2912/The Warm/Cold Light of day

The Warm/Cold Light of day
Date of Scene:	20 October 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Phage, Samantha Nishimura

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Phage has posed:
It's a warm day in the city. One of ones meterologists claim is the warmest on record sine the last time it was almost as warm. Tables, charis and improvised outdoor seating have been thrown up and out into the streets. Those big umbrellas, canopies whatever can be found on the fly have been built up to source some shade. It's out there, working extensively through a restaurant/bar/cafe/whatever it wants to call itself's drinks menu is a man in a light gray suit.

It all feels wrong somehow. The cloth feels rough, the painstakingly applied makeup to his face, emphasis on the pain, the major hit then total absense of the alcohol... Mach's concerned. Not for himself either. Not what those things are... but what they mean. Again, not for him.

For his partner. Spies, of which Mach is one in all but name, know the first rule is never form an attachment. To people, places, things, techniques or contacts. As that's what the next operative'll use to destroy you. Though no one, not even him, can ever do that.

So, as events move, as they do, and, to the world at large, a man sits and drinks and smokes at a table, only the momentary wince as he mistakenly tries to use his left arm gives away there's plenty wrong with him. Not that he looks it. Spies are great at hiding things. Even the concern consuming Carl right now. Did he make a mistake? Double down and recommit? Or... walk away? What's best for the other? What'll make it okay again?

Samantha Nishimura has posed:
Too hot for a fall day. Samantha ditched her professional-grade early-on, because it was just too hot to lug it around. Instead, she's carrying a small camcorder and recording the people who are trying to enjoy the day despite the heat. She may very well be looking for something a little deeper in the undercurrent. So much has been going on lately. But it seems innocent enough, doing a fluff piece on the weather, right?

She pans across the patrons of the bar/restaurant/cafe/whatever and zeroes in on a single figure sitting at a table, looking....uncomfortable. She can't quite put her finger on it...just something in the air about him. And so she zooms in, and lets herself linger on him...probably too long...as she considers him. Ok probably a LOT too long.

Phage has posed:
There are many approaches when being openly observed. As there's no way to know if it's a civilian, law enforcment making a point or the opposite number ready to conclude the usefulness of an operative. Which isn't missed on him. Like that lens. Were he alone, he'd let it it happen. As, frankly, he was past his usefulness. The mantra of the institutionalised operative. People'll be enamoured at first, a useful person in a complex situation. The situation ends, everyone's better and no one needs useful any more.

No one needs the operative, the person anymore. Can't unlearn the training, can't undo the person you are that took to it so well... so, you get used to other people being fleeting. There for the op, done with you once it's over, leaving you in that place when off the clock. Wait to get too old, too ineffective, then the slow dribbling into an undignifed forgotten end or, one day, just not react. Just not do. Know what's coming and let it happen.

He's not alone any more though. He had the almighty of all talks with one who's more than worthy of his respect. The same one who he's worried for right now. The one he's looking out for now. Even if it's just a civilian looking at him. Still. Back to the point. There are many approaches. So... Mach waves with his good right arm to the camera, the mirror palmed in his hand shining on the lens and the one behind it.

Low tech, outdated and outmoded... but very much him. He smiles a dry smile and, under his breath, offers a silent thanks to some good advice given on a bad day. By his partner. Now doubt about it. It is a natural talent. An operative from the first. Still. He's not so ineffective yet he can't teach it a thing or two.

Samantha Nishimura has posed:
"Gads! Ya tryin' to blind me, or what?" Sam laughs as she puts down the camera and approaches the man's table. "Sorry, I'm Sam, I'm working on a project that links weather with emotions. And well, I found your look interesting. People seem either pissed off that it's so hot, or they're reveling in summer's last hoorah. You didn't look like either of those, so I was just tryin' to figure out what you DID look." Samantha looks around and hails a waiter. "Can I buy ya a drink for the inconvenience?"

Phage has posed:
Mach moves his hand to his inside pocket, putting away the mirror, and feeling the edge of the less super, more mundane, method he's got on him. Just in case. "The chances are that I can't fit the profile. Thinking and trying not to feel certain feelings... Pain. Mostly." He chuckles. It shouldn't be funny but... it is. "Time was I could hide in plain sight. Things change though. So sticking out is just another I'll need to get used to."

