1754/Log 1754

Log 1754
Date of Scene:	01 August 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Juggernaut, Daken

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Juggernaut has posed:
    Mutant Town.
    Not exactly the sort of place you want to casually wander down the streets of late at night. An area not only known for its crime but for it's mutant and metahuman driven crime at that. Anyoen out and about had best be keeping an eye on the area around them and most people are like that as they shuffle from one dive to the next or scurry through the streets to try and reach their poor housing arrangements or to cleaer out and away from the latest metahuman or mutant arguement that's brewing up nearby.

Cain Marko does not 'scurry'.

It's just not in the behemoths nature to do anything but simply 'be'. ...And occasionally 'be violent' at that. But for him, Mutant Town holds no fear and in truth this is one of the few places where the magnitude of his presence and physicality - though it does turn heads - isnt' an outright traffic stopper. OVer the years the behemoth has grown..monstrous..and even at his most restrained he still has more in common with a wrecking ball and a bulldozer then a man. Nearly ten feet of brutish man at that. He strides down the streets, the ground literally shaking under his footsteps, tee shirt straining to contain muscles the size of small automobiles and his head swiveling like a tank turret atop a neck as thick as some peoples waistlines. He seems to be looking for 'something' - but not finding it he continues on an inexorable path down the sidewalk, not caring that he's completely subsuming it with his vastness and forcing anyoen heading his way to part on either side and in some cases hop into the streets to let him pass.

Daken has posed:
There's another person who comes to Mutant Town that doesn't hesitate to go out at any time of day or night he damn well pleases.

No, it's not Wolverine.

In fact, it's about as far as someone can get from Wolverine, while still having some relation to him. If Logan only had this sense of style and personal hygiene! But the fancy appearance is certainly not something that should be taken for granted, which Cain may well know. They haven't had the chance to run into each other yet, but reputations precede sometimes.

That, and he's strolling down the sidewalk right in the middle of it, coming in the direction opposite from Cain, with a really broad grin spreading across his photoshoot-handsome face.

Juggernaut has posed:
    The Juggernaut takes no specific notice of the man just yet but it's clear that they are heading for a collision of sorts if someone doesn't change direction..and it's not going to be him.

"Hm." he grunts, to himself. His deep voice a throaty rumble that would vibrate the pits of the stomaches of those listening to him if the shaking ground wasn't already doing so. A bestial rumbly grunt that is followed by, "..I guess they moved the entrance after that last tussle..."

His ice blue eyes cut along the way, passing over Daken dismissively as he draws near - expecting the man to..well..move. The impact of his steps becoming more palable as he draws closer.

Daken has posed:
But Daken doesn't change direction. It's like he wants to run into the Juggernaut, or be run over by him. As he draws closer, there's a certain way about him, something the experienced Cain will surely recognize: it's the way of carrying oneself that only fighters have, only people who have trained their bodies to a tremendous level of discipline possess. It could just be tremendous confidence, but this isn't just a bluff; whatever he's confident about, he has reason and justification to believe in. For whatever reason.

Once he draws close enough, he lifts a hand and waves it. It's even a little fatuous of a gesture, but it's not apparently disingeuous. He seems to be actually offering a greeting.

And what is that cologne he's wearing? It's not...really a perfumy or artificial smell. It's almost like a...it's hard to pin it down. It's very nice, though. In fact, it smells incredibly good, and as the man gets closer, it's easier to pick out notes of it, subtle little tones that amuse the nose and delight the senses. Could it be some shop nearby, some boutique, someone who passed by earlier? But no, there's nothing like that here. It has to be this strange man with the mohawk.

"Evening, handsome." There's only one person Daken could be talking to.

Meanwhile, other people are giving the two of them a wide berth.

Juggernaut has posed:
    If it had of been anyone else, Cain might have simply continued on and ran right over the poor bastard. But it's not just anyone else. That subtle scent and the way Daken carries himself is enough to snap the full attention of the Exemplar down onto him like a cataclysmic earthquake deciding to look at you. His nostrils flare abit in annoyance and then he sniffs the air again and lifts a huge hand up to rub at his nose while coming to a thudding stop. The sidewalk cracks, spiderwebbing beneath his booted feet and the tremor continues for a few seconds before finally stilling, leaving Cain just staring at Daken curiously and with mild confusion.

"..You talkin' to me, kid?"

Daken has posed:
The nod that answers him is casual, but it's not disrespectful. There's a certain gleam in Daken's eyes, and that's not always there. It certainly isn't brought out for just anyone.

