Participants:
| Scene Title | Alleyway Reunion |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Ash goes a hunting for the redheaded security risk. He finds much more than that. |
| Date | September 7, 2010 |
A Dark Alleyway
It's dark. It's an alleyway.
Ash has been watching Isis on and off for the past few days, not that he knows who the red head is, only that she knows his name, and is a security risk. At the moment he's lurking on a fire escape in the alley, hunkered down in a dark grey almost black body suit, his full tactical gear on and ready, all but invisible in the night. He's watched her walk through this alley a few times, and so it's here that he waits. he's not as heavily armed as he is normally, just a couple of pistols and his combat knife, nothing else on his person to keep him light and stealthy.
Isis's boots shuffle across the pavement, drawing to a stop at the far end of the alley. She glances down it before looking back to the street. She could take the roundabout route back to her apartment. She rolls her shoulders back in her striped white and green halter top, as if she could test atmosphere through her flesh. She looks down at her boots, kneed-high and heeled, and the black skinny jeans tucked in them, during a thoughtful moment.
Finally, she sighs and turns right and heads down the alley at a leisurely pace. "Fuck you! Fuck you very-very muuuuch!" she sings to herself, giving her hips a little shake and shuffling her boots in a haphazard dance as she continues down the alleyway.
Ash shifts ever so slightly on his perch, the man's legs gathering beneath him, though he remains in a low crouch, ready to spring up and over the fire escape and jump to the pavement ten feet or so down. He waits, watching the indecision on the woman's features, a slight frown creasing his lips beneath his mask. Of all the nights to hesitate it would be the one that he's actually decided to confront her about knowing his name. He reaches back, lgihtly patting the silenced guns, and then the sheath with his knife, making sure they're secure. He creeps a bit closer to the railing, waiting for his moment.
And then there is his moment. Isis moves past his fire escape, and Ash cleanly vaults the rail, and comes down towards one of the walls, a soft scuff announces his bouncing off of the wall, pushing off of it with one foot, and then the other one as well before he's on the concrete of the alley. On his way down a gun was drawn though and it's pointed square at Isis' head as he rises to stand straight. "Run or scream and I kill you without asking my questions." He says in a very cold and calm voice, but still probably not a voice that Isis could misplace. "Who are you?" A simple question to start with.
Why me? Why always me?! Isis does the instinctual thing, she raises her hands slowly with the level of her head, presenting her opened palms ahead of her. "Fucking Irish luck," she whispers to herself, closing her eyes as she takes in the familiar tones of the voice rolling over her shoulder.
"You don't want to do this. Listen, I'm sorry I bothered you the other night…" She opens her eyes revealing a vibrant hue of emerald in place of their natural hazel, giving away the heavy dose of adrenaline coursing through her slender limbs. She looks at the emptiness off the alley ahead of her, so desperate to still the urge to sprint and flee that her muscles twitch and shiver with the effort to remain still. "Joanne," she answers finally, thankful that the man stood behind her - incapable of reading her features during the blatant lie. Altered body or not, she was still no good at abandoning truth.
Ash snorts aloud at the mention of Irish luck. "Luck has nothing to do with this." He comments softly, his voice held to a low level so it won't be heard beyond the alley. His aim doesn't waver, remaining centered very closely upon Isis' head. He tilts his head to the side a bit, peeking at her pants to see if he can spot the telltale bulge of a hidden weapon.
"I don't want to do this? Really? You've got a gun pointed at your skull and are possible moments from death and that's what you come up with?"
He doesn't shake his head though, eyes staying steadily on the woman. "Lie to me again and I pull the trigger without a second thought." And from the sound of his voice? He will. "I've never known anyone named Joanne well enough for them to know anything about me. Now, turn around, and slowly, and tell me… who you are."
Isis winces like a wounded puppy at the harsh tone and words biting at her ear. She's been inadvertently the subject of Ash's anger before. She recalls it well enough to know that the simple twitch of a finger, the shot of the gun into the back of her skull, would not be outside his moral limits.
The redhead turns slowly, her breathes wavering uncertainly in the tight grip that fear has taken on her throat. "You don't want to do this," she repeats on a whisper, a look of pleading in her eyes, softening the sharp angles of her designed visage.
The following few seconds of silence weight like a heavy eternity before she speaks again. "You won't believe me, even if I tell you who I am, Ash.”
Ash leaves his goggles and his mask on, his features remaining hidden as he stares at the woman. There's no reaction from him at the pleading tone, none whatsoever. "What I want matters very little. The fact that you're a security breach matters a whole lot." His hand never wavers, the gun resolutely pointed at the woman's forhead. "You'd be surprised just what I would believe miss. Now. Either you tell me who you are, or this ends up a very short conversation with a bad ending. You get to make that choice."
