ArchivedLogs:Lending a Hand

Lending a Hand
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Marrow
In Absentia	2013-10-28 (Part of Thunderdome.)
Location <MOR> Below New York
Buried beneath the bustle and noise of New York's busy streets, the world underneath the city is a quieter place. Quieter, but far from deserted. Occasional ladders, often rusting, ascend to the city above and are evidence that at /one/ point these tunnels had been in use, or had been planned for it; perhaps by way of maintenance, or access to subways or sewers. These stretches have been abandoned by civic infrastructure for some time now, though, but occasional scraps of evidence -- discarded food wrappers, piles of tatty blankets or moldering old mattresses, sometimes voices carrying echoes through the dank concrete -- give evidence that /someone/ still uses these tunnels. The rumbling of subway trains sounds frequently through the walls, many of the train routes accessible through various doors and openings. Ever since the convoy raid Marrow has been on a near constant patrol, alert for intruders. Plus it's a great oppertunity to smoke a little pot without the worrying about the jackboots of Tatters oppressing her shit. Which is why she's loitering near the surface surrounded by a cloud of pungent smelling smoke with a sawn off shotgun resting across her lap. There are footsteps coming through the tunnels. Quiet footsteps, not the heavy tromp of boots; they're preceded up the tunnel by a drift of smoke, too. Regular cigarettes, here, though. There's a faint scritching sound coming up the tunnel, as well. Dusk has cigarette in one hand, a lower claw of one wing trailing lightly along the dirty sewer wall. The tunnel he's coming up is all in darkness, but it doesn't seem to bother him, his pace relaxed and easy. He stops when he nears Marrow's post, head tilting slightly in the dimness; his eyes have a reflective green shine to them, catlike in the dark. "Well. That smells a lot better than the mess I just walked through." "The trick is to pick tunnels which have a raised area above the flow of sewage," Marrow offers, the shotgun shifted at the noise of Dusks approach to provide a double-barrelled welcome. She blows out a smoke ring and adds "But you get used to the smell after a while. Providing I don't shoot you for wandering around here without permission that is." The most charming of Morlocks is dressed in full bone knight regalia, although without a helmet, and under the bone plates glimpses of black leather can just about be seen. "I'll have to remember that next time. I don't really know my way around here so much." One of Dusk's wings stays, against the wall where it's been trailing; the other uncurls just a /tiny/ bit, not much space in the tunnel to reach its full expanse, and gives a small wave that sends a light breeze back up the tunnel. He stays frozen where he is, not approaching but watching the smoke ring drift back towards Marrow. "You don't want to shoot me, though. You're Marrow, right? I've got something you might care to hear." Marrow lets the smoke wash over her face. "You do that preening shit that pigeons do?" she wonders. "If so I'd keep those wings in. The walls are coated in all kinds of shit." She taps ash off and lets the shotgun rest on her lap. "You can keep talking though. It's less annoying than the shit I'd get from using shotgun shells without a good reason." "Do I look like I have feathers?" Dusk's thin bat-wings flex and then pull back in against his shoulders. "Jax sent me down here to look for a couple of you. Uh -- eyepatch. Lasers. Busted people out of the cops' fighting cages. He and his partner send food and things down here every week, I think," he identifies, along with the name. "The cops had been making a bit of cash of those fights. After he and everyone got people out of there, some people worked on, uh, seizing the money that came from it, too." Marrow lets out a snort of laughter. "Do I look like a bat expert?" she counters. "Jax, yeah I know him. He cooks weird stuff, no meat, but it tastes okay and doesn't come out the trash." Her head tilts to one side. "Seizing the money? Not really as good as 'hunting the bastards down' but I think I might have an idea where you are going with this..." "Took a while for them to track people down again, figure out just how many survivors there /were/. But the tracking's as done as it's getting, probably. There's a bit they're keeping aside in case they missed someone or families of people who didn't make it out turn up but --" Dusk shrugs one wing, hitching it upwards before tucking it back behind his shoulders. "-- But in the meanwhile he's got a pretty fat stack of cash to distribute. Came to let you know. You'll have to get in touch with him to pick it up, I wasn't about to come wandering through fucking Clinton carrying a suitcase full of cash but --" He shrugs one wing again. For a moment his sharp fangs glint in the dim tunnel. "-- Hunting