Participants:
| Scene Title | Potential Future Distractions |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Taking a break from their assignment, Warren and Gillian discover they compliment each other's fetishes in interesting ways. |
| Date | October 15, 2010 |
Once upon a time, the New York Public Library was one of the most important libraries in America. The system, of which this branch was the center, was among the foremost lending libraries /and/ research libraries in the world.
The bomb changed that, as it changed so much else.
By virtue of distance, the library building was not demolished entirely, like so many others north of it; however, the walls on its northern side have been badly damaged, and their stability is suspect. The interior is a shambles, tattered books strewn about the chambers and halls, many shelves pulled over. Some have even been pulled apart; piles of char in some corners suggest some of their pieces, as well as some of the books, have been used to fuel fires for people who sought shelter here in the past.
In the two years since the bomb, the library — despite being one of the icons of New York City — has been left to decay. The wind whistles through shattered windows, broken by either the blast-front or subsequent vandals, carrying dust and debris in with it. Rats, cats, and stray dogs often seek shelter within its walls, especially on cold nights. Between the fear of radiation and the lack of funds, recovery of the library is on indefinite hiatus; this place, too, has been forgotten.
They've been working hard all morning in the library. He's been constructing some sort of prototype jammer, with three different televisions set up, and a few radios, all of them on different stations. The jammer is a dish antenna, combined with a few others, and hooked into some sort of box that she saw used to be a few radios before he started ripping things apart and stuffing other things in. "Alright, time to test this quick prototype, so I'll have an idea of this thing working." He's in his tanktop and jeans again, which seems to generally be his work clothes, with Gillian standing behind him while he looks down at a few switches with his silvery eyes, then flicks them.
The radio broadcasts begin to jam, then the television pictures scramble, all except at least one. "That was pretty good for a first try, but we'll need better parts."
There's smears of grease and dirt on Gillian's clothes in certain places, and, cutely enough, on the tip of her nose. Transfered from one of her hands as she scratched an itch while she was waiting for him to try his television jammer. "I figure we won't get a lot of progress until we get the techopath here to help out with the digital stuff. Luckily so many radio stations are going digital, so we have better access— or at least I think we do."
Maybe she should go to the library and check out some books— a library that isn't presently rubble, at least. "Even if we only stop half the broadcast, we'd still be saving a lot of lives. Something good should come out of that fucking flash, considering how many people it hurt." Those involved in creating it. Those injured when hundreds and thousands of people suddenly fell unconscious for a minute or so.
"We'll stop this, I promise. I won't let anyone die, there's too much death, too much suffering, and I know it's within my power to stop it all." Warren says this all quite seriously, and with pure conviction in his voice. Standing up, he turns to face her and raises a gloved hand to gently rub the tip of her nose, looking down at her. "If all else fails, there are drastic measures to take, but they could destroy the city's communication infrastructure, so I'd rather not have to resort to that."
As his glove touches her nose, Gillian's eyes briefly close, almost fluttering when they open again, lashes looking longer all of a sudden. "You seem pretty noble," she says, leaving out the punchline of: for a psychopathic gang leader. Maybe Cardinal was wrong, or maybe the mind-wipe really changed everything about who the man is now— "Let's try not to destroy the city worse than it is," she says, lips tugging into a smile, that causes dimples to form. "Did you see anything back when it happened? Or were you one of the lucky ones who doesn't have to deal with a snippet of their own future?"
"I saw something, I just can't remember it." Warren takes her hand as his eyes lose their mirror-like appearance, and return to their blues, then starts heading out to the books. "Come on, I need a break, let's see what books they have. I can't believe Cardinal stayed here and they didn't bother fixing up the books."
"I did work on that for a while, actually," Gillian says, moving along after him, squeezing his hand as she goes, to make sure she doesn't get too far behind. "Back before Cardinal was even staying here— it's weird— the first time I met your dad was the first time I found out about this place. It was around Christmas. Two years ago this Christmas— he mentioned it. Pointedly. I think he knew I'd check it out if he brought it up. It's where he was staying, back when he was helping us— Phoenix— stop a viral outbreak from happening."
He doesn't remember— that's sad. But she tries to keep up. "I spent days searching the stacks for what books were salvagable— I haven't had a chance since the melt, though. With all the snow we got here, I don't think many of the books survived the flooding that followed after."
"When we're done with the jammers, when all of this is over, we should work to make this place better. Both of us." Warren stops at a shelf, where some of the books on the shelves that still stand survived the flood, looking up at them. "Imagine, the orphans the bomb left behind, the teenagers with people like the Ferrymen who aren't registered. This could be like… an underground learning facility."
"That's a noble idea, but I don't really expect this place will be able to be held very much longer— I'm honestly surprised the government hasn't tried to weed us out of here yet as it is," Gillian says, voice softened to that raspy whisper that he liked so much. Most people probably wouldn't call Warren noble, but most people probably never talk to him like this. "I know you got those spider sentries, and you can probably hold it from a small invasion, but— once they start deciding to rebuild Midtown, I don't think this place will be that safe. I'd love to make a school for the orphans— and those who were forced into hiding, though…"
"I have a friend who's a plant manipulator, she can force plants to grow, any kind that she has in her possession. I think if you combine your abilities, you could create some real miracles in the city." Warren randomly decides to mention as he pulls a book from the shelf; Oliver Twist. "With some workers and a place to do it, I could probably help make a very nice school. I can't be in a million places at once, but with the right blueprints, other people can do what I can do."
