ArchivedLogs:All the Rage
|All the Rage|
"Need some new hobbies, dude." (In the immediate aftermath of the altercation.)
Harlem's gritty reputation has become less and less earned over the past decade or so as gentrification has set in. Its reputation as a hub of jazz and culture, however, is still very much earned -- throughout the years Harlem has been renowned for its contributions to music, from its swing dancing and jazz culture back when speakeasies were prevalent to the many hip-hop artists with Harlem roots in modern day.
It's not actually Jax's car, not the school's car either, a rented Zipcar parked down the block. Little blue Mazda, kind of nondescript except for how now it has bloody handprints on the door, bloodstains all over the seats. Jax has thrown the locks after shoving them inside, yanked off his jacket to make a makeshift sort of packing by way of dressing the arrow still impaled into Jack. His face is very pale; around him the air is dark and smoky with a swirl of shadow that clings to his limbs. "... m'sorry," he is mumbling, and, also, "hold this --" His jacket, maybe, where it is soaking in blood. His other hand is reaching for his phone.
Jack nods, not even realizing that with his hood off the motion can't be seen. He holds onto the jacket and stares down at the arrow in a mix of shock and some building anger. Getting shot with an arrow is not something he thought he'd ever experience. "You...sorry for what?" Jack finally speaks up for the first time since the arrowing. "Wait, what about you?" he asks, concern clear in his voice after he notices how pale Jax is. There is one good thing, Jack's blood is just as invisible as the rest of him so only half the staining.
"I should have -- I shouldn't have. I hit her, I -- she --" Jax's hand is shaking as he fumbles at his phone, the darkness around him deepening. "I got. You hurt, I didn't. Mean t'-- I'm gettin' help jus'. Jus' sit tight it'll." His voice falters, weight shifting to sink heavily against the door.
"What?" Jack takes a moment and lets his head thump against the seat. "You didn't get me hurt. The crazy women did," he says, letting out a breath. "This hurts more than I thought it would," he mutters. "Not that I ever thought about how getting shot with an arrow would be," he tries to be a little funny. "Pretty sure they were going to attack us even if you didn't hit her. They seemed...oh man...seemed that crazy," he says, squeezing his eyes closed. "Now I'll have a scar on both sides."
"It," Jax agrees, a little bit wheezy, "hurts." His lips twitch slightly upwards at the joke, his posture hunching forward with one arm curled up against his chest. His thumb taps again at his phone, and then lets it drop to the seat. "Not the first time. With the arrows. Like a. Fad. Around here. Modern day... Robin... " His brows crease. "Though I'd think they'd wear more green." His cheek scrunches up at one side. "Sorry," he whispers again. "Not a good way. To end the night."
"You...got hit with an arrow before?" Jack asks, looking at the older mutant again. "So this isn't...we're not gonna die from this, right?" he asks, the forced joking dropped for the moment. "No nasty surprises?" he's trying not to show it but he is worried. Not that he's doing a particularly good job of covering it up. "Not the worst way I've ended a night," Jack admits. "Least I'm not on my own...right now."
"Yeah. And a friend of mine -- like some kind of. Pack of. Anti-mutant. Infantry." Jax shivers, his fingers clenching up tight into a fist. "I've lived through much worse," he promises Jack with a small smile. "An' I ain't gonna go nowhere. I'll get you. Back t'school. Hopefully even 'fore curfew -- though I think. S'likely they won't -- give you no detention. Not for this."
Knockknockknock. Probably just slightly alarming, given everything they've just been through, but there is just now a small quick rap of knuckles on the window outside. Joshua has not bothered with /answering/ any text message -- just /appeared/ outside the car, wearing a severe frown of his own (together with jeans, a blue t-shirt, sneakers hastily thrown on without socks) as he peers inside. He tries the door handle. Frowns /more/ when it is locked. Waits -- though maybe not /patiently/.
"Those two same women?" Jack asks, trying to sit up a little more. He just ends up making a little pained noise and slumping back again. "I knew that one girl had...problems but I didn't think she was with anyone like that," he sighs. The smile gets an unseen one in return from Jack. "You have...no idea how...just thanks," the invisible one replies. He shifts in his seat and switches the hand holding Jax's jacket. Before he can comment on avoiding detention, there's that alarming rapping. Jack jumps and lets out a rather undignified yelp of mixed surprise and pain. "The hell?!"
"I -- don't know," Jax admits uncertainly. "They had masks --" He flinches back away from the window with the sudden rapping, his breath sucked in sharp and sudden. Just as sudden, a shimmer-glow blossoms against the window, sudden shield springing to life there reflexively. It drops again just as soon; he breathes /out/ again sharply, leaning over (with a pained /hiss/) to unlock the door. "Thank /god/." There's evident relief in his posture as he sags back into the seat.
Joshua yanks the door open as soon as it is unlocked, though he does not climb in just yet -- instead reaches in to unlock the /back/ door and get in there. "This is getting to be a habit with you," he murmurs as he slips inside, grimacing as the sight of the blood on Jax, the still-embedded arrow sticking out of the set-of-clothes that is Jack. "Need some new hobbies, dude." And then, to Jack: "Take a deep breath. This is going to be a little weird." His hands reach over the front seat, clamping down on both the other mutants' shoulders.
Just for a moment, before the car around them -- kind of disappears. Shifts out of space, vanishes, replaced a somewhat dizzy-disorienting moment later with the bright sterility of the Xavier's school med-lab, where he is depositing them both on a cot with only the briefest of grimaces.
The sight of the shield makes Jack tense up a little more and there's a faint rattle of light and unsecured objects getting a little shake thanks to Jack's TK. He's slightly confused when Jax unlocks the door but relaxes when the relief registers with him. He's still a little wary as the door is opened but he can't help it at the moment. "But...extreme archery targets is all the rage these days," he tries another joke. "You're talking to clothes bleeding invisible blood. How much weirder can it g-"
He's cut off by that trip,letting out a little wheeze of pain when he settles onto the cot. His free arm goes up quickly to shield his eyes against the bright lights. "Okay...sorry, you were right. That was weird."
Even expecting the sudden jump, Jax shivers and doubles over once they arrive. Slooowly toppling to the side to flop down onto the cot and grace /it/ with a liberal flow of blood as well. "... thank you." His voice is much quieter, now, his skin much paler in the bright light; the contrast against the swirl of dark that still clings to him only accentuates it. "Okay. S'gonna be okay now," he is maybe assuring Jack of this. Maybe himself. "We're just gonna --"
Pass out, evidently. At least, right about here he stops talking. The curl of shadow fades away from around him.
Joshua scrubs his knuckles against his face. Lifts a hand to pat lightly at Jack's shoulder. "It's going to be okay," he affirms, "though maybe," he is eying the arrow shaft, "after a crap-ton more. Uh. Pain. … how about you just. Lie down. And I'll grab Dr. McCoy and some fucking -- morphine. And we'll get you stabilized?"
"Yeah...yeah, thanks," Jack echoes Jax, eventually letting his arm drop away from covering his eyes. His gaze turns to Jax and the invisible teen tries and fails again to sit up. "Gotta stop doing that," he mutters to himself. "Yeah, pain...probably not getting away without a lot more of that," he pauses as something else clicks. "Morphine? As in...needles?" he almost squeaks. "Oh this just gets worse and worse," Jack whimpers as he lies down again. "Can you help him first?" he requests, more worried about Jax than himself. Either way, he won't try to get up again. Time to just wait for the doctor and try to stop himself from being too freaked out by the eventual needles.