enough for Anthony Bordeaux, it's good enough for me," she replies with a glance at the menu. 

:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' Jack sits as Faora sits, picking up the menu. It's not a big menu, though - one legal-sized page, double-sided. "The good places don't have ten-page menus with 120 dishes. They have a few dishes that they do very well." He points to one. "Get what you want, I'm buyin'. I'm gonna have the Kung-Fu breakfast platter. I'm hungry." The platter in question is substantial - two eggs, four strips of bacon or sausage, a mountain of hash browns, and a set of four buttermilk pancakes. 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' Faora narrows her eyes at the picture...particularly the pancakes. "I..will have the same. I am not certain I trust pancakes. If they prove disloyal, then you can have mine." 

:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' Jack chuckles. "Pancakes are never disloyal. If they seem odd, put some butter and maple syrup on 'em. That calms them down quick." The waitress walks up, bows slightly, and Jack says, <Two Kung-Fu Platters. Make my eggs scrambled.> He pauses, then looks to Faora. "How do you like your eggs? Sunny-side up, over easy, scrambled?" 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' "Over easy, please, Faora replies, splitting her attention between the waitress and Jack. "And peanut butter. Because I am not certain plain butter can calm down pancakes." 

:'''{{#var:144|Jack Burton (144)}} has posed:''' The waitress nods, then smiles to the two of them and steps away. "Peanut butter on pancakes? Seems a little thick for pancakes, but whatever rings your bell, Faora." He pauses, then adds, "You look good in those clothes, Faora." 

:'''{{#var:126|Superwoman (126)}} has posed:''' She arches a brow, looking back up at Jack. "Thank you. The shirt is..."She trails off, looking down at it with a growing smirk, then shakes her head. "Thank you," she repeats. "Peanut butter might be the only salvation for those wimpy little cakes." 
}}

10913/Brawl in the Bronx

2020-01-29T07:59:36Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/28 |Location=West Farms, The Bronx |Synopsis=Tombstone fights Zombie-Girl and gets humiliated |Cast of Characters=9223,7494 |pretty=yes }}..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/28
|Location=West Farms, The Bronx
|Synopsis=Tombstone fights Zombie-Girl and gets humiliated
|Cast of Characters=9223,7494
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9223|Tombstone (9223)}} has posed:''' It was night in Southern West Farms, The industrial plants in the area where all shut down for the night, their activity silanced and the workers all gone home. However, their were still people milling about. This part of West Farms was the turf of the Sons of Apep, a vicious neopagan Motorcycle Club based somewhere in the Midwest but with chapters in 13 states. Tonight, the NYC chapter, a subsidiary of the much larger New York State chapter were meeting with one Lonnie Lincoln, a local drug lord whom they recently made a allaince with and entered a "drug network" with a seat on a "Board" where Tombstone was Chairman. Five bikers were hanging out in a alley near a well-frequented biker bar, one of them clutching a briefcase. Suddenly, heavy footseps were heard appraching the alley. Soon, a very tall, muscualr Albiono man wearing a black tuxedo with a blue tie stepped into frame. This of course, was the infamous Tombstone. He tugged on his collar and grinned at the bikers, showing off his very sharp teeth. He then said, "Alright boys, let's do business." 

:'''{{#var:7494|Zombie-Girl (7494)}} has posed:''' Zombie-Girl , as it would so happen, happens by just as Tombstone approaches the other men. Much like Tombstone she has an unnatural skin tone. Though the hooded jacket that she's currently wearing means that a person might not realize that at a casual glance unless they are looking right at her face. The small woman stops near the group and just oogles for a moment from behind the darkly tinted goggles that hide her eyes. "Amway? This is an Amway thing right? Can I buy some laundry detergent? Something that can get out those pesky blood stains," she says butting into the conversation like a particuarly chatty freight train. 

:'''{{#var:9223|Tombstone (9223)}} has posed:''' Tombstone was about to start talking drug deals and cuts of profits with the bikers when suddenly a kid camr barging into the conversation and started to talk about Amway. Tombstone growled and said to Zombie-Girl say," Why don't ya beat it kid. We are talking here." 

:'''{{#var:7494|Zombie-Girl (7494)}} has posed:''' Zombie-Girl pulls up her goggles onto her forehead. The hellfire within her body licks out of her eyes after they are exposed. "Beat it? Well yeah, beating something is in the cards. "It" or otherwise. Yah see, I know who you are. Tombstone. Pffft. What do you know about Tombstones? I have a tombstone. But knowing who you are, I know that any deal that you make probably isn't on the up and up. But I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt by believing that you are selling Amway." She crosses her arms and says, "So what's it going to be? Am I getting my laundry soap or not?" 

:'''{{#var:9223|Tombstone (9223)}} has posed:''' Tombstone and the bikers fliched back a bit when they saw her eyes emit hellfire. For a second, Tombstone though about punching this freak's head off, but thought differently. Suddenly, he pulls out a sandwhich bag containing white powder with a few blue specks in it and hands it to Zombie while saying, "Here is your soap little girl, now leave!" This, of course, wasn't soap, but a new strain of cocaine that Tombstone's men made and that he was gonna sell to the Sons. But, it bared a resemblance to powdered soap and he hoped that Zombie would be fooled by it. 

:'''{{#var:7494|Zombie-Girl (7494)}} has posed:''' Zombie-Girl nods and says, "There now was that so hard." She pulls out a cellphone and says, "Selfie time!" she holds the camera out and makes sure to get everyone in frame and snaps the photo. She she says out loud while she tags the photo "Hashtag Amway, hashtag supportsmallbusinesses, hastag totallynotboogersugar, hashtag nypdcrimestoppers, hashtag imabouttoreallyruinthismanswholeevening." 

:'''{{#var:9223|Tombstone (9223)}} has posed:''' Tombstone glared at Zombie-Girl in anger as she belted out the hastags. Suddenly, he raised his fist and swung at Zombie-Girl, trying to punch her at his full strength. He didn't care if he killed her at this point, she seriously pissed him off." 

:'''{{#var:7494|Zombie-Girl (7494)}} has posed:''' Zombie-Girl catches the fist straight in the sternum. Some of her ribs crack like dry kindling at the impact. She is knocked off of her feet but manages to roll with the punch and comes to a low squat on the ground. Despite the injury, she doesn't seem to be in any pain. "You really need to work on your customer service skills," she notes and gets back onto her feet. "Think you can manage to kill a dead girl before the cops get here?" she asks. 

:'''{{#var:9223|Tombstone (9223)}} has posed:''' Tombstone looked on in surprise, and a bit of horro when he saw Zombie-Girl get up from the ground and taunt him. He then turned and said to the bikers, "Get her boys!" The bikers suddenly charged at Zombie-Girl, one of them trying to stab at her with a pocket-knife. 

:'''{{#var:7494|Zombie-Girl (7494)}} has posed:''' Zombie-Girl does nothing to prevent the stab. The blade slides into her easily enough. But rather than crimson blood spilling out, a lazy trickle of a luminous yellow fluid oozes out. With the blade still in her she grabs the arm of the man who stabbed her and pulls his arm towards her, actually pushing the blade deeper in in the process. She places her other hand on the man's chest near that arm and pushes back. The result is that his arm is popped suddenly out of its socket. Though she can "only" lift two tons, she is still much stronger than the average person. 

:'''{{#var:9223|Tombstone (9223)}} has posed:''' The man screams in pain and starts to clutch his arm as he is pushed onto the ground. Tombstone suddenly lifts a manhole cover and hurls it at ZG like a frisbee while another biker tries to hit her with a lead pipe. 

:'''{{#var:7494|Zombie-Girl (7494)}} has posed:''' Zombie-Girl really doesn't have an opportunity to get hit by the lead pipe, because she is clobbered by about 250lbs of steel. She manages to get an arm up to block. But there really isnt much else that she can do. There is a sickening crack when it connects and she is again sent sprawling back. But this time she is left with a more obvious wound as that arm is broken and dangles limply at her side. "Okay. That's how you want to play?" she rushes at one of the thugs and places a kick against his knee hard enough that answers the burning question of what it would be like if a knee could bend in both directions. Keeping her momentum she whirls about and plants an elbow in the face of another man hard enough not only to break his nose, but give him some skull fractures as well. She turns to face Tombstone, looking ragged but ready to charge. 

:'''{{#var:9223|Tombstone (9223)}} has posed:''' Tombstone watches in surprise as two of his bikers are taken out rather brutaly by ZG. The final two bikers say nothing but flee, leaving Tombstone alone. Tombstone just growls and rushes at ZG, trying to ram into her with his shoulder. 

:'''{{#var:7494|Zombie-Girl (7494)}} has posed:''' Zombie-Girl pulls that bag of cocaine out of her pocket and holds it as Tombstone rushes her. She allows him to plow into her, but not before she can swing the baggie at his face. The bag explodes, sending a puff of powder that covers his face. "Pocket sand!" she yells even as she is driven back. 

:'''{{#var:9223|Tombstone (9223)}} has posed:''' Tombstone immedialtey cries out in pain as the poweder cover's his face and some of it get's into his very sensitive eyes. He stops arbuptly and starts to rub his eyes, while occasionally coughing. 

:'''{{#var:7494|Zombie-Girl (7494)}} has posed:''' Zombie-Girl ,being the dirty fighter that she is, takes the opportunity to do something that probably neither Daredevil nor even Spider-Man has ever done. She pantses Tombstone. She yanks down his pants so that they are around his ankles. It's difficult to fight when you can't walk. "Okay. So now if you're smart listen up. I think you know how this is gonna play out. You are too thick skinned for me to do much damage to you and I can recover from anything that you can throw at me." The last part is a lie, but she won't go into detail about how she can be hurt. "So we're going to go back and forth like cartoon characters until the cops arrive. Or you can run your sorry ass out of here, while I babysit your goons long enough for the cops to arrive. So what's it gonna be?" 

:'''{{#var:9223|Tombstone (9223)}} has posed:''' Tombstone suddenley feels a breeze where the sun don't shine and found, much to his anger, that he had been pantsed, revealing a pair of white boxwers. He glares at Zombie-Girl and was about to attack, but suddenly said, "You ain't worth it kid. Better watch your back though!" He then rushes off, pulling up his pants as he did. 
}}

10912/A Nightingale With Broken Wings

2020-01-29T07:59:15Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/28 |Location=Medical Lab - X-Men Base |Synopsis=Shannon's stuck in the medbay with some nasty injuries following what was supposed to have..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/28
|Location=Medical Lab - X-Men Base
|Synopsis=Shannon's stuck in the medbay with some nasty injuries following what was supposed to have been a routine patrol, and has some visitors. Gwen is asked to begin training in preparation for joining the New Mutants. Bean makes good on the threat from both Cannonball and himself to make a magnetic nameplate for her bed during medbay visits! The stinker!
|Cast of Characters=8765,1258,8925,9029
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      The medbay had been fairly quiet, seeing little use for several weeks. Most injuries on the grounds or amongst the teams based out of the mansion had been relatively minor, able to be handled in the Wellness Office. Unfortunately, someone on staff must have spoken the 'Q-word', because sure enough, there was incoming and it was not pretty. It was also the mansion's resident winged healer, with a mess of cuts and bruises, two broken wings, a very nasty egg on the back of her head, and some broken ribs. How her arms and legs had escaped being broken, let alone her spine, they might never know, but through some miracle, she was alive.      The medical staff did what they were trained for, setting the winged teen to rights, and getting her settled in one of the beds. Nature and close observation would have to take care of the rest. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie comes in a bit after she has ben set up and can now have visitors. He walks in not having heard the details yet, but came to check on her "Hey you." He says to the little one. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon cracks one eye open, breathing well enough for the moment. She's not making any sounds of pain, and has likely been given some medicine to help with that. She isn't groggy enough to be unable to recognize Sam, though, smiling wanly as she sees him come in. "Hey, big brother... got that nameplate all set yet? It's been months since I've been down here." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie walks over and takes her hand and says "So, looks like ya might be here a couple days, so what happened?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      This was just the week for AAR reports, wasn't it? Shannon squeezed Sam's hand lightly, very glad for the company--even if not glad for having to give the report. "Routine patrol. Gwen, Illyana, and myself. We took a smaller transport out. Roughly between Poughkeepsie and Hartford. Heading east, like we were going back home. Saw some thick black smoke over the water. It was a Stark ship..." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods a bit to this pulling a chair over to sit and listen letting the girl fill him in. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "They were being boarded. Not sure what the goons were after. Small crew for the ship, maybe about fifteen." Shannon has to close her eyes against the lights of the room, taking breaths as deeply as she can. She knew that it was important to keep breathing deeply when broken ribs were healing. "Three goons holding the crew captive, two as guards, one as lookout. Third guy was smoking. Two lookouts near the cargo containers, one with a gun, one manning a handheld radio. Took care of the guy with the radio, Gwen crunched the other guy's gun." There is actually a look of pride on her face as she continues, with something of a smile. "Girl went all Captain America, ripped up a hatch to use as a shield and damn, was she good." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks over and says "So you thinking she will want to be in regular training?" He will ask curious on the others opinion. "If this gets to much let me know." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon squeezes Sam's hand by way of answer, not willing to move her head very much just yet. "I think so. She's got grit, heart, and a helluva lot of talent." She smiles some, cracking open her eyes. "You shoulda seen Illyana. Sent the smoking goon through a loop between two portals till he got sick and passed out, and dumped him on the deck. Remind me not to piss her off. I did a flying drop-kick on the two guarding the crew. Two goons tried to get away with something from the ship. We don't know what it was, I think Illy might have portaled it back here. Might wanna have Scott or Jean check their offices." She stops for a few moments to gather her energy, focusing on keeping her breath slow and even. "There were a few goons setting some explosives amidships, among some of the shipping containers. They weren't stuck on too good, and I was -not- gonna try and disarm them. Picked them off, flew them out, and dropped them in the water." She grimaces a little bit, squeezing Sam's hand. "Their boat was nearby. Might've set the things off by remote. Ship was safe, crew was safe, but the shockwave knocked me outta the sky, and I fell hard right back onto the deck of the ship. That's the last thing I remember before waking up here." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods a bit and says "I have seen Illyana's work." He smirks a bit and at the end he says "You do know I am the one who is invulnerable when flying you know the loud roaring noise and all. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Grimacing, Shannon squeezes Sam's hand in response again. "Yeah, but thing is, you weren't there. Which isn't bad, you can't be everywhere at once, so don't go blaming yourself, m'kay?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "If your trying to get rid of explosives the father underwater it is and you aint is best" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon remains silent for a few moments. "There wasn't time. I wasn't under water, was above it. They didn't sink far before they blew. It was just too fast..." She sighs a little bit. "Gonna have some explaining to do to Poseidon, there's no way he could've missed that." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks to the girl and says "When your better if you want we can run it through the DR, and see if we can find anything you could have done different, but right now am glad your okish. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon grimaces a little bit, her cheeks going a little bit red. "There's plenty I could've done better. It would... suck, seeing it all over again. But I think maybe going through ways to get rid of explosives in similar situations would be good, as a general thing." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods and says "I will wait to hear what illyana has to say about it. Can tell ya one quick one would have worked probably though 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon raises her eyebrows. "What's that, then?" She just hoped she'd remember this later, when it would actually stick and it would do some good! 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks to her, and says "You had Illy with her, you ask her to open a portal to limbo, and drop them into there." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon grimaces slightly. "I'll smack myself in the forehead later for not thinking of that. Aaargh!" Letting out a little sigh, she just stares up at the ceiling for several moments. "On the flip side, she did a helluva lot of good out there. I'm seriously proud of both of them. It felt like I could trust them both with my life out there." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Illy, was one of the first few to join the new mutants with us. Magma, Lock, and her. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon smiles a little bit. "She's been pretty flipping incredible, the few times I've gotten to work with her. I mean, if you count that DR session that Warren was running. Blows my mind away every time." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Would trust her with my life, and I have 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon smiles a little bit. "I'm starting to think the same of Gwen, too. Now, if this doesn't convince her that she's really and truly in the New Mutants, I don't know what will." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "Or that she wants to be in it you mean?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon blinks, looking surprised. "I thought she was? She sure worked her tailfeathers off out there like one, if she wasn't." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "She was unsure about it I thought" He will say "I should talk to her."" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon smiles and squeezes Sam's hand. "Please do. She's been so uncertain of herself about that since Andrea's little faux pas about the whole thing." Her smile fades, and she sighs softly. "I'm really glad she's not here. Could just about kick her for that whole mess. You know I'm /still/ putting out fires from it?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie 's brow raises a bit and says "She was trying to help." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon grumbles a little. "Forgive me, but she did a pretty piss-poor job of it. Instead of helping, she made students feel like they were worthless. That's taking some of them a while to get past." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "Pats her hand and says "Well not something you should be stressing about right now." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon smiles a little and laughs, but winds up coughing a bit instead. "You're right. What I'm gonna stress more about is working with medical staff on a better menu for in here! I'm starting to see why the Captain isn't too fond of Jello!" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles and says "Might be able to have mashed taters as well normally easy on the stomach. white toast 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon smiles a little bit. "What about clam chowder? Or chicken soup? Something with a little protein and calcium that's still on the light side." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie hmms and says "Chicken perhaps not sure about clam, not sure how much work stomach has to do on it. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon smiles a little bit. "Anything but Jello again. Please. One more thing of Jello and I swear I'll go on a hunger strike." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "You know I think in the 50s and 60s they did things with savory in jello like a jello tuna salad" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon grimaces visibly, and nudges the small bowl of red jello aside, refusing to take so much more as a single bite. "I think you just ruined me on the stuff. That sounds positively fowl!" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smirks a bit and says "That would be a more jello chicken salad." He offers her a joke, and is holding her hand. I will chat with the doctor when I head out 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     It really doesn't take long before a certain someone finds out that Shannon has been brought back injured. As soon as the news starts to filter through the highly selective grapevine, the exclusion zone around Bean that tends to appear whenever he's among other students gets just that bit wider. Surprisingly though, he wasn't the first to visit.     In fact, he seems to be taking his time.     At length, certainly much later than his habitual appearances after these calamities, Bean appears and enters after just a perfunctory knock. A quick glance over to Shannon, a nod to Sam, and the teenager enters with a confident stride.     Kneels by the foot of the bed and reaches into his pocket. He peels the sticking tape from the back of the magnet affixed on two ends of a curved piece of metal, and attaches it to the foot rail.     "S. Lance. 'Angel on the Mend'. Reserved"     She'd been warned... 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon can't move to see what Bean is doing, but by the activity at the foot of the bed, she can take a pretty good guess as to what is happening. "Oh good god, that was always just a joke!" It's enough to set her into fits of laughter, which very quickly turns into coughing. A fast healer she might be, but her ribs were definitely not quite there yet. "Du schlauer Hurensohn!" But her tone is light and teasing, no malice in the least despite the words.      To Sam, she smiles, squeezing his hand. "Thanks, big brother. I can't stand any more jello. Save me!" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks over to Samuel, and says "She seems to be on the mend but I think she will be in here for a couple days before cleared to go out and get herself back in here again 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "Fraulein, bitte..." Bean shoots back with a half-smile, pulling over a rolling stool so he can perch nearby. He looks between his two team mates, trying to frame his response. "Do I want to know what happened? Are eyebrows in peril?" Which is the first hint he has ever dropped that he /might/ have had something to do with those three thugs ending up with less hair and somewhat less working digits than when they attacked his friend.     "Or, more accurately, is this something I'm going to have to teach in the DR?" 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' The mission had been over for hours and Gwendolyn still hadn't made it downstairs to visit Shannon. there were after-action reports, explanations about what happened, why things were done, why anything was done. it was programmed into a danger room setting to be practiced later and only then was she able to hose herself off, put on some fresh clothes, and head downstairs. The first sign of a new visitor is the bobbing of balloons coming down the hall and, soon after, a familiar-looking face peers into the room. "Is she awake? I brought biscuits, fresh from the oven. And jello." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "I think it's something you'll be teaching in the DR. More specifically, about handling explosives. Long story short, one of Stark's ships was being hijacked, and Gwen, Illy, and I spotted it on a routine patrol. Ship saved, crew saved, cargo saved. I had a few bruises and cuts from healing the crew, and those weren't too bad. It's when I had to drop some explosives in the water, got knocked back by the blast, and landed badly on the deck that I wound up in here." There's a half-smile right back at Bean, though right at the moment she's not too terribly inclined to turn her head.      To Sam, she smiles a little bit. "Hey now, it's been months since I was in here last. Give me -some- credit there! I've been trying to stay out!"      Gwen's entrance is initially greeted with a smile, and a little bit of a wave. However, there is one word mentioned that wiped the smile from her face, and made her look as if she was eating a whole lemon, pith and all. "Thank you so much for the biscuits! I'll share the Jello with Bean and Sam, though!" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks over and nods to Gwen "Hey there." He tells her, and says "A bit of how much of a force push different sizes of explosives have. I have pointed out she missed the best solution, but it was not one she was used to. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     You don't need to be a psychic to understand that sudden change of expression. When you've worked with someone long enough, a mere nod, a turn of phrase, a simple look can be enough to convey full understanding. Bean isn't the most understanding of social cues, but this... yeah, this he understands.     His look is mock stern, head tilted back so he has to look down, in archetypical teutonian fashion. "Playing with explosives... Hmpf. You should know better than that." A nod, a decisive nod. "Just for that, I'm stealing all your jello."     The look is gone a moment later, replaced by one of mild surprise that is suppressed within yet another moment, when Sam basically agrees on Bean teach another DR class. "Basic yields, blast radius and behavior in different transmission media, very well." 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' Where Gwendolyn managed to find a balloon that said 'Sorry you got exploded' and another that says 'Winner - Bug Impact Imitation Contest' probably needs to be explored, but examination shows that it's a plain Mylar balloon that's been doctored with Sharpie. The basket of biscuits is placed nearby and fills the room with wonderful smellsand the bowl of jello is passed wordlessly to Bean before she ties the balloons to the foot of the bed and finds a seat. "So.". she looks to the gathered crowd and then to Shannon. "How long are you going to be laid up? Do I need to drag the nintendo down here so you don't go mad?". 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      A look of gratitude is flashed to Bean, and she reaches over to gingerly pat his hand. "Danke." Perhaps one of the best words in any language--especially when one is taking on so foul a thing as Jello! She does look mildly surprised as she hears Bean and Sam, and that there will be another DR class in the offing. "I'm willing to be the pilot student for the class, and if it works out, we can teach it to the New Mutants in general. Speaking of... Sam, wasn't there something you wanted to talk to Gwen about?"      Peering over at Gwen as best she can, moving her head as little as possible, she thinks out her reply. "At least three days, possibly four. Though if I can find some light sources of protein and calcium, that might help things a bit. But... yeah, at least maybe my books and class assignments, so I don't fall behind, and my laptop things?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie will move from holding Shannon's hand so the other girl can get close to her, and says "Well, yes but Ah am not sure if Gwen wishes to speak of it. You have been on a couple outings with those who try to make a difference, what do you think of it Gwen? 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     An almost imperceptible nod to Shannon from Bean as he takes the jello, plunges in a spoon and eats with intent. There is more than one way to take one for the team, although some are admittedly much easier than others. Unfortunately he can't help with the assignments, not sharing any classes with... well, anyone. "Just so we're clear though, I'm not a qualified explosives expert. All my advice will be merely practical."     Three days... he mentally clears some of his current projects to fit in the time. And the same sense that made him confiscate the jello now gets him to shut up and listen, with yet another amused half smile. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' "Well, I mean....". Gwendolyn didn't expect to be put on the spot like this. she settled in the other side of Shannon's bed, making mental notes to get her laptop and charger, that little wireless mouse, and her assignments. This explains a lot, the teachers being so willing to accept injury as an explanation for tardy work. "Aside from Shannon getting injured, it was...cool. Nice to be helpful. I just know that I'm nowhere near ready for anything like what happened today. Illyana was crazy with her portals and black bolts. I just hit people with a chunk of steel and knocked them out.". she rubs her arm idly. "Did they catch the guy in the boat, by the way?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon moves her head very slightly to look over at Gwendolyn. "Remember when I was first helping clarify things about the New Mutants, after that whole misunderstanding about it? Remember how I was telling you what Sam told me? Sometimes, people are hurt in the field. Sometimes they come back with no injuries, and sometimes they don't come back. It's a reality we face out there." She smiles some, letting that sink in for a few moments before continuing.      "But you're also finding out that yes, it's good to be helpful. It's a damn wonderful thing to be needed, and to be able to use your gifts to help others, even with the risk. And hey... I didn't think I was ready either, remember?"      She grins a bit wider now, at Gwendolyn's assessment of her performance out there. "Aw, hell, it was bloody awesome to see you going all Captain America out there. Never seen him in action, but I could imagine you with a proper shield, pulling that kind of thing." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks to her, and says "As Ah said then the New Mutants aren't really sent out to play hero, but there are times when situations call for them to act as such. You said your not ready to be out there, are you ready to prepare to be out there? As for if they got the guy Ah have to talk to Illyana 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     The scrape of the spoon in the bowl is pretty hard to ignore. But Bean has been making a casualty out of that jello with extreme prejudice, and doesn't toss in his two cents until everyone has had a chance to say something. What words of wisdom does he have to impart?     "Nobody is ever ready. You don't know until you've been in action. Now you have to decide for yourself, nobody else can do it for you." 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' "Well....yeah. I mean...". Gwendolyn bobs her head in the affirmative. "Yes, I think I'd like to learn more. please put me on your mailing list." She's quiet for a second. "I was pretty scared out there. I mean...I saw the sailors and couldn't just not help them. If we hadn't stepped in, they'd be at the bottom of the ocean and Poseidon would have been *pissed.* I already know a queen of hell, so the last thing I want to do is get on the bad side of a god." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "Wouldn't want to piss him off, but he's really not so bad as all that, Gwen. When I'm out of here, I should probably let him know what happened. He's... turned a bit protective of me. If you'd like, I'd be willing to introduce the two of you." She smiles over at Bean briefly as well. "And you as well. Sometimes, I think it gets a little bit lonely for him."      Regarding fear, she looks back over at Gwen, sounding a bit serious. "Yeah. It's hella scary out there. And no, we're not always out there to be heroes. But as you saw today it can and does happen. If it helps any... I get scared too. It just tends to hit me -after- the fact, that's all." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "I think he maybe a bit more ok with ships below the waves than above them, but that is up for grabs. Your interested in training. you will get issued a uniform, and we will take base lines on your powers and fighting abilities to see where we need to work with you to improve." 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "Introducing me to gods now, is it?" Bean looks over to Shannon with a raised eyebrow, giving a quick wink. "Just for that, you're getting a batch of angel cookies." Which is, quite literally, the only thing Bean can cook... if the definition of cook is stretched to its utmost limits. "If Poseidon wants to talk to me, I'm not going to say no."     The rest of his attention is for Gwendolyn, putting down the bowl so he can cross his arms. "I'm really looking forward to reading the AAR on this one." 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' "Hey, you already met Captain America, Bean. That's close, ain't it?". A bit of playful teasing coming from Gwendolyn there, and it's all in good-natured fun. She's comfortable here, strangely enough, with the oddballs and weirdos that make up her chosen friend group. could be much, much worse. She turns to Sam when he goes on about baselines and issuing a uniform. "Almost like a sports team, except the balls are a lot more painful and getting scored on could mean a plane crash. Sure, okay.". She nods in agreement. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smirks and says "We have a sports team too, but it is usually more team leaders picking back and forth. The different versions of the team have seen everything from aliens to gods, and beyond. It can be a very hectic and at times scary thing but it can also be one of the most rewarding as your helping people 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon laughs a little bit, though it hurts and turns into a cough. "Ha. If he ever heard you calling him a god, I'd be willing to bet he'd say something like that he's just a boy from Brooklyn. He's just as human as we are. Puts his pants on one leg at a time, same as we do." She smiles, listening to the others talking, reaching over for one of those heavenly-smelling biscuits, to nibble on it slowly. For a moment, it looks as if she's gone to heaven, sighing quite happily. "Holy hell's bells, these are -good-! Thank you!" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "He's..." Bean begins, but Shannon gets there before he does. All he then does is nod, point and nod again. "That. Absolutely not a god." Nope. Not one bit...     "Thor on the other hand..." 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' "You know what I meant, Sam." Gwendolyn says with a smirk, leaning across the bed to playfully smack the guy on the shoulder, being careful to not squash Shannon at all when she does. Sitting back in the seat she claimed, she turns to rest her elbows on the railing of the bed, looking at the two members of the New Mutants. "So I'd be like...a Pokemon." She delves back into olden times with kids games that probably are still played somewhere. "There's a problem and you need an insect-type that has high strength, you pull me out of class. You also train me. Teach me the moves so I can work with the other New Mutants as a team....and we fight crime? Or something like that?" SHe's halfway kidding on that and halfway entirely 100% telling the truth. Shannon enjoying the biscuits brings a smile. "I'll get Jamie to crack one of the jars of honey he got from the hives out back. That stuff is pretty good on warm biscuits, and if you have something that you really, really have a craving for over the next few days, if I can cook it, I'll get it down to you." "I know, Bean. I know. I'm only kidding with that." She's never met Thor. With this group, she might. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "Well yes and no, more likely if your around and you have proven your going to listen and work well with the group you will be asked to join. Sometimes it is just need as many hands on deck, often the case in rescue missions. One of the important things is, in the field you have to listen to orders from your leaders. He looks to the other two for a moment." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon actually winces a little bit at that. "Hey now," she mutters. "I obeyed the orders as best I could and -still- got chewed out by Bobby that time. But, that was also the day you asked me to join." A mixed bag, that, and one she hasn't quite forgotten the sting of. Probably wouldn't for quite a while.      To Gwen, she just smiles a bit. "I wasn't kidding about who drops by here sometimes before, was I? Thor's been here once or twice, and that... was very recently." She does, however, neglect to say just -why- there was a visit from the Asgardian, but pushes right along. "And as for cookery, well... light proteins would be perfect. Calcium. Those will speed the healing of the types of injuries I have. And honey... oh gawd, honey would be -divine-!"      Bean just gets a knowing grin, and she nods. Disobey orders? Never! 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "The chain of command is important and immutable." Bean manages to say without a trace of a smile, or the ground opening up underneath him. But in all fairness, he always listens to any orders given to him. He always knows exactly what he's been asked to do. He listens. Attentively.     But now the teenager stands and, stretching out for just a moment, gives a nod to the others in turn. "If you will excuse me, there are a few projects I still have to complete before tomorrow." But before he goes, he gives another fond smile and a wink to Shannon.     But the magnetic tag that he added to the bed? That stays. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:'''      Bean gets a wave as he vanishes up the stairs. Despite everything that goes on, there's wisdom to be found in the strangest of places, and one of them is the ex-child soldier assassin whatever thing that Bean is. Gwendolyn looks over at Sam for a second. "So this isn't an invitation to join the team, but more of a 'farm team' sort of thing. Learn how things work, put in your reps and then, if things go pear shaped and I'm available, I might get asked to join." She thinks for a second, then nods. "Seems perfectly reasonable." Brown eyes flick up to Sam then. "When do you want to start? I would say now, but I'm kind of wired from hitting people with doors." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles and says "Well a bit of both, often when things go around here it is a mix of teams. We will start your base lines for the new training later this week. Get you ready for working as a team. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon smiles a little at Gwen and Sam both. "Normally I'd be down there helping out, with my gifts. This time, I may not be discharged in time. But I'd love it if you came back and told me all about it, if I can't go? And when I -am- discharged, I'll want a bit of exercise to recover from laying about, ya know?" 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' "Hey, worse comes to worse, I'll truck you down there in a wheelchair so you can see what's going on. And if you can't? I'll be right here once it's over, telling you the ups and downs and how much work I need to get to halfway competent." Gwendolyn glances over to Samuel, her hair falling over her visor for a second. "I'm really curious to see what Samuel is going to do to test me. He already had me punch a robot or two...which I broke. The only thing I do know is that I can hit pretty hard. Something to keep bullets from getting into the softer pats would be most welcomed." Gwendolyn rolls her shoulders sheepishly, reaching over to hesitantly pat Shannon's leg over the blanket. "You feel better, okay. Get some rest. Imma head out, okay?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "Well the uniforms have minor armor but at the most realy probably only totaly stop a 22, but I will be working on a plan. I think we need to let the patient get some rest now." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Indeed, the patient in question is already starting to nod off, reaching out for and gently squeezing both Sam's and Gwen's hands in turn. "Will do. And you can always ask Sam to run DR sessions with you if you're not sure about your performance on something. He's pretty chill about that. Warren might be willing, too." With a sleepy smile, she murmurs, "Love all you guys, you are the best friends and family a girl could ever want." 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' "You think Cap'll let me borrow his shield for a while?" Gwendolyn asks from the door, giving Shannon a wave before heading upstairs. When Shannon wakes, her laptop and stuff will be there and, every day after class, Gwen'll be there with her homework. Thankfully it's not too hard to find out schedules. 
}}

10911/Follow Up on the incident prior

2020-01-29T07:59:04Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/28 |Location=Angelo's Pizza - Brooklyn |Synopsis=Conversation about a gun battle on the street. |Cast of Characters=9287,168 |pretty=yes }}..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/28
|Location=Angelo's Pizza - Brooklyn
|Synopsis=Conversation about a gun battle on the street.
|Cast of Characters=9287,168
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' It's been a few days since the incident on the street, with gunfire and a baseball and a rodent or dog-looking guy getting into a fight with some gun-toting punks referring to themselves as the Foot. Carlo had managed to keep his face and name out of the paper, only referred to in the article as 'baseball guy' since that's what he used in the fight and, really didn't want to comment too much on it. He had to get his windshield repaired from the gunfire and get his shop open for the day - so giving detailed statements wasn't his thing. Still, he did leave his name, address, and phone number so, in the event a follow-up was needed, he could be found. Carlo is an upstanding member of the community. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' The pizza shop is slowly getting ready for lunch. The main customer base comes in for a couple of slices and that's what Carlo is getting ready. Pizzas, racks of them, behind the counter, of all shapes and sizes, ready to be sliced and heated through on the oven behind the bar. Quick and easy. The perfect New York lunch. 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' There's the sound of an engine outside as Karrin's coming down the block in her Saturn. She's got one of those gumball lights atop it, it's doing that whole flashy old timey cop thing. Admittedly the whirling light's not lit. Instead Karrin climbs out and takes it off the roof, it vanishes inside the Saturn. Karrin locks her car, and heads into the pizza joint. She's dressed business casual today and loooks relaxed. Gone is the cop blues. Instead she could pass for some business type out for lunch. She's on the job, mind, but she sniffs the air and smiles. She's got her smart shoes on, her vest under her shirt and between her skin and clothing (actually it goes skin, undershirt, vest, shirt, jacket), and sidearm in place. She's striding with a purpose right now and joins the lunch line, too. If anyone's stupid enough to try anything with her car...they'll make the local SPECTRE legends. And NYPD legends, too. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' Carlo is in the middle of pulling pies out of the coal-fired oven. The temperature in the restaurant is warm for the weather, thanks to it, but it's pleasant, and the smells are wonderful, reminding a lot of the customers of pizza joints that they grew up with. Heck, this is one that several of them grew up with already, so the nostaligia is reinforced doubly so, and there's Carlo in the middle of it. Each customer gets a nice word, a thank you, a hello, a 'how's your mother?' because he's a part of the community. He really cares, it seems. And he's a one-man show for Lunch, pulling slices, running them through, running the register...busy guy. He does look happy, though, and can that really be said for many people? He's dressed for cooking. Jeans, white t-shirt, apron, and comfortable non-slip shoes, all dusted with a little bit of flour from all the baking he's done. It's authentic and fits the bill. "Two slices, there you go, manny." Carlo says with a smile, coming to the next person in line. "Welcome to Angelo's, what can I get'cha?" His grin widens when he recognizes the woman in front of him. "Hey there, Supercop." A nonchalant greeting. "What would you like? It's on the house for serving your community." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Karrin laughs gently, "I'm just doing my job. Look, I need to have a talk with you about what happened, okay. You got anyone else who can cover for you? It'll take a few minutes" she offers hopefully, looking around. "Nice place though, gotta admit. It's clean, it's neat and tidy" Karrin observes with a nod of approval 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' "Thank you. I work very hard to keep it clean and nice. Don't want a dirty pizza shop. Lose my A rating if that happens." When he's asked to step away from the line, he seems taken aback for a second. "Right now? Um..." Carlo looks at the clock on the wall, then at the people in line. "Give me like....twenty? Yeah, yeah twenty. We should be able to get the rest of this line done by that time. Have a slice while you wait. Drinks are in the fountain on the wall." He's not putting Karrin off but more of shunting it past the lunch rush. She's provided with the special slice of the day and a glass that she can fill with what she likes (no beer at lunch!) And, like he said, it only takes about 20 minutes to clear the line. Shortly after, out from behind the counter he comes. "Step into my office." he says, jokingly. 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Oh Murph will wait those 20 minutes or so. She grabs a cup and settles in to wait, filling it with ice and water. yes. In that particular order. See, she is a smart cop, and sets the filled cup on the table, just waiting and watching the line. Pizza does sound good right now. But, she's a job to do. She could be back at her desk, right now but no, she's out here, in a pizza joint. Oh it's a good pizza joint, true, but she's out here, away from her desk, enjoying this. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' Carlo's office is back in the back, through a door in the arcade, leading to the warehouse behind. It's a small office, locking, with windows that look out over the warehouse where his car, the Impala, sits, with a new windshield. He leads Karrin through and in, taking a seat behind the desk and clicks on a small fan to circulate air in the room. "So, supercop." He calls the woman that since she hadn't exactly introduced herself. "What can I do for you?" 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murph settles into the chair with a smile, water in hand as she sets it down, pulling out her phone, setting it to reccord. "My name is Karrin Murphy, I am with SPECTRE and I am interviewing a witness to the attack in Flatbush" she states, phone on the desk. The implication is you touch it, Murph will deal with ya. "I'm Karrin Murphy, SPECTRE cop, and yes, that is close to supercop. I'm following up investigations and wanted to track you down to hear your side of things" Murph states and settles back. "So in your own time and words. Tell me what happened" she prompts. Not really a traditional question an answer interview. Murph's just clicked 'record' and isn't prompting or pushing for answers. She'll disssect what Carlo says once he finishes speaking. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' Carlo rocks back in his chair, one ankle up on the opposite knee, thoughtful, watching as the phone is brought out to record and set up, the chair squeaking softly until she speaks. "Carlo Paccioretti, owner of Angelo's Pizza." He says as way of introduction. "Witness to the unpleasantries on the street a few days prior." A quaint way of putting it, sure but for the sake of brevity, it works. "I don't know what to tell ya', really. I was driving to Juniors to get Cheesecakes for the buffet, an' I drive up an' see you." He inclines his bottle of water, pulled from somewhere. "Tryin' to talk some sense into four guys who are acting all crazy. Gang-bangers. Don't know what went on before getting to that point but something happened and those idiots pulled out guns. You shot one of 'em, I threw a baseball at another one an' knocked him out. An' some guy chased the other two into a shop an' got away." His hands are moving, now, the bottle rolling back and forth between his palms. "Guy on the ground what got shot was hurt, but wasn't going to die. I stopped the bleeding with my first aid kit, ruined a good shirt...an' you took my baseball as evidence. Like seein' the stitching on his forehead didn't tell you exactly what happened." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murph nods, listening, "Right, those gangbangers as you call themstarted harrassing shopkeepers and drew guns after something set them off" she says. "I told them to drop it, they started shooting so I returned fire" Karrin says, taking notes. "You showed up when I'd opened fire" she nods looking to the bottle of water with a nod, then looks over to Carlo again. "Okay, do you have any ideas why they wanted to start shooting?" she asks. Hey, open questions 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' Carlo shakes his head. "No clue. Never saw them around the neighborhood, so they're not a part of the local...ahem...association...that runs the bookmaking and protection rackets. I'm guessing they were just trying to make their bones and then something startled them. There was that one guy in black causin' problems. Maybe they were tryin' to frighten him off." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murph nods, "I hear you. Okay so you didn't know any of them or why they started shooting. Okay" she says with a look and a nodd. "It's mystifying. She's not entirely okay with random, new groups of criminals with guns coming into the big city and shooting up the place. Well then... She nods, looking to Carlo. "Thanks for your time" she says and hits stop on her phone. Job done, info recorded, she grins. "Okay now that's done, you said free pizza, right?" Murph offers with a grin. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' "I said free pizza." Carlo responds with a matching grin of his own, getting to his feet and leading the officer out of the back room and into the pizza joint proper. "You tell me what you want, I'll take care of you. Italian sausage? Pineapple and canadian bacon? Supreme? Margherita? I can fill that hole that needs cheese and crust." Getting back outside, Carlo stops and sighs, shaking his head. Despite the 'back in 20' sign, there was a line of about five people waiting patiently for pizza. "If I hear anything about these people, I'll let you know, yeah? Leave me your card or come visit every once in a while. I've got a pretty good finger on the pulse of the neighborhood. 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' "Sausage, bacon, coffe, black. Some cheese on that pizza, tomatoes, some pepperoni" Murph nods and settles back into her chair with a grin. It's a shame she's thinking about Bloodhaven and transferring ther. On the other hand, she likes coming here for food, it's good. Carlo's helpful and friendly. But, hey, Bloodhaven has its eateries and clubs, too. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' It takes a little doing but soon a full pie of sausage, bacon, cheese, fresh sliced tomatoes, and pepperoni is going into the coal fired oven with the peel, Carlo setting a timer for three minutes. From where Karrin sits, she can see him work, dancing around the kitchen as he heats slices and turns her pizza with deft movements in the oven until, after three minutes, the whole thing comes out, is sliced with a knife that could easily double as a machete in some southern states, and two steaming hot slices are placed on a plate, ready to be devoured. "Bon appetit. Enjoy." Carlo says with a grin, going to take care of the rest of the customers, coming back over about five minutes later to be sure things are going okay. 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murph watches. There's a lot of technique there. There's a ton of, well, there's /that/ knife. And oh yes, yes. The slices are good, she grins, shaking her head and smiling. With nothing but crusts left, because really, who eats crusts? Either way, Murph's on her feet leaving $20 and another 0 tip, and her card too. She's taking off for the door and her car, too. Pizza was good. She idly wonders if Carlo delivers. Mostly since, hey, Karrin likes simple, easy food 
}}

10910/Routine Practice Patrol...yeah, right!

2020-01-29T07:58:52Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/28 |Location=Upstate New York, Somewhere between Poughkeepsie and Springfield |Synopsis=Illyana, Gwendolyn, and Shannon fight pirates steal..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/28
|Location=Upstate New York, Somewhere between Poughkeepsie and Springfield
|Synopsis=Illyana, Gwendolyn, and Shannon fight pirates stealing Stark Technology!
|Cast of Characters=9029,8765,145
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' You always have to start somewhere. As a newly tapped member of the New Mutants - provisional membership, in her eyes - Gwendolyn was tasked with a small team-building exercise to go on patrol around the counties surrounding the Xavier school with two other members of the New Mutants. A senior member was required to go along, since they were the ones who knew how to do things like fly the jet or call in things if problems got too crazy, but the other could be anyone of her choosing. Stepford Cuckoos were a little nuts, what with there being five of them so by default that broke the rule, Pixie was busy doing fairy things, Colossus and Kurt were teaching class, and Brad was in one of them, so that meant that Gwendolyn's across the hall roommate was asked along. Shannon was the first choice for the student to come along, since she had been so busy. A nice, easy patrol is the perfect thing on the menu. That just left the Senior member and, after a little bit of investigation around the school, Illyana, the Queen of Limbo, was discovered seemingly without anything to do and, with a polite request and a little bit of 'please' thrown on top, Gwendolyn managed to get a sword-wielding Magik to come along. All in all a success. The three of them were in a small transport somewhere between Poughkeepsie and Hartford, heading east towards the Atlantic ocean. Gwendolyn was studying the sensors, seeing if anything happened to look interesting, leaving Illyana to fly and Shannon to keep watch. A quiet, relaxing patrol. Just what the doctor ordered. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Normal often wasn't. Shannon had learned that on her first field trip out with the school, well before ever having been asked to join the New Mutants. Knowing this, as a precaution, she is not in her 'bees, but in normal jeans, white t-shirt, and caramel velveteen parka, with her favorite caramel-hued suede boots. They had been treated to be waterproof, much to her delight, having gained a bit of a taste for style plus functionality these past months. A small smile curls the corners of her mouth upwards as she keeps a general eye on things both inside and outside the transport, the sight of the ocean making her eyes light up. Oddly, she lifts one hand in a subtle salute, as if greeting an old friend. "So far, so good. But I'm not saying the Q-word. That's the kiss of death in a medical center, and on patrol." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' Catching Illyana midway through slicing open a cappuccino muffin for a dissection in the kitchen really is a good way to get her attention. She no sooner has a crumb on a pointy knife headed to her mouth than she seems to be headed out on patrol. If anyone has a doubt she might be feeling cooped up in the house (or bored of Limbo things), this might be the surest evidence of it. Scribbling a post-it note that she tosses through a portal to who knows where, her form of anachronistic email marks her departure. Any longer, they might have lost the Russian for bouncing ahead. So there she is, leather pants and a rather glorious coat, that cropped black top beneath totally unsuitable for winter. Not that winter bothers her very much. She has an umbrella just in case, stowed behind her. Flying is an odd pleasure for the demon queen, but it goes with freedom. All the data input is fairly straightforward as she flips another switch, giving an analogue readout to be checked. "Mm. Do you get out over the waves often?" A question for the pair ensconced with her. At least if the jet crashes, they have immediate outs instead of living under an iceberg for seventy years. "Any signs down there of the fence line being broken? The trees should make it clear. Property lines are a good starting point." Her eyes narrow a little, but her focus is on not crashing. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' Gwendolyn very nearly went up and grabbed her yellow and black uniform when she was tasked with this and, if she had her way, she might have gone out with the full quinjet and a mobile hospital for all the 'just in case' that might end up happening. Thankfully, before requesitioning all of that from the system and putting up all sorts of red flags for remedial traning on proper resource use, she got it into her head to think ahead and cut out 90% of what she was wanting to bring along. In retrospect, that remaining 10% was still too much, but that could be chalked up to overenthusiasm. Dressed in a comfortable pair of pants with brown leather boots that go up to mid-calf, Gwendolyn looks comfortable thanks to the thick, comfy shirt and jacket over it all, a knit cap of green with, of all things, a ladybug perched on top of it, secured with a snap. Seems she's embracing the whole insect motif. "You'll have to tell me what the Q-word is when we get back. I'm fairly sure I can guess what it is, but if it's anything like saying 'good luck' at a play, I'm going to keep my mouth shut." She reaches up and taps the touch screen, zooming in on a bit of hillside that looked slightly different from the other hillsides stretching out below them. "No breaks in the fence that I can see. The system's not picking up anything really crazy either. Just the usual traffic in a forested area which means...not much traffic at all. Gwendolyn thinks for a second. "You know, I've never flown before being here. Wings or otherwise. So over the water no. I can swim, though, but I wouldn't want to do it after impacting the water at a hunnert miles an hour." Gwendolyn swivels her seat to look out the front of the transport, past Illyana, as they move east over the countryside. A puff of smoke, followed by a thin, continuous line can be seen rising on the horizon, past the shore, black and oily. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon grimaces. "Remind me to not even mention the 'Q-word' as such. Check out that smoke, two o'clock low, right over the water. Can the sensors reach that far?" She was still learning some of the equipment herself. Normal patrol? No such thing. "Pretty thick, looks like something bought it out there. What do you think, maybe a bit of a flyover?"      The day had just gotten a whole lot more interesting, real fast. 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "Quagmire," says the Russian. Impressive to have that in her vocabulary, isn't it? Q being hardly the most common of letters in the Slavic tongues. Illyana gently guides the plane upon its approved flight path, letting the computer do most of the work. Not that she isn't fully plugged in but the benefit of technopaths, hackers, and reality readers is their ability to make systems do things that lesser mortals only dream of. Or they give demon sorceresses the means to handle matters without summoning up infernal help. Her gaze travels from the horizon to the treeline, to the oily mass warned by Shannon, in the off chance something triggers those highly attuned, unnatural senses belonging to the mystic suite. "Not as well equipped as the Blackbird, but we have several. IR, UV, full spectrum receptions." Pressing a few buttons brings up a wash of rainbows on a screen beside her, replacing the radar array with something else. The disadvantage of the jet is its size, no immediate pinpoint landings, but she doesn't seem to mind. Adjusting course, she plots a course to circle around the site up ahead with a wide enough berth anything unfriendly is going to have to play dodge. "I should have asked Lockheed if he wanted to go. Sometimes it's good to get out, da? Make sure you're strapped in. If we have to make evasive maneuvers, it will get messier." She slides her fingers over the throttle, gloves creaking a bit. Nothing spells interesting like 'what is that black smoke?' 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' One would think that Black Smoke and Limbo are two very common things. Something Illyana would easily overlook, but black Smoke over the Atlantic ocean? That's a different thing entirely and, on a clear, calm day like this, with wind blowing in from the east, it's like a beacon that draws attention. Gwendolyn straps in as the transport banks, heading towards the smoke on the horizon, and as they draw closer, more and more information starts pouring in. The ship is a transport ship, hauling stuff from New York to Hamburg in Germany, legally registered and all that, according to records lookup from what can be seen on the screens. IR shows that there's a fire on the stern of the ship, above the waterline, but what's odd are the two small boats tethered to the bow, with what appear to be cables going up to the deck. Several small forms are milling about, too, apparently securing a larger group in an out-of-the-way spot, letting the fire burn while various sprays of sparks can be seen as people work to cut into cargo containers. Pirates of The Atlantic. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Crap. This was -not- good. Shannon's brows furrow as she looks at the IR display, then out of the viewport. "Please tell me there's nobody belowdecks? And we'd better check if there's a hole in the side of that boat or not." If the pirates were well-armed enough to potentially sink a shipping vessel, that did not bode well for this being a less-than-violent confrontation. At least if there was nobody trapped below, there was less risk for loss of life.      Turning to Illyana, she crosses her arms, ruffling her wings. "Thoughts? We could either fly around the other side to check, or I go outside myself, and hope they don't see something smaller than this transport." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "Your feathers burn and your skin breaks. They would not go to a ship that size being unarmed. Usually the captain or someone responsible for security has a sidearm." Or they really should. The witch queen snaps a few more buttons, plotting in an autopilot course. There are just some things you can't trust a demon to. "I prefer not to do a water drop. I can get you both to the boat and put the plane down, but that gives you no coverage for a few minutes. I would suggest taking cover until I can get back." Because where do you conveniently put a flying plane on autopilot with no obvious airport around, and it can't land on the deck of a definite not-aircraft-carrier boat? Like everything else, you dump it in Limbo. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' A glance at the temperature outside shows that, aside from the wind, the temperature is in the sixties so they might be able to get away with jackets and the like on the deck. It seems that's what the men on the deck are wearing - just basic pants and dark jackets with orange life jackets. Well, some of them, at least - most of them discarded the life jackets when they got on board. A quick count shows that there are about ten men on deck. Half seem to be armed with small-caliber rifles or shotguns, while the other half are working on shipping containers. There may be a rhyme or reason to what they're working on, but from this distance, it's not entirely obvious. Unbuckling her belts and standing, Gwendolyn reaches up to hang on to one of the railings mounted above the panel she was sitting at as the transport banks. "Shannon and I can fly. You can..." She gulps. "open the back and out we go. We'll land and take cover and when you get back we'll take off." So far, no-one has noticed the transport, thanks to Illyana's casual flying close to the surface, so she should be able to get it close enough to drop Gwendolyn and Shannon off before doing her thing. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon nods once, giving Illyana and Gwendolyn a thumbs-up. "Take cover, Gwen, I'll try to stay below the railing of that ship and hope they don't look over the side while I'm checking the damage on the boat. Comms on?" It was showtime. She slips a comm into her ear and taps it for a quick sound check. "Testing... Okay, Nightingale here, your eyes in the sky. It's time to fly!" 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "As you wish." The demon queen smirks. "Back door open in five, four..." She counts it down, smirking as the witnessed destruction below begs to be handled cleanly. The flight speed can only be handled so much, going too slow being a danger in and of itself. One has to hope they have goggles. "Three, two..." Metal groans and the roar of the air swirling by fills the plane. Gwendolyn and Shannon are given a thumbs up as she watches for any unexpected troubles, like angry gulls or space missions coming to abduct friends. The exchange is bound to be a rapid one, and once they are safely in the air, she ascends to level off at a comfortably high ceiling. Angels they're called for a reason. Well, Angels 15 is going to be a surprise to a fair few demons, especially the one hauled awake from tormenting some of his favourite souls. Or mostly his lessers. <S'ym,> she calls in High Demonic, pulling lightly on the tether linking monstrous infernal horror to his mistress. <You are summoned to perform a task. Keep this flying craft safe and intact until I need it again. And if you deny me this use, Xraxre will devour your every thought before consuming your demonic essence.> Because nothing says the boss is in like far-from-idle threats. The barghest hidden in her shadow might silently laugh. Either way, the radar traces from any nearby airport, if the thing isn't cloaked, will soon be a cause for panic when it simply /isn't/ there. She has to rip open a rather large teleportation circle to see it done, but being inside the ship helps. On the other hand, it means backflipping out of Limbo a few minutes -- half an hour, her time -- later. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' Gwendolyn already has her visor on - it's a constant, really - and the commlink built into the side crackles a little when Nightingale does her check. "Dragonfly here, copy." slim fingers adjust the microphone down next to her mouth so she can more easily talk. As Illyana counts down, Gwendolyn does a final check. Jacket is okay, belt with pouches is on and there's plenty to be found down there to fight with if necessary. Three. Two. Gwendolyn starts to move towards the back in a light jog, staying with Shannon. One. The doors open and the outdoors beckons, Gwendolyn leaping out into the void below, her wings snapping out after a second or two of free-fall, following Shannon to a landing spot...wherever that may be. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Thankfully, Shannon had gotten a pair of goggles from the most unlikely source for Christmas, a fairly fancy pair that at least did the job. She pulls these on as the back of the plane opens up, giving Illyana and Gwen a thumbs up.      Three.      Two.      One.      Going at a light jog, Shannon keeps her arms and her wings tucked in as she takes a dive out the back of the plane, waiting till a three-count to snap her large, feathery wings outward and arrest her free-fall. As she loses enough airspeed to turn back and watch Gwen make her exit, she beams with pride at the other girl. "Good job, Dragonfly, looks like you've been practicing. Let's get below that railing and try to survey the damage, and hope to God that they don't catch sight of us too soon." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' One teleportation circle out, and another one back in. There are benefits, however, for having the subtlety of a hand grenade in a barrel of oatmeal. Illyana does not fly without aid. The feathery or vibrating insect wings aren't her gift. But on the other hand, a girl with a glowing sword emerging from a crate on the back end of the boat where wind screams over her certainly makes a sight. If only the main structure of the boat weren't in the way. She has to narrow her eyes against the air streaming past. Normally this would be the point she kicks off and just goes to plow /into/ someone, but that's not why she is here. So hey, look, a pretty cool beacon is the shard of living sunlight in her hands. Fortunately, one can hope some pirates don't pay attention to that girl over there. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' Gwendolyn has very much been practicing down in the Danger Room. Sure, a lot of it was playing with Pixie, racing on the simulated beach just to get her wings beneath her, but still, learning to dance requires simple steps to start. "Thanks." Gwendolyn responds, her voice tight over the radio as she tucks her wings in and starts diving towards the indicated landing spot, her wings snapping out and arresting her descent a few meters before she would impact the deck at a high rate of speed. Thankfully, where they were dropped off was the opposite side of the ship from where the men were working, and the high stacks of containers was providing a great deal of cover. Folding her wings, Gwendolyn moves to watch, maintaining situational awareness of what's around and what could be coming up from below. On board the ship there are klaxons blaring, although a few of the ones on deck have been silenced with a spray of gunfire. It means that there was an alert given before these pirates got on board, which means that there might be injured. There are most definitely captives. And that's what they're here to take care of. Making the captives...not. The ship isn't listing, so there doesn't seem to be any damage to the hull, but the thrum of the engine, heavy, like a dance beat that goes through your entire body, is missing. The main engines are off, the ship dead in the water. Illyana's dramatic appearance at the stern isn't witnessed by many - the blaze of light and licks of flame that wreath the portal she emerged from is dramatic, and actually causes the two that were stationed near the back of the ship to stare, dumbfounded, not even thinking to raise their weapons. AFter all, how often does a blonde with a sword of sunlight appear out of no-where? There are two pirates, each armed with a small-caliber rifle at the back of the ship and, once they realize what they're seeing, they try to act, one lifting his rifle to fire, the other lifting his radio up to call for backup! 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      It also probably wasn't every day that an avenging angel came out of the sky and tapped you on the shoulder. Nor was it every day that said angel would grab the pirate by the wrist of the hand that was holding the radio, and dig her fingers in between the wrist bones, -hard-. The advantage to being a healer in a fight was knowing where to hit to cause the most pain with the least damage.      Shannon's voice is deadly low and quiet. "You don't want to do that. DROP IT. Now." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "Oh, this /is/ fun." Illyana's mien changes when there balanced on the deck. The black forked headdress that marks her with a crown, in lieu of horns, or just looks cool (take your pick) forms as she stalks across the deck like a water dancer on the waves, balletic and light-footed despite the heave-ho of the Atlantic under them. Whatever stabilizers apply to a sea going ship of this size aren't too much of an issue. The golden blade is normally closer to a rapier or sabre when wielded in close confines, but this is another story. The seething fiery aura around it builds to a much wider, frighteningly oversized behemoth of a zweihander. Or just a slab of steel that glows of its own accord. If it were a lightsaber, there'd be three beams strapped together for the same humming, hypnotic effect. Shannon has the radio down; the gun, then, is hers to play with. She hasn't her brother's monstrous strength but she can indeed jump far and harder than her petite stature suggests. "You brought a gun to a knife-fight? Nyet, drop it!" So it's a run over the deck at the rifleman, an all out bolt with the Soulsword strategically placed to intercept a close-range blast if need be. It also means the brunt of the blade is really just there to smash into her target, hopefully knocking him from his feet unless he gets any really exciting ideas like trying to aim for the face. Better her than the healer. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' Radio Guy was lifting his gun with his left hand, the radio going up with the right, and just when he's about to hit the button to call, Shannon grabs hold. She may not have super strength but knowing where to grab someone does a lot, and having the element of surprise to boot? Well, the demon-woman with the sword has a great deal of his attention already, so when he's grabbed from behind, the man yelps and the radio falls to the deck with a clatter, the battery falling out when it hits, a few stray shots going in the direction of the ocean where they can't cause any harm. Gun Guy, with his knockoff AK-47, tries to establish what is called Command Presence, lifting his rifle and trying to look stern. "You, stop!" he yells, brandishing the weapon at Illyana, the gun very much off safe and his finger very much on the trigger, trying to intimidate her to stop her advance and drop her sword. Wishful thinking that is, in his case. When Illyana doesn't stop, he fires too - a small, three-round burst in her direction aimed at center mass that is deflected easily by the width of the soul sword, the bullets melting away into useless amalgamations of copper and lead. That's the full amount of bullets that can go out before he's slammed into, sent sprawling backwards into one of the shipping crates with a muffled *bang!* as his head collides, coconut-like, with the steel plated shipping container bearing a Stark Industries logo. Bleeding from a laceration on the back of his head, he struggles to stand, to bring the weapon to bear in an attempt to fend off his attacker. Gwendolyn, from her spot on the deck, helps Shannon, since Illyana seems to have things well in hand. Grabbing hold of the radio guy's gun, Gwendolyn wrenches it away from him, putting a nice bend in the barrel and the railing of the deck when she sends it spinning into the ocean with a quick throw. He's got his life jacket on still so Gwendolyn glances to Illyana, then to Shannon. "Think he needs a bath?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon neatly twists Radio Guy's arm behind his back. "Been to the beach recently? Too bad. You're about to go for a swim." With a smirk, she pushes the man towards Gwen, shaking her head. "You know," she remarks. "Poseidon's gonna be pissed, we're throwing trash on his doorstep again." She shakes her head and takes shelter behind successive steel crates, working her way closer to the larger group. She had to see if there were injured to take care of. Illyana and Gwen had things well in hand. She allows herself a smile of pride. They were good. Damn good. Gods willing, maybe this thing wouldn't go pear-shaped. 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' Intimidation tactics rarely if ever work on Illyana. They certainly don't with high seas pirates, or coastal waters pirates. The restraint shown swinging the Soulsword is one benefit in her direction. As soon as the staccato retort of bullets bark from the gun, the black inkstone pauldron at her shoulder reacts of its own accord. The metal coating, a mirrorbright finish blackened where her brother is pristine slithers across her torso to shield her, making that crop top a laughable memory. Already vambraces clench her wrists, and the effect only grows as they collide with a crunch. The sword doesn't slice through flesh and bone, though it might sting for the balance of sin. She doesn't wait for him to arise. The bouncy-bouncy crunch has her rolling with the momentum and rising up, blade in a guard stance. "The water is very cold. Give them their chances with getting to the boat," she suggests. But she doesn't trust it, not for a moment. Slowly rising, she uses the cover of the side to see if anyone is taking potshots or climbing up a rope with an AK-47 in their teeth. You never know. Pirates don't win points for smarts. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' "I have an idea." Gwendolyn says with a smile as she pulls one of the locks off of a storage container, pulling it open, a tumble of potatoes rolling out. Radio guy is unceremoniously flung inside and, if Illyana's pants-wettingly vicious display doesn't convince him to go willingly, the aftereffects of the soul sword did. AK-47 guy gets the same treatment. "Be good." Gwendolyn warns, slamming the door shut and twisting the locks so a crowbar will be required to get out. Thus contained, the two pirates are locked inside, leaving another eight men to deal with. Hooboy. "So...thoughts?" Gwendolyn looks from one woman to the other, letting them dictate the movements. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "There's three of us, and how many of them? And let's hope they didn't hear that AK-47 fire." Shannon frowns to herself, peering up in the sky. "I'll try to get up high, get some visuals, and call them out to you two." She chuckles lightly to herself, looking between Illyana and Gwen. Then an idea hits her.      "Illy... remember that DR session we just had with Warren at the controls, how you portaled out the innocents to a safe location? What are the chances you could get them out to the lifeboats that way?" 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' Illyana takes stock of the water, and the sword in her hand thrums its siren song just at the edge of hearing. "Easy. Pulling them into Limbo and keeping them there would not be good for their health. But I can drop them all in." Portals needn't have her marching through them, though she tips her head. Any weariness is hard to see. But then, it might be right up until she keels over. "Take wing, but if you have reason for danger, drop. I'll catch you." She sounds rather confident about that. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' "I'm kind of a glass cannon here." Gwendolyn says to Illyana and Shannon. "Hit hard but might not be able to take much damage. Are bumblebees bulletproof?" A hypothetical she doesn't want to test but really would like to know. Her goal now is to not be shot /at all/ and to prevent that from happening so a nearby hatch is opened and twisted from it's hinges. Hopefully a quarter inch of steel will help keep her protected. "You really need to invite me to these training sessions, if this is going to become a thing." Another succinct observation. Gwendolyn looks to Illyana, then to Shannon. "You tell us where they are and we'll knock 'em out. There's probably going to be a lot of panic when the hostages go missing." On the deck at the front of the ship one of the Stark Enterprises containers is opened to reveal large blue cases strapped down. "Jackpot!" one of the workers calls, the radio crackling to life as he calls it in. "We've got two!" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon taps her comm as she takes wing, flying well above the fray. "You got it, Dragonfly, I'll let Archangel know. Unfortunately, though... the 'bees aren't bulletproof. Be careful out there." Soaring a bit higher, she gets to a point that she hopes is enough to make her difficult to hit for all but the sharpest marksmen, and scans the ground visually. She frowns deeply, and calls into her comm. "Guys, there's a few goons opening up a container towards the bow of the ship, and they look just a little bit too happy about it..." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "A good idea to put the sailors in the locker. They will not be problematic there. It is better than hurling them into the sea." She sidesteps to avoid tripping over a potato. That would not be a good end for her. Snappy, snappy. The grin to Gwendolyn is exceptionally sharp, appraising the ideas ahead. "Nothing like napalm in the morning." The sharp cant of her head makes moving ahead happy. She is the armoured one, not the glass cannon, but she glances aside. "You want me to give you a boost? Bit of a shield is a great thing." With that said, she starts traipsing forward, almost ready to sing. "A bit too happy? That's your siren song, Dragonfly. Go, go, go!" The Soulsword twinkles in ethereal glory as the length of the ship is just one straight shot. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' The ship is long, about the size of a football field from stem to stern and packed high with shipping containers. As Illyana and Gwendolyn advance along the decks on the starboard side...the right side...movement can be seen heading towards the front of the ship. Whatever they found in that container seemed to be the goal of whatever this hijacking was, because several other containers with similar numbers are all opened but their contents - cars, machinery, computers - are strewn over the decks. A few sailors are tied up with zipties, face down, on the deck, their heads turning to watch as Illyana sprints past, followed quickly by Gwendolyn who is carrying...a hatch lid? What in the world? Two workers enter the shipping container, with two others watching and a fifth standing guard idly, but more interested in what's inside. That leaves three to take care of and, as the duo approach, they become evident. These three were set to guard the sailors who have been herded into a corral set up by moving the shipping containers, only allowing one entrance or exit with the men guarding them, their guns trained on the hostages. One is leaning on the railing, smoking a cigarette while the other two stand on either side of the 'entrance' of the holding area. Illyana, with her Soulsword, could easily dart through and tip the scales in their favor... 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Illyana and Gwen had the area with the shipping containers well in hand. Three to one were not odds Shannon liked very much, particularly with the high likelihood of the pirates all bearing firearms, or hidden knives somewhere. Sure enough, all three near the sailors were armed, though they did not seem to be looking behind them.      This was going to be more risky than she liked. Bean would probably smack her for this one. "Illy, there's a goon near the rail. He's smoking but armed. I can take the two near the sailors, think you can get the third guy before he can fire at me?"      That is, unfortunately, all the warning given. The winged healer flies higher and higher, till she is nearly out of sight. One might be given to think she's left the area.      One would be thinking wrong.      A speck comes hurtling at the deck, growing larger and larger. It's Shannon, with her wings tucked in tight, diving straight at the backs of the two guards. At the last possible second, she snaps her wings outwards, and angles her body to drop-kick the two guards from behind, aiming for the middle of their backs. 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "Da." One word, one syllable, and the concert of violence is about to begin. The sword shifted to an overhand grip, she does what, in truth, the endless routines of practice have refined to a deadly edge. She dances, cutting a line past the containers that leaves Gwen behind her. That hatch cover being a Captain America/Red Guardian-esque shield is a definite win. But her explosive bursts of speed, though no where near speedster level, are reinforced by that infernal augmentation of dexterity. Whatever else, swords trump guns when it comes to not lifted weapons. Or that piece of her soul. The last man was plowed through with a charge. The approach here is different, totally less direct. A flying kick from the angel of mercy is one approach, but the Russian blonde darts in directly at the smoker. "Hello, sweetheart. Would /you/ kiss me?" Confronted with the blonde Russian, killer cheekbones and leather pants, and that utterly stellar smile, it might be the world's dumbest move. Or not. "One of your sailors back there told me he was too busy working. I tried, but..." Three. Two. A provocative sigh. And if he lifts that gun, thought rips open a hole to Hell. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' Thankfully, being all patched into radio channels means that discussions can be heard all around, and as Shannon suggests and Illyana agrees, it's Gwendolyn left to bring up the rear. Thankfully the two pirates are locked in their container, so there shouldn't be any resistance from the rear. She breaks into a sprint after Illyana, her shield held high just in case any bullets come her way. She's not nearly as fast as Illyana but she could certainly give a sprinter a run for their money! Shannon's aerial assault works surprisingly well. The two soldiers guarding the sailors don't really have much time to do more than slightly turn their heads at the sound of rushing wind and wings before they're rugby-kicked in the middle of their backs and sent sprawling into the area where the sailors are confined, their guns clattering. And, to the sailor's credit, they don't just sit there. Hands bound or no, they get up and start kicking the everloving /crap/ out of these two guys, making sure they're well and truly disposed of before starting to work at their bonds. The Smoking Pirate's eyes widen at Illyana's immediate arrival. Sure, he just watched two of his companions get kicked into next week (and thanks to Shannon's training, she didn't break anything or sprain any ankles - pure transfer of force!) and now he's being propositioned by a slinky blonde in leather pants that leave almost nothing to the imagination. The cigarette hangs in his lips, dropping to the deck as he opens his mouth, his gun pretty much unable to even be lifted, thanks to how close Illyana is. His pistol, though? That's at hand. He tries to leap sideways and draw, twisting his body to try and draw a bead on Illyana, sending two shots downrange! 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "Oj, I tried." Oj? Icelandic is odd to hear on the sorceress' tongue, but it sounds so right. She raises her shoulder, the midnight assembly of sleek armour much too thin to be real - or really useful - creaking and shifting like a living serpent. Onyx shines. Her smile tilts a little higher, full of temptation and promise that amounts to nothing. "I like it better this way." Oh, she might. Especially as his arm rises, pistol a murderous trajectory that haunts the sword-gleam of the pirate's reflection in gold and soul bright stuff. Once, there was an innocent girl who resisted the call of Limbo despite all the sins around her. Today, the dance is a bit different. The sword guards her, a good incentive to melt bullets or hit the deck somehow. The gateway shreds open beneath him with a truncated line of gold poured there. Overhead, the same eerie golden line tears through the fabric of reality. And top to bottom, there is no floor and no ceiling to give him succor. He can fall rapidly at near escape velocity between them, flung through the dimension rift into Limbo. An unearthly, shrill wail rakes up the spine. Is someone in there excited to say hello to a new guest? Is it the /airplane/, gaining sentience? R"Have a good trip!" she calls out down there. Up there. Mr. Pirate crashes through once every few seconds. It's all very satisfying as she turns to see how Shannon and Gwen are doing. "Never be afraid to be versatile and creative!" she encourages them. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon herself goes skidding a little bit, but at least is not tumbling into the area with the sailors. As a few of them are making sure their former captors are taken care of, she shakes it off, and starts going among the captives, unbinding their hands. "Easy there, you're going to be okay. Are any among you hurt?" A brief glance is spared in Illyana's direction, and she just snickers. That unearthly screeching was enough to send shivers down her spine, and be very, very grateful she was not the one caught between those two glowing golden rifts. "Good one!" she calls out to the fair-haired Russian, giving her a thumbs up.      Glancing towards the bow of the ship, she crosses her fingers, and prayed for Gwen's safety. "Come on, you can do it..." 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' The bullets fired downrange? One is deflected by Illyana's sword as it cleaves through the barrel, sending springs and other chunks of metal spinning into oblivion. The second ricochets off the deck and thunks directly into Gwendolyn's pseudo-shield, causing the whole thing to ring like a bell and leaving a nicely-sized divot right in the center. This does cause Gwendolyn to squeak, but she doesn't drop the shield or stop until she's close, stepping around the endlessly falling pirate who, after a few moments of screaming and losing everything in his stomach, mercilessly passes out, falling ever faster through limbo. She also makes a mental note to never get on Illyana's bad side! The former captives are roughed up, but no-one is seriously hurt. A few bruises and contusions, one cut that's easily taken care of with a wad of napkins, and that's it. The pirates are unconcious, thanks to the kicking and such, but are breathing and that's really all that can be said about that sort of thing. One man, probably the captain, judging from his T-shirt that helpfully says 'CAPTAIN OF THIS M'F-ER!' in bright yellow font, gets up. "We're just out of New York. Those guys waved us down with a distress call and boarded. Wanted the manifest and when I didn't have a copy, just put us here and started cutting into containers. Radio's down, triangulation's down. Where's the coast guard? We sent an SOS as soon as the fire started!" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon smiles at the captain, tucking her wings in neatly at her back. "I can see what we have to send a distress call for you with. From where we were sitting, it looks like there's a pretty good chance they had the sense to cut your communications. Do you have any flare guns or such on board, too?" To each of the injured, however mild, Shannon applies her gifts--if they are willing. Those that accept, will find that they are soon relieved of their bruises, while the angel-winged girl takes them on to herself. This includes the one with the cut on their upper arm. "Please, let me take care of that?" If any of them decline, she respects their wishes, and only makes certain they are not bleeding, or otherwise in immediate danger. 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "He looks like he will not have any problems now." A shrug from Illyana indicates her concern for the falling pirate is bound to be rather limited, though not entirely rude. Merely a matter of dispensing justice where it is do, and leaving him as an object lesson for the others. Never mind the harrowing experience of diving into the confines of hell and coming out again. Her concern is rather making sure Gwen is intact and doing well, and she heads that way to make sure that her fellow mutant is safe, sound, and perfectly intact. If not, Scott will likely yell at her. Her gaze travels over Gwendolyn and she gives a quick thumbs up. "Nicely done. You can help clean this up a bit, da? I need to eventually find out about the plane." Where did it go? That's entirely her secret. Or because she doesn't want to panic any of the sailors more than she has. "We saw you were in trouble. The Coast Guard should be on their way soon, I hope. But it does not always turn out they show up first." The sword will be stashed away around the corner of a crate. "This was a Stark ship, or not?" 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' "We have cargo from Mr. Stark, yes. Just scientific equipment from what I could tell when it was being loaded on. Nothing that would require..." The captain gestures to the unconcious pirates. "All of this." The healing is accepted, reluctantly at first, but when people see how it works and that the recipients feel better, there's an orderly line. A few do refuse, but they're the more hardy ones that don't need very much help with getting healed up. Gwendolyn, still with her shield, watches the front of the boat as Illyana and Shannon tend to the sailors, making sure no-one comes around to check. The thing is? They have radios and, after a minute, they crackle into life. "Everyone move to the front of the ship. Cargo is transferred and ready to be transported. Set charges and get ready to evacuate. It'll look like one of the cars was loaded with a full tank accidentally and no-one will be the wiser." Another crackle on the radio. "Rene. Ron. Report in." Silence. "Jeff. Cade. Wes. Report." Silence. "Dammit, count off." The radio goes silent as five people count off....and no more. "We're compromised. Evacuate and shoot anything that you see moving." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      With the wounded either tended to, or having declined assistance, Shannon is one mess of cuts and bruises. Most of them are minor, but the one on her upper right arm might need a little attention when they got back home. She allowed herself a smile of satisfaction; it was nice to be needed for once.      Then there was the radio, crackling to life with its ominous message. She frowns, listening for a moment, adding only one word of her own.      "Scheisse." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "I am thinking evacuations are a bit preliminary. I can move them out, but if there is an explosion, they are too close. The fire or the shockwave would injure or kill nearly as many." Illyana's assessment comes in that flat tone, measured. "Set charges. They have not done it, but there are too many targets. She tilts her head, counting off the possibilities and the targets amassed in the ship, somewhere relatively unseen. The front of the ship gives them a location to direct to, but she jerks her head towards the clearest doorway. There are only so many ways up from a ship of that size: the cargo bay, the stern door, the upper deck lifts to the front. Maybe a few more or less. Seen one container ship, seen many. "Get in life vests," she says without hesitation. "Evacuate to the back, in the motor driven lifeboats. If you have that? Surely you do. I am going hunting. If you want to come with me," this to Gwen and Shannon, "then eyes up and hit hard. Not for play." Was earlier play? Apparently. The portal of the falling sailor burns itself out, his body bouncing on the deck and flopping over towards another container. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' With five people left that the trio know about, anything could happen. There is movement towards the back of the ship. Surprisingly, a ship this size only has crew of about fifteen, and they move quickly and efficiently towards the lifeboats in the rear, cracking open the life vest cabinet as they pass. The crew isn't paid enough to die for anything on this ship and they're not going to. Hefting her hatch lid, holding it by the handle on the opposite side with her left hand, Gwendolyn has a perfect bullwark against bullets - even with the one divot that it got in the ensuing melee. "I'll pull my punches a little." she says, banging the railing with one hand, bending it effortlessly, looking to Shannon. "You heal up a little. Keep an eye out. Direct us towards the people." At the front of the ship, a man with two cases - the contents of which were in the container they cracked - hustles down the deck towards the front where cables have been looped, intending to slide the cases down to the deck below. Another man follows with a gun and, as they reach the front, the first one ties himself on with a climber's harness and starts sliding down the cable. "When I'm there, you slide them over. These cases are worth more than a year's salary for each of us. Not bad for an hour's work." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon nods to Gwen once. "These bruises'll probably be gone by tonight, and there's one cut that's gonna need stitches, but those'll be able to comoe out by tomorrow. Trust me, I'll be alright, I've healed way worse. This is mild." She was still very sore, though, and resolved to take a nice, long, hot shower when they got home! With strong downstrokes of her wings, she takes to the air, once more becoming their eyes in the sky.      Her brows furrow as she spots trouble towards the bow of the ship, and she taps her comm. "Magik, Dragonfly, we've got two patients escaping with some goods, up towards the bow. Looks like there's a few cables over the side, they may have help waiting." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' Springing from cargo box to cargo box is the faster way to get around than running down confined lanes, especially as that puts Illyana at grave risk of being stabbed or shot in the equivalent of the Grand Canyon. Her footfalls are weirdly quiet atop the metal, not silent but certainly not the thump, thump, thump death knell of doom. It could be much worse, come to think. Gwendolyn then has the ground route, and the chance to bullrush them right off the ship. It's one hell of a way down. But the Soulsword sings brightly as the blonde Russian leaps diagonally to clear a narrow path and get closer to the edge. All she needs to do is /see/ them. She hovers on the precipice, practically crouching, a little black and gold gargoyle. The timing is everything. Both cases, about to be slid over the ground. The moment either of them are close in range to one another, pushed over, she wrenches over the portal under the newfound gifts. They're going to be reappearing elsewhere almost immediately. In the hallway in front of Scott's office. Can't say they weren't responsible. "Ey, putains!" Of course she can curse in French. Probably smoked once, too. "You look like Jack Sparrow's crew! Tell your boss you're crap pirates!" Somewhere, a sad eyed Piotr is mouthing, "Snowflake, no" at his desk. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' Of course the targets would be patients for Shannon. Gwendolyn can't help but smile a little, her jacket billowing out behind her, the 'shield' in front of her, her eyes peering over the edge as she makes her way along the starboard railings in a slow, even pace. Not as fast as Illyana, but as she steps up and leaps, her wings snap out and she flies, keeping pace with the running blonde, watching as one man lands on the other deck and the other man starts sliding the cases along the high-tension cable. It's only when the second case is slid over that Gwendolyn strikes, diving down and tackling the guy on the ship with her shield as a kind of battering ram, blitzing him out of his shoes and sending him careening into the railings, knocking him out cold. Gwendolyn skids to a stop and turns, putting the shield up between her and anything at the back of the ship. The other three are almost certainly 'setting the charges.' Illyana's portals take effect almost at the same instant, the cable snapping as its severed by the portal, the cases dropping into limbo and re-appearing a few seconds later in front of the door of Scott's office, smelling of brimstone and a little scorched. "Nightingale, keep an eye out. There should be three more." Gwendolyn calls, propping her shield up in a gap by the railing, settling herself, and pulling, trying to detach the cable from the ship. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "Copy that, Dragonfly." With that, Shannon is flying a bit lower, at a decent speed but not so fast that it becomes a hindrance to her spotting goons setting charges from above. There had been talk of cars exploding, as if they were left on board with a full tank of gas. So she sets her sights on a group of containers of appropriate size.      And there they are. Wedged in between a group of three or four containers, one could only guess at the contents. The charges they were setting were powerful ones, enough to sink a ship of this size--and to send shrapnel from who knew what sky-high. A few colorful metaphors escape her, and she's on the comms again. "Directly amidships, there's a group of four large cargo containers, closely spaced. They're hidden in there, watch out." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "You take away all my fun, for certain. I like finding these troubles and doing away with them. You get to smash, and it looks like such fun!" Her approving statement is oddly deadpan, which is not entirely unlike Illyana in a fight. She does hyper focus. But rather, this way she can careen her way back. But not without gathering up a handful of ultraviolet light. Not gold; this is pure destruction. Three bolts form and she hurls them at the cable to snap it, along with any of its friends. The darkness /is/ the magic missile. Party wizard, ha. "Inbound. " 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' Gwendolyn has managed to wrestle one of the hooks from where it was imbedded in the deck - ruining her pants but hey, she can get new ones - when Illyana's magic missles streak through and cleave through the cables effortlessly, sending the insect-eyed girl tumbling with a hook held in both hands, a ruined mess of the deck where it was torn free. The ship on the water tosses aimlessly as the tension that was keeping it still is suddenly released, and the man on board who slid down earlier makes a break for the cabin to try and steady the ship. The three other men who were in the process of setting charges feel the ship roll as the cables are snapped, one going to the railing and waving his arm to get the attention of the man on the boat. "HEY!" he yells. "We're still up here!" this gets the attention of the other two. Blowing up a boat that they're still on without an exit route is /not/ a good thing! 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon calls down to them, with the sun at her back; it gives the effect of a halo of light shining brightly about her, an avenging angel hovering above the three men in the sky. "Then I suggest you disarm or dispose of the charges. NOW. Tempus fugit, gentlemen!" Hopefully, this will buy Gwendolyn some time to get to their location, and either take the men down, or help get them off the ship in the event they were unable to do anything about the explosives. And, with any luck, perhaps Illyana would be able to step in as well.... 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' In their initial circling of the ship, the cars that they were planting charges on were evident, right in the middle of the ship, covered in plastic and bolted to the deck so they wouldn't go anywhere. These being loaded with a tank of gasoline were nearly impossible, but they seemed to think that this would solve the problem by hiding the evidence of theft at the bottom of the ocean while their ill-gotten gains were sold and transferred. Plenty of time. The man on the boat guns the engine, heading north, away, leaving the three pirates alone on the boat to fire streams of rounds at the retreating man, screaming their frustration into the wind. Thankfully, when shannon speaks they're in the midst of reloading, so she's not welcomed by a fullisade of gunfire, but they're reloading. Quickly. Gwendolyn scrambles to her feet with the hook in one hand and the shield in the other, charging into the midst of them like a battering ram, bowling two over and knocking their guns overboard, the third skidding down the asile and nearly falling over the edge. With a mighty swing, the hatch lid slams into one and the hook slams into the other, crumpling the first and pinning the second to the deck beneath the tines of the hook. That just leaves the third, groggily trying to stand, trying to bring his weapon to bear. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Well, at least the goons hadn't been too subtle about where they placed the explosives. There was no way to know if they were armed, and Shannon had zero clue how to disarm a bomb. But she'd seen them placed, and it didn't look as if they were stuck on too hard. Shaking her head, she swoops down and lands on the deck, plucking off the explosives one by one.      "Frak. I'm going to have some explaining to do to Poseidon for this one." She works as quickly as she can, popping the devices off their respective targets, and racing for the side of the deck. She takes to the air, heading out well over the ocean and away from any ships in the immediate area. If these were powerful enough to sink a large vessel, she didn't want the shockwave doing any more damage than necessary. Opening her arms, she drops the bombs into the sea, uttering a quick, "Please forgive me." 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' Three men, three satchel charges of about three pounds each. Enough to definitely put a massive hole in the ship and enough to vaporize a healer, no matter how well or quickly she could heal. "Better three of those than a whole tanker." Gwendolyn quips, watching as Shannon flies out and drops the charges in the water, an explosion happening a few seconds later when the man on deck manages to find his remote detonator and hit the button. Shannon is soaked from the spray and probably is sent spinning, but that leaves Gwendolyn on deck with the last man and Illyana watching from her perch. Gwendolyn's got to move before he gets that gun operational. Yes, he's reloaded it, but he's more focused on seeing if he 'got' Shannon than anything so when the sound of wrenching metal is heard, his attention snaps to Gwendolyn who /flings/ her cover at the man, taking him off his feet as he is impacted center mass with roughly fifty pounds of steel. Broken ribs? You bet! 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Ooof. Yeah, Shannon's sent spinning, alright, falling in a neat little arc right back onto the deck of the ship. There is a sickening crack as she hits the deck, sliding back several feet, and laying still. Her wings are at odd angles beneath her, and she is not moving. This was not good. However, the explosives are no longer a threat, the ship is safe, the crew is safe, and her teammates are safe. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' With the attackers neutralized, Gwendolyn runs towards where Shannon hit the deck. At least she hit the ship and not the water, but that ship is a lot less yielding than the sea. Skidding to a stop, Gwendolyn pauses and reaches for Shannon, not entirely sure of /what/ to do at this point. Sure, she knows a little first aid, but something like this is a bit beyond what she needed to know! Broken wings, broken limbs, broken everything! Oh no! "Shannon!" She very nearly yells, kneeling down next to her, trying to stay off wings as she slowly tries to turn the angelic girl over, keeping her head still. "We...Illyana! We need to get Shannon to the infirmary!" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      It's likely there's a few busted ribs in there too. However, Shannon's arms and legs seem to be intact. Her wings, head, and neck seem to have taken the worst of it, and there's likely some nice, healthy bruising on her back as well. She's not answering or opening her eyes, but does seem to be breathing. There is a bit of crimson pooling on the deck beneath her head. Thankfully, it's only crimson, and -not- grey. She's alive, but will need to be brought home ASAP. 

