Magnes; Addie
12/6/2007
=NYC= Central Park North - Manhattan
Like a white dove among crows or a diamond among common rocks, Central Park is a welcome refuge from the otherwise nature-lacking urban jungle of New York...a city that, while still becoming, will never be clean or new again. But here, beauty is to be found amid the plethora of trees and open green space, coalescing with cobbled walkways, dirt paths, and the occasional sudden children's carousel or some such whimsical attribute. A few taverns and cafes line the edges of the park, including the famous Tavern on the Green, and the chance vendor may set up base here during the long summer months. Several rocky protrusions appear to have been purposely placed amid the meadows of Northern Central Park, in lieu of benches.
It's still not too late into the evening, the sun is still up, and Magnes is in his skates. For once though, he isn't skating, he's sitting on a bench and watching people walk by, appearing to be incredibly distracted. "Today is so surreal..." he comments under his breath, staring at the people as if they were very interesting or in their underware.
Elizabeth and Lethe are a familiar sight to those who frequent the park, although their walk comes a bit earlier today. Elizabeth is bundled warmly, in wool coat and scarf and gloves, and Lethe seems to be enjoying the frosty temperatures as she bounds forward along the path, straining her leash to its limits.
Magnes hasn't thought to dress warmly, other than a light jacket which is zipped up to his neck. He notices Elizabeth immediately due to the large cat, and for a moment his shoulder squirms with familiarity toward it. "Hello, Ms. Elizabeth." he greets as she's about to pass. "I haven't seen you in a while, or your cat."
Elizabeth stops abruptly, boots nearly skidding across a spot of ice as Lethe continues to move forward. She mrows unhappily as she finds herself pulled back, and yellow eyes turn to glare at Manges with feline intensity. Elizabeth blinks down at him. "Hello," she says.
"How are things?" Magnes asks casually, finally starting to take his attention from the other people, but his eyes seem a bit more squinty than usual, some sort of subtle strain likely. "The last time we spoke, I think I said some pretty stupid crap."
"It does seem to be a habit," Elizabeth replies very, very dryly, studying him.
Magnes is distracted by someone passing, a particularly large woman, but he shakes his head and focuses on Elizabeth once more. "I've had time to get acquainted with the adult world, but I haven't become boring or anything."
"Really." Elizabeth's brows raise just slightly, and she turns more fully toward him. "How is that, then?"
Magnes crosses his arms, looking down at his knees as if in deep thought. "Well, lots of stuff going on with my girlfriend, I sorta punched her father and I'm pretty sure the guy is a criminal, without getting into too much detail with you." he explains seriously, not very perky at the moment. "I guess this stuff just smacks me back to earth, I don't -care- about all the stuff I was going on about a while back. I mean, I -do- care, but I care about my problems a bit more. When I fuond out about myself, I suddenly thought 'Hey I can be a superhero', but I can barely save my girlfriend let alone everyone else." He smiles up at her, shaking his head. "Sorry, I got a bit personal there for a moment. I came out here to think about stuff, and I think this medicine is screwing with me a bit."
"Mmm." For a moment, Elizabeth's gaze on Magnes is almost serious, and she regards him in a stretch of silence before stirring. "Well. I suppose we must all grow up at some point, hm? Is everything quite all right, then?"
"Well, I wouldn't say great or anything, but at least within control. I mean I'm not poor, my girlfriend -is- awesome, and I'm getting paid to try a few pills, so yeah, pretty alright." Magnes confirms with a nod. His expression is relaxed, enjoying his conversation with someone who seems understanding enough. "And what about you? You any closer to settling down and having a family? I still say you're soccer mom material." he says playfully with a chuckle.
"You're getting paid to try a few pills?" Elizabeth's brows rise eloquently, and she firmly ignores Magnes's query.
"Yeah, some kind of thing, they needed some humans and mutants to try pills on." Magnes explains as he tilts his head and tries to remember the details. "I think it has something to do with telepaths, I don't remember much, but they're paying good and I'm pretty sure this isn't an addictive and deadly drug." he says with a light shrug of his shoulders. "I feel kinda weird lately though, stuff that's pretty hard to explain unless you're, well, me. Could be my imagination, I don't know."
"Something to do with telepaths?" Brows inch a touch higher and Elizabeth's fingers tighten minutely around Lethe's leash. "What sort of things?"
"I'm not sure, I don't think they gave us much detail, but I'm not a telepath, so the whole explanation just confused the hell out of me. And like I said, they were also accepting humans." Magnes says before just shrugging again. He's obviously not worried about it, especially since he only skimmed over the side effects list.
"Who is 'they', Magnes?" Elizabeth wonders with a brief flash of her eyes. At the end of her leash, Lethe tugs insistantly before padding back to the pair to inspect Magnes with feline judgement.
Magnes seems to even have to take a moment to think of that, then in a sudden flash of memory he exclaims, "Bahir! Al-ra-something..." he trails off, not quite remembering the last name.
