Logs:The Other Shoe

The Other Shoe
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Hive, Lily	2020-11-11 "I'm not the fucking monster here."
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. The protests have not fully died down, but with the funeral past they've shifted in tenor, in size; the daily vigils and marches are smaller (though no less harangued by police) and more integrated into the ongoing M4BL protests, election-adjacent protests, different causes (sometimes uncomfortably) mingling to keep the energy in the city tense. Evolve is still a safe hub but it's looking more like a regular cafe again these days. Today's rain has kept the crowds away -- the post-lunch atmosphere in here is subdued, only about a third of the tables occupied in scattered singles and pairs. Dusk has claimed a low scoop-backed chair in a front corner. He has a laptop in front of him together with half-empty latte. He's dressed kind of bland, old dark brown corduroys, ancient Vans sneakers, a soft blue long-sleeved tee that hangs a little loose on his skinny frame; hanging slightly loose behind him, they're a deep midnight black on their outsides, the soft velvet nap on the insides rich crimson. He's been very focused on his screen for a time but now looks up with a heavy puff of breath, a scrape of fingers through his hair, too-pale face tipping up toward the ceiling before he reaches for his coffee. At the counter, Lily is wrapping up a transaction, collecting a latte and a sandwich into her hands. She’s off duty- pieces of red duct tape still cling to the back of her grey hoodie, but the cross is more or less gone. Her black boots are slightly damp from the light rain outside, as are the cuffed bottoms of her jeans. She seems to be in transit- the sandwich is bagged up, and she’s turning in her heel for the door when her eyes light on Dusk. Her eyes widen before she changes course, feet taking her up to and besides the winged man in the corner. For a moment Lily looks like she might sit down at the table with him, but the movement is aborted. “Hi. Sorry to bother you.” Lily bites her lip. “Thought I would have run into you before now. But. I just wanted to say thank you, for looking out for Dawson all this time.” Whatever feeling that compelled her over here seems to desert her- she shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. Dusk lowers his mug, glancing up with a reflexive smile whose easy warmth is, perhaps, slightly mitigated by the wickedly sharp fangs glinting in his mouth. His, "Hey," is quick and quickly shifts to a confused frown. "Wait thanks for what now?" He's hitched one leg up onto the chair with him, pulling his wings tighter against his back as he looks Lily over. "Think that was honestly mostly the other way 'round." The confused frown is mirrored back in Lily’s face, eyebrows furrowing together until it clicks. “Oh, you don’t- um.” Now she does sit across from Dusk, though she doesn’t put down her food and drink. “Sorry, I got used to everyone knowing who I was without - I’m Dawson’s -was his twin.” She seems embarrassed by the reveal, face flushing slightly. Dusk snaps his fingers, pointing at Lily as he swigs at his coffee again. "Oh, shit, yeah, heard his sister was in town." He sets the cup down, wipes at his mouth as he glances back to his screen. Then back to Lily. A soft rumble starts up in his chest, low but audible even underneath his words. "Wait his twin?" The claws at the top of his wings twitch once. "That's Lily, right? Not Lily -- Catherine?" There's a hesitance in his tone, but something in it sounds oddly hopeful. Lily nods once, eyes widening slightly as she catches the spasm of movement at the top of the wings, widening more when Dusk brings in the middle name. “Yes. That’s me. Lily.” Her eyebrow quirks upwards. “I guess which sister didn’t make the local news?” The growl deepens, a louder rumble that's accentuated by the grating scrape of claws against the floor as Dusk's wings flex a little wider. The sudden slam of his palms against the table upends the coffee; it leaves a puddle on the table's surface and floor alike as the mug topples to the floor and cracks. His voice, now sharp and edged in contrast to its previous easy warmth, cracks harsher: "The fuck are you doing here? Did they send you? Can we not even fucking mourn in peace? He's dead take the fucking win." Lily isn’t sure what she was expecting, but it isn’t this sudden violent outburst. She recoils, wincing as the mug hits the ground. <<What did I do now?>> Hive’s voice rises up in her memory, <<It's just a fucking disrespect->>, then Steve’s <<Iot of folks don't know how to feel about you>>, then Shane and his anger <<He was just a fucking kid >> and the whole thought collapses into a hole of dread, a sinking feeling that they all hate her this much for not getting here sooner. Lightly, on top of the spiral, a single thought that she clings to like a lifeline - <<wait, they sent me?