:'''{{#var:9029|Gwendolyn (9029)}} has posed:''' With Shannon injured and not wanting to risk a trip through Limbo because who knows what the residents would do with an angelic woman on a trip through, a call is made to those who can more easily help transport a fallen angel. Luckily they're not far from shore and thanks to the Captain, the communcations array is brought back on and a call is made to the coast guard, who promises to send a Helicopter 'in a little while.' Obviously that's not good enough so Gwen makes another call to Warren and Cannonball who manage to send another transport on autopilot to the ship. A little magic telekinetic thingamobob lifts Shannon into a medical transport, and the trio are whisked away to the security and safety of the X-men base. Shannon's gonna get /so/ many cookies. The End. 
}}

10909/Ruiner: The Ruination

2020-01-29T07:58:25Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/28 |Location=Interior - Wayne Manor |Synopsis=Diana and Bruce watch an old Robert E. Howard-style movie and talk about each other. Why are..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/28
|Location=Interior - Wayne Manor
|Synopsis=Diana and Bruce watch an old Robert E. Howard-style movie and talk about each other. Why are you even reading this? Such a voyeur!
|Cast of Characters=42,104
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana is lounging on the sofa in a set of black silk pajamas that she got for Christmas (they really love black around here). She's got her hair loose and about her shoulders and her hands are up pressed together as she lays against the arm rest of the sofa and watches the large large television screen. A movie is on. It is called Ruiner: The Ruination. It is about a barbarian woman who storms into a high council of corrupt village elders and she tears them apart limb from limb, only sparing the good elders, who helped the poor villagers survive a terrible winter that the magical evil council members set upon their poor village until they could last no longer. "This movie is intense. And silly." Diana says with a smile on her red painted lips. "I really like her armor though. Who knew bikini chainmail was so effective in combat. I should write home to my mother and tell her to adjust all of our sets to be as such." Diana says to whomever it is that shares the room with her tonight watching this ridiculous, gorey, silly, but fun movie! 

:'''{{#var:104|Bruce Wayne (104)}} has posed:''' "I don't understand the premise," Bruce answers, unable to sit down and simply watch the movie so instead he's co-opted this time for training - rising up and down from behind the copy table in a series of one-armed push-ups, "How are you meant to buy her as a villain compared to these elders? They're entirely disinterested. That one's asleep." He continues with the push-ups, raising up and down on one arm before switching to the other and continuing with that. He glances back to the screen from time to time, a faint smirk gracing his features: "I didn't know you were a film buff." 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana is in entirely relaxation mode while Bruce is exercising. This is the way around here. She has the body of Goddess and she doesn't even have to do anything to maintain it! She continues to lay there as she watches the barbarian woman track down one of the high council elders and chase him out of his hut. "He is awake now!" She says gleefully. "Look, his butt is showing!" She has a glow upon her face that lights up with laughter as the man falls down a snow hill and into a river, only to be hit by a magic arrow from the Barbarian Woman's golden bow of Ruination. "I love her." Diana says in a warm, smokily affectionate voice. "I have been the buff of many films, if you /must/ know." She is a little tired, so when she gets that way some of her sentences make a little less sense in English, or she stops trying as hard with English when she's comfortable and in private like she is now with Bruce. "Casablanca is obviously my favorite. But, I also like /Psycho/ and... The Goonies." She shows Bruce a grin then. 

:'''{{#var:104|Bruce Wayne (104)}} has posed:''' "I suppose you would be a film buff," Bruce reasons, jutting out his lower lip as he focuses on the middle distance in front of him, "You were around when the 'talkies' were a novelty and Charlie Chaplin was the cutting edge." A little jab at her age, not that it shows - he looks older than she does at this point, despite not even being a fraction of her age. Bruce glances up at the screen when she draws his attention to it, smirking once again at the elder rolling down the mountain side. "When it she going to get the other one?" He must be taking an actual interest in pop culture. Shocking! 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' A group of High Council guards rush out of the snow wilderness and surround the good and wise Ruiner! She is surrounded on on sides with her golden bow glowing in the snowy dim forest! Diana's eyes grow huuuuuge as she watches the drama unfold. The Ruiner is shot with a blast to her shoulder from a evil red arrow! "Oh no!" Diana says in a somewhat tired sounding voice. But THEN! The White Wolves of Wisdom appear on the hillside! The snarl and their eyes light up with fire! "It is her wolf pack!" Diana explains, all happy again as she sits back in the sofa and raises up enough to prop her head up with a hand. As the wolves rush in to help the Ruiner with their fangs of truth, Diana replies to Bruce. "I loved watching movie technology develop gradually. It was astounding to watch the art grow and change. I would try to see one as often as I could. Though I heard Charlie Chaplin was a bad man, I never met him myself. I did not come to America for quite some time. I did not move here until the eighties in fact." As the movie unfolds further, the Ruiner runs out of the woods with her wolf pack on her sides. "The others are in the dark tower of secrecacy and lies..." Diana whispers loudly. 

:'''{{#var:104|Bruce Wayne (104)}} has posed:''' "These names," Bruce says with a sigh, shaking his head. It's clear that fantasy was never of much interest to him, in fact all sorts of fiction tend to lack any real sort of draw for him. That said, his childhood bedroom - kept much as it was when he was an eight year boy - has posters of Zorro and the Grey Ghost on the walls. Not that he ever ventures in there - it's more of a shrine kept by Alfred for the Man Who Never Got To Be. "I think she'll win," he offers lazily, once again switching to another arm and working up and down tirelessly, "She's clearly in the right. These films all seem to follow that sort of formula, don't they?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana glances at the end table beside the sofa when she sees the phone light up with a message. But she doesn't care to look at it right now, the A.I. in the phone has already processed the message and deemed it to be not important, which it indicates with a green color. So she looks back to Bruce then with a little grin on her red lips, her dark brown hair falling a bit around her face in big curls, lots of body in it after she'd had it up all day. "I like silly fantasy. I always have. Ever since I was a little girl and my mother would tell me stories. Real and fake ones. They took my heart up into the sky... and flew it around within the clouds. Made me dream of what was beyond our island, and how I could fight it, like The Ruiner is fighting the great evils of her lands. She is everything I wanted to be." Her eyes sweep from the film as it progresses, with action and suspense. The Ruiner even finding her love interest in a beefy protein enriched man lumps. "I bet he hasn't had a glass of water in four days." She idly comments before she looks back to Bruce. "I prefer movies like this too, where the good win over the corrupt and evil. It is far better than the likes of... post modernism stories, where all hope is lost, darkness prevails and you are left to feel sad and bad. No." She looks back to the film and reaches for her peach tea drink. "I like to feel happy after a film like this." 

:'''{{#var:104|Bruce Wayne (104)}} has posed:''' Bruce listens to her words in silence, ceasing the endless push ups and simply remaining propped up on one arm with the other tucked behind his back. He turns his face to watch her, his expression pensive. He hasn't so much as broken a sweat, his work out apparently so routine as to be almost second nature. "I don't think I'd call you a 'ruiner'," he explains, "The opposite, really. But all those things she does? You do them, too. That's what I see when I look at you. A hero. The highest order of a hero." Then a glance back to the television, "I was never big on these sorts of movies. I preferred the Grey Ghost. A normal man who saves everyday people." 

:'''{{#var:42|Diana Prince (42)}} has posed:''' Diana laughs softly at his words. "Well no, The Ruiner is what their prophecy foretold. That a Ruiner would arrive one day to destroy their evil and wicked plans. So that is why they were creating strife and suffering within their own lands, to stop such a thing from happening. She is ruining /them/ and that is why it is a fitting title for her, one she is proud to wear." Diana sips from her glass of peach tea then and leans back to run her hand through her hair to draw it out and let it cascade back down to her shoulder. "I know, that I... am capable and do things of wild abilities, but I do them because of stories like hers. They helped forge me into what I am now." Her gaze sweeps back over to him. "Clearly as yours have for you. This is why we are good for one another. We have such similarities that make us... understand each other." She grins then as she stares at him. "Sometimes, anyway." Now she's justbeing playfully teasing. 
}}

10758/Marked for Death in Markovia!

2020-01-29T07:57:59Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/16 |Location=Markovburg, Markovia |Synopsis=The Squad manages to keep their target alive (and staying mostly incognito while doing so!), ev..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/16
|Location=Markovburg, Markovia
|Synopsis=The Squad manages to keep their target alive (and staying mostly incognito while doing so!), even if Markovians are protesting en masse against that target.
|Cast of Characters=151,9201,1249,1760
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:151|Rick Flag (151)}} has posed:''' MARKOVIA: It's a sunny, but chilly, day in Markovburg, and the streets are filled with citizens--citizens who've gathered, with masks and placards, in the downtown streets around the parliament building. Why? They're protesting the day's scheduled appointment of Karl Gruber, son of state minister Victor Gruber, to a modest deputy ministerial position. The younger Gruber was recently acquitted of manslaughter following a drunk-driving incident that killed four, despite a strong body of evidence that placed him behind the wheel and heavily intoxicated. That makes him, even more so than his father, a poster child for the protestors' accusations of corruption in the Markovian government. It also makes him the target of one or more assassins looking to bring justice to the nation's citizens. To prevent that assassination, Amanda Waller's Task Force X--also known as the Suicide Squad--has covertly entered Markovia. Positioned about the city of Markovburg, the team prepares to find and deal with any who would disrupt the status quo. Above all else, Waller had made the following clear to the team: the Squad MUST NOT be seen interfering in Markovian politics. Thus, atop the parliament building itself, Rick Flag, crouched behind the roof ledge, scans the gathered masses with a pair of binoculars. "Nothing yet here," he says into his comms. "Check in, all points." SUICIDE SQUAD ROLL CALL! * Rick Flag - Field Leader * Caligulax - Torture Specialist * Robert "Yokai" Callaghan - Tech Wiz * Fantomex - Thief * Murder O'Crows - Bird Aficionado * Tumbler - Security Infiltrator * Typhoid Mary - Pyrokinetic 

:'''{{#var:9201|Yokai (9201)}} has posed:'''     For a man who usually wears a mask, switching out the kabuki for a somewhat more generic one is no problem. It certainly helps him blend in, if nothing else; even his high-collar trenchcoat isn't out of place in this chilly day. Nor is the fact he's, for all the world, just tapping away on a smartphone - albeit a smartphone that's been jailbroken and converted in to a general-purpose computer that includes more than a few scanning programs. With one earbud linked to it and another other linked to the squad's radio, Yokai's presence in the thick of things gives a balance to those who are somewhat more distant.     "Yokai here. Nothing yet to note," he murmurs in to the mic, briefly tugging at his coat collar as he looks up towards the stage. He's managed to get himself relatively close, but there's still quite a mass between him and it. 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' Many people forget Typhoid is one of those world-class assassin types. And so she went with the 'what if I was an assassin with a sniper and wanted to kill lil Gruber?' And incidentally she does have a sniper. Look at that! She sits atop a church across from parliament, one of the tallest buildings around, peering around the area with a scope and occasionally putting her aim on Flag. "Nothin' but your nice muscled self, Flag." Typhoid is heard over the comms, tone mocking as it usually is. Being Typhoid means she brought her usual corset, the blades on her back and that sniper because.., hey.., accidents happen in the confusion, right? Right? 

:'''{{#var:1760|Fantomex (1760)}} has posed:''' Fantomex is down there, reading a Markovian newspaper (or at least he seems to be reading the newspaper - it being in Markovian) while sitting on a table by the nearby cafe shop. Technically he shouldn't be there masked and dressed up in white. But none of the natives seem to care. Or maybe he is not clad in white and masked. It might be he just looks like that to Rick and the others while he is wearing civvies. After all the less people he has to mislead the easier for him. There is also a golf ball sized spaceship perched just a couple yards behind Mary. E.V.A. (tiny) scanners aren't much better than human eyes at this size, but she is stealthier. Shh. "Look at this, it says King Brion is secretly dating supermodel Suzanne Kuprin. Scandalous," states the thief. "Also, the coffee here is terrible." 

:'''{{#var:151|Rick Flag (151)}} has posed:''' The general volume of the protesters' conversations and occasional chants grows to the north as a procession of cars, escorted by police, appears from around a corner, approaching the parliament building. The noise coheres into a slogan adopted by the entire crowd: "GRUBER MUST GO!" Police officers attempt to make space for the cars to move through the crowd. This goes well at first, but at about the halfway point between 'recognizable edge of the protesting throng' and 'entrance to the building', the protestors appear to decide that's far enough. They swarm the procession, while others throw rocks at Gruber's sedan. There's some friendly fire, but--for the moment--the focus of everyone's ire remains the same. "You'd better have some good trigger discipline," Flag mutters over the comms, before adding, "Shit. Eyes on Gruber? Anyone?" There's a glint--a reflection? a distraction?--from the bell tower of a cathedral down the street, an historic tourist attraction for having survived WWII intact. On the street, the police try, and fail, to clear out protestors from surrounding the cars. 

:'''{{#var:9201|Yokai (9201)}} has posed:'''     Go with the flow? Go with the flow. Yokai doesn't fight it, just lets it push him towards the procession. The phone is pocketed for now, a screen-lock keeping the settings active as its tech strains to catch sight of the vehicle. It's not easy, but he's no pushover, thankfully. Even so, the buzz of the crowd can easily be heard on his comm, and he sounds a little harried, as well- though maybe 'annoyed and frustrated' would be a better descriptor.     "Working on it- that was my /foot/, watch it! For chrissakes-" the words trail off in to muttering. 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' "Discipline is my middle name." Typhoid quips though her posture now is one of readiness, no matter what she may look outward. The scope swivels to the cars where Gruber is supposedly moving through, checking the windows for any sight of Gruber but then. ... Some glint on the Cathedral not far from where her church is? The sniper turns that way. Damn, maybe she chose the wrong church to be at! Damn amateurs, she would never go with that cathedral! She looks for the source of that glint through her scope, carefully, hunting now for her prey. "Bell tower. On the Cathedral near my position. Possible assassin, scanning for it." this time her tone is totally professional. 

:'''{{#var:1760|Fantomex (1760)}} has posed:''' "Sacre bleu," transmits Fantomex, "I am counting forty one murderously angry protestors, and three professional killers trying to get him." he is moving towards the crowd. Somehow he has grabbed one of the protestor's signs. "Lets see... I suppose getting stoned to death by genuine amateurs does not count as real murder. I'll go after the pros." 

:'''{{#var:151|Rick Flag (151)}} has posed:''' Yokai's tech can pick up the presence of several electronic signals from individuals in the crowd--signals that seem to be sniffing out automotive receiver signals--in particular, control over the engine, windows, and door locks. There's another momentary gleam of light from the other tower--lower than Mary's position, yes, but with plenty of opportunity to blend into the tourist crowd below. "Mary--make sure you get confirmation of a weapon on that target," Flag says. "The last thing we need is to kill an idiot in the wrong place at the wrong time." The crowd tries to rock the cars in the procession. "Get! Out! Get! Out!" they call, those further away clapping and pounding on nearby surfaces to punctuate the shouts. Among these is Caligulax, doing his best to stir up the energy of the crowd. "Come on!" he laughs. "Take 'im out! You're not amateurs! You're concerned citizens!" He makes his way through the crowd, pushing others closer toward the cars and, in some cases, into the officers trying to keep the peace. "Are you insane?" Flag asks over the comms. "No, never mind. Of course you are." "Just bein' incognito," Caligulax replies with a snarl. As those nearest the cars turn rowdier, the police present draw their batons. "Get back!" one shouts, first in Markovian and then English. "Back!" Someone leaps onto the hood of the car. The policeman smacks at their arms, while other protestors pull the injured person into the crowd. Then a gunshot rings out, the very tip of a rifle barrel visible briefly from the shadows of the historic cathedral. The policeman falls, bloody, against Gruber's car. The crowd, in response, goes wild, angry and frightened and vengeful. 

:'''{{#var:9201|Yokai (9201)}} has posed:'''     "Caligulax," snarls Yokai, "there's a difference between being incognito and being a goddamn piece of-!"     That sure was a gunshot covering that last word there. Yokai swears again, then ducks down, reaching for to ready another piece of equipment. This one, a small EMP; not very powerful and not wide in radius, but if the car starts to go haywire, he should be able to shut it down. For now he doesn't set it off, just tries to weave through the agitated crowd while forcefully shoving whomever he needs to.     "Flag- got eyes on the car. Gruber's still inside." 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' A cackle is heard over the comms at Caligulax's response, Mary with seeming amusement. The cackle only gets louder when that gunshot is heard, her voice then heard. "That's enough confirmation for you?" but she only got a glimpse of the gun. Yet it's enough to know the location. Which means it's go time! Typhoid drops the sniper and gets a grappling hook and rope from her pack. Just what she needs to get to the ground fast. She is determined to go after this shooter, "I am moving to the cathedral." or jumping really... She uses her athleticism to really go down that rope at a rather fast speed. Nothing to see here, just a leather-dressed woman with katanas and a silenced pistol on a holster. Hopefully with all the commotion she will go undetected on her sprint through the streets to reach the cathedral. "Did we actually bring someone on this mission that can take a shot? Would be good to get 'em near the car." no suicide squad mission is a good mission unless a member gets shot. 

:'''{{#var:1760|Fantomex (1760)}} has posed:''' "Fascinating. Someone sent several assassins without telling each other," points out Fantomex, casually shoving one of the killers under Gruber's car and then kicking him a few times. He needs to dodge a police baton, but that is okay, he takes the baton and drives it into the gut of another of the killers. Into the gut, there is a good deal of blood. Then there is a shot and one of the cops falls down, spraying him with blood. "Sneaky. I had not spotted that snipper. We should recruit him, or her. Then again, it was a missed shoot. Maybe not." Quietly, E.V.A. takes flight to try to find the fourth assassin. 

:'''{{#var:151|Rick Flag (151)}} has posed:''' "Hahahaha!" Caligulax laughs again, swinging wildly to attack nearby protestors as some scramble for cover and others double-down on their efforts to see Gruber brought to justice. He's punched and kicked in turn, but Caligulax is mostly holding his own, slamming placard handles over others' heads and hurling terrified protestors into other protestors. "Damnit!" Flag exhales, running to the other front corner of the parliament building roof to examine the chaos below. He spots Mary running toward the position of the opposing sniper, and he curses under his breath. "Crows, give her some cover," he barks into the comms. "On it," replies a voice that doesn't sound entirely human. Then, a flock of black birds swoops in over the street, spread out enough to obscure from above what's taking place on the ground--a mobile blanket for Mary's movement toward the cathedral before turning off down another side street. Up to this point, Tumbler had been silent, watching from the entrance to the parliament building itself--ready to prevent anyone from bursting in. "Oh shit," she whispers over the comms. "What am I supposed to do?" Clamboring down a fire escape, Flag lands on the ground and makes his way in the direction of the cathedral, trying to hug the building facades as much as possible to avoid too much visibility. "Stay there! Be ready." One of the attempted hacks suddenly unlocks the driver's door to Gruber's car. Someone notices and tries to wrest the door open, the driver desperately attempting to keep it closed. 

:'''{{#var:9201|Yokai (9201)}} has posed:'''     Yokai does have some body armor...but isn't in a hurry to take a shot. He makes a face nonetheless at the idea, then another at someone wrestling at the car. A moment of decision, and then he barrels forwards in to them to knock them away.     "Tumbler! If you can keep locks /locked/, I could use you!" The EMP device he has may disable a car, but that'd include the locks - something that, for now, they need to avoid. At least he has a plan if Gruber's out of the car, but he'd rather not put it in to play. 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' "Awwwww, I feel part o' the flock already.." This Typhoid quips when the birds bring her safely to the entrance of the cathedral, she not pausing on her run. In fact she rushes headlong into the historic building. Which means she runs right into a pair of oblivious tourists. Many have left already due to the commotion but this couple doesn't seem like they took the memo. Asian-looking, floral shirts and cameras. Yep, definitely tourists, and not english-speaking. Mary simply looks at them and utters a menacing. "Get the fuck out." then a showing of teeth. Enough to get them running! So Flag will most likely see a pair of fleeing tourists moving out of the cathedral at a hurry! She draws out one of her katanas, the sweet ring of steel over the scabbard heard and she begins making her way to the second floor. "Moving upstairs." her steps echoing over the empty cathedral. 

:'''{{#var:151|Rick Flag (151)}} has posed:''' The protestor at the car door careens away from the unexpected interference from Yokai. In response, the driver--noticing the somewhat less packed streets, thanks to the number of protestors seeking cover--hits the gas and drives forward another half of the remaining distance to the parliament building. The cathedral sniper takes another two shots at the car. One of the back tires is hit, but the other shot strikes a random crowd member, who falls limply to the ground. When Mary reaches the tower, she'll find an older man there--recognizable from the Squad's dossier. He's the father of two of the victims from Gruber's drunk-driving incident. But he's not paying any attention to people coming up the tower--he's focused on Gruber's car as it tries to make its way to the parliament building. Police sirens can be heard at this point as well, with armored reinforcements arriving, wielding riot shields and batons. They progress from several side streets, trying to hem in the chaos. Part of the line tries to clear a path for the automotive procession. Flag keeps diving from point of cover to point of cover, trying to keep an eye both on Gruber's progress and evidence of further sniper fire. Caligulax makes a running leap to kick at a group of newly arrived police. Their shields stop him, and together they get Caligulax on the ground, beating him mercilessly until he's barely moving. "Shit, shit, shit," Flag groans before hissing a series of questions into his comms. "The window's closing--both good and bad for us. Mary, do you have that sniper? Yokai & Tumbler, are you still in control with the car? Fantomex, are there any unidentified pros still on the scene?" 

:'''{{#var:9201|Yokai (9201)}} has posed:'''     Tumbler seems a bit torn between the two orders, but after a moment, heads to help Yokai. The man's pushing himself up, using another protestor as an aid as he looks around for the car - both the squeal of tires and the rev of the engine help him pinpoint it, and with a grimace, he moves after it.     "Going after it!" he calls out, reaching only to ready his EMP once more. Considering how much this driver seems about to plow through anything, it may end up being useful to save more lives than Gruber's own-! 

:'''{{#var:1760|Fantomex (1760)}} has posed:''' Fantomex kicks the car door close, punch an (relatively) innocent angry amateur out of the way and then nearly gets disemboweled by the last professional killer, who is brandishing a rather large combat knife. There is very little space to avoid it. "Just one. A stabby one." He replies to Flag. Meanwhile E.V.A. barely avoids getting run over (fly over?) by the flock of ravens. Instead she flies around the cathedral, trying to spot the snipper. 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' What a bummer. Typhoid was expecting a pro, someone that would make her sweat for it. Because she could certainly use some exercise. Not that she ain't running a fever already, and it's high up even if not enough to get her close to Bloody Mary. Always a blessing. But revenge, that's something she knows well. She approaches the man from behind, hips swaying as a myriad of thoughts go through her mind. Heads off? Too professional. A stab from behind through the ribcage? Cowardly. A slash on the guts? Too messy. In the end she lets out a sigh and does none of those. Instead she rests the tip of her katana on the man's shoulder, on the joining to the neck. She turns off her sound emitter, "Your posture is all wrong, you need to square the weapon on your shoulder and calm your breathing. I will give you one last shot for your revenge. Then I will need your weapon." She surveys the street outside, watching the commotion surrounding Caligulax and frowns. "And make it fast." Yes, she most likely will use that sniper on the police officers once the father has had his one last chance at it. And maybe she is still deciding on what she will do with the man. 

:'''{{#var:151|Rick Flag (151)}} has posed:''' As Gruber's car continues forward, the police reinforcements move to close off the street behind it--although Yokai and Tumbler manage to stick near enough to the car to beat the blockade. Not far from the building entrance, Gruber's car stops--and he stares at the door, breathing heavily and clearly contemplating whether he can survive the distance. Further down the street, the knife-wielding assassin glances at the departing car and grimaces before slashing at Fantomex again. "Fascist!" he growls, his body tense. "Justice for Markovia will not be denied." In the cathedral tower, the sniper freezes for a moment as the katana makes Mary's presence known. Still looking ahead, he nods slowly and takes aim. Just then, the door opens, and Gruber sprints toward the building. The sniper takes his shot. 

:'''{{#var:9201|Yokai (9201)}} has posed:'''     As Yokai races forwards, he remembers:             'I expect that what we're tasked with doing and what we many of us would like to see happen will differ. Significantly.'                 '...four dead, and no sign of punishment...'             '...arguably grounds for immediate detonation.'                 '...long-standing corruption in the royal family...'             '...unlikely to effect real change.'         '...I'm not promising anything.'     And that's the thing. Even after reading up on everything, Yokai still hasn't made his decision. What happened was tragic, yes, but to outright kill someone - he's only ever had that urge for one man, and that urge is cold and dead. So he tried to look at it from another angle - would doing this save other lives? That was a little more clear cut, but even so, not enough. So then, a final angle;     What would a better man than he do? One came to mind, and the answer was clear. But also clear was the fact...     ...he is not that man.     As Gruber gets out, Yokai flips a switch on the device. Not to activate the EMP; this one is quite the opposite, the very reason he /made/ and brought the thing. This one sends a surge of power in to the vehicle, and hijacks its engine - sending it barreling forwards. And if Gruber is in the way? 

:'''{{#var:9201|Yokai (9201)}} has posed:'''     ...perhaps he'll be knocked out of the way of the shot. Perhaps he'll be run over. Who knows? 

:'''{{#var:1760|Fantomex (1760)}} has posed:''' Fantomex takes a nasty cut to the shoulder, then smashing his fist on the killer's face. "Such outrage," he grunts, "one would say you were not getting paid for this," he kicks the stunned killer on the knee, snapping it. "All clear," he sends through the comms. "Except for the regular angry people and cops." Then E.V.A., still bird sized, zooms in. Too small to fire bioenergy blasts, too light to do more than a small bump on an adult man if she hits him. But still large enough to hit the barrel of the rifle and move it an inch if no one stops her. "No killing!" She shouts, in a synthesized but clearly female voice. 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' Typhoid wasn't really expecting a tiny ship to come over and hit the rifle. So eager she was in seeing if the man would be able to fulfill his vengeance. The interference enrages her though, and the shot that seemed clearly squared to hit the man on the chest gets diverted just so. Enough that it grazes on one of the man's shoulders. But no killing shot. Typhoid bares her teeth at the tiny device and sends an instinctive push of her telekinetic power to the machine. It's not enough to destroy, she doesn't have that kind of power. But just enough to push it back a little. "Let it be a lesson to you. The world ain't fair." this she says down to the father while reaching to take the sniper away. "The cathedral has a backdoor on a side entrance near the altar. Noone should be there. Get out of here and go back to your wife. If I see you again you know what will happen." Her attention goes to the police officers that are hitting on Caligulax and she opens fire. Well-placed shots, aimed to make them 'dance' and not to kill. She hopes to cause a distraction or at least to make them get away so the big guy can get out. The comms are turned on. "Assassin neutralized. Doing cover fire on Caligulax. Can you get him, Ricky?" As for Gruber, well, the shot got him off balance but if he will be ran over..., who knows! 

:'''{{#var:151|Rick Flag (151)}} has posed:''' Gruber's car lurches forward, even as the man desperately races toward the parliament building entrance. He's not fast enough to outrun it, though, and so he's simultaneously struck on the shoulder and knocked backwards onto the car hood until it slams into the entrance steps--at which time he rolls forward onto the ground, groaning and gasping for breath as he hugs his ribs. The assassin facing Fantomex gets his nose caved in, and he stumbles backwards, eyes rolling back in his head as he collapses on the ground, unconscious. Three police officers wrangle Caligulax, restraining his arms behind him. He, in turn, tries to resist, although he's not in any real shape to do so. Once they turn their attention to other nearby protestors, Rick Flag launches himself out to grab Caligulax by the arm and pull him into a fireman's carry. Murder O'Crows' bird-screen flies through once more, obscuring Flag and Caligulax until they can make it to cover. "Got him. Headed to the extraction point," Flag huffs. "Get to whichever zone you can ... we're out of time." In the tower, the sniper lowers his rifle and begins to sob, shaking his head angrily. "Just ... just do it," he whispers in a harsh tone. 

:'''{{#var:9201|Yokai (9201)}} has posed:'''     Right. That's all he can do. The car may still be on its drive, but if the driver can keep from running over Gruber, that's his own responsibility to manage. Yokai manages to sight Tumbler and jerk his head away in a clear 'let's go' gesture, ducking down and reaching for a second mask. This one still isn't the kabuki, but is swapped easily enough as he rejoins the crowd, intent on making his way out regardless of the end result.     Worst - or best - case scenario? Gruber might have a little more respect for the power of an uncontrolled vehicle. And while he'd like to be sure of that, Flag is right; there's no time. All he can do is hope that he did /something/ that'll have an impact. 

:'''{{#var:1760|Fantomex (1760)}} has posed:''' Fantomex waits a second as Gruber getting smashed and grazed by a bullet. "I think he will live," then he gets hit by a couple stones thrown by angry amateurs, just as the police tackles them. "Still will live, he might need surgery for that ear." Then he glances upwards, feeling how E.V.A. is hit by the telekinetic wave. The pocket-sized spaceship bounces on a gargoyle's head, then hovers down, much like a dizzy duck. Fantomex sighs and sneaks out of the riot. 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' "No." The tone is harsh. Cruel. She regarding the fallen father for a few moments and sheathing her katana away. She brings the sniper up to herself, out of the man's reach, "Kill yourself if you want. It's a big enough drop, or get out of here and go back to your wife." she frowns a bit to herself. When did she become a damn life councillor? But in the end there is one thing that's true: "I wasn't paid to kill you." And she will begin making her way out of the cathedral, to a rendezvous point. She leaves the man's fate entirely to him. What right would she have to deny someone their vengeance? When she has been seeking it for so long? Revenge for all the slights made against her, imagined or not. It's enough for Typhoid to not want to be dominant, retreating and shifting until she becomes Walker, the balanced of her personalities. Which means the person that will rendezvous will be yet another 'sister'. Red-haired as well but somber. A soldier's look to her. Silent. 
}}

10893/Entitled to a Title

2020-01-28T14:49:02Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/27 |Location=Central Park, Manhattan |Synopsis=No tea for Sue! |Cast of Characters=70,168,9293,177 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:'''{{#var..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=Central Park, Manhattan
|Synopsis=No tea for Sue!
|Cast of Characters=70,168,9293,177
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:70|Wanda Maximoff (70)}} has posed:''' "That's too much milk," protests a woman whose name shall be Sue, out of deference to a certain Karrin. Sue has the look of a classic lady who lunches. A certain age, her hair cut in that smooth bob, with sunglasses too big for her face. She is currently in the middle of a rage in front of the 'Urban Grounds' coffee truck, a very swanky bright mint green truck nestled on a curve just inside Central Park. This makes it a popular stop, if the social media presence and long, snaking line of patrons has anything to do with it. That queue is more or less orderly, shoved to the inside curb. Anyone blocking a New Yorker from moving up the street is likely to be shoved into oncoming traffic, really. The barista looks befuddled. "But... But that's tea." "I asked for /tea latte/," shouts the woman in a needy, nasal tone suggesting she is going to ask for a manager right now. Behind her stands an auburn-haired young woman, cut off from placing her order. Her hands deep in her burgundy coat, she might be counting off seconds in her head. Wanda looks tired, the sort of luminous weariness that comes with burning the midnight oil at both ends. Sue goes on, shoving the cup at the poor barista, "Now make me another one properly. Is it that hard? How can you put too much milk in a /latte/?" 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Karrin Murphy, resident jogger in the park, is...out jogging. In full NYPD gear, plain clothes. She's jogging in suit pants, winter coat, smart shirt and there's the bulge of her sidearm under her winter coat, within easy reach, she's got her hair cut a little shorter than usual, and she jogs over looking a little worried. "Alright, what's going on here?" Karrin asks. Oh, being a cop gives her reasonss to ask. See. She's half expecting Sue to yell at her or something, but when she can call on the police, and/or Harry Dresden and his allies, she's confident. Murph listens quietly then looks over the line, back to Sue then the poor barista. Murphy's heard the argument from a good few hundred yards away and is already not liking it. Oh, she's got her radio under her coat too. Coats are great for hiding things like that, hey, her gear's hidden under it too. Yay for being short and given an average length coat. Karrin glances to Wanda for a moment in silent solidarity at being insanely tired, then fixes Sue and the poor barista with a look. "Okay. One at a time. Tell me what's going on" she says calmly. She's trying to get all the facts. She's also prepared for crazy things to happen. This is New York, too. She's ready for anything, in a city where Superman's been seen flying around the Tri State area in the past, and mutants and metahumans walk or fly the streets...anything can happen. 

:'''{{#var:9293|Kaida (9293)}} has posed:''' It's typically very difficult for people to spot Kaida. She's small enough, quick enough, and at least somewhat skilled enough to easily sneak around without being spotted by all but the keenest of eyes. She slips up toward the truck with a bit of hop in her step. She really likes it when the coffee truck comes around. Usually means there are sweets and coffee to steal. She usually sneaks one of those teeny, tiny cups that they use to pass out samples, get a bit of coffee with whip cream and away she goes. Sometimes quite literaly. It's a rush she has to admit. Of course, now with the craziness happening at the front, this gives her a chance to find a way into the truck and find what she seeks. Of course, now she is a little upset with the woman for holding everyone up so she considers best way to deal with it. Ya know, after she finds the sample cups and sneaks a bit of coffee and whip cream. Luckily, being a mouse girl that can lift twenty times her own weight really helps out. What else helps out is the fact that the barista is distracted with Karrin and Sue...not to mention that upset line forming. 

:'''{{#var:70|Wanda Maximoff (70)}} has posed:''' Exciting, someone with authority. Sue straightens herself up. The long winter coat is marked with a Canadian goose brand she has no real business sporting, since a real Canuck would actually apologise and hide around the corner with the improperly milk-balanced latte instead of having a fuss at the coffee truck's long metal bar. It doesn't matter that she is at least a foot lower than the tired barista looking at the snaking line of guests and trying to keep the hissing, snarling Italian machine fine-tuned to a racehorse's level of pampering going. One of her coworkers is back there, tapping on metal levers and adjusting the digital interface, ignoring Sue and Karrin entirely. His work is **art**, darn it, not to be interrupted by such paltry cares. "She," Sue jabs a finger at the hapless barista, "gave me the wrong product. Ugh! I said a tea latte! She put too much milk in it. No one drinks a latte this white." The lid snapped off, she reveals the premium product, which is frothy and fairly creamy in shade, but definitely has at least two teabags in there. "I demand a new one. And a refund for wasting my /time/." "That's how we make them. You do this every morning," sighs the barista. "I can remake it with more water?" This earns an emphatic Hmph! from Sue, who gestures at Karrin as if to prove her point. Neither of them are aware of Kaida, what with too much distracting them to prove a point. Defeat and victorious arrogance make a potent brew to give cover, though that posh food truck as more additives posted on an LED board. Almond milk, soy milk, some kind of artificial substitute, and a milk made from "crystalline-filtered plant extracts." Yummy. Wanda truly pays attention to none of this, though, settling back for the conversational quarrel to wear its way through. The people behind her aren't so defeated, muttering and adding "Hurry up" in a rough voice. She looks over her shoulder, shaking her head. "It's fine, officer. Take your time." That voice is quiet, modest by every measure. And lightly accented, as she rubs at her eyes. But for lack of sleep. 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Listening, Karrin considers. She could just tase the woman, and have IA going after her. She could side with Sue. But she's been a lifelong cop, Murphy produces her badge. "Alright, here's what I'm gonna do" Murphy says. "You. Back of the line" she says pointing to Sue. "I doubt anyone will let you cut in. You guys, keep doing your thing. Oh and....you owe the barista an apology for being a grade-a PTA soccer mom. You're depriving New Yorkers of coffee. In some counties that's enough to get the line acquitted of assault or homicide" Karrin says, a bored look on her face. "Not that I'd suggest anyone assaults her or worse. Believe me, I share your pain. I just want coffee before my break is over" Karrin adds and gives the line a sweeping look as if silently saying not to do anything stupid within her line of sight. She /will/ arrest anyone doing anything stupidd. Doubly so for Sue. She's little time for the loud, belligerent woman's antics, as Murphy stands there, watching it all. "Oh, before you go" she offers to Sue. "You do this every morning? Okay" she says glancing to the baristas. "You want me to do something about this woman?" Offer made. 

:'''{{#var:9293|Kaida (9293)}} has posed:''' The cup is slid left, and then right and then a little more left and then just a tad forward and then she leaps up and plants her feet on the coffee machine and pushes on the switch as coffee pours out into her cup for a few moments and hten she lets go and leaps back down. Then a can of whip cream is tilted over and then the top is pushed carefully and the cream flows over her coffee. She smiles as she pushes the can back up and then picks up the coffee cup and starts slurping away. She hears what is going on outside and when she hears Karrin, she perks. Someone she knew! She also giggles a little. She then walks her coffee over to the door, casually leaps up to hit the switch that opens the door and then lands grabs her cup and walks out carefully. It is possible that the barista could see her leaving but usually that image is something that halts sanity. Now outside, she finishes the cream quickly enough while casually walking under the truck and toward the woman in question. With half the coffee still gone but still quite hot, Kaida walks right up to Sue's right foot and casually empties the coffee toward the top of her shoe and then simply leaps back to under the truck. 

:'''{{#var:70|Wanda Maximoff (70)}} has posed:''' The barista at the front labours over the decision. She takes the cup thrust on the counter and sets it aside, turning to her coworker. "One fresh tea latte, half milk, way more steam please." Her tone isn't defeated so much as accepting. Sue might perk right up at that, but Karrin's orders to take a hike to the back of the line still stand. The barista flips her green bangs from her face and adds, "You heard the nice lady. Back you go. It'll be waiting up here for you." Sue shrills like a steam whistle. It only gets worse when she moves and there is a puddle on her so spendy Aquitalia boot. "How /dare/ you. I'm going to call your manager and your owner. You will be lucky to have a job, what with this poor service. I can do that, it's a free country!" Barely. She stamps off, all kinds of unkind sentiments flashing in her eyes. Her cellphone is out. There will be unhappy calls made to corporate, as if the fancy swanky food truck is owned by anyone other than a small startup with big dreams. "For real. If she could go away and never come back, I'd give you free coffee for a month. Just not the premium M&M ganache one. Name your poison, we'll get it," amends the barista, flopping forward on her forearms and giving a look down at Karrin. Her partner is staring at the door. He has a phone out, a ghost reading app up. It buzzes and hisses. Surely that doesn't work. "Uh, Kelsey? You know about hauntings?" Kaida the friendly ghost has done her work. Wanda, on the other hand, waves a hand. "Dirty chai, please? Anything with one espresso would be simply magical." Her loose waves fall in her face. "But as long as it is coffee, I will drink it." She glances to movement, but early morning and too long a night plus caffeine deprivation do not help her pick out things well. For that, there's her white shadow. 

:'''{{#var:177|Pietro Maximoff (177)}} has posed:''' Oh yeah, wonderful time really. Waiting in lines is totally something Pietro wants to spend his free time on, but for the twin, well, it would not be the first sacrifice that Pietro Maximoff has made for the family as it were. So, suddenly, there is a literal blur that enters the shop and stops right next to Wanda Maximoff. He's wearing just a track jacket with a blue shirt and some regular jeans, with white running shoes. He has a bag of chips in his hands that he shamelessly munches on. "So, what'd I miss? Another crunch of chips. He notices the confrontation between the barista and Sue, but it seems to have been handled properly all the same. Hopefully. He looks to Kaida and Karrin, to which he gives a little friendly wave before his attention is back on his sister. 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Oh Karrin's making calls too. Not to corporate, but to her colleagues. She could use her radio, but...she's triple checking things. "That sounds like harrassment" Karrin opines, stepping out the way to not hold up the line. Instead...Karrin's getting creative. She's trudging to where Sue is. "Excuse me, ma'am, but I've been informed you are harrassing the barista and her assistant" she says, watching Sue. "And your manner at the front of the line was extremely uncalled for. To that end" she says sternly, "Anyone like to help me out? Any of you perhaps police or have security training?" she adds. Oh. She's taking Sue /in/ for this. Murph's not a fan of Sue's antics. Threatening words. Harrassment, and.....it's a good thing being a Karen isn't a crime. Else, well, Murph'd be busy. So, going for her cuffs, Karrin sighs. She's hoping people help her out. She's also hoping Sue does something stupid to hurt her own cause. 

:'''{{#var:9293|Kaida (9293)}} has posed:''' A wide grin comes to Kaida's lips at the situation Sue has found herself in before she blinks at the arrival of Pietro. She stares at him and then she does a flip and lands rather easily upon the far end of the counter and points at Pietro, "Wow! You are like way fast! How are you so fast?!" She asks and tilts her head form left to right as she points at him before she looks to the Barista and then the other people before leaping down and landing near Pietro and Wanda to look up, "Oops, really not supposed to be seen...people get upset." She giggles. 

:'''{{#var:70|Wanda Maximoff (70)}} has posed:''' Sue is not above shrieking angrily at someone on the phone, in this case a switchboard operator for the coffee company. "I want to speak to the /manager/," she says in a shrill tone. "About poor customer service. I've been a paying customer for years and... Yes, please transfer me. I will happily wait." Smug she is not when Karrin rolls up. The side-eye through those big sunglasses is considerable. "I am managing this with the company. It will be straightened out there, with someone who knows what I /need/." Those stresses drip with irritation for the barista. She is still trudging to the back of the line as Karrin tails her. She stares at the cuffs, though. "Do you know who my /husband/ is? We've donated to the Fraternal Order of Police for twenty-five years. I can't believe-- yes, put me on hold, I have to resolve this." She jabs the phone button to mute the call. "Can't you see I am doing what you asked? The poor girl makes the drink wrong, I am now going to have a /cold drink/, and I already paid. How can you say it's harassment when I've asked her to fix it and she didn't? All I want is my latte!" Soccer mom she is not. Oh no. The level of entitlement comes with an aura of gilded power, probably tied to a heavyweight in the corporate towers or law offices. Let them tremble. "Ma'am, with all due respect, this won't look good. Free speech and I'll half to call Ms. Kaplan to help take care of it. Or that nice man... The blind lawyer?" 

:'''{{#var:70|Wanda Maximoff (70)}} has posed:''' Meanwhile, up at the coffee counter, there is a woman doubled into her brighter alter ego. If track suits are opposite of leather coats, and white hair to her dark shade count. Pietro just appearing at zoom time sends the tired barista into a double-take and she sizes up whether he cut. No point worrying. Back to fetching the chai being mixed up on the fancy workhorse machine with more bells and whistles than the space station, she says, "Coming right up. Next!" The next person in line can shuffle up and ask for their drink while the girl doles out the bills and coins for a nice tip atop the drink. It beats paying by plastic. Wanda leaves the rolled up bill tucked in a jar and then peeks after Pietro waving at-- Oh! "We didn't cut in front of you, did we?" she asks, obviously worried, in Kaida's direction. Her sideways movement opens up more space for orders to be taken. "Some kind of disagreement over tea. I thought tea was supposed to be the great unifier in civilisation." 

:'''{{#var:177|Pietro Maximoff (177)}} has posed:''' "Yikes, what a diva." Pietro says, completely uncaring that this woman who is clearly very in over her own head. Of course, Pietro's dad is the King of his own country, so this chick doesn't bother him any. He looks over at Wanda for a brief moment with a bit of a smile. "Really? Thats it? No, 'you slept with my husband you cheating bitch' or 'what do you mean my hair is too fake?' Just tea? Wow, boring." Though he does look on over to Kaida as she appears to be...SO TINY! He thought she was one of those people like Ant Man who could just shrink and grow at will. Guess she's perma-tiny! "Oh hi. Well, that has a lot to do with science and the best genes that you can be born with. I know, I'm pretty amazing." He runs a hand through his silver hair. Then there's Karrin, to which Pietro passes his chips onto Wanda, whether she accepts them or not. "Might as well. I'm an Avenger, if that counts as police experience." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murphy isn't the happiest cop around. "I'm sorry, what?" she asks, sighing. "Listen. There's a line of angry New Yorkers who you prevented from getting coffee. You are threatening me with a lawyer or two?" she asks. "Are you threatening me and my job, ma'am?" she adds with a look. Trick question, Karrin puts cuffs away, and smiles. "If you are, and you think a lawyer can get you out of turning up every morning and pulling the 'they made my drink wrong' routine'" Murphy says with the fingers doing the air quotes thing. "Try it. You do know that barista isn't corporate, but you call some corporation and rant and scream at them and you'll get nowhere. I'm sorry, but I feeel like you need to see a doctor to have whatever crawled up your butt and died, surgically removed" Karrin says, writing out a ticket as she speaks, and hands it over. See. Karrin can be nice....sort of. She keeps her eyes on Sue as she nods. "You guys keep her in line" she nods to the line patrons, making her way back to Wanda and company. "Hey, sorry about that" she says, "I'm Karrin, but I get called Murphy a lot. You guys get your coffee?" she asks cautiously. Priorities, Karrin. Priorities! 

:'''{{#var:9293|Kaida (9293)}} has posed:''' Kaida seems to be bouncing from foot to foot as she grins, "Wow!" She states simply and then giggles and grins, "I never met someone who was faster than me. I knew but cool." She then looks over at the situation with Karrin and grins as they are handling it but she considers. She looks back to Wanda and smiles at her, "Oh and hi, to you!" She nods her head, "I'm Kaida and no, you didn't cut in front of me. I already had some coffee!" she nods her head and then she holds up a finger, "Just a moment." She then is gone in a burst of speed that Pietro can likely follow but not others. She leaps up on to Sue's shoulder and lands on all fours and lets out a somewhat convincing squeak and twitches a tail. Soon after she is spotted, she leaps off and flees through the line to stand back next to Wanda before she idly considers the truck and hmms at the idea of getting more whip cream. 

:'''{{#var:70|Wanda Maximoff (70)}} has posed:''' Indeed, there's a prince and a princess of a literal nation standing at a coffee truck, talking to a mouse girl. Though to be fair, Wanda is probably the lowest profile of the Genoshan nobility for a reason. No rank about to be pulled here as she waits for the chai. Seeing that Pietro has been asking for anything, he gets nothing. She looks down at the chips, and then up. Okay, just one should be fine. Pietro's attitude warrants a faint shake of her head and a wan smile. "Pi. Please?" A soft sigh has her shoulders dropping. "Just try not to start an incident that requires diplomatic immunity. She might require it, and I am not being left holding this bag." Someone please teach her proper idioms, please. But it's hard not to look on affectionately at her better half, and she reaches out to hook her arm around his, pulling him back slightly. "He means well, I promise. He is Pietro, I am Wanda. Hello to you too," she says to Kaida, insistent on that one bit of being very polite. "Kaida? That's a beautiful name. So poetic!" Her mood is fairly worn thin but still warm, even as the mouse-girl disappears. The world may be exhausting right about now, so she turns to get that cup when her order is called. Releasing her brother, she glides up to claim the mana and cares not one whit if it's boiling hot. A sip is needed. Anything to stave in the fatigue, otherwise, she might curl up in a sleepy ball and then Karrin might have to arrest people for poisoning innocent bystanders. Not their fault. Magic coffee is magic. 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murph nods then looks amused, with a wave to Wanda and Pietro, then Kaida finaly. She has dealt with Sue. Then nods, looking over tr again to them all. Coffee got now the line's moving, she returns with coffee, sipping it. Black, no sugar. She's sorted. 

:'''{{#var:177|Pietro Maximoff (177)}} has posed:''' Pietro smirks at Kaida for a moment as she appears to be quite amazed. Ah yes, Pietro is absolutely amaze-worthy, about time people noticed! Though when she introduces herself, he nods to Kaida. "Pietro. Nice to meet ya." He notices Kaida jump on Sue's shoulder but he doesn't dare say anything about it. It'd kill the joke. He briefly looks to Karrin When she gets all up and arms and he's totally inwardly cheering her on. "Pietro, nice to meet you Karrin. No coffee for me." Then there's Wanda successfully reeling him in with her kindness. "Okay, but only because you asked nicely." He hugs Wanda right back, before he lets her get her coffee. 

:'''{{#var:9293|Kaida (9293)}} has posed:''' The scream that comes from Sue is what one might expect from someone who was handed things for most of her life. Than the woman turns and flees, flicking and slapping at her shoulder as she rushes away. Later people will hear about all of these things. That's for sure. Kaida meanwhile continues to debate the truck, not watching the explosion. Ya know, like you're supposed to. Kaida peers up at Karrin briefly and then over to Wanda and Pietro with a smile, "Well, my work here is done." She nods and giggles before she turns, "I really should get back. Nice to meet all of you." She waves a small hand and then starts off down the sidwalk. 

:'''{{#var:70|Wanda Maximoff (70)}} has posed:''' A screaming woman is just too much for the witch. She closes her eyes and buries her nose into the sweet, spiced fragrance rolling off her beloved chai. The focus there is so thin, a frail cord, that everything else changes to an external concern barely worth noting. Never mind the light abruptly turns green while the fleeing entitled Sue-wants-the-manager is about to cross. Pedestrian sign blinks on a friendly white. A gap in traffic lets her fly for the nearest safe haven in some law office, maybe with someone who has a five digit expense account. She is too busy drinking her happy drink in a happy place, right? No sign at all that fortune snaps into alignment because she subconsciously willed it to end. Not at all. Just a nudge in the right direction. "Peace and quiet, right?" She lowers her cup a little and gives a dreamy blink, banishing the cobwebs. It won't hit her veins fast enough. "This is very good. Worth the wait, I would say. Hello by the way. Thank you for your help," she tells Karrin. "Wanda. I feel bad you had to end your run like that." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murph nods, "Don't worry about it. I should get going" she says as she heads for a cab. "It was nice meeting you all" she calls, heading into the cab, with a look over them all, then shuts the cab door. There Murph goes. Destination? Who knows. Because she's not said....yet, though she's heading home. 

:'''{{#var:177|Pietro Maximoff (177)}} has posed:''' Pietro nods lightly to Karrin as she takes off. "So long, officer." Then to Kaida. "Nice to meet you too, Kaida. Safe travels." Finally, his attention is right back on Wanda. "Looks like its a 'then there were two' kind of moment. But then again, its been us against the world for pretty much ever." He smiles and puts his hands on Wanda's shoulders. "Where to?" 

:'''{{#var:70|Wanda Maximoff (70)}} has posed:''' "I have to talk to Erik." Not Dad. They have no such designations, no such hints of the familiar with some parent. Her shoulders lift and fall as she pulls all the caffeine she can from the drink, trusting it to sustain her. "Surprise me. Take me somewhere you found that looks interesting," she tells Pietro. "We walk at my speed. No rushing off, I am so tired. Enough to have a nap for a month. Did I tell you I met a goddess of war? Asgardian. I find her wondrous, and you should meet her." 

