Training Arena - Catacombs - Manahattan

The catacombs are part natural phenomenon, part the result of toil and labour. The stone stairs lead deep down into the earth before they begin curve around a huge rounded stone wall. As the space opens up, the room reveals itself to be absolutely massive, the domed ceiling disappearing into shadow above. The stone floor stretches across the open space until it reaches rounded stone walls. A number of further tunnels open out of these walls.

This main space has been reserved as the training arena. As such, it is usually kept free of clutter, except what one drags out of the storage room down one of the shorter tunnels. The walls can take quite the beating; when the room is clear, there is simply nothing to damage - except perhaps one's training partner. Even the lighting is industrial grade, the type used in mines: the bulbs are encased in a thick metal cage.

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Within these catacombs deep beneath the earth, Fox intends to prove his worth to the Brotherhood. Pietro had planned to meet him down here for their sparring session, and Fox is rather anxious to see what will come of their session. He had come down earlier in the day to ready the supplies that he would be needing for this particular match.

Fox is currently wearing most of his uniform, though he has left his mask in his room. There is no reason to conceal his identity from Pietro, and the mask inhibits his vision slightly. He is wearing a black leather outfit with a trench coat and tall boots. He still bears his goggles atop his head, it's unlikely he ever takes them off.

Fox is currently sitting atop a box near the middle of the room. He has four of these boxes with him, butted up against each other. Each box looks to be about 3 feet by 2 feet by 2 feet and looks slightly too large and heavy for Fox to have moved by himself, but move them he did. He looks around the room, appearing deep in thought. He is trying to determine what his strategy will be.

Leather seems to be the order of the day. Pietro's donned his uniform for the occasion, equally for effect as for practical use. He wears a black leather suit, a stark white bolt of lightening slashed diagonally from shoulder to hip, along with fingerless gloves and those specially made steel toed boots that he's so very proud of.

The Lieutenant makes his way down the curving stairs that lead to the training area, his feet beating out a staccato rhythm as he takes the steps two at a time. Not that he's in any particular hurry to meet Fox; this is pretty much normal pacing for him, after all. When he trots down the last few steps and the recruit comes into view he arches an eyebrow. "Hey. So what's all this shit?" He takes a moment to inspect Fox's costume but doesn't comment just yet.

Fox smiles as Pietro comes into view. "Ah, there ya are, mate." He thumps a hand down on one of the boxes. "Ah these? This is me trainin' equipment." He grins a bit. "Don't want to go tearin' up the room if I don't need to." Fox can sense veins of sand beneath the floor and behind some of the walls, he suspects they are near a water source, or that there was water nearby at some point in geologic time. Regardless, taking sand from behind the stone would diminish the structural integrity of the room...Fox really doesn't want to do that, so he brought his own stash from the beach earlier. Fox looks down at his outfit, giving Pietro a glance. "Part o' me new uniform...Thought I'd try it out. Left some of it upstairs 'cause I won't need it with you." He stands.

Pietro's other eyebrow raises a little to join its fellow. "Right." Whether or not he's privy to the fact that Fox can sense the sand veins, he seems to accept that answer. Or at least he's curious enough to see where this will lead that he doesn't question it further. "Just part of it? What'd you leave up there?" As he speaks he saunters over, knocking one of the boxes with the back of his hand. "Looks alright, anyway. If there's anything that gets fucked up here you can get 'em to reinforce it so 's a good call on wearin' it down." Those boots of his look as though they've been strategically reinforced, for example, though there are myriad adjustments that the lab boys upstairs can probably look into should Fox need something.

The boxes are wooden and filled with sand. They sound solid as Pietro knocks upon them. Fox turns as Pietro passes him. "Ah, left me mask upstairs. No need to hide me face 'round you." He nods about the reinforcement. "Right. Don't think I should need much reinforced. If me enemies can get that close to me..." He doesn't finish his sentence, instead he just smiles. "Well I'm sure you'll see, Speedo." Fox doesn't doubt Pietro's speed, but he hasn't seen much of the boy's powers yet. He'd brought this much sand as a precaution...Plus he really wants to show what he can do.

"Yeah, I'm sure I will," Pietro answers back with a cocky smirk, deliberately refraining from comment on the little nickname he's acquired. No, he'll just let his feet do the talking after they begin. He's just as curious to see what Fox can do but that doesn't mean he's intimidated in the least by whatever he has planned with all of that sand -- regardless of whether he should actually be concerned here. "So you ready or what, Hot Shot?" He strolls back around, coming to a halt a couple yards away and pausing to adjust his gloves where they cut off at his knuckles.

Fox thrusts out a hand toward the boxes, which separate from one another and form a square. They make a terrible ruckus as they drag across the floor. "Sure thing there, mate." Fox grins, stepping into the middle of the boxes and lowering his goggles over his eyes. "I'll try not ta hurt ya...too much." He snaps his fingers, his hands ending in a thumbs-up position . The lids of the four crates pop off and the sides fall down, creating four piles of sand around Fox. Each box was 12 cubic feet, so each pile weighs about 1200 pounds. "Come an' get me, Speedo." He smiles again as the sand begins to form a ring around him, still clinging to the floor.

"Whatever, man," Pietro dismisses, still not sounding worried about the possible outcome of this encounter. All the same, he's sinking into a defensive pose, keeping one eye on those moving boxes and the other on Fox himself. "Hope you like bein' in traction..." But as teammates there's less likelihood that he actually /would/ go that far in training. Random rumbles in the street are an entirely different matter. All the same, he has to continue their macho banter battle, at least until things get rolling... Which they seem to be doing. The speedster doesn't have to be told twice; he takes a running start at the man, intending to start off with a similar attack to the one he used in their previous tussle -- four or five solid punches between his chest and kidneys.

Fox is not surprised by this attack, though Pietro moves faster than he had remembered. Fox really hadn't been expecting the attack last time at all, but this time he is prepared. Fox braces himself. The sand behind him comes forward and the sand in front of him raises up to form a wall. Pietro is just slightly too fast for Fox and makes it past the wall before it has a chance to close. Fox receives two punches to the stomach before the sand behind him catches up, compacting into blunted spikes and shooting forward in the general direction of Pietro. Currently there is a wall of sand about ten feet in front of Fox and a bunch of angry sand right behind him. The ring still hasn't closed to the left or the right.

Though Pietro has an overarching strategy he's very much operating on trial and error just to see what Fox is capable of. When he's about to deliver that third punch he notices the spikes and jerks back and away; by the time the spikes pass where he was he's well out of the way. If he would've indulged in just another punch or two things would have been close but he doesn't pause to reflect on that. On the contrary, he takes off, blurring as he slips off to Fox's left, through the opening in the ring. He doesn't stop once he's through, putting a little distance between himself and the swirling mass of sand -- clearly he has something other than 'rushing in headlong' up his sleeve.

Fox grabs his stomach as the sand behind him collapses in a wave, rushing forward a bit so that he's standing in the middle of about a five foot circle of sand. If Pietro approaches again, he'll have to cross over that sand. Fox looks up, the wind had been knocked out of him, but he seems able to continue. "Damn...Faster than I remember." The wall in front of him moves closer to Fox, lowering itself slightly and encircling Fox. The wall is now about seven feet away from Fox and is about three feet tall. Fox steps forward a bit, pulling the pile at his feet with him as he moves. Pietro might be too far away to attack. Fox doesn't want to reveal his range quite yet, so he just watches the boy.

"'S-that-all-you've-got?" Pietro spits out, practically running his words together into gibberish for all the speed that's behind them. For a long few moments it's like some sort of strange showdown straight out of a Western. All that's missing is a tumbling tumbleweed as the pair size each other up. Whether or not the speedster is still out of range of another sand attack the matter is suddenly rendered moot as he jets forward again. This time he's not aiming directly at Fox but rather in a full circle mere feet from that wall of sand -- he's playing with fire there (or, rather, with dirt) but it's a risk he's willing to take -- and then around again. And again and again like some sort of human centrifuge. His aim is to create a cyclone effect, either disrupting the sand defense or knocking Fox off his feet or both.

Fox narrows his eyes at Pietro as he runs around, though his goggles kind of hide the gesture. Fox jolts a little as he senses a bit of his sand moving from the wall. So Pietro intends to make a cyclone? Fox can deal with that. He raises his hands, causing the sand at his feet to raise into the air. The sand spins into a sandstorm ten feet in diameter and moving in the opposite direction as Pietro. The sands within about two feet of Fox are moving about 200 mph, nearly as fast as the winds in an F4 tornado. The sands toward the five foot range are moving about 150 mph, about an F2. The outer wall begins to randomly send out two foot long spires. The spires jut out, reabsorb into the wall and jut out again in a different location at random. Fox is trying to trip up Pietro, but he can't exactly see where he is due to the storm he has created. The wall is beginning to lose some of its sand, but the sand is pushed inward toward Fox's storm, strengthening it.

Pietro sets his jaw as he's suddenly running against sands going about as fast as he is. Quite obviously it's painful but he seems dead set on not letting on in front of the other man; instead he abruptly changes directions, hoping to use the momentum that Fox has created to his advantage and cranks it up to his top speed inasmuch as he can while dodging and jumping about -- he's moving at speeds between 195 and 210 mph. He's starting to break a sweat and what's worse he can't see much of anything. Clearly he's going to have to find some sort of eyewear for his uniform from how on. Right now he's just trying to stay out of the massive wall of sand and away from those spires as much as he can while still trying to pull off that cyclone. But even he knows that such a simple trick isn't likely to do much more than buy him time.

Fox senses a slight change in his sands. When the sand was hitting Pietro, he could tell where the boy was. Now that Pietro has changed directions and is moving at about the same speed as the grains, Fox can't tell where he is. Fox pulls in his sand, all of it that he can. There's no point in trying to reverse the direction of his storm. Pietro can probably change directions much faster than his storm can. The sand forms a large mound behind a figure that looks like Fox, although it appears as though he has covered himself in sand. The figure is looking around for Pietro, but apparently doesn't see him. Something seems amiss here. 'Fox' can't seem to be able to see at all...And he's a good five feet away from his arsenal. If one were to look closely at the mountain of sand behind him, they would notice a small hollow about as big around as a fist. However, the scene is slightly obscured by wisps of sand that blow about from Pietro's running.

Pietro has his eyes scrunched shut against the wild grains of sand whipping about -- not necessarily a smart move when moving so fast but since he has momentum he manages to stay on track. Consequently he's thrown for a bit of a loop as the storm seems to just... end. Even after he opens his eyes to take in Fox's latest tactic it's a moment before he comes to a screeching halt behind and to one side of the sandy figure. It appears that he hasn't yet noticed the little hollow. But seeing that 'Fox' can't seem to see anything he /does/ notice an opportunity. Darting forward, he gathers momentum -- which, given his mutation, is a fair amount despite the short distance he's covering -- and attempts to knock 'Fox' off of his feet, namely by throwing himself at the man. He'll try to get a jab in if he can but he's more concerned with the former objective.

The 'Fox' in question is of course not the real Fox, and may appear slightly flawed as Pietro approaches. The real Auzzie is hiding inside his little sand fortress at the moment, which has begun to encircle the 'Fox' sand impostor. The encircling sand is moving rather slowly, and ill definitely not even be halfway around the figure by the time Pietro reaches it. The sand figure shifts slightly as Pietro darts forward, It does not turn to face him, but rather the figure simply morphs itself so that it is now facing the other direction. The entire figure is made of sand, and though it is likely that the speedster will notice this, he may or may not have enough time to alter his attack before striking the sand creation. If Pietro does strike the construct, he will find that it is not very dense at all. Fox's intention is to entrap the speedster's arm when he attempts to punch the construct. This will only work if Pietro manages to make contact with the figure. Even then, he may be able to break free if he is strong and fast enough. The current density of the sand would be like punching a figure made of soft modeling clay.

Needless to say, Pietro doesn't realize that the figure he's leaping at isn't actually Fox until it's too late. He tries to reverse his momentum but that proves to be an impossibility; though he stops himself before punching the figure he still impacts it, chest first as he was initially trying to knock it down. Consequently Fox should have a window in which to entrap more than just the speedster's arm, perhaps as much as his shoulders or part of his torso. It's a small window though. Predictably, Pietro starts pulling back, pushing himself back to his feet and fighting to put some distance between the sand dummy and himself. Whether or not he succeeds is up to debate for the moment but he does manage to catch sight of that empty space in the pile of sand though. And he's quickly piecing together what's going on... and a plan of action providing that he's free enough to enact it.

Fox smirks from within the sands. He begins to solidify the dummy to the density of cement, though weather or not he manages to actually hold onto Pietro he does not really mind. This was mainly meant as a distraction as his sands continue to surround the dummy and Pietro. The sand ball in which Fox is hiding explodes outward, some of the sand continuing to ring the two as the rest of it moves forward toward Pietro in the form of tendrils. The speedster still has some time to pass through an opening in the perimeter sand if he can manage to break free of the dummy. As for the sand coming toward him, it's moving at about the speed of a normally running man, and Fox's intent is to further entrap Pietro with it. Fox figures that if he can completely ensnare Pietro he can call out a checkmate, but he has to get a proper grip on the boy before he can actually do this. All of Fox's sand is in motion currently, so though he is attempting to hold onto Pietro, his attention is divided and the hardening process is slow. Also, he is currently within plain view. If one were to run toward him, they would probably be able to dodge the ropes of sand coming forth from his present location, but Fox's perimeter sands are also closing off a safe exit.

Oh, Pietro is giving it all he's got in trying to break free from the dummy. At first he can't quite get enough traction so he's resigned to writhing about, flailing a bit like a wild animal trying to free himself from a trap before it's too late. It's quite fortunate for him that Fox is distracted. He can feel the sands hardening -- and he can see the tendrils closing in and the perimeter sands closing up all around; in the process of his squirming he manages to get his feet under him with enough leverage to give one more mighty pull, adding in a burst of speed for good measure -- though it really is just a burst of backward momentum it's nothing to be scoffed at. If he kept it up, he'd be moving at a good 80 miles an hour. And his effort pays off as he manages to break free. That's not to say he's in the clear, of course. He still has the tendrils to deal with as he turns on his heels and starts for the real Fox. It's entirely possible that one or more of those fingers of sand might catch him up before he reaches the man. If he's tripped up, he'll be in bad shape given that he's traveling between 60 and 70 miles an hour. If he reaches Fox unscathed, however, he plans on taking him down in the same way he attempted to take down the sand dummy.

Fox frowns as Pietro manages to break free of the dummy, vocalizing his discontent with a "Well bloody fuck to that." He then smirks as he sees the boy coming toward him rather than trying to escape. The walls close up and begin to pull in slightly, climbing as they do so. The two are now in a small arena of sand with no obvious exit. The tendrils are too slow to initially catch Pietro, but they move more swiftly as the boy nears Fox. Fox frowns as the boy nears him, crouching down to brace himself for an impact, though as he does so two tendrils behind him shoot forward on either side of him toward Pietro. The tendrils should reach Fox at approximately the same time as Pietro. If one of the tendrils makes contact with the speedster, Fox intends to begin constricting it around him. If Pietro manages to hit Fox, however, the Auzzie will go sprawling backwards and will probably lose a bit of his focus.

Pietro doesn't seem to care that his exits are closing off, so focused is he upon getting at Fox. That's probably not a smart move on his part. The boy launches himself forward; out of the corner of one eye he catches the movement of the tendrils and reacts instantly, trying to turn himself to one side, to dodge but not wanting to sacrifice too much of his attack. One of the tendrils catches him around his midsection, halting his progress just when he would have reached Fox. He lets out a choked sound, both surprised and angry as the length of sand begins to squeeze. "Fuckin'..." He trails off, adding a few more muttered words, the last few sounding distinctly non-English. Fox has the upper hand, it would appear. But the speedster isn't going down without a fight. He reaches out as far as he can manage with the way he's being held, trying to strike the man with either fist or foot or at least to distract him.

Fox grins as the speedster is finally caught and lifts the tendril into the air, but not before Pietro manages to give him a good punch in the face, which cracks his goggles and gives him a bloody nose. "Yeowch! Ya sure did give me a good wallop there, mate." The walls around them collapse onto the ground and the tendrils not in contact with Pietro sink to the ground as small piles of dust as well. The tendril holding Pietro is just high enough as to keep the boy from being able to touch the ground, though it is not squeezing hard. Fox tosses aside his busted goggles and wipes the blood from his nose. He grins up at Pietro. "So whadaya think, eh? Good enough for combat situations?" Fox is beginning to tire slightly and his grip on the sand is taking a bit more concentration on his part, though he tries to show no outward signs of his fatigue. If Pietro struggles hard enough he can probably still get free.

"That's-the-idea," Pietro spits from up above. And just because he's being held off the ground doesn't mean he gives up on trying to run away. On the contrary his legs flail in bursts of speed, blurring as he tries in vain to even graze the ground with his boot soles. "Yeah, you're-not-bad..." Of course, considering that Fox caught him by surprise a few times there, he's probably understating a little on account of hurt pride. He doesn't smile back. Instead he tries again to free himself, bucking and writing against the grip of the tendril. It's not until he feels the sand start to give way a bit that he lets himself smirk a bit but when his feet finally do touch ground he holds back on attacking. "Good enough for me, man. Just don't go gettin' fuckin' cocky." No, Pietro can provide enough of that for the entire team.

Fox frowns slightly as he feels the sand begin to give around Pietro and tenses his muscles a bit, expecting the boy to go on the offensive once more. When Pietro states that Fox did well enough, he lets down his guard and drops the tendril all together. He grins broadly at Pietro and wipes his nose again, clearing off a tad more blood. "Ace! So...I pass then?" He shakes his head. "An' I don' plan on gettin' all ego on y'all." He doesn't voice it, but he knows that the boy could have gotten away toward the end there, which would have left Fox hard pressed to do much more than defend until he finally tired out completely. "So eh...Do I have to do this with Marrow, too? Or can I be put on combat now?" He frowns again. He doesn't fancy the idea of having to prove himself against Marrow. He's not exactly sure what she can do besides not get drunk, but he's pretty sure there's a reason everyone in the compound seems to fear her.

Even if he doesn't attack Pietro doesn't let his guard drop an inch until he sees that tendril drop to the ground and even then his shoulders don't lower much. "Yeah, you pass," he confirms with a bark of laughter. "And you better not," he adds on the subject of ego, though this time the warning carries a bit of humour -- it's more a ribbing than anything else. "You do and next time I'll really give you a workout." So that means Fox will probably be coming up against the speed demon again? And speaking of that, you're in. Consider yourself on combat, koala boy. But you should probably train with as many people as you can, Marrow and me included. Just to keep you on your toes, y'know." So he's not entirely off the hook with regards to sparring with the Boney Nightmare either. "Don't forget to get your goggles fixed. 'Cause I'm guessin' that'd fuck up your game a bit, right?"

Fox grins again and nods. "Right-o, mate! I wouldn't want to get all rusty on ya, so I'll spar with anyone I can find." He looks around the room and contemplates cleaning up the sand now, but he'll wait to do that until Pietro leaves. Some of it is out of his range and if he's going to be sparring with Pietro again he would like to keep things like that a secret for now. He smirks at Pietro. "Ah, but now I know what you can do. I'll just have to develop anti-speed strategies." And for Marrow? He'll figure something out when it comes to that. Fox looks down at his goggles and waves a hand dismissively. "Eh, I've got a few more pairs than that. Just an old pair of motorbike goggles. Besides, I'd be using me uniform mask in a real combat situation." He looks around the room again. "An' don't worry about the mess, I'll get it spiffied up before I kip."

"You know a bit," Pietro corrects. "You don't know it all." Even if he did pull out one or two of his better moves here he can't go letting Fox think he doesn't have an ace up his sleeve. "But good. Work on that. Gimme a challenge next time and show me what you've learned." He considers those broken goggles for a moment. "Yeah, I forgot about the mask. So... Okay. No big with the goggles, I guess." Without further precursor he turns on his heels and starts for the stairs, calling back over his shoulder, reiterating, "Nice work today, Fox." He actually used his name instead of some variation on an Aussie stereotype. Perhaps it's a nod of respect for the performance? "If you need me for anything, I'll probably be in my room. Or the kitchen." Apparently he's not too worried about whether Fox will clean up after himself, figuring that it's a given. He's certainly not offering to lend a hand in sweeping up the excess sand.

Fox grins at the boy as he begins to head back toward the stairs. "Alrighty, whenever you want a rematch, just come track me down, eh?" Fox actually doesn't have too many other tricks currently, but he'll develop a few just for Pietro. He doubts his sand replicant will work twice, after all. As for the sand? Fox can have that cleaned up in a few minutes, once he's certain Pietro won't be around to watch his range. "Erm, Yeah I'll probably go slumber for a bit after I clean up. So if YOU need ME, I'll be unconscious somewhere." He heads toward the far end of the room to begin assimilating his sands.

"Whatever, man," Pietro scoffs as he mounts the stairs, taking them two at a time in his perpetual hurry. "Night, then." And with that, he disappears upstairs, his feet pounding the stone steps as he heads up to do... whatever he wants to while Fox gets to cleaning.

Current Mood: determined

South Beach - Staten Island

A long stretch of sandy beach runs along the shore. This is a huge sunbathing beach offering views of the Atlantic Ocean and of Lower New York Bay. Off in the distance one can see the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge spanning the water.

This now-public beach was once strictly the private province of the wealthiest New York citizens. As such, recreational amenities abound. Baseball fields, handball courts, playgrounds, bocce courts, checkers tables, shuffleboard courts, a skateboard park, and even a rollerhockey rink.

Running the length of South Beach, the F.D.R Boardwalk is two and a half miles long. People can be found out walking and bicycling along it year round. Wooden boards run on a slight angle towards the sand, a metal railing dividing beach from boardwalk. Benches are spaced evenly facing the railing to look out over the sand and surf.
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The beach is quiet, but not empty. Several couples can be seen dotted about the beach as the sun sets, a few of the families beginning to pack up and head home. A man sits on the sand, staring out toward the ocean. He is wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a set of dog-tags, his shirt and boots are sitting next to him in the sand. He frowns at the ocean and sips something out of a coffee cup that smells suspiciously like beer, finishing off the beverage and tossing the cup on top of his things. Fox sighs and leans back, covering his eyes with one of his arms.

With the sun starting to set and the beach to clear, it's a perfect time to come out for a stroll. Miriam hasn't arrived by land, but on the whole most people never really pay that much attention to certain details. Instead, she's come to shore from the water, trusting that those on the beach already really aren't paying that much attention to who was out there swimming. Once the water is shallow enough to sit easily, she pauses to put on wide, closed-toe wading shoes and her fingerless gloves. She seems to have gone swimming in her clothes, but it does happen.

Fox moves his arm and stares up at the sky for a short while. He blinks vacantly, looking at the hues as they change from orange to crimson. Though he is looking at the sky, he does not really see it. He is too lost in his thoughts right now. Too much has happened lately that is reminiscent of something that happened back in the army. Fox blinks and sits up on his elbows, shifting his gaze toward the shore. There are a few people in the water still, one in particular seems to be approaching right down from him. But for the most part people seem to be heading up the beach and home for the night.

Miriam isn't nearly heading home. Now that it's finally cooling down, she's much more comfortable than she had been earlier. She looks up at the changing colors in the sky, and smiles. From an equally-wet tent-material shoulder bag comes a very high-end waterproof camera on a strap, and she makes a few adjustments before lining up a shot. The breeze, when it comes, earns a smile of comfort, rather than any sign of chill from still being so wet.

Fox looks around the beach, most people seem to be heading out, which is good. Once the beach is deserted enough, he might get a little training in. It's been hard for him to be able to find such large quantities of sand to train with safely since he came to this city. Too many people, too little sand. He stands up and looks around. Rather than brushing himself off the sand just kind of falls off of him. He turns back toward the road, watching people leave. He then turns back toward the ocean and frowns. There's still a woman here, and she's taking pictures? She might be here a while. He crosses his arms and looks at her, it might seem a bit creepy for this man to just sort of be staring at the girl...But that doesn't occur to Fox at the moment.

Miriam looks around her once the shot is taken, and smiles a bit as people continue to leave. She doesn't at all seem to be in any hurry to do so. The camera is put away and she continues to stroll, then her eyes slide towards the guy staring at her. As people tend to do, she looks around her for anything more interesting, then back at him to ensure that yes, it is her being stared at. She eyes him, in return.

Fox looks the girl over for a moment before she turns to look at him. He then realizes that he has been staring at her and turns away slightly. He looks back to her and notices that she is now looking at him. He uncrosses his arms and scratches the back of his head. He's about thirty feet away from her currently, but certainly not out of earshot. "Um...Hey. Nice night, eh?" His voice carries a distinct accent. Australian, though some may mistake it for British.

Miriam looks around herself again, then nods to him. "It's okay. Better now that it's getting cooler." She looks around the beach as people continue to leave, then says "Hate this time of year. Too hot."

Fox shrugs and looks around as well, following the girl's gaze as she watches the people leave. Only a few amorous young couples now remain, and they seem to be distracted currently. Fox frowns and looks back at Miriam. "Um...yeah. I mean no. Really?" He shakes his head. "This is pleasant right now. I'm actually not looking forward to it getting much cooler."

"I am." Miriam replies. "Not that it'll get really cold. Fall can't get here soon enough." She glances back towards the water, as though tempted to go back in. "Nice beach." she notes then. "Not a lot of sand around the city. And most of the sand looks covered with garbage."

Fox frowns at the thought of colder weather all the same. "Bah, I prefer the heat. The only ice I like is the kind that chills a drink." He looks out over the beach. "Yeah I suppose. I mean...It's the nicest beach I've seen around here, I guess." He shrugs. "I've seen nicer, but I guess the lack of garbage IS a plus."

Miriam nods. "There's much nicer beaches out on Long Island." she replies. "And they have the concerts on Jones Beach out there, too." Her clothes are clinging to her, of course, but she still doesn't seem at all chilly despite that they must be.

Fox nods and looks toward the ocean again. "See, I'm used to Bondi, meself...So these places are just disappointing now." He waves a hand. "But like it matters what the beach looks like. I just hate that they don't let you drink in public here." Here being this beach? Or here being America? He looks the girl over again. "You're all wet...Aren't you cold?" Fox isn't currently cold, but he's quite dry at the moment. And even at that he might be putting his shirt back on in a few minutes.

"Bondi?" Miriam asks. "A place in Australia?" is her guess, given his accent. "The beaches in Florida are really nice. California too, I hear. Never been there, though." She looks down at herself when he asks, then shrugs. "I guess? Didn't bring a towel. I'll dry out eventually." She doesn't look cold, though.

Fox nods. "Yeah, it's the beach off Sydney. It's kind of famous...Well, to most people. Americans tend to ignore things that aren't directly important to them." He frowns at the girl. "Sorry, I didn't bring a towel either. I...don't really like going into the water. Rather stay out on the sand. No reason to bring a towel I guess." he shrugs.

Miriam ohhhs. "I don't travel a lot." she says with a shrug. "Never been outside the country. And don't worry about it. It's just water. I won't melt. I'll probably go back in, anyway." She does plan to swim back home, after all. "It's nicer when there aren't a lot of other people in there."

Fox looks past the girl toward the darkening sea. "I've been here and there, I suppose. It's good to get out an' see the world." He nods. "An' yeah, Most places are better once all the people are gone." He looks back at her and frowns. Perhaps he'll have to come back some other night to practice. "Back into the water? At night? Haven't you ever seen Jaws? Chances are you'll be devoured by a monstrous shark."

"Oh, I'll get out there eventually." Miriam replies. "When I have a boat big enough to manage international waters and the ocean. Mine's way too small." She laughs, then. "Sharks? Out there? No, I'm not worried about them." She sounds pretty confident.

Fox nods. "Oh? You have a boat?" he finds that a little odd. Fox never really thought of New Yorkers as boat owners, but maybe she's not from the city. He ponders for a moment. "Don't think I'd like a boat. Only time I was on a boat I spent the whole time sick." He shakes his head. "And if yer not worried about sharks, you should be worried about krakens. I hear they're indiginous to these waters."

Miriam bobs her head in a nod. "Yeah. I live on a boat. It's not for everyone, I guess. I like it." She just looks at him blandly, then. "Krakens, huh? Really? Where'd you get that from?"

Fox looks at the girl with a strange expression. "You...live ON a boat? Are you in the navy or something?" She doesn't LOOK like the military type, but maybe. "I think that if I were to go to Hell, that would be my punishment. Living on a boat...In deep water." He shakes his head and grins a little. "Oh it's a well known fact. Krakens are everywhere. I saw it on the discovery channel."

Miriam chuckles. "The Navy? Uh, no. I'm not really the military type. I just live on a boat. People do that, you know. Lets me go wherever I want. I like that." She smirks a bit, then. "Oh. Well. If you saw it on TV, it *must* be true. I've never run into a kraken, though."

Fox nods and runs a hand through his beard. "Ah yes. People live on boats all the time. So...Are you a pirate or a Viking?" He quirks an eyebrow. "I mean really. If you LIVE on a boat, you should probably know where dangerous sea beasties live, doncha think?"

Miriam has to give that a bit of thought. "A pirate, I guess. Not that anyone's really missing the stuff I take. Most of it's been down there a while. I dive for salvage. And so far, I haven't had much trouble with dangerous sea beasties. Guess I've just been lucky." she adds with a grin.

Fox looks a bit surprised. "That's...really awesome. Have you ever found anything cool? Like...Treasure or old war ships?" He looks out over the water again and frowns. Probably not, it seems unlikely that people would bring such things to NYC...or WOULD they? "Maybe mafia things?"

Miriam chuckles to his questions. "I've found some interesting things. Most of the wrecks near the shore have been pretty much picked through, but if you take the time to dig a little through the sand and silt, you can find some decent stuff. Decent enough to make a living selling, anyway."

Fox nods. "that's an interesting lifestyle. So I guess you have to migrate when the winter comes? I can't imagine diving into a cold wintry sea...or living out on one." He frowns. He can't even immagine being that far under water. It sounds unpleasant.

"Oh, I don't dive as much in the winter." Miriam lies. "And sometimes I do drive the boat south. There's winter gear you can buy, though. Helps keep you warm during winter diving."

Fox frowns. "But...isn't the sea a bit rougher in the winter? I guess that's why you'd dive less frequently." He ponders for a moment. "I don't know. I'd miss stable land I think. Taking the ferry to and from the mainland is terrifying enough for me."

Miriam chuckles. "It is a little rougher in the winter, but that's actually kind of fun." Apparently, she has a strange idea of 'fun'. She's not exactly worried about drowning, though. Looking curious then, "What's terrifying about the ferry? Seems like a pretty dull trip, to me."

Fox shakes his head and shudders. "I don't like deep water. And by 'deep water' I mean if I can't see the bottom, then something's likely to be lurking down there. Or...I might fall in and drown or the boat might sink...I just prefer to be dry."

Miriam ohhhs. "Yeah. Not really a problem I have." Obviously. "I can't wait till I have a boat that I can use to find and get to really deep wrecks. That will be incredible." She looks back at the water then, before again looking to Fox. "The water here isn't very clear, most of the time. I'm guessing you don't come here much to swim."

Fox smiles. "Well just find a case of gold or something and you can buy yourself a whole fleet. And then you can go play in the depths and...I'll wait here on the beach." He nods. "And yeah, I usually come here to enjoy a drink and the warmth of the sand."

