2973/Mr. Mach, I presume

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Mr. Mach, I presume
Date of Scene: 26 October 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Phage, Batman




Phage has posed:
It's been a long night. Many drinks, some more effective than others... but a good night. Still, time's always being called somewhere in the world and it's his turn now. As he hadn't heard of a lock in anywhere nearby it's whatever room service he can run up on the expense accounts for now. First, however, Carl Mach rounds the glamourous front of the bar and the the less so but more accurate alley beside it.

Ducking in far enough to be out of range of the others milling out he reaches into his coat and produces a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Lighting up's a small sequence of actions, helps him focus, staying stationary with excuse to tell on any potential tail trying to follow.

Between the point were a bigger op is a go and the prep being finished is an important time for any operative. That's when the heightened awareness, that with training can be called on and maintained, can creep into paranoia. Best thing is to keep moving, keep socialising like it's going out of style... let any tracking your movements see nothing really relevant to the bigger picture... and remember that, just because it's quiet, it doesn't mean that your cover's blown.

Batman has posed:
    It is always a difficult balancing act, establishing when to make contact with an asset that is either a threat of flight or violence. A position of comfort is best, when the asset is settled into a part of its routine, when matters have progressed at least seemingly positively for a period of time as they indulge in whatever vice or affectation they enjoy. But that becomes even more tenuous of a connection to make when that asset is trying to break up his own pattern of activities.
    So the next best thing is to approach them on what they might perceive of their home turf. To give them a feeling of control. And when the voice from the shadows lift it is not the sharp and severe tone that is given when information is being sought from an informant. It is a calm and steady level tone that has an edge of the grim to it, but perhaps that is just because it comes from a dark silhouette at one end of that alleyway away from the crowd.
    "Carl Mach?" He asks, knowing the answer but allowing that hint of uncertainty to again give a small edge to the asset, allowing them to feel more in control of the facts. "I need to speak to you."

Phage has posed:
"Two thirds of an inch." Mach starts looking up over some yellow tinited lenses, "Can't see you there... I could guess... but, even in this state, I don't need to zoom in to see your belt lit up like the fourth of July." It's a bluff. He wouldn't guess. Fact is, the traces of gadgetry and the energy they display through those lenses could be any number of contacts. Not that it matters. They aren't hostile or they could have took a number of shots at him by now.

"Increase that shielding by two thirds of an inch if you're using basic lead or, scaled down depending on the tech you've access to... I'd never have seen you at all. Didn't make your approach and, without help, couldn't have known which way to turn." He takes a deep draw and takes the glasses off, storing them in the very real cloth coat.

"You want to talk, then we can talk. Chances it isn't about the weather or to bm a smoke so... what's on your mind?" He likes to talk. Whoever it is, they're good. Better than him. He can't make anything on who they are, voice deliberately non descript. It's a rarer problem. Sometimes, as an operative... you're gonna come across someone better than you in every measurable way. Best thing to do is focus and see where it goes. Hoping they've not painted you as hostile can't hurt. Doesn't do anything... but it doesn't hurt either.

Batman has posed:
    Before they continue further, the Dark Knight holds up a hand as if to stay the man. It slips from the confines of that cloak that hides the entirety of his form save for that cowl, and is then joined by his other hand holding a small black and silvered device that he touches to the side of the wall. A faint hum might be heard by the man's symbiote, its sensitivity to sound allowing it to perceive the subtle... 'aura' the thing produces.
    Once that's done the tall figure turns back towards Carl and he says, "Even Apokolipsian technology can't overhear us now." He offers, perhaps to aid any hesitance the man might have about speaking in the open. Though assuredly his word that such is so might not well be enough.
    "A colleague spoke to me of symbiotes. The Klyntar being... mass produced?" He focuses fully upon the other man, irisless gaze heavy and grim as he says levelly. "I need to know everything you know. And if you are in danger can arrange for your recovery and concealment." He'll take a single step forwards, just enough for a sliver of light to limn his silhouette and catch the not so subtle insignia upon his chest.

