Participants:
| Scene Title | Should Things Go South |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Chess asks for Huruma's help in giving someone a second chance. |
| Date | June 1, 2018 |
Part of Huruma's participation at the Benchmark in return for that bed is teaching there. For the most part she does certain lessons, here and there; today's is the typically fashioned self-defense course. She has a room to herself, save for the half dozen learners. The tail end of the lesson is upon them, a particularly lung-bashing attempt at showing them how to do proper shoulder throws and how to fall without getting hurt.
"Since I had to warn the last class, please do not practice on your fellow Benchmark patients without supervision." Goodness knows why the warning is there, as she holds the wide door open for them to exit. A few goodbyes and thank yous later, and Huruma is turning back to heft the mats back to the closet; her gear is not unusual for a gym, with the stretch of a sleeveless top and leggings that seem to cinch at the waist.
Waiting just outside the door and letting the students out before she enters, Chess huffs a soft laugh at the little reminder. Once the last of the students is out of the door, she enters — clearly not here for use of the gym equipment in her Converse, jeans, and leather jacket. She moves to pick up one of the mats and help up in the process.
"Hey," she says, in greeting. "I'm Chess. You're Huruma, yeah?" It's not like Huruma could easily be confused for anyone else at the Benchmark, but it's polite to ask, right? "Lynette suggested I talk to you," she adds, maybe to soften the introduction a bit.
Huruma has quite the batch of minds to follow throughout the building, but she never misses the ones that come up on her. She is rolling up and tying one of the mats when Chess comes in to assist, back to her at first.
"I am. 'Chess'. Is that a surname?" Huruma stands with the mat under her arm, pale eyes honing in without a hitch to land on the other woman's. "Lynette did?" There is definitely a softening to the 'who is asking' tone of her former words. "What can I do for you?"
The younger woman manages to get the mat she's brought over into the closet, before leaning against the wall nearby. "Just a nickname. I only use my full name when I have to," she says, dark eyes looking up to study Huruma's. "Still a bit paranoid. You probably understand."
From what she knows about Huruma, the woman definitely understand how she feels — whether or not the empath agrees or not is another issue.
"I have a situation you might be able to help out in. Someone who's not in control of their powers. They're dangerous — but it's not their fault."
This last is said almost sternly. The young woman practically radiates in her desire to protect the unnamed. Her chin lifts a little, as if ready to defy Huruma if the empath suggests something Chess isn't willing to do.
She adds, a little more gently, "Lynette said maybe you'd be able to help him."
Huruma takes her time in putting the mats away, content to keep Chess in her peripheral vision for a short time. When she studies Huruma from her place on the wall, Huruma returns it with a brief dissection of Chess' person. The sweep of her field extends freely to study her from the inside as well.
Lack of control, dangerous, not at fault. No wonder Lynette steered her here.
"I may. Be able." Huruma closes the closet and pulls a key from her back pocket to lock it. "You need not be ready to fight me for it, either." This comes with the click of the door and the dark woman lifting her face to Chess in a sharp smile. "Either I can or I can't. What does he do?"
Chess exhales in a bit of a laugh at Huruma's reprimand, glancing down with the hint of an apologetic smile. The demure gesture is feigned and fleeting, though the apology that accompanies it reads as sincere. "Sorry," is as quickly murmured before she bails out of that to focus on the more pressing problem rather than her own set of baggage.
"Honestly, I'm not sure. Illusions? I didn't see anything, but Luther and Eve saw things I didn't, things that scared the shit out of them. This guy… he was stuck in a bunker and killed everyone but one person. The bodies… they looked scared. Horrified, honestly. I think he pretty much scared them to death." Chess hesitates, glancing at the door, then back to Huruma. "I've never seen Luther cry," she adds quietly. Like that was scarier than all of the rest of what the trio endured in that bunker.
For Chess, it was.
For an empath, telling feint from truth is considerably easier. Huruma tucks her keyring away, attention on Chess and her information.
"Was it unintentional? The killing? Or did he murder them?" The answer will give Huruma a plan for step one, if she does this. "It is actually not as hard as people think to scare others to death…"
Mention of Luther's emotional state on meeting this person brings a dip to Huruma's brow. "Bellamy, yes?"
