Of Flesh, Blood And Metal


gillian2_icon.gif brian2_icon.gif

Scene Title Of Flesh, Blood and Metal
Synopsis Two possible siblings meet. One of them desperately needs a win so takes a chance by just being up front, even if Gillian's currently masking herself in metal form. When she's not butt naked thanks to Brian Winters' ability.
Date June 23, 2009

Alley Way, New York City

One thing that might be considered universal all over the world would be places that people go to to let their minds wander and think on things that have gone wrong in their life. Church would be one of them, but that's not the area that someone's moving towards. Today it's the bar that someone's wandering near. Gillian's not interested in the building she's walking near— in her current form, she couldn't even drink the alcohol, much less feel it. Metal laces her body, dull in some places, shiny and light-reflecting in others. A hoodie has been pulled over her silver-metallic hair, that had been too heavy to put into a tie of any kind. The bangs hang in her face, mostly guarded by shadows.

Heavy footsteps crunch glass, but don't cause any pain— the iron woman doesn't even seem to notice the piece of glass sticking through the sole of her shoe. It crunches and slowly breaks down under the weight and the concrete.

Most women wouldn't walk alone in a dark alley in the middle of night. Especially not in a shady part of the city. But most women aren't made of metal under their clothes, either.

The flask lets its contents spill out into the greedy gaping cavernous hole that is Brian's mouth. Brian, or Agent Winters, or.. just Winters is doing his best homeless drunk impression. Sitting in a heap, the young Ex-Agent is not interested in the metal woman walking down his alley. He is much too preoccupied by the booze tickling down his tastebuds. After the gulp goes down, the burning comes up, and leaning forward Winters lets out a steady groan. He's never been too much of a drinker, and it's not like he has too many concerns over whether he is being polite or not. He's sitting against a wall, eyes half closed. If he notices IronWoman walking down his way, he doesn't make any note of it. But he does make note that this liquor, or whatever it is, is getting boring. And with that, the flask is tossed carelessly into the darkness that surrounds him, completely disregarding anyone he may or may not hit.

The replicator lets his head thud against the wall behind him, not really caring about the pain it inflicts. His eyelids close fully as he leans against the wall of the bar, letting out a half content half bothered sigh. He's completely forgotten that he took out his gun and laid it next to him. His own hoodie is up, but only covers the back of his head. His legs sprawled out haphazardly, it's obvious this young man has been drinking and has gotten.. sloppy.

The whole point of the hoodie is to try and blend into any situation despite the metal that makes up her body. Gillian doesn't need to breathe or sleep or anything— the form seems to sustain itself somehow. Technically she lacks all the senses that other people should have. Everything that exists in the world is made up of vibrations. No need for light, or smell, or sound. Something in the resonating chamber that is her body translates the vibrations into data that allows her to see the man in the alley. It allows her to get an idea of his condition. It even makes her "look" over, twisting her head as if her smooth reflective eyes needed to to make him out.

The good drops a little bit.

It's not the "eye contact" or the crunching of glass that will stand out at this moment— but the moment she reaches the ten foot margin something happens. A sudden popping sound. The metal form stumbles forward, suddenly dissoriented, as a fleshy, pale, naked woman seems to fall out in an obscene afterimage.

Dark tattoos stand out on various parts of her body, as she stumbles back into the dirty alley, almost immediately curses, voice raspy as the chill hits her, the nasty floor, and the fact that… she is butt NAKED. And not made of iron.

Iron woman suddenly spins back in surprise, and is cursing too, in unison. Same words. Totally different sound. One voice sounds like someone talking through a steel door.


Slowly his eyes open back up to take in the obscenely strange sight. His features remain slack, barely reacting to the bizarre occurrence that leads to a naked woman standing in the alleyway. His hand slowly goes to his side for his gun, but there's nothing there. A few pats around his person until finally his hand finds purchase with the firearm on the groun right beside him. But it's not a move to point the weapon at the naked woman. Just seems like a good idea to grab a gun when weird shit starts happening.

