ArchivedLogs:On the Road Home

On the Road Home
Kill 'Em with Kindness
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Hive, Micah, Flicker
In Absentia	11 August 2013 Pretty much, we're just going to Hive everyone.
Location A safehouse in northern Maryland.
It's not along the /straight/ shot from Virginia to New York City, a little bit out of the way in the northernmost part of Maryland. Xavier's has many houses like this one scattered around the country, safe spots for mutants in need to shelter for a while. And the van that has parked in its garage now is /definitely/ full of mutants in need. This probably won't be an excessively /long/ rest stop, but it's a needed one. Food break, /pee/ break, rest break, time to assess injuries in an environment that isn't /moving/. It's a cozy little house tucked into the woods; Jackson has taken a short while to stop once everyone is disgorged, after he gets out of the driver's seat, and enjoy the /scenery/. Or maybe just drink in the sunlight. But eventually he heads inside, to grab some food and water and bring it to Flicker. In his mind there is -- a good deal of worry. That's hardly a surprise. But with the immediate danger passed it has settled down into the quiet determination that always follows such things, thoughts ticking over Next Steps with a carefully regimented sort of organization that /jars/ with his normal erratic-bright hummingbird-flit of mindscape. Hive isn't here, anywhere. At least, he doesn't take up a seat in their no doubt crowded van. But he's watching, all the same, a quiet buzz of background /presence/ in the others' minds. He's been subdued, for much of the ride, at least to their notice. It's the stop that finally rouses him again. Just a soft voice stirring to the both of them in Hive's echoing mindvoice: << ... are we there yet? >> It takes a few moments for Micah to follow out of the van, as he hangs back awhile to give Flicker's /multiple/ splints a checking-over once folks clear out and there is more space in which to operate and /see/. Once the teleporter seems to be in as stable condition as he is going to achieve without medical facilities, Micah goes in search of a restroom and a sink for a more thorough hand-scrubbing. His green plaid button-down and faded jeans both sport a few blood stains, though none of it is his own. Just the result of hastily transporting and assisting those who had participated in the more dangerous (and damaging) portions of the affair. His thoughts are almost entirely clouded with medical checklists and plans. << Not back yet. Just a pit stop, >> he manages to supply in answer to Hive. Jackson is in the kitchen, washing his own hands before gathering food to bring back out to Flicker. << Couple more hours. Joshua going to be home? We could use -- >> His hand, still damp, scuffs over his head before he turns to head back towards the van. << Be doing this again before too long. That was just one of three. -- We're switching cars, >> he adds to Micah. << Other truck. Can we move Flicker over? >> << Why. >> Hive's voice is too bland and flat to be properly questioning. Just a heavy thud of a word that comes accompanied with a very sudden sharp /jolt/ of pain; not coming from him directly but coming from him /not/ carefully regulating the mental link as he has been doing -- for a moment, Jax and Micah are treated to a very clear mind-sharing with Flicker in all of his current state of injury. It's not long, at least, there and then gone. Hive just still sounds -- tired, heavy; in his own voice that undercurrent of pain is still there, though now he is once more doing his best to segment it off from the /others/. << Can't keep doing this. You see those trucks? S'getting worse every time. >> After his trip to the facilities, Micah joins Jax in the kitchen. He rests a hand on the other man's shoulder, squeezing gently, before moving on to assist with gathering supplies. << Would be best t'get an X-ray of that leg first, at least, before any advanced healing. Wanna make sure it's well reduced. >> Hive is treated to a mental review of the injury and interventions provided so far, the technical information continuing to cloud Micah's thoughts until they are /interrupted/. “Mmn.” Hands claw at the edge of the counter with the sudden influx of pain through the mental link. << If