13705/Little Lost Puppy

Little Lost Puppy
Date of Scene:	05 August 2021
Location:	Loew's 46th Street Theater - Brooklyn
Synopsis:	After fleeing the hospital he woke up in, Kit finds himself hidden away in an abandoned theater with a rather sinister guest.
Cast of Characters:	Kit Killovarras, Sinister

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Kit Killovarras has posed:
Waking up in a hospital with no memory of how you got there is disturbing enough, waking up to the realization that you're a wanted criminal and are currently wearing a muzzle? Even more disturbing, but at very least the situation didn't cause a blind panic. Nope! Kit was able to rationalize his decision, or at least was able to rationalize it as best as a troubled teenager could in his condition.

So here he sits, in one of the balcony seats of a long abandoned theater, surrounded by the graffiti tags, eroding walls and decades of dust, staring off towards the stage and lost in his own mind, clad in his usual jeans and hoodie. He hasn't removed the muzzle for some reason or another either.

Sinister has posed:
Sometimes, delays are inevitable. You give things time to see if some other white hat hero type is going to swoop in and save the day, you watch and monitor and then, when things seem to still be screwed up by all reports, you act.

Sinister did not go to here first, he went to the hospital, quietly walked in, demanded to know where the injured kid was, was of course refused and then hijacked the iCU to do some repairs. "I was never here, miraculous recovery, kid is not pressing charges. Life turned around, he's going to do all kinds of good deeds and... oh, who am I kidding. Just be surprised."

And out he went. Psychic resonance, particularly when a person is in shock or afraid, is easy to follow. Also, relative to how far Doctor Essex can look, he's not actually gone a long way. Just a clever way, one supposes. Strolling into the abandoned theatre, Sinister keeps his hands in the small of his back, but does appear to be sporting full sized angel-like wings on his back. They are not fluffy and white though, they're slick, black and red fringed, like they're being viewed with hellfire from beneath. "This isn't very sanitary. I can't say as I approve."

Kit Killovarras has posed:
"Monsters aren't usually sanitary creatures," kit says after a few moments, not bothering to perk up his ears. Sounds in this place tend to carry, bouncing off every wall as if by design. Go figure, huh? "Cleaner than most of the places I've slept though." he says with the faintest hint of a chuckle.

He doesn't bother moving, still half-lost in his own mind and staring towards the stage. He can recognize who he's talking to at very least though.

Sinister has posed:
"Oh, is that what you are now, eh? I thought you were just a kid that lost control over his powers, by deed, or impulse or heaven forbid, emotion..." Sinister advances, looking over Kit as he does so, grimacing at the muzzle. He stops about three foot infront and a little to the side of the young mutant and makes a few little gestures of a finger in the air, undoing buckles and freeing the muzzle from the face, floating it free and staring at it. "Because clearly, what you were most in danger of doing, was biting them. Honestly, the thought processes of some people utterly boggle me. Are you finished being treated like a second class citizen yet?"

Kit Killovarras has posed:
There's a long few moments where Kit just studies Sinister with those glowing eyes of his, though the light in them is dim at present, then he scoffs and asks, "Do you think society is going to care?" with a faint tilt of his head. "Do you think it matters to anyone, that the other guy had been beating someone senseless before I showed up? Or that I gave him every chance to stand down?" With every word, he's getting just a little angrier and it shows by the growl in his voice, but at least he's keeping it together for the moment.

Then he gives a sigh and looks back to the stage, almost looking defeated as he mutters, "All anyone's going to see is that a young man was beaten nearly to death by a monster. That's all anyone's ever seen."

Sinister has posed:
"And mighty were the words that were spoken," Sinister picks up his phone from his pocket, switches it to local news bulletins and hands it to Kit, letting him see the current furraw that's going on at the local non-profit hospital that services mutant town. He lets go of the phone and lets it just hang there, playing the 'miracle of confusion' and the interview with the kid in his bed, seeming all woke now. "And so we become that which they say that we are. Nobody sees when there's something other, because if things are going well, nobody notices. They only pay attention when it's all gone to hell in a handbasket and then the debates start up again..." In the meantime, he's extracting an odd device from his pocket that looks like a mechanical spider, connected to a metal-fingertipped glove. He slides the spider on one arm and it latches all eight metal legs into his skin, inserting them down at least an inch, two further spikes driven in from underneath. The glove is slid onto his hand and he holds it out toward Kit, 'feeling' around in the air near him.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Kit studies the phone, watching what plays out on it. The device gets a glance, but not much else as he murmurs, "Even if he makes a full recovery, it won't matter." with a sigh. "As for being a second class citizen? Seriously?" he gives a little glance to Sinister and frowns. "Can't be a second class citizen if you're a ghost and I've been one most of my life."