the bastards down could come later. You'll certainly be able to arm yourself better." Marrow smiles, holds her arm out straight and a viscious looking bone dagger sprouts from the palm of her hand. "You'd be amazed at how well armed I can be when I want," she notes cheerfully. "Although I have a 'borrowed' forty five handgun which could use some cop killer rounds. Not sure why you'd worry about walking round in Clinton with a briefcase though. The wings are likely to get you plenty of trouble as it is." "It's /because/ of the wings I don't want to be toting around a briefcase full of money," Dusk answers with a snort. "Makes me kind of an notable target and, well, you'd probably prefer to actually /get/ the money 'stead of have some thugs make off with it." His head tilts, and he eyes the bone dagger with an appreciative nod. "When you want." He repeats that thoughtfully. "Given any thought to actually hunting them down?" "Plenty. Although Nox dealt with one of the two I most care about finding," Marrow admits, sucking down another lungful of smoke. "And that didn't exactly end well for her... Not that I'd try anything as flashy as she did. But we've got a couple of handguns people have tried to lose after shooting people and by using a few of those I could get some satisfaction without being obvious. I'd like to think a few ballistics links to other crimes would throw off investigations a little." Dusk exhales heavily. "-- No, it really didn't." For a moment he's quiet, wings pressing tightly to his back. "There are much better ways to get rid of people than around tourists in the middle of Central Park." Another beat of quiet; Marrow sucking in smoke seems to remind him of the half-spent cigarette in his own hands. He lifts it for a slow puff. "Do you have any idea how to find them?" Marrow tucks the bone dagger into her boot. "I have an idea where to find at least one," she says cheerfully. "And when you have one you can get them to 'help' name the others. I figure I know which route the ones who picked me up took, so it'd just take a while to scope out the station and follow the guy home. Slow, but far from impossible." Dusk drops his hand, tapping ash from his cigarette. "We've got some information," he tells her at length. "Lotta names, of the people involved. And I have a friend who --" He shrugs one wing again. "Helped me when I needed to track down a cop. Might be able to help you, too. Make things a little less slow." "Well. That sounds almost as interesting as the briefcase full of cash," Marrow says after a long moments consideration. "You know how to find your way back to this spot? One of my mail boxes is just over there." She nods towards a wall. "If you or this friend ever need to get in touch leave a note tucked behind that broken brick and it'll find it's way to me." She smiles, thing lipped and cruel. "Perhaps once I've dealt with the guy who helped grab me I can lend a hand with the rest of your list?" Dusk glances over towards the wall, moving a little deeper into the tunnel so that he can stretch out a wing, running claws lightly against the wall until one snags on the broken brick. Wiggles it, faintly. "I can find it again. I'll be in touch, yeah?" His wing folds back in again. "Though you'll still have to talk to Jax about the money." He digs into the pocket of his jacket, extracting a Sharpie and an old receipt from some hot dog store. He turns the receipt to his back, jotting down a phone number and an address in the East Village; he holds this slip of paper out towards Marrow between two fingers. "Don't have an exact figure, but I think it's upwards of thirty grand to each of you who were in there. Worth a trip up there, at least." Marrow spits out the tail end of her joint. "Well fuck me. It's like he's a one-eyed Santa Claus," she exclaims. "Maybe I'll just do that. Take it for a walk around Clinton afterwards to celebrate." She leans forward and takes the paper, skim reads and tucks it into a bone ridge behind her ear. "This the friends number? And do they have a name?" "It's Jax's. For when you're ready to collect your Christmas present. The other -- well. I'll talk to her first. Get back to you in a couple days, if she's interested in helping." Dusk draws a last breath of his cigarette, dropping the butt to the ground and squishing it under a toe. "-- You know the quickest way back out of here?" He asks with a bit of a crooked-sheepish smile after this. "I know the sewers better than just about anyone alive," Marrow boasts. "You want to take a stroll down that tunnel, take a right and you'll come to a ladder leading up. It's the quickest way, but check for traffic sounds before you hit the street. S'Not a busy road, but better safe than sorry." "Thanks." Dusk's fanged teeth flash briefly. His wings shift and resettle once more, and he jerks his chin upward in a nod to Marrow. Then turns, disappearing down the tunnel she pointed out to him, his footsteps receding into the gloom.