ArchivedLogs:Island Paradise

Island Paradise
Dramatis Personae Ion, Isak	2014-04-28 '
Location <BOM> Front Porch - Main Lodge - Ascension Island
The front porch of the lodge unfurls its way across the entire front length of the building. Stained in a dark reddish finish, it seems to have been refurbished somewhat recently, the sturdy wood rather less weather-beaten than many of the buildings on the island. A half-height railing edges most of the porch, with a wide gated staircase centrally leading to the heavy front door, and ungated ramps at either side end. Protected from all but the most driving of rains by a sloped roof, the porch has been furnished with an assortment of furniture. Wicker rocking chairs, a pair of small square aluminum tables, a hammock at the far right end, a bench swing at the left. Despite the solid locks on the doors and windows, the front door holds a cheerfully flower-edged mat reading WELCOME. It's a far cry from a tropical island, really, but it's sunny and warm... ish, and Ion's /chillin'/. Like a villain? Appropriate enough to his locale, he's got his Mutant Mongrels MC kutte on over a plain white undershirt, the leather vest emblazoned huge and proud with its kind of /inhuman/ skull-and-crossbones logo (the skull is horned and fanged, the crossbones in /his/ case actually a crossed pair of lightning bolts); the MUTANT MONGRELS name is bold and large on it. The elecrokinetic is seated in a rocking chair on the porch, huge stompy boots stretched up onto the railing, an enormous cup of mate in his hands that he is sipping at from a metal bombilla and a burrito in his hands. The chair creaks slowly as he rocks it back and forth, eyes fixed out on the lawn; there's a cheap cellphone resting in his lap that he's kind of /glaring/ down at like he's been waiting for it to ring. It is not obliging him. Isak's been working to earn the trust of the Brotherhood through safehouse guarding duty and by going on the very bloody mission (never mind the person he attacked was the only survivor.) Apparently he's passed at least the preliminary tests and someone he was on guard duty with in the safehouse asked him if he wanted to come over to the island after his shift was over. Curiosity compels him to make the trip. He disembarks from the small boat, cigarette in hand. He's dressed fashionably, as always, in teal slim cut pants, an oversized white v-neck t-shirt and a pale coral blazer. He's also wearing his favourite pair of teal leather shoes. The guy who gave him a ride has other business to attend to, which leaves him wandering up from the shore while he takes thoughtful drags from his cigarette. "Ey-oh." Ion's brows lift as he spots the familiar figure wandering up, lifting his burrito in a kind of salute, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Sup, hermano, how goes, you made it. You got any extra, on that, smoke, eh?" He gestures towards Isak's cigarette, eyes widening in hopeful questioning. "I trade you for some taco. Carnitas, is most excellent." He lifts his cup towards his mouth, teeth clicking against his metal straw as he takes another sip. "How you /doing/?" "So this is the famous island paradise. It's no Majorca, I'll say that. But considerably less travel time." Isak smirks and moves towards Ion. "I'm not hungry, thanks," But he does pull out his matte black cigarette case and present one to the other. "You know what happened to that kid in the attic?" Ion sets his cup down in his lap, squeezing it between his thighs to free up a hand. He reaches forward, plucking out a cigarette from the case and slipping it between his lips with a nod of thanks. "Gracias, ese. This our paradise, yeah. Not no tropics but we do throw a /fine/ party here now-and-then, s'pretty banging come nighttime, yeah." He digs a cheap plastic lighter from a pocket of his kutte, flicking it to light the cigarette. His eyes dip down to the phone in his lap with a tinge of regret. "Darkwing, he been in a bad way still, huh? Took him inna hospital. Been there since. He getting some maybe-help today. Maybe get back with us." "He nearly had Rasputin for lunch. That cat...don't know if it's bravery or stupidity." Isak finds a chair and sinks into it. "Glad to hear he's getting some help. But honestly, I don't know how you come back from that sort of thing. Not unless you get someone to wipe your memory of it ever happening." "Ras, he all heart." Ion takes a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke off towards the porch roof. "Sometimes guess we're long on heart here. Notsomuch the brains to go with though huh?" His smile is crooked, his to thene amused. "Dusk too. Hope heart's enough to come back from that shit. Batman always had more than most. I'd dig those fuckers up and kill them /again/." Isak taps the ashes off the end of his cigarette, then takes another long, thoughtful pull off of it. "I'd imagine that's the