Glitter and Rainbows


deckard_icon.gif odessa_icon.gif

Scene Title Glitter and Rainbows
Synopsis You won't find any in this scene.
Date November 17, 2008

Subway Tunnels

Once a bustling station vibrant with life and people, this terminal has been abandoned. Not difficult to see why, as it's close to the radiation zone, and the only easy entrance to it connects to a tunnel still registering as black on radiation detectors. The area itself sits in a marginal zone of radiation, but the ceiling has collapsed in enough areas to block easy access from the safer zones. An out-of-use subway train lays dead on the tracks. The front car rests on its side off the tracks, while the second, third and fourth car are upright. The fifth has been crushed under fallen debris, either from the initial shock wave, or from later deterioration of the roof above. Any other cars in the train are buried under the rubble.

Windows have been busted open in a few places, and the side door of the middle upright car is opened. The only light in the tunnel comes from this car, a sign of electricity, as the fluorescent lights in this car have been turned on. The hum of a generator can be heard. In the terminal itself, there are doors leading to maintenance rooms and personal offices. One of the doors has a large boulder resting in front of it - a boulder that has been placed there deliberately.

The other end of the tunnel disappears into the darkness.

It's raining in the city. Despite the cold, the air is heavy with humidity, and here in the abandoned tunnels beneath midtown, runoff choked thick with ash patters sickly down through the occasional cave in to pool black around a lifeless train car. Some distance further down the track, light from a train that's still living is painted pale across the walls and ceiling, but it barely touches, here. Just enough to distinguish lighter shades of grey from darker ones once the eyes have had time to adjust.

Unless you're Deckard. He is seated on a bench not far from the train's skeleton, damp and dank as the weather while his hands work over the heavy weight of an expensive-looking camera. His eyes shed their own ghostly blue light on the device while he works, oblivious to the occasional rumble of thunder overhead.

There's something comforting about going underground for Odessa. For as long as she lived there, even though it was nothing like this, there's something about disappearing from the light that makes the young woman feel safe. She traces her fingers over dank walls, pulling grime from the surface to rub between thumb and fore. It's a moment before she catches sight of Deckard. Eyes wide and curious, she tips her head to the side. "Hello," she chimes cheerfully enough.

A second is about how long it takes for Deckard to have rolled the camera into his left hand and drawn a gun on Odessa with his right. It's not even a graceful movement so much as it's one of a manic, sleep-deprived snap of energy. For a some time he sits like that, staring down the straight of the gun at her with eyes blazing until a twitchy blink comes along to break up his intensity. There's a muffled rattle when the ring he's wearing begins to shake against the gun's grip, and he resettles his fingers lightly around it. "Who the fuck are you?"

Odessa's hands slowly reach out to either side, fingers splayed in the most non-threatening posture she can manage to adopt. "I'm-" She hesitates, "…lost." She narrows her eyes faintly, a small smirk quirking at the corners of her mouth, "And unarmed. Who are you?"

"You're a liar," Deckard corrects without hesitation or any sign of tact. In turn, he's a twitchy pair of glowing eyes with foggy breath and a gun, which is likely equally reassuring in the current setting. "John."

"It's for show," Odessa murmurs, "I'm not very good with it." She keeps her hands out to her sides. "I'll set it down if you like. I don't fancy having holes put into me, so I'll do what I can to avoid that." She lifts her head a fraction, attempting to look more confident than she feels at the moment. "I'm Dessy."

Flint considers that. There's an awkward silence accordingly, filled with the light slap of ashen sludge against concrete somewhere nearby. And…click. He switches the safety on. The gun lowers, and he blinks hard, the long breath he exhales as rickety as his grip. "You could've picked a better place to get lost."

"I'm sure I could have," concedes the blonde. "I wanted to… see it," she says plainly. "I guess you could say that I'm an explorer at heart." Odessa lowers her hands only to cross them over her chest. "You could pick a better place to take photographs, I should think."

"Not much to see." Gun still in hand, Deckard diverts his attention briefly back down the hollow length of the tunnel's skeleton. One more shaky breath later, he nudges the lapel of his coat aside enough to push the pistol back into place. "There's a dead hobo about a mile down the pipe. You could go see him."

"Seen one dead body, you've seen them all." Odessa pauses and then cants her head to peer further down the tunnel. "Is he bloated? Or crawling with maggots? Gunshot wounds? Stab wounds? Wasting away?" She shrugs her shoulder and then shakes her head. "No… Seen one, seen them all. There's nothing interesting about another dead body." She presses her lips together and then turns her gaze back on the man, "It's nice to meet you, John."

"He's been there long enough that he doesn't smell. Rats and roaches picked out all the juicy bits." What a cheerful conversation! Camera set temporarily aside, Deckard rubs at his eyes a moment before reaching for a battery pack on the bench next to him. "He's mostly just bones and a michelin man coat. What do you do that involves seeing dead bodies?" He does not say, 'It's nice to meet you,' back.

"Boring," Odessa dismisses. "I'm a doctor. Dead people are just… a fact of life." She smirks and then looks back the way she came. "What do you do that a dead hobo doesn't bother you?"

"Whatever people pay me to do." Flat honesty is punctuated by the click of battery into camera, and Flint turns it over again to try the on switch. There's a mechanical whir and fresh light. Goodie. He shuts it off, turns it on, and shuts it off again. "What's wrong with your neck?"

Odessa's head snaps back so she can regard the man again. Self-consciously, she reaches up to touch the healing wound at her throat. "I was attacked. It's getting better."

Deckard snorts to himself, lurid glare turned away while he wrestles the camera down into his shoddy backpack. "You had your throat slit and now you're wandering around in an abandoned subway line with people like me. Not very smart, for a doctor."

"I have a gun," Odessa states defensively. She's got way more than a gun, but she isn't about to admit that to this man. She won't even admit it to her closest… Well, Doctor Knutson doesn't actually have any friends. "People like you, huh?"

"Because I was nice enough to let you keep it, Princess." Deckard's backpack has some heft to it. It takes a definite effort for him to sling it up onto his shoulder once it's fastened shut, and he's pushed off the bench. He's tall, if lanky — moreso than usual with his damp suit and hair currently clinging to him the way it is. "Maybe the next John you come across down here'll be more interested in your wallet than your conversational prowess."

"He'd be mighty disappointed, then." Odessa starts back the way she came, though she doesn't give her back to the man. She actually grins. "I may not be much of a charmer, but I don't carry a wallet. I pity the man that's only out for that."

"Well, in that case, you might get off cheap with a good raping." Further establishing his lack of a brain to mouth filter, Deckard walks towards her as he speaks. His features come into dim grey-blue relief the closer he gets, all narrow angles and scruff. An approach not horrifically threatening in itself, but his eyes have a way of making things eery by default.

Odessa's steps falter and she fixes a rather haunted look on the particular John she happens to be sharing a tunnel with at the moment. "They could try," she responds coldly.

Deckard stops short a good foot or two out of reach. Maybe still too close for comfort, and certainly close enough for the smoke and wet asphalt smell of him to be distinct. "Could and would. Consider me a public service message and don't come down here again unless you're really horny." On that charming note, he moves to step past her.

Odessa is left wide-eyed and gaping at the audacity of the man long after he's left her lone in the derelict subway tunnels.

November 17th: Ben From Boston

Previously in this storyline…

Next in this storyline…

November 17th: Multicultural Experience
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