A million questions start swirling in his head, but before long they all start dropping like flies. Apathy takes over, and even though this situation warrants many a question, Winters mood and his experience with the abnormal in every day life leads him to a very.. 'whatever' state of mind. And so in an oddly observant manner, Brian cranes his head at the two women. Biting down on his lip he lets out a little sigh. Before opening in his mouth.

"Can I help you?" He asks in a way that sounds like he doesn't want to.

Spontaneous nudity had often been a result of being around one man— Gillian takes a moment to register everything when she hears the voice. Really hears it. Through one set of ears. The metal one feels it more than hears it, but it has the same translation. Both of them turn to face him abruptly, and then naked one suddenly makes a solo curse and hides behind the one that still has clothes. Same size, ankles still visible, but it works… More or less. Bare butt with a triangular symbol will greet anyone who comes down the alley, though.

"Brian?" the two voices say together, not quite registering the seperation of self well yet, it would seem. "Oh son of a— and here I thought I was lucking out in avoiding this," the fleshy one murmurs on her own, resting her forehead against the solid cold shoulder of herself.

"Can … I borrow a jacket or something? There's no realization yet that this would be the one Brian who wouldn't recognize her— except perhaps from a brief flash during a battle with himself.

"You know me." It's not a question, it's just a cold sad interpretation of facts. A light sigh is let out as he slowly and weakly pushes himself to his feet. It's more of a task than it should be, yet eventually he gets himself upright, holding the gun carelessly at his side. His lips dip down in sort of frown, sort of grimace. "Just touch yourself. On the hand. And think happy thoughts." He practically growls, "You can reabsorb yourself." His hand goes up to the zipper of his hoody. The thing is quickly taken off and tossed at the closest of the pair of Gillians. "You may know me. But I don't know you. And I don't feel like story telling tonight, so just suck yourself back in and pretend you never saw me, alright?" It's the type of question that assumes the answer will be 'yes', Brian indicating so by taking a few steps towards the mouth of the alley. Tucking the gun into the holster under his arm.

"Oh," the replicant says, while the other one, whose hood falls back from the shifting behind her, just makes the expression with her lips. It's difficult to recognize expressions when breathing isn't necessary. "You— " She's looking over her own shoulder, the memory coming back quickly to one of them, but not quite as detailed to the other— guess the powers split up a bit like they had done with Peter. Brian Winters. Gillian Winters. Cat's speculations went the same direction hers did— though she'd never worked up the nerve to outright ask.

The metallic one catches the jacket, and the one with skin reaches out to touch the metal one's hand. Happy thoughts are hard to come by right now, and the tears visible in her eyes might give that away. So instead she takes the hoody and pulls it on, zipping it up with a, "Don't look." While she works on making herself partially descent, the other one steps forward, crunching trash under too heavy feet and kneeling down. "You're… Winters?"

Lips purse for a moment as the brain works quickly to think of a witty comeback, but once he only comes up with 'I'll look at what I want', or 'You're not the boss of me' he decides to just remain quiet and not look. Even though the situation is extremely odd, Brian seems rather unphased through it all. Until however, that weird voice says his name. The name that no one but Company employees should know. And right now Company employees are bad news. And so the gun flies out of its holster with fluidity. Even though he's been drinking, his dexterity seems to have remained in tact. The weapon aims at the closer of the two Gillians. "You shouldn't know that name." He growls.

"Tell me how you know that name. Are you who they sent after me? My tail?" That couldn't be it. If she was a tail, she was the stupidest tail in the world. Who would stumble into an alley and ask their target if they were who they said they were. No, something far weirder is going on, but Winters can't put any of his many fingers on it. "You need to tell me how you know that name, and quickly. My finger itches."

