Owner	Pose
Rachel Goldman	It's evening now. Despite wanting to work off energy (and it's obvious his houseguest is starting to feel a bit penned in), Sublime has been mostly sleeping to heal. Less so as the days go on, but she still naps at odd hours at times. Like now.     The difference is, tonight, she's anything but sleeping restfully. Asleep, her brow is furrowed, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as she starts to make faint wordless sounds. Then to twist and arche slightly. The bed starts to groan as her body shifts in density, growing heavier, her dreaming mind trying to protect itself..
Ares	In the silence of the night she had been given to rest. There is just the faint ambient noise of the cicadas that have come back to life for the summer, trilling outside. Yet other than that there is naught more.     She had been given the choice to move her quarters to the guest room above upon the second floor, a room smaller than the master but with a queen sized bed of some good make that had embraced her form so much more luxuriantly than the bunk downstairs allowed. The covers were warm, soft, and the decor was just blacks and whites, with a hint of grey to complete the monochromatic turn to the design. Her host could tell she preferred the place as she slept soundly, longer at times as she recovered from her injury.     So much so that she was still asleep when he had come home from that long shift at work, getting in the extra hours since his son is away til the August of the year. He had entered and heard naught from above, though passed by the guest room on his way to his. There were perhaps faint sounds of her breathing, but other than that... all seemed good.     But it was when he was downstairs, resting on the couch and fresh from the shower in his t-shirt and sweats and cradling a cup of brandy... that he heard the first creak.     The Guest room is directly above the living room, and so he could hear that creak... then the sounds of her discomfort. There was a faint crackle and he rose quickly, setting the glass upon the end table with a faint slosh of liquor as he turned and moved quickly up the steps.     For such a large man he moved quickly... and silently. The door is opened and he is there, limned against the hall light behind him. He pauses a moment as he makes sure she is alone, safe. Then he closes the distance to touch a hand to her shoulder, "Sublime... Sublime. Awaken!"
Rachel Goldman	As he enters, there's a groan of stressed wood from the struts holding the the bed, Sublime having kicked off her sheets as she pants, her eyes still shut as she makes a faint noise in her throat, almost a whimper, though she'd deny it. "..nnn....nnno.."     When he touches her shoulder, there's no real give to it. More importantly, it provokes a violent reaction as she immediately comes up, snapping awake as her left hand swings in a backfist in his general direction. He's likely fast enough to avoid it...but when it continues into the wall there's a pronounced CRUNCH as the wall craters under the impact.     Sublime herself is already scrambling back, putting her back against the wall, her eyes a bit wild as her chest heaves. "Don't touch me!" she says, still half caught in the nightmare. "Get your fucking hands away from me!" She pauses, her breath catching as she sees the bedroom. Whatever she was seeing, the guest room is different that she starts to remember where she is.
Ares	There's sharp resonant /crack/ as her fist connects with his jaw. If he hadn't been turning back and drawing away on his back foot, instinctively moving with her punch, she could have done more harm. But even so she'll feel that sharp crunch and there's a rough spatter of blood that impacts into the wall along with her fist as she /SLAMS/ that fist into it.     It's enough to cause a snarl to slip over his features, that utter controlled facade he tries to maintain, slipping if only for that bare moment. But then he holds up his hands towards her, as if trying to stay her even as he backs up another step. She might have a hard time seeing him, seeing who he is as his features are hidden by the glowing light behind him from the hallway.     Yet it's his voice she might recognize, the low rumble of baritone as he murmurs, "You are safe, Sublime." His hands stay out, as if trying to steady her from afar. "You are safe... you were having a nightmare."
Rachel Goldman	It was much like being hit by a diamond hard maul. Because it was, pretty much. She pants a bit, still looking a bit wild-eyed as she pulls up her knees against her body, then swallows. "...safe..." she repeats. "...safe." It's mostly to convince herself, from the look of it, before the tension drains out of her. Her mussed blond hair falls over her shoulders, hanging over her face as she reaches up with a trembling hand to rub her face. She starts to breath in slowly, then exhaling, which he would likely recognize as someone attempting to use a meditative technique to calm themselves.     Regardless, she's still trembling slightly.
