ArchivedLogs:Charged

Charged
Dramatis Personae Ion, Micah, Ash, NPC-Cris, NPC-Keeley
In Absentia	26 November 2014 '
Location <NYC> Lower East Side
Historically characterized by crime and immigrant families crammed into cramped tenement buildings, the Lower East Side is often identified with its working-class roots. Today, it plays host to many of New York's mutant poor, although even here they are still often forced into hiding. It's been snow and it's been rain and it's been snow again. On-again off-again thunder in a lazy-halfhearted kind of way. These things have combined to leave the city a slushy-wet mess, ice here and soddenslippy there. Grey and /gross/ and grim all over. But look, here's some cheer! In the form of colorful lights! No, wait, that's police flashers, whizzing by. Followed soon by another flash, bright blue as well. Though brief. It ends in a thud-splat, a /person/ materializing in a wet fizzle-spark on the sidewalk. And vanishing again in another flash. Disappearing, reappearing a short ways away. Vanishing again. In all the flashing as the cruisers zoom past it'd be easy to miss. At any rate when Ion finally reappears again it's on foot, staggering out around the corner of an alleyway not far from Evolve, dressed much as is his usual. Tall shitkicker boots, dark jeans looking darker for the sodden-wet mess they are, leather jacket pulled on over denim shirt. More than a little bedraggled. A kind of /manic/ gleam in his eyes, not really that out of place on his features. A little sizzlepopspark dancing zzp-zzp-zzp between his fingertips. Micah is on his way /out/ of Evolve, his last stop in a series of errands on the way home from Work to Cooking All the Things. It was a good final errand: picking up hot drinks to go enjoy after a shower post-work. They hang from one wrist in a doubled up bag, a tray holding the cups in place, since both of Micah's /hands/ are busy supporting himself on a pair of neon orange forearm crutches. They have nasty looking toothy tips intended for improved purchase on ice and snow, across which Micah is walking slowly toward his big, blue TARDIS van parked curbside. Though hidden beneath Jayne hat, Fourth Doctor Scarf, candy corn stripe convertible mittens, olive puffy coat, and snow boots, one might assume the rest of his outfit is his usual blue polo shirt and khakis. His hair has given up on any semblance of straightness, sticking out from his hat all at angles. The path he's walking leads him nearly to /stumble/ over Ion, paying attention to his footing more than the admittedly obvious sparking fellow in front of him. Blink. Blinkblink. "Ion, sugar? D'you need help?" Wisely, he isn't /touching/ the electrokinetic just now. Just a little ways behind Ion, there is a figure running behind the sizzling man - or running as well as he can, given the 'wintery mix' and the amount of frozen slush starting to accumulate on the ground. He has his arms out to his side, his brown Carhartt two piecer protects his whole body from the elements, aside from the protection his boots provide. He catches up eventually, looking at Ion with a tilt to his head. "Ya okay?" He asks quietly before cluing in to those around his friend. Ash turns his head to Micah and grins. "Oh, hey there. Imagine running into you here of all places! How's it going, Micah? Yeah, um, Ion here, he's probably conducting into the rain a bit and I really wouldn't touch him as you may end up ... well, not liking it." Ash's hair is splintering into little rings around his head, his hood having fallen back earlier and left his uppermost extremity exposed. "We're trying to get inside quickly!" The dancing sparks between Ion's fingers are sparking brighter when he sees Micah. His fingers snap together (with another shower of sparks) and he points one finger towards him (sending out yet another jolt-zap-spark that fizzles before it /actually/ reaches him, though it's /alarmingly/ bright) "Ey-ey-/ey/, /Mi/cah!" Unfortunately for the other man -- on /so/ many levels! -- Ion's discretion is not so intact at the moment. He gives a small happy /yip/ of excitement at seeing his friend, skidding a few steps forward for a /collision/ hug that is not only full-contact on the icy ground but /also/ waaaaay more shockingly zzzzzzzzzappy than usual. It's not quite as bad as being tased! But it's not /fun/ either. "Heeeelp oh no I -- I feel -- wait. Yeah no yeah right yeah oh /shit/ oh shit oh shit." Train of thought: derailed. Only frowns left. "{Ash, man, where we /going/. I gotta get -- fuck. Right, inside, I gotta get inside, this is not ideal. Not ideal, this hurts like a motherfucking bitch, man.