ArchivedLogs:Judgement

Judgement
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah, Cage, Trib	21 September 2013 All the tales are finally told.
Location <NYC> High Line - Chelsea
Built on a freight rail, the High Line once was a railroad and has been reclaimed as green space in the middle of the city. A park situated high above Manhattan, what was once a rusty industrial wasteland is now a stretch of peaceful space to lounge and relax among grass and flowers and plant life. There are restaurants, ice cream sandwich stands, a beer garden, and the view all along the elevated parkland is unbeatable. Popular during the daytime, the park is less frequented after nightfall, though it hasn't lost /all/ of its foot traffic quite yet. With a shift upcoming, his nightclub's proximity to this location has made it a convenient spot for Jax to stop and eat his dinner. Picked up from an Indian restaurant en route, he's snatching what time he can between his appointments at the tattoo studio all evening and his time at the club tonight to both eat and spend /some/ time today with his partner. He's dressed for work already, in tight black jeans embroidered up their legs with stylized red flames, chunky black-and-red platform sneakers, a red tank top dotted with glittering black stars, fingerless fishnet gloves stretching up over his elbows. His makeup glitters, dusted red over his eye and glimmering silvery on his lips, and his eyepatch matches, a fiery heart glittering red on its black cloth background. From the matching collar and cuffs at his neck and throat there is a very faint luminescence, small pinpricks of red dotted in a subtly glowing line through their centers. "... I know I'm supposed to put it /on/ the samosas," he is saying, "but I always just kind of want to /drink/ the tamarind sauce plain." As usual, Micah is looking rather plain next to Jax, as far as clothing is concerned. His jeans are faded and patched with mismatching fabrics. His shirt is an olive green depicting a Darwin-inspired sketch of finches, but these with /technological/ adaptive upgrades instead of biological ones. "Hon, we have a couple of tamarind sodas left at home. Y'can drink those. Just /drown/ the samosas in the sauce, it'll be as good an' maybe y'won't be starvin' at work. An' this at least works out 'cause I'm pretty sure I might eat all of the cilantro one m'self. Also pretty sure cilantro gets to count as a vegetable. If not a food group." He grins a contented, lopsided grin. An index finger traces idly along the little light-pinpricks on one of Jax's wrists. "Yeah, well, I warned you I'd be in the news this month," Cage is saying as he and Trib trudge into the park. "I just didn't wanna spoil the surprise. You know me, man." Luke pauses and looks around at the park, a little surprised. "Wow, how the hell I never found this place before? Glad you told me about it..." Cage puts his hands in his pockets and begins scanning the various food vendors. "You like Indian food?" Trib is a grumpy-looking sidekick, today, and his brow is furrowed deeply as Cage makes light of this latest wrinkle in things. "Yeah, well, fuck. Next time, give a guy a fuckin' heads up, yeah?" He jams his own hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders and scowling around the park. "I like Indian food," he grunts, narrowing his eyes as he scans the path. "I can actually taste that shit." And with that decision made, he shifts his weight to head in that direction. "So, what's the fuckin' plan, now?" he asks, tilting his head to look at Cage sideways. "I gotta get a black suit an' a pair of fuckin' Ray-Bans? A fuckin'...whattayacallit...earpiece? Be all fuckin G-Man an' shit?" "Cilantro's in the 'magic' food group. Just transforms whatever it's in to a bit'a heaven." Jax turns his hand over, fingers curling upwards so that they can drift back lightly against Micah's wrist, too. He follows the given advice, biting off a corner of samosa and then half /filling/ it with the sauce; he leans forward when he takes a bite out of it, tamarind chutney dripping into the grass in front of him. It's perhaps the sound of expletives that draws his attention lazily away, shifting out over the park to scan its other occupants. The sight of Cage pulls his pierced brows up in surprise. "...huh." It's a thoughtful 'huh', quiet as his expression fades into neutrality, eye flicking /past/ Cage and Trib now to scan the rest of the quiet nighttime park instead with an abruptly greater attentiveness. "Oh, is /that/ how it works?" Micah says with a grin, fingers tracing from Jax's cuff to his skin and back. His other hand is busy dumping excessive quantities of cilantro chutney into his samosa in much the same way he had just tipped Jax off to do with his tamarind sauce. He is mid-bite at Jax's 'huh', stopping to chew quickly before responding. "'Huh' what?" His gaze follows the illusionist's, which leads him into looking at the /park/ instead of the man that actually prompted the sound. "From here on out, no surprises," Cage promises. He lifts his chin at the place near Jax and Micah. "Yeah, I like that stuff too. Can get a sweat on there." He grins