:'''{{#var:177|Pietro Maximoff (177)}} has posed:''' Pietro narrows his eyes at Wanda. "About what?" Becuase if its so bad that they need to talk to daddy not dearest, then its usually because of something horrible thats happened, or is coming. But, he doesn't mention any further about it. "That looks interesting....hm. I think I could manage that." He smiles at her for a brief moment before he starts wandering off with her in tow. "A war goddess? Geeze, I feel like these so called gods are everywhere man. Thor, this chick that you met, that one guy who keeps light beaming everything..." 
}}

10908/Reunion of Snowflakes and Steel

2020-01-28T14:48:38Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/28 |Location=Backyard - Xavier's School |Synopsis=Big brothers are best brothers. |Cast of Characters=284,145 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/28
|Location=Backyard - Xavier's School
|Synopsis=Big brothers are best brothers.
|Cast of Characters=284,145
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     The moon hides humbly behind the wisps of cloud that trace the heights of the night sky. It's silvery glow casts long shadows upon the world far below, letting the great trees in the woods of Xavier's manor cultivate an eerie air that is only made moreso by the way the fresh snowfall stifles the noise around. Flakes still continue to fall from on high, the hints of overcast giving everything a grim greyishness.     For most people it is a perfect evening to hunker down inside under a cover, to have the warmth of a fire going, to have the joy of nearby company. But the young Russian known as Piotr Rasputin? He is not most people.     For he is outside, large boots leaving equally large tracks in the snow as he walks. Under the arm of his over-stuffed red ski jacket he carries a bundle of logs and branches, bending over now and again to pick one up and tuck it under his grip. At times he would pause and lift his eyes upward, a tendril of steam escaping as he exhales, a small smile upon his lips.     For now he is making his way back to the manor, walking up behind the garage to the wood pile where they have logs gathered for the occasional bonfire. It's there that he starts to deposit his bounty, taking the time to break a few branches over his knee so they fit better. 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' The moon might not recognize the girl with blue foil lashes framing pale eyes gone almost silver by contrast. It certainly hasn't found white-blonde hair streaked by pale opalescence, a flash of the auroras somehow painted on there. But glittering from head to above-the-knee, Illyana traipses through the manor like some cybernetic dryad of the digital age. She could be an elemental nymph escaping a concert or off to lure people to their social media likes, followers aplenty falling at her feet. Those boots are at least suited for crunching through snow as much as taking a stage, though they're silver as crackled glass. Where on earth has she been? The trees do not deserve that sort of augmented ornament left over from Christmas. She breathes out steamy clouds and takes in the pines, the firs, the odd crackle of smoking wood. So the younger Rasputina carves her own path in the woods. To Grandmother's house they do not go - it has chicken legs. But this is easier to follow since the tracks give her something to follow. Hunting a Russian bear is easier when the Snowflake Girl to Ded Moroz. Eventually their paths collide. She simply heads in as he comes out. "Oh what a wonder, oh what confusion, Ded Moroz has got his call! Fill up the troika with ammunition, Against ice and the cold nightfall!" she sings. Not half bad either. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     To see them at a glance one would likely not connect them as brother and sister. Especially with her inorganic ornamentia that had drawn the eye of others earlier, and from her sibling it causes him to draw up short rising to his full height there on that path outward.     The tall brunette gauges the short blonde and there is a wry smile settled on the lips of the former as he crosses his arms over his great chest. "Ah so here she is." She knows that tone, affected by her big brother when he attempts some hint of authority similar to their parentals.     But it's ever the eyes between them, or in the bright blues of his she can see the smile that reaches there even for one so often stoic as them. "Illyana."     A strong arm slips around her to draw her into an embrace. Presumptuous is he not? When so many are wary of the bladed and edged young Queen with the demon's smile.     "I am glad to see you. Will you walk with me tonight?" 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' A frosty little ornament, Snegurochka for a winter's night, if imagined as worthy of a concert. Illyana has come a long way and yet this, in her glittery dress and opal hair, is probably truer to the dreams of a dazzled child on the shores of Lake Baikal. The frozen, glass-clear water always did thrill. She tramps through the snow that his boots have not flattened, breaking the crust into so much diamond dust. She ought to be cold by all accounts. But her chin lifts and the cool, washed out gaze takes Piotr in all in a go. "Were you hiding out there to get away from everyone?" An act more like her own, but conspiracy theories roll so easily off the tongue. Russian instead of English. It's a rare treat. The electric zing of her magic is there, but hard to trace. Some small part of her is watching elsewhere. But mostly here, the faint turn of a smile. "Medvedyi," she says, squishing the final syllable. The bear. Always the bear as he hauls her in for a hug and she returns it with a pair of spiked bracelets shifting their thorns so as not to scratch. Like she ever could. But the points there are strange, the same gleam he wears in his other skin. The armour, then. "I would like nothing better. It is beautiful out like this. Almost quiet." She puffs out a breath again, watching the cloud form and fall apart. "If it were possible I would live outside for winter nights and leave the days to everyone else." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "Nyet," He offers to her as he slips to the side off their track to take up a branch as large as her leg and proceeds to crackle it across his knee, slipping the two pieces under his arm as he tilts his gaze toward her. His breath dances with each word, wisping over his features at points as he slips into the ease of Russian between them. "I would not say hiding, Snowflake. I would say perhaps, embracing the Winter."     That said he smiles and pats her upon the back with his free hand as they begin their trek, his gait slowed so she can fall into step with him and their stroll taking them more toward the dark of the woods than the brightness of the mansion with its windows gleaming.     "Katya has asked me twice now have we had time to talk? And I have told her only in passing. So it seems to me that time is here now, yes?" He bends over and takes up another smaller branch this time and tucks it under his arm. "So now you will tell me all that I have missed and that has passed."     His head nods as if this was a foregone conclusion, and he was but reminding her. 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' With Piotr breaking snow, not that the depth is great, Illyana drafts off him like a sports car after an eighteen wheeler. She should be colder than she is. The glitter of moonlight on her gown tarnishes it to softer silver, pewter melting away. "You are nostalgic for the real cold? It will not get worse than this unless Ororo has mercy on us." Combing out her hair doesn't make any clearer if that's a dye or a wig or something between. "Katya means well. Sometimes she is much too American, though." No sigh, a mere observation. The plants on the way are dormant, curled up to sleep. Trees get a fond pat in passing, their sentinels against prying eyes where spells don't work. "Everything for them is right now and open like a book. So much hurry. We go slower and it suits me fine, sometimes." It's no excuse but acknowledging differences that few see. "All that has passed? It has been this coming and going. Erik is focused on his Brotherhood more strongly. Rogue and Jamie Maddox got more heavily involved," she says while he picks up sticks. Like children in a dark fairy tale. Next comes the quiet dacha, a warm oven with room enough for both of them to sleep atop it, Russian style. "So I hear. Maybe they do not settle comfortably. Going from Avenger to that? It is an unwise step, maybe. I kee out of it for now. Too many of the younger students think these things are games, not revolutions. There was a dragon that attacked in Central Park, and I helped to contain him. He's in Limbo instead of burning the city down. An immortal dragon, did you know that? Fafnir from the stories." The smile tells a lot of her amusement on that. It's so rare to see. But it fades, mist in morning. "Thor, the prince from Asgard, came to ask our help. Kitty was there when someone took Avengers off into space. They want to bring some of them home. No news yet how. His rainbow bridge, it seems, but it would be so much faster to open a portal and take them, da?" 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "I..." Piotr straightens up, his steps faltering for a moment as Illyana broaches the idea that perhaps they could have a True Winter(tm) and he turns his head to the side to look at her, one eyebrow raised. "I do not know. I in some ways like this do you not?" He gestures to the small tableau before them, the half a foot of snow, the fresh fall of it, the peaceful landscape.     "This reminds me of the early nights. When the Winter has just fallen and there is so much ahead of us..." His other eyebrow joins the first as he looks int he direction of the lakehouse. "Perhaps I am just waxing nostalgic indeed, yes?"     That said he continues on. When Katya is declared so very American his lip curls upward and he gives a nod of agreement while they stroll. Magneto is brought up and he frowns a little, cannot help it, though it's not as pronounced nor as dour as it has been in the past.     "A dragon?" He asks when it is mentioned. "That is curious." Then of course his thoughts shift in this direction, "Does Lockheed get along with this new dragon?"     Finally he nods a little further about the Avengers, then slips off the trail to procure a branch. Or at least what he thinks is a branch. Only it is a small stump that he must grimace and twist to get out of the ground with a crackling snap of roots giving way. A grunt and he has it in hand, holding it there. "The Avengers have been good with us. If we can help them we should."     Then he lifts his chin, "But all of this is news. How are /you/ doing, Illyana?" 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' Is there a note of wistfulness for faraway cold? The remnants of ice on the glacial-lcoked plains? Illyana tugs at the bangs trying to hide her face, scoured over her eyes. Future perfect moments might have her striking curious poses to blow the fringe away a moment before running into a tree, but not here. She stamps around on a circle to knock ice from the treads of the boots, then sneaks up beside Piotr to view things from closer to his perspective. Just two feet down, give or take. "Is it nostalgia? Not enough people like it. They have snowball fights but complain of the grey, the chill, all the layers to make them sweaty." Her arms cross over her chest, and she shakes her head. "It deserves to be taken as it is. These walks are good to clear the mind." On then. Keeping pace with him is not too arduous, always three steps for his two. Springing goes one way to another. "A dragon. A real one. We fought it, several of us. A queen of Atlantis, Thor, the Hulk, a man who could become a crow. Me, too. I was not the /very/ first to charge it either." In case he harbours any concerns about the relative safety of the little snowflake, especially ones attacking legendary monsters that probably can't die. "Lockheed has not met him. I sent a few legions after him to keep them busy. Fafnir is very large, and very grumpy. He took several direct hits from that hammer -and- the Hulk, without seeming to be slowed a great deal. You would not have had an easy time, but he might have kept you. Dragon hordes and shiny things." The dry humour is hard to spot. She really isn't good with jokes outside Russian, but in Russian is another matter. A glimpse of the girl who was, once. When he hauls out an actual rooted tree, her eyebrows lift a little. Then she nods emphatically. "It doesn't matter. They could be old men from Brighton Beach. They were taken from a party by someone who threatened them. They have Captain Rogers." Her eyes flash, for a moment missing the colour. Just pure white. "They took him to scare us, maybe. I don't know, Piotr, but it is an insult to me. If this takes much longer and people know he is gone, we might just have to go ourselves and apologize later. Isn't it enough to have a link to him and the way to open an escape route?" Typical teleporter thinking. Maybe. "I am tired of waiting." He asked. She gives up that much, shrugging. "Happy you are home, of course. Sometimes these everyday lives they have are so strange. How everything that dominates talk is so... so..." Happy? Inconsequential? Devastating? "Different? But I am trying, and Kitty seems to be happy about it. Sam, he makes it easier. You should spend time with Alexis, da? She had a bad time when she came out. Her skin can change too. But she seems nice and Sam, he would never keep anyone bad around except me. I forget myself now and then around some of the students. But not very often." She looks away into the snow. "It doesn't feel real. Something dark should hang over us. I keep waking up and it has not happened. Instead I have burnt breakfast often, and I have you back. We go out sometimes. Katya expects me to blush and hide the fact I am dating, I expect. That's new, too. And I chose him, so there is no worry someone takes advantage of me." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     A low rumble of a chuckle slips from him, not the subdued laughter he gives voice to in mixed company, but the true laugh that is unhedged by self-consciousness. He shakes his head as he looks across the way at her, considering the words she offers about the dragon but letting her tell her story.     He does, however, interject briefly. "There are surely worse fates than being a kept man in the hoard of some dragon." But then he falls quiet again as she speaks, moving along that forest path that now arcs and curves around the angles of the lake. No lights within are lit at the boathouse, so that feeling of distance is maintained.     At the mention of Captain Rogers he nods slowly, snow flakes catching briefly upon his features and then melting almost instantly. He pushes a gloved hand over his head as if to straighten his hair but serving just to lend another aspect of chaos to it. "We should render what aid we can with the good Captain, yes. But we should work with the Avengers so we do not endanger any rescue efforts they may have." He says this with a measure of solemnity, surety. As if a situation as this may have passed before and taken an ill turn.     She makes mention of being tired of waiting and his eyes lift a little in that brotherly way as if to say, 'what else is new?' But it's tempered with understanding as she continues.     "Alexis and Sam... I mean Bean. They both seem like fine individuals." But then there is a subtle feeling as Illyana's words... they take on something more. Something more of the real. At first he turns to look upon her, brow furrowed. Then he nods slowly as he bites his lower lip.     The gathering of twigs and branches and that one stump are set down upon the path gently as he turns to face her and then kneels. His hands rest upon her shoulders gently as he looks up into her eyes. "I know it is difficult for you, my sister. I have some small sense of the weight that you carry. I know the effort you take to try and to simply... endure."     His blue eyes flit back and forth between her eyes, as if seeking the depths for a glimpse of that young girl he had carried on his shoulders those too few years ago. He takes a deep breath and murmurs, "I have lain awake at night. Many nights thinking of the past and examining what there may be that I could do to help. And the answers what there are I find fleeting, slipping from my grasp."     He takes another deep breath, eyebrows beetling together as he adds, "I only know that I can be here for you. To try and shoulder what burdens you carry as I can. And I will do so."     There is a pause as he watches her.     Then he draws her into his arms to embrace. To just hold her.     It is a time that passes. Longer and likely more for him than for her.     Then he draws back holding her once again at arm's length. And only then does it seem to register when he says perhaps /too/ nonchalantly...     "Now. Tell me of this boy?" 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "A dragon that likes to strew ruin through the stars and devour cities? He has great contempt for humans. I am familiar, though I wish I were not." Illyana speaks in the level flatness of her usual delivery, even out here. Sometimes, that ambiguity serves as a shield or something useful. Forests shroud and protect, flourishing with life even in the dead of the growing season. He is the great haunt, her the little bear, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor in their relentless wandering through the northern skies. "Confrontation is not new to them. We will work together. But this waiting only threatens those captured." She narrows her eyes, staring up at the canopy. "Who knows better about being taken by a more powerful being than I do, Piotr? Captain America is many, many things. Strong, good, noble. He would give himself up in a moment to keep Earth safe. That is why waiting is too costly. They might not see it." Her shoulders make a sharp line, a certain resolution sizzling away with a nerve being struck. But there's circling around to drop a protest. "Alexis is together with Sam Guthrie. Cannonball. Bean, he is different. I am still trying to work him out. Dangerous but trying to find his normal?" It's a guess, but better to know that front. "Shannon understands him better. His technopathy must make the world noisy. Imagine having that signal all the time." No thank you! WiFi signals in the brain are bad enough for psychis, much less the city broadcasting everything. But that's the guttured note of reflection. When they come to the mirror of reflection, her in black obsidian and him in that pure, pristine steel? Nothing that could ever tarnish. And she is doused in flames. An old argument. Not old enough. Her eyes aren't white anymore, nor the deep tranquil blue of his. They have a lighter shade, those silly foil eyelashes framing them a sincere electric blue. "When will you know it is not your fault? It was a demon who took me. A Hell Lord." A Hell Lord that she, by rights, is. "You did all you could. Kitty, Ororo, Scott. They all tried their best. Do you think I blame you after all this time? It would be like cursing the moon. My sins are inscribed on my soul. It is I who lost to him, and my hour will come. I plan to take back what is mine and then there will be no debt on your conscience. You'll see it when the amulet is in my hands. I will put that monster in his grave and destroy every last thread of his being for all time, so that no one else is hurt. But maybe we do it together, family bonding." She allows the hug, she gives it right back. So small in comparison, but not especially frail. "He's not a boy, my volchonok." Wolf cub? "Douglas Ramsay. Gifted with reading the language of the world. All of them, down to the base code of reality. He does things with computer systems that maybe only Bean really gets. His family banished him, in a way, after he died. His resurrection causes them too much pain. Maybe it doesn't agree with their beliefs. They are a thing, a Mormon? I do not understand their book at all, what they mean." Orthodoxy in the Russian Federation is already complicated enough. It's much, much worse being the gateway drug for all the elder evils of the universe. "He knows how to laugh. So much knowledge about it in his head, like that Star Wars movie and music and all the rest. The corrupted side doesn't scare him so much. It should. He sees the pieces of Limbo I show them. The others. Sam, Berto, sometimes Lorna. Scott. It hasn't changed his opinion well. So he is clearly deranged, so that fits." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     It is a hard ride for him to absorb all that she imparts to him, and she can see the way he carries it in those blue eyes. The way he follows along and nods at points. The way his lips purse or he nibbles upon the lower as she tells him of what she has endured. It is not that he did not know before, more that this interaction pushes it all to the fore...     For how often does one conduct their lives simply trying to avoid thinking of the shadows that threaten one from the past?     His hands tighten a little on her shoulders as he gains his feet when she speaks of her plans and what is to be done for the future. And she asks of him when will he ever not think of what passed as his fault? When will he not feel that blame.     The answer is simple as he just tells her. "I must be as I am, Illyana. I am your brother." And in some ways... perhaps that answers many of the other facets of thoughts that had passed between them.     Douglas comes up next, however. He smiles a little edged with something, but there is something else there. Some measure of... relief? As if he had envisioned a myriad of Lotharios that might have worked their way into Illyana's good graces. She can see him give it some thought, eyes distancing beyond her shoulder. And she needs not be a telepath to imagine that inner monologue of his thoughts.     Could be worse.     He is likely to value her.     If anyone can understand her perhaps it is he?     And then his lip twists a little as the final thought...     He knows what would happen if he hurt her.     But none of that is 'spoken' though likely inferred. He nods toward Illyana and murmurs, "Your life is your own, little snowflake. Though I will likely speak to him about this." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' How often have they lived inside one another's lives? Where one hurts and the other is silent? Where the child hides from the wounds, and the adult must carry on? A little growing then. Maybe she's a sapling able to hold out against a winter, but certainly not the axe. "You are my brother, Piotr, but I don't /like/ that you struggle with these thoughts. You never failed me. I am not dead." Her eyes drift to the side. "Not anymore. We know that has happened before and it will not come easily again without a fight. His shadow cannot reach you too." Belasco is the unspoken note of pure, incandescent hate. She is more than happy to beat the pulp out of his mere mention. So it recedes back by the time Piotr's train of thought reaches the Siberian station. "It would be an ugly fight." Yes, she went there. "You are the scary one, da? I think he expects you to haul him behind the woodshed. Not my business how you conduct it. Anyone who dates you knows we are family, and that means your sister. She is, you know, not right." A swirl of her finger corkscrews just above her ear. "I'm trying to anchor my humanity. What parts are there. I talked to Doctor Strange about it. He claims not to be much of a teacher, but a doctor. He does not tolerate killing, nyet. I think humans rank highest on that, but we learn other methods. One day, that might be all we have." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     He endures the conjuration of the memory of Belasco, it is discomfort and woe, but he endures as she speaks to him. Piotr nods, sliding his hands at first deep into the pockets of his heavy ski jacket, and frowns but accepts. He is not happy, but he will continue.     Then Doug is brought back to the fore and Illyana mentions a woodshed he lifts a hand from one pocket and waves it to the side as if brushing off the notion. "Oh Illyana," Chiding her for thinking he would indeed take more... direct methods with Douglas.     Yet he nods aboutt her needing to keep connection with her humanity. "I understand this, Illyana. I do. Just..." He looks aside toward the bundle of sticks left upon the ground and he steps over in that direction. Kneeling he gathers them again and starts to tuck them under one arm.     "It is much like this, no? All of these things that we speak of... all of what we must deal with. At the least this..." He clenches the branches under his arm to signify, "This, I can handle."     Then he turns and starts walking once again. "Douglas is much like that. He is real and here and something within my power to address. That is all."     And with that he gestures for her to take his free hand. "Come, let us walk back and enjoy the snow together, sister." So they do. 
}}

10906/Who Jogs Like This

2020-01-28T14:48:29Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/28 |Location=Danger Room - X-Men Base |Synopsis=Kurt and Rahne have a race in the Danger Room, more to come? |Cast of Characters=169,1251 |..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/28
|Location=Danger Room - X-Men Base
|Synopsis=Kurt and Rahne have a race in the Danger Room, more to come?
|Cast of Characters=169,1251
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' Who the hell jogs like this? Kurt for certain - though he's on all fours as he moves across a corridor akin to something from a platformer game. Poles, suspended platforms... Swinging arms and other fun things. Kurt has tricked Rahne into joining him and gave only a few moments to stretch before looking to Rahne and declaring, "RUN!" before he's off... And Pac-Man is chasing. Pac-Man Kurt is laughing at least. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' "Whit?" It's a reaction that's not uncommon out of Wolfsbane, with or without Kurt around. When she's confused or caught off-guard, by surprise, it tends to be her first response. Sure enough, as she looks over a shoulder, she sees the oversized Pac-Man, about as big as one would expect for two people needing to be on the run. "Where in th' world did ye come up wi' this idea?" she demands to know. But, she's running. 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' "I'm put on surveillance a lot! It get's boring!" He's moving on all fours, leaping to grab bars, bounce off a side wall, over a gap. It keeps shifting, adjusting, swinging and doing all he can to keep ahead of the dreaded *Wakka-Wakka-Wakka* behind them. "It adapts! Use everything you have!" at one point Kurt has to teleport, grab, swing, teleport, and then hip slide to get through a point that changes to create a barrier allowing for someone only half Rahne's size to be able to get through, unless she was smaller. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' It's been a while since she did a real Danger Room session, and while the technology of the place never fails to impress her with its realism, it's easy for Wolfsbane to forget about some of the ways it can truly be used. "Everything?" She's had to use some of her speed and agility, which is not that far off from Kurt's, to get through some of the obstacles, but one forces her to consider for just a moment before shifting to a wolf so she can wriggle her way through. 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' "Everything!" Kurt says before he is hit by... well more or less a punching glove in the shape of a hunk of brick wall concealed in other. Bouncing and rolling with a coughing sound, he's forced to teleport again to get out from under set of slashing bars that rake the area he was just in. "We'll need to team up too, when it gets used to both of us!" he's still excited, and part of his maneuvers have placed him along her side." he's breathing a little harder, from the exertion of porting, but he looks no less excited. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' Wolfsbane is going more on instinct, just using what she knows and is capable of to keep moving, to prevent that big Pac-Man from gaining any ground. Is this what the ghosts felt like when he had the power-up going, chasing them down to gobble them up? Her eyes go wide at the needed teleport to avoid the bars that cut through where he'd been, calling out, "Whit setting did ye put this a'? Tha' looked dangerous!" 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' "I put it at standard for someone with a healing factor." He appears without warning and states, "Be a wolf! before he's rolling back to monkey flip her over him towards a hole in the blockage big enough if her were tucked up tight or if she were in the appropriate form. He keeps going, teleporting if she needs his help or if she's safe, tail lashing excitedly. Little thrill seeker. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' He is the thrill-seeker. She is not. "For someone wi' a healing factor?" She'd already returned to her midform so she could talk, but it looks like it's wolf time again before she's being tossed toward the hole. She twists and turns herself so she can fit through it, springing further ahead after getting her paws beneath her. This is the way she stays for now, which has the direct result of her being silent for the time being. Maybe if Pac-Man tries to bite her, she'll bite back. 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' "Ja, you heal - not like Logan, but you heal!" laughing still as he keeps pace with her. Letting his body stretch out with each stride, leaping forward to twist and spin through a swing of bars and what might have been a blade to hit in a roll and keep going full tilt. "Slow point coming! Bark twice or call if you need me for help! I'll just hollar!" Boy is enjoying himself immensely though, that's for certain. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' Wolfsbane doesn't want to have to heal from a Danger Room session. Besides, it's all meant to be simulated anyway, from what she remembers. She does get to show just how quick and nimble she can be as a wolf, which not many get the chance to witness, but she keeps to that form and doesn't call out in any way. There's a duck under something that swings out at her from above, then she leaps over another obstacle that pops out to try to grab her from both sides. 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' "Hundred more yards. It's going to get hard." Kurt's warning is on time for him to yelp and teleport when what looks like a block the size of a classic VW Bug hits where he just was, and then he is wacked in the ribs even as he reappears, knocked to his side and forced into a roll that is setting him up now for worse to happen without help. Two toed feet scraping on the ground, Kurt does his level best to try and get his bearings. There's another swinging bar coming at him now. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' Wolfsbane covers the entire ground without shifting back to normal, maybe as much to prove a point that she can do it that way as any other reason. The way she looks back at him as he reacts to the hit he takes..well, if a wolf could emote a 'you asked for it' expression, this one is. 'Now what?' seems to be her current look. 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' One more teleport gets him to the ground alongside Rahne, and regardless of her being a wolf, with big fangs and pointy death feets, the fuzzy blue elf gives a sigh and curls up with his head against her flank. A little rest - for getting whonked so hard at the end. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' Wolfsbane kept up a solid pace, even able to climb over some of the obstacles without needing to shift. She had to over-exert herself a few times, but got through in one piece. There's a nudge from her snout when Kurt moves in for a little cuddle, though her body language shows that this was not entirely expected given her current form. She's still looking around the room as if expecting another danger to pop up. Could it be she misunderstood what he said about the distance? 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' It's only a moment but he nods and points to Pac-Man still coming and then towards the end of the pathway where it's all bright colors and flashing lights. "Run." He rolls and takes off again with a hiss to his breaths from the damage to his side... And then there is something like an anvil falling towards where he had cuddled up for that brief moment. "Not much room to stop!" Kurt leaps to grab a floating panel with his feat and then ape swings hard to pick up momentum, teleporting behind himself to build speed for an extra little jolt. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' And then it all starts up again, getting increasingly difficult with narrower ledges, tighter spots, closer calls. Wolfsbane just reacts, even if she scrabbles and slips a few times, picking herself back up to race on ahead again. She doesn't have the teleportation on her side to help, but she's fast. Very, very fast. Along the way, she has little choice but to go back to her midform because some of the obstacles require climbing she can't otherwise pull off, and as soon as there comes a moment where it seems Kurt's bruised side - or whatever it is - slows him any, there she is to actually grab him any way she has to in order to drag /him/ along! 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' Lifted, with a blink when she takes him off his feet, there's a surprised laugh. Looking over her shoulder and then ahead, Kurt keeps an eye on the obstacles as they grow more complex. "Think we'll need to port?" looking back and forth again. Waiting for her say so, to give her warning to brace. There's blades coming, swinging arms... Hell it looks like a bear trap 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' "If ye have tae," Wolfsbane answers, and the look on her face as her head swivels toward Pac-Man then back to him is a wilder one, an idea percolating. "I'm gaunae toss ye," is all she says before he'll feel her hands at shoulder and side, a few running steps taken before she goes to lanch him over the arms that go back and forth, which would let him land, however he does, beyond. As for her, she ducks, rolls, and leaps her way past after timing the motion of the weaponry, giving him a chuff of some kind on the way past. "Ye're no' always gaunae be there tae teleport." 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' A flip, twist and turn to land solidly and limp-sprint on with the pain in his side not aided by his burst of laughter. "Maybe not! But I'm not always to have someone to throw me no?" tail lashing around a pole to pull him forward and up, yards away from the finish, diving beneath saw blades and sliding again to leap over juttering floor posts. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' Wolfsbane took no real heed of the side injury. After all, he made the thing for those with healing factors, then got himself hurt. As Pac-Man closes in, she faces another set of obstacles that are more random in their patterns. If there was more time, she might figure them out. Instead, she has to push through and does grimace from a slice down her right bicep, superficial but enough to draw her attention. As she races forward, she flexes that hand a few times and shakes it off as best she can, giving Kurt a sharp look as they come to the end. 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' Kurt leaps an reappears in the finishing zone to Gary Glitter playing in the Danger Room. Rock and Roll Part II. Tail flicking and snapping to the beat as he hits and lays in the safe zone, the holographics changing to fireworks going off all around them, disco ball reflections and bright lights. "I always love this part..." laying on his back, staring into the simulated sky. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' As soon as things come to an end, safety found, the music playing and the lights going off, the wolfen mutant merely shakes her head and thumps Kurt in his good side with a foot on the way past. "Tha' was too dangerous for muh first time in here in I'm no' sure how long." She /seems/ at least somewhat miffed, if none the worse for wear. 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' "Mrmmm... It's good for you. Blood is pumping right?" Chuckling at the thump to his side, remaining laid down he motions for her to come close, glowing gold eyes turned to watch her with a dreamy adoration to coincide with the dopey smile curving his features to something more elf than demon spawn. Kurt's tail still flicks in time with the music, razor teeth in his smile. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' Wolfsbane /is/ breathing heavily, for the exertion and the need to improvise and react was there. Same with the sting along her arm, which may or may not be any more than just something from the simulation, something that feels more real than it is. "Ye're lucky more o' yuirs isna pumping all over th' place," she retorts with a huff, yet she ends up watching him in spite of his beckoning, studying the look on his face, his laid-back body language, the grin, the motion of the tail...and a small part of her sniffs and smiles in spite of herself. 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' A hand reaches up to place his fingers against her cheek when she smiles and Kurt leans up to bump his nose to hers, rubbing gently as he gets his heartbeat beating at the regular. "What do you say we go and hit that fish and chips place you like next, after we have a shower and we have medical check out your arm.... and my ribs." stealing a little smooch while he was at it. "Maybe I'll come up with more scenarios, ja?" laying his head back unless she stops him at the last. 

:'''{{#var:1251|Wolfsbane (1251)}} has posed:''' Wolfsbane hmfs, gently facepalming Kurt with a hand of her own following the touch of noses..and lips. "I could go for th' food, but I dinna need this looked at. It's just a cut. I'll be fine. But next time, maybe we'll do something wi' th' safeties on." She's pacing, not really paying attention to the fireworks or the disco ball lights or the music. 

:'''{{#var:169|Kurt Wagner (169)}} has posed:''' Laughing as she pushes his face away, "No fun in that, no learning. Safeties are for students. I've been shot. I can handle a whack in the ribs." Kurt beams and starts to lead for the door of the danger room "Let go get you fed, maybe then you'll let me be cutesy with you." tail bending in a rough heart shape behind him. 
}}

10905/Superheroines, Chimps, and all that Jazz.

2020-01-28T14:48:19Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/28 |Location=Music Center - Salem Center |Synopsis=Chimp gets his Jazz on. |Cast of Characters=9191,16 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:'''{{..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/28
|Location=Music Center - Salem Center
|Synopsis=Chimp gets his Jazz on.
|Cast of Characters=9191,16
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp comes walking up to the shop. He stubs his cigar out in the side of the building at the door. Once out pocketing the remains of it in one of his coat pockets. He will walk in with the ring of the bell at the door short enough some may not see anyone come in. He looks about the place before starting to head towards the counter. "Pardon me, talking chimp coming through." He will say to a cluster of people who end up staring a bit longer than they should as he makes his way towards the counter. 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue lives above the music center store in one of four apartments up there. But she's often down here interacting with her friends here in Salem Center. She's here now, but not at the front of the store. She's in the back talking to some of the members of a local band about their gig this Wednesday night at the small sports center here in Salem Center (A lot of things end with Center in this town). When the chimp walks in and talks, the man at the counter near the front of the store looks up from his phone and gawks for a second. AFter all... how could you not. "Uh. Hi there, fella." The store clerk says, a man in his mid to late twenties with a big belly and poofy curly red hair. "What can I help you with?" He asks, sounding like he's not sure if he's going crazy or not. 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp looks over to the man, and will climb up a stool near the counter, to look the man a bit more in the eye and says "A friend of mine told me, you might have a copy of Guy Warren's Africa Speaks America Answers. I have been looking for the original vinyl from 57 for a bit, and your my most recent lead. " He will tell the man. The chimp seems rather used to the looks now. "I was hoping the lead was true, and you have a copy for sell?" 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue finishes up her conversation in the back near the small stage where bands practice and perform here. She starts toward the front of the store with her jacket slung through her left arm and her hands in her jeans pockets. She stops when she sees the... Chimp and can hear the last bit of his request there. The man behind the counter is about to respond when the phone rings and its the call he's been waiting for. "I need to... take this..." "Its cool, I'll show, him where it is." Rogue says with a grin as she steps over to them. The clerk nods to Rogue and thanks her. Rogue looks down to the Chimp and she smiles at him. "Hey there, Mistah. My name's Marie." She says then. "Thats a... unusual album you're lookin' for. I seen it in here a few months ago and gave it a listen. Come on, I'll show you where it is." 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp looks the lady over, and says "Bobo, but most just call me Chimp." He will tell her. He hopes off the stool with ease, and says "It is a bit of a hard one to find, I missed it when it first came out and been trying to find a copy of it for a while now." He seems to act as it a talking chimp is just your normal everyday thing. "It is a good piece, heard some of it once live, but not a lot of recordings of it." To hear is live the chimp would need to be at least in his 50s, and he does not seem it. 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' "Bobo, huh?" Rogue asks. "Chimp sounds a bit demeaning. I mean, I wouldn't wanna be called 'Human'." Rogue grins down at him as they walk through the store aside one another, her jacket now held in front over both of her hands. "How about Bob? Anyone ever call ya that?" She asks with a sly grin. "Suits ya, in my opinion." Rogue leads the Chimp to a glass door near the back middle of the store that goes back into the vinyl section. Its a huge library of shelves filled with albums in vinal and CD. "Physical media's goin' away fast, as ya know. But we're a bit of a... cross roads here between Manhattan and big cities like Boston so we get a lot of stuff brought." Rogue isn't an employee here, she just is good friends with those who are. She leads him to the shelf that she'd seen it on and stands there before it, searching. "I seen it here... lets see... back in October?" 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp smiles and says "Well, Chimp is part of the name I use professionally." He will offer her a card as they walk "Detective Chimp, it helps to draw attention, plus if someone walks into the office and are shocked when they see me I can be It's on the card." He offers a grin and says "Na, but I will answer to it, but lets face it, not many gentlemen will argue with you calling them anything." He chuckles and looks over the shelves with a nod a bit to this "Yea, have been thinking recently about putting all my vinyl into storage making a totally back up digitally. A place I can listen to the originals if I want but where they are stored safe. 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue accepted the card and looked it over with a small grin. She has a dark maroon colored wool knit cap on over her head and her dark brown / pure white bangs are held flat down against the sides of her head and face where they pour down over her shoulders. "Detective, huh?" Rogue slips the card into the back pocket of her jeans and goes back to searching for the record. "Sounds pretty cool. Glad you're not here searchin' for me then. I'm innocent, I swear it!" She laughs lightly then. She listens to the rest of what he says, glancing over when he says the part about what she can get away with naming guys. "Charmer Chimp, is what they should call ya. Clearly!" Her green eyes go back to the shelves and she finds the record by its red and white faded label. "There it is." She states, using her right gloved hand to pull it out of the lineup of other albums. She turns it over and looks at it, then offers it to him. "Lotsa African tribal music. All yours now." 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp will take it, and is gentle with it as he pulls the vinyl from the cover giving it a careful look over and says "Interesting Jazz and tribal combination, and something makes me think the whole innocent thing might be a bit of a fib there young lady." He does offer her a grin at this. "So what's your preferred music?" 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' The mention of it being Jazz and Tribal does make Rogue tilt her head. "I'm gonna have t'look that stuff up and give it more of a listen than I did last time, I think." She responds to him before she grins at the 'fib' part being a lie. "A lady never speaks on such things, Mistah." She says in that thick Southern Belle flavored accented voice of hers. She leans over lightly against the big shelves of records on her left to touch her shoulder to it. "I generally listen t'all kindsa things. Classic Rock would probably be the one I'd label myself with most. Though I like country and even some hip hop and pop, if its not... if its not too damn iritatin'." She grins again. "Gotta taste a song an' see if its worth enjoyin' or spittin' back out." 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp looks to her, and says "Most music has at least some redeeming qualities of it. Now I will admit sometimes people want to call noise music.' He jokes a bit and says "There a player around where I can give her a listen before buying it?" He will ask the lady and says "A bit of southern rock come to life?" He will ask her 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue laughs softly then to his words. "I'll admit, Jazz isn't my specialty. I admire it though and sometimes its whacky-beats can be fun, but I don't ever go outta my way t'throw it on." She starts to turn to move back to the glass door they'd come in through. "There's a record player right up here near the entrance." She says as they move back down the aisle. "I'd say 'Don't Fear the Reaper' or 'House of the Rising Sun' are probably my favorite songs. Though hell, there's so many its hard t'limit it down t'just two, ya know?" She grins then as they reach the table where there's two record players. One old one and one much much newer model. 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp will look the two players over and even checking the needles of them. He picks the one that currently has the better needle for condition of the record. He puts the record on to play. He is rather careful, but is standing on foot. He grabs one of the headsets with the other foot offering it to the lady "The Jazz halls back in the day were one of the few places, I could go and only get a dozen odd looks in the first hour or so of being there. Anywhere else pretty much was constant." 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue leans her right hip against the table that the record players are on and she accepts the offered headset with a grin. "Thanks." She says quietly as she places them up over her ears just enough to hear the music but also still hear him, with the headrest of the set laying down against her collar bone, rather than having it up over her head. "Sorry t'hear that, but also not really surprised. Ya know?" She comments about the odd looks he says he gets. "We live in a world where wild things can, and do, happen all the damn time. But the majority'a folks still act like they're baffled by it. I think its gettin' better, but... its a slow ride, ya know? Ya seem t'handle it in stride though, which is great." She smiles at him then and glances over the record players herself for a moemnt, not really ever using actual records... she's a youngin' in 2028 after all. 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp smiles and says "Well have had a bit of time to develop the skills needed for it, even if I still get pissed off at times he admits. He seems to know his way around the player as he is over three times her age. "Some places yea, some not so much. Interesting thing though to be honest, used to be stereotypically the south where you dealt with people not willing to look beyond themselves, but now though the amount seems to be less, seems a lot more throughout in general. 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' As the music plays, Rogue is reminded of how uniquely... unique it is, but she likes that kind of thing so its amusing in the moment, fun even. She looks over to the Chimp Man she's holding a conversation with and grins lightly, nodding in agreement with him. "I don't think its so much about the region'a the world, as it is about the frequency'a 'odd things' that they're exposed to. Though customs and traditions will play inta that also. Like in Japan you can insult someone if ya go inta their house with your shoes on, apparently, and if thats the case they probably don't care if you're Human or Chimp, you'll just piss'em off either way if ya ignore their customs. Ya know?" 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp hmms and says "Maybe I should start eating Japanese more often since about half the new places I go use the whole no shoes as an excuse to get rid of me." He nods a bit listening to the music and seems to approve of the records quality. The world has made a lot of improvements in the last couple decades, but it needs a bit longer. 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue just has to release a snicker to that diet change comment, she shakes her head side to side. "Don't get crazy on me now, Bobo." She taunts him in a good natured sort've way. As the music rolls on though she speaks up again. "Quality sounds good t'me, but what do I know? I think records were already rare in the world by the time I was even born." She grins more then, still holding her jack draped over her hands in front of her as she leans against the table. "Sound like you're gonna buy it though? Its pretty cool music. Certainly its own flavor! Least it is t'my ears." 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp nods and says "I think it sounds pretty good quality." He will pull a flask from his jacket taking a swig. He looks around a moment before offering it to the woman. "Oh around home I have my regular haunts, but with the job I end up out and about a lot, so sometimes finding a place that will serve me besides drive through can be a pain. 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue watches the flask get brandished and the Chimp take a swig of it. IT makes her grin because just... well the whole thing is just visually amusing on so many levels. Its like a living Meme right in front of her. She accepts the flask too with her left gloved hand. "Thanks." She asks as she raises it up to sniff it and see whats inside. She then takes a sip from it, though she's not great with liquor she still is experienced even if she's barely even 21. "Whew. Thats strong." She says as she offers it back. "You'd be welcomed at Harry Hideaway near here. Its a pub for Mutants." She probably assumes he's a mutant too in fact. "But they're closed for a few more days, doing some... repairs, after my birthday party there." Now she grins again. 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp 's brow will raise a bit and says "You done went and broke a pub on your birthday impressive." He tells her. He does file away that the woman has just probably told him she is a mutant, and he will offer in return "I have found with the more mutant friendly places they are closer to being talking chimpanzee friendly as well. That or just assume I am a mutant as well. He takes another sip of the flask when it is handed back "So I aint breaking any laws giving you a sip, good thing. 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue just grins at the insinuation that she destroyed the bar. "Nah, wasn't me. Some holigans broken in afterward. It was a big mess." She exhales then. "In fact I was on my way over there t'help'em with the cleanup and fix up when I saw ya at the counter and recognized the..." She points at the record cover. "Fine tunes you were lookin' for." She looks back at him then and nods her head with a small smile. "I'm twenty one now though, so no worries, Mistah Detective. You're not gettin' in no trouble for sharin' booze with me." 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp looks over and says "You need some help finding the guys who broke into it, I am a pretty god detective If I do say so myself." He will put the record away and is ready yo pay for it. He hmms and seems to think a moment "Any suspects right off the top? 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' A slow grin forms over Rogue's lips as the Chimp asks that question and she just gently dips her chin in a single slow nod. "I'm sure you are. I..." Her eyes look over and up as she tries to choose her words. "I got some pretty capable friends though." She then states as she puts her pale greens back on to his Chimpy face. "We'll get it sorted out, I'm pretty confident anyhow. But hey! I got your card now. So if it all goes south, I'll know who t'ring!" And she flashes him a grin again. 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp nods, and says "Well if you need any help you know how to contact me, and gotta admit not a fan of folks busting up a good drinking spot. I mean a bar fight is one thing and can break up a boring night, but just coming in to wreck a place, that sucks ass." 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue just grins at this and raises a hand up to swipe her white bangs out of her face. "I hear ya there. Bar fights are my kinda night out." She states in a good natured way. "But yeah, this was somethin' way more sinister. But its still playin' out, so we gotta see how it all falls down." She pauses then and motiosn to him. "Did ya drive here? Or got like one'a those self drivin' cars or somethin'? My car does that. Its a heck've nice feature." 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp chuckles a bit and says "Bus to get to the area, considering an uber to get home, but I am not sure yet. I mean taking something like this on the bus could be pretty bad, mind you often I get a row to myself. " He grins and says "Could give them one of these." He makes the monkey showing their teeth faces "Sure that would save a seat beside me. 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue has to laugh at the face that he shows her and she takes a feigning step back to show an act of fright. Her left hand comes up to press against the middle of her chest to help emphasize it. "My my. Nearly gave me a heart attack, ya did there, Bobo." She hams it up a bit, flourishing her Southern accent up to accompany it. "Well, we'll get ya bag t'carry this here album in so nobody can see what it is and wanna pilfer it from ya. But if you're a Detective, I imagine ya're used t'some measure'a danger, huh?" 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp nods his head and says "Well probably not as much as you would think unless you count people upset you caught them cheating on their wives or something." He will move to walk with her, and says "So, since you don't work here miss Marie, may I ask what you do? 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue steps out of the record library with him and starts toward the front of the store with the Chimp at her side. She grins at the question. "I'm between jobs at the moment. I was finishin up a degree in teaching but I got side tracked by a few things and didn't sign up for any classes this semester. I was workin' as a Teachin' Assistant, but I've gone and put that off for now too. I'll get back t'all'a that someday, but I gotta get some other stuff done first." Rogue waves to a few people down one of the aisles in the store that are watching her... and a chimp walk past. 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp nods a bit to this and says "So teaching something you think you want to do in the long run, but something else has drawn your attention for now?" He resists to give the staring people the fang face as the walk. Once at the counter he pulls out his wallet, and starts counting out cash. 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' "I know, I sound like a mysterious nut." Rogue tells the chimp then as they reach the front counter and the clerk is still on the phone but he's able to do the checkout process just fine. So Rogue continues, crossing her arms over her stomach now with her jacket held over her forearms. "I used t'be with the Avengers, down in Manhattan. But I had t'back out cause'a family stuff. That was just about a year ago, little over actually, but that family stuff is still goin' on. So its... its complicated, and frustratin', but we'll get it taken care of." She grins lightly as she looks from the Chimp to the Clerk and then nods once. "Looks like you got your rare record! I hope ya enjoy it." 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp nods, and says "Yea, big teams can be a bit of a hassle, it is why I am only part time with the Justice League." Is the chimp making a joke? "Well seriously if you need any help let me know, my closest office is either the one in jersy or gotham, but I am pretty sure I can find my way back up this way pretty easily. 

:'''{{#var:16|Rogue (16)}} has posed:''' Rogue gives the Chimp another one of her lovely smiles and another quick nod of her head. "I'm glad t'have met a crackpot Detective t'day then. Not to mention one that the good god damn Justice League is hirin' for jobs. Cause if thats the case? WEll then, sugah? You must be able t'find anything!" She grins again and shakes her head from right to left. "I don't think there's a super hero team on the planet thats as exclusive and powerful as that one is after all. So yeah, you can count on it, if I need someone or something sniffed out, I know who t'find. Mistah Bobo!" 

:'''{{#var:9191|Detective Chimp (9191)}} has posed:''' Detective Chimp smiles a bit and says "Well there are a few of us but thank you miss Marie. 
}}

10904/TK Check-UP

2020-01-28T14:48:09Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/28 |Location=Classroom - Xavier's School |Synopsis=Brad checks in with Betsy about TK and teen life stuff. |Cast of Characters=9175,18 |pre..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/28
|Location=Classroom - Xavier's School
|Synopsis=Brad checks in with Betsy about TK and teen life stuff.
|Cast of Characters=9175,18
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' The classroom is ... active. There are paper airplanes all over the place, circling around like a tornado of colors: they're on origami paper, and a closer look will show that they aren't just paper airplanes: there are cranes, and some other critters mixed in! They aren't well-folded, some of them are positively mangled, but the effort is there. Brad's present, and in an unusual way: he's visible. He's seated at one of the far desks, with some of the papers in a pile near him. Just that he's clearly visible, sitting with his cheek propped on one hand, eyes sort of staring into space through the glasses he has on, is a lot different than the former invisibility. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' Thankfully, Betsy spent very little time in classrooms these days. Her domain was more in the gym or training rooms, helping folks with their martial arts training. It was a niche she found far more satisfying than teaching Englist to people who didn't even use it. American was far different from her native tongue. She had offered to pick up a few things that were forgotten by one of her fellow teachers, returning to the building at a slot trot and rounding through the doorway. Which is where she stopped, a riot of color in a flying menagerie the first thing to catch her eye. In a lot of ways, it was lovely and she found herself smiling slightly. It took a moment before she spotted Brad in the corner, a face she knew well. "This is brilliant," she called out to let him know he wasn't alone. "Practicing, playing or something else?" 

:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' "Hi," Brad answers, orienting on her, with an automatic smile. ALL of the little paper bits freeze in the air where they are, which is fairly strange looking: stranger than the swirling behavior, really. "Practicing kind of. I'm trying to sort them by color, not just 'feel'. Which is really hard for me," Brad answers. "I'm trying to like - link the one I feel to the color I can see, and it's a little mind-bending," the boy continues. "---by that I mean I haven't really been able to do it very consistently yet." Brad's dressed simply: green hoodie, jeans, sneakers, and a backpack nearby where the papers presumably came from in a stack before he started to make airplanes. "Earlier I was trying to maintain the group flying while I folded, that also is really hard. I'm a little stuck on that one." 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "You'll get there," Betsy assures him as she walks further into the room, twisting or ducking to stay clear of the hovering bits of power. It was a lot more surreal when they were hanging there, nothing suspending them. Once she got to a desk the row over from him, she slipped into the chair there while continuing to face him. "It just takes a lot of time and patience. I personally have never had the level of control you already do. More a bull in a china shop," she added with a soft laugh. She nodded to the air littered with paper cranes. "This is and always will be impressive. Never forget that. It is good to see you," she said, stressing the visual cue. "Nice to see that is coming along as well." 

:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' Brad immediately blushes, with a confused and unsure grin. There's a quality to Brad of zero editing: he just looks exactly how he feels. There has been no reason to be self-aware of his expressions, since he's been invisible for so long, so all of what he's feeling is on high display on his face and with his body language. He shifts in his seat, fiddles with the paper in front of him, looks around and up at the paper bits. "I mean. Now that I can see them, it sort of puts it more in scope. It is neat. Thanks. And yeah. I'm trying to stay visible all the time, but that's a work in progress. But---" There's a pause, as he blushes a lot more, "I got to go see a movie." Pause. "With a girl." Pause. "Like normal people." Very important to him and he's very happy about it. "Only turned a little invisible during. But nobody saw. I mean. You know what I mean." 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' That gets the brightest of smiles from Betsy. She might laugh in delight for him but she doesn't want him to take it as her laughing at him for his admissions. "That's wonderful! So a momentary lapse while in the darkness but otherwise, visible for the entire event?" She uses event since it is a big thing, not just a minor moment that it might be for many teens. "You are normal people. With a few extras," she reminds him before doing what is expected. "So who did you go to the movie with and how did it go?" 

:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' "Yeah I had to take a little break so I just listened to that part of the movie," Brad rambles quickly, uncomfortable, but admitting his 'shortcoming'. "But I didn't poltergeist the room or anything, at least not more than a /little/." Brad fiddles with the edge of the paper. "I wanted to ask about the thing we did when we first met, you helped put something in, with telepathy, to help me? Maybe I don't need it anymore," Brad requests. He's avoiding the other topic a little, but perhaps just to think about it. The cranes and papers start to spin around again, but they avoid impact with Betsy. They just go in circles like a tornado, though some aren't pointed the right way: a few birds are flying ass-backwards. "I went with Gwen," Brad blushes. "Went okay. I'm not sure if we're dating. I dunno. Maybe? Maybe not. Definitely maybe." 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "Definitely maybe." It is very hard not to laugh but he is so uncomfortable and changing shades so often, she doesn't dare. Betsy gives a decisive nod, looking around to the bits of paper. Including the back-asswards ones. "If you want me to remove anything I've put in to help you, I'd be willing. Let you test it out. You always know I can put it back in later. Although it was more helping you work through your memories as opposed to me actually blocking anything. Is that what you would like to try?" she asks, focusing back to him in all seriousness now. 

:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' "Yeah, let me like? put this stuff somewhere so I don't make a mess," Brad answers. He starts to gather his papers up in front of him, stacking them without actively looking at them, but he uses his hands. The things whirling around starts to peel off in groups, and Brad makes a big pile on the floor in the front of the classroom, like a group of paper leaves that got all raked up into a blob. Brad puts his flat papers away into the backpack, and then nervously sits still in his chair, looking at her again. He has large, dark, concerned eyes, framed in blonde, light masculine lashes that give him a bit of an interesting aspect: just makes his dark eyes seem darker. "I don't know. I figured maybe no crutches or whatever. If it's shit - er, if it sucks, we put it back. But like. I guess I am not certain what you did anyway. I just want to do better. And stuff." 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "Very well. Just like last time, do you want to be able to feel my presence there? Or to see what I'm doing? Or just want me to take care of it?" Dealing with the privacy of the mind, it is best to ask those questions. No one wanted to have their mind tampered with anyone so some would prefer to 'feel' or 'see' what was happening at the hands of another. Or mind of another, more precisely. As she asked, the light glow of the purple butterfly formed around her eyes. She wasn't going on yet but was prepared, depending on his answer. 

:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' "Ummmm," Brad says, uncertainly. "I felt it last time and it felt really weird. So maybe this time just undo the thing and I'll be trusting," Brad laughs. He's uncomfortable but he's giving a very good effort to be less paranoid and terrified of even small shadows. A glance into his head will reveal his fear, but the bravery there too, of not quite knowing what to expect or if he'll feel it after all, like being at the dentist and promised it won't hurt. But it might hurt. Brad suddenly disappears, though, the stress pushes him invisible, and he makes a rueful little sound but doesn't try to reappear. "I'm okay. Anytime." 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' As soon as he gives the go ahead, despite being afraid of letting her in, Betsy quickly reaches out her mind to his. There is no pain, no feeling, no sensation for him. She's just sitting in her chair with that nimbus around her eyes. In his mind, it was a quick matter to reach the centers of his emotions. His problems had come from trying to hold on too tight. Sometimes the tigher one held, the hard it was to keep control of an item. He had to learn that balance. She had placed a few buffers, making it less difficult for him to curb those focus tendencies. They were wiped away from his mindscape with a thought. Then she was out. "There. All done. I just had a few buffers in place so that when you would try to concentrate too hard on yourself, they would lessen it. Now it will be all you and your consciousness. It shouldn't be any different from your point of view though." 

:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' Brad reappears visibly. He has a scrunchy-nose expression on his face. The room flutters a little bit. "---Okay. Unsure. Unsure if I feel something or I'm just nervous about feeling something so I'm feeling something, but I'm visible, so that's enough for me right now," Brad says, with a sharp little laugh and nervous pat of his hands on the top of the desk he's sitting in. Some paper airplanes have lifted back up in a mottled disarray of movement from the pile: less deliberate, maybe. "Seems okay. I mean. Not too bad," Brad assures. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "it should be fine. Your confidence in your powers are growing and you are facing those fears instead of letting them fester in the back of your mind. Those are really the biggest challenges you faced so excellent work," Betsy compliments. She pointedly does not look at the few bits of paper which have started floating. He needs to focus on the positive. Besides, that was trivial compared to the challenge he was conquering even now: Remaining visible all on his own. "Your focus is on point." She watches him a moment then nods. "Want to give it a few minutes to be certain?" 

:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' "I'm not sure, I mean, I'm moving crap in the room," Brad comments, embarrassed. He closes his eyes tightly and puts both hands over his face, pressing into his eye sockets with his palms. "Let me try and deliberately do that on purpose," he sighs. That means desks lift and rotate a little, shuddering. It's a creepy poltergeist result, as most of Brad's actual power use ends up being. But he's clearly trying to methodically take grip on objects instead of just mayhem. The desks sink back down, but there's still a sort of fluttering of papers. "Sorry," he huffs, still with his palms on his face. His emotions are not easy for him to control. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "There is nothing to be sorry for. You are doing well, Brad. This is far different from when you first arrived at the school. You will not be perfect. None of us are." Betsy shakes her head a little. Outwardly, watching him, she just seemed interested. Inwardly, it was an odd thing to watch but he was doing so much better than he seemed to think. Thus her encouraging him. "Just be glad it isn't telepathy," she added with a teasing smile. "Nothing like hearing the thoughts of everyone in preparatory school all at once before figuring out how to shield myself." 

:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' Brad laughs, still not bringing his hands away. "Yeah, at least this way I'm just guessing what people think of me, instead of being sure about it," Brad laughs, but he does finally lower his hands and look at them, in a sort of grounding manner. Things do flutter, but it starts to ease, as he calms down. "What was that like? Hearing all of that? Was it just suddenly, and everybody was there?" Brad starts to move the bits of paper towards the trash cans in the room. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' Betsy thinks back and gives a shake of her head. "Not at first. It was more whispers. I would hear things when no one was around. It was me picking up other people in the house but to me, I honestly thought I was hearing voices. Suspected I was going crazy," she admits, glancing down a moment before focusing those violet eyes back on him. "Then when I was around my family, it was like I could hear what they would think in response to things. I would act like they had answered verbally. Yet they had not." She folded one arm, resting it on the table in front of her as she continued. "I started to realize what it was, starting to play with it. To control it. But when emotional? I couldn't maintain control and suddenly I heard everything. Think of a restaurant that is filled to the brim and everyone in there is talking loudly. That was going on in here." She tapped her temple. "And it was the thoughts of people. It took a long time to reach a point where I could control it almost without thinking. It's like a muscle that is always clenched but, I'm so used to it, I have to consciously release that hold now to be able to use my telepathy. Sometimes things get through the walls. Other times, it is like the whispers from my childhood are back, there at the back of my mind but not quite able to be understood." 

:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' Brad sighs, "Yeah, originally I thought we had ghosts. Haunted, you know? Of course." Brad points directly towards the march of paper cranes towards the trash can. It's more comical than poltergeist at the moment, since he's arranged them into lines like they are in queue for a trash-can version of noah's arc. It's probably intentional: his unintentional stuff is just all over the place, not in ordered lines or patterns. "But over time it does get better. Right?" Brad begs her for a yes with his dark eyes. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "Most definitely. After a couple of years, I was quite skilled with my telepathy." Betsy gave a look around, as though about to impart a great secret. "I was also slightly insufferable. I was so full of myself and thought I had the right to use my gift. My moral compass was sadly askew. My family helped me through that. My brother. Friends. I learned that having the power doesn't mean I should abuse it." She thought a moment before continuing. "Once I had that figured out, the world opened for me. I have had a career as a pilot, a model, now as an instructor here." She waves her hand toward the building around them. "I tend to be an adrenaline junkie, as they call it. Action. Movement. Danger. Adventures. I ate it all up, putting myself into circumstances that probably were stupid looking back now." She gave a bright smile. "But yes, it got better. Once you get more comfortable with your control you will be able to remember that you are you. Not your powers. Not your gifts. You are still a person and not this ability you possess. Then you will be able to truly start to live." A twinkle in her eye. "Though with your date, seems you may be already starting to learn that." 

:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' PHOOM goes the blush. "Well. Huh. Mmm." Brad laughs a little, and recovers, "So long as she thinks that. I mean. I think so. I didn't ask." He feels ridiculous, and starts to get to his feet, picking up his bookbag. His cheeks are so hot. "I sorta wanted to be back to what I was. Before I got abilities. So it's more like the opposite for me. I am me, but not a broken me, anymore. Maybe just a little dented." Brad ducks his head, and switches out to invisible, though some of his clothes remain. He then cloaks entirely, including the bookbag. "I'm all blushing, I know." BLAH. "I gotta go though. Thank you, Ms. Braddock." The voice is disembodied, but he hasn't gone anywhere yet. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "You are very welcome, Brad. I am sorry I embarassed you. It was meant to lighten the moment, not make you uncomfortable," Betsy explains. She rises to her feet as well. A brief momentary probe with her mind to confirm where he is standing then she heads for the front desk, the location that had been her intended target upon her arrival. She opened a drawer to take out a book. "You know you can come to me if you need help with anything. Perhaps you'll even sign up for martial arts classes." 

:'''{{#var:9175|Brad Sawyer (9175)}} has posed:''' "It's okay," Brad says from invisible spot, but he comes along, moving towards the door finally. "Martial arts - I don't know. I feel like I'd rather not touch anybody. I probably can throw somebody back with my ability. I haven't harmed anybody with it before. I don't know that I want to," the boy says, lingering in the doorway, but then coughing. "Okay, I'm going. Thanks, um. ..... Thanks." And with that, there's silent sounds of him actually going. 
}}

10901/Coney Island Odyssey

2020-01-28T14:47:58Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/27 |Location=Coney Island |Synopsis=Life's about the journey, and it can go in many ways. |Cast of Characters=1425,93 |pretty=yes }} {{Pose..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=Coney Island
|Synopsis=Life's about the journey, and it can go in many ways.
|Cast of Characters=1425,93
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' Coney Island was the kind of place that would attract all walks of life. There were locals, tourists, business people, families, homeless beggars, and even a priest doing some kind of contortionist act in an effort to raise money for the church, or at least that's what the plastic sign he set down near the collection box said, and he was wearing the white collar. Eddie was standing in the crowd, watching the man do his thing, ice cream cone in hand. It was a chocolate flavoured cone, with chocolate ice cream, covered in chocolate sprinkles, and had a circular piece of solid chocolate that looked almost like a tree trunk stuck into the cone. Yes, the symbiote had needs, even in this weather. While he was watching the priest, a little ways down the way, there was a man dressed in a hard hat, blue jeans, and a white t-shirt, brown jacket, looking very much like a construction worker, as he argued with a man in a cheap looking suit, glasses, and a clipboard. Today, Eddie had chosen to wear a black leather coat over a t-shirt with Captain America's shield on it, with comfortable blue jeans, and black and white Adidas sneakers below. He also had a very nice looking Ushanka, a Russian fur cap with flaps that can be tied, though he's left it undone. 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' Another figure moved through the crowd, watching the act with interest. She did walk close enough to drop a bill in the collection box before shifting back to the edge of the semi circle around the show. Her hair was black, falling straight down to just below her shoulders. Her eyes were brown. Yet, Eddie would know that face. Being this was not a mission that was hugely sensitive, Natasha wasn't wearing a face-mesh that would alter her appearance. Instead, it was her face. Just not something most people would notice standing out in a crowd on Coney Island. She had on an oversized parka style coat with faux fur lining to keep herself warm. Dress slacks and a pair of knee high boots with a short heel. 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' Eddie's sight was limited to his own field of view, but the symbiote could see in all directions, and it spotted Natasha through its body, which currently made up the clothes he wore. It spoke to him in his mind, 'Eddie, Natasha's over there, and she's a brunette now. I don't like it.' Eddie turned in the direction indicated, and he whispered to himself, "I think it's nice." And then an old woman asked Eddie, "what's nice, young man, and who are you talking to?" Eddie would have thought she'd have hearing problems, but it seemed the old woman's ears were as sharp as ever. Stammering a little, "er, the act, I think his act is nice." But the woman wouldn't have it, asking again, "who were you talking to?" Oh great, Eddie was in one of those situations. He tried to explain, "it's okay, don't worry about it." And while Eddie was having that conversation, the worker not too far way shoved the man in the cheap looking suit. It wasn't too clear what it was over, but that one seemed to be escalating quickly. 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' As the sound of raised voices were heard, Natasha turned her head that direction but then went back to watching the show. None of her business. She was already on a task and she didn't need to blow her cover unless it was a matter of life and death. Course, knowing her luck? She began to move around the circle and through the crowd, getting herself a little closer to where the bickering pair were at. That's when the shove happened and she faded to the back of the audience where again, she might be able to act if she needed to. She really should just let them beat the hell out of each other. It was mostly a monitor and wait right now while keeping an eye on her target. 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' When Eddie finally manages to disentangle himself from the old woman, he tries to make his way through the crowd, and bumps into Natasha, it was one of those days, as well as a big burly man, big even by Eddie's standards. "Oh, sorry about that, N..." and with the black hair, he says after a pause, "Natalie, and you sir." The big guy looked like a body builder himself, even through the heavier winter clothing. You could just see, like how thick his neck was, how strong his hands looked. Thankfully, the symbiote had actually sent out a tiny discrete tendril to prevent the ice cream from hitting the man, so when he looked down at his coat, it was perfectly fine. "Don't worry about it." The man said in a gruff lower class accent. He was probably from Flushing in Queens. With that settled, Eddie asked, "how've you been? You look good." 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' "Good to see you," Natasha says with a bright smile as the man goes on his way since his suit is still ice cream free. She focused on Eddie though still keeping track of that kerfluffle behind them. How? Super spy stuff and decades of practice. More the decades of practice. "Like the new haircut?" she asked in a light tone, obviously joking since he knew her secret. 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' The symbiote whispered into Eddie's ear 'tell her I like you, the haircut is a bonus', and Eddie had a look that suggested the symbiote had just said something to him and he wasn't as good at hiding it as he'd care to admit, but he does so anyway, "I like you, but the haircut's a bonus." Meanwhile, the issues between the man in the cheap suit and the worker had been resolved as two other workers had separated them. The guy in the suit had a bloody nose, but he'd live. He might have actually broken the nose. An EMT or at least nurse would likely be on the way soon. 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' Speak of the devil, the on duty EMTs were on the way with their bags. They settled down with the man and were checking his injury. If needed, they would call for a transport to the local E.R. "Cute," was Natasha's response to the smooth compliment. She shook her head a little. "I used to be a brunette. Darker than this though. Black," she admitted. "Well, that's the way I wore it at least. In my earlier days. You should see some of the pictures from then. Too funny." Course, they would give away her ago she was not about to share them. Ever. "Ice cream what tempted you out to Coney?" she asked, turning to continue watching the contortionist. 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' The symbiote was Eddie's wingman, best friend, and pet monster, all in one. It gleefully said, 'I told ya' to Eddie. "A brunette, huh. Well, brown, black, blonde, red, white, blue, green, or purple, no matter what the colour, you look good. Though I reserve judgement on bald. I'm thinking that you could, but I'd have to see it first... pictures you say? I'd love to see 'em." Like there was any chance of that happening. "I swung by the neighbourhood, helped a guy moving some electronics," in other words, stopped a robbery, "and thought I hadn't been out this way in a while, plus, you know me and chocolate. Want some?" And then the symbiote said, 'that's ours!' in a loud, angry voice, "it's on me," he said, and gestured to the nearby vendor. The symbiote then added, 'we want seconds.' 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' "Could I have a double scoop rocky road?" Natasha asked as she got back to her spot on the side of the circle by the performer. It would give her a good view but wasn't too far from the vendor he had pointed to. "Kind of want to stay here and keep watching." Translation: Somewhere nearby was the person she was keeping an eye on and she didn't want to put too much distance between them. Hopefully he'd get it. "Waffle cone dipped in chocolate though, not a plain one," she added with a grin. 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' Eddie was a reporter. In some ways, his skill set overlapped with hers. What he lacked was knowing how to turn a wooden ladle into a deadly weapon, or how to pick a lock with a coat hang... actually, he probably knew that one. But she had a lot of skills that he lacked. So it was not surprising that he caught on to her being undercover, like when he quickly began calling her Natalie, figuring that would be her cover name in this. "Two scoops of rocky road, waffle cone dipped in chocolate, got it." And then the symbiote added in his head, 'we want one too! We want two too. Wait, your species doesn't have enough arms. I picked the wrong planet.' Shaking his head and laughing at what the symbiote had been saying, Eddie wandered over to get the order, returning after a few minutes. 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' "Thank you," Natasha said as she reached out a hand to take the offered cone. She took a quick taste of it before focusing on conversation again, while watching as the contortionist started to wrap up. He unfolded and began gathering his things, starting a walk around the circle of viewers as there was some light applause. They could add to the donation container her was carrying when he passed. Eddie and Nat would be the last two he passed. "I really hate when work interferes with fun though." She shook her head a bit. "Haven't seen you for a while. Last time was when you were walking out of SHIELD after recovering from your injury." 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' Eddie quickly finished the one he had been eating as the two new ones were prepared, so he returned to Natasha with a fresh one for himself, as well as her order. "You need to have more fun. My Bat sense is tingling and it tells me that you have a severe fun deficiency," he began waving his free hand, more holding it out, palm level to the ground, and wiggled it a little, "but there still is hope. There's a kernel buried in there, somewhere, we just have to bring it out." And when she brings up S.H.I.E.L.D., his state, "well, you know how it goes, you lose one measly kidney, a couple of ribs, and they start talking about you becoming an organ donor. But you know where you can find me. You're always welcome, Nat." Then he took a big bite of his cone, actually holding it in his mouth, so he could clap and rub his hands together, then grabbed the cone so he could speak. He has ice cream on his nose. "Now, where in Coney Island are we going to find something fun to do? There's got to be something around here." 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' As the contortionist went by, Natasha slipped a couple of bills into his basket. He tooks his final bows then gathered the rest of his things and started on his way. Natasha watched him a moment before reaching into her left pocket (which was her free hand) to pull out her phone. A quick scan of thumb and swipe of finger, it was open. "No, no fun ever. It just can't be. Too much work to do and bad guys to catch." She's speaking more openly even as there is a small blip on her phone. A quick glance will show what looks like a GPS map with a red dot moving along a path. "Good, the tracker is working." 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' Eddie was torn; on the one hand, he knew the contortionist priest was not a priest, but something of a con man. At least that's what his sources had said. Perhaps there was more to him than he thought. On the other hand, he did put on a good show. In the end, Eddie would slip a few bills into the basket as well, being careful to mind his own wallet before, during, and after. "All right, if I can't interest you in a go on the bumper cars, what about some late night surveillance? I brought the webbing." He offers, feeling more confident now that they were alone. He could be open about their identities. 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' "While I do have my own lines, it is nice to let someone else use up theirs instead. I hate using resources I might need later," Natasha admits. It's another thing from her training. Use resources sparingly, since she could never know when they might be a necessity to save her life. "Surveillance is my task tonight. To track our lovely performer back to his base of operations. Where hopefully I can get a look at his boss." She tilts her head slightly then nods to the roofline not far away. "Meet me on the roof over there in about five minutes? I need to change into something more comfortable." WHich would be work clothes. 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' Eddie gave a knowing nod. He produced his webbing himself. It was something he would rather not think about, but in a way, that ice cream he had been eating would become webbing. "Then it is mine as well." Looking up to get a good view of the rooftop, he nodded his head again, and would begin to walk off, having five minutes to kill; which meant having another ice cream cone. At least the symbiote was happy. A few minutes later he would be up there. It didn't take much effort; he could have climbed the wall, jumped much of it, or just fired off a webline. In the end, he decided to just climb. It was easier on the stomach after three ice cream cones. And when she arrived, his clothes would morph into that of Venom, though his face remained his own for now, looking very much like he wore a black suit for now. 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' It was Natasha's turn. She came up over the edge of the building, pulling herself up then twisting her wrist so the Widow's Line retracted back into her oversized wristbands. She was in her usual black suit, zipped up the front. It was insulated so she wasn't cold, despite it not being particularly thick. The wonders of modern technology. Her red hair was about the same length as the brown wig had been, falling loose. She pulled the phone out of a pocket on her belt. "Seems he is working his way to the west. Shouldn't be too long since he stayed on foot. I'm hoping." She tucked it away and glanced off. "That rooftop over there then we will wait to see which way he goes at the intersection." 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' "Much better," Eddie said when he got to see her red hair sans wig. It was a damn good wig. He wasn't even sure it was a wig until now. S.H.I.EL.D. always had the best toys. "Good," he said, getting down to business. He looked out at the direction he had been going, then back to her, so he can see where she points, and then he'll walk over to her, the Venom 'mask' coming over, but no teeth this time, just looking like it was a cloth mask. He grabbed her by the waist when she was ready and let out a webline to head in the direction she had gestured. Another line was needed, and soon they'd be up there to watch and observe. Once he let her down, the symbiote said, 'I want a Big Belly Burger!' And Eddie said, quietly, "you just ate, and we..." he looked to Natasha with a pained look, "want anything from Big Belly Burger, since this seems to be a stakeout now?" 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' "Are you seriously hungry again? You just had three ice cream cones," Natasha points out, unnecessarily. She gives a shake of her head as she glances to the phone while the target below turned left. A moment later and the blip was stationary. That didn't make sense. She peeked over the edge and there was no sign of him. Then she noticed the sewer grating lowring closed. "Goodie. Sewers. Should be able to track him still from up here for now at least. Not going down there unless I have to." She glanced over at him again. "Why not. A big belly burger with onion rings and a tea." 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' "What can I say, my other has a mind of its own." He wasn't about to leave her like this, and listened, "Sewers... not too bad. You get used to them." He nodded when she said she could track him from up here. "If you do need to move while I'm gone, how do I find you again?" He was going to get her that food, and was already getting his phone out to make an online order at the nearest one. Technology, he loved it. 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' "You still have the same number? I'll text you if I move after you're gone. Though he does seem to be slowing." Natasha peeked over the edge again as she began to type on her screen. A moment later the street overlay was replaced with a sewer map. The dot was sitting that are one of the oversized junctures. It was big enough to hold probably a small house in that area. Which meant it could be the hideout they were sent to find. Not something to check right now. Instead, it was camp out time. "I think I'll be right here." She was staying low, making sure not to silhouette herself against the skyline. 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' "Yes," he said, smiling through the suit, teeth showing a little bit. It was habit. "All right," and he went down the other side of the building, so as not to alert anyone. As he climbed down the building, he moved past an open window where two people were having sex. Another window had a guy likely growing marijuana, which the symbiote complained about. 'What's that smell? I don't like it.' One past it, Eddie explained, "it's a grow op. We can let Natasha know if she wants to report it." And then he was done, where he changed into street clothes, and made his way to the Big Belly Burger, where he would be able to pick up one with onion rings, a tea, and a Biggest Bacon Belly Burger for himself, large curly friends, with a small Diet Coke. It was a good thing that the symbiote made it easy for him to get back up there with all this. A few minutes later, barring a call, he'd be on the roof again. 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' Now was the boring part. They just got to sit there and wait. It was a common enough thing in her line of work. His too for that matter. Didn't make it any less boring. "Thanks," Nat said from her spot sitting on the rooftop near the edge. She would be able to peek over from time to time. Otherwise, she was hidden from any casual observation from below. 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' Moving over to her, careful not to make too much of a profile, Eddie would sit back down on the floor of the roof beside her, taking out the bag and offering her drink, which was in a tray. He got napkins, plastic knives and forks, just in case she wanted to use them. "So, I gotta ask. When's the last time you were on a stakeout with someone?" 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' She took the offered items, setting aside the knife and fork but taking plenty of napkins. The onion rings were set down on a napkin, in case they tipped over. She pulled out one golden ring and took a bite, pleased that it had a proper onion to ratio content. None of those all breading and no onion catastrophes. After chewing and swallowing, she considered. "Six weeks ago I think? Agent Coulson and I. Helping ferret out a mole in Interpol. You?" 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' Eddie had asked, but for some reason, he had never expected her to ask him the reverse. He paused, thinking about that, and then said, "I think you may be my first." He had taken his French fries out, curly ones, which he set on the floor, though with a napkin base in case they tipped over. He also laid a napkin on the floor for his burger, and one for his knee, so none of it would be lost while chewing. He started with the burger, taking a nice bite. Again, his head, the human head, was visible for all this. "Mmm," he said, before setting it down so he could take a fry. Then he looked in the bag, "hey, they gave us a couple of dips. Honey, honey mustard, barbecue, ketchup, and mayonnaise. Want some?" 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' Natasha had just unwrapped her burger. She flipped up the top bun to get a look. "No, seems they got my ketchup right on it so I'm good." She let the bun fall back into place then took a bite. A napkin was used to dab her lips but she kept the burger gripped in her left hand. "You've never been on a stakeout? The joy of old coffee and being bored out of your mind? Unless you do something like sudoku in your head. No, I do not, before you ask," Natasha tells him with a soft laugh. "In all those times chasing down leads, you just would do this alone?" 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' "I've been on plenty of stakeouts. I just haven't ever been on a stakeout with anyone else." Eddie corrected, "my other notwithstanding, of course." Curiously, the symbiote didn't pipe up before or after, seemingly content between the Big Belly Burger desert and the chocolate meal. "Well, that's the nature of the beast. The money's not great, and investigative journalism is slowly dying, so it's just getting squeezed more and more. I could make more money reviewing the latest movies than exposing real scumbags." 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' "You could." Natasha works on her burger for a few minutes, falling silent. She ends up munching another onion ring and taking a sip of tea before she opts to speak again. "You could also take your skills to another level where you can help take down real scumbags, as you put it. It wouldn't be journalism precistly. Something a little more on my side of the legal fence." 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' "That's not exactly an option now, is it? You know my status. When I was at S.H.I.E.L.D., somebody came in to try and arrest me three times before someone told them of your orders." Eddie was living outside of the law. He was a wanted man. But he was guilty, after a fashion, even if there were extenuating circumstances. He'd had a few close calls too, where someone tried to capture him. It was more of a matter of when, not if, he was in prison again, and that'd mean death, what with the cancer inside. He looked lost in thought but didn't say anything as he continued to eat. 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' "Don't be so hasty," Natasha pointed out with a half smirk. She let him talk though, winding down as he fell into some self analyzing, or so it appeared to her. A glance over the edge of the roof and at her phone then back to the burger and conversation. "What do you know about me? What is the version on the streets?" 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' "I know that you're an Avenger, one of Earth's mightiest Heroes, or so the news says. You're probably the single most capable one. Sure, Thor has a hammer, but he's got nothing on you. You're also a member of S.H.I.E.L.D. Russian, despite the accent, though there were some odd discrepancies, such as your date of birth. Oh, and you're a human that my other likes. I think he likes you more than me." And then the symbiote said, 'We do. She made us chocolate fondue. You give us chocolate ice cream. She's better.' And Eddie rolled his eyes, "seems the fondue was a big hit with him." The symbiote then added, 'not just the fondue. She is what you call a badass.' 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' "My full name is Natalia Alianovna Romanova," she admits, giving him another truth about her. He is about to learn a few more, ones that might surprise him. "I was born...a long time ago. Thus the discrepencies with my date of birth you found in your investigating. I have to update it to match my appearance from time to time." She chews an onion ring then washes it down with tea and looks him in the eye. "For most of my life, I was a spy for the Soviet Union. Before the fall." Another hint of her age. "After, when it was renamed. I was a special agent and assassin. I served Mother Russia loyaly and with honor. Then I was sent here to kill Tony Stark." She smiles a little, shaking her head. "No, he didn't make the difference. It was Hawkeye. I met him, tried to use him to help me in my mission, and instead learned that there was more to the world than I had been shown. I began to be swayed from my stance. Then I learned that my country had manipulated me the entire time. Used me. Fed me lies. And I turned. I came here, became a SHIELD agent despite my past. Despite being an enemy of the United States known as the Black Widow. Now? It's a name that is considered a hero and seen in a positive light. People don't know the shadows that I came from and where I still dwell." 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' Eddie was sitting on the floor of the roof, near a ledge, presenting a limited profile. He ate his curly fries and burger, all while listening. She was giving him some personal details, more information, and he appreciated it. He wasn't sure what had changed, but he liked that she was opening up a little bit. She was a spy, so he figured she'd have aliases and such, but the age was a new one, and he didn't even know how old she was. Though he had suspected she at least looked good for her age, given the medal he had managed to track down and return to her a while back. She also said most of her life was before the fall of the Soviet Union, so that meant she had to be at least around 70 or so. He looked her over again, but kept listening. "My research suggested that there were other Black Widows, or you just were using a good disguise as the others didn't match what I know about you. Of course, I already know you're good with a wig." He paused, thinking about it all. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Natasha. It means a lot, and I figure it's not easy for you." And showing he could listen to that, while still keeping a head on the mission, he asked, "is the target still on your scanner?" 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' "It is. Once he clears out, we can scout the location to confirm it's the hideout. Then I can provide the information to SHIELD." Natasha says, touching the screen on the phone to show him the stationary blip. She looked back to him. "I was many of them. There are other Widows though. Russia trains them, uses them. I was the best, thus the title I earned. With my deepartuer, I have no doubt there will be another who will take my title." That smirk again. "At least they will give it to her in Russia. I will keep mine as it is changed here, something positive. A way to balance the red in my ledger." She tilts her head. "So just because you have a dark past, doesn't mean you can't have a future. Just think about it." 