Miriam laughs. "Someday, I'll make a major find." There, too, she seems confident. "Maybe even some gold, yes. There's a *lot* down there to find, if you're good enough. Or lucky enough. Then again, I'm sure there's a lot to be found on beaches, too. Centuries of people losing things in the sand. It's why people walk around with metal detectors, but I'm sure they don't find most of what's down there."

Fox nods. "Yeah, good luck with that. I'll watch for you in the papers. And I'm sure people would find more things on the beaches if they could dig deeper." he nods. "I mean, I spend allot of time on the sand, but I haven't really found anything other than a few bottle caps and such.

Miriam replies "Yeah, but do you spend a lot of that time digging? There's bottle caps all over the place. You know, with all the rest of the garbage people leave laying around. There's probably thousands of dollars on every stretch of beach. Not like a metal detector will find the bills."

Fox frowns. "I don't know about that. I mean, there might be maybe a little money, but it'd be so hard to find. I don't know that it'd be worth it. I mean, I don't really use that much money as it is. I guess I really wouldn't have need to treasure hunt."

Miriam shakes her head. "Oh, I'm sure it wouldn't be worth it to just dig till you found money. Not at all. I find a lot of junk in the water, of course. But if I find one or two really nice things in a week, it's worth my time. Aside from just liking to be in the water."

Fox shrugs. "i suppose if someone had a way of easily detecting items beneath the sand, then it might be worth while to beach comb. but if that were the case then maybe someplace like Egypt would be more worth-while." Fox DOES have a way of detecting things in the sand around him, but he hasn't actually tried it before. He does a quick scan, his eyes going vacant for a moment. There are a few voids in the sand, but it's probably rocks. Seems too difficult for him to be able to distinguish one object's identity from another.

Miriam nods. "Yeah, I'd think Egypt would be a little more lucrative than Staten Island. Unless they were getting paid to look for bodies." He did mention the mafia earlier. And she has found those occasionally.

Fox laughs. "I think you'd find more bodies in Egypt, and they'd probably be in gold coffins. So...I'd try there first. Might work out better financially. But the language barrier might deter me, so I'll stick to bartending for now."

Miriam grins. "Well, yes. You'd be finding different kinds of bodies, in Egypt. Not being able to find things in sand like that might deter you, too. Aside from the language thing. I hear bartenders make decent money, though."

Fox nods in agreement. "Actually I think finding dead people might make me...not want to dig in the sand anymore." he frowns. "That's kind of gross. Like how many festering dead things are underneath us right now?" He looks down at the sand. None...Unless that one void isn't the piece of driftwood he assumes it to be. "Um...But yeah, we make enough to get by. I don't do much fancy, though. It's able to feed me, cloth me, and buy me beer. So it suits me well."

Miriam nods her agreement. "Yeah. It is pretty icky. I've found bodies in the water sometimes. I could do without it. And that's all anyone really needs, right? Enough to cover expenses and be more or less comfortable. Anything else is really just showing off."

Fox makes a face. "Oh that's really kind of awful. Do you have to report when you find bodies or anything? I don't know that I'd want to be in the water with them. It'd be like you're swimming through tiny pieces of their decomposed flesh as it floats around in the water."

Miriam makes a face. "Wow. Thanks for that." she replies. "And I phone in tips, letting the police know where to find it. I don't really want to get caught having to give a statement or anything. Who needs the hassle?"

Fox nods. "I can imagine that it would probably suck, especially if you have to wait around for them. And if you found something cool they might take it as 'evidence' or something." He chuckles. "Just think about how many dead people parts are probably in your hair right now."

Miriam eyes Fox. "No, thanks. Anyway, those mostly get eaten quickly by fish. So I'm not really worried. Of course, that's just one reason not to eat anything you catch around here."

Fox makes a face. "Ew, I wouldn't eat anything from this sea anyway. Not the best out there, I'm sure." He nods. he'll stick to his vegemite and beer. What a healthy guy.

Miriam nods. "Yeah, it's pretty disgusting near the shore. It's okay on the Island and further out, though. Some decent eating, really. If you like fish, of course."

Fox shrugs. "I'm an Auzzie. All we eat is fish, really." he looks back toward the ocean again, realizing it has become quite dark. He frowns. He'll have to head back in a bit. If he doesn't return then the others might worry...What with everyone disappearing and all that.

"Really? Isn't Australia a really big continent? I didn't realize you ate that much fish." Miriam replies. "I mean, on the shore, I guess." Then, she pauses. "Wait. Pretty much all the cities are on the shore, aren't they? Nevermind."

Fox nods, grinning a bit. "Yeah. The cities are on the shores. We tend to avoid the GAFA if we can help it. It's all desert and tends to be filled with a bunch of nasties." He shrugs. "I mean, Not like you don't get nasty spiders and snakes an' all that in the cities, too. just less common. People try to snuff 'em out before they eat their kiddos."

"Avoid the what?" Miriam asks. "And yeah, I'll bet there's all sorts of unpleasant things out in the desert. I'd avoid it, too. And not just because it's gotta be hot as hell there. I don't do hot well."

Fox chuckles. "The GAFA...Er...The Outback. GAFA's what we call it. the Great Australian, erm 'F' All." He shrugs. "And yeah, get's pretty hot. Dehydrate you in like 30 minutes or something."

Miriam ohhhs, nodding as he explains. "Yeah. I wouldn't like it there." she says, then looks back towards the water. "I have a hard enough time here in August. I'm sure the non-desert parts are really nice, though."

Fox laughs. "Yeah, if you don't like the heat here, maybe Oz isn't the best place for you." He frowns and looks at the sky again. "Listen...Um...I realized i didn't get yer name." He holds out his hand. "I'm Fox."

Miriam thinks about that, then ohs. "I guess not." she replies, then offers her hand in return. "I'm Miriam. Nice to meet you, Fox."

Fox shakes her hand and smiles. "Nice to meet you." He looks down at her hand. "Nice gloves, by the way. But anyway, I should probably run home. The...Uh missus will be unhappy if I stay out too late." Or Marrow will skewer him with bones if he doesn't check in by the time he said he'd be back...But explaining that might get complicated.

Miriam's gloves either sit very high on her hands, or her palms are extremely long. "Thanks." she says, though the comment seems to make her a little self-conscious. When he's let go, she 'casually' shoves them into her pockets. "Can't have the missus all cranky, huh? Take care then, Fox."

Fox nods. "Right-o, she'd have me head. See ya around then, Miriam." He collects up his shirt and shoes and begins heading inland.

Miriam takes her hand out of her pocket long enough to wave, then once he's headed inland she walks back towards the water. If he's staying around to see where she goes, she heads back into the water.

Current Mood: thirsty

Foyer - Brotherhood Headquarters - Staten Island

The foyer is a high-ceilinged and open area. Two rows of glass doors, one after the other, create sort of an antechamber before opening onto the foyer. A set of winding stairs leads up to the second floor; half way up they pause at a landing before turning back the same direction they cam in a space-saving measure.

To the left of the doors in, a set of swinging double doors leads into the main office while a glassed-in lounge area can be seen off to the right, the glass frosted to allow some privacy within. Beside this area, a shallow set of stairs leads down to the annex area. Further along, past the stairs, the area splits off into three halls. One continues straight, leading back towards a set of back doors and another stairwell, while the other two lead off left and right.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Fox wanders out of the boiler room, covered in soot and cursing a bit. He slams and then flips off the door, because it can totally see him and is now offended. The Auzzie dusts himself off and sighs, looking out at the room. Stupid random broken machine, he'll totally fix the hell out of it tomorrow.

Rogue descends the stairs from the floors above, readjusting a glove as she jogs down. She seems to be heading towards the front doors, but upon hearing all that slamming and banging, she looks over with curiosity. Not surprise because this is still the Brotherhood, but still, curious. "Everything okay there?" she asks as she reaches the main level and jams her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt.

The doors to the foyer burst open abruptly, slamming against the walls on either side of the frame. Judging by the prickly-looking silhouette which pauses only briefly, Marrow's home. The walking, boney nightmare stalks in with purpose in every thudded footfall of her boots on the linoleum, slowing her determined gait only slightly as her eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting within the building. To no one in particular, perhaps only peripherally aware that there are others in the foyer, Marrow bellows in a gruff, rasping voice, "Brotherhood! We have a problem!" The scowl on her face indicates the problem is large and that she is 'very not happy'. The last time she looked like this, headquarters security had been breached.

Fox looks up to Rogue and is about to say something when Marrow bursts in. The Auzzie flinches a bit, the soot sticking to him shooting off as he does so. He turns toward Marrow, looking a little nervous. "Oh?" This probably isn't about the water tank...

From within the main office, there is a noticable wince as Emma the nearby slamming of doors, curses, and even Marrow's voice, which doesn't sound particularly pleasant. "Christ," she mutters lowly before leaving and making her way to the foyer, where she is greeted by the small familiar bunch. The woman's eyes roam from one person to the next before she asks in a low and hesitant voice, "What's going on?"

"The hell!" Rogue mutters in exclamation as another door is suddenly slammed. She ducks her head and then quickly whirls to see what's going on now. Her eyebrows go up at Marrow's ominous proclamation, and after shooting a brief sidelong look at Fox, she quickly moves closer to the boney one. "Marrow? What is it? What's the problem?" No, this doesn't seem good at all. She has no answer for Emma and so just shrugs at the question, jerking her chin towards Marrow without having looked away.

Well. This is awkward. Fox, Rogue, and Marrow are all unfamiliar faces. Might be she was discussed at some point prior to recruitment through Emma, but Kitty sure doesn't know one from the other. But there's an Emma, now! Anywho. The brunette is with the usual vigor, as she bounces onto the scene - what timing. Just her luck, really. No set destination or date to keep, Kitty is more than pleased to find a gathering of sorts. Of course, she's not as well-versed with Marrow's moods. Or appearance. So the bouncing slows as Kitty comes down the steps, too - pausing about two or three from the ground floor. But instead of a somber expression, she's all grins. "Hey guys! Dude. Anyone cook 'round here? I'm, like, totally starved. Belly rumbles like -whoa-! .. Oh. Did I miss something?"

Marrow's eyes finally adjust to the different level of lighting, allowing her to focus and eyeball each and every person gathered in the foyer. Her jaw sets for a moment as she considers how to proceed. The bony one is usually full of bravado, but she wasn't expecting nearly everyone to be present at once. No matter. While she glances around at the others gathered, she finally glares in Kitty's direction, not being familiar with the new girl and obviously not enjoying the bubbly demeanor at this time. It serves only as a distraction briefly. She moves right on to the point, addressing the room as she growls, "Mutants are goin' missin'. On th' streets. Wit'out a trace, wit'out warnin'. An' no one knows shit 'bout it." She lets that sink in as she pauses, beginning to pace in agitation.

Fox has a look of horror on his face as he slowly turns to look at Kitty. What is that happy little thing, and why is it being so joyous in front of an angry Marrow. He turns back to look at Marrow, awaiting the destruction of the happy child. But it seems not to come. As he listens to Marrow's explanation of her unhappy mood, he becomes mildly alarmed. He knows a few mutants who LIVE on the streets. "What do you mean 'going missing'? Like..." A thought hits him. "We aren't missing any of us, are we?" He gestures back toward the compound.

The moment Kitty's voice is heard, there's a roll of Emma's eyes. The girl must be high again, she ends up surmising before her attention is turned right back to Marrow. "Missing?" She allows Fox to ask the questions that she too is thinking similiarly, and within her mind, she starts counting off her friends and those that matter to her that are mutants, trying to note if she hasn't seen them lately. "You mean picked up in a black van off of the sidewalk as they're walking and they suddenly vanish? Or more like been living on the street, is a mutant, and is now gone?"

Rogue gives the perky little thing a confused look which begins to tinge with annoyance at the yammering, but perhaps luckily for Kitty, there are more pressing matters to worry about. It takes Rogue a moment, but she manages to tear her attention away and turn back to Marrow, just in time to catch that news. "Uh, wait. What do you mean-" She cuts off, since Fox has already asked it first. "None that Ah heard of..." she replies to Fox, but her tone isn't exactly certain.

Eep. Glaring. Probably not a good sign. But does it put an end to the bouncing? Nope! 'Course not. Kitty fidgets in place, eyes also dancing from one Brotherhooder to the next. And of course, every glance in her direction is met with a flashed grin - and even a wave! Hee. Because they're all such fresh faces! Lookie. A soot-covered hooligan. And a chick with a bad dyejob - who streaks with white? And the bone nightmare. "Dude. Sweet color, Purple," Kitty beams, totally digging Marrow's style. And not quite getting the whole serious vibe. She skips down another step, ever the perky one. "That doesn't sound kosh. Oh, whaddup Miss Frost! Say, missing mutants. That's, like, X-Files stuff. Way deep." She zeroes in on the doomspeaker, Marrow, again. "You must be Detective Scully!"

Pausing in her pacing, Marrow turns to look at Fox for a second, growling, "No. I don' think any of /us/ are missin'." She pauses briefly, then adds in a rasp, "We'll do a head-count later." There's a glance to Emma, then the rest of the group. "Jus'... missin'. Like mutant, homeless... suddenly gone. No one's heard from 'em. No bodies. No 'fuck ya, I'm outta this dump'. Nuthin'. Gone-gone. Disappeared. I don' know how else to explain it." There's a knowing glance given to Rogue. She sighs and rubs her face in mild annoyance as Kitty speaks up again. Hands clench as she grinds her teeth, distracted for a moment. With an angry snort and perhaps showing more composure than she usually does, she continues, "My sources said it was jus' a couple of them at firs'... bu' there are more gone now. These are people who... well, no one woul' really notice, fer th' mos' part." Except people like the Brotherhood, maybe.

Fox again looks at Kitty in horror. She'll probably go missing next. He runs a hand through his beard, turning back to Marrow. Missing people in the city. "But we're sure that they're...I mean if no one would nitice that they're leaving, then maybe they just are leaving by themselves?" He shakes his head. "And how many sources do we have on the street? What kind of numbers are we looking at? A dozen, two?" He holds himself, feeling that he has perhaps asked too many questions all at once.

Emma continues to listen to Marrow. Her arms cross in a thoughtful manner, and she can't help but smirk at the sight of Marrow trying to keep her cool in front of Kitty. If only the girl didn't know her phasing gift - what an entertaining sight that would make... It looks like she's also getting distracted. A quick moment later though, the smirk fades and her attention is back on the matter at hand. "Is there any sort of pattern? Street locations, power related, even anything as seemingly significant as ethnicity?" Maybe there's some sort of underlying pattern going on. The nervous edge ends up slipping away a bit at the information that a lot of people she'd know would appear to not be a part of this little mystery.

"Even if they're up and leavin', that's still pretty strange. Though a lot less worryin' than disappearing..." Rogue mutters, casting another glance at Kitty, her expression one of distaste and disbelief, but she's trying hard to keep her mind on the matter at hand. "Well, we're gonna have to get Intel on this, stat." She glances around to see if anyone here fits that bill. "Maybe check the news, see if anything else has been mentioned, anyone else gone missin' lately..." Her brow furrows as she tries to put together these scant pieces of the puzzle.

Questions are lame. So is fretting. Kitty's all for this black-ops thing, though. Even she's got numbers in her cellular, underground 'contacts'. But c'mon, the drama? Not for Kitty. She bounces down the next step, entertaining the notion that this might be some serious misunderstanding. The bone-demon, overreacting. "Hey, hey. Dudes. I'm all for this, like, conspiracy theory stuff - but can we ice it 'till after introductions? 'Cause I have no fricking clue who you people are. Talk 'bout a crap welcome." Things are going too fast for Kitty, obviously. She's not actually been tokin' the reefer tonight - but wow, things need to slow down. She demonstrates with animated gestures. "Hello! I am Kitty Pryde." Grin, grin, bounce.

"They're not th' kind to jus' pack up an' leave. Destitute. Loners. Down on their luck. Numbers... I ain' got no numbers. Jus' know tha' it's enough to get those in th' know talkin' bu' not big enough to hit th' papers," Marrow explains in a rasp first to Fox. To Emma, she adds, "Ethnicity? Well, they're all mutants. Tha's all I know. It's all over th' city, too. Details are sketchy, frankly. Bu' even a few folks I used to know..." when she was on the streets, though she keeps that out of the equation, "are gone. Vanished." Looking over at Rogue, she nods a bit, "I've not seen anythin' on th' news, bu' check th' smaller papers. Look at th' backpages... migh' not be enough fer front page, you know? But yeah. We need to get our people on th' street... pronto. Migh' want to wire th' big guy, too... I've got a bad feelin' 'bout this." So far, she's ignored the others getting distracted, but the outbursts from Kitty have finally pissed her off. Turning on her heel, she glares at the girl, reaching to apparently scratch at one of the bones at her elbow... or is she reaching it for another reason. Barely contained rage flashes across her features dangerously.... a warning sign for those who know her. But she's not yet said a word to Kitty...

Fox shakes his head. "I haven't seen much mutant related anything on the news lately." He ponders for a moment. "Other than something about some giant woman...But she didn't go walkabout or nothin'." He nods toward Emma. "If we COULD find a pattern, then we could maybe set out a decoy? Our pagers have GPS in 'em, don't...they...?" He purses his lips together and points a finger at Kitty. "Shut yer trap, yer little beast! We don't have time for that shit." Harsh? Perhaps, but maybe it'll shut her up before Marrow fills her with stabbidies. He breathes deep and turns back to Marrow. "And maybe somebody in the compound knows more. There's allot of people in here, hard to believe none of 'em know any mutants on the streets."

Emma facepalms at Kitty's continual disturbance. "Phase into the floor and disappear, or something..." She notes through her teeth in an annoyed tone towards the girl - something Kitty is probably used to at this point. At Marrow's response, all that the purple haired boney-one receives is a blink which flashes as almost confused for a quick moment before it's gone and she looks thoughtful once more. "I can head to areas where the people were targetting and see if I can scan around and pick up anything, any information anyone would have from the people there." Surely there must have been someone that saw something...

"Oh my God, doesn't this have an off-switch or somethin'?" Rogue exclaims in frustration as Kitty bounces about and continues to interrupt Rogue's thought-process. Okay, focussing now, as she ignores the idea of introductions. "Right, we'll start checkin' out the papers then, and sure, you wanna go do that, Ah dunno, maybe take some back up or somethin'," is tossed offhandedly towards Emma. "See if we can get enough info to work out a decoy or a trap or somethin'. Seems like right now we're missin' too many details."

Awr, look how cute the crazy one gets when she's pissed! No, seriously. Kitty gets it, and there's no doubt or uncertainty in her mind that Marrow's irked. But she's just too irrepressible! So the grin remains, though she does cock her chin off center. Tilt? Why so serious. "Okay, okay. Look Bossy Bones, if we're going to, like, work in the same office - I need names." She shrugs a shoulder, also reaching - but to harness her curls into a loose ponytail. Of course, dear Fox earns a wide-eyed glance. The grin falters, then returns in full-force. "Um, no? Chill, Steve." You know. Like the Crocodile Hunter? Maybe that's an inappropriate moniker. But oh well! She flashes Emma that grin, too. "You guys are, like, way too anal. You're not missing details, you just don't have any. This is ridic."

Nodding slowly as the others speak to her, Marrow tries to tear her eyes away from Kitty for a moment to focus on the topic at hand. "Righ'. Okay. Intell get out there an' do yer shit. I'll keep my contacts on th' street lively. If anyone finds anythin', report back. No fuckin' heroes. Got tha'?" Like she'd follow her own advice? Maybe. Looking to Rogue, she asks, "Do th' pagers have GPS trackin'?" She's pretty sure they do, but she wants that confirmed now that it's been brought up. Marrow's ire finally breaks through as she stalks over abruptly to the girl, snarling. "Shut. Th' fuck. Up. Now. Yer talkin' to one of th' commandin' officers 'round here, so shut up an' listen up. I know yer new. I know you don' know shit here, bu' we got more pressin' matters to deal wit' righ' now. This is /dangerous/, an' I swear if you keep flappin' yer lips like tha', yer goin' to fuckin' /lose them/."

Fox nods in agreement with Rogue. "Right, I suppose it might be a little early to plan a decoy..." He dusts himself off a bit. He doesn't really have a role here as of yet...Other than fixing random crap. Fox wonders who actually is in charge of intel, but he'll get all of those details later. Marrow seems in a worse mood than usual, and seeing her go after the annoying one like that, while satisfying, deters him from asking further questions himself. Once he gets the chance he'll go looking for a few of his mates, maybe they've seen something. As for Kitty calling him 'Steve'? He's fine with that. If she doesn't know his real name, she can't find his room as easily.

There's a nod from Emma as she hears Marrow's words on intel. "Got it," she notes calmly before her brow arches slightly, seeing Marrow walk towards Kitty and start snarling at her. Again, Emma smirks, but is quiet, not adding anything more to the moment, at least openly. That silence on her side continues to linger for a few moments as the woman continues to stand there. Her getting out on the streets and seeing if she can pick up on anything may be one of the first things she does the next day - if she gets backup, which she isn't really looking to fond on receiving...

"Yeah, we'll get an Intel base station goin' in the catacombs. You hear anything at all, no matter how insignificant, you report it," Rogue adds, still a little distracted as she just can't stop staring at Kitty in disbelief each time the girl opens her mouth to speak. "Huh? Oh, uh, Ah dunno," she replies, frowning thoughtfully as to the pagers. She is not a techy person. "Yeah, Ah ... think so. Ah mean, it told us where folks were, and Ah think the computers keep track somehow, so that must be it, right?"

Hm. Dilemma. This is most definitely problematic. If anything pauses Kitty's bouncing, it's getting up in her face. Unfortunately, it only pauses the brown-eyed annoyance - it doesn't silence her. While that grin does wipe clean, and she does take a beat to gather her thoughts and composure, Kitty is not down for the count. Probably because, well, there's a sudden familiar voice ringing through her thoughts. Slowly, that vanished grin is replaced instead by the suggestion of a smirk. "Marrow? Kind of literal, don't you think?" And what's the best way to sidestep such a face-to-face confrontation? Ghost through it. So without ceremony, Kitty simply phases. Right through Marrow. Bouncing out of 'danger', Kitty chatters on. "I'm not so good with the whole, like, chain of command thing. But I -can- go places -you- can't, so rethink the whole yelling-in-my-face thing, Bone-inator." She wheels on Rogue, then. "And duh, they're actually, like, outfitted with GPRS - cellular transmitters. Data pushers, very James Bond." GPRS? Cellular transmitters? Data pushers? Kitty might actually know what she's saying, for once.

Marrow is positively vibrating, she's so angry at this point. She's not even paying attention to the others, apparently. She's just zeroing in on the annoying-thing, stalking toward her with a purpose and clenched fists. And then suddenly, she stops and blinks as she's literally walked through. She stands there, dumbfounded for a minute as the babbly-thing keeps going on. She then turns on her heel to face the girl, glaring at her, then looking to Rogue, then back at the girl again. "I don' /care/ if you aren' good wit' chain of command... you'll /learn/ or you'll be stuck on muck duty fer th' rest of yer natural life. You got skills, girl... don' waste 'em on garbage duty," she growls, obviously ignoring the girl's information about the pagers, not one to be one-upped too well.

Fox sighs and pulls out his pager, which he always keeps on his person. He isn't exactly the best with this kind of technology, but he was used to using such things in the militery. "Well it looks...like..." Fox looks up to see Kitty walking through Marrow. Rats! That shoots down his plans to throw things at her when she wasn't looking. But...the girl does seem to know what she's talking about. "Hey...Um...Walking-through-walls girl...You know how to access that sort of stuff?" he looks around at the others. none of them seem to actually know how the pagers work. "So...For instance, would you be able to set up something in our command station so we could plot everyone on a city map?"

Emma too has never paid close attention to the pager she was given. So, she doesn't bother trying to ponder up what the little device was fully capable of. The woman doesn't reach to inspect her own like Fox does as she watches Kitty phase through Marrow and offer some tech advice. She then remembers what Kitty told her about the ATMs... "At least someone here knows something about this tech stuff." Such sudden praise for the one who was so annoying moments ago. "You think you can do it without making anything explode, Kitty?" the woman asks, reiterating Fox's own question.

Rogue gives Kitty a withering look as she's duhed. "You think 'cause you got a power ain't no one can touch you, kid? Fuck, if you think you're the only one here with a few tricks up your sleeve... You wanna prove your worth and actually pull your weight around here, /then/ maybe you can go around shootin' your mouth off, but until then, shut up." Her tone is touched with an edge of danger and she can't quite help flexing her fingers inside her gloves as she stares fixedly at the girl. But she hasn't yet actually raised her voice. "Now, can you do like he asked?" she inquires simply, but in a pointed tone meant to keep Kitty on the subject and not flying around picking fights. "What is it you got in mind?" is then asked of Fox, as Rogue turns her head, her eyes a little slower to leave Kitty and move on to the next subject.

"But Scully, I just did my nails," Kitty drawls, shooting the wheeled-about superior a glance. Obviously, not digging the whole garbage duty idea. But there's no sudden stabbiting, so that's good! Maybe Marrow and Kitty'll be BFF afterall! Now, to play audience to the others. Fox, Emma, and Rogue - with their questions and their wrath. That smirk, which was just teetering on the edge of smugness, is overtaken by a more trademark grin. Brilliant, ear-to-ear, undeterred. Must take some practice, to be under such intense heat from every direction and not crack. It's Rogue she chooses to address first, given the withering. "Rogue, right?" Yeah, another ridiculous name in Kitty's opinion - but she doesn't add that. Wise, pro'lly. "Look, all I wanted was an intro. Like whoa, there's the new girl - maybe we should, like, say hello? But whatev." Apparently, not shutting up. She sweeps a glance over the others, greeting the question of GPS tracking with a casual one-shoulder shrug. Though Emma's cast a grin. Exploding is Kitty's favorite. "Dude. If the morons at AT&T can do it, so can I. The receiver's pro'lly already set up in the 'command station'." The way she echoes that title, and accompanies said echoing with an eyeroll, Kitty obviously thinks the existence of a room called the command station is absurd. "You guys just don't know what one looks like." Obviously.

For the most part, Marrow just seethes in silence. She's made her point. Whether or not it's accepted is another thing entirely. She stands there, glaring at Kitty as the others start asking her if she can set something up for them based on the GPS tracking. "You'll learn 'bout yer place in th' food chain, girl, or I'm serious... you'll be scrubbin' toilets fer th' rest of yer stay here. I say who gets on active duty 'round here. Me. Rogue. Pietro. Tha's it. You wanna prove yerself, cut th' bullshit, put this shit together an' get others to help you." Looking to the rest of the group, she growls, "I suggest we get on this /now/. Don' have time to waste. Don' know who's gonna disappear next."

Fox nods to Emma. "Yes, explosions might come a guster." He looks over at Rogue, nodding in agreement with Marrow about getting things set up now, rather than later. "Well if we can keep everyone on one screen, then we'll know if one of us ends up where they shouldn't be. Or...I'm assuming each machine has a different serial number? So each signal should be different?" He asks these questions to Kitty, looking as though he has a rather terrible taste in his mouth. He doesn't await a reply before continuing on. "So we could even tell where each person has gone...if one of us turns up missing." He looks at the machine again. "Also...I don't know how good you are with technology, but is there a way to set an alarm in case one of our pagers stops transmitting?" He frowns at the girl when she mentions that there probably already is a command center. "Well yeah, there would have to already be one set up somewhere otherwise they wouldn't work." he ponders for a moment. "I haven't seen anything like that here...Though I also didn't know that the catacombs even existed for a while there. Marrow? You know where all this is hooked up to?"

Once again, Emma is quiet, but does smirk to Kitty's words about AT&T. She then nods, "Yeah, it looks like time isn't something we can screw around with right now, unfortunately. The sooner those pagers are modified, the sooner things can get rolling," which sounds like a solid plan to her. "How long do you think it'll take to get a group of those things changed up for what we need?" That's assuming that Kitty /does/ actually know what she's doing here. "And we may as well need a backup plan, just in case something happens and the pagers short out - or do actually explode." A perky sunshiney Kitty behind technological tinkering - the explosion idea is very possible in Emma's mind right now.

"Y'hit the button, it shows up for everyone where it is you're at. And then on the computers, it shows everyone," Rogue says wearily. "That's all Ah know. If Ah had to guess, they'd be wired up to that bank of computers and shit down in the catacombs." She brings her gaze back to Kitty, looking wholly unimpressed, unbothered. "This ain't Frosh Week. Apparently you ain't a real keen observer, but we're kinda in the middle of things here. If you can't keep up, that ain't my problem." Now her gaze moves on to Marrow, dismissing the perky girl for now, trying to put her from her mind. "Yeah, no time to waste. Keep your eyes open, ask questions, and report everything back. Those who got the know-how, make sure these pagers are gonna do as we need 'em. And everybody better be trainin' as if their lives depended on it." She frowns thoughtfully to the idea of a backup plan. "Maybe we oughta start a sign out policy. Not that Ah got any wish to know where the hell you guys go in your off-hours, but if someone don't come back within a few hours of when they said they would, might be better we start lookin' sooner than later."

And Rogue's not the only one who shows signs of exasperation. Even bouncing, Kitty can reek of boredom - which she does now, given that all this talk of technology and responsibility is wearing thin. Her eyes flick up to the ceiling, impatient for the others to cease babbling so she can babble. So when there's a pause in the banter, Kitty chirps. "I don't even need to touch the pagers. They're already, like, transmitting. Hardware's fine, just need to take a peek at the software." Pause. "Catacombs, seriously? Seriously. What is this, eighteenth-century Rome?" Ah, and there it is. Apparently, the poor Brotherhooders gathered are saved. Because Kitty is intent on making an exit. Towards a door! One she'll probably phase through, rather than slam or bust open. Kitty is very door-friendly, see. "Don't bother playing tour guide, I think I can find the creepy tunnels! TTYL, okay? Pleasure meeting you all!" And by the genuine look of that grin she flashes back at them, she means it. Despite the yelling! And then she's gone, ghosted out. Hee.

All this talk about technology is giving Marrow a headache, especially as it seems to just encourage the annoying girl. Which is also giving her a headache. Though it's in a metaphoric sense, due to her healing factor. "Command Center's downstairs on th' way to th' catacombs," she points out to Fox in a low growl, pinching the bridge of her nose between her eyes for a second. "An' yeah, I'm pretty sure all tha' shit's hooked up down there. Th' office staff can help wit' it." Shaking her head, she adds, "I'm here to stock up an' go out again. I'll check in wit' th' office once an hour till we get everythin' sorted. I have a few more contacts to check wit'." She then glares at Kitty as the girl goes off about Rome and catacombs and... oh look, she's leaving. Good. The relief is almost palpable around Marrow's personal space... not that many choose to stand in it. She shoots an almost imploring look at Rogue, as though begging not to assign the girl to 'active combat'.

