The Man On The Moon


adam_icon.gif huruma_icon.gif michaelgreen_icon.gif

Scene Title The Man On The Moon
Synopsis Adam and Huruma go over the cooks in the kitchen; he also has a confession or two, and speechlessness does not become her.
Date June 9, 2009

The Greenbelt

Even with so much space tucked into the city, a trip to the greener parts of Staten is one of few things for Huruma; in this case, it is simply serving as a meeting place at the end of today. The thin layer of clouds is fading orange, and the light off of the trees is slowly becoming colder. The breeze still remains, and rustles through the edge of trees close to the line of houses that Huruma moves past, heading for the far end of the block, and the trail through woodland beyond.

Even in these less comforting weeks on suburban Staten Island, Huruma's presence is noticable- mainly because she seems to be doing very little to try and hide her intentions. For all anybody could guess, she is taking a walk. A walk in a usual outfit made of black sheen and the tiny glints of metal here and there. Huruma has her eyes up towards the sky; though stars aren't accustomed to being out over the city, the moon is a swollen dollop of ivory.

Adam has been different lately, which Huruma is sure to have noticed. He's been training incessantly. He practices with his sword, with other martial weapons, he practices Judo without an opponent, he shoots guns when he's able. He'll study languages and he's even been found dancing. And his driving vengeance? He's been quiet about that lately, there's been a significant ennui about it. Right now, he's sitting on a bench that appears to have been left out after some of the owners no longer felt that living on Staten island was an option. He's looking out over trees with no apparent purpose and when Huruma approaches, he speaks in Swahili, which has gotten remarkably good, "I'm older than these trees."

Adam was locked away for thirty years. For any man, that is a long time- it is always the same twenty-four hour days, immortal or not, yes? Huruma finds herself not particularly interested in his lack of drive to avenge those years after a time, figuring that it simply makes sense; instead, she is more keen on seeing him interact with a world that he did not see sprout out of relative dust. Whether this has something to do with his waning fervor, she is not quite certain. But for now, as told by one of his newest languages, Huruma has been trying her best to appease his interests.

"«I am sure there are a few tucked away that may think otherwise.»" Huruma hovers near the bench, eyes casting to the seat in a moment of thought. A mortal faces mortality, but it is rare for a relative immortal to actually face immortality like a mortal faces his. Hmm.

Huruma can feel a few presences nearby. Goons Adam has employed since he started recruiting. Their names unimportant save Michael, whom Adam has taken to using as his number one gopher, driving him about when necessary. If Huruma is his right hand, Michael is his left, or maybe a thumb or a pinkie. At any rate, Adam turns to Huruma and sucks some air between his teeth, "Tell me about the shadow organizations running about. I know Pariah is dead and Helena Dean has made the presence of Phoenix all too apparent. What else is around here?" he asks. This time in English, though lately he has been wont to slip in and out of languages.

"Humanis, obviously…" She begins, shifting to sit down on the bench with considerable lightness. "…I am thinking tha'they will certainly b'coming t'blows with Phoenix soon." Huruma cants her head. That was obvious too, hm? "The crime families… the triad…" Her fingers lift, ticking off factions with tapping fingertips to her lap. "I'ave no'eard from them in some time, but-"

At this she does lean closer, eyes flicking to look past Adam's shoulder. "-I'ave done work for a group tha'operates very far under th'radar. Th'painting with your father Petrelli in it? I had stolen it for them…" It remains in her possession simply because she has nothing to do with it.

Adam ahs, "Yes, I recall you telling me about it. I haven't seen it yet though…I suppose we got sidetracked." he pauses, "Although, paintings seem to sprout like weeds around here." his mind briefly drifting to a wedding painting. He shakes his head, "Tell me about this mysterious group of yours. Who else is in it? For that matter…who else is in Phoenix? I know some of the operatives, I assume most of the people we met in the subway tunnel are part of them." he pauses, "They strike me as children. I just saw this cartoon that was apparently popular while I was away…Scooby Doo?" he chuckles, "Like that. They're like that."

"They do." Huruma agrees quickly, not lost on the fact that precogs apparently like to paint. And as Adam goes on to describe Phoenix as the Scooby Gang, her lips curve up into a laugh, and she leans back against the bench. "They are."

"Quite a number of young women." Some of which she met briefly when staging the escape of some prisoners, but not much beyond that. "Their numbers are rife with young evolved, though I believe some are not. Per'aps it would not be a bad idea t'find out more about them, even knowing they are children." Just a suggestion, before the dark woman moves on, eyes following something in the dark. "Shedda Dinu. Organized by a rich, guarded man tha'once supported PARIAH from the background. I am no'usually aware o'other operatives until I must work with them…" Which is partially true, and partially incomplete. The airwaves there have been silent since… well. Since a very good mark was taken down.

Adam nods a bit as he contemplates this. Then he moves into Swahili again, "«Well…do try and keep me updated, I suppose.»" he's quiet for the moment, just watching those trees before he says, "«Perhaps we shall feel around the edges of Phoenix, see what they can offer, what part they will play in this large game. Do you know any past Helena Dean?»" he questions. "«That large man..»" he closes his eyes as he tries to think, "«Teo…I assume he's one.»"

Judging by the short huff of air, Huruma does not care for him much. Or most of the random faces she can pull from memory. "«A couple of the hands… but Helena is the only one I have actually met with.»" And goodness, that was some time ago. Maybe it is just due time for a visit. At least Huruma seems intent on assuring Adam that Helena is somewhat capable. "«If we were wanting to find out where the children stand, she would know.»"

