Knives and Chemicals


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Scene Title Knives and Chemicals
Synopsis Ash completes his errand. Logan doesn't make it particularly easy. Phonecalls ensue.
Date October 3, 2009

Behind Burlesque

It's pushing curfew by the time Burlesque is shutting down for the evening. Patrons trickle out the front door, strippers and security men off their hour use the side openings, and Logan is among the last to step out into the fall-cold nighttime air through the back. The dry chill of it has him wearing a black woolen jacket over his finery, his slacks a black pitch, his shoes a shining scaly texture, almost oily when they catch the light. The sway of wool shows hints of what matches beneath that - a black shirt with silvery threaded decorations, a silken waistcoast tight around his long torso, and a white silken tie making a distinct stripe down his front, tucked into the inky black.

Possibly in additional affectation, a cane of silver and black, almost too matching, makes clicks against the concrete in time with his steps, although there's a favouring limp in his gait that implies the cane has practical function too. At this hour, Logan is alone once he's emerged from the building and making his way towards a sleek car parked readily and alone towards the corner. His free hand is dipping into his pocket, the soft jangle of keys sounding near inaudible.

Bah, curfew. Who abides by curfew? Certainly not the black clad figure that stalks down the street, slipping back behind the Burlesque with slow steps, his feet clad in japanese tabi, extra padded on the bottom so that they make no noise at all. He's waiting in the parking lot, his large form hunkered down behind Logan's car, on his stomach, almost beneath the thing, watching people emerge from the establishment one by one. He doesn't reach for the tranq gun at his waist yet, tucked into the holsters for one of his .45's that would be on that belt. He watches and waits, breathing slowly and only when he has to.

There is a carefree obliviousness in the steps that lead Logan towards his car. Perhaps he wouldn't dress as such if he knew he'd be recognisable by his shoes - ridiculous, expensive things of turtle-shell scales, essentially black save for the oil pattern of blues and purples that shift over it with the passing light. The toes come to a severe point, gold capped, and the heels slightly raised. A lot of work went into them, and they stop within the field of vision of the man lurking beneath the car. The cane comes to its silver-tipped halt, too, angled slack as the sound of keys indicates Logan's pause to retrieve them.

Ash saw him exit from the club, so saw him in his full outfit, but it's the shoes he watches once he knows who they belong too. His eyes follow those slick looking shoes, watching them walk towards the car he's hiding behind. He moves then, pushing up from the ground to a low crouch, and he begins to move around the car, not behind it, no, he moves around in front of it, keeping very low, trusting to the dark and his black outfit to keep him hidden. The sound of keys alerts him and he slips his hand to his belt, gently plucking the webbing aside and slipping the tranq gun out of the velvet lined holster, so it makes no noise being pulled. He waits, wanting Logan to be climbing into the car before he puts a dart in him, the man's breathing is slow, careful, he's now just around the edge of Logan's car from him, and if Logan happened to look right that way it probably wouldn't be horribly hard to spot him.

Jerking the door open, Logan is quick to toss his cane inside, over the front seats and into the back, balancing his weight on the better of the two legs as he shoulders his way out of his jacket, too. This is tossed, passenger side, before Logan's hand comes to curl over the top of the open door, the other flat on the roof.

And he stops.

You don't survive on Staten Island without seeing the stranger shadows out the corner of your eye and wondering if you should look at them properly. Hell, you don't survive on the mainland for very long for the same. Point in case: right now. Late, however, and sharp awareness that he is not as along as he first thought is traded in for the smarter compulsion to leap inside the car. He's moving when the other man seeks to move, an attempt at duck behind metal and glass.

Ash isn't going to let the man get away that easy though. He moves when he does. As Logan all but dives into the car, trying to duck behind the car door Ash comes around, one of his large hands reaching out to simply clam down on the door and hold it fast to prevent it from being shut, using his very potent strength, and his own body weight to stop him from shutting the door, of course that also makes swinging around it a bit awkwards. He does though, his tabi covered feet moving deftly over the concrete of the parking lot as he swings around the edge of the door, the tranq gun leveled. His finger tightens on the trigger, letting a dart fly from the barrel, whether it hits or not he's not sure, and doesn't wait to see. Instead he's pressing his back up against the car, just out of sight of the open door way, though he's watching for the man to try to close the door, if he does he'll intervene.

As soon as the door does not shut as it's intended, the concrete grip of the other man holding it firm, Logan all but yelps as he's quite suddenly cornered within the cab of the car, lunging downwards as a gun is leveled and— does not go off with the crack of a proper pistol. A dart sticks into upholstery, a narrow miss, and gets a stare from the strip club manager before he turns to look down the length of his body towards the open door now cleared of his assailant.

"Piss it," he hisses, momentary indecision as his hand slips into the pocket of his waistcoat and takes out a switch blade, the knife gleaming in the half-light with a press of Logan's thumb.