:'''{{#var:1425|Venom (1425)}} has posed:''' He continued to listen, trying not to ruin the moment with a belch or eating. He was there, watching her, listening to her, enjoying this moment. "Got it," he said in regards to their objective once the blip leaves its more or less stationary position. "She hasn't taken your title until she's bested you, and from what I've seen, it may be some time before one can do that." He did have a dark past, perhaps darker than hers, maybe not, it was hard to say. His was fairly open. It was a matter of public record. There wasn't much hidden about him except his motivations and his inner thoughts, the reasoning. And then, he asked, "if you can redeem the name Black Widow, do you think I can redeem the name Venom?" He the had his face go mask, with teeth, "we are not exactly cute and cuddly." 

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanoff (93)}} has posed:''' That got a bit of a laugh from Natasha. Low and controlled but a laugh still. She wasn't going to chance a problem with her voice being heard on the street below. "They would still have given the title and even should one find me and best me? I'm still the Black Widow." Then that smile got a slightly darker edge, a hint of what she was under all the surface beauty. "And we spiders are not what one could considered cute and cuddly." A beat then the grin was back. "Usually. Thanks for the burger. These things are one of my secret weaknesses." As time passed, they continued to talk though it was more light hearted and didn't touch on those elements of her past again. 
}}

10900/Calm Before the Storm

2020-01-28T14:47:47Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/27 |Location=Belle Reve Penitentiary, Houma, Terrebonne, Louisiana |Synopsis=Fantomex gives Robert and Mary some privacy...to talk about ha..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=Belle Reve Penitentiary, Houma, Terrebonne, Louisiana
|Synopsis=Fantomex gives Robert and Mary some privacy...to talk about happiness and mistakes.
|Cast of Characters=9201,1249,1760
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9201|Robert Callaghan (9201)}} has posed:'''     It's quiet at Belle Reve today. Generally, that sort of thing speaks for something in the works...and to be fair, this is hardly an exception. What with Task Force X on the cusp of being mobilized, not that many outside of its group knows of such.     And even with those that are a part of it? At least one's doing a marvelous job at hiding any sort of trepidation or blip of excitement for the mission. Instead, Yokai - though he hardly looks the part here, what in standard prison apparel and scanning through a newspaper as the TV dutifully drones on world news. If not for the fact that he's also turned the page to world news, it'd look positively pedestrian; as it is, a passing glance only suggests there's certain things on his mind, but not particularly why. For all the world, he's just a middle aged man relaxing outside of his cell, briefly glancing up at the television from time to time. The rec room is mostly empty, otherwise, aside from of course the ever-present guards. 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' Typhoid Mary isn't in the house today. Today it's Sweet Mary. Everyone's best friend and a long time ago also an actress. Her prison treads look a touch odd on her, a bit too large as she is of a slimmer stature than Typhoid, her hair also a brilliant blonde. She is just too sweet for this place but what's true is that she is given a wide berth by the other prisoners. Maybe it's the speckle of faded dried blood on her prison shirt from when Typhoid had a disagreement with another inmate..., or the reputation that the woman doesn't play with all the marbles. But today she is out here in the rec room. She has apparently claimed a small part of the room for herself to have her daisies in. Close to a window so they get all the sun they can and she is currently going through the various ways of taking care of them with a poor Tumbler that clearly wishes she was anywhere else but here. But Sweet Mary just seems happy with the company, her voice almost musical while she and Tumbler enter the rec room. 

:'''{{#var:1760|Fantomex (1760)}} has posed:''' Fantomex is also around. Because Waller told him to get his ass back to Belle Reve. Again. 'The mission is tomorrow' (again). That is a game they play. Who can annoy the other the most? So far results are unclear, since they are both superlative liars and poker players. Subordinates are not so lucky, and even E.V.A. is grumpy. And E.V.A. has never before been grumpy unless Fantomex made her grumpy. "Hello, warden Collings. Oh, by the way, Miss Waller would see you and your comrades now," says the white-clad thief, sounding perfectly serious and reasonable. "I will watch the inmates for you, of course," he adds generously. And the guards -believe- him, leaving in a hurry to present their respects to Amanda Waller. Even if Waller is not really annoyed, she is going to scream to those poor guards for a while. It is expected of her to scream to people that make mistakes. Like listening to anything Fantomex says. 

:'''{{#var:9201|Robert Callaghan (9201)}} has posed:'''     Sweet Mary isn't ignored so much as noted and semi-observed. Same with Tumbler. The latter he recognizes from the previous mission, but the former's a bit of an unknown variable...in more ways than one. And he knows better than to take a book by its cover.     Still, Callaghan doesn't really divert his attention until he hears another voice. A familiar one with a familiar accent. Lips twitching, he looks up, tilting his head at the thief's little...conversation.     "You have too much fun with that," he remarks dryly. Does he sound disapproving? Not really. Faintly amused? Yes. 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' Sweet Mary casts a look about, two gentlemen she has yet to meet, and they seem polite enough at that. Nothing like the brutes she had found before. They had tried to bully her, even hurt her but for some reason they didn't come near her anymore. Maybe they had met the 'others'. It's very possible, they normally come out when she is under duress. But today is just a fine day, and she has her daisies to tend to. She approaches the table where Robert is and greets. "Good morning. I am Mary." it's always polite to introduce yourself with your name. She knows that. And there's that award-winning smile on her face, expression so innocent. Of course that for some it may have a strong resemblance to a certain Typhoid Mary that some have met already. The distraction makes it so Tumbler sneaks off the room, it bringing out a chuckle from Mary. "Always on the run that one." 

:'''{{#var:1760|Fantomex (1760)}} has posed:''' "Fun? Moi?" Fantomex turns to Callaghan, shrugging exaggeratedly. "I thought you deserved some privacy. Besides, I am reasonably sure Miss Waller has important information to convey to those guards." Then he turns to Mary, and pauses for a second. That is one second of deep confusion, which he manages to overcome by kicking himself mentally. Mary looks like Typhoid, yet not. More like a sister. Body language is completely wrong. Or maybe right. "Bonjour Mary," he manages, even bowing gentleman-like to the blonde. Not a dye job, he notices, his enhanced senses helping very little in this case. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I need to find the good Colonel. Enjoy your time," he heads out. 

:'''{{#var:9201|Robert Callaghan (9201)}} has posed:'''     Now Mary gets his full attention. A look over with a furrowed brow before he smiles politely, setting down the paper and offering a hand. "Nice to meet you, Mary. I'm Robert." He seems friendly enough, even if he does look a bit bemused at Fantomex's departure as quickly as he came in. Privacy, huh...     He gestures for Mary to sit down. "Seems like she's learned to be quick on her feet," he notes in reference to Tumbler. "Can't say I disapprove." 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' "Ooo, bounjour Monsieur." Mary speaks with quite the trained diction. Once upon a time she had a part where she had to speak a few lines in french. She made sure to get it right. Always a perfectionist. She even manages a small curtsey to the man and then waves her farewell once he moves on. It also makes it so she is left alone in the room with Robert for the moment. A frown. "This is dangerous, what if an inmate attempts to escape? There would be no guard here. But well, they seemed to know what they were doing..." she not apparently aware of whatever trick Fantomex did on the guards. "And well met, Mr. Robert. How do you do?" She extends one hand to shake it in a polite manner. In fact she is all manners and niceties. An oddity at such a dangerous looking prison. "Tumbler can be such a sweet. She really doesn't like being here but ...." and she pats the back of her head in a knowing manner. " .... we all got our reasons." she sits down elegantly. 

:'''{{#var:9201|Robert Callaghan (9201)}} has posed:'''     "Well, thank you. And I can only speak for myself, but I'm not about to try getting out of here." Robert shakes his head, thinking of the own back of his neck. "Maybe he figures you for the same." Not that he thinks that'd necessarily stop Fantomex, but...he can hardly read the man's mind, now, can he?     He settles back in his seat a bit, shrugging lightly. "I haven't met anyone here who claims to be innocent. Yet," he amends after a moment. "But like you said, we have our reasons. And I'm not about to ask anyone else's." Seems a little...personal, honestly. At least in his case. 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' "I won't be trying to run either. I am not much of a fighter, you see? And where would I go?" Mary seems quite at peace at being in prison now. "Mr. Flag told me I was here for my own good, that this is only temporary. Once I am doing better I will be free to go." a beaming smile that shows a row of white teeth. She truly seems to believe what she is saying. Sweet Mary then grins, "Maybe soon I will be able to go back to my acting career." she lets out a wistful sigh, bringing her hands to rest on her lap. There is an understanding look when the man speaks of being innocent or not, her head slightly tilting to the side at the man's look. But she is one of those people that reads into people's motions and body language. Perhaps one of the best at that between all her personalities. "Whatever happened, you are taking it hard, are you not?" 

:'''{{#var:9201|Robert Callaghan (9201)}} has posed:'''     There for her own good could mean any number of things. But with a brief look at the bit of blood on her shirt, Robert is somehow doubtful that she's under any sort of protection. Nonetheless...     He blinks at her acute comment, clearly not expecting such. "...you could say that," he admits after a moment. "Let's just say I'm willing to pay the price I need to." And with the Squad, that includes the price needed to be able to walk freely before he hits a century. Assuming, you know. It all works out.     "You were an actress, then?" he continues, seeking to change the subject. "What kind?" 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' "We all make mistakes, but should they define us? I can only hope that being here will help you, the same way it might do to me." And Mary even sounds sincere when she says it. But is she -that- open and sincere? Or simply a great actress? Still a mystery for now, but her whole posture seems void of any malice. She then grins when she is asked what kind of actress she is. "I am Mary Walker." A pause to check if Robert knows the name or not. She was famous a while back, mostly in romance movies and also a broadway actress. Some success, but also a lot of scandal. But she proceeds to explain, "I have always preferred to define myself as a broadway actress, it was where I was most happy. But movies is where I became more known." she gestures to the daisies by the window. "On the petals of a daisy. Have you never seen it?" perhaps if Robert has an interest in cheesy, love story romances. But then she asks. "And you, Robert? What do you do? Or did, before you came here?" 

:'''{{#var:9201|Robert Callaghan (9201)}} has posed:''' obert's smile goes a bit tight at the suggestion of their mistakes defining them, but he doesn't comment - only offers a slight nod of ackowledgement. Oh, he could go in to things, but it certainly seems the world would define him by it...     ...even so. Should it not? He brushes the thought away, thinking for a few moments. "...it rings a bit of a bell, but I was always more of the local theater fan. There was one geared up for kabuki that I enjoyed going to, years ago." Still, he's visibly impressed - and curious as to what a former broadway actress would be doing here. But as he said, he doesn't press. "I'll see if I can get a copy of it."     As for what he did? "College professor and robotics researcher. Had a brief stint in the military before that, didn't like it much." 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' "I began in theater." That brings a fond smile to Mary, perhaps she remembering part of her young years, a place where certainly was happier, "But most actors do. Noone is an instant star, it takes dedication, and years." but she then starts to get up to her feet, moving over to fill a mug of water. "Excuse me a moment." She makes her way quietly to where the daisies are, starting to water them, "The same way that it must have taken you years to learn your craft." her eyebrows shooting up and she looking impressed. "Robotics and a professor. That's quite the commendable career." then a pause as she considers something, biting on her lower lip, then asking earnestly. "Were you happy?" yea, clearly she isn't the type to have those normal prison convos. But then again she doesn't really seem to fit here at all. 

:'''{{#var:9201|Robert Callaghan (9201)}} has posed:'''     Mary is certainly an... interesting person. Definitely not the normal inmate, much less the normal kind here of all places. As she gets up, Robert can't help but wonder if Fantomex had this... rather odd exchange in mind when he got rid of the guards.      As he watches her, though, she can no doubt see the slight tension in his body when she asks her question. His hesitation, the way her looks at the daisies instead of her...it speaks volumes.     "....mostly." 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' "Mostly..." Mary echoes that answer, her own shoulders seeming to square a little, just the iffiest of tensions reaching her, or perhaps being infected by the man's own tension. She smiles in understanding to that, "Yes, we are never truly happy, are we? I try to be, but something isn't exactly right. I know the others try to protect me but sometimes memories aren't exactly as I recall them. It is all so strange sometimes." again that wistful tone to her voice. "But we all just need to try our best." She finishes watering the vases and then grins a bit to herself. She looks proud to have accomplished this small task then picks a vase out of the few that are there. "Would you like one of the vases?" she brings it over to the table and places it there for Robert. 

:'''{{#var:9201|Robert Callaghan (9201)}} has posed:'''     "Others...?' But other than that trail-off and a confused expression, he lets that drop. The vase offers an easy enough out, anyway, and he touches it lightly before managing a slight smile. "If you're offering, certainly. I wouldn't want your work to go to waste."     Unlike...others of his own he could name. Himself included. 

:'''{{#var:1249|Typhoid Mary (1249)}} has posed:''' With the vase being accepted Mary grins at Robert and nods at him. "Remember to water it, and keep it by the sun if you can. Maybe it will help your time here to be more pleasant." then a look over to the doorway and she stating. "I should go look for that Tumbler before she gets herself in trouble. It was good to meet you, Professor Robert. I hope we will be able to talk again." A curtsey and then just like that she is making her way out of the rec room, humming a little song to herself. 
}}

10899/Investigations: Savage Lands

2020-01-28T14:47:37Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/27 |Location=Lorna's Room (North Halls); Xavier's School |Synopsis=Blink investigates the site where Lorna and Roberto went missing. |Cast..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=Lorna's Room (North Halls); Xavier's School
|Synopsis=Blink investigates the site where Lorna and Roberto went missing.
|Cast of Characters=128,326
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Blink had received an email from the Princess, stating that she was going to Argentina with Roberto.. all to seek an answer that had haunted her for sometime. Apparently, some stranger had written her via a letter... stating that Polaris had a sister. A full sister. One which had long since been lost and was seeking her help. Furthermore.. that Roberto thought it fake.. but that Magneto had said it was possible. The last line included a note that, if she didn't email back within the hour, then things went badly. For both her and her boyfriend. It would seem the Princess had kept her bodyguard in the dark and now, it had backfired on her. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' It had taken a while to recover from the fabled mud party for Rogue's anniversary. In fact she was still getting flashbacks from all the alcohol she had drank, and challenges made during drunkness for mud wrestling. Which meant she had mostly been ambling about home over at Genosha. But an email from Lorna is something that perks her attention... She picked up her phone to read the email. A frown, then a re-read. Off to Argentina? Well, that certainly made her more awake, thumbing down on her phone a reply. Where exactly in Argentina is she? Does she need backup? She can be there in a blink! (Literally). She starts on looking over some images of Argentina on the internet, preparing herself to jump if necessary, a bit of a mutter at having been left in the dark. Princesses!!! 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Any quick searches in regards to the Princess' safety and other such royal notes.. as Genosha did keep track of the various royal's positions at any given time, included Polaris' departure from New York via private plane, owned by Da Costa in a round about manner. Tied into his business contacts and the alike.. to the capital city of Argentina. Along with the notification that it had touched down safely with no issue. But that had long since been past the time that Lorna had said she'd contact Clarice. And the silence on the email spoke volumes. It would seem Clarice would in fact have to blink there if she wanted further information. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' Buenos Aires it is! Blink goes through those quick channels that Genosha has implemented for the Royals safety, checking that they should be in the capital..., or at least were. She also checks on that private airplane's hangar and where it should be stopped so she has a reference to go to when she gets to the airport and then it's time to get ready. Contacts on her eyes, loose hair so the elf ears aren't visible. Tight clothing and then her large jacket atop that. She studies a few images of Buenos Aires airport and then it's time to go! A portal opens and she jumps in. Of course that jumping without having been there, and in such a rush, can often go wrong.. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Blink arrives in the airport, but next to the hangar.. in the middle of the runway. There at least, no planes are currently flying down the pavement to take off. In fact the whole of the airport seems to be in lock down mode. There seems to be a lack of people moving about doing their jobs and more of extreme wariness. A heavy police presence could be seen from her position at the private doors. And she can see the private plane might have carried the couple to the country. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' Eeep, the runway! A quick lookabout just to make sure there's no plane coming in her direction and then Clarice lets out a sigh of relief. But the state of the airport leaves her on alert, her expression screwing to a worried one. She lowers herself a bit to keep somewhat out of sight, then another quick portal to bring her closer to the private plane to check if there's anyone there, or if she can find anything that shows where the couple may be. She keeps herself to the shadows, using her natural nimbleness to duck behind, out of sight of the police while she continues to try and find a way into the plane. If none is found she may just teleport up to one of the plane's windows and try to hold on to it so she can peer inside. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Clarice is able to make it into the open hangar that held the private plane without catching the attention of any of the police that swept over the airport's entrances and exits. Inside there was no one immediately close. Down the way, a few techs stood around, one or two clicking away on his phone as another listened to something on his radio. As Clarice goes up to the private plane's window, she can see a few of Roberto's employees cleaning and tending to the inside of the plane's passenger area.. But it was a skeleton crew. And there were no signs of the couple inside. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' Skeleton crew..., and calm about it. For Clarice it means that they are not aware, nor was it here that anything happened. And the police activity on the airport most likely means -something- did happen to Lorna and Roberto. It's time to face and try to infiltrate those then.... She drops herself down to the ground quietly. A pause and then she begins on her way out to where the police presence is more heavy. She does a quick look around to check if there's any tech overalls about she can snatch and dress to look more inconspicuous but if not she will just have to rely on using her own stealth.. And her portals of course. She also makes a note to herself to get a tracker on Lorna one day. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' The skeleton crew certainly didn't get Roberto's text about 'it being a trap', that had gone to Doug and Sam. So unfortunately, his people were in the dark about what had just happened. The Argentinan police force outside that walked about with no small amount of worry and concern, wasn't trying to let out what had happened either. It would make international headlines. Billionaire and Princess kidnapped? Killed in carbombing? It was decidedly all very hush hush, for now. As people worked to try to figure out exactly what had happened. Clarice would find in a room off to the side of the hangar a crate of discarded coveralls, boots, and various other uniform bits. All of which stank and needed a good washing, covered in oil and who knows what as they were. But they would do. And no one would look at her twice for it. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' The sacrifices Clarice does for her Princess. But it's all worth it for her. Genosha is her home, and the people there are her family. And in truth she considers Lorna a friend already. So she quickly gets those coveralls on. Boots, then a work shirt and finally the overall over it all. Her jacket and other clothing gets put inside a bag which she carries along with her. She is just about to step about when she remembers her hair ..., purple won't do.. So she snatches a cap and places it on her head. Yes, not too bad. And off she goes. She walks calmly but there is of course some tension visible on her shoulders but then again, who wouldn't feel tense with all this police around? She begins making her way through as if she belonged, looking for the spot where this occurrence happened. She isn't exactly versed in spanish but she has picked on a few things in her various trips so she tries to listen to anything that may catch her attention too. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Clarice's use of the service entrance goes unremarked, though another member of staff certainly gives her the upnod. Spanish circulates all around, and it's clear that people are nervous. Several of the staff are standing in the hallways, while an officer of some kind clearly interviews them. The conversations hushed and tense. No one looks pleased. But so long as she keeps moving, keeps looking like she belongs, no one stops her. No one questions what she's doing in a pair of stained, oversized coveralls. After all, budget cuts happened, people wore uniforms a size too big. It happened. Whatever it is that they're taking about clearly has people on edge, but unless Clarice clearly knows the Spanish terms for things.. she was going to be out of luck getting exactly what happened from over hearing people talking in the hallways. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' Clarice certainly doesn't want to be interviewed so she continues on walking past, watching here and there, her brows knitted together as her worry grows further. It is very clear to her that something has happened. She waits until the officers aren't paying attention to go past without being called for an interview. And why is this damn suit so itchy!? She continues on, aiming to get to the center of whatever event happened in the airport. Her try on understanding what's being said goes awry. She knows a little, but it's just that every day tourist language. Hola. Una habitacion por favor. And so on and on... If she finds anyone speaking english though she will pause momentarily and listen. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' It's passed the staff halls and into the public areas of the airport that Clarice's steps lead her. It's here that she hears English being spoken, or shouted by a few angry American tourists. One voice in particular could be heard in the staff hallway behind the receptionists desks. "I DEMAND TO HAVE A TICKET HOME NOW!" Followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the counter top. As Clarice ventures closer, or if she goes into the public area.. she'd see the man that was dressed as every stereotypical American tourist would be dressed. A visor. Floral printed shirt. Pair of brown cargo shorts. A sunburnt face. The receptionist apologized, holding her hands up and pleading for a moment. "I'm sorry sir, all flights are temporarily shut down until the police can clear the area--" The angry American cut her off, leaning forward. "I DON'T CARE! Some crazy gangster blow up someone's car and that means I have to wait?! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!" He snarled, slamming his hands against the counter top again and again. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' Ah, americans! It means she can understand it now but ..., somehow she wishes she didn't ... A car exploded!? That makes her start walking faster. A frown on her expression. A car means it was most likely near the entrance to the airport, or the parking lots. It's time to move on and reach those spots. She goes through all those side entrances that she can find so she isn't right in the middle of all the commotions, making use of all those walkways that most people forget exist in airports. And she did bring her trusty lockpicks so no lock should be a problem. Theoretically. She rubs her hands against the coveralls, skin starting to get sweaty with her nervousness, biting on her lower lip in an unconscious manner. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Airport security in Argentina isn't like it is in the US. Not typically at least, but the area was clearly covered in police trying to put together what had happened as best they could.. or at least make the show of doing so. Tourists milled about, clogging walkways and doors as they tried to find a place to sit or just to get out of the way of others. Clarice makes it outside however, with minimal effort. Leaving wasn't difficult, but it was possible that re-entry would be harder. Once outside, there was even more chaos. More people crowded into an area that was meant for pick ups and drop offs of cars.. that weren't moving. Just down the road was an area visibly blocked off with yellow caution tape. And even more people gathered around, along with a few journalist looking types attempting to snap pictures of whatever was behind the yellow tape. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' Eyes turn here and there..., searching.. Spotting the blocked off road. But there are no roads that can contain Blink! She starts on her way there, still in her tech outfit. Perhaps not as fitting here as it was in the airport but .., maybe it will still hold. She tries to go close to the area and to where the flock of journalists is, then to begin circling about the premises to try and get a good look of what's going on. She is specifically looking for ambulances, or people that may be hurt, or any she would recognize that could be working for either Lorna or Robert. If she can't really find an angle to investigate properly she will teleport in and proceed stealthily to gather a few clues. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' There was no one actively to be seen beyond police inside the ring of the yellow caution tape. A few bent over and collecting what evidence there was to collect while a few others of the team took pictures from different angles. Someone in front of the tape was trying to herd the journalist back and answer questions. Clearly more occupied with keeping people from breaking the blockade than in what remained inside it. There was no ambulance to be seen at the blockade. If there had been one, it was long since gone. Along with any trace of it. People spoke Spanish here, or shouted it, to be heard above the din of reporters and journalists. More than a few curious onlookers were gathered around. Making Clarice's curious gaze unremarkable... so long as she didn't cross that yellow tape. Within the ring was a car that was blown to bits.. or rather, there were the remains of a car. Tires scattered or popped. Glass everywhere. Bits of metal here and there. A police officer bent over something, and made a rather excited sound of surprised, holding up what looked to be a dart of some kind between two gloved hands. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' A dart... That makes Blink squint her eyes. That can be a clue, and perhaps the others in the brotherhood can help identify it ... But how to get it without everyone being alarmed about the deed? She could teleport it .., but it's a small object, and it would be fully visible in front of everyone. Instead she chooses to simply look for now, looking for a better opportunity to snatch it out to her hands. Still on the other side of the yellow tape she lingers on, surveying the crash. An attack of some sort. But no ambulance meant that at least they most likely weren't dead. Perhaps captured. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' There wasn't much else to see, not even on the other side of the yellow tape. The investigator that found the suspicious dart was quickly hushed, and in short order, the item in question was bundled up and hidden away. The investigator was swallowed up into a car and quietly bundled away. The police officer at the front of the yellow tape seemed to finish up whatever comments he was making and waved the press back as well. Now came the clean up it would seem. A mess of hands to move and hide away the scrap to get it cleaned up and out of the way.. so road traffic might move on and functionality could return to the street. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' Out of sight for some! But Blink is following it intensely with her eyes, eyeing the bag, the size of it. She is more used to teleporting people, or doing larger portals, or using her javelins. This requires another kind of finesse. It means she has to stop and focus. She starts blending in so as to not get noticed and then..., a portal gets opened on the bag and she attempts to whisk it away, hopefully to have it fall on her hand. Of course that there is that 'blink' sound that always goes with her teleports. She can't hide those! 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' There was enough chaos to go around that Clarice's movements, and in fact her portaling went unnoticed. Her focus and concentration rewarded with the bag containing the dart falling directly into her hands. It was smoothly done. And with enough of an uproar from the press about the lack of answers, and being pushed away.. The sounds of metal scraps being gathered up off the pavement... no one was the wiser. Perhaps the Argentinan police would be angry.. or perhaps not. Considering how quickly and quietly they'd clearly meant to hide away the evidence. The dart was against the theory of some gang activity. Against the usual modes of car bombings and the chaos that came with them. All the better to hide it.. or in this case. Lose it. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' Blink can't help but mutter at the corruption present, but then again it's to be expected. She has learned not to trust any kind of law enforcement around the world. To the exception of the Genoshan force of course. Because really, who would dare to slack when they may need to answer to Magneto or any other of the Brotherhood? Turns out that not many would. The joys of ruling with an iron fist! But she now has her prize, the dart. She begins to move away and opens the bag to watch the dart carefully. Though she doesn't expect to recognize it, this is something she will need help in. And hoping Mags won't have her head for this. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' At first glance the dart looked ordinary enough, there wasn't anything particularly telling about it. Not visibly of course.. Anything else would require testing and analysis. For now though, it looks like Clarice's investigation has met a brick wall. The end of what she could find with her eyes. It would take a bit of time to run the tests... but Genosha had enough medical technology at its disposal that it shouldn't take long to get the results. If any were to be found. She was just another person on the street for now, just another face in the mass of people trying to get to and from the airport and around the policia that herded the press away. 

:'''{{#var:326|Blink (326)}} has posed:''' And Clarice can most likely get top priority on these tests. Of course that she also wants to keep this quiet so as to not be panic or a scandal that one of the princesses of Genosha is missing. And as such it is time that she goes back home to Genosha to get these tests going. At the mean time she starts getting some messages prepped and ready to be sent, in this case to Magneto with her findings, and that tests are being ran in the lab. She moves herself away from the commotion and now it's time to open a portal home, a 'blink' and she is back in the warm Genosha. She lets out a sigh and begins running off to the med labs. But in all this she is at least hopeful. A dart means capture, not death. She -will- find them, and then whoever did this will answer for going against the Royals, that Sabretooth training starting to kick in. 
}}

10896/Slices and Lagers and Shots, oh my!

2020-01-28T14:47:29Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/27 |Location=Angelo's Pizza - Brooklyn |Synopsis=Fiona and Carlo talk about food. Guns are brought up. |Cast of Characters=9287,984 |pretty..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=Angelo's Pizza - Brooklyn
|Synopsis=Fiona and Carlo talk about food. Guns are brought up.
|Cast of Characters=9287,984
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' Early evening at Angelo's Pizza on a Monday, before the Super Bowl, is dead. The lunch people have already come and gone, and the dinner crowd, while there, is not as busy as Carlo would like. Still, it was a decent evening, as far as sales go, and right about now things are starting to slow to a meandering crawl. Someone, as a tip, decided to use the 'beers for the kitchen staff' option which meant that, when things slowed down, Carlo could have a glass on someone else's tab. Yes, he tracked that sort of thing. No dipping into your own supply. It's bad business. Sitting at one of the tables, Carlo is enjoying his beer, sipping on it with a remote on the table in front of him, a couple of slices of pizza sitting there too, one half eaten. Working in a pizzaria, you eat pizza. Then you work out after so you don't get a gut. 

:'''{{#var:984|Fiona Glenanne (984)}} has posed:''' Fiona's not dead. The fact she's walking and breathing and talking and coming in the door isn't a shocker. Nor is her clothing choice. Nor is the gun under her jacket. Or the gleam in her eye. She spies Carlo and waves. "Don't worry. I won't take any selfies" she calls, a throwback to that weird as hell guy demanding shit. Still, Fi comes over with a wave and a grin. "Hey, you open or did I just walk into a closed pizzeria?" she asks and sits on achair. Because where else would she sit, the floor? Fi's looking over to the pizza, then the remote, then the beer and smiles. "Beer. Pizza, TV. It's like you brought your work home with you. Only....less things that are watchable. Hey, hey. I pay for cable. I know I'm right!" she says raising her palms. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' Carlo's not dead either, despite the efforts of a small group of Foot that he almost literally ran into on the street. He straightens himself as the door opens, leaning over to look out the window to see if Selfie guy is coming in after, nodding with satisfaction when Fiona declares that, no, he isn't, and isn't the world better in that case? Carlo would like to think so. "Yeah, I'm open. You're just past the rush, s'why there ain't many...well...any here. I'll get a few before I close for the night but for now?" He expands his arms. "You've just got to deal with lil' ol' me."      He grins, leaning up to return that offered high-five, his calloused hands rough from work. "Yeah, it's a necessary evil. I gotta get it for the sports, for the news. Movie stuff I do streaming mainly. No commercials that way but I get yelled at sometimes if I show Disney stuff too much or somethin'." Disney birthday party at a pizza place? That's saturday morning for the next few years! Her comment about bringing his work home, or his home to work, gets a nonchalant shrug. "Same difference when you live upstairs. Just easier down here 'cause I've got the ovens going and food on tap. I go upstairs, I gotta prepare, cook, and clean a second kitchen." 

:'''{{#var:984|Fiona Glenanne (984)}} has posed:''' "And what's wrong with Disney stuff?" Fiona asks with a laugh, "C'mon, Disney stuff's good" she says then looks pleased, looking over Carlo. "So what've you got on the menu?" she asks, staying right in the chair. Because no. She's not moving. Not in the least. Nope. She settles back looking to the menu and then Carlo. "Hey, se, it's good to have food on tap" Fi shrugs, looking amused. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' "Oh, there ain't nothin' wrong with the stuff. It's the Lawyers...that's the problem." And that's really all the explanation that Carlo needs to give. Those guys are vicious! Leaning back, he snags one of the laminated menus off the bar and sets it down in front. "I can make whatever you want on the menu or throw somethin' else together. All depends on what you're hungry for, really." He takes a sip of his beer, changing to some obscure sport on ESPN Classic; a replay of a basketball game from a decade ago that was meaningful, but now is just background noise. 

:'''{{#var:984|Fiona Glenanne (984)}} has posed:''' Fi grins, "Surprise me" she nods, "So, what've you been up to?" she asks looking around the pizza place again. "C'mon, I'll just take whatever. Long as it's good" she says with a knowing nod. Shaking her head she sighs. "Yeah I har you. So what's been going on around here? I heard about the attack around here" she mutters. "Hey, I could help if you need it" Fi offers, and looks amused. "I could definitely help out" 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' Surprise her. Carlo smirks and gets up from his seat, leaving his pizza and beer sittin there along with the remote before he heads back into the kitchen. "I'll tell you when I get back." he calls before vanishing. Last time she had a beef dish, so this time, perhaps something a little different. When he returns, after a few minutes, it's with a plate of something that smells heavenly. On top of a small mound of pasta and tomato sauce - fresh, naturally - are several small shrimps covered in breadcrumbs and cooked in olive oil. Shrimp parmesan. This includes a small basket of bread and one of those wrapped up napkin things so she can eat, along with a beer - the same one she got last time that she seemed to enjoy so much. Seems he remembers blue-eyed petite women. The plate is set down and Carlo settles down across from Fiona, taking a sip of his beer and crossing one leg over the other, his attention wavering between one television and Fiona as she eats. "Yeah, just some punks causing trouble. Cop showed up and started blasting. I came in about then, so I don't know what went on to bring it to that level." He frowns and scrubs a hand through his short brown hair. "Long story short, they're arrested and the ones that got shot didn't get killed. Got lucky, those two." He gives fiona a sidelong glance for a second. "Appreciate the offer, but they tend to leave me alone. I'm no Superman or nothin', but I keep my block clean." 

:'''{{#var:984|Fiona Glenanne (984)}} has posed:''' Fi's surprised alright. "See" Fi offers, "You need any help protecting your block?" she adds, chewing on the food while she thinks, "I could help, teach you a few things. I looked into the people in the news. You" she says with a tilt of her head. "Are interesting" How so? Fiona won't elaborate. At least, not right now. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' Carlo is careful to leave any mention of Neaman out of it - not that he knew the name or anything, but people like him tend to want privacy, and he was helping, so no sense in bringing him into the media. Besides, talking about a half man half dog wouldn't be good for business, so Carlo just didn't. "Thanks." Carlo lifts his glass in a quiet toast. "Got most of my training under my belt already. Nothing I couldn't use more of, of course, but these kids...getting guns." he shakes his head. "They don't treat 'em right. Screws it up for the rest of us." 

:'''{{#var:984|Fiona Glenanne (984)}} has posed:''' Fi shrugs, "Hey, the right or wrong people would say that guns being got is agood thing. Lines pockets,ya know?" Fiona asks"Hypothetically speaking that is. Somebody gets paid wheen guns are got, right? I mean, gun makers, gun sellers, everyone gets paid" Oh boy, the arms dealer s getting ready for an ethics debate on her profession. This oughta be interesting....as Fiona nods, digging at her food with a nod and a smirk. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' "Now don't get me wrong." Carlo uses the glass almost like a baton, inclining it towards Fiona. "Guns are a necessary thing. They're not the boogeyman or anythin' like that. They're just a tool. Can be used by idiots and masters just the same. And it's just a business, really. I don't mind if they use 'em. It's when they use 'em against the people on the block. Little shop owners to scare 'em into protection rackets and the like. Ain't right, that." Apparently it's not so much that guns are being used, but that gangsters are shaking down people with them so openly. ""When I grew up around here, the gangsters got their point across with a meathead with a bat. Worked for them back then. Yeah, you'd get hurt, maybe a building would go up for insurance, no big deal. It just makes it more difficult for those of us what know how to use a gun. S'why I didn't have my pistol with me in the car that day. I can carry, but it just causes too many problems, and I can't leave it in the car. Ain't safe." 

:'''{{#var:984|Fiona Glenanne (984)}} has posed:''' "Yeah I hear ya. Though....come to think of it is it really safe though? I mean gangs were gonna get guns sooner or later, just a matter of time" Fi offers. "Wonder if educating 'em is the ansewr?" she muses, food being put in mouth. As opposed to,say, feet. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' If they want lessons, fine. Go get 'em. There Learn how to carry, how to check their targets. How to shoot. How to take care of the things well enough to where they don't blow up in their hands or when to get a new one. That'd keep the sales guys happy." Carlo takes a sip of his beer. "There's a range up at Conye Park. Open after hours for lessons, no questions asked." he gives as an example, chuckling. "Or just set up in one of the abandoned warehouses. Fact is? That guy that I beaned with a baseball? Didn't scare me at all. Kid didn't even have his pistol off safe, for cripes sake." 

:'''{{#var:984|Fiona Glenanne (984)}} has posed:''' FIona sighs. "You think people will go for ranges? Easier to get a gun and shoot people, right?" she says sarcastically. "Admittedly, that's....yeah but Coney Island is too far from here" Fi sighs shaking her head and looks bored. "See, I don't feel like" Fiona sayays, shaking her head, setting her cutlery down. "Doubt it'd end well with people learning how to use guns" she sighs, shaking her head. "I don't trust many of those gang people with guns, really" she says simply, picking her cutlery back up after tucking hair beind her ears 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' "They normally don't. Movies and TV have taught people the awesome power of a gun. Bang bang, all fall down, get the girl and all the money you want thanks to this little chunk of machined metal. You can blame society, I guess, for that." Carlo sighs and turns on a rerun of Rick and Morty, watching the animated insanty for a second. "I ain't the sort what tells another person they can't have a gun. I just end up cleaning them up every now and again when they do somethin' stupid. That said, if you know anyone who needs about fifteen cheap revolvers and pistols, let me know, otherwise I'm going to probably send them to the recyclers or some buyback program." 

:'''{{#var:984|Fiona Glenanne (984)}} has posed:''' "Yeah I'll give you $200 a gun" Fiona offers with a nod. She seems...genuine about it really, as she nods again, chowing down on food with a grin. Looking to Carlo, Fi raises an eyebrow. "So where'd you get those guns from?" she asks sounding curious, shaking her head Fi grins. "I'll take all your guns" And sell them for money, Fiona's not saying... 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' Carlo looks at Fiona for a second, shrugs, and finishes his beer. Lady's interested in guns, apparently. "Mostly from the guys comin' in and tryin' to sell me protection. Couple of muggers on the block. No one in particular really. Any of the good ones I pretty much kept, and that's been a total of one. The guy came in with a 1911 in .45. Pretty gun. Pearl handles, bluing was still nice. Probably hadn't been fired in years. Guessing the guy stole it off someone during a house robbery. Someone what kept it for years. If it wasn't for him filing off the serials, i'd have sent it back to whoever owned it but...hey, free world war II gun for Carlo, here." He does chuckle, though. "All my guns, though? Nah, my collection's curated. Some things I got are hard to find. Even pretty faces off the street can't convince me to give 'em up. The junk ones? Sure, if you want 'em. I'd suggest gettin' them looked over by a gunsmith before shooting them, though. Whoever sold 'em just took 'em out of the cosmoline, wiped 'em down, and handed 'em out with old ammo." 

:'''{{#var:984|Fiona Glenanne (984)}} has posed:''' Fi laughs. "Oh really?" she asks. Challenge accepted. "Name me a gun you'd love to have in your collection?" she says. Talk about baiting things, Fi....talk about baiting the poor guy. Fi's enough contacts to know where to get things. And enough guns to make a small nation's dictator jealous with unbridled envy. Okay so that dictator has super low standards. But....point is. Fi's an arms dealer. Knows how that works. And she's challenging Carlo. 

:'''{{#var:9287|Carlo (9287)}} has posed:''' That gets Carlo thinking. "Well." He finally says, tapping his lip with a fingertip. "Discounting the stuff no-one can get or doesn't exist - Panoz Jackhammer, MR-C, stuff like that - there are a couple I'd think of that might fit the bill. 1861 Colt Navy. Get to live out my fantasy of bein' a cowboy with that. M-1 Garand. Old battle rifle from world War 2. " Yeah, probably he doesn't need to explain, but he doesn't know Fiona's background. "Legality aside...hmm...a working AA-12 or a Vietnam-era M-60. Ain't probably never gonna need something with that much firepower, but hey, if it's good enough for Rambo..." And the two talk into the evening, Carlo feeding the Irish Arms Dealer and reminiscing about guns. 
}}

10895/Conversations with Karrin

2020-01-28T14:22:57Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/27 |Location=Harry's Office |Synopsis=Karrin talks about moving to Bludhaven |Cast of Characters=168,174 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:'''..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=Harry's Office
|Synopsis=Karrin talks about moving to Bludhaven
|Cast of Characters=168,174
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Harry's office isn't tidy much, as Murph's not touched anything bar what she unpacked. She's got a box of books by Harry's desk and yet...she's settled on the couch relaxing with coffee she made. After all, she lives here now and she's enjoying it. Mostly since hey, she's moved in with Harry. People approve. And it's made her commmute to work more interesting... She still can't get rid of that nagging feeling though she's missing something. After all, she left the Blue Lady to deal with stuff. She's a feeling she missed out on stuff. Running into Buffy didn't help much, but Murph's wearing her casual gear and stretched out on the couch, shoes by the side of said couch. She's checked on Mouse, and resolved to get him things that will make him think. Even if squeaky dog toys work just fine. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' "No Bob, I am NOT moving you to the bedroom." shouts Harry from the room he has designated his lab. "I could care more that your 'view' is a wall, don't think I don't get your game...perv." Harry sighs as he closes the door behind him as he exits the lab. "I swear Murph, sometimes I just want to smash that skull." Harry makes his way to the kitchenette and pours himself a cup, lifting it to his lips and letting out a satisfied sigh. "Hey you." he says to Murph, "How is suspension treating you?" 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' "It's so-so. I got let back off of it with promises of good behavior. Unfortunately. That means don't shoot unless I got a good reason, and don't call you in on things. At this moment, I'm thinking about their offer. Transfer to Bloodhaven and be SPECTRE there" she mutters, shaking her head. "I didn't mean to skip out on the Blue Lady, but things came up. Did I miss anything important? Buffy said she needed to keep Thomas calm and things happened. Oh I'm okay just trying to find suitable dog toys for Mouse" Murph says. She's had coffee before Harrry came back. The joys of driving to McAnally's, having cofffee, and chatting with Mac. Then coming home. Because that's how Murph is. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' Harry pauses his drink mid way to his lips when Murph mentions Thomas. There is a brief pause before he finishes the movement and takes a sip. "Fine." Harry says coldly, "Things are just fine." Harry starts to pace along the floor, "He just brought up Susan, he didn't mean to. " 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Well. Snap. Murph didn't mean to get that reaction. "Ah" she says simply, making a note not to push that subject any unless Harry wants to. "Just Buffy mentioned it so I wasn't sure what happened, but since you're worked up about it. I won't pry" she says simply, looking to Harry then to the desk. Then back to Harry. Not that Murphy's trying to throw Buffy under the bus any. But the Slayer did mention it so Murph was worried to a point, but Harrry's not in the best of moods. Instead, Murph gets up and stands by the couch watching Harry quietly. There's strength in Murph, really. Even if she doesn't believe it at times. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' Harry rolls his shoulder into a small shrug. "He didn't do it on purpose. He was just saying something about finally moving on, and it triggered. I probably owe him an apology." Harry moves over and sits on the edge of the couch, "You know me, I beat myself up all the time about what happened." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murph nods, "Yeah and you need to remember not too beat yourself up" Karrin says gently. "You've no reason to" she explains. Okay. No reason she can see. She wasn't the one with baggage. Well, bar her divorce, mind. Murph's the one mining silver linings. "Honestly, I think Buffy's good for Thomas, really. Ran into her the other day, she calmed him down. I just hope she's okay with that though" Karrin adds. She already won the Slayer over after all. So it's natural Murphy's worried about Buffy. But hey. Buffy's a smart, smart woman. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' "That is easy for everyone to say. 'Don't beat yourself up, Harry.' 'It wasn't your fault She went into the vampire lair.'...but wasn't it though? If it wasn't for me, she would never have been there." Harry says with a sigh. Harry takes another sip and looks to Karrin, "I still have nightmares of her coming back as a full vampire and killing you, or me, or both. Maybe I am a martyr, but I have reason to be, don't I?" 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murph glances to Harry with a smile. "I was more going for don't beat yourself up, Harry. I got your back" she says with a nod. "I got your back. As does Mouse. And Buffy, and our friends, Harry. You're not alone in this" she nods, reaching her hand out to him. "Trust me. We got this" 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' Harry sighs, lowering his head slightly, "I know, Murph. I know, you almost always have..notable exception when you try to arrest me...but that wasn't your fault either. You just didn't have all the info. Again, my fault." Harry says with a smirk. "Buffy is a good kid. Thomas....well, he is a vampire. White court, but still a vampire. He seems like he means well, but I don't think I can ever fully trust him." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Karrin nods looking to Harry, "Yeah I didn't have all the info but now I do" she adds with a knowing grin, crossing to the kitchenette, coming back with coffee as she sips it. "See that's the thing. Buffy's a good kid" she says quietly. "I just hope she doesn't get in over her head" Murph's right to worry, too. Buffy's the Slayer. But.... Setting the coffee down, she jerks her head to the door to the lab. "Alright, what did you do to Bob? he's too quiet. Did you glue his mouth shut or something? And if you did. Why didn't I think of that?" she adds with a giggle. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' Harry smirks as Karrin changes the subject and distracts him with Bob antics, "No, and I don't think it would help anyway. I don't think he technically needs the mouth to talk." expresses Harry as he sets his coffee cup down on the end table. "A lack of lips or tongue has never stopped him before. But the nerve of that skull...I swear if he wasn't so useful at times." Harry looks over to Karrin, combing his fingers through his hair. "I think Buffy and Thomas know, don't they? I mean they would have to... If not, things could get ugly." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' "Hey Bob's not got any lips or a tongue or a mouth. Criminals I deal with don't have a brain, you think that stops them?" Karrin smiles. "So, you think I should take the transfer to Bloodhaven?" she asks, with a wave around, "I mean, I could. But" she shrugs, listening o Harry before thinking on the Buffy thing. "She's a good kid, yeah...but..." Murph points out. "She reminds me of me, in a way ya know?" she asks looking to Harry again. Karrin smiles, looking pleased, "Besides,we can find ways to deal with the nightmares" she offers. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' :thinks for a long moment, "I mean, the commute would be shorter and you wouldn't have to take the bridge all the time, but ultimately It should be whatever makes you happy. Would you be happy in the force here?" Harry makes his was over to the ice box and pulls himself out a Coke, popping the top and taking a swig. "I'll talk to Thomas. See what his relationship with Buffy is. If he is...feeding." Harry says with a blush. "From there I can see what we need to worry about." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murph nods. "I can ask Buffy as well, she trusts me" Karrin smiles, sipping her coffee. "See, I'm not sure what's going on with both of them. Either way, Harry, you know it's not all bad, right?" she asks settling on the couch again while watching him. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' "Yay! Awkward conversations! My specialty..." Harry says with a smirk. "What's not all bad, Karrin? I mean, sure not everything sucks. I got you around, don't I?" 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Awkward's one thing. So Karrin has an idea to make it less awkward realy. With a nod she smiles. "Oh it's not all bad. You got me, you got Mouse, this place and your tricks up your sleeves, Harry" she nods leaning in for a kiss as she grins. Yes. PDA is totally a thing with them. Karrin's trying to take his mind off of things. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' Harry blink at the kiss, returning it gently. Chuckling, he mutters "I never really thought of you as the PDA type, Murph. Not that this is public." Harry sinks back into the couch and let's out a long sigh. "I'll calm Thomas later, I owe him an apology." He looks over to Karrin, cocking his head to the side, "So, you and Buffy are friends enough to talk sex lives, huh? I don't know how you women do that..." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' "Carefully" Karrin smirks. "To be fair. It's not sex life talk. It's more casual small talk. C'mon, when do Buffy and I talk about sex while she's in our ofice huh?" Karrin challenges. Check, Harry. Murph grins, "Though hey, I'm not bringing up my sex life. Buffy's way younger than me. That'd just be wrong if I was going to brag. Buffy's just turned 21, come on. She's like a younger me, if I staked vampires and wasn't a cop. Though I like my job, and my situation" Murph adds looking amused. "Mouse is way, way too quiet. What's he planning?" Karrin asks. She often wonders that about the dogosaurus 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' "Uh....never, but I wouldn't expect you too either! Hell's bells, Murph!" exclaims Harry with a start. "Just like I wouldn't expect you to just blurt out thing about us in the office. Stars and stones." Harry takes another sip of his Coke, looming down the hall towards the bedroom, "I'll bet you dishes that he has taken the opportunity to take a nap on the bed. I would if I were him. Both he and Mister are unaccustomed to having the bed have more than one in it." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murph smirks. "You think they can both share a bed?" Murphy asks, "Then again, mouse takes up the bed. Mister gets one tiny little corner, and a pillow or two" she nods sagely. "Cat decided to rub against me earlier so I now belong to the cat empire. That's nothing new. It's a natural step. See. Mister and Mouse are seeing if I'm worth it, but cats just claim anything in their space. Also yeah, I got more tact than that. I'm liable to death glare Buffy if she starts that talk in here" she adds with a nod, sipping her coffee. "Though if Mouse is on the bed and Mister is too, good luck gettig them off of it. I swear we'll have to get mattressses ar hammocks for them" she jokes. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' Harry snorts, "You give Mouse too much credit. Haven't you noticed he is afraid of Mister? Or at least respects Mister's seniority? If anything Mister is allowing Mouse to share his bed." Harry sips his Coke, "Mister must like you, he didn't knock you over. He still tries to clip me behind the knee on occasion." "Yeah, that is you Murph. Tact." Harry grins. "I'll remember you said that." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' "I give smart people, or dogs, credit" Murph grins, "Mister hasn't tried yet, you mean. I think it's offering him things to inspect and not offering myself as a walking scratching post?" Murphy asks with a smile. "See. See, I'm somewhat used to cats. On the other hand, I'm slowly getting used to Mouse. Pretty sure he likes me. I'm just worried about him laying a claim to me" Murph ofers, glancing to Harry's desk. "See, this is wh y we work, Harry. Mouse and Mister accept the two of us" she declares. "Oh yes. I got tact. You may not think it. But. I got tact. It's just a finite resource that recharges over time" 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' Harry folds his arms over his chest and smirks, "Mouse likes pretty much everyone that I can tell, except Lea. Lea he doesn't like very much. You feed him and give him pettings, that is all it takes to get on his good side." Harry eyes Karrin for a moment, "So you are just out of tact when I see you. Got it." he says with a smirk. "Speaking of tact, when is your next shift?" 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murph snorts, "No, no, I'm out of tact when I'm holding George and got my finger on the trigger. Else I got tact" she says with a siedways look to Harry, eyeing him. "Tact is useful in the right situations, Harry. You have to give me a little credit. My next shift is..." she says checking her phone. "Tomorrow, assuming I'm still in New York. Else I go to Bloodhaven, and go there" she says. Ah, decisions, decisions. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' "Oh, right, I'm the one without tact." says the man who will spout off to anyone regardless of size, strength, stature or social standing. Harry is an equal opportunity offender. "I'm sure wherever you go, it will work out fine Karrin. They departments work together, right? It shouldn't be a big deal?" 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Karrin's not a whole lot bettr, really. Her tactless remarks on that entitled woman at the coffee truck were very, very tactless. See, Harry mouths off to evryone. Murph, too. "Yeah, though" she says, "I need to do paperwork and all that. See, on the one hand, Bloodhaven is spook central. On the other, New York...is New York. But Bloodhaven is closer" she says with a nod as she smirks. "Mouse is Mouse. Mister, too" she nods, getting up heading to the kitchenette, looking for food as she sets her coffee in the sink, empty coffee. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' "Is the commute that bad from here to New York? If you take the Harley, you can just go around the traffic...that way you can still stay with the department you love." Harry says with a shrug. He kicks up his feet and relaxes a bit, laying down on the couch while he feet hang off the edge. "I'd offer just taking you via the NeverNever, but that wouldn't be a good idea." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' "You've not suffered through New York and Jersey traffic in a morning, have you?" Karrin asks with a grin, watching Harry as she smiles. "Hey, does the never never have traffic problems, cone zones, tolls, and angry drivers going one handed and flippping everyone off while steering with their knees and using a phone?" she half jokes. Oh she knows from being in the never never that it's not a good idea. "Hey, Harley's not a bad idea. Then again, I can't keep things dry on my bike when it rains or snows can I?" she wonders, returning to the couch and perching on the end of it for a moment, sliding gracefully down onto it. "Don'tget me wrong. Harleys are good bikes. My Saturn's a good car. It's just, ya know, I can put a light on my car. If I can pull that off on a bike..." she trails off. 

:'''{{#var:174|Harry Dresden (174)}} has posed:''' Harry Dresden shrugs a shoulder. "Just trying to find the compromise between you being here, and the job you love. What kind of asshole would I be if I didn't at least try to make it work for you?" 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Karrin eyes Harry, "Yeah you want me here with the man I love, and the job I love" she points out, looking amused. "See, despite all your flaws, and all the crap life's thrown at you...silver lining. I didn't even have to dig this one up" she nods sagely, stepping toward the bedroom to check on Mouse and Mister. 
}}

10892/Late night at the shop.

2020-01-28T14:22:32Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/27 |Location=Mercy's Garage - West Harlem |Synopsis=Mercy and Joe have some awe aint they cute time. |Cast of Characters=7931,99 |pretty=ye..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=Mercy's Garage - West Harlem
|Synopsis=Mercy and Joe have some awe aint they cute time.
|Cast of Characters=7931,99
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:7931|Joseph Miller (7931)}} has posed:''' Joseph Miller comes up to the shop, he was out handling a call for Mercy where someone was broken down and could not get the car into the shop. He has a large toolbox over his shoulder. 

:'''{{#var:7931|Joseph Miller (7931)}} has posed:''' Joseph Miller smiles a bit and puts the tools down where they belong, and looks around for Mercy. The big man moves to graba cold drink. 

:'''{{#var:99|Mercy Thompson (99)}} has posed:''' Mercy sticks her head out from her door and grins, "Hey Jo" she says, nudging it open with a foot and looks pleased. "I was baking" she adds and holds up a mixing bowl to prove it. There's a spoon in in it too and it has cookie dough. Apparently, cookies work great. Hey, Jo knows where the tools go, though Mercy steps out of the living area and grins more. "You want any cookies or?" she adds with a grin 

:'''{{#var:7931|Joseph Miller (7931)}} has posed:''' Joseph Miller will walk over to her, and says Well was thinking a bit of sugar first." he teases a bit and leans in kissing her as he takes her in his arms holding her close "What kind of cookies?" 

:'''{{#var:99|Mercy Thompson (99)}} has posed:''' Mercy grins, arms around Joseph as she laughs, "There's sugar on the cookies" she says. That whoosh, yeah it was over Mercy's head alright. The 'yote woman's been working and not entirely with it. And not letting JM go any. Mostly since he's taller than her, and is around way more often than Kid, too. 

:'''{{#var:7931|Joseph Miller (7931)}} has posed:''' Joseph Miller grins at her, and says "Well I was thinking more kisses sugars." He says and grins "So what kind of cookies did ya make?" 

:'''{{#var:99|Mercy Thompson (99)}} has posed:''' Mercy laughs, and kisses Jo, "Chocolate chip" she whispers, "Mostly since I had chocolate laying around. And no, before you ask. You are not getting into my Belgian chocolate stash. Not a chance. I need that to stop me from hitting stupid people with wrenches or tearing bits of aftermarket car out" she says simply, looking genuinely serious. She's useful with a wrench, strangely enough. 

:'''{{#var:7931|Joseph Miller (7931)}} has posed:''' Joseph Miller grins a bit at her, and says "And here, I thought I was what kept you from throwing thing at people." He keeps her close, and says "So stayed up waiting for me?" 

:'''{{#var:99|Mercy Thompson (99)}} has posed:''' Mercy grins, "Well, yah, but...." she admitts, shaking her head. "Nah I've been catnapping honestly, cleaned the shop up then relaxing and sleeping" Mercy shrugs and looks impressed, then laughs. "See, you've been useful. I've been my usual self. Don't mind the paw marks, I was taking myself out for a walk earlier" 

:'''{{#var:7931|Joseph Miller (7931)}} has posed:''' Joseph Miller chuckles a bit, and and says "Well, if you ever need me to go with you know I will." He grins and scritches along her sides, even in this form, as a playful thing. 

:'''{{#var:99|Mercy Thompson (99)}} has posed:''' Mercy grins, "You know I got my collar, right?" she asks...fully meaning hey, coyote collar for four pawed walkies. "You know if I don't put my feet on the ground those cookies won't come out the ovn right?" she asks with a laugh, looking pleased, watching him then around the shop. 

:'''{{#var:7931|Joseph Miller (7931)}} has posed:''' Joseph Miller smiles and will let her down and says "I could carry ya around all the time though it is very nice." He teases 
}}

10888/Absolutely Petra-fying

2020-01-28T14:22:21Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/27 |Location=In Dreams |Synopsis=A phantasm takes a tour of a Petra-fied forest and ends up at a castle. |Cast of Characters=9039,9173 |pre..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=In Dreams
|Synopsis=A phantasm takes a tour of a Petra-fied forest and ends up at a castle.
|Cast of Characters=9039,9173
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' As the impending workday looms, more people are going to bed in prep for the early rising. And so, with the early bed-times comes an early start to Nick practicing his abilites. He's traveled through a few and FORTUNATELY none have ejected him into anymore illegal labs so all in all, a pleasant assortment of vacation type dreams, carnivals, A random children's cartoon, and some guy working on his car. The last one was full of some language that got old to the raven's ear so the dream traveler decides to move on to the next dream. Flying full tilt, he ends up pressing against an unseen wall before getting shot into the next dream. *pop!* 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' Technically Petra's 'Work' was far from most. Truth be told, her entire life was, not least of all for its length. While she'd often spend plenty of nights out in the city, perhaps on the trail of some dangerous moster or horror...tonight that was not the case. Somewhere in the city, Petra's sleeping form lay on her bed in the underwear and shirt she lazily designated as underwear, a pile of books scattered around her from her studies. But the comfortable snooze of the sorceress who was developing a serious case of bed hair wasn't all that interesting, not least of all when compared to her dreams: The castle was old, even in this day she remembered. Parts had fallen down or been destroyed and only a few of the once proud hunters remained. But it was her home...and it was beautiful. As she leaned against the wooden railing of the balcony, Petra could feel the breeze in her hair, the warmth of the sun while she looked down into the misty valley and woods that sat beyond. Fresh air, the scent of something baking deeper in the castle behind her...even she wasn't sure if it were a memory or merely a reconstruction of fondness...but damn if it didn't make her feel happy. The room behind her was sized for a child, drawings of creatures both normal and seemingly mystical decorated the walls in colorful chalk and fittingly enough, a pile of books lay around her bed. 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' Upon getting his barings down on the other side of the wall, the raven's head turns as he glides in the daytime scene. Slaloming through trees gleefully. Oh. Wow. Well it appears that the phantasm has flown into yet another winner in terms of visual. The bird's path arcs upwards, errupting from the trees and mist. The sun backlighting the three foot wingspan of the bird as he momentarily assumes a 't' position. The castle coming into sight, the curious bird's path adjusts, flying towards the structure. Oh yes. Many compliments to the dreamer for this one... 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' The Rave was new...but it didn't look out of place to Petra. The young woman stretching her arms over her head to the warmth of the sun. Of course, there were other things that were 'wrong', this was her room as a child and yet she walked as an adult. A peaceful morning like this was a rare treat without someone seeking her out to be trained or tutored...but the moment seemed to linger on into eternity. This place, the real 'home' she'd held and kept closest to her heart, it was long lost to history in the waking world, but the girl was smiling as she turns to look at the bird and blinks again. It looked...strangely familier...and bigger than it should be. 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' The bird comes closer to the building, gliding closer and closer before reaching the brick. But instead of hitting it, his body turns, gliding alongside the wall before he lets off a croak of amusement to the game he's playing. And how do games take a turn for the worst sometimes. As he dives down, the raven ends up having to change his course quickly as he realizes that he had completely miscalculated the location of the balcony, inadvertently buzzing the occupant on said balcony As the bird descends downwards, recovering, the elegant cries of the purplish black corvid filter upwards to Petra's ears. A familiar voice. '...shiiiiiiiiiiii-' 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' The tower is stone, impact with it would probably hurt...impacting with the sorceress? Probably not ideal either. Covering her eyes with a little exclaimation, the woman steps back and takes a moment to look back towards the closecall. That voice was familier, but...well it wasn't supposed to be here. She'd probably remember this part of a memory. "What in the worlds?" she begins, lowering her hands to peek towards the direction of the corvid. 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' Tumble tumble, the raven's wings straighten out, body turning before it has a chance to land on anything. Well, so much for just staying in the background. Flying back up, the raven looks to the woman on the balcony. "Sorry." The bird pauses, recognizing her. Talons set upon the railing as he looks to her curiously. How does he manage to come across people he's met before in these things? Such a polite dream bird. 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' To be fair, it had only really been in passing with an armload of books that he'd seen her, but the white-haired girl just blinks at the speaking bird. She was a sorceress, but this was still far from 'normal' and 'everyday' even for her. Frowning a little, she bends slightly, hands on her knees while she regards the apologetic creature. "What are you...where did you come from...?" A pause, it only seems to dawn her now as she blinks. "This is a dream, isn't it...I'm dreaming of talking birds now." 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' The bird looks to Petra quietly before giving a nod. "I was just passing through." 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' A blink, she bends down properly, tilting her head to the side as her arms go around her knees. "Passing through...you are a spirit? An oneiromancer?" Petra frowns, blinking a little. "You can simply wander into anyone's dream? That's supposed to be fairly specialized magic." 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' "An Oneiro-" The bird seems more puzzled than Petra, shaking his head, "Right now I'm a phantasm." He pauses, "We met briefly at the Sanctum. You wandered off to look at the books." 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' "So you followed me into my dreams?" she puzzles right back, frowning a little in her confusion. "Is...is that your preference to just saying hello to someone? I hear people could be dreaming of some sort of private stuff, or nightmares or something like that..." 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' "Not my intent!" The bird replies quickly, lifting up his wings to wave off the notion, "I was out practicing and I came across this one. The scenery was nice so I thought I'd weave around for a bit, do some... agility stuff." The phantasm sighs, "If it looks to be private, I usually will pop out as soon as I can." A thought drifts to Bean's dream, "unless it seems like they're in need of help." 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' "In need of help with pri-," she begins to repeat before shaking her head and giving a little laugh and straightening up. "Whatever 'floats your boat' as it were, I suppose." Turning back to the balcony after a glance towards the colorful room, the girl sighs. "This -is- beautiful though...It was my home a very long time ago." 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' "What?" The bird pauses. ...Oh. "Not like THAT. I meant the nightmares..." Shaking his head, he looks over to the room as Petra indicates it to be her room. He leans back, looking at the castle wall before looking over to Petra, "...Just how old are you?" 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' "What a question? Isn't that meant to be impolite?" The white-haired woman questions, a smirk on her lips before her bared shoulders shrug. She traces a hand over the wooden balcony, committing it to memory even though it could only have come from such. "I am...around Seven hundred and Seventy years old." 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' The bird shrugs, "Probably. But then again by nature I enter into random people's dreams for practice so, why not go for a combo?" He looks back over to Petra, considering the sorceress, "You look very good for your age." 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' A laugh, proper and pure comes from the dreaming sorceress, but she nods her head and shrugs her shoulders. "You should see my 'Mother'," she offers, turning back to face the bird. "One of the blessings of magic I suppose, to be as we want to be for as long as we want. At least as far as age is concerned." 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' "Oh. I guess it's going to be an awkard time when I have to renew my ID." The bird murmurs, glancing around. "So, castle." The avian nods, looking around, "Very nice. Nicest place I lived in was a hotel. Did it get drafty a lot here?" 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' "I mean, it did...but you can close the balcony off at winter, light the fireplace, warm the bed..." she trails off and shrugs her shoulders. "Sometimes when I was little I'd just end up falling asleep near the fires in the main hall." 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' The raven gives a smile, "That sounds nice. The hotel didn't have a fireplace. But, the lobby was pretty warm. Sometimes on the slow nights I'd read in the lobby area and fall asleep there." The bird tilts his head, "Did your mom sometimes scoop you up to take you back to bed?" 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' "Sometimes," Petra admits, leaning now with her back against the balcony and looking towards the childish chalk drawings. "I was smaller then obviously. She was a strict teacher, but as loving a mother as there could be." 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' "I think the strictness is because of the love. My mom was kind of similar. The oddest description I've heard of her so far was 'saint helicopter shield grizzly mom'." 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' There's laughter, proper once more and pure. "Mine was probably a 'matronly lightning storm', people were terrified of her most of my life." Petra straightens up, shrugging her shoulders and walking towards the room. "So which is the 'real' you? Bird or boy?" 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' "Intimidation. The best form of defense a mom can have for her children." The bird chuckles, "I'm human. Born and raised. This-" He waves a wing, "Didn't happen until later." 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' A tilt of her head, the sorceress makes to sit on the bed and listen, gesturing for Phantasm to continue. 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' "Um, well, if you're expecting some long soul searching quest story that led to me having this ability, I've got none." The bird admits, "I had a pretty decent childhoood before I was ten. The part afterwards until I became an adult, not so much. Made some friends, went traveling. And -" He pauses, "Ok so there was a quest. After half my friends died in an accident I was on a quest to forget by drinking. And I chose the wrong damn bar to do the drinking in." 

:'''{{#var:9173|Petra (9173)}} has posed:''' There was more to say, more to hear perhaps. Conversation and basking on the comfortable memory of her home... But fate can be cruel, Petra knew that all too well. It was a fairly sudden shift, a shock brought on by the harsh buzz of an electronic alarm and suddenly the beautiful vista and comfortable castle was replaced...by the dark ceiling of her New York appartment and the glow of her smartphone alarm. "Damn it..." 

