Entry tags:

Intro Post

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

Can I have a look at that?

[She holds a gloved hand out for the piece of metal. Then she shakes her head.]

No, my nanomachines keep me from feeling the cold too much.

[Because that's going to make sense to someone who doesn't know what nanomachines are. She's just used to people knowing, though.]

Nanomachines. They're like... tiny machines, right? Heard Haircut go on about that kind of thing.

[His reluctance to hand it over only lasts for a second. Lockpicks are usually pretty easy to come by, and even if she took it, he could probably replace it pretty quickly. So he just leans his elbow on top of the car, looking either way for a cop.]

[None to be seen. No reporters, either. Small town life, he guesses.]

[She studies the lockpick closely, and nods.]

Yes. They're used to regulate emotions and vitals on the battlefield, amongst other things. Who's Haircut?

[That's a weird name, and that's coming from a woman who tried to straddle a man named Solid Snake to death.]

Some asshole from back home. Don't worry about it. [Haircut is absolutely not his name, it's Ray. But that doesn't mean Mick won't make up his own damn names for people.]

You know they're offering those hotels for free. If you want to stay there.

[He nods in the general direction of the free motel.]

Doesn't look like you'd be allergic to uglyass carpet.

I know. But I don't trust it. Why would they just give us free rooms? I know they want to watch us, but...

[Raven hands the lockpick back, frowning to herself.]

People don't do nice things for no reason.

[He takes it back and pockets it.]

I know some people who do. They're suckers and idiots. [And in some cases, very annoying. Like Pretty and Haircut.]

But that's why those guys need badguys looking out for them. They're willing to do the things that they refuse to do.

[Raven glances over in the direction of the hotel. She's obviously torn.]

You're not from here, are you? What do you think these people want to do with us?

[She'd trust someone who just arrived here more than she trusts the residents of this place.]

I don't have a clue. Honestly, I don't think they know what the fuck to do with us. People know we're here, so assholes who'd like to exploit us gotta play the long game.

What I suggest? Don't mention the nanomachines to the locals, Legs. That's something they could use. Just play the pretty pouty face game and milk their generosity. And make it damn hard on 'em to just kick you out without looking like they're making a bad impression.

[Mick lightly thumps the hood of the car with his leather glove. He gets why someone would just want to stick to a hide-out. That's probably what him and Len will do. But honestly, gotta do better than a car.]

Legs?

[Raven huffs a little.]

My name is Raven.

[Still, her eyes flick to his gloved hand as he thumps the car. Maybe there is somewhere better for her than the back of an old car.]

Can you help me find somewhere else to stay?

[Even if he knows she's there, that's still only one person as long as he keeps his mouth shut.]

I don't trust the hotel. Not yet.

Yeah? Mine's Mick. [Though she's stuck as Legs for now. He's thinking about it. He knows that he and Snart wouldn't want someone's eyes on them all the damn time.] This whole town is pretty suspicious. But it's farm territory. Farms mean plenty of places for people to sleep discretely. Sheds and shit.

[He's not reccing a barn, because literal shit is no one's idea of a good time.]

Alright. Come on.

[As someone who had to sleep in literal shit as a child, Raven would rather not go back to that.]

I'll follow you.

[Which usually isn't what you'd want from a Beauty, but Raven feels surprisingly... mellow. She has ever since her fight with Snake. There's still rage there, she can feel it, and it bubbles up at small provocations. It isn't overwhelming, though. It's an improvement.]

I wish I had another member of my unit here. I feel... alone, without them.

My partner ended up here. I don't know if it's lucky or not. He's dead back home. [Which is it's own horrible bag of garbage. Mick Rory and Leonard Snart go back to children. They were kids together, in juvie, and when some asshole kids tried to murder the squirt it was Mick that stepped in and got his back. Mick that pretty much dedicated his lift to keeping the twerp alive and, eventually, in wealth.]

[Then they had their falling out and their make-up robberies and more falling out and possible murder attempts and then they made up again and everything about their relationship has been complicated. He's wanted Snart back more than anything. He's also wanted to be dead too to escape the guilt.]

I get you, though. [That alone feeling, that incompleteness. He does get it.]

[He's leading her away from main street into the more residential areas, checking backyards as he goes. Then he sees a "for rent" sign on a window, and honestly, that's exactly the thing they need.]

[Excuse him while he hops this white picket fence.]

Does he know that he's dead?

[Raven hops the fence too, looking up at the house. She wonders if the other girls will show up here. Maybe if they did, a place like this would be good. It still could be good, if not somewhat lonely.]

Yeah, he does. Son of a bitch should have known better. Leaving me alone like that.

[Rory had wanted to die too, for a while. It had been hard, knowing someone he'd saved gave his life for him, that he and Len never had a chance to properly make amends after the bad that happened between them. This could be a good chance.]

[He picks the lock to the door and goes inside. It's a pretty average apartment. One of those that's been around for a while in a cheapass place where no one wants to build new shit.]

Don't turn on the lights. That'll probably get someone's attention. [Assuming she must be capable of feeling cold, he's looking for a thermostat or something.]

[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?

Intro Post

Welcome to Carlyle...

Waking Up

Getting Familiarized

Settling In

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)