2442/A Cyclops in Chinatown

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A Cyclops in Chinatown
Date of Scene: 14 September 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Mariah, Cyclops




Mariah has posed:
It's been an interesting couple of days; Mariah didn't expect to get dinner only to find a guy in medieval armor and his winged horse killing vampires in an alleyway. Nice enough guy, but she's starting to think that this city has weird [censored] happening every other week.

She hocked some gold at the pawn shop in Jackson Heights, the man there asking no questions about gold jewelry that had no maker's marks or date of creation, yet was ridiculously pure. All that mattered was that it was pure, unmarked, untraceable gold. Everyone wants that, especially if they're sketchy to begin with.

As such, her mutant powers might have 'pinged' anyone looking for new mutant energy signals. Walking towards Columbus Park, Mariah blends in. For the most part. Most people aren't wearing old BDUs with an F.A.R.C. military patch on the right arm.

Cyclops has posed:
Scott had been sent to investigate a ping from Cerebro, interestingly enough he didn't make as much progress as he would have liked. Pawn shop owners tend to be very tight-lipped when it comes to sketchy dealings.

  After a while, he was able to get at least some sort of a description. Mainly focusing on golden eyes, the bespectacled young man made his way through Chinatown, walking up from Columbus Park. He kept looking at people's eyes, and what they were wearing. Before he gets too far into a Chinatown proper, he gives Mariah a notice, making a turn after he passes her, continuing to follow from a slight distance.

Mariah has posed:
Mariah's path is intentionally obfuscating. She'll change directions unexpectedly, back track, move into crowds, duck into alleys and side streets. She isn't aware that Scott is following her - but she does it regardless. On first impression, she's cautious to the point of paranoia, as if she expects someone to be following her at any time.

At last she makes her way into the edge of the park and has a seat on a bench in a publicly visible area. She takes off her back pack and sets it down next to her seat, opening it and rummaging around in it. There's a metallic, heavy noise.

Cyclops has posed:
It had been a while since Scott had someone he was following do some of the things that Mariah had done. He'd almost lost her a couple of times there, but the X-Man was more than just a geometry teacher. He'd been recruiting mutants for Xavier's cause since he was a teenager.

  Once Mariah stops at a bench. he decides to make his move. Walking gently up, he announces his approach. "Excuse me, miss?" He offers, still walking up to the bench, ready to run if he needed to. He was hoping it wouldn't be needed though.

Mariah has posed:
Oh hey look, guy with sunglasses on in the evening. Red sunglasses. Not at all odd, nosiree. Mariah looks up at Scott. "Qu'ubo, chamo. You lost or somethin'?" she casually addresses, her accent Spanish, her choice of idioms South American. Mariah doesn't appear to be worried by this man at all, but she does look him right in the eyes, her own brilliant gold.

Cyclops has posed:
Scott gives a small smile, looking back to Mariah. "No, I am not. In fact I think I found who I'm looking for." He stops before he gets too close, gesturing to the bench. "Mind if I take a seat?" He asks, looking to Mariah, trying to be as mild as possible. "I'm Scott." He offers before continuing. "This may sound very strange, but I'm from a school, for people like us."

Mariah has posed:
Mariah gestures to the empty space next to her. "Plant your backside," she invites, as she pulls a box of galvanized roofing nails - a small one - out of the backpack. "Now, when you say a school for people like us, do you mean Americans, people who hang out in parks at night, or people with unusual fashion sense? I mean, I get a lot of looks wearing military clothes, after all." It's hard to tell if she's being sarcastic, coy, or honest.

Cyclops has posed:
Scott does sit down, looking to Mariah. "Well, some of us have required fashion statements." He says, pointing to his glasses. "Like me, for instance."

  The X-Man continues. "People who have gifts. Some gifts of course being dangerous." Wether that means beams coming from ones eyes or the ability to transmute gold, or even read someone's thoughts, is up for debate.

Mariah has posed:
"Ahhh, so you're a mutant." She keeps the conversation somewhat hushed, not going to out Scott to the world at large. "Bacano! So what are you here for then, just to talk to me about a school? I'm too old to go to school." She still hasn't given her name or any hint of what it is she can do. She's being cautious. Maybe overly so.

Cyclops has posed:
"Yes, that's just whom I represent. The school part is for those who need to learn how to control their gifts." Scott looks back to the park, not too much activity right now, luckily. "What I and our group want to offer, is something a little different." Like if you ever wanted to help future generations of mutants, or if you would prefer to assist the fight for equality." He hopes it would be her cup of tea.

Mariah has posed:
"Hmm. Well, I learned how to use my powers the hard way. Where I come from? Mutants get collars on their necks. Kills their powers so they can go to the slave markets in Mexico," Mariah explains. "Equality? That's something I understand, believe me. My parents, grandparents, great grandparents - they fought and died for this. They thought the war was gonna continue. Taught me to be a soldier."