Phage has posed:
... must be a slow day in the heroics business. As there's no way in the coldest day in hell he'd merit this kind of attention. Mach thinks to himself. Still. It's the legend of many names standing in front of him. "Your col-league" Mach adds the little half pause to give away they both know who that is. Field of one is an easy choice. He coninues without missing a further beat, "hopefully made the distinction. I spoke of symbiotes and parasites."

"These things bear little to no relation of any ones like Phage. Or so it tells me. Everything I know is diddly compared to Phage but I get your point. Rough rundown is this. On Earth, as far as we know, Venom was the first symbiote to land here. Phage was one generation after, it's important." Another draw.

Another exhale, "Venom was and isn't adjusted to Earth in ways that Phage, gestated from the first cell here, was. When I came to a scientist to try and help what I suspected was some damage to Phage so it'd bond to Lex rather than me... I found this guy had took a sample of Venom and tried to grow it."

Mach pauses, talking with his tired other, trying to find an example that makes sense, "... okay. Phage describes it like a tumor. Cancerous, yeah, lots of cells, identify as the real thing most of the time... but lost their ability to perform their original function in the process. So, while I was getting treated I thought a subtle nod to the cavalry who deal with big armies of monsters was in order."

"Hence my invite to Diana. I gave her some schmatics for the tags..." Microwave sponges really. Using the fact cell towers use microwaves and that, if boosted in power enough, would cause anything tagged to absorb enough microwave radiation to fry a symbiote, parasitic or not, but leave unbonded pairs unharmed. Even if they happened to get tagged by mistake.

"... so I'm sure the details'll be passed along if they haven't been already. But, the guy? Growing them... he's squirrely. I didn't want to call a go on breaching the place until I'm sure those things can't get out and case a bloodbath. He's full blown paranoid... so even a threat that isn't there'd be enough to spook him and I couldn't find his operation again."

Mach sighs, "That's not all of it. It never is. No doubt there's a buncha deatails, angles and whatever elses I've not thought of you wanna check out. So best to ask away."

Batman has posed:
    That dark figure listens to the man steadily as he speaks, at times the only hint his words are registering are subtle shifts in the tendons of his jaw, a furrowing of his brow that slightly shifts that black cowl. "I need to know about the man who is growing them, and the information in regards to the facilities." Since his role is in information retrieval for now, the possible backlash and failstate plans for such a situation are still being created.
    A step to the side is taken as Batman emerges a little more from the shadows, then holds up a fingertip. There's a moment when the man seems to be listening to something distantly, nods faintly, then looks back towards the agent.
    "The symbiotes are sentient. To a degree. What of the parasite versions?" Perhaps on some level they don't want to be sentencing a generation of space alien youths to death even if they're aggressive feral creatures.

Phage has posed:
It wasn't voluntary... but Mach understands why Phage did it. It's tired. It's sore... and it knows the science better than he does. So, when Phage self activates and sheathes Mach's body in a smooth black body suit, scarred in yellow, lacking eyes or features, no maw when it speaks, Mach lets it use his vocal cords and appreaciates his partner's too tired to form fully.

"I... am the Phage symbiote. Carl Mach is my host. Your reasoning is entirely faulty." It said strangling Mach's voice many octaves and a half second echo beyond what it'd humanly sound like. "We provided the metaphor. Perhaps it was unclear. Venom is the progenitor of this line. An alpha amongst other lines not its own. If those things retained even a fraction of its genetic memory, the very thing that makes us sentient rather than mere biomass and constituent matter... I... would not have been able to establish dominance... force it away from MY... host... with such ease."

"I... am not sentient to a degree. I am alive and have a right to be the same as much as any other. The host is risking his very existance and all he has accrued to help me. I have advised in the strongest terms against this. Symbiosis dictates I... protect the host and improve it above all else. The idea to act contrary to this is... abhorrent. However... the host is unmoving in his resolve to help me. He reasons that what was done was beyond my control. Before anyone could take action. He feels..."

Phage struggles with a concept alien to it... "... responsible somehow for this. Regardless of the fact it was never is doing. These things have no host. They are bonded to themselves and their capabilities have long since been corrupted many times over that, could it be conveyed in words, the break down of essential funticons in the constituent matter can be clearly seen by any symbiote. It is... like seeing a burning pile of charnel. Like watching a body convulse when it is so clearly dead. Biohazardous waste. A perversion."

