Participants:
| Scene Title | Partners in Boom |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Eve has a plan. She also has friends. |
| Date | June 21, 2018 |
Just like the white winged dove, sings a song
Sounds like she's singing
Who who who
It's late. Cat’s Cradle was closed an hour early, one of those mysterious blackout times that never really got an explanation at least the general public didn't. Inside the place is quiet, Sassy had left not that long ago and now a lone electric blue spotlight, like a vial of Refrain lit the path from the door to the Oracle Room below the bar.
The guests would find the door to lock with.. literal breadcrumbs leading from the front door to the staircase leading down below.
It's a little eerie seeing the place in this ghostly blue glow, dust mites floating in the direct line of the spotlight, there is a bottle of liquor with three glasses, presumably for the invited guests to bring down the stairs with them.
Just like the white winged dove, sings a song
Sounds like she's singing
Oh baby oh said oh
As they make their way down the stairs the anthemic sounds of Stevie Nicks drifts out from the black door with the backwards spinning clock which is slightly ajar, not as much smoke slips out like usual. But the weed of marijuana, incenses and other things mix in the air.
There sitting in the center of the room among the seemingly infinite amount of large fluffy pillows and vibrant colored fabrics is one Eve Mas, dressed in a pair of flowing black pants and a long silk black shirt, hair wild and loose she lays on the large couch put against the wall, good leg dangling down. The big, black hookah sits in the middle of table while the glass bong shaped as a dragon is sitting in Eve’s lap, the bowl cherry'd the embers glowing brightly as she’s bent over sucking the smoke out from the glass.
A small pink piggy bank sits on the table as well with various sketches all spread out over the surface of the tabletop. Symbols, faces, eyes can be seen on the pages.
And the days go by, like a strand in the wind
In the web that is my own
I begin again
With a satisfied look up to the ceiling as she exhales, eyes dancing in the light of the room. There's a soft cough before she turns towards the door with a snort, “Oh hello there, didn't see ya coming.” No you didn't, says a voice in her head to which Eve twitches and swats at the space at her shoulder. She kinda had seen them coming though.. since she had sent the three handwritten invitations. Naming the time and the place.
Said to my friend, baby
Nothin' else mattered
The youngest of the guest trio waited for the others to arrive. The inevitable “you know what this is about” round of questioning came up with naught. She snorts a bit at the breadcrumbs but only too happily picks up the bottle and one of the glasses, before heading down into Eve’s lair.
“I feel like I’ve been invited to one of those murder mystery parties people used to have, except with 100 percent more marijuana,” Chess quips, moving to the center of the room to drop a quick peck on the cheek of their hostess.
She then drops down onto the couch beside her, opening the bottle and pouring a couple of fingers within her glass, then holding the bottle out for Luther to take next. “What’s up, Mad-Eye?”
Luther’s arrival comes a little later, the man holding the handwritten letter and rereading it by the light produced in the opposite hand. Seeing Chess doesn’t seem to answer his questions either, and that understanding comes with “That’s Ducky” and a shrug. But the last time they’d gone on an Eve induced adventure… he’s still lingering in the memory of that as they step into the Cat’s Cradle.
The dramatically lit alcohol, and Chess’ quip get an indulgent sigh.
He lowers himself into the couch cushions, looking around to the inner sanctum of the Oracle room. He’s not been here before. At least there’s alcohol.
The man takes the bottle, pouring out a hefty amount with an eyeing of near half the glass. Then the bottle is reluctantly relinquished to pour for the next party.
"He was no more than a baby then," Monica's voice is heard before she appears, singing along to the music as she heads down the stairs and to a mysterious meeting with her oldest and craziest friend. How could she refuse this invitation? "Well he seemed broken hearted— Hey big guy," she says when she comes over to pat Luther on the back. And Chess gets a grin, "Chess, good to see you. And hey, with Eve, you never know what kinda party you might walk into." Which is to say, she would not be surprised if Eve threw a murder mystery party.
"Eve, if smoke doesn't come out of that thing's mouth, I'm going to be disappointed," Monica says as she picks a cushion of her own and drops into it. "You've been busy," she says, taking one of the drawings to look it over. It's a pair of golden eyes.
