Logs:A new cycle of rest and replenishment is upon you, and it's a period of letting go, reviewing, and recharging your batteries, both spiritual and physical.
| A new cycle of rest and replenishment is upon you, and it's a period of letting go, reviewing, and recharging your batteries, both spiritual and physical. | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
2020-06-21 "Widowermaker. It is twenty twenty. Women can be marks too." |
| Location
<BOM> Beachfront - Ascension Island | |
Largely rocky and desolate, the majority of the waterfront on this small island is an unwelcoming place. Craggy and forbidding, lined with jagged black rocks, the coast here can take a fair bit of scrambling to navigate. Here and there, though, the coastline levels out to narrow sweeps of pebbly beaches littered with shells and seaweed carried in on the frigid tide. Occasional old trunks of fallen trees dot the narrow beach, victims of the storms that frequently plague the island. One small stretch of the western shore holds a small dock, a few boats usually moored there. Tucked off the mainland coast in Jamaica Bay, the buildings and lights of the city can be seen far across the water. Though it's no smooth, sandy beach, the newly arrived summer has made even this rocky shoreline inviting. The water's still too cold for comfortable swimming, but the breeze coming off of it perfectly offsets the fierce warmth of the sun. The trash has been tidied up, save for a sun-bleached wooden cable spool that serves now as a table for bowls of chips, salsa, and cut fruit. There's a cooler nearby full of beer, cider, sodas, and -- for some reason -- alcoholic seltzer water. Scattered around and in between are a number of colorful mesh beach chairs. Scramble is reclining in one of these in a two piece red swim suit with a halter top that does not look at all like it would stay on if she actually went swimming in it. Not that she looks eager to test this out, just lounging in the warm sunshine. She might just as well be asleep, her eyes hidden behind big sunglasses, but that she lifts the can from her drink holder every once in a while for a sip ('Hell or High Watermelon', reads the colorful beer can beside a drawing of the Statue of Liberty sitting on the Golden Gate bridge while a boat laden with watermelons floats near her giant copper feet). "Ain't right," she says slowly, "2020 got me getting all jumpy now every time I slow down to try and enjoy any damned thing." Heather is kneeling in front of the bowl with chips and salsa. Careful, careful- and the twitch of her wrist sends some of the salsa up into her own face. Still, it's good enough, and she eats the chip and quickly wipes her face. "I always had some trouble slowing down. But I admit. 2020 makes it harder," her recorder plays. She has a pair of sunglasses on, possibly as a salsa shield, a one piece purple, white and blue swim-suit and a pair of bright orange board shorts with the small blue outlines of pineapples on them. She opts to give up on salsa scooping now, and instead picks up the beer that she had resting momentarily on the cable spool. Natalie might be the reason for the alcoholic seltzer -- she's got a can of dragonfruit Vive in her hand and is perched just on the end of Scramble's chair in black cutoff short-shorts and a deep blue tank-style swim top. The hand *not* occupied with spiked seltzer is holding her phone -- which she looks up from with a slightly sheepish bow of her head as Scramble speaks. Shuts off the screen, puts it down flat. "I guess it *is* okay to just. Chill and enjoy things once in a while. It can be hard to remember, though. But as far as I can tell, nothing *new* has exploded in the past, uh -- forty minutes." "Yet." Akihiro clarifies, turning a half gallon of Lord Calvert up for several seconds. "At least it’s relatively peaceful here, so we should enjoy it while it lasts." He’s dressed in a vintage pair of vibrant green swim trunks that lace up the side and a pair of aviators. He screws the cap back onto the plastic jug of liquor and replaces it with a wooden pipe. Scramble turns to glance at Heather. "You sure don't fuck around with that, sis," she says, her tone sympathetic. "Me, it's all circumstance. My own damn fault I even tried going out yesterday, but I figure I earned myself a break from all that. And I mean, sure, something's gonna explode, but I know my bae got the news covered." She curls a lopsided but fond smile at Natalie. Lifts her drink for another sip. Frowns. Rattles the empty can critically. "See, it's just one disaster after another." The beer can is tipped upside down and Heather catches the stream in her mouth, and she gestures about. "I like it when we are making the explosions. It is more predictable. You can schedule it. Three thirty. Boom. Four. Snack time." After her message plays, she turns her wrist upwards and makes a popping motion as she spreads her fingers out. She zips over towards the cooler and asks Scramble, "I will save you. What is your toxin." "The whole damn city's been full of explosions *nightly* lately." Natalie's eyes flick out toward the water, and what little it is possible to see of the distant city from here. "... kind of a good time for making your own explosions, now I think of it. If you push the schedule back a bit. 7:30, dinner. 8pm, nightly fireworks bonanza. 