"Bahir al Razi," Elizabeth finishes coolly, and now her study of Magnes intensifies with quiet interest. "What is the pill meant to do?"
Magnes tilts his head, staring up at the sky in a completely oblivious fashion, then back down to her. "Something about suppressing the psychic center activity in telepaths? Whatever the hell that's supposed to mean, still don't get how that's supposed to affect -me-."
"How /is/ it affecting you?"
"I'm not sure, I mean, as time progresses on this stuff, things seem to get stranger. Nothing huge, and I'm still not sure if it's my imagination or not, but..." Magnes nods toward the people walking pass. "I have this strange feeling that I've experienced certain things before, like that movie Groundhog Day or something. I don't know if it's the pills or just me stressing out, but I guess I'll find out soon enough. I have this slightly surreal feeling lately."
"Deja vu?" Elizabeth suggests.
Magnes taps his chin, then finally confirms, "Yeah, I think that's the word for it. I've been experiencing that a lot today, even during this conversation. I seriously hope it's the pills and not stress, the last thing I need are therapy bills."
"Perhaps you've simply gone insane," Elizabeth offers with a faint smile.
"Great." Magnes says with an amused grin. "Well, if I am insane, at least I could beat the crap out of my girlfriend's dad and have a pretty good plea." he adds, shrugging with his hands out. "If you're interested, I could maybe call you and tell you if anything really weird happens?"
"Mmm." The sound is noncommittal for a moment as Elizabeth studies Magnes, and then she nods once, a short tip of her head. "Yes, do that. And do let me know how you find Mr. al Razi, will you?"
"I will." Magnes says before digging into his pocket and pulling out a pen and paper, writing a few things down. "My email and my cell number." he offers, holding it out to her.
Elizabeth leans forward to take the paper gingerly, between the neatly pinched press of forefinger and thumb. She straightens then and adds, "You can find my office number in the phone book, I'm sure. Good evening, Magnes."
"Later, Ms. Elizabeth!" Magnes waves to her, then returns to watching people walk by once she's gone.
Magnes swears he's growing up! Also there's something about some pills.
=NYC= Addie's Apartment - Upper East Side - Apartments in the Sky
An upper floor apartment, the area is spacious and perhaps above the normal means of the average cop. Whatever the reason, though, it's well made, with tall windows to let in the sunlight, and soft, cream-colored wallpaper. The carpet is thick and soft black material, while the tile in the kitchen and bathrooms both are a soft sky blue. The furniture in the living rooms is modest, but tasteful, though it looks as if it's seen little usage. Matching the floor, the television is a large plasma and connected sound system that look to have seen little, if any usage as well.
The bathrooms (there are two) are equally spacious, usually filled with fluffy towels, and nicknacks that suggest a nit-picky personality, due to the precision they are laid out with. The master bedroom has a queen-sized bed, but is otherwise mostly bare of decorations. The kitchen, with a small island in it is modern, and apparently has seen some usage. The most lived-in room, however, is the spare bedroom which serves as an office. Papers and files are scattered all over the desk here, as are various books from the shelf. The computer is usually running nonstop.
The sun has set on New York City, and the glimmering dance of artificial lights has taken over. Extra strands glisten in technicolor around a city preparing for winter holidays. All of this goes unseen by the woman who sits inside a strange apartment, shadowed in the dark. Although she's pulled the blinds, they're free of fingerprints, and her care is exceptional when it comes to other sorts of traces the usual person might leave behind. For now, only the threads of her scarf or the print of her shoe threaten to leave information behind - acceptable, since neither is particularly related to who she actually is. Tonight, she's slender and dark, almost Middle-Eastern-foreign in the shade of skin and the thick, full darkness of hair that cuts across her chin in a blunt bob. She waits on the couch, patient and silent, with a folder on her knees.
Anyway, the threads of that scarf would offer, at best, mere seconds, minutes at best, to delve into the mystery of Mystique. Not near enough time. Still, she just barges right in. She's allowed to. It's her apartment afterall. And by the looks of it, one would be hard-pressed to find the owner's fingerprints anywhere. A decidedly unwelcoming place, it would likely be uncomfortable otherwise, if it looked like someone actually lived here. The office would of course tell a different story. But when she sees someone sitting on her couch, her pistol is out so fast, it's almost lightning,"Stay right there and put your hands up!" One must give her that much. Girl's got nerves of iron, or at least it seems that way, considering how she doesn't seem particularly startled by finding someone in her apartment.
"Put the gun down, Detective Wu." The voice that speaks is quiet and confident, colored with a hint of an indecipherable accent that is difficult to place exactly. "Believe me when I tell you that you do not want to shoot me."
Addie lifts an eyebrow at the woman, then snorts,"No, what I want to do is put the handcuffs on you and take you back to my workplace. We'll get you to answer some questions there."
The sigh that echoes from the woman is exasperated and patient all in one. "Sit down," she instructs.
Addie grits her teeth and takes a step forward,"Put. Your. Hands. Up. Last warning."
