ArchivedLogs:Will to KILL

Will to KILL
I know this is a terrible name I couldn't think of a better one SHUT UP
Dramatis Personae Hive, Peter, Flicker
In Absentia	2013-03-05 Peter meets Flicker, discusses the upcoming raid with Hive.
Location <NYC> 403 {Hive} - Village Lofts - East Village
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, though some of its occupants have left college behind. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the perpetually messy living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here, split between the four people; the fold-out couch in the living room (often folded out!) suggests that at least one of them does not actually claim a room as their own. Hive is having a visitor; that probably means he should be awake. Probably. But he isn't. After, probably, a lot of text-grousing about how Xavier's break doesn't start till tomorrow and doesn't Peter have school to be in or exams to take or someone else to be pestering Hive has fallen asleep on the couch, cellphone still clutched in one hand. He isn't alone; in lieu of pillow he has stolen Flicker's lap while the other man works on his laptop. Flicker seems well used to this situation; he's commandeered Hive's chest as a mousepad, his screen filled with colorful lines of Perl WIZARDMAGIC. Or code. Whichever. Yes, Peter has school. One has to wonder exactly how the hell he manages to go back and forth between Xavier's and the city so quickly -- although if anyone knew, Peter would probably get in /crazy/ amounts of trouble. Nevertheless, he's soon heard clamboring outside on the fire escape -- the kid seems to be allergic to front doors. Then, there's a gentle rapping -- and if the window isn't locked, Peter's pulling it open, rolling inside. Clad in a red hoodie, blue jeans, and a t-shirt with a black SPIDER symbol on it. The symbol is a bit messy and looks like he might have done it himself (possibly with a magic marker). He seems quite proud of it. << HIIIIIiiiiive... Hive, hello? Are you there? Are you asleep? HIVE HIVE hive hive hive hive hive hive hive... >> "Hello?" Hive stirs, on Flicker's lap, with a grumbling sort of noise of protest. Almost reflexively, Flicker moves his hand from the keyboard, fingers smoothing gently at Hive's hair. He has apparently been appraised of their impending visitor, because he does not look /overly/ surprised at Peter's arrival, though he does frown puzzled at his method of entry. "Hey," Flicker says, with a quick warm smile even if his tone is still confused. "Do you -- um. We have a door." In case Peter didn't know. His fingers brush at Hive's hair again, this time stopping to taptaptap against Hive's forehead. Hive grumbles again, but this time his eyes open. "Are you always that loud?" He is rubbing at his temple with his knuckles. He doesn't sit up, though he does turn to look towards the window. "The door's less sketchy," he adds. "What's up, kid?" "Yeah I know but it's easier to come in through the window when you're moving across rooftops," Peter explains. There is a flash, then -- of Peter jumping from rooftop to rooftop -- followed by a blue, furry faced man with spectacles looking at him with a disapproving stare. SO disapproving. And then Peter is waving -- rather hesitantly! -- at Flicker. "Oh! Hey. I don't think I've met -- I'm Peter." He's up and standing, slinging his school-bag on one shoulder. << He is cool, right? I mean that is a dumb question of /course/ he's cool he's in your apartment and your head in his lap and it would be weird if he /wasn't/ cool, but I just want to make sure that he's cool before I say anything CLASSIFIED. >> "Flicker is basically the coolest of cool," Hive answers aloud, which draws a puzzled glance and a slight blush from Flicker. "Hi," he says, "I'm Flicker. I live here." "-- Across rooftops," Hive echoes, with a twitch of amusement. "Some day, remind me to teach you about the subway. S'this whole new world." There's a long moment where he still doesn't move; it's only when Flicker's hand shifts off his head to move back to the keyboard that he pushes himself upright with a wince. "How're your exams going? Or gone? I dunno. Bastian did his last yesterday maybe you're through." "Huh? Oh. Right!" A flash of tests blurring beneath Peter's view. "Oh, yeah, I finished 'em all, except the math one, I think? They gave me a little extra time because I showed up in the middle of the last semester and all." He