}" Arms fully engaged, Micah makes no attempt at /returning/ the hug. Mostly he's trying not to fall down or lose his bag of drinks wholesale. "Ohgosh!" His eyes widen at the shock in time to his gasp, heart racing palpably between that and the sheer surprise. He slip-slides a little, arms digging the crutches in. Not falling! "Yeah. Conductin'. I'm gettin' that." Shake-shivering off the shock he looks to Evolve, then back to Ion. "Y'need an abandoned indoors, or would takin' you up to the club level be safe enough?" His brows knit uncomprehendingly at the string of Spanish. Ash winces when Ion practically throws himself at Micah despite his warning. He shakes his head and then comes up along side the pair and lets one hand hover near Ion's back (likely attracting electricity) and the other behind Micah. The earthbender seems to be prepared in case either of them starts to fall over. "{Depends on how far you think you can get. Evolve is right here. But also, so is Micah's Van. We can also mad dash home...}" "We're talking where. Trying to see how immediate the need." He gives the summarized translation as he glances toward the club doors once more. "You wouldn't mind if we hide in your van? I mean, I can't guarantee that it won't get hit by lightning, but at least ... it's slightly less conductive than standing in water." A bright skitter-sparkle zaps its way up to Ash's hand in a stronger jolt, a stronger twitch-jerk of muscle. "Rain come harder, lightning come again, I. I go /pretty/-damn-far. Ohshit club?" His eyes light again. "The club it open?" This makes him /bounce/ on his toes. Yay? Club? "Come on, you dance with -- no, no, wait, no, we going. Going in the -- the house, the." His grin flashes -- though there's a /clench/ to it, teeth gritted up hard as if in pain. "I tell you, told you, I sneak in your window Micah. Creep in when it rain. Come in sneak up the Commons like a stray-cat." "Club's not open just now. Just thought it'd be a good sparsely-populated place t'be if y'needed one. Y'all think he's safe t'be in a vehicle, then we can sure pop in an' just head home. Can always take on another person t'eat t'morrow if y'wanna hang out t'night, Ion." With the electricity drawn away, Micah is able to take a deeper breath. He steadies himself and his tray of drinks before starting toward his van once more. Ash seems better able to /handle/ Ion, at least physically, so he leaves that task to the young man. "I done told you you're welcome t'use the door, silly-face," he jokes a bit as he walks. "Maybe Micah, he can drive us to the house?" Ash wrinkles his nose at the club before looking over to the other man as he makes his way to the aforementioned vehicle. "Lo siento, hombre," he mutters to Ion, following the other man, reaching out to open up a door for his less than stable friend. "Or, you know, if you only have room for him, I can totally walk. I mean, we're close and the weather does the same thing to me." He starts shifting between trying to get Ion in the van and moving to open a door for Micah. "{Is it safe, Ion}?" A siren sounds in the distance, a rumbling noise that gets louder as a truck races towards the little crowd. Blue lights, too, start scattering across the glass of the buildings near Evolve, a festival of lights that matches those inside the club. The truck that pulls up is not a cop-car, but something that looks vaguely like someone glued the back third of a firetruck on a pick-up truck. NYPD logos are emblazoned across it, with large block letters on the back: Mutant Incident Division. Bright white lights flick on, illuminating the side-street and the front of Evolve, as two police officers get out of the truck, blocking off the end of the street and eyeing the van suspiciously. "NYPD, get out of the van!" "Whaaat. You eating people now what kind of holiday you people --" Ion shies back away from Micah's van when the sirens and lights pull closer. He adds his own lights to the mix, a flickering dance of sparks that dance around his limbs; it clenches his teeth further, and he stumbles back another step farther from the TARDIS-blue van. His huge brown eyes stare wildly at the MID truck. Then at the van. "Micah, what you /done/." "Of course I'll drive, sugar. An' there's room. Just gotta fold down the middle seat for ya." Micah snickers at Ion's assumption. "Not eatin' people. People eatin'. We're makin' an' absolute