:'''{{#var:9039|Nick (9039)}} has posed:''' With the sudden collapse of the dream world, there were two possible places the phantasm could have ended up going. However, Petra would not be able to continue her conversation as Phantasm got launched into another dream. As the Phantasm looks to the grinning purple dinosaur dancing and clapping, the raven arches a feathery brow. "Uh... No." He moves along. "Is he even still a thing?" 
}}

10884/Plans for the future

2020-01-28T14:22:08Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/26 |Location=Sam's Room (West Halls), Xavier's School |Synopsis=Plans are made and some worries adressed. |Cast of Characters=1258,9059 |pr..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/26
|Location=Sam's Room (West Halls), Xavier's School
|Synopsis=Plans are made and some worries adressed.
|Cast of Characters=1258,9059
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie leads Alexis back up to his room, as they have just got back from services. Once inside the room he is undoing his tie and dress shirt rather quickly. "So, hon, how you feeling this morning?" He will ask looking over to her with a bit of a smile. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "A bit like going to confession with Kurt Wagner would be only the second most awkward thing I've done in my lifetime." Alexis answers back, still wearing a nicer skirt with a dark maroon sweater. She raises her eyebrows at Sam, purisng her lips, "I should probably take a trip to the city if I'm going to go about that." she jokes, letting her hair down and shaking it out a moment as she looks back to Sam. "What about you?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles and hangs up his tie, and leaves the dress shirt open t-shirt on under it. He will turn and says "Pretty good, but have been thinking a bit." He turns walking over to her, and leans in kissing her softly "Wanted to ask ya a few things." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Hm?" Alexis questions, her lips pursing a moment as she sits down at his desk. "And what is it you'd like to ask, Sam? If this is about going to the UK again, still working out the details..." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie shakes his head, and says "Not quite, but it is about a trip, you talked about me meeting your dad.. You ready to go back and face him, and tell him about yourself love?" He will ask. He takes a knee beside her so he can look to her face to face easier. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Alexis freezes, and she looks to Sam with mixed worry, and she breathes out abreath before she stands, turning from him as she paces a bit, her stocking-clad feet tapping on the carpet of Sam's room, and she brings her fingers up a moment, knitting them.     "He'll reject me, outright." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks to her, and says "He might yea," He admits not candy coating it. But your 19 your a legal adult, he can't control you. If you face it, you don't have to worry about him finding out about you. We can tell them we live together in the apartment in bushwick, and that you teach music. They do not have to know about the school, could be like you were teaching. You said Ah would have to meet him, is what got me thinking love." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Alexis wrestles with what she wants to say, and she wrings her hands a moment more as she looks to Sam, then closes her eyes.     "I don't know what he'll like least, my being a mutant, my dating a mutant, or my dating a Southern gent." she states, attempting to bring a little levity to the moment before she pulls the chair back out and sits down, looking to Sam.     "Why ar eyou so keen now to meet my father, Sam?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks to her and says "Well, I was thinking about us... If your interested we might be able to get one of the cabins on the property. " He looks to her standing and walking over to her. "Ah really like the idea of you being the last thing Ah see at night and the first thing Ah see every morning." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Have you given thought to perhaps we're moving a tad bit fast on this, Sam?" Alexis inquires, her shoulders rising as she blushes, a deep pink color. "I Mean, four months, we've gone from 'I like your vehicle' to 'I want to meet your parents and wake up to you every day'." she reaches for his hands, and holds them tightly.     "This is going fast, and I know that you love me, and that I love you... but I... I like living here, in the school. Being around the students and being available if they need help... for now. I'm not axing the idea right out the gate, mind... but I need time." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Well Ah was thinking one of the cabins here at the school hon, we would still be here for them and such the only difference would be a shared bedroom, and when we wanted to be alone we would have a little more space." He tells her "But there is no rush love, it was just an idea, Ah was just thinking of taking a step along the a path. " He holds her hands and says "And Ah want to meet your mom and your grandparents, think it is more willing and maybe some need to meet your dad." He offers her a grin. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "... you're going to punch him in the face, aren't you?" Alexis questions dourly, her eyebrows rising up as she squeezes against Sam's hands, and she exhales. "Well, how do you want it to go down? To let them know I'm alive, and in New York and wait for an invitation? Inquire about a proper introductory supper, or just.. show up on the doorstep and hope they're home?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie holds her hands and says "Ah promised to be on my best behavior when Ah meet him hon. Ah doubt Ah like him, but for you Ah will do all I can to hold my temper and not punch him, besides punching him will just make him think he is more right." He releases one of her hands to reach to stroke her cheek "Which way would you want to do it hon?" He asks her "Ah am not pushing to meet him for me hon, Ah think it will do you good to be able to fully be Allegra, you are beautiful, smart, and gracious. You deserve to not have to hide yourself." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "... all I ever do is hide, Sam." Allegra comments quitly, leaning into his hand. "I hide when I try to be someome else, when I work on the streets or in the school. I have hidden myself since I was twelve." she whispers, then she leans her head on Sam's shoulder.     "Am I even Allegra Caradenza anymore?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks to her, and rubs her back and says "Yes my love, mind you Ah think you maybe Allegra Alexis Caradenza now." He tells her in an honest tone. "You are Allegra, but you are more than the twelve year old Allegra, you are the young woman your experiences before and after have shaped you to be. you are the prodigy, you are the mutant, you are the woman who made a life for herself even in hiding not letting go of the things she loved. You are the teacher. You are the woman I love, for your heart, soul, and mind, for all that time has combined to make the woman in my arms." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Allegra Caradenza breathes out in a soft, warm breath against Sam's shoulder, her fingers curling againt his arms.     "We should show up, out of the blue. Keep them on their toes, unexpected. Maybe... maybe he's calmed down. Won't just turn away." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods his head, and says "We can rent a car if you want that way he has less information about us. Only what we give him." He tells her. He kisses the top of her head, and says "He has a bit of a public life right so finding when he should be home should not be to hard. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "He's always home for Sunday dinner, after the matinee, if there is one." Alexis comments quietly, and she begin plotting. "Would be easy enough, if they haven't changed the code on the doors I oculd still even get in without anyone noticing through the side gate garden." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthriesmiles and says "So thinking more you want to be there when they come home rather than knocking on the door? The issue is though if they have changed it might have the cops called on us before we get a chance to talk to them, he warns her. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "No, no, probably easiest just to come through the front door." she admits, rubbing the back of her head. "No need for subterfuge, they're my parents, they'll probably be glad to see me." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods to her, and steps in hugging her and kisses her on the forehead. "Ah would think so, everytime I see you my heart skips a beat, and my world gets better." He tells her. He smiles holding her close "So how serious you want to let them know we are? 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Let... me handle that one. Introducing you as 'the southern gentleman I am dating' will probably go better than 'the mutant I'm sha--" she trails off, and she gets a distant look to her face and goes "Good god both of those options are bad for different reasons, let... me think on that particular one." she admits quietly, rubbing the back of her head. "Thank goodness your mum was so cool about everything." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie grins and says "Ma, trusts our opinion and might be the fact is so many of us." He grins and says "So, the Redneck mutant, who your kicking boots with is probably out of the question." He chuckles a bit at her, and kisses her cheek again, and moves to grab a drink "Want something?" 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Oh good god, if we introduce you that way and you just start calling him 'Pa,' we might give him a heart attack on the spot." Alexis reflects, and she flops down in one of the recliners, exhaling in a soft huff. "I don't think we should take any of the students on this particular trip, though I wish we could tag maybe one of the more experienced teachers to answer questions." she leans her head back.     "And your mother has the biggest heart I have ever seen in a lady, Sam." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie hmms and grabbing his drink he will say "Yea, no students there, if your wanting to take a teacher type.... I would say "Either Jean, Scott, Piotr, or Ororo would be the best choices, Kurt and Hank out cause your dad would not see past their appearances unless we took inducers, and Kitty out as she is younger than me." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "I wouldn't want to inflict my father on any of our friends." Alexis sticks her tongue out, and then leans her head back, giving a soft huff. "Maybe it'd be best just you and me. We can land at South Station, take the metro down to my parents in Caimbridge, and from there just sort of... find the way to explain what I am to them." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods and will walk over to stand behind the chair, and puts a hand down onto her shoulder "Well some of them Ah would say taking would be bad just cause like say Logan, no that would be bad." He grins a bit more and says "So no me flying you down there and us landing on the stoop either huh?" He grins 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     ""No, no that would probably be the second worst idea, bringing Logan. They would be too focused on Logan to even hear anything about me since I'm pretty sure he gives neither a damn about decorum nor about my parents." Alexis gives a wry smile. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie leans over and kisses the top of her head, and says "So, how soon are you wanting to wait before we go hon, like today, this weekend, next month or when?" He asks her grinning 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Maybe tomorrow. Before I lose my nerve." she states quietly, looking up at the kiss on her head and wrinkling her nose. "how do I let you talk me into these things?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles and says "Cause you love me, and I love you." He grins at her bending over to look at her a bit upside down and says "And you know Ah would never do anything bad for you. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Alexis's nose wrinkls as Sam looms over top of her, and she reaches up, brushing her wrists over his shoulders. "I know you would never intentionally hurt me, or do things that would end up hurting me, I'm just... kind of tying to figure out the smoothest way to work this." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods and kisses her in an odd upside down spidermanish kiss "Well you know I will do all I can to help." He will move around to in front of her kneeling down there so he can look into her eyes easier smiling at her. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Short girlfriend is, indeed, short. She gives a soft huff as she's kissed in such a fashion, and rubs the back of her head a moment before she gives a shrug.     "I also don't want you to get hurt. My father isn't... known for mincing words." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks to her, and says "Words aint gonna hurt me hon, he can tell me Ah aint good enough for you, Ah am southern genetic trash, and Ah will just tell him he is allowed his opinions but Ah love his daughter and Ah believe she lovesme 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "I love you just fine, Mr. Guthrie." Alexis gives a grin, and she leans forward, wrapping her arms around Sam's shoulders and hugging him to her. She gives a soft breath out against his cheek.     "You are the light of my life, you know." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie simles and kisses her as he wraps his arms around her, and says "And you are my heart." He tells her. He grins and says "Even if Ah still need to get you to liking flying." he teases 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "It's never going to happen, like tolerating southern sweet tea. There are some hills I shall die on, Samuel Guthrie." Alexis states, frowning against his ear, deeply, on purpose. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles and says "Ah might loose the tea fight but ah have some cheats on the flying war." he teases back to her. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Cheats on the flying war?" she questions, the color-changing mutant raising her eyebrows a moment as she draws back. "Now you've got me curious, and a littl efrightened." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie grins and says "Oh yea," He leans in and says "They start with a little this and a little of this." he kisses her cuddeling her close. 
}}

10862/Pizza... Run!

2020-01-28T14:21:59Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/25 |Location=Salem Center, Westchester County |Synopsis=Shannon goes on a pizza run, and gets more than she bargains for. |Cast of Characte..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/25
|Location=Salem Center, Westchester County
|Synopsis=Shannon goes on a pizza run, and gets more than she bargains for.
|Cast of Characters=8765,9109
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Even with decent skills as a cook, sometimes there was just no substitute for a pie from your favorite pizzeria. And that is just what one winged teen is indulging in, coming out of the pizza place with a few boxes stacked up. Either she was very hungry, or had plans to share upon arriving home! She's dressed in dark blue jeans, caramel-colored suede boots, and is keeping warm with a thick, caramel velveteen parka. A red and white 'Where's Waldo' style hat keeps her hair in check, even the thin, ice blue braid on the left side of her face, with its three little silver beads. She's just spreading her wings to their full span to take off and head for home; however, fate had different plans in store.... 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' Well. Sort of. See, pizza is fantastic, especially when combined with the right toppings. But sometimes, it doesn't even matter. Like today, when the subject in question hasn't eaten in a while. Food is scarce in these hard, concrete villages, and birds rarely avail themselves. Especially now, during the winter. Curse his timing; to be awakened when most sensible creatures are hibernating or leaving for warmer climes. Such is the plight of a significantly woolly, dour-faced calico cat. The thickly-furred feline has followed his nose to his quarry - pizza. It's an unfamiliar scent, but it's tantalizing. And when he spots the gatekeeper of this cuisine, he plops onto his rear in front of her, pretty-as-you-please, frowning up at the curiously winged girl. He announces his presence with a meow. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Make that two weaknesses of the winged one--pizza, and furry, adorable felines. The meow does indeed get her attention, and she glances down. Tucking her wings in, Shannon crouches down near the calico, setting her payload down on the ground next to her. "Hello there!" Not knowing the cat from any other normal feline, she offers her fingertips for the cat to sniff, by way of greeting. "What are you doing out in the cold, hmm?" 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' Some things transcend the ages: cats sniffing fingers is one of them. The feline stretches his neck forward, nosepad flaring a couple times as he takes in all the sniffs proffered. Then that attention shifts to the pizza boxes, and bingo! That's where the foodstuff resides! A paw is moved forward, the fuzzy limb dabbing at the cardboard box. No dice. It's closed, and he has no thumbs. He could work it open, but that would be conspicuous. The feline looks up to Shannon again, issuing forth another plaintive meow. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "Oh-ho, I see." Shannon shakes her head. "Sorry, Italian food isn't good for cats. Onions and garlic could get you sick. But maybe..." Maybe. Just maybe... she glances between the fluffy calico, the box and back again. How could she ignore those plaintive cries? Nothing said she couldn't share just a little bit, right? The top pizza box is opened, and she starts to pick some of the meaty toppings off of the pie, keeping them as free of sauce and cheese as she can. "I'll give you what I can, just don't want to get you sick, m'kay?" 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' The feline somehow sits up a little more 'properly' when she seems to be acquiescing to his oh-so-blatant requests for food. After all, he's getting what he wants. Maybe. He's not so sure how much food he /isn't/ getting with this bizarrely-winged girl withholding ingredients, but he's not too fussed about it. It all depends on how much is offered. The moment the meaty bits hit the ground, however, he quickly ducks his head to nip them up. He squish-chews the pieces patiently, taking a moment to look up at her quizzically. She looks like a human, more or less. But with wings. Do humans have wings now...? 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon can't help a smile as the cat partakes of the meaty feast, and she finds herself picking off every last bit of meat on the pizza to offer to her new friend. Okay, so this probably meant she was going to have to get another pizza, but what the heck, it was worth it! As she holds a bit of bacon between her fingers, she catches the feline staring at her wings. "Oh... never seen a person with wings before? See, it's okay. They're real. Not going to hurt you." Very, very slowly, so as to hopefully not spook the fluffy calico, she spreads her wings out to their full span; it's a considerable distance from wingtip to wingtip. Let the cat satisfy their curiosity. 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' The feline stares intently at the wings, then her face. As if engaging in conversation, he offers up another meow - lighter in tone, with an upwards lilt at the end. Like a question mark. A few passing pedestrians pause to look at the wings, sneering in disgust. Others are keeping their distance from her. But the longer she keeps those wings fully spread and drawing attention to them, the more it's being noticed - to mixed results. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Anti-mutant sentiment was something Shannon was not unfamiliar with, sadly. If the passerby wanted to keep their distance from her? So be it. If they wanted to jeer? It wouldn't be the first time, and probably wouldn't be the last. Tucking the huge, feathered limbs in neatly behind her once more, she picks up her pizza boxes and straightens up, smiling down at her new friend. "Come on, let's see if we can find somewhere to enjoy some food in peace, hmm?" 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' Are calicos known for their intelligence? This one is perhaps tamed already, given his attention to her words and evident reading of her body language. Why, he'll even start padding along after her, tail perked in the air, when she starts to move. Of course, the truth is, he understands the English language perfectly well. That also means he understands it when someone mumbles a less-than-subtle, "Mutie freak," in passing. It gets a curious pause from the cat, but he'll continue following along after her! 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Those were also words Shannon was accustomed to hearing. However, there were also words she remembered well from another source. Words that bubbled up to the forefront of her mind right about now....      "...the world needs to see that somebody's gonna stand up to those abusing power."      These thoughts gave her pause, and she turns to look back at the source of the jeering, staring them straight in the eyes for a moment. Was it worth it to confront them right at this moment? They certainly weren't being violent, and from that same source, she remembered other words as well.      "Make sure you're not alone."      Shaking her head, she just turns away and walks on for the moment, in a bid to avoid an outright confrontation. Unnecessary violence solved nothing. 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' The cat, complacent and indignant as can be, continues to follow along with Shannon. There's food involved. A few meaty morsels aren't enough to satisfy him. Not when there's a chance for /more/. Someone isn't cool with being complacent, though. Someone with more time and gumption on their hands than they know what to do with, along with a couple buddies, has been watching the gradually increasing unrest caused by the wings. And they've had enough, by golly. So they've made it a point to interpose themselves directly in Shannon's path, declaring their intentions with the lead man aiming to promptly shove her. "Get outta here! We don't want your kind!" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Rocked back on her heels, Shannon quickly regains her balance, simply staring down the rather burly, disgruntled-looking individual. "If you'll move aside, I would be more than happy to leave your bigotry behind," is her relatively calm, if tart rejoinder. With that, she attempts to sidestep the trio, and find another path home. She takes care to keep herself between her feline friend and the bigots, however, not wanting to see an innocent come to harm because of her. 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' The deft feline skirts her ankles as she rocks back, quick enough to get clear of any footfalls. He then plants his furry rump on the concrete to watch the proceedings with interest. Shannon attempts to bypass the trio of ruffians, and the lead seems fine with it. The one at his right - closest to her - did not share that willingness. There's another shove coming her way, more forceful and somehow meaner spirited this time. "Nah, I wanna know if those feathers pluck like a chicken's!" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon's reaction may seem an odd one. She sets the pizza boxes down nearby, and slips her phone from her pocket. She is oddly calm about the whole thing as she raises her phone to take in the sight of the three ruffians, tapping the phone. "I'd like others to see the face of bigotry," she says, her voice strong and clear. "Now, I'll say this for the third and last time. I have no wish to confront you. Please let me go in peace." The pizza boxes might have to be forfeit to make good her escape, but so be it.      With a bit of video footage taken, she taps her phone once more to stop recording, taps it a second time, and slips the device back in her pocket. For the third time, she tries to bypass the trio of ruffians; forget the pizza, she just wanted to get out of there without having to fight! 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' A phone comes out, and people with bad intentions do what they always do: try to get rid of evidence. This comes in the form of grabs, swats, smacks; whatever might cease the recording and get the cellphone out of her hand. She won't be getting a clear and steady recording, either way. And regardless of how it may shake out, the very next response she gets is going to be a left hook aimed for the cheek. Real gentleman, that lead fella'. The other two rush in to try to shove her down to the sidewalk. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      A portion of the recording had already been sent to recipients unknown by Shannon. The evidence was out there. She has just enough time to slip the device back into her pocket with her left hand and adjust her stance to a stronger forward stance. Her right arm comes up in a side block, catching the thug's attack and deflecting it away from her face. "That was not a good move," she states, deadly calm. "These feathers might be plucked, but I'm no chicken. I suggest you walk away. NOW." 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' They're not interested in talking. They've decided they've found an uppity mutie girl, and she's polluting the gene pool. She should go back to whatever foul pool spawned her. These thoughts are communicated with brutish swarming, attempting to overwhelm her. The idea is to simply put her down and stomp on her a bit. They don't actually care about plucking her feathers. The feline pads back a little more, wearing a sour expression. To be fair, that's a normal default feline expression. However, he's processing what he's seeing. Silent, watchful. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Whoah! Okay, this was -not- good! Three at once rushing her? Yeah, no. Shannon was -not- having any of this! It only takes a couple downstrokes of her wings to send her skywards, above the thugs' heads. Perhaps in rushing her, they might wind up rushing each other instead! "Okay, but I did warn you!" With that, she flies higher and higher, till she is nearly out of sight. Had she flown the coop after all...? 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' There's a collective grunt of malcontent when she simply nope's out of their rush by flying! They obviously can't quite get at her. But they turn their fuming into flaunts, deciding instead to congratulate themselves on their not-quite-victory. "Hah! You better run!," declares one. "I thought you said you weren't a chicken!," shouts the second. This gets all three laughing. The calico moves around the trio to gain a little distance and sits upon the concrete again. His head tilts far back to stare up at the sky, ears perked and swiveling. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Evidently, the trio didn't know what they were dealing with--for what goes up, must come down. And in this case, it did. Hard. The speck in the sky that was Shannon is now hurtling towards the ground at breakneck speed, wings tucked in tightly as she dives. While the trio are busy congratulating themselves, she is busy taking aim at them. If she aims and times this just right, she just might be able to hit two out of three of them.      Closer.      Closer.      Closer still.      At the last possible second, she snaps her wings outwards to break her fall--she is flying at close to 70 mph by this point. It's just enough time for her to angle her body upwards, aim her feet at the backs of two of the thugs, and connect, hopefully with enough force to send their faces into the pavement.      She might not have wanted a confrontation, but if necessary, she wasn't going to shy away from one, either. 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' Their laughter fills the air, with most other pedestrians just wanting away from it all. But it gets cut short with a couple of them are slammed into the pavement from a 70 MPH kick. Well, that's certainly a thing. The feline pops into the air, startled, as cats tend to do. But he finds his seat again, watching with judgmental curiosity. The remaining man is agape at what she just did, staring at his two cohorts. And he whirls on her, aiming a wild, furious haymaker for her temple. Nothing artsy about it. Just raw force and anger. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      There was no time for a second aerial attack, and Shannon has to block that wild punch. Recalling the way she herself had thrown a punch in anger at someone once, also calls to mind how her hand had simply been brushed aside as if it were nothing. She might not have quite that level of skill, but she was at least able to swipe her left hand up and to the side, to catch the thug's arm and halt its progress towards her face. At the same time, she brings her right knee upwards, -very- sharply, towards his groin.      Young, female, and mutant did -not- mean helpless. 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' Well, none of this is working out the way the man intended. This girl, considerably smaller and younger, is making him look like a weak fool. And this latest development simply adds insult onto it. There's a long string of muted profanity to come, unable to give it volume, what with this latest blow. And though he's on his knees now, the pure fury she's generated in him won't allow him to let her off scott-free. It should really be expected that anyone who is willing to beat up a girl in broad daylight is probably used to causing havoc, and having a backup for when they bite off more than they can chew; particularly with a bootknife. It's a bit oversized, just shy of illegal. But perhaps most importantly, it's being flailed somewhat blindly at her in hopes of scoring a hit and getting her to back off. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      While Shannon is quick, and not exactly helpless, she's not exactly getting off scott-free, either. The blade catches her by surprise, and she yelps as one swipe finds its mark, slashing open her jeans over her right shin, and drawing blood. Somehow, she managed to keep from swearing as she shuffles backwards to get some distance between her and the now knife-wielding opponent. 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' For a while, the man isn't sure he actually did anything. Rather distracted, see. But when he's able to finally look forward, he can tell there's been contact. He still can't speak, thanks to that knee, but there's a sardonic grin on his face. He starts to lift, but he can't quite uncurl yet either. So he gallumphs forward on three limbs, the other swiping the knife in a to-and-fro motion. Somehow this translates to an advantage in his mind. As for the cat? He's been sitting on the concrete, observing. But finally, this seems to spur him to move. Normal cats might have scampered away to safety or hidden under something. This cat springs forward to land on the man's hunched back, and climb directly to the back of his head. Foreclaws latch onto scalp, while hindclaws kick and scratch. Not even a yowl escapes the feline. Just a whirlwind of animals claws. Needless to say, this puts a halt on that knife-swiping. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      This... was not normal. No cat behaved like that. No cat would throw themselves into a fight on a human's behalf, and certainly not so -silently-. Shannon dances back, just out of reach of her attacker's blade, putting a bench on the sidewalk between herself and the thug. Hopefully, on his next swipe, he might knock the knife out of his own hand! If not, well, at least there was some form of barrier between her and him! 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' Well, the winged mutie is no longer his main concern. His attention is taken up with the cat trying to scalp him. He has enough presence of mind to know that trying to jab a knife at the furry critter is just as likely to wind up stabbing himself in the head, so he's flailing his free arm about to try and dislodge it. It takes an agonizing minute, but the cat is finally grabbed by the scruff and forcefully flung away. The calico banks into the bench with a pained 'mrow' and stays down. Not unconscious, but definitely not threatening anyone any longer. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      That tore it. If there was one thing Shannon could not stand, it was the harming of an innocent. That cat had done nothing but try to protect her, and now was hurt for it. With the knife no longer being waved about, she has the few precious seconds she needs to stride right up to the man, gritting her teeth, and lashing out with a kick to his left kidney. "That was rude," she utters, her voice deadly quiet and calm. "I suggest you take your buddies and leave. There is no room for your bigotry here." 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' The kick is unimpeded, and the man rolls over with a choked groan. Yeah, he's done. He's not letting go over the knife, but it's not exactly in use anymore. He's just gracelessly wallowing on a sidewalk. The feline lets out a throaty 'rrrrll' noise. This time the irritated look on his face probably /is/ legitimate and not simply default. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Ignoring her own wound, Shannon crouches down near the fallen feline, reaching out to gingerly brush her fingers over their cheek. "Thank you," she murmurs softly, starting to think this cat was more than what they seemed. "Just hold still, okay? Let me make sure you're not too badly hurt? Make some sort of sound if you understand me?" She waits for the brave calico cat to reply before going further. 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' And this encounter appears to have culminated into the winged mutie talking to a cat. Fantastic. The cat in question lifts his head to look at her more directly. It may somehow read as judgmental. Skeptical, even. Perhaps questioning the notion of speaking up in such an obvious and public place! But it doesn't give any meows, and it doesn't seem to follow her request of staying still. Paws plant to sidewalk, and the cat stiffly lifts himself to all fours. Movement is jilty, paws unsteady. Oh, he got knocked for a loop. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Sighing softly, Shannon hangs her head for a moment. That little cat had just gone through hell to help protect her. How could she just let them go? "Please," she murmurs, her voice soft, hopefully soothing. "I wish you'd let me make sure you're okay." She wasn't going to try and stop the cat from leaving if they were well and truly intent upon it. But she had to try and at least be certain of their well-being. And the way the cat was looking at her, and then got up, made it quite clear that they were definitely no ordinary housecat. "You did a lot to help me. Thank you." 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' At this point, the cat does another thing cats tend to do: be accidentally amusing. The excessively-woolly calico seems at first to ignore her remarks. Instead, he turns and stagger-pads his way back from her - to the pizza boxes she'd left on the floor. He climbs up onto the boxes slowly, carefully. He turns to face her agan. Then sits. Staring. Expectant. She made him believe there was food still to come! 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      At this, Shannon just bursts out laughing, making her way over to the cat on the pizza boxes. "Silly. I can't feed you if you're sitting on it! C'mon, off you go, so I can get something to eat for both of us." Yeah. If this cat wasn't quite a cat then chances are good a whole slice of meat-lover's pizza wasn't going to hurt him. If he does move off of the boxes, she opens the one on which a furry posterior had once rested, tugs a slice of pizza free, and closes the box to lay the piece down on top. "You've definitely earned that." 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' The feline's furry rump lifts off the box and he slowly pads off his cardboard throne. The moment all four paws touch down on sidewalk again, he turns to face her again. As she lifts the lid on the top pizza, he asks, "Is this the best place for that?" Indeed, tired of beating around the bush and playing it subtle, the feline decided to take a chance out in the open as they are. As for his voice? It's deep, resonant, clear, and accented with a British dialect. All in all, he sounds a bit like James Earl Jones reprising Darth Vader. Well, when his helmet had been removed, on account of the physical strain of abuse creeping into his voice. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon just blinks, stunned when the cat actually -speaks-. "Holy sh...iitake mushrooms." Talking to and fighting alongside kings? Sure! Talking to gods as if it were the most natural thing? Why not!      Talking to a cat, and having them /talk back/? Now that was a little weird!      Laughing awkwardly, the winged teen scratches the back of her head, and nods. "Yeah, you're probably right. Where to, then? Maybe somewhere well away from these thugs?" 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' "Yes," answers the imperious feline. He takes a second to situate himself, then sits upright. His chin uptilts, pseudo-regal. "You may carry me." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Laughing lightly, Shannon sketches a bow to the regal feline overlord, her wings outspread in a rather theatrical manner. "Of course, m'lord." Oh, this was just too precious! Despite the burning pain from her wound, and the dark stain on her jeans from it, she crouches down and very gently picks up the cat, cradling him against her so he can balance his front paws over her left shoulder. With her right hand, she picks up the pizza boxes, balancing them on her hip. This was awkward, a little less than dignified, but hey, it'd work!      She heads for what is hopefully the relative safety of Apple Park, to check on the well-being of the cat, and to share a bit of pizza. "My name's Shannon," she offers, smiling. "What's yours? 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' The uber-woolly calico deigns to allow himself be lifted, and in this process, is likely noticeably larger than the average cat of his species. Not mutantly large, nor freakish - just large. He's a big specimen. And he drapes neatly on the shoulder, hindpaws in her hand and lil' feline bean pads pushed into her palm. For better balance, his claws are mildly digging into her clothes. He's a cat, after all. They do that. The bow she'd offered, the gaiety with which she addressed him, falls flat for him though. That cat-frown remains persistent. Silent, even, until they ultimately seem to reach a point wherein they could be out of earshot. Of course, Shannon and her wings will always get some looks at a distance, but it'll have to do. Claws disengage, and the calico turns to neatly hop down to the grass. He pads a few feet in front of her, tail in the air, then turns to sit, resuming his ever-regal and aloof posture. A foreleg lifts, and he takes a few licks at the digits before setting it back down and, at last, replying: "I am Herukage, emissary of Makai-no-Yomorinushi, Lord Protector of the Night, god of yokai, father of monsters, and shepherd of beasts." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Of course, while she has a hold of the rather large calico, Shannon does offer a little bit of a cuddle, and a gentle scritching behind the ears. She did love cats, there was no denying it. The application of claws does not translate into the prickling of flesh, so she really hasn't anything to say about it. With a sigh of relief, as soon as the feline hops down, she sits down on a bench to have a look at her wound. Damn. That was probably going to need stitches, and it was -not- going to be fun to explain!      "Herukage, a pleasure to meet you. I owe you some thanks for helping me out back there. It could have gotten a lot worse than it did, had you not intervened." 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' Herukage tilts his head faintly to the side with a cant, as if accepting the gratitude with a modest bow. But his posture straightens again, poised. "Humans have not changed much," he comments. "But what manner of monster are you?" The blunt question sees him lift onto all fours and prowls closer to her shins, brazenly sniffing at her legs. After inspecting her clothing, he leans back to peer up at her nose. "Your nose is too short for a tengu." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon blinks, looking at Herukage with utter, complete confusion. "What's a tengu?" Then, his other words sink in. "I'm not a monster. I'm just a human that's got a couple interesting mutations." She smiles a little bit, pulling her jeans leg up so the denim at least partially covers the gash in her leg, adding pressure to try and stop the bleeding, or at least slow it enough to get home safely. "How can a cat talk?" 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' "Oh. What sort of alchemy created you? Did a foul surgeon tamper with your physic? Did he do this to others as well?," inquires the cat. Moving back to where he originally sat, he resumes his perch. "The sort that is a direct servant of the Lord Protector of the Night; one tasked with the duty of guiding a human champion. It would be difficult to do this without the ability to speak." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon shakes her head quickly. "No. There's a lot of questions about how mutants like me came to be, but it's not foul alchemy, or a surgeon. It's just nature being very creative. There are others who have different mutations. It's actually pretty amazing, the range of gifts and the things nature still has left in store for us." She's settled the pizza boxes down on the bench next to her, and is even now opening the top box again, picking all the meat off of the pie, bit by bit, and offering it to Herukage. She -had- promised, after all! 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' And while Herukage could (and will) totally eat the offered foodstuff, there is a topic of some fascination presented before him. He fidgets slightly in his 'seat', judgmental gaze shifting from her face to her leg, then back again. "That does not sound very human to me." Another glance to the leg. "And other humans do not seem to consider you human, either." The green eyes raise to Shannon's face, expression unchanging. "You neither look human, fit the description or a human, nor are accepted by humans. Why do you believe you are human?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon tilts her head slightly, this question giving her pause. And she thought she was the one to ask the loaded questions! "That's a question that some of us debate even amongst ourselves. I didn't always have the wings, nor could I always heal another by touch. Those came in when I was fourteen. I'm just sixteen now. But for all that time, all I knew was that I am human. The fact that I have wings now, and a few unusual gifts, doesn't seem that unusual to me. Life evolves. Humans are life. So it makes sense that we would evolve, too." 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' "Curious." The cryptic calico leans over to nibble a little on the meat before almost offpawedly adding, "You sound very much like a yokai." When he straightens his posture again, he continues whether or not prompted by question. "I have learned that yokai are a mystery to most here. You are not familiar with tengu - I suspect you are also unfamiliar with tsukumogami. Perhaps kitsune, as well? To be yokai is to change from one, lesser thing, into something different and more mystical." Rolling right along, Herukage continues as he paces around the meaty bits offered to him, "Though you may simply have been unaware of your inhuman nature from the start. That would be something else. Usually." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon shakes her head. "I have no idea what yokai are, but I've heard the word kitsune a few times. Not entirely sure what those are, but I've heard it." She smiles a little bit, peering over at the great, grumpy-looking calico, thinking for a moment. "Maybe we're the next breed of human, who knows?" 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' "I doubt that," replies Herukage, flat in tone as much as face. But he goes on to explain a little, which may in fact only muddy things up even further: "Of tengu, there are different types, but all are born the same way. If a human dies, but is not evil enough for Hell, nor virtuous enough for Heaven, Makai-no-Yomorinushi may deign to grant them life anew. Some appear as large crows with human-like features - those you should fear. Others appear as humans, but for grand, feathered wings and long noses." The calico suddenly hops up onto the bench with a, 'rrll' before sitting again. "Tsukumogami are objects you may often overlook; your shoes, your clothes, your umbrella. But when in service to a human for so long, such as a century, the Lord Protector of the Night may bless them with a spirit of their own, to know freedom and choice. There are many, /many/ different types of tsukumogami." The feline tilts his head faintly to the side, still looking up at her. "Do you understand what I am saying?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon smiles, and nods. "I think so, in a way. Sometimes it's said when something like a blade or a family heirloom has been passed down for generations, it takes on a life of its own. Most think of that in very metaphorical terms, but the way you are describing it sounds quite... literal. Like they're given their own life force. Is that something of what you were saying?" 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' "Yes," nods a pleased Herukage. His expression does not look pleased, so she may have to infer that through his voice and assenting gesture. "If you know of a tsukumogami sword, please stay away from it. They tend to be extremely dangerous and aggressive. All they know as their purpose for existing is to cut and kill; even those belonging to the most benevolent of samurai." The head bobs, his ears flattening. "I apologize. I have never before had the opportunity to speak on yokai matters, and I forget myself." His head lifts again, along with a paw as if to point the fuzzy digits up at her. "But you, Shannon, are impossible to call human. You may not be yokai, but you have more in common with them than you do the race that gave you.. /that/." The paw points to her leg, likely indicating the wound. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon wrinkles her nose, and sighs softly. "I'm afraid those aren't the best representation of humans. There's been a sad history of killing and fighting, wars that should never happen. But there have been good things, too. There are remarkable individuals. My own parents are two of them. They love and support me even though I've turned out so very different from them. There are many heroes who are indeed human as you know it, some of who I have been priveleged to know. There are good and evil among mutants as well." Shrugging lightly, she thinks for a moment, and smiles. "Human or not, I'm just... me. And that's enough." 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' Unaffected, Herukage lowers his paw and sits more comfortably on his fluffy rump. "Such is the way of all sentient life," he drones. "Yokai may be charitable, kind, and patient. Others may be sadistic, evil, and craven. Recall the tengu; the type that is more bird-like is vile, cruel for its own sake, and revels in the torture of humans. The other, more human-like, is reclusive, wise, and respectful. Though I will concede yokai do not often quarrel or war with one another - that is a trait of humanity." "However," he raises a paw to mid-height, "You suffer the same unjust persecution as yokai. And humans are a specific thing, varied as they may be individually. You no longer fit the mould, if you did once." There's a beat before he leans towards the open pizza box. "As you say, you are you. That should be enough." He opens his mouth, pauses, then asks, "What is a mutant?," before just nibbling directly off the pizza. Unless stopped! 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon tilts her head slightly to one side, pursing her lips slightly. By now, the pain of her wound is starting to get to her, and her color is a bit off, but she says nothing about it. Not yet. "The bird-like tengu sound almost like the Harpy of Greek myth and lore. Thankfully, I don't seem to be either of those." She's given up on trying to keep Herukage from eating the pizza, chuckling lightly, if a bit tense now. "Mutant is a human that's evolved traits generally considered to be wildly different from the 'standard' mold. Some have traits like strength, or healing, and nothing visibly different. Some have traits like mine, like wings, or some sort of armor. It's pretty widely varied." 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' "Oh. So.. you." Herukage lifts his head again, licking over his mouth with a floppy tongue. Once satisfied, he continues his reply, "I do not approve. Mutant sounds as though human is the ideal, and you are some... undesired offshoot, rather than transcendent. I imagine humans are the ones who first dubbed your kind." There's almost a tsking note in his voice. "Either way, I have much to meditate on. And you - you appear to have the same fragility as humans. You should see a physician." The calico turns aside to regard the pizza, then looks back to her over his shoulder in an entirely-too-feline, coy manner. "I'll watch over the food." Any cat-owner should know what that look means. No translation needed. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' To 'watch over the food', to a feline, usually translated as 'devour with extreme prejudice'. It was a look Shannon knew all too well. She rolls her eyes and chuckles lightly, rising to her feet, wincing. "I'll be alright once I get home and get this tended to. It'll be mostly healed by tomorrow, but it's probably going to need stitches. And that, I can't do myself." She looks down to Herukage and smiles, stepping away from the pizza boxes. "Hopefully I'll see you again one day. This is an area I come to frequently, if you ever want to find me." 

:'''{{#var:9109|Katsumi Oshiro (9109)}} has posed:''' The extremely fluffy head of the calico is already inside the box again, hovering inches above the pizza with nose abob. But at this prompt, he recoils and looks in her direction again. "If all goes well, you will not see me again. Though..." His head turns aside faintly, hesitates a moment, then returns to her. "...We shall see, Shannon. Now hurry, before you must be dragged to safety by a cat." 
}}

10759/Altars

2020-01-28T14:21:41Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/16 |Location=Fortress Asgard, Kvalvika, New Asgard |Synopsis=Loki shows Sif what has become of New Asgard. |Cast of Characters=115,138 |pre..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/16
|Location=Fortress Asgard, Kvalvika, New Asgard
|Synopsis=Loki shows Sif what has become of New Asgard.
|Cast of Characters=115,138
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' It had taken some convincing, but the Lady Caitlin had finally overcome her initial hesitations to swing her training sword like she meant it -- and a few flat-sided swats from Sif in accompaniment to teasing banter. With the lesson over and the young Midgardian back on her home planet, the Vanir Princess had retreated to her rooms to regather herself. Now, in more standard daywear of fitted deep-brown leather tunic overtop a thigh-length undershirt in buttery-gold, belted about her waist, she kneels before one of the winter honeysuckle bushes. Her intent is to gather a few boughs and arrange them in her room for the color and scent alike. Supple knee-high boots keep the worst of the mild wintry muck from reaching her fleece-lined trousers. Hanging over the front of her shoulder, her lustrously-dark hair, braided and tied off with a thin leather length. Her expression is full of distancing to memories, her smile faint and distracted as she plucks the third twig. Already, the scent of the flowers clings to her. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' "Don't think no one has /noticed/ your thievery of the honeysuckle," Loki's sly tone lilts smoothly, as he makes his appearance. He doesn't drape on a bench or any of that, he's merely standing, arms folded in an extremely judgmental posture, easily within swatting distance, to her right. Loki's dressed like a prince today, there's no possible way to ignore it: his finery is astoundingly crafted, leather and cloth and magical embroidery, jewelry that is elegantly chosen but also just toeing the edge of overwhelming. His black hair is pulled back from his face on the sides into black braids that curl past his ears, making the whole of it like preened raven feathers. "For shame." Smirk smirk. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Loki gets a glance at first surprised, but this swiftly melts into wry amusement. "If anyone has noticed my shame, it appears you are the first to have the courage to speak up. Perhaps my sharp-tongued reputation precedes me." A fourth twig fairly bursting with the pale yellow flowers is retrieved and the Princess rises up from her kneel. She offers out this particular collected sprig at a distance insinuating a sniff from the bright-eyed mage. "But how to resist this little delight? It is a simple happiness on days where the sky refuses to share its sun. I wonder that the sun itself might smell as such." Sif then gives the mage a more searching look even if her small fond smile doesn't change. "And how fare you, my lord? What brings you to the gardens?" 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' Loki looks at the flower down his nose, then flicks his eyes to her, as if deciding if he will deign to allow the scent entry to his princely senses, but steps forward be breathe it in, eyes on Sif. There's a quality there that Sif knows well. Very well, from personal experience. That right there is a barely cloaked mischief. Something is coming, or already has come. "I fare very well. I've come to /you/, not specifically these gardens," Loki replies, moving back to his straightened position. "I want to //show// you something," Loki says elusively. "Quite worth it. You'll want a disguise, though; of which I can assist." Loki waits, to see if she's intrigued. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Now the Aesir woman's lips part from a thoughtful smile to something more knowing. Absolutely, she's seen that look leveled both at herself and others, and always sympathy comes for the latter grouping. "I daresay you've captured my curiosity with masterful intention, as you tend to do, Loki," replies Sif. Her collection of honeysuckle is tucked to her chest now as she looks between his eyes. "I will accept your offer of a disguise, yes, though I trust this endeavor is free of great risk? I accept minor and moderate risk well enough without Brumeoalfold at my hip." The subtle lift of her chin is pride making a brief appearance; it twinkles too in her glacially-blue eyes. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' "You may want your blade, but not for the reason you'd expect," Loki says, slyly, with a brief shrug of his shoulders, eyes half-lidded. He enjoys his games FAR too much. Were it another situation, this would be a particularly deadly conversation. It comes down to how much she trusts him, perhaps. "Whether you choose to /use/ it in the end, I'd leave to you," Loki adds, innocently. Which is his way of being confusing, but also saying he doesn't care if she does use it or not. He looks her over, then, more steadily, as if deciding on a proper disguise, but he doesn't appear to actually do anything. "When you are ready," Loki says. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' "I trust your judgement on matters," the Princess informs her beau with a quiet sincerity. If the off-chance of his word games means she'll want some form of proficient defense, it seems wiser to be weaponized than to be otherwise. A glance down at her side and while her gaze narrows in concentration, it takes but a thought's focused efforts. The enchanted sword appears at her hip in a contained shape's swirl of fine stardust. Its familiar weight is patted once at the pommel and Sif then looks to Loki again. "I am ready." With blade at one hand and flowers at another, the Princess presents an interesting picture in duality now. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' "Off we go, then," Loki says, with a lurch of prepared magic. He was probably casting, and not revealing to her that he was casting. Illusion mages have style. All of it, lies, yet it allows such interesting things as the sensation of suddenly teleporting, as the magic flares and pulls. They appear amidst the street of a very familiar place: New Asgard, on Midgard: Kvalvika. They'd entirely dismantled the place, and left, all of the Asgardians. But there's people, down in the buildings nearby, there's lights and some music. Loki has handled disguises with his illusion: he's modified them both to appearing to be a young human looking pair: perhaps eighteen at the most, dressed in warm garb appropriate for the region of humans, both of them blonde, pale, and red cheeked from the cold in appearance. Still, Loki didn't craft it to where he was entirely unrecognizable; it wasn't intended to confuse Sif. Sif's sword is hidden for now, but her flowers are not. Loki tilts his head towards the building and offers an arm, to head over through the snow. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' A bit of a stumble of surprise follows Sif through the entire skein of magic cast over them both. Still, more familiar now with the mage's penchant for sudden decisions, she merely looks over at him now as they stand in Kvalvika. "I am impressed. You've not been such a flower of youth for several centuries now." Her gentle tease accompanies the slide and link of her arm through his offered, all the better to travel alongside him towards the building. "I do like that you allowed the honeysuckle to remain. I must appear something of a maiden of the hidden Spring season or the like," muses Sif with a smile clearly seen. She knows Loki would not fully hide their Asgardian grace and elegance of feature. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' "Or the like," Loki agrees slyly, which may suggest the opposite. He seems to think he has something that will have impact on her in some way. They cross down towards the building, but Loki doesn't go in, he leads her past it, towards several others. They are quieter, but there are still lights inside. He chooses one: it used to be one of their guard buildings, and then stands aside, devoid of expression. He's expecting her to go first. Inside is a shrine. There are several people inside, calmly speaking and having tea on low benches. The central piece is one of the carvings that used to be outside, designating a training zone for Sif's warriors. It has been brought in, and honored, in a circle of candles and other things: flowers, her colors, small momentos. The people inside, mostly women, turn to look at the arrivals, but only nod welcome, and return to what they were doing, without recognition. This is a religious site. Loki just looks vaguely satisfied. "They all came when the Asgardians left," Loki says mildly. One of the women near the statue looks at Loki when he speaks. "They're still here with us, in spirit," she says. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Loki does get a side-glance for his 'agreement'. It's the tone which has the Princess on his arm bemused. Still, and yet again, she's mildly taken aback when it becomes apparent that not the building full of revelry that he intended to attend upon, but one tucked father back into the collection of architecture. Sif finds herself torn between fond memory and the lingering wispy shreds of melancholy that haunted this new life, one that was an attempt to replace such a loss. It's with a small frown that Sif realizes she's meant to lead the way into the stand-alone barracks. She does so, an outstretched hand reaching and pushing open the wooden door. Rather than leather and weapon polish, the scent of sweat and ground-muck of the training fields, it's now filled with warm soft light and...Midgardians. She scans the room and fights down a blip of offense -- this is a place of trial, not of tea time! -- before she realizes the gravity of the entire display. Half-numbed fingers nearly drop the honeysuckle bunch before she regains her aplomb, but to someone as keen as Loki, the slip won't be missed. Sif glances to him as he speaks and then to the woman who dares to unknowingly offer partial disagreement to the very race who apparently linger in spirit. "They do attend as such," agrees the Vanir Princess in a voice so very...real. Her words are devoid of courtly sangfroid and hauteur. "They would be honored to know that they engendered such respect." Unable now to look at the Asgardian mage beside her for the tangle of feelings in her chest, Sif simply then walks across the room to place her small bouquet of winter honeysuckle against the carving. Then, she stands, looking down at it, her expression both pleased and torn. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' Loki looks around at the decorations, the beautifully woven flowers and pieces of mementos around the statue. Some of the are pictures, there are notes and wishes, prayers: for the most part, women seeking the strength to get through battles in their lives. Loki observes Sif's behavior with the statue. There's barely a flit of warning, but Loki's being mercurial. Perhaps it is too bad that Sif will miss the hint in time to stop him, as she is staring down at the statue and the offerings. Loki steps towards the statue, directly over one of the candles, which causes all of the Midgardians in the room to look up and over. One of them gives a start of indignation and insult. "You're disgracing the---!" says one of the women in abject horror. How dare this young man just walk into their sacred space and disgrace their circle?! Loki is lifting a laurel of flowers, a slim wreath, off of one of the extended axes on the statue, and turns towards Sif with it in his hand, still partially straddling INTO the circle of bits. His smile is absolutely naughty. Three of the others in the tent scramble to their feet, red-cheeked, but one woman, red haired, freckled, perhaps in her forties, and dressed in deep browns and tans, gestures at the angry people to stay back and stand down, with an authority that they obey rebelliously. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Eyes downfallen in contemplation rise when she sees the hand reach for the carefully-braided circlet of Earth flowers. Interwoven in the laurel is ivy and holly and for color, a winter-blooming primrose in the most delicate breath of pink. Sif lifts her face fully to look at the Asgardian mage, ignoring for now the ruckus he's managed to cause...so very deliberately. Her fine eyebrows lift questioningly if only for a second because she knows, so well, that to reprimand is to entertain further mercurial behavior. As such, she say evenly, "I suppose it is only fair that we greet them properly, isn't it...Loki?" Cue the gasps. "I did miss this place. There are many good memories to be found here." Sif lifts her eyes to look around the barracks and then to the matronly leader, her smile as gentle as she can make it. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' Loki's smirking, and has retrieved the laurel fully; he steps out of the circle, crossing behind Sif and setting the crown of flowers right on her hair. He also pulls down the curtain of illusion on both of them like a magician unveiling the end of his trick. The matron is the only one that reacts well to the situation. "Welcome back, Lord Loki," she says solemnly, carefully. She knew, she had the clear wisdom, to quickly pierce that mischief around the worship sites could be aligned to their god of mischief. Of course. However, she's overcome by Sif, and immediately bows, her hands shaking. She was already seated, but adjusts to kneel more piously. "Lady Sif, you honor us," she gets out, trembling. The others react in a mix of shock and awe to the god pair. There's a mix of looking down, but mostly open staring. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' As Sif stands there in her Asgardian clothing, loyal Brumeoalfold at her hip, crowned by winter flowers and looking down upon the matronly Midgardian, she realizes that everything has fallen so very neatly into place as easily as wooden puzzle blocks. Awe flitters over her face in a passing few blinks and purse of lips. Again and again, she's reminded of the clever forethought always in play in the Trickster God who set the laurel upon her sleek dark hair. "Please, you need not kneel." Sif offers out her hands, smooth but for the subtle callouses of bladework, to the matronly woman. "It is us who are honored by your faith. I have always loved you well here on Midgard, you who rally when the world is darkest and in stauch defense of all that you hold dear." 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' Loki drifts behind her to the opposite shoulder. This is a very, very familiar prowl to the trickster god: he always prefers to stand just back and to the side of either Sif or Thor; and that's perhaps the safest situation. It's when Loki's out in front by himself that cities get leveled and people die. Loki murmurs wryly at Sif's shoulder, just for her ears: "Such good humans." It's like he's approving of puppies that stopped peeing indoors. Such good little humans. The problem is, Loki's not a 'dog' person. Still, Loki watches the series in amusement, and casts again. The room turns bizarrely, a spinning of the walls that makes all of the humans move from kneeling to falling on their faces instead, as their gods appear to bend very reality. Loki's changed the ambiance to look more like one of the grand meeting halls of Asgard, though tamed down, it isn't reality. He isn't going to show these mortals a /real/ interior of the palace! Even so, the small barracks has appeared to explode into beauty and wonder, music of a harp drifting in, sunlight casting patterns through stained glass onto the ground, the statue with candles, everywhere. Loki's an artist of artists when he tries. In this case, he's showing off to Sif: not the people, not really. Loki grins, privately to Sif (as the humans are face down on the floor, and ventures to attempt a naughty neck-kiss. So naughty, in the worship spot. The mercurial god is having a /great/ time. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' A silent sigh leaves the Vanir Princess. Her hands remain offered out yet even as the entire atmosphere goes impossibly more reverent in a master painter's wash of color and ambiance. Candlelight gleams in the colors of raven feathers upon her hair and gold upon the pommel of Brumeoalfold as she looks around and then to Loki himself. "I daresay we will have made an impression," she breathes to him in rueful amusement. It's not that Sif //minds// the idea of respect being granted to her, not at all -- more that this is a taste of it she's not used to, not on Midgard, not when her normal dealings are with those who look her levelly in the eye. Her face turns towards one of the brilliantly colorful windows in admiration and in that moment, the Trickster God can land his kiss. It tickles and her shoulder jumps before she whisper-laughs once: "Loki!" Faint blush colors her cheeks, no doubt a proper reward for his behavior. Still, she speaks up for the room as a whole: "Please, rise to your feet. Tell me, what brought you to this place?" Since no one's going to take her hands, she's returned them to before her stomach, properly placed in a courtly manner. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' There's another interruption: at the door, a man was arriving with a dish of various fruit and items. He's entering a fairy tale, though, and he didn't expect it. He drops the tray with an explosive clatter in the doorway and a shrill little "MEEEEEEF" noise. Loki's on that side, so he mostly gets an eyeful of being stared down by a god. "Jasper," The matron says quickly. "Spread the word we have visitors," she tells him. It doesn't work, he's still owlishly staring at the interior. However, it does bring some of the others to act, to accept Sif's kindness and grace. They stand: she'd asked them to. "Hope," answers the youngest present, a warm, round-faced girl of maybe sixteen. She blushes but there's bravery to her almond colored eyes. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Not one gods, but two, though the Princess doesn't make the startled man with no pan endure more than a second's worth of attention. Loki has that accomplished in spades. Remaining poised and calm, very much inadvertently one half of the duality that this group likely whispers to in the dark of night, Sif looks from the matronly leader to the youngest. "Hope is a strength, never forget this," Sif murmurs, lending her approval to this reason. "Strength too," the youngest volunteers again, embolded by the response she's garnered from the flower-crowned Asgardian. Sif nods. "A wise reason, for both of these things, along with faith in the rise of the dawn, will bring you through any night. You all blossom in this winter darkness." The sincere compliment brings a few to look away and down. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' "Wonderful," Loki says, amused, to Sif, sideways. He's growing a little bit bored of the situation, though that mood has only just started, and he still has some reasonable patience. Still, his remark heralds the dawning of a Loki that did in fact bring her to see the worship spot, but isn't actively interested in it while it's not fun to him personally. "Come see mine when you're done bonding," Loki teases Sif, but the lack of reaction from anyone suggests he didn't say it in a way that the others could hear. Because it was mentally projected. Loki shoo-shoos the boy out of the doorway, who about falls over himself making way, and Loki serenely stalks outside. It was generous in its way, though: Loki's giving her time if she wants it, without him leering. The illusion stays, though: proving the generosity is real, not imagined. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' "Thank you," replies Sif, also sideways. She's pleased to have smoothed most of the ruffled feathers in the room, but that poor kid will probably never live down how he upended the food platter in front of both the 'patron goddess' and the Trickster God himself come to visit. There's a period of respectful silence while the entire room watches Loki excuse himself from the situation, including Sif herself. Her lips scrunch into what has to be a smirk kept tightly in check. There's no mental response back to Loki, given that particular nuance of communication is beyond her abilities, but he'll likely gleam agreement from a general skim of her thoughts. She does intend to see just how his own quarters are being treated. "Will you stay and dine with us?" Hands clasped before her bosom, the matronly leader asks this of Sif. The Princess turns and smiles gently. "Forgive me, but this time, no. I do promise to return and linger longer when time better permits. My lord Loki and I have duties to enact in Asgard yet." There are nods, some forlorn and openly disappointed, but not from the matronly leader. "Of course, my lady. Do return to us," she says quietly, a bit of a plead in her voice. "I shall," Sif repeats. "For now, I bid you be well and be strong. The world may not know your strength, but I do." All the Midgardians in the room bow their heads and Sif returns the inclination of chin before she turns to leave. Rather than stalk, she swans with head held high and laurel bright upon her hair. And as she leaves, she wonders to herself...how on Earth do any acolytes of the Trickster God comport themselves? Well -- a thing to be seen as she goes to seek out Loki. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' Unfortunately, it seems there was a host of people just outside the location waiting for her to come out. "Lady Sif," murmurs some. Others gasp and there's offerings set down in a semicircle around the door area. "Lady Sif," others repeat, in reverence. In the back, beyond all of them, seated on the edge of a stone wall, sits Loki himself, one leg up, relaxing forearm on his knee, other leg loose. It's a jaunty pose more proper for one such as Tom Sawyer, smirking over the heads of the people at Sif. Loki fans himself with his other hand slightly mockingly, but it isn't mean, just playful. Of course he caused this. Mischief in the flesh. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Sif has found Loki, this is not to be denied -- and the arrival of more of the acolytes of the burgeoning cult in her name has the Vanir Princess brought up short right outside of the building. She at least has the wherewithal to push the door closed as to not let in further cold air. Her eyes unerringly find the Trickster and her half-embarrassed smile is fought down with all the masterful skill in composure she can bring to bear. "I greet you all gratefully. Thank you for your kindness. Have you, perchance, happen to have seen a man wearing..." Sif peters off as she remembers just how flexible the Liesmith can be in his disguises. "...forgive me, he could have been wearing anything," the Aesir continues with another knowing look shot at the gleeful collection of mischief on the stone wall. Another thought occurs to her and provides adequate cover for her stumble: "Have your people worshipped any others here? Are there other altars? I would be pleased to see if so." Snow drifting down here and there collects like stars in the Princess's dark hair, still crowned by winter flowers. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' "Of course, Lady Sif," agrees one of the older men in the front of the row, still bowing low. "We have areas of worship for Odin and Thor just across this bridge," he gestures towards the palace area. "Opposite, Freya and Baldr," He continues to point out sites. "Tyr, Loki--" The list continues: many of those mentioned from Norse mythology, not all of them Asgardian pantheon: the site has become one of mixed worship. Some of the women on Sif's left have baskets of offerings. They are all very respectful, but also unable to contain themselves in her presence, trying to touch her cloak just a tiny bit. Until something phenomenal happens. At the fence, Loki reacts by partially falling off the stone fence, in the manner of a cat that is certain nobody saw him actually fall off of the fence, disappearing behind it amidst the massive power display that suddenly explodes in the area. Electricity, lightning that curves the air and rends the sky in the manner of Thor, and yet it is decidedly not Thor. There is no recklessness to it, but a broader, comfortable use of it that leaves no actual threat, as if the one that cast it did not intend it so, and had the power to decide what lightning itself /is/... Yet the appearance of the figure that arrives is that of the gray bearded, one-eyed 'wanderer' in dress: simple whites and grays, robust wools and furs -- but the ambiance of all of it, how the man stands, how he appears to link with the earth, all of it leaves no question as to the identity of Odin. Or it's an illusion of a masterful level. Maybe. The midgardians can't handle it, and are on the ground in awe, their mortal minds clearly unable to handle what is happening. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Sif looks to each speaker and nods, her brows knitted enough to give proof to her listening with care rather than allowing the Midgardians to talk needlessly. At the mention of Loki's name, her attention flicks up and beyond to the fenceline. They meet and hold those mischievous jade-green eyes still full of laughter for a betraying second or two. It's enough to make a few people glance over their shoulder, but...of course, Loki's only visible to the Vanir Princess, and dismissed quickly enough as something beyond their sight. It's when someone very gently tugs at Sif's cape that she reacts. Her face turns to see the youngest Midgardian yet, a little cherubic bundling of blonde girl no more than about seven or so. Her cheeks are pinked from the cold and she holds out another spring of holly to Sif with all the pride she can muster. "Oh." Sif can't help the smile. "Thank you, young one. What is your n -- " But then THUNDER AND LIGHTNING AND VERY VERY FRIGHTENING! And Sif now boggles -- outright //boggles// at the sudden appearance of the All-Father. But...not the All-Father because //she// knows who's behind that facade. While the Midgardians fall prostrate, she stands there and visibly rolls her lips away and out of view, her brows twitching. "My...liege," she finally offers quietly, certain that it's still an accurate address for both Loki and 'Odin' both. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' For a long moment, the newly arrived god doesn't speak. There's a strange translucency to him a drifting, a sense of between worlds. The clouds above brew slightly, electricity moving through them unnaturally. He stays where he is, seeming to take in the landscape, the sky, head tilted up, his one clear blue eye roving into the heavens. The Allfather sees beyond, into distances others cannot fathom. It is as if he is doing that now. His gaze stays up, but he speaks, finally. "Geirdottir," Odin addresses Sif, in a thoughtful way, his gaze moving to her, finally. "It pleases me to see you well," he says, with a cultured, subtle regal undertone. "Come, walk with me?" requests Odin. He passes among the various people, a brush of hand barely there amidst them, but they react to it, sit back, dizzy but smiling, blessed by their god of gods. Odin does not move towards the bridge, but more away from the main palace buildings. "My son can catch up as he chooses," Odin chuckles softly. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' "Of course, my liege," replies Sif with the proper amount of respect that would be shown to a member of the royal family. Still, she takes a moment to drop down to one knee and wait for the little blonde girl to appear from behind her startled mother. "You may put it here," she whispers to the little one with a conspiratorial smile and taps at the floral crown by her ear. Grinning, oblivious to the dramatic import of the All-Father's appearance, the girl toddles out and with Sif's help, has given her small sprig of holly. It now sits jauntily in the winter-flower circlet like a feather behind Sif's ear. "Thank you, little one. Grow brave and strong," she wishes quietly to the blonde girl and gives her small hand the gentlest squeeze. Receiving a grin in return, the Vanir Princess rises and attends upon the All-Father. Loki-Father. All-Loki -- All-Loki, because this prank is definitely All-Loki. Her walking beside him is quiet and formal, hands gathered before her waist, and she glances to him with a skilled courtly expression of benign interest. "I can imagine little will keep him for long. He is nothing but certain of his wishes when he puts his mind to it." 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' "I continually remind my other son not to dote among the humans. I have reminded him multiple times, that this preoccupation will end in disasters. Such as the one so recently befallen our people," All-Not-Loki-Father laments, though it is quiet, so as to not hurt the poor human ears. "But you understand, I think," continues the god, allowing the lady Sif to attend him with his arm in a subtle courtly signal he knows that she will pick up. She was raised well, the daughter of Geir will be raised in such a manner to know all of the proper ways to behave! "My sons are extremes. One fit to fall for humans, the other..." Odin releases a breath, and then looks at her with his one true, all-knowing eye. "Perhaps you will see what you wish to see," suggests the elder, a wisdom and weight to his words. It's quite a show, very convincing. The full might of Loki is magical: a true magic show that brings someone along because they WANT to be fooled, they want magic to be true, they want to //believe//. Loki uses all of those tools in his arsenal. "That is his altar there," Odin says, with a nod to their right as they walk. It is a spot burned to the ground, black with the magical scorch-mark that remains there. Yet all around it are bundles of flowers and offerings: pits of pure white, and written scrolls of secrets and arts. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' After a moment's hesitation -- and there, Loki might appreciate that morsel of momentary doubt -- the Vanir Princess slips her hand to rest atop the All-Father's forearm as a bird might perch a branch. She listens, her eyes watching ahead with no insinuation of ignoring the man's words. At the All-Fathers divisive descriptions as to his sons, Sif does finally look over again. Her brows knit. "Perhaps I will," she allows pensively. Her booted steps are quiet in the low-lying snow as they travel on. When they reach the site of Loki's altar, Odin will find his travels slowed. Sif then takes a moment to walk over to it. She is a tall and svelte silhouette with her sword still at her hip. All about her, solemn silence is worn as a second cape. Then, carefully, she reaches up and plucks a single primrose blossom from her circlet. Kneeling down, she carefully tucks it in a clear small space of char; its color is bright and strong against the dark of the ash. While she kneels, a scroll of secrets is taken and read. Her grin is a quick flicker of fondness -- ah, Midgardians -- and the scroll is placed back where it once sat. Still wearing that enigmatic little smile, she returns to the All-Father and rises upon her toes to whisper into his ear: "Your secret is mine to keep, my lord, as you keep my heart." And then, after a kiss to his cheek, she returns her hand to his forearm where it ought to be, cool and composed as a late-winter morning. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' Odin observed her with the burned site, thoughtfully, as she departs from his side to examine it. Her movements and her offer of the tiny flower bring a slightly movement to eyebrow from the god, as he looks on, quietly standing in the snow, the mild breezes from the odd weather above them only bringing slight tugs to his white hair. He allows her to step close to him, relaxed, fearless as always, though her leaning in that way, and touching lips to his cheek draws a slight twist of lips within the frosty white beard. The kiss drew a blink, but that's all, it seems, at first... and he flits the eye sideways at Sif. The look is entirely Loki. She's poked a hole in his game. But the smile following is rueful. He'll give way graciously. He draws one hand up, reaching towards the scorched earth, and magic curves and dances out from his splayed fingers. The small rosebud seizes into the earth with exploding roots, leaves of rich green flowing out, as the plant eagerly grows there in the burned ground, roots running below it, yet also among the magical burn. Flecks of magic come through the leaves, glistens of emerald, as the rose bush evolves and grows from the hand of the mage. He looks on at it, this magical thing growing in the black scar. And then he suddenly and deftly breaks character. "The beard //is// itchy," Odin admits, secretively, ignoring, it appears, the obvious symbology of what he just did. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' And that look entirely Loki is returned with a look entirely Sif, smug and pleased in a manner that gleams like tanzanite behind her lashes. She masks it away again with some effort, though the expression shifts swiftly enough to plain surprise to see the sudden manipulation of the single primrose blossom stark on the dark ground. Her step further into the All-Father's personal space is a blatant show of familiarity even before the bush finishes claiming the ash-strewn site with glossy leaves and more pale petals. With mouth rounded yet, she glances back at the dignified patron of all Asgardian society and then has to put fingers against those very lips to stop a very //undignified// snort from slipping out. "I have never had a beard and, as such, I can only imagine -- and that was NOT an invitation to teach me otherwise," the Vanir Princess is sure to firmly add. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' "Worry not; no mortals are witnessing us; not that it would matter what they think, beyond to amuse us," 'Odin' chuckles at her, with a distracted gesture of hand. Either there aren't any mortals around, or they're cloaked. Or he's lying. There could be a massive audience and /Sif/ can't see it. Hard to know with Loki. "You're brave, though. Running the risk that it was, indeed, me. Or perhaps you had a tryst with the All-Father even I didn't know about?" Loki teases her, leaning in, to put his beard against her skin to 'feel', just because he's obnoxious. It doesn't last, the shapeshifter returns to his own form, like liquid mercury, and grins, angling his head just /so/, lips in the angle of a sneer, but it's without any fang. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Ew, old man beard! -- and Sif tucks her shoulder up as if the pauldron-less joint might spare her further bearding. Her grimace is far more smile in the end and appropriate parry to the coy grin she's receiving. It never fails to make her heart skip a beat in both trepidation and delight alike...given even a tamed snake has fangs. "Loki, I have the deepest respect for all of your family." He gets a good eyebrowing to boot. "And sometimes, I do have an urge to...test my luck," she adds with a casual lightness. "But yes, I am brave, thank you." Her attention flickers back to the rosebush suddenly having sprung up at the Trickster's behest. Giving his forearm a quick squeeze, she moves to pluck one of the blooms from it. Returning to Loki, she offers it to him. "Would the Prince please affix his blossom upon my crown? I daresay it will suit." 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' Loki looks monstrously affronted as she moves over and plucks the rose. "You /desecrate/ my altar!?" Loki asks, his voice sliding chilly cold, the fang suddenly appearing, as he stares her down as she brings the bloom and offers it. Loki flips moods, out of the false one and back to how he actually feels, plucking the rose from her hand, grinning slyly, and lifts both hands to her crown, stepping in close. "I don't care," Loki snarkily adds, flippant. He adjusts the rose into he hair, but then leans in to slyly kiss her, as well, warm and directly. There are onlookers, actually. They were nearby, walking together, and they look on with interest and fawning pleasure at the display. Maybe the roses, maybe the rest of it... 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' Bold Sif lifts her chin the necessary amount to weather the shift in disposition with a confidence far more professed than when their courting first began. Her refined smile grows up until the point where it's smothered by the Trickster's kiss. A little sigh from the Aesir warrior and when they part, she looks up into Loki's face with contentment plain as day. "And how does the rose sit upon my crown, my Prince? I daresay I might start a new fashion in those brave enough to risk your ire in wearing the bloom," she murmurs even as she glances over at the Midgardians. Her palm remains on Loki's forearm in silent claimancy if the show of affection wasn't enough as it stands. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' Loki flicks a hand at the rosebush he'd magically created somehow out of a single primrose, and all of the blooms turn pure white, leaving the red and pink one on her hair the same color. The magic, so visible, gets gasps from the onlookers. "None will match yours," Loki decides with a flick upwards of eyebrow, and tight laugh. He rolls his eyes a little, in a way that indicates the midgardians. "Done here, or still more to do? More to bask in?" As if he didn't cause ALL of it. 

:'''{{#var:115|Sif (115)}} has posed:''' "I do believe I am pleased, my lord," demures the Princess on his arm. As much as Sif might to attempt to keep the amount of self-satisfied airs away from herself, it can still be seen in the subtle lift of the corners of her lips and the twinkle in her ice-blue eyes. "Have you any other errands to attend upon while within this city? I am..." Her eyes slide to one side before returning to his face and now she's not shifted shy again, but more modest. "I am humbled that the Midgardians wish to show us such respect. That you chose to show me, in turn? I thank you. I would not have thought to go looking. My attention has ever been turned to Asgard and to my few friends far from this place -- and, of course, to you." Her palm rises to rest over the Trickster's heart with blatant familiarity. 

:'''{{#var:138|Loki (138)}} has posed:''' "No other things here, no," Loki answers sleekly. "Not at this moment, that is," he adjusts, with a playful little roll of his eyes. There's always something, with Loki. "I thought this would amuse you," Loki adds, without even gesturing: but he means the whole little show and adventure. "Lets return, then. Leave them to their prayers." Loki's gaze flicks down to her hand that she dared place upon His Royal Chest, but only smiles slyly, and with a magical flare, sends them home in a flutter of magical rose petals and snow. Home to Asgard. 
}}

10697/Cold Heart, Warm Hands

2020-01-28T14:21:19Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/11 |Location=Midtown, Manhattan |Synopsis=A scene goes nowhere. |Cast of Characters=7730,1054 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:'''{{#var:7730..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/11
|Location=Midtown, Manhattan
|Synopsis=A scene goes nowhere.
|Cast of Characters=7730,1054
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:7730|Killer Frost (7730)}} has posed:''' MIDTOWN, MANHATTAN - UNMARKED WAREHOUSE (A.K.A. A PLACE WHERE SECRET SCIENCE HAPPENS) Ramsey Hussman had been working in energy tech for years - specifically with regards to storing the stuff, creating stable, empty matrices capable of compressing and releasing energy upon demand, magnifying whatever input they receive a hundredfold. It sounds ridiculous because it *is* ridiculous; thermodynamics dictates that energy can only be LOST in any given transaction, and never CREATED. Besides, the FAA has regulations against travel batteries for a reason. What happens if a flaw in an energy matrix allows it all to leave in the most expedient way possible? (bombs and fire. it is bad.) Ramsey Hussman has been conducting experiments and prototypical builds in this warehouse for months. Nobody should know about his presence here. Caitlin Snow has resources, has used those resources, and Ramsey Hussman's day has suffered for it. --- "Ah! I- I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! Y-you can't TAKE the prototype, it's not-- it's not READY yet!" Ramsey cowers in his workstation, even as a handful of hired guardsmen run through the warehouse entry while a handful of hired lab assistants run *out*. Before him stands one blue-fleshed walking corpse, a menacing-looking cylinder held in her left hand, presumably plucked from the stabilizing field generator to a table at her side. The thing's already starting to glow like Problems are developing. "I told you already," grates the creature, one hand leveled at the handful of guardsmen barreling in. A plume of blue leaves her outstretched fingers - it crashes into the warehouse entry, blossoms into a cascading sheet of ice and frigid winds. The men it touches are *instantly* frozen in place, eyes and mouths locked in their last vital horror. The creature turns, leans in to leer at the man cowering before her, and smiles. "I'm Frost. We have a date. You. And. Me. I heard you had some pretty hot toys we could play with." Frost indicates the cylinder in her hand, and gestures to Hussman, places a finger on his quivering chin. Immediately the man makes an inimitable, keening noise - pain. "Tell me how it works or you'll never breathe a warm breath again - I can already tell your heat's going to be *delicious*." 

:'''{{#var:1054|Mary Marvel (1054)}} has posed:''' Whoever invented the quadratic function should be dragged out into the rainy street and shot. Algebra sucked wind, bigtime. Mary Batson was trying to puzzle out x^2 + 34xy + y^2. Who needed this stuff? For a moment, she was wondering if changing to Mary Marvel would be acceptable. Mary Marvel was SMART...but Mary Marvel was also CHEATING, and she wasn't the one who was going to take this test next Monday. Just had to figure this stuff out as Batson. Being Mary Marvel just for algebra homework was like Harry Potter using magic to make lunch. SEVERE overkill. Then the police scanner on the desk buzzed to life. "Warehouse, midtown, High alert. Code 66. Proceed with caution." Mary smiled. THIS was a GOOD reason for Mary Marvel! She ran out into the backyard and one "SHAZAM!" later, Mary Marvel soared off in the direction of Midtown. She doesn't have super-hearing, but the scream of pain from the warehouse is audible even through the wall. The wall in question suddenly blows inward as if a grenade had gone off on the other side, and through it flies Mary Marvel...okay, she's not very famous, but she's working on it! 

:'''{{#var:7730|Killer Frost (7730)}} has posed:''' *BLOM* goes the warehouse wall, prompting a second scream from Hussman and a startled intake of air from Frost. Marvel will find her opponent is *fast*; that opening in the warehouse wall exists for maybe a second before ice erupts from the newly-bare ground, recreating the barrier in a half-foot sheet of frost. By the time the metaphorical 'dust' clears, it means Frost and Marvel are able to stare one another down - Frost is fast, but she's not Marvel fast. And Marvel fast gets you in before the 'door' goes back up. "Already? You're fast... I thought I had a little more time. Prefer *boys* over *girls*, unfortunately..." The frigid creature - crystalline white hair, white eyes, and blue flesh all - sneers at Mary Marvel. Without further preamble, she sets the glowing cylinder in Hussman's lap (another muffled shout), and taps the scientist on the lips. "Don't go anywhere. I've got questions you haven't answered, and if you're *nice*, I'll show you how *nice* I can be." As she stands, more ice crawls up the seated scientist's body, encasing his chair, legs, lap, and torso in a fast-grown iceblock. By now, the room's temperature is beginning to plummet. "Who are you? Go home. This man's a terrorist, you're in my way, and I'm *way* above your pay-grade." Killer Frost leaves her prey to approach her would-be predator - air's already crystallizing over one of the creature's shoulders. She's planning *something*. 

