ArchivedLogs:Bad Plans

Bad Plans
They're our specialty!
Dramatis Personae Isak, Micah, Hive, Flicker
In Absentia	5 April 2014 Part of the Perfectus TP.
Location <NYC> BoM Safehouse - Lower East Side
Tucked away off a little-used side street in the Lower East Side, sandwiched between a youth drop-in center and a taqueria, this narrow three-story townhouse has very little to catch the eye. Boarded-up windows, a door peeling its paint, shabby grubby brickface; from the outside it does not look like much. Inside someone has gone to great lengths to renovate the building into something more habitable. It isn't glamorous but it is comfortable, old furniture dragged in, the place generally swept clean. The first floor holds a large living room, a smaller dining room, a spacious kitchen, a half-bathroom. There are three bedrooms and a full bathroom on the second floor; the attic is just a large empty space crammed full of boxes with a window out to the large flat roof. The basement, much like the attic, consists of a lot of empty space. A bare concrete floor, no windows, occasional poles running up to the ceiling. A tiny half-bathroom down here, too. Not a whole lot else. It's been a very activity-filled morning and early afternoon. Lunchtime in particular, was a hub of activity. Not so active for Isak, who is here mainly to keep an eye on things and intervene if any trouble arises. He's sitting by a window that's open a crack, wearing clothing that for him is casual, but probably costs more than the average paycheque. Designer denim, designer button-up shirt that's open all the way. The cigarette smoke that he exhales somehow goes straight out the window instead of lingering in the air. A few of the refugees are in the kitchen, preparing a late lunch. Another sits in front of the TV. Micah arrives with a knock at the door, laden with two reusable grocery bags on each arm. He is dressed in thrift shop replacement clothing, not /all/ that different from his usual: olive newsboy cap and army green canvas jacket for warmth, hunter green henley, faded jeans, and well-worn hiking boots. His auburn hair peeks out from his hat at angles. Not the /usual/ sort of visitor to the safe houses, and with hands full besides, he waits for someone to let him in. "Oh, gosh, I'd offer you a hand but you're already /here/ it's a little late for that." Flicker is coming up behind Micah with a small dose of /fretting/, slipping an arm around Micah's shoulders from behind to offer him a small squeeze of hug. The young man /does/ have a /different/ way to help, though, disappearing and /reappearing/ a moment later just inside the door, to pull it open for Micah. The vanishing-reappearing trick definitely at least marks /him/ as the Usual Sort of visitor, here, though otherwise he looks almost /aggressively/ Normal. Khakis, a green polo shirt, a black corduroy jacket over top. Behind Micah, still, Hive is less exuberant with greeting. A quiet /grunt/ that maybe passes for a hello. He is in jeans, heavy workboots, a black denim shirt over a grey tee, black canvas jacket over top of that, unbuttoned. His fleecey red Theta Tau cap is pulled down over his fuzzy-short hair, and the /grimace/ on his face might be bad mood or might be a headache, eyes squinted up as though the light is bothering him. << Sup, >> thuds hammer-heavy into Micah's mind, bringing with it /more/ than the usual dose of bludgeon-heavy psionic power. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his jacket; he doesn't offer Micah a hand. Just trudges up the steps into the safehouse, eyes slanting around it with quick assessment; his /mind/, meanwhile, is more alert than his gaze seems, drinking in the surface-thoughts of those around. Whatever he hears -- or doesn't hear -- puts a deeper frown on his face. Sudden appearances do cause Isak to be on-guard, despite the overt display of mutant status. He tosses the cigarette out the crack in the window, then moves towards the door and towards the new arrivals. "Are you residents or volunteers? I'm still quite new. I haven't met everyone yet." Suspicion is his dominant surface thought, and perhaps a touch of nervousness. He does his own assessment of the new arrivals, but for him, it's purely visual. "Flicker, hi!" Micah greets brightly at the sound of the familiar voice, before he even turns to regard the other man. "An' Hive!" is added when /both/ of them are seen. "Ohgosh, I feel like I haven't seen y'all in forever. Prob'ly hasn't /been/ that long; just got spoiled livin' right on top of everybody before, I guess. How are--?" The rest of the question is cut off in sudden /location change/. "Whoa. I'd say that was helpin'." Micah is already heading for the kitchen with his bags when Isak stops them. "Oh...hello. Don't think I've met you yet. Name's Micah, I'm bringin' groceries. Um...my kids kinda started the Friday fight club thing here, Shane an' Sebastian? Prob'ly you're more likely to've run into them before." "We're not either," Flicker answers Isak apologetically. "I mean, Dusk invited us to live here after our place burned down, but we haven't moved in. We're actually just here to see him we were supposed to get lunch." "S'not here," Hive grumbles this in mild irritation as he slumps, looking exhausted