ArchivedLogs:Complicated Feelings

Complicated Feelings
Dramatis Personae Shane, Sebastian, Trib, Cage	2013-07-24 Sharktwins and Trib face down old demons. (Part of Thunderdome.)
Location <NYC> Spin - Harlem
Half record store, half music shop, Spin is a music lovers' haven. The record side of the store holds everything from vintage vinyl to the newest releases, both new and secondhand, with miscellaneous paraphernalia -- posters, t-shirts, pins -- held in bins along one wall. On the other side of the store, dedicated musicians can find a wealth of sheet music, from modern rock guitar tabs to classical violin and piano pieces. Behind the counter, higher priced rare items are secured away behind the glass. In a departure from the usual bent of this type of store, the shelves are kept meticulously organized. It's a damn hot, New York, July afternoon, and DJ SPINster is about to start her first set. The play on words can't be all that accurate because she looks no more than 20 years old, setting up her tables and crates on the makeshift (six inch high) stage at one end of the record store. She's got shoulder length dreads, a black tank top, and olive green cargo pants on. Her headphones are draped around her neck at the moment, while she continues to unpack. Posters have been splatted all over town, on building sites, telephones poles, etc. Also a low hum has been generated on the internets, about her mix of old and new styles. Her main point of fame was a freestyle mix of a Daft Punk song, live, at a recent rave. The mp3 was been spreading like wild fire. Nearby, Luke Cage and his trusty sidekick Trib sit at a small round bistro table. Two empty chairs are also at the table. Cage has a steamy cup of something smelling chocolaty, and a plate of cookies. Harlem is one of the few places he's been able to get around fairly normally, as the neighborhood's respect for their own outweighs the popular opinion of mutants, at least to some degree. Cage turns to Trib and says, "Hey, thanks for coming to this. I kept meaning to show you this place. I know it's probably not you're kinda music, but these are definitely you're kinda people." He offers a fist bump, and picks his coffee up with the other hand. Trib is leaned back in his chair, tipping it so that the front legs are not actually touching the floor, golden gaze scanning the (small) crowd even as Cage states they are his kind of people. "What, they're all fuckin' boxers an' roughnecks?" he rumbles amusedly, returning the fist bump lazily before reaching for his own glass, which appears to be lemonade. Pink lemonade. With fruit floating in the top. That he lifts to his lips with his trademark Trib-glare to sip at it almost gently. "I really don't go for that club shit," he offers apologetically. "I'm really more about rock an' roll. Like the shit they play as you come into the ring." He lifts a shoulder, and looks around. "Now that I got somethin' to play music on, I should come back here an' get some." It's an idle observation, made while the boxer checks who's coming through the door -- purely out of habit. Probably. Look who is coming through the door! Right now! It is two of Trib's /most/ bestest of friends. The sharktwins are -- /tiny/, as ever; with teeth safely hidden behind closed mouths they resemble nothing so much as diminutive water-/pixies/ with their short stature and elfin builds. Well-dressed waterpixies; Shane's in pale pinstriped linen trousers, a green vest, short-sleeved button-down, bow tie. Bastian leans distinctly feminine, as he often does, pink Fluttershy t-shirt and pale denim skirt, chunky pink-and-grey sneakers on his feet. A black hoodie far too warm for the weather, with HERBIVORE printed in a yellow cross over the breast. Straight from school, they both carry backpacks, though Bastian's seems a good deal more heavy-laden than Shane's. "-- {/cheerful/, for once, I've been doing. Things more appropriate for a /funeral/ for a while and that's --}" Shane is saying to his twin in Vietnamese as they enter. Bastian shushes him with a hand on Shane's bicep, a flare of nostrils. Gently, he tugs Shane just a /little/ more towards the door, head turning until his eyes find Trib. Widen, slightly. "{-- We should come back,}" he murmurs to his brother. "{Another time.