we absolutely have to, we can move 'im, yeah. Would be best if we had some kinda stretcher or board t'keep from jostlin' him too much. Either way...I can bind the injured leg to the other one for some additional stabilisation. Still got plenty of bandages and sheets t'work with. >> Arms loaded with goods, he trails along behind Jax back to the van. << Why are we switchin'? Harder t'follow or somethin'? >> << Not a hundred percent sure what they saw. Last thing we want is to get picked up driving over the bridge into the -- >> This cuts off in a sharp intake of breath, Jax sinking back against the nearest wall with his eye scrunched shut tight. Past the wash of pain there is only a higher surge of /concern/, a hard /clench/ somewhere inside him at Flicker's pain. << -- I can /make/ a board. >> He offloads water onto Micah, once it passes and he straightens up again. << You don't have to keep doing it, >> he says, as he straightens to continue back into the van. He drops to a crouch beside Flicker. << None of you have to. But what are we going to do, /leave/ people? >> << Yeah. >> Hive's voice sharpens, briefly; the chorus of other voices beneath it clamours louder. << Fuck was that bullshit. He was nearly fucking dead over what, some asshole soldiers who were going to kill /everyone/. Some people. Aren't. Fucking. Worth it. We can't save /everyone/. >> There's a silence, briefly. In their minds, Hive clenches up tighter, a sudden attempt to shore up mental walls further, stop his /own/ feelings leaking over to them. << I'll ask Io, >> he finally answers Micah. << See if he can hook us up somewhere before calling in Joshua. >> << Yeah, that's a good point. I was forgettin' the road an' only thinkin' about the destination, I guess. Since they /prob'ly/ know where we're goin' already. Which is very reassurin'... >> Micah does his best to clamp down on the flood of worries that threatens to flood through at the thought. << Right...you can /make/... Man. I'm really forgettin' t'list the Holocaust cloak among our assets today. Tunnel visioned on the injury-tendin', I guess. >> Even his mental tone sounds exhausted as he climbs back into the van, depositing his load of supplies in a convenient spot before fetching additional strips of pre-shredded sheets. << Hate t'fuss at 'im anymore. >> He bites at his lower lip, gaze darting over Flicker, a memory-echo of pain prominent in his mind. << Every little movement s'gonna hurt 'im. But. Guess it's necessary. >> His hands wring the fabric for a moment. << Hopefully Io's got some ideas. Imagin' equipment is difficult without...some sort of institutional cooperation. >> Micah doesn't comment on Hive's thoughts about who to save, but does just shake his head at the difficulties encountered. << They know what t'expect more'n more, each time you guys go up against 'em. S'only gonna get harder with their level of resources... >> "Hey. Hey, honey-honey." Jackson rests his hand veeeery lightly against Flicker's shoulder. "You gotta eat somethin', sweetie. An' we're gonna move y'over to a different car, aright?" He glances up at Micah's exhausted tone, reaching out to rub gently at the back of the other man's neck. << It's okay. We'll get home safe. >> There's a quiet cheery confidence in his voice, even with the tired. << Harder. Yeah. We'll just hafta get /better/. >> He frowns, down at Flicker. << Or dry up their resources. Hive, y'ever eaten a politician? >> He sounds like he's joking, honest. Flicker stirs, when the others approach. His smile appears before his eyes are even open, quick and warm in his scarred face. "Oh -- hey. I've," he informs them regretfully, "already told Hive he can't eat all of Congress." << Would help, though. >> There's a quiet sigh in his mental voice, but he's largely still cheerful even through the pain. He reaches for Micah's water, first. << Thanks. >> << We do know people. >> Hive is quiet in this musing, a little distant. << And I think it's us guys, >> he adds wryly to Micah. << You keep coming right along. Not careful, you'll be on their wanted list, too. >> Micah holds onto his bandages, taking up a seat on the van floor near Jax. Better to give Flicker some time to eat and drink before going near that leg again. He leans into the brief neck rub gently. << Get better or keep findin' more people t'add to the