at Trib's description of his future job and lowers his voice briefly. "Hell no, I figured you'd want to be out with me kissing babies and shit." Just then a passing couple, a black man and a latina woman stop and shake Luke's hand. Luckily it's a nice exchange for once. He smiles, and they thank him quietly for running, promise votes, and move on. "There, see? What could possibly go wrong?" He elbows his friend as they make their way toward the Indian place, apparently. He lowers his voice way down then, and nods at Jax. "Oh shit, I /know/ that guy, Trib. He organized the whole damn escape from the cages, man... We should go say 'hi'. Haven't seen him since." "I don't kiss babies," Trib grunts. "That's how you get the fuckin' mystery flu. If you're gonna do it, you ought to carry a lot of fuckin' sanitizer." He falls silent when the couple approaches, his eyebrows hiking as he pins the handshakes with a pointed look. SEE? He grimaces when Cage resumes their progress, and rolls his shoulders, barking a laugh at the question. "Fuck...whyn't you just go an' spit in Fate's eye, goin' around sayin' that kind of shit. A lot could go fuckin' wrong. In a goddamned hurry." With that pleasant prediction, Trib follows Cage's indication to mark the men ahead. One he definitely knows, and there's a twitch of a smile before the other one is marked, and the boxer's face goes stony neutral. "If you want," he grunts after a long moment of indecision, hunching his shoulders further before he follows along reluctantly. Jax watches with the same sharp attentiveness when the couple approach Luke, though he relaxes when they only stop for handshakes and /polite/ conversation and move on. "Sorry," he says sheepishly, looking back down at his samosa, "I think I been gettin' the guard-thing drilled into me so much workin' for Jane I'm just -- on /alert/ when I see someone else who might -- draw attention. 'least I know t'ain't hardly ever /good/ when folks recognize me off the news." His chin tips towards Cage in indication. "S'Luke Cage. Guy who jus' announced he's runnin' for city council? Got the Friends types all up in arms 'bout mutants tryin' to take over the city -- so okay mostly same-old from them." His pierced lips curve into a quick-bright smile and he returns the nod when Cage nods towards him. He adds in a much softer voice to Micah, "-- was there with us breakin' folks outta the cop's thing. Though the boys said last they ran into him it was --" His nose wrinkles up, uncertainly, his voice still soft. "-- less than comfortable. He seems fair decent though, far's you can tell 'bout someone off the news." "Gettin' paranoid an' crotchety in your...young age?" Micah's attention draws to the correct location as Jax returns to watching Cage. His lips press thin as he recognizes the pair. "Oh, no, I get it. Celebrities runnin' around. Genetically enhanced celebrities." For a moment, he is quiet as he listens to Jax's explanations. "Yeah, I. Have met the other guy, talked with him several times before...he told me about havin' trouble with the twins in the fight club thing. Haven't since..." The thin-lipped expression passes easily into a frown. "They've been havin' more trouble on the outside, too?" Luke leads the way, approaching Jax and Micah's table. Luke was watching Jax instead of Trib's expression, so he doesn't really miss a beat. He steps up and offers Jax his his hand to shake. "Hey man, long time, no see. Good to see you well." Once introduced, he takes half a sidestep and gestures at Trib. "This is my buddy Trib. Made it out the same day we all... in Chinatown." Luke shrugs and offers a polite smile to Micah. Trib is such a reluctant follower. In fact, he doesn't really approach as close as Cage does, preferring to hang back. A bit of color drains from his face as the other man introduces him, and he ducks his head. "Jesus Fuckin' Christ," is a sotto mutter before the big man recalls his (meager) manners, and lifts a hand, grunting something greeting-like. He's not looking directly /at/ Jackson, preferring to keep the man in his peripheral vision as he casts about. Maybe he's looking for the Indian food place. Or the nearest exit. "Oh! You know him? -- Trouble with the twins?" This pulls Jax's brows into a small puzzled frown, though it doesn't have time to linger long before the others are approaching. "Hihi!" His greeting is warm and cheerful; he wipes his fingers on a napkin after he's downed the last of his samosa, getting up from his cross-legged seat in the grass to shake Cage's hand, his skin fiercely warm to the touch. "You too! Heard about your run, s'kinda brave. Kinda awesome. Um -- s'my partner Micah, he was --" The introductions derail this train of thought, though; his eye widening abruptly at Trib's name. He looks from Cage to Trib, then to Micah, his mouth closing quickly. "-- /Trib/." This echo just sounds more startled than anything; the slight half-step he takes back puts him /just/ a little bit between Trib and Micah almost instinctively. "Your buddy," he repeats more quietly. "I -- know who he is." "It's incredibly complicated, I think?" is all Micah manages by way of explanation