Participants:
| Scene Title | Not Her Problem |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Mortimer comes to Tracy after the Primatech explosion, begging forgiveness and a kind heart. But he's not her problem, according to her. |
| Date | June 26, 2009 |
Swanky but still undesced.
Another evening in the Strauss home, and Tracy is out of glasses. Don't ask questions about that. Instead, she's bought beers, and has decided to get another one now. She's lounging in her tight pencil skirt and her white sleeveless top, looking fine as usual with pearls about her throat and her hair down. But she's tired. She hasn't slept in 2 days - the whole thing with Primatech has left her in a terrible position. No Nathan. No Parkman. No Primatech. She is literally on her own in the government. This calls for another beer.
There's no knock at the door, it's simply unlocked with a key. Hard to say how Mortimer does that, but he does, and closes the door behind him, locking it. He's not wearing his usual biker gear, instead he's in a buttoned up loose fitting white dress shirt, loose fitting blue jeans, and his usual black boots. He's also limping, but he's wearing a normal looking hand attachment on his prosthetic. "I'm not here to hurt you, I just, I wanna say sorry, and the deal is off. I want your help, but no more crazy games." he says in an oddly serious tone, his eyes defeated as if he were a completely different person.
Tracy doesn't have to turn around to know who it is. I mean, at first she might. Her apartment is like a throughway for people who arent' supposed to be in there. But when he speaks, she knows who it is. "Why a paper company?" She asks, lying through her teeth. She knows just what Primatech is. But she doesn't want him to know that's what she knows. "Did they mess up your stationary?" As she asks, she turns to face him, crossing one arm over her belly, the other sipping her beer as she watches him. There is no concern for his wellbeing as he limps.
"A man named Adam told me it's a place called the Company, they keep Evolved prisoners. I thought I was doing something good. Another man gave me files of the potential powers I'd have to deal with, and information on the facility. I made copies, just for you." Mortimer tosses a thick folder on the couch, then a thumb drive. "I'm done, I'm gonna find a way to get rid of my power, because I'm tired of being insane. I don't know what it's done to my head over the years, but I want it out. I have more lucidity than I've had in weeks, not sure why, but I wanna get rid of this before I go back to how I was before. I want you to help me, I don't wanna be the person you met before, that person isn't… me."
Whatever Tracy's thinking doesn't show on her face. Instead, she idly sips her beer, pushing off the counter to walk toward the couch. She easily lifts the file, thumbing through it, eyes dancing over the information he's put before her. It's funny, how as the structure seems to crumble around her, the more powerful the chaos is that falls into her grasp. "What makes you think that I can help?"
"I don't wanna be a criminal anymore, and you're the most well-connected person I know." Mortimer walks over to the couch, sitting down with a slight groan of pain. "Let me stay with you for a while, connect me with a discreet therapist, someone used to dealing with problems caused by Evolved abilities, and, just, I know it's a lot to ask, but can you forgive me for everything I've done to you?"
Tracy lifts her eyes from the page, eyebrows as high as they can climb on her forhead. "Mister Jack, you may have changed magically, I'm not sure how that works. But you've committed crimes. If you're turning yourself in, you need to be in prison. I'm sure not everyone got out of that Paper comapny alright, did they." It's not really a question. "Why would I harbour you here?"
"I'm not going to jail for the rest of my life because of a stupid birth defect my father got the bright idea to exploit. And I could go back to being the way I was at any moment, it's too easy to slip back into using my ability." Mortimer shakes his head at the mention of 'Paper Company'. "They're bad people, they lock people up like you and me." Because he still hasn't forgotten the ice thing.
Tracy is going to make sure he does, if she can. "They lock people like you up." She'll argue that point to the grave, particularly with him. "It's quite convienent, isn't it. You decide to go straight and narrow just hours after destroying the only facility that, from the sound of things, could have held and helped a person like you. If you're so afraid of going bad, why are you trying to put me at risk? You have to understand, you've given me no reason to risk a felony for you. Nor my life, or my job for you. You may have changed, but I sitll do business the same way I did before."
"Us, Ice Princess. As much as I seemed to like screwing with your head, I really had nothing to do with that. None of my men were Evolved, and if I could turn things into ice, that would make my life a lot easier." Mortimer says, finally just outright referring to the incident. "I'm getting rid of my ability Tracy, somehow, even if I have to build some sort of machine to do it, I'm getting rid of it, so I don't hurt people like you again. I don't consider this putting you at risk, I came to you now because you have the most to gain out of helping me. Having a girlfriend doesn't shut my libido off, you can't be completely blind to the fact that I've been infatuated with bothering you. Don't you wanna help me stop it? I could have easily disappeared, or kidnapped you, or done anything less risky than coming here, but what did I do?"
She'll ignore the bit about abilities in favor of getting this conversation rolling and, hopefully, getting Mortimer Jack out of her house. "Yes, let's talk about your girlfriend, Mister Jack." She says, still being seethingly polite. She sets her tush on the arm of her sofa, looking over Mortimer with an inquisitive gaze. "If you two are in love and all of that, why are you here? You sitting there, explaining that you're hot for me doesn't fill me with confidence about what will happen when you go back to being batshit crazy. Besides, you promised me a very naughty felon."