Fox inspects his pager a bit more, not that there's much to inspect without taking it apart, which Fox is not too keen on doing. "Right, I knew about the button...But can we set it up to be running all the time?" He looks up at Rogue, asking her instead of Kitty. "I mean, we'd obviously still want it to panic if the button's pressed, but I'd also want an alarm if a signal's interrupted." He sighs. "And I DO agree with Miss Snow's backup plan idea..." He'll probably never get Emma's name right. "But I don't know how well a sign out service is actually going to work. I mean, we have a hell of a lotta kids around here...And this IS New York City. People get distracted, they get held up in traffic. Just getting everyone to comply would be a huge undertaking." He shakes his head. "And then what if someone doesn't come back? I can see us running on a lot of search and rescue missions because someone forgot to call in." He nods to Marrow. "I mean yeah, I think some of us are more responsible when it comes to that sort of thing, but...I'm just saying it might come with a few snags." He looks over to Kitty when she speaks up. "So we only need to see the computer to set that all up?" He nods, about to offer to take the girl down to the catacombs, where Marrow indicates everything is set up. But then Kitty runs out before he can offer his guidance. Not that he minds terribly, because it just means he doesn't have to deal with her as much, but he'd still like to be there when she sets up the parameters. "Maybe I should..." He sighs. "Maybe I should go try to find her?"

Sign out policy? That draws a sigh and eyeroll from Emma. She doesn't normally live on the grounds, so the thought of having to sign out everytime she goes to her real home doesn't sound appealing. "Are we locking down then as a precautionary, or sticking to the pagers?" She asks, just so she knows if she will have to stay in that room of hers upstairs until this passes. Fox getting her name wrong causes Emma's nose to wrinkle. "It's Frost, not that hard to remember." Snow at least sounds - gentler and nicer than Frost anyway... When Kitty leaves, the woman watches her go with a satisfied smile upon her face. Maybe they can finally really concentrate on matters at hand now.

Rogue just follows Kitty's departure with one last disdainful look, shrugging her shoulder to Fox's question. "Do whatever you like. And fine, forget the signin' out, and it ain't no lockdown, but if you're leavin' and don't fancy disappearin' for good, tell someone where you're goin' and when you expect to be back. If you can't be bothered to do that, then there's no helpin' you." She tosses up her hands and then jams them into her pockets. "Ah'm gonna go fill in the Big Man. Anyone needs me, Ah'll be in my room once Ah'm done." With that, she starts without pause for the office, her shoulders tight.

Arching an eyebrow at Fox, Marrow rumbles warningly, "Watch who yer callin' kids." Yeah, her nose is out of joint today and the slightest thing is going to set her off. Finally, she seems to let that go as she runs a hand through her purple locks. To Emma's question: "Wha'ever. You guys sort tha' shit out. I have places to be. An' if you need a decoy... I'm probably yer best bet, bein' th' most obvious mutant here an' one who can take a beatin' an' keep on tickin'." And she's proven it more than once. "Jus' let me know. An' frankly... th' only one who I don' trus' as bein' responsible is th' new one tha' jus' dismissed herself. She's yer problem. Not mine..." This is said to the room. Kitty is everyone's problem but hers because she's going to be conveniently on the streets. With that, she turns on a heel and heads for the door unless anyone stops her, sign out policy or not. She gives a brief salute to Rogue and that's the end of her, apparently.

Fox looks around at all the girls. Why is he the only male? He feels overwhelmed. Right...Frost. He totally won't remember that. And the sign out policy? "I mean, I'll sign out an' all that. it's not a bad idea..." he trails off and frowns a bit. He then smirks at Marrow, not saying anything, but he's unhappy to be the one to go hunt down Kitty before she destroys something. He sighs and turns to open the door Kitty walked through. "I guess I'll go find little miss sunshine. Anyone needs me I'll be underground." He adds as an afterthought. "And don't plan on taking any hot showers tonight, I need to get a part for that water tank." With that, he leaves for the tunnels before anyone can protest the water predicament.

Emma shakes her head. "I'm not bothering with her. I was the one that had to fucking go and recruit her," she states towards no one in particular, even as they're already leaving. She too takes this as a cue to leave and start prepping. Rather than leave, Emma heads towards the stairs to make her way up to her room. Maybe she'll do the sign-out policy, maybe. For now though, its the farthest thing from her mind.

Current Mood: stressed

The O'Toole Box Pub - Greenwich Village - Manhattan

         Every wall in this place is covered with sports memorabilia, broadway posters and other tidbits of NYC culture. PA colloag of photographs picture past patrons standing at various historical, cultural and scenic sites around the world -- all wearing the pub's t-shirt -- have been worked into a large collage which takes up most of the mirror behind the bar. A little sign asks patrons to buy a t-shirt and then submit such a photo to get on their 'Wall of Fame'.

         An open archway just beyond the far end of the bar opens up into a pool room where four coin-operated tables have been set up in a square pattern. Cues are lined up in holders upon the walls. Decorative lamps hang from the ceiling above each table, allowing the best possible lighting for players to take their shots. Small two-man tables with chairs line the walls to give them an alternative drink holder.

         In the main bar area, four-man tables litter the room, though occasionally patrons pull them together for larger groups. The wall opposite the bar offers half a dozen booths. Beyond the tables and chairs lies a raised dais which works as a stage, as well as a small curtained area behind it where performers can get ready for their shows. It is said that this place doesn't pay much but just about anyone who wants to play can get booked.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The bar is mildly crowded tonight, it being a Saturday night. There are a few seats left at the bar, one of them is occupied by a scruffy man nursing a beer. Fox has stopped by for a quick drink before returning home for the evening. He sighs, wondering what he should do about the situation he is currently dealing with. Life is so full of hard choices. He leans down and scuffles his hair, looking in the freflection of his bike helmet sitting ion the bartop.

It's a couple of hours past her shift, but it takes so long to get anywhere in the city that she's only just walking by the bar right about now. Ash pauses outside the door for a second, attention caught by the noises escaping from within. For a moment, she considers moving on, heading home, but at the last minute, she goes inside. Stepping inside, she moves right up to the bar, taking up a seat near the one with the bike helmet. She waves down the bartender and requests politely but with a tone that suggests she knows exactly what she wants, "Whiskey. Glenfiddich if you've got it. Straight up."

Fox tips his head slightly, hearing the girl order. "Ah, familiar with whiskies, are we?" The man smirks at the girl, his voice distinctly Australian, though some may think he's British. The look on his face indicates that he may be a bit tipsy, but not terribly so. The man taps the side of his nose. "Not too many of me patrons ask for such things."

Slowly turning her head, Ash replies, "Some of us have an appreciation for the stuff." She eyes Fox slightly, then tucks some of her coppery locks behind an ear. Her voice is quiet, even a little reserved, but with a twinge of something else. She might even sound stand-offish if it wasn't for the almost bored tone and expression. Tilting her head a little to one side, she asks, "Australian? The accent, I mean." She's obviously heard it elsewhere before. Maybe tv.

Fox grins and nods. "Ya got me, I'm a Skippy alright, miss." He nods again and taps the counter. "And it's good to have a perfered drink I suppose, most just get a 'whisky' and end up dissappointed." He makes to sip his beer but finds that it is empty. He sighs and orders another. What is this...His fourth? Who's counting?

Shrugging a little, Ash replies, "I've had whiskey before, 'mate'." Yeah, she tacks that on after he confirms his nationality. "So, really," she adds with a bit of a grin, "I'm a big girl. I can take it." Though probably only a few shots before this wisp of a girl might be drunk under the table, however. She's likely just wanting to take the edge off of the day, though, not get completely drunk. "Beer just makes me feel... well, over-full. So I'll stick to the shots."

Fox nods, pondering that for a moment. "I can appreciate that I suppose. But, well...if it weren't filling it wouldn't make a good breakfast food, right?" He chuckles. "If I wanted something light I'd just be drinkin' me vodka." He nods once more before extending a hand. "Name's Fox, by the way."

There's a delayed reaction before Ash finally grins a little and accepts the hand in a shake. "Pleased to meet you, Fox. Interesting name," she admits curiously. "I'm Ash. Is this someone's favorite watering hole that I've stumbled into?" The bartender then shows up with her shot of whiskey. With a wave of her free hand, she adds, "Don't venture too far. I'll probably want another one."

Fox quirks a brow at the phrase. Was she speaking Strine? The Auzzie shrugs. "I come and go. Actually work at a bar further into town a bit, but I don't like to drink where I work, ya know?" He receives his beer and pops it open, taking a quick draught. "Bah! You yanks and yer awful beer." He shakes his head and sticks out his tongue. "Don't think I'll ever get used to it." He looks back toward the door and nods his head. "Actually this is one of the fancier joints I frequent. The others are...Maybe not so shiny."

Shaking her head as she pulls her hand back and reaches for her shotglass, Ash replies, "Hey, I don't drink beer, and I certainly don't make it. You should get yourself one of the Canadian beers. Might be more to your liking. It's only a suggestion, of course. "Well, I'll admit I'm not one to frequent bars, though if bar patrons are as polite as you, it might not be a bad idea to try it every now and then."

Fox chuckles, flashing a wide grin. "Ah, no. Most patrons are sullen and gloomy. You just found one in the giddy half-drunk phase. Lucky you." He shrugs. "And the Canadian beers don't do much either. It's all too weak is the problem. Yer beers here don't have a high enough alch content." He shakes his head. "I'd usually be pissed by now."

Ash laughs a bit and asks, "Then why bother with it? Why not just go for the hard stuff?" She then lifts her glass in a half-cocked salute and knocks it back, closing her eyes to the burn. She then winces a bit and then breathes out through pursed lips. "Hooboy, that's the good stuff," she whispers. Glancing over at him, she adds, "This is the stuff you should try if you want to get pissed."

Fox waves a hand dismissively. "Yeah, but then it happens too quickly. The pasttime in Oz is to sit on yer portch and drink all day. If ya do that with whiskey you pass out before noon." He chuckles. "And besides, If I were gon'ta stick to shots I'd be downin' me darlin' Jagermeister."

Chuckling a bit, Ash replies, "To each his or her own, I guess then." She then nods at the bartender who comes over and pours her another shot. This one isn't knocked back right away. Instead, she turns her attentions back to Fox as she asks, "So, been here long? The States, I mean. Or Manhattan. Whichever." She is a curious one. But then, that's what bar goers do right? Ask each other innane questions about where they're from and what they do?

Fox shrugs. "Depends on what you mean by 'long' I suppose. Less than a year, yeah...But I've been here long enough to get settled an' all that." he nods and swigs his drink some. "An' you? You from New Yorkie? Or do you hail from a different land?"

Shaking her head a bit, Ash turns slightly more morose, her expression souring a bit. "No, I'm not native to here, but I'm American," she replies, "if that's what you mean." Sighing heavily, she turns to look straight ahead, picks up her shotglass and knocks back the whiskey... this time with a lot less relish and more determination. In a whiskey-hoarse voice, for a few seconds, she adds, "But we're not all perfect, are we? I mean... well, I don't know what I mean. Nevermind. Anyway..."

Fox furrows his brow at the girl as she goes all moody. Hmmm peculiar. He takes a drink as she does her shot, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "No, miss...Suppose we ain't." He contemplates appologizing for bringing up something that seemed to have bothered her, but he just shrugs. "Um...Well this city seems nice at least, lots o' places to explore and such, eh?"

Obviously not wanting to talk about 'home', she moves right along. First, she motions to the bartender for a third shot... at this rate, she'll get pretty drunk pretty quickly, if she's not careful. Her cheeks already look a little flushed after just two shots. Ash then says, "It seems alright. I mean, it's big. There are a lot of mean people. But there are some good people. So I suppose it's like anyplace else... just bigger." She clears her throat, then asks, "What is it you do?"

Fox nods as the girl speaks, deciding he might suggest that she slow up a bit if she keeps drinking like this. "Well, that's when you smack the mean ones around a bit." He nods in agreement with himself. "And if they still give you trouble you come find me." He points a thumb at himself. "I'm meaner than any o' the others, so I'll just bust 'em up for ya." He grins. "An' whado I do? Right now? I bartend. You?"

Arching an eyebrow, Ash looks back over at Fox, not taking that third drink just yet. "That's what I mean... you just bartend? Most people who bartend usually have day jobs don't they? I don't know, I didn't realize it wasn't just a part-time job. My bad." She then shrugs a bit and adds, "Why would I get a bartender I only just met to come and bust up someone who bugs me. For the most part, I'm usually left alone. Just a few creeps from time to time." Clearing her throat, she adds, "I do... data entry. Glamorous, I know." A little bit of sarcasm to go with the beer?

Fox chuckles. "I was only kiddin' deary. I usually charge people if they're gonna have me beat someone down." He smirks. A joke? Maybe. He nods. "And yeah, You can make pretty good money bartending. The tips are great, 'specially if they think me accent's cute." He grins again. "But seriously, data entry sounds way cooler." Perhaps not exactly the truth...But she seems a bit tipsy. Will she buy it?

Rolling her eyes, Ash replies, "Honestly, tending bar sounds better. You get tipped. I don't. I get paid what I get paid and docked if I'm even five minutes late coming back from a measly half hour lunch. But it pays the bills. Sort of. Anyway... it's good to have something you enjoy. Especially when living in a city like this. Things are a little crazy. Sometimes all you want to do is keep your head low, right? Don't attract attention and things will go smoothly. Otherwise, next thing you know... well, you end up being the next statistic of some sort." Well, now, that's morbid. Clearing her throat, she knocks back her third shot and sets the glass down on the bartop more abruptly than intended. After she's done with the wince, she starts fishing out a few bills and says, "Look... nice chatting with you. I don't want to ruin your happy buzz you've got going..."

Fox watches the girl as she speaks, perhaps understanding what she speaks of more than he lets on. He just nods and waits until she's done speaking before he speaks himself. "Well, it's not that hard...Picking a job you enjoy I mean. They tend to pay pretty well if you know where to look for a job." He shrugs. "And I've ruined a few buzzes myself in my day...Don't worry your little head about it." He gives her a little salute / finger pointy thing and nods. "Right, and nice speakin' with you, as well. I'll a...See ya around then?"

The bills are tossed onto the bartop. "Yeah. If the data entry thing goes belly-up, I'll have to give the bartending gig thing a consideration," Ash says, offering a wane smile. "As for the buzz, well, hopefully you can pick it back up quickly," she offers sympathetically. "And sure. I'll be around. Now that I know this place exists, I'll have to pop by again at some point." Whether or not it's near home or work or wherever. "Nice to meet a friendly face in such a confusing space. Take care of yourself."

Fox nods and offers a wave, intending to indeed recover his happy buzz. "Take care deary." He contemplates momentarily whether or not she's safe to go home alone, but he decides she'll be fine. The city's filled with taxis and busses, and they're not in a bad part of town.

Current Mood: drunk

Cafeteria - Brotherhood Headquarters - Staten Island

The cafeteria hasn't undergone a lot of work since it served as a high school cafeteria, perhaps unfortunately. Long picnic table-style tables are set up in row upon row, providing more than ample seating room here. The walls are cement brick, painted in an institutional off-white that looks dingy even when freshly painted.

There's a small alcove next to the door, where the food is dispensed, a doorless opening on either end. Your standard metal and glass counter and display area runs the full length of the area, plastic trays available next to the 'in' doorway. Hot food is only served within mealtime windows, but a sandwich and salad bar are available around the clock. Drinks of all sorts can be dug out of the refrigerator units beside the door 'out'. Behind the counter, two large doorways open onto the cooking area, off-limits to anyone not employed specifically for preparing food.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The cafeteria is mildly crowded, but not so much as usual. This is probably because most people are out enjoying their Friday evening. Fox, however, decided to stay at home and enjoy the less crowded atmosphere of the compound for a change. He is currently standing near one of the refrigeration units speaking to one of the lunch attendants. He grabs a bottle of water and some fruit and nods to the woman, promising to have a look at this machine again the next time he gets a chance. He smiles at the woman and heads toward one of the less crowded tables.

This wasn't exactly how Emma planned to spend her Friday evening - but it'll do. After leaving the main office and finishing up on some paper work, she makes her way to the cafeteria. Her nose almost wrinkles to the sight of there being other people here, which is typical, but for some reason, she was hoping it wouldn't be that way... The woman makes her way to one of the fridges and pulls out a bottle of water. Her blue eyes roam over the food, but nothing seems particularly appeali- is that chocolate? She snags one of the small bags of chocolate chip cookies and makes her way towards one of the less populated tables.

Fox looks up after sitting down and scans the room, looking for anyone he recognises. No one. The Aussie frowns, he had been away for a bit and hasnt had a chance to catch up with anyone since returning. He notices a woman walking toward his general direction. She looked slightly familiar, though he hasnt yet spoken with her. Where had he seen her...The office perhaps? He shrugs and eats a soggy bit of fruit. If she comes near he might initiate conversation.

For the moment, Emma is quite content with sitting at that table she's at. She's also been away for some time recently, and there were many new faces that she hasn't placed names to yet, or their powers. Surely, enough time in the office and going through records will fix that, but for now, she sees no one familiar... Thank the gods that Kitty wasn't here though. A locked down bedroom was of no use to someone who could walk through walls. Her thoughts are obviously drifting as she continues to nibble on those cookies.

Fox pops a few grapes in his mouth and shrugs. Might as well try to meet new people. He grabs his items and walks over toward the girl sitting alone. "G'evnin miss, mind if I sit here?" Before awaiting a reply he sits down. He nods to her, his voice carrying a distinct Australian accent, though it is occasionally mistaken as British. "You work in the office here, don'cha?" He frowns. No, that's not the only place he's seen her. He recalls a few newspaper clippings in the catacombs. She was in the news a while back . What is her name? Fox will never remember on his own, he's terrible with names. "Um...I'm Fox, by the way." He holds out a dusty hand. Doesn't he ever wash up?

Before Emma can open her mouth to protest him sitting at the table with her, Fox is already seated... So much for that. "Yes, I do," she states in a calm manner as she continues to concentrate on those cookies of hers. The accent is noted, yet she doesn't say anything. Any semblance of her own British one has been washed away by ten years of 'New Yawk' living. When the hand is outstretched and the greeting is offered, a brow is arched. Fox. She puts the name to memory so she can look up his file later, or at least try to. "Emma," is what she offers, but doesn't move to take ahold of that dirty hand of his. She's etaing afterall! And man, ain't she the conversational type?

Fox quirks a brow at the woman as she does not shake his hand. Ok, hes used to that. People here apparently dont do the whole shaking hands thing regularly. "Right...Nice to meet you." He nods. "Emma....Emma Freeze? Ice? Something...Werent you in the papers a while back? Saw them in the combs, I did." He nods in agreement with himself. Hes fairly certain that her name was something wintery, but like hell remember that. He scratches his chest idly, noticing hes still got a bit of sand on him from training earlier. he brushes some of it off, creating a small dust cloud. "Um...So I havent actually seen you around the compound other than when I pass by the office. You sticky around here much?"

Emma's nose wrinkles first when he tries to guess her name and then when he notes that he's seen her in the papers. That all depended on which paper, and which time was the article printed. Either way, she looks towards him and decides to help him out with a bit of a sigh, "Frost - Emma Frost... Yes, I'm a public mutant. And no, the whole thing wasn't staged." She's used to the questions, so it hardly seems to bother her. Then that dust cloud kicks up, which causes her to turn her head, away from the sand particles. "I don't live here at headquarters like a lot of others do. I work, train, and then go to my home outside of here." Now it's her own turn for questions. "How long have you been here with us?" She doesn't seem to draw him from memory either.

Fox stops brushing himself off and notices the dust is invading her personal space. "Oops, sorry Miss Frost. Lemme clear that up right quick." He snaps his fingers and the sand condenses into a sphere and drops on the table. "Sometimes forget I'm not in the GAFA." He frowns at the girl. "Staged? Didn't hear nothin' about stagin'..." He remembers little about the article, but when he'd read the article he figured her name indicated some sort of ice power, that's why he'd kind of remembered the name. He smiles at Emma. "I've been here probably about...A month and a half? I live upstairs, come down to train and fix all the junk everyone busts up." He reaches out and takes the ball, which is now quite solid, and sticks it in one of his pockets. He can use it later. "But I'm surprised I don't see you in the trainin' rooms, then. I'm in there often enough...Unless you're there different times than me I suppose." He shrugs. Fox does have a regular routine, it's entirely possible he just always misses her.

"I've been away for a few months. Just got back about a week or two ago," Emma shrugs. "Haven't gone back in for training since returning, which is also why I've never heard of you before." Her shoulders hunch upwards once more. "There was a lot of print, and a lot of local papers that needed sales. Some questioned the truth of what really happened. Others just put the news out there and left it at that." The woman smirks bitterly. "Have to love free press rights..." She eyes the sand as it forms into the ball on the table, but doesn't seem exactly surprised or shocked by it. "Sand manipulation or something?" Is asked in a blunt manner.

Fox takes a bite out of an apple as she speaks, nodding when she pauses. "Ah, I just scanned through a few of the clippings in the cats, didn't really stop to read them too thoroughly." The man nods. "And that'd explain why I haven't seen you before, plus that I was out for about a week myself. Hhad to run back to Oz to take care of a few things. Don't like to spend too much time there because I'm actually publicly known back home...Well to the RAIC I am, and they keep tryin' to hire me on." He shrugs again. "And yeah. Sand, soot, dust. Just about anything particulate, I can move it. Which causes me to be a bit dusty after I do me trainin'."

Current Mood: hungry

Boar's Head Bar and Grill - Lower East Side - Manhattan

         The 'grill' part of the Boar's Head seems to be largely defunct. In fact, the 'bar' part isn't too impressive either. The grungy bar is always dark and smoky, the sickly smell a mixture of cigarettes, beer, and other, less pleasant aromas. In the long, narrow space, there barely seems room for the bar and the few tables set up behind it. Most of the regulars seem to stick to the bar, perching on their dirty stools and clutching cracked and spotted glasses of their favorite poison.

         The bartender is a surly, short old man who talks little and listens even less. There are no dart boards, no complimentary bowls of peanuts, no skimpily-dressed waitresses flirting for tips. But the booze is cheap and the old man never kicks anyone out for drunken behavior.
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The side door to the Boar's Head pub opens with a metallic squeal. A small cloud of smoke leaks out before a tall man in a leather coat and blue jeans stumbles out, clearly drunk. Fox sighs and puffs a large cigar, leaning back against the wall and looking up at the sky between the two buildings. The sky is dark, ugly clouds looming overhead. There is a light rain and a strong wind, most of which is blocked by the buildings around him.

As luck would have it, Grey is skating by just around this time. Drunk people are sometimes generous, at least with smokes, and so she slows to a stop as she comes up to the crumbling facade, looking up at him from under her hood and then using her sleeve to wipe the mist of rain off her face. She ducks up into the alley since it gives a little shelter from the wind since it's starting to piss her off. Setting her foot down in a deep puddle of rain and yuck, she lets out a string of colourful words as she hops off her board. She hasn't actually notices the lone figure already occupying the alley.

Fox hears the voice of a child and frowns, growling out something about "Fuckin' kids...they should all be shut up in camps." He lowers his head and notices the girl, squinting a bit in the darkness. She looks familiar...Grey? Maybe. Maybe some other random street rat. He kicks a random rock toward the girl. "Hey, you there." He squints again. "Ent you that er...Child thingy I know?"

"Fuck you, man," Grey tosses off reflexively before actually looking at the guy. Oh yeah, and she was here to beg for stuff, wasn't she. But that gets sidelined as she realizes she knows the rather drunk guy in the alley. Figures. "Dude, that you, crazy kangaroo guy who don't speak right?" She's not drunk and so a little more eloquent perhaps. "Geez, it's a small city."

Fox grins. "I aint a roo, ya little bitzer. If I was a roo, Id be not here right now...Because they cant drive motorbikes." He nods assuredly. "And yer...a child." He kind of points at her, but its slightly off to the left. "And why does your wheely stick..." He stops for a moment and takes a puff of his cigar. "Its loud."

"Friggin' hell, man, you're making less sense than usual," Grey points out as she hefts the board up under her arm and makes her way into the alley towards him. "You're, like, completely wasted aren't you," she says in a tone that's both disparaging and envious. "Shoulda known you couldn't hold your booze. Not that I care, but I think you can't drive a motorbike right now either. A kangaroo would do better."

Fox shakes his head. "Nope. Roos cant drive, ya twit!" He shakes his head and reaches under his coat for a bottle, taking it out and brandishing it at the girl "I am so not drunk. I only had this much." It's a bottle of Jagermeister, about 2/3 empty. Apparently he had drank almost an entire bottle. "But you're too young to have any...Unless I don't really care." He offers the girl some alcohol...Because he has good paternal instincts and such.

"You're the twit, you damn drunkard," Grey returns. "That's the whole point, see. A kangaroo can't even drive and it'd drive better than you right now. You're /worse/ than that, geddit? Oh, forget it." But the offered booze goes some way to lessening her annoyance with his nonsense. "Yeah, you don't care. The hell is it to you," she reminds him as she grabs the bottle away before he can change his mind. She twists it open and tries to chug a couple of solid mouthfuls, but chokes halfway through the second one, slopping and sputtering and then trying to act smooth as she wipes her mouth on her sleeve and hands the bottle back.

Fox grins as the girl tries to drink the liquor so quickly, and laughs as she chokes. "Oh we'll see who cant drive soon enough, deary." Because Grey is so totally old enough to drive and all. "Um...And I can totally drive. I'll do it later on...when I'm not so...Sated with liquors." He nods. "So how's life, Gretchen? Have fun while I was out?" He was out? Did he even tell her that?

"That's the point, dummy. That you can't drive right /now/. And I'm /thirteen/, remember? Though I could totally drive if I wanted to, except the fucking cops'd totally come down on me." Grey nods resolutely. "You were out? The hell did you go? Not like you got a life or anything, right?" She sets the skateboard on the ground beside the wall and then sits down on it with her back against the bricks.

Fox shakes his head at the girl. "Or they'd arrest you for throwing rocks at monkeys." He then frowns. Oh yeah, he didn't really tell her he was leaving. "I had to...Go someplace for work. And then I had to...Go back to the Oz for a bit..." That doesn't sound suspicious at all. "My parents needed me?" Had he told the girl his parents were dead? Maybe...Hopefully not.

"You asking me or telling me?" Grey states bluntly, frowning up at him and squinting against the trickle of rain. "You suck as a liar, dude. You work in a bar. Is it some sorta travelling bar? Did you go to a bartender conference in Florida?" She holds her hand out, indicating she'd like the bottle back now, please. "So what were you actually doing? I mean, c'mon, the hell do you care what I think?"

Fox furrows his brow. "Oh yeah, I guess that wouldn't make sense...It's for my OTHER work...My SECRET work that you have no idea about...And you never heard me say that." He gives her the bottle. "And yes....My parents? They're alive. So I needed to help them move...their stuff...To a house." He says that second part matter-of-factly. As if saying that his parents are alive is a common thing to mention in conversation.

"Yeeeeah," Grey replies slowly, not sure which part of this to buy, or if she should even buy any of it. "So you're like the Aussie version of CIA or some shit? Yeah, right. And what the hell do I care about your parents, man? I mean, who the fuck ever needed parents anyway. You could move their shit into the ocean for all I care." She takes another swig of the bottle, managing to keep it down this time by not chugging it quite so much.

Fox falters slightly as he attempts to move away from the wall, but leans back into it and makes a confused face around his cigar, looking at a trash can near Grey with mild interest as he holds out his hands as if to steady himself against the fact that the world is totally spinning. he looks back over at Grey? "Whatthefuckyousay?" He shakes his head no. "Yes, exactly. And they live in the ocean...Because that's where Australia lives?"

Grey gives him a strange look, a wrinkled lip, and after taking another sip and closing the bottle, this time she decides to hold onto it. He's clearly had enough. And she nowhere near enough! God, he's probably so wasted he'd let her walk off with the rest, right? A girl can dream, anyway. "Your parents ... live in the ocean?" she clarifies in an amused tone. "You one of the merpeople or something? Or was it like your mother traded her beautiful voice so she could get legs and come to land... Or maybe she's a selkie."

Fox looks at Grey as if shes insane. "Oy, you go nutty sweatheart?" He shakes his head. "Australia is in an ocean...so they live in the ocean on the land that is Australia, see?" He kind of points and draws a shape in the air. "Exactly like that. And me mum isn't silky." He shakes his head. "Nor is she a marple...whatever that is."

"Yeah, the whole damn world is in one ocean or another, but I don't think I live /in/ it," Grey points out, rolling her eyes. "Just 'cause you only got one doesn't make it all special." She takes another sip of the drink, and then pushes to her feet. "Damn man, there's really no talkin' to you when you're this drunk. You got any cash or smokes or anything?" Because she might as well take advantage, even if that wasn't quite as smooth as she was intending.

Fox ponders for a moment and rummages through his pocket. "I 'ave...A cigar." He tosses it toward the girl. "And..." he rummages further. "I have some dollars somewhere...I think." He checks all his pockets but seems to find nothing. "Oh wait. I left it in my..." He bends down and pulls a twenty out of his boot. "What'll ya give me?"

"Uh, my undying gratitude?" Fat chance. But it's worth a shot. Grey gives him a square look as she holds her hands out to the sides to show how little she has. Other than his bottle of booze in one hand, of course. "What d'you want from me, man? I'm the beggar here." She glances at the twenty and then back up into his drunken features. Trying and failing to look imploring.

Fox chuckles. "Like that's worth anything." He shakes his head. "You're pathetic, kiddo." He tosses her the twenty. "Next time we go out to coffee or whatnot, you have to help me try and get the clerk to cry. It's less fun alone."

"Done," Grey replies, not too upset about being called pathetic so long as it gets her the money. She snatches it from the air and stuffs it into one of her many pockets. "So you asking me out for coffee, you old perv?" she asks, though not really seriously.

Fox laughs. "Yup, you got me. Totally one-eightied and like chickies now. Especially the charming, boyish dirty ones who roll around on planks of wood at all hours of the night."

"Yeah, I'm onto you, skeevy old dude," Grey replies with a bit of a smirk as she puts a foot up onto the aforementioned plank of wood. "But whatever, you're still better'n the guys in my- The guys I usually meet. So I'll let you take me out for coffee and I'll help you make the pansy ass clerk cry. Deal?"

Fox nods. "Sounds like a plan to me. And I'm not old...You're just VERY young...Like a fetus." The Auzzie nods. "Fetus McFetusson. That's your new name. I'll get you a super-hero costume."

"Fuck you man. You're over the hill. You must be, what, coming up on two hundred of something?" Grey retorts back. "You're like the old guy in that shitty movie about those short guys with that stupid ring. And dude, if I'm gonna be a super-anything, I'll be a super-villain, 'cause they have way more fun."

Fox confusedly gazes at her. "What? You're the short one. And I'm only 200 in Kangaroo years." He nods. "But yes, they would have more fun..Though I doubt they'd think of themselves as villains. It's just that the rest of the world doesn't agree with their methods."

"What's that, 400 in our human years?" He's getting older by the nanosecond, apparently. Grey smirks up at him and leans back against the wall. "That's 'cause the rest of the world is retarded." She doesn't even know what these methods are, but if people are against them, she's got to be contrary, dammit. The few mouthfuls of booze have her at least a little less eloquent though, so she leaves it at that.

Fox shakes his head. "Naw. Roos live LESS than peoples...So It's be like 27 in human years." He nods in agreement with himself. "And if the world's retarded, then we should...Beat them mercilessly?" What does THAT mean? Oh well...He's mildly drunk...Or maybe he's totally wasted. Regardless, he is still able to somehow relight his cigar, which seems to have fizzled out in the mists.

