ArchivedLogs:Revenge is a dish best served from the sewer

Revenge is a dish best served from the sewer
Dramatis Personae Marrow, Alex
In Absentia	2017-10-16 Marrow sets what will probably turn out to be a terrible idea in motion with a little help from Alex. They also dig through some laundry that's unpleasant even by the standards of the Morlock tunnels.
Location <MOR> The Realm of Lost Things
Cramped and dark and tortuous, the tunnels here are not the most hospitable place. With enough exploration or someone to guide the way, it's possible to navigate through the underground labyrinth to these dim halls, lit sporadically by the often faltering electricity stolen from the city above or candles when those fail. Down here tarps cover rows of crates or plastic tubs shut against the large rat and mouse population; inside is a trove of goods scavenged from curbs and dumpsters and patched back into working order, or outright stolen from stores or homes or people. There's generally food to be found, canned more than anything else, and a mismatched assortment of clothing and blankets in various states of repair. There's other things, though, too; aging electronics, children's toys, bicycles. Board games (often missing pieces). Pet supplies. Dishes. Soap. It's hit or miss whether any of it is /useful/ or even in one piece, and there's no sort of organization to the mess. It keeps them going, though, and occasionally there are gems to be found in this communal trove scavenged together by the community. Free for any Morlock to take from and generally /viciously/ guarded against outsiders who have the misfortune to stumble in. Even to those who know the mysterious ways of the Realm of Lost things there are secret places best left untouched. At least unless you have permission from the more established Morlocks. Or if you get collared into helping shift some crates, perhaps due to exceptional physical skills or more commonly from looking like you have nothing better to do when something needs moving. "I'll need you to keep quiet about anything you see in this room," Marrow informs, sprouting a bone key from the palm of her hand and leaving a splattering of gore on the floor. "At best stuff we keep here is illegal. At worst it's flat out fuckin' lethal." Alex raises an easy eyebrow, for once the hood of his ever-present hoodie pooled around the back of his neck. "No shit," Alex mutters darkly, eyes glancing at the door with a little bit of apprehension. "Any place you need a bone key to unlock is gotta be not the sort of place you want to hang out in, eh?" The artist shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, fingers tapping along one leg with a nervous sort of energy. "What did you say you needed help with again?" A plaintive expression on his face seems to ask another question -- 'And why me?!' "I need someone to help me dig around in the stuff we acquired when the zombies hit the city," Marrow says cheerfully as she unlocks the door. Key still half in her flesh. "We're looking for police tear gas grenades, flash bangs and that sort of thing. Maybe a bit of police body armor too if it's not chewed up too badly.. Shouldn't be too bloody, I think we washed out the previous owners." "Oh, wonderful. Trapsing around stolen, gore-covered explosives sounds to me like just the peak of fun." Alex grumbles, closing his eyes for a moment. A flesh-crunching, bone-grinding sound briefly sounds into the storage room as part of Alex's hand bulges outwards, feathery and growing grotesquely out until it plops onto the ground with a squelching noise. A raven looks up at the rest of Alex -- a slightly more hunched Alex that's worrying his bottom lip. "What do they look like, anyway?" Alex asks, as the raven hops along behind Marrow into the room. "I've only seen the things in movies. Like a metal pineapple, right?" Marrow digs a hand into her pocket and pulls out a pair of crumpled joints, one of which is offered to Alex. "They're metal tubes about so big," she says as she makes an appropriate hand gesture. "With handles and ring pulls on. Just don't remove any of the pins or we'll be in serious shit." She lights her joint and then a candle that seems to be the main illumination for the room. "You think fetching this is bad? S' nothing compared to what I have planned for it." Alex nods and takes the joint in one hand, looking out over the piles of stuff in the room and squinting against the dark. The bird on the floor next to him seems to have less trouble -- it hops its way further into the darkness, iridescent blackness disappearing as it blends into the shadows. "I don't want to know, do I?" Alex asks, giving Marrow a side-eyed glance. "I mean, you said flash grenades, not like... the kind that makes a big boom?" As if to clarify, Alex covers one fisted hand with the other, and then bursts both of them outwards with a little bit of a 'fwoom' sound. Grenade make a boom. "Flash bangs, they do pretty much what you'd expect. But in a room this size? If you're lucky you'll get tinnitus for a few months. Maybe years? Fuck if I know," Marrow explains, offering the candle instead of a lighter. "It'll mostly just piss me off. Which'd be worse for you in the long run." "Wonderful. Just... just wonderful." Alex mutters, leaning forward to light the end of the joint on the candle and take a deep inhale. After holding his breath for a couple of seconds, he lets it out in a long sigh. "I hope this is good stuff. It's probably better not to think that I'm rummaging through piles of God only knows what looking for things that blow up. That you stole from police who would just love to shoot me." He glances sideways to look at Marrow, pausing for a moment and blushing a little bit. "Though probably not as much as they'd like to shoot you, I'd say, eh?" "It's not stealing if the former owners had been chewed to death by shambling corpses," Marrow assures, taking a long inhale of her joint and moving into the room to start poking around. "And most of the police want to shoot us on sight just for being mutants. So maybe grow a pair and start searching." She grins at the suggestion the police want to shoot her. "It's not the