shuffles the school-bag again, awkwardly -- looking shiftily from one side of the room to the next. "But, um, I'm not here to talk about that. I'm here to talk about, well, you know --" Peter drops his school-bag on the floor, before dropping to sit in front of the couch -- somewhere in front of Flicker and Hive. Peering up at them. Eyebrows wrinkled into a determined >:| expression: "The /thing/." Peter adds shortly after: "And the drones." "Yeah, but I can talk about it all the same. S'important." Hive slumps back against the couch, stretching a leg out past Peter to rest his socked foot on the table. Much like his sneakers, his socks consist of about equal parts sock and hole. He shifts slightly sideways, leaning up against Flicker's side and looking down at Peter. "It's on," Hive tells Peter. "Soon," Flicker adds, his warm smile fading to something more tired. More anxious. "What about it? And the drones?" Peter gets quiet, and nods. He sways, just a bit -- as if trying to steady himself to the beat of some unheard rhythm. "Right," he says: "I guess..." He moistens his lips. "I guess... do you guys have a /plan/? About how to deal with them? What you're going to do if they show up?" "We've got people on the team who can handle them. Couple you've met. Couple you haven't." Hive shrugs, head tipping further to rest against Flicker's shoulder. "Man, I'd almost like to see one /try/ to get past Jax's --" But then he stops, his expression shifting, too. A little more tense. A little more drawn. Maybe he wouldn't like to see one come after Jax after all. He scrubs a hand against his face. "Jax and Ryan break the teams up. They make sure nobody's left with -- people who can't handle shit." "Hive stays far away from the action," Flicker says with a brief twitch of a smile. "At least until they implant dones with /brains/. Or, well, until --" He stops here, frowning a little, and instead just says: "We make sure people are able to deal with the stuff they might run in to." Peter sucks in a breath, slow and steady, holding it as he listens. The swaying slows, and stops; he nods. Then, rather slowly and hesitantly: "I still want to go. I still think I can handle it. But if you don't want me to come I... I can understand." He quickly adds: "But I mean, I can /take/ those things. The drones! I can dodge them, and smash them, and move fast enough to web them up and /gunk/ them. But I know you probably don't want me to go because I'm just a kid and you think that if I do go I'll screw something up. And I guess, I don't think I /will/, but I understand if you think that I will." The conversation he had with Shelby flits through his mind; images of drones, buzzing, people in danger -- and of SHARK BROS. + HORUS + SPIDER, fighting crime. Despite the fact that it's a terrible thought, he can't stop himself from wondering: If Jackson dies, will Sebastian and Shane become BAT-SHARKs? But Jackson will not die. Nope because JACKSON IS TOO AWESOME. Hive is quiet a while; it might be surmised from Flicker's brief tensing, brief glance at him, that there's still a conversation happening. Just not one Peter is privy to. "It is cuz you're a kid," he says eventually. "But it's not cuz we're worried you'll fuck something up. The twins were younger than you when they first came with us. Jax was barely out of high school when he started this. Flicker and Ian were still /in/ it. People can handle themselves surprisingly when it comes down to it. But." "But you're a kid," Flicker picks up when Hive does not continue. "And that doesn't necessarily mean you're not competent. But it means you've got a lot left to do with yourself before you go get killed." He looks down at his computer screen, looks up at Peter. It's almost unconscious the way his hand moves to rest on Hive's knee, squeeze it once. "It also means having to possibly kill other people isn't a decision you should have to make." "It's really strong," Peter explains, before adding: "Like, I think they made it to hold down people who are MUTANT strong. The stuff lasts for about an hour but you should carry a little vinegar with you in case you shoot your own foot." NOT THAT PETER HAS EXPERIENCE WITH THIS. An image, prompt and crisp and fresh on his mind -- Peter's hands glued together, asking Ivan to spray him with a spritzer full of vinegar. "But, yeah..." At Hive's words, Peter looks *SAD*. OhGod he wants to give Hive a hug. Hive can even see him trying to