:'''{{#var:1054|Mary Marvel (1054)}} has posed:''' Mary looks around and...oh, geez. The guard-sicles are flash-frozen, and there is going to be some work to save them. She'd heard from a county coroner, 'You aren't DEAD until you're WARM and DEAD." She hoped that this was true. But right now, those people are dead...and this woman killed them. Negative fifty point for...whoever this is. But the ice suggest ice powers, so she needs to be careful. "All right, whoever you are...whatever you're doing stops right now. I'm MARY MARVEL, and I'm not going to let you hurt anyone else!" Yeah, she has to presence not to sound like a dork saying that. "So, why don't you lay down on the ground, arms out, and lay there while the cops come? There's more steps, but do we HAVE to go through those?" 

:'''{{#var:7730|Killer Frost (7730)}} has posed:''' "H-h-help me! HELP ME! I'M JUST TRYING TO MAKE THE WORLD BETTER!" Ramsey Hussman is screaming because he is more or less up to his neck in ice. It's an uncomfortable position to be in. Eddies of frostbitten wind swirl about the room, bringing with them a constant reminder of plummeting temperature. "Shut up, _terrorist_," grates Frost - with a wave of her hand towards Hussman, she manufactures a bit more ice - just enough to seal his mouth and save her ears. Her attention turns back to Marvel, now on the approach. "Hurt anybody else? The man's making bombs." Frost bends the truth a bit, but Mary Marvel's hesitation buys her precious time. The shimmering air over her shoulder finally coalesces into something *solid* - a line of razor-sharp icicles, suspended lazily in the air behind her head, a quartet of frigid spikes angled towards Marvel. "Let's see if the rest of you bleeds as much as your heart does. I've worked *too hard* for some *nobody* to get in my way." Even as she's speaking, that quartet of icicles shrieks through the air, angled for our erstwhile heroine! 

:'''{{#var:1054|Mary Marvel (1054)}} has posed:''' Mary looks at the icicles flying at her. Should she dodge? Hmmm...nah. The icicles, as hard as permafrost, impact with her body with enough force to pierce a regulat person and pin them to the wall behind her. What ACTUALLY happens is that the icicles disintegrate against her face, the glowing lightning bolt on her chest, her bare legs...nothing. All that is left is ice chips that drift to the floor ten feet below her. The guy she has frozen in place is staring, and for pretty good reason. That's because Mary is suddenly standing in front of him, facing Dr. Snow. "Gotta tell ya, Abominable Snow-Woman...the forecast is NOT looking favorable for you." 
}}

9902/Scoping the Competition

2020-01-28T14:20:56Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2019/11/04 |Location=Bushwick (Mutant Town), Brooklyn |Synopsis=While scoping out the competition for bar space, Samuel Guthrie comes upon Alexis C..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2019/11/04
|Location=Bushwick (Mutant Town), Brooklyn
|Synopsis=While scoping out the competition for bar space, Samuel Guthrie comes upon Alexis Carr playing piano. Extending an invitation to visit Xavier's School, the two share a quiet moment on a Brooklyn rooftop
|Cast of Characters=9059,1258
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     The place was called Club Friiq. It was new, some hipster coffee-infused-stout-based-drinks-and-all-natural-foods-speakeasies. Alexis gave it three months before it closed down, but in the meantime they'd listed 'LIVE MUSIC' as one of the attractions, and inside there was a familiar wace at the piano. Her hair was all tucked up beneath a black beanie tonight, she was wearing loose blue shirt and her stitched-back-together blue jeans, and was playing through a plain set of classical music for piano, the bars on a loaned iPad (supposed to be fancy, marrying the tuned upright piano from the 30's with the best newest technologies).     The stools were well mad,e ,the booths were old repurposed wine barrels, and it's clear that someone poured an awful lot of money into the place. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie is out and about checking out the other places. He does this once a month or so. As he comes by here he heard the music and will walk inside. He scans around the place and will end up with a booth near the piano. He smirks a bit as he sees her, and waits listening enjoying her play. He will order the house special as wnd leans back and watches her in her element. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     She was mid performance, her fingers drifting like rolling waves and ripples along the keys, her feet pressing pedals beneath, barely glancing at the music. Her eyes close as she draws up the scale, slowly drawing the notes from the keys. She has a little smile on her face, her hands crossing over and under one another with ease to strike the notes of the dream-like piece, rising and falling tones chasing one another in the air.     The server, who has a handlebar mustache and thick frame glasses gives a smile as he arrives with the house special -- it's a chocolate coffee stout, partnered with some earthy, kettle-cooked mixed Idaho and Sweet Potato chips.     "If you have any requests, I can always let her know!" the waiter gives a smile helpfully, "She's just been playin' classical all night." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smirks a bit and says "Ah like hearing what she prefers to play, but Ah will keep it in mind. He does sip the drink and tries the chips seeming to like the normal better than the sweet tater ones. He will wait till she finishes one of the songs and applauds for her, softly not enough to embaress her but enough to know she is appreciated 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''      A couple others join in the clapping as well, and the pianist turns to smile at the crowd, and spots Sam. She purses her lips, and raises her eyebrows at Guthrie's appearance, as she turns, and stretching her hands over the iPad to bring up a separate grouping of notes, and begins in with a more unfamiliar song to her repetoire. Elvis Presley -- Can't Help Falling In Love. A couple of the patrons begin to smile, and talk a little louder over the 'pop' music.     Her fingers pick out the keys, gliding back and forth as the sweet melody traipses from the piano, the girl making subtle looks over to Sam, her lips pursed still, mischvious. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie 's brow will raise a bit but he does not look upset. He grins over to her, and hmms a bit. He will motion to the waiter and tells him he wants to buy the pianist a drink of what ever she is drinking and would like to request a song when she finishes this one. "Wild thing." He keeps most of his attention on her. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "It'll be a cheap tab." The waiter replies, and he amusedly waltzes off. Elvis fades away, and the waiter delivers what looks like a glass of ice water with a couple of slices of lime in it, and points over to Sam. There's a murmur among the patrons as the lady at the piano just flattens her lips.     She snatches the ipad from the piano top, and looks up something, then picks up her phone and types something in.     Sam would get a text, from her number, with just 'whhhhyyyyyy' in it.     And she starts at the lower registers, she sweeps a grand run up the piano, elegant, drifting, dreamy...     And then there's a familiar 'ba-dum-dum' and it's Wild Thing.     Except that Alexis is doing it in Ragtime. Wild Thing is no longer anthem of lovestruck rock and roll, but happily bouncing along, rolling in the music like a particularly clumsy, yet charming, golden retreiver. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie will look at her after reading the text. He will mouth the lyrics with the time, smiling at her. He will test her back "Join me on break?" 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     There's some titters of laughter from the audience as the rag time rolls on, and then with a 'ba-dah, dah dah DAH dah!' comes to a close, the olive-toned pianist draws up her water and makes her way over to Sam, sliding into the booth next to him instead of accross from him, reaching over to steel some chips.     "Come to scope out your new competition, Mr. Guthrie, or are you head-hunting the entertainment?" she inquires jokingly to him, dark eyes sparkling. She's clearly happy to see him. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles and says "Maybe a bit of both." He says and will lean in to give her a one arm hug "Ah was not expecting them to have such a lovely lady playing though I may have to worry a bit more about them than Ah expected to." He grins and says "So, how are you doing wild thing?" He teases 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Alexis's shoulders draw up a little at the hug, and she gives a grin and a small shake of her head "It's a gig, it's not like they're trying to charm me away, I mean, I've been getting gree water all evening, and just now someone offered to pay for the lime wedges!" she jokes, "Amazing." she gives a small laugh, then looks up at him.     "Oh, getting used to winters again. I saw Shannon and the club made some waves with some singer or another." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Yea, he sent me a card with her, he wants to play the club some night. I need to chat with him still." His phone buzzes and a text pops up "Hey, big brother... when are open mic nights" from Shannon "Oh finally got her willing to do an open mic night." He tells Alexis. " He taps the phone for just a moment, and says to Alexis "Play your cards right and Ah will splurge for Maraschino Cherries." He grins at her. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Hrm, cherries are a hard thing to come by in places like these... but I do like limes..." she weighs her options carefully, grinning up to Sam as she shrugs her shoulders.     "Still don't know if your club's the type that would enoy my kind of music. I can't Ragtime my way through just everything." she states with a smile. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Ah try to make sure folks know on open mic nights we get to play most any type, not all nights have to be dance, but Ah will admit having you there dancing with me would be rather nice too... Oh got some news for ya." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     The girl blushes and rubs the back of her head "Unfortunately, not my sort of dancing, either.. in most cases." she replies, thinking about all the writhing of bodies the one time she attended an EDM function.     She sips her water and gives a soft 'mmm?' sound, looking up to sam as he has news. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie grins and says "Well if you want to learn, Ah am sure we can work it out together, but the god news. Ah talked to the head of the school, and looks like you can come out and visit and maybe even spend a few days out there if you want to. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Alexis blushes a moment "I'm not sure if that would be a good idea" she admits quietly, pulling the beanie down a little closer over her ears to hide if they're changing color.     "So... a couple of days, outside the city -- and Club Evo spare you that long?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods his head a bit to this and says "Yea, Ah have made sure that they can work things out without me for a month or so if truly needed, but taking a few days off is not a big thing. Ah try to make sure the folks working there can handle things if need be." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Smart man." Alexis gives a small smile, and rubs the back of her head "When were you looking to have me out.. are... we going to be driving on the motorcycle?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "Well, Ah figured we would talk about it and see when was good for you. And see if you wanted us to set you up your own room or maybe get you a spare bed in Shannon's room or something." He offers her that smile, and says "But before we make plans for sure, need to tell ya a few things about the school and probably better when we are alone." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Oh, if I'm just staying a few days I can just bring a sleeping bag or occupy an inflatable bed. I try not to be any bother to anyone." Alexis states, rubbing the back of her neck a moment with a little smile up to him.     "Did you re-assure them there was to be no hanky-panky?~" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie shakes his head, and says "Na, the professor trusts me, and since I am still on the guy's floor, probably assumes if there is going to be any of that would either sneak ya into my room via a window or find a place outside the dorm rooms. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Ah, seperate dorm floors? Clever. So... this Professor -- head master of the establishment?" the dark-haired woman curiously asks, her fingers steepling a moment "Or... is this one of the 'better when we're alone' talks?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "Different wings same floor, and yea, he is the head, but exactly who he is, that is one we will need to be talking along, the whole school security and such am sure you understand." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Well, yes. I attended a school once. Security is paramount." Alexis replies with a wry tone. She looks to her watch, and gives a small shrug. "I can cut out a bit early. They want me back on Tuesday." she states, and she tilts her head back to finish her lime water. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Well, when your ready, we can go find a place to chat, how about our rooftop?" He asks her. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Someone's going to be terribly confused when they find two young people chatting on a largely inaccessable rooftop." she jokes, and Alexis goes to stand. "Let me grab my coat and settle at te bar, and we'll head over?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods his head a bit to this and will have his bill brought over while alexis is away making sure to leave an ok tip. He knows how it is working hard for your money. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     So hard for it, honey.     It just takes a moment, but Alexis returns with a too-large black jacket, slinging it over her shoulders and wrapping a scarf around her neck as she picks up Sam at the table.     "So... what's the mode of travel?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles and will put an arm around her, and will lead her out of the place, and start to head down the street. "Well Ah was thinking Sam powered, if your ok with it." He tells her, and if she is ok with it will scoop her up into his arm and up up and away they go. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Well, I suppose that's not so ba--eeeek!" is Alexis's answer as she's scooped up, her arm immediately going to loop around Sam's shoulder as she clings to him, eyes going wide, the roar of flight around them as Sam blasts off! 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles at her, and holds her close, and well. She is safe in his arms, as the yellow orange field covers them and he flies around a few buildings heading to the rooftop they danced on their first date. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     And the rooftop is empty, the chill air showing her breath a moment as she looks to Sam from where she clings, and gives a flush of embarrassment.     "I /will/ get used to that. Someday." she assures him. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles and says "Well sometime I will show ya just how safe you are with me, but will arm ya will probably scare ya a bit." He will move to have a seat and offers "Want to sit on my lap so ya can wrap ya coat around ya more? 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "... I think just that very offer got me warm enough!" Alexis replies, though the offer of the flight that would scare or or the lap which made her more warm shall remain a mystery!     She takes a seat next to him, overlooking Brooklyn from their perch.     "So... this school you work at sometimes?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles and says "Yea, Ah need your word your not going to tell anyone anything you learn about it ok? It is a special school and will be honest it and the people there mean a lot to me." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Alexis looks over to Sam, and she looks, for a moment, unquiet. She curls her fingers against her lap a moment, and she raises her eyebrows to Sam, "Well, you have my word. I mean, provided it's not like... a cult or something." she trails off a moment, and rubs her hands against her lap. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie shakes his head and says "Cult, no, but Ah reckon some might accuse us of it to be honest. It is a school for mutants, before we had places where folks were gathering. The Professor starts gathering people together to teach them not only normal school stuff, but how to use their powers and ethics behind using them. The professor has a goal of man and mutant living together in peace." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Well, that's a pretty noble goal, and one that I can see no fault in..." Alexis trails off a oment, and gives a small smile. She curls her fingers against her lap a moment, looking back out over the city.     "I can see where you would want to keep others from knowing about it. Especially if more at-risk students dwell there, like Shannon, whose mutations aren't as... easily hidden. It must be a refuge then" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "There are quite a few who have obvious mutation Shannon and my brother are some of the less obvious and able to hide. Shannon can strap her wings down, and Jay has learned to hide his with his clothes, but there are some who can not hide it at al without outside assistance. Often teachers there are ones who have graduated from it. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "I see." the younger mutant replies, thoughtfully looking out over the city a moment. "So, this Professor gentleman goes around and picks up mutant children for this school? Or... just ones with useful powers?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "Well when we find one that needs out help we go out and try to help them. We do try to make sure that it is people who will fit believe in our goal. We have had some who have left cause of not agreeing with us, and even had some come the other way, some who originally thought mutants should rule them. Their powers are only really a true consideration when we find one who needs more help to learn to control their powers to not hurt others on accident." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Alexis gives a nod, and she breathes out a moment, looking down to the streets below.     "My father is viciously anti-mutant. His job is incredibly physical, and he beleives that, should mutants be more striking in appearance, or better, more agile than he.... he will be unable to find work, or that what he does will become a... a freak show. His words, mind, not mine." Alexis states quietly.     "So, a private school that houses nad helps mutants without teaching that we are... monstrous? Sounds like a wonderful place." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Yea, we try out best, we have had people there who's parents hated them cause they were mutants, in fact one of the students, my friends and I went out and saved from his own father leading an anti mutant lynch mob hunting him. But we also have people like Shannon and myself, whose Parents love them, and miss them but realize that they have a better chance for either a regular education or need to learn to use their powers right to have a better life." He puts his arm around her, and pulls her closer, and says "And we don't judge people by their relatives, kids, adults or what not, you are your own person and hwo you act and treat others is the only thing you should be judged on." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Alexis is pulled close, and she leans lightly against Sam, exhaling a moment before she urns her gaze up to him. She gives a small huff out. "We've only known each other two weeks, but it feels like I've known you forever." Alexis states, and gives a slight smile, the corner of her mouth pulling up before she draws herself up, presses just a peck of a kiss to Sam's chin, and straightens herself out, like it never happened. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles over to her, and says "Well, Ah am glad you feel comfortable with me hon, Ah really like spending time with you as well. Ah am glad we can share things together. Ah want to to be your friend and more, and be there to help you and be able to be there for how ever ya need me." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Alexis gives another smile, and leans her head against Sam's shoulder, looking out over Brooklyn again, and she curls one arm inside of his, elbow to elbow.     "You still owe me chicken, though." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Well if I cook it while your at the school will get t try Shannon's bac and cheese to go with it too. Shannon and Andrea are both students at the school." He tells her, and will turn and kiss her cheek, spending some time just talking with her. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "... eeeeeeeeee..." comes just a squeak of a sound from Alexis, who pulls her beanie down over her face, but it's clear that she's gone colorful, because her chin and neck are bright pink. 
}}

10891/Definitely a 'Perfectly Normal' Gym Session

2020-01-27T09:11:52Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/27 |Location=A gym in suburban New York City |Synopsis=Trini and Piotr discover that each other is more than meets the eye. |Cast of Charac..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=A gym in suburban New York City
|Synopsis=Trini and Piotr discover that each other is more than meets the eye.
|Cast of Characters=284,815
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "I am tellink you, Piotr. No. Nyet."     Nevinsky says sternly as he puffs on his cigar, the small white-haired man with the thick chest and stern features seems to waddle as he walks, so ripped and contorted with muscle. In his eighties yet seemingly almost half that age, the tiny octogenarian stomps around his gym strutting like he owns the place.     Which he does.     He is trailed by another countryman, much taller and almost as strong seeming. Piotr Rasputin follows along, frowning as he moves. "I understand, Mr. Nevinsky. Really I do."     Behind them the gym is fairly busy even as this time of the night. Heavy plates are clanking as a quartet of men from Little Odessa work out and psyche each other up to heights of fitness. Along one bank of walls three young women are running on the tread mills. And in the center of the room two youths are dancing around each other throwing punches in a boxing ring. The whole place is active, busy, and has that weird smell of sweat and old newspapers.     "But I am only home these last two days and I find I need to be able to contribute in some form." Piotr's blue eyes follow after the old man as he gathers towels and tosses them into nearby bins. "You have seen me, yes? I get along well with people, da?"     "You scare them, Piotr. You intimidate them."     "Me?!" Piotr says incredulously, even as the old man nods. 

:'''{{#var:815|Trini Kwan (815)}} has posed:''' One such treadmill-runner is an Asian young woman, barely eighteen, wearing a yellow jumpsuit. She's been running steadily for over an hour, gradually increasing the speed. She's trying to get a good workout - hoping that in this crowded place nobody would notice that she's been going for quite some time. She perks her ears up at the argument with thick Russian accents, but the treadmill's facing away so she has to rely on ears. Wondering what's going on - seems a nice place. Wishes she could find a super bar on the down-low but not so easy." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     Thankfully the other runners near to Trini only run for about ten minutes each. Just small parts of their overall workout. They sometimes come and go, though she may have gained a sidelong glance from the men working at the free weights even as they thump each other on the shoulders and snarl encouragement back and forth in Russian.     Behind her, she'll hear Nevinsky again, his raspy rough guttural voice mangling English worse than Piotr, his accent pronounced and unrepentant. "Da, you, Piotr."     "Bozhe moi, but why?"     That causes the old man to stop and to turn, to shift his focus away from the others and to look nervously about. He steps closer to the young X-Man and grabs him by the arm. Voice lowering, the Yellow Ranger may not hear him utter unless she perhaps lowers the speed on the treadmill slightly, or just has a strong sense of hearing. But what follows is murmured in illicit tones.     "For the last time, Piotr. You know what happened. The damage was expensive, and I thank you for what you did for us. And my family. But there are those in this neighborhood..."     The old man straightens up and frowns looking around then slips into his native language, "Oni nenavidyat mutantov."     Few would pick up on that, but then that last word does have a clearly recognizable word within. 'Mutant.' 

:'''{{#var:815|Trini Kwan (815)}} has posed:''' Trini Kwan doesn't know Russian. She knows Chinese, English, French, and a touch of Kree. But does recognize that last word. She oftentimes wonders if she's technically one herself after bonding with the Sabertooth Tiger coin. But no matter. She finally shuts down her treadmill and heads over to get a drink of water, wiping her brow to get the sweat off with a towel, walking past the two arguing Russians. She grabs a cup of water and takes a long slow drink, listening to see if there's more as she's gazing in their general direction. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     The next few words are in English, "I am sorry Piotr." As the much taller man looks at the short older one. But then at the least Nevinsky sighs slightly and he waves a hand in the direction of the tall muscular Russian, gesturing absently. "Bah. Perhaps... something on the weekends. I will see. And I will be callink you."     To which Piotr smiles a little, extending a hand toward the old man. "Thank you, Mr. Nevisnky. You are very kind."     "Da, da, I am. And a fool." He waves a hand. "Go and... finish collecting the towels for me. Make yourself useful you mountain of a lump."     "I will, Mr. Nevinsky. Thank you." That said he smiles and accepts the towels the older man had already gathered and then turns away, starting to walk across the room. Picking up a few off a wooden bench, and then moving in Trini's direction. 

:'''{{#var:815|Trini Kwan (815)}} has posed:''' Trini Kwan nods as she tosses a towel into the collection bin. She then murmurs, "Are you okay? I heard what he said to you." She sighs softly as she tsks. "I have good hearing." She's being rather quiet. "Don't worry. I'm a believer of the rights of everyone." She smiles wryly. "Just thought I'd see if you needed anything." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     Piotr straightens up, and to be fair he does fit in with the environment at least. He's wearing black sweat pants and a tight white t-shirt that clings the his torso closely. His jacket is left over on the rack near the door, but with his physique and the way he holds himself, Piotr seems to belong in a place like this.     And then he smiles as Trini offers her few kind words, giving her a nod as he accepts the towel and pushes it further into the bin he now carries under his one arm, shifting his grip so it rests on his hip.     "You are very kind." He cocks an eyebrow as he looks off after Mr. Nevinsky and then continues walking, reaching up to grab a towel off of a half open public locker. "But if I am to be working here is it not me who should be asking of you if you need anything, Miss...?" He asks of her name politely even as he walks. 

:'''{{#var:815|Trini Kwan (815)}} has posed:''' Trini Kwan murmurs, "I'm fine. I just.... thought I'd say hi. I'm Trini." She offers her hand to him. "I like this place. I'm in New York to visit - checking out colleges y'know, and just wanted to get a good workout done." She then murmurs, "Your name is Piotr, right?" 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "Da," He then shifts the bin to the other hip and accepts her hand, giving it a firm shake but... gently. As if afraid of overpowering her grip. He leans forwards and nods, meeting her gaze. "Piotr Rasputin. Errand boy and gopher for the moment. At your service." His lip twists a little as he starts to walk a little more, but then pauses.     "Are you far from home, Trini?" He looks to the side over his shoulder toward her. "What made you choose Mr. Nevinsky's gym? Not that it is a bad choice. Just you do not remind me much of the usual clientele he seeks." 

:'''{{#var:815|Trini Kwan (815)}} has posed:''' Trini Kwan shrugs. "I'm from Starling," she states. "As I said, I was checking out some potential colleges and just saw this gym and thought it was a good idea to pop in." She ponders. "Maybe a bit of weightlifting would be nice." She smiles as she heads over to the bench and starts with a hundred pounds, settling down, and benches it easily. "Yeah - that's good stuff...." She is moving back and forth, doing ten reps then setting it back down. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "You should be having a spotter, one moment." He says to her as he walks, his sneakers squeaking a little on the gym floor as he continues across the room, still picking up and gathering towels here and there. It doesn't take him long in the greater scheme of things. Perhaps five minutes or so, leaving her to herself to work on the weight bench as she seems inclined...     But once he has all of the towels in the larger hamper he returns and leans over her bench from above, looking at her upside down. "Shall I help?" And if she accepts the offer he will position himself properly with hands under the ends of the bar, just offering another level of safety as she goes through the repetitions.     "Are you an athlete?" He asks, by way of making conversation as it's important... when one works out, one must be able to talk. 

:'''{{#var:815|Trini Kwan (815)}} has posed:''' Trini Kwan nods. "Yes - I've been physically active all my life. I'm a black belt in kung fu - and I love various sports like volleyball. There's even a basketball championship trophy in my high school with my name on it." She then gets up after the set and gathers more weights. Now it's 150 pounds. And she starts benching it. She's doing it slower and with more effort... as if it's difficult for her. A trained eye, though, could tell that she's hamming it up a bit and she's having no actual trouble. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "That is impressive," Piotr tells her as he continues to stand there, watchful, attentive. It would not do for him to allow one of Mr. Nevinsky's paying customers to have an accident on his watch. That would be a quick way to a short career. But he is good at it at th least, even as his eyes flit back and forth to each of her arms.     And indeed, it is curious. Her physique does not seem to be built quite enough to be able to handle such weight, yet there are no tell-tale quivers in her musculature. No hint of fatigue or tension. It's almost as if she could do this or hours at a time.     "You are quite an accomplished young woman." He says, thoughts perhaps elsewhere in that instant before he adds. "I have played some volleyball as well." At school. "And my friends have taught me some judo, but that is all." 

:'''{{#var:815|Trini Kwan (815)}} has posed:''' Trini Kwan finally settled down. "Well - my parents were a constant inspiration. As are my friends." She smiles softly. "Want to go a round? I can spot you?" she asks as she gesutre to the bench after she rises up. Glances over at the weights again, but decides that literally benching more than her own weight would cause too many eyebrows to rise. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     A low rumbling chuckle is given as Piotr holds up a hand and shakes his head slightly, "I am here to help you. If Mr. Nevinsky caught me he would call me a slacker and a wastrel." Though he does add a _little_ more weight to her bar, leaning down to take up two plates and then clanks them into place, bringing it up to 170 pounds.     "One seventy, is too much? Perhaps you can push and reach higher?" He asks her as he hefts the bar up again and lets her take a seat again should she so wish.     "This way I can work, and still keep up good conversation with a nice young woman at same time, yes?" 

:'''{{#var:815|Trini Kwan (815)}} has posed:''' Trini Kwan nods. "It's fine," she states. She's quite sure somehow that your trained eye can see that she can handle it. "Oh - yeah. This is actually quite fun. I should get my own bench press bench but no place for it." She is benching it as easily as the 150, not 'faking' it anymore as she does a whole set then sets it down as she sits up. She smiles faintly. "Push. Right." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "I am thinking you are a smidge bit stronger than you present, Trini." Piotr says with that same casual smile, though he does not seek to push her further or to out her secret. Instead he gives a nod to her. "Very good, excellent work!" He offers louder, so it can carry and the others around them might well take mark. She has done many good reps. But if the others looked closer they might well see she hasn't really broken much of a sweat.     "Is there anything else I can get you?" He asks with a smile as he moves towards one of the nearby trash cans and casually considers it, as if thinking about emptying them. "You have water?" 

:'''{{#var:815|Trini Kwan (815)}} has posed:''' Trini Kwan nods. "I'm fine," she states as she goes to the exercise bike. "Thanks for the talk, Piotr. You should get back to work now." She hands you a card with her number on it to talk later as she gets to pedaling. 
}}

10890/Surviving Infinity: Better Late than Never

2020-01-27T09:11:35Z

Kaosdrachen:

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=Janet's Room, Avengers Mansion
|Synopsis=A parcel arrives belatedly to the Wasp and inspires.
|Cast of Characters=112,192
|Tinyplot=Surviving Infinity
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' It's been long enough now that the days might blur into the nights. Artificial lighting not only from above, but from screens provides illumination into the wee hours of the mornings. The home base for the Wasp remains busy and buzzing as per her wont. Steve's room...is quiet. Still. Not abandoned nor collecting dust, but the objects have lost their imbuement of touch. His toothbrush is long-dry and the towels in the bathroom remain unused. Where he last threw his jeans in a hurry to change, they hang over his bedroom chair. There's a sock sticking out from under the bed almost covertly. Where he drew his blinds off to one side to peer out into the morning means they still hang cracked and the glow from the streetlight falls in. It's a solemn silence -- a silence filled with the tremulous eggshell of patience -- with the heartbeat's thrum of hope. JARVIS speaks politely suddenly out of the blue to Janet, wherever she may be in the mansion, his volume modulated for the late hour: "Miss Van Dyne, there is a package for you." Almost on cue, one of Tony's wee Roomba-like robots cruises into the room and heads for Janet. It's not a big box, about the size of a loaf of bread, but it's brown and apparently something ordered before Christmas. The shipping date was before then and there's proof that it did some traveling in the interim. Even the address of the Avengers' Mansion can apparently be missed in delivery! It says specifically to "Janet Van Dyne" from Amazon -- which means the sender remains anonymous...for now. 

:'''{{#var:192|Janet van Dyne (192)}} has posed:''' Janet happens to be sleeping in Steve's bed. Well, napping-- Janet hasn't properly slept in days. Weeks, even. Long stretches of manic energy, then an abrupt and restless crash, and then back in the crisis center again to continue to coordinate the search for Steve and Tony. She's curled into a ball under the blankets when JARVIS hails her; her first instinct is to open her eyes and look to the empty indentation next to her. Something forlorn flickers through her features before she lapses back into numb ambivalence and pushes herself to a half-sitting position with one hand propped near her hip. "What time is it?" she mumbles rhetorically, and gives Steve's old-fashioned bedside alarm clock a bleary once-over. "Damnit, JARVIS, I told you to wake me up two hours ago," she growls. Janet starts awkwardly kicking back the covers and reaches for a White Claw on the bedside, along with a few pill bottles suspiciously devoid of prescription. Pills are dropped into the flat can of seltzer and the whole thing is guzzled with a disregard for the stale taste. "Unless it's a space phone to talk to Steve, it can wait," she remarks, and wriggles bare legs out over the edge of the bed. She stretches with a pained expression, positively swimming in one of Steve's well-worn old military sweatshirts. 

:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' The Roomba-like little robot continues up alongside the bed and then executes an odd little K-turn in order to rotate its unrecognizable front towards Janet. It scoots up another foot as if allowing her space to put down her feet from the bed. Never let it be said that Tony doesn't imbue his little creations with personality! JARVIS speaks up again in his same calm tone. "It seemed wiser to allow you your rest, Miss Van Dyne. Your circadian rhythms are currently substantially deviated from the standard human requirements." There's a pause that mimics a human breath, but is more the AI doing some quick calculations. "Unfortunately, I do not believe it is a space phone, Miss Van Dyne, but I recognize the credit card numbers as belonging to Captain Rogers," JARVIS volunteers as information. The wee Roomba-bot scoots forwards and backwards a short distance as if to draw attention to the package again. 

:'''{{#var:192|Janet van Dyne (192)}} has posed:''' Janet inhales sharply. "Wait, Steve bought it? For me?" Eyes widen and Janet bites hard on the inside of her cheek. For a second she looks like she's going to bolt, as if the box contains something dangerous. The 'bot backs up enough for her to hop off the bed and she snatches the box up in her hands. It's given a once-over and a quick shake. She pads over to Steve's desk and digs around for his letter opener. It's a proper silver one, an antique probably older than he is. With a flickering of her wrist Janet unzips the paper tape and starts rummaging through the parcel. 

:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' "It appears so, Miss Van Dyne. I do not believe anyone has stolen Captain Rogers' credit card or its information," JARVIS confirms for the startled fashionista. When the box is abruptly jostled, it makes the smallest sound of its contents rustling -- light and delicate, more likely the packing slip than the actual present(s) wrapped carefully within. The packaging tape parts easily under the edge of the letter opener, still agleam despite its age. Within, the packaging slip sits atop. Removing it reveals two items within wrapped in a frail white tissue paper freckled with golden and silver dots and then twined in a tumbling of pearly-iridescent ribbon. Rectangular and metallic by touch, given its subtle chill, the first present reveals itself to be a tin of Faber-Castel drawing pencils in a brilliant spread of color. Of the Polychromos type, they appear to be solid and difficult to break while their interior element is true to hue and easy to direct, be it smudge or smear or shade. Tucked atop the tin, another set of Faber-Castel sketching pencils, a Pitt Graphite Master set, more geared towards initial sketches or visions in black and white. 

:'''{{#var:192|Janet van Dyne (192)}} has posed:''' Janet stares at the container in her hands. 'Tin' hardly does it justice; the container is a work of art all on its own, carefully hand-hammered into a sculpture that holds each pencil in place. Her hands tremble very slightly on examination of the gift. Almost mechanically Janet seats herself at Steve's desk. A hidden latch is adjusted to prop the surface up at a drafting angle and she curls her left leg under her so she can sit on her foot. JARVIS starts to say something and Janet waves him off, not even processing his words. The opened box is momentarily forgotten on the bed and she sets the pencils and charcoals out with a professional's attention. A full hour passes before Janet finally sighs and sets aside the pencils, forced to relent by cramping pain in her fingertips. A likeness of Steve adorns the sketchbook page; it's a bit rough, but rough in ways that highlight his prominent features with blocky, sharp lines around his jaw and cheekbones. It's the blue of his eyes, though, that Janet focuses on the longest. Fingernails rake a sussurance against the textile of the paper just below those sky-blues, drawn from memory. Janet covers her eyes with her other hand, elbow propped against the desk. A sob wracks her slender frame-- just once, a choking sound of utter misery and borderline despair. 

:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' "Miss Van Dyne, there is a -- " JARVIS stops speaking when the fashionista shooes him to silence. Tony taught this AI particularly well. After that hour passes, and it seems the pencils have given birth to their first creation, the AI of the mansion speaks again. "Miss Van Dyne, there is a second item in the box," he seems to gently remind her. The second present is rolled upon itself and fabric rather than anything elementally hard or cool. It appears nearly as a scroll inside its careful wrapping of tissue paper and delicately-tied confection of ribbon. Parting the paper means revealing the finest cotton in seashell-white rather than pure white, as if the fabric were already beloved. As it unrolls, its length proves it to be a t-shirt dress in Janet's exact size to hit right above her knees. Across it, the most delicate sketches in what appear to be watercolor of fashion illustrations. A second closer look will prove them to be cherry-picked from Janet's own brainstorming pads and reconfigured -- some of the strokes are bolder than originally drawn, others finer and gentle in a breath of color -- all by Steve's own hand and transferred to the fabric. 

:'''{{#var:192|Janet van Dyne (192)}} has posed:''' It's almost too pretty to wear. Janet's fingers curl and caress the fabric, testing it with finely honed senses only a fashion maven like herself possesses. The flex, the elasticity; the way it drapes, how it catches the light and even how much warmth from her own fingertip she can sense through it. Janet's slender jaw hardens minutely. A hangar is retrieved from the closet. She casts aside the designer dress hanging from it, leaving thousands of dollars of red silk puddling on the ground like so many castoffs. In its place she hangs the gift, and suspends it from a hook on the wall to be displayed more like treasured art than an article of clothing. Something flinty enters Janet's gaze. "JARVIS," she hails the AI. Her eyes never leave the garment. She rests a forearm across her stomach, and fingers curl into a tiny, clenched fist to support her opposite elbow. Fingertips roll thoughtfully just under her lips. "I need a word with Mikonia, and I need Natasha and Jess out of my hair while I'm doing it." She glances upwards, speaking to the disembodied AI. "Spoof a priority recall message from the Triskelion. I just need a couple hours with her to myself." 

:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' At first: "Yes, Miss Van Dyne?" The AI listens and replies once Janet is finished speaking, "Of course. I shall inform the Triskelion of your intentions. However, there is also a note within the box still." And lo and behold, there is, having slipped against the interior wall vertically and flat, hard to catch in the dimmer fall of light in the bedroom. It's not much bigger than a Post-It note and tucked into a small fitted envelope of the same pattern as the tissue paper, the ivory-pale sprinkled with silver and gold. Within the folded card, the typed message in a scrolling font: //<<Seillean>>, Use these to show the world how beautiful you are, both inside and out -- show it those colors you see. Be comfortable while you do it. Love, your <<Saighdiuir>>.// 

:'''{{#var:192|Janet van Dyne (192)}} has posed:''' "JARVIS, you'd make a lousy spy," Janet says, finally. "The whole point is that no one needs to know what I'm doing." She re-reads the short note, over and over and over again, as if hearing Steve's voice in the words. Her lower lip quivers. Just once. A ragged sigh reclaims her dignified comportment, a social armor that defies her slovenly appearance. "Just make sure they're *gone* for a few hours. I don't care how you do it. I want Steve back; you want Tony back. They're not getting anywhere with her doing it their way, so we might as well give me a crack at it." Steve's carefully precise handwriting-- too confident to be 'delicate' in any way-- is marred by a teardrop landing on the neat whorls. 

:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' "Of course, Miss Van Dyne. I never intended to inform them of your true intentions. It would not be conducive to your conversation." And, just maybe, there's the //barest// hint of amusement in the AI's tone. Or it's a minor hallucination brought on by the lack of sleep and combination of pills and energy drinks. Tony's little Roomba-like creation whirrs its way out of the bedroom and towards the door having completed its task. It momentarily navigates the narrow space between carpet and door before slipping away like a coin beneath the fridge. JARVIS speaks up again after a minute. "The Triskelion has been properly misinformed. Do take care in your conversation, Miss Van Dyne. Captain Rogers would be most distressed to find you too incarcerated for your efforts upon his return." 
}}

10890/Surviving Infinity: Better Late than Never

2020-01-27T09:11:15Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/27 |Location=Janet's Room, Avengers Mansion |Synopsis=A parcel arrives belatedly to the Wasp and inspires. |Cast of Characters=112,192 |pre..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=Janet's Room, Avengers Mansion
|Synopsis=A parcel arrives belatedly to the Wasp and inspires.
|Cast of Characters=112,192
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' It's been long enough now that the days might blur into the nights. Artificial lighting not only from above, but from screens provides illumination into the wee hours of the mornings. The home base for the Wasp remains busy and buzzing as per her wont. Steve's room...is quiet. Still. Not abandoned nor collecting dust, but the objects have lost their imbuement of touch. His toothbrush is long-dry and the towels in the bathroom remain unused. Where he last threw his jeans in a hurry to change, they hang over his bedroom chair. There's a sock sticking out from under the bed almost covertly. Where he drew his blinds off to one side to peer out into the morning means they still hang cracked and the glow from the streetlight falls in. It's a solemn silence -- a silence filled with the tremulous eggshell of patience -- with the heartbeat's thrum of hope. JARVIS speaks politely suddenly out of the blue to Janet, wherever she may be in the mansion, his volume modulated for the late hour: "Miss Van Dyne, there is a package for you." Almost on cue, one of Tony's wee Roomba-like robots cruises into the room and heads for Janet. It's not a big box, about the size of a loaf of bread, but it's brown and apparently something ordered before Christmas. The shipping date was before then and there's proof that it did some traveling in the interim. Even the address of the Avengers' Mansion can apparently be missed in delivery! It says specifically to "Janet Van Dyne" from Amazon -- which means the sender remains anonymous...for now. 

:'''{{#var:192|Janet van Dyne (192)}} has posed:''' Janet happens to be sleeping in Steve's bed. Well, napping-- Janet hasn't properly slept in days. Weeks, even. Long stretches of manic energy, then an abrupt and restless crash, and then back in the crisis center again to continue to coordinate the search for Steve and Tony. She's curled into a ball under the blankets when JARVIS hails her; her first instinct is to open her eyes and look to the empty indentation next to her. Something forlorn flickers through her features before she lapses back into numb ambivalence and pushes herself to a half-sitting position with one hand propped near her hip. "What time is it?" she mumbles rhetorically, and gives Steve's old-fashioned bedside alarm clock a bleary once-over. "Damnit, JARVIS, I told you to wake me up two hours ago," she growls. Janet starts awkwardly kicking back the covers and reaches for a White Claw on the bedside, along with a few pill bottles suspiciously devoid of prescription. Pills are dropped into the flat can of seltzer and the whole thing is guzzled with a disregard for the stale taste. "Unless it's a space phone to talk to Steve, it can wait," she remarks, and wriggles bare legs out over the edge of the bed. She stretches with a pained expression, positively swimming in one of Steve's well-worn old military sweatshirts. 

:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' The Roomba-like little robot continues up alongside the bed and then executes an odd little K-turn in order to rotate its unrecognizable front towards Janet. It scoots up another foot as if allowing her space to put down her feet from the bed. Never let it be said that Tony doesn't imbue his little creations with personality! JARVIS speaks up again in his same calm tone. "It seemed wiser to allow you your rest, Miss Van Dyne. Your circadian rhythms are currently substantially deviated from the standard human requirements." There's a pause that mimics a human breath, but is more the AI doing some quick calculations. "Unfortunately, I do not believe it is a space phone, Miss Van Dyne, but I recognize the credit card numbers as belonging to Captain Rogers," JARVIS volunteers as information. The wee Roomba-bot scoots forwards and backwards a short distance as if to draw attention to the package again. 

:'''{{#var:192|Janet van Dyne (192)}} has posed:''' Janet inhales sharply. "Wait, Steve bought it? For me?" Eyes widen and Janet bites hard on the inside of her cheek. For a second she looks like she's going to bolt, as if the box contains something dangerous. The 'bot backs up enough for her to hop off the bed and she snatches the box up in her hands. It's given a once-over and a quick shake. She pads over to Steve's desk and digs around for his letter opener. It's a proper silver one, an antique probably older than he is. With a flickering of her wrist Janet unzips the paper tape and starts rummaging through the parcel. 

:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' "It appears so, Miss Van Dyne. I do not believe anyone has stolen Captain Rogers' credit card or its information," JARVIS confirms for the startled fashionista. When the box is abruptly jostled, it makes the smallest sound of its contents rustling -- light and delicate, more likely the packing slip than the actual present(s) wrapped carefully within. The packaging tape parts easily under the edge of the letter opener, still agleam despite its age. Within, the packaging slip sits atop. Removing it reveals two items within wrapped in a frail white tissue paper freckled with golden and silver dots and then twined in a tumbling of pearly-iridescent ribbon. Rectangular and metallic by touch, given its subtle chill, the first present reveals itself to be a tin of Faber-Castel drawing pencils in a brilliant spread of color. Of the Polychromos type, they appear to be solid and difficult to break while their interior element is true to hue and easy to direct, be it smudge or smear or shade. Tucked atop the tin, another set of Faber-Castel sketching pencils, a Pitt Graphite Master set, more geared towards initial sketches or visions in black and white. 

:'''{{#var:192|Janet van Dyne (192)}} has posed:''' Janet stares at the container in her hands. 'Tin' hardly does it justice; the container is a work of art all on its own, carefully hand-hammered into a sculpture that holds each pencil in place. Her hands tremble very slightly on examination of the gift. Almost mechanically Janet seats herself at Steve's desk. A hidden latch is adjusted to prop the surface up at a drafting angle and she curls her left leg under her so she can sit on her foot. JARVIS starts to say something and Janet waves him off, not even processing his words. The opened box is momentarily forgotten on the bed and she sets the pencils and charcoals out with a professional's attention. A full hour passes before Janet finally sighs and sets aside the pencils, forced to relent by cramping pain in her fingertips. A likeness of Steve adorns the sketchbook page; it's a bit rough, but rough in ways that highlight his prominent features with blocky, sharp lines around his jaw and cheekbones. It's the blue of his eyes, though, that Janet focuses on the longest. Fingernails rake a sussurance against the textile of the paper just below those sky-blues, drawn from memory. Janet covers her eyes with her other hand, elbow propped against the desk. A sob wracks her slender frame-- just once, a choking sound of utter misery and borderline despair. 

:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' "Miss Van Dyne, there is a -- " JARVIS stops speaking when the fashionista shooes him to silence. Tony taught this AI particularly well. After that hour passes, and it seems the pencils have given birth to their first creation, the AI of the mansion speaks again. "Miss Van Dyne, there is a second item in the box," he seems to gently remind her. The second present is rolled upon itself and fabric rather than anything elementally hard or cool. It appears nearly as a scroll inside its careful wrapping of tissue paper and delicately-tied confection of ribbon. Parting the paper means revealing the finest cotton in seashell-white rather than pure white, as if the fabric were already beloved. As it unrolls, its length proves it to be a t-shirt dress in Janet's exact size to hit right above her knees. Across it, the most delicate sketches in what appear to be watercolor of fashion illustrations. A second closer look will prove them to be cherry-picked from Janet's own brainstorming pads and reconfigured -- some of the strokes are bolder than originally drawn, others finer and gentle in a breath of color -- all by Steve's own hand and transferred to the fabric. 

:'''{{#var:192|Janet van Dyne (192)}} has posed:''' It's almost too pretty to wear. Janet's fingers curl and caress the fabric, testing it with finely honed senses only a fashion maven like herself possesses. The flex, the elasticity; the way it drapes, how it catches the light and even how much warmth from her own fingertip she can sense through it. Janet's slender jaw hardens minutely. A hangar is retrieved from the closet. She casts aside the designer dress hanging from it, leaving thousands of dollars of red silk puddling on the ground like so many castoffs. In its place she hangs the gift, and suspends it from a hook on the wall to be displayed more like treasured art than an article of clothing. Something flinty enters Janet's gaze. "JARVIS," she hails the AI. Her eyes never leave the garment. She rests a forearm across her stomach, and fingers curl into a tiny, clenched fist to support her opposite elbow. Fingertips roll thoughtfully just under her lips. "I need a word with Mikonia, and I need Natasha and Jess out of my hair while I'm doing it." She glances upwards, speaking to the disembodied AI. "Spoof a priority recall message from the Triskelion. I just need a couple hours with her to myself." 

:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' At first: "Yes, Miss Van Dyne?" The AI listens and replies once Janet is finished speaking, "Of course. I shall inform the Triskelion of your intentions. However, there is also a note within the box still." And lo and behold, there is, having slipped against the interior wall vertically and flat, hard to catch in the dimmer fall of light in the bedroom. It's not much bigger than a Post-It note and tucked into a small fitted envelope of the same pattern as the tissue paper, the ivory-pale sprinkled with silver and gold. Within the folded card, the typed message in a scrolling font: //<<Seillean>>, Use these to show the world how beautiful you are, both inside and out -- show it those colors you see. Be comfortable while you do it. Love, your <<Saighdiuir>>.// 

:'''{{#var:192|Janet van Dyne (192)}} has posed:''' "JARVIS, you'd make a lousy spy," Janet says, finally. "The whole point is that no one needs to know what I'm doing." She re-reads the short note, over and over and over again, as if hearing Steve's voice in the words. Her lower lip quivers. Just once. A ragged sigh reclaims her dignified comportment, a social armor that defies her slovenly appearance. "Just make sure they're *gone* for a few hours. I don't care how you do it. I want Steve back; you want Tony back. They're not getting anywhere with her doing it their way, so we might as well give me a crack at it." Steve's carefully precise handwriting-- too confident to be 'delicate' in any way-- is marred by a teardrop landing on the neat whorls. 

:'''{{#var:112|Steve Rogers (112)}} has posed:''' "Of course, Miss Van Dyne. I never intended to inform them of your true intentions. It would not be conducive to your conversation." And, just maybe, there's the //barest// hint of amusement in the AI's tone. Or it's a minor hallucination brought on by the lack of sleep and combination of pills and energy drinks. Tony's little Roomba-like creation whirrs its way out of the bedroom and towards the door having completed its task. It momentarily navigates the narrow space between carpet and door before slipping away like a coin beneath the fridge. JARVIS speaks up again after a minute. "The Triskelion has been properly misinformed. Do take care in your conversation, Miss Van Dyne. Captain Rogers would be most distressed to find you too incarcerated for your efforts upon his return." 
}}

10887/After All The Mud Has Been Washed Off

2020-01-27T09:11:03Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/27 |Location=Kitchen - Xavier's School |Synopsis=Colossus' cooking draws quite a crowd. Life, classes, frustrations, and birthday plans are..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/27
|Location=Kitchen - Xavier's School
|Synopsis=Colossus' cooking draws quite a crowd. Life, classes, frustrations, and birthday plans are discussed.
|Cast of Characters=284,1386,9059,4,296,8925,145,8765,1258
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     A Sunday evening in Xavier's is this curious twilight of activity for the school and its faculty. There are those quiet hours just before most must be squirreled away tucked into their beds, the heat in the great house just a touch below what might be considered comfortable so that a sweater or sweat shirt is never out of place. Outside the dusting of snow from last night keeps a small blanket of white across the lawn, and just a handful of icicles hang from the eaves of the windows.     Inside the great center of learning some people are still up in the rec room, the large television screen prominently streaming the latest and greatest as people have some popcorn. In the dormitories above people lean in doorways and chit chat about the coming week. Yet for Piotr Rasputin, the night finds him in the kitchen with a large dutch oven set upon the stove top and a wooden spoon in his hand.     "Two hours... twenty five minutes..." He murmurs to himself as he slides a finger down the page of a recipe book beside him. "Check." The word comes from him with a heavy emphasis on the latter syllable.     "Carrots?" He nudges at the cover of the large pot and pokes the spoon inside. "Soft. Check." 

:'''{{#var:1386|Theresa Cassidy (1386)}} has posed:''' The smell of cooking often draws quite a crowd to the kitchen in the school. It certainly draws Theresa in as she comes along sniffing the air curiously. "Warren, are you cooking again?" Her voice sing-songs as she comes through the door only to find her guess completely wrong. The redhead tips her head to the side with a grin as she spots Colossus there earning a little chuckle from him. "Ah, I knew it had to be someone who knew how to cook at least. How're you doing, Piotr?" 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     Sunday Evening is a good time for planning lessons for the week, but it's hard to plan for the week when you're feeling weak, and coming down in jeans and a sweatshirt, she's caught by the smell of something delicious cooking. She sniffs the air, and following in after Theresa.     The small, brunette music assistant peers mousily into the kitchen as she purses her lips, curling her fingers a moment.     "Hullo, all, something smells delish." 

:'''{{#var:4|Peter Parker (4)}} has posed:''' A fresh snowfall has settled on the yard and several kids are out playing in it. Two such kids, relatively speaking, are entering in the back from the porch laughing, "Tommy, you little twirp, when someone says they surrender you have to let them live... It isn't an excuse to throw a snowball in their face while their 'guard is down'.." Pete says to the green skinned teenager who walks with hands in pocket and head bent. After ruffling the kids hair, Pete glances to Kitty who seems to have been the target of this unfair ''attack'', "You sure you're okay? I'm not afraid to fist fight a kid for your honor..." Fists up, wiggling them playfully at Tommy who breaks out in laughter. It really wasn't that bad a hit, "I'm not kidding, I'll thrash you, you villain." 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' Kitty Pryde steps up to the open back door, out of the evening that is already growing dark. There's snow clinging to her stocking cap, very dark blue except for the frilly ball on top that has orange mixed in, the color of the Chicago Bears whose logo is on the front of the hat as well. There's snow on the hat in some places, and on her shoulders and even a few flakes clinging to her face though they are melting. "I'm ok, the snowball wasn't the worst part," Kitty says, stopping just outside and giving a wiggle. Snow falls out of the back of her jacket, not just out of, but through as she phases everything but the snow that went down the back of her jacket. "It was the bunch dumped on the back of my neck earlier," Kitty says, waggling a finger at Peter Parker, but grinning at him. She wipes her feet and then steps inside, pulling the cap off and biting the finger of a glove to help start it coming off. She removes the band holding her ponytail, ruffling her hair then replacing it. "Something's smelling good," she says, perking up as she looks to see who all are present and who is cooking. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     Over his shoulder, Piotr responds to Theresa with a smile, "Greetings, Siryn." His voice deep and rumbling as he continues to lightly probe at the contents of the dutch oven. "I am well. I trust you are also?" He turns slightly quirking an eyebrow even as he then replaces the lid and adjusts the heat almost delicately with two fingers. As if he were a watchmaker handling the smallest of gears.     Then he turns, "I am trying something of the new. It is," A pause, almost as if awaiting the gasp of bated breath. "Corned beef, and some cabbage." Though his brow knits as he perhaps understands the lack of full explanation in the name...     "Well. And some of the carrot. And onions. For onions adds much flavor."     Then he lifts the spoon in Alexis' direction. "Ah, hello Alexis. Is almost done."     Of course that is the moment when Peter and Kitty emerge through the doorway, with Tommy in tow. Cautionary advice is given to them as he offers, "Be careful, little Thomas. Floor becomes slippery from snow." The others might not know it, but Kitty has met the elder Rasputins. A very Momma Rasputin thing for her son to say.     Then at Kitty's inquiry he offers, "Four pound brisket. There shall be much for others. If not tonight, then for tomorrow." 

:'''{{#var:1386|Theresa Cassidy (1386)}} has posed:''' Theresa Cassidy clucks her tongue lightly as a grin emerges at the mention of what, precisely, he was cooking. "Ah! A good boxty, sounds like. Corned beef, cabbage, potatoes. That's from my side of the pond," she explains with a broad grin as she moves further into the kitchen finding herself a spot to lean against the counter. When the others start to enter she nods toward them with an amused grin. "How'd the snow war go? Looks like you were a casuality there, Kitty." Peter she hadn't met yet so she merely quriks an eyebrow in his direction giving him a once-over. Hm. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Corned beef and cabbage? Thought it smelled very Bostonian in here." Alexis smiles as she makes her way in, giving a wave to Kitty and Peter as they make their way in, and narrowly avoiding the children!     "Careful, no running in the kitchen! Bound to knock a pot!" she warns, a little less gentle than Piotr, but she plunks down in a seat. THeresa, Kitty -- Peter, yeah?" Alexis gives a slight smile, the Brit Brunette exhaling.     ""I'm having dreams in lesson plans and G-minor, might have been time for a break. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     The tall Russian nods in Siryn's direction with a smile, "Boxty. I have not heard this word before." He offers in reply as he walks across the kitchen toward one of the large cabinets in the opposite wall. The wooden panel is opened and from within he withdraws a stack of bowls, perhaps eight to ten, balancing them along the inside of his arm and seeming to carry them easily enough as he rounds.     "Da." He offers in answer toward Alexis. "A break is good, I have yet to be given any duties beyond resuming my classes." He spares a nod as he sets the bowls down, then begins to seperate them, setting them out as he perhaps gets ready to plate. "So I felt I had best earn my keep in some manner lest Katya has them throw me out for being moocher." His lip twitches. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     As a famous punk musician once said, love songs in C, politics in G, songs about your friends in E-minor. Bean has been thinking guitar as much as some other people, and tangentially related to that the safety of friends and many other topics a teenager has no business obsessing about. But one thing is always certain: cook, and he will show up. It's so much of a thing these days that some people have started cooking for one extra knowing that it will almost certainly be eaten. In he comes, in about as informal an attire as he's ever worn, down to the oversized sweater and thick socks, with an eager Bear bounding in next to him.     He blinks, looks at the gathering, backtracks three steps and looks at the door. Double checking... not the Staff Room. Good, you never know these days.     "Hi..." the greeting would have probably been longer and more cordial, if he hadn't just stepped into a bunch of melting snow, which soaks straight through his socks. With a frown, he looks down and lifts up his foot, shaking it as if that's going to make any difference. "If this is some kind of secret teacher conference, I can come snag food later." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' A girl can go through withdrawals. Getting down to Brighton Beach isn't anywhere close to replace the familiar comforts of home that she cannot cook. No one is around to judge Illyana much for the time when she scorches black bread or makes that bizarre New Years porridge that very much threatened to evacuate the school. It only had open flames the one time. Still important to find something to maintain nourishment after a day of studying and worse. So down she comes in a Pink Floyd shirt, the cover of the <Dark Side of the Moon> splintering rainbows on night. That skirt's illegal, those boots more buckle and belt than continuous leather. No one judge her when she gives a sleepy look at everyone already present in the kitchen. Turns out kitchens are popular at any hour of the night. All the people. "Do we have black bread?" This apparently comes from Samuel's shoulder. It is not him speaking though. Not with her sneaking up behind him, just about soundless. 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' Kitty unzips her jacket, revealing a dark grey sweater underneath with silvery threads working through it as she takes the jacket off. "Walking wounded," Kitty agrees with Theresa's assessment and a grin. "I think I deserve a Purple Heart at the least." Kitty flashes a grin over to Piotr and says, "Well, save us a couple of bowls if it's not spoken for already. I'm sure a few people missed your cooking especially with winter here," she says to the Russian known for his hearty dishes. "So Tommy, any idea why it's called corned beef?" she asks. The green student looks back at her and shrugs. "Because it's cooked with corn I guess?" he replies. Kitty flashes a small grin back. "Nope. It's salted beef. The big rock salt they use, are called corns of salt." Tommy stares at her for a moment. "Why not just call them big grains of salt?" Kitty laughs. "I don't know. British thing," she tells him. It seems a sufficient answer. "Alexis have you had any of Piotr's cooking before?" she asks. She hangs up her jacket for the moment on the back of a chair, then reaches for Peter's to do the same if he's ready to relinquish it. She maybe notes the glance from Alexis. "Theresa, do you know Peter Parker? Peter teaches science," she adds. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "I'm decently sure I mooch far more. I can't even cook." Alexis points out, "I had to be rescued because I left my notes in the oven with the cookie sheet."     Alexis hops back ot her feet, and rummages around a bit for the electric kettle.     "Not that I'm aware of. Unless it's for senior staff, in which case, oops." Alexis states as she goes to set up the kettle.     "Corned beef has corning spices in it... a bit more like pickling." she explains to Tommy with a slight smile.     "And, ah... no, I don't beleive I've had the pleasure of having such a casual moment as to sample directly from the cooking pot of Piotr." she gives a wry smile. 

:'''{{#var:1386|Theresa Cassidy (1386)}} has posed:''' Theresa Cassidy ohs softly in thought when Colossus points out he had never heard the term 'boxty' before. "Well, it's like an Irish pancake, really. Savory versus sweet, often made of potatoes. But lately it's also come to refer to a lot of dishes that have cabbage and corned beef, too." She holds up her hands making a square shape best she can. "Probably because of the shape of the pan it's all cooked in." It was one of those definitions she hadn't really thought about how to actually define before. When Kitty explains her prognosis toward the snow fight, and explains the term corned beef, she cracks a grin as well. Then Peter is introduced. "Ah, no I hadn't. Pleased to meet you. Science isn't terribly my thing, unfortunately. Past aerodynamics and sonic matters, at least." She kind of had to know those things. "And if there's any left to share I would very much like to try a bit myself. Smells wonderful." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "Is not conference, no. You are welcome, Samuel." Piotr says as he continues to bustle. For it is bustling that he is doing. Bowls clatter and clink as they are set down until eight are upon the kitchen's island ready for the due application of the corned beef and its accompaniments. He then catches sight of his sister and her approach, a smile seen there.     "Illyana, if there is it is there, no?" He gestures with a nod in the direction of the pantry and its closed doors, likely meaning the bread bin within. Whatever bread might be there deposited by whomever does the shopping these days. Kurt? Who knows.     Once the silverware is handled, and then the top of the dutch oven is removed, Piotr begins to ladle out the broth and the vegetables before he starts to deal with the brisket itself. "It will be but a moment."     And so continues the bustling, even as Piotr steps to get a knife to cut up suitable sections of meat, then places them in each bowl with little fanfare. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     Even Bear was surprised by Illyana creeping up without a sound, and he can hear in a range that Bean can only dream of. The teenager looks over his shoulder, but his reaction is very much subdued. For one he's in the kitchen surrounded by people he knows, for another he recognised the voice. "That sounds like something to ask the local expert."     Speaking of... he glances at the table and shakes his head. Oh no, that won't do. "'scuse me a moment..." Up to the cupboards for a folded tablecloth, spread that out on the table, find some appropriate silverware, some napkins, glasses, bit of decoration... For those who have never seen Bean set a table, it might come as a bit of a shock that he can be so domestic. But within minutes, the place looks like a dinner setting fit for a country manor. 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' Golden hair falling into her eyes, Illyana skates along the outer periphery of the kitchen closest to cabinets and pantry doors. No one puts Magik in the corner! Or it's just to be polite so everyone else can negotiate around Illyana. She gives a brief wave to the assembled group in passing, and if that look lingers a tad longer on Peter, that's not be rude. The door hauled open, she peeks inside despite the near black conditions. No one has likely wired up motion-sensitive lights in there. Whatever rummaging happens, it takes a fairly short period of time. "Hi," she adds. Because 'hi' is polite. Breaking into conversation is definitely not on her strong side. NOt lately. 

:'''{{#var:4|Peter Parker (4)}} has posed:''' 'Hi' Peter freezes when his spider senses go off. Turning slowly to face the yellow haired young woman and her lingering stare. Slowly, without looking away from Illyana, he reaches out to grab tommy and cover the green skinned mutants eyes, "Run you fool... she can see you.." Tommy laughs, trying to get Peter's hands off his eyes, "Don't look her directly in the eyes... That's where she keeps your soul." 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' The entries of Samuel and Illyana draw warm smiles from Kitty. "Bean," she says with a nod towards him. "Illyana. Hope everything's well," she says. "Good to have the full Rasputin clan about again," she says. "Slishkom mnogo vremeni na rasstoyanii." Too much time apart. Kitty's Russian is still fairly accented, she'd never pass for a native speaker. "Don't forget to wash up," she tells Tommy. "And maybe replace that Mets cap with a Cubs one," she adds, Tommy giving the same kind of grin that he's used to seeing from Peter on that comment from Kitty. Kitty follows her own advice, washing her hands and then glancing towards Peter and Illyana. She dries her hands on a dish towel and heads over to the not-green Mets fan. "Already claimed," Kitty says, sliding her arms about Peter's shoulders from behind, giving a brief hug before letting him go, keeping the PDA to a minimum. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "Ah," Piotr says as he takes up the first two bowls and eyes Samuel sidelong, a small exhalation coming from him that if it only were given a little more energy would be a chuckle from the tall Russian. "Thank you, Samuel." For the table setting. He walks over toward the table and deposits the first servings along the side and begins to work his way around, resting each dish precisely in the center of the setting and then returning to gain more.     "Come Illyana," Of /course/ her brother singles her out. "Break bread with us, bring what you find in there?" He had not thought so far as bread, that much is clear. Otherwise he might well have had some toasted and ready.     It's only once the eight bowls are set down that he considers his handiwork, and then with a thought he moves over to claim the salt and pepper grinders that rest in the window, bringing them over to set them in the center of the table. In case they are needed. "There, eat." Simple. Commanding. Very Piotr like.     He turns toward the refrigerator and draws it open. Over his shoulder he asks, "What are people drinking?" 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Tea." Alexis states, motioning to the kettle on the counter as she plugs it in, and she leans against the counter, watching the doings nad goings on in the kitchen -- until Kitty insults the Mts.     "Oi! Don't you start in on the Mets, better than buying the players and all the fair-weather hooligans with their Yankees garb rollin' around in stolen Pirates Players money!" she states defensively.     She grabs a little tin marked "AL'S TEA (do not add sugar to or else, Guthrie!)" from a cabinet. 

:'''{{#var:4|Peter Parker (4)}} has posed:''' Peter points at Alexis without looking away from Illyana, "Whoever you are, you rock." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' "Here we are. Now where is the end of an age?" Dark words from Illyana if they were conjured in anything but the faint wry tone. Her sense of humour is drier than the Atacama Desert in summer, so finding the joke isn't easy. Especially when the two kids having a moment of wondering whether the resident teleporter actually does steal souls. She freezes there, midway to reaching for a round of pumpernickel. Not black bread, but dark enough on the bread spectrum, it counts. She clears her throat. "I have been starving. Run while you still can. If I find you," she tells Tommy and his friend, mimicking Pac-Man chomp-chomp-chomping with her hand. There is no smile, but at least sheisn't clopping along on hooves. The pumpernickel won't be enough. Another bag of ciabatta buns comes along, enough to feed a small army. She points the purloined loaf Peterward. "Illyana. Maybe we have met. But you are?" See, it's being nice. By GRU standards, this is practically flirtatious. "Alexis is talking about baseball?" Yep, that part of education got punted out of the park about the time she was learning the finer elements of flensing demon skin off a target. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "When someone else cooks, you set the table or do the dishes, that's only fair." Bean nods to Piotr's praise with some kind of half-hearted explanation as to why he went through so much trouble. Possibly best not to explore it too far. And as much as he wants to sit down and eat, he first needs to deal with another diner. Kibble and water for Bear in his bowls in the corner, and plenty of treats for having been a good boy. The chomp is loud with this one...     Bereft of canine but enriched with company, Bean takes a seat and waits for the servings to come his way before helping himself. "Tea does sound good, but considering our host, do we have the equipment to do it properly?" And to Peter, he nods. "She does. Literally. Guitar and everything." 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' Kitty Pryde gives a laugh and a warm grin over to Alexis. "No no, none of those American League teams either. Trying to convert Peter over to something respectable," she tells the other woman. "This summer I'm going to have to take him to a game at Wrigley Field. That'll convert him if nothing else will," she declares gently. Kitty moves to help with getting beverages, pouring some glasses of juice for herself and Peter. While she's at it, Lockheed comes flying in through the kitchen doorway. He was outside during the snowball fight, so must have come back in through some other entrance. He lands on her shoulder, drawing a big grin from Kitty. "There you are. I thought maybe you were out there melting snowballs still," she says, taking the dragon off her shoulder and giving him a cuddle in her arms, the dragon returning it with nuzzles before returning to her shoulder. Kitty moves over nearer to the table. "Smells amazing, Piotr," she compliments. "So Theresa, are you much of a cook?" she asks. 

:'''{{#var:4|Peter Parker (4)}} has posed:''' Tommy elbows Peter in the thigh, "Ow..." Glaring down at the mini green Peter, "Run, go.." Pushing the teen towards the exit, leaning back at that moment to push his shoulders into Kitty by way of returning the small bit of PDA that then goes away. Likewise just... watching Illyana. There's two Peter's here, maybe it's that spelling the Russian name the American way made it weird for the American spelled Peter and now he feels weird that at no point was the conversation directed at him. This is what happens when people get all fancy and don't spell peoples names the right why when there's two people in the room with the same name. Nevermind clear up who they're talking to. At least that's the expression he has on his face. One of embarassed confussion. "Anyways..." Patting his stomach, "While beats and cabbage is wonderful for shitting your guts out.. it tastes, ya know, like beats and cabbage..." Double pointing towards the foyer. "Seeya." 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Alexis Carr, former street musician, current music department teacher's assistant and tutor for guitar and piano." Alexis introduces herself to Peter with a smile, and holds up a mug as she pours hot water in, and plugs a teabag from her tin.     "And yes, Illy, baseball. I don't care for the Yankees and their fanbase is is a bit obnoxious, but I do like the Mets quite a bit." 

:'''{{#var:1386|Theresa Cassidy (1386)}} has posed:''' Theresa Cassidy lifts an eyebrow at the question of cooking. A hand lifts to her chest poised there with mock indignation. "Cook? Me? Oh, hell no you'd better get an antacid before you eat anything I make. Unless it's breakfast foods, I barely know my way around the kitchen." Grinning warmly she adds, "Warren's the cook. Really good, honestly. He picked it up as a hobby." When the American Peter dating Kitty heads out she calls after him, "It'll put hair on your chest!" in defense of cabbage. I mean really how can you not like it? The baseball talk just gets an idle nod as she wasn't exactly up on that topic. "Your guess is as good as mine on that, Illyana. I'm not a real big sports fan." 

:'''{{#var:145|Illyana Rasputina (145)}} has posed:''' Illyana puts down the remaining bag of bread on the table next to everyone. One twist tie down and she has the loaf opened up, already pre-cut. Taking the heel, which is smaller than even her palm, she holds it close on her retreat in case anyone has questions about margarine or corned beef that she might be unable to answer. "Ah," she replies to Alexis. A beacon of clear explanations, here. Theresa gets that knowing nod. "A strange sport. Hockey, now." Of course she would like the nearest thing to a fight where an athletic game broke out, right? True to frozen north, she slinks her way to the back. "Piotr, later, da?" Her brother gets a friendly nudge in passing. Bean and the cutest good-boye ever too, but she tries to steer clear of interrupting hound or dining humans. Freedom is escape through the door which she entered. 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' Kitty Pryde acks softly at Peter. "Swear jar," she says, swatting his shoulder before he starts off. Tommy is given a wave goodbye, and a stage-whispered, "Cubs," that makes him shake his head repeatedly before being pushed out by Peter. Kitty takes her seat, offering the extra glass of juice to anyone without a beverage. "I picked up a keyboard, by the way," Kitty mentions to Alexis. "Just started learning it. I might have to hire you for lessons sometime," she says to the other woman. Kitty glances towards Bear and then up to Samuel. "So you've had Bear for what, couple of months now?" she asks the student. "How is it going with him? Are you both settled into a pretty good routine? Any problems around the school?" Kitty moves a napkin to her lap then adds to Samuel, "And if you ever want to give him a day off and a play partner, we can bring Jester in. He's really sprouted up. Starting to lose some of that puppy appearance," she says of the golden retriever. 

:'''{{#var:9059|Alexis Carr (9059)}} has posed:'''     "Let the man enjoy his ball teams, Kitty. It won't be the end, all couples have their differences." Alexis counters, and she hold sup her tin, pointing to the 'Guthrie' message, and gives a small smile as she leans back against the counter. Aah, tea.     "I'd be happy to give instruction, Kitty, just give me some pieces you'd like to learn. Otherwise we'll start with what I learned, and what I've been playing since I was six." she gives a wry smile. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     Yeah, Bean can't help but glance over at Bear from time to time while he's eating, and the feeling seems to be mutual. As much as food is currently his most favorite thing ever, the German Shepherd stops from time to time to check on Sam, and then continues. "Three months now. It's... actually kind of impressive how much I can't imagine not having him around. Saved my bacon a couple of times already. And he likes going out for runs, he's just... just perfect. The best boy ever." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     The tall Russian continues to move about the kitchen. Some of the bread is liberated from its imprisonment and yet then only doomed to confinement in the toaster oven as he lets that brown while still moving about the room. At times he'll pause and consider if people have a drink and if not then they are at the least given some ice water.     One can almost imagine him as a proper head of a household seeing to the needs of his guests before he allows himself to enjoy the mealtime. In passing he will lightly pat Bear on the head twice, just enough to show acknowledgment even as he sets out a glass butter dish with a knife duly ready.     After a time he looks around at those there in the kitchen, blue eyes flitting from face to face as he asks. "Does anyone need anything else?" Another look around. "Yes, no?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Where there was food, there were bound to be at least one or two hungry students drawn out of the woodwork. And if it was something new and unusual? Count the mansion's resident winged healer right in! A familiar face peeks in through the doorway to the kitchen, nose twitching as she takes in the aromas of something very tasty. Unidentifiable, but very likely delicious. She's in her favorite PJ's, meaning ye olde baggy gray tank top, red tartan sweatpants, and floofy Old English sheepdog slippers. Her little ice blue braid dangles loosely on the left side of her face, the three silver beads glinting in the light.      "Wow... something smells really good! Who do we thank for cooking?" 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' Kitty Pryde grins over to Samuel and says, "Excellent. I'm glad that he's worked out so well." Piotr is next to get Kitty's attention. "Smells delicious," she tells the large Russian before picking up her silverware and getting a first taste of the meal. "Mmm... hits the spot," she says of the warm meal. Kitty's face has that slightly rosy look that faces get after they come in from the cold, though it's starting to face a little bit. She begins to eat, slowly but steadily making her way through the meal. Kitty gives a wave of her hand when Shannon enters, her mouth full of a bite of brisket at the time. It's washed down with a sip of grape juice. "I should probably check on some things I have running before long," she comments as she takes another bite. She glances over to Piotr Rasputin briefly, choosing wording as she asks, "So have you and Illyana had time to catch up yet?" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     It is delicious, and Bean lets Piotr know this by giving him a fully approving thumbs up. No words. Words detract from valuable eating time. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     The tall X-Man offers a wave to Shannon as she enters, "Shannon. There is room. Please sit." He uncurls a large hand to gesture toward one of the open seats even as he's walking back to the dutch oven and its contents. A smirk is given sidelong in Samuel's direction and he returns the thumbs up with one of his own.     Now, with his back to the room, he begins to dish himself up a bowl of the corned beef and cabbage, the large serving ladle dipping inside and coming up with potatoes and onions and carrots, and potatoes. And still. Damn. More potatoes. He keeps going, then grabs the tongs and gets a piece of the corned beef, and then another piece of it. And a third. Because he is still tall stronk growink boy.     Over his shoulder he answers Kitty, "Nyet. We have not had the chance yet. We talk, some. Then she looks distant and wanders off. I am sure we shall be catching up soon." Since, he feels, if there was something dire to be conveyed she would have told him without hesitation. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie comes walking into the kitchen looking about nodding to those here. He will head over to the fridge opening it and grabbing a bottle of water. "Hey guys." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon offers a smile and a wave to everyone in the room, but the savory smells of the corned beef and cabbage draw her like a moth to a flame. "That smells utterly divine! Usually only see that once a year!" She dabs at the corners of her mouth, and grins a bit sheepishly. "Would it be rude to ask if that's being shared?" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     In the corner, the chomping sounds stop.     Moments later, Bean detects movement from the corner of his eye and sure enough, Bear has settles himself next to his chair, laying about as content as a dog can be. "I think the words from our host were 'Sit, eat.' in that exact order. It's my belief that this assumes an indulgence towards sharing." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon giggles at Bean's exaggerated formality and nods, snagging a plate and heading on over to the stove. There was no way she was going to pass this up! Quite a bit of cabbage is dished out onto her plate, a fair amount of potatoes, and carrots, with a topping of delectable shreds of corned beef. She checks out the fridge next, rummaging around till she finds a bottle of stoneground dijon mustard, taking all of the above to a clear spot at the counter. Oh yes, she accepts the invitation to sit and eat, and looks as if she's in heaven. "Good, because a meal like this is meant for sharing." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie will look over and says "So what trouble you two gotten in today, while I was at work?" He smiles a bit at the two younger students. 

