ArchivedLogs:A Plan

A Plan
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Micah	20 May 2015 Part of Future Past TP.
Location <NYC> The Roost - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The second level of this house takes up less floor space than the ground floor, owing largely to the open sweep of balcony that overlooks half the home below. Up here the floors are in natural hardwood, polished and smooth. At one side of the balcony, again, a door leads over to the adjacent unit in the house. One door off the balcony leads to a quiet office space, with a wide metal-and-glass desk, long sofa and armchair opposite a large pair of bookshelves. A tall glass door in the large windows on the back wall leads out to a wide outdoor balcony overlooking the river. The second door leads to Dusk's bedroom, dominated by greens and greys. He has finally actually gotten himself a /proper/ bed to pair with his dresser and bookshelf, king-sized and settled low to the ground onto a solid wood base with a number of drawers built into it. His desk holds the desktop -- somewhat literally. The desk /itself/, with see-through glass body and softly glowing lights inside, has been configured to /be/ the computer case. Closer inspection of a pair of small decorative aquariums sitting to either side of its three monitors finds them to /also/ be computer cases, their inner workings submerged in a pale blue liquid on a bed of aquarium pebbles alongside plastic plants and little plastic castles or fake coral. In this bedroom, too, a door leads out to the same balcony outside. Capping off the balcony at its other end is a guest bedroom, large wood-frame bed with a small end table, dresser, a hammock-chair hanging from the ceiling in a corner, a desk by the window. Geekhaus is quiet. It's been quiet a lot, these past months. Dark, at the moment, its lower levels deserted. Most of its upper levels, too; at least until a heavy whoosh-flap of wings sounds outside, a quiet thump of boots down onto the balcony. Not that this adds much /less/ Deserted to the house. The lights stay off, the doors stay closed. Outside, Dusk settles himself on the balcony railing, in cargo shorts and boots and sunglasses and a blue and silver wrap shirt, dark bruising still mottled on his arms, the circuitry designs on his wings marred by raw red lines and a few stitches where the membrane has been shred and sewn back together to knit. He tugs a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, fingers flicking lightly against the box as he turns his gaze towards the setting sun. It takes a bit of walking through the eerie dark silence for Micah to reach Dusk's location. The knock at his door is followed almost immediately by it opening, the redhead fully convinced that the room is empty and just giving the final check to the thought. He is revealed in typical after-work clothing: a black tee on which Serenity flies through a Starry Night sky, faded jeans, Blue Sun logo socks covering his feet, red hair mussed but now dry from a shower without attention given to it after. Dusk's person out on the balcony almost catches him by surprise as he was just about to close the door again. He enters the room instead, knocking again at the balcony door. "Hey, hon. Mind company for a bit?" Dusk's wings tense against his back, though behind the sunglasses his expression doesn't seem to shift much. He flips open his pack of cigarettes, easing one out to tuck it into his mouth. "Only a little." He trades cigarettes for a lighter, though he just flicks it open and closed without actually lighting the stick. "Sup." Micah pulls the door closed behind him. He doesn't go for the usual hug he would greet with, given the reply. "I don't mind if y'wanna smoke," he starts simply, not sure if Dusk was holding off on his behalf. "I just...I've been in kinda a weird place. Ev'ryone disappeared without warnin'. An' it was good I was still here with Spence an' not bein' of much use for what went down on that side, but... It was eerie. Worse'n waitin' on the raids that happened b'fore. I been half wantin' t'keep checkin' on folks t'make sure they're really /here/ again. Just. Glad ev'ryone came back as left." His head shakes slightly as he moves to lean at the railing, as well. "Not sure how I even fell asleep t'see what I did of what happened. I only got from enterin' the buildin' t'gettin' ready t'leave it. Harsh awakenin' not knowin' then if people got out or if either group accomplished what they needed to. I'm guessin' that...other me was there longer'n I was aware of what he was doin'." He fidgets a bit with the denim covering his knee. "Did we get what we went there for?" "Mmm," Dusk answers to this first. The lighter continues to flick open and closed, cigarette still unlit. "Yeah. I guess it'd be..." He trails off, face still turned out towards the sunset. "I don't even know. I don't do good with waiting." His knee hooks upward, boot balanced on the rim of the rail. "Yeah. We did." Micah just nods for a moment. Then again, at that answer, a little more firmly. "Good," he says at first, then more questioning, "Good? I'm not sure what happened. Or what we got. What the plan is... If Flicker an' Hive an' ev'ryone in the future got one. Told folks. I just have this creepin' antsiness not. Knowin'." "Who gives a fuck what their plan is." There's not any heat in Dusk's voice. Just a bland kind of tired. "We /were/ their plan. And we're done." “Done? But what did we even get out of there? What're we doin'? What're /they/ doin'? Is Hive...?” Micah's voice wavers, his hands moving up to scrub over his face. “He's still...like he's been.” "Who /gives a fuck/," this time there /is/ a slightly heated edge to Dusk's tone, a low growl rumbling beneath his words, "what /they're/ doing." He stops flicking at his lighter, hand coming up to rub fingers up beneath his sunglasses, digging in against his eyes. "What B got was a few years' worth of Sentinel memory and a lot of Oscorp -- fff. Intel. While ze was at it. They can do whatever the fuck they /want/ with it on their side." Micah flinches at the growl. His hand fists to rub a shaky circle over his heart. "I'm just still worried about 'im. What'll happen to 'im /here/. An' about /us/. About ev'rythin'. I know other people're worried, too. But bein' outside of all this is just... This has been goin' on for /so long/. I just need t'know if it's endin'. How. If there's any chance I can do anythin'..." "How," Dusk's words are interrupted as he dips his head to light the cigarette, "should I know. I haven't known anything this whole --" He takes a long drag of his cigarette, his wings twitching at his back. "Why are you asking me this. You think if I had even the first clue how to help him we wouldn't be /doing/ something already?" The sharp breath he exhales comes with a heavy cloud of smoke. "Ending. I don't even know what the hell ending would /mean/." "I don't know... Y'all were /there/. Figured if any plan was comin' t'gether someone 'tween them an' us would've...known. Said. Somethin'." Micah's shoulders slump, his hands reaching up to scrub over his eyes again. "Wishful thinkin', I guess," he admits heavily. "This whole thing. I just been hopin' that /someone/ had an actual. Plan." He shakes his head, jaw tight. "The people that instigated all this from the future. Somebody." When his hands free up, he circles a fist over his heart again. "Okay. If there's any way I can help, just. Let me know. Even if it's just fillin' in shifts of goin' over the video t'see if there's anythin' we can use. After bein' /in/ that future, I know it'll be...nothin' easy t'watch. Gonna need t'give people breaks from it. But there's gotta be /somethin'/ we can use." "Like I said." The twitching of Dusk's wings hasn't ceased. "We /were/ their plan. Supposed to take what we learn and change the whole fucking world." His teeth are gritting, thumb twitching restlessly against the butt of the cigarette in his fingers. "/You're/ someone. If you want an actual plan you can make one as well as any of us." Though the grim unhappiness in his tone suggests 'as badly as', really. "Only idea I've got is t'slog through that data an' see what's there," Micah admits. "I'm willin' t'do as much of that as I can." He chews at his lip. "If us gettin' that information was the only plan /they/ had. Maybe Hive would be willin' to... He used a...device at the school. An' the Professor's s'posed t'be a crazy strong telepath an' should know that device better'n anyone. If anyone'd know how t'get 'im /back/ at this point, I'd bet it's him. I can ask. Or Jax or Flicker. Or all of us. Worst case is we're back where we started." Dusk lapses back into silence, his lips clamping tightly in together. When they unclench it is only so that he can fit his cigarette back into his mouth, take another long pull. "Hive," he says, stiffly, "isn't here." His hand falls to the railing beside himself, posture shifting to drape both legs down over its outside. "You can ask." "I know. But he did this knowin'ly. Or as knowin'ly as he could. I just think...if all that could be accomplished from what he did's done. Maybe he'd be willin' t'/stop/ now. T'let us try an' get 'im back." Micah's eyes press closed. "I'm guessin' at 'is wishes, but it's the best I can do 'cause he ain't...able t'tell us." He nods again without opening his eyes. "Okay. It's...a plan." "Doesn't make a fucking difference what he /might/ be willing to do if he isn't here to ask." Dusk's fingers clench in against the railing. "/Before/ all this shit started /he/ just wanted to die. Think you're guessing at your own wishes, more." "Then maybe the Professor'd be able t'get in enough t'ask what he /does/ want. 'Cause he's not here. But he's not dead, neither." A hard swallow rolls visibly down Micah's throat. "I'm tryin', sugar. I don't know what else t'do but try." Dusk's wings press hard against his back, his shoulders tightened up, tense. "Don't think any of us do." Micah nods, finally opening his eyes to regard Dusk again. “S'there anythin' y'need, honey? Food, hugs, coffee?” "No." The cigarette in Dusk's fingers is burning low, ember creeping up towards his fingers, forgotten. He hops back upwards, perched in gargoyle-crouch on the railing with his somewhat torn wings shifting behind him. "Need to go find Flicker. Motherfucker's gonna miss his own damn --" He shakes his head, stubbing the cigarette out against his opposite hand. "I'll --" He hesitates, frowning before whatever he had been planning on saying. "... see you." "Okay," Micah offers simply, shoulders sagging again. "Love you, honey. Just...let me know if there's anythin' else I can help with." He lifts a hand to wave vaguely as Dusk heads out, making his own way back to the door. Dusk doesn't say anything in answer to this. His head bows, fingers returning to a tight-hard grip on the railing until Micah has reached the door. His wings flare with an audible snap and firm gust of wind, catching the air as he drops off the balcony and heads off.