A slow movement at first, a careful show of the folder moving from the grip of her hands in her lap to one side, then hands rising into the air. And then she's no longer moving slowly, and the rise of the woman from the couch is almost too fast to follow. Movement is a fluid thing, one instant leading into the next to carry her around and behind.
Addie fires. Right into the couch, where the woman /was/. Hopefully the walls are thick. It IS upscale, anyway. She's not stupid... This woman moves fast. Though she already knows she's in for it. She rushes the couch behind her shot.
Tsk. This makes it rather easier for the woman, now settled comfortably behind her, to shove Addie face-first into the couch and its escaping stuffing with a firm, sure elbow at the back of her neck. Her tone remains polite, barely breathless, as she inquires, "Would you care to give me your gun and have a seat now?"
Addie oofs as her gun goes flying from her hand. Handing it over is a moot point, apparently, when she's not holding it. She grits her teeth and shouts,"I'm going to haul you in for home invasion and assaulting an officer of the law." She thrashes a bit, now.
"Please do not make me break any bones," the woman replies with clear exasperation. The press of her forearm into the back of Addie's neck increases, making it difficult to breathe. "I knew you weren't terribly bright, but you really are dashing all my hopes that there was something more to you somewhere. Take a moment. Think it through."
Addie actually sighs in exasperation, and relaxes a bit,"You ARE in my home, and generally speaking, breaking into the home of an officer and laying in wait is generally a psychotic if not suicidal idea. You're lucky I'm not the shoot first and ask questions later type." Of course, this is all said in a raspy tone. There's an elbow on her kneck.
"I am lucky." There is amusement in the woman's voice now, and she lifts her opposite hand to backhand Addie hard, a blow to leave her aching tomorrow, although not calculated to steal consciousness. At that, the other steps backward and releases her. The gun is retrieved without effort or comment, although attention never wavers from Addie and her ... ah. Unpredictable nature.
12/7/2007
Addie oofs, but doesn't cry out, when she is backhanded. She is left to roll around on her back, still rubbing her head. "You bitch. Was that last one really necessary." Her eyes don't waver from the other woman. Then again, knowing most detectives, Addie probably has another gun stashed on her person and is waiting for a chance to draw it. But she's calm, anyway.
"None of this was necessary," the woman replies patiently. "Not until you pulled a gun and then attempted to rush me. Please, let's lay blame where it belongs." The gun lies casual in her hand, metal cold against dusky skin, but the muzzle points with unwavering accuracy. "My patience is swiftly thinning."
Addie looks at the barrel of the gun. She stays put, but she is unconcerned, for the moment. If the woman was here to kill her, she would've just lay in wait with a gun and fired when she came in. She lifts an eyebrow,"And you were in my apartment with no warning. That's generally alarming. So really, let's do lay blame. And you might as well sit down. You can point a gun at me just as easily from a chair as you can on your feet." Snort. "You've obviously got enough familiarity with it."
The woman steps forward and delivers a casual blow to Addie's jaw. The butt of the gun connects hard with the bone there, and the contact is audible. She falls back again, waiting.
Okay. That gets a loud sound of pain from her. The blow from the gun opens a cut on her jawline. She is left holding her jaw, quiet for several minutes, before she spits on the ground. This is followed by a grin. A tooth-showing grin that shows a bloody smile,"Oh, well, /that's/ polite. You know, most people have to buy me a drink first. So, you going to get down to business, or you just going to beat the hell out of me all night long. I'm off tomorrow." She leans her feet up to prop them on her coffee table. Inside, she's quietly resigned herself to a severe beating one way or another. She's not looking forward to it.
"This explains much," the woman answers, studying Addie with a cool indifference. "Very disappointing. I had hoped there was something resembling intelligence at the root of it all."
Addie raises an eyebrow, and shrugs just as indifferently,"Intelligence or not, how would you react to someone invading your home?" She puts a hand to her mouth, now, checking for injuries. "You know where I live. That means you've done research on me. You're not here for money, else you would've just taken me and blackmailed my parents. You're familiar with that gun, but you haven't killed me, which means you want something, and it's apparently only something I can give you. The fact you have that folder with you tells me you've also got something to show me. You already know what's in it, so why bring it with you. And you aren't concerned about leaving evidence behind, evidently, so you're convinced you have a very convincing case to make. Am I on track so for?"
The gun barks to life, and a bloom of blood spreads from the hole that's suddenly appeared in Addie's left shoulder.
She doesn't scream. But not for stoicism. Being shot hurts! No. It's more because when she's hit, all she can manage is a gasp of air, before her hand claps to the shoulder wound. She drops off her couch, still gasping.
A hard heel comes down atop the other hand, delivering pressure just short of that which would snap the fragile bones in her finger, and the gun draws level with her head this time. She waits.
Addie can't even speak, now. But she can think, if barely. She opens her mind to that shoe, rather than her mouth, laying there in silence. The heel hurts her hand, true. But still no words. She's waiting now.
