OOC: Log.
I've had a play to stage-manage all weekend, so this log's old. It took place on Thursday.
Greenwich Village
A maze of narrow, crooked lanes offset from the gridwork roads and blocks of the rest of Manhattan, Greenwich Village is unique, and artistic. Trendy cafe's and shops line the streets along with SoHo-like lofts and off-Broadway theaters that attract thousands every year to one of the brighter points of New York. The actor, the artist, the musician...all can find some comfort here among the twisted jungle of modernization of Greenwich. Even the occasional occult shop is tossed in among the restaurants and the mix, or a low-key nightclub.
[Exits : [T]he [B]ay [H]orse, [H]ead [L]ike a [H]ole, [W]ee [B]ook [I]nn, [B]ad [A]ss [C]offee, [Sub]way, [S]o[H]o, [G]reenwich [A]partments, [S]weet [B]asil, and [Ch]inatown ]
[Players : Quinn ]
Stryker exits the Greenwich Apartments slowly, stepping onto the sidewalk as soon as a few of the stray pedestrians have gone by. He turns and begins heading down the sidewalk towards the corner, bearing a few flyers of some sort in his left hand. His right hand holds a black cane with a stylized silver knob, which he leans on slightly to walk with. He looks a little more shellshocked than usual, but retains his quiet determination.
And who should be walking the opposite way of Stryker but Quinn Swan - just another face in the crowd. She hums along to the J-Pop that blasts from the headphones that connect to the little pink i-pod on her belt. She hops along to it, bouncing and jiving - and this is her not even in a good mood, this is Quinn being apathetic! She twirls around some random person with some fancy footwork, causing them to lose balance and curse a little bit at her - but she doesn't stop walking and certianly couldn't hear a word of it. Once she's a safe distance away from him she produces a nice looking leather-bound wallet. Now where did she get that? She empties it of it's paper content and discards it just as fast as she produced it, tucking the money she found in her backpocket and continueing to dance long.
Stryker continues walking along, paying no heed to the asian girl, save for a momentary sneer of contempt as she executes the oblivious dancing. He reaches the bookstore and stops for a moment, taking his eyes from Quinn to peruse the window, checking for any new books of interest to him. In his distraction, his left hand relaxes slightly, and the flyers drop almost soundlessly. 'Mutants are Animals!' is emblazoned brightly on the topmost flyer, and similar disparaging messages are sure to be present on the others. Stryker doesn't notice this and continues on after making sure he didn't need to buy a book.
Quinn immediatly clicks off her music, "Oh! Sir!", bending to help the old man pick up the papers without even giving a second thought - she might be a theif but she only steals to live... otherwise she's a perfectly nice young lady. She gathers them all up before they can be blown away or stepped on and pops back up, "Here you go, you dropped there..." She chimes, still not having looked at the papers.
Stryker turns suddenly, a faint note of fear in his eyes. He sighs in relief when he sees the girl holding out the flyers, and he reaches out to take them gratefully. "Thank you, miss. I appreciate you picking them up. I doubt I could get further copies." Something's wrong - Stryker's not quite his normal self. He seems older, more subdued, and more than a little jittery. As he takes the papers, his and Quinn's hands touch for a brief moment.
Quinn holds the papers tighter, just staring at the man's face and a tint of fear showing itself in her eyes, "Well I have nothing better to do..." She speaks softly, carefully, "Maybe I should hold onto them for you until you get to your destination..." She bats her eyes, "Wouldn't want you to drop them again." It's obvious she's concentrating somehow, her stare becoming quite intense, daring.
Stryker blinks for a moment as the young woman's face assumes a steeled edge. Glancing down at the flyers, then back to the girl's face, his eyes widen as he puts two and two together. He begins urgently attempting to jerk the papers from Quinn's grasp. "I'd really rather you not go to the trouble, I hate to be a bother." He states, trying and failing to break eye contact.
Quinn bats her eyes and shaking her head, making sure her words are all articulate, "Oh, no, but I insist, Mr. Stryker." Her pouty lips curve into a forced smile, "It would be my pleasure to accompany you..." She refuses to let go of the papers, not caring if they rip. She, of course, doesn't quite measure the magnitude of what she is provoking, just wanting to see why exactly he could feel such hatred for mutants... and of course, naively, thinking that she might be able to change his mind. Not to mention he's scared and she feels powerful right now.
