Logs:Bad Timing

Bad Timing
Dramatis Personae Daiki, Frank, Joshua, Steve	2021-01-27 "What's existential? What's an emergency?"
Location <NYC> Central Park
Perhaps the most famous urban green space in the world, Central Park's over 800 acres of green and blue is a popular escape from the City's hustle and bustle for residents and visitors alike. It houses not only stands of trees and water features, but Belvedere Castle, the Alice in Wonderland statues, and the Central Park Zoo. Those areas tend to draw tourists like a magnet - it is, perhaps, for that very reason that places like Bethesda Terrace tend to attract more New Yorkers than not, if just to escape the press of tourism that infiltrates the whole city. Despite the near-freezing temperature and the snow on the ground, Steve is having a leisurely stroll this afternoon through the southeastern corner of the park along the footpaths toward the Pond. Admittedly he is quite warmly dressed in a navy blue peacoat, dark gray corduroys, and black combat boots, a plush knitted red scarf wrapped around his neck and his iconic shield slung across his back. The odd-eyed husky-ish mutt at the end of the blue leash he holds (it reads 'ADOPT ME!' at intervals in white block letters) looks equally unbothered by the cold, snuffling eagerly at the bushes as they go. In his free arm he's carrying a paper takeout bag redolent of greasy Chinese food, perhaps with an early supper in mind he's wending his unhurried way toward a picnic area whose benches have been cleared of snow by the uncertain sunlight earlier. Sitting on one of those benches in that picnic area is Joshua, who at one point perhaps was snugly dressed against the cold -- sturdy boots, sturdy jeans, a thick black leather X-marked jacket, knit cap, scarf, gloves. He's shed the scarf and gloves -- or, well, glove, where its partner is is an unanswered question. His scarf is kind of half-a-scarf now, singed and crisp, his jeans heavily dirt-spattered, a heavy smoke-smell hanging around his grimy and battered clothing, gritty rust-colored speckles in between the soot on his face, thick dark hair a tousled mess, and he slumps on the bench making his steady way through a foil-wrapped shawarma. His eyes drag upward as the familiar figure of Steve draws near, chin lifting in an upward nod. "Have you?" he asks, after a pause and a pensive examination of the leash. Sitting across from Joshua, Daiki looks just as frazzled and exhausted. His black leather jacket is of a similar design, though it's so badly singed the X motif on it is barely recognizable, and his usually impeccable hair lies all askew in a loose ponytail. Notwithstanding his disheveled appearance, there's something intensely compelling about him...even moreso than usual. His shawarma is practically bursting from its pita wrapper, being stuffed with every manner of vegetable and a handful of french fries to boot, and despite its impressive dimensions he is gamely working his way through it. His eyes are very wide when they follow Joshua's lifting to Steve. He hastily swallows the bite he had been chewing and offers both man and dog a winning smile. "Hey there," he says, a touch shyly, though his expression opens to something like wistful delight when his gaze drops to the mutt. "Cute dog." Frank Zeller stood tucked against the cold, gritty bark of a tree with his shoulders hunch inward and bare hands tucked under his armpits, his work boots stained with snow and dirt slush, and the hem of his black jeans in similar disarray. His grey shirt and black cable-knit turtleneck seemed almost too small for his bulky frame, and he pulled his black beanie down further over his ears the moment he noticed Steve's approach. he dusted himself off, unnecessarily and more out of habit and decorum, before sitting on the empty bench next to the tree he was leaning on. He moved his small black backpack onto the ground and crossed his legs, his jaw working as he practically chewed his words before speaking them hesitantly. "Hey Captain Rogers, day off?" Steve does not start when addressed, perhaps having recognized the men from some ways off. "Afternoon, gentlemen. Have I -- what?" As he gets closer he takes in Joshua and Daiki's appearance, his brows wrinkling, but if he was about to inquire he's distracted when Frank moves. "Oh, gosh, but this is the littlest big city, isn't it? It's Frank, right?" His smile is warm. "My schedule is pretty flexible and this ah, pet rescue I volunteer for needed extra hands today." He nods at the dog now straining at the end of its leash toward the two X-Men -- or, more likely, toward their food -- ears fully perked up and nose twitching. "This fine fella here is Ozymandias, and he had a lot of energy to work off." Half a beat later he adds, a little sheepishly, "I did not name him." "Adopted any of them." Joshua nods towards the hopeful dog. He doesn't make any move toward Ozymandias or away from him, though he does hold his shawarma just a little bit higher. He does sit up just a little bit straighter when Frank speaks, still kiiind of slumped but at least a bit more upright, his heavy-lidded