ArchivedLogs:Brothers

Brothers
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Eric	2013-09-21 (Part of the Battle for Harlem TP.)
Location <NYC> St. Martin's Church - Harlem
This church is not large, but it has a quiet majesty to it all the same, in the way of many old churches. A tall stone building tucked into the center of Harlem, it is one of the earliest Catholic churches in the city, and it looks it. Inside, the wooden pews stretch off towards the alter, the crucifix an immense and solemn wooden carving that presides over it all. Most of the windows are stained class, rich and vibrantly colourful depictions of various saints and Biblical scenes. Small recesses along the wall hold the Stations of the Cross depicted in intricate stone carvings, and the prayer alcove holds real flickering votive candles unlike many modern churches who have switched over to electric. The vaulted ceiling has detailed painting done between its arches, and the distinctive scent of frankincense often lingers faintly in the air. Below, the basement of the church has been heavily modernized; there is a pair of meeting rooms for classes, a pair of bathrooms with showers, a door leading out to the tiny adjoining rectory building where the pastor lives. In tribute to the church's namesake, ministries for the poor are a large part of the church community; one room holds a wealth of donated clothing that is free for any to take. With the large dining room and industrial kitchen that serve hot dinners six days a week and distribute donated bags of groceries every Monday, there are frequent visitors through here who are often in need of the helping hand. It's getting more crowded, in this block of Harlem. The SANCTUARY sign still hangs from an upstairs window of the building next door to the church, and even outside of mass times the trickle of people in and out of the church stays frequent. With the number of mutants poured into the neighborhood, Dusk barely even stands /out/, lanky-lean, scruffy-bearded; his enormous batwings are folded in at his back, dark and capelike against his otherwise boring attire of green-and-white striped t-shirt, black jeans, Vans sneakers. There's a messenger bag slung over a shoulder, a skateboard under his other arm as he emerges from the church. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, frowning as he taps out the last one and then frowning deeper as he pats down his clothes. "Take one a' mine, if you don't mind the menthol." Eric's voice is sudden and nearby, a murmur with a trace of friendly laughter in it. The police officer is dressed -- for church, it seems. A white dress shirt, with a pair of black slacks. His hair is neatly combed, and he looks quite respectable. "Heya, Dusk." Eric says, eyes sweeping up and down the other man with a quick flick of movement. "Haven't seen ya 'round for a while." He extends a pack of cigarettes towards the other man, opening the lid with a flex of a finger and revealing a neat line of cigarettes. "And ya never call. Hurts a man, ya know? Wham, bam, than'ya ma'arm." His voice is light and teasing, now. "Have the smoke. Need a light." Dusk crumples the now-empty cigarette pack in a hand, looking up to sweep dark eyes over Eric. "You've got my number, too," he adds with a fanged flash of smile. "But I'm /pretty/ sure you haven't been lacking for company." He looks over Eric again, longer and more appraisingly this time. "Didn't figure you for a religious man." "Who says I am?" Eric says, raising an eyebrow and grinning at Dusk. He reaches into his pocket and holds out a silver Zippo, with a golden Sheriff's star welded onto one side. Colquitt County Sheriff SWAT. "But it's a lot easier gettin' past the police without gettin' looked at too close when you're in a crowd o' folks comin'ta Mass than it is just wanderin' in any old time." The police officer says, shrugging his shoulders. Dusk lifts his hand, fingers curling against Eric's to steady the lighter as he leans in, drawing in a breath to light his cigarette. His hand rests against Eric's a moment longer even after he straightens again, lifting away only at a delay to hold his cigarette between his first two fingers. "Easier getting past them if you fly, too. At least at night. Guess it'd be pretty easy getting past 'em in uniform, too, wouldn't it?" He looks at the church behind them, head shaking as he takes a puff of his cigarette. "-- Though getting in /here/'d be another story." Eric's hand is warm underneath the other man's, and he smiles warmly at Dusk. He withdraws a cigarette from his own pack, sticking it between his lips and lighting the tip with a steady hand. "Well, I'm sure it is. Sadly," Eric gestures behind him. Look, ma, no wings. "I'd need'ta get a ride from some nice obliging young man ta' get past the security." His eyes sweep up and down the other man, and he takes a long drag on the cigarette, blowing the smoke out of his nostrils. "Or be in uniform, yeah. But this ain't my precinct, and with all the scrutiny, I ain't sure it wouldn't get run up to the rat squad." Dusk draws in another deep breath, exhaling his own stream of smoke. "I'm sure it would. Though I have no doubt they'd love to /have/ someone on the inside here." One of his own wings unfurls, brushing up against Eric's back. "Yeah, we can't all be so lucky," he agrees with amusement. "Though I have been told I'm a pretty enjoyable ride." He looks out over the street, wing folding back in at his back. "So what /are/ you doing here?" Eric leans into the touch of the other man's wing, moving backwards slightly and smiling widely at Dusk. "Ain't exactly a good idea t'try and go undercover in uniform. It's what we in the business call 'a tip-off'." The police officer chuckles, shaking his head back and forth for a moment. "I'm here ta' see what's goin' on. I've heard a lot, from the other side'a the barricade. Good idea ta' see it myself." Eric teases at