Identity is fluid and changing, a constantly-shifting thing that overwrites a thousand names and a million faces with one underwriting sense of self, aged and yet ageless. The name for tonight? Shanti. The one that rides below it? Mystery. Mystique. The foot presses down, grinding, and then the woman rocks back. "Are you quite finished?"
Addie can feel her eyes widen now. She suddenly feels a little out of her league. Killers, thugs, even an assassin or two. She can deal with these things. But renowned mutant terrorists? That's a little bit beyond the pale. She still can't find the words to speak. She slams her mental shields and curls fetally, merely nodding while blood pours around her fingers.
Elizabeth steps back, and this time she doesn't bother with the gun. Her confidence is quite firm, and her lips press into a thin, tight line. She waits.
Mystique steps back, and this time she doesn't bother with the gun. Her confidence is quite firm, and her lips press into a thin, tight line. She waits.
Addie just asks, after being able to get her voice back, hissing through her teeth,"I'm listening." She's become quite suddenly non-talkative.
"Please," Mystique answers, drawing the word out into something quite disdainful. "Explain to me just how deep your stupidity goes."
Addie hisses as she tries to push herself up one handed. At least she can get elevated. Lean against the couch,"Not so deep as you'd think. More stubborn pride. Dedication. The headline 'police officer begs for life, backs down from intruder in own home' is the kind of thing that leads to a desk job and eventually a quiet firing. Plus I try to stay out of the headlines. You have pictures of me at the Golden Apple?" A guess, that the woman is planning to blackmail her with pictures in the lesbian bar. "That... was smart. Bringing new clothes. Do you always do that?" less insults now. She's decided ego-boosting doesn't hurt.
"I see. Quite deep. That is such an amazing pity." The gun raises thoughtfully, and Mystique studies Addie.
Addie holds up her free hand, as if begging the woman to stop,"Please just tell me what you want? I'm bleeding to death as it is... What do you want?"
"You're hardly bleeding to /death/," Mystique answers, lips twisting into an unpleasant smile. "If that's what I had wanted, I would have chosen a different location. I am trying very hard to understand you, Detective. I had /so/ hoped that you would be capable as well as gifted."
Addie sighs,"You know... this really does hurt. And I have been shot. Crap. Not the kind of thing one gets used to it. I'm not hard to understand, though. I am my job. I live to help the downtrodden. All that crap that they talk about in movies... I never got over it. Protect the innocent. Mutants, whores, pimps, thugs... People noone cares about. I want to, so badly, but I can't help them all. I barely sleep. I barely bother to socialize, because there's always too much to do. Nothing ever changes." Ooooooh. Seems something she said hit a nerve. "I'm a lame jobsworth."
"You're also very bad at your job." Mystique's succint syllables stand in direct contrast to Addie's long-winded rambles, and there is a sense of clear disappointment that radiates from the other woman.
Addie raises an eyebrow,"Maybe, maybe not. But I have a high collar and conviction rate. I'm not arguing, but my record says that I do a good job. I've caught a lot of bad people, and I've saved a lot of innocents."
"Stupid," Mystique replies, tone derisive. "Your record says you do an /abnormally/ good job." She smiles unpleasantly, and her tone turns abruptly conversational. "Did you know that they can perform DNA tests in less than 24 hours these days?"
Addie tilts her head a little bit, eyes narrowing,"Stupid? Abnormally good...? Aaaah. I do. There are laws limiting the reasons you can do that. So that's what this is about? May I be so bold as to guess that you're at least mildly curious about my... gifts? Still, no matter how long you play a game, eventually the dice turn up snake eyes."
"I'm not curious," Mystique dismisses, lips tightening. "It does not matter what you can do if you lack the wits to use your abilities properly. Consider this a lesson." The gun speaks again, this time tearing into Addie's leg just above her knee, aimed to shatter a bone. "Learn to speak less. Listen more. Use your brain on occasion and perhaps apply a modicrum of logic and self-control." There is a short pause to be quite certain that Addie is listening before she adds, "And make up a good reason for your injuries. I expect there are those who would not take the information about your genetic make-up quite so well as I have.'"
Addie winces as she falls over now, feeling her bone shatter. She screams in pain this time, no consideration for Mystique. She might, or might not be listening. But she's not stupid enough to say she knows just who Mystique is. She's fairly certain that's a quick road to an early death. But she's certainly not arguing.
Mystique waits patiently for silence, twisting Addie's gun absently between her hands.
Addie eventually quiets to a mere panting, though both hands are by now occupied with trying to staunch the flow of blood.
Mystique leans in to hover uncomfortably close. Her breath is warm against Addie's cheek when she speaks. "Prove yourself, Detective. Prove that I am mistaken, and that you are of some value. That you are capable of using what it is that you have been gifted with. I will see you again." With that, she straightens away and turns on her heel. The gun drops heavily to the couch next to Addie, and the door opens as Mystique adds, "I would hate to see this in a police report. Be creative." And then she's gone, and the door shuts quietly behind her.
Mystique visits Addie with some blackmail material. Things don't go well. First half!
