ArchivedLogs:Storytime

Storytime
Dramatis Personae Daken Anette	2015-08-09 "I have enough blood on my hands to last the rest of my life."
Location <NYC> 202 {Anette} - Sunrise Apartments - Clinton
This studio apartment is not big, the living area L-shaped with the entrance at one end and a kitchenette found at the other, its linoleum old and peeling. The shabby carpeting in the combination livingroom-bedroom area carries the stains and smells of tenants long past, frayed and peeling at its corners with the ghosts-scents of smokers of yesteryear. In the cramped bathroom in the back, water damage stains the walls. As does rust, around the showerhead in the tiny shower stall. It's just another day in New York, loud neighbors, shitty apartment life, and a pervasive sense of monotony and dullness not shared by tourists. Despite all of this Daken still shows up to knock at Anette's door, dressed in tan pants and an orange tank-top with the kanji for 'turtle' on the front and a much larger patch with the kanji for 'world king' on the back. In honor of the lazy, hot day, Anette's dressed in the uniform. Pajama shorts and extra baggy t-shirt, back cut out for the wings of course. She's currently in the kitchen area, ripping open a bag of popcorn and dumping it into a large plastic bowl, just as she hears the door knock. "It's open!" she yells, reaching into the microwave where a measuring cup filled with melted butter awaits. She drizzles the butter into the popcorn, making sure it makes its way all the way to the bottom. "Just in time," Anette says, turning to face Daken with a grin as he enters, holding the bowl and carrying it towards the couch. "Hey there." Daken greets, moving to kiss Anette's cheek before heading into the kitchen to fish out a glass and find himself something to drink. His nostrils flare slightly as he smells something chemical and out of place, but he brushes it off to fill a cup with water before heading over to join Anette on the couch. "So, have I ever told you what it was like growing up in Japan?" Anette plops herself down on the couch, sitting cross-legged with the bowl in her lap. "Don't think so. At least not much more than 'it sucked'." She grabs a handful of popcorn and shoves it in her mouth as she twists her head to watch Daken. "Why, feel like sharing?" "I think it's time I told you what it was like, yeah." Daken settles in and wraps an arm around Anette. "As you know my father isn't Japanese, and that caused a lot of issues growing up. Especially after the war. My adoptive parents were wealthy and all the servants and their children called me Akihiro in the house, but away from home they would call me Daken and sometimes even throw things at me or make other rude comments where I could hear them. In particular the children of the servants took an immense dislike to me, going out of their way to kick my ass. The asshole that ran their little group pissed me off the most, and one day I snuck into his room and broke his neck, but nobody ever questioned it might have been me that did it. I thought things would calm down for a bit after that. But that's about the time I heard Natsumi tell Akihira that regardless of how hard she tried she wasn't able to love me, and had finally gotten pregnant. Her baby died shortly after, and she blamed me. It's actually what caused my mutation to manifest, and I accidentally killed her. Akihira couldn't bring himself to hurt me and I watched him blow his brains out. That's when I met Romulus." Anette listens intently as Daken tells his story, slowly nibbling on popcorn. She keeps her eyes on him the whole time, only speaking when he momentarily pauses the story. "That's...that's terrible." "That's only a piece of my story." Daken inhales through his nose and holds the breath a moment before releasing it. "Romulus is who pretty much raised me. He taught me a lesson that I'm only now starting to break, never care about anyone but yourself. Because no one else will care about you." He gives Anette's should a squeeze before continuing. "After that he sent me to train in Canada, I learned a handful of languages and how to fight better, but soon orders came in from Romulus that the camp and everybody there had outlived their purpose and I was to be their destruction. I killed everyone in the camp and burned most of it down, except for my instructor. I would have killed him, if he hadn't of been needed for bigger plans. Found myself all over Europe and Asia after that, usually killing people or learning fighting techniques or languages. I've done a lot of bad things, a /lot/ of bad things. I'm not sure I can atone for everything I've done. But I'm trying." Anette hmphs slightly at Romulus's advice. "We have similar theories." She smiles softly at the shoulder squeeze. "So, how do you...change? What would make you want to atone, especially after how many years and how many murders?" "I've just had enough." Daken says simply. "I'm tired of being used as a pawn, and I'm tired of fighting a pointless battle. If I slaughtered every right leaning politician out there it wouldn't stop the future, it'd just march it in faster. And without inner peace I can't make the right choices to change the future and live happily." "You can still be a murdering psycho and not a pawn. But hey, to each their own," Anette says, shrugging slightly and popping a few kernels in her mouth. "Gotta say, it's impressive you've decided to change at all. If we switched places and I lived the life you did, well...I don't think I'd ever change. Just kill everyone in sight." "Are you familiar with the Herat Uprising in seventy-nine?" Daken asks with a slightly raised eyebrow "Two years before that I was in Afghanistan, Herat to be exact. I killed a lot of people the community there