Stryker reluctantly lets go of the papers. He decides to feign surprise, but when people generally respond badly to him, they're either Mutant Rights lobbyists, or mutants themselves. "How did you know-" He flusters. "Oh, I suppose it's not important. I'm headed for St. James. Is that much out of your way, miss...?" He holds off, looking at her expectantly.
Quinn smiles weakly, shrugging a little and obviously not expecting to have him give up so easily. "No... not at all.." She chimes, moving to walk beside him, clutching the papers to her chest, "May I ask you a question, Mr. Styker?" She requests, turning to glance at him, "Oh..." She holds out a hand for him to shake, "I'm Quinn. Quinn Beatrice Swan." Of course she's going to introduce herself properly, she might be rude but she's not that rude... not yet anyway... she still has too much faith in the human race, yet.
Stryker refuses to acknowledge the proffered hand, since he's starting to bounce theories off in his head, and telepath is certainly one of them. He turns a corner and glances over to the girl following him. "Pleased to meet you, miss Swan. I do apologize if I am inconveniencing you, you don't need to do this if you'd rather be somewhere else."
Quinn hmfs a little to herself, blushing and returning the hand to the papers, "Why don't you like mutants?" She asks, hopping a little to keep up with Stryker. She narrows her eyes a little to the man, regretting having told him his own name... seeing as how he obviously not believes her to be a mutant...
Stryker blanches at the very direct question. "I...have my reasons. For example, a telepath who gets into peoples' heads without their permission?" He raises an eyebrow pointedly at her, frowning. He walks quickly across a busy street and points to a large cathedral. "Here's my stop. Are you coming inside, or would you prefer to leave?"
Quinn bats her eyes, tilting her head and shaking it a little, "Oh, I'm not a telepath, Mr. Stryker..." She widens her eyes slightly, "You're just not very low profile." She tilts her head the other way, "Would you like me to come with you...?" She asks, raising her eyebrows, "I'd like to speak with you more...."
Stryker smiles. "Dear, I'm not accusing you of being a telepath, merely pointing out a dangerous example." He starts for the church, cane clicking on the sidewalk with every other step. "You can come with me if you'd like, miss Swan. I'm going to meet a friend of mine, but you're more than welcome to tag along." He pauses to look back at her and grin a little. "I'm very flattered you've heard of me, by the way. I'm not so popular these days."
Quinn follows up, of course, "You shouldn't be." She says quietly, "Thus far, I haven't heard many /flattering/ things." Of course, she means from the man's own mind. She moves in front of him a few quick steps, opening the door of the church for him - he might be a bastard but he's old and she's polite. She waits for him to make his way over to the door, "What's so dangerous about that example?" She asks innocently, prepared to follow closely behind him as he enters, glancing around for that priest...
St. James Cathedral
Like so many of the other churches and cathedrals in New York, this one seems to have planted smack dab in the middle of the city's twenty-four hour bustle, like an ancient, stoic sentinel watching over the younger buildings in its vicinity. St. James seems to be no exception. Built from the traditionally simple stone and mortar, this aged structure obviously has quite a few years of weight resting upon its shoulders, but someone is doing a remarkably good job of upkeep. Inside, the cathedral is dark and vast and somber, the arched ceiling disappearing up into the shadows of the rafters, while across the walls fading murals of scenes from the Bible have been painted. The pews are beginning to fall apart here and there, but the flagstone aisles are neatly swept. Throughout the various alcoves and hallways, the comforting glow of candlelight is ubiquitous, the many votive stands always seeming to have at least one of their charges faithfully a'gleam.
[Exits : [T]o the [R]oof, and [Out]side ]
Stryker walks into the cathedral, tactfully ignoring the comment she makes. Walking slowly down the center aisle of the church to the pulpit, he calls out, "Father McAllister? Are you about?" The man turns apologetically to Quinn and shrugs. "It will be a moment, I think, since he's a busy man, but it shouldn't be too much longer. Thank you, I suppose, for coming this far with me."
