ArchivedLogs:Being Infamous is a Fuckin' Delight

Being Infamous is a Fuckin' Delight
Dramatis Personae Marrow, Mercy	2017-08-18 "Ooo, I'm all tingly with the excitement."
Location <MOR> Welcome to the Freakshow
Wider and more spacious than many of the surrounding nooks and niches, this chill cavern is the central hub of the Morlock's underground network. With tunnels branching off in many directions, it takes a while to learn to /navigate/ from here to where you want to go, but there's generally plenty of more experienced people around to teach newcomers the ins and outs of the pathways. Here, though, is a safe place to come and relax, for what value of relaxation can be found among moss-covered walls and the occasional stagnant puddles on the floor. There's been furniture brought in, a mismatched assortment of crates, mattresses with busted springs, a few broken and subsequently repaired chairs, a folding table in a corner. Shelves along a wall hold entertainment; books, a smattering of board and card games, sometimes snacks. There's even electricity, wiring none too safe and visible in places where the wall has been broken open; the naked light bulbs flicker often and the lone outlet has had so many power strips attached it is undoubtedly a fire hazard. With many of the Morlocks out for an urban gardening trip Marrow has taken over a little corner of The Freakshow to set up an impromtu boxing gym of sorts. Of course that's only if you are very broad in your description of what a boxing gym is and are willing to include a block of concrete suspended from a steel chain. A leather jacket and a belt with a shawn off shotgun dangle from the back of a chair which is proudly supporting an ash tray in pride of place. Marrow herself bobs and weaves around the swaying chunk of concrete, throwing a succession of jabs and the occasional heavy strike. Nearly every blow leaves a little bloody smear on the 'punching bag', not that this seems to concern her. Seated on a different chair, smeared with grease and dirt, Mercy pretends not to watch Marrow's display. Her attempt at disinterest is poorly performed; her eyes keep sliding back and affixing on the punching mutant. Eventually she gives up the ghost and turns her chair around to place her stomach against the back. One set of arms rest across the top of the chair to cushion her chair and the other one hugs the chair. It's a while before she speaks up. "You're looking good," she calls out. "Then again, you /are/ fighting against a /rock/." "I'm not fighting anything Thumbs," Marrow responds after a while, punctuating her response with an uppercut so hard that it leaves a crack in the concrete. "It's training. You know, the thing you never do 'coz you're out trying to get your hands in strangers pants all the time." She shrugs, then picks up a joint from the ashtray and re-lights it. "Also god fuckin' help us if you're supposed to fix things round here if you think concrete is a type of rock." The older Morlock lets out a small sigh and rolls her eyes, gesturing with one upper hand. "It's called /working/ and I make a /profit/. Maybe you should try it some time instead of punching inanimate objects." A lower hand reaches back to pull a rag out of her pocket. Sitting up straight, she starts trying to remove the grease from her elbows. "You're already good enough, aren't you?" she asks while her attention is on her elbows. "And I train when I get the chance," this is said with a shrug of her own. "Besides, I fix more things than anyone else and how do you /think/ your concrete stash keeps getting refilled, hmm?" Marrow inhales smoke, holds it in her lungs for a moment, then blows a series of smoke rings into the air. "Always someone better. Trick is to be good enough that you never run into that person. And that means you train." She smirks. "It gets refilled because I steal it from construction sites. Besides, I pulled in over a grand since that newspaper article. Every shit for brains in the city thinks I'm Captain Americas dealer. So I've been cutting cocaine with baby formula and a dash of PCP, then cashing in until they print the retraction." "Well, /some/ of those pieces come from me. And I could save you the trips," Mercy informs the other mutant, looking up now that her elbows are slightly less dirty. "And I /guess/ that works," she says reluctantly and begrudgingly of Marrow's claim to income. You really should stop feeding the flatscans PCP. They get louder and they think that they're invincible. It's /very/ annoying." Pursing her lips, her lower elbows sit on her legs and the hands support the upper elbows whose hands then respectively hold her chin. "And now they've got their fancy gadgets too which just keep getting fancier. They're using their goddamn phones to pay for shit - do you know how aggravating that is? No. You probably don't." Marrow rolls her eyes. "S'not like I make special trips for it. I just pick shit up while I'm on patrol," she points out. "Gangs don't keep themselves out of our turf yah know. Examples need making, heads need breaking and with all the shit that's going on there's plenty of sick fuckers who think it's mutant hunting season." She offers the joint. "Forget the phones. It's the god-damned robots I'm worried about. We've got a bunch of police body armor we stole during the last zombie outbreak, but fuck knows if that'll stop them shooting us full of poison darts." Mercy accepts the other Morlock's joint and takes a drag without the flair of smoke rings, one hand still propping her head. "That's where bones come in handy," she comments dryly, using a lower fist to pound against her chest before pointing with the same hand to Marrow. "They think sticks and shit can hurt us and they're wrong. God, I hate it when they try to pull knives. Like, 'Oooo, you're so fuckin' intimidatin'" Two jazz hands happen and she leans back, taking another smoke. "The fucking robots, though. Those /are/ the fuckers you gotta look out for. This is so fucked up, you know? They say mutants can't use powers and then they go and disable them anyways - make up your FUCKING /MINDS/! Have I mentioned how much I fucking /hate/ flatscans? What's the plan to deal with the darts?" Another drag before she hands the joint back to Marrow. Marrow accepts the joint back, then flicks the ash into the ashtray. "It may have come up once or twice," she notes dryly. "The bones will do shit agains the depowering poison. Last time I got hit by one I had to ditch part of a limb to be safe. You ever regrown a body part? Can't say I recommend it. Hurts like a motherfucker." She smiles. "The plan? Well, while everyone was busy being eaten alive we raided a few places using those dumper trucks. Got a couple of bullet proof vests, helmets and the works. Figure if we combine it with welding masks and those big thick leather aprons people use for metal work it should protect us long enough to sledgehammer their heads flat." Standing up for a moment, Mercy spins her chair around and sits down again to lean back in it, all four hands behind her head. "Sign me up," she requests while looking at the ceiling of the cavern. "For the hammering." She rolls her neck as a a grin spreads across her face. "Imagine the look on those cops' faces when we bust their robots in. Ooo, I'm all tingly with the excitement." The young woman lets out a sigh before recalling, "Yeah, we had our hands full of looting the dead ones. And helping 'release the souls' --" this is said with air quotations "-- of the ones that weren't fully 'moved on'. Being some fine upstanding Christians and shit." "The plan is they never come back down here so we never need to try," Marrow points out with a shrug. "Anyway I need to mix up a new batch of 'super soldier serum'. Friday night is always the best time to move product, so fingers crossed I can make another grand by selling in bulk to a few shit heads that don't normally do business with mutants but were willing to make a 'special exception' in my case." She inhales more smoke and blows another smoke ring as she unhooks the concrete block. "Suspect they won't be happy in a few weeks, so I'll get their money and to knock their teeth out. Being infamous is a fuckin' delight."