ArchivedLogs:Free Money

Free Money
Dramatis Personae Deltressa & Gwen
In Absentia	2016-01-11 "You mean why I don't live in a mansion? There's several reasons."
Location <NYC> Brooklyn
The most populous of the boroughs, Brooklyn has nothing if not character. With a thriving music and arts scene, and a distinctive New York slant to its stereotypical gritty accents, Brooklyn ranges from the high-cultured to the very much working class. From botanical gardens to beachfronts, Manhattanites might like to think their borough is the only one that matters, but Brooklyn has a lot to offer of its own. As a blanket of darkness settles over a strip of warehouses in Brooklyn, a chill accompanies it and the air grows sharp enough to bite into a person's bones. Not so far off of the beaten path, the boarded up broken windows and loosely chained double-doors of the surrounding old factory buildings (that haven't been turned into artist studios and living space for crusties, that is) might be an ideal sanctuary for any transient. As the wind howls around the corner of one of the massive brick entities, a group of four or five young men step out of a triangle of shadow. The sound of their laughter is carried down the otherwise quiet street as they swing their handle-held weapons. Talking over one another’s voices, they recall a recent zombie encounter with excitement. The street offers little cover besides a few sparsely parked cars, a thin alleyway leading between buildings, and of course, the abandoned buildings themselves. Surprisingly well protected against the chill, Gwen wanders down one of those alleys, bundled in several sweaters and a warm coat. Her clothing has seen better days but are certainly in better shape than a lot of the homeless around here. Still, she wraps her arms across her chest and buries her hands underneath her arms to ward off the cold. Her walk is sharp and quick, with the focus of someone who knows where they're going and is avoiding being distracted by anything or anyone. From the mouth of the alley, the pack of boisterous young men can be heard as they shove one another and laugh. Heavy footed, their boots and shoes clop against the poorly maintained sidewalk as they slow to a stop. They can be heard beginning to hassle someone with a little less luck. Inside, the alley acts as an urban cavern. It's only wide enough for two people to stand side-by-side in, but if one were to look up they could do so forever. Though the wind can be heard, the buildings on either side keep it at bay. From the other mouth, Deltressa appears with her long-legged stride. Endlessly tall even while hunched over, she initially presses against the warehouse's outer wall as if to seek cover from something or someone on the street outside. Bundled against the cold with her identity completely obscured by a hood and scarf, the woman cradles two heavy bags of medical provisions. Heading for the direction of the group, Gwen pauses, the loud boisterous sounds echoing down the alley and reaching her much sooner than they might otherwise. Instinctively, she grips the cloth satchel she has slung over her shoulder tighter, looking up as if debating what to do. Risking it, she continues forward, avoiding eye contact by keeping her gaze to the ground just ahead of her. "Excuse me," she murmurs once she nears them, impatiently waiting for one of them to make room and allow her to pass. Gwen's murmur is drowned out by a sudden burst of laughter as a drunken old man in rags stumbles over himself at her, and the group's feet. Humiliated, the old man reeks of whiskey and his own piss. Four men in their mid-twenties tower over him. With grins on their faces, they are bundled against the cold as well. Armed with bats and lead pipes, they don't move out of the young woman's way. "Ain't safe out here? You want a walk home, mama?" The tallest of these men as to step back to take in Gwen, but he clicks approvingly. His face tattoo stretches as he smiles, gesturing to a bottle wrapped in a paper bag in his puffy coat pocket, "You ain't in a rush, are you?" He opens his arms as if for a hug, blocking the way even further. His friends laugh. Behind Gwen, Deltressa makes her way up the neck of the alley. Peeking over her shoulder periodically for whatever it was that she was avoiding, the mutant woman unintentionally kicks away a bottle. It clinks as it rolls wobbles away from her, causing her to stop moving and listen. "No, I...just need to get through," Gwen tries to reason, her voice fading as she realizes she may be in trouble. Backing away slowly, wide eyes fearful eyes take in the group and their makeshift weapons before she suddenly turns tail and runs. She doesn't make it very far before she catches sight of Deltressa, though as bundled as the other is it's hard to tell who or what is blocking the other end of the path. As far as Gwen is aware, she's surrounded. Quickly, she turns and reaches for the nearest door, jiggling the handle harshly. Locked. Deltressa rears up somewhat as Gwen hurtles down the alley, her leather gloved hands both rising into the air in mock-surrender. "We can't go that way, girl," the woman warns in a husky voice, gesturing behind her with a thumb. She kicks the bottle again as she takes a swift step backward with her boot. She'd feign ignorance but then again, she had been listening. "Let me help, quickly," the woman jerks as if she might come closer, but doesn't until Gwen gives her