Welcome to Carlyle...

Waking Up

It's happening again. All around town. Maybe it's in the cereal aisle of the general store while no mothers with squalling children are traversing it. Maybe it's in the middle of the town's lonely graveyard, full of hundred-year-old graves in the middle of the night. Maybe in the local city hall restroom, eyes opening to a gaze-full of toilet paper, or in the town's settler museum full of wagon wheels and old farming paraphernalia.

There are still a few government workers milling around since the first influx. People in bland suits of various shades of grays and browns, nothing particularly impressive, but if they approach someone who doesn't seem to belong they'll bring them through the intake process. Though there's a chance that, instead, they'll meet a kindly marshall. Average middle-class white guy, a tall Midwesterner with some scruff and a formal uniform and a stocky build. He will discretely move them through if it's needed, make sure they have an ID and paperwork and phone and some concealing clothes if they have the body type that works for it. If they look special or like someone the government might want, he'll try to keep things on the down-low for them.

Better than to lose people again.

Getting Familiarized

When investigating the town, they'll find it with trace damage from the night before. Someone is replacing a door that has ax-marks in it. Another is rebuilding a fence, a crashed car ready to be towed away. And yet another person is filing an insurance claim with his agent, his shed completely burned down and the air closeby filled with the scent of settled smoke.

Most of the residents of Carlyle are friendly. If you stop and ask for directions, they'll give them. It's also a time of year in which there are lots of outsiders, on top of current events. Unfortunately, if anyone's dressed in an entirely unfamiliar way, someone might over-react. They may excitedly run to get one of the agents, or they might scream about it happening again, or they might be absolutely delighted and want pictures so they can go viral on FaceBook.

There's a cafe in town where there's are a slew of reporters, talking about post-Vesanalia clean-up and the lost arrivals. At first, someone who wanders in might be mistaken for another reporter, there to order coffee or jam microphones at the management outside. But someone might be smart. A towns-person might notice something off, a familiarity in their gaze, or might hear them say something suspicious. The next thing they know, those reporters are turning their microphones towards the newcomer.

Settling In

Someone might need somewhere to sleep. Well, there's a nice little hotel where it's free. There's probably government surveillance if you care about that sort of thing. Otherwise, your rest will go undisturbed and have the average conveniences of a mediocre bed, a Febreeze smelling duvet, a somewhat new TV, and bathroom with a tile pattern installed in the 80s. One could try a barn, but there's a chance they'll be run out by an angry man in honest to god overalls and an unironic cowboy hat with a pitchfork. They could also try to sleep in a vehicle. Let's just hope the owner doesn't come checking before morning.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Raven sits on a dusty couch and huddles there while Mick looks for a thermostat. Lights would be nice, but she realises that it would alert someone, as Mick says.]

I hate being left alone, too.

[But at least she's met someone nice enough to help her find a better place than a car.]

I know you probably won't stay with me, but will you visit me sometimes?

[Sure, they can run into each other outside, too. But she wants to know that she won't always be alone here.]

Visit? ...I can't tell if that's a proposition or not, Legs. I'll take it that you just need the help. Yeah, I'll come by. But I wouldn't stay here for more than a day or two.

And I'd get some normal clothes. Cover up those wires. Blending in makes getting around a hell of a lot easier.

[He dusts off his gloves. He can't even claim that he won't do charity work, since that crap is all he does now. Other than the occasional thing he steals, which, lets be real, isn't all that important.]

I'm not asking you to sleep with me, if that's what you're suggesting.

[She sounds a little irritated that he would immediately jump to that conclusion.]

I have no money. How am I supposed to get clothes?

One of those cases of "Happens more than you'd think but less than I'd like." [Mick's got those bad boy vibes that some girls enjoy.] Don't worry. Just clearing things up.

Same way I do. Steal money. Or steal clothes. No magic fucking science ship to slap up some clothes at the moment, so it's back to good old fashioned thieving I guess.

[She's already shown she's not great at breaking into things.]

I tell you what. I'll grab you a sweater and jeans or something. Then I'll show you how it's done.

[Her expression clears a little at the assurance and the offer to steal her some clothes. She's all about destruction and loud yelling, the stealth was more Octopus' thing. Still, she thinks she could learn.]

You will?