The closer of the two Gillians happens to be made of metal— though that may be difficult to tell in the dark alley. Maybe she paints her skin dull, or maybe the shadows are playing tricks. Could be anything, right? The one that's still flesh and can still breathe gasps and stumbles away, leaving a trail of blood as she cuts her feet on sharp objects in the street. The pain is noticed, but the pain will be a lot worse if he shoots at her.

The metal one doesn't react much at all. No gasp of fear. No heavy breathing. Eyes narrow as much as her eyes can, but she doesn't do anything aggressive beyond that, either. "I'm the one who tried to help the other you find you, get you back. Find out what happened to you. I'm not looking for you. You think I fucking wanted to get close enough to have a spontaneous nude me standing there."

Nude Gillian shakes her head as if to answer the question, dark hair splaying, even as pain and tears hang in her eyes and on her face. In the last few months she's lost so much— she'd been avoiding this encounter, despite knowing exactly where one of the Brians could be found… For once she'd like to actually gain something. "I think we might be related."

"Makes sense." Brian mutters. The tone itself is not sarcastic, but it's clear that it actually doesn't all make sense. The other him finding him, related, spontaneous nude. Hm. Well it makes sense enough to put the gun away anyways. Once safely holstered, Brian's gray eyes run over the first Gillian then the nude one behind her. "You can't merge back?" Brian asks a touch of concern coming into his voice. Stepping forward, Brian's brow narrows a bit as he begins to realize why. "You copy other people's powers?" He asks softly, tilting his head. "You can't control them well though." He notes, peering at the iron face of Gillian. "This is weird."

Straightening, he peers down at Iron Gillian, tilting his head. "Related how?" His hand slowly goes down as he goes to his knees. His shoes are taken off and then tossed over to nude Gillian. "I'll get you some clothes. With another me." He clarifies. "Give me a little bit."

Trying to keep herself covered as best she can, the replicant stays moved back, looking at him. Their eyes don't match— well, technically one does have gray eyes, but they're not supposed to be gray. Her eyes are hazel. A beautymark stands out on one cheek, her hair is black, though that's not the natural color. A dark brown would be closer. "Control kinda sucks sometimes— you try taking on a new power every few days and see how well it works for you," the one who breaths says in a husky voice, still keeping back. There's pain in her voice, tightness in her throat. And those definitely are tears in her eyes— though not really caused by him.

"Recently found out I'm adopted," the Iron one says in the same resonaating voice as she straightens as well. She's the shorter of the two, by a few inches. Even if right now she's a lot heavier. "The name Winters came up… As mine, right under yours on a screen. Seems a little too much to be a fucking coincidence." And part of her wants it to be right now, even more than before.

"Thanks," the fleshy one says, despite biting her lip and kneeling down as best to conceal herself.

A little chuckle is let out, "Do we get along? You and I? The other me, I mean. I don't know much about him, besides he's religous or something. I figure we're pretty similar, though." He makes it clear that he is averting his eyes and not staring at Gillian's nakeyparts. Making an exaggerated motion to looking the other direction. When she says she's adopted, he smirks. "Me too—"

But the next part has him cutting himself short. A raised brow, and even though he was trying not to look at her nakey parts his face flashes in her direction. "What? What screen? Wait." A shake of his head as if to get all the booze out of his brain. "What are you saying? My parents were killed. Along with my twin sister. I don't have any family. Not any real family, anyway." Brian claims sternly.

The exaggerated motion would be appreciated. Even then, she's still doing what she can to cover up. "Think we got along— though he kept hitting on me— which might be really fucking gross now all of a sudden," Gillian comments, the one made of flesh, while the other one keeps her eyes on the possible brother. There's more points added on in favor of the possible assumptions in the story being the accurate ones.

"Twins?!" she exclaims, voice going into a slightly higher pitch for an instant, before she catches herself, hand covering her mouth, and leaving a good portion of her revealed again.