Monica puts it back down.
As her friends gather the woman’s smile only widens, inside nerves eat away at her. She wished this was purely for drinking with old buddies. It's not and Eve rolls her shoulders back. “I want to make a bong out of it.” Honest to god truth about the piggy bank. But the dark haired woman hasn't had the time or patience to make it happen yet.
With a wave of her hand she looks at all three of them in turn with a slightly nervous gaze before she spreads her hands and straightens her back, “My dear, wonderful comrades. My partners in boom. My friends.” The bong she is currently holding in between her thighs shifts with her movements and she lowers a hand to save it from a fall while continuing to stare at each of them.
“There’s some stinky shit going on in our hood and we can't stand for it no no.” Shaking her head the woman rocks back and forth. “I have been busy! Blind,gift less but not anymore!” A cackle from the older woman. Another true statement but the light doesn't quite reach her now brown eyes, she's worried.
“Once upon a time, I was.. a revolutionary, hanging with my other revolutionary friends. Doing revolutionary things like blowing up buildings and stuff to force the Man to change!” Terrorists? How dare you! A look is thrown Monica’s way. “And PARIAH had a mission and mission that went so far off the rails I’m surprised any of us are still alive to remember…”
“There was a man. An immortal who was set free when we raided the lowest of the Company levels, Level Five.” Eve frowns, that job was a total screw up. Doomed from the first tidbit of information fed to them by Sylar.. in disguise. “His name is Adam Monroe, he has many others. He's a snake. A regenerator. A terrifyingly skilled warrior who has a blood thirst I've never seen before.” Firmly entrenched in her tale nothing but a finger twitches, “We didn't know that setting him loose would bring war. But there we have it. Blood, chaos, gore. A hand waves them to the sketches, some of the dream that took her sight and visions. Four Horsemen with bright orange alien eyes, Adam Monroe’s face covered in blood amongst a pile of bodies, a woman.. Eve with golden eyes.
“I need your help. I need my friends.”
“Eve…” Chess begins, glancing at first Luther, then Monica, then back to their high hostess.
“You know I got your back, but maybe you should take a break and get healthy first. The last field trip was rough. Before that we got shot at in Staten.” Or shot — Chess has kept her wound under wraps and under her leather jacket, so it’s not common knowledge. “I don’t think you’re quite up to taking on immortal bloodthirsty warriors and the four horsemen of the apocalypse just yet, you know?”
She glances at Luther, maybe hoping he’ll back her up, then takes a swallow of the fiery liquid in her glass.
Some of that liquid already disappears down Luther's throat before he even receives the pat from Monica. The bongs, the drawings, the haze of the air, it's a bit much even for him at the moment. The man coughs a little into his glass with a checking glance into it, and he turns to share the look with Chess, but looks down to his glass again and drains it before Eve can even get to Adam.
Still, though, he's listening. It's in the way he's got his brow furrowed, assessments being made, threat levels calculated. Immortal, though? That gets a further crease wrinkling deeper. Four Horsemen? Terrible imagery. The stuff that's depicted in Eve's drawings, he notices. And the golden eyes.
All that counts for little though, when Chess points out Eve's condition. And Eve mentions that she was blind and powerless. And they were both shot at in Staten? Luther pushes up to his feet, looming over the trio. "What the fuck is even happening here?"
The hope for backup comes out Luther's way. That is to say, his expression of discontent at the situation, and a need to work it out.
"Baby steps for the old man, Eve," Monica says, her words teasing but her glance is worried.
"I remember that mission. Level Five." The frown proves that she also remembers it not being the best day ever. "Adam Monroe." She shakes her head a little, because it isn't a good name to hear, really. "Well. Shit."
And now Monica gets her own drink. Because really. She takes one shot and pours another before she comes back over to the drawings and looks over the horsemen for a long moment. Then she looks over at Luther. "Just like the old days, Luther. We're all in New York City, and so is all the trouble. These horsemen. SESA is investigating them, pretty sure. We might find some help from that corner, too. They seem to have it out for Raytech. Their telepaths especially. Unless we're way off base, but I don't think we are." She looks over at Luther, her head tilting some as she gives him a curious once over.
