What Are Your Intentions?


griffin_icon.gif warren_icon.gif

Scene Title What Are Your Intentions?
Synopsis Griffin tracks down his sister's suitor, and lays down a few rules for Warren with quite a bit of authority.
Date December 02, 2010

University Woods

Warren is taking a break from blueprints for once, sitting back on one of the naturally formed wooden benches in University Woods. He's in a long black trench coat with black suit pants, and a pair of brown boots, just watching as the plant life that hasn't been harvested dies for the winter.

Griffin has been watching Warren, ever since he caught his baby sister going out on a date with the man. The former Company man (only a possibility in the back of his mind, right now) turned terrorist is extraordinarily good at following someone without being detected. It's particularly easy when you have an ability that gives you greater access to hiding places.

And now that the fellow is alone, Griffin has decided to make his move. No sounds of footsteps betray Griffin's approach; in fact, his feet aren't even touching the ground as he makes his way up behind Warren, his glowing eyes focused on the back of the man's head. A dangerous look is writ across his face.

Suddenly, invisible hands are wrapping around the man's wrists and ankles, ensuring that he will not be getting up off of the bench any time soon. As those hands that shouldn't exist hold Warren tightly to the bench, Griffin drifts around him, and into view, easily landing on his feet before Warren. He scrutinizes the man in silence, for a long moment.

"What are your intentions with Mackenzie Marjorie Mihangle?" His voice sounds almost deathly calm as he asks this. No introduction needed.

Warren stares at his wrists and ankles, calmly assessing the situation. Panicking could mean death, depending on who's doing this. He doesn't struggle, he simply watches the man. There aren't really many people around due to the freezing weather. "I think she's a sweet woman, endearingly old fashioned, a gem in a city like this. Right now my intentions are to get to know her, while she teaches me to use my new arm with her piano lessons. And you are?"

A fairly suitable answer. The hands don't let go of Warren's wrists; they keep up on their task of keeping Warren restrained to the bench. There's a long moment of silence from the tall, hook-nosed man as he quietly examines Warren, his brows arching. "You're in no position to ask me questions. For the time being, you are the one answering my questions." His voice is still deathly calm, serene almost, but there's a definite edge to his words.

"Your name is Warren Ray. I know that much. What do you do for a living? Who do you work for?" He raises his brows, quietly watching Warren as he rubs his chin.

"I'm privately contracted to the government, I build for them, but I don't hold any position with them. I have my own motivations for doing what I do, but it's funding the group I'm putting together, so we can do things like this." Warren motions his head around the park. "We're repairing New York, very secretly and discreetly, so people will attribute to 'Evolved', instead of just one organization. I have deeper motivations, but all you need to know is that I'm working towards a world with Evolved equality, and intend to end the government's ability to do the things they do to us."

And suddenly, there is yet another invisible hand on Warren, this one carefully gripping his throat. He exhibits just enough pressure to let Warren know that he isn't joking around. Glowing white eyes narrow dangerously, though his voice remains calm and level. "Mmm, I don't think you fully comprehend this situation, Mr. Ray. This is the part where you are completely forthcoming with me about your ties to the government, and your deeper motivations that you do not think I need to know. Your life is literally in my hands right now, Mr. Ray. I can't recommend enough that you tell me everything."

He remains where he is, eyes glowing white in the darkness. "I pose no threat to you unless you make me into a threat, Mr. Ray. I have no intentions of bringing down any of your organizations or anything of the sort. But I do require more information from you before I can properly evaluate how worthy you are of dating my baby sister."

Warren takes a deep breath, something disguised as exasperation, but he's actually testing the pressure of the hand, and how well he can breathe. "I can respect that, I have baby sisters of my own, though I haven't met them, I have memories of a sister, so I know what it's like."

"That said, I know you're not working for the government, and they're, so far, the only threat to my plans." He's looking the man directly in the eye, not betraying what he may be thinking. He could be alarmed, he could be angry, who knows. He's using a damned good poker face right now. "The plan is long and complex, but essentially, I'm spreading a net throughout the entire government, a technological net. I suspect Rebel is dead, so there's a void that needs to be filled. But I intend to take it a step further, getting myself into a position where things like Moab won't happen without me knowing, and where I'll be able to immediately act, possibly preventing these things before they even get out of the planning stages."

The pressure is tight enough for Warren to know that Griffin can and will squeeze harder if he must, but loose enough that the man can still breathe. The lanky man watches in silence. "If you haven't met your sisters, then you can't quite understand what I mean, now, can you?" He arches those thick brows of his, watching Warren thoughtfully.

"Those sound all well and good, though your 'private contract' with the government is a sign for concern, considering the role my sister fills in a certain organization that we are both a part of." Griffin leans forward slightly, his eerily glowing eyes searching into Warren's own eyes, a brow raising. "However, if what you say is true, then I wish to be privy to your information. Consider it mutually beneficial that you inform me of your plans involving the government."

Then, suddenly, those invisible hands are gently pulling Warren's arms, stretching them out slightly uncomfortably, hinting that he would likely be more than happy to remove them from Warren, if the man tests his patience too much. And Griffin is leaning close, the hand at Warren's throat holding his chin just so, to ensure eye contact.

"I think that you have potential. I think that I will allow you to continue seeing my sister. But know this." He leans just a little closer, invading personal bubble space by now. "If you hurt my sister in any way, shape or form, I will gleefully remove your limbs one by one until all that is left is your head, and then I will remove that." He narrows his eyes. "If you are interested in my sister, you will treat her with utmost respect and like a true lady, and you will remain faithful to her. And while you might be able to deceive her, I can assure you that you can not deceive me. Are we one hundred percent clear?"