eyes shifting to track the conversation. "Huh." His eyes sweep up then down over Frank before he plucks a wayward bit of onion from his wrap before it can fall. "Co-worker?" he hazards. Daiki's shoulders tighten fractionally at Frank's voice, but when he half-turns in his seat to look at the man he seems relaxed enough, offering a polite smile and incline of his head. The sense of intensity about him seems to ease just a little. When he pushes his black framed glasses up his nose they settle just a touch crooked, somehow making him look even more acutely out of sorts than the literal burns on his clothing. "Ozymandias is a fine name," he allows. "May I pet him?" Though as soon as the question is out of him mouth he studies his meal critically, then the dog. "And/or bribe him with a small piece of shawarma?" Frank managed a small wave with his index and middle finger, shrinking in his seat as all three men's attention turned to him. He cleared his throat awkwardly and managed a smile, hoping it didn't come out as more of a grimace or wince than he intended it to. "Frank is it yeah, or Zeller if you prefer. Only an Agent on the clock." He turned to Joshua and nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "Co-worker in a sense, I'm mostly a boots-on-the-ground guy, not so much the space stuff." He managed a small laugh, his eyes flickering between Daiki and Ozymandias for a small moment. He shifted in his seat again, watching Daiki out of the corner of his eye and turning his focus back to Steve. "I didn't know you did volunteer work, how do you find time for that?" "Oh!" Steve chuckles. "No, I haven't -- yet? Had my eye on one, but she found another home before I could clear it with my roommate. She's in great hands, though." He blinks momentarily at Frank's reply. "Co-workers, more or less," he agrees. "We see each other coming and going, but I'm kind of -- a department unto myself these days, which sounds incredibly conceited, wow." He blushes. "I'm lucky to have a schedule I can work around volunteering, but I managed some on a more rigid schedule, too. Helps when you haven't got much of a social life. Not --" He adds hastily to Joshua and Daiki. "-- that I'm imply anything about your social lives. You can pet him, and treats are fine. Ozy, sit." The dog looks back at him critically. Then at the food. Then sort of sulkily lowers its haunches to the snowy ground, fluffy tail wagging hopefully. "What, Zenobia?" Joshua's brows hitch, but he's moving on to another bite without pressing the question. He sucks a drop of sauce from his thumb and slouches back down against the bench. If he's enjoying his meal, his droopy hangdog-expression makes it hard to tell. "So just a workaday mutant hunter, then. Cool." His boot scuffs against a snowdrift, leaving a sooty track against the already muddy clump of ice. "Helps when you don't sleep, too." Daiki sets his sandwich down in the center of the picnic table in the paper bag that it had come in, but fishes out a strip of meat to offer Ozymandias. He caresses the dog gently on the head once he's accepted the morsel, but his dark eyes lift up, first to Joshua, then Steve, then Frank. "Mutant hunter," he echoes levelly. "Is that what you do?" The question is earnest, aimed at Steve. Frank felt an anxious sizzle run down his spine and through his forearms, the word "mutant" alone enough to send his heart rate through the roof of his suddenly very dry mouth. He swallowed and cast his eyes to the ground, tracing the path of Joshua's sooty track and struggling to find words. His eyebrows furrowed as another sizzle rang down his arms and he felt heat building under his sweater; Frank started slightly his brain clicked into place. A surge, building, in the middle of two X-marked jackets and actual-Captain-America's vibranium Shield, Frank was fighting off a surge of his volatile and barely manageable. He swallowed again and shuffled his feet, dragging his eyes up to meet Daiki's and internalizing the urge to flinch back. Something about Daiki made him feel uneasy, the growing pressure of his mutant powers taking the brunt of his attention as he shrugged slowly. "Some. We're still technically under the World Security Council so, security is part of what we do." The nervous sizzle ticked up to a prickling in his palms and fingertips and Frank tucked his hands under his armpits again, looking to Steve for what his response would be. What did a man made the way he had been think of mutants anyway? "Zenobia, yes, but how did you..." Steve never finishes this startled inquiry. His jaw sets tight, and he doesn't reply at once. "If you know that much about S.H.I.E.L.D. as it is --" He breaks off. Frowns. "It's an agency meant to protect the world against existential emergencies, regardless of cause. I'm not so naive as to believe that's actually how it's handled, but I've been given an opportunity to handle it differently. So help me god, I --" He breaks off again. Takes a deep breath. Continues more calmly. "I will see it done right." His eyes skid aside to Frank. "Are you -- feeling alright?" Ozymandias, nuzzling into