hardest. Not being able to hide it. It's one thing when you can choose who knows." "Maybe. He never seemed to mind. Fuckoff huge wings, pretty /badass/ at least yeah? Worse things in life. Got him /laid/ a lot." Ion's smile twists a little sour after another drag of cigarette. "'course, also got him locked in torture lab and stole by psycho fucking lunatics so I dunno. Win some, you lose some. World's a fucking messy place. What brought you to us, then? I mean, people like him and me, it get kind of obvious why we got pissed off." Isak pauses for a moment. He slouches deep in his chair and looks off in the distance. A little nerve twitches by his eye. "Well, once I told my parents, they pulled me out of my job travelling the world representing the family brand. I resented that. Not what I am, but the fear that comes with it." He idly flicks the end of his cigarette so that ash falls in a small cloud like dirty snow. "Then my father got sick with that plague. My mother had to kill him." He lets that statement hang. Ion winces, one eye scrunching up as his head shakes. "That's shitty, man. Raw deal. All of it. Monsters fucking everywhere." He drops his hand, tapping ash from his cigarette, too. "I mean, they say it's us, but the human-fucking-beings made that zombie -- shit. Trying to -- fff." His head shakes, eyes tipping back to stare up towards the ceiling. His lips spread in a thin smile. "That's it then, huh. World fucking traveller and now you're stuck. Here. On." He waves his burrito in an expansive gesture around the porch. "Our goddamn paradise." "I heard they made it because they wanted to stop us, then it got out of control. The plague," muses Isak. He exhales a mouthful of smoke, but he hasn't put his cigarette to his lips. "New York is not so bad. It's growing on me a bit." "Was trying to stop us. Then was trying to kill the guy they -- was trying to use to stop us. Big fucking mess. Big fucking /idiots/." Ion shakes his head, watching the mouthful of smoke Isak exhales. He puts his cigarette back to his lips for another long drag. "I like this place. Always an excite, yeah? Always a fucking party. But it's a crazy. It's a lot of a crazy." "At least I feel that I have a use," says Isak. "More than just to smile and to flirt and to buy drinks. But that's pretty nice too, especially when it's for models." He grins wide and kicks out one teal-clad foot. "You don't change the world going to fashion shows in Nice. All the shit that's happened, it's given me some perspective." "Oh, no /worries/, you can still flirt /and/ change the world." Ion's grin is suddenly bright again. He takes one last drag of smoke, dropping the cigarette to lower his boots and crush it against the porch under a heel. "New York got /plenty/ of room to get your flirt on. Plenty of fashion models too I think? I don't know though. I don't think that kind of place it's the kind of place that let /me/ in. Maybe some-day you can hook a brother up, huh?" Isak chuckles and leans his head back. "Mhmm. I know a few who'd like to defy their upper-class parents and have some fun with someone dangerous." Which sort of sounds like his whole story, except it's the Brotherhood as a whole he's flirting with. Ion chuckles, too, picking up his mate and taking another long swig. "Mmhmm. Not like the kind of thing you'd know nothing about, eh, hermano?" He lifts his mug to Isak in a cheerful sort of /cheers/ as he pulls himself to his feet. "Though pff lately? Even the fashion models here, they survive fucking New York, they gotta be some kinda badasses their own selfs." "I will say that the high fashion suit industry has hit a bit of a sales slump in post-Zombie New York," drawls Isak. He realizes how ridiculous it sounds. He doesn't respond directly to the light dig, except to grin and nod slightly. "Shame, really," Ion says with a snort, "If I'm gonna die, yeah, I want to go in /style/. You promise me, we get another apocalypse, you make sure we go looking /good/, brother." He slips his phone back into his pocket, tossing Isak another grin. "You settle in, huh? Be at /home/. My cabin, it's off-over-there." He waves off through the distant trees. "You know it, it's the one looks like it been /torched/. I share with Kay. You need anything, holler." Isak chuckles. "I am somehow not surprised that you share with Kay. He's a good guy. I think my grandmother would pass out at the sight of either of you, but that's in the plus column. Stuck up old bat." He leans forward on his knees and lifts a salute to Ion. "Maybe I'll bring over a crate of the good stuff. And maybe a few of those models, hmm?" "He is the best," Ion agrees brightly. "You show up with some booze and a crate of models, we ain't gonna turn you down." He waggles his burrito in a lazy-cheery wave, chin jerking upward in a nod. "Hasta." Teeth clicking once more against his metal straw, he ambles off towards the trees.