feast. Y'should come." None of the doors have quite even been opened by the time the cops arrive on the scene. Micah struggles to get his bag loose and set it on the ground at his feet. He leans back on the van in order to be able to show his hands, crutches half-hanging from their forearm cuffs. "Ain't nobody in the van," he explains, tone suddenly tired. "Done got overdue on bein' arrested again, I guess. Could have some better /timin'/, though. We're tryin' t'get home for the holiday, here," he grumbles, though without offering resistance. "Whaat?" Ash is chuckling lightly to himself about the accusation of cannibalism, up to the point where the FUZZ shows up and he stiffens right out of any mirth he might have been experiencing. His hands start to hover upward, a wrinkle of concern digging into his forehead. "I... I think it's kind of like taunting them when you say you're overdue, Micah. You possibly shouldn't do that." Eyes shift back in Ion's direction, careful to shift his body out of his way when he stumbles backward, the young man more concerned with the two men he's with than the cops. The two police officers approach, cautiously, flashlights out and pointed at the little group. "Mutant Incident Division. What's going on here? You ought to know you're not allowed to use your abilities in public. Drag my ass across town to write out a fucking ticket, that doesn't make my night, huh?" One of the two officers lags a little bit behind the first, more cautious, as the one in front strides forward. A brass nameplate on his chest says "KEELEY". "If you were trying to get home for the holidays, the neighborhood could have done without the light show." "This public?" Ion's teeth are still clenched. Almost like a smile! Except for how pained he looks. The kind of spasm-jerk of his muscles. The constant bzzzzap! of the light dancing around his arms. "No no I live here. Is fine." A spark flits out to bip with a harmless zp! against the flashlight. "Anyway trust me my night it ain't. So much better, huh?" His eyes are dancing kind of wildly between Micah and Ash, his weight sliding slowly onto a back foot. "Weren't tellin' them. Was just answerin' Ion's question," Micah replies to Ash. "Apologies your night got interrupted, sir. That law's only s'posed t'apply for folks as're usin' abilities on purpose, right? Storm's actin' up on 'im." No point pretending they don't know what they're talking about when Ion is continuing to spark. "We're tryin' t'take 'im /out/ of public just now, t'tell the truth. Just headin' home." Micah's tone is soft and conversational throughout this, his body remaining near-motionless leaning against the van. "Ahh. Well. You know." Ash has no answer for that. He wets his lips and looks back to Ion, his arms relaxing back downwards. He does try to put a very polite smile on his face as he steps forward. "Yeah, it's not a voluntary display, so we'll just get him dry and out of the lightning and everything'll be just fine, right? So very... apologetic and all." "You live here. At Evolve." Keeley shakes his head back and forth, rolling his eyes. "Somehow I don't think Shane's got people living in his cafe. If you're going to lie to the cops, at least don't lie like shit, man." The police officer laughs and looks back to his partner. "Cris, get a towel from the truck, and, uh..." Keeley examines Ion's flickering light-zaps for a second, lowering his flashlight. "One of those jumper cables in the yellow box. Will getting out of the rain help you get it under control? Go ahead - in the van." "What no /here/," Ion gestures, just -- /here/, out on the sidewalk, vaguely. Around. Nowhere. Everywhere. Who knows. The wave of his hand comes with another bright-arc-jolt of energy, this time out in the direction of the police truck, sizzling along its side. Skitttterzzzzp. "/Huh/ apologetic who fucking apologetic I'm not -- {sorry why am I sorry I was just trying to get to fucking sleep, man.