before the pair reaches their table. He gives up on his half-eaten samosa, leaving it on a napkin and brushing his hands off on his jeans before standing along with Jax. He shakes Cage's hand in turn. "Nice t'meet you, Mr. Cage. Thanks for your help before. An' it's a gutsy thing you're doin' now, bein' open an' movin' into the political arena. Best of luck t'you on your campaign." His head bobs at Trib's introduction, a faint red stain starting to creep across his cheeks. "We've met. Hi, Trib." At that step in front of him, Micah places a hand on Jax's shoulder...calming, holding back, a reminder of presence, or some combination thereof. Luke nods, smiling through the initial introductions, apparently ready to make some friendly conversation, before all the tension makes itself abundantly clear. Cage's enthusiasm drains when he reads Jax's impression of Trib, and Trib's reaction. Cage is transparent as glass however, and Micah's reaction leaves a truly perplexed aspect to his facial expression. He takes a deep breath and scrubs a hand hard over his jaw while he takes a moment to think. Subtly, he takes a step closer to Trib, but doesn't move in front of the man. "You've uh... met, huh?" He glances from Trib, back to Jax, referring to Jax's comment of knowing Trib. Trib's expression doesn't improve at Jax's reaction, and his jaw tightens just a bit even as he bobs his head in Micah's direction without comment. The boxer's whole frame is rigid; the hand in his pockets clearly curled into fists. "He's the shark kids' dad," he mutters in explanation for Cage, although the words sound like they're being ground out from the bottom of a rocky ravine. When everyone shifts position, he's no different, his left foot drifting back to begin a slow back-step of his own. "Complicated?" Jackson's eyebrows raise skeptically, though his quiet-gentle tone doesn't shift. "Micah, please explain to me /exactly/ what complicated factors justify threatening a child with rape?" His shoulder grows tenser beneath Micah's hand, the temperature in his skin climbing, and he draws in a slow breath. His head shakes in answer to Cage. "We haven't met, sir, no. He's met my children." His eyes flick down to Trib's pockets, his jaw tensing noticeably when he notes the curled fists. His own hands are shifting, moving to the collar and cuffs in turn, though only to press some unseen button -- the soft red lights in them switch off to leave them plain black instead. Micah shifts uncomfortably at the building tension between the others. His eyes widen, almost comically so, at Jax's question. "Wait--what? I didn't... Was that what...?" He doesn't quite manage to explain that the telling of the story as /he/ had heard it was somewhat different. The eye widening is only ended by Micah's eyebrows scrunching down. Having developed a sudden allergy to complete sentences, he looks helplessly back and forth between Jax and Trib. The increasing heat in Jax's shoulder causes him to tighten his grip into a reassuring squeeze, rather than moving his hand. Luke reaches out slowly to wrap a meaty hand around Trib's forearm. "Ok..." He takes another deep breath and licks his lips. "Ok. This is... " He sighs and scrubs the back of his head with his free hand. "I figure we have a couple options. One, we get out of your face, and go our separate ways. Or two, we try and get everything out in the open. With first-hand stories. This's been boiling a long time now, right?" Cage's low voice lowers even further. "Shit like this is poison, because I know /both/ of you to be real life goddamn heroes." Cage looks from Jax to Trib and back again. "But I think everybody here knows what a phenomenally bad idea it would be for anyone to throw a punch right now. Won't fix a damn thing." Trib looks increasingly uncomfortable, particularly when Jackson explains to Micah the exact accusation attached to him. His arm under Cage's grip is tight and the muscle locked to inflexibility as the boxer instinctively tries to pull it away. "That ain't what happened," he murmurs, his brow furrowing. "That's what they think, but it ain't what happened." He frowns, and shifts his weight, glaring at Cage for a moment before he extracts his hands and visibly unclenches his fists before sliding them into his back pockets. He looks down at the grass, kicking his toe against it with a little force and glaring at the grass as if this whole matter might be /its/ fault. Stupid grass. "Don't notice none but one pair'a /fists/ here, sir," Jackson answers Cage's mention of throwing punches, glancing back down to Trib's pockets until the man unclenches his hands. His weight shifts back a little bit more squarely into Micah's touch, and with the lights in his collar switched off the temperature under his skin at least stops climbing. "I ain't sure there's nothing to be fixed. I done heard in a lot of detail everything that happened in those cages, and he --" He nods at Trib, just a slight incline of his head, "is not a man I would want near anyone I love. I take it he didn't tell you quite the whole story." His brows lower, at least, somewhat less tense at Micah's evident surprise. "Was when