Quinn bats her eyes, holding out the papers to him after following him farther into the church, "I feel sorry for you, Mr. Stryker. You're a sad biggoted old man. ... We aren't all bad." She shakes her head a little, "And I fear you'll die before you ever understand that..."
Walter emerges from the shadows at the rear of the church, lighting a white pillar candle with a small taper he holds in one gloved hand. "Colonel, so good to see you," he calls amiably. "You've brought a friend, I see. Bigoted old man...you just don't receive compliments like that nowadays."
Stryker glares at the girl and takes the papers with some irritation, though a flicker of fear crosses his eyes for a moment. "You've no right to tell me that, regardless. You're a freak, you're all freaks, and you need to be controlled." He snarls, turning. He moves slowly over to the priest, cane handle reflecting the yellow candlelight as he passes. "Father, the papers you wanted..." He offers them to Walter, ignoring Quinn.
Quinn glares, "And you don't need to be controlled?!" She cherps back, following after him, "How can you say that with the knowledge that you're so close to becoming one of us, /William/?! I hope she does it! I hope she turns /you/ int a freak so you'll know what it's like! Maybe then you'll /understand/!" Obviously, the freak comment hit a little close to him. "The only /dangerous/ thing about being in /you're/ head is possibly throwing up..." She spits at Stryker's feet after following to the father, turning as if to leave before remembering to acknowledge Walter, "Hellow father." She hisses.
Walter accepts the flyers, holding them to the candle flame and tossing them in a nearby brass collection plate, allowing them to smolder to nothing. "No need for that twaddle here, we've enough people angry at the mutant-haters without the propaganda. These should be the last of them." He turns at the angry greeting and smiles benevolently to the young woman. "Hello, my daughter." He idly flicks a black-gloved hand at her direction, and a length of wire extends from between his first and second fingers, arcing for her left calf. "You're quite rude, do you know that?" He comments offhandedly.
Quinn gasps a little as she's caught, tensing up and resisting the wire after it wraps around her leg. She glares at Walter and Stryker - rather speechless at that.. "L-let me go..." She breathes out softly, gulping and glaring, remaining rather proud looking.
Stryker smiles in a self-satisfied way and inclines his head to the father. "Nicely done, Walter. Thank you for that." He refocuses on the young woman and places both hands on the handle of his cane. "Let me think on that one, miss Swan. Hmm. No." He gives a full smile, showing his teeth, and it carries the feeling of anything but pleasant.
Walter pulls slightly on the wire connecting his glove to Quinn's leg. "My daughter, you'll have to step several feet closer, if you would. Otherwise I might have to pull you off your feet, and I don't think either of us would want that, do you?" Another of his benevolent smiles. Apparently the happy facial expressions the two men are using don't quite carry the desired happy air to Quinn.
Quinn hesitantly steps foreward, still resisting the slighest bit. Her breathing as quickened enough to the point where both men can clearly she how afraid she is. She gulps, "What-what're you going to do?" She asks quietly, looking to the two nervously, her expression half that of anger and half of fear.
Stryker steps forward and circles around to Quinn's back, looking a bit haggard but happy, for the moment. "Miss Swan, I don't appreciate people reading my mind. I don't appreciate people talking about the Succubus in front of me. And I /really/ don't like people saying I'm close to turning into a mutant. I'm a perfectly normal human, and human I'll stay until the day God takes me off of this Earth."
Walter smirks and keeps a little slack to the wire so as to prevent any discomfort to the girl. "No, the colonel is correct. You do need to be controlled. Fortunately, I believe he has the means, but we can't have you running away while he implements it. You understand."
Quinn growls from between her teeth in reply to Stryker, "Let's hope that's soon." She continues to resist as much as she can without falling over, leaning away from both of the men, weighing her options..
Stryker chuckles, a grating, slightly unpleasant sound. "oh, I can assure you it won't be, miss Swan. Just hold still for me, and this won't hurt a bit." He holds his cane in his right hand, using it to support himself slightly as he walks over to her from behind, his left hand going into his jacket for something.
Quinn moves swiftly away, screaming as she falls onto the ground thanks to the wire, scrambling to get as far away from him as possible - not caring so much about injuring herself anymore.
