Logs:Freak Index

Freak Index
Dramatis Personae Anole, Naomi, Nick
In Absentia Erik, Nessie, Lael, Taylor, Marinov	2022-05-06 "Sometimes your family's scary."
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. It's a dreary day, though at least the rain seems to be behind them now. Nick has been occupying one of the outside tables, his brown coat drying slowly and, as well-groomed as he looks, smelling equal parts of wet dog, motor oil, and sewer. He wears a bright red "MAGNETO WAS RIGHT" tee shirt and under his black MMMC cut, heavy blue jeans much scuffed and oil-stained, no shoes on his clawed feet. He's shoved aside his empty plate and is working on a large mug of coffee now. "I think the Purifiers got a big recruitment bump, you know?" There's a quiet, grumbling growl under his words. "It's like they just dredge up the most useless suburban weekend warriors and plop them on Harleys and says 'go forth and get thine ass kicked by freaks!'" Across from Nick, Anole is dry and relatively cleaner -- at least his sheeny green scales suggest he's had a bath some time in the recent past. His jeans and Lightning Thief: the Musical tee are both considerably grimier, and he also hasn't bothered with shoes, perching in a squat on the chair as he picks at a large bowl of pho. "Bet they all think they're gonna personally catch Magneto. Like he's in hiding among the most well-known mutant bike gang on the coast." There's amusement in his words and it carries through even in his mock-solemn offer: "If you all need backup. I bet I could learn to ride a bike." Naomi emerges from inside Evolve, holding tightly to her mug of hot chocolate. She’s a little more put together than she was when she arrived — silver eyeshadow is back on her eyelids instead of pasted to the side of her scales, most of her braids pulled back up into a bun at the top of her head, the soles of her hi-tops no longer squelching with every step, and her canvas backpack just damp instead of soaked all the way through. Naomi has pulled her Xavier’s hoodie over the top of her dress, the lacy dark green material of the skirt still visible over dark tights and only fraying a little bit at the hems. She seems mostly out here to find an empty seat to let her jacket drip dry, but her attention has slid over to Anole and Nick’s conversation. “Seems stupid to bring a big metal bike to fight a metal bender,” she adds before her brain catches up with her mouth, and the tops of her cheeks darken. “Sorry, y'all didn't ask, I’ma just —“ she points at a table, mimes zipping her lips. Nick's laugh sounds like a breathier growl, his tail flagging behind him. "Right? Not even just the Mongrels--they seem to think every single mutant knows him personally." He laps delicately at his coffee. "We could always use some backup, and I know you can learn how to ride a bike." His amber eyes flick up to Naomi, his smile curving even wider. "S'cool. You got a point, though. Magneto would totally wrap their bikes around them, or just chuck them to the--moon or something." One of his ears flick back, the other up. "Can sit here if you don't mind my wild aroma." "You all want to spot me a bike, I'll be there." Anole's bright green eyes sweep up and down Naomi when she jumps in, his smile still easy. "Oh you're so right but these bigots are not known for their intelligence. I mean if they were they'd probably stop picking fights with people with superpowers, y'know?" He kicks at an empty chair, pushing it away from the table and gesturing to it with his chopsticks. His wince is slightly exaggerated. "You stuck at Xavier's? How much longer is your sentence?" “Nah, I’ve smelt way worse.” Naomi’s returning smile is cautious, but she isn’t hesitating to throw her jacket over the back of the chair and plop herself into the seat. “Do they win? These folks sound like they don’t win much.” Naomi glances down at her hoodie, like perhaps the answer is on the school name. “Uh. Ionno like. Two more years if I don’t fail any classes? S'not that bad though beats flatscan school by miles.” She turns her attention back up to the other mutants, eyes wide. “Y’all alums or something?” "Spot you? I'll help you build one." Nick's ears prick up with interest. His tail wags a little slower. "I can't say they never win, but they sure do lose a lot. Me n' my dogs make sure of that." His grin sharpens, then goes rueful. "Oof! Two more years? You musta had a real bad flatscan school." He frowns. "Though I can't really say my flatscan school was better." Anole's nose wrinkles up. A brief shadow crosses his expression. "They win when they pick on the freaks who can't fight back." But his