[He's being very kind to her, and she's unused to it. It's obvious from her hesitance and confusion that it's a rare thing to happen. That, and her lack of verbal thanks. Still, when she looks up at him again, it's with an appreciative smile.]

Yeah. Why not use my newfound altruism to help a girl get some independence, am I right? Doesn't seem like you're used to being out. Looks like you were hooked up to somethin'.

Not that I want to pry into someone's life story, but did some asshole do something to you?

[Honestly she could have done it to herself, it's hard to tell these days.]

[Raven tugs idly on one of her wires.]

These hooked me into my beast suit. The suit allowed me to fly, and it was good armour.

[She misses it.]

But... I was being mind controlled. My entire unit was. My will wasn't entirely my own.

[It was a combination of her desire to be free of her demons and Psycho Mantis' influence that drove her to try to kill Snake.]

I know some people with flying suits but none that need to be wired into them. The 'Raven' thing. Not just a name, then, sort of an identity.

[Which is fine. He knows a Canary, after all.]

Then if that's the kind of name we're sharing, then I'm 'Heat Wave'. [And dammit, reformed or not, that is his name. It's the fire inside of him. His true love.] Mick is still fine. And you're not the only one who's been mind controlled.

Takes a hell of a lot of determination to break it.

[Or maybe it was stubborn refusal to kill what he loved. But that's harder to talk about.]

It's my codename. Raging Raven. But... I don't remember my real name. So I guess I'm always going to be Raven.

[She tilts her head.]

Why are you called Heat Wave?

[And now it's Mick's turn to sound completely insane.]

[He flicks open his lighter.] Because I'm friends with the fire. We have an understanding, it and I. I'll always feed it, and I'll appreciate the burn, and I'll always run hot. That, and I have a big gun that I set things on fire with.

[His eyes widen with that last sentence, all smile and pride on his face.]

[Raven’s eyes light up at that. She gets up and holds out her hand, a small flame lighting in her palm until she closes her fingers again.]

I love fire, too.

[And stupidly enough, that smile makes her finally trust him more. That love of fire.]

I had a grenade launcher back home, but it isn’t with me here. Do you have your gun with you?

I've wondered what that would be like. To just make it, in the palms of my hands. To hold it and control it. [There's an earnestness to his tone. It's something he'll have briefly. But not right now.]

[Right now he has a lighter.] This will have to do.

[But he snaps it shut and pockets it.] Yeah. I got it. But this doesn't seem like flaming maw of death territory, as much as I think it would look good that way. Gotta play nice to keep things comfortable. I'm pretty sure the feds are watching this place, and there's nothing quite so bad as a pig with a nation's worth of ego.

[He remembers how awful they can be.]

I wish I had mine with me. I’d feel safer.

[Sure, she can light people on fire and drain their life away by making them feel her pain, but those things require her to be very close. She doesn’t want to be close to anyone who can hurt her, not now while she’s in her right mind.]

Do you have to leave tonight? It’s not a proposition, it’s just... I don’t have a weapon with me.

[She gets it, she’s dressed like this and asking a guy to stay the night. But she doesn’t want to sleep with him, she just wants to feel safe.]

I'd consider it but I gotta get back to my partner. That whole teammate thing. We got a lot of time to make up for.

But- [He dusts off his newly acquired coat] -I'll let him know you're interested in learning the ropes. If anyone's going to get how you can't just trust anybody out there, it's him.

[Hell, after everything that's happened between him and Snart, it's a miracle that they trust each other. At the same time, it's that everything that's made them build that trust.]

[She just nods, sighing. If it were her unit, she’d feel the same way.]

Can you meet me soon, then? Both of you?

[Better than being alone, and she can start to learn right away.]

You have a phone too, right?

Yeah, I got one.

[He takes it out and shows it off. He already has a flame themed background. That took him all of three seconds to manage just because he didn't want the tranquil average bullshit that was on there.]

What's your number, Legs. We'll make it a point to meet up.

Just don't say too much on here. I'm betting we're being watched. [He says critically.]

[Raven moves closer to show him her number, and takes his in return. She's already learned that protesting the nickname won't get her anywhere.]

I'll call you in the afternoon.

[That way it won't be too early.]

Intro Post

Welcome to Carlyle...

Waking Up

Getting Familiarized

Settling In

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