Walter holds up an admonishing finger to Quinn. "Now, now, that's nothing to wish on anyone. At least," he amends, "anyone as god-fearing and faithful as Mr. Stryker, here." He jerks on the wire, enough to try and haul Quinn back, pulling the loop painfully tight. "Behave yourself in a church, young lady. Didn't your parents teach you any better?" He flicks his free hand, and three more wires extend from between his fingers, attempting to ensnare her other limbs.
Stryker stands back calmly for a moment, tapping his cane idly on the ground as he watches Walter attempt to being the girl under reasonable control, enough for him to accomplish what he needs. "Certainly, miss Swan, you could be more polite and do as I ask you." He says, a slight sneer on his lips.
Quinn struggles, crying out a little as the wire tightens and she is dragged closer - that certainly makes her a little more obediant - not having a very high pain tolerance... "Let me go!" She cries out, tears forming in her eyes - looking rather helpless.
Walter nods, satisfied, and glances over to Stryker. "I think she'll be quite amenable to your solution, Colonel." He glances expressively at the young woman on the floor. "Won't you, dear?" He smiles and keeps the tension on the wire, enough to cause mild discomfort.
Stryker approaches the girl, withdrawing a hypodermic syringe from his jacket pocket. "Here we are, miss Swan. A simple medication that will end all your troubles. A dose of this, and you and I will get to know each other /very/ well indeed." He lifts his cane and holds it sideways, by the middle of the shaft, crouching down and brushing her hair out of the way with the hand holding the syringe, in order that he can get a clear injection site.
Quinn whimpers, leaving herself for the moment that Stryker brushes back her hair - not particularly having any reason not to struggle, past just being too afraid to.
Walter stands back for the moment, allowing the colonel the space he needs to accomplish his task. The priest smiles wryly to himself as he watches, and loosens the wire he holds a little.
Stryker wastes no time, sticking the point of the needle into the side of the girl's neck and depressing the plunger, loosing the chemical into her system. He leans closely to her ear and mutters, "I am Stryker. I am your master, and you will do as I say, Quinn, is that clear?" Standing, he folds his hands over the head of his cane and waits for her response.
Quinn bats her wide eyes, slowly looking up to Stryker, "Yes." She says in a monotone voice, just staring at Stryker from where she has braced herself on the floor. Whatever struggle the girl was planning on putting up eventually is long forgotten.
Stryker smiles slowly, contented. He turns his head to Walter and nods. "Take the wire off." Once he complies, Stryker motions with his cane. "Stand up and look at me, Quinn."
Walter twitches his hand, unwrapping the loose wire from Quinn's leg and reeling it in. "Excellent work, Colonel," he murmurs, eying the girl appreciatively. "Quite the nice trick you've got, William."
Quinn carefully and slowly stands up, straightening up with perfect posture, blinking and just staring into Stryker's eyes... as he requested.
Stryker glances absently over to the priest and states in a low voice, "Don't call me that, Walter. If you'd leave us, I think we could use a little alone time to strengthen our newfound bond." His gaze focuses on Quinn once more, and he asks, "I know you are a telepath, but I'm curious. Tell me the exact extents of your powers, Quinn."
Walter scoffs and makes as if to protest, but decides against it. He takes the stack of disused collection plates on the floor, shuffs the candle near where he's standing, and heads off through a door at the front of the church.
Quinn blinks slowly again, "I'm no telepath. I read the mental residue left on inanimate objects by people and animals..." She states softly, "It's ... /Psychometry/." She carefully pronounces the word so there is no confusion.
Stryker's eyes widen slightly. "Psychometry. There's a possibility I'd not expected. Quite useful, all the same, though. You read my 'mental residue' off of the flyers when you picked them up?"
Quinn slowly nods, "Yes, I did." She answers quietly, just standing there, staring at the man in silence, her eyes showing none of the fiery life that once was there.
Stryker moves on to his next question. "Are you involved in any mutant-oriented factions, and how did you come to know the Succubus?"
Quinn blinks again, "You were thinking about the Succubus. You were afraid. ... No." Her answers are clear, crisp, and simple.
Stryker nods, satisfied, making a great effort to ignore the 'a' word. "Very well, Quinn. You've done splendidly. I think we'll be great friends. How about taking a little road trip...?"