thought highly of and left a note to begin the spark of conflict. When I say I've killed a lot of people I don't mean like sixty or seventy. Maybe ten times that number would be a decent guess. I have enough blood on my hands to last the rest of my life." "Sorry, I'm just...that's a hell of a past to move on from. I'm just surprised and impressed you have the willpower to do so. Like they say, old habits die hard. I would never have the strength to do that." Anette sets the bowl of popcorn on the floor and leans over to kiss Daken tenderly on the lips. "Doesn't mean I'm not proud of you." Daken reaches up to brush a stray bit of hair behind Anette's ear before he leans in to return the kiss. "You don't know how hard it is to not just snap sometimes. Shit, I've even contemplated putting on a costume and prowling the Bronx and other awful neighborhoods for scum to kick the shit out of so I have some semblance of normalcy in my life." Anette leans back as Daken mentions putting on a costume, raising one eyebrow. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. What kind of idiot would actually do that? If you ever do that..." She doesn't finish her sentence but she does follow up with throwing a popcorn kernel at him, not hiding her grin at all. "I'll have you know I have a suit already, it's blue and there are yellow highlights over the face." Daken retorts with a grin of his own. "Still waiting to meet my father. A part of me hopes he isn't the monster that he was made out to be. But nobody I meet will ever talk about him, and the professor of that school would know the moment I was on the campus." "Remind me to burn that suit if I ever see it," Anette grumbles as she continues to munch on popcorn. "Wish I could help you with the whole Daddy thing. I did go to the school and didn't really know him. Granted, from what I hear, he didn't really know himself either. Not sure how he'd take to finding out he has a kid." "If he doesn't know who he is, then I won't be getting answers I've waited forty-five years for." Daken replies with a legitimately upset sigh. "But I have well over another hundred years to figure it all out." "Hey, you never know what might jog his memory. Maybe it'll work out in the end. Or maybe one of you will kill the either. It's a toss-up." Anette sits quietly a moment before continuing. "Maybe some things just aren't meant to be known." "He's better equipped for a fight. I'd have to figure out how to cut his head off or drown him if I wanted to win a fight." Daken replies with a shake of his head. "Also haven't heard anything about my uncle since the Liberty Island incident." "Ok, less of a toss-up. He kills you, I attempt to avenge you, get killed myself, Brotherhood goes nuts, war ensues. Or you two make peace." Anette sets the popcorn down and stands up and makes her way to the kitchen. "You know...maybe breaking into the school isn't such a bad plan. Even if you were caught, you don't exactly have bad intentions. You just want to meet your father." She reaches into a cabinet and pulls out a glass and proceeds to fill it with white wine taken from the top of her fridge. "Doubt they'd give a shit if I died. Regan considered killing me not too long ago." Daken lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug. "I could probably disappear and they wouldn’t bother to look for me." "Yeah, but even if they wanted to kill you, they'd want it on their terms. If someone else offed one of their members, it's still an attack and they'll be pissed. And if I was killed, well, I like to think I mean something to them. Don't really have much of a presence but I haven't pissed anyone off." Anette takes her wine back to the couch and sits, leaning up against Daken. "I don't think there's a person I've met who I haven't pissed off. Besides Vi." Daken says, resting his head against Anette's. "I need to find something to do for the Brotherhood to keep my hands busy, I'm getting restless not having something to do." "Yeah, Vi is definitely a character. Not sure it's possible to piss her off. I keep expecting you to run off with her. Hell, if it weren't for you, -I- might run off with her." Anette grins and sighs at the restless feeling. "Yeah, I really need to do more. I feel useless, I haven't done anything since the dream thing." "Right now you're the only person I'd consider running off with." Daken presses a kiss to the top of Anette's head before straightening up and resting his head on the couch. "Part of me wishes they needed somebody assassinated, but part of me wants to get out of the killing business altogether. Should have thought of that before I joined up with the Brotherhood." "An assassination job would be awesome! Granted, I've only killed one person and that was in the dreams, too. Fat lot of good it did, didn't stop the sentinels or..." Anette suddenly stops, quickly taking several gulps of wine. "I'm really not doing all I thought I'd do with the Brotherhood. Maybe I should go freelance." "And what good would that do?" Daken questions, looking down at Anette and arching an eyebrow. "We kill one bigot today, two more take his place. We kill them, more anti-mutant legislature gets passed. Killing won't fix this. Killing will only bring the world that you died in and I was left to raise a child in." He doesn't appear to shy away from the topic, granted it was less traumatic for him. "We need to take a more progressive stance, data leaking, protesting, only assassinate real threats, and even then it's best to have a shape shifter replace them." "So what's left to do? Let them walk over us? Let them treat us like shit? Let them round us up into camps and kill those who fight back when it's too late? You're starting to sound like Xavier." As the child was brought up, she suddenly