and more than a little shaky, against the back of a couch. "Flaky motherfucker. -- You seen him around? /Huge/-ass fucking batwings, hard to miss." Flicker steps forward to offer a hand out to Isak, his smile easy and warm. "I'm Flicker. I usually come to Fight Club Friday nights, too. Kinda missed it last night because /work/." "S'what you get for getting a job." Hive's elbows stay propped against the couch, his palms lifting to rub against his temples. "You saw me two days ago, dude." Though this comes with a bludgeony addition afterwards: << ... miss you, too. >> "No, this is only my second time here. Fight club?" He shakes Flicker's hand, although with a bit of wariness. Mutants with touch-based powers out there and all. "Isak. And no, I haven't seen anyone with wings around. Here..." He reaches out in an offer to take one of the bags of groceries from Micah. "I just put some coffee on about ten minutes ago." "Gracious, you /are/ new." Micah gives over his bag easily, the others set on the floor. Surely someone will put things away; there are more pressing matters at hand. "Ohgosh. Oh/gosh/, no one told y'all. I'd just /assumed/ I was late in the loop..." Hive is treated to mental images of Jax coming home in extreme upset, thoughts of a van speeding away with Dusk and Ion in the back of it. He moves to wrap one arm each around Flicker and Hive's shoulders. "Um. We should sit. I've got...news." He steers the others toward the nearest open seats in the form of chairs at the dining room table. Flicker's handshake is firm and warm and comes without any untoward mutation-effects to go with it. "Oh. Well, welcome, then. You should really come down some Friday, it's --" "Dude, the fuck are you doing around /here/ if you're skittish about /other mutants/ who turn up," Hive answers Isak's unspoken wariness with a /snort/ and a small roll of his eyes. Flicker blinks, glancing at Isak and then down to his own hand with a sudden deep flush of crimson in his cheeks. He opens his mouth, but closes it again in silence at Micah's announcement. His brows pull together, and he drops into a seat, giving Micah a puzzled look. "It's never /good/ news, is it." Hive's tone is suddenly very dull-flat. He sinks down into a chair as well, pressing his palms to his eyes. "-- What the fuck." His eyes narrow on Micah as he drops his hands, jaw tightening at those mental images. "What the /fuck/." Isak levels his gaze on Hive and purses his lips. His features tighten. "I freely admit I haven't had much exposure to other mutants until recently. And mutant on mutant violence or accidental power surges aren't exactly unheard of. I also didn't stay a damned thing." Despite that though, he does give Flicker an apologetic look. He then goes to start unpacking the bags of groceries. Micah winces, first at Hive's drawing information from his mind and then at Isak's 'mutant on mutant violence' mention. "Apologies, honey, I was tryin' t'come up with a better way of sayin'. Than you just pickin' that up. It was...Friday mornin'. Dusk an' Ion were attacked by people with abilities. Rasputin witnessed it. Apparently was someone usin' water-tentacles at Ion. An' a bird-lookin' lady with a gun...shot Dusk. They were still /alive/, but these folks drove off with 'em in a van. Jax was sayin' he thinks...that it's the people who'd taken Anole. That they're actually regular /humans/ who've figured out how t'steal...abilities. From people with active X-genes." He is halting in the second and third hand recountings, though part of this may have to do with the apologetic and nearly guilty tone that the words come in. "Yes, and in a house full of /mutants/ it really makes a difference if you used your mouth or not," Hive answers Isak with a /snort/. "Do you /know/ what fucking safe-house means, dude? It means that if you have a /problem/ with freaks you don't belong here. Even if you want to rationalize it away with the same sweeping bigotry the rest of the world uses. But oh, right, some of us are dangerous so I guess that's /fine/ then." His hands have returned to his head, pressing in harder there in slow massage. "New is right." His downward glare at the table might make it seem like he's not even actually listening to Micah. "Sorry," Flicker apologizes to Isak with a continued blush, head ducking kind of self-consciously. "I'm -- not. Um. Violent --" He shifts a little uncomfortably, though, turning back towards the table instead. "Wait -- /Dusk/? And /Ion/? But they're --" Hive's teeth grind, slow and creaky. "Steal abilities," he finally answers, through his teeth. "Like Nox." "Did I say I have a problem? If you're in my head and looking for issues, I don't think I'm the one who has shit to sort out. I'm new to all of this, but I'm here. And I'm adjusting, so fuck off." Isak slams a series of cans into the cupboard. But he can't help but overhear some of that. "I just met Ion the other day." And if Hive is still tuned into him at all, well, let's jut say he /is/ violent, or has the potential to be. "Everybody just...settle. We're on the same side. Got enough t'deal with without...petty infightin' /nonsense/." Micah takes a seat next to Hive and Flicker, hands moving to his temples as if coming down with a sudden case of migraine. "Dusk