=NYC= Central Park North - Manhattan
Like a white dove among crows or a diamond among common rocks, Central Park is a welcome refuge from the otherwise nature-lacking urban jungle of New York...a city that, while still becoming, will never be clean or new again. But here, beauty is to be found amid the plethora of trees and open green space, coalescing with cobbled walkways, dirt paths, and the occasional sudden children's carousel or some such whimsical attribute. A few taverns and cafes line the edges of the park, including the famous Tavern on the Green, and the chance vendor may set up base here during the long summer months. Several rocky protrusions appear to have been purposely placed amid the meadows of Northern Central Park, in lieu of benches.
It's still not too late into the evening, the sun is still up, and Magnes is in his skates. For once though, he isn't skating, he's sitting on a bench and watching people walk by, appearing to be incredibly distracted. "Today is so surreal..." he comments under his breath, staring at the people as if they were very interesting or in their underware.
Elizabeth and Lethe are a familiar sight to those who frequent the park, although their walk comes a bit earlier today. Elizabeth is bundled warmly, in wool coat and scarf and gloves, and Lethe seems to be enjoying the frosty temperatures as she bounds forward along the path, straining her leash to its limits.
Magnes hasn't thought to dress warmly, other than a light jacket which is zipped up to his neck. He notices Elizabeth immediately due to the large cat, and for a moment his shoulder squirms with familiarity toward it. "Hello, Ms. Elizabeth." he greets as she's about to pass. "I haven't seen you in a while, or your cat."
Elizabeth stops abruptly, boots nearly skidding across a spot of ice as Lethe continues to move forward. She mrows unhappily as she finds herself pulled back, and yellow eyes turn to glare at Manges with feline intensity. Elizabeth blinks down at him. "Hello," she says.
"How are things?" Magnes asks casually, finally starting to take his attention from the other people, but his eyes seem a bit more squinty than usual, some sort of subtle strain likely. "The last time we spoke, I think I said some pretty stupid crap."
"It does seem to be a habit," Elizabeth replies very, very dryly, studying him.
Magnes is distracted by someone passing, a particularly large woman, but he shakes his head and focuses on Elizabeth once more. "I've had time to get acquainted with the adult world, but I haven't become boring or anything."
"Really." Elizabeth's brows raise just slightly, and she turns more fully toward him. "How is that, then?"
Magnes crosses his arms, looking down at his knees as if in deep thought. "Well, lots of stuff going on with my girlfriend, I sorta punched her father and I'm pretty sure the guy is a criminal, without getting into too much detail with you." he explains seriously, not very perky at the moment. "I guess this stuff just smacks me back to earth, I don't -care- about all the stuff I was going on about a while back. I mean, I -do- care, but I care about my problems a bit more. When I fuond out about myself, I suddenly thought 'Hey I can be a superhero', but I can barely save my girlfriend let alone everyone else." He smiles up at her, shaking his head. "Sorry, I got a bit personal there for a moment. I came out here to think about stuff, and I think this medicine is screwing with me a bit."
"Mmm." For a moment, Elizabeth's gaze on Magnes is almost serious, and she regards him in a stretch of silence before stirring. "Well. I suppose we must all grow up at some point, hm? Is everything quite all right, then?"
"Well, I wouldn't say great or anything, but at least within control. I mean I'm not poor, my girlfriend -is- awesome, and I'm getting paid to try a few pills, so yeah, pretty alright." Magnes confirms with a nod. His expression is relaxed, enjoying his conversation with someone who seems understanding enough. "And what about you? You any closer to settling down and having a family? I still say you're soccer mom material." he says playfully with a chuckle.
"You're getting paid to try a few pills?" Elizabeth's brows rise eloquently, and she firmly ignores Magnes's query.
"Yeah, some kind of thing, they needed some humans and mutants to try pills on." Magnes explains as he tilts his head and tries to remember the details. "I think it has something to do with telepaths, I don't remember much, but they're paying good and I'm pretty sure this isn't an addictive and deadly drug." he says with a light shrug of his shoulders. "I feel kinda weird lately though, stuff that's pretty hard to explain unless you're, well, me. Could be my imagination, I don't know."
"Something to do with telepaths?" Brows inch a touch higher and Elizabeth's fingers tighten minutely around Lethe's leash. "What sort of things?"
"I'm not sure, I don't think they gave us much detail, but I'm not a telepath, so the whole explanation just confused the hell out of me. And like I said, they were also accepting humans." Magnes says before just shrugging again. He's obviously not worried about it, especially since he only skimmed over the side effects list.
"Who is 'they', Magnes?" Elizabeth wonders with a brief flash of her eyes. At the end of her leash, Lethe tugs insistantly before padding back to the pair to inspect Magnes with feline judgement.
Magnes seems to even have to take a moment to think of that, then in a sudden flash of memory he exclaims, "Bahir! Al-ra-something..." he trails off, not quite remembering the last name.
