Participants:
| Scene Title | A Terrorist Family |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Devon's return to the home of Melissa and Perry brings more than just a quiet reunion and a change of scenery. |
| Date | March 28, 2011 |
Morningside Heights : Perry's Apartment
Devon's coming was foretold. This isn't the first time they've given him shelter and, while Pericles Jones wishes no difficulty in Devon's life save those that come as a matter of course for a citizen fighting oppression, that door remains open.
Though actually it's closed, because Perry would never leave his door hanging open for any officer of the law cruising buy to peer in and declare probable cause. Most of the worst of what Perry owns is stowed in his own room, but his work surface has an assortment of firearms, dark with oil and heavy with lethality - pistols, machine pistols, a submachine gun, an assault rifle, a hunting rifle.
For obvious reasons, Junie is to be kept well away from that corner of the room.
More traditionally - less terroristically - the fold-out couch is, as per its function, folded out into a simple bed, made with military neatness, and concurrant military drabness. Perry sits by the kitchen table, examining printed pages that look like photocopied schematics of some sort of vehicle or other. The furrow of his brow suggests studied concentration. Mel's seen quite a lot of this look, after this much time together. A thinker, and proudly so, he can no more hide his intellection than he can his emotion.
When Devon called, Melissa passed on the message, and with some worry. But then, she does tend to worry about him, considering him one of her own, just like Kendall or Junie. Not quite like Perry, but then, that's only to be expected. Her own dangerous toys are stowed with Perry's, since she's made the apartment more and more theirs than his. Which explains why everything is so damn clean.
While Perry examines pages, Mel has her laptop out, and is frowning as she browses through various pages. Junie is nearby, in a playpen, cheerfully banging blocks together and babbling in the way that children her age do.
Soon enough there's a knock on the door, a light yet weary tap that would inevitably signal the arrival of the expected teenager. He hasn't been back in town but for a few days, and it appears as though those days were hectic enough to keep him from calling right away. A backpack is slung over a shoulder, not terribly heavy-laden, and the rest of Devon's appearance seems as much in line with that object. Nondescript and meant to blend in. Hiding in plain sight.
After knocking, Devon leans against the door frame, his body positioned to block the view into the apartment by the random passerby, inconspicuous enough to be a kid waiting to be let inside.
Perry looks up at the knock, the slightest knife point glint of alertness sparking in his dark eyes. To discreet by far, though, that fatigued tapping. No fist pound by a seneschal of the Powers. Mr. Jones gets to his feet, touching Melissa's upper arm lightly as he goes. "I think that's-" he says, leaving Devon's name to be completed in Melissa's thought. They aren't expecting anyone else, after all.
The door is cracked open and Perry gives Devon a single firm nod and a smile that shows no teeth as he steps aside to grant him quiet entry. No streamers or confetti or welcome banner. But there is the bed. And there are the guns.
Melissa nods at Perry's words, glancing towards the door but otherwise not moving. When she sees Devon she smiles and sets her laptop aside, while Junie pulls herself to her feet, holding on and babbling louder. "Devon. Thought you'd forgotten about us," she says, voice lightly teasing. "Come in, want something to drink or eat?"
That Devon himself is unarmed might be telling in his posture. Of course, the misadventure he found himself on might also be telling. There's a returned wariness, though he has faith enough in those within the apartment that he doesn't check behind himself on entering. Perry is given a small nod and a look of a thanks.
Melissa and Junie receive faint grins. and a one-shoulder shrug. "Had people to deal with or I would've called sooner," the teenager explains mildly. Pulling off his pack, he digs into the larger compartment to produce a small plush bear displaying the state of Texas on its foot. It's held out for Junie, though if either adult wishes to take and examine it, he's not likely to argue. "I miss anything interesting?"
"Who did you have to deal with?" Perry asks, a brow lifting, his curiosity inking his voice, "if you need any help, if you're- if you're having any trouble with anyone, you know we'll help." It's perhaps more creepy than comforting that it's rather clear the extent of 'help'. But a friend who'll kill for you is certainly useful in a desperate pinch.
"What happened? Please- uh- please tell us, at least once you've settled in."
There's no protest from Melissa about the bear, and Junie lights up, snatching the bear from Devon and plopping down on her diaper clad butt to cuddle and pet it. It makes Mel smile before she looks back to Devon. "You okay?" she asks, even as she opens her ability up a little, just enough to feel for pain.
A grin, not quite reaching Devon's eyes, is directed toward Perry. "Long story short, we found Area 51 and didn't receive a welcoming party. I had the means to handle the situation, but no one wanted to go to jail." He lowers his pack, placing it on the floor beside the door before stepping away fully. Hands go into his pants pockets and he leans against a wall, looking from Melissa to Perry.
There's no pain to be found, amazingly. Save for the constant ache in the teenager's shoulder, a familiar injury from a bullet wound taken in the Dome. "They caught us, whoever they are I'm not sure. Guys in military uniforms but no names or ranks. Then DoEA showed up and got us out of there. Had to wait for them to leave off before I felt comfortable to call."
Perry's curiosity only intensifies. Area 51 is a pretty bold claim, but Perry is all about bold claims. Stranger things, in this day and age. "What did you see? Where was this place?" Much as he'd like to be a host, he's already bombarding the young man with questions, zeal overcoming etiquette.
"Area 51? Are you serious? Why did you go to Area 51?" Melissa pauses, glancing towards the bear. "I thought Area 51 was in Arizona or Utah or something like that. Not Texas," she says, looking back to Devon.