But one thing at a time.
"I have to say, I'm with Chess. Right now, you have wounds to nurse and we all have intel to gather. You point us to what we need to look into, we can be the legs for the time being. The more we know, the more effective we can be. And with Adam… Well, if we're gunning for him, we need to be ready." She tips her glass back, finishing her second shot and setting the glass down on the table.
"Oh, and I'm in."
As if there were any doubt about her answer.
“This is a long, long.. game yes. One that Adam’s been playing longer but I'm going to get him.” Eve sounds serious and there's something in her eyes that maybe only Monica has really seen before, not a wartime Eve.. no something else. She smiles at Chess and the others. “Well I don't mean go on and go kill him now silly!”
But her eyes stare down at her leg with a glare, “I will wait as long as I can. Find me a healer because waiting might not be an option. My leg won't fall off! Look ma no hands! I can move it, just need some more oil in the hinges.” Eve doesn't wince as she moves her leg the mobility already increased thanks to rehabbing. “He wants genocide. Death to all not like us. People without gifts.”
Monica being in is a duh for Eve. It's more convincing Luther and Chess to come along and the seer ruffles the back of her hair while looking up at the smoky ceiling. “The Horsemen are connected but I'm not sure how to Adam. He is my focus, the buzzing bee in my ear.” Swatting at her hair.
“He is in cahoots with the company Praxis Heavy.” A look over to Monica. “Your competitors! But I like Kam much better.” A grin towards Monica, “He must be using them as a blanket I'm sure, to keep his ass warm.” It's not a nice ass Eve hasn't looked (she has). “That's our target. Praxis Heavy. They know where he hides. He was in Hong Kong not too long ago. He's a globetrotter but I bet he can't dunk!!” Slamming her hand on her good knee with a rallying cry.
Chess takes another swig of her alcohol, then leans her elbows on her knees, listening as Eve speaks. Her brows draw together in a scowl at the word genocide, but it’s at the next bomb drop — the word Praxis — that her head jolts up and her eyes widen.
She tries to cover that with another swallow as she casts a sidelong look at Luther. She reaches for the bottle and pours another few ounces into her glass, before standing again, stepping carefully over Eve and moving to lean against a wall. She crosses one arm against herself to hook her free hand on the opposite upper arm, the glass held in front of herself.
“This isn’t something a few of us can take on, Eve,” she says. “They’ll see you coming.”
Monica's tease ruffles Luther's feathers in such a way he shoots a look at her, but he doesn't say a reply. He acknowledges, rather, that at the moment he doesn't have all the pieces and can't see the board. That's Eve's job. But when Monica mentions the Horsemen and Raytech's telepaths in the same span, said security chief becomes focused.
"We were looking into Remi's death," he informs, a scowl settling in, "but couldn't find a culprit. And there was a warning delivered by Sibyl, to Miss Ray— to Kaylee— about someone targeting her. If it was the fault of these 'horsemen' and this Adam Monroe guy…" He doesn't need to finish the sentence with words, just with a curl of his hands into fists, especially when the end of the sentence suggests a cold and bitter feeling of vengeance. The mention of Adam's goals, though, cause Luther to look over at Chess, then away as a flash of thoughts in the past strike him.
He had fought with some pretty extreme sides in the war. They had been labeled terrorists. Indeed, the groups thought themselves as revolutionaries.
The drop of Praxis into their laps in conjunction with Adam Monroe also sends a sharp, focused prod into the man. "You're fuckin' kiddin'? No you're not kidding. Praxis industries." He watches Chess move off to the wall and then leans forward, picks up his drink and slowly resettles into his seat.
"And we have a whole lot of shit coming at us from all sides. Coming from family," he says with another glance towards Chess, "or going after family." His eyes move to Eve's injured leg, then to the seer's face. "You're trying to get a hit in on them? What're you wantin' to do, piss 'em off?"
Luther makes a face at the notion.
"Just for now, Eve. I'm sure you'll be better by the time we find some minion to interrogate, right?" Monica's reassurance comes with a smile, crooked though it is. "But I don't truck with healers these days. They get weird about my arm. But if I see one, I'll send them your way."