>> Lily’s eyes focus on Dusk’s mouth, on the fangs as they come into view. “What are you talking about? I’m here mourning, too.” There are other people staring, now; somewhere at the periphery of his awareness Dusk can feel their eyes, their wariness, but any of his usual self-consciousness is lost beneath a churn of fury that eclipses most of his thoughts. "Cut the shit." His chair scrapes back too, now, as he gets to his feet, claws twitching again. Distant, below the rage and hunger, is a swift mental reckoning, tracking over the massively increased surveillance many of the Prometheus team has been under in the weeks since Dawson's death. He leans across the table toward Lily; for all his current gaunt and anemic stature the growling, the wider snap of his enormous wings, accentuates the feeling of looming. "The labs've been champing at the bit to kill him and you just happen to turn up after a lifetime right when so fucking many of us are back in town together. What the hell do you want here?" “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She’s trying to keep her tone level, but there is a fearful tremble creeping though anyway. Lily is getting up too, fingers pressing into the paper bag, the paper cup, not quite backing away yet but ready to flee at a moment's notice. She, too is aware of the onlookers, but in a distant way. <<too far away to help/won't help a human>> There is a pain in her shoulder blades, in her gums - <<no, he’s just mad, he’s not going to- I don’t need to->> - that is swiftly forgotten in favour of trying to decipher Dusk’s anger. “I was just here to make sure the funeral happened- I’m sorry, I don't know-“ A bead of coffee spills over the lid of the cup. <<Labs?>> Somewhere in the back of her head, buried underneath everything else happening, a connection is slowly forming. Somewhere in the back of Dusks's mind there's a rustle, a slow unfurling of leaves. Hive isn't saying anything, and, much like those in the cafe, is making no move to insert himself in the path of Dusk's anger. His presence is there all the same, quiet and watchful, a soft questioning blossoming in his thoughts. Dusk's eyes narrow, hands curling slowly into fists against the table. "You fucking worked for them." His words come snarled through clenched fangs. "So what you kick him onto the streets -- sell your soul to Prometheus to torture people a while -- come here to gloat over their victory?" The table scrapes nearer to Lily. "Jax may have a thing against killing you monsters but I'm just about to forget why if you don't explain what the fuck you want with us." <<Prometheus.>> The word slides into Lily’s mind like a key, pushing memories - her’s, and not-her’s, - into place. <<we were -- locked up together>> echoes Shane’s voice again. Cold dark cells, home to so much pain - and on the other side, a young woman in a lab coat, glass pipet shattering on the floor as the lockdown alarm sounds. A warning email, deleted without fuss. Stem cells, tissue cell cultures from anonymous volunteer donors (<<our families left us in cages/just a fucking kid getting vivisected>>) - <<Oh God. Prometheus.>> Her grip falters - the coffee doesn’t drop but the sandwich does, squelching onto the floor. She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out at first. “I-“ Lily’s eyes are trained on Dusk, still wide with fear and now horror. “I didn’t know.” Her voice is suddenly hoarse. The unfurling in Dusk's mind isn't so quiet anymore, a rapid jangling alertness that's trained all its attention on Lily. << what >> whispers through Dusk's mind even as it snaps whipcrack-sharp across Lily's: << 'What'. >> The growl in Dusk's voice is not fading, loud and harsh and steady, but something in the blind red anger in his mind is cracking at these thoughts, splinters of confusion breaking into it. Behind him his wings crumple closer to his back, his jaw still tense. "How the fuck could you not know? You worked for them. You sat there staring through a fucking microscope while they sliced our people open. Do you have any idea how --" His eyes narrow. "You know all of this is because of them, right? He's fucking dead because of them." “How could I - I was an intern!” The bludgeon of Hive’s presence in her head is oddly comforting - she scrambles for him, memories of her eight months bubbling up just behind her reaching, repeating, overwhelming thought - << I didn’t know I swear I didn’t know >>. “I thought it was donated- spit test strands - I didn’t-“ There is a shifting in her stomach, in her mouth, and she clamps her free hand over her lips. “The cops killed him,” she manages to push out between her fingers. << Intern of evil sounds like a Good Place b-character. >> It's hard for Lily to read much emotion into the dry thud of Hive's mental voice. Where his mind joins with Dusk's, though, he's coiling carefully tighter in on himself, a mixed knot of guilt and anger twisting knots into their stomach. << Man, yeah, and why did they do that. >> Dusk takes a step back, whumps heavily back down into his seat. "Well fuck. If you only assisted with the torture I guess it's fine then." His wings fold close to his back, shoulders tense. "Flicker was locked up in one of Prometheus's cages last summer with Leo Concepcion. They've been dying to get him back because, for one, they make a fuckton of money patenting drugs they pull out of his body and, for two, while they were busy trying to get him to make new bioweapons for