In the darkness of his own car, his eyes have flared a bright green, somewhere between supernatural and feline. Whether subtly or violently, Ash will feel it - the loss of that peak strength, speed, endurance as his power is effortlessly capped with a blink of a bright green eye. Without particular quiet, his leg throbbing from the cost of his dash inside, Logan scrabbles his free hand for the passenger door's handle, hoping to spill out the other side.

And what, make a run for it? It's the most flawed plan ever but impulsively, the passenger door creaks open, and Logan half-falls out onto the pavement on the other side of the car, knife in hand and eyes still that strange, telltale green.

Ash is… shocked to say the last when he feels all that extra speed and strength fade from him. Ash was deadly before his powers, and he's still deadly now, especially with his experiences since Moab. But the loss of his always there speed, reflexes, strength, stamina it's… debilitating, and shocking. He blinks a few times, and those few seconds of him standing there shocked is really all Logan needs to get the passenger door open and spill onto the concrete on the other side. Ash gets over it quickly though. He moves, though not with the speed and grace he's used to. His body feels… clumsy, heavy now. He keeps in very good shape despite his powers, but not since Moab has he been without his powers, and it angers him. He hears the passenger door, and the thump of a body hitting pavement, and with that Ash is moving around the back end of the car, one hand sliding to his back, pulling one of those Khukri free of it's sheath. He heard the click of the switch blade, and while he's not sure what it is, he heard the click, and that means something, so he's ready. He spins around the back end of the car and puts two darts out of the gun in the direction of Logan, though he doesn't slow down, he keeps moving, rushing towards the man, though keeping his eyes alert for whatever produced that click, gun or knife.

A dart goes tik and spirals away from where it impacts the concrete, just beside Logan's thigh. Another buries its tip through silk and cotton and bugbites into the flesh beneath it, eliciting a hiss from the felled man who doesn't even bother batting the thing out from where it sticks his leg. Through glowing irises, he sees his attacker, all darkness and speed and a big fuck off knife coming at him, and Logan bares his teeth as if that would help. Tranquiliser is already a numbing entity through his blood stream, darting to spin the world out of focus.

Which doesn't mean, with all the blind ferocity of a cornered cat, that Logan does not swipe out with the much more subtle presence of his own switchblade. He does, aiming for whatever part comes closest first in a stabbing kind of swing. Logan is going down, down, down, and isn't of the mind to make it easy.

Ash doesn't know he's tagged Logan's leg though, so he advances in with that Khrukri in hand, and the tranq gun in the other hand. He's getting tired of wasting darts, so he's not going to fire again until he's got a firm shot. He moves in, a hiss of pain escaping him as the blade scores a weak point on the body glove he's wearing and slices into flesh beneath it. With a quick movement of his foot, dartign out to try and kick at Logan's hand with the switchblade. Ash is a kickboxer, a master in all actuality, so the kick would be well placed, and very hard, though he's still a bit awkwards from the sudden loss of his power. Ash is relentless though, and even if he doesn't get the knife with his food he'll move in closer, khukri bared. He speaks for the first time then. "If you want to live through this night you'll put the fucking knife down." And with that he lifts the tranq gun and pulls the trigger again, at point blank range, though he's expecting to get his leg sliced or stabbed for it.

There's a grunt from the Brit when his hand is kicked, although in a fit of desperation, the knuckled grip along the handle stays in the same way injured dogs can clamp their jaws. It does him no favours, as there's no additional attack, Logan glaring bleary up the man when he speaks, drawing a breath as if he might reply, although no words come. Unwillingly, he obeys, fingers slacking and the switchblade dropping beside him as he slumps back. Logan gives a protesting whine as another needle pierces his skin, below the shoulder, and he remains slack and defeated on the the asphalt of the parking lot.

Ash is awarded, first, with the return of his power. Though a low groan eases out of Logan and his pale eyes become slits than peacefully shutting, signs of struggling consciousness, he certainly has not the concentration to keep his own ability running.

Ash picks Logan up, and puts him into the car, strapping him into the passenger side. He pockets the man's knife and then looks around the parking lot. He grunts a bit as he finds a small patch of blood on the concrete. But parking lots in New York are no strangers to blood, so he doesn't bother trying to clean it up. Instead he moves and climbs into the driver's seat, retrieving the keys from Logan and starting the car up. Yes, he's driving the man in his own car. He heads towards the docks, for safe house that Adam told him to take Logan to.

At least two different sets of phonelines

Ash finishes tying Logan to the chair that he's got in the middle of the floor. Ash resheaths his khukri behind his back, and tucks the tranq gun back into his pocket with a soft sigh. He pulls out his cellphone, turning it on before he dials in Adam's number, his feet carrying him around Logan in a slow circle, eyeing the man, watching for signs of wakefullness.

Adam is probably being driven around or in his apartment, it seems more interesting to say he's being driven around, so there we are. He reaches out for his phone and glances at the number thoughtfully before answering it, "Hello. Are you calling me with progress?"

Ash hears the click of the line being established but he doesn't speak until he hears Adam's voice on the other end. He pulls in a slow breath, but leaves his mask on. That leaves his voice muffled and a bit distorted. "Would I be calling you otherwise?" His question simple as he steps in behind Logan. "I've got him sitting in front of me, tied up. You didn't tell me he was Evolved." His voice holding a hint of annoyance, more so when he looks down at his slahed leg.