"I sure am, big guy." He doesn't have any sort of accent, really. He does pronounce things exactly, but it's not an overpronunciation or an excessive carefulness that would indicate some sort of obsession...just the sound of someone who might have had voice training or something like that. "You and me, drinks under the stars...my treat. How 'bout it?"

He tilts his head, giving a little bounce of his eyebrows, one higher than the other through the gesture, in a way that surely is meant to be tempting, or perhaps just charming with its slightly silly tones. He doesn't look threatening, and the scent helps, subtle though it is. It's easy to want to like him, or at least to consider him no threat. What could he do, anyway?

Juggernaut has posed:
    Charming indeed and Cain isn't immune to such things depending on how they are played. In fact..he's still here, isn't he, despite being basically made out of 'mean' more often then not.

"Are you hitting on me, boy?" he says, getting right to the point as brusquely and rudely as possible as is his way. "I aint interested." He waves a huge hand, as if trying to shoo Daken along, "Do I look like I go on dates with guys? Especially perfume wearing ones? Beat it."

Daken has posed:
"Who said it has to be a date? I mean...obviously, anyone who likes muscle would be in heaven with you around," Daken points out, with a light gesture to Cain's...everything. "I guess you haven't heard of masc4masc. Can't say I blame you." That makes the grin curl up a little bit. "And I'm not wearing perfume...but there's a certain unique perfume that comes from a good dust-up. Don't you think so?"

Daken slides his hands into the pockets of his pants. Somehow. They're tight, but he manages. His tone is so even and soothing. "But I'm not here for fighting, as much as I'd love to see those big muscles in action. I just can't believe how lucky I am to actually meet you in the flesh! I thought surely...there was no way you were gonna be as big as everyone says. It's amazing."

Juggernaut has posed:
"Hn." Cain's nostrils flare bullishly and his eyes narrow. Said muscles stretch and then inflate slightly as they fill with blood, sinew pumping and piling atop itself in visual representation of the brutes brief aggravation but they relax, sliding back into untensed formations as his mood shifts and his expression grows contemplative.

"Meet me in the flesh and dust ups eh? Are you some sort of fight promoter? You hear about me from the locals?" He assumes that at first versus jumping to the next logical conclusion.

Daken has posed:
Daken shrugs his shoulders, still smiling and obviously taking in the details of every aspect of Cain's body he can appraise. It's like he's still trying to be polite, but he's obviously checking the man out. "Not a fight promoter...just a man who appreciates a good fight. I've heard a *few* things about you. Local and otherwise."

He spreads his arms, in a half-shrug, enough to flare the shirt he's only half-wearing, as he steps closer. It's almost like a gesture of goodwill; it certainly doesn't look like he's doing anything but placing himself within the range of Juggernaut's mercy. "I just had to see for myself. I know some artists who'd give any price to get to even sketch you from across a room. Or there's always goodwill shoots. You know how much goodwill a well-done photo series of just your upper body would cultivate?"

Then he leans closer, looking palpably more wicked, as he flicks his tongue before continuing with a click of it off the roof of his mouth. "Or maybe draw out the ones that think they could take you in a fight. Bet you'd like that. You must work hard."

Juggernaut has posed:
    Cain's chest swells as he takes a deep breath, measuring his patience here but then relaxing as he peers down at Daken. He cranks an eyebrow up at the suggestion of putting his body on display for others and it's clear he's just not that creative of a thinker.

"..I aint that photogenic." he rumbles while curling his lip into a slight smirk, "I tend to inspire more awe and terror then not. A bad habit of mine. As to drawing out people who want a good fight? The type of fights I do in the local club aint nothing but a distraction for me. The type of people I"d draw out if I was looking for a -real- fight would level the city and I don't got time for nonsense unless I'm mad and need to prove a point.."

Daken has posed:
"There's *definitely* awe." Daken seems to be just full of praise, waving a hand as he pulls it out of his pocket. "But anyway, I don't want to piss you off. You wanna grab that drink? No strings. But seriously, if you ever change your mind...I can think of at least a dozen artists -- photographers, painters, sculptors, even a fashion designer or two -- that would basically get down on their knees and thank whatever higher power they pray to for making their dreams come true."

He has to laugh, and he gives a nod to the side as he does. "There's a place over that way, they've got a nice terrace. Big enough to accommodate you and me. What's your poison, anyway? I like kerosene as much as I like fancy froo-froo shit. The company's more important anyway." Especially when you have to drink enough to down a bull elephant due to a remarkable healing factor.

Juggernaut has posed:
    Ah, he's stumbled, or perhaps knew all along, a way to hold the giants attention. Flattery and praise. Yes, Cain's ego is one of his biggest weaknesses. he can't resist being told how awesome he is.