"A person who can grow plants, huh— I can imagine that would be useful," Gillian says, touching the book of Oliver Twist as if testing the binding. "Maybe the water damage wasn't as bad as I feared, but it's still not in perfect shape— it'd be thrown out of any other library… Maybe we should get boxes and gather up all the usable books. Even if we can't use here for a school, it doesn't mean we can't get these books to people who would appreciate them."
"I think that'd be a great project after we finish." Warren says as he simply hands the book over to her, running fingers along the backs of books while they walk through the shelves. "I know for sure I never knew you, before I lost my memories."
"Yeah, we never met. I don't have holes in my memory, and I would remember," Gillian says, offering him a smile, as she opens the book to check the pages for damage. The binding is fragile, from all the exposure to the elements, but it the pages don't stick together too much. "I like who you are now, though," she adds, in the middle of her examination of the book, rather than looking back up at him. "You're certainly less of an ass than your dad."
"I feel like everyone has a different impression when it comes to him. I've never known him. But I know, if I met you before my memory loss, there's no way I'd have simply stopped speaking to you. You're a librarian, or were, and that's a kind of 'thing' with me." Warren laughs, his eyes flushing silvery to look down at the book and get a closer idea of how damaged it is. "Even if he's not a nice person, I'd like to have at least one conversation with him."
"Are you saying you have a librarian fetish?" Gillian asks, looking back up with a rather coy expression on her face. A tug on her lips into a grin, a small hike in her eyebrows that seems rather teasing. "I hope you have the chance. I never got to know my parents either— and I had to travel back in time to meet them. I hope you don't have to do that to talk to yours, though."
"Time travel? The world just gets stranger." As for Gillian's other question, Warren just sort of slides his hands into his pockets, going quiet for a few seconds, then just answers with a, "Maybe."
"It's okay— I have a fetish for slightly broken men who are trying to make the world a little better, whether they admit it or not," Gillian says with a flirtatious wink, leaving out that she also likes men with more blood on their hands than one man should ever have to have— but that's for another day. "We also have to meet this plant person you mentioned. Maybe we can restore some of the parks that never quite recovered from the bomb or the Blizzard."
"I, well… Lucky me then." Warren doesn't often get flustered, but he does clear his throat after that, quickly moving on to the parks as he tries to regain his composure. "That's what I was thinking, we could reconstruct the parks, have apple and orange trees, grape vines, get entire gardens going so the communities have a group project to work on. And I know a speedster who could clean up the trash in a second so children have space to run around and play."
"With fruit trees we can give people food come the summer— I'm not sure how natural plants would stand up to a New York winter, even if we avoid having one as bad as last year, but we can definitely sow the seeds." Gillian sticks with business at first, but as she puts the book away back on the shelf, she adds on, "We should keep our relationship professional, or else we may get distracted and fail to stop the broadcast," Gillian says, though there's something in her smile that shows she may consider not keeping it professional… If she had better luck with men. "My luck with men you'd die in a few months later, or try to kill me. One or the other. Or both. Probably both." And none of this is something she wants to go through again.
"I'm not going to die, I always come close from what I hear, but I'm like a cockroach. I'm not going to try to kill you, or anyone else unless they deserve it, that's something Cardinal's going to make sure never happens. And lastly, if I were even considering sleeping with you, I intended to wait until after we stop the broadcast. Well, intended to except a small window about ten minutes ago." Warren seems fairly unphased by everything she says, almost as if it's something he expected and came with a fully prepared speech. After that, he switches right back to the fruit. "Sowing the seeds and teaching people to take care of what they have, I think that's mainly what we should worry about for now, with the parks."
"Okay," Gillian speaks softly, taking a step closer to him, and even touching his chest with her hand. If he'd been fairly unphased, she seems determined to phase him again. Perhaps all this talk of being a cockroach struck another nerve somewhere— but either way… "Once we get the jammer working, and running, on November the Eighth— we should celebrate. It'd have to be a better memory than what I saw in my flash."
Warren looks down at her hand, swallowing audibly, but otherwise having enough restraint to keep his composure. "I agree, and we'll succeed, I know it. Just… do a favor for me? Don't augment me, unless it's an absolute last resort, don't do it. A thought recently occurred to me. Over time, my mind has a tendency to unravel mental alterations, and I think augmenting me might accelerate that. I don't want to take chances until a telepath has taken a look at my mind."
"I already have instructions not to, actually," Gillian says, letting her hand drop away, and putting some distance between them. It seems she enjoyed throwing him slightly off-guard, even if he was able to maintain his composure. It isn't often she gets the chance to. "So I won't be augmenting you on purpose unless I absolutely have to."
Warren sighs, raising a hand to his chest. Slooow down heart! "Let's get back to work, there's a lot of testing to do today, then I have to go reverse engineer a giant crab robot."
"Right-o," Gillian says, with a teasing tone to her husky voice, as she makes a kind of fake salute before she turns away and begins to walk back to the work area. While she walks, he doesn't see the smile creeping back onto her face, nor can he know that she's making mental notes to avoid revealing tops— until they get the job done, at least.