mentally hold down his arms. MUST... NOT... HUG. Instead, he just mumbles: "I mean, I think I'd -- I'd screw it up. I'd need to do it to save somebody else and I'd miss, or hold back, and everything would go terribly wrong," and then, before he has a chance to even /stop/ himself, he blurts out the first question that *springs* into his head: "Have you ever...?" A moment of self-directed horror swells up after asking. Oh man, Peter should /not/ have asked that. Flicker's hand returns immediately to Hive's knee, at this question. "Vinegar," Hive echoes, the only sign that he's actually listening to the notes about the glue. He's not looking at Peter, or the gun. At least not until that question, and then he drags his gaze away; up to Flicker, first, and then over to the teenager. "Yeah," he answers, a muscle twitching in his cheek. Just that. Nothing more. Flicker has more to offer, though, with a deeply worried frown. "You get in there," he says, turning slightly, partially to face Peter but more to look better at Hive's face. "And it's kind of -- horrible. A couple of places, as soon as they knew there was a breach, they just -- just starting killing everyone. All the people they had locked in there. I guess to them it's just -- destroying evidence. Less people to talk, after. And then you're just kind of racing. To get as many people out as you can while they're --" He shudders. "And it's not always guards with guns. Sometimes it's us. Mutants they've coerced or /forced/ and you've got to defend against that, too, and suddenly you turn a corner and -- everything is going terribly wrong. And there's someone gutting Shane and a wall of fire between you and the rest of the cages with people still locked in them and some guy methodically shooting his way through them and you kind of just have to -- act." When Flicker goes into the details, Peter looks a little wide-eyed. When he mentions 'someone gutting Shane', he actually looks a little nauseated -- he /knows/ Shane. As for the rest of it... he shakes his head, and... "No dying," he suddenly tells Hive, and Peter /is/ hugging him -- fast as a lightning bolt, just hopping up and WRAPPING ARMS and ohGod. "I will be /so/ angry with you. If you are dead I will punch your ghost. Um." He looks to Flicker, then. YES HE GIVES HIM A HUG TOO. A little less forcefully though because he just met Flicker and he doesn't want to weird him out even though it is /way/ too late for that. "You too. Um." Peter hops back, then, going for his school-bag. "I should -- I've got errands to run and I have to visit my aunt and uncle, and..." Smaller, now: "What day are you going? Just so I know. I want to be, like, around." Something Shelby said floats into Peter's head. There's a chance these people will /know/ who did this to them. And if they do know, they'll know where they live. In this apartment, here. If nothing else, Peter intends to be present when they get back. Just in case. Hive seems more weirded out than Flicker, really, a little stiff at the sudden hug, a tentative ginger back-pat offered in return. Flicker is clearly more down with spontaneous outbursts of huggery; he doesn't stiffen, just lifts his arms to squeeze Peter back tight and quick. "We'll do our best," Flicker assures Peter, his smile flashing brief and then fading away again. Hive presses his lips together, watching Peter with a growing heaviness to his expression. "Thursday," he says. "I bet the twins would appreciate having people around. I mean, they can take care of themselves, but --" But. He scrubs his knuckles against his cheek. "They do know," he confirms, a little quieter. "Who we are. Where we live. We just kind of try to stay noticeable enough it'd cause them too many problems to make people disappear again. But it's always a risk. I'm, at least, hard to sneak up on, though," he says wryly. "Oh man, with the /teeth/ and the /claws/ and oh /man/ I actually feel kinda sorry for someone who went after them here," Peter says, and he almost means it; there is a flash in his mind of Sebastian and Shane just going all RAGE-TEETH-CLAWS at someone who comes here with the intent to do harm. But then that backpack is saddled up over his shoulder, and he nods to Hive and Flicker, and: "I'll be here Thursday then. Waiting for you guys to come back." And he goes -- not out the door, but predictably, out the window. Old habits die hard. And this is /way/ cheaper than paying bus fare, you know.