The other one makes a motion as if she wants to take a breath in— but has no lungs to do the deed. Shoulders shift upwards to make the motion, lips part, her body tilts away. She'd not seen the list, but someone with a perfect memory might as well take a snapshot. "It was a list of people who… were injected with an ability as children." The no breathing, no heartbeat thing makes her a lot calmer looking than she probably is.

Jaw clenches. "Yeah.. My sister and I were both tested on. Injected. Whatever. I was told she didn't survive." Brian reports, it seems like calm. Though it's really just a lack of knowing which emotion to display. How is he supposed to react? Should he be happy? She doesn't seem to be too happy. He has no idea. It's not like he has any memory of his dead-but-maybe-not sister. "So you were on there and I was on there. But that doesn't explain the, my sister is dead thing. Either I was lied to.. or we're cousins. Or we just have the same last name. Winters is kind of common." Right? His lips purse. "If you're my sister, I really want you to put some clothes on." He practically sighs.

This is probably where the metal one should be tossing more clothes over, but Gillian discovered just getting clothes on while in this form is difficult. Pulling the hoodie off will make it impossible to wear, but she's unwilling to change back right now. And suddenly she's stepping closer. Metal arms come up and around him, pulling him closer. It's like being suddenly hugged by a statue. Maybe she really is glad to hear this— too bad she can't feel the hug, much less anything else. Everything under her clothes is totally solid, stone hard, cold.

"Everyone lies," the voice reverberates, not seeming to come out of her mouth now that they're touching. She's vibrating even as she speaks. "Could take a blood test to know for sure…"

"Hello, still mostly naked over here," the clone says, interupting the moment. The moisture still glistens in her eyes, but there's a tug of a smile even then. Not joining in the hug though. That'd be bad right now.

Winters looks a bit confused and then he's being hugged by a statue. His brows jerk up at the feeling. "I'm not sure how I feel about this.." He flicks her side, to find it hurts his poor finger, but makes the sound that he was looking for. So it's worth it. "You got a better power than I did." He says, feigned jealousy in his voice. In reality he's glad he's not an iron naked copy in the corner. Even though he's being hugged by iron, and it's not the most personable thing.. he slowly melts into the embrace. It's still a hug, and even if she can't feel it it's someone reaching out to him. Winters has needed a hug for a very long time. And for some reason the embrace makes his eyes well up, which consequentially has him putting his head in Iron Woman's shoulder. "Yeah.. we could do that." His own voice now very tight.

Then there is the flash of headlights and a slam of a car door. Soon another Brian is in the alleyway. Dressed much nicer then the other copy, he's in a suit, no tie, the top button undone. And under his arm are tucked some random women's clothes. Most of which probably won't fit Gillian anyway.

"No I didn't," Gillian mutters, even as the surprise clothes appear from a car. "How many of you are there," she asks, as she quickly grabs a pair of pants— the bigger the better, and pulls those on first. The more she walks, the more she mildly curses. Not feeling would be great right now. There's still a small trail of blood.

"Not my power— there was this guy, shot me with red lightning— switched by power with someone elses." The metallic one explains, still holding on. What she can feel isn't the touch so much as his breathing, his heartbeat. The vibrations tell of their closeness. It's enough, even if her eyes can't show the emotion. The other one's still crying, but that could be because of the pain. Or whatever happened to have her stick herself in metal form to begin with.

"It's why I was hoping to have this talk after it got switched back— just because I've seen the other you naked, doesn't mean I want you to see all of me, especially now." The other one says as soon as she's mostly covered, finally lifting the hurt barefoot up and pulling a piece of glass out. The wound starts to knit over and disappear. "Oh thank god— got shoes?"

"Tyler Case." Brian states coldly. "So he got loose." The young man muses. He had to kill a lot of people to get Tyler Case in custody. And the Company just let him go, just like that? His lips tighten. And his grip around her iron shoulders tightens. His hatred for the Company increases daily. Not all of it is rational, he understands that, but he doesn't give a shit either. He also understands that. "Don't worry about it."