"Bahir al Razi," Elizabeth finishes coolly, and now her study of Magnes intensifies with quiet interest. "What is the pill meant to do?"
Magnes tilts his head, staring up at the sky in a completely oblivious fashion, then back down to her. "Something about suppressing the psychic center activity in telepaths? Whatever the hell that's supposed to mean, still don't get how that's supposed to affect -me-."
"How /is/ it affecting you?"
"I'm not sure, I mean, as time progresses on this stuff, things seem to get stranger. Nothing huge, and I'm still not sure if it's my imagination or not, but..." Magnes nods toward the people walking pass. "I have this strange feeling that I've experienced certain things before, like that movie Groundhog Day or something. I don't know if it's the pills or just me stressing out, but I guess I'll find out soon enough. I have this slightly surreal feeling lately."
"Deja vu?" Elizabeth suggests.
Magnes taps his chin, then finally confirms, "Yeah, I think that's the word for it. I've been experiencing that a lot today, even during this conversation. I seriously hope it's the pills and not stress, the last thing I need are therapy bills."
"Perhaps you've simply gone insane," Elizabeth offers with a faint smile.
"Great." Magnes says with an amused grin. "Well, if I am insane, at least I could beat the crap out of my girlfriend's dad and have a pretty good plea." he adds, shrugging with his hands out. "If you're interested, I could maybe call you and tell you if anything really weird happens?"
"Mmm." The sound is noncommittal for a moment as Elizabeth studies Magnes, and then she nods once, a short tip of her head. "Yes, do that. And do let me know how you find Mr. al Razi, will you?"
"I will." Magnes says before digging into his pocket and pulling out a pen and paper, writing a few things down. "My email and my cell number." he offers, holding it out to her.
Elizabeth leans forward to take the paper gingerly, between the neatly pinched press of forefinger and thumb. She straightens then and adds, "You can find my office number in the phone book, I'm sure. Good evening, Magnes."
"Later, Ms. Elizabeth!" Magnes waves to her, then returns to watching people walk by once she's gone.
Magnes swears he's growing up! Also there's something about some pills.
=NYC= Addie's Apartment - Upper East Side - Apartments in the Sky
An upper floor apartment, the area is spacious and perhaps above the normal means of the average cop. Whatever the reason, though, it's well made, with tall windows to let in the sunlight, and soft, cream-colored wallpaper. The carpet is thick and soft black material, while the tile in the kitchen and bathrooms both are a soft sky blue. The furniture in the living rooms is modest, but tasteful, though it looks as if it's seen little usage. Matching the floor, the television is a large plasma and connected sound system that look to have seen little, if any usage as well.
The bathrooms (there are two) are equally spacious, usually filled with fluffy towels, and nicknacks that suggest a nit-picky personality, due to the precision they are laid out with. The master bedroom has a queen-sized bed, but is otherwise mostly bare of decorations. The kitchen, with a small island in it is modern, and apparently has seen some usage. The most lived-in room, however, is the spare bedroom which serves as an office. Papers and files are scattered all over the desk here, as are various books from the shelf. The computer is usually running nonstop.
The sun has set on New York City, and the glimmering dance of artificial lights has taken over. Extra strands glisten in technicolor around a city preparing for winter holidays. All of this goes unseen by the woman who sits inside a strange apartment, shadowed in the dark. Although she's pulled the blinds, they're free of fingerprints, and her care is exceptional when it comes to other sorts of traces the usual person might leave behind. For now, only the threads of her scarf or the print of her shoe threaten to leave information behind - acceptable, since neither is particularly related to who she actually is. Tonight, she's slender and dark, almost Middle-Eastern-foreign in the shade of skin and the thick, full darkness of hair that cuts across her chin in a blunt bob. She waits on the couch, patient and silent, with a folder on her knees.
Anyway, the threads of that scarf would offer, at best, mere seconds, minutes at best, to delve into the mystery of Mystique. Not near enough time. Still, she just barges right in. She's allowed to. It's her apartment afterall. And by the looks of it, one would be hard-pressed to find the owner's fingerprints anywhere. A decidedly unwelcoming place, it would likely be uncomfortable otherwise, if it looked like someone actually lived here. The office would of course tell a different story. But when she sees someone sitting on her couch, her pistol is out so fast, it's almost lightning,"Stay right there and put your hands up!" One must give her that much. Girl's got nerves of iron, or at least it seems that way, considering how she doesn't seem particularly startled by finding someone in her apartment.
"Put the gun down, Detective Wu." The voice that speaks is quiet and confident, colored with a hint of an indecipherable accent that is difficult to place exactly. "Believe me when I tell you that you do not want to shoot me."
Addie lifts an eyebrow at the woman, then snorts,"No, what I want to do is put the handcuffs on you and take you back to my workplace. We'll get you to answer some questions there."
The sigh that echoes from the woman is exasperated and patient all in one. "Sit down," she instructs.
Addie grits her teeth and takes a step forward,"Put. Your. Hands. Up. Last warning."