an' Ion are both /more/'n capable of takin' care of themselves. These folks...prob'ly knew what they were walkin' into an' were /prepared/. Brought water t'fight the electrokinetic. That sound like a coincidence t'you?" He draws a long, slow breath in...then out, before nodding slowly at the mention of Nox. "Like that but...maybe they're better at it than whoever helped Malthus t'do that? Jax an' some others from the team. Looked into one of the guys that was killed when they were rescuin' Anole. Apparently he was a doctor. Sounds like he was a /non-X-gene/ bearin' doctor. Though he had /tentacles/ when they ran into 'im. Obsessed with perfectin' humanity through givin' 'em special abilities. Had news stories 'bout everythin' that happened in the mutant community all over the walls like a crazy person in a movie. Includin'...every time Jax was in the news. An' Nox. An' Dusk." "You did kind of /look/ like you had a problem," Flicker says a little uncomfortably, still frowning down at the table. "/Fuck/ you, Micah. There's not exactly a whole lot of goddamn places /on earth/ we can go without putting up with that /shit/ and this is /supposed/ to be --" Hive's teeth grind again, hard. Flicker winces, eyes scrunching shut tight as he doubles over, slightly, where he sits. Hive -- maybe /is/ ignoring the rest of the conversation, now. It's hard to tell. He shoves his chair back, though, getting to his feet with noticeable unsteadiness and heading for the door. Flicker doesn't try to stop him. Just keeps his eyes shut for a longer moment. His breathing comes slow. After a long while he straightens, fingers running in an unthinking habitual gesture along the side of his head. "-- Do we know anything about how to find them?" he finally asks. Isak huffs out his nostrils. For a moment, it looks almost like smoke is coming out of his nose, but if was, it quickly dissipates. "Do you want me to give you all giant bear hugs to prove it?" he mutters half between gritted teeth. He nods towards Micah. "He's right. There are bigger problems. Like insane kidnappers with powers. For a start." "/Hive/. Where are you /goin'/? That kidnappin' happened right /outside/ here, we can't have you just...wanderin' by yourself an'... Please come sit." Micah's shoulders sag, hands moving from his temples to cradle his forehead as if his head is just too heavy to hold up otherwise. "We've got amazingly sparse information. Nothin' on these people. The only lead they were able t'pick up was from the dead guy's journals an' calendars an' such. That he was real involved with a church group. Could be nothin'. Could be a creepy humanity-perfectin' /cult/." His eyes are turned down at the table, a long pause taken before he speaks again. "I'm gonna check it out t'morrow." Hive possibly isn't listening to either of these answers, on account of having left the room. And the house. Flicker just gives Isak a somewhat tired look, his, "Thank you, no," rather gravely polite. He sinks lower in his chair, fingertips pressing to his temples. His green eyes widen to fix on Micah in disbelief. "You're /what/." Isak leans on the kitchen counter. Tension is obvious in lean arms and across his brow. And then, perhaps to prove he can, he simply listens to the exchange between the others. He isn't exactly experienced when it comes to operations against dangerous people. "Hive..." Micah turns to look at the door with a frown as the telepath exits. "Should we send someone after 'im? It's /particularly/ not safe for 'im out there alone in 'is condition." He pulls his hat off, dropping it limply into his lap and scruffing his fingers through his hair. "I'm gonna check out the only lead we have 'cause I'm the only person who can do it. S'like I was tellin' Jax. Ain't like y'all got a whole passel of card-carryin' registered 'humans' waitin' in the wings t'do this for you. Anybody else gettin' near these folks is just another target for their experiments, if they're doin' what we think they are. I can get in, an' I think I can get 'em t'talk t'me." "He's hard to sneak up on," Flicker points out, shrugging a shoulder as Micah turns to look at the door. "/You're/ the one signing up to waltz right into the place." His head shakes at this idea, lips compressing into a thin line. "Micah, it's not like -- you're a card carrying registered human /married/ to the world's most famous mutant. I'm pretty sure /you're/ going to be a target just for a bullet in your head. Or maybe to follow you back home and nab all your kids. You're going to need one /heck/ of an ace up your sleeve." "Someone should. Not me," says Isak. Not out of heartlessness, but it's matter-of-fact. They haven't exactly gotten off on the right foot. He comes out of the kitchen towards the other two. "I'd like to help if I can. Though I'm certain you've likely got more experienced people who are willing to assist." "Sure he's hard t'sneak up on...s'just. Not great at... Ugh." Micah gives up on this with an exasperated sigh. "Honey, if they wanted t'follow me or Jax t'the kids. Or even /just/ the kids, seems like they could've done that. If they could find Dusk an' Ion. /We're/ a lot more public. An' if they know me...it could just help the story I'm puttin' t'gether. Less an ace up the sleeve an' more