"Dude, you're 27? Man, that's almost 30, and then you might as well be 400," Grey informs him wisely, very knowledgeable about these things, yes. Or maybe she's just having some fun at his expense for once, since she doesn't get the chance that often. "Fuck yeah, beat 'em if you can. I mean, you're almost 30, so you should probably do /something/ useful before you die." She swirls the alcohol around in the bottle and then opens it to have another pull.

Fox nods. "I guess you're right. My osteoporosis could kick in at any second. I could break a hip or lose all my teeth." He grins. "And then I'll go blind and someone will throw me in a home, but you'll visit me, won't you? I'll give you toffees and mulled wine and talk about my old war stories."

"Uh, yeah, every Sunday, grandpa, but only if you keep sending me cash in a birthday card every week," Grey replies with a sidelong glance at him. "And you totally missed my birthday last year, so don't forget you owe me double." Because she totally would take advantage of senility like that.

Fox nods. "Well you'll have to wait until my Alzheimer’s kicks in...Then just come back every fifteen minutes and tell me that it's your birthday." He shakes his head. "But then you might start getting banana peals and old prune juice cupons and such instead of money. And you'd have to deal with me drooling and crapping myself every five minutes." Fox frowns. "On second thought, if I ever turn out like that just force feed me alcohol until I stop moving...Then keep doing it for another twenty minutes.

"Dude, the day I have to deal with you crapping yourself is the day I'm pulling the plug, I don't care if you're conscious," Grey warns him as she wipes her mouth on her sleeve again. "Then I can drink your alcohol and take advantage of having made you rewrite your will to leave all your shit to me." Yep, criminal mastermind right here. "Anyway, look man, I gotta jet. But when d'you wanna make that fuckin' barista cry?"

Fox shrugs. "Fine by me. If you want some dirty old clothes and a few dusty boxes of...Well...Dust. And my alcohol doesn't survive long around me." He shrugs again. "I don't know. Whenever we next happen upon each other at the coffee shack? Wuzzit called? Starbricks?" He nods. "Or sometime when I'm not so...Filled with delicious drink."

"Yeah, Starbricks, that's it," Grey replies, rolling her eyes. "I can never tell if it's 'cause you're stupid or 'cause you're foreign," she informs him. It never having occurred to her, apparently, that he might be just putting her on. "But hey, whatever. Sure, we'll meet when we meet. I'm not gonna hold my breath on you being sober though, you damn drunk. But catch you 'round anyway." She's so benevolent like that. Especially when she's trying to make her escape with the last of his booze.

Fox nods. "Right. It's actually that I'm so smart that you feel extremely dumb and your mind convinces you that I'm the dumb one so you don't feel bad about yourself. And I'm totally sober now...But you should hold on to that bottle for me. I'll need it later."

"Nah. It's like how evil people don't know they're evil. You're dumb, but you think you're smart." Grey is definitely not as eloquent as usual. "And hey man, I will definitely hold onto this for you. You just lemme know and you can have the bottle back whenever you like." It'll be empty by then, of course. "Take care of yourself, old man. Try not to fall so you can't get up." She hitches her hood a little higher in preparation for going out into the wind and rain again.

Fox chuckles and sticks out a hand to look for the door handle to the pub. Maybe he'll go buy a bottle of Jager to take home...He hasn't had that in a while. No, he had a bottle...Where did it go to? Oh well. "Take care kiddo. Try not to run over your fetus tail with your wheel-stick."

Current Mood: drunk

PLEASE NOTE:  This is part two of a  BH Tiny Plot which will span about a week OOC and 2 days IC.  This is still IC day one.  See Part I (http://fox-baramundi.livejournal.com/5059.html) for the beginning of this TP.  After the TP is over, I will attempt to consolidate all parts of the RP into a single episode.
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BH TRAINING WOODS

These woods are dense and heavy with conifers, suggesting a more northerly area of the world. The going is hilly and occasionally over bare rock, and at one point, there's the choice of crossing a freshwater lake or walking the longer way around. There are the occasional footpaths, but they are likely to lead one astray on a meandering course, and most of them are long overgrown.

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Fox laughs as he hears Marrow's description of Opera. He's looking up at the treetops ahead of them, trying to see if they look as if they're beginning to thin out. He's not really watching his feet at the moment. "Twice your size? Like what, fat lady of the Op..Woah." Fox falls forward and lands on his knees, cursing a bit in Strine. He looks back at what he tripped over and makes a mildly surprised face. "Well...I found the tracks." He looks to the left and right. Though there is a slight break in the trees, it's not noticeable at this point of the track. Fox stands up and brushes himself off, looking down at the rusty bit of track he had tripped over. "Looks like it hasn't been used in years."

Conversation of the opera wanes as no one else seems to have much interest in it, and the raggedy crew moves off along the tracks. The going is a little easier for having a set path, but the rails and ties are so overgrown in places, that it's not always easier by much. The sun creeps higher in the sky and the day begins to feel quite warm indeed, cicada buzzing away from within the marshland they're passing. Rogue balances on a rail as they go, arms out to her sides as she tries to keep pace while walking the tightrope. After a few minutes, her balance gives way and she hops down to walk along the ties instead. "Least this is a step up from walkin' in that marsh," she notes, glancing back over in that general sort of direction.

"Yeah, I guess so," Pietro answers back, though from his tone he doesn't think it's a very large step. He's been bringing up the rear, glancing about from time to time as if to checking their position or ensuring that the group is free from immediate threat -- and miracle of miracles, he's been relatively quiet for a while. "Not exactly like we're back to civilization yee--!" He cuts off sharply as his foot hits one of the railroad ties, long covered with weeds and dirt, and he has to direct his concentration to regaining his balance and not falling face first into the dirt.

Fox looks over his shoulder at the two as he progresses. "Watch yer step, maties, I don't want ta have ta put ya down." He smirks and continues forward, looking at the sun and then his compass. They should still be on course, but it looks like the tracks curve a bit further ahead. They'll eventually have to leave the easy trail for something considerably less comfortable. "Hoy, ace!" The Auzzie suddenly exclaims as he hops to the left toward a rather large bush. He examines it for a moment before plucking something from the plant and popping it into his mouth. He nods and turns back to the others. "Blueberries, anyone?"

"Stealthy," Rogue comments with a smirk back over her shoulder. Conveniently forgetting her own little non-acrobatics there. But at least she didn't trip! She slows up a bit to match pace with Pietro, giving him a brief but curious sort of look to see how he's faring with all of this. So oddly quiet, it's a little disconcerting. But then Fox announces his discovery of blueberries and her expression first goes skeptical, and then considering, and then rather pleased at the idea. "You sure they ain't poison or somethin', right?" she asks warily, despite him having already eaten one. She skips down from the railway bed to join him by the bush, making a briefly annoyed face as she waves angrily at a cloud of blackflies swarming up in her face.

"Pfft." Whether that's to Fox's warning or Rogue's ribbing isn't quite clear. As she slows up to pace him he casts a glance over to her and arches an eyebrow -- a silent 'What?' -- before looking away. If he's having trouble with any of this he must be determined not to show it at all. But as Fox finds those berries he perks up a bit -- perks up and speeds up as he makes for the bush. "Hell yeah. 'S not exactly a cheeseburger but 's better'n nothing." He's already gathered a few berries in his palm and is about to pop them into his mouth when Rogue's question sinks in. "Oh... Yeah. How /do/ you know they're not?"

Fox smirks at the kids. "They're good, but if I chunder it up, ya'll know I was wrong." He takes a quick look at the bush, doing an Aussie salute as the flies swarm up. He nods and holds up a berry "Clearly a bluie, and it tastes like one, too." He points to a few birds in the bush. "General rule, Ya see more than one type of bird eating the fruit, it's non-poisoned." He nods "Tucker up, folks. Don't know how far it is to next meal, and I don't want to crack open those rations if we don't have to." He pops a few more berries into his mouth and collects a couple dozen to carry in his coat pocket for later.

Well, that's good enough for her, Rogue decides, shrugging off her pack and letting it drop into the brush as she examines the fruit in earnest now. She plucks one from the stem and holds it up to the sun, squinting at it scrutinizingly before popping it into her mouth and chewing it experimentally. "Don't /taste/ poison," she pronounces as she starts picking off more of them, eating them in a handful once she's managed to gather a dozen or so. "Anyone got, Ah dunno, a bag or a hat or somethin'? Ah'm thinkin' it wouldn't be the worst idea to try'n bring some with us." She puts a few small handfuls into the pocket of her sweater, but it's not exactly ideal for carrying much more than that.

"Oh." Well, that seems to work for Pietro too. The berries are in his mouth faster than he can say 'afternoon snack' and he's already bending to gather more. "What if poison tastes like blueberry?" But it's clear enough that he's just ribbing her back. After all, he certainly doesn't seem concerned with poisoning himself now that Fox has given his okay with such authority. One would think he hasn't eaten for days. "Hm. Yeah, 's probably a good idea," he has to admit to the notion of taking some along for later -- he's speaking a little thickly owing to the fact that he's still chewing on a couple berries. "I've got..." He pauses for thought, starting to sift though what he's been carrying until he comes up with... "Some socks? That'd work. I mean, 's not like I've worn 'em."

Fox looks over at Pietro, nodding. "Socks should work. But if we're not gonna seal things up before we sleep, remind me before we go to bed." Why? Food attracts bears. Fox doesn't want to panic them if he doesn't need to, so he just leaves it at that. "Take whatever you can carry and let's shove off. I'd like to reach that lake before nightfall." But where was the lake. As others collect berries, Fox takes the opportunity to study the map again. The tracks bend before the lake, looks like they bent specifically to avoid the lake. He follows the tracks up a little further. If they continued on this path, they'd have to leave and either cross the lake or...Some rather high hills. Some of the topography marks indicate cliffs. The lake would definitely be the safest route, but he decides to get their general opinion. "Ok. We have two choices...Lake, or cliffs. I'd suggest the lake, personally."

Attrition is indeed collecting berries since he did bring some extra pairs of socks, and yes... he was here all along. " Well how would we go about sealing them? Like maybe find a thing leafed plant and seal them up? Or is that sorta shit only down in Florida?" he asks with a small sardonic chuckle...there are bags under his eyes now and he seems a bit more...on edge.

"Then Ah guess we're done for," Rogue shoots back to the ribbing, not really seeming too worried about that issue now. "You gotta speak with your mouth full?" she grouses, making a face as he suggests putting them in his socks. But after a moment of consideration, she has to concede, "That's ... actually not a bad idea. Ah got some too." She stuffs her current handful of berries into her mouth and then crosses back to where she'd dumped her pack, rummaging through all the crap she brought to find the extra pair of socks. She just gives a little nod to Fox's instructions about reminding him, not wanting to question it too deeply at this point as she returns to picking as many berries as she can, bundling them into the generic socks the Brotherhood has provided. "That ain't much of a choice," she mutters about the options they're faced with. "Ah guess the lake then," she agrees with a reluctant shrug.

"See?" Pietro grins triumphantly and spares a glance for Rogue as he stuffs a sock full of the berries, then begins to fill the other. "I have good ideas." Sometimes. He definitely isn't pointing out the ratio of those good ideas to bad ones, though. "My vote's for the lake," he pitches in, rising back to his full height and popping a few more berries. He affords Attrition's comment an wry snort... but truth be told he's a little curious about just how they might go about sealing them. He looks thoughtfully over to Fox, then to their surroundings as he starts toward the Aussie.

Fox nods, relieved. "Right. Really didn't feel like tumblin' down a cliff anyway. Not the most fun thing in the world I'd imagine." The skippy folds up his map and stuffs it into his pocket, looking over to the others. "Seal them with an airtigh' sack. I don' think anyone has one of those...." he looks around "So socks'll do fer now." He looks ahead a bit. "I think we can go forward until that bend there." he points about 50 feet ahead. "So...After that I'm sendin' one of ya up a tree." He smirks.

Attrition gives a small frown before he nods. "Oh um.. ok then I guess we aren't. " he says as he stuffs some berries into his mouth, clutching his stomach with a grimace. "Hmm alright, again, I think either me o pietro can climb best due to our mutations."

Rogue, however, will point out that ratio in her look at Pietro. But after holding it for a moment, she just goes back to stocking up on berries, tying off the top of each sock as she fills them, and then tying the two together so they can be slung over her shoulder once she's pulled back on her heavy pack. She gives a little snort to the idea of Pietro climbing a tree for some reason... "Hey, you guys knock yourselves out, if you wanna," she invites easily as she moves to join the others. "But it don't take a mutation to climb a tree."

And Pietro just answers that Look he receives with an innocent, 'raised eyebrows' look of his own before moving on. "Yeah, I can think of cooler ways t' die," he puts in on the matter of falling off a cliff. He pauses when he's alongside Fox and narrows his eyes as he peers at that bend ahead. It's all too obvious that he's trying to ignore Rogue's comments; ironically though, perhaps those remarks are the driving reason why he pipes up again. "I-can-do-it." That's said a little too pointedly to not have something to do with Rogue's snort. He glances over to her and then back to Fox. "So why up there? You thinkin' there's gonna be trouble past there or somethin'?"

Fox shakes his head. "I don' care who does it, s'long as it gets done." He looks back. "Ya'll done yet? We need ter get movin'." As they come forward, he continues on. Fox looks down at Pietro, pointing forward. "The tracks head away from the lake...and we need to get to the other side of the lake to reach our destination." He shrugs. "I'd rather someone look for the lake up there because it'll be closer than doin' it here." He looks back at Rogue. "And no, it don't take a mutie to climb, but if it's safer for one of them, then I'd rather one of them do it."

Attrition gives a small nod. "Pietro can do it then.. and it dosn't take a mutie but if you have one..." he says with a small shrug. "Why bother with matches when I can make fire easy... we can't really afford wasted effort or such here." he says before he looks over to Fox. 'Hmm well... are we gonna have to swim it?"

Rogue raises both hands and eyebrows in a sort of surrender as all three side against her. "Whatever you say. You're gonna hafta get fairly high to see over the other trees. Careful 'cause the branches get awful flimsy up there." She sounds as though she speaks from experience, bringing her fingers back up to that tear in the shoulder of her sweatshirt. Perhaps the advice is meant to unnerve Pietro and prove her point, but if so, she does a good job at keeping her tone neutral.

"Right. Gotcha." Pietro gives a sharp nod to Fox's explanation and eyes the trees around the bend for another moment or two. Rogue gets a glare for her advice; perhaps she has succeeded in unnerving him just the slightest bit for something twitches in that confident expression of his before he resets it. "Whatever," he says moodily. "Let's just do this." He starts off toward the tree but seems to grow frustrated almost immediately. "/Christ/, you guys move too slow. I'll meet you up there." And with that he takes off like a bolt, easily clearing the distance to the bend within the second. When he starts his climbing attempt, however, he's forced to slow down. Perhaps the real reason he raced ahead was so the others wouldn't get quite as good a look at him as he awkwardly shimmies up the tree trunk.

Fox looks ahead and smirks over at Pietro. "Looks like you've been voted it, Speedo. Wanna' run ahead an...Never mind" He holds out his arm in an 'after you' sort of fashion, but Pietro's already gone. He calls out "Don't go breakin' yer neck, eh?" He jots forward a bit, looking back to the others. "Uh...Let's kick it up a bit...In case he get's mangled up?"

Attrition gives a small wrinkle of his nose before he begins to jog ahead as well, not going too fast but defninatly faster then walking. "Hey Piet..want me to light you up so you have an easier time climbing?" he asks before he glances over to Fox. "But um... well yeah, no way in hell we are going to swim this."

Rogue just sighs and rolls her eyes skyward as Pietro ignores her likely well-intentioned advice and just rushes along headlong as usual. Not that she was expecting any differently. "Yup, he's gonna kill himself," she notes with a nod, readjusting her pack before picking up her pace a little. She sounds rather indifferent to the whole idea, but her tone is a little pinched as she replies to Attrition's worry about swimming, "One thing at a time, huh?"

"Gimme-a-break," Pietro mutters to Fox's call. He doesn't seem to recognize his ironic phrasing. It's all too clear that he's no natural at this. Before he reaches the first thick branches he's had to readjust his hold on the tree a few times but at least he's making progress and those combat boots he's wearing are gripping the trunk well enough. All the same, when Attrition offers help he gives it a split second's consideration. "Hey, do it if you wanna. I mean, I'm fine now... But if you need the practice..." That seems to add up to a very roundabout acceptance of that offer. Because he can't just say 'Yes please' and admit weakness, now can he?

"Well figure that out when we get there." Fox ponders for a moment, not entirely sure how buoyant Marrow is. "Uh, swimming probably is a bad idea, though. But we'll have water there and we can fish." He smiles down at Hugo. "We'll figure it out, don't worry." He shakes his head as the two talk to each other and gives Rogue a shrug. "Eh, whatever. Do what ya want." He reaches the bottom of the tree and calls up. "I wanna know how far the lake is, how big it is, and if ya see anythin' between it an' us that can be troublesome."

Attrition gives a small nod before he chuckles. "Hmm... arlight, well worse comes to worse we can try making some sort of boat if anyone brought that tarp stuff." he says before he frowns...taking aim and suddenly a hazy light flashes over on peitro and that tree now feals like its coverd in sandpaper or rubber.. in other words its easy to get a grip but painfull to slide on it.

"Yeah, do it," Rogue adds to Pietro's bluster about not really needing help, though her voice is a little lower and directed more or less towards Attrition himself. She watches for a moment before glancing back over at the rest of the group. "Well, you guys do what you want. Since Ah ain't needed here, Ah'm gonna go sit with them." It's just that her pack is heavy and she needs to conserve her energy, not that she's pretty sure Pietro is going to crack open his skull and she feels no need to watch that, nope. She doesn't really wait for a response before heading off a little ways towards a seated group, cracking open her canteen as she goes.

It's a bit of an adjustment when Hugo's mutation kicks into action but once it does Pietro makes better time -- now he's mainly focused on keeping his balance as he climbs. Well, on that and how the branches do seem to be getting thinner the higher he goes; one snaps sharply as he tries to pull himself onto it but he just grumbles something low and non-English as he lets it fall to the ground and continues on. A few seconds, a slip and a lot of expletives later he's found himself a spot at which he can just barely poke his head through the canopy and he falls silent as he takes in his surroundings. "We're pretty close to the lake," he calls down to Fox. "Probably... I dunno, a half a mile. I can't see all of it -- there's a lotta trees around it. And fuckin' shar--" He falters a little as the branch beneath him begins to quiver. He doesn't let his voice do the same as he finishes, though. "Sharp rocks. A few around the water and a lot between here and there. Looks like it could be a bitch to walk over. And it looks like the kinda thing that'd be crawling with snakes. But if we can figure blaze through we'll be there in no time." Blaze through and not break their ankles, that is. And that estimation might've been based on his idea of 'blazing through' the rest of the distance, of course, which probably means that his guesstimation of time is a little shorter than is accurate.

Fox is looking back at the group as a branch cracks him on the head. He ducks down and rubs his head, glaring at the tree and mumbling something about a "Bloody fuckin overgrown shrubbery." He looks up into the tree, not that he can really see that well, but he hears well enough. Nodding, he calls up. "Alright. Come on down...CAREFULLY!" He frowns at the tree, hoping the branches hold. He does a quick sweep of the area, if Pietro falls, Fox won't be able to muster up enough dust to do anything constructive. Fox gives Hugo a look and points up. "Watch for fallin' Speedos, eh?"

Attrition gives a small grunt as he takes his other hand and rubs at his arm. "Oye... rapido! Hurry up man.. my arm is starting to sting and I don't want to use up all my juice." he calls out with a frown... moving from a steady glow to flickers of the light.

For his part, Pietro doesn't seem to realize that the branch has found its way to Fox's skull -- if he had realized it he probably would have made some sort of comment about being thick-headed. All the same, he doesn't need to be told twice to book it back down to the ground. "I'm comin', I'm comin'. Don't tell me to--" Another little pause and a few more cracking sounds from up in the canopy. When he speaks again his voice sounds noticeably strained. "Don't-tell-me-to-hurry, man. I'm-comin'." Indeed he is. He's wasting no time in making his way back down but the promise of solid ground is also making him a little sloppy. He loses his hold as one of the last of the smaller branches begins to give way and he falls a couple feet down to one of the more solid ones. That seems to stop his momentum but it's not too much of a blessing as he slips a bit on the bark and gives a bit of a yelp as he encounters the downside to Attrition's friction powers.

Fox frowns up at the tree as bits of bark and branches fall around him. "Hey! Quit hurtin yerself. I need you in one piece!" He looks to the West, trying to think about what course of action to take next. "Hmmm...Maybe if there's enough of..." He looks back over to Hugo. "Hey, don't let up until he's down, got it? Think of it as a stamina exercise." He's not really sure what the limits of Hugo's powers are.

Attrition gives a small frown as he turns over to Fox. "Unless you got some extra fucking first aid kits im gonna need to let up real soon." he says now grimancing and cursing under his breath, his hand starting to shake as he too begins to experiance the drawback of his powers and then.. fwip.. .the light goes off and he grabs his arm in obvious pain.

"/Fuck/... Ugh," Pietro mutters as he scootches himself into a better position. "I'm /fine/," he adds a little more clearly. "Takes a helluva lot more than a tree to hurt me. You can give it a rest, Hugo..." But that's about the time that Attrition is switching off his power regardless of the speedster's insistence. He scoots down a little more and then hops the rest of the way down to the ground. "So what's next?" It's clear that he's trying to forcibly brush aside any difficulty he might've had with that tree. Yes, he's fine. Of course. Unless one counts his ego. He looks over to Hugo. "Woah. You doin' okay there?"

Fox gives Hugo an incredulous look as he grabs his arm. "You 'right there, Mate?" Hes sill checking him out as Pietro reappears. He gives them both a once over and looks back to the main group. "Now we....Take a quick rest, I think." He nods and drops his pack. He walks over to a nearby tree and tears off a branch. "Who's got the pots?" He returns with the branch. "I'll make us up some tea." He's holding a pine branch...This could be horrible.

Attrition peals back his sleave and his whole arm is raw and red and on several spots one can see droplets of blood as if Hugo had been rubbing his arm against the bark of said tree... he gives a small nod though he is still cursing and wincing. Usually he has some sort of residual drug in his system to help with the pain but this time.. nothing, so even the small stuff hurts more."

"Tea? I'd rather have a beer after all this shit." After a moment Pietro adds, "But sure, tea works, I guess... Wait. Tell me you're not /making/ the tea with that." He gestures to the branch, looking slightly disgusted. But then he's distracted by... something even more disgusting as Attrition bears his wounds. "That looks pretty fuckin' nasty, man. Maybe you should, I dunno, sit down and put somethin' on that. You have a first aid kit on you?" He's already moving over a little more toward the rest of the group, seeking out someplace suitable to sit, though he's keeping an eye on Hugo.

Fox whips up a fire right quick and takes a pot from someone. He pours in some water and strips in the pine needles. "Yes. You can drink it. High in Vitimin C." He even eats a few needles. "And Hugo, rub some alcohol on that. Don't need no infections out here." He shakes his head and points to his pack. "Got a bottle in there, just don't use it all, Eh?" He looks back to the group. "We'll rest up fer a bit before headin' into the woods. Those rocks sound like they can be hard to cross, an' don't know if we'll get a chance to rest in there."

Attrition gives a small nod. "Doubt I can get infections.. this sort of shit happens often." he says with a small wince before he nods and puts some alcohol on the wound which causes him to curse loudly.. walking over and kicking a tree hard enough to hurt himself. Guy seems on the edge... yup.

"High in somethin'," Pietro grouses but he doesn't bother complaining further about the tea. Instead, he plunks himself down a few feet away from the fire and pulls out a sock full of berries to munch on. "That's it, man. Walk it off." Nevermind that Attrition is going to have a hard time walking anywhere now that he has kicked the heck out of the tree. He watches the histrionics for a moment more -- yes, he's definitely noticed that Hugo is unusually on edge here -- before adding to Fox, "Yeah, resting up is probably good. As long as we don't dick around too much out here." Which goes without saying.

Current Mood: worried

PLEASE NOTE:  This is part one of a  BH Tiny Plot which will span about a week OOC and 2 days IC.  After the TP is over, I will attempt to consolidate all parts of the RP into a single episode.

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BH Training Woods

These woods are dense and heavy with conifers, suggesting a more northerly area of the world. The going is hilly and occasionally over bare rock, and at one point, there's the choice of crossing a freshwater lake or walking the longer way around. There are the occasional footpaths, but they are likely to lead one astray on a meandering course, and most of them are long overgrown.

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The helicopter drops everyone at a clearing on a high, rounded hill of rock.  There's a huge pile of supplies left, but of course, anything not used immediately must be carried on the journey.  Anything left behind mysteriously disappears within a few hours.

The following items were taken by the following individuals...

ROGUE: tarp, poncho, small first aid kit, a canteen, a package of rations, a sleeping bag, a whistle, a compass, a map, 5 chlorine tablets, 1 length of rope, 1 roll of duct tape, 1 transistor radio, a flashlight, a pack of matches, a pair of socks, a sweater, a blanket, a backpack

MARROW: water bag, rope, batteries, sleeping bag, water, tarp, blanket, compass, maps, flashlight, package of rations

FOX: Hunting Knife, First Aid Kit (S), Swiss Army knife, Compass, 3 Packs Waterproof Matches, Flashlight, Map, Axe, Canteen, 5 Chlorine tablets, Length of Rope.

ATTRITION: 1 cooking set, Flare Gun, 3 pairs of socks, 1 woolen blanket, One swiss army knife, 1 flashlight, 2 Canteens of Water

PIETRO: hunting knife, bag of marshmallows, flare gun, tarp, axe
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((OOC Note - Fox came into the RP a little late.  This is the synopsis of the beginning of the scene  I got from Marrow))

Essentially, they got dropped off... Rogue and Marrow are cranky for the most part since they weren't filled in on the exercise either (this was handed down from 'on high') and immediately the pair started suiting up with bags and gear.  They realized they've got maps with a 'your goal is here' but no 'you are here' so Marrow suggested the group spread out in all directions for 5 minutes or until someone finds something large-ish like a landmark that we could see on the map. Rogue went up in a tree with the binoculars to try to see something from that vantage point. Marrow went off to the north. Someone who went to the west blasted their whistle, so now they're charging back to gather everyone up and meet the whistle-blower in the westerly direction.

"Ah'm /comin'/, geez," Rogue grouses with some frustration as she finally nears the bottom of the tree. When she reaches the lower branches, she dangles herself and then drops to the ground, the binoculars swinging around her neck. She fingers the tear in her sweatshirt for just a moment, before picking up her pack and swinging it over a shoulder as she bustles off after the others, towards the sound of the whistle. Of course, the pack is a little heavy for one-shoulder carrying, so by the time she reaches the gathered group, she's feeling the full brunt of the weight. "What is it? What you see?" she asks as she takes a moment to readjust her pack properly now.

Marrow's already ushering the group toward the repeated whistle sound. "C'mon you lazy sods... get yer asses out there. Go! Go!" she bellows in that harsh, rasping voice of hers. Rogue merely gets a weird grin as she finally gets to the bottom of the tree and checks out the rip in their leader's sweatshirt. "Jesus.. can't take you /anywhere/ can we?" she teases gruffly, then starts to march toward the west, keeping a good pace up but not running... just in case there are any stragglers struggling to catch up. The saddle-bag she has slung over one shoulder and the water bag on the other both bounce heavily against her hips as she moves briskly through the brush. "What was it? Water? A quarry? Farm? Road...? Th' freakin' loch ness monster?"

"Yeah, best remember that next time someone tries to drag me out into the middle of fuckin' nowhere at the buttcrack of dawn," Rogue grouses, still not really in the mood to be ribbed. Give her a few more hours or a cup of strong coffee and then we'll talk. But she's unharmed, and the adventure at least seems to be going somewhere, so those keep her from getting any more dour about the whole ordeal. Instead, she takes out her map again, ready to start putting together what clues people have gathered from the surrounding area in hopes of pinpointing their current location. "Fuck, Ah wish Ah knew how to read this thing," she notes wryly, before looking up expectantly at the group that called them here. A marsh, apparently, is the great sighting, just over the other side of that long grass. Rogue does not look that hopeful that she's going to be able to figure out 'marsh' on the map, but looks to it anyway, pouring over it for contextual clues.

Fox stands after having rummaged through the equipment left at the drop site. He had gone in a different direction from the others and attempted to discern their general location from the stars. The problem was, Fox is from Australia...His survival training is best suited to southern hemisphere areas. He sighs, not recognising any constellations and cocks his head as he hears the whistle being blown. He heads in that direction, taking a while before he catches up to Marrow and Rogue. "Find somethin' good?"

"Not like /I/ dragged yer sorry ass out of bed at the... buttcrack of dawn," Marrow repeats, suddenly finding this phrase extremely funny if her laughter is any indication. She's managed to wake up a little at least. She, unlike some people, doesn't need caffeine. It would be wasted on the likes of her. She then glances about, following her gaze along the edge of the marsh and suddenly looking rather bleak. "Anyone know wha' th' fuckin' symbol on maps fer 'marsh' migh' be?" she asks around, obviously at a loss. She's used to navigating sewers and subway lines with maps, not the great outdoors. Looking back as Fox catches up, she points around, "A marsh. We jus' need to figure out where th' hell we are on this map, then we're good to go."
I don't see that here.

"Well, tell /them/ that then," Rogue continues stubbornly, obviously referring to those that did drag her out of bed and not the rest of their little crew. But there's a job to be done, so she tries to shake off the grouchy lack of sleep. "Yeah, Ah dunno how good it is, but Ah reckon it's somethin'. And Ah think there mighta been a railway runnin' way off over in, uh, that direction," she adds, taking a moment to figure out which way she was facing in the tree and then gesturing vaguely. She takes her copy of the map to a large boulder, using it to help her spread it out so that several folks can take a look at once. "Okay, so, uh, a marsh... Ah guess that wouldn't be marked like water?"

Fox looks out past Marrow toward the wetlands. "Well, water runs to the lowest point, so I'd wager that the marsh would show up as the lowest point topographically." He walks over to Rogue and points "Here." He points to an area of closely spaced circular marks. "That indicates a depression in the landscape." He frowns at the map for a moment. "Or...Here..." there's a second depression is seems. "Well..." Fox looks up at the sky again. "All I know is that's Polaris." He points to a star. "An' that's yer general North...Or we could use this..." He pulls out a compass and confirms that the star is indeed North. "But if yer saw some tracks or whatnot..." Fox looks at the map again. "This looks like a service road or somethin' here." He taps a dark line on the map.

Shaking her head, Marrow rumbles, "I doubt it'll look like a lake. It should have another symbol. I jus' dunno wha'. Bu'.. if you saw tracks... are there tracks on th' map? If we know we're not too far from them, we jus' need to figure out wha' side we're on in comparison to our goal, righ'? Just as a good startin' point. Then we can try figurin' out this marsh thin' and see if tha' helps show us where along th' tracks-line we are..." She does have /some/ map-reading skills. But she stops abruptly as Fox seems to show his prowess with the map-reading. Holding her own map toward him, she rumbles, "I nominate Fox as th' map-reader. Don' get us lost." Is she serious?