He takes the hand away from his inside pocket and says, "Carl, and on a day like this, I won't turn down a drink from any angle. Go right ahead." Especially as the roulette of whether he'll feel the numbing hit or not has been... kinda fun. The whole thing has really. Even if it's being useful one last time for one last living being. One for the road so to speak. Internally his thoughts cause an external bright smile.

Samantha Nishimura has posed:
"Oh no, pain?" Samantha sets down the camera on the table and seats herself there. "Are you okay? Is there somethin' I can do?" Meanwhile the waiter comes by asking for an order. Sam looks to the stranger and arches her brows. "What'll ya have, Carl?" She's not certain she understands his insinuation, but she's willing to listen for sure. Listening to people who don't make sense at first is usually a GREAT intro to a GREAT story.

Phage has posed:
Confusion creases his face, but Carl first deals with the waiter, "Vodka, straight, ideally if you got a cheap bottle hidden back there that you swap out for the expensive stuff to screw over stockbrokers and make a bit on the side, not saying you do, but, if you did, if you just happen to have it, a shot or two of the cheap, rough battery acid'd be exactly what I need right now."

Leaving the order made he turns back to Sam and says, "Yeah... no. It's just pain. Comes with the job, more often once it's over, there's nothing to do about it. Ride it out and it'll pass. Just in time to do it all over again." He's still perplexed though. Maybe the world's just that strange and he was too busy to notice.

"But, yeah, you said your piece was on the feelings people had because of the weather. Since my focus was on thought, not feeling, and that anything I was feeling had nothing to do with how cold I'm feeling. So I don't meet the brief for your piece." If even the objectives aren't objectives anymore... he's gonna need that drink all the faster.

Samantha Nishimura has posed:
Sam's brow furrows and she tilts her head, turning off the power on her camera to keep from running down the battery. "What kinda job requires that kinda pain? Are you like one of those zookeepers that has to manhandle lions or something? Or maybe a personal trainer. Oh! Or maybe you're an alligator wrestler!" All unlikely, but who knows? Maybe she'll strike on something close to home. "Do you scale buildings and do all sorts of dangerous work on the rooftops?"

Phage has posed:
"Me? I'm an executive for a corporation. Selling custom solutions to secure facilities so, even if one of the pantheon and plethora of gods and superhumans tries to get in where they shouldn't they'll still not compromise the place." Mach says, silently taking the drink brought by the waiter and downing the double. Whther he got what he asked for or not will never be known.

It's a cover story. Still his cover story but, be it professional interrogation or voluntary intense exposure to waveforms that he's particulary vulnerable to... since people will go to extremes to get things that aren't his to say out of them gotta keep the casual enquirers at bay with something.

Samantha Nishimura has posed:
Blinking, looking a little confused, Sam chews her lip thoughtfully. "Why does it always leave you in pain then? Like...are YOU the security system? Beatin' up supers and bad guys? That'd be totally rad. But pain isn't." She half-smiles at the thought of having one badass as your whole security system. Maybe this guy is just THAT good, though. Who knows...

"Do you get a super secret code name if you get good enough to be a whole security system?" she asks thoughtfully. "Like Captain Badass? Or maybe something a little cooler sounding. Like..." She thinks a moment before adding in an ominous voice, "The Enforcer."

Phage has posed:
"I'm sure that, for those one man armies, they get all sorts of things. Although, unless I'm wrong, operational codenames for missions or personnel only are given by governmental agencies to their agents and actions." Mach muses. Since he doesn't work for a government he doesn't have to worry about that, or many other things...

He then thinks... and says, "It hurts as much as it does for a number of reasons. Really comes down to the same thing though. It's me doing it. Maybe I'm bad at it. Maybe... doesn't matter." He shakes his head. "Doesn't have a rhyme or reason to it either. No point arguing it should or changing it. Happens all the same. Some get all they touch turning to gold, some are doomed to repeat the smae mistakes over and over again and some are so wildly different from those, each other or anything else again. That... is the worlds only constant. Sometimes... it is what it is."

