ArchivedLogs:Fanfic

Fanfic
Dramatis Personae Peter, Micah, Jack	3 December 2014 '
Location <NYC> Guerrilla Garden - Lower East Side
Situated on the lot directly adjacent to the distinctive sleek form of the Mendel Clinic, this space was once abandoned. The chainlink fence around it is still rusty, dilapidated, and the signs affixed to it still unwelcoming -- rusty as well, reading KEEP OUT, and PRIVATE PROPERTY. For those who venture into the slitted gap cut out of the fence, though, the yard within tells a different story. Neat and cleaned of any garbage and weeds, the once-abandoned lot has been rebuilt. Packing crates have been broken down for their wood to create raised beds full of rich soil, each bed neatly tilled and tended. Stakes label the different plants growing -- a wealth of vegetables growing three seasons of the year in the carefully tended soil. Around the edges of the lot, smaller beds have had brightly coloured flowers planted, lending even more cheer to the little hidden garden. Very eclectically mismatched seating has been brought in; old packing crates, chairs scavenged from curbs, though it's all been brightly painted. "...s'was all alone," Peter informs Micah -- the chitin-clad teen is currently wrapped up in a dark blue hoodie to hold off the winter chill; underneath that, a bit of red is visible -- his lightning-bolt adorned 'Captain Marvel' t-shirt, and jeans underneath that. In his arms, currently, is a box *full* of tupperware, used and recently acquired from the nearby Guerilla Garden; Peter is hefting it with ease (it isn't really all that heavy anyway!) as he lumbers toward the back of Micah's van to load it in. "--dunno who's... gone, in the dreams," Peter adds, a little glumly. "But I know Shane is. From the compass. I think -- my parents, too. I don't know about B, or Jax, or -- you, even." Micah's box is less impressively filled: a few additional large Tupperware containers that just didn't stack neatly into Peter's. Hey, he's providing the /driving/, right? He is dressed for the cold and wet: Jayne hat, Fourth Doctor scarf, candy corn striped convertible gloves, olive puffy coat, flannel lined bluejeans, boots. Micah is better able to free up a hand to get the back of the van open for...mostly Peter to load things into it. His jaw clenches, muscles twitching just in front of his ears at Peter's announcement regarding Shane. "Had the same kinda...bad. In the one I had. Was with Jim an' Mel an' Tola an' Ion. So we know's at least them there. An' me. Well...what's /left/ of me. Looked like I prob'ly got blown up a bit. 'Least once." He chews on his lip, debating what else to say. "Jax an' the pups an' Spence weren't there. I didn't feel like they were still... Prob'ly there's a lotta people not there. But we're /not/ gonna let that happen." "Freaking cold and wet and I hate winter and fall and rain and snow," the voice is apparently coming from...nowhere. Except keen eyes might spot a pair of old sneakers and an old pair of jeans just walking by themselves. Anyone that knows him will know this is probably Jack. He's in the process of crouching down and retrieving that usual old hoodie of his from under another car when he hears a voice he recognizes. Glancing up, he blinks a little as he overhears a little of what's being said by Micah and the other teen he doesn't recognize and after a moment of debate he starts heading over. Yep, empty pants and shoes with a crumpled hoodie ball floating along with them walking towards Peter and Micah. "Hey, need a hand with any of that?" he offers as the floating hoodie starts to shake itself out. The mention of Jax not being there doesn't give Peter much pause; he still looks relatively glum, but not particularly *glummer*. Both the pups? Same. But at the mention of Spence -- Peter's grip on the cardboard box tightens -- the material crumpling under his palms, his jaw hardening, his expression *tensing*. He lets out a little breath from his nose, and shoves the box into the van -- like he was trying to show it who's boss. "Spence," he says, and there's a faint tremble in his tone. He shakes his head, again. "If Jax is gone, and Shane is gone, and Spence is gone, then I hope B's--" Peter stops himself from finishing that thought. He just shakes his head, forcefully, before looking up to Micah... and nodding, once. "No. We won't," Peter tells him. "God, Micah, I don't even want to go to sleep. I--" Oh. Oh, wait, what's... that? Peter's eyebrow shoots up as he swings his head around to observe what appears to be... a ghost, ambling toward them. A ghost in a hoodie. To Peter's credit, he doesn't appear very flustered; in fact, he crooks a little grin at the sight. "--hey. Uh, thanks, I think -- there's one more box, by the fence?" He swings his arm out over toward the fence, where a (relatively small) box full of the remaining tupperware sits. Oh, hey, talking pants! Micah gives that sight a good looking over before the gears click in his head. "Jack! Hey, yeah, the weather's kinda miserable. Y'got a place t'be out of it t'night?" He nods along with Peter's instruction. "Yep, not a lot left. Take Peter here 'long for a haulin' chore an' it don't leave much t'haul." The cheer of greeting runs out fairly quickly given the other topic of discussion. "Didn't have no confirmation of nothin' like you did. S'just...a feelin'." At the teen's description of not wanting to sleep, he puts a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't. You /want/ t'sleep. Y'want every /minute/ of horrible-awful dreams y'can get. 