Ares	The tall man reaches down to the side, taking up one of the covers that had been tossed to the side in the tumult. He draws it around her shoulders slowly, carefully, trying to not touch her as he gets it set about her to if only grant some modicum of warmth, despite the temperature outside being fairly high.     Sitting on the edge of the bed, he wipes a forearm over the side of his jaw to clear the small touch of blood as he looks to her, "Sublime, you are safe. You're here." Slowly he extends his hand out towards her, palm up. Not pressing, not forcing, not seeking to intrude in her personal space. Simply offering the sign of universal acceptance so shared between humans of the world for ages upon ages.     Even as he murmurs quietly, "Are you alright?"
Rachel Goldman	She doesn't pull away at the sheets. Whatever nightmare was chasing her that terrified her about being touched, it seems she's recovered herself enough that she no longer feels endangered. She lets out a last, long breath. "...sorry. Goddamn bitch, I just...sorry..." she says, the venom on the b word.     She finally registered the crater in the wall next to her. "...oh...dammit. I'm sorry." she says, sighing out. "No....yes. I'm fine now." she clarifies.
Ares	"It's ok, I can fix it." He says that evenly, calmly, his voice a steady level tone as he stands up and keeps his hand extended in case she should need aid in rising. But if she does not he'll step back again to give her room. The damage to the wall really isn't too much... really. He just fixed the roof recently so why not. A wall too. Great.     But there's a small smile as he tells her, "Don't think you're going to be able to get back to sleep anytime soon." He rests his hands on his hips and looks towards the hall, then back towards her. And as he speaks the small tear at the corner of his mouth is already knitting closed, leaving only that faint spatter of blood along the curve of his cheek.
Rachel Goldman	Sublime rubs her face, then throws off the sheet, getting to her feet. "...did I actually hit you?" she says, looking unsure. The damage doesn't look bad now, at all. "I just...sorry. I don't like being touched unexpectedly sometimes." she admits, gritting her teeth a bit. And she has one former teammmate to thank for that particular trauma. "...fuck I need a drink." she says finally, then walks towards the bathroom. "Any of that wine left?" She turns on the sink, then splashes water on her face, wiping away some of the sweat.
Ares	The tall man turns his back to her, giving her what privacy can be gained as he leans his shoulder against the door, arms crossed over his broad chest. He looks towards the stairwell that leads down and calls over his shoulder, "No, you didn't. Probably part of the dream."     But then he pushes past that question of hers as he tells her, "I just opened a bottle of brandy if you like," Perhaps it's not the best thing for her to have with her injury but she is well on her way to being healed... and perhaps she may need it tonight.
Rachel Goldman	"Oh hell yes..." the young woman says fervently, walking back over and past him, in search for said bottle. She's no longer trembling at least, the water seems to have finished settling her. "And I'm glad...I put a guy through a wall once.." she admits, slightly sheepishly over her shoulder.     She heads out to the table, finding said brandy, and promptly popping it open and finding an empty glass to fill, before seating herself across the table. She doesn't really savor it...she just knocks it back, draining the glass quickly. The first time at least.
Ares	And then he comes after her, footsteps upon the stairwell as he follows and then he pauses at the entrance to the living room, "I don't doubt it," He says to her with a faint smile even as he moves further into the room and steps to stand above her, taking the bottle from her hand at an opportune time and then pouring some into the glass he had already out and emptied.     Once he has a drink for himself he turns back towards her and takes up his glass as he steps to stand next to a chair opposite her own. He purses his lips slightly as he looks to her, but then he says, "Are you hungry?" And should she say no he'll take a seat then.
Rachel Goldman	She mmphs, refilling her own glass as he sets the brandy back down, then leaning back in her chair. "....no...not right now." she says after a moment. Her stomach is still feeling a little jumpy, still settling. The warm glow of the brandy is helping with that, at least, going straight into her bloodstream with nothing else in her stomach to get in the way.     She watches as he sits, swirling the brandy, then sipping it this time. "Mmmm....this is good stuff..." she murmurs. Small talk. The refuge of the person who doesn't really know what to say.