:'''{{#var:296|Kitty Pryde (296)}} has posed:''' Kitty Pryde finishes up her bowl of corned beef. "Mmm. Very satisfying," she says with a smile. "And now I think it's time to go clean up," she says, the thought of a hot shower after the earlier snowball fight being quite satisfying. "Be careful Shannon, I hear this dish puts hair on your chest. Might be feathers for you," she says with a wink. Kitty rises and carries dishes over to the sink, rinsing them and then adding them to to the dishwasher. Kitty waves to Samuel Guthrie. "Just in time before it's all gone," she tells him. "Kitchen's in your capable hands," she tells the Kentuckian, patting his shoulder on her way past. "Good night everyone." 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "I haven't even left the school today." Bean says in his defense, his tone rather light hearted as he actually smiles. A genuine smile. Bear finds this worthy of some kind of notice and sits up straight, leaning his head into Bean's lap. Ears are scritched practically instantly. Of course, that's not a denial of having gotten into trouble, per se.     "Good night, Miss Pryde." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon shakes her head. "No trouble this time. Not about to poke my nose out beyond the gates for a little while. Nope. No way, no how. I'd like to not wind up in the Wellness Office too soon, thanks!" She calls out to Kitty, laughing merrily, "This is a St. Patrick's Day treat every year. If it was gonna put feathers on my chest, it would've done it years ago!" She smiles and waves her fork at Kitty. "Good night, sleep tight, give those bedbugs hell if they bite!" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie chuckles and says "Kentucky fried Cabbage?" He jokes a bit but does look to the kids "Well thats good to hear." he looks to Kitty "Take care." As he talks he walks over to a draw and picks up a sugar packet from it. He then walks over opening a cabinet he will find Alexis' tea container and drop the sugar packet into it unopened before putting it back into the cabinet. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     Some people just want to watch the world burn. Some people like playing with fire. Some people... some people put sugar packets in tea containers. Fiends. Bean watches it with amusement, shaking his head. "And you're warning us not to get in troubl... ow. There was a thing yesterday." Because, you know, he can't /not/ mention the explosions and gunfire, or the alien spy. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon lofts her eyebrows as she hears Bean, her fork paused about halfway to her mouth. "What the hell did you do, Bean? And whose ass do I have to kick?" The very thought of someone taking a swipe at her bestie has her spreading her wings out to their full span, feathers ruffling. Her voice has dropped to a low, dangerous tone, as she lowers her fork and eyes her fellow student for any lingering sign of injury. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks over and says "Na, if I was getting in trouble would have opened the packet." He jokes a bit and will get some food, and walk over "Ok fill me in." He says looking over ot the other Sam. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     Bean puts his cutlery down, giving Shannon a smile. He seems to be entirely intact, none of the telltale signs of having been any serious scrapes. "It's not as spectacular as you think. Well, it is, but.."     And so he starts at the beginning. "Yesterday Mr. Rasputin took me to the studio of a Mister Crenshaw in the Bronx. He was going to pick up some art supplies, and I'm getting close to my test for riding the subway..." which is one of his mandatory goals this year, riding the subway unaccompanied and not cause any collateral damage "... so he offered to kill two birds with one stone. Not in those words. We got off the train and started walking, when a bomb exploded near a warehouse gate and some maniac by the name of Jane drove a car into the explosion to be catapulted up into the second floor. As you might have guessed, gang activity was involved... russian gang activity. Gunfire was heard. Mister Rasputin assumed his more public guise and ordered me to call the police, which I did. He then ordered me to stay put, which I didn't, although I didn't endanger myself or others, and left the scene when the fighting was over. Neither of us was seen by police forces or captured on any camera." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Somewhat mollified by the evident lack of injuries, Shannon tucks her wings in neatly behind her, and nibbles on a shred of corned beef with some of the dijon mustard. "Good. So, no need to drop the hurt on some suckas for taking a swipe at you." She just concentrates on her food for a few minutes in silence, enjoying the savory treat. "I've yet to see Mr. Rasputin in that more public guise. Must've been pretty impressive." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Yes, we should not go hunting people and pluck their eyebrows or such." He says, looking between the two "So, what did you do while you were not staying there?" He will ask Bean. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "It's about as impressive as it gets. I'm talking Hulk levels of impressive here." And that, from Bean, is some serious praise.     He gives Sam a look, one of pure puzzlement, as if he had no idea what he referred to just now... and then continues the tale.     "I watched his back. He went in after Jane, using the same route, I followed into the building from the ground floor, in case anyone with malicious intent and heavy weaponry was waiting there. Considering I found enough illegal weapons on the ground floor alone to re-enact a significant portion of the Battle of Berlin, I consider myself justified for that course of action. And I did tell Mister Rasputin later that I had disobeyed him, and why I did." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon gives a low whistle, lofting her eyebrows. She hadn't forgotten how the Hulk brought Bean home, and how surprisingly gentle he had been with her wings. "Wow. Makes you wonder, with a comparison like that, if those two were ever to spar, who would come out ahead." She falls silent, listening to the rest of Bean's tale, munching away on her late supper. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks over and says "Well strength straight Ah think the hulk, but Piotr could probably out smart him to win." He looks over and adds "So what did he say about you not listening?" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     It's an interesting thought exercise, and Bean must have given it some thought over the past few hours, if not overnight. "From a purely technical and raw strength point of view, I would imagine they'd be so closely matched that it would almost certainly come down to momentary advantage. But mentally, I fear the Hulk is likely to come out on top. Mister Rasputin always tries not to harm anyone, the Hulk when enraged doesn't have such a limitation. In either case, it's something I hope to avoid ever witnessing." Understatement much?     This time, he gives Sam a contrite nod. "He was... disappointed. For a moment, at least." and knowing that Piotr Rasputin is disappointed in you... that hurts. It might have done more to bring Bean over to the light than any lecture so far, barring perhaps the famous 'Hero' lecture he'd gotten from, unsurprisingly, Piotr. "He repeated that when he asks me to stay put, he does so because he's concerned about my safety, and that a request to stay put is made with my best interests in mind. I conceded that point. We had hot chocolate afterwards." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon could imagine all too well how it felt to think that one's hero was disappointed in them. She had thought such for a time just after the entanglement with Loki, believing for a time that the Captain had harbored just such disappointment in her. It had taken some time for her to realize that was not the case, but she still winces in sympathy for Bean, reaching over to gingerly pat his hand. "It's something I wrestle with sometimes. Especially when I worry about... missing friends. It's wanting to rush in and help, but knowing that if you're asked to stay back, it's usually with good reason. Hashed that out with Kitty that one time I blew up at her." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods his head a bit to this and says "I will admit, am both a little surprised, and a little not oddly that you went in after him to be honest. You have two tendencies that must have wared with one another. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "I gave it forty seconds..." Bean shrugs for a moment, digs in his bowl for a few seconds and then tries to put his thoughts into words.     "It's... I'm trained to run into danger. That's literally what a lot of my training was about, to go into danger and not run from it, but towards it." Bear gets a fond hug against the side of his leg, fingers running through that fur. It helps him think of those times without going back to those times. "And when you're out, and danger happens, you watch each other's backs. The moment you've put on the uniform, once you've earned the right to go outside of the base on deployment, you're trusted. No more being asked to hang back, that's for trainees and people you don't trust. Once you're trusted, that's it, you just... you go in, it's what you do."     Now his eyes taking in the entire kitchen, and Bear gives him a reassuring nudge. "When he told me to hang back, I... for a moment I was a bit insulted. It's for people you don't trust, you know? And I know he didn't mean it that way, even then I realised that, that he just wanted to make sure I didn't come to harm. Because he's a great guy. And at the same time, I couldn't let him go in by himself and get shot in the back by an anti tank weapon or something like that. It's... does any of that make sense?" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      Shannon nods, quiet for several long moments. "It's why it hurts to be asked to hang back. It's why I was so angry at Kitty that time. It felt like I wasn't being trusted to know and learn what my healing gifts can and cannot handle. Even knowing it's just concern and nothing more, it's hard to tamp down a very emotional response to that, and let reason take the lead." Yeah. In her own way, she understood. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "Well you have to remember even though you have been trained by others, you both are still new in your training here. Ah know this is something that is harder to understand when your age, and as you get older you will understand some more. Putting younger people in the line of danger, seems wrong to you somewhat. It is like your being irresponsible, even with us training and others training you, it just feels that way, not that your incapable of helping but that we are choosing to put you in danger. It maybe a little different for me for the face, I am more hands on in your training." 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "I know." Bean concedes, in remarkably good humor, and belatedly squeezes Shannon's hand. "It's just that... well, I feel like I've gone through years of training, with some of the best trainers in the world, and I'm back at square one. It's not something I was prepared for, and it's proving to be really hard to deal with. Harder than I thought it would be." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "It's even harder when training one's gift nine times out of ten requires practice instead of theory." The winged teen lets out a small noise of sympathy for Bean's plight, though her own situation was a bit different. "It's very frustrating, and not a lot of ways to really bleed that off. Maybe those extra hand-to-hand lessons would be a good way, who knows?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "It will in some ways but it will make it worse in some he tells Shannon. You will feel more capable which will make you feel you should be more in the middle of things." He looks to Sam and says "It must be hard I will admit, but you have made some progress showing us that your first instinct is no longer kill or if it is you now understand controlling it" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     There is a quick glance to Shannon, as if to ask if she told Sam about the other incident at the charity event, and then Bean responds, tapping his leg to make Bear sit at attention... that just makes it easier to fuss his ears and stroke his neck. "I've found... I've found that not killing is the harder of the two. It first of all requires more skill, and secondly requires a different form of environmental awareness. But not trying my best to subdue would be morally reprehensible." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon returns Bean's quick glance with a bit of a sheepish look, and a small nod. To Sam, she just smiles some, a bit tense and frustrated now. Her voice has gone low and soft. "And you think it's not frustrating now, waiting and wondering if that meeting with Kitty, Bean, and Warren did any good? You think it's not frustrating having an ally come to ask for our help, and not know if anybody's actually doing anything about it? That's making me want to scream. Even knowing there may be things going on that none of us is privy to. Trust me, the lessons will at least give some way to bleed that off, 'cause right now just going to the gym ain't cutting it." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks to her and says "Did I say frustrating or more frustrating?" He asks her. He looks to her and says "Would you rather those working on things spend time working on it, or come talk to you and tell you what they are doing?" He looks to her, and says "Wanting to help is good very good, but you have to realize one you can't be everwhere and two sometimes your gifts are not suited for a mission. Take me and stealth missions. " He tells them 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "If there is any way we can help retrieving Captain Rogers, they will come and ask for our help." Bean states as a certainty, going back to his food. It's almost criminal to waste something this good. And the time between bites helps thoughts formulate fully. "Once they've located them both, I'm sure that's exactly what they'll do. But what do we know about space flight? About the prevailing political situation in the Khundian Empire? What even is a Khundian? Or a Khund? It's not our expertise, and we're experts. Once they need us, they really need us, and until then we have to go by the assumption that those who are planning or executing the mission are fully aware of the necessities of that mission, and that they will fill them... as..." Yeah. He just heard himself explaining to Shannon why it's perfectly normal to be asked to hang back. Click goes the brain. "I've heard crow tastes better when it's fresh..." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "Maybe so. Yeah, okay, it's stupid to be frustrated. Just wish we knew -something-. I don't like the feeling of letting down friends." Shannon's fork clinks in the bowl as she stabs at a potato, and it just goes right through. Clink. Clink. Clink. "Yeah, we may or may not be suited to help. But doing something--even lessons--is better than sitting and stewing about it."      She stops and just looks at Sam a moment, brows furrowed with frustration lofting slowly. The corners of her mouth twitch, then lift into a wry smile. "You? Stealthy? Ha! You got your name with good reason."      To Bean, she just giggles softly. "Caw-caw!" It was hard, no, impossible to stay frustrated for long with these two around. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie smiles and looks over to Samuel, and says "Interesting that." He does close his eyes a moment and Sam will hover a bit in his chair, and they will hear only about half what they are used to with the volume of it. "Being frustrated is not stupid it is normal, letting it drive ya into things it should not can be bad. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     A nod and a shrug at the crow call. Yup. He'd earned that one. Reflection and self discovery never came without cost. Bean finishes his bowl and stands from the table, taking his bowl and cutlery with him to the sink. "Reflection before action. But speaking of action, Mister Guthrie, I would like to submit another request to teach a class. Hand to hand, this time, focusing on safe defense against knives and disarming techniques." Sure that wasn't inspired by any recent events. Perish the thought. "And personally I've found a trainer which I believe may be able to teach me more than just hand to hand. His name is Danny, and he teaches Kung Fu out of a dojo in New York." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:'''      "That's the whole thing, though, big brother. I'm trying to find ways to bleed off that frustration -before- it becomes a problem." Even at half volume, the proximity to Sam with his abilities in use in an enclosed space is very, very loud, enough to make Shannon wince. She nibbles on her supper as she listens to Bean's tale of Kung Fu fighting, her eyebrows raised by the request to teach a class. No, she couldn't -possibly- think what events might have inspired such a request. Nope. Not at all. 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods as he settles back into his seat, and he aint quite that bad when he is half volume. Well set up a time to let me meet him, and see what we can find out about him and such." He looks over to Shannon "You been working on your arts and crafts still?" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     While the noise is going on, Bean takes the opportunity to wash out the bowl he's been using and deposit it in the dishwasher. "Thank you Mister Guthrie. And now, considering I have one night of uninterrupted sleep left, I'm going to make use of it. Good night."     A quick whistle to get Bear to follow, and Bean heads out of the kitchen, supremely confident that his furry friend will be along for his evening walk. In this, he's not disappointed. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon nods and smiles a little bit, waving to Bean and Bear as they head on out for their evening walk. It had been good to see the pairing, and watch it blossom into a beautiful bond. "Yeah, I have. Especially with a tiny bit of a Christmas present from a certain sea god who shall remain nameless. Not sure if I told you about that one yet...?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie shakes his head and says "aint told me what he got ya, the lantern was the last thing I knew of." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon chuckles a little bit. "You might actually applaud him on this one. See, I hate being selfish when given the chance to request something, you know that. So I thought about it a while, tried to come up with something I could put to use helping others. Wound up asking for a sewing kit with thread and needles that won't run out on me. However, he got a tiny bit sneaky on me, the sly son of a gun..." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie 's brow raises a bit and says "Oh?" He will ask waiting to let her tell more of her story as he eats a bit. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon nibbles a bit more on her corned beef, nodding and chuckling softly. "Oh yeah. He saw right through it. One, for it to work, the sewing box has to be put away by midnight. So a nice little built-in timer to make sure I get enough rest. Two, if I don't make something solely for myself with it every so often, I will wind up freezing in place till I make myself make something a bit selfish. See? Sneaky. Saw right through the whole thing." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie 's brow raises a bit to this and says "You will freeze up? Do I need to come by and check on you? 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' "Not if I make myself be a tiny bit selfish every now and again. Sly way of getting the lesson across." Instead of being frightened, the winged girl is only laughing, shaking her head with a bemused expression. "It's just a bit more of a direct way of the same thing you've tried, in getting me to ask for things for myself sometimes." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie grins a bit over to her and says "Now, Ah would never try to make sure your doing stuff for yourself would Ah." He grins at her "So whats the last thing you made for you? 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon chuckles and smiles somewhat. "A black woolen opera cloak, with red velvet for a lining. Total, complete indulgence, but surprisingly warm. And, as it turns out, a fairly effective blind when dropping it on an opponent from above, with its weight and size." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods a bit to this and says "Cool don't think it would do a lot for me." he jokes a bit but says "Speaking of making things Ah have two requests for you. One if I show ya an outfit you think you can make a copy of it for Alexis? 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon tilts her head and smiles. "Don't see why not, though I'd have to get together with her and take her measurements. Thinking at this rate, I might want to get a dressmaker's form. Maybe one of those really fancy ones with all the really detailed adjustments so you can make something -just right-." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "Well I will buy it for the outfit if you can make sure she does not realize that your making that one for her and one for me.'" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon giggles and nods. "All she'll know is that you're having an outfit made for her, one of those 'just because' presents. If she presses for more, I'll clam up. By the way, this means I'll have to get your measurements, too." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "Then let me get ya to make two things for her, let me know how much I will owe you, the other thing is want to help me learn a dance routine?"" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon smiles and leans over to give Sam a hug. "I'd try to say you don't have to owe me a thing, but I know you'll be stubborn about it. So how about you show me the outfits you have in mind, and I'll cut you a break because of the dressmaker's form?" Her eyebrows go up at the mention of the second thing. "A dance routine...?" 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods and will pull out his phone and show her a poster from an opera. "The guy and the lady's outfits, the extra one for her I leave up to you, and the dance is from the opera as well. This is her grandma (Looks alot like Alexis). I want to dance the dance with her us in the outfits on her birthday. 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon smiles and gets all mushy, unable to hold back. "Awwwww! Dang, hope if I ever stop being kryptonite that I find someone as sweet as you! That is just the most romantic thing! That outfit shouldn't be too hard. Neither of them should, actually." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "Your not kryptonite, your just young." He tells her "We have till the 14th of March to get the outfit and the dance down."" 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon grins and cracks her knuckles. "Then time's a-wasting, isn't it? I'll have to flag you both down tomorrow. How period-accurate did you want the materials to be? If I have to go hunting, it could add to the time. But we can start working on the dance routine as soon as you like." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie says, "We can go with modern stuff, period would be neat but lets be honest I only giving you a month and a half to do it." he admits." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon nods once. "I'll get as close as I can but it may not be entirely accurate, with less time to work with here. Still, it'll be the best work I can do, I promise you that." 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "I am trying to figure something out nice for her 20th, course will have to top it on the 21st, but that will be something to think about compared to rogues." 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon rolls her eyes playfully, taking a carrot from her bowl and chucking it over at Sam. "Riiiiight, the night of the boobies. The less I know, the better." Snickering, she goes right back to chomping away on the rest of her dinner, unable to stifle her giggling. Hey, any opportunity to razz Sam.... 

:'''{{#var:1258|Samuel Guthrie (1258)}} has posed:''' Samuel Guthrie looks over and says "Hey I only saw one set, I had to leave early so if there were more ah don't know.' 

:'''{{#var:8765|Shannon (8765)}} has posed:''' Shannon finishes up her meal and heads over to the sink to wash out her bowl, her wings ruffling behind her. "Should be fun working on that dance routine and those outfits. Speaking of birthdays, mister, it'd be a huge help if you started thinking of what you want for yours, 'cause if I remember, it's coming up real quick!" Oh yes, she did love the chance to spoil the ones she cared about. The day had its frustrations, but at the end of it all, there was good company, good food, and loved ones all around. What could be better than that? 
}}

10880/Playing with Dollies

2020-01-27T09:10:50Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/26 |Location=South Hinkley, Old Gotham |Synopsis=Kory, exploring Gotham, finds the strange living doll Hisoka after murdering a would-be ra..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/26
|Location=South Hinkley, Old Gotham
|Synopsis=Kory, exploring Gotham, finds the strange living doll Hisoka after murdering a would-be rapist. They talked, and she promised to find him a magic-user.
|Cast of Characters=9313,24
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9313|Hisoka (9313)}} has posed:''' White. This is the word that would immediately enter somebody's mind from how the majority of the city is blanketed in freezing, glittering snow but in Gotham's case, dirty snow! Deep within an alleyway, a woman scream can be heard coming from aforementioned alleyway with demands for the woman to strip down, also to give up a purse to sate his certain urges, the man wearing heavily tattered clothes has his right hand clasped against the homeless woman's throat, a wicked grin on his lips, showing his teeth long yellowed from years of drugs, plus smoking. Unknown to them that there's a lost entity arriving from the opposite end of the alleyway, those glowing phantasmical white irises narrow upon the pair, not to rescue them but to ask a curious question, it's only time until the strange doll-like entity steps into light projected by a large neon sign hung on a wall, casting faint pink hue over his body, his red painted lips already quirked into a quizzical smile, drawing a strange stare from the pair, mostly the man with the woman hyperventilating, staring at the creature pleadingly. "What the fuck are you? Halloween's long over, kid." The man spoke with a light grunt tossed Hisoka's way, with the doll boy chiming in with a cheerful tone. "Bonjour! Ai'm a lit-tell lost haire, could you tell me whaire's la magika wieldairs are at?" The voice coming from the creature doesn't sound natural at all, no vocal cord, he sounds like an animal that learnt how to speak without even a tempo, leave alone cadence in his voice, his eyes darting side to side between at the pair, his head tilting at an askew angle as if listening to an invisible person. "Oh! Momma wents me to ask, what are you doeng to le lady?~" He spoke with a singy-songy tone, nearing upon the pair, causing the woman to shudder at the disturbing sight under assumption that he's going to kill her, then him next. Without even wasting time, the man pulls back away from the woman and takes aim at the doll-like entity's face, firing off a shot; the bullet tore right through the creature's skull, causing his skull to snap back, sending fragments and black sludge-like matter splattering all over the wall behind himself with a sickening crack but the creature stands there, without even a face. Thick writhing mass of black tendrils creep down from his face, marring the front of his dress shirt black, the creature immediately bolts straight for the man, bringing his right wooden hand around, which came free from the large sleeve meant to conceal such hand, large bladed digits gleaming upon emerging from the sleeve with a wet squelch of the blades cutting cleanly through the man's chest before his hand drops, slicing through his body from neck down, akin to a bacon shredder, rousing a loud shriek out of the woman from the traumatic sight. 

:'''{{#var:24|Koriand'r (24)}} has posed:''' Koriand'r doesn't normally visit Gotham City. The Batman isn't fond of those of her power level on 'his' turf, but she wanted to visit Nightwing. So she was going along, leaving a contrail of fire in the sky - then hears a scream. So she changes course and lands on the street. She's wearing a yellow sundress with shorts underneath, completely inappropriate for the weather but it doesn't seem to bother her. She's about to enter the alley when she hears... gunshots. She decides to hurry and enter the alley just in time to see the man get literally torn to shreds. She lifts her hand, which is glowing with emerald light, and simply asks one question as she looks between the golem... or whatever... the corpse, and the tattered woman. "Did he deserve it?" She's pointing at the 'golem', hand glowing with emerald light - obviously it's a threat. 

:'''{{#var:9313|Hisoka (9313)}} has posed:''' Hisoka 's sleeve is now thoroughly caked in gore, the splatter radius is pretty much large so the front of the doll's shirt, shorts, and everything else are marred with rapidly cooling crimson essence."Yuh-huh! He shot me een la face, and 'e was copeng a feel from la poair lady, Ai askéd 'im whaire Ai can find a pairson who can wield magic zo Ai can lairn from zem, 'e proceedéd to shoot me een le face." The magic-induced regeneration kicks in, reconstructing Hisoka's face bit by bit, fragment by fragment until it's nice and smooth again, the white rings dart towards the woman, piping up with a cheerful tone. "Okie dokie lokie, 'e's dead now. You can run awai screameng! If you went!" The poor woman is just frozen in her tracks like a deer in headlights, the homeless woman in rags awkwardly shuffles away from them with her back flat against the grimy brick wall with a line of yellow left behind in snow. Once given enough distance, she'll run away from them out of the alleyway and into the horizons. Going, going, gone! Hisoka turns his head, canting his head to stare at the messy remnants of what was once a man, tugging his gore caked sleeve back over his heavy hand, concealing it as best as he could, and he looks back up to the sundress wearing orange alien, giving her a frantic wave. "I'm Hisoka! Othair's Reika, she's inside zis vezel! What eez zis place anywais? A lot of crimes haire... non wairse than what you're waiyaireng though, that's fair summair tim." 

:'''{{#var:24|Koriand'r (24)}} has posed:''' Koriand'r frowns. "I'm having a hard time understanding you," she states softly. She points down at the mess and fires a beam of green energy which bsaically vaporizes the mess. "This is Gotham City. It is, to quote a movie, a wretched hive of scum and villainy." She then states, "I know one who uses magic. My friend Raven. But before I take you there, I'd need to know more about you. It's so hard to understand you - I know most Earth languages if you'd rather speak something you can get out better." She then looks at you. "Also, the Batman is not fond of murder in his city so... I suggest you not do that again. Nonlethal means would be preferable." 

:'''{{#var:9313|Hisoka (9313)}} has posed:''' Hisoka watches the mess get reduced into nothing with a large patch of melted snow left behind with a curious stare, deciding to speak with a clear accent, even though he's rather fond of the accent he picked up from his years of being in France. "Batman..? A vampire? Or.. uhh, is he a mutation of both? Like... born wrong?" He carefully plucks a rebar from a corner of the alleyway to poke at the ashes, toying with it mostly out of curiosity. "What was that? Was that magic? Can you teach me? And how would I do this.. nonlethal thing? Killing them would be quicker, and they won't repeat, plus I get to keep them once their meat vessels expire." Them, as in souls. The rebar is abruptly dropped with snow muffling the collision of the rebar hitting asphalt. "What do you want to know about me?" 

:'''{{#var:24|Koriand'r (24)}} has posed:''' Koriand'r states, "Batman is a the guardian of this town. He is not a mutant nor is he a vampire. But you do not want to be on his bad sign." She then sighs softly. "I need to know if you're a good perosn, or a monster. I'm leaning towards 'ends justify the means' which... I understand, truly..." She sighs softly as she looks at you. "So... ummmm....." She shakes her head. "Ummmm.... I'm just wanting to make sure I can trust you around my friends." 

:'''{{#var:9313|Hisoka (9313)}} has posed:''' Hisoka permits his age to bleed through, dropping the stupid act with a smile still resting on his lips. "Both, I suppose. I'm neither good or bad, but I don't go out of my way to look for mayhem, destruction, and the like, my only goal is to learn various kinds of magic, and spells so my mother may fulfill her goal." And he proceeds to begin scrawling into the brick wall left of them with his index claw, effortlessly cutting through bricks, just something for him to do to keep himself preoccupied. "I suppose you can trust me." 

:'''{{#var:24|Koriand'r (24)}} has posed:''' Koriand'r hmmmmmmms softly as she looks at you. "Don't cut too deeply - you don't want to damage the building please." She ponders softly. "Who or what is your mother?" she asks curiously as she moves closer. Not really worried about this golem - she's pretty sure she could take him if she had to. "And can you use magic right now? Could you show me something?" 

:'''{{#var:9313|Hisoka (9313)}} has posed:''' Hisoka does as told, flicking his claw out of the deep gouge, and he drops his hand back down onto the ground, he doesn't bother keeping them lifted off the ground, at least not yet, soaking his sleeves with melting snow, causing crimson to run into pure whiteness of snow. "We were humans, we got murdered by bandits a long time ago, she bound our souls to this vessel, and we killed the bandits. She was a dollmaker. Now, we do not know much magic, or even many spells, I can manipulate ecotplasm inside this vessel, and regeneration automatically kicks in. And claws, they can cut through pretty much anything, including tanks as if they're paper." A index finger blade flicks free from within his right sleeve, showing the glowing runic etchings layering both sides of the index claw, which are easily visible in the darkness. "So, no fanciful magic, I'm afraid." 

:'''{{#var:24|Koriand'r (24)}} has posed:''' Koriand'r nods. "Intersting. Oh, before you ask, what you saw me do isn't magic. I absorb solar radiation - and I can 'fire' it as a weapon that I call my starbolts. It's just... energy transfer. Not magic." She then murmrus, "Your story is sad. Almost as sad as mine - for my evil sister conspired with our enemies to kill our parents, ruin my homeworld, and send me to prison for no fault of my own." She shrugs. 

:'''{{#var:9313|Hisoka (9313)}} has posed:''' Hisoka gives a small shrug of his shoulders in response to Koriand'r's statement. "I don't see anything so sad about it, I don't feel hunger anymore, I don't feel fear anymore, I don't need to go to bathroom, and I can interact with the physical realm. Regardless, I'm sorry to hear about your sister and your parents, but I'm sure they're in a better place." He said with a polite incline of his head. 

:'''{{#var:24|Koriand'r (24)}} has posed:''' Koriand'r nods. "My parents are in the arms of X'Hal. And once I see my sister - she will be... about like that guy was," she states, gesturing to the pile of ashes. "Tell you what. Where do you normally hang out? I can let my mage friend know to come here. Would rather not bring an unknown quantity to where I live for now." She then blinks. "No offense intended of course. But you did make a spectacularly bad first impression." 

:'''{{#var:9313|Hisoka (9313)}} has posed:''' Hisoka lets out a small snort in amusement at the notion of 'hanging out'. "People usually shoot and attack me when I'm out and about, but the consquence is that they die, nothing more. Nothing less. Not because I refuse to employ non-lethal means, but because I have no was of employing non-lethal method. If I hit a person with my hand or arm, their skull gets caved in or their bones shatter from the blow, tearing through their internal tissues. Claws, they cut through them. So I do not 'hang out' as often, and I do not have a home, I just dwell in abandoned homes, or apartments during day time." 

:'''{{#var:24|Koriand'r (24)}} has posed:''' Koriand'r just nods slowly. "If you have a favorite hideout, I can have Raven find you." She shrugs slowly. "I'm sure that she could sense your essence or whatnot. Regardless, I must be off. Try not to murder anyone else tonight." She then kicks off and starts to fly away. 
}}

10879/After the thunder, rain

2020-01-27T09:10:27Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/26 |Location=Yonkers, Westchester County |Synopsis=On the way home, Sam and Colossus stumble upon something unexpected. |Cast of Characters..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/26
|Location=Yonkers, Westchester County
|Synopsis=On the way home, Sam and Colossus stumble upon something unexpected.
|Cast of Characters=284,8925,7410
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     Tension had been clearly seen in the tall Russian's body language after the bizarre events in the Bronx. The crazed madcap way the mobsters had been handled and the wild abandon and violence all served to cast a great pall upon the X-Man. They had done what they could, saved those that they were able to, though when the authorities arrived it had been best to depart and to depart as quickly as possible.     The train ride back had been quiet for the most part, though Piotr recognized the difficulty it would cause with the youth at his side. There were moments at some of the stops where he had lowered his head and murmured to Samuel. "Are you certain you are alright? We can perhaps take a taxi?"     But one way or another they eventually ended up back in Westchester, the old stomping grounds for those attending Xavier's school and it serves at the least as some hint of a safe harbor for some of them. Yet even now here in the almost too picturesque townsquare, there was still the tension of the matter that passed.     And of course Piotr asks again, "Are you certain you are alright?" 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     It's never a good time to be at, near, or be involved in a shoot out, even at second hand. Sam didn't seem too fazed by it, or at least not in the way anyone would expect a teenager to be. He didn't come apart, didn't go catatonic, and was even a tremendous help getting away from the area, always seeming to know when a police car or even an officer was about to come around the corner.     It's telling that even Piotr recognises that it's the train that's likely going to cause issues. But throughout the journey, Bean had been silent, kept himself to himself, and didn't pin anyone with that notorious 'you are ten seconds away from death' stare that he gave passengers on the way into the city.     He doesn't speak until they're back in Westchester, except to affirm that he's absolutely fine. And when he does speak out, he does so with his hands behind his back, looking around, looking anywhere but at Piotr. They were, as far as he could tell, exact polar opposites when it came to action. And despite all that, he could only respect the man for his convictions... it was the 'hero' speech that stayed his hand several times in the last few months. "That was a mess, wasn't it? Haven't seen one like that in years." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "In my time," Piotr's voice is deep and resonant as he walks. The snowfall becoming a little more pronounced than the simple flurry it had been in the city. Now there is actual accumulation, little wisps of snow racing across the sidewalks, even as the people in the crowds walk along.     Piotr, though he is looking a bit disheveled what with the bullet holes in his favorite pea coat and the brownish bloodstains from some of the wounded, seems to at least have come to terms with what passed in the city.     "I have seen much. Yet the abrupt escalation of such... violence. It is still surprising to me. I suppose I should not be surprised."     He continues to walk, gaze distanced as he looks away for a moment before he adds. "But I am." Then he shifts gears and nods toward the man at his side. "Yet you did well. You did as I wished, and it is because of you that some of those men remain alive. Though perhaps they did not deserve such."     That said he lifts a hand and one can almost imagine him about to thump Samuel on the shoulder. But he checks the movement into just snapping his fingers and pointing at him. "But good job." He nods. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "In close quarters, especially when there's that much of a disparity between force, escalation is the only strategy. Surprise, shock and speed." Bean gives a wry smile at the praise, even as he explains why he understands the violence occurred in the first place. And the proud finger... argh. It's too much. He has to come clean.     "I was behind you the whole time, with a pistol I took from the first victim. When I saw you were going to come back, I ditched it and ran back to where I was supposed to wait." There. He said it. Didn't have to, but said it regardless. Because dammit, he wants to be a hero... and that means not deceiving your team mates.     "Snow's really coming down, isn't it? Maybe we can finally have that snowman contest." 

:'''{{#var:7410|Arella Despana (7410)}} has posed:''' There is an Alien in the town square. Though the constant presence of some of the more unusually proportioned of the students of the X-man academy masks her presence as perhaps just another mutant - Arella Despana - recently awakened from cryogenic slumber is wary - an eternal habit. She has her Elven ears tucked beneath a winter hat and thus only her ebon skin and overlarge emerald eyes make her as anything other than unusual. A few men pay attention to the modestly dressed Svartalfar and her well rounded physique that is crudely masked by jeans and a heavy sweater. She appears to be combing the area with a modified tablet - discretely looking for something. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     At first Piotr is still just walking, his hands deep in the pockets of his ruined coat. He shakes his head sadly as his eyes slip away, then back to the side towards Samuel. Then there's the admission of what he did and at first... there's no hiding that ghost of disappointment. It's just there for an instant as he realizes, but then it quickly slips back to an understanding nod.     "And still. Small steps. You were concerned. If someone told me when I was your age to stay where I was when there was danger... and I felt I could do something about it. Da. Would be difficult." There is the understanding as he walks, boots crunching the snow.     But then his brow furrows as he looks to the side, "But is for your own good. For the future. Try to do what we say when we say it. Sometimes we know something that you may not."     But then as they walk, there is something in the center of town that apparently is drawing attention. Though indeed, Westchester is home to some strange looking people. Arella does stand out. Colossus stops walking, holding up long enough to peer at the Svartalf from afar. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "I know." Bean does, in fact, know. Understands perfectly well that everyone at Xavier's has, in their own way, tried to make him understand the need for patience, team work... that his life need not revolve entirely around violence no matter how skilled he might be at it. And he doesn't mention that, had he had a shot, he'd have taken it.     It's in that reflective state of mind that he walks past ... hey, wait a minute? That's not right. He squints as he looks at Arella. Not at her eyes, not at anything that might stand her apart physically from the rest of the crowd, although it's very brave to be walking around without some kind of holographic field when anti-mutant sentiment it at an all time high again. No, it's the tablet that gets his attention.     "I think we have a visitor..." he mentions in an undertone to Colossus, hoping he'll understand the implication. 

:'''{{#var:7410|Arella Despana (7410)}} has posed:''' Arella is aytipical of her kind - whilst some have her blue black skin her green eyes contrast with the usual red. In fact most of her race look like humanoid rats. Arella looks instead like a very well constructed comicon costume - a reasonably alluring one - like she was after first place. She puts away her tablet in a small over the shoulder pouch. She makes for the nearest cafe - orders a latte - and discretely spikes it from a hip flask when it arrives. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     Toward Samuel, Colossus murmurs quietly. "Perhaps none of our business." He says, hands still deep in the pockets of his coat as his gait slows a touch. But then he turns his head to the side and murmurs, "She seems to be doing naught. Though she is drawing attention." His eyes slip back toward the elvish woman as she heads toward that open public cafe.     He takes a deep breath and then says, "And yet, better safe than sorry, no?" With that said he picks up his stride and moves toward the cafe and the woman there.     Once he draws close he'll place an order. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "Drawing attention." Bean agrees, slowing down as soon as Piotr does. He has a knack for observing something without looking at it, using the edges of his vision or a reflective surface. Situational awareness has kept him alive for years, it's become a habit. "And at a time when one of ours was attacked when getting a pizza." A dark look from the teenager for a moment. Those three thugs had certainly paid a price for their attack on Shannon afterwards.     "Tea sounds great." If they're going to be sitting in a cafe, might as well enjoy it, right? "Or hot chocolate. Something warm at least." And discreetly, he starts to do what he does best. Tablets are not safe from technopaths... 

:'''{{#var:7410|Arella Despana (7410)}} has posed:''' Arella is peripherally aware of Colossus as she sips her illegal Irish coffee. She notices the Russian man's huge size as seats himself nearby. And being a quick study with respect to tactics in espionage she has to note his companion. But Samuel is already looking at her and getting a nice vision of the mind behind the technology and ideas fomenting in the tablet the Svartalfar carries. The tech is of her design. She is some kind of scientist. She has a conflict with some sort of leader of her race. An old powerful race. And there are experiments that she is performing to enhance her races military power. So many deaths. In fact Billions of sentients across the galaxy could sue her. So much arrogance. There is more to see but is it worth it? 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     At the cafe's outdoor counter, Piotr steps up and tells the server, "Two hot chocolates please." And as he says that he glances at Arella's reflection in the glass of the window near. He turns his head slightly and nods to Samuel, seeming thoughtful with his gaze distanced before he turns back and leans there.     There's a quirk of an eyebrow as he at least offers, "She is a striking individual." Though perhaps not loud enough to be heard. He does chew on the inside of his cheek for an instant, perhaps ill at ease over something. And likely no entirely sure why.     Then the clerk returns and he smiles his thanks after offering a five for the drinks. The two beverages are taken and one is handed to Samuel even as Piotr leaves the change in the tip jar before he pushes away from the counter and then crosses the way somewhat close to where Arella is sitting. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     There are times when Sam is actually surprised by what he finds. Even after the incident in the city, it seems there's still scope to be surprised further today. Not that you'd be able to tell from his expression, sitting at the table and chatting with Piotr. "Shame the ice sculpture contest didn't end up happening over Christmas. When are we continuing Cyrano de Bergerac? You know I'd still very much like to be in your drama class if you're teaching it again this semester."     It's benign stuff. Innocent stuff. The rest he's sending via text, without ever touching his own phone. /Alien visitor, scientist. Believe she might be known to Asgard. Query: inform Thor? Believe intent may be search for local technology. Further analysis pending/. Which is not bad work for a teenager that's ostensibly just sipping his hot chocolate with every sign of delight. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     There's that low buzz as Piotr's phone vibrates. He smiles across the table to Samuel and says, "Forgive me, please. I must take this." Knowing perhaps that it is indeed the youth across the way sending him messages. Though perhaps it might be Katya, to be fair. He swipes it to life with the brush of one thumb and then casually peruses the texts with slow swipes. His brow knits. He nods.     Then he takes a bit of time responding, just casually tip-tap-tip as he slowly puts together a message with a hand that's a smidge too large for texting. His message sent back is simply,     // Copy what you can. I shall contact Avengers. You should perhaps go back to mansion while I stay? //     And with that, Colossus nods to Samuel, folding his arms and taking a sip of hot chocolate as he gets set to stay... and wait. And observe. 
}}

10876/A Heavy Dose of Painkillers

2020-01-27T09:10:14Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/26 |Location=Westchester, The Bronx |Synopsis=Jane and some guy named Remo raise Hell with a couple of X-types. |Cast of Characters=284,929..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/26
|Location=Westchester, The Bronx
|Synopsis=Jane and some guy named Remo raise Hell with a couple of X-types.
|Cast of Characters=284,9296,7020,8925
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     The Bronx has been worse in the past. It's definitely been better, but also much worse. At the least these days the subway stop no longer comes with cautionary signage. Nor are there police officers with rifles stationed near the turnstiles anymore. But there's still that faint feeling of disquiet in the air, the hint of tension that always seems ill at ease. It's a feeling that reaches the locals to a greater or lesser degree, but omni-present all the while.     Out beyond the subway stop it's quiet this time of the evening. An occasional loud roar or cry comes from the zoo that's just a few blocks away. But with the sun having set an hour ago, and a faint dusting of snow fresh in the air, it muffles the sounds of the city. Of traffic...     That is until the small convoy of SUVs roll down the street. Large tires leaving slush in their wake as they roll up to the nearby warehouse with its heavy brick reinforced walls with the wrought iron gates. Four men in heavy coats stand around outside that gate, pulling it open slooowly as that convoy rolls on up and then sliding it back closed just as slowly once the last of the black vehicles are through.     It is all just another day in the city for some. But for the Russian man known as Piotr Rasputin... it is enough to give him pause as he descends from the steps of that subway stop. 

:'''{{#var:9296|Remo Williams (9296)}} has posed:'''      His name was Remo and he was out hunting.      Remo wasn't the kind of person who went hunting for ducks, or deer, or small furry things. those were prey. The type of hunting Remo did was for other predators. People who usurped and subverted the very laws they were meant to uphold. People who thought they were above the law. Remo didn't normally go after smaller predators. But Smitty had given hyim a mandate to study capes in their natural habitats.      And since capes loved to piunch things, he figured he'd go to where the people who needed to be punched hung out.      And that, of course, meant the Bronx.      Remo was walking down the street, looking for the telltale spoor of your average Russian mobster. Remo said under his breath in a passable Steve Irwin impression, "CRIKEY. Will you look at them! A hred of DANGEROUS Russian mobsters! Very dangerous and hostile when bothered. Let's go poke them with a stick!" 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' The deal was going to be epic in scale. The Russians were willing to pay for a massive shipment of one long ton of heroin, which was back in vogue after the subsidence of cocaine. The currency in question? Conflict diamonds, ready to have fake registration numbers etched on to pass a scan, and a sweetener of five million dollars for petty cash...and for a little favor. The word was out. The Korsovs were having serious trouble with the white-hat mercenary team known as the 22 Brides. The bitches needed to be spanked, and the Blood Lotus Triad already had a beef with them. A lot of drugs, a lot of diamonds, a lot of money. A lot of guns. The guard at the post perked up as the small car rolled up to the gate. The "chunk" of the intercom. "Hey! DoorDash! I got a delivery for this place!" "Leave it there, miss," the guard said tiredly. "Someone will take care of it." The driver nodded, then placed the bag against the brick wall right next to the gate, the gate mechanism on the opposite side of the wall. She reached in to steady the bag...and pressed the button. Painkiller Jane smiled as she got into the small car, and reversed away from the gate... 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     It was nearly time for the Test. Sure, there had been practices, he'd done some independent study and even a bit of independent practice, but soon Sam Morgan, Bean to his friends and most of his teachers, would be required to show that one skill that he had been working towards. The one quality that would show that he's been making progress on his individual learning plan.     The ability to ride the subway without causing collateral damage.     For must people it's a commute. For other students it's just a normal part of their day. For Bean, it's an exercise in force of will as he's trapped in essentially a metal tube with hundreds of strangers, none of whom understand the concept of personal space. And this close to The Test, he was at least allowed to join use the subway, with proper supervision. And considering Mister Rasputin was going into town anyway... Well, fetch and carry he could do.     "Honestly, if that creep had looked at me one more time..." he mentions to the man next to him as they leave the station. Bear, his usual companion for these possibly distressing tasks, was still at home. Taking the subway at this hour with a dog in tow? Madness. He glances around, takes in the sights and spots a few things well out of the ordinary. "Some place this is. I'm guessing we're not looking for a few tubes of Titanium White here, are we?" 

:'''{{#var:9296|Remo Williams (9296)}} has posed:''' Remo watched this from down the street, leaning against a doorway in order to look like he was waiting on something, noting the handoff with some suspicion. He had a bad feeling some butchery was about to take place. He sniffed the air, listened, tuning out the usual sounds. Something ewas up, the way he could feel it when he was being watched, when the air was about to turn into fire and bullets and anger. In other words, time for him to punch the clock and go to work. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "It is brave of you to come as you have, Samuel." Piotr's voice is rich and deep, the accent still clinging to his words despite his years in the states. He cuts a tall silhouette as he moves past the locals nearby, footsteps set upon the sidewalk and carrying him down the street. Sidelong he nods to the other Xavier student. "And da, Mr. Crenshaw's studio is perhaps a bit of a trip. But is worth it to bring some light into his day, yes?"     A few steps carry him further as he walks, perhaps a block away from that warehouse though their path will pass it. The group of men and now... a delivery? That was concerning. He had not seen such his last time here.     "Come," He gives a nod to Sam, "Let us cross the street here." No reason given, perhaps just easier? 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' The guard walked forward towards the gate. He frowned as he saw the car, a Dodge Neon, pulling away in reverse. New York drivers... Then the Neon stopped. <Jane, this is insane.> Probably. <You are out of your nickel-plated, everfucking mind.> "Certifiable." She dropped the shifter into D and mashed the gas pedal to the floor. The guard looked up as headlights washed over him. The driver was coming back? Alarm rose in his mind and he turned to run back to the guard house. He never made it. The thunderous explosion as four pounds of C-4, aligned as a shaped charge, destroyed the gate, a serious chunk of the wall, the guard, his buddy, the guard house, and three other gunmen waiting outside while business was being handled. It turned night into day. The Neon was lifted up by the concussive force, and yes, folks, you will believe a Neon can FLY. it arced upward through the inferno, over the SUVs that had caught hot shrapnel and were about to become bombs themselves. The people inside were still caught off-guard when the Dodge Neon flew through the second-story windows, tumbling as it flew like a set of car keys, and into the warehouse. It's tires were on fire, and a savagely-grinning Jane was at the wheel. Giving everyone the finger. Both fingers, actually. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     "Thank you, Mister Rasputin." Although on edge from the trip, Bean breathes out and seems to shed at least some of his anxiety. Why were buses easier than the subway? A topic explored at length with his therapist, but to no satisfactory conclusion. "I honestly think you're the only person I know who'd go this far out of their way just to brighten the day of a shop owner. So either Mister Crenshaw's studio is one of the undiscovered wonders of New York, or you're even nicer than I thought." And he considers his man, giving Piotr a sideways glance. "Bit of both, I expect."     It's very hard to ignore the warning signs his subconscious is flagging up, but after this long in the subway he is still shaking the habit of ignoring most of them. Otherwise he'd have gone mental on the way here. So it's with a slightly dulled sense of imminent doom that the teenager looks both ways and starts to cross, for some reason finding it perfectly natural not to get too close to that gate.     It's not until he's within twenty meters of the gate that he finally understands why. He's now close enough to feel the bomb, knows the telltale signature of a detonator, and has just a split second to react to his sudden recognition, turning to look at the gate. "Ah, Schei-"     The rest is dust and sound.     When the smoke clears, he can be found in cover behind the engine bay of a large SUV, reasonably unharmed. His eyes have lost that slightly unfocused teenaged quality and have, instead, seem to have gone as hard as flint. Certainly his expression is on the belligerent side of neutral. "Mister Rasputin? Are you okay?" 

:'''{{#var:9296|Remo Williams (9296)}} has posed:''' Remo sighed.Some people were always pushing the envelope.      He walked down the street as just about everyone else ran in the other direction. Made things easier; fewer people to mistake for combatants. As he made his way past the ruined gate, he saw three men moving from around the sides of the building, AKs in their hands. Remo sighed. He couldn't wait for Lesson 53 to come around so he could learn how to dodge automatic fire. Nothing for it. He was going to have to rely on the fact that everyone was looking at the maniac who tried to emulate Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. As one of the Russians turned to his friend in confusion, he saw a face he didn't recognize. The pause he took as his brain tried to process this was long enough for Remo to drive the barrel of his gun up so, by the time the finger on the trigger received the command to fire, the barrel was under the thug's chin. The other two got over their confusion quickly enough to raise, and then lose, their guns. The nerve endings of her hands tingled. "Now might be a good time for you guys to surrender," Remo said coldly as their mostly headless friend dropped to the ground. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     The first hint for Colossus was the hum/roar of the Neon's engine as it reversed, shifted gears, and then started toward the gate and part of the wall. He stepped to the side slightly even as he had been crossing the street, instinctively interposing himself between the vehicle's approach to the gate and Samuel.     But then as the night sky lit up with that thunderous explosion, the tall Russian in the heavy pea coat snaps over his shoulder. "Samuel, get to cover!"     There was a rush of electrical and silvery energy that washed across Colossus' form, transforming flesh into organic steel, his form growing subtly more massive and several inches taller even as he spreads his arms as if trying to make sure that his charge is not threatened.     Then the shockwave rushed past and over them, one great forearm coming up to shield his face. "I am fine. Call the police!" Then he starts to charge forward, breaking into a run as he moves toward that gate and the madness there. 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' The Neon crashed into a few people too slow to get out of the way, pulping them, the smell of burning rubber filling the air as the car slid to a stop, amazingly upright...and still running, although the suspension was hosed big-time. Jane's ears were ringing, but she had also cracked two ribs, broke her big toe, and was covered in bone bruises. She felt the rumble of the engine play accompaniment to the agony boiling in her body. The ruined car suddenly lunged forward, aiming at the scrambling killers, gangsters, and hitmen, as a stream of invectives poured through the shattered windows of the car: "MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLES (CRUNCH) GET READY FOR THE MAIN PAIN FROM JANE (body impact), YOU UGLY PIECES OF ABORTED (crackle of snapped legs as one man is run over) SHITSQUATS..." 

:'''{{#var:9296|Remo Williams (9296)}} has posed:''' Remo looked up at the building as the two Russians lay down on the ground, hands behind their heads, fingers laced. "Well, SOMEBODY's having some fun." He turned as he saw the large silver-skinned two-story building come running up the street. "You with Driving Miss Crazy up there?" he asked. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     Call the police?! Sure, it makes sense under the circumstances, but... there are very good reasons why Samuel Able Morgan, a teenager listed as 'Approach with caution' in practically every law enforcement database, can not be associated with any of this. But at the same time... it was Piotr asking him. And defying Piotr is like kicking a puppy, he just can't do it. On the other hand, 'call the police' did not include or imply any command to stay put.     "911, what's your emergency?"     "Explosion and shots fired, 4469 Dubrovnik Avenue, Bronx. Multiple injuries. Situation ongoing. Require police, fire department and ambulance services." All of this is delivered at a run, as Bean speaks to his phone through a cheap Bluetooth ear piece, pelting after Colossus and flicking the hood of his hoodie up. Let's /not/ get your face on any camera, Sam, that would be bad.     "Who is-"     "Now!" And that's all that Sam is willing to impart to the police. Hopefully he'll be out of here before any serious response arrives. Explaining this to SHIELD would not be fun... "No, we're the seventh cavalry, can't you see? Blödsinn..." 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     "I come to save lives, what has..." Colossus' thick Russian accent is there in most every word as he runs across the street, heavy footsteps seeming to cause small shock waves of their own as he trundles to a stop near Remo and some of the fallen. "What is this? What did you do to these men?" Naturally so full of questions, yet the tall Russkie's eyes are moving from fallen to fallen to fallen.     And then the roar of the engine somehow upstairs in the second story of the building grabs his attention. Great silver fists clench tight as he lifts his mirror-like gaze upwards, grim expression tightening into a frown. Turning to the side he looks to Remo, then toward Samuel.     "You." He points at Remo, "You do not be going anywhere." Then turning towards Samuel, "Stay here, stay safe. I will handle this."     And with that said he begins his own rush toward the warehouse proper, each heavy footstep thundering as he moves until he kneels for a moment and then /leaps/...     A large silver man in a pea coat now flying up toward the second story of that warehouse. Straight through the already shattered glass. 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' The Russians are regrouping when Viktor Korsov heard the mad ranting from the car as it rolled his men like dice. <Jane...? JANE?!?> "SHOOT HER IT'S PAINKILLER JANE!" His voice is a bellow, and the words seem to change the confusion into sudden fear and desperation. The car has stopped by now and nearly every gun is aimed at it, and they open fire. Jane's ditched the car, limping only slightly as she draws both guns, .454 Casull 5-shot revolvers, and lifts them to aim at the ones near the back. Something flashes as a big shiny thing bursts in through the hole she made, but she isn't distracted by it. Blood from a head wound covers her face, dripping from her cheeks and chin as she strides out of the darkness. The Masque of the Red Death. Fire erupts from the guns as the real slaughter begins. 

:'''{{#var:9296|Remo Williams (9296)}} has posed:''' "Well, listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but I need to get some information from some of those Russian hitters before 'Jane' up there kills them first...while setting back the cause of 'women drivers' back before cars were even INVENTED. Do me a favor? Tell the Russian answer to Lady Liberty that I couldn't stick around out here." And with that, he leaped up on a nearby car with his right foot, then to a window ledge with the left, then up to the opening and landing on his right foot first, then both feet. $r He saw "Painkiller Jane", as she called herself, raining lead at the Russians. He shruged, then leaped up from the opening to the window of the third floor. This led to one of the offices. He could tell because of the armored glass. He extended his pointer finger and plunged it into the seal of the frame holding the glass, his nail carving through it like it was made of Silly Putty. As he did, he began to whistle, "Whistle While You Work". $r Always a favorite. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     He's about to ask if Piotr is serious, and gets about as far as opening his mouth when Colossus launches himself into the fray. Well, that's awkward. Sam looks at the other man, shrugs, and sidles towards the nearest solid cover he can find. Bulletproof he's not. Shots fly, there's the sound of rending metal, shouts, screaming, that odd gurgle from a victim when you land a head shot.     He stands around, checks to make sure his fingernails are still immaculate. Brushes a bit of dust from his hoodie and jacket. Reaches down to remove a smudge from the gleaming polish on his combat boots. Finally, he checks the time via his phone, nodding to himself. "45 seconds... long enough."     Putting the phone away, Bean leaves cover, because that's what sidekicks /do/. Except, of course, he stops by the corpse of the first thug to help himself to a pistol and two magazines, before heading into the building at a jog. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     The ledge that is left of that window seems to crack and split as debris falls with the added weight of the silver Russian. He takes a moment there, looking upon the carnage that Jane hath wrought and his metal brow furrows with concentration.     Piotr Rasputin, to some, may well seem to be naive in some ways. But he is aware of the ills that men do in the world. Of those who steal and murder. And even moreso of those who would be considered his countrymen for the impact they have on the lives of those around them is so staggeringly dire. And so it is that he recognizes that these men, here in the second story of this warehouse, with their many weapons and their contraband.     These are not good men.     Yet they do not deserve death. And so it is Jane that he moves toward. "Jane!" He calls, perhaps having picked up her name. Hoping it may at least draw her attention from further death and mayhem. "This is not the way!"     Of course one of the Russian gangsters, seeing a gigantic man of silver, decides to take a pot shot at almost point blank range. Only for the round to ricochet off of the metal man. "Mistake, comrade." He says as he almost gently slaps the criminal, sending him flying and clearly leaving him unconscious. 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' Jane fired the guns empty. She was a crack shot, that's for sure. Then a rifle burst from a panicked Russian put two in her chest and flung her back against a crate. The man, an excitable young up-and-comer named Josef, yelled out, "I got her! I GOT HER!!" Then he heard Kornov bellow back from his position behind the concrete barrier near the loading bay, "MAKE *SURE!*" Josef frowned. Make sure? The bitch was fish food, ground round, she was... He turned to see she was...standing. Bleeding profusely from the chest...but standing. Then the shotgun blast lifted him off his feet and slammed his body into the ground as Jane snatched the life from him. Her face was a mask of rage as she moved right at Kornov and his three bodyguards. Two kill shots and she was RUNNING. 

:'''{{#var:9296|Remo Williams (9296)}} has posed:''' Remo entered the office and started looking through the computer files. It was so much easier now that everything was digital. Now then, begin downloading to online storage...done. The process was running "Hey! Who are you?" demanded a Russian-accented voice. Remo looked up to see Gregor Krokov, the Bratva leader. "Oh, GOOD, you're still alive. Listen, my name is Remo. I'm the one from your Con-cast tech support? You didn't get the email about the tech support visit?" He walked out from behind the desk. "Look, before you ask, I'm unarmed. See?" He held up his open hands. "No guns. Now, we heard that you were having significant difficulties downloading your child trafficking ring from your other suppliers, so we at Con-cast decided it would be proper to send a technician, instead of, you know, remoting in from the office." "You hold it RIGHT THERE!" he said, drawing a Makarov PM and aiming it at Remo's head. "I didn't call for any technician." Remo smiled. SEMI-auto. Much better. "I'm telling you, you should've gotten the email. Okay, I'll tell you what.." He kept walking forward slowly. "...we'll deduct the cost for the hideout visit from your monthly bill. Fifty percent." "I SAID, STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" Krokov commanded, cocking back the hammer. Remo was only twenty feet away at this point. An easy shot at the worst of times. "Okay, fine. Seventy percent off. You're getting a real bargain." Krokov fired once, expecting to see his brains all over the back of the office. He blinked. There was no bullet hole. no brains on the wall. He had missed. IMPOSSIBLE. Remo sighed and stopped a foot away from Krokov. "Okay, FINE. NINETY percent. But I expect a good review from you." 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     It's always a bit disconcerting when the arrival of Colossus doesn't end a firefight straight away. Considering Bean is still hearing shots being fired... was that the cough of a modified shotgun?... it seems the situation is not yet under control. And it might be very disconcerting for anyone to see the teenager running that he is not handling the pistol like an amateur, and is in fact being perfectly safe about it. Proper grip, finger on the guard, barrel pointed down as he jogs...     "Oh wow, this place is just one big crime in progress..." the teenager utters as he runs through the ground floor, through the drugs, the weapons, the who knows what else in those crates. And the shooting is still going on, just above. And Bean climbs the stairs, pistol now leveled, covering every corner before he turns it. And unlike a certain gangster, he absolutely made sure his pistol has a round chambered and is ready to fire. Honestly, what is this, amateur hour? 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     There is the sound of gunfire, the thunder of the brawling and the crash of impacts. Perhaps a man goes flying past Samuel's line of vision as he gets closer to the ruckus. Colossus, for his part, is handling the remaining gunmen that are still in part rushing toward the situation, what few are left with Jane's rampage reaching a crescendo.     He tried pursuit, advancing after the gunwoman, though her pace was much faster and precise than his own. Until he reached that doorway and was able to grab another gangster from behind and thump his head into the side of the doorjam.     Again he shouts her name to no avail, moving in further and likely unaware of Samuel's approach from behind. 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' Korsov looked up at Jane, even as his bodyguards opened fire. She moved, but not fast enough to avoid being hit. She spun with the first impact in her gut, then shotgunned the one who shot her. Another shot to the thigh. Her leg buckled, and then she killed him as well. Korsov tried to use the third bodyguard as a shield. "JANE! STOP! I'LL CALL OFF THE HIT ON THE BRIDES!" Jane gutshot the guard, causing him to drop and expose Korsov. "You can't renew a contract or pay off on one if you're a CORPSE!" It was like a magic trick. She pointed the shotgun at Korsov, and his head disappeared. Abracadabra. 

:'''{{#var:9296|Remo Williams (9296)}} has posed:''' Krokov, for his own part, wasn't doing too well. He was currently on his face on the floor, begging the man with the dark eyes to stop ripping off his left arm. Remo had informed Krokov that, no, it only FELT like he was ripping off the man's left arm. "Alright, sunshine. Now, since your boss is busy re-thinking his life choices while he still has the capacity to still MAKE them..." And that's when he heard the shotgun blast. Remo sighed. "Looks like you just got promoted. Lucky you. So, here's the deal. Pack up your tents and get the hell out of my country. The whole group, well, those that might be gearing up to bring in reinforcements. Tell them to stay out of the United States." Krokov felt the weight lift and the pain stop, turning to see Remo walk to the window. "They'll never listen to me! They'd kill me just for suggesting such a thing!!" Remo smiled. "That's the biz, sweetheart," he said simply. 

:'''{{#var:8925|Samuel (8925)}} has posed:'''     Okay. This was... yeah... Bean has seen some violence. He has perpetrated a lot of it, and knows the consequences of a close quarters running gun fight against a determined opponent. Knows it intimately well. That's why he only needs one look at this mess to know that everything is over bar the criminal investigation. And he's /not/ sticking around for that.     With a practiced set of motions, he ejects the magazine from his pistol, racks the slide back to eject the chambered round, hits the disassembly lever and pulls the weapon apart, throwing the pieces in opposite directions. Luckily he'd been wearing gloves...     And then he pelts back downstairs, to be at least in some kind of reasonable position when Piotr comes looking for him. 

:'''{{#var:284|Colossus (284)}} has posed:'''     For a time Piotr Rasputin is lost in the give and take of conflict. There is that heavy crackboom of the shotgun that singles the end of a Russian gangster and causes Colossus' head to snap to the side. Then there's the distant cry of sirens and the flash of lights lashing across the sides of buildings that signal the coming of the authorities. Normally it wouldn't prey upon the X-Man's mind...     But then he glances toward the outside, the beyond, and where he left Samuel. A quick shake of his head. At least for now the shooting has stopped. And he perhaps might have saved some... by knocking them out. All in all...     It is enough for now that leads him back to the stairs and rushing toward the outside as he seeks Samuel hoping for them to flee the scene. 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' Jane looks down at what was left of the guy, then stumbles slightly. She takes a deep breath, then goes to the back of the SUV. One more shotgun blast, and she reaches in for the suitcase. There it is. Five Million Dollars. Would have been one Hell of a pension. But for now, she needs spending money. She walks out of the destroyed gate and to the other car parked nearby. She opens the trunk, tossing the suitcase in and getting the large medical kit. She pauses, hacks wetly, then coughs up the two deformed rifle bullets into the street. 

:'''{{#var:9296|Remo Williams (9296)}} has posed:''' A last look at the building sees a figure on the roof, the flames and lights nearby showing a man wearing normal clothes. No mask. He looks over at Jane and gives a slight smile, then steps off the roof, dropping three stories to the ground below, and landing as if he stepped off the second to last step of the stairs leading into the Chrysler Building. Then he just walked away, vanishing into the night like a tiger slipping into a thick jungle. And that was that. 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' ...Well, fuck me running, how did he do THAT? She was still staring when she heard the cop cars roll up. Lieutenant Quinn was first out, glaring at her. "Jane...WHAT THE HELL?" Jane shrugged. "The party peaked early." 
}}

10875/Irish at the Blue Lady

2020-01-27T09:10:02Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/26 |Location=The Blue Lady, Fort Joseph |Synopsis=Date Ends, Decided to get Ice Cream Instead. |Cast of Characters=182,1386 |pretty=yes }}..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/26
|Location=The Blue Lady, Fort Joseph
|Synopsis=Date Ends, Decided to get Ice Cream Instead.
|Cast of Characters=182,1386
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:182|Warren Worthington (182)}} has posed:''' Having left instructions for Theresa to dress up, Warren had picked her up for their evening out. Instead of using his driver, he picks her up in a snazzy little two seater, before the trip to bring them to the club. As he slips out of the car at the valet, he moves around to open the door for her. He's dressed in a tuxedo, the cut is tailor made, form fitting on him, with his wings tucked behind him. "We're here." he says as he moves to lead her to the coat check and then into the club itself. 

:'''{{#var:1386|Theresa Cassidy (1386)}} has posed:''' Theresa Cassidy didn't have too much to dress up in, so it means she's opted for the New Years dress again. There was nothing wrong with it after all. It was still suitably stylish, and she remembers to wear a proper jacket over it this time to ensure she doesn't freeze. The building they arrive at earns a little lift of her eyebrows at the sight. "This is definitely no where I've been before," she admits as she slips out of the car to join Warren while they move inside. "Definitely an interesting kind of decor. Bit of a speakeasy throwback, isn't it?" 

:'''{{#var:182|Warren Worthington (182)}} has posed:''' The dress is just fine, Warren's eyes on her should tell her that much. "I haven't been here before either, but I read a review on it and thought we could try it? If it sucks, we can just get ice cream instead." he says with a chuckle as he checks her coat and his hand finds hers. "But a couple of waters. A bit of dancing... I realized that I didn't get a chance to dance with you too much at the New Year's party. And I wanted to make it up to you." A smile is offered, warm for her, as he shrugs. "Plus, any excuse to get you into that dress again." 

:'''{{#var:1386|Theresa Cassidy (1386)}} has posed:''' Theresa Cassidy slides her hand into his giving a soft squeeze in return. An easy grin creeps over her, and she shrugs. "I've heard some places have taken to making 'mock-tails' for those who don't really want to drink. Maybe this place offers something similar. I could go for some dancing though." There's a pause as she considers and then adds, "Might still take you up on icecream after though." She allows her gaze to flit over him sidelong taking in his own suit as well. He really did pull them off without looking awkward. 

:'''{{#var:182|Warren Worthington (182)}} has posed:''' "Oh, there's an idea. So. Drinks first, or should we take to the floor?" Warren asks in amusement as he gives a redhead an encouraging smile. "I'll have to see how many desserts I can get out of you." That is said in a teasing fashion as he waits for her to make the decision. 
}}

10874/Going South in South America

2020-01-27T09:09:35Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/26 |Location=Argentina |Synopsis=Lorna and Roberto are kidnapped! (Savage Lands start!) |Cast of Characters=128,278 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/26
|Location=Argentina
|Synopsis=Lorna and Roberto are kidnapped! (Savage Lands start!)
|Cast of Characters=128,278
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' The plane touched down, landing without incident from all appearances outside. Inside was another matter as the Princess of Genosha went through a panic attack all over again. She was once more wrapped around Roberto's frame, holding on for dear life and hyperventilating before the plane rolled to a halt. But they made it. She was definitely calling Blink for a portal home, there was nothing worth putting herself through that again. The letter had come with instructions on where to go and who would be waiting and so on and so forth. After the plane, it was to the visitor's pick up and drop off at the airport. A car would be waiting there, with a sign 'Dane' to take the couple off to meet with her supposed sister. It was suspicious, certainly in the extreme.. but the whole chronicle of events already was. Lorna waved it off, shaky and still green in the face as they exited the plane and their belongings were unloaded. "Oh I look terrible.." The green haired Princess grumbled. "I should be happy, I might have a sister.. and I feel like I want to curl up and puke." She continued, wheeling her bag along beside her as they exited the more private area of the airport that they'd touched down in. After all, they weren't traveling something commercial and things like crowds were hardly an issue.. 

:'''{{#var:278|Roberto Da Costa (278)}} has posed:''' Roberto looks somewhat disheveled himself. Due to a magnetic princess clinging to him for the last fifteen minutes. There might have been static electricity involved, too. Certainly there were some aurora-like nice lights. Being a man ready for everything, he is combing his hair back into perfection using a pocket hair comb on the way out. Maybe he wants to look good for Lorna's sister. Only thing, he doesn't believe there is a sister involved. "Lets be real, she could have used a phone and arranged a video conference call," points out Roberto. "It has to be something else..." on the other hand Magneto and the X-Men know they are here. If it is an ambush, it is a dumb one. Lorna could have asked anyone, even magneto, or Wolverine, to come with her. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna shrugged, yawning softly as she leaned against her boyfriend's arm. She reached up with both hands to shake out her green curls, and moved to drag her wheeling suitcase along with her. "Sure, but my father admitted that it was possible. He didn't know my mother had me per say.. She broke things off around the time she gave birth. So my father knew that I kind of existed but not the details. And well.." She shrugged, and grimaced. At least it was warm outside. The humid air swept through her hair and billowed her clothes out. "Who would attack me openly? It'd start an international incident. She has to assume that I wouldn't come alone." She checked her phone as she walked, digging it out of her pocket. "I've already left a message saying we landed." She added. The Princess continued to doors, swinging it open with a wave of her hand and stepping into the air conditioned hall of the private entrance to the airport. 