}" His teeth grind, his weight rocking abruptly forward now with a sudden jitter-bounce. His eyes have tipped up towards the sky, wide and worried at a distant flash of lightning as he pushes ice-wet hair off his forehead. "C'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon I go now? You go now? We all go now? Look I just tryin' get. In. Home. Well /his/ home I was. Gonna break in. But he say is okay," he adds hastily. "What help me under-control is you let me go." "No, Shane ain't picked up no tenants. Don't think he's lyin' so much as he's been hit by lightnin' a few times here. Fries the bacon a little, if y'catch m'meanin'?" Taptap go his fingers against a temple just in case additional clues were needed. Once the officer tells them to get in the van, Micah quickly moves to get the passenger door open for Ion. "He's better inside an' dry, yes. We'll get 'im home an' safe an' out of everyone's hair. S'best done quickly. Storm ain't doin' no favours here an' we don't need no more lightnin' strikes from standin' outside, right? Thank you for your understandin'." He tries to usher the other man into the van with a minimum of direct physical contact. "Oh, yeah. He does attract lightning strikes and it sucks to be him. And he," Ash now gestures to Micah, "lives in the van sometimes. So it's kind of like his residence and he would be in someone's home if he'd just get inside." He suggests strongly to his friend as he gestures to the same effect. "{Ay, brother, you know you're not making much sense right now? It's a thing. I mean, don't worry about it, it's just the zaps, but yeah. Go in the van. Get out of the rain. It'll help, no?}" He smiles as he glances back at the officers. The officer striding back to the truck turns quickly, gun in his hand, as lightning zaps across the truck in front of him. "Jesus fuck!" he swears, and Keeley glances back to him. "Easy there, Cris. Is he on meth or something?" Keeley says, his own hand dropping to rest on the butt of the pistol on his side. "Speed? You need to get him under /control/, got it?" Keeley's smile is fading rapidly, annoyance glancing into his voice. "I don't want this to turn sour for any of us, alright? Get your friend to calm down and keep that shit away from me and the other officer." "Jesucristo," Ion is swearing right back, when the officer draws his weapon. He's been jitter-bouncing towards the van, kiiind of, but he jerks back away, protectively hovering in front of Micah and Ash, now. There's a charged /tingle/ in the air, humming-buzzing against the other men's skin very faintly. "I so fucking calm," Ion is saying this through a rather /manic/ grin, hands sloooowly raising -- not that this is maybe as reassuring as it typically is meant to be, given the bright lightning-flashes now arcing between his fingers where sparks once were, "you got no idea, ese." No drugs. No drugs, just the electricity. S'a lot on 'im when it's a storm on." Micah gives a little shove more with his crutches than his arms to encourage Ion through the van's open door. "Ion, sugar, just get in the van. They're lettin' y'go if you'd just calm down an' /go/. /Please/. Let's just get home. All we want is t'go home, right?" Despite his best efforts, Micah's voice is starting to lose a little of /its/ calm. "This is dumb. Look, Here's the thing," Ash goes from trying to almost take a hold of Ion to bowing his head and shaking it slowly. "You don't want to arrest him. You probably don't want to hand him a ticket. The longer we stand here and talk, the worse his accidental zappings are going to get. You try to taze him and it won't help and if you try to pull a weapon on him, this shit'll just get worse. How about we all just walk away, many apologies to you. We'll take care of him, yeah? Just... don't worry about it. Consider him reprimanded, yeah?" The second officer comes back from out of the truck, a towel and jumper cable slung over one shoulder, and a MP5 carefully held in his hands, a blue taped magazine sticking out of it. He doesn't point it at Ion, but it's not pointed at the ground either - sticking down, about forty-five degrees. "That's not how it works. I can't let your friend out on the streets where he might hurt someone like this. /You/ need to get him nice and calm, before this becomes an unfortunate night for all of us." Keeley says, sharply. "Now, look here, man. We've got a towel for you, and a jumper cable that you can put those sparks through onto the ground. Why don't you get in the back of the car and relax?" "{Relax, he say. Relax, you try to relax with a fucking lightning bolt's worth of amphetamines in your skull?