the boys was still bein' starved. Near died from not enough food an' Peter was desperate to find some for 'em. Shane -- was Shane'n brung up trading /sex/ for food. This'n," he nods towards Trib, "went after /Peter/ with that idea instead. Asked if he was really a virgin. Told him he'd help but not for free an' Peter could go join him in his cell instead. I don't know about in /your/ world," this time it's to Trib and Cage, instead of Micah, "but I sure as hell teach /my/ kids that sex without consent is /rape/. An' there ain't /no/ sort of consent about using a /child's/ fear'a watching his friends /starve/ to death to pressure him into sex. Never happened," he pre-emptively assures Micah in the same rather /determinedly/ calm tone, though there's a continued tension in his muscles, "but only cuz Shane stopped Peter from going through with it. I spent my share'a time in cages an' I seen people do a /lot/ of terrible things under pressure but /that/ -- that ain't one I can find /any/ way to justify." "No fightin'," Micah either...agrees or orders. It is difficult to tell from his rather flat tone. "An' no. I don't think the whole story's been out at all. It might be good t'actually know what happened." His voice is tighter by the last statement. When Jax presses into his touch, his arm slides to circle around the other man's waist supportively. He looks a bit sick at Jax's explanation, and does not improve as the tale continues to unfold. Micah somehow manages not to notice that he is holding his breath until Jax's assurance that threats never came to actions in the cages. Then the tense breath is released in a silent, deflating sigh that, unfortunately, also does nothing to ease the redhead's pained expression. He doesn't seem quite able to make eye contact with anyone by this point, much less speak to them. Luke nods and releases his grip on Trib's arm when the young man unclenches his fists, and denies the story calmly. His voice is low, and tense. "This is a ugly conversation, all the way around, but it sounds like we need to have it anyway." Luke nods tight-lipped through Jax's telling, and Micah's reaction. His jaw clenches during the uncomfortable tension, but when Jax finishes, he stares at the ground a moment, and finally meets Jax's gaze. "Ok, I'm sorry man, this is the hardest damn thing I had to say to anyone, ever, because I don't expect anyone, /anyone/ to question what their kid says. Especially about this kinda shit. But we've all spent time locked up." He gestures indicating everyone present. "I spent thirteen years in no rightful way, and I /still/ don't compare that to what these kids went through in Chinatown. But I know I saw Crazy crop up, even in regular prison. So I can't even imagine…" Luke takes a breath and holds up an imploring hand. "Please. Just hear him out. Things aren't always how they look on the outside." Luke turns and looks at Trib expectantly. Trib accepts the recounting with only the smallest tightening of his jaw, and his amber gaze darkens to a honeyed shade as color begins to creep into his ears. "I…" he begins, and clamps his mouth shut as Cage chimes in -- which doesn't make him look /happier/, but some of the tension drains from his frame. It returns when Cage gives him the floor, and the boxer draws up his shoulders in a deep inhalation before he speaks. "I ain't goin' to deny that I said any of that," he says, his eyebrows arching helplessly. "I mean, those words did come out of my fuckin' mouth, but it wasn't about screwin' that kid." He pauses, squinting off into the distance as he collects his thoughts. "I did ask him if he was chaste an' untouched -- but that was about killin', not fuckin'. An' I didn't /ever/ think of fuckin' that kid," he says, his brows clenching into a knot. "I was tryin' to break up that fuckin' puppy-pile those kids were sleepin' in, so they wouldn't have to fuckin' kill /each other/." He exhales, then, as if he'd been holding his breath all this while. "An' yeah, I was fuckin' scary in there. They were watchin' us all the fuckin' time. If I went soft on 'em, they'd have thrown my ass in the cage with the Acid Queen or Hector, an' that would have been the end of me for sure." Trib lifts his shoulders. "I'm real fuckin' sorry about all of that, but I didn't ever mean to do more than scare those kids to keep 'em alert, an' that's the truth." Jackson turns, just slightly, at Micah's exhalation. His arm lifts slowly to curl back around his partner, fingers squeezing gently down against Micah's side. "My kids, sir," he answers Cage, very quietly, "have /never/ lied to me. None of those kids have. I don't think I've ever seen Shane lie to /anyone/. I'm not exactly sure what reason they'd even have -- whereas someone in his situation? Has /every/ reason to lie about what he did when he thought nobody else would ever find out. And given that the /last/ time my children ran into him he threatened them with bodily harm -- he don't exactly figure high on the list of folks whose word I take at face value." He goes silent, as Trib speaks, expression settling down into neutrality and his breathing very slow and deep. There's the faintest