Ares	Settling into the chair and crossing his leg over his knee, John looks across the way at her with that same steady gaze. He lets her enjoy her drink, and doesn't press her on matters. Instead he lets her take the time to gather of herself, to pull herself together, and to at least gain some measure of stability.     A few moments pass in silence as he takes a sip of his own drink, then gives a nod as he acknowledges her statement about the quality of such. It's only when she's on her next drink that he'll lift his voice and ask her quietly, "Did you wish to speak on what troubles you?" He lets those words hang for a time then he adds with a small smile, "I know I am not the most perceptive of individuals, but I think something might be bothering you."
Rachel Goldman	Such mysteries in the depths of her glass. That can only be why Rachel is looking so intently into it as he asks that question. Yes. Deep, deep mysteries. Somewhere down there.     At least until he adds the second part, which cannot help but draw an indelicate snort from her. "...no, no, that's not...it's not you..." she hastens to say, looking up at him. "It's just...wow, understatement." She takes a slight sip of the brandy, letting the warm heat spill past her lips. "...let's just say I had a really handsy...roommate, who didn't give a damn about personal space." she says after a moment of thought.
Ares	"I understand, I only meant to awaken you." He leans forwards and then roughly /pulls/ the coffee table closer to himself and grins up towards her as it creaks a bit. But with it closer to him now he can pull the bottle closer to himself without getting up. He sets his empty glass down with a clink, then takes up the bottle and turns it on its side to gurgle liquor into the glass slowly. "And you owe me no explanation."     That said he sets the bottle back down and slides it across the table so it's close to her again, in case she wants more. He takes up his glass and has a sip. "You're healing pretty well, pretty quickly. Seem to be keeping your edge. Pretty soon you'll be back out there. I've been getting some possibly decent leads on the information you've already given me."     There's a pause as it's his turn to look down at his glass, then he looks back up at her. She'll have no idea how he sees her, how he can sense her on some levels. How she presents herself in that competent way, how she was the strong warrior amongst the chaos during that battle. But it wasn't that... that drew his attention. It wasn't her talent striking down her opponents or her abilities, although they are considerable...     What drew him to her was that she was a warrior... a soldier who had seen much, endured more... and who now was still dealing with overcoming what those roles had extracted from her. In a way how he sees Zinda at times, but Sublime. She is young.     But she will most likely not be aware of any of that as he broaches this possibility, "I may be able to track him down without your presence. When you're healed you can head home and be safe."
Rachel Goldman	She shakes her head sharply, then make a face at the hair hanging around her head, setting down the glass and reaching up to gather it up and pull it into a sloppy ponytail, mostly to keep it out of the way. "It wasn't your fault. Old fears." she says after a moment, then glances down at her bandaged side automatically. "It still pulls a bit when I twist, but....just sort of a dull ache now." she admits, a bit pleased by that.     She looks up at him sharply at that. "...I don't want to be home safe. He knows me. If I show up again, he'll just try to kill me again." she says, evenly now. A little bit of an offended tone in her voice.
Ares	"Sublime," The tall man's words are precisely given, with that almost ritualistic pattern to them that speaks of ages past. He meets her gaze levelly as his voice takes on a rather solemn and severe tone, "I have no intention in allowing him to be able to harm any others in the future, nor to leave his organization at all intact. You will be safe." There's a pause and he says, "I am offering you the opportunity. If you wish to come with I will not interfere. Just I will not think less of you."     His smile is faint as he looks across the way, "In the time we've spent together I have come to be in some small measure lightly, slightly, vaguely, fond of you. Despite your best efforts." He lets that float for a time, then with that same small smile he looks to the side, but it turns a touch sad as he looks across, "But I have seen the pain you are going through. I've seen it in others, after they have endured horrors. I would spare you such again. At the very least give you the chance to be away from it. But if you choose to stand at my side... then so be it."
Rachel Goldman	Sublime scowls, then knocks back the rest of her glass, before setting the glass down with a hard 'clink'. Almost challengingly. "I'm in. I'm not going to let him chase me off. I'm FINE." Said with all the dismissiveness of your average teen in denial. "And he's got nothing on horror. He's just an asshole." she says, sniffing.