Greenwich Village
A maze of narrow, crooked lanes offset from the gridwork roads and blocks of the rest of Manhattan, Greenwich Village is unique, and artistic. Trendy cafe's and shops line the streets along with SoHo-like lofts and off-Broadway theaters that attract thousands every year to one of the brighter points of New York. The actor, the artist, the musician...all can find some comfort here among the twisted jungle of modernization of Greenwich. Even the occasional occult shop is tossed in among the restaurants and the mix, or a low-key nightclub.
[Exits : [T]he [B]ay [H]orse, [H]ead [L]ike a [H]ole, [W]ee [B]ook [I]nn, [B]ad [A]ss [C]offee, [Sub]way, [S]o[H]o, [G]reenwich [A]partments, [S]weet [B]asil, and [Ch]inatown ]
[Players : Quinn ]
Stryker exits the Greenwich Apartments slowly, stepping onto the sidewalk as soon as a few of the stray pedestrians have gone by. He turns and begins heading down the sidewalk towards the corner, bearing a few flyers of some sort in his left hand. His right hand holds a black cane with a stylized silver knob, which he leans on slightly to walk with. He looks a little more shellshocked than usual, but retains his quiet determination.
And who should be walking the opposite way of Stryker but Quinn Swan - just another face in the crowd. She hums along to the J-Pop that blasts from the headphones that connect to the little pink i-pod on her belt. She hops along to it, bouncing and jiving - and this is her not even in a good mood, this is Quinn being apathetic! She twirls around some random person with some fancy footwork, causing them to lose balance and curse a little bit at her - but she doesn't stop walking and certianly couldn't hear a word of it. Once she's a safe distance away from him she produces a nice looking leather-bound wallet. Now where did she get that? She empties it of it's paper content and discards it just as fast as she produced it, tucking the money she found in her backpocket and continueing to dance long.
Stryker continues walking along, paying no heed to the asian girl, save for a momentary sneer of contempt as she executes the oblivious dancing. He reaches the bookstore and stops for a moment, taking his eyes from Quinn to peruse the window, checking for any new books of interest to him. In his distraction, his left hand relaxes slightly, and the flyers drop almost soundlessly. 'Mutants are Animals!' is emblazoned brightly on the topmost flyer, and similar disparaging messages are sure to be present on the others. Stryker doesn't notice this and continues on after making sure he didn't need to buy a book.
Quinn immediatly clicks off her music, "Oh! Sir!", bending to help the old man pick up the papers without even giving a second thought - she might be a theif but she only steals to live... otherwise she's a perfectly nice young lady. She gathers them all up before they can be blown away or stepped on and pops back up, "Here you go, you dropped there..." She chimes, still not having looked at the papers.
Stryker turns suddenly, a faint note of fear in his eyes. He sighs in relief when he sees the girl holding out the flyers, and he reaches out to take them gratefully. "Thank you, miss. I appreciate you picking them up. I doubt I could get further copies." Something's wrong - Stryker's not quite his normal self. He seems older, more subdued, and more than a little jittery. As he takes the papers, his and Quinn's hands touch for a brief moment.
Quinn holds the papers tighter, just staring at the man's face and a tint of fear showing itself in her eyes, "Well I have nothing better to do..." She speaks softly, carefully, "Maybe I should hold onto them for you until you get to your destination..." She bats her eyes, "Wouldn't want you to drop them again." It's obvious she's concentrating somehow, her stare becoming quite intense, daring.
Stryker blinks for a moment as the young woman's face assumes a steeled edge. Glancing down at the flyers, then back to the girl's face, his eyes widen as he puts two and two together. He begins urgently attempting to jerk the papers from Quinn's grasp. "I'd really rather you not go to the trouble, I hate to be a bother." He states, trying and failing to break eye contact.
Quinn bats her eyes and shaking her head, making sure her words are all articulate, "Oh, no, but I insist, Mr. Stryker." Her pouty lips curve into a forced smile, "It would be my pleasure to accompany you..." She refuses to let go of the papers, not caring if they rip. She, of course, doesn't quite measure the magnitude of what she is provoking, just wanting to see why exactly he could feel such hatred for mutants... and of course, naively, thinking that she might be able to change his mind. Not to mention he's scared and she feels powerful right now.