Isis's fingers twitch, but she doesn't trust herself to reach out and touch Ash - adrenaline, she can feel it dancing around in her body, encouraging her consciousness to seek a way out of the flesh poised within such a dangerous situation. Her mind wavers with the ability’s instinctual effort to set her psyche fleeing its rightful flesh. She swoons for a brief moment, shuffling her boots further apart to retain her balance on the precarious heels. Finally, she manages to make her lips and voice work through the haze of her fear and confusion:
"Isis."
Ash watches the woman turn around as ordered, and he relaxes just a touch mentally, but not physically. He stands there, the elongated barrel of the silencer pointed straight at her. His finger is loose in the trigger guard, but any professional will tell you to keep your fingers loose so you don't fire on accident. "Good." He offers out, only to pause at the name that he's given. He doesn't seem shocked, and to his credit there's no waver to his body or voice when he speaks. "Prove it." Is all he says, not sounding disbelieving or believing yet. He wants proof. He keeps the gun up and ready, sighting down it, his goggles and mask hiding his face and all its expressions.
Isis's heart sinks ever so slightly within her chest, her shoulders slump a most minute degree externally, when she is faced with Ash's unwavering reply. Not the reunion she had hoped?
She turns one hand ever so slowly, extending her open palm out towards Ash. "I'm not going to swap while that gun is pointed at me. You know how painful and disorientating it can be…" Her features are painted with a notable sadness. To be held up at gunpoint by a former lover, to know that you cannot be recognized for what is on the inside despite what all the fucking fairytales say… It's an all around bad day.
Isis lowers her face, this unrecognized face, and looks at the gravel in front of Ash's boots. "I think this is worse than that time in Central Park. The hobo… you remember?"
Ash never was one to believe in fairy tale romance and stories. Life just isn't that pretty and nice. The gun remains on target the entire time, watching, waiting. He doesn't respond to the comment about switching. Plenty of people know about Isis' power, that won't be quite enough. Ash's head tilts down just a touch, and there's a shifting beneath his mask that looks for all the world like him arching an eyebrow, a common thing with the man. The mention of Central Park… well, that definitely has some impact. "And what happened with the hobo?" He asks in a slightly softer tone. He's on the path to believing this woman, but not quite there yet. He doesn't move from his spot, but she might notice his finger slips out of the trigger guard. It's ready to jump back in if need be, but it's now alongside the trigger guard rather than looped through it.
Isis emerald gaze follows the uncertain withdrawal of Ash's finger from the trigger as she recalls the night in Central Park over a year ago. "I don't know. I was pretty beat up. Bonked my head…" She wrinkles her nose as if the recollection brought a pain to the back of her skull. If not for the alterations to her body, she's sure there would still be a scar back there.
"You put something in his pocket. A note? A card? I don't know." She grimaces, quite upset that she can't establish the finger details at such a necessary moment. Slowly, she lets her attention wander back Ash's features. "Do you always do this? Jump woman at gunpoint in alleys?" There's a bit of a bite to her tone, but it isn't nearly the spite and fury that one might remember from the redhead. She's still far too shaken by the encounter for that.
Ash keeps the gun up at the poor recollection of what happened in the park with the hobo. "I'm afraid that's not good enough to prove anything to me Joanne. And this is customary when someone is a security threat. You know me for whatever reason, know my name, and know one of the places I can be found." His voice is hard, steel, there's no compassion present in him right now.
"If you're Isis, tell me. Where did you get coffee from after our first night together?" She got it from Dunkin Donuts, which is a specific enough question to put him at ease it seems.
Isis's dark lashes fall slowly to her cheeks, her eyes shut as she fully expects Ash's lacking trust to force an abrupt end to this conversation. She steals a wavering gasp as she is presented a hope in the final question.
The woman's pale lips turn up in a slow, soft smile on her pale features. "You remember that?" She chuckles softly. "Of all that happened, I guess it really is the little things that matter…" She drops her chin, shaking her head. "Dunkin' Donuts. College loan income, would've brought you Starbucks if I could have." She smiles and opens her eyes, looking up from beneath the fan of her lashes and a few stray curls of garnet hair.
Ash lowers the gun finally, a soft click sounding as the safety is pushed over. The gun is tucked back into its holder in the netting along his back and over his chest. He reaches up, fingers pulling his goggles from his face, and then the mask comes off after that. The mask is tucked into a belt pouch on his body suit, and then the goggles are hung from the tactical webbing. He pulls in a slow breath, then lifts a hand, gloved fingers tousling his hair a bit.