of an ace up the...pantsleg." He raps his knuckles against his left thigh, the plastics of his prosthesis's socket making a much more /solid/ sound than one would expect from such a thing. "We just got Anole out...an' it seems like the kid might be /regrowin'/ the arm they cut off. I can...play the self-interest card. Wantin' t'get 'em t'help me with...the leg. Even play up some kinda power envy, with all the people with special abilities I'm 'round all the time. And if y'think about it. With what I do, bein' tryin' t'make people better through technology. It ain't a far leap t'where they're comin' from. Just a /twisted/ one. Tryin' t'make people better with really unethical treatment of people with special abilities. I figure...they'll at least listen t'me. An' maybe I can get some information over time. We ain't got any other ideas. I mean, could be this is just a normal church group, but we won't know 'til somebody can check it out." Flicker looks over Isak at this offer, brows knitting slightly together as his gaze flits over the man. "What do you do?" he asks, an uncertain note in his tone. It's an uncertain note that continues as Micah explains, the worry very evident in his expression. "Micah --" His fingers rake through his hair, expression twisting into a bleak-black humor. "If you have a mind to find /God/ all of a sudden I can find you so many churches where they don't hack off /limbs/." His hand scrunches inward, curling into a fist in his dark hair. "Are you doing this /tomorrow/?" "And what do you do if these people attempt to give you exactly what you claim to want?" says Isak. His tone is flat and doesn't betray much of how he feels about the current situation. He looks to Flicker, hesitates for a moment, then exhales slowly. A cloud of smoke swirls around him, then slowly dissipates. It smells faintly like cotton candy. "This has got 'bout /nothin'/ t'do with god. Just people /playin'/ at it." Micah's head shakes slowly. "Try t'string it along just long enough t'figure out where they're keepin' the people they take? All I need is enough of a hint for folks t'work off of so they can send people after 'em. What else could we possibly do? This is our /only/ lead, an' I can't imagine Dusk an' Ion are gonna stay in good shape for very long. We can't just /wait around/ on this." His lips press thin as his head nods in answer to Flicker. "T'morrow." "Oh. That's --" Flicker looks faintly puzzled as Isak's smoke swirls around him; he trails off as though not quite sure /what/ to say about this. He shakes his head, waving his hand through it as he watches it dissipate. "It -- is best if he has backup." He still doesn't look /happy/ about the thought of Micah going to this place at all. "But. Um. What -- can you /do/ with that?" His fingers smooth his hair back into place. "But crazy cults are -- well. Kind of. Crazy and cultlike. What if they --" Something twists, a little sickened in his expression. "You should take Hive," he finally says. Not sounding particularly any happier about this /either/. "I can knock out groups of people in an enclosed space," says Isak matter-of-factly. "And obscure myself. Think of me as a walking smoke machine." He waves a hand in front of him to cut the last of the hanging smoke. "I'm not certain how much good I would be. Unless this church happens to want designer suits." "I've got a panic button. Can't get much better connection t'backup than that, but... Y'remember how Hive said he couldn't read people in that house? What if they've got folks as can /sense/ 'im? He ain't exactly subtle. The whole reason I'm volunteerin' t'do this is that anyone with special abilities is likely t'get noticed an' get /hurt/. Or dead." Micah's fingers run along the prosthesis where it covers his thigh, down to his knee. "I've gotta try this 'cause we ain't got no better options." Isak gets a wan little smile in response to his comments. "I can see where that might be handy in certain situations. With this? I don't wanna draw these folks' attention to /any/ of you if it can be avoided." Flicker grinds the heel of his hand in against his eye. "He's right," he says, more than a little bit miserably. "If these people are catching us to /steal/ our powers, the best bet might be staying as far away from them as possible." He drops his hand to rest on the table, closing his eyes tiredly. "'No better options'. Seems like kind of our /motto/ lately, doesn't it." "My completely unbiased opinion, not knowing the history, not knowing the people involved very well, if at all? It's a shit plan. And since I don't know what resources are available, it's not as if I can propose a better one. So I suppose all I can do is wish you luck." Isak nods once to Micah. "Motto...mantra. Somethin'. I ain't never claimed t'come up with good plans. Just...come up with desperate ones when there ain't no good choices t'be made." Micah's snort of laughter in answer to Isak is a bitter one. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Can't say as I disagree, though." He glances back to the kitchen. "Should get the cold things put away, then go after Hive. Y'all were plannin' lunch. Oughtta get some food in 'im, too." He takes to his feet, moving back to the kitchen to execute this...much simpler plan.