A frown crosses the newly arrived Brian's face, though it quickly vanishes as the glass is taken out and the foot heals itself. "That's handy." But she's crying. Crunching glass under his shoes, the new Brian goes to comfort the until-now-nude Gillian. Foregoing shoes, the man simply goes to sweep her off her feet into his arms. Going to cradle her head into his chest somehow. "So we could be siblings. Yet.. I don't even know your name."

The metallic one watches as the likely sibling moves in to hug the other her, carefully keeping her metal arms slack so as not to crush him. "Sort of— it's more complicated than that." Gillian watches him quietly, up until he sweeps the other her off of her feet. That she can feel— if only by proxy. There's a small yelp, before she settles, and then it's her turn to lean against him, closing her eyes.

Even with the new clothes, she's shaking— even with all the bravado she had going, there's sudden huffs of air. "We've had a bad couple of… months," the metallic one explains, able to see and understand what's happening. "Gillian." she says quietly, before her eyes shift to the suit wearing one. "You're not going to tell the Company about me, are you?" She has to ask. There's no words from the one crying, clinging tighter than the metal one, who had been avoiding crushing him.

"I hate the Company. They killed my— ..our? Parents? I don't know. Whatever. I hate them." Well, most of them. There's one- just one- redeemable aspect of The Company. And that's Veronica. The others? He would have no qualms with wasting every single motherfucker in that place. Past friends and acquaintances alike, line em all up. "No. I'm not going to tell the Company about you. I—" What do you do after earth-shattering revelations like this? There's really not a standard process of what you do next.

"What do we do now?" The one in the suit, holding the crying one asks. Smirking for a moment as he realizes that each copy is trying to comfort the opposite copy. "Powers are weird." He adds in softly. "I— I'm not really staying any place right now. I've kind of been on the run from the Company. I would offer you a place to sleep but.." He shrugs. "It wouldn't be very nice." A corner in an abandoned building, most likely.

There's a smile— something that only the metallic one can really show. She even seems to have dimples. A statue that moves. "I'm glad to hear that, you have no idea," Gillian admits, even hinting toward relief in her voice. It's more an imitation of the sound, though, even if it's how she feels. "Far as I knew you were still with them, and I'd… I'm not a big fan of them, either." Even if the reasons she hated them had little to do with—

"The Company killed our parents?" the one held by the suit chokes out, lifting tearstained face up, a hand with some blood reaching up to wipe at her face. Tears suck.

"We have places we can stay," the other one responds quietly. We? I? Whatever.

"Yeah." Brian answers bluntly, giving a weird face, the face you give someone when you regret saying whatever you just said. A little sigh is let out. "I was told they killed you. I don't know what the fuck happened to the guy who told it all to me though.. So.." A little shrug is offered in consolation. "My girl—…My ex partner is still with them. I talked to her.. I think she's going to leave them. To be with me." Brian offers, swinging Gillian around in his arms to walk towards the mouth of the alley. "Well.. Should I stay with you then? I.. I guess I don't really know what to do with myself right now. This is pretty weird for me." A big breath. "Fuck this is weird. Is this really happening? Maybe we should go get those bloodtests. Right now." He gives a shake of his head. "I don't know what the hell we should do."

"It's not the weirdest thing that's happened to me," Gillian is forced to admit. Throw in time travel and everything else… this might even be a little on the normal side. "I'm willing to take you on your word, but I'm not sure how the others would feel about it." Another forced admission. One she might not be too happy with having to say. "I'll talk to someone. As soon as I can— do you happen to have a cellphone?" Her hands start to move towards pockets, but she stops herself as she manages to tear the jacket a bit just moving— she's really having to be careful with that.