"Isis…" He pauses, unable to come up with anything else to say, and stays that way for a solid handful of seconds. "I"m glad to see you're okay…" He looks over her new face slowly, studying her features in detail.
The redhead looks up slowly, relieved to find her vision absent of the barrel of a gun. Her body slumps slightly, shifting to rest her weight on a shoulder against the nearest brick wall. Her body suddenly feels heavy without the adrenaline to keep her standing, fear having taken its toll.
Isis manages a sheepish smile. "I'm alright. Except that I've blown a year's worth of cover," she manages an empty chuckle. "What about you…" She takes him in from her peripheral vision, her face turned to rest her head against the cool brick wall. "You've… changed."
Ash rolls his broad shoulders slowly to the mention of having blown a year's worth of cover. "Technically… I have no idea who you might be talking to, who you associate with these days. In all seriousness I shouldn't have bothered with the questions and should have just pulled the trigger. Had I found out you were anyone else but you… I probably would have." His voice holding a slightly sad note to it as he speaks. He takes a step forwards, then stops, eyes glancing over the woman slowly, then back up. "I…." He goes quiet then, thoughtful, eyes off to the side. "I have changed. For the worse. For good reasons though. You asked what I've gotten myself into well…" He looks down at his gear, then back up with another shrug of hsi shoulders. "I'm fighting for our kind." Which is not something Ash would have done in the past, the whole selfless sacrifice thing.
Isis nods slowly. "That's good. I… I think I am too, kind of." She's not quite sure how much of an asset she may or may not be to the Ferrymen, after all. She shrugs and rolls her shoulder, shifting on the wall to rest her back against it and fix her gaze more fully on Ash.
"You would have killed some poor girl just for knowing your name?" She cants her head to the side, as if hoping to read a lie out of Ash's features.
Ash does the customary brow lifting at the statement that she is as well. "I see…" That's a mental note to ask Rebel about later, and Peter, see what they know. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans in against the brick wall to his side. Ash is different. He carries himself differently, his face has a couple more scars, but it's his eyes that have aged, well beyond their years now, hardened and cold. "TO protect myself? No. To protect everyone else from people that might come after me and then move on to them after they yank information out of my head? Yes, I would shoot some poor girl just for knowing my name." He does sound like he regrets that he would though, but there is no lie in his voice when he says it.
Isis cringes and rubs her left forearm in the opposite hand, is if trying to warm herself - though the goosebumps have everything to do with Ash's words, and not the tiniest breeze.
After a moment she straightens up, bracing a hand to the wall. "But, you trust me?" She inquires, hooking her thumbs in her pockets.
Ash sees the look on the woman's face and it brings another sad one to his own features. "War has casualties Isis, and that is what I'm fighting. I don't have to like it. But if I want our kind to ever be free of the governments oppression and attempts to control us with prisons, drugs, entire divisions devoted to hunting us down and bringing us in… then distasteful things have to be done." It sounds like something that's memorized, something said by rote. "If I didn't you'd be laying face down, and my clip would be down one round. We may not have parted on the best terms, but you're one of the few people I've ever truly cared about, so yes, I trust you."
Isis turns her new visage away with a simple nod. "I want to trust you, too. I want to trust that you're doing the right thing." Her profile reveals a sad smile. "But, I hate to think what might have happened if I were someone else, or if I simply just hadn't given my name…"
Her smile droops into a soft scowl. "I hope you're doing the right thing…" She straightens up and reaches out, brushing her fingertips over Ash's cheek. The touch is brief - not wishing to risk her control on frayed nerves, but there is no uncomfortable exchange of bodies before Isis begins back on her way down the alley. "Be careful," she offers over her shoulder as she departs.
Ash looks… slightly hurt at the statement about trusting him, but he looks like he understands it. "I'd prefer not to think about it either…" he whispers, then pulls his eyes down to the ground. "I am." He lifts his eyes back upwards. "When I got back to the city I was staying in a house on Staten Island. They sent sixteen men after me. They've bagged countless Evolved and stuffed them away, using them for experiments, tests… all manner of things. I refuse to sit idle while that happens." His eyes go very very wide at teh touch of skin on skin without a body swap, those eyes blinking slowly, lips parted to speak, but nothing emerges and he simples watches as she begins to make her way away. "Never am." He offers back. "I'll be watching." He says softly before he pulls his mask and goggles back on, and slips of f into the night himself.