Daiki's hand, is eyeing Frank as well, ears starting to press back. "What's existential? What's an emergency?" Something about Joshua's languid drawling tone sounds mostly rhetorical with these questions. His brows tick back up as he looks back to Frank. Now he does sit up straight, shoulders rolling back as he crumples the foil end over his half-eaten wrap. His shift of position on the bench is small -- just a slight adjustment to put himself a little bit closer to Daiki, though his attention is still on Frank. "You, ah, good there, man?" "It is perhaps," Daiki suggests, somewhat off-handedly, "like a dimensional tear that was a bit more serious than the New York Post suggested?" This also sounds largely rhetorical, though he cannot fully disguise the real curiosity in his tone. He slowly withdraws his hand from Ozymandias as the dog's body language starts to change, with a softly murmured, "Easy there, buddy." There's something hunted in the flick of his eyes toward Frank, and with an odd invisible rippling he's suddenly that much more keenly compelling, his power amplifying positive and negative feelings toward him alike. It's only a brief slip before he gathers himself again, impassive, the power subsiding. Frank stood as still as he could while Steve spoke, watching the exchange and casual, careful tones of Joshua and Daiki shift the mood of the conversation like a pendulum. He rubbed his left forearm unconsciously and looked between Joshua and Steve sharply, his green eyes tinged with an unsettling blue that focused his usually hazy stare. Frank opened his mouth to respond, his glance snapping to Daiki and another anxious shiver gripping his body. He swallowed, standing slowly and backing up to lean against the tree. "Uhm, just cold, sorry." He managed. "It's good you're so determined to do things your way Captain, emergencies like, that," he nodded his head vaguely in Daiki's direction to reference the dimensional tear, "seem to be happening more." "I'm still working on that part," Steve admits, bowing his head just a fraction. "But ah -- dimensional tears do certainly seem like good candidates. It's the other end of the scale that's hard, but I know it can't just be -- going after anyone who might be dangerous." His eyes defocus for just a moment. Refocus on the dog. Then on Frank. "Down, Oz," he orders, then darts an opaque glance at Daiki. Ozymandias whimpers very quietly and settles down, ears still pressed back and hackles slightly raised. "Is getting a bit chilly," he agrees. "If you need to get inside before night falls, don't let me keep you. But it's not about doing it my way, I --" He closes his mouth, eyes dipping thoughtfully to the snow. "At least, not only my way. This thing cannot be done justly without mutant leadership." "But less serious than the Enquirer made out. I mean. Most of Staten Island's still there, right?" Joshua picks his one singed glove off the bench and crams it back in his pocket, draping his kind of bedraggled scarf around his neck after this. "Is getting a bit cold. Think we should be getting back?" He stands, slow, giving a questioning look to Daiki, now. He isn't moving yet though. His heavy brows pull together. "Mutant leadership? They go in for that kinda thing at, uh. Your. Work. Place?" "I try not to check on Staten Island more often than I need to, personally," Daiki says, his smile only a tough nervous. "But if we take the Enquirer at face value, the shapeshifting aliens from the rift are already among us, to say nothing of other disasters." He nods at Joshua and starts to rise, but then looks back at Steve, the lift of his slender brows startled and interested. "As improbable as that seems," he ventures, cautiously, "it might be a step in the right direction." Frank's mouth flattened into a hard line as he tilted his head at Steve, his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. Mutant Leadership, other than whatever Steve considered himself, at S.H.I.E.L.D was... well, like Daiki said. "Improbable is a delicate word to use for it. You really-" His words narrowed in discomfort and he slouched against the tree bark, holding his left wrist against his chest. "You really think you could manage to fight fire with fire like that?" He directed it at Steve, mostly, his eyes flicking between the two X-Men as if to silently ask if these were the mutants he wanted to recruit. Frank reached down to grab his backpack and dug out his cheap kiosk flip phone, squinting at the screen while holding his wrist again. "It's getting fairly late, I have to be at the office in the afternoon but knowing them they'll call me in early. I-" Frank shivered, squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling sharply. His hands went from flushed-pink-from-the-cold to opalescent blue in a split moment and his phone fried in his hands, the heat and small detonation of the rudimentary device causing him to drop it. Frank muttered a curse under tense breath and put his hand against the tree to steady himself, a thick, almost semi-liquid bolt of blue-white lightning bursting from his hand and charring half the tree trunk