}" Shane's nostrils flare, too, brow furrowing puzzled until he catches that same scent. His eyes /narrow/ in sharp counterpoint to Bastian's, when he sees who Trib is sitting /with/. "The fuck," he mutters, frowning deeper. "Yeah, something like that," Cage says with a grin in answer to Trib's question. "And you could do a lot worse than shopping here. Sure beats downloading it from some faceless corporation. MP3's got no soul, man." Luke sips at his mocha again, and nods. "Yeah, I know this isn't your favorite stuff, but this girl is off the hook. If you don't like DJs after today, I'll never bug you about it again." He chuckles and glances at Trib's tipped chair. The effort to /not/ yank the chair all the way back is visible on his face - the poor tortured soul! Cage catches the door opening in the corner of his eye, and then does a double take when he sees the blue teenagers. He blinks, processing the memory of meeting /one/ of them, though hopefully he'll be forgiven for not being totally sure which one it was. He glances quickly around to make sure no one is about to hassle the guys. He notes a couple people giving them /looks/, but nothing worse than that. He lifts his chin in their general direction. First he says quietly to Trib, "Hey, I think I met one of those guys at... at Evolve that day." Then he tries to catch eye contact with either of them, smiling, tipping his head to invite them over to their table. Trib visibly stiffens when the twins enter, his jaw setting and his eyes hardening for a small moment as he takes in their individual style of dress. When Cage speaks, Trib looks back at the man, his hard expression fluttering into momentary confusion as he tries to put together what his boss is saying. "I know 'em," he grunts, sipping at his lemonade. "We're pretty fuckin' well-acquainte -- what the fuck?" he sputters as Cage inclines his head at the duo, and he glances over at them with a decidedly concerned expression. "You know, they ain't exactly /fans/ of mine," he rumbles to the other man, shifting in his seat. "Last time I ran into the one in slacks, he acted --" the big man bites off the rest of that sentence, and lifts a shoulder. "They ain't overly fond of me." Shane's arm tenses under Sebastian's touch. There's a tense shift of motion, muscles flexing beneath the wide red collar around his neck, and then it relaxes. He shifts, for a moment, weight leaning up against Sebastian's side. Sebastian snakes his arm around Shane's waist in one quick squeeze that lasts only a moment before Shane pulls away, hand slipping around Sebastian's wrist. He weaves his way through the room, ignoring wayward looks they draw, eyes just focused on Trib and Cage's table. "You're Luke Cage, right?" he addresses Cage, not really looking at Trib at all. Luke sighs at Trib's comment, and then outright concern. "Shit, I'm sorry," he whispers, "I didn't know." But when the kids come closer, his smile is genuine. He looks like he would normally stand up to greet someone, but what's the point if he just has the lean way back down again? He leans forward, elbow on knee, and offers his hand to shake. "So look, I meant to thank one of you for helping at the Evolve fire, but shit just got all weird and tense. I'm thinking we all need to pow wow. What is going on here?" He's not accusing anyone, or making anyone the bad guy - he's just open, frank, and down to business. Trib doesn't look any more comfortable as the twins approach his table, and he clamps his mouth shut when they approach. There might be a chin-jerk of greeting, but if attention is focused on Cage, it's easily missed. The boxer seems content to sip at his lemonade and watch the twins, occasionally shifting his attention to the other patrons. When Cage mentions the fire, the big man's eyebrows twitch upward, but he saves his big reaction for the final question. Which gets a sputter of lemonade, and a GLARE for Cage from Trib that shifts to an uncomfortable apologetic look at the twins. Accompanied by a helpless 'what can you do' lift of shoulders. Shane answers the apologetic look with a narrowing of eyes. Sebastian just looks /distinctly/ uncomfortable; he's very /noticeably/ keeping himself between Trib and his brother, a /protective/ tension to his stance. Edging Shane juuuuust so much back away from Trib. "You friends with this pedo?" Shane tips his head towards Trib. "I mean, maybe he's all fine and upstanding now who knows. But when we were in the cages together? He was pretty much threatening to /rape/ my friend. /Kid/. Teenager. /You/ seem like a good guy," he says to Cage, and there's not even heat in his voice so much as a tight-wound tension, "but you know, it's when people are deep in the shit that you find out what their /true/ colours are." Luke leans slowly back in his chair, taking a deep breath before speaking. The material of his pale yellow dress shirt stretches