Fathers And Daughters

Log Archive » Logs for December 2008 » Fathers And Daughters

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Scene Title	Fathers And Daughters
Synopsis	Helena visits Elvis in her super sekrit garage.
Date	December 14, 2008

Bootstrap's

Bootstrap's is not a great place to go on a quiet Sunday night, atleast if your not an outlaw biker. Helena Dean is expected however, which does provide certain perks. Amid a wash of choppers and rough men who have any number of prison tats, sits Bootstrap himself behind the counter. He'll of course lift the partition in his desk, and lift up the Nazi flag draped over the hallway behind it. "End of the hallway, its the one with the submarine door."Indeed the hallway wasnt a fun place to be either, it was blasted with welding flash and competing death metal anthems but oddly it didnt feature too well on the lighting front.

Helena tries to swallow down her nausea at the flag, and despite her discomfort, offers a polite smile to Bootstrap. She heads down the hall as per his direction, resolutely ignoring any remarks tossed her way, until she comes to the aforementioned door and knocks. "Elvis?" she calls out. Oh, please let this be the right door.

For their own health, the other mechanics keep their mouths shut. Somone had mouthed off to her cigarette dealer before,and well with a wired jaw he wasnt mouthing at all. Theres a pause, before the big metal door's big metal wheel spins and it opens. Inside is predictably Elvis"Hey, glad you could drop by."

Her shop, was -white-. Matte white, the sort of white that smudged if you looked at it whilst your fingers were dirty. The walls, even the floor were spotless. Workbenches were covered with parts, two seperate sportbikes sat upon their respective motorcycle lifts in differing degrees of completion. An old super-X on another lift beyond. It was cool and once the door was shut, entirely silent. Cardboard sections hung on the wall with little drawings and nails poked through, holding little parts. Everything from brake calipers to individual bolts lovingly identified as "Left lower cowling bolt, 8mm". "Here, have a seat."indicating to an old leather couch set out've the way.

Helena seems willing enough to go seat herself. "This is place is all kinds of awesome, El." Helena says appreciatively. "Do you fix bikes for the upkeep?" She does in fact seem duly impressed.

Elvis nods towards the Super-X"I do restorations for some very rich fucks, which means I get to do whatever I want in my shop cuz I make more than anyone else on a job to job basis."she sniffles, indicating the pair of sportbikes"Anyway, these are what I wanted to show you. They're almost back together, but will still need test and tune before they're entirely done. I bought the frames without any paperwork, engines, swingarms yadda yadda. All the numbers are dead ends, and then I erased them anyway and welded high carbon steel over them to erase them -anyway-. They have no fingerprints, no loose strands of hair, no scuffed knuckle skin. They're entirely invisible, legally anyway. They are entirely untracable, to me and by extention Phoenix."

Helena blinks. "Wow, that's - wow." she looks at the sportbikes, fairly unable to keep from seeming covetous. "Do you have particular people you want them to go to? And is there anything I can try to arrange for you in thanks?" Hel rises to her feet to inspect the bikes more closely, unable to resist reaching out a hand to run along the padded seat of one of them.

Elvis offers over a rag, just in case right?"They're for me. Nobody else in the organization can ride for half a fuck, so they'd be wasted. They're RC-51s, very difficult to ride to begin with much less when running away from the cops. Any time you need a distraction, or a package or whatever to stay out of their hands? Anytime you need me to do anything, and then vanish off the face of the earth?"she thumbs towards the Hondas. "Roger is distinctive, no other bike remotely like it. These are stock, save for the tires anyway which I do need help with. They're vanilla, invisible in plain sight. I'll paint them in Yamaha colors, to further make identification difficult. I got maybe, two days left before I'm ready to dyno them and get them running and square."

Helena grins, and gently begins to wipe the seat. "You know, Owen will probably want to race you. He's ridiculously fast. It's definitely something I'd like to see someday. This is beautiful work, you have a real gift."

Elvis shrugs"Thanks, I dunno i just felt sorta like deadweight during that hostage thing. You know, nobody wants to hear me."she shrugs, not indicating Helena granted but maybe somone else. "So now I can do anything you need me to, and we dont have to worry about any liabilities from me."