permission. Face largely wrapped tight, her cool black eyes settle on the other woman. "Where are you going?! I wanted to marry you!" The man calls into the alley to the delight of his companions. He stumbles after her, apparently having been drinking as well. Gwen glances towards Deltressa as the other speaks, looking at her closely. "Wh-why not?" she asks, glancing back towards the group in panic as they continue to catcall her and follow her. Another quick glance to the mysteriously cloaked person offering help convinces that is probably the lesser of two potential evils and she quickly nods, pressing herself against the alley wall. "Wh-whatever you can do. Please," she agrees, not quite sure what to do with herself at the moment. She really isn't the fighting type. Deltressa flaps both hands as Gwen flattens against the warehouse. "Help me kick it in. We can do it together," her tone is maternal but no less commanding as she backs a step away from the door. The tall woman shifts the weight her saddlebags and rocks on her feet to build momentum as Gwen's uninvited suiters continue their approach, "One... two... th-" Gwen nods, quickly standing beside her cloaked savior. She's not very confident in her abilities as she takes a step back. As Deltressa counts down, she breathes quickly, eyes locked on the other for guidance. It might be a fair assumption that this is the first door she's ever kicked down. On 'three', Gwen quickly shuts her eyes and goes for it. On the count of three, the door meets the bottom of Gwen and Deltressa’s feet. With a gunshot-like bang, it flings open. Likely more prepared for the impact, Deltressa shoves Gwen in ahead of her with a firm hand to the other woman's back, "Quickly!" She closes the distance between herself and the doorway with little more than a single step. Throwing her bags to the ground inside, she slams it shut and holds it there as she surveys their surroundings. Her black eyes remain open and unblinkingly, "The desk, there!" She gestures to the right with a finger to a dusty old piece of furniture, pressing her body against the door should someone try to push from the other side, "Slide it here!" A bit unsteady without the door in the way but Gwen regains herself, which is handy considering how roughly Deltressa pushes her in. Still, she can't complain. She also, tosses her bag to the ground, rushing over to the desk as Deltressa orders her. She quickly pushes the desk over to the door, glancing towards Deltressa once more now that they're out of immediate danger. "Who...who are you?" Chest heaving, Deltressa takes a moment to regain her breath before she responds. She back-steps and dips to heave up one of her heavy supply bags, setting it down on the desk just as the door begins to rattle. "Well, /who/ are /you/?" She counters the question over the shouting from the alleyway. "I'm a mutant," Deltressa states, adding darkly, "Is that going to be a problem for you?" She sets her other bag on the desk as well before she surveys the rest of the room, "We ought to stay close, girl. From my experience, this is just the sort of place zombies like to linger on in." "A mutant?" Naturally, this is what gets her attention the most. "N-no. No problem," she responds. Just /why/ this isn't a problem she doesn't clarify. The mention of zombies gets a sudden glance around the room, as if a horde might suddenly appear out of thin air. "Right. Zombies. Yeah, we can stick together. I usually avoid them by being invisible." She suddenly glances towards Deltress. "Not...literally. I'm just good at being by myself. I'm not used to company." She makes her way over to her bag and slings it back over her shoulder. "Gwen. I'm Gwen." Won't be a problem? "You say that, /now/." Deltressa eyes Gwen sternly. "Unfortunately, it's rather difficult for me to be invisible. Even figuratively," Deltressa rolls her head on her neck as she pushes back her hood, revealing a cheap synthetic wig and the first set of extra eyes, "A pleasure, Gwen." She partially unravels her scarf, allowing it to fall free from her mouth and pursed lips, "Deltressa." "Trust me. I know...what it's like. Not trusting anyone," Gwen attempts to explain, though she continues to avoid /actually/ explaining anything. She watches as Deltressa removes her hoods. It would be a lie to say she wasn't startled: her eyes widen and she does lean back slightly. She does, however, hold back any comments, merely examining the...person before her and allowing it a moment to take in. "So...Deltressa. Nice to meet you," she says, nodding slowly as she decides to leave it at that. "I dare say we could have chosen better circumstances," the corner of Deltressa's lips curve into a little smirk. Quite clearly homeless as well, she shifts her winter clothes. A hand comes up to gently adjust the wig, "But I won't be made to believe that you were out here with /no/ means of self-defense at all, Gwen. What are you packin'?" As she asks, she pulls her bags back over her shoulders. Unzipping one, she produces a small handgun - likely stolen or looted or ditched by its previous owner. With it, she doesn't move towards Gwen but rather, inches closer to the open door that the pair will soon have to go through. "I'm...not packing anything. Really," Gwen says, with faint chuckle as she realizes just how ridiculous that might sound to certain people. "I usually avoid trouble. Or run. I'm good at running." Which is, clearly, not an