"Oh, I know exactly what it's like to have a sister, it's just that the one I remember may or may not have existed. Assuming that you're the brother from Moab, I can assure you that the government's done a lot more to me than simple imprisonment. I don't even know what kind of life I lived before seventeen, it's all false memories. The Company has attempted to control me and my ability since my birth, and I'm taking that control back." Warren winces slightly, eyes averting over to his left arm in particular, wiggling the fingers as his eyes flush with a completely mirror-like silver.

He seems to be trying to test it, to make sure, but he's quickly turning his attention back to Griffin. "If nothing else, I'm a man of my word. When I set up the original meeting with your sister, I didn't have any particular intentions other than practicing the use of my arm. But talking to her, I forget every problem in the world. I just think she's something I need right now, I don't intend to mistreat her, she seems like the last person in the world who deserves harm."

Testing seems to be the worst idea, and the grip on Warren's wrists suddenly tightens just a little more. The man's eyes are still narrowed to dangerous, glowing slits, and his arms are crossed over his wide chest. Quietly, he observes Warren for a very long moment, lifting his hand to thoughtfully tap at his chin as he peers at Warren.

"I am the 'brother from Moab', as it were, yes. And I can assure you, my situation is far worse than my naive little sister can even fathom for herself. Do not try to best me on bad situations. I will win." This is said calmly, the man's eyes narrowing just a little bit more.

"There are a few things you are to know before you date her. First of all, you know that I will know if you mess up, and I will hurt you, if not kill you, if you do. Don't ever assume that I'm not watching you." He pauses for a moment to let that sink in. "Second, she is not to know of this conversation. I have things that I must do, and her knowing of my continued existence is not conductive to those plans thus far. I will tell her about this on my time. If she finds out before I tell her, I might just have to remove your other arm so you're only using these." Another telekinetic hand thumps against Warren's metal arm, letting out a faint clang.

Then, finally, Griffin makes eye contact once more. "And there is something you must know about Owain. He is not her son. He is my son, come from my loins, and she has raised him when I couldn't be there for her. You are not to be exhibiting any influence over my son. Ever. Am I making myself completely understood?"

"You have my word that I won't tell her, and again, I have zero intention of hurting her. Is there any chance I could have your number, or a way to contact you?" Warren asks, and then there's the subject of her— or, well, his son. "I'm not exactly sure what you mean by influence, I don't remember being around many children, so that's kind of new for me. Though I'm open to the idea, obviously."

"I do not mind if you are around my son. But you are to be the guy that Marjorie is dating. No trying to be father, no trying to raise him, or I will ensure that you can have no children of your own." This is said in that calm tone, with a faint, dangerous smile. "Do not try to influence him. Leave the parenting to my sister. I will be paying attention."

Then, finally, those invisible hands let go of Warren's wrists and ankles. The one at his neck lingers for a few moments, as if Griffin is still having trouble deciding whether he wants to kill the man or not, before withdrawing as well. "You will give me your phone number, and I will keep in contact with you." He only allows certain people to have his prepaid phone number. Pericles Jones, Abigail Beauchamp, and Nadira Karim are the only ones who have the number, as of now.

Warren rubs his throat, inspects his wrists, then rolls his left sleeve up to reveal silvery reflective latex, similar to the way his eyes look. He can see something flexing under it, as if there are actually muscles. "I don't intend to influence your son, you don't have to worry. I don't know the first thing about parenting." He pulls the sleeve back down, then reaches into his pocket, offering a card that has his name, a number, and the words Shalegate Machine Factory on it.

The card promptly floats out of Warren's hand, and into Griffin's hand. The man peers quietly at the business card for a moment, his eyes casting light over its surface (he has his own built in reading lights); then, he places this into the breast pocket of his long wool coat. Glowing eyes turn back to Warren, and Griffin offers a smile that can only be described as being threatening while not being threatening.

"I am glad that we are on the same page, then, Mr. Ray. Whenever I am back in my sister's life and she introduces me to you, I expect you to pretend not to know me. Just make sure you remember this conversation, Mr. Ray, and remember that I do not joke around, especially when it comes to my sister's emotional well being. She has been through much, and as you said, she doesn't deserve to be hurt." He raises his brows, taking a step back from Warren.

"Your sister is a sweet woman, and there aren't many people she would be safer with." Warren stands, straightening his coat, then offers his gloved human hand. "Though you do come on a bit strong, I think most men would have been instantly scared off after today." he says with a slightly amused grin.

Griffin stares at Warren's hand quietly, promptly…not taking it. He instead turns those eerily glowing eyes up to Warren's face, brows arching in a nonplussed expression. "I will take you at your word, Mr. Ray. Don't break it." This is murmured in that same calm, even tone. "And usually, that is the intent." Warren is offered a begrudging look, like the lanky fellow still doesn't quite trust him.

"Really, I'm the last thing you need to worry about in this city. And I'm not going to put your sister in danger, I want to have something resembling normal with her." Warren holds up the left arm again, opening and closing the hand once more. "At least as normal as it gets with me. Thanks for the talk." He doesn't sound all that worried, perhaps because he plans to keep his word.

Griffin arches a brow. "We will see, Mr. Ray." His eyes go down to Warren's arm, then back up to the man's face. "Perhaps you can be the first who doesn't disappoint me." He makes it sound like there have been others. The hook-nosed man tips his head toward Warren in a nod, before turning. "I will keep in touch with you, Mr. Ray. Be prepared to inform me of your information regarding the government. Any information can certainly help."

Griffin doesn't leave time for a response. His feet lift off of the ground, and Griffin promptly flies over Warren's head, disappearing rather quickly into the remaining fall foliage.

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