"Ah second the motion," Rogue chimes in readily, stepping aside to give him a better view of the map she's laid out on the rock as well. "But yeah, be handy if the railway tracks was at least sorta along the way. Be easier to follow, wouldn't it? Ah heard all sortsa tales 'bout folks gettin' turned around in the woods. It's all a little too Blair Witch for my tastes. Of course, that movie sucked, so." To the matter at hand. "Okay, so if we got us a marsh and it's one of these two, and we got tracks over in that direction, can you sort it out from that?" she asks Fox as she removes the binoculars from over her head and holds them out to return them to Marrow.

Fox nods to Marrow and grins. He's apparently quite awake...Probably because he slept just about all day. "No prob, deary. I'll find our way, no prob." He looks down at the map again. "Well there actually IS a lake here..." He points to a white void on the map. "And...It looks like our destination is on the other side." He quickly measures using the scale. "It'd definitely be quicker to go across the lake than around it, but...Building an appropriate raft might take some time...And I haven't done that in about six years." He shakes his head. "No matter, we'll figure it out once we get there." Fox squints in the direction Rogue points that the tracks are in. "Well...Both depressions are on the same side of the tracks..." He shakes his head. "But it doesnt matter none. Either way we'll want to head North." He points toward the marsh and then looks down at the map again. "And...We could probably follow the tracks a little, at least past the wetlands. Not safe to walk through there." The tracks are a bit out of the way...But its safer than the marshes for sure. "What's a Blair Witch?"

Snorting a bit, Marrow just about groans, "Ixnay on th' orror-hay movies, okay?" It's still a soft spot for those who might be more aware of her past than others. "Bu' point taken. Especially at night. As fer th' marsh...honesly, I don't think even I could withstand th' grossness of leeches..." She makes a face but at least manages to suppress whatever shudder might have been lurking there. "Sounds like a good plan. Head off toward th' tracks an' follow it north. Beat sittin' 'round here all day wit' our thumbs up our asses..." She then accepts the binoculars and slips them around her neck again, having been labeled 'pack horse' at least once already.

Rogue glances sidelong at Marrow before giving her head a bit of a shake. "Never mind," is all she offers to the matter of the Blair Witch. "Anyway, if it's north, then north we go. We got compasses, so that should pretty much do us, right?" She just wants to make sure there's nothing else they need to figure out before setting off. "Though Ah reckon we'll need to go, uh, east to hit the tracks first?" she guesses, frowning first at the map and then her compass. "Since they seem to kinda go..." She makes an angled gesture with her gloved hand, then looks back up from the map with a shrug. "Y'know what? How's about you just lead us to the tracks, Mr. Navigator," she decides decisively, stuffing the compass back into her pocket.

Fox shakes his head. "I'd worry more about sinkin' and drownin' than leeches." He nods and turns toward the tracks. "Alright maties, step careful. Don't want to have to lug one of ya 'round 'cause ya twisted an ankle or whatnot." There's a rustling in the bushes to the left. Fox looks  in that direction and catches the glinting of eyes. The Auzzie squints a bit and then turns away, recognizing it as a fox. "Everybody's up to date on yer rabies shots, right?" He's grinning, is it a joke? He starts forward in an easterly direction for a few feet before stopping and turning to the others. "I'm not carryin' that much if any of ya'll are too burdened down. Better to distribute the load equally, ya know?" The only heavy object he currently carries is an axe.

Marrow grins a bit and slaps Fox abruptly and even a bit harshly on the back with a bark of laughter. "Congratulations. You've been nominated an' selected." Though it doesn't seem that he needs too much encouragement. Stepping along behind him, she pauses as he does. "I'm fine. Ask one of th' others. I don' tire like they do an' I'm stronger. Rogue? You need to unload a bit?" She steps aside to get out of the way, just in case.

"Least he'll lug me. Got this one here sayin' she's gonna hafta drag me if it comes down to that," Rogue comments wryly, jerking a thumb towards Marrow. All the same, she's not planning on spraining an ankle here anytime soon. "And drownin', well, that's sorta overrated too. So the tracks it is." She picks up her map and begins folding it, just to get frustrated about ten seconds into the endeavour and sort of jamming it back into a roughly square shape before sticking it back in her pocket. She jumps a bit at the sight of the wild creature, moving away from it with a wary sort of expression. "Nah, Ah'm fine," she insists, readjusting her pack a bit and then giving a reassuring nod. Even if it were too heavy, she's hardly going to cop to that either. "Everyone got everything they need? We don't wanna come back."

Fox chuckles as he sees Rogue jump. "Ah. Just a fox, deary. He's not gonna jump at ya and tear out your throat or nothin'." He laughs a bit, seemingly as though the thought of a tiny creature viciously attacking someone would be quite funny. He stops laughing and nods. nods. "Right. Double back an' we'll lose time. And no guarantee we'd even find this spot again." He's not going to beg the others to give him things to carry. If they fall down, that's there fault. "So...Off we go." He heads forward. "Drink plenty of water. If we run out, we can get more. By the time you realize you're thirsty, you're already beginning to dehydrate." He rambles on as they progress. "And if you notice anythin' you think seems a bit odd, shout out. Could be important."

Shrugging a bit, Marrow rumbles in protest as she tosses a thumb over her shoulder briefly, pointing to the spikes there, "Not like I can toss you over my shoulder or nothin'." A glance in the direction of the rustling in the bushes causes her to tense up abruptly, ready for anything... only to leave her chuckling a bit as she sees the somewhat harmless animal. Marrow then cracks her neck abruptly as she rasps, "Think I got all I can carry. Much more an' I'll start feelin' it myself... an' I got extra water here." She pats the gallon water bag that she managed to slug over a shoulder. Nodding at Fox, she says, "Okay, lead on, then... you seem to be th' one who knows wha' way we're goin'..."

"He tries it and it'll be the last thing he does," Rogue promises, still a little too sleepy to find a whole lot of amusement in the situation, but she doesn't seem that annoyed about being laughed at which is a blessing. "Yeah, reckon Ah'm set," she agrees, patting down her pockets to make sure she's got all the essentials that aren't in her pack. "Guess you're the leader of this misadventure today. Good luck with that," she bids, that getting a bit of a smirk from her as she adjusts her canteen over her shoulder. "Ah guess long as we don't run into any bears or shit, we'll be doin' okay once we find those tracks, huh?"

Fox nods and again starts toward the tracks. He looks around. "Well, I'm not too familiar with North America...I mean, I was trained up in survival skills in Oz, so I can't be certain and all that. But I think we're past into Canada." He nods and looks back over his shoulder. "Means we'll hafta watch for bears, wolverine, moose...Maybe lions?" He steps over a log as he progresses. "And once we reach the tracks we'll haveta figure somethin' out, yeah. If one of us can hike a tree, we might be able to see the lake."

Arching an eyebrow, Marrow replies, "Canada? Yer shittin' me... lions? I thought they lived in zoos..." She clearly doesn't believe lions might be out here. Mountain lions, maybe. But lions themselves seem over the top to her. Looking over to Rogue, she smirks and says, "Feel good to pass off th' reigns on this one?" She offers a bit of a wink, then starts moving forward again, trying to urge the group on and such. "We shoul' keep movin'. These packs will get heavy fer most of th' group. Gotta go before tha' happens. At leas' get tha' far before we rest, I'm thinkin'."

"Ah thought lions like it where it was hot," Rogue agrees, though as the sun rises higher in the sky, it's not exactly chilly out here either. "Always thought that was plenty sensible of 'em." But all the same, she'll keep a watch for lions and tigers and bears, oh my. "But yeah, let's keep movin' then," she agrees, realizing that she's one of these 'most' who will start to feel the weight of the pack sooner than later. "As for climbin' trees, well, Ah done that, it was how Ah saw those railway tracks. But Ah can try again in a bit, Ah guess," she grants, with less enthusiasm than she first offered to climb that other one.

Attrition has been walking behind the whole time, promise, looking around with a clear frown on his face as he hefts his pack along. He dosn't look quite tired but he clearly dosn't like the whole situation. "I agree... we should move as far as posible before we rest. As for animals... I think we might be able to handle them.. the question is can we eat them if we do." he says wistfully. Hugo is NOT a wilderness survival person. Give him urban and he can last for years...but in the wild? Ewww

"An' I'd offer to climb a tree meself...But I'm a bit heavier than you lot, and I probably wouldn't get as high." What a lame excuse...And probably not true. He shrugs and looks back over your shoulder. "I mean, 'less one of ya can fly er something." He chuckles, but is kind of serious. He still doesn't know what everyone on the team can do. In response to Hugo's question, "An' yes...We can eat them, which is why I didn't waste me strength to carry those rations. " He looks back over his shoulder again. "Just don't eat the bear liver. Poison."

Shaking her own head, Marrow replies, "Large cats. I get it. They better bugger off..." Because she won't be putting up with /that/ shit... or something. She follows along, looking back at the rest of the group. "We'll worry about tree climbin' if we cross tha' road. Fer now, let's focus on gettin' out of th' swamp?" No, no, no matter how much the commercial tries to welcome anyone to the swamp, it's just not a fun place to be right now. "Frankly, if I can eat rats, we can eat most anythin' out here, I'm thinkin'..." But she still snagged rations, just in case.

Rogue slaps at a mosquito as it lands on her face, though to others it might just look like she randomly slapped herself. Yay camping. "Yeah, Ah can skip the large cats, thanks. And the bears, poison liver and all. But if there's a tree to be climbed, Ah'll climb it, don't matter." She's not going to admit she nearly fell out of that last one, anyway. As they trudge onwards, she jams her hands down into her pockets. "But no, no flyin' here. Not 'less you got someone else that can fly, and then it's kinda moot anyway." She gives a little smirk at that, shrugging her shoulders.

Attrition gives a small frown. "I can climb... I think.. I never tried to use my stuff to climb though." he says taking off his pack and handing it off. "How far up do you need me?"

Fox stops and looks back to Attrition, shaking his head. "Not yet, mate-eroo. Once we reach the tracks we'll make ya climb up." He thinks for a moment. "But if yer unsure of yerself, I'd rather have Rogue do it." He nods to the girl. "Don't want ya bustin' yerself up, mate." Fox nods to Marrow. "And true. The swamps ain't a good place to be. Bugs can carry disease, and I don't know any American bug repellent plants." He turns and heads forward once more, pulling out his map and looking down as he walks. "How far'd that track look to ya, Rogue?"

Shaking her head at Hugo, Marrow replies, "Get some caffeine into you at some point or somethin'. Maybe there's somethin' in th' rations. Stick with us here..." She just has to tease a little, seeing as Rogue's already been razzed. "We don' need any tree climbers righ' /now/. Later... once we've put some distance in. Righ'.. like Fox says." Continuing to move along, she adds, "I'm fine about th' diseases part." But that doesn't help everyone else. "Maybe one of th' firs' aid boxes has some spray?"

"Yeah, Ah already had the fuckin' plague once. Don't need West Nile or bird flu or whatever it is these days," Rogue agrees, giving a critical look at the smear of dead insect left on her glove. She doesn't /feel/ sick yet, anyway. "Ah dunno," she replies as to the distance of the tracks. "Was sorta hard to tell. There was this bit of a hill and then a buncha trees and the tracks kinda ran through 'em. Maybe like half an hour or so?" But it's so hard to guess in this unfamiliar terrain.

Attrition gives Marrow a small smirk. "Hey.. I got some caffine left but I am saving it for a special occasion... mainly after we wake up after all of our first sleep together in the cold wet swampy goodness." he says before he slaps his face. "Puta madre... maybe if we take a bit of the rubbing alchohol from a first aid kit we can keep some away. Or if we had some fire.. a torch or something maybe." he comments as he plops his bag back on his bag.

Fox shakes his head. "Unlikely you'd get sick here in a couple o' days, but still...Let's just keep movin'. Once we take a rest I'll make you some bush coffee...I think." He looks around at the trees as he moves. "Yup. That I can do." Bwa-ha-ha. He'll have you all drinking pine needle tea before you know it. He shakes his head at Hugo's comments. "Don't waste the alcohol, it'll dry out yer skin. You won't be able to sweat effectively. And we're not sleepin' in this bog. We'll find someplace dry an' free o' Bunyips." Travelling in silence isn't the best idea right now. Talking will alert animals of their presence and keep them at bay...It'll also keep everyone alert. So he decides to chat up a bit. "You had the plague? How'd that go fer ya?" he casually asks Rogue.

Marrow peers at Attrition and rolls her eyes. "Yeah... like it'd do /me/ any good..." Damn that mutation of hers. She keeps moving along even as Fox urges them all to do so. She considers some of his words, like 'Bunyips', but decides not to ask what it is for the time being. Especially considering he's decided to inquire about Rogue's plague, which she does actually recall. Instead, she adds, "If we keep going at this clip, we should reach the tracks pretty quickly." She's trying to be encouraging. Marrow the morale officer? Not bloody likely.

Rogue shrugs again, having to heft her pack a bit each time she does it. "Went away on its own eventually, but sucked in the meantime," she sums up succinctly, trailing off muttering something about 'damn rats'. "Still dunno what the fuck was up with it, but you learn to move on quick 'round here. Well, not /here/, but, y'know, the headquarters. Civilizations." She glances over at Marrow, nodding a bit to her estimation of their speed. "Well, good. Last thing we want is havin' to get picked up like a buncha schoolkids."

Attrition gives a small nod. "Yeah.. but you guys tell the big bosses next time to please do some urban survival.. you know.. dodge some bullets...jumping over hobo's or hell.. just having the big man come and hit us all in the quebos." he says with a chuckle as he tries to keep his pace up. Clearly he is just trying to lift spirts as well ."But the plauge really? Heh... By the way, any of you guys like Opera? I got an in to see that new Wagner thing opening up."

The Auzzie shakes his head. "That wouldn't be fun. Ya know, not the rats that carry the plague, it's their fleas." He nods knowingly. Fox frowns. Jumping over hobos seems distinctly less fun than playing in the woods. And though Fox is unsure what a 'quebo' is, he is certain that being punched there would not be fun. "A what? I listen to the good stuff...So no. No opera fer me, thanks." He smiles as he looks ahead. There are quite a few downed trees ahead. That either means they were cut down or felled by wind. And judging by the way that a few of them are stacked, Fox wages they were cut. He nods to Marrow's earlier comment. "Yer right, in fact I think the tracks're quite near. Once we get there travel'll be a bit easier, I should think."

Shaking her head, Marrow replies to Attrition first, "Like the higher ups care wha' we think? Obviously they don' if they didn't give us th' heads up on this firs'." Now her own mood is starting to wane again. She can only be cheerful for so long. "All th' more reason to make sure we beat this thin' in plenty of time," she adds in a rasp, sniffing at the air briefly, then scrunching her nose up a bit. "Opera? Tha' wailin'?" she adds, making a face. Okay, she's not going to see the divas singing anytime soon, by the sounds of it as she kind of echoes Fox's response.

"Hell if Ah know. Ah got attacked by a buncha rats and then Ah got deathly ill. Ain't a huge leap to get to plague," Rogue explains indifferently. She's not still sick, so she really cares a lot less about what happened then. "Opera? Oh yeah, Ah'm a huge fan," she says dryly. "Except not really. Sorry, think you're on your own there. Though for shits and giggles, Ah'd love to be 'round when you ask Pietro to go." She hefts her bag a little to give her shoulders momentary relief. "Yeah, Ah'm all for beatin' this thing with enough time to spare."

Attrition gives a small laugh. "I think.. I will just ask the Padre then but your loss, lead singer looks interesting as hell. Like twice my size, and the girl can put down coffee like nobody's buisness." he says before he wrinkles his nose. "Hmm yeah, rats dosn't sound like a good idea but I think we can beat this before time runs out."

Fox laughs as he hears Marrow's description of Opera. He's looking up at the treetops ahead of them, trying to see if they look as if they're beginning to thin out. He's not really watching his feet at the moment. "Twice your size? Like what, fat lady of the Op..Woah." Fox falls forward and lands on his knees, cursing a bit in Strine. He looks back at what he tripped over and makes a mildly surprised face. "Well...I found the tracks." He looks to the left and right. Though there is a slight break in the trees, it's not noticeable at this point of the track. Fox stands up and brushes himself off, looking down at the rusty bit of track he had tripped over. "Looks like it hasn’t been used in years."

Current Mood: accomplished

Central Park - Manhattan

         Central Park is an oasis of green in the middle of New York City with over 800 acres of scenic views, playgrounds and ponds. It's a great place to take a break from the busy city, as there are bike and jogging trails, athletic fields, and even a boathouse. The recently restored Wollman Rink is the top choice skating environment. Bethesda Fountain is located by the Mall and near the lake, while the Water Conservatory also make its mark in the vicinity. The most esteemed place of interest though, usually is none other than the

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It is a quiet day in the part, well quiet with a few exceptions. Barb is sitting down at a park bench, looking over to a small crowd that has formed nearbye. Next to her she has a bag which seems to be filled with books from one of the local stores and the young girl is wearing a green leather trencoat, green elbow high latex gloves and a barret. She has a small portable fan in her hand which she is using to keep cool while she tries to pretend she isn't watching the show.
 
 The show in question consist of a few people, no more then 8, who are holding up signs with clever slogans ranging from "Thou Shall Not Suffer a Witch to Live" and "Mutant=Demon, Protect your Children" A crowd has formed around them, some shouting out in favor of mutants and some against. Still Barbs makes sure to keep her distance even though she watches with keep interest.

A man wanders down one of the paths, seemingly just enjoying the outdoors. Fox has missed being away from people, there are too many of them in this city. You could never go anywhere without hearing people honking or shouting...Like right now. The Auzzie cocks his head...Had he just heard an anti-mutant slur? He turns to look at the crowd a distance away and balls up his fists, shaking his head. Stupid humans. They're lucky he doesn't have his uniform handy. He continues to walk forward, kind of circling the crowd...but from a great distance away. He's trying to see if he recognizes anyone in the crowd. Unwittingly, Fox is heading right toward the girl on the bench...And he's not really watching where he's going.

The crowd dosn't seem to contain anyone familiar, you usual extreamist types and your usual casual types on both sides. Again, its very civilized form of yelling but its easy to feal the tension. The girl's expression just seems to harden and she sighs lightly before she cocks her head and turns it towards the unusually reactiing man. She clears her throat loudly... aparently she see's him heading right at her bench and dosn't want him to hurt himself

The man stops and turns his attention from the crowd momentarily, his expression hardened. He notices the young girl a few feet in front of him and stops, frowning. He had nearly ran into her...which would have been mildly embarrassing. "Erm...Sorry, miss."He turns again to look over at the gathered crowd. "Wha's alla this, eh? This happen allot here?" His accent is distinctly foreign...perhaps Australian? Maybe he's just a confused tourist or something.

Barbara folds her hands behind her and gives a small nod, her voice is soft but it has a strange unemotional quality to it. "A few every once in a while, aparently they figure these displays will sway public sentiment." she says with a shrug and then nods. "And its alright.... about the walking thing. But yes don't worry... its rare these things get violent and these definatly arent the type." indeed, soem of the sign holding protestors seem old enough to be Fox's grandparents.

Fox narrows his eyes at the crowd. Yes, a few do seem quite old. Easy to break their bones. But...Fox doesn't want his pretty face all over the news for busting up some geriatrics. He looks back at the girl with a disgruntled look on his face. "So...What? They got nothin' better to do then just hang around and bug the hell outta people?" He snorts. "Honestly...What do half a dozen oldies with tattered up paper think they're gonna do?"

Barbara gives a small sigh but her eyes shift to the side to Fox several times. "I imagine they intend to create a fealing of hostility for those with genetic abnormalities. From what I have seen, it works. Many of the younger ones are likely scared to admit what they are." she says before a small smirk forms on her face. "I notice you disaprove?"

Fox ticks an eyebrow at her question of disapproval. He decides to answer the question without indicating his status. "Disapprove? I disapprove their entire existence." He shakes his head. "People like that," he nods toward the crowd, "They're always tryin' to make everyone else's lives miserable just so that they can feel less miserable about themselves." He squints at the signs. "What is that? Bible versus?" Fox chuckles. "Naturally. Stupid bastards. Think that if they follow their ridiculous mythology hard enough then maybe an invisible man in the sky will fly down and give them hugs and kisses." He sneers.

Barbara gives a small chuckle before she shrugs. "I just don't see why it matters....genetics either make a person imoral in which sin is irrelevent, or they don't in which case this whole thing is nonsense." she says before she shrugs. "Still.. they are entitled to their belifs and I to mine. Just because I put logic behind mine...." she says before she turns to Fox. "Welcome to America Sir.. if you are vistiting that is... here emotion is more important to policy then fact."

Fox turns back to the girl and smirks. "Thanks miss, but I've been here a while...Well, not a WHILE I guess, but long enough." He nods. "And they're entitled to their opinions yeah, but as soon as they start vomitin' it all over hell for the rest of us to deal with, the coppers should probably start beatin' em with sticks. It'll keep morale up."

Barbara wrinkles her nose. "They havent broken any laws yet.. im sure as soon as they do someone will report them though." namely.. her but still, Barb keeps her rules and laws close at hand. She gives the man a smile. "Don't worry though... this wont last, if those with genetic abnormalities are better at certain tasks.. it will become economicaly inefeciant to not have them do those jobs."

Fox gives the girl an odd look. "Right...because economic efficiency is all the rage in America." The man shakes his head. "It won't change, not on its own. 'Merica's known for that. Look at yer military? Kicked out most of the intelligence 'cause they was gay." He juts a thumb toward the protestors. "Look at 'em. Christians. Think it's economically efficient to build giant buildings out of expensive materials? Think it's cheap to heat 'em or cool 'em with all that empty space in their vaulted ceilings?" He shakes his head. "Nope. Economic efficiency has nothin' to do with it. The stupid outnumber the smart. They'll outbreed us."

Barbara sighs and wrinkles her own nose. "When our military gets beat enough times.. and our companys go down.. we will learn. After all, if the law dosn't hire the geneticly abnormal.. the other aspects will. And when genetic abnormal criminals begin hitting the streats... cities that hired cops with the same abilities will reap the rewards. Trust in darwinism to work Sir... it got us this far."

Fox scratches his chest idly as the girl speaks, thinking for a moment. "I wonder about that. These states are a bit too...unwilling to change. It'll take a while, always with movements and such. But the other civil movements...The people involved couldn't knock down buildings and such without weaponry." Fox shakes his head. "Pretty sure the law won't be helpful here. I'm pretty sure that if things continue the way they are, the...'genetically different' will end up in concentration camps somewhere." He makes little air-quotes as he says 'genetically different'.

Barbara wrinkles her nose. "That would be just plain stupid of them.... if instead of going with superfast construction workers and chemist who can blow cold air..hopefully my socoiety isn't that stupid.. if it is then leaders wil lbe replaced." she grabs her purse and bag "I must be off sir."

Fox nods and watches the girl depart. He heads back the direction from which he came, glaring at the crowd as he goes.

Current Mood: annoyed

Bronx Zoo - Bronx

         In the center of the concrete jungle that is New York City, the Bronx Zoo has remained a family favorite since its opening in 1899. Home to a wide array of animals from the tropical to the nocturnal to Asian exotics, the zoo seeks only the best education for its visitors. Moats keep animals safely in their space, but allow for a view of the various animals, unobstructed by barriers or fences. There's also an elaborate monorail and bus system that weaves through the park for those too tired or busy to wander through on foot.

         In addition to the darkly paved paths that wander from exhibit to exhibit, there is also a portion of the large zoo dedicated to the kiddies. The Children's Zoo allows little ones to pet tame animals or participate in learning activities.
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The zoo is fairly quiet, being a weekday evening near closing. But the weather is nice, the air warm with a light breeze keeping it from being overly hot, and so some visitors still linger. Grey can be found near the monkey cage, headphones around her neck blaring metal loud enough to hear without them, one foot still up on her skateboard. Every few moments, she stoops to pick up some pebbles or other debris, and when she thinks no one is looking (not that she watches all that carefully), she delights in pissing off the monkeys hanging out in a nearby tree by flicking the things at them.

A shadow casts itself over the youth created by a man approaching from the south. Fox watches Grey for a few moments, contemplating whether he wants to say anything or go stare nostalgically at the kangaroos some more. He decides he might as well pester her for a while. Fox folds his arms and clears his throat. "Eh-hem. Hey sweetheart, why go gotta go an' do that to yer parents, eh?" He grins down at the girl, surprised that she's in such a place as the zoo.

The zoo, seriously? Well, in Scott Summers' defense, the sprawling mess is often the perfect place to recover from a hangover. On a weekday evening such as this, of course. The relative quiet, the calming environment, the nooks, the crannies. It helps that a zoo is one place where being alone isn't so suspicious or awkward. The introspective loner-thing works somehow in this setting. So Scott wanders, jacket unzipped and ruby-framed sunglasses in place. His pace is slow, but not aimless. Routine, actually - whenever Scott visits such a public forum, he always has a set path. Helps with the migraines, to not have to think about where to go next, make a call at a fork in the road, that sort of thing. And it just so happens the monkey exhibit is along Scott's usual route. Look, people. Hm. A scrawny thing throwing pebbles and some Aussie. He snorts, just able to pick up a few words in his approach. ".. Creepy bastard." Always constructive, Scott is.

Uh oh, someone shaved a gorilla and let it loose! No, wait... that's just Norton. The thuggishly large man is wearing a simple, faded grey muscle shirt and baggy black jeans, and he moves slowly down the path, eyes resting casually on one display or the other. He munches idly on a small bag of overpriced zoo popcorn - apparently you can tag on an extra three bucks to the price if you call them "Kritter Kernels" - as he moves along. He eventually spots a familiar young street urchin pestering monkeys and talking to an Australian, who is in turn addressed by some punk with weird retro glasses, which causes his brow to furrow. Then again, his brow tends to come pre-furrowed anyway, so it's not much of a transition. For now he hangs back, though being Norton-sized, he doesn't exactly blend into the woodwork.

"Nah man, ain't you heard? I was raised by wolves, not monkeys," Grey replies, rolling her eyes. It's only after she's got in one last good shot (causing one monkey to stand up screeching and jumping on the branch), that she turns to look at the familiar Aussie. Catching Scott's muttering as he passes by, she gives him a challenging look, before turning back to Fox. "Anyway, what's it to you? You some sorta monkey defender now or something?" She lobs the last pebble into the cage without looking, and then jams her hands down into her pockets, peering up at Fox, squinting against the setting sun. She hasn't yet spotted Norton, which is probably good, considering.

Fox shakes his head at the girl, chuckling. "I'd think you'd be better mannered if you were actually rased by wolves." He frowns at the monkey. "Not so much as a defender of monkeys as...I don't like to see a caged animal being tormented without reason..." He sees her throwing another rock and contemplates throwing a few rocks at her...But then he hears muttering behind him and turns to see a sunglassed man in the dimming light. He quirks a brow and prepares to say something rather snide, but then he notices that behind this man is a much larger man staring creepily at the group of them. He kind of...stares back, unsure of what to do about this. Americans are so weird sometimes.

Scott is unfamiliar, the unknown factor amongst New Yorkers who seem, from an omnipotent standpoint, to know each other. One part punk, one part retro - apparently. He eases on the brakes, speculative. Maybe the Aussie's not the only one toying with nostalgia's pull. It's been a while since Scott bothered to stop being so damn misanthropic. So with the continued banter between the two monkey-admirers, Scott pauses at a reasonable distance. He cants his head, angling his nose off center to eyeball the mismatched pair. Norton's out of Scott's peripheral, but the man sure doesn't miss Fox glance pointedly past him. So perhaps it's safe to assume there's someone else? Whatever the case, Scott twists off a tight, uneven smirk for the joint benefit of Grey and Fox. When the Aussie goes all stare-ish, though, Scott quirks. "Go on, don't let me interrupt. You two are adorable."

Now that Fox is looking at him, Norton scowls. It's quite a professional scowl; he's had lots of practice. "What, can't a guy go to the fuckin' zoo?" He stuffs a handful of popcorn into his mouth as if to prove his point. Defensive, much?

"Well, the reason is 'cause they're really funny when they get pissed off," Grey says simply, shrugging her shoulders unapologetically. And then Scott's comment catches her attention and earns him a dirty glare. "Fuck you, adorable," she tosses out with a jerk of her chin, ready to go on in this vein when she spots Norton behind him. "Oh Christ, not the cop," she mutters more quietly, so that only Fox and /maybe/ Scott can hear it. And then more loudly for Norton's benefit, "You following me now? Stalking's a crime - you should know!"

Fox looks over the glassesed one quickly, deciding he's not terribly dangerous. "Um...Maybe yer glasses 'er obscuring yer view there, mate...But this one ain't no cutie." He makes to ruffle Grey's hair, but he's not really looking at her...he's likely to miss. He catches Norton's comment and frowns at him. "Aw now, watch yer mouth, buddy. Kiddos are about." He points a thumb at Grey and catches her mutter. He gives her an accusatory look and then glances back at Norton, eyeing Scott quickly as he turns.

Well, now Scott's curious. Who is this grumpy, foul-mouthed thing that stalks equally mouthy youngsters in zoos? He doesn't catch Grey's muttering, rest assured. But she does merit a one-shoulder shrug, before Scott glances back over his shoulder. Fuckin' A, that's a brute of a man. He squints at Norton, though the gesture is lost behind ruby lenses. Scott's vision is on the move again, though, skipping from Norton to Fox to Grey. "I meant you, actually, -mate-." This to Fox.

Norton fixes his glare on Grey. "Yeah, because I /wanted/ another goddamn run-in with you, brat." His eyebrows lift slightly in incredulity at Fox's comment. "You /heard/ her talk? Brat's got more lip than a fuckin' babboon." When eyed by Scott, Norton just glares right back. He doesn't say it, but his expression clearly seems to read, What the hell is up with those weird shades?

"Then why the fuck you following me?" Grey challenges right back. She doesn't even pause in smacking
Fox's hand away when he tries to ruffle her hair, as much instinct as anything. "Who you calling a kiddo? I've heard fucking swears before." But when Norton makes the same point in more, ah, colourful terms, she gives him another glare, which is then rounded on Scott. "You said you /two/. Which means both of us, dumb ass. Unless you were talking to him and the monkey." For all her angry words and dirty looks, somehow some part of her seems to be almost gleeful at this four way argument. This is /awesome/!

Fox makes to say something, but catches what Scott said and stops for a moment, contemplating. Clearly not. Grey was right, he had heard 'You two'...Fox figure's Scott's just messing with him. He flashes him a grin and then laughs at Grey's monkey comment. Fox suppresses the urge to make a comment about how he thought she was a monkey...But decides it isn't the time. Grey's all upset about something. Apparently she's had problems with this hulking police man or something. He frowns at Grey's comments and backs up a bit muttering quietly to her. "Look, he's probably just 'ere on his day off 'er somethin'. I don't think he can arrest you for..." Well maybe harassing monkeys...But he doubts the man will. "Just shut yer trap, eh, sweety?"