option in this case. So she's content to stick close to Deltressa, staring wide-eyed at the door they're now guarding against. "Good. It can save your life," Deltressa offers the much younger woman a compliment, "As I'm sure it has." She drifts out of the door, into the warehouse's wide expanse, "But you really should consider something more substantial, if you're going to be out on the streets on your own. The world is a cruel place, but I doubt I have to tell you that." Framing her face with the gun, she watches the dimly lit warehouse carefully. "It...has come in handy once or twice," Gwen agrees, closely following the other woman. "I'm not usually on the streets. I usually bounce around apartments and hotel rooms. The zombie problem...cut into my funds a bit," she says, looking around the room carefully. "What about you? You live on the streets full-time then?" “Not quite,” Deltressa responds, continuing cautiously forward into a hallway which proves to be empty. She motions for Gwen to follow, “I live in a… camp ...of sorts. Others like me, if you can believe it. Not everyone can get a hotel room.” … “And if I haven’t returned soon with these medical supplies, they’re likely to come looking.” Gwen follows behind Deltressa, cautiously looking around the hallway for any sign of danger. "Others like you? You mean...other mutants?" she asks, perhaps a bit too curiously. "I never thought something like that would exist." She glances towards the bag the other carries. "Medical supplies? Is it far from here, this camp?" “I’m afraid that’s need to know, dear,” Deltressa breathes out a small laugh, eyeing Gwen from over her shoulder, “No humans are permitted. Even the tolerable ones.” She holds out a hand to stop Gwen as an aluminum pang sound pops up a few paces ahead. Once the sound proves to have been a rat, which scuttles by, Deltressa relaxes, “Which in my experience are very rare.” Gwen freezes as she's motioned to, though she listens intently to Deltressa's words. "What if...I weren't human either?" she says, her words coming out slow and cautious, still not sure whether the other mutant can be trusted or not. But she's helped Gwen this far, and revealed quite a bit about herself to Gwen. Deltressa lowers her gun, and slowly turns on her heel to stare down at Gwen. She cocks her head slightly, "What if I asked you to prove it." Now, the gun is held with both hands. The insinuation of a threat lingers in the air between them. Three sets of the arachnid woman's black, empty eyes fix on Gwen and remain there. Gwen tenses up a bit as Deltressa turns to her with that accusing tone. "Alright..." she finally says, glancing around her immediate area. A few yards away, she finds a stray nail, long since rusted off of whatever it had been holding together. She picks it up and, very slowly and very cautiously, removes her yellow and metallic looking gloves. She takes a deep breath before taking the nail in her bare hands. Almost instantly, the nail also turns yellow and metallic. Quickly, she puts her gloves back on before stepping closer to Deltressa, holding the nail out for her to examine. "It's gold. I do it to everything I, my hands, touch. I can't turn it off." Plucking the nail up in her own gloved fingers, she lets down her guard. "Interesting," she mumbles, lowering the nail and flicking it away into the darkness. She shifts, letting the strap of one of her bags slide down the length of her arm, "It says a lot about your character or very little about your comprehension that you don't have a very different life, but my intuition tells me to give you the benefit of the doubt, girl." She holds out the bag for Gwen, "They'll be more accepting if they see you carrying supplies in." With a flick of what could be where her eyebrows would be, she adds, "You won't be forced to stay." Gwen seems genuinely surprised when Deltressa tosses the nail away. "I'm not sure what it says about someone when they toss free money away," she says quietly. She does smile softly though. "You mean why I don't live in a mansion? There's several reasons. I used to think I could. But whenever people know I'm like this, suddenly all they want is for me to make more. It's gotten scary a few times. So the less gold I make and sell, the less attention I draw to myself. I only make enough to keep alive." "Money is an ugly thing," Deltressa responds coolly, looking off in the direction of the nail, "King Midas's was a curse, and I have respect for that." She blinks, "I can't promise that down below, and that is where I am headed, there won't be others that will covet your gift. Certainly, they'll covet your pretty face. But I won't. Both are a terrible burden." Raising the gun, she makes to move forward again, "Now, come. There's a hot meal waiting for us, and I've had a long day." Once again, Gwen is clearly taken by surprise. "You mean...you're inviting me?" She had just been curious about this 'mutant camp'. She didn't expect to be invited. "I...sure. I'll come with," she agrees, nodding her head slightly. The comment about hot free improves her move greatly and her steps now have a light spring to them. Deltressa smirks, "We'll work on your comprehension, later. For now, cover up that pretty face." Tentatively, the arachnid woman leads them out of the desolate warehouse and into the night. The pair skitters across city streets and back alleys, until inevitably slipping into the safety of the city's mutant underbelly.