He thinks on his own words... huh. For a guy supposedly past it... that made a whole lot of sense. Didn't even need some cyber from the future or a smart alec symbiotic alien bonded to him to do it either. "But, sorry to be so boring, I just sell, design and oversee support for the security systems. Really all that happened to me was I fell off a building. Happens to even nobodies like me all the time."

Samantha Nishimura has posed:
Sam's eyes go wide. "So you WERE on a rooftop! I knew it! Was it exciting up there? Was it crazy like superguys everywhere and explosives, and a helicopter? You fell off a building and lived! That must mean you're a super too. Sorta. Of some sort. C'mon spill, this stuff's exciting!" Samantha has clearly touched on something that got her all worked up. The trick will be trying to work her back down at this point.

Phage has posed:
"The project you're working on... not for journalism, is it?" Carl leads with, "... as the objectivity thing is something you might want to work on." He takes a draw of his half burned out cigarette before elaborating. "Working on site as long as I have you'd know people can easily survive a three storey fall without being harmed. Five leaves plenty of room to try to grip on, nearly tearing the arm clean off and slow your fall enough to travel at least one on your face for good measure."

He gives a one armed shrug, "Safety inspection, paperwork, it can be more dangerous than it sounds." Another draw follows and Mach shares, "Truth be told... it's all cold. Those people with powers'd probably tell you if they could. It changes nothing. There's no greater glamour or glory to it. Anyone thinks so buys their own branding so bad they can't smell what I'm shovelling. Good things still happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people. It is what it is."

He stubs the cigarette out, "Kinda contradictory but, in a world where everything changes... some things don't." He smiles knowingly. It didn't change anything. Well, it did and didn't. Sounds crazy to some degree... but makes more damned sense than most things he's had to do in his time. It's at that moment he, internally, gets the message...

,,,I... am recovered,,,

Mach laughs. The lunacy of it all and the sense it makes, the good and bad, the fact that it's all chaos and it couldn't work out any other way... "Yeah. It's cold. Boring. Unfair. Powers or no. But... in the final analysis... what else you gonna do?" Mach stands and raises a hand to attract a waiter. To bring the cheque.

Samantha Nishimura has posed:
Samantha, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, leans in toward the man laughing across the table. "Are....are you all right? Is there someone I can call? Do you need help of some sort? You're not making a lot of sense. I mean...I'm a journalism student, yeah. But the piece I'm doing was a fluff piece, looking for deeper subjects. I--kinda feel like I've disturbed you or somethin'. I'm sorry if I bothered you, but if you need some help I'd be glad to--" The waiter arrives with the check, and Samantha intercepts it, putting a few bills with it and returning it to the waiter. "I'd be glad to call someone for you."

Phage has posed:
Mach looks at the young lady and slightly, almost impreceptibably, shakes his head. "I'm perfectly fine. Better than, even. You don't understand... which is fine. It always be a world where people are sometimes similar, sometimes different. However strength of feeling is naught compared to thought, fact and those devlish little details."

He pulls out from his pocket some glasses, compete with yellow tinted lenses, and explains as he put them on... "I'm not making not a lot of sense as there's a lot you don't know. How could you? I was a total stranger to you up to now. You haven't bothered me but you have bothered yourself. Misunderstanding my reactions, words and all you didn't know has left you uncertain, uneasy."

He pauses to pick up a napkin, then, experimentially flexing his left hand. He wipes the makeup off his face showing a fresh friction burn. "I, on the other hand, dragged myself away from that building, braced my arm after relocating my shoulder and, single handedly, put that on so people'd think I'm unharmed. Took some time to take stock over a few drinks and artfully avoided answering anything that I really shouldn't divulge."

Reaching inside his shirt he grabs and pulls, taking the self made brace off with a little force and dumping it on the table. "It's kind for you to offer to call someone but... I got nobody. Nobody I could call from a cell, at any rate. So, nice meeting you Sam, but I gotta go." Twisting his arm a few times, getting used to moving it again, Mach gives a little wave and start to merge with the footfall flowing through the streets.