Scott agrees, but it's the curious attitude dynamic that interests Scott. Norton and Grey, both moody and crude and stirred-up. And then Fox, much more even-keeled. He studies the two by the cage, expression cooling into an unreadable mask of neutrality. Hm. When Grey sounds off, though, Scott does round his attention down to her specific level. "I was letting you off the hook. Now you want to be adorable? 'Cause that'll take some work. I'd start with soap." He glances at Fox again. Obviously, Fox read it right. Sooo, no snarking for the Aussie. Stepping to the side, Scott angles to open up to Norton. Or rather, to better keep all three loons in sight. And eyeball the copper again. Sizing him up? .. Maaaybe, shh.

Norton smirks. "Yer Aussie babysitter's got the right idea." Clearly he approves of anyone who tells Grey to shut her trap. He glances at the retro-shades-dude again, who appears to be eyeballing him once more. "Wanna take a fuckin' picture?"

Grey gives Fox a dirty look for the double whammy of telling her to shut up AND calling her sweety. "He can't arrest me for shit. I'm just standing here, minding my business," she insists stubbornly, in a voice loud enough to carry. She crosses her arms over her chest and gives Norton a challenging glare. Which is cut a little short to be levelled on Scott. "Yeah, 'cause it's clearly my main goal in life to be adorable. /You/ said I was. Now you're saying I'm not. I'm just asking for some consistency, man." She crosses her arms over her chest, not seeming swayed in the least that she's trying to argue simultaneously with three fully grown men.

Fox chuckles to himself at Scott's soap comment, but he figures it won't go well with...Ah there it is. And of course he expected a retort from Grey...He's a little disappointed to only get a glare. He watches Scott move and turn to face the three. It appears as if he's trying to decide who to side with or something...Not that there needs to be siding or anything. He shoots the cop a nasty glare. "Oy you big ugly beast, I don't sit no babies. " He spits on the ground. Sure he told Grey to shut her mouth...But it's certainly not the first time he's told her not to do something and then done it himself.

Scott emits a wistful sigh, obviously feigned. Go figure, Scott's an aspiring actor. Not really, but. "I wish. My bedside table's so lonely, and I have just the picture frame for you." The more Scott babbles, the more Scott's voice drops into a drawl. He tends to seep with sardonic idiocy. Grey is tossed another glance, gloved hands shoved into brown leather pockets. His jacket's, that is. "Consistency? Better off with the soap, kid." He tilts, ponders. Or at least makes a show of pondering. "And a lesson in fashion. Really? Who wears camouflage." Fortunate for Scott, the ruby shades disguise the blaring clash of colors. The blues and greens aren't so rude, more yellow.

Norton doesn't really react much to Grey's challenging stare, having gotten somewhat used to it by now, but he does raise an eyebrow when Fox spits on the ground before him. He raises his hands in a sarcastic backing-off gesture. "Whoa, hey, didn't mean to offend. Guess I figure she was a bit young to be yer girlfriend, but mebbe they do things differently in Kangaroo-land?" Class act, this guy. He stuffs some more popcorn in his mouth, apparently finishing the bag, since he crumples it in one hand. Pretty... efficiently too. He treats Scott to an unamused look at the bedside table comment.

And now Fox gets an approving grin for calling Norton a big ugly beast. But Grey is quick to turn her attention back to the match. "Oh no, don't tell me camouflage was /last/ season?" she says with pretend distraught. "Who wears camouflage? I do. And if you don't like it, tough shit." She looks back at Norton now, making a disgusted face (no offence, Fox!). "I'm not /anyone's/ girlfriend," she insists. A surprise, no doubt, that the boys don't line up at her window. And then, in a somewhat amused aside to Fox: "What happened to keeping your trap shut?"

Fox smirks at Scott. Fox wears camo all the time, but he figures Scott's just messing with Grey, which is Fox's favourite game...Other than 'Enrage the Waitress'. He twitches a brow at Norton. "She's not me cook, ya ratbag. She's me...Er..." What? His vagrant homeless source of stolen alcohol? He figures that won't go over too well. He smirks at Norton, yeah...That's it, eat up ya Brute. He doesn't say it, but he'd like to. "She's my Bitzer." He chuckles...Apparently it's funny but it's likely no one understands his slang. He doesn't catch Greys face, but he nods down at her. "Yeah, keep yer trap shut."

The spunky thing in camo is spared a raised finger from Scott, singular and with time-honored meaning. Not much of a Boy Scout, this Summers. Fox's instinct is right-on, again. He obviously can't care much for trends and patterns, what with the barren and uninspired nature of his own wardrobe. He addresses Fox, always ripe with helpful advice. "Drop fifty bucks, and I'm sure the zookeepers'll part with a muzzle. They make 'em for all makes of monkeys."

Norton smirks openly at Grey's flusteration. "Gosh, ain't THAT a shocker," he says of her apparent non-girlfriend status. Probably just kidding around, since he hasn't tried to arrest Fox for pedophilia yet. He does, however, look nonplussed at the Bitzer comment. "...Uh? The fuck's that supposed to be?" At Scott's comment, he grins a particularly nasty grin. "Think they'll take credit?"

"Ooh. Yeah, I got two of those myself, you like 'em?" Grey retorts, holding up both hands towards him. She opens her mouth, turning to Fox and clearly about to ask him what the hell that means, when Norton beats her to the punch. And at the idea of having or saying anything in common with the cop, she promptly shuts her mouth and turns to scowl at him for good measure. Instead, she chooses to address the matter of the muzzle. "You come anywhere near me with one of those things and I'll bite a chunk outta you," she threatens no one in particular.

Fox grins at Scott's comment. "Yeah...She prolly does bite, and I'm not up to date on me rabies shots." He shrugs and gives Scott a 'what can you do?' sort of look. He catches Norton's question and answers in a less than helpful manner. "A bitzer? It's a growl-a-de-doo." He nods, deciding that it was a proper answer. "And er...Huh? Why would they take credit...?" Fox isn't familiar with that term...for some reason. He just looks confusedly at the cop.

Scott shoots the badge a grin - a far more lopsided expression, this time. Less thin, less practiced. "Let's just say I know for a fact they do." Does Scott regularly consort with zookeepers? How kinky. Or just downright creepy. He gestures to the imp-like thing, Grey. "Consider throwing down another two hundred, I bet they'd tranq her for you, too. Put her under for a few, so you can secure the muzzle proper without a fuss." Yeah, Scott's aware of just how skewed the present musing is. So the scruffy Summers shrugs, keeping that middle-finger'd hand free to rub along the nape of his neck.

Norton rolls his eyes at Grey. "Bitin'? Ain't we fuckin' mature." Says the police officer arguing with the 13-year-old. He does smirk at the rabies comment and Scott's suggestion of tranquilizers, but he waves a hand dismissively. "Mebbe some other time. I ain't really in the mood to listen to the Street Brat all day, so I'm jus' gonna go see if they're feedin' shit to the crocodiles yet." He tosses the crunched-up bag of popcorn into the monkey cage - it's, er, VERY well-compressed, so it sails in effortlessly - then turns and walks on down the path, proceeding in the opposite way he came.

Grey looks between the three rather sizeable guys who are threatening to tranq her. A smarter girl would keep her mouth shut at this point. Grey, however, does not. "Yeah, it'd take all three of you and maybe you /might/ have a shot of takin' me out, but don't think I'm goin' down without a fight," she fronts, refusing to back down as she crosses her arms back over her chest and gives them all three a daring stare. And so, of course, when Norton opts not to stick around, she'll tell herself it's because he was totally intimidated by her. She has to make it through the day somehow! "Yeah, why don't you see if you can arrange to fall in!" she calls after him.

Fox frowns at the trash as it sails into the cage, watching the monkeys eye it contemplatively. He shakes his head at Grey's comment. "Oooo. Watch out, she's got a wheely board." He waits until the cop's out of earshot before he mutters something that sounds kind of like "Bloody fuckin' wanker, he'd give the salties a case of the vomits." He reaches out his hand toward the bag, looks at Scott, contemplates something for a moment, and then shakes his head. He looks around for a stick to pull the bag out with, feeling fairly certain that it was not made for monkey consumption.

Scott 's attention is won over by the departing copper. He eyes after the retreating hulk, one brow perked over the upper rim of his sunglasses. And yes, even as the evening settles in, the shades remain. Corey Hart, anyone? And then there were three. Scott zeroes back in on the other two, specifically Fox. What with the stick-fetching. "Lookie, lookie. Didn't take you for the eco-conscious."

"/Skate/ board," Grey corrects wearily, sounding as if she's corrected him more than once before on this matter. "And I don't even wanna know why you people call monkeys 'salties'. What the hell, man." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head a bit, just watching as he gets a stick. "Yeah, I didn't think you were such a lover of the animals, Dr. Doolittle. But knock yourself out, I guess," she gives her blessing indifferently.

Fox shakes his head at Grey's comment about salties, not looking at her as he attempts to fish the paper out of the enclosure. "Uzza-whozit?" He looks at her now with mild confusion. "Salties? They're crocs. Salt water crocs. I was talking about your hulking friend there." He nods his head in the direction Norton wandered off toward and shakes his head again. "And I don't expect you yanks to understand how to be friendly like to the environment...It's somethin' the rest of the world does just fine, but you people seem not to know how to do..." He continues poking at the paper as the monkeys freak out a little.

Scott crosses his arms, now. He takes a half-step backwards, too, rubbing up against one of those many lampposts that dot the zoo paths. Leaning is always preferable. "Oh yeah. You Aussies are way more in touch with Mother Nature. But then 'gain, you don't see many of us Yanks falling victim to death by stingray, either." Too soon? Naaah. Not for Scott's callous humor. He indicates between the two of you with a wave. "So. How come everyone here seems to know everyone else?"

"Oh," Grey says without shame or apology for getting the slang wrong. "It's still weird. Why don't you just call things what they are already?" It is an endless source of frustration for her. "And he's /not/ my friend. I can't /stand/ that fuckin' pig." She glowers in the direction Norton disappeared. To the matter of the environment, she just shrugs. "Whatever. We're all fucked anyway. I don't think being nice to a few monkeys is gonna help." She glances over at Scott with another shrug. "I think these guys all stalk me or something. Creepy, right?"

Fox glares at Scott. "Hey, you leave Steve outta this, mate." He goes back to poking at the paper ball, responding to Grey's question without looking at her. "I do call 'em what they are. Why use the whole word when I can cut it down...Didn't we already have this conversation? Pay attention next time, kiddo." He nods. "Right. I have nothing better to do than stalk filthy street rats..." Victory! He has managed to retrieve the paper ball and smiles triumphantly. He looks back to Scott. "Met her in an alley. Fittin', eh?"

Scott is just as unhelpful towards Fox's efforts as Grey. The hell with fighting the injustice rubbish wreaks on a monkey's digestive system. His vision flicks to Grey, not that it's possible to tell through those shades. "Yeah? That was my first reaction. Can't say I envy you - though then again, I am surprised. Creepy fucks tend to chase curvy, sexpot tail. And you - well." Seems obvious. He shrugs, eyeing Fox with something of a furrowed brow. Maybe the Aussie is dodgy, likes 'em young and boy-like. Ew. ".. You're not helping the creepy image, Auz."

"Yeah, but you're still doing it, duh," Grey responds, as to the deja vu matter in this conversation. "You aren't calling them what they are, you're calling them some made up word that only weirdos like you understand." She watches him skeptically as he emerges victorious over the ball of trash. "Yeah, 'cause your days are /clearly/ so full," she points out sarcastically. "And hey, you were in the alley too. At least /I/ wasn't drunk." She glances over at Scott, arching an eyebrow. "Fuck man, it's not like /that/. They just, y'know, wanna be around my winning personality and shit."

Fox looks at the wad of paper. It's super compacted...That creepy bearish man was apparently crumpling it for a while. He finishes inspecting it and looks at Grey. "Like you're the queen of proper speech." What does that mean? Who knows. Sometimes Fox doesn't even know what he's saying. He smirks at Scott. "Er...Nope. Sheilas ain't me style." He tosses the paper at Grey's head. "There...I taunted the monkeys."

Scott spares a hand, fingers spread and unmoving. A halt, cease, stop. Something like that, just a gesture to indicate Scott's on the same page. "Sure, sure. Now the queue wrapping 'round the zoo and back makes sense. They're all just in line to barter witticism." Fox earns another glance. He snorts, conceding with a bob'd nod. "Yeah, should've figured that one."

The ball of paper, oddly, doesn't seem to quite actually connect with Grey's head before it bounces off. But it all happens so quickly, it's hard to say for sure, and she doesn't give it a moment's pause, just sticking her tongue out at Fox. She looks at Scott then, shrugging her shoulders. "So long as they don't stick me in a cage," she allows, of the people lining up to match wits with her.

Fox isn't really looking at Grey, so he wouldn't notice if the paper hit or not. "Actually...if we caged you we could charge money. I'm sure they'd pay to get a slice of your charming personality. Then we could let you out and you could go on a rampage with your surf board...And failingly attempt to beat them with it." He nods. "Genius business venture. We'll pay you in pebbles and wads of paper."

And so the ball of paper just falls harmlessly to the ground. "You try and cage me and I'll make good on that promise to bite you," Grey threatens, narrowing her eyes at Fox. "And it's a /skate/ board!" That one really seems to get to her, the more he refuses to get it. "Besides, then I'd have to stop giving it away for free, and then what'd you do for entertainment if you didn't have me around to pick on? Hmph."

Fox gives Grey a funny look and decides she might be too young for him to make a joke about her 'giving it away for free.' "Yeah...Right. Whatever...Boogie board...Right." Does he do that on purpose or does he just not listen to her? The world may never know. "And I suppose without you I'd have to actually do something ...Constructive?" Maybe destructive...He'd probably just drink more or something...Or punch kittens.

"/Skate/board!" Grey exclaims again, throwing up her arms. "God, I know you can't talk right, but you could at least listen. Your ears broken?" She gives a little snort at the idea of him doing something constructive. "Yeah, perish the thought. I don't even know what'd count as constructive for you. You'd tend bar more proactively or something?" she guesses randomly. Because she's really the poster girl for constructive pastimes, of course.

Fox pretends to be really interested in one of his fingernails while she yells about skate boards. "Wha's that? I wasn't listening. Something about a wheeled plank of wood?" He raises an eye at the girl. "Constructive? Bartending? Sure. I get tipped pretty well as it is. I mean, If I like...went home and practiced in front of a mirror and stuff? I could make twice as much, I bet."

Grey swoops down to pick up a pebble and lob it at Fox in frustration now. "You're doing it on purpose!" she accuses him hotly, as if it hadn't actually occurred to her before this moment. Which goes to show how much faith she has in his mental capacity. "Yeah, then you'd have twice as much to spend on my bootleg stuff. So you should really get on that," she urges.

Fox just kind of frowns at the girl as he's struck in the face by a pebble. Again, he decides not to make a crack about her comment that he should 'get on that'. Once she's older she'll have to deal with his ridiculously immature humour. He chuckles. "You should totally try and open a bootlegged liquor business. Sell some to me, sell some to your behemoth of a friend."

"Okay, did you miss the part where he's a cop? One that keeps threatening to arrest me pretty much all the time? Shit man, I'm sure the only reason he didn't come up with some totally ludicrous reason to threaten me tonight was 'cause there were witnesses and stuff," Grey points out, not without a streak of pride at the idea of having a cop as a personal nemesis. "Or is it that you want me to get arrested so I'll be outta your hair?"

Fox chuckles. "Oh just hit him with your skis. I'm sure that would deter him. He looked to be a pushover." Fox nods knowingly. "And it's true. I thought I saw him scheming there. He's out to get you all right. Little old innocent you." He smirks. "Uh...And I guess if you got arrested I'd visit once in a while. Throw pebbles at you though the cage doors."

Grey just gives him a dirty look when he calls her skateboard skis. "Oh yeah, he's a real soft touch, that one. Fuck, he almost got me killed once and then blamed it on me. Fine, /don't/ believe me, but he's a total asshole." She sets her jaw stubbornly, crossing her arms again. "If I got arrested, I'd tell them you were contributing to the delinquency of this minor."

Fox nods. "Yeah...And I'd say 'What is that thing? Never saw it before in my life.'" He smirks at her. "Plus I'm not exactly an American citizen...Have diplomatic immunity and all that." Really? Um...no. But Grey is a child and thus knows nothing. "And I'm sure he 'almost got you killed' by chasing you away from a crime scene or something."

Grey gives Fox a skeptical look, not buying the whole idea of diplomatic immunity. "Uh huh," she replies with an unconvinced tone. At his latter comment, she actually looks perhaps a little stung. Or maybe she's just being more difficult and ornery than usual. "Try chasing a crime scene /at/ me, but y'know, whatever. He's a cop, so clearly /he's/ right and I'm just making shit up. Fuck this, I'm gonna go before he comes back and arrests me for loitering or gathering in a public place without a permit or something."

Fox nods. "Right'o kid. 'Cause you're being good. Totally didn't throw things at the monkeys or anything. And I'm sure hed arrest you for no reason with two strongish guys next to you." He shakes his head and stretches. "I suppose I should run off, too...I think the zoo's 'bout to close 'er somethin'...I'd think."

Wow. Those two can babble and banter back and forth, that's certain. Scott opts for silence, skipping focus between the two. It's as good as Wimbleton, really. And it's just before Grey voices her intention to leave that Scott considers the very same. Can only stand around, sober, for so long. Time to go hit the slums for a beer. ".. Fuck this shit." No good-bye, of course. He just turns, zips up his jacket, and slinks off. Taking a roundabout way to the exit, so as not to keep pace with the strange, bickering monkey-fans.

"Yeah, whatever," Grey replies in a tone that's equal parts annoyance and apathy. "Good thing I can take care of myself. Thanks for reminding me why I don't count on people." Tossing a jerk of her chin towards Scott, she puts her headphones up over her ears, flips her hood over her head, and then makes to push off on her skateboard. The great thing about this look is how well it can suit emo as well as streetrat!

Fox looks around as he is left alone and just kind of yawns. He stretches again and puts his arms up behind his head, ambling toward the general exit. Maybe hell go wander around some alleyways. Or perhaps he can go fix something.

Current Mood: amused

Central Park - Manhattan

         Central Park is an oasis of green in the middle of New York City with over 800 acres of scenic views, playgrounds and ponds. It's a great place to take a break from the busy city, as there are bike and jogging trails, athletic fields, and even a boathouse. The recently restored Wollman Rink is the top choice skating environment. Bethesda Fountain is located by the Mall and near the lake, while the Water Conservatory also make its mark in the vicinity. The most esteemed place of interest though, usually is none other than the Belvedere Castle.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Here in the park, the summer evening is turning out rather peaceful. The sounds of the heavy traffic are dulled to a quiet, rhythmic hush, as dusk sweeps over the sky and the streetlamps begin to glow. And then there's the scrape and clatter of a skateboard breaking all of that, not to mention the string of four letter words that tends to follow the clatter. It's Grey, of course. Having picked out a wide section of the paved path as her own, she's practicing her kickflip ... with mixed results.

Ah, such a peaceful night. Well...it was. There's a groaning and a bit of shuffling as Grey clatters around like an alley cat. Fox awakens from a nearby park-bench, having sat down to rest after getting out of a bar not too long ago. Well...Several hours ago. Luckilly no one seems to have tried to mug or kill him...Lucky for the would be assailants. Fox grumbles and sits up, rubbing his eyes and glaring around for the source of the noise. "Bloody fuckin' wretches...I'll tear out their spines..." Then he notices Grey a short ways off, and becomes decidedly less hostile, awakening slightly and wandering toward her.

There's a loud expletive as Grey not only fails to land the jump, but gets tripped up over her own board and falls to the ground. She's still dressed in her double sweatshirts despite the summer heat, so those cushion the blow to her elbow, at least, but her hand still gets a little scraped up in the process. But, like any true skater, Grey just brushes off the grit on her jeans as she gets up, ready to hop right back on her board again. Just as she's getting situated to try another time, she spots Fox coming towards her. At first her posture goes stiff, not unlike the alley cat spotting some unknown movement in the dark. Recognizing Fox, though, she relaxes, giving her head a little toss in greeting.

Fox laughs a bit as the girl falls...Not out of malice, it's just funny to him. He gets close enough to speak to the girl and stretches a bit. He's wearing his usual shorts and sleeveless coat. "Hey there, kiddo. How's life?" He looks down at her plank of wood with wheels. "You should sharpen that thing so that you can stab people with it." He smirks. It's a randomly odd thing to say.

Grey gives him a weird look for that comment, arching an eyebrow as she looks down at her board and then kicks it up to grab the nose of it. "Don't need to. It's better for broad-siding people anyway." She looks back up at him, her head on a bit of an angle as she gives him a quick once over. "Life's, y'know, okay. Life. How're things with you? Still making friends everywhere you go?"

Fox ponders what she says and nods. "Ah, yes. But if you just broad-side them they can still get up."He laughs at the mention of his gift with making friends. He grins broadly. "Oh yeah. Waiters love me, ya know? Can't wait to serve me and shit." He nods. "And life is...Busy. Thought I'd treat myself to a night out. Thought I deserved it."

"So then you just do it again," Grey replies without pause. "'Sides, I'm gonna get myself a /good/ knife. I think a board would be too unwieldy for stabbing anyway." She smirks a bit. "Yeah, can't wait to serve you so they can spit in your food. You must have one hell of an immune system by now, man." Her eyebrows twitch up a bit. "Busy huh? Lucky. Shit's boring as sin around here."

Fox flashes another grin. "Knives are too common. They'd never expect a surf-board." He points at her skate board...Maybe it's slang...Maybe he just doesn't pay attention to the names of such things. " An' they know better than to mess with me food. I'd break em'." He puffs out his chest again before smirking at the girl. "And if you're board you could take up knitting or adopt a kitten."

"/Skate/...board," Grey says slowly, as if Fox is dense. "You're on the wrong coast for surfing, dude." She turns the board over to show him the wheels. "See, it doesn't go so good on water." She spins a wheel freely before tucking the board up under her arm. "They know not to spit in your food when you /know/ it. You don't know what you don't know." She makes a face at his suggestions. "Uh yeah, 'cause that'd be fun. The hell am I gonna do with a kitten?"

Fox nods, looking at the board. "Right...A wheel-board. Well it wouldn't be very helpful in a flood then, eh?" He gives her a serious look. And you could use the kitten to...Make yourself happy? I guess?" He shakes his head. "Back in me homeland, kiddos your age don't get bored 'cause they can go to the pubs like everyone else." He nods. "Keeps 'em out of trouble."

"Are we expecting a flood?" Grey asks skeptically. "I don't do swimming." The skeptical look continues as he talks about the joys of a kitten. "What's a kitten going to do for me? If it can get me into the bars or something, done deal, otherwise, I mean, whatever. I'm not exactly the rainbows and unicorns type of girl." She gives him a warningly dirty look lest he disagree. "Yeah, that might make up for the fact that no one there can even talk. I'd never get bored if I could go to the bar."

Fox makes a mental note to buy Grey a rainbow unicorn sweatshirt for her birthday...whenever that is. And maybe a kitten with a pink ribbon. "SURE you ain't, sweetie." He grins at her mischievously. " And what you mean we cant talk, eh?" He shakes his head. "I can speak just fine." He folds his arms. "And once the kiddos get drunk they just pass out an we dont have to watch em or nothin."

"Fuck you, man," Grey spits angrily as he calls her sweetie. "You wanna see how sweet I ain't?" She scowls for a moment, doing her best to look threatening despite her rather tiny stature. "Nuh-uh, half the stuff you say, it doesn't even really make sense. Least not to anyone else. The hell is that about?" She gives a little snort. "So it's a win-win situation then. Hell, I'll get drunk enough to pass out. Just for you."

Fox laughs rather loud at Grey as she tries to look tough. "Oh dear, Im sorry. Its just. " He laughs some more. "Oh you look so angry." Its apparently not very threatening to him. "And slong as what I say makes sense to me, thats all that matters, right?" He nods. "And hey, if you pass out Ill just do up yer nails an makeup. Put some little bows in your hair." He sticks out his tongue at the girl.

Grey finally gets angry enough to try and broad-side him with the skateboard. Though it's towards his upper leg, and while she doesn't exactly pull her punches, she's simply not really all that strong. So should it connect, it might hurt a bit but probably not that much. And the move is pretty telegraphed, so he might be able to just side-step it. "Take it back!" she insists, though not which part.

Fox chuckles a bit as the girl comes at him and he just grabs ahold of the skateboard. He holds on to it and just shakes his head, making a 'tsk tsk tsk' noise. "Now deary, you know I'm ex-nasho. They teach us how to avoid things like...Being hit with blunt objects by children." Well...Not exactly, but he's trained sufficiently enough to block that. "And I'll take back the...what?" He just looks confused now. "Now who ain't makin' sense?"

Grey looks more annoyed as he so easily stops her, and then tries to yank the skateboard back. "Ex /what/? God, speak English already, would you?" She finally just lets him have the skateboard so that she can cross her arms over her chest and get a good sulk on. "Take back what you said about me being the unicorn and rainbows type of girl. /And/ about putting anything in my hair when I'm passed out."

Fox releases the board. "What do you mean? I never said you was a unicorny rainbow type of lass. " He shakes his head. "And Nasho IS English...For the national service." He smirks at the girl. "And if you don't want to get all dolled up, make sure you don't go unconscious near me." He chuckles. Granted...If he tried to do her hair it would probably just look terrifying.

"Yeah, well, you never said I wasn't, either," Grey points out stubbornly as she takes her skateboard back and hugs it protectively to her chest. "Nuh-uh. Nasho ain't English. Bet you can't find it in Webster's or the Oxford English Dictionary." She gives him another scowl then. "But you're the only person I know that works at a bar! If I'm not gonna go unconscious near you, who'm I gonna? I looked it up, by the way," she adds casually.

Fox chuckles. "Well I never said you wasnt a rabid dingo, neither, but you didnt try to clobber me for that." He shakes his head defiantly. "Oh I bet youd find it in a dictionary." He nods. Probably not, but he doubts the girl has one on her. "And Id not let you into my bar. An if I did Id just give you some lemon soda." He smirks.

"You /insinuated/," Grey insists. "That I was that kinda girl, I mean, not a rabid dingo. Though I don't like where that one's going either." Her eyebrows lift up a bit and she looks almost intrigued. "How much you wanna bet?" asks the young entrepreneur. And then she's back to scowling. "Oh c'mon! You just went on about how kids my age /should/ be getting drunk. And now you're just gonna get like all the other grown ups, aren't you. Figures."

Fox nods. "Right." So she's a rabid dingo that likes unicorns and puppy dogs and kitten whiskers and the laughter of babies. "And I'll bet your wheely-board that it's in there." Its not his to bet...But he's not going to bet anything of his own. "And in MY country I wouldn't lose my job for servin' ya. Here I probably would."

"That's a crappy bet. You think I'm stupid or something?" No, Grey isn't going to let him bet /her/ things against her. "'Sides, you already gave it back." Yeah, if he'd held onto it, he might have a shot there. She rolls her eyes. "Only if they caught you, which they totally won't. I could just be, y'know, a small college chick or something."

Fox nods. "Right. well how about if I'm right, you have to wear a pink dress for a day?" He smirks. "And matching shoes." He chuckles at the thought. "And they totally would maybe catch me...Which would be bad. You don't look like a college student, ya look like a fetus." He shakes his head. "I'd be in prison before I knew it." Not that he'd be there for long...

"And what if /I'm/ right. /You/ have to wear the dress and shoes?" Grey asks, giving him a daring look. But she seems pretty convinced he won't take her up on it. "I do not look like a fetus! Gross! What are you, chicken? Fuck, it's only a job. I hope I'm not that boring when /I/ get all old and shit. Your arthritis making you cranky or something?"

Fox laughs. "If you can find a dress that'll fit over my shoulders...Then I'll look at it and wonder why it exists." He looks her up and down. "I don't know...You look pretty fetussy to me." He shrugs. "And it's probably all my advanced knowledge and self restraint that comes with being mature." He nods. Because he's SO mature...That's why he goes around picking on kids.

"Fine. If I can find a dress that'll fit you, /and/ not find the word in the dictionary, then you wear the dress," Grey insists, not getting waylaid that easily. "And I'd rather be fetussy than old and /boring/. Next thing you know, you'll be lecturing me about my language and bitching about tax incentives or something." She rolls her eyes. "Being boring and being mature aren't the same thing."

Fox smirks. "So...Being boring involves going to pubs...And being NOT boring involves being bored in a park and tipping over a wheeled plank of wood?" He chuckles. Hes been doing some very NOT boring things lately, but hell not mentions such things now. "And suddenly, its un-boring for someone to babysit a fetus while it gets drunk and passes out, but boring to hang out with people your own age and get some...um...drunk." He finishes awkwardly.

"Yep," Grey replies succinctly and stubbornly. "It would be /cool/ if you weren't such a lame old man, that you used your powers for good, and by that I mean getting me into a fucking pub, instead of just going on about how you were going all the time when you were my age, and how much better that is. But I don't know why I'm surprised. Seems like you hit eighteen and you stop bothering to put your money where your mouth is. Grown ups just talk a lotta shit. And they wonder why the hell I don't listen to 'em."

Fox nods. "Or...We're secretly conspiring against you all so that you become jaded with life and...spend your time playing in a park at night." He shakes his head. "And it's not like you can't get ahold of liquor, you know. " He shakes his head. "I seem to recall you gettin' me a bottle o' turps not too long ago." He nods. "And once YOU turn 18...Then we'll see what happens."

"Fuck yeah. Not like I can't get drunk. But it's not the same as going to the bar. I mean, otherwise, why would adults even bother? Everyone would just be wandering around with paper bag-covered bottles of booze. It's the whole /experience/." Grey rolls her eyes. "/If/ I turn 18. I mean, you listen to people talk, I'm probably gonna kick it way before then because I'm too stupid to take care of myself."

Fox nods. "Well the bar is fun. But the bar is fun because there ain't any kiddos around to ruin the fun." He nods again. "And yeah, you'll probably off yourself in a couple weeks or somethin." He looks at her seriously for a moment. "I'd say two years maximum." He nods knowingly. "Then you'll eat a rat pellet or try to sleep in a street or somethin'."

"You were just going on about how much better it was that kids were in the bars and out of trouble!" Grey points out in frustration. "Fuck man, you should take notes so you stop contradicting yourself all the time." She's getting more worked up now. "Oh yeah, 'cause I'm just sooo stupid. The fuck is so great about being so smart anyway, huh? So what if I die in a few years, long as I had fun in the meantime. Better to burn out than fade away."

Fox shakes his head. "You weren't listenin'. The kids were UNCONCIOUS." He nods. Sure, they'd be the same here...But he likes talking in circles. "And if you live long enough you'll get to annoy kiddos...Just like me. And you'll get to be mean to waiters and if you buff up enough, they're too affraid to do anything about it."

"And how the hell are any of us supposed to get that way if we can't get into the bars to drink, huh?" Grey points out in annoyance, huffing slightly. "Fuck, I annoy kids just fine at my age, and I could be mean to waiters if I wanted to. Let 'em try to do something. They get caught beating up a kid and they'll get fired SO fast. And anyway, I can totally take care of myself."

Fox laughs. "Right...You'll...Hit them with you're surfboard?" He shakes his head. "Somehow I don't think that'll cut it." He chuckles a bit, looking at his watch and stretching. He should probably head out soon. "Well...I should probably head home soon. The missus'll worry." What does that mean? "You think you'll be ok here?" He looks around. "Bunyip ain't affraid of no planks o' wood."