Ares	"Very well," He follows her lead and tilts his own glass back, emptying it fully with a few swallows then setting his glass down. He leans forwards, close enough now to pick up the bottle and turning it on its side to gurgle more liquor into each. "You get angry when you drink," He says as he pushes her glass back towards her should she wish to have some more. As for him he sits back in his chair and takes another sip, holding the glass in both hands as he looks across the way at her. "Sure you don't want something to eat to cut the alcohol?"
Rachel Goldman	He can tell, her first instinct is to snap. She really IS a bit out of sorts. But she bites it down, then lets her eyes close. "...something carby would be nice." she admits after a moment, feeling the rich alcohol swirling in her stomach. "Ish better...breat or shomthin'.." And there's the alcohol hitting her system.
Ares	Rising to his feet he gives a nod to her, "Then c'mon, bring the bottle if you must, but you have to entertain me while I slave in the kitchen for your momentary indulgence." John's smile is a bit wry, and as he sees how the alcohol is affecting her he'll offer her a hand to help her up should she deem she need it. But, chances are high, she most likely won't need it so if she does he'll help her up then set off to the kitchen, if not he'll just gain a few seconds of travel time.     Once in there he flips on the light, the overhead bulbs flickering to life as he wanders in. He stops just long enough to turn on the oven's broiler as he passes, then he pulls open the bread drawer and fishes out a loaf of ciabatta. That's tossed on the table as he turns towards the fridge and yanks the door open, standing in there long enough to get a fresh tomato and set that on the counter as well as some shredded mozzarella in a bag.     Once that's done he grabs a knife from the block and starts to slice the bread into two halves. "I think it's time for you to tell me about your past, Sublime. Starting with your name, if you're willing."
Rachel Goldman	She nods firmly, then stands up, with only the faintest sway. Whatever she might be now, she shows signs of someone who has known exactly what it was like to walk when highly inebriated, and moves with the careful grace of the quite drunk.     "Lead on..." she says, snagging her glass, then sauntering after into the kitchen. Where she goes to find another chair so she can sit down again. It's much easier. Room doesn't wobble so much that way.     She tenses a bit at the question. "...why do you want to know that?" she asks after a moment. "...does it matter that much?"
Ares	Looking at her sidelong, John smiles and shakes his head as she's able to negotiate her way. But as he starts to work on prep he'll grab one of the stools from the breakfast nook and bring it to the countertop for her to sit on while he works.     He grabs some cloves of garlic from a small container and proceeds to crush them with the flat of the blade. Then the ends are chopped off and he begins to slice them up with a few quick strokes. "Because I would like to know." He looks back at her and then cocks an eyebrow, "If you wish, I will trade you question for question. Ask of me what you will. But first, I would like to know your first name if nothing else."     That said he takes a small plastic bowl from the cabinet and slides the pieces of garlic into it. Then he takes a stick of butter and puts it in the bowl as well. He hands it towards her along with a fork and says, "Mix that together as best you can while I do this."     That done he starts to slice up the tomatos.
Rachel Goldman	There's a long pause, without any noise breaking up the sounds of John preparing the food. She feels vaguely guilty that he's going through all the trouble for what is, basically, something that could be covered with bar food, with enough bread to soak up some of the brandy in her belly.     Maybe that's why she finally decides to say something. "....Rachel." she offers quietly. No last name. But it's a start.     When her first question comes, it's perhaps not what he expected. "...were you married?"
Ares	"Rachel," The way he says her name it's as if he were considering it, how it fit into his thoughts of the past, her persona. His smile is there very faint for a moment, then just a ghost as he continues to slice up the tomatoes. He glances sideways towards her and offers her a piece of tomato if she likes, then he says. "It's good to meet you, Rachel."     But then he slides the tomatoes into another bowl. That done he kneels by the stove and pulls out a sheet tray from the bottom cabinet, setting it on the counter. He puts the bread on it, then looks over, "Got the butter done?" And if it's not he'll give it a few turns with the fork before spreading it onto the bread's surface, then putting the mozzarella over top of it. Into the oven, the door clangs faintly as he closes the door.     It gives him time to lean back against the counter and talk to her, arms folded over his chest. "No, we didn't get married." A small curve touches the corner of his mouth, just a little one. "We fought like cats and dogs at times, and my family hated her. We were going to talk about it later, possibly. But she passed when Alexander was born."