Stryker reluctantly lets go of the papers. He decides to feign surprise, but when people generally respond badly to him, they're either Mutant Rights lobbyists, or mutants themselves. "How did you know-" He flusters. "Oh, I suppose it's not important. I'm headed for St. James. Is that much out of your way, miss...?" He holds off, looking at her expectantly.
Quinn smiles weakly, shrugging a little and obviously not expecting to have him give up so easily. "No... not at all.." She chimes, moving to walk beside him, clutching the papers to her chest, "May I ask you a question, Mr. Styker?" She requests, turning to glance at him, "Oh..." She holds out a hand for him to shake, "I'm Quinn. Quinn Beatrice Swan." Of course she's going to introduce herself properly, she might be rude but she's not that rude... not yet anyway... she still has too much faith in the human race, yet.
Stryker refuses to acknowledge the proffered hand, since he's starting to bounce theories off in his head, and telepath is certainly one of them. He turns a corner and glances over to the girl following him. "Pleased to meet you, miss Swan. I do apologize if I am inconveniencing you, you don't need to do this if you'd rather be somewhere else."
Quinn hmfs a little to herself, blushing and returning the hand to the papers, "Why don't you like mutants?" She asks, hopping a little to keep up with Stryker. She narrows her eyes a little to the man, regretting having told him his own name... seeing as how he obviously not believes her to be a mutant...
Stryker blanches at the very direct question. "I...have my reasons. For example, a telepath who gets into peoples' heads without their permission?" He raises an eyebrow pointedly at her, frowning. He walks quickly across a busy street and points to a large cathedral. "Here's my stop. Are you coming inside, or would you prefer to leave?"
Quinn bats her eyes, tilting her head and shaking it a little, "Oh, I'm not a telepath, Mr. Stryker..." She widens her eyes slightly, "You're just not very low profile." She tilts her head the other way, "Would you like me to come with you...?" She asks, raising her eyebrows, "I'd like to speak with you more...."
Stryker smiles. "Dear, I'm not accusing you of being a telepath, merely pointing out a dangerous example." He starts for the church, cane clicking on the sidewalk with every other step. "You can come with me if you'd like, miss Swan. I'm going to meet a friend of mine, but you're more than welcome to tag along." He pauses to look back at her and grin a little. "I'm very flattered you've heard of me, by the way. I'm not so popular these days."
Quinn follows up, of course, "You shouldn't be." She says quietly, "Thus far, I haven't heard many /flattering/ things." Of course, she means from the man's own mind. She moves in front of him a few quick steps, opening the door of the church for him - he might be a bastard but he's old and she's polite. She waits for him to make his way over to the door, "What's so dangerous about that example?" She asks innocently, prepared to follow closely behind him as he enters, glancing around for that priest...
St. James Cathedral
Like so many of the other churches and cathedrals in New York, this one seems to have planted smack dab in the middle of the city's twenty-four hour bustle, like an ancient, stoic sentinel watching over the younger buildings in its vicinity. St. James seems to be no exception. Built from the traditionally simple stone and mortar, this aged structure obviously has quite a few years of weight resting upon its shoulders, but someone is doing a remarkably good job of upkeep. Inside, the cathedral is dark and vast and somber, the arched ceiling disappearing up into the shadows of the rafters, while across the walls fading murals of scenes from the Bible have been painted. The pews are beginning to fall apart here and there, but the flagstone aisles are neatly swept. Throughout the various alcoves and hallways, the comforting glow of candlelight is ubiquitous, the many votive stands always seeming to have at least one of their charges faithfully a'gleam.
[Exits : [T]o the [R]oof, and [Out]side ]
Stryker walks into the cathedral, tactfully ignoring the comment she makes. Walking slowly down the center aisle of the church to the pulpit, he calls out, "Father McAllister? Are you about?" The man turns apologetically to Quinn and shrugs. "It will be a moment, I think, since he's a busy man, but it shouldn't be too much longer. Thank you, I suppose, for coming this far with me."
