Logs:Rumblings of War

Rumblings of War
Dramatis Personae B, Ion, Skye
In Absentia Halim, Mystique, Erik	2024-03-03 "Someone out there hunting my dogs, what the fuck you think I'd do about it? They gonna do less?"
Location <NYC> Le Carrefour, Le Bonne Entente - Astoria, Queens
Above the bustle of the clerestory restaurant, tucked at the base of the bell tower, this indoor garden and library is out of the way and easily overlooked, sure to become a favored "hidden gem" of travel guides. Low bookshelves full of mythology, fairy tales, and folklore ring the central elevator shaft and the stairway spiraling around it like an easily navigable labyrinth. Beyond these are plants in a variety of tastefully whimsical containers, each with its own engraved plaque giving the common name, the scientific name, and their significance to various traditional stories and practices. The walls have been done away with so that the room extends beyond the doric columns into a surreal rooftop garden enclosed with glass stretching between the tower's massive buttresses. The arrangement of plantlife becomes less formal as one moves out into the four arms of the conservatory, visible containers giving way to beds and terraces and eventually landscapes carefully cultivated to look wild. There is plentiful seating scattered along the paths and just off of them, from proper benches to picturesque logs to surprisingly comfortable boulders. By day, myriad butterflies dance amongst the enchanted vegetation, and likewise moths by night. A shallow stream weaves throughout, feeding ponds that host plants of their own alongside fish, frogs, and turtles. Wandering the outer edges of the conservatory, one could almost feel lost in a mystical forest but for the stunning views of the cityscape beyond the glass. This place does have hours, technically, but is anyone counting? It's in the spirit of the place, really, to spend the witching hour here. B is tucked off in the back beside a pond, lying down atop the flat rocks by the water with her laptop in front of her. She's dressed comfortably, the same lounging clothes she was in in her room a while back before the change of scenery -- soft pink Care Bears pajama pants and an old purple tee, soft and riddled with holes that reads 'Sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty!' in faux-handwritten print on the front. There's a large plate of dumplings nearby, mostly finished now, and a large thermos beside that. B has been going a little glassy-eyed as she works, and is just now pulling her eyes away from the screen, one set of eyelids blinking and then another. She scrunches her eyes shut, gills pressing down flat as she stifles a yawn. "I'm starting to think my best bet is actually just moving into the ocean forever. There's a lot of ocean and very little surveillance." Nearby, Skye is sort of draped sideways over a low boulder that might have been intended as a stool rather than...whatever she's doing with her messenger bag and her coat draped on top for a cushion. It looks awkward, but she seems comfortable enough with her gigantic "laptop" computer propped on a second, slightly smaller boulder. She's swimming in an ancient black hoodie at least two sizes too big with the Tor onion logo captioned "the cake is a lie", red leggings, and faux Uggs boots with fluffy cuffs. "Unless you got some private satellites up your sleeve, I think the only high speed internet you can get out in the ocean is like, Starlink, and SpaceX will definitely sell you out." She glances away from her screen at B. "Now that I say it, I'm not 100% sure you don't have your own satellite access. Stark's got so many I doubt they'd even notice." She yawns, too, and stretches. "Your alma mater is crazy secure, but then you'd be up to your gills in teenagers." Maybe it's also in the spirit of the place to be just a little haunted. There's a brief shiver in the dim lights, flickering once and then steadying again. The elevator hasn't moved, the door hasn't opened, but there is definitely now movement behind the nearby trees where before the conservatory was otherwise deserted. A moment later Ion is stepping out onto the path -- skinnier than before, a dark scruff of beard shadowing his scarred face. He's dressed bland -- grey and black checked fleece-lined flannel over a plain undershirt, jeans, heavy boots. Pronged hook where his right hand used to be; his other thumb is hooked into a pocket. "Who you gotta be hiding from, tiburóncito?" "Stark's satellites have way better coverage than Musk's trash and with," B considers this a moment, and her nose wrinkles, "at least slightly less annoyance to astronomers." Her head turns just slightly when the lights shift; she's just started to look back to the laptop when her eyes are snapping back to the movement in her peripheral vision. Her brows crease, gills fluttering, nose twitching in a small sniff at the air. She's gone very tense, eyes fixed wide on Ion as she sits up straighter. "-- Mystique?" she's hazarding, uncertain and very wary. "That's not funny." "Oh, my bad, I'm way behind on the whole satellite internet thing for -- you know, reasons. I doubt they're a whole lot more ethical on the privacy front," Skye says, very much as though she is certain they are not, "but I'm going to go ahead and guess you have plausibly deniable ways around that. If I ever have to flee and establish a micronation on an abandoned oil platform or something, I'll hit you up." She frowns when the lights flicker. Transfers her frown over to B, presumably on the assumption that her friend's keener senses might