Chess shrugs. "I haven't fully interrogated him because I want him to trust me. From what I gathered, he manifested in the bunker — didn't even think he was expressive so it was a huge surprise and he was scared and I think it just got out of control. That he was scared so they were scared. He didn't resist coming with us and he seemed sorry. But…" she nods to the tall woman, "I guess you'll be able to tell if he's lying or not. If you can get close enough and not get all his defenses thrown at you."
The question about Luther earns Huruma a nod. "Yeah. He's… basically my family. We fought in the war together. You did too, I think, yeah?" She's heard of the woman, and now seeing her, the name and reputation click together.
The unfortunate tale of the bunker is just that. Unfortunate. Many people sought safety and many never got it. Looks like even those who did weren't safe. Huruma purses her lips, memory shuffling back through a number of things she has seen with similar endings.
"Yes. I took part in several major events, as well… Wolfhound now." Huruma crosses her arms loosely, brow pinching once more. "So he does have a range, which was one of my other questions. Where is he now?"
"Yeah, he has a range. When Eve and Luther went out to the hallway, they stopped seeing things, so I think it's maybe the size of this room or so," Chess says, glancing to the doorway and back to Huruma. "He's out in Red Hook. Close to the underpass. I didn't lock him up, but no one really goes that way so if he's still there, I think he really wants the help. If he left, well." Chess shakes her head. All bets are off, if that happens, clearly. And Chess will be the first in line to reel him in.
"Don't tell him you're with Wolfhound, yeah? That's more intimidating than SESA," she suggests, a smirk curving one corner of her mouth upward.
Huruma looks around when Chess guesses range, shifting and stepping into the middle to study it. "Smaller side, then…" She murmurs, barely audible.
"If he is remorseful he will avoid people." Huruma tests the reach of the room with her own field, having to contract it by a great deal before it braces itself against these four walls. Pupils contract too, when she looks back to Chess. "He is no war criminal." She blinks slowly and amends it. "Probably. But fine… that is fair."
Chess lifts a shoulder. "He probably doesn't know what either of those are," she says, wrapping fingers around the strap of the courier bag on the opposite shoulder. "I think he is. I want to believe he is, but…" she shrugs again. "You can't always trust people to do the right thing. I just don't want him locked up for something that might not have been his fault. He's already served his time, you know? He's a kicked dog."
She glances to the door, then back to Huruma. "You want me to bring him here or would you rather go to him? If he's gone, I'll get word to you so you don't waste the trip."
"Second chances happen to be my forte." There is no elaboration, but Huruma's reputation precedes her as a ferocious one. Chess can likely put things together from that.
"Mmm. I will come to him." She looks to the door as well, then lifts her gaze in an upward sweep. "The people here tend to be troubled, or damaged. I will not put Lynette's facility at risk. You understand, hm?"
"Good," says Chess with a smile regarding second chances, then nods at the choice to go to Jibram instead of the other way around. "I was hoping you would say that. I'm somehow not affected but taking him through more populated streets to get here doesn't sound like a smart move. I just didn't want to assume you would come to us," she says, lifting a shoulder again, before reaching into her bag and pulling out a notepad and pen.
She scrawls for a few seconds, before tearing off the page and handing it to Huruma — directions with a tiny map, an arrow pointing to van to indicate that's where they'll be found. "Tomorrow at noon? I'll get word to you if he's flown the coop. I might need your help to find him if that's the case." Her expression is grim at that thought. Hopefully his desire to be helped is an earnest one.
"I am an excellent hound, if that is the case." Huruma lifts her eyes from the map in her hand, lips curling into a smile. "If you are not affected you will be invaluable when I come there. So be ready should things go south…" She folds the paper and tucks it away with her keys. "I have done this enough times before that I usually know what to expect, but mankind can still be surprise me."
"I'm always ready for things to go south," says Chess with a self-deprecating smirk. It's not a bad quality to have, but somehow she knows it's also not what someone wants for their defining character trait. "I'll see you then." She pushes off the wall to make her way toward the door, before pausing and glancing back.
"Thanks. And it's really nice to meet you, in person and all."
One soldier to another.