Rachel Goldman	Yup! She has churned butter! It is...stirred. And stuff. She was never the best cook, mind, so it's hardly perfect either, especially as her dexterity is a bit off with the alcohol. Still, she offers it as he asks, then sits back on the chair again.     "....oh." Rachel say softly. She wondered if that was the case. He doesn't seem like the sort of man a girl lightly walks away from, especially with a baby boy. She finds herself sort of wishing that it had been the case, though...her dying seems more sad. "I'm sorry."
Ares	Now with only time to wait, he looks at her and says with a small but a little sad smile, "It's alright. She... was wonderful, and I love my son." And really in a lot of ways that's all he has, or all he has of himself. He waves a hand to the side as if he can brush away the moments, the memories, the words. He gives a small nod to her, "You fight well, where did you train to gain such skill?"     He turns and reaches for the dressing and pours some vinaigrette into a bowl, adding a few herbs here and there just to make a small drizzle that'll work well with the caprese. He looks back towards her, "And why did you take it up?"
Rachel Goldman	The young woman leans back against the back of the chair, reaching out to idly run her fingers through her mussed blonde hair, wincing as she pulls out a small snarl. Her expression goes sober at the question. Emotion sliding right off it. Her voice, when she speaks again, is steady. Emotionless though. This obviously touches on part of her issues. "...I learned Jeet Kune Do when I was younger. I wanted to do something more useful than ballet." she says slowly. "I liked the old movies Bruce was in, I guess that was part of it."     Her expression goes sober at the question. Emotion sliding right off it. Her voice, when she speaks again, is steady. Emotionless though. This obviously touches on part of her issues. "...the rest, I wasn't given a choice."
Ares	He can pick up the subtle cues, the small hints that dance around those times, those distant memories. It's like a mindfield with her, the time that whatever happened... happened. And for now, best to let it lie. So when she speaks on the movies, and of the man who began it all, he gets a small smile and rubs at the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "Did I tell you I had met him?"     John turns around smiling to her for once fairly openly, that facade of utter control slipping if only for a moment as he leans back against the counter, shaking up the vinaigrette concoction even as the smell of the ciabatta bread and cheese begins to waft from the oven.
Rachel Goldman	Rachel blinks, drawn out of her thoughts by the seeming non sequitor. "Met who?" she says curiously, wondering if she missed something. Did she drift off there for a second? No, she hasn't even had a third glass yet. She resolves to fix that, splashing a bit more into her glass. "Why does this guy want to get back at you?" she asks, remembering it's her turn for a question.
Ares	"Bruce Lee," He offers as if they were discussing the weather. He takes a few steps away and moves towards the oven. For a moment he pulls it open and sniffs at the melting cheese, then pulls it out of the oven. The tray clangs faintly on the counter as he sets it down and grabs the bowl of tomatoes. Slowly he begins to put each slice in place on the bread, then adds some green herbs upon it as well. Finally he shakes it up and adds the vinaigrette to give it a dark color. Once that's done he grabs a plate.     "I was in Oakland in '64, there was to be a fight between two schools and I was asked to bear witness." He puts the bread on the plate and then sets it down in front of her even as she takes another drink.     "As for why Berl hates me, I insulted him, and I had something he wanted. Now my continued existence is a black eye to his sense of honor."
Rachel Goldman	Rachel quints at him. "...get outta town...seriously? You don't look that old at all..." she says in response. "And you were the judge?" Huh. She's kind of jealous of that. She always felt like the world lost a great master when Bruce died so tragically. Or maybe that's just her latent teenage drama angst coming to the fore.     She watches as he continues to cook, looking thoughful. She didn't know he could cook like that. Really, most guys she knows are lucky if they can make Hot Pockets. "....must have been some insult."