A slow movement at first, a careful show of the folder moving from the grip of her hands in her lap to one side, then hands rising into the air. And then she's no longer moving slowly, and the rise of the woman from the couch is almost too fast to follow. Movement is a fluid thing, one instant leading into the next to carry her around and behind.
Addie fires. Right into the couch, where the woman /was/. Hopefully the walls are thick. It IS upscale, anyway. She's not stupid... This woman moves fast. Though she already knows she's in for it. She rushes the couch behind her shot.
Tsk. This makes it rather easier for the woman, now settled comfortably behind her, to shove Addie face-first into the couch and its escaping stuffing with a firm, sure elbow at the back of her neck. Her tone remains polite, barely breathless, as she inquires, "Would you care to give me your gun and have a seat now?"
Addie oofs as her gun goes flying from her hand. Handing it over is a moot point, apparently, when she's not holding it. She grits her teeth and shouts,"I'm going to haul you in for home invasion and assaulting an officer of the law." She thrashes a bit, now.
"Please do not make me break any bones," the woman replies with clear exasperation. The press of her forearm into the back of Addie's neck increases, making it difficult to breathe. "I knew you weren't terribly bright, but you really are dashing all my hopes that there was something more to you somewhere. Take a moment. Think it through."
Addie actually sighs in exasperation, and relaxes a bit,"You ARE in my home, and generally speaking, breaking into the home of an officer and laying in wait is generally a psychotic if not suicidal idea. You're lucky I'm not the shoot first and ask questions later type." Of course, this is all said in a raspy tone. There's an elbow on her kneck.
"I am lucky." There is amusement in the woman's voice now, and she lifts her opposite hand to backhand Addie hard, a blow to leave her aching tomorrow, although not calculated to steal consciousness. At that, the other steps backward and releases her. The gun is retrieved without effort or comment, although attention never wavers from Addie and her ... ah. Unpredictable nature.
12/7/2007
Addie oofs, but doesn't cry out, when she is backhanded. She is left to roll around on her back, still rubbing her head. "You bitch. Was that last one really necessary." Her eyes don't waver from the other woman. Then again, knowing most detectives, Addie probably has another gun stashed on her person and is waiting for a chance to draw it. But she's calm, anyway.
"None of this was necessary," the woman replies patiently. "Not until you pulled a gun and then attempted to rush me. Please, let's lay blame where it belongs." The gun lies casual in her hand, metal cold against dusky skin, but the muzzle points with unwavering accuracy. "My patience is swiftly thinning."
Addie looks at the barrel of the gun. She stays put, but she is unconcerned, for the moment. If the woman was here to kill her, she would've just lay in wait with a gun and fired when she came in. She lifts an eyebrow,"And you were in my apartment with no warning. That's generally alarming. So really, let's do lay blame. And you might as well sit down. You can point a gun at me just as easily from a chair as you can on your feet." Snort. "You've obviously got enough familiarity with it."
The woman steps forward and delivers a casual blow to Addie's jaw. The butt of the gun connects hard with the bone there, and the contact is audible. She falls back again, waiting.
Okay. That gets a loud sound of pain from her. The blow from the gun opens a cut on her jawline. She is left holding her jaw, quiet for several minutes, before she spits on the ground. This is followed by a grin. A tooth-showing grin that shows a bloody smile,"Oh, well, /that's/ polite. You know, most people have to buy me a drink first. So, you going to get down to business, or you just going to beat the hell out of me all night long. I'm off tomorrow." She leans her feet up to prop them on her coffee table. Inside, she's quietly resigned herself to a severe beating one way or another. She's not looking forward to it.
"This explains much," the woman answers, studying Addie with a cool indifference. "Very disappointing. I had hoped there was something resembling intelligence at the root of it all."
Addie raises an eyebrow, and shrugs just as indifferently,"Intelligence or not, how would you react to someone invading your home?" She puts a hand to her mouth, now, checking for injuries. "You know where I live. That means you've done research on me. You're not here for money, else you would've just taken me and blackmailed my parents. You're familiar with that gun, but you haven't killed me, which means you want something, and it's apparently only something I can give you. The fact you have that folder with you tells me you've also got something to show me. You already know what's in it, so why bring it with you. And you aren't concerned about leaving evidence behind, evidently, so you're convinced you have a very convincing case to make. Am I on track so for?"
The gun barks to life, and a bloom of blood spreads from the hole that's suddenly appeared in Addie's left shoulder.
She doesn't scream. But not for stoicism. Being shot hurts! No. It's more because when she's hit, all she can manage is a gasp of air, before her hand claps to the shoulder wound. She drops off her couch, still gasping.
A hard heel comes down atop the other hand, delivering pressure just short of that which would snap the fragile bones in her finger, and the gun draws level with her head this time. She waits.
Addie can't even speak, now. But she can think, if barely. She opens her mind to that shoe, rather than her mouth, laying there in silence. The heel hurts her hand, true. But still no words. She's waiting now.