She lifts an eyebrow at Adam's stated goals. "Going full Magneto, huh? Well, well, well." She doesn't say that she hates his plan, but it's heavily implied.
Praxis gets her attention, though.
"Yeah, our competitors." Monica's eyes narrow, but she listens. She looks over to Chess at her reaction, as well. Curious. But, ultimately, her attention moves to Luther.
"You won't find proof. What they did was crafted to look like a freak accident, but they were prepared. They will have covered their tracks. But if the Horsemen have something to hide, they'll go for anyone who can easily uncover spies or see things before they happen. People who know, they're dangerous." Present company included.
"Praxis, that's a little different. Because they have lawyers, which is far worse, believe me. We'll have to tread carefully." Monica, however, doesn't seem to think it farfetched that a company like them might have their fingers in a few terrorist-type pots. "I'm working that angle already, though. We're pretty sure they're behind the bombing of the Fellowship Center."
The advice is noted. Everyone has Eve’s best interest at heart. The seer nods but then there's a myriad of reactions and information being given and Eve closes her eyes and leans forward to stare down at her sketches. Muttering to herself her eyes flick up to Chess first and then Luther, “You know of them? Personally? Have they hurt you?” The last question is hissed and Eve is all but ready to storm out and blow Praxis to smithereens at the potential of hurting Chess or Luther. And then Monica, “That's why Kam is sitting at the head of the table. Yes they need to go down. With Monica on their trail..” Eve grins, she feels sorry for those fools.
“I went to see a man with a shiny head, Vincent. I asked that the government give us some backing.. ya know toys if we need.” That devilish grin crosses her wine colored lips. “With the way the echoes work behind my eyes, it's leaves room for doubt,” a look of regret in her eyes. “Even though I've been right a lot!!” Huffing the seer puffs more on her joint. “We’ll see if he helps. He's a friend. I trust them now,” the government that is. A big statement from the woman.
“Sibyl? Ah.. I wouldn't trust the old crone if I were you. The reason my leg is like this is because she helped Samson Gray throw me down a well!!” She's insistent and everything she's saying seems true though the old crone bit might sound crazy. “I need to see the faces of the Horsemen, they cannot hide behind their masks forever.” Killing Remi.. “You must protect Miss Mind, Kaylee.” To Luther.
Banging a hand on the surface of the table, “Mad-Eye” draws herself up to full height. “I can see again, both ways!” Eve looks delighted at the notion though she doesn't mention what's going on with it because well.. she doesn't know herself. “Listen guys, we are more powerful than we realize!” Looking at the three of them in turn. “We have reinforcements coming if we need. The smaller the unit, the smaller the cracks we can slither into my dears.” Spreading her hands. “A hit!” going back to Luther’s earlier point. “I can't sit here while genocide, Adam and this shady power company wrecks havoc. I..” the oracle looks down back at her drawings, the one of the Gemini symbol staring back up at her. “I promise once I'm healed up. But for now, we need information! Sweet, sweet brain food. I can't do this alone,” and they know she will if they don't help. “I need you guys.”
Chess stands stony-faced, taking another swallow of the new glass’ contents somewhere in the midst of the discussion amongst the others.
“Not yet,” is her defiant — and not altogether honest — reply as to whether or not ‘Praxis’ hurt her. A new addition to her scar collection says otherwise, but it’s out of sight, and nothing compared to those inflicted on Alix. Luther knows it’s there but she trusts him not to call her out on the lie.
Her dark eyes flash to Luther again, before she speaks, a bit quietly. Unhappily. “I know someone who might know some things. I’ll see what they know about this Monroe asshole and what he’s planning. Or they might be able to find out.”
Alix’s ability is a useful one, after all.
“Recon only, then. And no going in solo.” This, Chess says firmly to their hostess.
Caution colors the man’s tone when Luther speaks next. “I’ve got a guy on Kaylee and her family. I trust him. And the whole team over at the campus. But we’re not equipped to handle Praxis alone.” Whether he means the Raytech security team or the gathered foursome here is left vague. He likely means both. The talk of Vincent and government assistance gains a skeptical, but believing look from the security chief. “He’s got good intentions,” he says, sliding a look at Chess like he means the reassurance is for her.