briefly across the expanse of his chest as he thinks for a long moment. He rubs at his jaw, looks sidelong at Trib, and then back at the boys. "I ain't sayin what anybody did or didn't do, but I /can/ say people under stress can say or do crazy shit. Shit they wouldn't normally do. I saw it all the time in prison." Cage glances up to make sure the music isn't about to start, and sees they still have some time. He says quietly, "Trib? I gotta know your side of this." Trib has no side to offer. He comes up from the table like a rocket, rocking it with the force of his sudden standing. "What the /fuck/ did you just fuckin' say about me, kid?" he growls, his eyes flashing and his jaw grinding. Cords begin to stand out in his rapidly-reddening neck as his hands flex in and out of fists. He looks (and probably feels, up close) /very/ dangerous, right now. People at the nearby tables are visibly beginning to shift away. "You don't know fuckin' /shit/ about me, motherfucker, so keep your fuckin' lyin' fish mouth closed, or I'll close it for you, kid or not." "I'm sorry," Sebastian finally speaks up, now, and his tone is quieter than his brother's. Gentle -- a little uneven as the gills on his neck quiver, "but he's not lying. Maybe we're not talking about the kind of rape that happens at knifepoint, but what you were trying to do with Peter? That /certainly/ wasn't any kind of consent." He's put himself more squarely between Shane and Trib, now, edging his brother that much more away from the much, much larger man. "Fine. Whatever. It wasn't rape. It was just /bullying/ a /terrified kid/ into trading sexual favours for /food/. Call it what you want, but that --" Shane's head shakes, almost sadly. "That's not /okay/." Sebastian rests a hand on Shane's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Prison -- right. I guess you'd know. We've -- been in cages a long -- /long/ time," he tells Cage, still quiet. "We see people do all kinds of terrible things. So it's not -- really /surprising/." "Unsurprising's still /sick/, though," Shane answers. "Peter was terrified. That we were going to die. And you /used/ that --" His jaw tightens in a hard clamp. "I don't need to know anything about you. People get -- ugly. /We/ get ugly. When the rest of everything's all stripped away." "And don't," Sebastian says this a little bit more firmly, "you /ever/ threaten my brother again." "Whoa!" Luke says, just under a shout. He shoots out of his chair right after Trib does, but interposes himself between Trib and the boys. He puts a hand on Trib's chest, but turns himself sideways to face Trib and the boys at the same time. The four now have the /full/ attention of the record store, and a full Greek tragedy of emotions plays across Luke's face. He clenches his teeth, clearly furious at this point, and says as evenly as he can manage, "Trib. You and I need to continue this conversation /outside/. Boys. I'd like you to come too, but I'd understand if you don't." Either way, it's pretty clear Luke means to escort Trib outside, away from their audience here. Trib's color is only deepening, and he looks like he might actually take a bite out of something. "You don't know /shit/ about me, or why I do anything, motherfuckers," he growls. When Cage points him at the door, he doesn't object, but he does whip back to point at his eyes then back at the twins pointedly. "They'd better fuckin' come along," he growls, and then he's stalking for the entrance, clearing the people there with an inarticulate growl. "I don't /have/ to know why you intimidate children into fucking you," Shane says levelly, not making any move to leave the (protection? /restraint/?) safety of his behind-Sebastian vantage point. "It's enough to know you're the kind of person who tries." "Thank you," Sebastian says this to Cage actually politely, nudging Shane away, "-- but I think he just threatened us again. I'd rather not. I'm sorry that we -- interrupted your -- music." "I'm not." Shane's teeth grind against each other. "I /love/ that kid and you -- we were in a bad enough situation /already/ without traumatizing him /worse/." "Shh --" Sebastian sounds more soothing, now, than restraining, squeezing down at Shane's shoulder again. He pushes Shane back, away from the table, giving Cage and Trib /plenty/ of room to leave. "I -- think we should." His eyes dart around the watching semi-crowd. "-- should be going." Shane turns half-aside with a shuddering exhale. "Yeah." He sounds almost defeated. "Fuck. Yeah." Luke follows Trib out to the street and gestures at the alley next to the record store, out