his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment, then he shrugs. "After all, I may be a cop, but I'm a mutant too." Dusk's wing curls around Eric's shoulders, rubbing softly at his arm. "They'd probably shoot you too, if they knew. For all the good it'd do them." His eyes have slanted over down the block, towards the police barricades in the distance. "And what've you learned?" Eric chuckles and glance over to the barricades. "Yeah, well, I'm sure they'd give me a workin' over before they trumped up some charges and shoved me into gen pop right before tellin' everyone that I'm a cop." The police officer shakes his head and reaches up to run his fingers over the surface of Dusk's wing. "I dunno. Ain't learned much a' anythin', yet. I ain't the smartest guy. Gonna take me some thinkin'." Eric flashes a bright smile and a shrug. "I figure, it's gotta be two ways. I'm either a cop whose a mutant, or a mutant whose a cop. I just gotta figure out which is which." "You taken a look at what the cops have been up to lately?" Dusk's brows raise, his shoulders tensing and his his next drag of cigarette sharp. "Cuz from where I'm standing, it looks like a pretty clear choice." "Ain't nothin' a clear choice, Dusk." Eric says, voice lightly chastising. "Two wrong ain't make a right is what my ma always taught me." The police officer sighs, and he looks not down towards the barricades but rather up into the night sky. "I took an oath. Two a' em. I ain't sayin' what they did is right; it ain't. But are we gonna get better by bein' just as bad?" A pause. "And, if we don't, are we gonna even live'ta see things get better down the road?" Dusk's eyes roll, his wing moving to fold back in against his back. "Who the fuck said anything about being just as bad? I don't see /my/ brothers torturing people to death for entertainment. Just /yours/. Weird, how you immediately jump to --" He drops his hand, tapping ashes restlessly from his cigarette. "-- it being another /wrong/ to acknowledge who you are. Must be a painful way to think, man." "Nah, nah. But this is gonna end in blood, one way'a another. Ain't no way this is gonna continue, you know as well as I. And when things happen..." Eric trails off, taking a side-step towards the other man. "I don't know. I've been thinkin', for a while, now. And, believe me, it ain't easy for me ta do." A moment, and Eric lowers his hand to let the cigarette glow in the darkness, letting smoke trail through the air. "They're my brothers ta'." He adds, softly. "So are you." "It'll end in blood," Dusk agrees, and now /his/ eyes tip upwards -- not towards the sky but towards the Sanctuary banner nearby. "But /we/ won't be the ones to start spilling it. I'm sure as hell going to be doing what I can to look after these people once /they/," one wingtip flicks towards the distant police cars, "do. You /saw/ those cages. /I/ saw the people taken from them. You think your brothers over /there/ would've balked at putting you in there right along with Shane?" He chuffs out a heavy breath. "Going to need all the help we can /get/, when they start the bloodshed." Eric is silent at this, turning to glance at the other man, then he turns to look carefully back at the church. "Sometimes, I wish I actually believed. Be nice to ask someone, ya know?" His fingers drum along his leg and he shakes his head again, letting out a sigh. He lifts his cigarette and takes a deep drag, blowing a ring of smoke into the air. "Alright. Well, I'm sure I'll be there. How can I help?" Dusk laughs at this, just a soft quiet breath as he looks up at the church as well. "Never really sure /what/ I believe," he admits. "But whether anyone's out there or not, I don't think they're going to come down and work any miracles for us. Not if we don't step up to help ourselves, first." One wing shrugs, sharp thumb-claw twitching at the top of it. "They'd be glad for ears on the inside, but so would /we/. Be nice to have some idea of it, if shit's going to start raining down. There's kids in there. Old folks, /hurt/ folks. Be hard to shift everyone with no forewarning." "I'll see what I can do. They're keepin' a pretty tight lid on things, 'specially for us down in the line, but they're burnin' through officers with all this overtime. I'll see what I can da'ta get on the shift roster. No guarantees about knowin' anythin', 'specially for somethin' big. But I'll see what I can do." Eric says, inhaling again deeply. His exhalation is almost a sigh, and he shakes his head. "We'll have'ta see. Hopefully, I can get somethin' of use." A pause, and Eric glances at Dusk, a long, slow look. "Hopefully," Dusk agrees softly, leaning back against the wall of the church. "'Cuz this has a lot of possibility to get really ugly. And I think all of us here'd rather it didn't." He scrubs his knuckles against his stubbly jaw, dropping his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his toe. "-- Where you headed now?" "If it makes you feel any better, I think everyone'd be happier if this don't get real ugly. 'Least for most people. I'm sure some people ain'tas nice." Eric gives Dusk a smile and takes another drag of his cigarette. "I dunno. Came to see what I was goin'ta see. Not sure what else I was really goin' do. Maybe head back to my place. How'bout you?" Dusk gives Eric a sharp-fanged smile in answer to this, his wings flexing briefly and then folding again. "Maybe head back to your place." Eric's smile widens, hungrily. "Well, doesn't that just sound like a wonderful coincidence. I'd been hopin' you might be headed my way," The police officer says, grinding out the cigarette into his palm with only a brief wince, before he dusts the ash onto the ground. "Shall we? Security ain't as bad on the way out." Dusk's smile just continues, in answer. He extends a wing to brush lightly against Eric's back, and after pulling out his phone to send a brief text, steps down away from the church to head down the street.