along with a wide path in the snow. He stumbled back in the middle of the path between Joshua and Daiki's bench and where Steve was standing, his eyes wide and breath harsh as he panted once, then twice. "Shit. Shit. Bad fucking timing." The furrow of Steve's brows is thoughtful. "No, though they seem willing enough to make use of those whose skills are convenient." His head gives a quick shake. "But they want me on this initiative, they're going to have deal, whether they like it or not." He offers Frank a shrug that somehow doesn't seem all that uncertain. "Don't see it as fighting fire with fire. More like trying to address a different kind of power..." He trails off when Frank's condition seems to worsen, and he starts forward uncertainly. "Hey, you really don't look so --" Then stops, eyes going very wide at the blue glow, but it's only at the larger streak of lightning that he drops into a combat stance, the takeout bag falling from the crook of his elbow as he pulls his shield from the harness on his back. Too frightened to take advantage of food suddenly in reach, Ozymandias has scrambled back behind him and is barking furiously at Frank, hackles fully raised and tail tucked between his legs. Steve himself, at least, seems calmer if still quite startled, his shield only half-raised as he watches Frank carefully. "Is there a good time for --" His eyes flick to the destroyed phone, the scorched tree, the flash-melted snow. Back to Frank. "-- that?" Almost in the same instant as that burst of energy, Joshua and Daiki are no longer on the bench but blipped several feet away from the newly charred path in the snow. Joshua's hand is still on his teammate's shoulder, the hard tense of his arm and slight widening of his eyes the clearest indication of his lingering stress. His eyes have riveted on Frank and despite the readied alertness of his posture his voice comes out calm, a quiet note of concern buried somewhere beneath. "Hey -- you need to sit or something?" Perhaps long familiarity with unstable abilities has inured Daiki, but he remains relatively calm in matter of fact through this, the ripple of his power at the flare of Frank's quiet and easily ignored. Even so, he does not stray from Joshua's side. "These sorts of things don't always have much consideration for our convenience," he says, his voice soft and conciliatory, "or that of our employers." Frank swallowed nervously and tried to tuck his arms close to himself, another burst of lightning streaking from his hands out at the tree again and causing him to stumble back slightly. He crouched on one knee, holding his hands out where everyone present could see them and managing a terse smile. "Ah, no, never a good time for that. I'm fine, sorry, I mean I'm sorry." His voice felt weak in his ears, like all the oxygen was slipping out of his lungs before it reached his throat. he stared at the melted path of snow and closed his eyes again, wishing the pounding of his own blood in his ears would fade so he could focus on reigning his energy inwards. He shrank against the cocktail of shame and panic in his chest, exhaling slowly and opening his eyes again. He looked sidelong at Steve, glancing back to where Joshua and Daiki had blipped. "I... I don't think my "skills" would be considered convenient for them, our workplace really, really does not take to, that," he gestured to the small field of destruction, "kindly or as calm as your friends are." Steve had just begun to lower his shield and make soothing noises at the dog behind him when Frank looses more lightning, and he reflexively braces the shield again, sliding another half step back. "No harm done," he says at a slight delay, sounding almost as casual as he probably intends as he glances from Joshua and Daiki back to Frank. "Unless that -- hurt you." His eyes are still wide, though, as he tries and fails to shush Ozymandias, then just reaches into his coat pocket to scatter a handful of freeze-dried liver pieces on the ground. This finally distract the mutt, though the hair along his spine stays up while he hunts for treats in the snow. When he looks back up at Frank he seems startled all over again. "Wait, but what about --" His lips compress. "Huh. Well. Maybe my co-captain will be an even harder sell than I expected. And you..." One eyebrow arches just a fraction. "...are hiding this, then?" At 'this' his gaze flicks to the still slightly smoldering tree. "We've had a little experience with this kind of thing." Joshua's hand drops from Daiki's shoulder, now. He unwraps the unfinished half of his shawarma, plucking out a bit of lamb to nibble at. "This new? For you? Don't guess it makes work easier if you, uh. Gotta keep it under wraps." His brows furrow deep. "... don't guess it makes life easier if your. Workplace is. Full of. Whatever you all are. World police. Crazy spy people." Daiki's eyebrows raise up. "That doesn't really seem like an ideal work environment, no," he agrees placidly. "It's certainly common enough for people to hide their mutations for the sake of holding down a job, but most employers aren't likely to..." He