She sighs and idly tosses the box of nails up and catches it. Something to do with her hands while she thinks. "The war's over, though. I like the sound of helping people - but I always bring trouble. People see what I can do, they turn into monsters."

Cyclops has posed:
"I know how that goes, somewhat." Scott sighs a bit, his own past was a lesson in abuse and cons. "I can guarantee you, no one there would be so brash." He didn't know what her power was, but there was a reason the Professor had sent him out here, and that was enough for Scott.

  "What exactly can you do? If I may ask." He's as sincere as possible, not really caring if she would allow him to see or not. But it may put more perspective on it.

Mariah has posed:
Mariah catches the box of nails, snatching it out of the air, opening it up. She pours the little pile of steel spikes into her hand. The nails immediately change in color, lustre and texture, turning into pure gold. "This is part of it, and this is enough. People know you can just create gold? You spend four years in cages and pits."

Cyclops has posed:
Scott's eyebrows raise high. "I can see what you mean. We wouldn't do any of that to you. But some of whom we fight against...would." A sad fact, what Mariah has there, is alchemy, and that in of itself was dangerous to a high degree.

  "I was once used as a weapon by someone. But a man took me away from all that, offered me a chance to lead the effort against things like that." Scott frowns just a bit, he isn't one for grandiose emotions. "If you'd like, I can show you what I mean."

Mariah has posed:
"All right then, pretty boy, show me what you got." Mariah grins skewly, even as the gold nails in her palm melt and converge into a sphere of liquid.

Cyclops has posed:
"You want to see what I can do? I'd have to get a different set of eyewear." Scott stands up, gesturing to his car. "Either or, I can show you our operation. We are a little bit of a drive out. And if I just opened my eyes it would be devastatingly destructive."

Mariah has posed:
Mariah chuckles. "Ahh, all right. So. You want me to get into a car with you after we just met and you made some big claims." The gold ball slithers in one liquid pseudopod up her arm to gather onto her shoulder. "You gonna offer some candy before I get into the van, maybe a few drinks?" She grins out of one corner of her mouth. You have to admit, for a total stranger to make this offer? It does sound kind of sketchy.

Cyclops has posed:
Scott gives a little sigh at the apprehension. "One second." He offers, running to his car. Once the X-Man returns, a visor in his hand, he exchanges them, making sure the fit is alright. "Okay." He offers, tossing a silver dollar high in the air. A second of aiming before he presses gently on the right side button, a small beam blasts the silver dollar higher in the air, landing in the ground.

Mariah has posed:
"Laser eyes. Que chimba!" Mariah praises. "All right 'Laser Eyes', I will be a papaya for you today. You look like you're honest, and it sounds like fun." She grins widely, standing, grabbing her backpack, zipping it up and slinging it over her shoulder.

Cyclops has posed:
     "Of course, why else would someone wear sunglasses at night?" He says with a smile, switching out the emergency visor for his regular sunglasses. Scott keeps a smile on his face as Mariah follows. "You don't keep that full of...that stuff, do you? That's gotta be killer on your back." The young man chuckles, opening his classic 1967 Mustang.

Mariah has posed:
"Hey, don't masquerade with a guy in shades - I heard that song," Mariah quips playfully. The car is nice but the year and model are kind of lost on her; cars are for transportation, and only cartellos and corrupt officials have nice ones.

"Of course I keep it on my back. It's exercise, and it's everything I own," Mariah explains, getting into the car, placing the pack on her lap.

Cyclops has posed:
     "Oldies are my favorite." He offers, circling around and entering in the driver's seat, turning over the motor and letting it rumble. "Oh...I didn't realize." Scott retorts, beginning their way to Westchester. "By the time we get there, most of the kids will have gone to bed. But we can still tour the place. I'm not sure if you have a place to stay, but you're welcome to have a guest room, if you'd like." Cyclops had been through this before, mainly with The Professor in tow.

Mariah has posed:
"You sound like you're sorry I travel light. It's all right. When you have home, you have to defend it. It chains you down. You put all your life and energy into getting money to keep it from breaking down, keep others from taking it from you," Mariah explains. "You buy things you don't want because you're told you need it, because you want to impress other people." She puts her arms behind her head, leaning back in the seat. "I'm free. I owe no one anything. I have no one to report to. If I like a place, I stay until I get tired of it. If someone comes looking for me, I can disappear into smoke."

Cyclops has posed:
Scott looks over to Mariah for a moment. "I never thought of it like that. When I was young, I had nothing. Until someone found me." He looks a little sad at that memory. No time like the present. "So, what's with the military garb anyway?" He asks, idly.