sits up, spilling some of the wine as she turns to face Daken, eyes wide and angry. "Don't you -dare- bring him up like that. You didn't even know he -existed-. The dreams ended before they got difficult for you." She quickly finishes her drink, staring into the empty glass as if contemplating. "That is exactly the future I'm trying to prevent. Protesting doesn't do shit. Data leaking only helps if some -does- something with that data, like kill the bastards." She quickly rises and heads back to the kitchen, though this time she rinses the glass and pours something a bit stiffer: whiskey. "The only thing Xavier is right about is outright killing. It'll just get the end here faster." Daken reaches up to rub at his eyes before letting out a quiet sigh. "And drinking won't change it or make it any easier to deal with. Drugs and drink are fun, but they won't fix you. If anything they'll kill you before they kill the reason you take them." "I'm not saying we shoot on sight every bigot but knocking out the loud ones would be nice." Anette takes a gulp of her drink, shivering as it makes its way down. "Who said anything about drugs? You know I only smoke weed and that's only been around you. And you know what?" Anette turns to face Daken, leaning up against the counter, gripping her glass tightly as she continues to stare down Daken. "You're the last one who should be judging me. Last I looked, only one of us here has killed six hundred people and gotten addicted to heat." "You seem to forget my nose." Daken says simply, turning his head to look at Anette. "Took me a while to place the smell, but then I remembered it was what an acquaintance of mine used to cut blow. And either you've been snorting bad cocaine, had somebody here that was, or you do your laundry in the kitchen sink now. And I did get addicted to heat, and it almost killed me." He pushes to his feet and makes his way into the kitchen right up to Anette and looking her square in the eyes. "Those things almost killed /me/. I don't want to have to worry about what they'll do to you too." "Please, this whole building smells like a drug den. Don't need a mutant nose to smell it," Anette says, taking yet another gulp of her whiskey. "And even if I was, so what?" She stands her ground as Daken approaches, maintaining eye contact. "Then -don't- worry about me. I can take care of myself." "Then please do?" Daken asks softly, reaching out to rest his hands on Anette's hips. "Not sure what I'd do if you got some bad blow and overdosed, or got drunk to the point of choking on your own vomit. Despite what you may have thought when we first met, I do like you. A lot. And I care about you, a lot. You aren't alone." "I am taking care of myself and what I do in my own time is not your business." Anette isn't thrilled with Daken holding her but this time she doesn't throw her glass at him. "I'm alone by nature. Always have been, always will be. You know this and yet you insist on trying to get close. Why?" Anette takes another gulp of her whiskey, clearing her throat before she continues. "If you really care and really are concerned about bad blow, then hook me up with the good stuff." "Not by nature, by choice." Daken shakes his head and steps back. "And I've watched what it does to people. It's cheaper and more effective to get a good therapist." He snorts a bit at his own words. "I know you'll do whatever the fuck you wanna do, it's what you've always done and you won't do anything different until you reach my age and know better." "What the hell kind of shrink is going to going to listen a mutant freak talk about some dreams she had? And if I did find one, to get in the door would cost more than a year's rent to this shit hole." Anette snorts softly as he mentions doing what she wants to do. "Exactly. So why are you still trying to change my mind?" She steps out of Daken's hold and makes her way back to the couch. "Because I want you in my life, and at this rate you'll be dead before you're forty." Daken paces back and forth for a moment before pressing his forehead against the freezer door. "I'm just trying to support a healthier method of coping than doing drugs and killing politicians. Because it'll just end up killing one of us." "Seriously? You've gotten this from me having a fucking drink and the faint smell of cocaine off the counter. Gee, I stole a candy bar from a gas station when I was twelve once, I guess the next logical progression is to break into the Louvre for the Mona Lisa." At Daken's last statement, Anette turns to face Daken. "Kill one of us? Do tell how what I do in my life has any effect on you whatsoever." "Because even if you don't take my advice I'll be right here with you, that's the commitment I made to you." Daken leaves the fridge to go sit on the couch as well. "Even if we argue I'm still your ride or die, don't ever get that twisted. I'll get shot in the face to make sure you're alright." "Jesus Christ, you make it sound like we're married," Anette grumbles, still holding onto her drink though she's slowed down its consumption for now. "It's not my problem you're gonna ride or die a train wreck. I'd tell you to jump off while you still had a chance but you're just as stubborn as I am." "Not married, just your boyfriend. And probably even more stubborn than you." Daken scoots over to sit next to Anette once more. "I've said my piece, so let's see what movies we have and get drunk." "Yeah, bitch at me for drinking and then suggest we get drunk, that makes sense." Still, Anette can't complain too much as she settles on the couch, though not quite as cozy with Daken as before, and reaches for the TV remote to flip through channels. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Daken shrugs a bit before focusing on the television.