ArchivedLogs:Not For Profit

Not For Profit
Dramatis Personae Mirror, Cage	2013-12-15 Cage files papers and gets a surprise interview
Location <NYC> Busboys and Poets - East Harlem
A quiet, artsy spot nestled away on a side street in East Harlem, Busboys and Poets combines cafe and bookstore in a way a Starbucks tacked on to a Barnes & Noble could never achieve. The food is a solid, multi-national cuisine menu that caters to all kinds of dietary choices, and its fair-trade tea menu is extensive. Its weekend brunch tends to draw a large crowd, but there is ample enough seating both at tables and on its many comfortable armchairs and couches that at other times of the week there is never a wait. The walls are adorned with the work of local artists, and tucked in among and alongside the couches are rows upon rows of books, with a definite slant towards the political and the bohemian. In the warmth of the cafe, especially with the windows all fogged up, one can feel like they're in a world away from the world. The patronage is maybe only half of what a Sunday afternoon would normally be, but everyone present is grateful to be here. The assortment of teas, cocoas and coffees are just the thing for a city trying to dig itself out from the snow. Plenty of sources have been citing Luke Cage sightings all weekend, helping people drag their cars out of the snow, clearing blocked doorways; there's even a video of Luke hefting a snow plow back up onto it's wheels after it had tipped over somehow. The driver, in the video, is laughing when he shakes Luke's hand afterward. And now Luke is here, at Busboys and Poets. His winter layers are almost all shed onto the other chair at his little round table. He's left in a long-sleeved, white Under Armour shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms. He's also wearing black snow pants, and hiking boots. In front of him is hot drink of some kind, and Luke is currently leaning back in his chair reading something on a tablet device. "Mr. Cage." The voice comes from a young black woman, neatly dressed, hair pulled back into a half-ponytail of slender braids, long coat draped over an arm. She's slipped up into place behind the clothing-laden chair opposite Cage. She rests one hand on the back of the chair, a small smile on her lips. "Might I have a minute of your time?" Luke looks up and smiles at the question, which then tempers into a more curious expression. He nods to himself as if coming to a decision, and then nods to the woman. "Sure, no problem," he says. He reaches across to an unused table and provides a clothing-free chair for the woman to sit in. "Have a seat. What's on your mind?" "Emma Young. I'm with the New York Times," the woman introduces herself, extending a hand to offer Cage a handshake. Her other hand holds a small tablet of her own. She rests her coat down on the back of the offered chair, sliding into it a moment later. "I've heard that you recently applied for nonprofit status for your organization, Heroes for Hire. As a nonprofit, what sort of mission does your organization have?" Luke chuckles softly and nods, setting his tablet down on the table. It looks like he was just reading the Times, actually. "Yeah, I thought so. You have that 'reporter vibe'." But he doesn't seem upset, or even object to her joining him after her introduction. "I'm impressed you got that so fast. I thought it would be Monday, at least." He shrugs and sits up in his chair. "In essence, our mission won't change much. Our primary purpose has been to pick up dropped investigations, and provide protection where we can. But after some hard analysis, we realized the people who need our help the most generally can't pay much, or pay at all. And that just doesn't feel right." "I guess we do kind of telegraph ourselves, don't we." The woman laughs, soft, her eyes flicking down only briefly to her tablet and then up to Cage. "Protection? From what?" Her brows raise, tone simply curious. "Do you have a large number of clients now? Do you predict this change will bring more? Without taking payment, how will you fund your operation?" "We're in talks to make ourselves available as security for other charities that might need security for their events," Luke says, lifting his cup to take a sip, and then just holding it to warm his hands. He continues frankly, "We'll fund our organization the way all non-profits do, through donations and fund-raising." Either intentionally or accidentally, he doesn't comment on the state of his client list. Mirror gives a thoughtful hum, nodding at Luke's answer. "It seems like you'll have more of a challenge at that than many non-profits, though, no? Unfortunate though it may be, the barriers mutants have to gaining people's trust is considerably higher than those without an X-gene. Do you think the donations you'll be able to procure will be enough to keep your organization solvent?" "In my experience," Luke says, looking thoughtful and sad. "It's best to do what you think is right, rather than what you think you can win at. I'm not doing this for me Ms. Young. I'm doing it for everyone who has to hide who they are to live in this world. I've faced barriers all my life. This is just one more." "I'm not sure hiring a mutant celebrity as a personal bodyguard really counts as hiding," Mirror says with a quiet note of amusement. She gets to her feet, picking up her coat again to drape it over an arm. "Barriers haven't seemed much impediment to you in the past, Mr. Cage, I'm sure you'll smash right through them. Thank you for your time." Luke nods and stands when 'Emma' gets up to leave. "I understand, Ms. Young. I'd like to create a safe environment where people don't /need/ to hide anymore. Unfortunately, most people who don't want to hide will need protection." His smile is tight, and not warm. "Take care out there." Mirror's smile can't really be called /warm/, either, as prim and polite as her cool tone is. She shrugs into her coat, eyes still fixed on Cage. "Tell me, Mr. Cage, does smashing your way into government property and interfering with the legitimate attempts of law enforcement officials to apprehend violent fugitives who've murdered police count as your way of 'creating a safe environment'?" Anger and hurt flash through Luke's eyes as he regards the young woman for the span of a long breath. Once again, it's clear that Luke Cage should never play poker. Not to win, at least. "Actually, I have a question for you, Emma. Do you like needing to hide who /you/ are? Every day. Every second. Because if your job finds out they'll fire you. Or if the police know, they'll treat you differently. Do you /like/ that? Or maybe that's not something you have to worry about in your life, is it? Maybe give that some thought before you write your story." "Oh, the assumptions you make," Mirror answers with a lilting note of amusement. "I'll take that as a 'no comment', then? Or are you saying that the stressors of being a mutant give you a /license/ to commit crimes? Or would that just be a license you earn by dint of nobody being able to stop you?" "That is, in fact," Luke says, finally getting himself under control again. "No comment. Just ask yourself those questions before you go to sleep tonight. When you look yourself in the mirror." He remains standing, just watching 'Emma' for whatever might come next. "Thank you, Mr. Cage." Mirror's smile is still small, prim and neat. She buttons up her coat, tucking her tablet beneath an arm. "Enjoy your afternoon."