}" OK, maybe amphetamines don't come prescribed in lightning-bolt as a dosage, but. Ion is /eying/ that submachine gun with a harder clench of teeth, the air around them starting to crackle -- it can be felt even moreso, uncomfortable and prickly. If it weren't so slushy-rainy-wet, hair would probably be standing on end. "Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah relax okay relax you relax a lot when people they got big-ass guns they like to, uh, like to shoot on you with? That make you real relaxy huh? Cuz I just, mis hermanos --" He gestures to Ash and Micah, "and I, we jus', we want to go, go home, make the -- the turkey, eat the food, have the little, the little -- oh!" Suddenly he's perking again like he's just /remembered/ something about this holiday and it's /excited/ him all over again -- his hands drop, clap together /eagerly/ and he bounces! SO HAPPY! "/Micah/Micah Micah you got that jelly? The red one, can-shaped, it come in the, have the ridges on, can we eat that? Too?" The machine gun is totally forgotten in the sudden excitement of this potential. Cops what cops? "I never had that one before. Not on the /right/ day. This the /right/ day, right, huh? Huh huh? Kay says." "Please. Please put the guns down. He's gettin' in the van." /Shove/ comes a little more forcefully this time, crutches directing and Micah continuing to walk forward like a sheepdog ankle-nipping at a recalcitrant lamb. Push-push-push. "We're gonna have so much food, hon. But only if we get home an' cook it. Big meal's t'morrow. An' we're cookin' t'bring t'folks as don't have, neither. But y'gotta let us get home t'cook it." He /jumps/ on Ion's excitement and distraction, using it as impetus to get Ion going, as well. "We're gonna have so much cranberry. An' /home-made/ cranberry sauce. You want the can kind, we can have somebody run out an' buy one, too. S'all the food. Giantest turkey y'done seen. But y'gotta let us get home /now/ or it ain't gettin' cooked." Ash steps forward and holds out his arms for the towel and jumper cables, his expression dead pan as he waits on delivery of such items. He stares at the gun quietly, then the towels below them, then up at the cop's face, silent. The second cop, Cris, eyes Ash carefully as he steps forward - one hand, oddly, drifting away from the submachine gun and towards the pistol at his hand. When he holds out the hands, though, the police officer relaxes slightly, handing both towel and jumper cable over with one hand. "Here," he says, gruffly. Keeley, for his part, watches the interaction out of the corner of his eye, attention still mostly focused on Ion. He gives Micah a jerking nod of his head, silent, as if not wanting to remind the attention-wandering electrokenetic that he's there. Ion's hands mime the shape of a gelatinous can-shaped cranberry jelly. "How you do that at home?" He sounds a little in awe as he tumbles back into the van. Twitchy. Spasming, a little, with every spark he gives off. His teeth haven't unclenched much all this while. Somewhere in the distance there's another flash of lightning. In contrast to his previous exuberance, this just makes him whimper. Ball up. Cautious. Micah's eyes dart over to Ash and the goods the younger man has collected. "Sugar, can y'get 'im in the seat? I can't...really help get 'im in no further'n this." Frowning in concern, he looks at the bundle of electrokinetic on the floor of his van. "We're goin'. Thank you...just. Gonna get 'im inside an' safe," the redhead reiterates. He gets his crutches back under him, proceeding to the other side of the van to collect his bag and get himself in the driver's seat. The second everyone is secure, he's going to have Lucille ready to roll. "You gotta get the can if you want the ridges." Ash turns and grabs the jumper cables off the top of the stack and holds the grip-handles things to Ion. "Here." He then tosses the other end into the street, before unfolding the towel and following his friend into the back of the van. He starts blotting at him. "Sure, Micah. But really, at this point, I think we're all okay with him just rolling around in the back, yeah? Pretend it's a bus, si?" He draws in a deep breath and keeps blotting. Keeley relaxes as Ion gets put into the back of the van, and he gestures back to his partner. "Get the truck out of their way." He says, stepping up to the driver's side window. "You go straight home, understand? And tell him when he sobers up to keep his trouble away from Evolve. That place is under our protection, and the Sarge will have his ass on a platter if he causes problems." Keeley glances back to Cris, who is in the driver's seat, backing the truck up and flicking the flashers off. "Now you have a good night, and happy holidays." "Oh yeah. Yeah sure yeah. Me too I protect. Leetleshark." Ion nods along with this, curling his fingers around the ends of the cables to let the sparks jolt instead along their length. "Right-right-right. Merry Christmas. Sure. Right. Gracias. You too."