America to slaughter people with they accidentally turned him into a really deadly one." His hands spread, the long thumbclaws atop his wings twitching again. "Don't want to kill him now but they seem happy enough to gun people down who are helping him stay free." Lily stays standing, barely, swaying slightly from foot to foot. Her face is drained of colour, hands clammy where she keeps it pressed to her mouth. “Oh, God.” Memories of last summer flip through like flash cards - promises of publications, promising new drug therapies, her own unbridled excitement to be working here - there. Disgust and horror churn in her stomach as she slowly sinks back into the seat, not looking at Dusk nor reaching for Hive. <<…killing you monsters…>> “You should.” The hand drops from her mouth at last when she looks back up at Dusk, lips pressed tight together. “Would deserve it. << Weird, >> Hive is musing -- he's idly shifting through thoughts of Lily on Flicker's bed, Lily at a different table here in Evolve, a melding of minds, memories of Flicker at Game Night or out in the woods, << what we take for granted. Don't even bring up because we just assume everyone already... >> Though the imagery doesn't come across to Lily, the words do. Sudden and curious: << What the hell have you thought everyone was on about all these weeks? The speeches, his funeral? Just -- typical post-death aggrandizement? >> "Yeah, you would." Dusk says this bluntly. His teeth are unclenching, slowly, but the growl hasn't left his chest. "You were -- what, cowering in a bunker this summer while Prometheus was filling your brother full of holes? To save people you were torturing? I saw your fucking name. On their personnel. He --" Something roils in his mind, at once sick and grateful that he never told Dawson. Hive's question pulls a sudden bark of laughter from him; his knuckles drag across his eyes to wipe at the tears that have suddenly sprung there. "Oh man crap but -- fuck. Everybody turns into the bravest fucking warrior you know after they die. What the hell do you say about someone like him who actually was?" “I don’t know. Military. Feds. Something.” Lily is rolling over the last month in her head, looking for clues she missed and finding hundreds. “Not my two-term internship.” <<your brother, full of holes>> loops and echoes and twists into a deep revulsion for herself and her naïveté, twists further until she feels empty. “Do it, then.” She brushes hair off one side of her neck, turning the bare skin to Dusk. “Or I’ll figure out how to end this some other way.” << Below the fucking belt. >> Hive stirs almost reflexively when Lily bares her neck; he doesn't clamp down on Dusk, precisely, but the part of their mind that is filtering in the thoughts around them broadens. He focuses their attention more acutely on the mix of people -- some still very much aware of Dusk and his sharp growling, the baristas here keenly attuned to risks of violence -- around them in the cafe. << Is that the plan now? Hope someone punishes you for your fucking sins? Self-flagellate if not? >> The hunger that's always present in Dusk flares sharper, here. He grips the edge of the table until his nailbeds go white, a more guttural snarl torn up out of his throat as his eyes lock on Lily's. He leans into the weight of the other minds in the room, the attention on him, to keeps him in his seat at first, teeth gritted once more, forearms shivering slightly where he clenches at the table. "Right." His voice is gruff. "You really must have eaten their propaganda the fuck up. You worked for people who tortured nearly everyone I love. For years. Killed too many of my friends to count." His words are still audible over the returned rumble in his chest, but it's a near thing. "I have a right to be fucking angry. But let's be real goddamn clear," the table is starting to tip in his direction as he rises back out of his seat, weight leaning down on it and his sharp teeth snapping in Lily's direction, "I'm not the fucking monster here." Lily gives up, lets the pain in her gums speed to its natural conclusion. She grimaces, unintentionally showing Dusk her own canines, sharp and long like his now, not dull and human like a moment ago. “Yeah. I got that.” She sounds more resigned than angry. Parts of her mind are still panicked, denying this new information, but more and more she is focusing on a new plan. <<Make right, then die.>> Lily stands up again, gathering her coffee and sandwich like the last few minutes never happened, like they haven’t been stared at this whole time. “The plan is to meet my brother again as soon as possible.” If no one stops her, it’s only a few steps before she’s swept out of Evolve and back into the drizzle of New York. Hive doesn't try and stop her. Where his mental presence had spread broad across Dusk's now it is withering. He's batting irritably at Lily's final sentiment. Shoving it down together with the feelings (be with him again just want to be with him again) that have been clanging loud in his mind for weeks. It's soft and disgruntled as he slowly flutters into a more muted background awareness again: << Man. If I ever came close to forgetting his family is so fucking white. >>