Quinn bats her eyes, holding out the papers to him after following him farther into the church, "I feel sorry for you, Mr. Stryker. You're a sad biggoted old man. ... We aren't all bad." She shakes her head a little, "And I fear you'll die before you ever understand that..."
Walter emerges from the shadows at the rear of the church, lighting a white pillar candle with a small taper he holds in one gloved hand. "Colonel, so good to see you," he calls amiably. "You've brought a friend, I see. Bigoted old man...you just don't receive compliments like that nowadays."
Stryker glares at the girl and takes the papers with some irritation, though a flicker of fear crosses his eyes for a moment. "You've no right to tell me that, regardless. You're a freak, you're all freaks, and you need to be controlled." He snarls, turning. He moves slowly over to the priest, cane handle reflecting the yellow candlelight as he passes. "Father, the papers you wanted..." He offers them to Walter, ignoring Quinn.
Quinn glares, "And you don't need to be controlled?!" She cherps back, following after him, "How can you say that with the knowledge that you're so close to becoming one of us, /William/?! I hope she does it! I hope she turns /you/ int a freak so you'll know what it's like! Maybe then you'll /understand/!" Obviously, the freak comment hit a little close to him. "The only /dangerous/ thing about being in /you're/ head is possibly throwing up..." She spits at Stryker's feet after following to the father, turning as if to leave before remembering to acknowledge Walter, "Hellow father." She hisses.
Walter accepts the flyers, holding them to the candle flame and tossing them in a nearby brass collection plate, allowing them to smolder to nothing. "No need for that twaddle here, we've enough people angry at the mutant-haters without the propaganda. These should be the last of them." He turns at the angry greeting and smiles benevolently to the young woman. "Hello, my daughter." He idly flicks a black-gloved hand at her direction, and a length of wire extends from between his first and second fingers, arcing for her left calf. "You're quite rude, do you know that?" He comments offhandedly.
Quinn gasps a little as she's caught, tensing up and resisting the wire after it wraps around her leg. She glares at Walter and Stryker - rather speechless at that.. "L-let me go..." She breathes out softly, gulping and glaring, remaining rather proud looking.
Stryker smiles in a self-satisfied way and inclines his head to the father. "Nicely done, Walter. Thank you for that." He refocuses on the young woman and places both hands on the handle of his cane. "Let me think on that one, miss Swan. Hmm. No." He gives a full smile, showing his teeth, and it carries the feeling of anything but pleasant.
Walter pulls slightly on the wire connecting his glove to Quinn's leg. "My daughter, you'll have to step several feet closer, if you would. Otherwise I might have to pull you off your feet, and I don't think either of us would want that, do you?" Another of his benevolent smiles. Apparently the happy facial expressions the two men are using don't quite carry the desired happy air to Quinn.
Quinn hesitantly steps foreward, still resisting the slighest bit. Her breathing as quickened enough to the point where both men can clearly she how afraid she is. She gulps, "What-what're you going to do?" She asks quietly, looking to the two nervously, her expression half that of anger and half of fear.
Stryker steps forward and circles around to Quinn's back, looking a bit haggard but happy, for the moment. "Miss Swan, I don't appreciate people reading my mind. I don't appreciate people talking about the Succubus in front of me. And I /really/ don't like people saying I'm close to turning into a mutant. I'm a perfectly normal human, and human I'll stay until the day God takes me off of this Earth."
Walter smirks and keeps a little slack to the wire so as to prevent any discomfort to the girl. "No, the colonel is correct. You do need to be controlled. Fortunately, I believe he has the means, but we can't have you running away while he implements it. You understand."
Quinn growls from between her teeth in reply to Stryker, "Let's hope that's soon." She continues to resist as much as she can without falling over, leaning away from both of the men, weighing her options..
Stryker chuckles, a grating, slightly unpleasant sound. "oh, I can assure you it won't be, miss Swan. Just hold still for me, and this won't hurt a bit." He holds his cane in his right hand, using it to support himself slightly as he walks over to her from behind, his left hand going into his jacket for something.
Quinn moves swiftly away, screaming as she falls onto the ground thanks to the wire, scrambling to get as far away from him as possible - not caring so much about injuring herself anymore.