For something that's otherwise emotionless and uncaring it spits the last word with what could, otherwise be called hatred. As the suit receds leaving Mach behind he says, "Yeah. It's a bit sore... but it's getting better. Phage nailed it though. I could tak a toenail clipping of yours. Won't be able to make another you... can't recreate the training, experience, thoughts and feelings... can't recreate that special something that's sentience." He shrugs. His partner's good and a fast study...

Batman has posed:
    A low grunt comes from the man in black as he looks to the now seething and black body suited creature that Carl Mach had become. There was a subtle menace to it, despite its intentions, its clear wishes to the contrary. So Batman folds his arms over his chest and absorbs the creature's insight, giving a single nod at the word 'perversion' as he recognizes the sentiment.
    "Then when we deal with this we'll destroy the parasites." He shifts to the side, the cape billowing faintly as he turns to fully face Carl, the white eyelets in his mask giving little insight into the tall man and his intentions. "The main things I need from you, Mr. Mach, are the locations of the facilities and the names behind this effort."
    He withdraws another small device from the confines of his cloak, the pouch upon his belt clicking shut. Into the air he tosses the whatever it is, though should it be caught it'll resolve itself into what looks like a matchbook of all things with a name on the cover for this very bar they're in front of. "But no matter what happens, you're currently endangered. You can contact me with that if you will not be brought into protective custody now."

Phage has posed:
"That... is where I'm running a little light. I know one name. Problem is no way to know just how far the guy's reach is. One facility I know of. However it's underground so exact co-ords unknown. Front's above ground, you do not wanna waste time getting bogged down up top, it's defended and reinforced well enough, so you do not want to have those things get a head start. You find the place about three floors down under that 'restaurant' and find a way to take multiple breah points and, maybe, you can keep it contained." Mach bends stiffly to pick up the matchbook from the floor.

So much so ome had spreads, leaning a hand against a wall to keep balance. As he stands he looks under the poster under his palm. "Huh. Mayoral election for NY? Bit far out. I'm voting for the other guy, Charlie Border, don't trust that Osborn... heard he was a vegan... real green... type. Against gas gobbler... type cars." Hardly the most super secret code. the pause after each important word. Still. He didn't tell anyone's names or any locations. Strictly speaking.

Batman has posed:
    There's a narrowing of those eyelets, the tall man watching Carl closely. The attention being paid to caution is laudable, and he gives a single solid nod as the man offers his insight in the subtle pacing of those words and the offering of the terribly secret code. But Batman accepts it, then gives a single solemn nod.
    The cloak slides off his shoulders as he steps to the side and takes down the advanced white noise generator, sliding it onto the belt around his waist, then he'll give another nod as he starts to turn away, black cloak flaring as he starts to walk. "Be safe, Mr. Mach. Your path is a difficult one to tread."
    A few steps lead him further into the shadows and then there's a faint whisper of compressed air expelling, a grapple line firing upwards past the line of the rooftop and hooking upon one of the small curved walls the line that building. It tenses, draws taut, and then causes the man to rocket upwards with a snap of fabric as the cloak billows forth, curved like the great wing of a bat.
    He disappears from view, leaving the man alone for now with his thoughts and that matchbook that apparently has more to it than meets the eye.

Phage has posed:
For now Mach pockets the matchbook. In the pocket lined with a lot of expensive and effective mesh 'borrowed' from work. He'll look it over back at the hotel room, and assume he's tracked and wired from now. After all... he would. Sheathing in the partially formed form of Phage after checking the coast is, otherwise, clear, Batmen impossible to tell either way, but he needs to move fast. Firing a line up but before swining up into the night thought strikes him... "A difficult one... huh. Made easier when no one expects you to live through it each time. Must be we're too dumb to get with the program."

Hauling off and swinging upwards doesn't quite mark the end of the tale yet. As he overshoots the first swing and falls onto the roof of the next building. Whatever treatment he's getting has been working. He overshot the whole roof! "Still... getting better..." He says to his partner, "At least I'm falling onto buildings... not off them." Then on the next fired web the pair swing out of view. More successfully. Hopefully.