Ares	"One of them, there were several, mainly old men." John tells her as he gives her a nod, "And yeah, thanks. Pilates does wonders." His lip twitches as he offers that small white lie but in her state... who knows if she'll believe it or not. But he grabs one of the longer knives from the block and takes it to the halves of the ciabatta loaf. He starts to slice them diagonally and then gives a nod, "Help yourself."     And with that he takes up a piece of bread and takes a bite, tomato juice dribbling down his chin for a moment making him push away from the counter and grab some napkins. One for him, one for her. But then it's his turn, "If you had your druthers, what would you most like to do in the world? Money no object and all of that."
Rachel Goldman	That draws another unfeminine snort from RAchel...she doesn't look like she's buying Pilates at ALL for that, but she's letting it pass for the moment. After all, there's food. She inhales a bit, then snags the bread, suddenly feeling her body remind her of just how hungry it is as she takes a big bite, then chews, enjoying the taste as she lets out a happy little moan of pleasure.     She looks thoughful as she chews. "I...I would like to..." She actually flushes at that, looking down at her plate, then covers it by taking another bite. "...I'd like to have friends and be able to live where we would be safe and happy." she says finally, a bit challenging, as if daring him to take exception to such a simple desire. But it speaks a lot of just how abnormal her life was lately that just that much is enough.
Ares	John looks away and sort of smiles and gives a faint half laugh, then he looks back at her and he says with that faintly gentle tone, "You're breaking my heart, Rachel." He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck thoughtfully even as he leans over and steals another piece of the bread to nom on, chewing for a time and pulling it back so the mozzarella strings between his lips and bread, then munching it back up.     "But there's nothing wrong with that... stability, safety... normalcy." He looks around here and gestures, "It's... sort of what I'm trying to give to Alexander, despite all the madness in the world."
Rachel Goldman	Rachel continues demolishing the bread, a bit at a time, but slows at that, frowning at him. Her chin comes up pugnaciously at the comment, a bit challenging. "...I like stability." she says. There's a wistful light in her eyes as she looks at the bread. She just can't have it. The moment she tries...they'll find her. Worse, they might find the others. Or the few friends she has now.
Ares	Watching her munch on the bread he exhales a short chuff of breath, almost a faint laugh as he shakes his head.     "Well, if you find yourself needing to fight for it some day, I will help you in your efforts. If you wish." And as he says that he takes up the last two pieces of bread, then turns to present them towards her, holding one up slightly higher than the other and quirking an eyebrow as he offers it to her. And should she take it he'll take the other one, smiling, and then bite down with a faint crunch of tearing bread and cheese.     He chews a few times, crunching away and then gives her a nod. "Your turn, by the way."
Rachel Goldman	There's a slightly sad twist to her lips. "...sure." she says, a terse reply to the offer. But that's because...how can you fight that? A secret organization that has the money and power and secrecy to kidnap kids from all over, to force them into the project. To kill them if they fail and to cover it all up. Oh, she would dream about them all being dead. But she knows it's unlikely. She's on her own now. She can't fight something like that, only keep running from cover to cover.     She stuffs the rest of the bread in her mouth, then washes it down with the rest of her glass. "...when are we going after Bel, and how?" she says simply.
Ares	"When we get word from Wenson. The fixer for the operative you gave me." He continues to eat the last of the bread, then reaches for the brandy bottle that she had set down beside her. He finds himself without his glass, and frowns a bit as for the first moment she might get the faint hint that he's not entirely as free of the effects of the liquor as he might project.     So he opens a cabinet and pulls out a small orange juice glass, that'll have to serve. He gurgles a bit more into the drink, then sets the bottle back down and meets her eyes with a smile. "I'll have an address, and a contact that we'll follow up. I'll present to him my desire that I wish to talk, that I can't handle the pressure, and that I want to meet in person to try and negotiate."     He takes a deep breath and frowns at his empty glass, then refills it with another turn of the bottle. "He'll try to kill me, I won't let him. And you will help me, then we prepare the extraction from the situation."     There's a pause then he looks to her thoughtfully, hrmming to himself as he considers a question... another, then his smile curves a little wry as he says, "What is a question you are afraid I might ask, but would like to answer?" There, top that.