Walter holds up an admonishing finger to Quinn. "Now, now, that's nothing to wish on anyone. At least," he amends, "anyone as god-fearing and faithful as Mr. Stryker, here." He jerks on the wire, enough to try and haul Quinn back, pulling the loop painfully tight. "Behave yourself in a church, young lady. Didn't your parents teach you any better?" He flicks his free hand, and three more wires extend from between his fingers, attempting to ensnare her other limbs.
Stryker stands back calmly for a moment, tapping his cane idly on the ground as he watches Walter attempt to being the girl under reasonable control, enough for him to accomplish what he needs. "Certainly, miss Swan, you could be more polite and do as I ask you." He says, a slight sneer on his lips.
Quinn struggles, crying out a little as the wire tightens and she is dragged closer - that certainly makes her a little more obediant - not having a very high pain tolerance... "Let me go!" She cries out, tears forming in her eyes - looking rather helpless.
Walter nods, satisfied, and glances over to Stryker. "I think she'll be quite amenable to your solution, Colonel." He glances expressively at the young woman on the floor. "Won't you, dear?" He smiles and keeps the tension on the wire, enough to cause mild discomfort.
Stryker approaches the girl, withdrawing a hypodermic syringe from his jacket pocket. "Here we are, miss Swan. A simple medication that will end all your troubles. A dose of this, and you and I will get to know each other /very/ well indeed." He lifts his cane and holds it sideways, by the middle of the shaft, crouching down and brushing her hair out of the way with the hand holding the syringe, in order that he can get a clear injection site.
Quinn whimpers, leaving herself for the moment that Stryker brushes back her hair - not particularly having any reason not to struggle, past just being too afraid to.
Walter stands back for the moment, allowing the colonel the space he needs to accomplish his task. The priest smiles wryly to himself as he watches, and loosens the wire he holds a little.
Stryker wastes no time, sticking the point of the needle into the side of the girl's neck and depressing the plunger, loosing the chemical into her system. He leans closely to her ear and mutters, "I am Stryker. I am your master, and you will do as I say, Quinn, is that clear?" Standing, he folds his hands over the head of his cane and waits for her response.
Quinn bats her wide eyes, slowly looking up to Stryker, "Yes." She says in a monotone voice, just staring at Stryker from where she has braced herself on the floor. Whatever struggle the girl was planning on putting up eventually is long forgotten.
Stryker smiles slowly, contented. He turns his head to Walter and nods. "Take the wire off." Once he complies, Stryker motions with his cane. "Stand up and look at me, Quinn."
Walter twitches his hand, unwrapping the loose wire from Quinn's leg and reeling it in. "Excellent work, Colonel," he murmurs, eying the girl appreciatively. "Quite the nice trick you've got, William."
Quinn carefully and slowly stands up, straightening up with perfect posture, blinking and just staring into Stryker's eyes... as he requested.
Stryker glances absently over to the priest and states in a low voice, "Don't call me that, Walter. If you'd leave us, I think we could use a little alone time to strengthen our newfound bond." His gaze focuses on Quinn once more, and he asks, "I know you are a telepath, but I'm curious. Tell me the exact extents of your powers, Quinn."
Walter scoffs and makes as if to protest, but decides against it. He takes the stack of disused collection plates on the floor, shuffs the candle near where he's standing, and heads off through a door at the front of the church.
Quinn blinks slowly again, "I'm no telepath. I read the mental residue left on inanimate objects by people and animals..." She states softly, "It's ... /Psychometry/." She carefully pronounces the word so there is no confusion.
Stryker's eyes widen slightly. "Psychometry. There's a possibility I'd not expected. Quite useful, all the same, though. You read my 'mental residue' off of the flyers when you picked them up?"
Quinn slowly nods, "Yes, I did." She answers quietly, just standing there, staring at the man in silence, her eyes showing none of the fiery life that once was there.
Stryker moves on to his next question. "Are you involved in any mutant-oriented factions, and how did you come to know the Succubus?"
Quinn blinks again, "You were thinking about the Succubus. You were afraid. ... No." Her answers are clear, crisp, and simple.
Stryker nods, satisfied, making a great effort to ignore the 'a' word. "Very well, Quinn. You've done splendidly. I think we'll be great friends. How about taking a little road trip...?"