Much more alarming is the name dropped of Samson Gray. Luther sits bolt upright, alarm entering his stare at Eve. He stops shy of a swear, but pales like he saw a ghost of his past. Or that a monster has crawled out from the closet where he keeps his skeletons. The mention that he needs to protect Kaylee goes without saying, and he nods to it slowly as he recovers from the initial surprise of Samson being in town. And having hurt Eve, amongst other things. “And you,” he tells Eve, “need to take it easy before you wind up really hurt.” He doesn’t know the full extent of her injuries. He’s just glad that Eve isn’t dead in a well. And without her skull split open, brains scattered.
And speaking of brains, or rather brain food, he looks back and forth amongst Eve, Chess and then Monica. “Alright well. You’re all quite capable women,” he says after a beat. “Guess I get to be Bosley to you angels.” There’s a short humored look from him, and he reaches for the bottle to refill his glass.
Monica's attention on Praxis isn't elaborated on, but she smirks at Eve's grin.
It doesn't reach her eyes.
"Wow, Eve Mas reaching out to the government. It really is a new world." Once upon a time, that was not their interaction with government officials. Pretty much the opposite. "But— I'm sure they'd be just as eager to stop this before it really takes off if they believe you that it's a real threat."
At Eve's speech, impassioned as it is, Monica nods. "Small is good for this part. Infiltration and recon. When it's time to move, we can see how much of a force we can muster." If history is anything the judge by… they probably have a pretty sizable pool to draw from.
Luther gets a chuckle, because he is definitely the odd man out in this group. And because he definitely turned into the babysitter last time around, too. Poor old man.
“Don't judge me I know Cameron is rolling around in his grave.” It hurts to think of Cameron even all these years later but Eve waves a hand, “If they try to betray us… I've got an idea for that, but more on that later!”
Tying her dark brown hair up into a ponytail, she smokes the last of her joint and smashes it into the ashtray. “Well then! We have a plan. Boomer and Hot Hands go talk to your friend. Be discreet.” Her whisper exaggerated and her grin is still on heavy. It's like old times up in here and Eve is ecstatic. “Moni and I will sniff out something on Adam.”
Looking between the three of them, “When it's time. We’ll have the numbers.” Eve sounds sure of it, it's not like she's been going around lately warning people to get prepared for what's next. Which is something she doesn't have a very clear picture of yet.
“Who?” Chess says, when Luther says he’ll be Bosley, then shakes her head, finishing what’s left in her glass and bending to set it down on the table, before leaning back against the wall to listen to the others speak.
She huffs a short, breath of a laugh that’s more scoff than amusement at the word discreet, but she casts a look over to Luther. “I have an idea that’d require some governmental help. Because speaking of numbers, I’m a bit worried about some unknown quantities out there,” she nods to the door to indicate the wide world beyond.
“I’m not sure if they’d be any help in this giant war you’ve got brewing in your head,” that’s directed back at Eve, “but if I can find them, they at least deserve a head’s up.”
Luther blinks back at Chess, her question of who getting a pause from the man, then followed by a short sigh. Half amused, half indulging. Instead he merely nods at Monica’s chuckle. “Thank you,” he says to the lady who gets the image, and then to Chess waves a hand. “I’ll explain later.” If they get around to it, that is. Maybe over drinks.
He nods as well to the mention of an idea, although he quirks his head at the notion of government help. “We just need to reach out,” he says as he grabs his drink and tips back. “Discreetly.” Alright, Eve… you’ve got his axe. “Can we grab another bottle of this on the way out?” he adds, a lift of his glass indicative.
"I think he'd be proud, Eve. We changed the world," Monica says, genuinely. Because they finally managed it, turning the tide toward equality.
She forces past the moment by standing up and turning to the others. "Alright, I guess we all know what we're doing. Meet back here when we've got something?" She seems to assume that they'll agree to that plan, because she comes over to put her hands on Luther's shoulders. "Look, if you can walk up those stairs, the bottle'll be on me. But no stumbling." Or else he's cut off, is the implication. She looks over at Chess, shaking her head. Her war dad's in a state.
But one mountain a day.