"Well..I'm trying not to be -to- awesome now. I'm trying to keep a low profile. So I can't have my picture floatin' around the internet, flexing or pec bouncing or something stupid. The circle I run with would laugh me out of any meetings and gigs we were in. I got a reputation to consider."

He shrugs at Daken and then says, "I got places to be but I'll walk that way for now. Let's go."

Daken has posed:
"Of course! You've got to think about your reputation." Daken turns with a nod, though he does turn back and pauses for a moment, looking to Cain thoughtfully and hesitating, then finally speaking again. "You know...I'll bet Philippus could do some remarkable shots of you. Very intimidating and artistic. I'll have to ask him."

Then he starts walking, ambling really, in that direction. "He's made housewives look like Medea. You know, the great and terrible sorceress-queen." He can't presume Cain *does* know anything about Medea, but Daken knows and he's using the metaphor, dammit. "They have a pretty good beer or two on tap here. Nice enough cider sometimes. Doesn't last long. You like yours bitter and stout, right? Less on the fruity tones."

Juggernaut has posed:
    he vaguest hint of annoyance returns to Cain as he rumbles, "Still on this? Are you some sort of recruiter for these guys? I told you no. That'd be all I need - finding out some photo of me wound up on some website somewhere. You must got a quota you trying to meet." he snorts, "I get folk taking pictures of me enough when I go out in public. It's rare I actually bother to indulge them with a request but I do get them. People be fascinated by things more powerful then them. But it's also a good way to get the wrong people tracking you down.."

Daken has posed:
Daken glances over his shoulder, grinning again...somewhere between wicked and particularly pleased. "Don't I know it. Modeling pays the bills...it definitely doesn't do much for privacy. I guess I've been spending too much time around all these artsy vision types lately. You know...always got a vision for it. Pay any price for inspiration."

He waves a hand dismissively and walks up to the place -- a dive, really, but it does have a terrace, such as it is. "So...bitter and stout for you? You can make yourself comfortable, if you want. I'll get us some drinks and...peanuts? Pretzels?" He slightly inclines his head towards Cain. "Don't tell me you're an olive man?"

Juggernaut has posed:
    "Look, I don't care. Get whatever." rumbles Cain, "Just make sure it aint 'Lite'." He steps over the outside fence and sets down into the terrace itself with a rumble of the ground, bypassing trying to fit insoors and manuever through the place.

"Why am I giving this bozo any of my time." he muses to himself as he dusts his hands off and manuevers further into the terrace."

Daken has posed:
Daken makes a sympathetically sour face at the mention. "Why even bother drinking anything if it's 'Lite'? Am I right?" Laughing, he disappears into the place. There may be a little shoving past some people, but nobody seems to take much exception to it. Certainly not enough to actually pick a fight with him. In fact, most people inside seem to find him a welcome sight, maybe even a familiar one.

It takes surprisingly little time for Daken to return with an armful of things: a pitcher of beer along with two full glasses, two bowls -- one with nuts and one with pretzels -- and a small stack of napkins. He starts setting them down on the nearest table and then flops down, as if exhausted, but looks more refreshed for the apparent ordeal. His grin is practically beaming now. "Here we are. To your health, my friend -- oh."

Then he pauses, shaking his head, and with a flourish continues. "I'm Daken. Of course, you need no introduction. Everyone knows the unstoppable Cain Marko." It's not quite clear if he's heard more than just that, but he's certainly not telling. Anyway, it's not so unreasonable to imagine he thinks such a massive, powerful man could be unstoppable.

Juggernaut has posed:
    Even so that's a little on the nose.

Cain eyes Daken for a few long seconds and then rumbles, "Daken eh? So what are you then? Some sort of super model? Porn star? Fight club recruiter? All of the above?"

He claims is drink but still eyes Daken thoughtfully. HIs expression isn't exactly..unfriendly but it certainly is more neutral now as if considering what to say next."

Daken has posed:
Daken picks up his glass and sips at it, smacking his lips as he sets it down on the table. He reaches for a handful of peanuts and pops one into his mouth, chewing and not answering immediately. But he doesn't wait too long. He licks his lips of the salt after swallowing, not wanting to be impolite, but washes down the dry, salty peanuts with a gulp of beer.

"I've been pretty much all of those except the last one," Daken answers, rather plainly for what's been asked. "Right now I'm doing the modeling thing. That's easy. All you have to do is keep yourself looking okay and put up with a lot of people paying you to wear things or not wear things, or sit around in specific poses. Whatever, I say. That's easy."