Helena shakes her head firmly. "You're not a liability." she says stridently. "Don't ever think that. Killing the hostage was not something we're about, and it wasn't reflective of anything about you personally. I do my best to listen to everyone, but obviously I'm not always going to agree." She cocks her head. "Was there anything else about it that was bothering you?"
Elvis rubs at her ear, christ how honest did she really want to be here. "You have me and Diego, who have both lived this shit. Not watched it on the TV, not played it in videogames. My pops in for life, after a plea deal to dodge the chair. I grew up the daughter of a multible murderer and the mastermind of a criminal enterprise. I know exactly how things work, how these people work. It is impossible for me to imagine a reality, where nabbing that bitch would -not- have resulted in cat and her chick getting nabbed. If I were playing for the other camp, well lets just say they played it on easy. I wont pretend to know everything, but if you condoned that kidnapping and didnt fully expect this outcome then perhaps you should be using the wisdom of those around you a little more?"

Elvis was certain Helena knew about her father, about her mother. About the pimp she'd murdered with a bat until they needed DNA to figure out who he had been, about the cops and bikers along the way. Then again, maybe she was giving Helena too much credit for knowing whats up. Well or maybe not enough, for trusting that she was just an inherently good person. Problem is, Elvis was never an inherently good person.

Helena nods a little, flinching visibly. "It wasn't well thought out. Believe me, you're not telling me anything that Elisabeth hasn't said. And Conrad." Her tone is quiet. She expects she's going to get a lot more of this from other members.
Elvis is pretty much done there, thankfully perhaps "I trust you, I hope you dont feel otherwise. I just want you to know about the resources you have available to you, I couldnt do your job for an -hour- Helena. Just talk to us ok, you have good people who have a fucking clue around you. Now, assuming I finish these on time what would you like me to do next?"She leaned back against the freshly reframed Super-X behind her, waiting patiently for Helena's words.

Helena is quiet for a long time. Elvis may begin to notice it as a habit - Helena tries not to speak without thinking about what's going to come out of her mouth, even if the subsequent silence is difficult extends into the awkward range. "I'd like you to get with Hana and see if she has anything she can offer you in the way of training. I think that some tactical and infiltration training from a military standpoint would make you one of the best strategists I have. Speak with Conrad about what can be done to imrprove internal security; get with Diego about how you can assist with external ops. Come to me if you have any ideas for missions." She looks up at Elvis. "I don't have all the answers, but you're right, I could be making more of a resource of you. I didn't know about your dad."

And that last admission brings about an uncomfortable silence. "Yes ma'am"She says finally, for fuck's sake this was her fucking shop she shouldnt have to feel like she's walking on glass. "I thought you knew, but anyway. I'll talk to Hana, Conrad and Diego. I never was a very good shot you know, maybe its time I fixed that weakness of mine eh?"she was trying on a smile, but well this is Elvis so it comes out more like a scowl.

Helena stares at her. "Elvis," she says. "Look. Maybe you're all layered like a parfait or some crap, but you are one of the most honest, forthright people I know. And who your parents are play only a fraction into the whole mix of who you become. Do you know what my father did within practically weeks of my mother getting stabbed to death? Married himself a trophy wife, barely older then his own daughter, who he was probably screwing on the side anyway. Who you are is amazing. Don't think I'm going to judge you for it."

Elvistightens her jaw -just- a touch"I'm proud of my father Helena, I'm sad he got caught. I'm proud of the life I've lived, I have no regrets except not winning the lottery."she sniffles, lifting a hand to rub at her errant runny nose"sides what the fuck is a parfait, is that some kind've onion?"

Oh, epic fail, Helena. All she was doing was trying to tell Elvis she's nifty. "Not exactly, but like an onion, it's got layers." She rises. "I'd better go, before the salty taste of my own foot starts to grow on me."

Elvis slumps her shoulders, digging around in a back pocket before offering over her card. "This is the only number I didnt tell you guys. I uhm, I only give it to friends. So, you call me sometime and we can go get drunk as shit or like go pickout bikes or maybe get you fitted for some riding gear at least. Yaknow, cuz your like the only person sides Roger I think is cool enough to be seen hanging out with me."

Helena takes the card, holding it between her fingers. She can't help grinning over it. "You know," she admits, "Getting drunk some time sounds really, really nice."