"Got a cellphone number," the crying one says, wiping at her face again. "Once I talk to some people— I'm sure we can get a blood test ran and get you a place to stay for a while. But you'll probably run into the other you eventually. I still haven't told him about this…"

And now she's hoping she's not wrong. "Maybe you can help us— get back together? And then we can give you a number…"

"Others? I'm not so sure I want to be around people I don't know." Winters says heavily. "Not that I don't trust you but.." He doesn't. Not fully. Yet. This is all too surreal to be fully sucked into just yet. He smirks at her question of the cellphone. "No. I don't. Being tracked down by the Company and all. I can come to you." He frowns at the talk of the other him. "Not sure I want to run into him either. I hear he's a nice guy. I'm not." Winters says with a shrug.

"To get you back together.. Well. I don't know. You're made of metal. Got to have skin to skin contact. Can you turn the metal off?" He asks, cocking his head. "I can take you wherever you need to go. And.. I mean.. I can always be close if need be. But like I said, I don't know how many people I want around me. I like to avoid attention, if you get me."

"Yeah," The metallic one says reluctantly, closing her eyes. It's a gradual process, a downward change where color comes back to her. As the metal slides down off of her, she stumbles, tears springing up into her eyes before she takes in a deep breath and looks back up. They don't fall. There's a glance down at her feet, lifting her foot up— much like her clone pulled a piece of glass out of her foot, she yanks one out of her shoe. No blood on this one. Her feet had worn it down.

"I'll give you a number. I'm staying with people right now, but I can arrange to get another place— not a fan for hanging out in groups if I can avoid it. But you're I will have to talk to someone about the blood test— and you'll have to be there to give blood too." Arms drop away from him, and she carefully moves across to the version of her held by another version of him. "We just need to hold hands?" the one being held asks, looking at herself. Hands already reach out and meet.

Brian watches unabashedly as Gillian basically melts. He gives a light hum before giving a nod. "Fine. But.. Please keep in mind. I'd rather keep myself scarce to those I don't know. Let the other guy be sociable. You could even get a prick from him. We have the same blood." He points out. "I don't know if he's even around. Whatever. You give me a number, I'll call you." Then he nods to her question. "You just touch yourself and.. make it happen. Really.. There's not much other way to describe it. It's like trying to teach someone to clench your buttcheeks. Just do it." Winters enthuses.

"Yeah— I'll see if we can get the other one to submit. They know him better," Gillian admits, the one held in his arms as she untangles one to clench the hand back. Just— do it. There's a familiar sound, and all of a sudden he's got one less burden. She stumbles backwards another few steps, taking in a gaspy breath. Leaving behind whatever it is clones leave behind.

"Okay…" the only Gillian rasps quietly, before reaching into her pocket. It takes a few moments for her to produce a piece of a receipt that she can write on. A short number, with G signed under. "Here— If you want, I won't tell anyone we talked. I'll just… say I want to find out the truth with the other one."

"Sounds good." Winters reports, letting out a long breath. The one wearing the suit surveys her for a moment before taking an awkward step forward and going to enfold her in his embrace once again. "I'm glad you're not a bitch. I guess I got lucky my sister isn't a tool." He says offering a little smile. "I'll get a hold of you soon enough. If you need anything from me let me know. We're the only family we have.. maybe." Another shrug is given before he takes a step back. "Well.. Seeya?"

There's a hint of those tears again, before all of a sudden the metal slides up, taking her over again. Gillian's using the power as a shield, now more obvious than not. The tears disappear, the unsteady breathing stops. Even the tremors. "I'm trying not to be." A tool. Even her hair seems to be made of fine strands of dull metal, making the hoodie difficult to pull back up. It rips, a piece of hair impaling through it. "I'll talk to you again soon, Brian. Just be careful— I know there's like five of you, but… You might be right." At least half right. She still has the family that raised her— but… "Stop drinking in alleys. Especially ones that smell like piss," she suddenly says, before she forces herself to turn around and start walking out of the alley. If she doesn't walk away now, she may not be able to.

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