Irish Weakness


isis_icon.gif trask_icon.gif

Scene Title Irish Weakness
Synopsis Isis turns to Trask in a time of weakness. It's probably not what he had in mind when he promised her some of his time.
Date June 13, 2009

Abandoned Best Western - Room

This is a standard King room. Inside the room is a king sized bed to the left and to the right are two small wooden tables with identical lamps. In a small alcove is a sink, a microwave and a tiny fridge with some cupboards above and below complete with pots pains plates and cutlery. There is a small bathroom with a tub and shower as well as a rather large screen TV mounted to the wall. Because the motel was well taken care off before it was abandoned, the room is only covered in a thick layer of dust.

Isis listens to Trask's familiar voice reciting his number through the little speaker of her new iPhone as she bops open the door to the abandoned hotel with the toe of her heavy boot. She wrinkles her nose at the state of the hideout, sighing as she longs for the comfort of her shabby apartment back in the Bronx. She begins to dial up the number, pressing the phone back to her ear as she moves to the nightstand. The ringing of the phone only adds to her growing anxiety as she catches sight of her reflection in the mirror looming through the bathroom door. She makes a childish face at the visage of Candy staring back at her and shoves her new goodies - a heavy butterfly knife and a worn 9MM into the draw of the nightstand and snaps it shut.

Trask answers the phone, not recognizing the number immediately, he opens with a single "Da?"

"Mr. Ex-Cop?" Isis hopes that the little tease might do well to cover the strange tones of this unfamiliar voice. "It's Isis. Sorry, I didn't call you back sooner. I… seem to have fallen into a bit of… trouble."

There is almost a frowns to his voice. "Trouble? Why am I not surprised." He pauses a few moments, "You need me to bail you out of somewhere?

Isis chuckles, the sound awkward on these more light vocals. She grimaces and forces a smile back into her voice. "Not surprised? The word stamped on my ass isn't trouble, Trask," she teases, trying to lighten the mood and smooth over the aggrivation she hears from the other end of the little speaker. She looks over her shoulder, glaring at the rump born to this Asian body, and fingers the spot over her right cheek where a tattoo would have been presented on her rightful, fleshy vessel. She sighs. "No, no. Nothing like that. Would you mind meeting me? I have a bag of fixings for White Russians and a bottle of J.D. that begs to be shared. We could talk more over a few drinks."

Trask says, "Well…I did promise you a date…I guess I can get free for an hour or two…where did you want to meet?" His voice sounds less rough, now that he knows Isis is not trying to get him to come bail you out of some trouble."

"You know that old motel on Staten Island?" Isis peers at the aged note pad on the nightstand. "Best Western. No one will bother us here, hm?" Her teasing little smile tickles over the line of the phone as the bed squeaks when she flops down onto the dusty cushion.

Trask pauses a few moments, he has bad memories of Staten island, "Are you ok? That isn't the best neighborhood to be hanging out in…..Are you in that much trouble?

"Let's just say, I could have used you around the other day… When a busty little Asian answers the door, don't be surprised." Her sigh is all the heavier as she stands up and moves to the bathroom, her voice echoing in the accoustics of the small, tiled room as she leans over the basin and prods at the strange features. "I'm sorry. I… didn't know who else to call." The moment of weakness is touchingly sincere, made all the moreso by the tone of pain it brings the strong, stubborn woman in having to admit it.

Trask hmmms softly, "I said you can trust me…I am on the way"

"Thanks handsome. I'll see you soon." With a last glare cast at the reflection in the mirror she disconnects the call with a little beep from the iPhone and hangs a dusty towel over the silvery glass, slipping back out into the room and beginning to dig through a bronw paper bag of liquors and milk. She fixes herself a White Russian and waits - her foot beating out a rapid pace as she watches the door.

It is likely almost an hour, given travel times and getting out to the raw scar that is the free and independent country of Staton island, now outside of American Legal Jurisdiction. The knock on the door does eventually come though.

The bottles of Kahlua and vodka have seen better days, half-empty as they are by the time the knock on the door jars Isis's attention back to reality. She sets aside her glass and hops up from the bed, jogging over and yanking open the door without hesitation. Lucky for her, it is her intended company on the other side. "Hey, stranger."

Trask looks down at her and frowns, seeing the little Asian who was so scared of him the other day after he offended her. He steps into the room closing the door behind him, "Isis?"

Isis grunts and lifts her tiny hands to cover the angled, exotic features of this alien body. She sighs and runs her palms across her face, back up through the lengths of dark hair, before fixing her sights back on the familiar man. "Yeah, it's me." She lifts her hands out in a chance to allow Trask to take his due observation.

Trask touches Isis's cheek tenderly, his eyes have no fear or suspicion in them, only acceptance "I take it this wasn't planned?"