Any medical scan right now would show that, even if he's not in a critical state, he was not long ago. He has several hairline fractures on multiple ribs and along his right arm, The muscles just beneath his skin are fairly thoroughly shredded just about everywhere and there are signs that he may recently have suffered some minor internal bleeding, as well as strain to his heart. The boy isn't in good condition by any stretch of the imagination, but he'll survive if he gets a chance to rest.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister blinks a few times at the information he senses through the glove, then gestures with it at Kit's hand. "GIve me that paw, if you would be so kind," he's polite about it at least, though the chances are reasonably strong that he could force the issue if he felt inclined.

"You bloodywell can be a second class citizen. I do hope you've been reading this country's history young man. The atrocities and ignorance that was perpetrated upon people based on the colour of their skin.... ghost is not what you are. THey see perfectly well, if you don't stay hidden the entire time. Anyway, I'm just grousing. I personally don't give a hoot what you end up doing about this, or whether you rail against the machine or meekly hide. What you do with yourself is your own business." He makes gimme-gimme gestures with the metal-clad hand.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Kit doesn't resist, when the man asks for his paw, he holds it out, though the movement is strained and sluggish. "It's not just the history of this country.." Kit says with a sigh. "But yeah, I am aware of it. History was one of the things I was studying in school." He pauses for a moment, then he gives a little huff through his nose. "I don't have to be seen to help people, don't need recognition. I learned how to remain out of sight or just on the border of peoples perception well enough. Before the others found me, I might as well have been a ghost where anyone else is concerned."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister Mmmmns, as he takes a grip. "I tend to believe you. People only see me, if I want to be seen." Which is a truth. The amount of things this man accomplishes and does where nobody ever knows, is immense.

But then, the weirdest sensation starts to occur. As Sinister narrows his eyes, then closes them entirely, his wings flare just a little and the injuries from the most injurous and deep, begin to knit at a breakneck speed. Muscle reknits, bones mend, internal haemorrghage clots are haemolyzed, bruises, scrapes, abrasions, strains, sprains and automobiles all, regenerate.

All in all, it probably takes about a minute, probably less, for Kit to be a hundred percent healthy, at least physically. Nothing can be done for the mind, without Sinister caring to poke at it. He releases his grip, sliding off the glove and taking the metal spider in his grip and twisting it counterclockwise slightly. All the legs and 'underbelly spikes' withdraw. The holes they made are gone in a second.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
There's a slight gasp and quiet panting for a moment from the Aardwolf, then he just looks down at his arm, flexing his digits for a moment before he gives a simple, "Well then.." Then he turns his attention entirely to Sinister, tilting his head ever so slightly to one side. "For all it's worth, I could go back. I could try to work towards the life that I actually want and probably wind up hunted down and eventually locked away again because of what I am." He gives a little shrug and a moments pause before continuing, "Or I could do what I've always done. Live in the shadows, doing whatever I can, whenever I can to help people who need it." Then he gives a sort of half-hearted smile and adds, "I could probably do more good overall as a ghost than I would if I decided to 'rail against the machine', as you put it."

Sinister has posed:
"You do you, kid." Sinister pockets the machine, after making sure the spikes are clean, taking an odd oval shaped device from another pocket and passing it over his hands and person. It emits a hypersonic sound, one even too high for Kit to hear, but it can be felt, like a kind of ... air vibration. Satisfied, he pockets that too and looks down at the aardwolf mutant. "Whatever floats your boat. If you ever do get the urge to explore a more meaningful impact on society, perhaps look me up. Though you probably don't want to tell your chums about it." He gives a little salute then. "Try and stay out of trouble for a while, hmm?"

He glances about the abandoned theatre, gives a soft cluck of his tongue and turns about to walk out, waving over his shoulder as he stalks away.