"Bunny /what/?" Grey asks in her usual annoyed tone. "I got more tricks up my sleeve than just a /skate/board, anyway. You're just lucky I don't got my knife yet, man." Because then he'd really be in trouble. Of course, it's questionable as to whether she'd even /really/ try to stab him. "I'll be fine. I take care of myself."

"Bunyip, dear. It's a beasty that eats kiddos." Granted...not in America...or in the real world. "And I don't think stabbing me would do you any good. Especially since they'd probably only sell you a butter knife or somethin'." He nods and turns slightly, looking back the way he came. "Well, s'pose I should head out. Try not to be too bad, eh?""

"Oh geez, you're trying to scare me with the boogeyman?" Grey scoffs. She arches an eyebrow as he disparages her would-be knife. "Who says I'm gonna /buy/ anything. And I can steal whatever I want." She drops her skateboard back to the ground with a noisy clatter, putting a foot on it. "I make no promises, man. I'll be as bad as I gotta be. Try not to make too many enemies, huh?"

Fox chuckles. "Right...Steal me a few diamonds, will ya then?" He smirks and turns away from the girl, heading off. "And lief without enemies? THAT'S boring, my dear."

"You gonna pay for them? 'Cause don't think I can't!" Grey calls after him. She watches him go for a moment before pushing off on her skateboard in the opposite direction.

Current Mood: amused

Training Gym - Brotherhood Headquarters - Staten Island

This gym is considerably smaller than the main one. Its floor and the bottom half of its walls are completely covered with blue gym mats that provide protection from painful bumps and bruises. There is a small store room which holds specialized training equipment, but mostly those in training just go in against each other here.

There are also large hooks hanging from the ceiling from which punching bags or tackling dummies can be mounted. Foldable gymnastics equipment can find barely enough room to be set up here, but it is provided nonetheless. On the door there is a timetable grid which residents can use to schedule themselves some time in here, though as is noted on the sign, open slots are available on a first come, first served basis.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

A sound can be heard coming from the room... a rough horse scream of sorts. Upon getting closer one can see what is happening. Wearing something over his face like an umpires mask and thick leather gloves, hugo is currently practicing attacks on two dummies. His style is aggressive but controlled, common to those used to fighting multiple enemies in brawls or street-fights. Oddly enough there is also a good deal of dust and scraps of the dummies on the floor under them. Seems he is training hard as some sweat can be seen on his brow. He gives one dummy a hard kick and then reals back, seemingly prepping to give the other dummy an open handed slap?

Fox is wandering down the hall toward the training room at the moment, wearing his usual workout clothing consisting of black shorts and some awesome velcro shoes. He hears the distinct sound of someone training in the gym. Fox hesitates momentarily, deciding if he should just head toward the larger gym in the catacombs...But he decides to at least see who is in the room. Fox creeps forward and peeks in through the door, watching Hugo train for a few seconds before chuckling to himself as it appears Hugo will bitch-slap the dummy. "Aww...He cheat on you?"

Attrition gives a small chuckle before...foosh his whole hand seems to light up with a foggy sort of light and as hugo slaps it hard a cloud of cloth, dust and strings shoots up from its face. It looks like he took a power sander to the thing. The glow stops and he turns, clutching his stomach as the adrenaline catches up to him. "He...hey fox.. how you doing."

Fox quirks an eyebrow at the scene. He crosses his arms, nodding in approval. "Well that's a pretty nifty gifty ya've got there, mate." He nods again before looking at the floor and shaking his head, making a "Tsk Tsk" sort of noise. "Marrow'd kill ya if she saw this mess." Fox reaches out an arm and snaps his fingers, pointing his thumb up afterward. The dust laying around the room consolidates into a sphere in the approximate center of the general mess. Fox steps forward into the room and grins as the ball floats toward him and into his hand. He looks at Attrition and frowns, noticing he was holding himself. "Y'all right there, mate?"

Attrition gives a small nod as he chuckles. "Yeah... just put too much of myself into this, trying to get used to endurance fighting. Most of what I done is in riots or stuff... angry hurting and then running away." he says before he nods to Fox. "Not bad yourself but yeah.. its pretty useful. Made me had to read a whole bunch though."

Fox nods. "Yeah, riot fighting could prove difficult I suppose. Don't want to hurt the wrong people." He nods again, dropping the dust on the floor in a pile. "Thought you mentioned you were in a riot before, when we met at that pub. Guess you would be, workin' here." He grins again. "So what have you had to read up on, then?"

Attrition gives a small chuckle. "Yeah... mind you.. I beat the living crap out of the guy pretending to be a muttie to start the fight. bloodied him up real good. " he says before he sighs. "Physics.." he just says

Fox chuckles and makes a false pity face. "Oh, you only bloodied him up?" He grins wickedly. "Should 'ave crushed the bastard. " He nods. "At least removed his ability to walk or breed, that'd learn 'im." He shrugs. "Don't know much on physics, meself. Just basic stuff...probably forgot most of it by now, anyway." He quirks a brow. "You in school or somethin'?"

Attrition gives a small shrug. "I was trying to take him in... figure out who the fuck was paying him to pretend to be us. Almost had him too but then gunmen started firing into the crowed and he sliped on me." he says before he shakes his head. "Nah.. not the schooling type. Its for my gift, I bend the laws of physics so might as well know em."

Fox listens to the story and nods. "Ah, if he weren't in such a public place...It's not so hard to get em to speak. Just need to know where to hurt 'em." He looks at the dummy and then down to the pile of dust. "And I think perhaps your power compliments mine quite nicely. You dust 'em, I gain a weapon." He points at the dust pile and it turns into a rather unfriendly looking spike before falling back into a heap.

Attrition gives a small shrug. "I wanted to do it private like.... didn't want to rush and stuff." he says before he gives a small chuckle. " Well.. on people it dosn't leave dust... just kinda rips them up." he says with a small nod.

Fox nods. "I see." This is all he says. He is unfamiliar with the exact specifics of what happened at this riot, so he can't really decide what to say about it. It could be difficult if the other guy didn't want to go anywhere private...which was likely the case since he was a covert. Fox makes a fake frown. "Oh that's too bad. It'd be really traumatizing for some guy to be attacked by the dusted remains of his own arm." He shakes his head. "Oh well."

Attrition gives a small chuckle. "Eh.. kinda has more use this way though... I mean I can do tons of stuff with it... like this." he says and he takes a few steps and then seems to glow...and he slides right across the floor as if on ice.

Fox laughs at Hugo's display. "Oh man. That looks like it could be fun." He nods. "And I suppose it's slightly more useful than powdering everyone down." He nods again then decides to slightly switch subjects. "So uh...I was thinkin' of tryin' out for active combat. Guess I gotta spar with Marrow or Speedo 'fore I can do that." Speedo would be Pietro. "How tough are they?" Fox has already had a run in with Pietro's powers, but he doubts he'd gotten the full brunt of them.

Attrition gives a small nod. "Hmm.. I fought with both of them.. Marrow wont go down for anything. Pietro... if you can land a hit on him... he isn't that tough. I been practicing for a fight with him. Out of the two of them he is the one who I think I have a shot against. I know I can't beat marrow."

Fox nods as he listens to Hugo. "Alrighty. So basically I just gotta slow down Speedo...I don't think that'd be too hard for me." He smirks. "And I'd still like to take a crack at Marrow. No fun unless you try, eh?" He chuckles a bit. "It'd be fun just to see how long I could last."

Attrition gives a small nod. "Oh ...you might be able to take her.. I just can't. Don't think I can really bring myself to really hurt her. I mean... It sucks cause I know how I could beat her but I just couldn't do that to her eh? Seeing someone as strong as her break in any way... man would fuck me up bad you know?"

Fox gives Hugo a ponderous look as he says this. That's a rather odd thing to say. The point of training is to make yourself stronger. "Well...If you know the other person's weakness, you should exploit it. Even if you're just sparring. If you know their weakness, and they know that you know their weakness, then it makes them have to find a way around that flaw." He nods. "You both get stronger out of it."

Attrition gives a small wrinkle of his nose.... "I know her weakness because she told me... not because of any merit.. neh. I would just feal wrong hurting her.. thats all. I mean I will learn from her and train with her but Its weird you know?" he says with a shrug.

Fox quirks his brow. "No...I don't. If she told you her weakness, maybe she was wanting you to try and beat her, eh? Don't see a reason for it otherwise." He shakes his head. "And she's your combat marshal, I'm sure she'd understand if you DID hurt her...so long as it wasn't too badly. It's kind of something that happens when one trains."

Attrition shakes his head. "Neh.. just told me cause I asked her if it hurt.. might not even take her out but I know it can hurt her pretty bad. Just don't like beating up on women, Marrow least of all."

Fox folds his arms again, looking over Hugo. He had a soft spot for Marrow? Fox doesn't know their history, but he suspects he sees Marrow as a role model, the older sister type. He shakes his head. "You know, I could interpret that as your weakness." He gives a small grin. "And if I could see it that way, Im sure someone who actually intended you harm could see it the same way." Fox doesnt intend for this to sound like a threat...but it may sound that way.

Attrition gives a small laugh. "Hmm.. I hope someone tries it... " he says with a dark sort of tone. "They want to see me fight when I am hurt? They got another thing coming." he says with a nod before he cracks his neck slightly. "Sides.. we work well on the feild.. all of us.. should have seen us last time. Sure most of us ended up in the hospital but dam we took alot of em with us."

"Oh?" Fox begins to suspect there is something more than just respect between Hugo and Marrow. He smirks when he hears about the last fight. "Well sucks you got bedded up, but ts good you took em down." He nods. "Hopefully next time Ill be able to help out.""

Attrition gives a small shrug. "Don't like to see her hurt.. but yeah.. some assholes tried to spring an ambush on us... pulled out a whole shitload of guns including somethign that was definatly automatic. I got a whole bunch of shots in me but I took two with me."

Fox frowns at this. "Damn. Guns can be problematic. Long range, accurate, user aint always visible." He shakes his head. "Yer lucky to be alive, mate. Ive seen pissed off humans with guns before. Not pretty." He frowns. "Kind of why I left the military. Had to make a wall to protect me mates...But that ended badly." He shrugs. "Well, We were all fine, but they wanted me for something else afterward."

Attrition gives a small nod. "I imagine so.... trying to see if they can inject your genes.. make more of you im sure." he says with a nod before he sighs. "Marrow and Pietro really shone there.. turns out the bastard can dodge bullets... well a little. Some got him too. As for me well... if I get you right you can only get one shot on me..."

Fox nods. Pietro's fast enough to speed bullets. That could be difficult to deal with, but Pietro also seems so far to only be good at close range...And Fox can keep people at bay easy enough. "Oh?" He's not quite sure what that means, the getting one shot part, but he's sure hell figure it out soon enough. Fox has stopped bullets before, but he was in a desert when that happened. "Well I'm glad everyone's well trained here." He nods.

Attrition gives a small nod before he chuckles. "Lucky to be alive too. .but next time we run into those bastards... its cause of them that I recomended to marrow that we train with paintguns. I mean, its all well and good that one of us can kick anyones ass in a good fight..but any idiot with a gun could still give us a challange if they have distance and vantage."

Fox nods. "Training with guns isnt a bad idea...But paint guns?" He frowns. "Im not too familiar with them meself, but I dont think theyre auto weapons, are they?" He shakes his head again. "You should probably train with something that can shoot faster." He ponders for a moment. "Also, I dont know how familiar yall are with guns, but someone whos used to handling them might be better than someone whos not."

Attrition gives a small chuckle. "Not too familiar with em..but I can tell you this... If you can't stop my stupid ass from shooting you with a paintgun from across a room... no way in hell yo uwill stop a real shooter."

Fox nods. and chuckles a bit. "This is very true, but the next time you train with guns, try an find me." He points a thumb at himself. "I was trained in gun use. Pretty familiar with how to hit moving targets and such. Also..." He holds out his hand in a fist in front of him. Four small pellets of dust rise up in front of him. Fox flicks his four fingers in rapid succession, sending the dust bullets flying at the dummy near Hugo, where they collapse again upon impact. "I don't have any auto guns here, but I can fake it." He smirks at Hugo.

Attrition gives a small chuckle before he smiles. "I wonder what my stuff would do to yours... and hey... I can't compete against that... taking a gun out of a man's hand is easier then taking his hand off."

Fox chuckles and rubs the back of his head. "Yeah, I spose Id prefer you not to literally disarm me. Im rather fond of me hands." He wonders also how he would fare against Hugo. He still doesnt completely understand the boys powers, so if they did end up sparring in the future, Fox would have to be careful...at least at first.

Attrition gives a small nod. "They are pretty." he says with a chuckle before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pill which he plunks down and smiles before he nods. "Well.. i'm going to hit the showers man."

Fox observes the pill with mild interest. Might be a vitamin supplement or something. "Right-o, then. Ill probably hang round here a bit...Clean up yer dust and such." He gestures to the pile at his feet. Not that it would take him more then a few seconds. Hell probably just add it to his collection. "Take care there, mate. Ill see ya round sometime Im sure."

Attrition gives a small nod before he holds out his hand to the man... oddly enough his gloves seem coated with sandpaper... "Well take care che... see you round."

Fox shakes briskly as he walks the rest of the way into the room. Again, he seems to think nothing odd about the state of Hugo's gloves. "Right, then. Call me next time you train, I'll come hang out and all that."

Current Mood: excited

Central Park - Manhattan

         Central Park is an oasis of green in the middle of New York City with over 800 acres of scenic views, playgrounds and ponds. It's a great place to take a break from the busy city, as there are bike and jogging trails, athletic fields, and even a boathouse. The recently restored Wollman Rink is the top choice skating environment. Bethesda Fountain is located by the Mall and near the lake, while the Water Conservatory also make its mark in the vicinity. The most esteemed place of interest though, usually is none other than the Belvedere Castle.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

If it was earlier in the day, one might suggest she's playing hooky, but it appears that the shadows are long enough on the pavement to suggest Laura's not in hot water for truancy. The older teen girl is dressed in pseudo ghetto-punk, complete with the scuffed combat boots and the thumb-holes in her shirt's long sleeves that have either been crudely cut out of the fabric or, heaven forbid, chewed out. Slouched forward on one of the benches, she sits with her legs up and crossed with her forearms resting on her knees. Periodically, she picks a piece of bread off of a half-eaten sandwich and tosses it into the middle of a grouping of madly cooing and fidgeting pigeons, despite the fact that there must be some rule against feeding them.

A rustling occurs in the bushes nearby, followed by some grumbling and the appearance of a man in a brown leather coat and blue jeans. Fox is poking around the bush with a frown on his face, bending down and looking between the branches. "Bloody brilliant, Fox. Bloody brilliant." He mutters to himself. His voice carries a distinct Australian accent, but some people confuse him as British. Fox is unhappy this evening because he lost something very important to him earlier in the day. Anyone who has seen him around before would notice that one ever-present part of his wardrobe is missing...His dog-tags.

For the most part, Laura has gone for the majority of her repose in the park without incident or interruption. People have left her alone and given her space, unlike where she lives. However, it seems that her solitude is not to last too long judging by the rustling and muttering coming from the nearby bushes. Toss the bread and ignore, her expression almost seems to say, though it seems that the more she hears, the more she has to concentrate on her peacefulness... which means she's rapidly losing her grasp on that. Sighing, she ends up tossing the whole sandwich in the way of the birds' pecking, causing the group of them to take to flight for a moment in agitation and then land again, all wanting a piece of the half-eaten food. Glancing over in the man's direction, she calls out in an anti-helpful manner, "If you lost something, you can pretty much kiss it goodbye in here, you know."

Fox perks up, looking around for the voice. "Er...'ello?" He backs up a bit and looks around, seeing a girl surrounded by a flock of squabbling beastly animals. "Well I certainly hope not." He frowns at the thought. He's fairly certain he was wearing them this morning, though he may have left them in his room somewhere. But just in case, Fox decided to retrace his steps and check out the park he had wandered through earlier in the day. "Um...You haven't happened to happen upon a chain o' tags, have you?" he asks, wandering a bit closer to the...pirate? Americans are weird. Why do they dress like this? The birds squawk and flutter about as he approaches. He just gives them a distasteful look.

Shrugging a little, the teen girl echoes him, mimicking his accent a bit, though it's a half-hearted attempt, "Chain o' tags?" Laura shakes her head then. "I haven't. But then I wasn't looking for them, either. The park's a big place. Sure you lost them here?" Though she's not sure what a 'chain o' tags' might be, exactly. "Sure someone didn't pinch them from you?" She's guessing maybe they're a keychain or something, perhaps, which would be easier to lose than dogtags.

Fox quirks a brow at the accent, but realizes that she is mimicking and that she is not actually one of his countrymen. He looks around again, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, a set of Dog-Tags. Seem to have gone walkabout on me." He sighs and shakes his head. "Almost certain I was wearin' em out here earlier, but now I can't find 'em." He shakes his head again. "An' I doubt anyone'd try and take em from me." He smirks, puffing out his chest a bit, but then he deflates slightly after a moment. "Sure hope I can find em..." Not that they were actually HIS dog-tags, but they mean more to him that his own did when he still had them.

"Ah," Laura replies, making a bit of a face. "No, those would be harder to pinch, unless they were in a pocket," she muses with a shake of her head. Now how would she know that? Too much tv, maybe. "Did you run through the bushes or something where it might have gotten caught? Maybe you just left them at home?" she offers, trying to be helpful in a bit of a begrudging manner. She still hasn't gotten up from her spot on the bench, watching him look about.

Fox gives the girl a ponderous look. Stolen from a pocket? He sure seems to meet people in the higher echelons of society. He studies her for a moment, giving her a suspicious look. He does an unintentional pat down. Wallet, pager, keys...everything's still there. Then again, this girl hasn't moved at all...And he has no reason to suspect her of being a thief...other than what she had just said...and her, in Fox's opinion, pirate-like appearance. "Um...Well I was over here." He gestures vaguely toward the path near the bushes. "And I dropped me keys over there..." He points to the bushes "And I bent down to pick them up...Guess I thought maybe my chain got caught on the branches while I was stanin' up?" He frowns at the foliage. It'll be dark soon.

No, she hasn't moved a muscle save to turn her head so she can face in his general direction. If he finds anything missing, it's certainly not her doing. Finally, with a sigh, Laura heaves herself up from the bench in a resigned manner. Good Samaritan Goody Two Shoes... that's the reputation she's going to get if people hear about this. Or they'll gush all over her and she doesn't want that. But... if she can help, why shouldn't she? Moving over toward the indicated path, where he apparently lost his keys. Standing in that spot, she glances around in the failing light. "If we're lucky, I'll catch the light off of them," she explains, taking a second to amend with, "I'm... I'm just known for decent eyes. Guess I can pick things out that others miss." As she says this, she turns around once, then twice, then squats down to change her angle...

Fox watches the girl begrudgingly get up to help. He didn't ask her to help...exactly...But he isn't going to discourage her if she wants to take a look. "Yeah, if we're lucky" is all he says in response to her eyesight. He doesn't find it all that strange a thing to say. Eyesight deteriorates with age, especially night vision. Laura seems to be about ten years younger than Fox, so it's likely that she can see better than him. "Um...thanks for the help." He says before walking over and looking under the bush to her left. "Name's Fox, by the way." He mutters out a greeting, slightly distracted by his search. If the tags are found, however, they will not read his name. They are instead inscribed with the name 'Jack Boomer'.

Moving around a bit on her hands and feet in a half-squated way in a sort of perimeter around the indicated spot, Laura replies with a one-shouldered shrug, "Yeah, whatever. Not like I've got anything better to do right now anyway." With a bit of a grunt as she moves aside some foliage, she adds, "Laura." And that's about it. Finally, she moves in a decisive manner, snatching something out of the bushes about ten feet away. It's silver in colour with a chain, as indicated. What's on the end, she keeps in her shelled hand as she examines it. "Huh... what did you say your name was again?" Maybe it just seems like an odd name to her, unless she's seen the X-Files. She's not straightened up yet.

Fox bends a branch out of the way and frowns at a bottle cap he had mistaken for his precious tags. "Laura, eh? Nice ta meet ya." He looks around a bit more, shifitng his gaze upward to look in the branches of the bushes. "Fox. Me name's Fox." He looks over to her for a moment then back to searching. He does a quick double take. Laura appeared to have found something. "Erm...But that's not what the tags say...The tags say 'Jack' on them." Fox frowns. He probably should have used an alias when introducing himself, but he sees no danger in this girl knowing his real name. "They uh...Did you find them?"

Slowly, the girl stands up, focusing on whatever it is in her hand. "Jack Boomer?" she asks, opening her hand to let the tags fall out as she holds the chain between pinched fingers so he can see it dangling there. "Guess they're yours, then. I mean... the chances of another set of dogtags out here in this exact location are remote, but..." It's always good to know that loot's going back to the right person. Otherwise, maybe it's 'street rules'... dogtags would look good with her 'look' over all. Extending her arm in his direction, she waits, however, for him to take them back. "Belong to a buddy or something?" she asks, making the logical assumption, though she somehow manages to keep her tone quiet and respectful, in case said buddy is dead.

Fox Grins broadly "Ohmygodyes! That's them alright!" he stands up quickly...a bit too quickly and ends up smacking his head on a branch. This elicits a rub on the head and a muttered "Bugger" before he lunges forward, snaching the chain and clutching the tags to himself. "Oh thanks so much, ma dear.!" He nods. "Yeah, they were me mate's. Same unit ani all that in the RAIC." He holds them up, examining them before rubbing some dirt off on his shirt. The chain seems to have snapped, he'll have to replace that. He's just happy to have them back. He places the tags in an inside pocket of his jacket before fishing out his wallet and offering the girl a twenty. "I gotta thank ya fer your trouble." He holds out the bill, smiling broadly.

As he lunges forward and snatches the chain off of her, Laura blinks and slowly pulls her hand back. "Relax... not like I'm going to take it," she mutters, rubbing briefly at her elbows before she moves back over toward the bench she had been previously preoccupying. She pauses in mid-trek back toward the bench as she sees him holding out the twenty toward her. If she were still on the streets, she'd have taken it in a heartbeat. But things change, don't they? Shaking her head, she moves back over to the bench without taking the cash. "Keep your money. It's not like you had me juggling chainsaws or belching the national anthem. I found your friend's tags... not a big deal."

You say "Alright, then. Thanks allot, though." He folds up the bill and slips it into one of his pockets before smirking. "And I'd hope you'd want more than a twenty to juggle a load of chainsaws." Fox looks around the park, then down at his watch. He heard that this place gets a bit unfriendly after dark...Not that he can't handle it...But his superiors would probably be quite unhappy with him if he ended up getting into any trouble...without their permission. He shuffles over toward the girl, looking up at the waning moon just now visible through the clouds. He can't think of much to say...So he mutters something obvious. "Birds seem to have left.""

Shrugging a little, Laura replies off-handedly, "Considering I can't juggle, I think you've got a point there." The park may get a bit unfriendly after dark but that doesn't seem to bother the girl as she parks it on the bench again. Glancing around, she nods a little and replies, "Yeah, well, the buggers took the other half of my sandwich rather quick... so there's no reason to stick around if they've got full bellies, I suppose." She pauses, then inclines her head a bit toward him as she adds, "Word of advice: try to watch your belongings a little better here. You're really lucky it was still here and that someone didn't find it and run off with it. The branch it caught on or whatever threw it quite a distance. You were lucky."

Fox nods and looks around. He hates birds...Hopefully they will get torn apart by raccoons during the night. "Yeah, well....They're filled with bread now. Whatever eats them won't have to add stuffing." He grins and nods in agreement as she discusses his luck. "Yeah, I'll re-chain these up. Definitely don't want to be loosin' them." he nods An' if anyone took them I'd just have to hunt them down an' skin them alive." He grins again...though it is severely unlikely that he would be able to find a person if they had randomly happened upon his chain in a park.

Smirking a little for the first time since they encountered each other, Laura replies, "I don't think anyone should be eating pigeons. I mean... aside from seagulls, I think they're omnivores. They eat -anything- they can get their grubby little beaks on." She crinkles up her nose a bit as she considers this rather unsavoury thought. "Well, I don't know if you realize how big this city is but the chances of you finding the culprit..." She then offers another shrug. "So, just count yourself as lucky and maybe... I don't know, tuck them in next time."

Fox ponders this for a moment before shaking his head. "Don't think I'd eat a seagull." He feels his chest again, making sure the tags haven't somehow fallen out during the past few minutes. He decides they're still there and zips up his coat. He looks around. "Oh I'd find them...Somehow." Probably not...But he seems to think he could. He looks around again and shrugs. "Well...I suppose I should be gettin' home before I'm missed." He looks back the way he came from, as if trying to decide which way would be the fastest way back. "Thanks again, miss Laura." He gives her a nod.

With a bit of a smirk, Laura replies, "I think I'd stick to something safer like chicken." Nevermind all the 'tastes like chicken' jokes, not to mention the fact that pigeon very much does not taste like chicken. Slowly, she nods, both eyebrows lifting up as he seems so determined that he'd be able to find one petty thief in all of Manhattan. "Uh huh.... riiight," comes her dubious response. "Well, okay, mister omniscient. Glad I could help." She's not rude enough to rush him off, but she doesn't seem too perturbed by the fact that he's leaving. "Yeah. Take it easy... and keep all your parts where you know where they are." A nod is given instead of a wave.

Fox gives her a slight bow, chuckling as she calls him omniscient. "Ah nah, just determined is all." He gives her a wave as he turns away from her. "But really, thanks so much. Don't know how much I 'preciate it." He walks back the way from which he came, one hand over his chest where the tags are.

Current Mood: grateful

Cafeteria - Brotherhood Headquarters - Staten Island

The cafeteria hasn't undergone a lot of work since it served as a high school cafeteria, perhaps unfortunately. Long picnic table-style tables are set up in row upon row, providing more than ample seating room here. The walls are cement brick, painted in an institutional off-white that looks dingy even when freshly painted.

There's a small alcove next to the door, where the food is dispensed, a doorless opening on either end. Your standard metal and glass counter and display area runs the full length of the area, plastic trays available next to the 'in' doorway. Hot food is only served within mealtime windows, but a sandwich and salad bar are available around the clock. Drinks of all sorts can be dug out of the refrigerator units beside the door 'out'. Behind the counter, two large doorways open onto the cooking area, off-limits to anyone not employed specifically for preparing food.

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Meeting up with the other Brotherhood members around most parts of the compound might be a little hit or miss but the cafeteria is one place that brings everyone together. Unless it's Meatloaf Monday, that is. The dinner crowd is settling in which means a fair few of the benches are occupied. Somehow Pietro has managed to procure himself a space though, near one corner of the room where he sits alone with his tray of food -- a tray that's piled so high one might think he's expecting another person or two to come along to help him eat it all. For now, however, he seems unconcerned with his loner status, content to munch away on the club sandwich he holds in one hand.

The "Employees Only" door which leads to the back kitchen opens to reveal Fox backing slowly out of the room. He's holding a toolbox with a plate of sandwiches sitting on top as he chats a bit with one of the lunch ladies. Fox looks around and points to one of the soda fridges, eliciting a nod from the woman. He walks over and sits down his items before looking into the filter. He nods and waves over to the woman. It should be an easy fix. This fridge is just in need of a good cleaning. Luckilly, Fox is able to fix such a problem with great ease. He nods and decides he'll take care of it a little later. There are a bunch of people trying to get sodas and Fox is kind of hungry. He grabs a water and turns to head toward one of the seating area, noticing Pietro and heading toward his table.

Pietro is a little caught up with his food -- oh, sweet food! -- to notice Fox right away. It's not until he manages to catch a hint of that accented voice that he glances up with casual interest, watching the ordeal with the fridge as he sips away at one of a couple bottles of orange juice sitting around his tray. As it becomes clear he's going to have a visitor he gives a little up-nod in greeting. Despite the number of people scattered about the room there's ample space for Fox to sit. "Heya. Long time no see, Koala Boy," he says with a slight grin.

Fox chuckles a bit as he takes a seat. Dropping his toolbox under the table and sitting down his sandwiches. He smirks at Pietro. Fox really needs to think of an appropriate nickname for the kid...Other than 'Scrawny Brat' because that didn't turn out so well last time. He decides on a simple "What's up, Speedo?" He cracks a wide grin, thinking himself so clever for thinking up such a brilliant nickname. He takes a large bite of his sandwich, which consists of white bread and some foul-smelling brown paste, before brandishing it at the boy and talking with his 'round here." He gestures a bit around the room.

"Ugh. Don't call me that." Pietro shudders a bit at the new nickname. But at least this one doesn't inspire him to punch Fox. Not immediately, anyway. Time will tell. Pleasantries out of the way, he tucks into his sandwich again -- he's actually plowing through it with surprising speed. Well, perhaps it's not so surprising considering who doing the eating. "... What the hell is that?" That comes when 'brown paste' sandwich catches his attention. He sits up a little straighter and finishes off his last bite as he peers suspiciously at the odd filling.

He grins broadly again at Pietro's reaction to the new nickname...which Fox will be sure to use as frequently as possible for the rest of their relationship. He takes another bite of his sandwich. "This? It's vegemite, mate. National food o' me homeland, it is." He again brandishes his sandwich at Pietro. "Mighty, good. An' fillin', too." He nods. A bit of the paste falling out and splattering on the table. "Made o' beer yeast." He smirks before adding "National drink of me homeland."

Oh, Pietro is in for a long, annoying ride if Fox does in fact keep that up. For now, though, the boy's attention is still clinging to that ominous brown stuff. "Watch where you're pointin' that thing," he says mildly as he finds the sandwich waved at him. "Beer I can understand. It's the yeast bit that I'm not really seein' as appetizing." He makes a bit of a face, eyeing that vegemite stuff suspiciously as he reaches for his juice again. "What's it taste like? If it's like a beer sandwich maybe I can get on board after all."

Fox ponders for a moment. "Well, it's kind of bitter? And I guess...Salty? Malty? Tastes kind o' beefy, I guess." He shrugs. It kind of looks like dark brown oil mixed with peanut butter. "It's really good with cheese. But uh...Bastards took vegemite singles off the market a while back." He frowns. "And aren't you a bit yo...Um...Not old enough to be snoggin' a tinny?" He asks incredulously. He's pretty sure he already asked him this before, but he likes to play the 'good role model'...when it annoys the other person.

"Okay, so it's 'bitter', 'salty', 'malty' and 'beefy'. I gotta say, I really don't know about this stuff, man." Pietro seems content to stick with his... well, his 'everything /but/ vegemite'. Is that salisbury steak buried underneath the rest of the junk? Who knows. He blinks in confusion at the incredulous question; his expression is that of one who is pretty sure he should be insulted but isn't quite sure of why yet. "Old enough to be what-ing a what?"

Fox eyes the mountain of food Pietro is eating. Is that a giant flatworm covered in cheese? He frowns and looks up to Pietro again. "Hmm?" He really needed to find a 'Say it in Australian' book to hand out to everyone he met. "A Tinny?" He shakes his head. "A tinny's a coldie...a piss...A beer?" He chuckles "I'm not gonna' have ta teach a class on the Australian language, do I?" He can picture it now. A bunch of drunk people yelling at each other in slang. Could be useful in combat situations...Like when they used Navajo during World War II...except allot less effective.