reconsiders, humming quietly. "I suppose you probably know best what you are risking." Even though this last is clearly directed at Frank, his glance settles on Steve. Frank nodded slowly and took a shaky breath, lowering his hands and folding them against himself. The surge seemed to be easing, but two bolts of lightning was already too much for him to be comfortable with, not to mentioning ruining his last good phone. "It hurts sometimes, I can't... I don't control it very well." He turned to look at Joshua and nodded again, his eyes downcast. "About six years now, it just keeps getting stronger. Had an accident that just, made it appear." He scratched at the scar on his jaw and frowned, looking up at Steve with a nervous, raw expression. "I will lose my job and could be hunted for this."He said slowly, shifting on the ground and trying, and failing, to relax his shoulders. "You said you weren't naive about how dangerous people are handled at S.H.I.E.L.D, even if they use the ones they want." Steve slowly returns his shield to the harness on his back, though his stance is still a little wary. He does not answer at once, twisting Ozymandias's leash around and around his right hand, covered as usual in a brace. "I'm not going to tell anyone. I had thought S.H.I.E.L.D. had mutant agents, even if not many, but you think they'd hunt you down? Why would you --" His face does something complicated. "I guess this doesn't exactly bear out my claim of not being naive." His eyes narrow speculatively. "Obviously your power is dangerous, but there's still a difference between being capable of hurting people and actually doing it. Your superiors --" Grits his teeth. "-- our superiors need to learn that. Can't imagine it'll happen overnight, if I can make it happen at all." He stares down at his right hand for a moment, curling as far as it will go around the layers of nylon leash, jaw setting tight. "For what it's worth, I will protect you if they find out." "Yikes." Joshua's looking past Frank, now, at the burned tree trunk. "Six years? Guessing that's a security deposit or three gone." He tosses his next small chunk of lamb towards Ozymandius, his posture now returning to something more lax and casual. "S'some places that can help with the -- mmn." He checks himself halfway through his sentence, eyes turning up towards the grey sky as if searching for an answer there. "-- no. Guess support groups or. Clinics might be. Hard, too, if your employer's a whole-ass intelligence agency." Now he's looking back at the smoking tree, mouth twisting to the side. "Don't guess you have many other. Mutant. Friends." Daiki bows his head slightly. "I'm sorry. That sounds like a difficult place to be -- literally and figuratively." He glances back at Joshua and nods. "Mendel Clinic can be fairly confidential, but I doubt they're confidential enough for your particular situation." He frowns, pushes his glasses back up again -- they still don't sit quite right. "I hope you're able to stay safe, one way or another." Frank shrugged and managed to loosen his shoulders properly this time, looking at the ground. "It did hurt people, but it wasn't intentional. I don't know of any other mutants, let alone in the agency. I'm fairly sure if there are they're as scared and isolated as I am. They could use protecting." He sat down on the ground and sighed heavily, running a hand over his face as the blue from his eyes finally began to fade back down and his heartbeat returned to somewhat normal, if anxious, rhythm. "Sorry for dampening your dinners." "An accident is also different from an attack, but that's putting the cart before the horse, here." Steve's frown has not eased. "I'll see what I can do for you or for --" He hesitates, frowning again. "-- anyone else who might be in a similar position, before you get outted. Talk to the Director, at least -- in general terms." It's only when Frank mentions his dinner that Steve looks down at the bag on the ground. He sounds genuinely unconcerned when he retrieves it and concludes, "It's still edible just -- pre-mixed. Get yourself some rest, fella." His eyes track back over to the X-Men. "Didn't get around to asking about your afternoons, but it looks like you could use a break, too." Joshua tears an edge off his pita. Chews it pensively. "Well," he ventures, slow and speculative, "New York's got the biggest mutant community on earth. Feel like. Nobody has to be isolated. Probably other places out there to work that aren't so --" He lets this hang, his eyes turning back up toward the sky. "Well." He takes another bite of his wrap, head shaking. "Takes a lot to ruin my dinner. Stay safe, yeah?" His chin jerks up toward the others. His hand rests back on Daiki's shoulder and in the next moment, immediate and silent, the men have vanished. Daiki retrieves his food, but his appetite is perhaps less resilient than Joshua's, because he just wraps the foil back up and tucks it into the bag it came in. "Feel better, and I hope that you find some recourse that is not dangerous to you." His bows his head slightly and offers Steve a wave before disappearing with Joshua.