pick up things her's don't. "I mean, it is pretty mystical up in here but what do you..." She doesn't seem to recognize the man at first but then she sits up straight. "Holy shit!" "Yo, Hipster," Ion is tipping his head in upnod to Skye, casual as if he's never been gone, "you taking care of my girl here?" He's wandering further out of the shadow, hopping up to claim a large rock of his own. "Who joking? Lotta people big fucking mad at you, hermanita. They saying your damn spiders kill your damn siblings. You tell me how's that happen, huh?" B's nose is twitching again, her eyes growing wider as Ion draws nearer. "But you -- how -- what --" There's a rapid flutter along her gills, a small hitch in her breath. "Where have you been everything's been falling apart without you, you --" But though she's gotten to her feet when Ion takes a seat, her half-step forward freezes in place, arms folding tight across her chest. "I know what people must be thinking but do you really think I could..." She cuts herself off here with a press of lips like she's second-guessing this question. Rerouting instead, with a small nod to Skye: "We're trying to figure that out." After a beat, she's adding, smaller and uncertain: "... who's been saying. I don't even know. If anyone." Her head shakes slow. This time Skye just mutters "holy shit" quietly to herself, still blinking at Ion in shock but quickly gathering her wits back up at his question to B. She almost manages to get something out and then is frowning again. Shakes that off, too. "Oh man, I am so glad to see you and yeah I'm trying to take care of her." She glances at her screen as if she's about to turn it around and show Ion, but obviously realizes how absurdly unhelpful that would be. "Look, I've been over this data a bazillion times and like, it's slick as fuck but it isn't B. I can't prove it yet, but I've been working with her for years, and people don't just suddenly change how they implement shit on platforms they know as well as she knows Sentinels." She glances at B, biting the inside of her cheek. "And just -- she wouldn't do that to her own people. You gotta know that better than I do." "People fucking talk, yo. And I know," Ion is looking to Skye here, his shoulders tensed and his head shaking, "how goddamn fierce she be to protect her own people. {Real fucking well, I know.}" There's another flutter of the lights, an unsteady skitter of sparks that shiver down Ion's arms. "Someone come at your pa? I'on know what the fuck you wouldn't do, you think they dangerous. But if you say you didn't do it --" His arm is bouncing where it rests across his knee. His teeth press down against his lip, eyes shifting between the two women. "-- ain't nobody's word gonna mean shit, you piss off the wrong people. You all can do your magic there?" He's waggling his hook towards the computers. "Get a proof?" "I'm not magic, but we're trying." B's inner eyelids shutter, head dipping at Ion's assessment. "I'm not a coward." Her voice is low, but steady. "I wouldn't go after his people because I have a problem with him. Some of our people. I just..." But she trails off, here, sitting heavily back down on the rocks. She's looking at him again -- longer, harder, like she's still not sure he won't disappear again at any moment. "If I'm fierce it's because I had good role models." "The people she pissed off don't have any proof, either." Skye stands up, then promptly sits back down on the boulder she was just leaning on. "It's lot fucking harder to prove a negative, and if they're out for blood, what would be proof enough?" She looks down at her screen. "The best we can hope to find is government system logs that show how their shit actually got hacked, but would they accept that? It'd be a whole lot of ones and zeroes and I'm not magic either but I can tell you right now it's not gonna say 'B Holland didn't do this'." She doesn't throw up her hands so much as slightly lift them and drop them back to her lap again. "If they want revenge, HAMMER is right there. If they come after B, they'll just start a war with...some of her role models." Her lips compress. "And that kind of shit is how they destroy us." There's a clear frustration in the hand that Ion throws up, the sharp suck of his teeth, the skitter of sparks that shower down from his fingers. "I look like I'm here for blood, girl? Who you telling. Flattered if you think I got the pull to tell you what the hell Magneto's crazy-ass fam gonna think or not think. {Best I can do is look after my dogs and pray it ain't coming to blows}, don't nobody want that fight." His hand falls back to his knee, and though he doesn't move he does look briefly less there, less substantive like a holograph viewed from the wrong angle before he resolidifies. "And I know you quick enough to see shit ain't about revenge. B she more dangerous than that, put some respect on her damn name. Someone out there hunting my dogs, what the fuck you think I'd do about it? They gonna do less?" B has gone very still, save for the rapid flutter of her gills; perhaps she is giving serious consideration to what Ion might do about it and not much enjoying her conjecture. She does manage a very small twitch of smile at the strange praise, though it's short-lived. "-- it'd be pretty suspicious if it did say that." This is only a little amused, but, possibly, still more amused than it should be under the circumstances. "Anyway, that's not the best we can hope for. Someone out there hacked my bots. If the Brotherhood's looking for a head, the best I'm hoping for is to give them the right one."