Black Canary	Rachel nods slowly at the explanation, the plan. It sounds good to her. She's not going to try and get after Bel by herself, certainly.Better as a team, and in this, she's find with John leading.     At the question she twists her lips. "...what kind of question is that? It sounds like something out of a Cosmo..." she mutters, folding her arms over her chest. She sighs, and thinks a bit. "...no, I'm not a mutant or a metahuman." she says slowly after a moment. "...I'm a Gen-active." This seems to be important as a distinction.
Ares	"It's a perfectly legitimate question, you're just displeased you didn't think of it." The tall man's lips curl into a smile but then part with an 'ah' as he takes another drink from his glass. But he leans over the empty plate now, the caprese having been eaten already, but he touches a fingertip to the small bits of oil and cheese and crumbs, swirling it up then tasting it as he looks askance towards her. "I am... not entirely sure what the difference is," He looks back down at the plate and tries to gather up a bit more of the crumbs, then grins a bit embarrassedly at her.     "But thank you for confiding in me." He leans over and just grabs the bag of cheese and starts to take small bits of it, and tossing them in his mouth, offering her some should she so wish. "I don't know which of those I would be considered."
Black Canary	Well...in for a penny, in for a pound, as her grandma used to say. "...a Gen-Active is similar to a mutant." she says in soft, clinical tones. "A mutant develops their abilities through a natural evolution of the X-gene....it can happen randomly, but it's more likely in people whose parents were already mutants. But it's all chromosomes. It can work, or it might not." She runs her finger over the top of her glass slowly, making the glass sing under her finger. "....a Gen-Active is a person who, through generations of highly illegal human experimentation, have had their X-gene...forced open." She holds up both hands, then drops all fingers but two. "...twelve generations until it worked, without driving the people they experimented on insane. And even then, 2/3rds of Gen12 still went mad, or berserk, or died because they couldn't control their abilities."
Ares	That causes the man's brow to furrow. He had known of mutants, for their explanation had been the simplest for him. They came about through evolution, a progression of mankind, though their background might have some measure of mystery to them. But the malice was not quite the same as what she describes with the gen active, not quite as malicious and small as the experimentation of mortal upon mortal. It ill suits him.     His frown is severe and he sets the bag down. His eyes find hers and she can almost see him working out the progress as he asks her, "These are the people that pursue you. The ones who experimented on you." No question asked for now. Then he lifts his chin slightly and murmurs, "This is why you must remain in hiding and take the role you have."
Black Canary	"Yup." She adds a third finger. "...Gen13. That's me. Except this time they didn't bother with prisoners, volunteers, or soldiers." She leans back in her chair. "...they figured it would be so much simpler to just find all the children of Gen12 and take them. Or trick them. So they could try to sculpt them into the perfect weaponized metahumans. Brainwash them...and if they didn't develop an ability, they just killed them and tossed them out like garbage."     There's not just bitterness in her words, there's full on hate behind them.
Ares	He stays where he is, leaning against the kitchen counter with his glass held in his hand. A frown creeps into place as he leans over to take up the bottle again and refill his glass. A tasting of a sip is taken, then he sets the bottle aside down in reach of her should she wish.     Brown eyes lift again to meet her gaze, "Considering what you must have gone through you seem to have endured with your humanity intact. Despite their efforts." For if she had none left, the night's terrors would harm her not at all.
Black Canary	"HA!" It's a bitter sharp sound as she gets up, starting to pace. He can recognize the emotions bubbling to the surface, like a log jam giving away, the bitter, seething hate the first log signaling the others coming right behind it. "No...no I'm not. I...they found me early. They tricked me into going to their school. And they dosed my food, they tried to use more to sculpt me just like SHE wanted me, like all the other girls, like that BITCH Bliss and her fucked up pyscho brother wanted, they HURT them."     The words come tumbling out faster and faster as she works herself up. "They broke my friend, they broke her just because they could. And we all knew, the moment we weren't useful, they'd do worse, we'd be on the burn pile...so we did what they wanted. I did what they wanted, I HAD to..." She's shaking now.
