ArchivedLogs:New Morlockia

New Morlockia
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Marrow
In Absentia	Sunday, 29 December, 2019 Part of Future past.
Location Somewhere in Mexico
It's sunny by the pool in New Morlockia, the name given by it's residents to the once magnificent mansion of a rather wealthy drug lord who is currently 'missing', and the drinks are always free. Providing you don't mind slightly warm bottles of the local beer or shots of the worst tequila in the known world. Most of the residents of the mansion proper are Morlocks going about their usual business, standing watch or doing the chores a small community needs in order to survive. Outside the walls the once opulent gardens have been replaced with a sea of tents and a large vegetable garden which many of the full time residents are hard at work extending. And it's by that very same pool that Marrow, Sheriff of New Morlockia and occassional consultant for the local police force, is lazing. A Black Sabbith t-shirt and torn denim shorts clash slightly with the pile of police issue body armour and automatic shotgun propped up by her sunbed. Despite the noise of people hard at work she yawns and reaches for a tall drink filled with chopped fruit, ice and even a couple of tiny little umbrellas and takes a sip from a pink curly straw. The actual residents working in the garden have plenty of helping hands just at the moment. Many of the sudden influx of mutants shipped in from camp aren't in much state to work, injured or malnourished or simply rather traumatized and hunkering down out of the way. But many /more/ are just eager to be /out/, active, /productive/, and the denizens of New Morlockia have a /slew/ of new workers assisting with the enlargement of the gardens, at the moment. Dusk is probably coming from over there -- at least the direction his winged shadow swoops in from is from the gardens over the walls. He has shucked his prison gear in favour of a faded old pair of corduroys, a few sizes too big and held onto skinny hips by a length of rope. No shirt, though his wings fold in around him as he whumps down to a landing by the pool. He's still too-pale, too-skinny, lean body painted over with a ropy knotted assortment of scarring, but his crooked fangy smile is quick as he watches Marrow. "Doesn't look like rain." "And the roof doesn't drip shit," Marrow notes cheerfully, motioning at an empty sunbed. "The only rats live out in the fields... Hell if I'd known how nice things would be down here I'd have left New York years ago. We really were fuckin' stupid, living in the sewers was never noble. It was a pointless mix of pride and fear. You know what it got us? Mostly cases of dysentery and malnutrition." She takes another dainty sip of her fruity cocktail. "Still things aren't entirely perfect. Had to burn a couple of cartel drug shipmets when we moved in and rumour has it they are more than a little pissed. You wouldn't believe what the war has done to the street price of drugs these days. Glad I gave that shit up, no way I could afford to get high these days." She chuckles. "Unless I turned myself in for the bounty. Rumour has it I'm worth retiring money." "What I wouldn't give to get high right now." Dusk's dark eyes are briefly flicking over Marrow at the mention of the bounty, a small snort exhaled as he drops down to sit on the edge of the long chair, wings draping off its other side. He leans forward, elbows propped on his knees and scruffy-bearded chin dropped into a hand. "Wouldn't be a bad racket. Turn yourself in, claim the money, bust back out. Might even take down some of the people who've got a price on your head in the process." Marrow smiles. "You're welcome to try and collect. Although I really wouldn't recommend it," she offers with a tip of her drink. "It's far too much hassle getting blood out of the pool and you look like you might be a bleader. I think we do have a little green for smoking providing people don't overdo it. Anything stronger you'll need to steal it from the hospital. Help yourself to a beer from the cooler, it's what they're there for." She makes a lazy motion towards the cooler and then waves at a Morlock up on the roof with a rifle. "It might surprise you but I've been trying not to kill anyone unless it's strictly necessary. Once you kill someone you get friends or family turning up with a vendetta and you have to kill /them/ too. And it just keeps going until you run out of places to bury the fuckers." "I have a lot of blood," Dusk agrees, amusement in his tone at this. He gets back up, stooping to swipe a beer from the cooler. His brows hitch up, and the look he gives Marrow now is curious. "Huh. Strange new world we're in." His wings tuck in behind him as he flops back down on the chair, cracking his beer open. "Though I guess most of /my/ enemies these days aren't, strictly speaking, people. Robots don't hold grudges so much." "Why'd you think we're expanding the vegetable patch?" Marrow asks innocently. "I hope you all know that you won't be able to stay here forever, right? The locals are friendly enough to keep quiet for a while. But once word starts getting around the local Government will roll over in a second. They'll probably allow a Sentinel raid or send in the army rather than risk a war with the States. Either way we'd all be fucked." She pauses to let that sink in before adding. "But maybe some of the wounded and the kids could stay, we can claim they're refugees from across the border. So long as it doesn't look like we're running a military operation." "Wasn't planning on staying forever." Though Dusk's lips do thin, slightly, as he considers this. He's quiet through a long pull of beer, eyes closing against the warm afternoon sun. "Got a war to get back to." His tone is kind of wry. "And everyone else -- ssshit. Guess we'll find them places to disappear to. Used to do this all the /time/ -- that feels like goddamn forever ago." His teeth click against the lip of his bottle, one leg sliding up to crook a knee up towards the sky. "I'll talk to the others. Get people out of your hair soon. Just been -- nice to have a minute. Actually get to stop and lick our fucking. Wounds." Marrow lets a few moments pass in silence, sipping at her drink. "You don't have to rush just yet. We have a few friends in town who'll give us a discreet warning when people start asking dangerous questions," she admits. "But if the weather holds you probably have enough time to work on your tan. We can also direct you to several places the cartel used as stop off points on their smuggling routes which you can use as hide-outs in the future. None of them are in especially good condition but they're isolated and have enough space to discreetly store crates of food, guns or medical supplies." She lets out a sigh. "I know it doesn't sound like a lot but... most of our residents are kids or have powers which are pretty useless." "Think some of these people have -- folks still in New York, anyway. They'll want to -- get back to, maybe." At the top of his wings, Dusk's claws twitch. "Maybe." He pushes himself to his feet abruptly, restless, pacing by the poolside rather than sitting. "Don't think we're looking for luxury. Not," he amends, "/much/ luxury. I'm finding me some /good/ fucking tequila before I go back, though. Gotta remember what it is we're fighting for." His wings stretch out, wide-wide-wide as his shoulders roll. Streeetch. Pull back in. "And thanks. Trust me, where we're coming in from it -- /does/. Sound like a lot." Marrow glances from left to right, then quietly informs "I did manage to save the previous owners drinks cabinet," she confides. "Give me a shout before you're ready to go and you can take your pick. The local tequila isn't exactly anything to write home about. If you go down to the beach there is a bar which sells some passable stuff but they'll probably charge you tourist rates." Her head turns to the pile of body armour and her gun. "If I didn't have people here depending on me I'd almost be tempted to come with you. But no, this is my home now. Think maybe you can send some letters back to the folks living in the sewers? Most of us have friends and family still in New York too." "Yeah. I'll courier whatever you like. Any luck, I'll even get it there in one piece." Dusk's grin flashes brighter at the mention of the drinks cabinet. "My frakking /hero/."