'Cause the more we see it now? The less we'll have t'/live/ it later. We all need t'be sharin' every detail of these dreams in case we get the key t' /stoppin'/ it." Not that anyone can see it but Jack nods. The hoodie's wet but it still pulls itself onto the not-there teen. Judging by the way the fabric settles, there is indeed a body there. "Hey, Micah. I've got a place," he says. He doesn't sound too thrilled about it though. Nodding again, he jogs over to pick up the box. Picking it up, he carries it back over to arch a brow as he listens to what the others are saying. "Is...something wrong?" he pauses a beat. "Aside from the usual." Peter sinks beneath Micah's palm, and the boy teeters, briefly, under the weight of his advice -- but only briefly. Like a gyroscope, he finds his center and snaps back to attention -- nodding his head. With just a hint of a smile. "--yeah. You're right. We need --" His eyes drift up to Micah, then. "--intel. All of the information. I don't think I had my powers, anymore. I climbed out of the old house, that night -- really slow-like. Maybe I was temporarily depowered." As Jack brings the box over, Peter reaches to take it and throw it into the van! A little more gently, this time. "--mmn? Oh, just -- prophetic dreams, end of the world -- normal stuff, y'know? Hi, I'm Peter. Your name's Jack?" Peter holds out a chitin-clad hand for the young man. He doesn't even ask Jack about his invisibility, yet! See? Peter's learning how to be polite. "Just checkin', sugar. 'Cause there /is/ that shelter. An' we do still have beds back at the Commons, y'get yourself into a spot." The offer is casual, just slid in there as the conversation moves along. Micah's hand pats at Peter's shoulder as he bounces back, then moves away to let him handle the boxes. "S'been a concern. With Dr. Toure talkin' 'bout givin' the treatments he'd been workin' on with Matt t'the police. Could have mutant-depowerin' weapons out on the streets by then, for sure." He nods at the additional information, mulling it over. "Good that the house's still there. We were...scavengin' half-bombed out lookin' buildin's. For supplies an' food t'take underground. Sounded like maybe we all took up hidin' with the Morlocks." An ironic smile twists at the corners of his lips, nodding toward the boxes of emptied food containers. "An' nobody left t'send dinner down." Twisting about, he pushes the door of the van to. When the box is taken, Jack pulls his hood up. He just ends up staring at Peter's answer though. The look on his face would be priceless. "I...what?" he asks. "And I thought the killer waffle dream was bad..." he jokes, still trying to process what Peter tells him. "Yeah, yeah I'm Jack," he replies, shaking Peter's chitin-clad hand with his unseen one. Apparently he's lost those gloves he 'borrowed' from the ice skating rink. He shifts a little uncomfortably as Micah mentions open beds and the shelters. "I...feel bad asking but if you don't mind me borrowing a bed, I'd take it. As long as I could do something in return. Hive mentioned a bunch of chores that could use doing. I'd be happy to do whatever," he offers quickly. The rest of what Micah says just gets more staring. "Okay...your dreams definitely sound worse than killer waffles." "Yeah, if New York City blew up tomorrow, I guess the Morlocks would just be like -- I mean, it's not a big difference between what they do *now* and what they'd be doing *then*, maybe," Peter says to Micah, only to add: "Though... I was being really careful not to be noticed. Like, there were people after me, or something?" There's a pause, as Jack speaks, before Peter angles his head at him -- then, over to Micah -- before, a little more quietly: "--the school might--how old are you?" Peter asks Jack, only to add: "Are you /always/ invisible? That's gotta suck; do you know how you -- I mean, people kinda need sunlight to /survive/, I wonder if your body's figured out a way to... do you eat a lot of Vitamin D supplements?" Well, it was only a matter of time; inevitably, curiosity beats politeness. "Man, Killer Waffles sounds like an excellent /restaurant/," Micah jokes back, trying for...at least a hint of levity in and around all the apocalyptic doomtalk. "Y'aren't askin'. I offered. An' we got no /end/ of things need sweepin' an' moppin' an' dustin' an'...dishes alone, I'll tell you." He does have a warmer smile to offer the boy now, too. "An' should be plenty of food, y'wanna head back with us. Spence's got the sniffles, so I made up 'bout a small lake worth of matzoh ball soup. Traditional chicken an' vegan both. S'good for the weather, too. Not just sick kids." The smile fades with the return of future dream discussion. "We was, too. Was somethin' loud an' mechanical. Scanned the buildin' we were in...wide-sweepin' red beam. All of us were 'fraid t'move. 