Ares	"Rachel," The tall man sits up straighter, looking at her as she builds into the anger. "They did all of that to you, they inflicted these times upon you, and you survived." His brow is furrowed as she grabs hold of that hate, even as she works herself up and on some level... he can feel the smouldering of murder there, the whispers of darkness that tinge the malicious aspects of mankind.     He can see those dark shadows in her eyes, can hear them in her words. And even still he tells her, "They did all they could to make you theirs, to break you. Yet here you are, you endure. Do not let go of the past, remember it, but recognize your own strength for having survived."
Black Canary	RAchel jerks to a halt, breathing heavily now. "....I hate them. I HATE them. I want them all to die. Fuck all of them. Fuck Ivana Megabitch Baiul, fuck Threshold, fuck his creepy sister and that motherfucking furry psychopath and...and..." She sucks in breath in what's almost a sob, still trembling with the sheer violence of the emotions surging through her. She lets out another hitching breath. Then another, her eyes glimmering. "...the...ONLY...good thing they gave me....was a little sister...I always wanted. And..and a friend I could love. And I will kill ALL of them if they threaten them." Following with the hate, is the rage. Not bloodthirst, but the sort of righteous anger that could burn a city and call it good.
Ares	John pushes off the edge of the counter and holds her gaze as she begins to feed into the anger, the sadness, letting it take her away as she breaks down into the horrible memories and throwing the experience out before him like so much horrid detritus from her past. His brow knits and concern lights his eyes as he takes a step to her and touches his hands to her shoulders, trying to steady her.     "Rachel, that is past you now. It is the past, and you will protect your sister and your friend. And they will pay." His jaw sets firmly and she can see the kindled fire in his eyes, the whispering growl of that darkness that lives in the corners of his mind that calls out to that of War. A creature that rejoices in the anger of the righteous and the burning of cities.     Yet he is able to hold it, to keep it calm, and then he will attempt to draw her into an embrace, to just hold her there against his chest and let her rage and lash out if she feels the need to. For now all he hopes to do is help her crest the wave of anger... and to reach the moment it breaks.
Black Canary	He can feel the tension in her shoulders as he touches them as she twitches. Her breathing is harsh in the sudden quiet, her chest rising and falling in sharp hissing breaths. Her breath catches as she's pulled back against him, resisting at first, then crumpling back against him as her tough girl act finally cracks, another sobbing breath escaping her as she almost goes limp.
Ares	For a moment his knees bend, just enough to make sure he catches her, his arms holding her tight as he braces her gently with one hand around her waist and other across her shoulders. His head bows over hers protectively, eyes closed, like some ancient sculpted arcon. She can feel his hesitance, his own control, that cultivated facade of utter calm and imperturbability that he must hold lest his nature take him.     Yet as she gives in to the tears, the sobs, she'll feel his chest shake against her faintly. His breath catching only ever so slightly, and then his brow furrowing as he lightly squeezes her shoulder, very gently as he tells her. "It will be alright, Rachel."     He takes a deep breath, faintly quavering as the mix of sadness for what has passed for her causes that subtle hitch. Tears? No. it's the anger, the deep growl that is a rumble deep in his chest as he holds her and then he says in that deep baritone voice of his, a voice she can perhaps feel with her head against his chest than hear, "I will do all I can to aid you and yours."
Black Canary	For just a moment...she leans back against him. Letting him support her. Letting herself be weak. Her breathing steadies slowly, then she arches away from him pulling out of his arms. "...it's still the worst question." she says, smiling weakly, though it doesn't touch her eyes as she looks over her shoulder at him. She turns, then quietly walks away, retreating into the bathroom, as the door closes behind her.
Ares	It's some time before she comes out of the bathroom, time enough that when she emerges she'll find the counter space cleared and cleaned, the bottle is emptied and thrown in the garbage. The lights are also mostly out save for the lone one in the kitchen, and the one in the stairwell that leads back to the guest room.     But under the lone lamp that hangs from the ceiling in the kitchen is a tall glass of ice water that's partially melted, the cubes clinking faintly as it loses its chill with a small puddle of water around its base. Yet next to it is a small piece of paper that's partially moistened by the sweat from the glass, just one of the notes from beside the telephone with five words scribbled on it in harsh pen strokes.     / You'll Need This. /     / Good night. /     And that is all.