cops which are the worry these days anyway. It's the killer fuckin' robots you want to watch out for.... I wonder if we have any RPGs tucked away for a rainy day..." "Rocket propelled grenades." Alex says, crossing his arms over his chest. "How... who would sell you a rocket propelled grenade? You can't exactly buy those out of a catalog," Alex complains, moving further into the room over to a specific pile and beginning to shift things off of it. "Dear sir stroke madam. I am a sewer-dwelling landed gentry teenager and I would like to acquire one of your ballistic missiles. Please find payment enclosed of fifteen bottlecaps. Deliver nuclear missile care of the New York Department of Sanitation." Alex takes another deep inhale of his joint, letting it out with a giggle. "Got a couple over here." The birdboy says, gingerly removing them from the pile and placing them on the floor behind him. Marrow raises an eyebrow at Alex. "Haven't you ever heard of illegal arms dealers? Get enough cold hard cash together and you can buy just about anything. The trick is not winding up on every terror watchlist there is or getting double crossed. We had a bazooka down here when I was a kid, but a pipe leaked and it rusted beyond use." She pulls out a few plastic trash bags which seem to have some stained police uniforms and assorted armor in. "Should be good enough after a spin at the laundromat." "I've /seen/ them." Alex says, switching to another pile and carefully lifting a questionably stained piece of body armor and putting it to the side. "In, like, Bond movies. When I was growing up. On TV." Alex snorts once, shaking his head. "I didnt know they were a real thing." "When you were a kid did you think you'd be crapping out birds?" Marrow points out, slinging the trash bag onto the pile. "Besides a Bond villain would probably be better than Oscorp. At least the Government isn't paying the villains in a fuckin' movie." She pulls out another vest that still has a few teeth stuck in. Half to herself she mutters "Lucky the plan involves it being dark when this'll get used." "When I was a kid, I thought Id be off to college, maybe do some sailing. Have my art exhibited, become famous and move to LA." Alex opens a trash bag, winces, and closes it again. Birds weren't ever part of he plan. Hell, I didn't even particularly like animals. No fucking idea why I became them. "At least you don't shit out snakes," Marrow helpfully points out, blowing a smoke ring into the air. "Thinking about it, I bet an art gallery would be a great way to launder money." She slings a whole belt full of grenades into the growing pile of goodies. "Think a couple more should do it. For now at least. Not like we're going to war just yet." "I'm not arguing that," Alex says, with a shiver. "Fuck snakes, man. Cats too. I didn't like cats that much, and now I hate them. Psychotic little serial killers," Alex mutters, crossing the room to help the raven tug an ammo belt with a few grenades on it out from under a pile of junk. "So... you think war is inevitable?" Marrow begins rolling the pile of stuff into a bundle. "See if there's anything we can use to cart this stuff back with," she casually requests, although not in a way which leaves it open to much negotiation. "You never got those visions of the future? Seems pretty likely to me everything will go to shit. Reckon whatever sent those dreams gave us a few more years but it doesn't stop people being people." Alex grumbles at this but dutifully goes to search other piles for something to carry grenades with. "No, those happened before I came to the States. I was still in Canada when that all happened. But I've heard... some things." Shaking his head, Alex picks up a backpack and opens it -- then immediately drops it. "Ew. Hands." Kicking it back into a pile, the artist goes to search other piles. "Oh. Yeah, probably got expensive jewelry on. Diamonds and shit. Trouble is they're hard to sell in bulk," Marrow explains casually, as if having a bag of severed hands is perfectly normal. "It's funny actually, it's my future dreams which gave me this idea. Seemed like the future Morlocks were hunting the cartels in exchange for diplomatic protection. Or some shit like that." "Nnnnno thanks." Alex shivers, kicking the bag a little bit further away from him. "Gross." The raven squalks in complaint, and Alex turns to look at Marrow as he blinks several times. "Diplomatic... what? What idea?" Alex asks, curiously. "What kind of idea requires flashbangs and smoke grenades?" "You ever heard of 'The Commission'?" Marrow wonders, flicking ash off. "It's basically the combined name for all the mob families. Anyway. Rather than sending our kids off to Xaviers fancy fuckin' school and begging for handouts I want the mob to pay for it." She grins wolfishly. "So my plan is to use all this police gear, rip off the mob, and then leave a few survivors mindfucked into thinking it was dirty cops." "So... you're going to rip off the mob? And then pin it on cops?" Alex says, flatly. "So... you want to mess with not just one of the most powerful groups in the city, but two of them? And pit them against each other?" There's a pause for a couple of seconds, and then Alex gives Marrow a wolfish grin. "Sounds like fun. How can I help?" "We owe the cops /serious/ payback. They raided our home, kidnapped us and made us fight to the death. So now they're half way through eating a steaming pile of shit after terrorists broke out of jail it seems like a great time to kick 'em in the balls," Marrow says with delight. "Those birds can report back to you right? I've got some names from when I was dealing, if your birds can follow them back to their less than legitimate businesses we can find the best target to hit." "They don't need to report back to me. They /are/ me." Alex says, smile twisting upwards. "We can follow them. Just point them out to us." Alex says, as the raven pulls an empty backpack across the floor and towards Marrow, wings flapping and making an angry chittering sound. "No one notices birds. We can go anywhere." The raven leaps up onto Alex's shoulder, and it slowly melts into the side of his neck with a splorch.