8:30, our *own* explosions. Boom." The splay of her hand mimics Heather's. She waggles her can in Heather's direction, leaning one hand back to crook her elbow down over top of Scramble's stretched-out legs. "Luckily we have our own disaster relief right here." "I was having a hard time sleeping without the explosions." Akihiro admits, swirling his lighter around the bowl until the tobacco inside is going again. "I don’t trust the quiet. Makes me feel like The Soldier is about to kick my door in." He leans back on the beach towel and takes a few puffs from his pipe. "Although that might be pretty fun, I haven’t had a good fight in a minute." "I'm here for these scheduled explosions." Scramble brightens. "Good for the uprising, good for my sanity, good for Akihiro's sleep schedule. Everyone wins! Even the cop we blowin' up, you know they love being persecuted." She lifts her empty can for Heather to see, "It's that watermelon beer. I was real skeptical, but it's actually pretty good." She glances aside at Akihiro thoughtful. "You been slacking off a lot while overseas if some rando soldier counts as a 'good fight' now." "Nine. Second dinner," adds Heather helpfully. She picks up a couple of can and distributes it to Scramble, replacing the one in the cupholder rather than actually handing it to her. She zips back to the salsa and chips, regarding them like one would a puzzle. "If you wish to get your door kicked in in the middle of the night. I can do that. I could even punch you in the face once or twice. I am up at all hours. It would be no trouble," she offers to Akihiro. Natalie waggles a forefinger back and forth between her temple and Heather's. "Bam. Now we're on the same wavelength." She is just taking another swallow of her seltzer but snorts it up her nose, leaning forward to wipe at her face with the back of her hand and bury the rest of her laugh against one tanned shoulder. "Punching delivery service. A niche market but I think some people would really go for it." She glances to Scramble, then to Akihiro, her brows crooked up, questioning. "It would definitely keep me on my toes." Akihiro says to Heather with a grin before looking back over at Scramble. "They just call him that. The Winter Soldier." He waves his hands for dramatic flair. "Big guy with a metal arm, Russia’s top assassin. I haven’t heard about him in a year or two, but there’s no way he’s dead." He takes another long drag from his pipe before blowing the smoke straight upwards. "The first time we fought he almost ripped my jaw off. I can’t say it’s mutual, but he’s one of the few fighters I respect." "Like a singing telegram, but with violence." Scramble's smile is gleeful now, practically a grin. "I think there's plenty more who wouldn't go for it but need it anyway. Thanks, sis." She picks up the fresh, chilly can, popping the top even as her eyebrows lift up up up at Akihiro. "Seriously? Why am I even asking, of course you're serious. But that's some wild shit." Shakes her head, takes a gulp of her drink. "Top American assassin's probably some Jason Bourne-looking motherfucker call himself Maverick or Widowmaker." "Widowermaker. It is twenty twenty. Women can be marks too," says Heather, her finger waggles while the recording plays. Though she reconsiders and with a click a second message. "Or: Widowmaker But It Was a Gay Marriage, Bet You Were Not Expecting That." She carefully scoops up some salsa with another chip, and successfully navigates it to her mouth without any splashback. This last question, at least, seems more sincere: "Is he called the Winter Soldier because it is cold in Russia? It is pretty far north." Natalie had *just* collected herself when she is snorting her seltzer yet again. Her elbow rests on her knee, her eyes watering as a grin splits her face. "The real twist is that this Soldier and Widowmaker were in a forbidden gay romance until Widowmaker was assigned to kill him." She exhales slowly, catching herself after the laughter, and this time *successfully* takes a gulp of seltzer. "Maybe it's because in his heart the Cold War never ended." "{That’s basically the story I heard.}" Akihiro says in, unsurprisingly, fluent Russian with a flourish of his hands to make it seem like he said something more impactful. "The winter has always been Russia’s greatest ally, so I think it was symbolic." He lifts his shoulders in a small shrug before changing the subject, "I know more about Canada’s assassin. Scrawny Japanese guy they called Daken. Poor guy only lived as long as he has because of his healing factor." Scramble guffaws and chokes on her beer, too. Coughs through her laughter, waving her other hand up high. "I would read that fic." She slides her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to peek over them at Akihiro when he lapses into Russian. "Aight. Ionna what all that's about, but there's nothing wrong with scrawny though. I know a lotta scrawny badasses." "I did not know assassins had such dramatic romantic lives. I wish to know more," Heather says, with a quick, firm nod. "Canada's assassin? I have heard that he needs help with getting apps to work on his phone." This message is followed by a swipe left movement with her finger and then finishes the rest of her beer while it continues to play. "Scrawny badasses." She flexes her (admittedly very scrawny) arm. "Maybe when we're done with revolution we can start our own series of assassin romance novels. Or I guess there could be overlap. Write by daytime, blow shit up by night." Natalie downs the last of her seltzer. Sets the bottle down beside the chair and leans back, resting her head against Scramble's stomach. "You know," this is mild, and mildly amused, "in *some* types of company, people name drop like. Actors. Not assassins." "Hey, I figured it out. For the most part anyway." Akihiro can’t help but grin around his pipe at Heather. "It wouldn’t be very glamorous. Most of us are either sterile or have killed anyone we’ve ever had a fling with." Taking one last drag he sets his pipe down before picking the cheap liquor back up. "The movies make it look so glamorous with all the martinis and baccarat, but a real assassin romance novel would be kind of... sad? More Shakespearean than Garwood." "I mean, right?" Scramble sweeps her hand dramatically in Heather's direction. "Shit, we name-dropping now? Ryan Black! Lucien Tessier!" She arches an eyebrow at Akirhiro. "I bet y'all's pick-up lines are just amazing, though. Anyhow, the great thing about novels is they don't have to be like real life." She settles back more comfortably into her chair. "My life is incomplete without some assassin romance novels. Let's make this revolution happen." | |