"Me and my girlfriend are, well, temporarily separated, She's having Evolved issues of her own, and we both need to get our shit together before we can really do anything, if we ever will." Mortimer sighs, shaking his head, hunching over slightly to rub his temples. "I know what I promised you, but I don't want that life anymore. No more guns or gangs or anything, I just wanna be me again. Besides, even when I am crazy, it's not like I ever forced myself on a woman. And, no offense, but you're only physically attractive…"
"And on the inside I'm a dark, evil she-bastard," she says, almost dismissively. Well, entirely dismissively. She Chuckles, shaking her head as she looks at Mortimer. "But I've never killed anyone," the unsaid part hangs in the air, that Mortimer probably has killed people. "What exactly did you expect would happen here? That I would risk everything for you? My life, my job, my apartment? No offense, but…you're not even that physically attractive."
"What does me being attractive have to do with anything? And she-bastard is redundant, a bastard is a unisex term." Mortimer suddenly grabs his head, nosebleeding for a moment, but gives his own dismissive shake as he continues. "Sorry, stuff flooding back. And yeah, I've, well, done things, but I've never killed anyone innocent, no one who couldn't defend themselves. And, fuck, I'm careful, do you have any idea how many times I've been here without you or anyone else knowing? You're not risking anything, I just, even if you can't get me a therapist, just let me stay here for a while. I don't want my men to know I'm alive, or anyone else. Only two people other than you know I'm alive right now, everyone else thinks I died in the explosion."
As long as he's not bleeding on her carpet or her sofa, they won't have a problem. "I'm risking quite a bit, actually. My life. My career. Just to start, if those two things don't get you fired up enough." She remaisn quiet a moment, considering. "What happens if I say no?" Wait, wait a second. Blink. Pause. Blink. "Exactly how many times have you been here without me knowing?" Cause that is creepy.
"Hey, I don't know your schedule perfectly. I have off days." Mortimer admits with a shrug, reaching into his pocket for a tissue to wipe his nose. "If you say no, well, I'm slightly more screwed, since I don't have anyone to go to. Can't go to Linderman, I don't think he'd be happy about me wanting to change suddenly. Can't go to my men, I just want them to move on with their lives. You're the only feasible person I can think of to help me, who's not insane or a criminal. I've put you through a lot, but somewhere in your icey and likely pissed off heart, don't you give people second chances, or let them try and make up for their mistakes? I won't ruin your career, if anyone finds out, I was forcing you to do this."
"No one's going to find out because it's not going to happen." She's rather firm on that point, and says it with such ease that he might feel slighted - from the sound of it she was never considering his wishes in the first place. "Mistakes are one thing. You're a danger, a liability. You want help, you could get it by turning yourself in. Maybe they will find you insane and incompetent, and then you can have all the therapy you want, courtesy of the state of New York. But you're not my problem."
"So not even a place to stay, huh?" Mortimer shakes his head, starting to limp to the door again. "I just wanted help, that's all. Enjoy your files. Bye, Miss Strauss, it was nice knowing you." he says as he starts to unlock the door again.
"Get a hotel, Jack. As far as I'm concerned, you still owe me a felon. Who knows? Maybe you can be that felon." She gives him an icy look. No way in hell was she letting him stay anywhere near her. He pulled tricks on her before. She won't let him do it again. Besides, Tracy doesn't really do…other people.
Something stops him, and just as he's about to open the door, he turns around. "Ignoring that I'm completely broke, are you seriously saying that you'd put furthering your career above helping reform a criminal? No, really, please tell me you have some redeeming quality, unrelated to your ass."
Tracy isn't as afraid of him as before, though she always hid it. She walks toward him a bit, cocking her hip. "This is odd, coming from the man who blew up a building for fun less than twenty-four hours ago. Even if there was one bit of me that believed a word you're saying - which there isn't - I wouldn't hide you from the law and help you get back on your feet. That's because everything is someone else's fault. Daddy made you crazy. Crazy made you bad. The people you killed deserved it. I won't help you. Everything is someone else's fault, which makes me think you're still crazy and just here for fun or, in the remote chance you are telling the truth, you really do deserve to be in jail."
"I never once said I didn't deserve to be in jail, I know I've done bad shit, hell, I've killed my own men for breaking rules. It scares the shit out of me to even think about it, but I don't want to go to jail." Mortimer places the tissue to his nose again, wincing. "I'm fucking afraid to go to jail, I don't wanna spend the rest of my life there. I don't want this to be my fault, if it's my fault, then, just, fuck. What do you expect from me? I'm human, and I'm fucking scared."
Tracy can actually understand where he's coming from, for a moment there. She's been fucking scared for days now, ever since the press conference that went all to hell. Ever since Nathan wasn't real, and Matt wasn't real, and she was evolved. And now? "You have no idea how bad you've screwed me, do you." She shrugs, shaking her head, opening her arms lightly in a…well…open gesture. "I can't help you. You can't stay here. I won't be caught with a felon and fugative living cozy and nice in my apartment."
"Maybe I don't know the full extent, but I know enough to be sorry. And you know as well as I do that all you'd have to say is that I'm forcing you." Mortimer reaches behind, then pulls out a silver ring. It's his last one outside of his hideout. "You just show the cops this, say you managed to get it off, and they'll believe you. But I know, even with a good story, you don't want me staying here. You're afraid of me, you hate me, probably a bunch of other things I don't know, but it was worth a shot."
Tracy nods easily. "That sounds about right. You can't stay here. What you do, where you go, that's not my concern. What you don't know could fill this entire city, Mister Jack. Particularly about the ramifications of what you've done. You can't stay here, and you must still be crazy or you'd never have asked." She's very casual about it, not at all angry or frustrated. A little bewildered, maybe.
"When I find a way to get rid of this ability, I'm gonna come back and ask you to forgive me again. And I don't know why you'd be afraid of me, you could freeze me whenever you want." Mortimer just shakes his head, finally opening the door after giving her another once over. "Alright, maybe I did hope for something, but." He just walks out now, closing the door.