team. Don't really got a lot of options there, eh? >> He grins at Flicker when his eyes open. And he's telling jokes! That's a good sign. << /A/ politician an' /all/ the politicians are two different matters. Dunno if he even needs t'eat a politician or just a handful of lobbyists, >> Micah's tone is much clearer in its jest. The bandages settle onto Micah's lap as he reaches for a bottle of water, uncapping it for Flicker and handing it to Jax since he is in a better position for assisting with it. << Not like they have t'do a lot of observin' t'figure out how t'handle /my/ superpowers, >> he returns to Hive, a little grin on his lips though the other man isn't exactly there to see it. << But I don't think there's no 'keep' about bein' on any lists. Between livin' with Jax an' that 'incident' in the sewers? Ain't exactly like I'm a /stranger/ t'these folks. >> << Get better /and/ find more people to add to the team. But I wouldn't exactly say no to shuttin' 'em down, either. >> Jackson leans sideways towards Micah, his absent rubbing continuing in more earnest, a slow knead of massage. "Could mix 'em up. A politician here, a lobbyist there. Best t'diversify." His other hand takes the water, holding it up to Flicker's lips. Inwardly /he/ is clenching, too, tensing uncomfortably at the thought of -- << ... yeah. They've probably already -- >> His fingers knead just a little more firmly. "Pfft. /Your/ superpowers are pretty hard to handle." Flicker doesn't elucidate on this out loud, partially out of an inherent not-overly-talkativeness and partially because he is lifting his head slightly to sip at the offered water. His mind finishes his thought for him, though. << What's a grenade compared to -- >> It finishes in sentiment more than words, a strange blend of warmth and memories spanning game nights, shared meals, Micah helping out with the last batch of Prometheus rescuees, having large K'nex battles with Spencer. << Handle them with hugs, maybe. >> He slumps back after he's drunk, eyes closing again. << Don't know if these people care much about /sweet/. >> Hive is dry in contrast to Flicker's warmth. << Think they'd kill him as soon as any of us. Guess it's just gotten to be a question of when. >> << Point. Could always go for the 'all-of-the-above' option, >> Micah concedes with a shrug. He leans against Jax a bit at the ongoing neck rubs. << Both in the plan, an' in who t'take over in the government. >> Flicker wins a little chuckle at his superpower descriptions. << Think we might be a little bit past killin' 'em with kindness, though, hon. Can we feed you a thing? S'mostly just stuff as stores well. Granola bars an' tins of fruit an' such. >> His lips quirk to one side at Hive's comments. << Yeah, I don't think there would've been a lot of /hesitation/ at the last run-in. These ain't exactly fluffy folks we're dealin' with. But. Today we are /up/ one party member. Not bad for the day so far. >> << All of the above? Hive /everybody/? Could probably work. >> Jax's lips curl upwards at Flicker, too. "Oh," he answers lightly, his eye closing once Flicker is done drinking, "maybe the world just ain't seen kindness enough for it, yet." His kneading stops, though his fingers still rest against Micah's neck. "Peanut butter sandwich," he adds as afterthought to Flicker. "Don't think he hasn't thought about it." A smile flits across Flicker's face. "Fruit? /And/ a sandwich?" He sounds hopeful. << Sorry. Little -- drained. Food sounds nice. >> He doesn't reach for any of it, though. He just lies back, sinking down where he lies. << Up one, >> Hive agrees. << Barely. >> His attention focuses back on Flicker; in him this is /felt/ as a strong swell of concern. << Guess I'll take what wins we can find. Flicker, eat. It'll be time to go again soon. >> << Oh man. Get the full on Master treatment, only with Hive. Everybody just Hive faced everywhere. >> Micah gives an exaggerated creeped-out shiver, though he's giggling at the same time. << Sandwich /and/ fruit, for sure. You can eat all the things. >> He shifts to dig through the supplies for the specified food items. << No barely about it. Flicker's gonna be /fine/. Just needs a little mendin'. >> Micah passes the foods to Jax for assisting Flicker once again. << Yep. The sooner we're back on the road, the sooner we're back home. >>