A sigh of restrained, half-relief find's the tiers of the Asian body's lips as Isis tilts her cheek into the cusp of Trask's hand. "Not in the slightest. She caught me on the street. She knows my power and intiated the swap, then took off. I…" She gringes and lifts a hand, anchoring herself to the safety of the negator by wrapping her small fingers around his wrist. "This body has a power. I… I think I killed a man, Trask."

Trask leads Isis to the bed, where he takes a seat and waves for her to join him, his eyes on hers, "Lots of people lose control of their powers when they first get them….you just have a learning curve every time you…swap…it's understandable. Tell me what happened….in fact…tell me everything I think it's time you filled me in on everything.

Isis follows Trask's lead without need for beckoning, unwilling to break the contact with the safety his warm flesh offers beneath her hand. She slumps down onto the bed beside him, the weight of her predicament heavy in the little shoulders. "I met Candy," she gestures to the body she bares, "at the Owl not too long ago. We… had a thing. A fling for a night. Apparently she thought it was much more." She pinches the bridge of her nose as if trying to dam off a growing headache. "A guy I'd started seeing stopped by. Apparently Candy's been seen on the news spouting off Humanis shit. He freaked and left. I cut ties with Candy, assuming she was dangerous. Picked up and moved - the whole nine. She caught me off guard on the streets and stole my body. She says she won't give it back till I've made amends." She pulls a little paper out of her pocket. "Just left me with her address."

Trask nods, "So you were scared she might turn into a stalker ex girlfriend? What does she mean by amends?"

"I'm afraid she won't give my body back. She has no reason to, after all. This body's rather dangerous after all that bull she's been spouting off." Isis leans in against Trask, a slight weight of warmth. "She wants me to have that guy I was seeing come talk with her. He won't. I know he won't. I can't show him what she's done. He'll run the minute he sees me this way. I can't get him involved in all of this. Somehow she thinks he's the source of this mess."

Trask moves and lowers Isis's head into his lap, stroking her hair and cheek, he looks down at her, "Did she say what she would do with him?"

Isis closes her eyes, basking in the slight affection and letting the soft buzz of alcohol add to the soothing affects of laying like a child with her head against his thigh. "No. I want to believe she means no harm. But, God her powers dangerous. And, she stole my body. Ash -" She bites her tongue. "The guy I mentioned seemed to think she'd have us all packing off to test tubes like you said. I'm just not sure what to do. I could get to her, touch her and get my body back, but… she could kill me in an instant once she had her power back. I keep seeing that stranger's face - I didn't mean to hurt him."

Trask keeps stroking, "Tell me everything you know about her and her power, close your eyes and just let it flow, anything no matter how minor.

Isis hisses. "I promised her I wouldn't…" How the woman clung to her loyalty considering the betrayal is a wonder. She works her tongue over her lips and twitches her nose in that obvious little habit of thinking before sighing in resignation. "She's been in Moab. She manipulates water. That poor man on the street - it was as if he was drowning in his own blood. She's very… sex-driven, though I doubt that's helpful." She grunts and drills her brain for more. "I don't know much. Candace is her real name."

Trask says, "Does she actually support Humanis First? With a power herself that doesn't make much sense."
"I'm not sure. Either way it was pure anti-Evolved the shit that she was feeding that crowd. They've plastered it all over the web." Isis grunts. "She told me it was for show, but I don't know what to believe."

Trask says, "I think…maybe we should go to that meeting together, and sit down with her, and talk this all out, with me there she won't be able to switch…and even if she does…she won't be able to use her power on you."

Isis sits up abruptly, frowning at the dark strands of silk hair that invade her vision - she missed the fiery reds. She brushes them aside and fixes her attention on Trask. "Would you really?" Her tone is heavy, like a child being promised a pony and fearing that it might not be delivered. She shuffles forward on her knees, looking up at Trask from beneath the veil of her lashes. "I'd owe you so much."

Trask touches Isis's cheek and nods, "I will if you want me too" He smiles softly, "I don't make offers I won't follow through with."

Isis's palm shifts again, lifting to cup the back of Trask's hand and secure it more evenly against the high angle of her exotic features. "Thank you." She tips her head forward, resting the bridge of her nose into the crook of his shoulder and closing her eyes. "I think I need some rest. I haven't slept in days. We can track her down tomorrow." She watches the nightstand in her peripheral vision, thinking on the objects within before closing her eyes again.

Trask lies back on the bed, he pulls Isis to come with him, and then wrapping his arms around her, he rests her head on his chest, "sleep…relax I will make sure nothing happens to you while you get your rest.

For the first time the full weight of her tension ebbs away in a shiver of soft ripples until the little woman, trapped in a weapon of a body, molds to her companion's side and tucks her arm across the width of his abdomen. Her fingers fidget only once, dancing up beneath the hem of his shirt to find the rare contact of truly bared flesh beneath, before letting restless dreams claim her for the night.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License