Identity is fluid and changing, a constantly-shifting thing that overwrites a thousand names and a million faces with one underwriting sense of self, aged and yet ageless. The name for tonight? Shanti. The one that rides below it? Mystery. Mystique. The foot presses down, grinding, and then the woman rocks back. "Are you quite finished?"
Addie can feel her eyes widen now. She suddenly feels a little out of her league. Killers, thugs, even an assassin or two. She can deal with these things. But renowned mutant terrorists? That's a little bit beyond the pale. She still can't find the words to speak. She slams her mental shields and curls fetally, merely nodding while blood pours around her fingers.
Elizabeth steps back, and this time she doesn't bother with the gun. Her confidence is quite firm, and her lips press into a thin, tight line. She waits.
Mystique steps back, and this time she doesn't bother with the gun. Her confidence is quite firm, and her lips press into a thin, tight line. She waits.
Addie just asks, after being able to get her voice back, hissing through her teeth,"I'm listening." She's become quite suddenly non-talkative.
"Please," Mystique answers, drawing the word out into something quite disdainful. "Explain to me just how deep your stupidity goes."
Addie hisses as she tries to push herself up one handed. At least she can get elevated. Lean against the couch,"Not so deep as you'd think. More stubborn pride. Dedication. The headline 'police officer begs for life, backs down from intruder in own home' is the kind of thing that leads to a desk job and eventually a quiet firing. Plus I try to stay out of the headlines. You have pictures of me at the Golden Apple?" A guess, that the woman is planning to blackmail her with pictures in the lesbian bar. "That... was smart. Bringing new clothes. Do you always do that?" less insults now. She's decided ego-boosting doesn't hurt.
"I see. Quite deep. That is such an amazing pity." The gun raises thoughtfully, and Mystique studies Addie.
Addie holds up her free hand, as if begging the woman to stop,"Please just tell me what you want? I'm bleeding to death as it is... What do you want?"
"You're hardly bleeding to /death/," Mystique answers, lips twisting into an unpleasant smile. "If that's what I had wanted, I would have chosen a different location. I am trying very hard to understand you, Detective. I had /so/ hoped that you would be capable as well as gifted."
Addie sighs,"You know... this really does hurt. And I have been shot. Crap. Not the kind of thing one gets used to it. I'm not hard to understand, though. I am my job. I live to help the downtrodden. All that crap that they talk about in movies... I never got over it. Protect the innocent. Mutants, whores, pimps, thugs... People noone cares about. I want to, so badly, but I can't help them all. I barely sleep. I barely bother to socialize, because there's always too much to do. Nothing ever changes." Ooooooh. Seems something she said hit a nerve. "I'm a lame jobsworth."
"You're also very bad at your job." Mystique's succint syllables stand in direct contrast to Addie's long-winded rambles, and there is a sense of clear disappointment that radiates from the other woman.
Addie raises an eyebrow,"Maybe, maybe not. But I have a high collar and conviction rate. I'm not arguing, but my record says that I do a good job. I've caught a lot of bad people, and I've saved a lot of innocents."
"Stupid," Mystique replies, tone derisive. "Your record says you do an /abnormally/ good job." She smiles unpleasantly, and her tone turns abruptly conversational. "Did you know that they can perform DNA tests in less than 24 hours these days?"
Addie tilts her head a little bit, eyes narrowing,"Stupid? Abnormally good...? Aaaah. I do. There are laws limiting the reasons you can do that. So that's what this is about? May I be so bold as to guess that you're at least mildly curious about my... gifts? Still, no matter how long you play a game, eventually the dice turn up snake eyes."
"I'm not curious," Mystique dismisses, lips tightening. "It does not matter what you can do if you lack the wits to use your abilities properly. Consider this a lesson." The gun speaks again, this time tearing into Addie's leg just above her knee, aimed to shatter a bone. "Learn to speak less. Listen more. Use your brain on occasion and perhaps apply a modicrum of logic and self-control." There is a short pause to be quite certain that Addie is listening before she adds, "And make up a good reason for your injuries. I expect there are those who would not take the information about your genetic make-up quite so well as I have.'"
Addie winces as she falls over now, feeling her bone shatter. She screams in pain this time, no consideration for Mystique. She might, or might not be listening. But she's not stupid enough to say she knows just who Mystique is. She's fairly certain that's a quick road to an early death. But she's certainly not arguing.
Mystique waits patiently for silence, twisting Addie's gun absently between her hands.
Addie eventually quiets to a mere panting, though both hands are by now occupied with trying to staunch the flow of blood.
Mystique leans in to hover uncomfortably close. Her breath is warm against Addie's cheek when she speaks. "Prove yourself, Detective. Prove that I am mistaken, and that you are of some value. That you are capable of using what it is that you have been gifted with. I will see you again." With that, she straightens away and turns on her heel. The gun drops heavily to the couch next to Addie, and the door opens as Mystique adds, "I would hate to see this in a police report. Be creative." And then she's gone, and the door shuts quietly behind her.
Mystique visits Addie with some blackmail material. Things don't go well. First half!