Adam continues with the Swahili, "Well, see if you can find her. I'm interested in knowing what they're doing. Or at least, where they stand." he purses his lips, "I'm also looking to fortify our own group." he says, "We've some members, but their allegiance is spotty in some ways. I don't know how much I trust Cardinal or Jake…they are useful, but useful and trustworthy aren't the same thing." he pauses, "I'm working on getting younger ones…some who might be more reliable, it's especially helpful if they aren't just there for the money..which reminds me…there's a name that's been passed along the grapevine. A man by the name of Ashley Williams…one of the Moab escapees…I wonder, might you feel him out? See how useful he might be? See if he has any real worth for us."

"Jake seems to be the more likely to follow the money trail. I do not find Cardinal very assuring- I got some spotty feedback from him during the trip. And his little girl too." Yes, she could have said something then- but he was the one flying the plane. Huruma tilts her head back, the tiny swinging of silver earrings glinting from what light is being left behind. "Mmmhm. I am …very curious about Moab. What happened there." One more thing to ask Helena about, right? And look for this Williams. As for the younglings- "I wonder if Phoenix will no longer be the only one with a fulltime roster full of young women." Which is a source of amusement, apparently.

Adam tilts his head thoughtfully, "Perhaps." he says in reply, "But men tend to be unreliable. Too set on trying to make themselves the top. Unable to follow orders." he shrugs, "I'll take an army of women who I can trust over an army of men who I have to continually worry about their loyalties." he leans back in his seat, an arm sliding along the back of the bench, "The truth is, New York City is just not the most suitable place to build an army. Too many people thinking themselves the hero. And if not that, then they fifnd themselves unable to grasp the meaning of fellowship and loyalty." he shakes his head, "That's why I prefer them young. Get them before their egos get too big." he's quiet a moment, "I'm going to be looking for some of my children." he announces.

Huruma says nothing on the topic of an army of women over an army of men- generally, silence from her side is an agreement, and Adam very likely knows this. Huruma knows it very well, on a personal note; gaggles of girls living on the streets are generally more productive. Lord of the Flies, for sure.

"The hardest individuals to find are very likely worth the most trouble. There may not be numbers here, but there are gems in between the pebbles." And she is ready to note something else when Adam confides the last portion of his words to her. The calm on her face melts away, and a certain tightness to the lines of her lips and the steeling of her eyes betrays a reluctance in thinking about the subject going from 'turn'em while young' to 'blood relatives'.

"Mmm." What did he expect her to say, really? The noise doesn't seem to be partial either way- because it is only a noise. Huruma heard him, but any real answer is stuck behind her lips.

Adam doesn't really add more to it after that. He remains quiet as he studies the trees for a few moments longer. Finally, he stands from the bench and says, "We also need two things. A lair. Which I'm sure you know.." he pauses, "And somewhere we can encourage the rest to meet. I'll wager Old Lucy's has been used as a meeting place for some…I've no doubt this…Logan?" he shrugs as if he doesn't care if that's the man's name or not, "Uses the Happy Dagger to organize." he purses his lips, "He need something…something that won't get raided…we must keep our eyes out. Maybe I'll send Michael on that errand." then he says to Huruma, ,"What do you want us to do?"

"Shedda has used Lucy's in the past. I may leave my place there. Many unsavories floating about…" Though part of her thinks that it would be exactly the same as before. Her chasing people out while she goes in for a drink. Huruma's voice is somewhat more clipped now, but only just enough to be noticed. "Something hidden?" A lair indeed. "Do you not have several new ventures as potential meeting places?" Questions are at a minimum at first, though inside her brain she is going over what parts of the Staten Greenbelt she has yet to investigate thoroughly. What parts to double check.

And only after another pause and her own standing from the bench comes a better reply to what Adam said moments before. Finding his children? "…Why?" Well, not much better.

Adam hmms, "Indeed." he says to the first few sets of inquiries. "I bought a bar. Biddy Flannigans. And for some things, that will be a wonderful place to sit down. However, should things come to coordinating any plans…I'm not sure that'll be the best atmosphere. We'll have to see. I also have to find the right staff for it. Need to make sure I have people I can trust there.." then at the why questions, he looks thoughtful before he says, "Because…perhaps I've looked at it all wrong. Maybe, I've let those children fall by the wayside when I should have been uniting them." he considers, "Perhaps, when I'm done, we'll have an entire army united by a single bloodline…or perhaps, I just want to remember what it feels like." he shrugs, ,"You'll still back me, won't you?"

"I will scout around for places…" Though she would not say it out loud right now, Huruma knows too well that blood is thicker than water. Or in this case, thicker than a wad of bills. She stands quietly, fingers of one hand clenching at her palm. "Remember what family feels like?" Just a tad bitter, by the sound. Now seems to be one of those few times that Huruma can actually feel Adam's age in his words, and for a moment or three she feels slightly childish herself.

Back him? God has pointed her onto this path. And made sure she knew so many times by tonight. "Yes."

Adam nods a bit to that. "The truth is, Huruma, you are all the family I have had for quite some time." he sounds distant. He looks as if he is about to say something else but then shakes his head, "Come…I'll have Michael drive us somewhere, I'm tired of these trees." he says, "I should cut them down for thier insolence." he says half heartedly.

Poor trees. They didn't even do anything to deserve such passive ire, did they? Huruma bows her chin slightly, eyes lidding to watch Adam as he shakes off his thoughts. It has been a long time since anyone called her family, even if by comparison. She says nothing once again, her affirmation coming by silence as she moves to seemingly walk past the immortal- though she never does- instead, she pauses near him, one arm hanging close to- moreso up against- his. "There are better things to save your energy for. Leave the trees."

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