:'''{{#var:278|Roberto Da Costa (278)}} has posed:''' "Plenty of people who care nothing for international politics and hate mutants, Magneto or the X-Men," Roberto was going to go over the list, but really, it is -too- long. Of course, most wouldn't be bold enough of doing it like this, because it is attacking Magneto and the X-Men. And Lorna has few personal enemies. At least Roberto thinks so. That leaves those who are bold or crazy enough. At the private entrance there are a couple security guards that are pretty much there just to verify Lorna and Roberto are who they are supposed to be. There is no attempt to search the bags. Anything there is unlikely to be as dangerous as Polaris herself. Besides, they are V.I.P. visitors. "I rented a car," comments the young man. "It should be waiting for us at the gates." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna grinned as she stifled a laugh, being on solid ground again seemed to do the woman wonders for the green tint to her cheeks and complexion that had had no business being there. She shook her head, "Yes, I know, it's a long list. It's why my father asked Blink to be my bodyguard. But c'mon, are you gonna tell me that you're not fully capable of taking that role for a few hours?" She teased, and twisted her hair back from her face against the wind as they stepped into the private entrance. The coolness of the AC and the fans that blew the humid air back having tossed her hair back into face once more. "Between the two of us I'd say we make a pretty good team." She added, and shrugged, "But I might be biased." She mused, and she nodded politely to the few guards they passed after ID's were checked and they were ushered out through the halls. "Aw, a car? Hmm, knowing you it's something fast." As they two made their way through the airport's private halls and to the VIP gates, there was little cause of concern. It was an airport after all, filled with people going their own way and with plenty of noise after they left the private sections of the halls and floors for the outside. The car was idling with a valet standing there, willing and ready to get their bags loaded if necessary. 

:'''{{#var:278|Roberto Da Costa (278)}} has posed:''' Roberto smirks at the bodyguard role he has been assigned. Actually he has already taken all the precautions he could. Including pressing to the city hall to increase security in the area and sending a private eye ahead. But there was nothing to find, apparently. "There wasn't much to pick here," mentions Roberto, regarding the car. It is a green Ranger Rover. "So I went for something able to handle the local roads. Which I was told aren't great." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna tilted her head, considering the Range Rover with a arched brow. "This is definitely not what I considered when you said you'd rented a car. It's not even vroom-y" She teased, but the luggage was loaded into the back as she eyed it. Her head tilted to the side. From where the couple stood a small, teenage girl came running up, her clothes were simple, nondescript, and she carried a folded piece of cardboard. "Dane?" She asked, hold out the sign, she repeated her question. And looked between Lorna to Roberto and back to Lorna, staring with intent at the green hair piled on top of the Princess' head. Lorna turned around, blinking and offered a hesitant smile. "Yes? I'm Lorna. Are you looking for me?" She offered, her voice gentle, but holding a fair amount of suspicion. The teenager looked perplexed, and as if struggling to understand what Lorna had just asked. Which was possible.. Argentina wasn't an English majority country after all. And the girl looked local enough. 

:'''{{#var:278|Roberto Da Costa (278)}} has posed:''' "Gravel roads, princess," points out Roberto. "I have no idea if we need it, I thought someone should be here anyway..." And looks there is. Although he didn't expect a young woman. "Buen dia," he greets to the teen. Then he translates Lorna's words. His Spanish is not perfect, but he is fluent enough to keep a good conversation going. "Maybe she is our guide to your mysterious sister." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' The young woman's eyes sparked with understanding as soon as Roberto spoke, and she smiled and nodded, rapidly responding in Spanish that she was in fact there to escort the young Mistress Dane to the car. The young lady folded up the cardboard and waved the couple away from the Range Rover and down toward the public loading and off loading section of the airport. At least, once Lorna had gathered her suitcase again. She would stop and waiting beckoning them along with a wave, and a glance around and back. Lorna paused every so often, but the sheer mass of humanity made it harder and harder for her to pin down anything that might've been considered dangerous as they left the safety of the more private valet parking to the more public section of the airport. She glanced back to Roberto, "What do you think?" She asked, arching a brow. She trailed long, keeping some distance between her and the girl. Her gaze whipping everywhere else warily. 

:'''{{#var:278|Roberto Da Costa (278)}} has posed:''' "I think we are going to miss the Rover," comments Roberto, following the women with a concerned expression. Too much people, but they are just regular folks. Crowds tend to get larger in South American cities than even in New York the worst day. Poor city planning and overpopulation will do that. "Stay close to me," he adds, "we are not in a hurry anyway." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Lorna shrugged, but lingered close to Roberto, her expression pinched with no small amount of worry. Her steps slowed as they came into the chaos that was the public section and she bit her lower lip. "I'm in no rush to run on ahead, trust me." She drawled, her voice low as she followed after the young teen that lead them on to the edge of the sidewalk beside a beaten up chevy sedan. The paint was peeling on the edges and there was rust on the wheel wells. It looked like it had seen far better days. Inside was a man in the driver's seat, the window rolled down and blaring a song from the 80s. He climbed out as the teenager leaned in to say she'd found them. He popped the trunk, greeting the couple in spotty English. "Hello, you're Miss Dane, right? I'm driver. Let me help." He offered, holding out his hands for the suitcases and luggage. 

:'''{{#var:278|Roberto Da Costa (278)}} has posed:''' Roberto laughs out loud when he sees the old chevy. Somehow, he knew they would end up in a rust bucket. Regardless, he shakes the man's hand and helps to move their scarce luggage into the car's trunk. "Is it very far?" He asks the driver. "It would be fine if you just give us the address, we rented a vehicle at the airport." 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' The man's face had a little more bristle than a five o'clock shadow, and he grinned at Roberto, "Not far, not far. No. No. Close. Quite close. I was paid. Paid to drive you." He shut the trunk and ran around to open the back passenger side door for Lorna. She slipped inside, the leather cracked and stuffing poked out in the creases. The man handed a bill over to the teenager and she ran off, disappearing into the crowd. Lorna looked at Roberto as the man climbed into the driver's side with a creak of the door shutting behind them. "Roberto?" She asked, and her voice held no small amount of concern and worry. Susicion filled her face, as well as wariness. 

:'''{{#var:278|Roberto Da Costa (278)}} has posed:''' Roberto climbs into the other side of the car and arches an eyebrow to Lorna. "We are -so- going to get swindled," he murmurs with a grin. "Oh, alright. Go ahead. I would have paid you anyway," he tells the driver. Truth is the driver seems pretty harmless. So maybe he is worrying too much. He half expects to meet a woman that tells them a story about Namibian princes or something. Only it would need to be a little more plausible in this age of genetic testing. Maybe she is really a relative of Lorna. Although the chances it is a sister... why would Magneto tell Lorna it was even possible? 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' The car rev'ed slightly, the wheels giving a slight bounce as the car rocked over a speed bump and headed down the road, weaving in and out of the traffic that congested the area around the airport. It stopped and started a few times, the windows down for the lack of AC in the car. Lorna exhaled a breath, shaking her head slightly. "What do you think? No attacks so far.. no nothing. Seems fishy, sure, but c'mon.." She reached up, twisting her hair back from her face and at the nape of her neck. Which is when the car was rocked by a violent explosion from beneath. Metal twisted outward, the seats ripping apart, glass shattering. The occupants were thrown. Lorna screamed as she threw up a barrier around herself automatically, but couldn't prevent the impact from the ground smacking against her as she fell and tumbled. At one point her head smacked against the ground and she saw nothing more. She was out cold. 

:'''{{#var:278|Roberto Da Costa (278)}} has posed:''' "Attacking in the middle of the city would be silly. Too much collateral, too many places to hide. I don't know if they have super-powered vigilantes in this town, but they would be on it on a flash," so it would be later. Some distance from the airport. But again. Harmless driver. Typical Argentina town. It is a nice summer day in this area of the world. He will be more wary when they are closer to the destination. And then they are hit from below? A mine? So close to the city! He goes black in a second, trying to reach Lorna and the driver. Bounces off her shield. Good there is a shield. Bad Lorna still crashed on the road. Roberto manages to hover a few feet off the ground, a couple nasty cuts on his leg, but none too deep thanks to his Sunspot form. 

:'''{{#var:128|Lorna Dane (128)}} has posed:''' Attacking in the middle of the city was certainly silly. Certainly gained attention.. but a car bomb at the bottom of a rickety looking car wasn't entirely unheard of either. An explosive carefully planted to look just like any of the criminal organizations around the country was something easily missed. Particularly in the chaos of the airport. People screamed and ran in all directions. The poor driver only saved if Roberto grabbed him, otherwise, he would be quite dead. The green haired Princess was knocked out for the moment, and slowly coming around. She'd hit her head with the force of the impact blunted but still enough to scramble her brain. Nothing happened at the moment, a breath of calm between the chaos as people cleared out of the area. And then, within a few seconds a dart was fired off. First hitting Lorna's still figure before a strain of them were fired off at Roberto.. for all that anything happened when he was in his black form. Clearly whoever was firing didn't really come prepared for Roberto Da Costa. 

:'''{{#var:278|Roberto Da Costa (278)}} has posed:''' Roberto spares a couple seconds to leave the injured driver in a safe-ish spot, then rushes to pick up Lorna. "Lorna, shield!" He screams. But too late, as the dart hit her. Now, darts would be useless against Rogue or Colossus, they have bulletproof skin. Roberto doesn't. His muscles and bones are reinforced in his Sunspot form, but his skin is not. The dart can't go very deep in his body, but it delivers a good dose of narcotic before he pulls it off. He can't even respond to the dart with a burst of plasma, too many people on the way. So he picks up Lorna and tries to find a good place to hide. At the same time he digs for his cellphone to send an alarm message to Doug and Sam. 'It was a trap', they expected that. 'Hit by dart, fading', which is somewhat unusual. But still many of the X-Men enemies are in old tech weapons. Unfortunately he yet to see the attacker. 
}}

10873/Walking on Sunshine

2020-01-27T09:09:17Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/26 |Location=Brooklyn Rooftops |Synopsis=Second encounter with those hunting Pippi, and the gang's all here. |Cast of Characters=8130,8020,..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/26
|Location=Brooklyn Rooftops
|Synopsis=Second encounter with those hunting Pippi, and the gang's all here.
|Cast of Characters=8130,8020,8026,1468,316
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     Pippi and Alopex had returned to the lair with Nemean in tow some nights ago, and all that was said that evening, by the white fox, was 'They found her'. Pippi had been quietly skulking around the lair the following day in guilt before the details had come out. The several teams of handlers and snipers were after her, they knew to engage from a distance because of her raw strength -- Delta Lab knew she was dangerous. And now they knew there were others, and that there were trained fighters. The darts they used were full of a sedative mixture that would knock Pippi out easily if she got hit... and probably Alopex or the Turtles as well.     They would be better prepared the next time they were found, and if they were hunting her, it was only a matter of time until Pippi, Alopex, or Nemean crossed paths with the Lab again.     If Pippi was captured, what would happen? She hadn't known... but she suspected they would sedate her... or they would cut her open to see if they could repeat the process.     Neither of which were ideal situations.         ***     Tonight, they were on high alert. The snow was falling in New York City, covering the world with a thin blanket of white, softening the sounds of traffic and the life of the normal people below the rooftops nearby where they had encountered the teams aiming for Pipster.     Pippi was easy to spot tonight, wearing a dark colored sweatshirt, with her bright pink hair showing as she cling to the side of a condemned building, perched on its granite ledge, holding tight to its downspout. Her nose was to the air, taking in the scent of the neighborhood. Someone was cooking with a lot of garlic. Someone overcooked their brussels sprouts, and now they smelled abit like gym socks. A car running on cheap gas was leaking. Her breath hung in the chill air a moment, before she turned up to another rooftop, then slipped around the side of the wreck, down below its chainlink fence announced that it was a project going towards housing, getting rid of the broken-down, cheap apartments within to build luxury 'artists' apartments.     It warned to keep out, but with its myriad nooks and hiding places it made a good place for some close combat, and not so good for snipeers. 

:'''{{#var:8020|Alopex (8020)}} has posed:'''     The pup had the better nose, while Pex was stationed on a nearby rooftop far above, with sharp eyes and sharp ears. Something she knew to do, and did often, was observe, gather details, and move in with the information that had been gained. Going into a battle, informed, was the best advantage one could have. In addition to this, the fox had two radios tonight, one that was shared with the family, and one that was stolen from the teams that had tried to put them to sleep just a few days earlier.     She wasn't far, she never was when it came to operations like this. She knew how fast she could close distance, and made sure that she less than a minute out from the building Pippi had brought them to. Now it was a matter of watching and waiting. Biding time.     Snow? .. Perfect. She would blend in far easier than the others, and that was being used to her advantage tonight. 

:'''{{#var:8026|Nemean (8026)}} has posed:''' Nemean blends in about as well as a brick wall. Which oddly enough is what he's doing, lurking in an alleyway nearby the buiilding. While Pippi has a better nose, he has great ears, and at the moment is trying to use them to pick out their target. He's not entirely sure WHAT they're looking for, but he's listening for it just the same. Unlike last time, he's not unarmed. The opposite, in fact, as he seems to have brought with him everything he might need. Full battle rattle, ready to strike at these guys as soon as they were sure they'd located them. 

:'''{{#var:1468|Leonardo (1468)}} has posed:''' The turtles are inside the building itself, using cover to their advantage. Pairing off to provide backup for their partners, Leonardo and Raphael move on one side of the interior while Donatello and Michelangelo start from the opposite end. Their ninja training comes into play as they work the shadows and gutted out portions of the building, ready to whisper into the radios as anything suspicious is spotted. The four of them are out with the others because that is what they do. That is what protecting family means. There is a direct threat against one, and it is a direct threat against all as far as they're concerned. Leo nudges Raph gently but with enough certainty to draw his attention, nodding in the direction of a stairwell before pointing up. This floor seems clear. Time to check the next. Even Mikey is taking this seriously for once, much to Donnie's relief. Minimal joking around limits the danger of being caught by surprise or giving away position. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     An attack on the family, even outside the brothers four and Splinter, is not something that any of them take lightly. Least of all, the hot-head in red, Raphael, who is, probably to his partner Leo's surprise, not even screaming or roaring in rage for someone or something to fight him. Instead, he's with his brothers as they use their stealth training, partnered off with their leader and scouting the building where, no doubt, the ones responsible for this attempt were waiting. His sais rest in leather holsters across his back, dulling their gleam to any errant light that might catch them, and the two turtles move like shadows in the night, scouting and watching each other's backs the whole way through.     When Leo nudges him, he glances over and nods, motioning that he would take the stairs first, motioning for the lead brother to follow. He's unsure what Leo thinks of this call, but, still being Raph and a ticked-off Raph at that, he finds himself not being concerned. Leo no doubt lead the charge on the adjoining floors, and though he makes sure his footfalls are fast and silent, the cool but rude guy is ready and itching for a fight.     Woe betide the first suspicious thing that crosses his path. Even WITH meditation, he's not looking to give these guys an easy time. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     The seven mutants weren't going to have to wait long. The radio Alopex lifted last time was still connected to their network, and it cracks to life:     "T5, Target Delta spotted northwest of your position. Move to investigate for hostiles. Building appears to be abandoned and slated for demo."     "Roger control. Tag and bag the mutt. Did the Doc want the others too?"     "Affirmitive. Unknown Entities One and Two may be present. Additional possible. Procede with caution, engage at distance when possible."     A white van, unmarked but having seen better days, pulls up in the snow, and several armed men begin to make their way out of it, and begin to penetrate the area. Another van pulls up on the other side of the building, and they take out a stretcher with some suspiciously thick and strong metal strapping on it.     Pippi's ears rise up, and she slips in the building around the eighth floor, second-to-last from the top. 

:'''{{#var:8020|Alopex (8020)}} has posed:'''     The pilfered radio crackles to life, and the family will get the alert as soon as they finish transmitting. A soft beep is transmitted first, and then Alopex summarizes the issue. "They're here, moving into the building. Van moved up, multiple armed hostiles. Uncertain of their spotter. Be careful, be safe, everyone,".     Both of the radios are tucked away and then Alopex is on the move. She'll be coming down from above, covering the rooftops, ensuring at least those entry points are also covered. She likes what she sees, to be honest. Pip in the middle, luring Delta in, and then everyone else pincering. So far, so good. 

:'''{{#var:8026|Nemean (8026)}} has posed:''' Nemean puts one hand up to his ear to hear the warning from Alopex. He can see the van and the guys near it. He pulls his hood up over his head, and tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He's just an average guy enjoying a night out in the cold, don't mind him at all. When the second van pulls up, he gets a good look at it. No sense going after them yet. Especially when these guys don't know the other mutants besides Pippi are around, "We've got a lot of company down here." He mutters into the subvocalization mic he's wearing around his neck, "And they look like they're extra prepared this time." 

:'''{{#var:1468|Leonardo (1468)}} has posed:''' Nodding once, Leonardo makes nothing of Raphael wanting to be the first up the next flight of stairs. He can read him like a book, sense the itch Raph has to get into the fight. Before long, they may all have that on their hands for better or worse, given the information relayed by Alopex. Seems the building itself will be the focal point, and they are already inside, waiting. About halfway up now, the turtles continue their recon of the place, in case it's been prepped for any surprises by the other side. In the process, Michelangelo chimes in after Alopex has spoken, "Mic check, mic check, one two. It's Grandmaster Mike T, time to rock the flow. We gonna take down the bad guys, if you didn't know. Word--ow!" There's Donnie, ready for a swat and a shushing. He's got his own tools to help monitor what he can, always looking for a technological advantage. Leonardo is ever silent, ever focused, taking steps two at a time behind his brother, fingers flexing at his sides. He's got the usual things in his belt - shuriken and smoke bombs in particular, and those katanas are always within reach. All he asks over the comms is, "Are they moving inside yet?" 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     A grin comes across Raph's face for the briefest of instants as Alopex announces that bogeys are in fact inbound. His hands flex, perhaps giving Leo a sign about his excitement, though he doesn't go for his weapons. No, when he strikes, he wants it to be quick, decisive, and unseen. After they take a few out from the shadows, no doubt their marks will start working on lighting, and then Raph will truly be in his element.     Donnie shuts Mikey up, saving Raph from chiming in and possibly setting off an argument that will blow their advantage. "Bring it," he says quietly, "What's a bunch of goons against our family?" There's an undercurrent to his tone. One most people expect from him: anger. The second is excitement. "Keep 'em in sight."     Raph is armed with his size, strength, sais, and a few shuriken. He didn't bring smokes: subtlety, even for a Ninja Turtle like he, is not his best attribute. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     The team didn't seem to spot Nemean down below. They weren't precisely looking down the alley way as they set up the gurney, and an IV drip. Someone in a lab coat and face mask comes out, and she -- it's a feminine sounding voice, at least, can be heard saying:     "Concentrate on our missing asset. All others are optional and we can pick and choose if we need them for study."     The front team comes into the building, kicking open the front door and beginning to clear apartments, four teams of two.     The team with the gurney in the rear is set up entirely, consisting of three armed guards and a handful of techs, and the one in the labcoat who looks like she's in charge.     Then, on the roof, a zipline strikes near Alopex from an adjacent roof -- has the fox been spotted?!     Pippi moves around the Eighth Floor, her ear buzzing with the words of the family below her, but she's too nervous to say anything in reply.     They sent more than she was counting on. She didn't even know this many people worked with the lab, and the thought of losing some of her family tonight made her heart sink but at least Raphael seems excited for the upcoming encounter.     She makes her way into one of the back rooms, nervously stepping around when --     SNAP!     A surprised yelp is heard through most of the empty building, echoing through broken and blown-out windows! 

:'''{{#var:8020|Alopex (8020)}} has posed:'''     Plink? What? Spotted??? The fox darts toward the building's edge, going over, recalling what was just below on her way in. For a moment, she dangles by one arm there, but she lets go once she confirms the iron-wrought stairway below. She has the presence of mind to turn down the stolen radio to the point she should be the only one that can hear it. Her thoughts race. Could she have been spotted? That was important information! She was one of the mutants with Pippi the other day. No, she wasn't spotted, they would have relayed that! It would have been on the radio. Rather than be concerned with the zipline, she heads into the building, ready to move down toward Pippi, but not without at least one surprise.     As she goes, just in case she's wrong about being spotted, the fox leaves some caltrops for anyone that may be in pursuit. That done, she starts to move through the building, ears perking at the snap and yelp from below. It adds speed to her steps. 

:'''{{#var:1468|Leonardo (1468)}} has posed:''' No panic in Leonardo's voice, but he's heard the yelp. He recognizes it. Alopex doesn't sound like that. Neither does Nemean, and he's down at street level. "Pippi, report. Status?" There is a controlled urgency in his words, but he doubles up on making it up to the next level with Raphael while Michelangelo and Donatello do likewise from the other end. The need to get to the same level as Pippi increases, along with ensuring no traps for them to deal with along the way as the people begin to move in from above and below. They may /think/ they have their targets surrounded, but they don't know what they're in for. "Get ready, brother," he tells Raphael. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     The yelp sends Raph's mind into overdrive. There's no mistaking who it is, and now his blood is boiling. "Gonna tear 'em apart..." he mutters under his breath, before his speed increases at Leo's urging. Not that he needed the extra encouragement, his profile going a bit lower as he makes for the next set of stairs. "Who's closest?" he asks, "We're moving, but if someone can get to her faster, kinda need that."     Someone's in for a world of hurt, and Raphael is ready to dish it out. "Always ready, Leo," he says, "Let's give 'em shell." 

:'''{{#var:8026|Nemean (8026)}} has posed:''' Nemean lets out a faint growl when he hears the sound of the snap, and then he pushes himself off of the wall he was leaning against and steps out into the street. He starts moving towards the gurney and the lady in the labcoat, "Excuse me." He says, as he steps towards them. He switches up his gait a bit to make it look like maybe he's some kind of drunk homeless guy stuck out here in the snow. It's dark and he's wearing a hood, he should have enough time to make this work. At least before they realize that this 'drunk homeless guy' has a tail 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "Mousetrap!" Pippi replies into the radio, along with the sound of off-balance walking, then a pause "... I think there's someone up here with me. I smell tobacco."     The teams below also heard the yelp. They turn to each other, then the eight men split up, finding different stair cases. The elevator shaft is opened and left for a quick retreat as they pass by and begin to ascend.     The duo that appeared on the roof Alopex occupied look around carefully, and then determine they need to be on the next building. Their ziplines retract -- then they set up to go accross, when one steps on one of Alopex's caltrops and gives a sharp cry.     One of the gurney team lifts her combat goggles.     "Sir, I apologize but this is a controlled area, you need to leave." she states, firmly.     The woman in the labcoat turns to Nemean, and her head tilt, narrowing her eyes.     "Tall fellow, isn't he?" 

:'''{{#var:8020|Alopex (8020)}} has posed:'''     The yelp was all Alopex needed to hear. She plucks up the family radio, <<Team coming in from above, not sure of number. Still heading for building center. Not sure how far from Pup, but will be there pretty soon.>> she says, all in a hushed tone. If Pippi wasn't alone, she didn't want to give away just how many more were moving to assist the youngest of the group.     Once she has a stair way, individual steps aren't taken. Instead she hops back and forth between the railings, moving for the 8th floor before moving in through the door which, once closed, gets a few more caltrops. Even if they don't step on them again, the door brushing them away would still be audible. Information is key, after all. 

:'''{{#var:1468|Leonardo (1468)}} has posed:''' Leonardo rubs his forehead. Mousetrap? They do have those around, even in run-down places like this. "Let's keep it together. It's about to get hot. I think the building is clear, so we should regroup and be ready. They'll be moving on us quickly, so cover the stairwells and elevator shaft." By now the turtles are a floor below Pippi's and closing in fast. It's taken some time to go through the building, but it was necessary to ensure no booby traps or surprises laying in wait. "Weapons at the ready." That means katanas, sais, nunchuks, and bo for the turtles, as the brothers regain sight of each other before watching the stairs, making a natural choke point. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     There's the soft sound of metal on leather for a brief moment, before Raph's sais gleam in the light reflected up from the snow. He holds them blades back, still in full sprint for the next stairway. He's careful, but swift, switching his grip on his weapons as he nears the stairs and bracing for impact as he starts his ascent. "Bring it on," he snarls, "Plenty of places to drop 'em back outside." He hits the stairs, immediately sinking into a defensive position with his shell guarding his vital points, sais out and ready to slash and stab should he encounter unknown resistance. 

:'''{{#var:8026|Nemean (8026)}} has posed:''' "So sorry." Nemean says, as he stumbles a bit towards the lady, "Y'all don't look like cops, though. So you can't just close off streets." He says, grunting a bit as he looks at the doctor lady. He figures now should be a good time to get their attention, because he 'stumbles' down towards the gurney, and then grabs it from underneith and throws it up into the air, towards the van they unloaded it from. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     The two stairways are watched. Pippi comes down the one with Donnie and Mikey on the other side.     The bottlenecks work. Alopex's stolen radio was broadcasting, quietly, that they had to halt, they suspected the enemy to be in place, likely entrenched.     The other pair, recovering from the roof, come down through an access, and are now on the Ninth floor.     There was discussion on how to procede -- flashbangs. Open fire and hope for the best. Someone voices that they brought snausages just in case, to some titter of laughter before--     "Gurney Team has encountered H-Simba!"     Up the end where Leo and Raphael are, someone lobs a flashbang grenade, and it lands, tapping on the tile floor a little bit ahead of the brothers!     Below, the lady with the gurney team shows ID as a private security force, and states gently, "C'mon, sir, I'll call you a cab and you can get ho-ly shit!"     The gurney goes flying. It's heavy duty, composed of steel and meant to hold someone very strong down, and when it hits the side of the van it dents it preetty heavily. The IV bag loosens and spills all over the snow.     Two of the security guards train their dart guns on Nemean, and the third preps a taser pistol. The tech who had been kindly offering to call a cab is on her back, scooting away backwards in the snow as bright lights turn on, aimed at Nemean. No more hiding in the shadows for the lion!     "Hostile, stand down. We're not here for you!" 

:'''{{#var:8020|Alopex (8020)}} has posed:'''     The fox is relaying everything as quick as she can. The tactics of what the enemy plans to do. <<Flashbangs imminent, if you hear any kind of noise, look away,>> she quickly transmits as she keeps on the move. She should end up with Pip, Techie, and Party Guy rather shortly. Without hearing any noise from her caltrops, she wonders to herself just where the rooftop team went. <<Two above don't seem to be following the way I came, may be above, may have moved down.>> 

:'''{{#var:1468|Leonardo (1468)}} has posed:''' Two sets of flashbangs dropped into the stairwells from above, two ways of dealing with them. It's great to have a heads-up thanks to the advanatage Alopex's pilfered radio brings them. Even a second's worth of advance notice can make all the difference. As soon as they appear in the area Leonardo and Raphael are in, Leo kicks out and sends them bouncing down to the floor below before they explode into light and sound, which doesn't have quite the same impact as if they went right at their feet. Meanwhile, Michelangelo whacks his on ahead as well, using the chucks. "Batter up! Check it out, dudes!" They go on down to the floor below as well, bouncing off the walls and stairs. Then, Leonardo utilizes a little trickery. "Can't see! Blinded!" Lowering his voice, he speaks into the comms, "Wait for it.." 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     Raph sees the grenade drop before he can process it. Luckily, Leo's quick thinking and Mikey's quick reflexes seem to save both sets of turtles, and when Leo speaks up, it doesn't take Raph but half a blink to understand. "Augh, bastards!" he roars, slinking up against the wall to give him a better vantage point to see any descending bogeys. His sais hold steady, ready to spring into action at the first sign of trouble. "Hey, you alright?!" he calls, overly loudly to further sell the flash AND bang.     But would they be ignorant enough to fall for the turtle ruse? 

:'''{{#var:8026|Nemean (8026)}} has posed:''' "You're not here for me, but I'm sure as hell here for you!" Nemean roars out at the guards. Oh they've got dart guns. Nemean pulls his revolver from his cross draw holster, leveling it at one of the trio, "You know how long those take to work on me. I'll have more than enough time to put bullets in all of you." Is he bluffing? Probably. Maybe not. That is a REALLY big gun that the lion is wielding. He's honestly not sure if he's going to shoot them or not. It depends what their response is, "So this is how we're going to play this. You call off your goons, you all get back in your vans, and you drive away. And then you never bother my friend again, or I'll eat your families." 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     Alopex is going to find her way blocked. There's a man there, wearing combat fatigues in black, a nice black shirt and a bandolier of what look like smaller flashbangs and smoke bombs. He's chewing on the end of a thin cigar, and eyeballs Alopex with some curiosity.     "Huh. So, who made you?" he questions. His voice is smooth, terribly proper BBC-British, and he's eyeballing Alopex the same manner a sushi chef might eyeball a fine fillet of tuna -- just looking to see where to make the first cut.     Pippi, on her end of the stairway, turns from the flashbang and covers her sensitive ears as Mikey gives some return service -- she's safe and protected, for now.     The three guards look at one another. One tech asks, quietly, "am I getting paid overtime for this?"     And finally, the one in the labcoat speaks up:     "Have you ever considered we may be the best way for you to reverse the process? Call it a hunch, but you don't move like an animal. You walk like a man."     Calling a bluff? Maybe. The ones holding the dart guns do lift their aim, though.     The ones coming up on Raphael and Leonardo take the bait, and draw up the stairs with their dart guns aimed, looking to dart Raphael first, noting the aggressive language.     "Team B and C engaging in Hostiles. New designation needed -- ..." the leader pauses a moment.     "... what *are* they? Aliens?" 

:'''{{#var:8020|Alopex (8020)}} has posed:'''     Click. Enemy radio off. Well this isn't good. She's found 'tobacco man' and she doesn't want to tell anyone because that'll give away their radios! Hmph. The fox has been surprised. Mark a calendar. Who made her? Her eyes narrow, and then the spirit of Mikey overwhelms her, "Well, when a mommy fox and a daddy fox really like each other," she begins, idly drawing up her kama because, honestly? She's all business and no forgiveness today. "Well, you know the rest, right? I'm sure a mommy and a daddy made you too, hmm? What a silly question."     The man is going to get looked over, top to bottom, for any detail she can get before the two begin their little dance. Smoke, flashbangs, maybe non-lethal due to how they want to catch Pippi and company. Her Foot training is going to help with her taking note of all those weapons. 

:'''{{#var:1468|Leonardo (1468)}} has posed:''' "Can't see either!" Mikey chimes in over on the other side, but that's because he's got his mask twisted around somehow. Donnie, the only one not to carry on that part of the ruse, is occupied with tugging the mask back around into the proper place for their little brother before they read themselves. The ones that come upon Leo and Raph are in for quite the surprise. With them positioned to take advantage of their position just inside the room adjacent to the stairs, Leo strikes first. A glint of metal flashes before the first one leading with his dart gun, to cut clean through the weapon itself before it can be fired. "Not aliens. Ninja, and you've just been suckered in." A roundhouse heel kick directed at the jaw follows the slice. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     While Leo prepares for the melee, Raph draws a couple shuriken from his belt and tucks them between his fingers. When they appear, drawing their guns down on him, his shuriken welcome them, aiming to hit or jam the barrels of the dart shooters before he lunges forward. "I appreciate the thought, but no dice today," he growls, before leaping at the nearest bogey to him. His sais twirl, then sheath as he reaches to grab the nearest baddie instead of stabbing them...     And then attempting to throw him with all his strength at his comrade(s) toward the nearest port of entry. "Now beat it if ya know what's good for ya!" 

:'''{{#var:8026|Nemean (8026)}} has posed:''' "What makes you think I want to reverse it?" Nemean asks the lady in the labcoat, "Besides, if you're messing around with mutagen, you're probably trying to figure out how to make soldiers or something else." That's what everyone else has been using it for. Nemean has yet to run into anyone using mutagen to make people into their fursonas. "So I'm going to guess that you aren't going to back down. Shame." She's right though, Nemean isn't going to shoot her. He puts his revolver back into it's holster, and then puts his hands up, "Why do you want her so bad, anyway?" He's hardly unarmed, despite having the weapon back in its holster. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     "At least you're smarter than ours." the Tobacco Man comments in observation, and eyeballs the weapon. "Archaic weaponry, Eastern stance, curious handling. Obviously a very good head on your shoulders. Tell me, Fox, do you understand the enormity of what you are interrupting?" he questions, "because frankly, I don't care. It put me through two walls and broke my shoulder, and I plan on seeing it where it belongs -- either behind stronger-than-steel bars and heavily sedated -- or at the bottom of the river, where one dumps the other puppies and kittens no one wants to care for." he states. "It is a dangerous creature, fox, and I have no argument with you or the others beneath.However, if we fail to capture it, it will end up killing people quite by unfortunate luck."     The Tobacco Man draws up a baton, and extends it. It crackles with electricity.     "Do step aside."     Below, the Primary Color Brothers would find that their ruse worked well enough to take the four human mercs totally by surprise. Leonardo's kick to the jaw sends one guy spinning, the slice separating the gun quite nicely in pieces, the barrel clattering down. The second and third get their barrels blocked by shuriken, and one gets thrown at the other, knocking them down a flight of stairs in a tumble!     The fourth though, goes for a side arm -- non-lethal, electri stun gun, aims and fires it at Raphael's chest!     "No rubber suited freak's gonna scare us!" he calls out bravely.     Down at the gurney team, the labcoated woman with the mask speaks:     "We created her." she states plainly. "And as an animal, she has no legal right to her freedom, and we are responsible for the property." 

:'''{{#var:8020|Alopex (8020)}} has posed:'''     Oh. He's like -that-. "Every creature is dangerous in the right situation," Alopex is quick to point out. "And, to be honest, I kind of do. I've been a part of 'enormous' things. I ended up hating it, turning on it, and not wanting to belong to such entities anymore. So. No. I won't be moving, and I will be, happily, standing in the way of yet another organization that thinks freedom isn't the right of a creature that can think and make its own choices." One of the kama gets a whirl, clearly not intimidated by the crackle of electricity.     "Maybe we can put you in a dumpster when we're done. Hmm?" The implications of that phrase she will not voice. It is a horrible thing that sometimes happens, just as the situation the tobacco man has described himself. "Or perhaps you'd prefer a jail, where criminals like you belong." 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     Raph smirks as his throw takes out two chumps, and he nods toward Leo as he takes out a third. However, what the red-banded brother had failed to notice was there were FOUR bogeys. Four. And they had taken out three, while the team of human baddies had obviously marked him as the bigger threat. Maybe it was because he wears red. Or maybe the use of the word bastards. Regardless...     Raph lets his guard down, and before he registers the man drawing a weapon, it's too late.     The underside of the turtle's shell is soft enough that, when the stun-gun leads hit him, they find purchase. And that means... "AAAAAUGH!" Raph drops to his knees, screaming and seizing up as he falls onto the landing, body twitching as the current flows through him and takes him out of the fight. 

:'''{{#var:8026|Nemean (8026)}} has posed:''' "Jesus Christ. You're just full late stage capitalist, huh?" Nemean says, as he shakes his head at the labcoated lady, "She has a name. She has a personality. Just because you used some magic science goo to turn her from a normal dog into what she is now doesn't make her less of a person. I can't believe I used to defend people like you." Maybe he should thank Shredder for opening his eyes after all. Well, before he kills the metal head. "Well I can clearly see I'm not going to change your mind, so I suppose we'll have to do this the hard way." He plants his right foot, and dashes forward in the blink of an eye, grabbing the guy with the taser, twisting his arm around with probably a kinda sick crack, and squeezing his hand so the taser goes off towards one of the other guards. At the same moment he moves to put that guy he's holding the arm of between himself and the third guard, figuring maybe that guy will hesitate to shoot the dart if he's got a compatriot in the way. 

:'''{{#var:1468|Leonardo (1468)}} has posed:''' For the moment, Mikey and Donnie gather up to help keep Pippi safe. That is a pretty important part of the plan, but the plan is also dependent on none of them going down. "Bro, look out!" The fourth gunman gets a clear shot off on Raphael, who twitches and goes down with a thump. "Red is down! Shellshock!" Leo reveals through the comms, then the sound of a clash follows as the mic remains open for a few more seconds. "You think these are suits? After what you've been involved with?" Down comes a smoke bomb, and as soon as it spreads he leaps into the middle of it with a flip and a leg sweep upon landing, bringing an elbow, padded though it is, down at the side of the man's ribs, followed by a headbutt to the chin. The katanas remain in hand. The other turtle pair continue to keep watch over the other stairwell, in case the attackers are using a staggered approach. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     Nice that the brothers are color-coded. With Pippi on the side of Mikey and Donnie, the three manage to keep frustrating their attackers by playing a rousing game of keep-away, baseball, and reverse fetch, before they go bowling with steel fire doors. when the call goes out that Raph goes down, Pippi looks at the two other brothers, then turns and books it to team up with Leo and defend Raph!     "I'd really rather not end up cast off. Terrible for my arthritis." the man gives a smile, and then goes on the offensive, sliding in close to alopex to try and whack the hand holding the kama and disarm the fox! He's quick, obviously a talented fighter.     Red goes down, blue's still up, and the guy with the taser turns, drawing out a little canister before Leonardo pops smoke. The man teeters a moment, striking in the air to try and get a ht on Leonardo before being kicked to his back, pain blossoming in his ribs as several snap, and the chin strike knock him out.     Outside, the gurney team is again under attack. The guy with the taser gives a cry out as he drops the weapon, his shoulder popping out of socket, if not his arm breaking, and the second and third, armed with their dart guns take aim. One fires it -- and it hits their comrade peircing through the guy's stomach, and the second one takes aim right at Nemean's forehead!     "Here, kitty kitty!"     The techs are rushing to get back into the van and get away! 

:'''{{#var:8020|Alopex (8020)}} has posed:'''         The Dance Begins. The fox expected the man to be a fighter, but the nimble movement was unexpected. The strike lands causing the kama to fly across the room, but momentum offered by the man's attack is turned to her advantage. The arm goes out, her form comes around, and the kama in her other hand climbs up and across, aiming for his chest, and potentially the bandolier full of non-lethal explosives he has. "Oh what a shame!" she barks before hopping back, simply trying to find distance. She's expecting a follow up, and his quick movements won't surprise her again. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     When the current finally dies out, Raph is in a heap, hands grasping for the leads and, when he can finally control himself, ripping them out of his shell with a wince. He pushes himself into a kneel, panting heavily as his vision wavers and fades from the aftershocks. His muscles are on fire, and he's vaguely aware of his surroundings as his senses start to come back online. He shivers as his muscles regain proper control, and he stands up, shaking his head. "Where... is he...?" he manages, his voice raspy before he spots the man on the ground, taken out by the blue brother.     Perhaps a bit cheap, but Raph is angry. So he draws back and kicks the man again in the ribs, albeit with less power than he'd like. "Asshole," he mutters, before looking toward Leo. "Where we headed, Leo?" 

:'''{{#var:1468|Leonardo (1468)}} has posed:''' "Bro, we don't need to hear how good you are. Turn it off. I'm trying to concentrate," Michelangelo complains. Leonardo's mic is finally switched off, but not until after the grunts and groans of his opponent being taken out come through. He spins around and ensures the others that have already been attacked won't be getting back up, and while none of his strikes are lethal or even life-threatening, they are going to hurt and remind these guys of the mistake they've made. They won't be getting back up for now, unless it's to retreat. "Pippi. Help me get Raph to a safer area. He got zapped," Leo says as she arrives over where he's at. He doesn't even sound as if he's broken a sweat yet. Then, "Hold that thought." Raph is rising, and there's no attempt made to keep him from getting his pound of flesh. "You good? Is there anyone coming up from below? How are we looking up top and outside?" 

:'''{{#var:8026|Nemean (8026)}} has posed:''' Nemean's plan half worked. His hostage takes the shot to the gut, but the other one hits Nemean in the head. Thankfully for him his skull is thick, and the skin around it is thick, and the dart bounces off of his forehead without sticking in. He growls, and grabs the taser from the man's broken arm, throwing him to the side, and firing the taser at the guy who shot him. That should take two of them down, and leave just the guy who shot his friend. Nemean drops the taser and rushes the last guy, grabbing him by his shirt and hauling him through the air, twisting around to throw him at the retreating technicians, "You're not going anywhere!" 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     The bandolier is sliced off, but the man doesn't seem to notice as he turns, then folds one arm and elegantly captures the bandolier over it. He raises one eyebrow, giving a slight nod.     "It is a shame, really. I'd rather be retired, but you know, just can't settle down!" he states, and lobs one of the small pellets -- a flashbang! -- right at Alopex's chest!     Pippi arrives just as Raph begins to stir -- and stands back as he comes up, stands, and kicks the other guy in the rib.She winces on his behalf.     The battle down below proves Nemean was not walking into the Lion's den, but the techs were certainly not rprepared for him! The grouping gives cries, and leaving some of their equipment -- and the unconcious guards -- they drive off, the lady in the labcoat standing in the back of the van and looking rather peturbed at the whole situation.     And within, a retreat is called. Struggling members drag their comrades out and away from the turtles, even as Tobacco fights Alopex. 

:'''{{#var:8020|Alopex (8020)}} has posed:'''     Well, this is going to be frustrating. The fox has enough sense to close her eyes, but the flashbang going off is loud, so very loud to her ears, and that is going to set her stumbling backward. Nevermind her ears ringing so loud that it feels like she was standing next to the amps at a heavy metal concert. Ugh.     At least she can still see, which she does after a moment or two more. Hazy, sure, but she can make outt he man's form. She also knows exactly where the equipment on her form is. So? Smoke bomb. With it obscuring everything, she goes to her radio right away. <<Skilled opponent. 8th floor. Having trouble. Found Tobacco.>> Hopefully they'll understand what she means. 

:'''{{#var:1468|Leonardo (1468)}} has posed:''' "You know where to go, everyone." Leonardo quickly, but cautiously, leads the way toward the rooftop, just a floor or two above their current location. Mikey and Donnie rendezvous with them so they're all together, and the five inside move more as a group by the time the call for retreat is sounded. "Keep on your toes. It sounds like Alopex has her paws full." 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     Raph groans. "Bastard..." he spits toward the unconcious man with now probably a body full of broken ribs, allowing Leo to lead the way as he shakily follows. As the blood gets flowing, he moves more and more naturally, and by the time they reach the roof with the other pair of brothers, he's almost looking like Raph again. Seems all parties are in retreat, and Raph himself looks like he's had enough fun for one evening, glaring with uneven eyes at the vans taking off before turning to his other brothers. "Yeah, we should he..." he starts, before he pitches forward, unconcious. 

:'''{{#var:8130|Pippi (8130)}} has posed:'''     Everyone escaping, retreats mutally called, Pippi rejoins her family on the rooftop as the man who smells of tobacco salutes Alopex, and takes the elevator shaft down.     Pips, for what she's worth fighting, catches Raphael, and just sort of carries him awkwardly.     "... we'll have to make sure Nemean's okay." she whispers quietly. 

:'''{{#var:8026|Nemean (8026)}} has posed:''' Nemean makes his way upstairs, but not before collecting the tranq gun and ammo that the fleeing guys left behind. Maybe they can study it and give themselves some info, where it's coming from, or what they plan on doing other than just 'capture Pippi'. He joins the others on the roof before they all return to the lair...After ensuring they weren't followed, no doubt. 

:'''{{#var:8020|Alopex (8020)}} has posed:'''     Retreat? Well, that timing is pretty good. She can hear the man using the elevator shaft, so once she's sure he's gone she'll meet up with everyone else, make sure everyone knows what's going on, give everyone a heavy looking over for tracking devices, and -then- she will turn the Delta radio back on. Hopefully they didn't realize she had it. 
}}

10871/A Street Fight in Mid Island

2020-01-27T09:09:03Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/25 |Location=Mid-Island, Staten Island |Synopsis=Cammy ruins a attempt to steal a mysterious chemical. |Cast of Characters=9305,823 |pretty..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/25
|Location=Mid-Island, Staten Island
|Synopsis=Cammy ruins a attempt to steal a mysterious chemical.
|Cast of Characters=9305,823
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' " So, why does the boss want us to knock over an armored car? That isn't usually his style. " The Medium-sized Hispanic man tugged at his blue-dress shirt, which had a orange and black tie with Jack-O-Lanturns on it as sweat poured down his bald head. A second shorter man with a brown,bushy beard wearing a black dress shirt with a red tie turned to him and said, "It ain't the money the boss wants. There is something else in there, something he needs for an experiment. Ya think Ace planted the micro-bomb?" At that moment, a clacking noise came from a nearby alley, yep, Ace had planted the bomb. Suddenly, a large shadown fell over the two and a grunting noise could be heard. The two turned around and saw a huge Kenyan man wearing a Green Dress Shirt, a green tie, and a set of sunglasses. At that moment, the armored truck was starting to drive by and the bearded man said to the Kenyan," Get ready Bruce, things are about to get crazy." Suddenly, a small, slightly muffled explosion was heard, followed by a loud crashing noise. If one were to investigate they would see a armored truck flipped on it's side next to a small crater on the ground and a ruined tire. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy is coming out her friend's gym when the men drive biy and she is at the corner when the explosion goes off. She is wearing her usual leotard, her running pants, and her winter coat. She turns to watch the incident, glancing at those scattering due to the surprise and the violence. "Look out!" somebody shouts, "Get out of here!" Another person adds. Cammy frowns and drops her winter coat off of her shoulders to the ground, preparing to investigate and help stop the crazy incident from escalating. She could see the suspicious men nearby at the explosion and so she walks toward them immediately, picking up the pace quickly as the smoke and vapor clouds the air, hoping they won't get away. "Stop!" she shouts. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The men made their way towards the car after the blast knocked it over. The bearede man and the bald man were laughing out of amazement while Bruce was simply grinning. That microbomb they bought off of that loon in Gotham worked. Now, time to pry the back of the car open and get the silver briefcase the boss wanted. The men almost pried the truck opened when they heard Cammy shout out at them. All three of the men turned at once, Bruce letting out a snarl as he did. If Cammy read deep into SHILED's database she would recognize Bruce as Bruce Amani, a former French Foreign Legionnaire who sold his serivces to various African Warlords before disappearing off of SHIELD's radar. The bearded man glares at you and says, "Or what?" 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy steps up to them as Bruce continues prying open the bank armored car, and she balls up her fists at her sides. She stares down Bruce with a legendary scowl, not liking his arrogant French attitude already, "Or you're gonna get hurt," she tells them. The smoke and the dust has clear from around her, so Cammy stands there with hardly any fear or nervousness. She motions at the men, "Last chance." She doesn't announce that she's a SHIELD agent but she doesn't seem to want or need to at the moment. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The bearded man sighs and says," Well lady, if you are gonna be like that, i guess you asked for it." He then turns to Bruce and the bald man and says," You two take care of this b..., and I will get the truck open!" Bruce immediatley snarls and charges at Cammy while the bald man picks up a lead pipe and charges too. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy tilts her head and tries to look around Bruce at what the other man is doing at the truck, but he's quite large. She takes a step back as the two men charge at her and her eyes widen a bit as she looks up at the oncoming Bruce. Her adrenaline races as she charges them too! Cammy slides underneath Bruce and past him, her arms and hands suddenly crackling with blue energy, possibly brought on by the combat or some other mysterious force. She puts her hands on the concrete and flips forward, trying drive her kickass military boots into the face of the other man with the lead pipe, while Bruce tries to figure out what's going on. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The bald man lets out a grunt as Cammy's boots impact his face. He goes flying and impacts the wall with a loud thud, his head slumpped back. Bruce turns around and snarls before charging at Cammy again. Meanwhile, the bearded man is still trying to pry open the truck, letting out swears as the truck refuses to open. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy looks over her shoulder at Bruce as he abruptly turns around. She then turns around quickly and improvises a move because there's no way she could punch this guy in the face, much less reach up to that distance. She sprints over to the lightpole just as Bruce is in arms reach of her and grabs onto it, using her arms to twist around it like a top. She spins around and tries to drive her legs with some force into Bruce, which seems like a much better option than trying to hit him. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' Cammy's legs impact Bruce and he stumbles back, his sunglasses going off of his face as he does. He lets out a cry of anger and lifts up the lead pipe his ally dropped and hurls it at you. Meawnhile, the armored car door opens and the bearded man lets out a cry of triumph as he climbs in and starts going through the cargo area. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' With an electric move impossible for a normal human, Cammy watches as the pipe slows down in the air. It is coming at her face an impossibly fast rate of speed, like a fastball out of some sort of demented sport but she perceives at in a different way. Cammy's Chi churns with her adrenaline and she'll probably feel it later. This happens from time to time when she's really in the zone during a fight. It gives her a slight advantage at that moment to spin kick and HIT the pipe in midair. She hits it with her boot and PROPELS it back at Bruce with an equal amount of force and acceleration, more even due to her kick. The Pipe starts spinning in the air like a top as it arcs BACK toward Bruce. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The pipe strikes Bruce directly in the face. Bruce cries out in pain and clutches his face for a moment. Once he removes his hand from his face, it revealed that his nose was bleeding. He looks even angrier then ever as he charges at Cammy once again, swinging his fists at her. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy twists away from the PUNCHES and one of them impacts her collar. As another flies toward her face, she ducks under it and puts her hands on the concrete again, twisting her legs up into the air and around Bruce's arm, using his momentum to try to pull him forward at an awkware rate of speed. She's done this move many times before but with someone so large, she can only clamp onto his arm, not his neck. That might not be as effective but it's still surprising. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' Bruce growls in anger as Cammy's legs wrap around his arm. Her attempt to propel him failing due to his size. He snarls and tries to punch Cammy again while trying to pull his trapped arm free. Meanwhile, the bearded man emerges from the car, a silver briefcase in his hand. He stops to watch the fight, being ready to run at a moments notice. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy fails! Bruce's punch connects with her back and she has to put her arms down on the concrete again to flip away so as to not take anymore punches. She grunts in pain and tries to refocus. Cammy takes a running start at Bruce like a madwoman, but there's a method to her insane charge because she peels off and bounds off a MAILBOX, launching herself into the air, much higher than she could ever jump on her own. This is good because she can twist and she becomes a MISSILE, her legs again propelling through the air at Bruce's face and jaw with strong force. It's the famous Missile Kick <tm>. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' Bruce only has time to look up in shock as Cammy flies through the air and plows into his face. Bruce flies through the air for a moment and lands hard on the ground, finally KO'ed. The bearded man gapes for a minute before making a run for it, running towards a nerby brown sedan, still clutching the briefcase. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy lands on the ground and clutches her back where Bruce punched her quite hard, and twists her neck to watch the man run off like a scared cat. She chases after him, but she's till behind, "Stop!" she yells. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The bearded man lets out a swear as Cammy got closer. He suddenly dives into his car and locks himself in and tries to start it up. His car however, kep stalling. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy jumps on top of the car as the man tries to....start it up? It's not starting, so she's not like James Bond twisting all over the place, which is a relief. She does a spinnarooni on top of the car and drives her legs into the car's driver window, trying to send the glass directly into the man with her big FOOT of violence. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The man lets out a swear as glass coats him. Suddenly, the passenger side door opens and the man stumbles out and rushes down an alley, his right cheek bleeding from the glass. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy hops off the roof and rubs her back as she looks at the man stumble around, then run away again, "Where are you going?" she wonders out loud. She runs into the alley. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The alley eventually takes you to a dead end, and to the bearded man. He is currently trying to stack two garbage cans together in a attempt to reach a fire escape. He sees you coming and climbes the cans and make a leap, and manages to grab the bottom rung of the ladder. As he tries to get higher up, he leaves his feet dangling and vulnerable. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy runs faster and bounds off the wall like a gymnist, not really needing a garbage can to reach the ladder's height. She arcs in the air toward the man and grabs onto the man's ANKLES, which might be a surprisingly heavy weight on him given he's trying to hold on. She dangles underneath the man. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The man let's out a surpised grunt and suddenly yelled," Hey! Let go!" Suddenly, he losses his grip and came crashing back down on the ground with a scream. He was still concious, but was obviously in pain and still gripping the briefcase. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy lands back on her feet with a grunt and doesn't take much damage because she was closer to the ground, plus more prepared for it. She walks over to the fallen man and tries to put her BOOT on his neck to threatens him, "I think you better give up," she tells him, and puts her hands on her hips as she waits, "What is that?" she wonders. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The man lets out a slight choking noise as Cammy puts her boot on his neck. After a few moments, he lets out a raspy," I give up!" He then stares at the briefcase again and mutters a slight ,"Damn it, the boss is gonna be pissed." 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy takes her boot off the man's neck and nods knowingly, "Good," she answers, which is probably appropriate to both his comments. She bends over and grabs for the man, "Get up!" she says, "Drop the briefcase!" she says. She then tries slamming him into the brick wall, which is always fun. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The man is hoisted up from the ground, dropping the briefcase in the process. He lets out a swear as he is slammed into the brick wall hard. He then starts swearing at Cammy and threatening her. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy takes her bare knee and tries to drive it into the man, "Sit down!" she lets out. She then turns to bend over to grab the briefcase. She peeks inside if it's open. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The man lets out another swear and a slight cry of pain as Cammy's knee is driven into his back. As the man is sitting on the ground, the briefcase is opened by Cammy. Inside you would see a vial with a clear liquid. It is not labled. 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy closes the briefcase with a thump and looks at the man, "You failed," she tells, "What is this? Why do you want it?" she wonders. 

:'''{{#var:9305|Hugo Strange (9305)}} has posed:''' The man sighs and lets out a series of small swears upon hearing the reminder that he failed. But, once he heard her question, he let out a laugh and said," I ain't telling you shit and you can't meake me talk." 

:'''{{#var:823|Cammy (823)}} has posed:''' Cammy frowns at the man, "Fine, whatever," she tells him, "You don't have to," she tells him, grabbing him at the collar again. She pushes him toward the street, "Get going!" she announces. She takes the briefcase and walks back out of the alley to meet the police, to tell them what happened. AGENT CAMMY takes out her BADGE to show to them. Cue SHIELD music. 
}}

10869/The pain train

2020-01-27T09:08:52Z

Kaosdrachen: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/01/25 |Location=Queens Subway Station |Synopsis=Karrin is out walking a dog when she runs into a teenage mad scientist, her friend Buffy and a..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2020/01/25
|Location=Queens Subway Station
|Synopsis=Karrin is out walking a dog when she runs into a teenage mad scientist, her friend Buffy and a walking drug lab named Jane.
|Cast of Characters=168,7020,7733,328
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' The NYCTA is a highly efficient machine underneath the Big Apple, and it runs with clockwork precision. Mostly. Right now it's runnning flawlessly, andat the subway station in Queens, one Karrin Murphy is making her way down to the platform. Dressed for investigating things, Karrin's got leather jacket, jeans, and ankle length boots on. Today she's dived into her employer's closet, she's not dressed like a typical cop in uniform. Instead, she's waiting on a train. Because that's what subways are for. Though she sets one boot onto the platform, she's got her head on a swivel, and is keeping a lookout for trouble. Ah, the joys of being an NYC cop. She's hoping people just assume her to be a regular passer by, even if she's got her badge around her neck. A dog that looks like Mouse is walking alongside her. She's not entirely sure if, or even how, the dog will fit in a subway train. But she got talked into taking him to Central Park. This is her punishment for losing a bet. Some people suffer magic payback. Others? Like Karrin....walk a giant frigging doggo. Who won't fit in her car or on her bike, either. She's bemused at the situation, even more so when she's got a A dog that looks like Mouse on her feet. Goodbye circulation to ankles in 3...2...1....feet go to sleep. Karrin's not moving from that exact spot. Even when the train gets here. God help anyone with a fuzzy squirrel on their clothing, too. 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' Decisions, decisions, decisions. Do we want acetylsalicylic acid, naproxen sodium, acetaminophen, or ibuprofen? Which seems suitable? The woman walking somewhat carefully down the stairs is pulling out a pill bottle marked as Excedrin Extra Strength. She pops the cap, shakes out two...then four...then six pills into her palm. She looks at them a little skeptically, then tosses them into her mouth, chewing on them and perversely enjoying the acrid tastes of them, her smile displaying the oxymoronic slant of bitter gratitude. She's dealing with a few things right now. Could be the left hand and forearm covered in bandages, or the gauze pad taped to her exposed midsection over the right kidney. She swallows and pulls out a water bottle from the pocket of her long coat, unscrewing the cap to wash down anything left in her mouth. 

:'''{{#var:7733|Nadia Pym (7733)}} has posed:''' Typically Nadia prefers to fly when getting about the city. But every now and again her gear needs updates, repairs or other adjustments that mean she has to resort to other means of transportation. Like today. She's wearing a zipped up leather bomber jacket with an insect wing logo on the back and some designer pants from the van Dyne fashion house. She's also got some stylish pink sneakers that light up when she walks. The petite teenager glances around curiously, as if everything is a little new and strange to her (mostly because the New York subway is), and every now and again pauses to give someone a friendly smile. Breaking the universal rule of public transport of don't engage with the other passengers. 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:''' Buffy Summers frequents the subway on a regular basis, due to an almost weekly commute between Bludhaven, her job at the Blue Lady and school at Gotham U. Fortunately the train system here was pretty efficient so it's not as much a hassle as in some cities. As she heads for the subway, she does notice a dog that is not Mouse and his petite blonde walker, which causes her to smile. "Karrin, Hey!" she calls and waves to her. 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' It's all Karrin can do to wave back. Not like she can move at all with this big old canine on her feet. Out comes a bone made of straw. Jackhammers got nuttin' on the tail wagging, though she grins to Buffy, motioning her to come over so they can talk, even though said dog is trying to dig a hole in the platform with the tail. Maybe Karrin should hire him out for tunneling work? Still, she's got no issues with gauze or pills or fancy sneakers. She's gone simple and effective, really. Tail wagging slowing, it's replaced by happy chewing sounds. Which sounds more creepy than anything at least to Murph's ears. See, she's smiling to people too. Hey if one person breaks the rules. Everyone can. 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' The woman with the short crimson hair and green eyes glances over to the dog. She doesn't approach it, or the woman whose feet are pinned by it. She could still detect the smell of pennies. Fresh blood has that smell of pennies. Her wounds are closed (well, still closing, but mostly closed) and bloody bandages might freak the poor animal out. That, or the smell of cordite, anyway. She looked at the schedule, then realized it for the fiction it was and sighed heavily. 

:'''{{#var:7733|Nadia Pym (7733)}} has posed:''' "You probably shouldn't give your pet dog toys this close to the tracks," Nadia says earnestly with a hint of a Russian accent. "If the toy rolls off the edge you could be pulled into the path of a train..." There's genuine concern in her tone. "And I'm sure it would have no trouble dragging you! He... Or she? Is practically taller than you." 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:''' Buffy Summers smiles, moving to close the distance between herself and Karrin. "Heh, I thought it was Mouse at first but this one looks a bit different. Mouse's little sister?" she smirks, "We we're wondering where you headed off to last night. Harry was all angsts and Thomas was feeling all guilty...Work emergency?" she sighs, rubbing her eyes, looking a bit exhausted for some reason. When a woman makes a comment about the dog toy, she arches a curious brow at Nadia. "Hmm?" Buffy nods, "She does have a point...That dog looks strong.." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' "Yep so let's move back from the tracks?" Murph offers, "Yeah work emergency, I got a call and had to run. Tell Thomas I'll drop by and stick around" she offers then nods to Nadia. "Thanks" she says with genuine relief. People do care in this city, so...with mnudging and persuading, Karrin moves to the back of th platform, well, well away from the tracks. "Nah, lost a bet so I gotta walk my Sargent's dog" she says looking amused, the big old canine flumping down by Karrin's ankle, wanting the bone back to chew on. "You stay put and chew on it" she says, then looks over Buffy and Nadia waving them over. "So what're you guyus up to?" she asks, including Jane in the wave over. hey. it's a valid question. Followed by 'how the hell do I fit this girl on a train?' and 'will the NYFD cut apart a subway car to get at the doors?' 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' The redhead looks over to Karrin. She looks wary, but takes a couple of steps closer. She pauses, then peels back the pad to look under it. Satisfied, then pulls it off. Although the pad has a blor of red on it, the skin underneath is unmarked. She drops the gauze pad in the trash, then touches her forearm. She winces, but begins to slowly unwrap the bandage. 

:'''{{#var:7733|Nadia Pym (7733)}} has posed:''' "If it would make it easier I could temporarily shrink the dog...." Nadia starts to offer, then Jane starts taking off blood bandages. "Are you okay? I'm not technically a doctor but I have a lot of medical training if you've been hurt and need assistance. It'd at least help you get to a hospital okay." She glances back at Karrin. "I'm not really doing anything... Officer? Just going to buy some parts for my latest little project." 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:''' Buffy Summers nods to Karrin, sighing softly. "I managed to..Calm Tom down.." she flinches slightly as she says that, "Harry not so much. You should talk to him. He needs you.." she blinks at Nadia"s offer, "Err..Say what? You got a shrinking ray gun or something?" she smiles, bemused, even though in this crazy world where anything is possible, Buffy should know better. Then Jane gets her attention as she starts pulling off bloody bandages, "Ummm...You Okay?" she asks, echoing Nadia's question. 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Karrin nods to Buffy then to the others as she sits down. Which gets her on her back, a dog bed. Yes, this is going totally to plan, as she can still talk, thankfully. "Yeah are you okay with those bandages? I mean I'm looking at it from down here but still, I can get a hold of a doctor if you like. Or that girl's got some medical training" she adds with a wave to Nadia, a wave that gets a large paw on her arm. "Okay. Okay. Point made, settle down" Karrin says with a grunt. "I'm really not going home, am I? Hey Buffy, you wanna explain why I'm late home to Harry?" she asks, wondering if they'll help her out or sit down. "Yeah could use that shrink ray right now. I'm short enough" Karrin says with a squeak as said dog decides to use her ribs as a launch pad to lope from Nadia to Jane to Buffy, thenn sprawls out between the four of them, right in the middle. Sitting up, Karrin relaxes somee. "Oh I didn't say you were up to anything. It was more a general question" she explains to Nadia, then glances to Jane, a little green around the gills from the cop, then to Buffy, "You are probably gonna punch me fo rthis, but I think you and Thomas are cute when you were sat next to each other" she nods, hoping Buffy won't punch her. She doesn't want to arrest her friend for that one 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' The woman smiles to the curious women. "Me? Nahhh...I'm fine." God, she can lie like a champ. She unwraps the bandage and...nope. No sign of the knife wound, and the Excedrin was doing its job NICELY. She drops the stained bandage in the trash, then displays her unmarked arm. "See? Not a mark on me." She looks down at the dog pads over to her, then puts her newly-unbandaged hand under the dog's nose for it to sniff. "Hey there.." she says, in a voice that is trying to be soothing and is only slightly quieter than normal. Enh, close enough. 

:'''{{#var:7733|Nadia Pym (7733)}} has posed:''' "It's not a gun," Nadia assures. "And it makes things bigger or smaller. But pretty much?" She shrugs. "I'm Nadia by the way, Nadia Pym. It's nice to meet you all." She beams a smile, digs a hand into her pocket and slips on a glove-like device. She points at the dog and suddenly it's about half it's previous size. "The effect won't last for long. Ten minutes or so. But that should be enough time to get through the subway doors and find somewhere to sit." Jane gets a very suspicious look. After all if the blood isn't hers it must have come from somewhere or someone. Alternatively she could have super powers... The petite teenager glances at the bandages curious if there's a way for her to pocket one for study without being spotted. 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:''' Buffy Summers yawns a bit more, clearly exhausted as a bit out if it still. "Hmm, sureI can if I see him, but maybe you should tell him yourself? Like I said, he was a nervous wreck...PTSD or something I guess.." she just blushes and laughs nervously at her comment about Thonas. "Me and Thonas?! Hehe....We're just...Friends..." yup, absolutely nothing else there, nope. "Hah, that's pretty cool. Nice to meet you, Nadia! I'm Buffy. But are those shrinking effects permanent?" She still eyes the device warily and shrugs. To Jane she notices the quickly healing wounds with a slight frown, "Wow that's some incredible healing.." but her train is here now and she has to leave, "Sorry, I gotta run, nice meeting you all!" 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Murphy nods to the now smaller dog. "Alright, sure, Buffy. Sure. Be safe" she offers and looks to Jane then Nadia, jealous of the shrink ray. "See. See, I'm curious on that. Where'd you get it, and you sure you don't need a doctor?" she asks Jane carefully. No way somebody heals from that instantly. No way no how. Unless sshe has superpowers, maybe? Anything's possible, as Karrin looks around, watching for a train to slide into the station. "Okay so, from here to the LIRR, then double back towards Staten Island, change there...." Murph muses. it's horribly complex. "Basically gotta get this dog back to her folks in Brooklyn" she offers, as if looking for a simpler route. Which, she really is. Nadia's shrink ray could come in very, very useful, honestly. Thinking laterally, it'd make it easier to help Harry out, and the PD 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' Jane JUMPS back as the dog suddenly becomes a much smaller dog. "SHIT!" she blurts out, her eyes wide and shocked. She looks at Nadia, face scrunched up in confusion. She thought the girl was KIDDING. For a moment, all she can do is eye her suspiciously. Then she realized people are looking at her. Gonna have to give them SOMETHING. "Name's...Jane," she offers after a moment. "I just need to get home, take a long hot bath." She looks back at the dog, to verify it is still smaller. 

:'''{{#var:7733|Nadia Pym (7733)}} has posed:''' "It's only long term if I do some additional treatments which are very expensive," Nadia explains, giving Buffy a reassuring smile. "And I built it. It's not really something you could just buy in the store, there would be chaos in the streets! And before anyone asks no I'm sorry but I can't let anyone else have one. You'd need to ask the Avengers if you want that sort of technology and I'm pretty sure they won't be willing to share." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' "Jane, huh?" Karrin says with a shrug, "No you're not seeing things. Well you are seeing things with your eyes, but...you know what I mean, yes the dog's smaler stil..." she says, feeling a headache coming on from trying to both figure this out, and explain it. Though good, the idea shrink rays in the streets won't be a thing reassures her. Then again, she sighs. "You mean like if you want something insanely precious and valuable, right?" she asks. Oh Gods, if Harry went near one, it'd be Liliput. Best keep her wizard away from /that/ thing. No, the area doesn't need Harry re-enacting Gulliver's Travels, only with more giant dog, and fire and wizard action. That's asking for it really. Looking over to Jane again, Karrin studies her for a moment. "Jane, what. You got a last name?" she adds. So she's got Nadia's shrink ray causing her a headachde trying to figure it out, and this mystery of who Jane is. Jane Doe? Hardly. She walks, she talks. She's like a real life damned doll, she wipes clean off. Heals up real good 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' Jane looks at Karrin for a moment. "Yes, I do have a last name." Which does technically answer the question. She looks back at the dog, wondering idly if it would hurt to be shrunk. The dog doesn't seem to mind it, though. "That's...a little eerie, though. My eyes are seeing it but my brain is coming back 'Objection!'" 

:'''{{#var:7733|Nadia Pym (7733)}} has posed:''' The Red Room spy training comes in rather handy. As everyone is marvelling at the reduced size doggo Nadia casually pockets a bloody bandage, taking great care to pick it up with a sample bag so she doesn't risk cross contamination or ruin her jacket pockets. "All I'm doing is making some adjustments between the distance in the molecules. It's perfectly safe. At this level of size change nothing is shifting between dimensions or anything overly complex. And I've used the same process on myself without any long term issues! You will suffer more ill effects from the pollution a car produces or from picking up an illness from the unwashed surfaces in the subway cars." "Robbery would be the least of peoples worries if /everyone/ had one. Used incorrectly you can hypothetically strand someone in a sublayer of reality where time doesn't work quite the same." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Nope, headache goes that way. In comes a full on migraine. "Uh....I didn't sign up for a particle physics class" Karrin says, sounding a little, or a lot, lost. "That whoosh? Yeah that was half of what you said going over my head. Everything after it's safe and the polllution and subway cars" she adds and gives Jane a look as if asking if she's the only one not following, or if anyone else is lost, too? She shakes her head at Nadia and Jane looking like a fifth grader asked to write a doctoral thesis in thirty minutes or less. At least the doggo's having a good time, with Karrin reaching down to scritch behind ears, and pet and stroke the doggo, mind. That's helping her not totally listen to Nadia's super genius advanced physics and molecular mumbo jumbo that Karrin doesn't understand one iota. There is that. She totally needs to convince somebody to get her a pet. And migraine pills, or, or, something. 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' Jane looks over at Karrin, and can see the telltale signs of physical pain. She's practically a Wikipedia section all her own. "Hey...don't worry. My brain's not equipped to deal with that, either. Want something for that headache?" She begins to take out small pill bottles from her coat pockets, the kind that look like tubes of lipstick with child-proof caps. "I got Aleve, Tylenol...hey, Excedrin's great for migraines..." She seems to have one of every OTC pain pill made. 

:'''{{#var:7733|Nadia Pym (7733)}} has posed:''' Nadia Pym shrugs at Karrin. She could totally write a doctoral thesis when she was in 5th grade. "It's not really important," she promises. "Because it's not the sort of technology that will ever become commonly used. And uhm... This is the simplified-for-kids version. You'd need at least a doctorate in theoretical physics to get the regular version. And the advanced... Well you'd need to be me or my Dad. I guess perhaps Reed Richards and Doctor Doom could understand it too." 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' Oh hey, Karrin's just accidentally found a walking pharmacy. hey. Harry's a walking encyclopedia on demons and nasties. Stands to reason somebody else is a walking wikipedia on something else. "Uh....sure" she says, wondering in the back of her mind if she needs to take this Jane in for questioning. Instead, no, no. She'll take whatever works best for headaches. "Never a dull moment" Karrin grumbles. "My boyfriend's a wizard who does impossible things. I run ross you" she nods to Nadia, "Who does impossible shit with technology. Isn't that just like magic but a different sort?" she wonders. Yay for headaches making her brain go all over the place. "Then there's you, walking pharmacy. Doc Jane, huh?" she jokes, rubbing her temples. "Whatcha got for headaches caused by too much science in too short a time?" 

:'''{{#var:7020|Painkiller Jane (7020)}} has posed:''' Jane looked at Nadia, then back at Karrin. She eyes the subway cars that have just arrived, then tossed the travel bottle of Excedrin Extra Strength (still four left) to Karrin. "Keep the bottle. Unlike this conversation, this train's not leaving without me." She waves as she crosses the yellow line and steps into the train car, waving to the confusing woman, the brain-trust kid, and the dog so cheap, it's half-off. 

:'''{{#var:7733|Nadia Pym (7733)}} has posed:''' Nadia Pym rolls her eyes. "Technology is something anyone can figure out given time. Magic on the other hand... I don't really believe there's anything 'mystical' about it. It's probably just like mutant powers, some understandable bloodline thing we'll figure out eventually." She gives another shrug. "Anyway I probably should be catching my train too. It was nice meeting you all!" 

:'''{{#var:168|Karrin Murphy (168)}} has posed:''' "Yeah well you don't know my friends" Karrin says pocketing the pills. Awkward questions incoming if anyone grabs her jacket, but she too nods. "Yeah I better get my train and this dog back to Brooklyn and home. THen I gotta get to Kingston Falls, so" she nods heading for the platform and into a subway car. She's thinking on Nadia's words, too. Oh, if Nadia ever meets a seven foot wizard, she'll change her tune. When technology starts going weird and giving up....sorta disproves Nadia's point a tiny tiny bit 
}}