smile returns soon enough and he reaches out to jostle Nick's shoulder: "That's what these guys are for, they give the Purifiers some -- hard targets." He picks up his own coffee, slurping down a gulp. "My flatscan school was fine," this is a little too chipper-bright, "-- when they thought I was a flatscan. Xavier's was real cushy, anyway. That was nice. -- You know Nessie? She's our --" For a second he hesitates. "-- sister, she's up that way." “My old school,” says Naomi, in a resigned sort of way, “was all white flatscans in middle-o’-nowhere Georgia. Wasn’t great even before —“ she flicks at her scaled forehead, “these started growing in. Xavier’s way nicer even if it’s mostly bog ass freaks.” She lights up at the mention of Nessie, not seeming to notice Anole’s hesitation. “Yeah she’s great we’re friends I think? Friendly? Ionno I like her at least.” She blinks, glances from Nick to Anole and back curiously. “… is scorpion a recessive trait or is this like, y’all claim each other kinda thing?” There’s a touch of admiration in the last half of the question, a hint of wistful longing. Nick puffs up, both ears swiveling upright. "Yep, and we got way better rides and are better looking to boot." He winces at Naomi's explanation. "That's rough--I mean, it's rough different ways whether we come out like this or turn up like this, right?" He gives an encouraging smile--if a perhaps somewhat intimidating one for those unused to his toothy expressions. "Oh, we're not like, birth siblings." His tail whips a few times quickly before slowing. "But--claim is kinda right, I guess? You know, we look out for each other, you know? There's stuff only other freaky freaks really get and...we get it." Anole's wince is sympathetic. "Ooh, I feel you on that. Not Georgia but the middle of Illinois is pretty blinding. Xavier's was definitely trading up, that way." He fishes out a mouthful of noodles, some of the broth dripping down his chin as he sucks them up. "Wha 'ee fay," he starts to respond, mouth full and nodding toward Nick. He swallows down the soup, licks his lips. "Yeah it's more like. Monster fam. My folks are alright but they don't know what it's like. Was glad to have a place to stay after I graduated where -- people do know." “Ionno.” Naomi sounds doubtful. “My brother born with his mutation, I been watching his kind o’ rough my whole life. That shit looks way harder than puberty freak-growth. I’m glad Nessie got people who get it, seems rough when you stop having Human Looking Legs.” Naomi frowns. “Wait, y’all don’t think I’m a freaky freak, do y’all?” She looks down at her (human-looking) hands, then to Anole’s (scaley) and Nick’s (furry) hands in turn. “I’m pretty bog-ish, I think.” Another frown. “You gotta ride bikes to join monster fam? ‘cuz I cannot see Nessie on a bike.” "I was born furry, so none of my schools were ever too great about me." Nick shrugs, shoulders muscular beneath his clothes and thick pelt. "And my parents are awesome, but--" He nods at Anole. "--don't know what it's like." He cocks his head slightly, one ear pressed back. "I didn't mean it in a--I mean. Maybe they can't tell from way down the block like they can me or Nessie, but I bet flatscans take one look at you and know you're a freak." He lapses back into a wolfish grin. "Oh, you only got to ride a bike to be in the Mutant Mongrels Motorcycle Club. Being a monster's good enough for monster fam. Like--it's good you and your brother got each other, but it's always good to have more." "Whaaaat?" Anole looks over Naomi's forehead scales, sucking at his teeth dismissively. "Bog where, is this like when people be out here like Megan Thee Stallion tone calling themselves lightskin like medium brown doesn't exist? You're one of us," he says this with a confidence that suggests it's something to be proud of. Naomi’s shoulders pull forward, like she’s trying to make herself smaller. “I ain’t that light neither,” she tries joking, but she mostly sounds on edge. “…You gotta be able to see all the freak shit to be in monster fam? Like whatabout Taylor? He still qualify with all his extra stuff? Maybe —“ Naomi’s gaze drops to her drink, fingertips pressing hard against the mug, “— Nessie already vetoed my application to monster fam. If I was like. Interested. Which maybe I’m not!” This last bit is defensive and not at all convincing. “Maybe I jus’ wanna be a monster biker no new fam required. How old you gotta be to get a motorcycle license?” Nick cocks his head hard in the other direction. "Taylor? We talking badass-tentacled-barista Taylor or fashion-cat-extraordinaire Taylor cuz they're both pretty visibly freaky!" He