Mariah has posed:
"I'm sorry to hear that chamo, you seem like a decent guy," Mariah replies. She sounds as if she means that, as if the idea of lost and destitute children is something that moves her deeply, moves her to action. "Ah, this?" she grabs the collar of her jacket and wiggles it. "My parents were revolutionaries, just like my grandparents, and those before them. Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia - Ejército del Pueblo. Or as you say in English, "Eff Ay Arr Cee". I wear the colors because, despite the disarming, I still believe in justice for the people, for the oppressed, for the working poor. I was raised to be a soldier from the time I could stand. That's why I still carry the colors - some things are worth not leaving behind."

Cyclops has posed:
     Scott smiles a bit before he continues. "Thanks, I'd like to think I'm a nice guy." He offers, continuing on. "FARC, I'm not too familiar with, but, working against Escobar and the cartels?" He isn't sure on that end, though.

  A quick flip of a switch about an hour later, and the grounds for Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters opens up. Defenses deactivated of course, allowing the two to make the drive up to the mansion in its, relatively creepy glory at night. "Here we are. This is the school, like I told you about." Once the antique car had been shut off, the quiet of Westchester can he heard, it was serene. "You hungry at all? Thirsty?"

Mariah has posed:
Mariah looks at the mansion. It's capitalist wealth on display. She's not comfortable with it.

"There was a split in FARC. Some of us wanted only revolution, to liberate the poor farmers. Others decided to be dogs to guard coca fields. Mi padre was ... something of a purist. We gave too much blood to the soil of our homeland to force people to farm coca. It was a betrayal that the leaders even thought to do it."

She gets out of the car. All the while, the little ball of gold has remained like a living blob resting on her shoulder.

"Nah, I carry food and water with me. I'm fine right now, do not trouble yourself on my account."

Cyclops has posed:
From the front, Scott unlocks the door, opening it to the grand foyer. "The first floor is devoted to the school, the second, the dormitories and staff rooms. You'd stay in the wing with the adults, of course, if you'd like." Scott walks backwards for a moment, letting in everything.

Mariah has posed:
"So why are you making this offer? Nothing is free. Everything comes with a cost, even if it's hidden," Mariah asks Scott, standing on the steps, looking into the foyer through the open door.

Cyclops has posed:
Scott gives his caveat. "Just hear us out on why you should stay with us. If you don't want to, we won't keep you, and I'll give you a ride wherever you need or want to go." Simple enough, and truthful. If the first born Summers was anything, it was truthful. "We aren't in the business of keeping anyone against their will."

Mariah has posed:
"I spent four years of my life in wooden cages and tiger pits. I spent more breaking otu of prisons, fighting slavers, dodging corrupt law enforcers and cartellos who always wanted me to make them rich," Mariah explains. "That was -after- they murdered my family and burned our house. If I am a little cautious... that is why. I do not mean to be rude, but there's always some kind of catch when someone offers you something. You aren't the cage type, no, but this house? This is a house from someone with -money-. There will be some other debt to pay." She smiles and shrugs her shoulders, the gold blob wiggling like jello for a moment as she does. "It just depends on if it comes out as a fair deal."

Cyclops has posed:
"The Professor, Charles Xavier. The man I told you about, the one who saved me. This is his house, and he funds our operation." Scott nods, truthful in every word. "I was sent to find you, because of your abilities. To offer a chance to help the future, to fight for mutantkind. We are the X-Men, my codename is Cyclops, the visor you saw me wear earlier." He hesitates for a moment, but continues on.

  "I can see why he sent me to you. We want to make sure that your abilities don't fall to people like you said, who would do exactly what they've done to you in the past. And believe me, there are factions, who would love to have that kind of ability in their wheelhouse."

  The young mutant sighs, hoping his honesty will get through. "Like I said, we have no intention on keeping you here against your will. We want to provide a place where you can be safe, and if you'd like, to help us in our cause."

Mariah has posed:
"I believe you about not keeping me if I don't want it," Mariah grins. "It's that I'm more worried you'll give me some reason to stay."

Cyclops has posed:
     A hint of shimmer behind those ruby lenses of Scott's, before a smile. "That, I can assure you, is something I can't guarantee won't happen. For tonight, it seems that everyone else is asleep. Or being very good at keeping -quiet-." A pause to see if he can hear any scurrying about, none heard it seems. "School night, but by morning, this place is...a bit of a madhouse. I'll apologize in advance for some of our more...brash students."

Mariah has posed:
"You never lived in a jungle camp. Chinos running around like monkeys, fighters with hangovers from drinking, women ready to hit someone with a frying pan, chickens running around everywhere - I think I can handle it," Mariah says with a little chuckle. She walks into the foyer. "Better get my butt inside before I let all the flies in," she explains.