of the hustle and bustle flow of the sidewalk foot traffic. One the way out, Luke gives the boys a confusing mixed look of pleading and concern. He's heard every word, and wants the whole story, but he can't bring himself to ask them again. If they come, they come. Once in the alley, Luke paces a short distance down, scrubbing a hand over his bald head. Turning, he clenches his fists in frustration, not making it a threat directed at anyone in particular, but more a gesture focused at the universe. "What. The /fuck/. Just happened, Trib?" "Fuckin' /cowards/," Trib growls over his shoulder from the door when Sebastian declines. "Can say all kinds of fuckin' /lies/, but too fuckin' /chicken/ to own up to 'em." He turns at the door, and gives the twins two highly-held fingers. On each hand. "Keep your fuckin' lyin' fish lips closed, you fuckin' dipshits," is his cheery farewell, and then he's out the door for real. He hits the alley before Cage does, and immediately kicks the living shit out of a trash can, wrenching its lid free and taking two big bites of it before throwing it aside with a crash and spitting the metal pieces on the ground. Cage's question gets an annoyed sort of half-growl, and he turns to face the detective with an expression that's equal parts anger, fear, and confusion. "I honestly don't fuckin' know, Boss," he says, his voice still edged with fury. "I ain't /never/ hurt a kid, even in the cages, an' I sure as fuck wouldn't fuckin' /rape/ one." He gestures at the street with an angry snap to his hand. "They're fuckin' crazy or somethin'." Shane and Sebastian head out, too. But most definitely do not follow the others into the alley; Sebastian's hand stays /firmly/ on Shane's arm as he guides his brother veeeeery much in the opposite direction, in a /hurry/ towards the subway. "Brother..." Luke says, watching Trib's display of temper with a new coolness. "You just threatened the hell out of those kids... /Even/ if they're spouting utter bullshit, man, that's fucked up. They're /kids/. And the 'fish lips' shit... that's almost /worse/, man." He eyes the tipped trash can, and the garabge strewn about. He leans back against a big green dumpster and rubs the back of his neck. "Look, I believe you never touched the kid, ok? But what did you say to them when you were in there? It definitely wasn't /nothing/, ok? Don't play me like that." Trib's anger doesn't seem to be subsiding, although he does settle down. "I wouldn't have fuckin' hurt those kids,' he grunts, squatting to brace his rump against the brick wall and bending over slightly. "I got a temper, but I ain't a fuckin' /monster/. They've hated me since they landed in the fuckin' cages. 'Cause I wasn't /friendly/ in there, waitin' for my number to come up. An' I told them they was fuckin' stupid for bein' all lovey and friendly in there. Damned near got all of 'em killed, bein' all boyfriends with each other." He hawks a wad of spit, and straightens, his brow lowering. "The shit they said -- that ain't fuckin' true. I /was/ fuckin' scary in there, an' I can see where they'd be worried about that shit, talkin' about sex as much as the mouthy one did. But goin' around runnin' their mouths about that shit when it ain't true -- that can fuckin' /ruin/ what little fuckin' life I've built back up." Trib's anger seems to rush out of him, and he wobbles a moment before he crashes to the ground in a sitting position and drops his head into his hands. "I ain't even fuckin' twenty-one, yet, Cage. How the fuck did my life get so fuckin' fucked?" Cage blinks, with the knowledge of finally pinning a number to Trib's ambiguous age. Then he shakes his head, unclenching his hands so he can scrub his face with them. "Unfortunately Life doesn't really give a shit as to how old you are when it comes knocking. They tried me as an adult. I was only 17 when I went to prison." Luke shakes his head again, turns, and throws a lazy punch at the dumpster, leaving an indentation of his fist there, and a clang to ring out either end of the alley. "And no powers yet. Look," he says, his tone indicating a sudden change of topic, "I ain't decided on nothin yet. You gotta give me some time with this, ok?" Trib grinds his palms into his eyes, and exhales heavily. "Yeah," he says in a dull voice. "I understand. It's a lot to fuckin' think about." He pushes to his feet, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Just...give me a call, either way." The boxer doesn't look angry any more -- just defeated, with a heavy slump to his shoulders as he turns to exit the alley. "Thanks for tryin'."