tighter curl of his fingers against Micah's waist, but past this he is still and quiet. "I see." For a moment, just that; there's another few breaths before he continues, still calm and even: "So you didn't /intend/ to rape him, you just thought it was a good idea to scare him with the thought that you would. For," he says, slow and careful, "his own good." He lets this hang in the air for another steady breath or two. "Forgive me if I don't find that reassuring. D'you have any idea the trauma you --" He stops here, to draw another breath, and after this it's Cage he turns to, looking rather deliberately away from Trib. "/Assuming/ he's telling the truth, sir, he's not a rapist. Just a cruel man with criminally poor judgment. I do hope, Mr. Cage, that you show better judgment serving this city than your associates do in their choices." Micah swallows hard through a lump in his throat, nodding in agreement with Cage that the whole story should be heard, at least. He even manages to glance up at Trib for the explanation, but not look entirely hopeful of a Clear Misunderstanding behind everything. His eyes track straight back to the ground as soon as Trib admits he had said all of the things that were claimed. They remain stuck there until Jax tells of Shane's tendency for blunt truthfulness, at which point he nods again, briefly glancing up to Cage to indicate his intention to second the statement. These darting looks finally end in watching Jax, eyes widened /again/ in startlement and concern, when he reveals that the boys had been /threatened/ out in the world. His hand, where it had rested at the other man's waist, has gathered up a fistful of fabric from the hem of the tank top and is...probably rendering it really wrinkly, oops. "Jax," Luke begins, and then has to pause when his voice catches. "Have you ever been a victim of your own conscience? I know I've done things... I'll never be able to forgive myself for. There's a guy in east Harlem. In a wheelchair, with a colostomy bag." Luke shakes his head to get himself back on track. His voice is tight, holding back an avalanche of emotion. "I'd give up everything I have to go back and make that right. That's the shit that keeps /me/ up at night." Luke takes another deep breath, staring up at the night sky a moment. He looks from Micah to Jax again. "There is no excuse for what happened in those cages, man. But I can tell you the reason: A terrified young man made the worst fucking mistake of his life." "Look, I know we aren't gonna shake hands and make everything alright. We should just get goin'. I'm sorry we... Just, sorry. For everything." Luke puts a surprisingly gentle hand on Trib's shoulder. "C'mon man." "I ain't never lied about nothin'," Trib asserts, although it lacks heat or any real emphasis. He, too, seems invested in the ground, color creeping into his ears as Jackson continues. He winces visibly when reminded of Cage's new public persona, and pulls back even further. His brow furrow deepens, if that's even possible, and he wheels on his heel. "Fuck this," he grunts, and begins walking across the grass, not looking back to see or hear Cage's final words. "I understand /pretty/ well the hard choices -- the /mistakes/ we make in terrible situations, sir." Jax's voice is still very quiet. His arm tightens slightly, pulling Micah /just/ a little closer to his side. "But, sorry, threatenin' my kids with violence when they bring it up? That /don't/ speak to a terrified young man who regrets his mistakes. Only t'one who wants to keep them hid." He shakes his head, jaw tight as Trib turns to go. "Mr. Cage, you're gonna have a hard fight ahead'a you if you're serious about this run. I've /been/ in the spotlight fightin' for our rights and I know how much they're gonna run every part'a your life under a microscope. Now more'n ever you're gonna need good judgment yourself cuz every bad decision /you/ make?" His eyes follow after Trib briefly, then flick back to Cage. "-- Is one that's gonna reflect on /all/ of us." The breath he lets out is slow; the tension in his body is still easily felt through his taut muscles. "Take care, sir. Good luck with --" His lips press together, thin. "Everything." Micah continues to stand silently through Cage's monologue. When Trib storms off, he looks like he wants to say something, lips even parting slightly, but finding no good words to pass through them. Instead he just settles into Jax's side when the other man pulls him closer. His head shakes, his expression one of disbelief at Jax's reiterating of Trib threatening violence toward the twins /after/ they were out. His teeth worry at his lip through the political discussion. "Not really one t'have any useful advice when it comes t'judgement," he finally speaks, albeit in a soft and almost distant tone, seeming to address his shoes. "Not even...good or bad or... I think Hive might be right, I just haven't got /any/." He finally does look back up to Cage. "Yes...good luck, with what you're doin'. It's somethin' as needed t'happen eventually. Have a good night. Sorry about the--" He shakes his head again, leaving apologies open for the state of everything.