"Not literally." Devon lifts a hand, running it across his face. "Coyote Sands. Might as well be Area 51, but that's what they all told whoever it was that tried questioning us. We saw a lot of dirt, and a restricted area surrounded by fencing and razor wire." Lowering his hand, he looks first to Melissa and then to Perry, offering a shrug and a now apologetic expression.
Perry taps his chin, a frown furrowing his brow, though one of thought rather than consternation. "Please," he says, after a moment, "sit down. Rest. You can stay here as long as you need. I'd like to ask you more about this, but- well, it can wait for you to at least catch you breath. Would you like something to drink? To eat? We don't have much but-"
"But we can always order something if you're not feeling what we have here," Melissa says, easily going with Perry on halting the bombardment of questions. For now. Meanwhile, Junie has started to gnaw on the bear's ear.
Devon shakes his head and musters a grin. A real grin this time, though small. "I'm good, not hungry right now." He straightens and pulls off his jacket. "Basically, went to Arizona. No one seems to know why, all I was told was to make reservations. So we went, some military-like company stopped us while we were trying to figure out where we went wrong on the map."
The boy crosses the room and sinks to sit on the edge of the pull out. His coat is partially folded, though kept in his hands. "Things got crazy, the military guys chased us into New Mexico. We got arrested, questioned, picked up by DoEA and released." Devon pauses and looks up at Perry and Melissa. "I'm never letting myself get handcuffed again. For the record."
"Arrested? That's a very close thing. Did they fingerprint you? Register you?" And there come the questions again. Perry presses a fist to his mouth, reprimanding himself internally. "I'm- I'm sorry. You caught me in the midst of- uh- of something like a plan. I'm of a tactical mind. But you've been through so much, and a great deal of travel! Can I at least get you some coffee?"
"Mmm. Yeah, being handcuffed sucks," Melissa agrees with a nod. "Who's we though? And yeah, any lingering trouble, or did they actually let you go, free and clear?"
"'We' is the studio," Devon explains, shaking his head to the offer of coffee. "I'm already Registered and free and clear." With that, he offers a shrug. "I'm an intern, I don't know anything. They had no reason to keep me once I proved that. I'm clean, no fingerprints or anything." He looks between the two again, a frown knitting his brows together. "You think I'd call or come here if I thought there'd be problems?" It's not accusatory, but his own fears and paranoia request that the question be voiced.
"I am sure you'd- you'd practice the utmost discretion," Perry says, extending an olive branch insofar as Devon feels the need for one, "and I'm- I'm glad you're here in in any case. Things have gotten no less- no less dangerous, especially for people who are Registered. There was an- an incident at a charity event, and I only see public sentiment getting- uh- getting turned bloody. They outnumber us we- uh- we need their support. And- uh- also other resources," he gestures to the table and its array of weaponry, "if- uh- if you need something to protect yourself."
"Honestly? I hope you would, because you know we'd help you," Melissa says simply, shrugging, though there's a bit of tension in her. "And also? You should make yourself at home." She grins. "God knows I have," she says, shooting Perry a quick look. "But yeah, things haven't changed much. Hopefully we can do something about that soon."
A pause follows, with Devon glancing between Melissa and Perry. He lets out a breath, a hand releasing his coat to drag through his hair. Fingers curl briefly as he scrubs the back of his head, venting some of the last week's frustration without speaking. "Sorry," he offers finally, eyes flicking back over to the two then settling on his jacket.
"There is- is no reason to apologize," Perry says, resolutely, "it's good to see you again. As a matter of fact, I need you. We need you. There- there are two things we're working on, and you ought to have your hand in at least- uh- at least one." He nods to Melissa. "You need to speak with your prospective- uh- prospective benefactor, and have a plan for- uh- how to organize the trust. You'll need at least one assistant. That would- uh- certainly make for a break after all your excitement, Devon," he offers the teenager a respectful nod.
"How- uh- however," of course there's a however, "I am- uh- also planning a- uh- more- uh- dangerous project, if you- uh- feel equal to it."
"Don't you even think about grabbing that jacket and leaving," Melissa says, shaking her head before she rises and moves over to the sofa bed, plopping down onto it. "Face it, you're stuck with us. You've gone and gotten yourself adopted into the family. Terrorists all, except Junie. But then, she's why we're terrorists."
She glances over to Perry and nods. "Yeah, I'm going to try to meet up with him in the next week." Looking back to Devon she smiles. "And I could certainly use some help on that foundation we talked about before. It's a good way of helping while getting information. Or will be, once it's up and running. And can't think of anyone else I trust more than you two, and Perry…he's the action planner, not the social planner," she says, before giving Perry a smile to soften her words.
The teenager glances at Melissa, then offers her his coat. It'll be a cold walk, that way, if he loses his mind and decides to take off. "Yeah, I'm not going anywhere. And she," he nods toward Junie. "Doesn't need to be a terrorist. Ever. I'll keep her safe, be the terrorist for her." He watches the child a moment longer then looks back to Melissa and nods.
"I'm up for whatever challenges you've got," Devon continues, looking up to Perry. "Even the dangerous ones. Not to be overly dramatic, but my sword is yours. If I'm in this, I'm all in."
"She will grow up in a better world," Perry says, with an tone of absoluteness, no faltering at all, "I am- I'm glad to have you commitment, Devon, and your help. Either would be a blessing, but both is what we will all need from each other if we are going to change anything. But we need to be properly supplied, and funded, and I don't think we'll be able to get a benefactor for our operations."
He moves back over to the table, arm extended backwards to point at the guns. "Take the scoped rifle. You'll need to practice." He sets his fingers to the leaked schematics - an armored truck. "We need to rally the troops."