'cept Ion seemed t'/want/ the things. Makes me think they're prob'ly good energy sources for 'im to've been drawin' from, maybe. Ended up he just zapped us outta there." "Wait, Morlocks like from that book?" Jack asks, suddenly worried about underground cannibals as well as dreams of doom. He ends up snickering a bit at Micah's joke though. "Okay. That all sounds good. Anything you need doing...I just want to help out after you've all been so nice," he says. He frowns as the apocalyptic discussion resumes, listening quietly. He hasn't had any dreams but this all sounds bad. Peter's curiosity distracts from any questions though and the invisible teen blinks. "Uhh...I'm sixteen for awhile longer. And yeah...perma-ghost," he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I dunno. I mostly eat whatever I get out of dumpsters and whatever the uh...unintentional donations," winces as he avoids outright admitting he steals wallets, "get me." "--loud and mechanical. Sweeping red beam," Peter says, puzzling over this new information with a rumpled brow. His eyes drift over to Jack -- and he crooks a grin. "Yeah, they live underground and rise up occasionally to gobble up the Eloi -- that's us." At the mention of eating out of dumpsters, Peter's grin fades, though doesn't entirely disappear; he nods, quietly. "...you should probably -- I mean, with a power like that, you might have some medical problems down the road? Like, with this," he lifts his hand up, indicating the chitin that covers him, "it makes it hard for me to sweat, so during the summer, I'm always at risk of overheating. But also, yeah Micah and Jax have great food, you should come over and have some." "Not exactly," Micah answers with a chuckle. "I mean, /most/ of 'em I've met don't actually eat people. At least not all the time." Tinysmirk. "You're only sixteen? Wow. Um. Not t'continue t'pry into your life excessively, but. I teach at a school that might be a good place for you?" It sounds half a question. "An' they /might/ even be able t'help y'with figurin' out your ability. Like if it /has/ an off switch an' how t'use it...if it's there. Y'wouldn't be the first t'think somethin' was permanent an' get better control over time." He frowns slightly at the Dumpster-diving and stealing for food. "Honey, there's better... The shelter we gave y'information on provides food. An' the Food Not Bombs folks has meals over Tompkins Square a couple times a week. At least get some healthful things in you now an' then." Waving the boys over toward the passenger side door, he still has a bit of fret-face. "But t'night, all the soup." "Okay, are you guys just messing with me or should I seriously be worried if I have to go underground again?" Jack asks, looking between Peter and Micah. Peter mentioning medical problems gets a little sigh. "I think a doctor would have a hard time helping me," he says. "And they really do. They invited me over for Thanksgiving and it was the best meal I've had in years," he says. "Thank you again for that. A lot," he adds to Micah. "Uhh...so far you're the third and fourth people to mention some school...is it all the same place or am I just so out of the loop that I completely missed a bunch of mutant-friendly schools popping up?" he asks, trying to be funny at the same time. He waits for Peter to head to the door and shrugs. "I figured I've just been...well I was nervous as hell about even going near Evolve that first time. Been thrown and chased out of enough shelters...just...was working up to it." "--don't worry. We got at least three years before the world turns into really bad Mad Max fanfiction," Peter explains, quite cheerfully, as he moves to leap into the van along with Jack -- hopping in first! "Also, you haven't met Dr. /McCoy/, he's --" Peter stops, there, only to add -- a little quietly: "Mutant-friendly schools exist. I mean, besides the Osborn Institute, I don't think that one counts. But, yeah, just -- we don't talk about them a lot in public, on account of... well, if folks knew some schools were taking mutants, they might get in their heads to burn those places /down/, y'know?" Peter adds, with just a bit of a cheeky grin: "But basically? This place is /Hogwart's/." "Mostly messin' with you. But some of 'em are territorial down there if they don't know you already, so watch your step, anyhow, yeah?" Micah's lips scrunch over to one side at the mention of doctors having difficulty. "It'd be hard not /seein'/ you? But a lotta good medical personnel can get a lotta information from touch an' sound, too. An' I wonder how you'd show up on imagin' or ultrasound? They could help. At the school or the Mendel Clinic. Both specialise in this stuff." He nods in agreement with Peter. "Prob'ly they all been talkin' 'bout the same school if it's been folks 'round here. We don't usually get too chatty 'bout it in public 'cause...yeah, there's a risk whenever y'expose a place like that. But y'have t'take that risk a little t'get the information t'folks as /need/ it. Which y'might well be. S'a boardin' school. So not just education. S'a place t'live, food, medical care, counsellin', help dealin' with your abilities. Think about it an' let us know, okay? Jax'n I both teach there, so we could talk to 'em for you." Once the kids are in the vehicle, he moves over to the driver's side and gets himself situated, as well. Climbing into the van last, Jack settles in quietly. "That's good, I haven't gotten my 'in case of fanfiction emergency' kit ready yet," he remarks. The cheerful attitude from Peter is a bit infectious and Jack can't help but smile. He nods a little to the medicalish questions. "I know even my freaking blood is invisible so I'm not sure how much help a doctor would be. I don't show up on cameras either...no idea about that other stuff," he says with a shrug. "Yeah, I get that...about not talking in public about it," he says. He's quiet as he listens right up until Peter calls it Hogwarts. "Oh good, I made sure to bring the invisibility cloak," he tries another joke. "I'll...think about it," he does say to Micah after a moment. "I've been thinking about it since Thanksgiving actually," he admits.