Adam frowns a moment into his phone, "What did you think biochemical manipulation was, Ash?" he sounds a bit incredulous, "And…the ability to turn people's powers off….you don't recall any part of that conversation?"

Ash looks at his phone, a spark of anger running through him. "I'm not a scientist Adam. You said that and I assumed something like what I got dosed with in Moab, not an evolved power. And since you didn't specifically state that he was evolved, I assumed mundane things as I just said. I've been hit with stuff that puts me down and robs me of my powers." His voice is hard, angry, but he controls himself. "Anyway, he's here and he's tied up. I don't know when he's going to wake up, I hit him with two darts."

Adam slides his phone to his forehead and is quiet for a few moments. He shakes his head a bit and then returns to the phone call, "Well, I apologize for the miscommunication. But here we are. Make sure to put a duffle over his head, yeah? I don't know much about his power, but maybe it doesn't work if he can't see. I've got to call the person who wanted Logan in the first place. Hang tight."

Ash pauses a few long moments before he replies. "Alright." With that he clicks the phone shut to let Adam handle his business. He sighs a bit and looks around, then his eyes fall on Logan and he actually looks a bit… remorseful. "Sorry buddy. Just doing my job, nothing personal." he walks over to the floor behind the chair and picks up a sack cloth bag, then pulls it over his head and ties it in place.

From his SUV, Adam hangs up on Ash and then dials Liu. He purses his lips a moment as he waits for the phone to connect.


A quiet man answers the phone — it isn't Liu Ye, of course, but presumably one of his people. Smooth, male, an older voice. Also, he isn't speaking English. "«The Red Cellar.»"

Adam sighs into the phone. His Mandarin isn't any good. He can greet someone and tell them he fucked their mother, but he never spent much time in China. The man says red something, so he assumes he's got the right number. "I need to speak with Liu." he says in English, "Tell him it is his business partner."

"And which business partner would this be, then?" A smooth shift from Mandarin to English, though the accent is thick. Not too much so that it can't be understood, fortunately.

Adam sighs again, everyone always has to be so difficult. "Tell him Adam is calling, please."

"Ah, Mister Monroe. Certainly. One moment."

Click. Soft chinese music plinks and hums in the background for a few minutes, on hold.

Click. Liu's voice comes on the line, "I do hope that this is important, that you needed to interrupt me directly, Mister Monroe."

Adam replies, "That depends on how important the issue of John Logan was." he pauses for a moment, "Let us say that he has been taken for a ride. The question I have to ask is where the ride should end. Certainly, I could always give him accomodation, but I thought, perhaps given the situation, you might want to speak to him directly, yeah?"

A faint chuckle stirs on the other end of the line. "Do you now…? No— no, I don't want him here. Too risky. Arrange for accomodations, if you would, and I will send someone over to have a few words with Mister Logan. I'm certain you can be— hospitable."

Adam mms, "Alright." he says, "I'll send you the address and you can send your people to talk with him. We'll do our best to keep him comfortable until your person arrives. I have to be going now."

"Of course," Liu allows smoothly, "Excellent work, Mister Monroe."


Adam doesn't call Ash back immediately, this is more goon work and so he mobilizes a few. He also has to make a stop to get some sedation materials to keep Logan from waking up before it's time. But eventually, he calls Ash back. "Ash," he says, "We're going to be keeping Mr. Logan for a little while. I'm en route with a few gentlemen so you don't have to watch him."

Ash has settled down in the corner of the room, his eyes on the back of Logan's head when his phone rings. He's got one of his khukri's in hand, and he's actually tossing it up into the air, letting it spin and fall back before his hand darts out to catch it, playing a rather dangerous little game. He stops though once he answers the phone. "I see. Well I'll be here till I'm relieved. He's still pretty out of it as far as I can tell, and if he gets too bad I can always paralyze him till you get here. Sever hs spine and you can give him some blood to heal him."

Adam considers that possibility briefly, "I heard of vietnamese…" he's quiet for a moment and then replies, "No, that shouldn't be necessary. Two tranquilizers should be pretty adequate until I get there. I presume it hasn't been all that long since he was put down."

Pretty out of it is a good phrase. Slack in his chair and blinded, Ash gets to observe only minute movements and reactions. A soft groan had eased out through the cloth of the sack a few moments ago, but little more than that. Logan's fingers curl where his hands are bound.

Ash hmmms a bit, the noise audible in the warehouse. He resheaths the khukri on his back and moves to stand up, walking towards Logan slowly. "It's been about an hour. I had to drive him from where I took him down here. I dumped his car at his home and switched to mine to bring him here, so that gives us more time till anyone realizes he's gone. And what was the comment about Vietmanese?" He glances towards Logan and hmmms before he shrugs and unholsters the tranq gun. There's a soft sound as he fires, putting another one in Logan's shoulder. "Well, he's defiinitley going to stay down right for now."

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