laps at his coffee, more careful than he was before not to spill any. "Veto like how? We don't all get along all the time, but that doesn't change how the rest of the world's gonna treat us." His ears press back. "But yeah, fam or no, you do you. You just gotta be 16 for the license. Everything else is a bit more complicated." "Taylor?" Anole is glancing back toward the door of Evolve, confusion spreading across his face. "Uhhh yeah? The bajillion tentacles kinda stand out he's one of us." He's rubbing one hand against the spiky carapace atop his head, scrutinizing Naomi a little awkwardly when her tone and posture tense. "You okay? I didn't mean anything, about being lightskin, we don't like, paper bag test people to get a home with us." He's studying his own extremely green hand now in some uncertain contemplation. “Taylor Taylor not Marinov though they’re great too but its jus’ like —“ Naomi cuts herself off, presses her palm to her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut, though not before there’s a flash of bright emerald glow, a flicker of her pupils elongating into snakelike slits. Continues after a long breath, eyes still closed; “— what about when you a kinda genefreak that scares other monsters. Not just cuz what you look like, but everything else you can do? What do y’all do then?” Her eyes flutter back open, a little damp in the inner corners, as her scaled forehead attempts to furrow. “…whatdyall mean, home?” "Ohhh..." The sound looks very odd coming from Nick's whiskered lips and elongated muzzle. "You mean like Taylor's..." He waggles his fingers at his own forehead. "You don't see us kicking him out, do you? Like, yeah, maybe that's scary, and that can be hard for everyone. But we're less about what people can do and more what they actually do." His hand waves back at the cafe's colorful storefront. "We trust Taylor because he doesn't abuse his power. If we couldn't learn to be okay with scary people, we'd make a pretty crap family." He gives an encouraging smile that looks a bit dubious for his attempts to minimize teeth. "Well, it's not swank like Xavier's, but we do have a place we live together. We look after each other, share what we find, all that." Anole's "Ohhh!" comes in time with Nick's. His eyes dart to Naomi's and his shoulders hunch a little inward as he shrinks into his seat. "What kinda scary?" he's hedging while Nick answers, but he doesn't seem to disagree with the answer the other man gives. "Yeah, sometimes your family's scary." Naomi nods as Nick rephrases, her posture straightening out just a touch. “Ionno yall at all let ‘lone how yall feel ‘bout Taylor. Don’t even know y’all’s names.” She considers this for a moment, then offers -- “I’m Naomi. I turn sixteen this summer, an’ I can’t — read your,” she mimics Nick’s finger-waggle, “— but I can like. Override it. Mind control. S’not super popular.” Her (normal, not glowing, human shaped) eyes flick from Anole to Nick and back, expression falling when Anole shrinks back. “Seems like the kinda thing you don’t wanna let near your fam, usually. Is all.” "I'm Nick, and Taylor's my brother, plain and simple." Nick seems pleased to have that part, at least, easily handled. His forehead wrinkles, amber eyes blinking huge. "Wait you can--" He quickly lowers his voice. "You probably know you gotta be kinda careful who knows about something like that, right?" His canine ears flick to and fro. "And yeah, that's scary! And maybe some people aren't ever gonna trust you cuz of it. But I think for the most part it's not what your power does, it's what you do with the power, see?" Anole's eyes open wider at the mention of mind control. He takes a sudden long gulp from his coffee. "I mean," he replies when he sets it back down, "if someone was like, a jerk who was mind controlling us all we wouldn't? Let 'em near? Or I guess we might have to until we figured out how --" His brow is knotting over this thought, which he dismisses with a quick shake of his head. "-- anyway but if they weren't doing terrible things with it then it's -- fine? Lots of us are scary." “Nessie knows already,” Naomi says, watching Nick’s ears track side to side, “an’ like half of Xavier’s, and probably the government if I wanna go to college or whatever. I’d rather people know, it means I ain’t like — made people feel any kinda way ‘bout me. I think.” There’s a short scraping noise as her brows furrow deeper while she sips at her hot chocolate. “Ionno. I ain’t meaning to ruin your monster-fam-pitch. Sounds nice, really. All freaks, no weirdos tryna pull your scales off?” Her shoulders hitch up. “What else could a girl want?”