Pietro just stares blankly back at Fox as he keeps whipping out the slang synonyms, that is until he reaches the familiar 'beer' again. "Why didn't you just fuckin' say it, man?" He gives a bark of laughter, sounding genuinely amused more than exasperated. "At this rate you might just haveta do that so we can understand you around here." Nevermind that he's not always so easy to comprehend when he's speaking a mile a minute, but he figures that most people around here have adapted to that. And after all this confusion he's pretty much forgotten he was asked anything.

Fox chuckles a bit and finishes his first sandwich, eating at a significantly slower pace than Pietro. "Say, Ive been readin' up a bit and speakin' with a few folks 'round the compound. Mentioned an 'active combat' role." He pokes at his second sandwich. "Who'd I go about speakin' with to get an...Interview for that position?" Do they interview for such things? He didn't apparently need to interview to fix that one freezer in the back kitchen...Although That lunch lady kind of freaked Fox out. She had too much beard on her many chins.

"You can talk to me," Pietro answers, stabbing at a bit of salad on his plate. "But I ain't the interviewin' type." He downs a few more bites -- this may be a dramatic pause... or perhaps he's (still) just especially hungry. "In case you haven't heard yet, Marrow's the Combat Marshall but I'm her Lieutenant. So you can go through either one of us. Just be prepared for a helluva lot of training, sparring... All that stuff. Shit's not easy out there, so you've gotta show us you're on your game."

Fox nods, listening to Pietro. "Right, so either one of the two of you then?" He takes a swig of his water. "I'll up me trainin' a bit." He nods again, though he's been training for at least a half hour every day. He might as well start working a bit harder now that he knows where the secret tunnels are. "'Fore I joined here I kind of slacked off in my trainin' and such...No reason to do any of it, I guess." He shrugs. "But now? Guess I've got a reason now." He smiles.

"Good. We should spar sometime soon too. Though I guess you kinda got a head start on that already, didn't you?" Seeing as he's already faced off against Pietro, albeit very briefly. The young man flashes a smirk to that, glancing briefly away from Fox to take in the rest of the room from their table near the corner. There are still a fair number of people about, their dinner plates in various states of emptiness. "Seems like you're adjustin' pretty well, anyway. How long've you been here, anyway?"

Fox smirks at Pietro. "A sparring match eh? Sounds good to me." He chuckles "An' you surprised me last time, we'll see how well you fare against me when I'm prepped for a fight." He flashes a wide grin, puffing out his chest. He cocks his head slighlty and also checks out the room quickly. "Yeah, guess I have. 'ts got a homesy feel to it. I was in the military for a bit, ya know. Just happy to have everything I need within walking distance again." He scratches his chest idly. "I think I've been here...'bout a week now I guess?" He counts off the days. "Six? Six days."

"Don't go gettin' cocky," Pietro warns, fixing Fox with those silver eyes of his though that smirk is still on his face. He just can't let the new guy think he has any chance. "Homesy? Sure, I guess," he says of the place, throwing another glance about as he polishes off the rest of his salad. "Sorta. 'S got somethin', anyway. That's for sure." Despite his bluster there might be just a hint of fondness for the place somewhere in his tone. "Glad you're gettin' used to the place... So what military? What'd you do, I mean?"

Fox chuckles. "Oh we'll see." He flashes Pietro a defiant eye, but it's a friendly defiance...Whatever that means. He cleans out one of his ears with a pinky...because he's just that classy. "Oh? I was in the RAIC...Er, that's the Royal Australian Infantry Corps." He flicks his finger toward the ground. "Uh, I was in active combat for a bit there." He looks at Pietro, frowning. "But I ended up retiring. Didn't like the direction the Oz military was going...So I kind of...left."

Friendly or not, Pietro recognizes that defiance and meets it with a look of (somewhat friendly) challenge of his own. He lets it ride, though, as the conversation moves on. "Wow. Helluva name there," he says of the RAIC. "... But you've got active combat experience -- good. that'll come in handy." It's all too obvious that he's curious as to the 'retiring' and 'leaving' portion of the story but for the time being he's not being blunt about asking. Well, not too blunt, anyway. "Huh. Yeah, you had to do what you had to do I guess, eh?" There's just enough pointedness to that to suggest that he's interested in hearing more.

Fox nods. "Yeah, it's kind of a long...complicated story." Well it's not that long, but Fox isn't really in the mood to talk about it right now. It tends to get him all worked up and angry. He grabs ahold of his dogtags subconsciously and his eyes go dark for a moment. He shakes his head as if coming out of a trance. "I...Er..." He blinks. "Sorry, guess I'm a bit tired. I should probably go get some rest, eh?" He smiles and stretches a bit, standing up. He picks up his plate and nods to Pietro. "See ya around, then?"

"Right, no worries." Though his curiosity might not be sated Pietro knows 'long and complicated' well enough that he doesn't push for now. Besides, going into Fox's 'complicated' might very well lead to questions about his own and that's something that he really doesn't want to touch. His eyes move to the dogtags as the man grabs hold of them and he quirks a pale brow. "Sure, man. No worries. 'S probably all that vege-crap you're stuffin' yourself with, y'know." Nevermind that said 'vege-crap' is what the Aussie has probably been stuffing himself with all his life, of course. "Hit me up for trainin' shit sometime, eh?"

Fox smirks at Pietro. "Ah, it's tastier than it looks, struth." He nods, grabbing his toolbox and plate. "And I'll come huntin' you down for trainin' soon enough, Speedo." Fox grins once more, turns toward the garbage cans, and calls out a quick "Night, mate" to Pietro as he wanders off. He passes the fridge he was supposed to clean and stops, frowning. Even though it would take him only a few seconds to clean it out, Fox decides he'll do it tomorrow. He needs to sleep now, and it'll give him an excuse to get up early enough to grab some breakfast in the morning.

Pietro winces again at the nickname. "Whatever. Fuckin' Crocodile Dundee..." He rolls his eyes though that might be lost on Fox since he's already turning away. "Yeah, night, man," he offers with a little wave of his fork. He still has a bit to get through on his tray, though with the rate he's going it shouldn't take him long before he's off and on his way too.

Current Mood: chipper

Training Gym - Brotherhood Headquarters - Staten Island

This gym is considerably smaller than the main one. Its floor and the bottom half of its walls are completely covered with blue gym mats that provide protection from painful bumps and bruises. There is a small store room which holds specialized training equipment, but mostly those in training just go in against each other here.

There are also large hooks hanging from the ceiling from which punching bags or tackling dummies can be mounted. Foldable gymnastics equipment can find barely enough room to be set up here, but it is provided nonetheless. On the door there is a timetable grid which residents can use to schedule themselves some time in here, though as is noted on the sign, open slots are available on a first come, first served basis.

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For not the first time this week the sound of a punching bag being pummelled can be heard coming from the training gym. Fox is in here again, as he has been for the past few nights, training with great vigour and enthusiasm. He has a reason to train again, and isn't going to sit around idly and do nothing.
 
He is dressed in training clothing...basically black shorts and nothing else. His sneakers are laying just outside the door. He no longer dons bandaging around his waist, since his ribs stopped hurting him a couple of days ago. They may not have been as damaged as he had originally thought, but he had taken things easy for a while as a precaution.
 
Fox stops kicking the object for a few moments, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He had looked around the basement for the entrance to the underground training areas, but he had found nothing. He frowns, looking around the room. He'd like to do some training with his powers, but he'd rather not do so in this room. Marrow had mentioned that she did all of her destructive training underground, but he just couldn't find that section of the compound yet.

Rogue isn't here for training right now - she's just making the rounds. After observing a really rather disturbing game of powers-allowed tag, she finds herself peeking into the training gym at the sound of someone working out in there. Recognizing the someone and hence a little bit curious, she slips inside the door to take up a spot leaning against the wall beside it, not immediately visible from the hall. She doesn't say anything immediately, not wanting to interrupt his session - though she's certainly not hiding either.

Pietro hums a little tune, muttering a word or two of whatever song he seems to have stuck in his head as he trots down the stairs and toward the training gym. He too is clad in his work out gear -- a little more than Fox's ensemble, he wears a white tank top and some loose-fitting shorts -- with a small towel slung over one shoulder. Apparently he's unaware that the room is occupied, let alone by two people, despite the sounds of punching bag abuse that had been issuing from inside; he slips into the room with much less stealth than Rogue had used, more or less throwing the door open and tossing his towel toward the wall -- inadvertently at the little area that Rogue has posted up at -- before noticing Fox. "The hell are you doin' here?" is his greeting, not exactly unkind but certainly... surprised.

Fox sighs and grabs hold of his left shoulder, rolling his arm a bit to stretch out his muscles. He returns to an attack stance and prepares to strike the punching bag before he senses that he is being watched. He turns his head slightly with a mildly perplexed expression and gives a slight start as he sees Rogue leaning against the wall. He smiles at her and rubs the back of her head. "Blimey, didn't hear ya come in there, miss." At that moment Pietro burst into the room and gives Fox another start, although this time he remains a little on edge. "Uh...Hey there, Sid." He hopes that Pietro isn't still angry about the fact that he was so rude last week. "Uhhh...Well I...Er...I joined the Brotherhood." He nods. "Marrow signed me up a few days 'go." He nods again. Marrow had told him that Pietro and Rogue were in the Brotherhood, but he had not seen them yet since he'd moved in about five days ago.

Rogue is just about to respond to Fox when she catches a faceful of Pietro's towel. Sputtering silently, she yanks it quickly off her head and tosses it right back at him. "You sure do know how to make an entrance," she notes dryly without moving from her post. She glances back at Fox and tosses off a little salute in greeting. "Don't mind me. As you can see, ain't many 'round here who do. Ah'm just passin' through. Least if you two are gonna brawl again, this is the sorta place to do it. /Sid/." Oh yeah, she heard about that. She straightens up, but lingers near the door still.

Awkwaaaard. That's Pietro's overall take of the current situation, between Fox's edginess and Rogue's obvious knowledge of last's week's little tussle and his new alias. He shrugs it off though, glancing between the other two and catching his towel as it's tossed back at him. Apparently unperturbed by or just unaware of the fact that he pretty much threw it in her face, he slings the cloth back over his shoulder again. "Oh. Well, good," he offers to Fox. "Run into you in an alley one day, the headquarters the next. 'S a small world, I guess... And who says we're gonna brawl?" That last bit is directed to Rogue, of course. "Again," he amends a moment later. "And how the fuck did you hear about that, anyway?" He's not exactly apologetic but his tone seems to indicate that he suspects he may be in for an earful.

Fox slowly looks over toward Rogue, though still has the main frame of his body facing toward Pietro. He lowers his head slightly in a submissive sort of posture. He really doesn't want to look threatening to Pietro...Especially in a place where he'd have to defend himself without powers. He opens his mouth to speak to Rogue, but he's not really quite sure how to respond to what she just said. Is she kidding? Is she spiteful? He decides just not to say anything and closes his mouth again, giving her a half smile. He turns back to Pietro smiling and straightening up as he seems non-chalant about the whole situation, offering a quick "Right-o" in response to the circumstances of their last meeting. He returns to his slightly worried pose as he questions where Rogue heard about their fight. "Um..." He decides to change the subject. "So, Rogue, did you get that thing I sent you?"

"Never you mind how Ah found out. Ah got my ways," Rogue just states smoothly to Pietro's question as she gives him a withering look. "Next time maybe you'll remember that 'fore you go gettin' in fights in public, damn fool." Oddly, none of this seems to be aimed at Fox. He's pardoned from the same crime that Pietro's going to hang for. Funny that. She looks back to Fox, nodding her head. "The note? Yeah, Ah saw that," she replies, which might explain why she wasn't quite so surprised to run into him here. "You wanna fix shit up 'round here, you knock yourself out. Ah think they got a cooler on the fritz in the kitchen maybe." She shrugs her shoulders, not exactly certain, since the kitchen really isn't something she pays much attention to, beyond the eating of their food.

For his part Pietro doesn't seem especially aggressive -- no more so than usual, anyway. Though that's not to say he isn't objecting to Fox's submissive posturing. In contrast, he just keeps his chin up and his stance casual. No, he's not feeling particularly threatened. Not by the new recruit, anyway. "Wasn't like I was /plannin'/ on gettin' into a fight in the first place," he informs Rogue matter-of-factly. "And it wasn't exactly public either since it was in the middle of a empty alley." Empty save for the two of them, anyway. Not that any of this really excuses her point, of course. "But, y'know, whatever babe." Despite his dismissal of the subject he doesn't seem to have really left it behind and it's more out of distraction than anything else that he glances back to Fox now. "What note? Suddenly I'm the only one who doesn't know what's goin' on around here..."

Fox tilts his head slightly at the way the two interact, standing tall once more. He watches the two banter for a moment before cracking a grin. Either these two were brother and sister, or they were married. He quirks an eyebrow at Pietro, no longer worried about being attacked. "Um...I left Rogue a note that I had a bit of mechanical skill. Marrow told me to contact her about it." He chuckles "An' I didnt see a Sid on the room listery-doo up there." He nods upward. "'else I wouldv'e left you a note, too, mate." He pretends to write on a piece of paper "Dear Sid, thanks fer fuckin' me up. Love Fox." He chuckles before nodding to Rogue. "Righ'. The kitchen? Is that on the first floor?" He hadn't really looked around the first floor much, and he'd been living off a stash of bread and vegemite in his room, so he hadn't had the need to hunt down the kitchen yet. "I'll go take a look at that tomorrow."

"Good thing it's such a small city then, so's the chance of someone walkin' in on you there is slim," Rogue replies sarcastically, rolling her eyes at Pietro. "And you /never/ plan these things. That's supposed to make me feel better?" She gives a derisive snort to that before looking back at Fox, though she continues speaking to Pietro a moment more, to offer a pointed: "Since when do Ah gotta run field leader business by you?" Now. She's going to try really hard to be professional, despite the ass. "First floor, yeah. Off the cafeteria. You can't miss it. Just follow 'Sid' here at... Well, pretty much any time he ain't out pickin' fights." She glances over at Pietro, her eyebrows quirking upwards just a bit, before she nods to them both. "Now, you boys play nice, Ah gotta run along and take care of some shit. Welcome to the Brotherhood," is added for Fox's benefit. "You need anything, you know where to find me."

"And I'd do it again in a fuckin' second if you call me a kid again," Pietro shoots back to Fox's pantomimed love note, though there's a bit of a laugh with that so it's clear he's not taking any of it seriously. "Just, uh, forget the 'Sid' thing," he advises, starting to feel a little awkward again. With a vague gesture of his hand he adds, "That's for out there.'S Pietro around here... And what-the-fuck?" Once again he switches conversations, back to Rogue at breakneck speeds. "I didn't say you had to run anything by... Just... Whatever. Forget it." Of course it's still all too obvious that he isn't 'forgetting it' anytime soon. He just wants to stop talking about it -- which seems to work out since Rogue is excusing herself. He arches his eyebrows to match hers, fighting down a somewhat sour face to give her sort of farewell nod.

Fox gives Pietro a supportive look as he's berated by Rogue, but looks back to her as she takes her leave. "Right. Thanks allot Rogue, see ya 'round" he calls out to her. He looks back to the boy "Right, Pietro, then. " He nods. He'd already introduced himself as Fox, and assumes Pietro remembers it. "So...no hard feelings?" Fox realizes that it's slightly strange for him to be asking this, considering that Fox was the one to have come out of the scrap with bruises and bandages.

Pietro watches Rogue go, dwelling on the empty doorway for the briefest of seconds before turning back to Fox and rolling his eyes skyward. "/Christ/," he sighs. "Dunno what that was about." Even if he really does. "Hard feelings about what? Me beating the shit out of you? Uh... Nah, not 's far's I'm concerned." If the weirdness registers with him he doesn't show it. "You?"

Fox laughs. "Ah no, I don't mind at all. Seem to be all tip top again anyway." He watches the hall for a few moments, making sure Rogue has really left before saying "By the way, mate, if I were you, I totally would have beaten me up, too." He gives him a knowing nod. "So...Anyway." He looks around the room. "I hear that there's a bigger room than this. One specifically for trainin' with powers an' such? Marrow mentioned it a few days back. And I'd rather not scuff the hell outa this place if I can help it." He looks back to Pietro "Um...Can't seem to find it. You wouldn't happen to know where that is, do you?"

"Well... 'S good t' know," Pietro replies with a laugh, not that he had any doubts about being in the right in beating him up before. But now that they can laugh about it. He echoes Fox's glance back to the hall but since Rogue doesn't seem to have snuck back up on the pair he just continues on. "And 'course I know where it is. C'mon." With that he turns toward the door, gesturing for the recruit to follow. "Marrow told you about it but didn't show you where t' go, eh?"

Fox nods and heads toward the door, slipping on his super-cool velcro sneakers. "Well, she told me where it was, but it was a bit late when we got in." He looks around the room and heads back in, grabbing a black tank-top he'd tossed haphazardly in the corner. He heads back toward the door again, tossing the shirt over his shoulder. "And...Well I haven't really had a chance to explore much on me own. Worked a bit on my uniform and moved me junk in." He shrugs. "Just figured I'd ask about it rather than end up poking around somewhere I shouldn't." He's used to military life, in which poking around certain areas is met with strict disciplinary action.

As Fox ducks in and out of the room for his shirt Pietro opts to just wait for him in the hall, leaning up with his back against an adjacent wall. "Already workin' on your uniform? Nice," he comments when it seems they're ready to move on, straightening and heading for the stairs up. "I like that you're gettin' a running start on shit, anyway. And yeah, probably best that you asked first. You don't haveta worry /too/ much about wanderin' around this dump, but still. Anyway, 's kinduva bitch to find without someone showin' you where it is. Which is pretty much the point, of course."

Fox follows Pietro as he walks toward the stairs. "Ah, I kind of assumed that it would be hard to find. Marrow said somethin' about the underground trolly and whatnot ." He looks at the stairs with a bit of confusion. "And you apparently don't get to it from the basement...so...I guess that's why I couldn't find it before." He continues to follow. "Yeah, about the uniform. I actually have it just about done. Just have to tweak the mask a bit. Isn't doing quite what I want it to do, anyway." He trails Pietro through the compound.

Current Mood: relieved

Starbucks - Greenwich Village - Manhattan

         The smell of roasting coffee permeates the air in this cramped coffee house. To the left, a counter is set up, and aproned young men and woman dash around behind it, shouting orders to one another as machines hiss and foam. Mounted above it, a large chalkboard-looking menu proclaims all that they have to offer in this particular shop. To the right of the cash register, large coffee machines burble and percolate, while the left opens into a glass display showing off their baked goods.

         Behind the counter, two rows of tables have been bolted to the floor. One runs through the middle of the shop, open on both sides with a chair either side. The next one is set up in the plate-glass window that overlooks the street; these window-tables offer four seats, two across from two.

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The coffee house is at about half capacity. Though it's prime coffee time, it's also Friday, so most people tend to be out doing more exciting things. Fox is not. He has had enough excitement for the past few days. He is currently trying to order from the waiter, but is failing slightly. "Oy there, mate. How hard is it ta get me a large coconut cappa with a couple o' bikkies?" The poor boy seems a bit scared as the muscular man yells at him in a strange dialect. "Um, sorry sir...but what?" Is all he can manage. Fox rolls his eyes and points at the items that he wants...assuming the waiter to be a bit slow. Fox is not currently wearing his usual coat and tank-top. He is instead wearing a button down shirt with the top few buttons undone. Under the shirt the wrapping of bandages can be seen.

Grey isn't old enough to do anything exciting at this time of night, as she'll bitch about should anyone get her started. Rolling by on her skateboard, she spots the lit up Starbucks, pauses to consider, shrugs to herself, and then heads for it. She makes a bit of a kerfuffle in entering, wrenching open the door and then noisily kicking her skateboard up into her hand with a clatter. As one of the baristas spots her, her eyebrows quirk up slightly, just daring the establishment to kick her out. So she saunters into the coffee house, making a big show of studying the menu, until she realizes it's not just strangers in here tonight. "Well, fuck me. This /is/ a small island," she offers by way of greeting.

Fox stops glowering at the panicked waiter for a few moments to turn and address the voice by his side. Upon the realization that it is Grey, he grins broadly. "Well hello there deary. Howja like a cuppa joe, eh?" He turns back to the waiter, his expression again quite unfriendly. "Get this li'le sheila whatever she wants too...on my tab. An' DON'T screw up the order." The waiter just makes a soft noise and mutters something about not really knowing what Fox is trying to order...Fox seems slightly less friendly as a result.

"God, everywhere I go man, there you are making friends," Grey razzes him as she moves up to the counter, smacking her dirty skateboard down upon the pristine surface and revelling in the reaction this gets. But the waiter doesn't seem to dare order her to get it off, not when it's two against one. Going back to studying the menu, Grey orders each thing in turn as she comes to it, clearly not one to feel guilty about taking advantage of the charity of others: "Hot chocolate, almond biscotti, two chocolate chip cookies, a Danish... Oh, and this," she decides, picking up one of those horribly overpriced bars of chocolate from beside the till. Girl likes her sugar rush, apparently.

Fox smirks at the girl "Yeah, I'm just a friendly sort o' guy." He chuckles as she puts her wheeled plank of wood on the counter and watches the waiter as Grey orders. "Oh right...Cookies, tha's what you call em. Two 'cookies', not bikkies. And like I said, a large cappa wit' coconut in it." The waiter eyes him strangely "Oh don't make me try an' say it, mate." The waiter still just looks at him. Fox sighs and attempts to say cappuccino, but it comes out like "The..er... Cappachiatto-deroo..anino... cappra... chupacabra... thingadoo." The waiter starts to laugh but stops abruptly as Fox bares his teeth. "Right, then sir...Anything else?" Fox looks down at the chocolate bars and back to Grey. "Ah, sure. Make it one o' each o' these chocos, here. " Foxs bill ends up being over thirty dollars, but Fox doesn't care. He gives the kid a tip...consisting of a nasty glare and nothing else.

Grey doesn't even try to stifle her laughter at Fox's attempt. "Chupacabra? Isn't that some sort of monster?" she points out with a smirk as she begins loading up her skateboard to use it as a tray with her rather prolific order. "So you like sugar too, huh?" she asks/points out as the kid heads off to make their drinks. "Really though, man, you gotta learn to talk right if you're gonna hang out in this part of the world." But her advice is given lightly, and she doesn't /really/ care whether he talks 'right' or not. "D'you guys always say only half the word? Choco, cappa, bikki..."

Fox smirks at the girl but then looks back to the waiter. Watching him intently to make sure he doesn't try to spit in either of the drinks. "Oh I'm not the one who speaks funny...These words ent even english. They're French...Or 'talian...Or something distinctly un-english." He nods in agreement with himself and upon the receiving of their order he smirks back down at Grey. "The secret ingredient must be chupacabra...otherwise it'd be reasonably priced, right?" He nods again. "An' sure. It's the Ozzy way. Cut the words in half, add an 'o' to the end. Easier to say when yer tanked."

"You are too!" Grey insists stubbornly that he's the one who talks funny. "Bikki? I don't think that's English either." She gives him a 'so there' look, but it's not enough to hide the fact that she's really just having fun with hassling him. "I think I'm allergic to Chupacabra," she adds, eyeing the drinks warily. "I hope they go light on it." She looks back up at him, considering the wisdom of making words easier to say when drunk, and then has to nod in concession of that point. "Okay, yeah, that's kinda smart. 'Cause some words, they're real hard when you've had a few." And she's so knowledgeable in that area.

Fox laughs a bit. "A 'bikkie' is a biscuit, deary. An' tha's what the Brits call 'em, so it's deffinately English." He gestures toward one of the tables and starts moving toward it. "An' we'll find out how much they use when you swell up an' vomit a bit o' puss." He laughs heartily at this for a moment, walking the rest of the way toward the table. He sits down and sits down the candy bars on the other side of the table where Grey would probably sit. He says nothing in response to her drinking comment. In Australia, you can drink as soon as you can see over the counter. Why, when Fox was Grey's age...plus three years...he was already working at a pub.

Grey brings her things over on her skateboard, setting it down on the table to unload it before dropping it beside her on the floor. "I dunno, they talk pretty funny too. Not as funny as you do, but calling it English might be a stretch." That's right, she's going to insist people from England don't speak English right. His comment about vomiting up pus just earns him a raspberry as she sticks her tongue out at him and then drops down in her seat, deftly pocketing those candy bars. Of course, if she knew how lax Australia was on drinking, she might be a little more forgiving of the cultural differences. "So you get hurt or something?" she asks, eyeing the bandage curiously while tearing open three sugar packets to dump into her hot chocolate.

Fox sips his coffee and nods. "Oh righ'. Of course they don' speak English in England. They speak Norwegian. Silly me to 'ave forgotten." He shakes his head. He hears her question and looks a bit puzzled before following her eyes to his chest. "Oh righ', tha's abou' patched up now. Got into a scrap with..." he looks around and lowers his voice. "A real speedy fellow." He winks and starts talking at a normal level again. "Things turned out fine, though." He laughs. "Thing is, he doesn't know that I'm...erm...bandages." He looks as if he just remembered something, and kind of attempts to change what he's saying mid-sentence...but not very well at all. He decides to change the subject. "Anyway...Hows yer whiskey discount? Might be orderin' a bottle from you pretty soon, here. Ran out o' me other a few days back."

"You're in America now. You should speak American," Grey insists as she slouches back in her chair, putting her feet up on an empty seat. Oh, she doesn't miss that very awkward change of course and gives him a skeptical look, but his change of subject does seem to distract her: "Really?" she asks, a little too eagerly. "I mean, that's cool. I can probably hook you up. Business is okay, though it's not really what I want to do with my life, y'know?" She shrugs, taking a tentative sip of her drink and wincing as she finds it still rather too hot. "So you're bandages? That some sorta crazy Australian slang?" Distracted, but not forever.

Fox laughs. "Oh? Speak American, eh?" He screws up his face and fakes a southern accent "Jesus tells me that America's the best country in the world. I'm gonna drive a huge truck built for twelve, but carrying two, just so that I can run down minorities." He sips his coffee and shakes his head. "Nah. Don't think I like it. Don't suit me, ya know?" He smiles. "An' take yer time with the booze, ya?" he looks a bit shifty when she mentions 'bandages' again. "Um...Yeah. It's slang for...Ex-military." He nods and looks as if he's proud to have thought of it. "Anyway...What is it you'd like to do with yer life, if not sell discount turps to blokes on the street?"

"That's the spirit. But you forgot about how our right to bear arms absolutely means you can take an Uzi into Times Square if that's what you're feeling," Grey points out, tipping her cup in a mock salute. But she sets the hot drink down for now, instead working on one of her cookies as they speak. "Me take /my/ time with the booze? You're the one who went through a forty of premium whiskey, dude. Not that I'm complaining. You being an alky is good for business." She eyes him doubtfully as he tries to cover. "Right," she replies, drawing out the syllable to make it clear she doesn't buy it. "I want to sell /other/ things on the street. But I gotta make enough money to get the ... supplies, first. So I got my, y'know, delivery service."

Fox nods. "Oh right. Forgot about that one. It's what makes this country great." He smirks. "And I didn't mean to take yer time DRINKIN' the whiskey, I said to take yer time GETTIN' the whiskey...But you should probably do both. I'm probably a good 50 kilos bigger than you." He doesn't really care if she doesn't believe his explanation...she's not asking anymore, and that's all that matters to him. He drinks his coffee as she speaks. "Right, so what is it you would LIKE to sell?" He somehow doubts it's girlscout cookies and lemonade.

Grey nods and points an approving finger at him as he tacks on the bit about guns, though her mouth is too full of cookie to make a snarky comment in return. She makes a dismissive noise about taking her time, whether it's getting /or/ drinking the whiskey. "I bet I could drink you under the table," she bullshits, not even really trying to sell that one. "Everyone knows it's the squirrelly ones that'll surprise you." At his question, she pauses, sizing him up before nodding in agreement with herself. "Weed, mostly," she states, matter-of-fact, but clearly also sizing him up for his reaction to this most bad ass of statements. "At least for now."

Fox laughs. "Oh I'm so sure. I could drink more liquor than there is blood in yer veins, kiddo." Is this true? Maybe...probably not...But maybe. "And a weed eh?" His eyes darken a bit. Not at the mention of weed, so much as when she says 'at least for now'. He narrows his eyes at her. "You know...That stuff stunts yer growth. You'll be all midgy and diminutive fer ever." he nods. "An the other stuff..." He shakes his head. "Well if you get an army of hookers comin' after you don't come runnin' to me fer help." Not that he wouldn't actually help her if she was in trouble...

"Bring it on," Grey challenges, narrowing her eyes, and taking a swig of her chocolate as though tossing back of shot of hard liquor. Still very /hot/ hard liquor! She makes a face as it scalds its way down, plunking her paper cup back on the table. "I didn't say I was gonna /do/ weed. First rule of business is you don't sample your own wares, man," she informs him knowingly. "And hey! I'm not ... midgy. What the fuck is midgy? I'm a kid! I'm supposed to be this tall!" she exclaims indignantly.

Fox laughs as she burns herself. "Oh my, what a toughy." He laughs again when she mentions her height "Oh right. What an excuse." He makes a fake kid voice "I'm not short, I'm vertically challenged." He guffaws loudly, causing the waiters to look over at the table. Fox notices this and shoots them a venomous look, which causes them all to quail about looking for something to clean. He looks back at Grey "Seriously, though. Not the drugs that'll kill ya. It's the customers. 'Specially if they see it's a kiddo who's carryin'."

"Shuddup," Grey mutters as he makes fun of her, scowling and hunching further down in her seat as she attempts to kick him under the table. At the warning, she straightens up, rolling her eyes and heaving a world weary sigh. "I can take care of myself, okay? I done okay so far, haven't I? Why does everyone think I'm always gonna get myself killed or something. /I'm/ not the one who's 'bandages'," she points out, jerking her chin towards his recent war wounds. "A few potheads don't scare me. And when I got some money, I can take care of myself even better."

There’s  a thudding noise and Fox looks a bit confused. If Grey managed to kick him, he shows no further indication than that. He shakes his head "And if you was 'bandages', then you'd have military training and I'd worry less." He smirks at her, thinking he's oh-so clever for clearly having deceived her so well. He nods again. "And just remember...Potheads are like zombies. Get enough of them together and they'll eat you." He says this with complete seriousness. "Why don't you get a real job? Like..." he looks over at the waiters. "Well like making coffee? I promise I wouldn't threaten you...too much." It really is too much fun to scare waiters. It's one of Fox's favourite hobbies.

Grey looks a little confused at the reaction to her kick and again slouches down in her seat, this time trying to peer under the table to figure out what just happened there. "I don't /need/ military training," she argues, really good at doing so without even devoting her attention to it. She looks back up at him, skeptical about his threats of a army of zombie potheads coming after her to eat her. "I think I can handle it," she says flatly, before wrinkling her nose at the idea of a job at Starbucks. "Ugh. No way am I gonna work for the /man/. Besides, I can't. I'm too young and I don't exactly got a stellar resume."

Fox looks under the table as well, trying to see what she was looking at. "Oh? Really now? So if a crazed crack-head came at you with the sharpened femur of his dead hooker, you'd be fine?" He stops investigating the underside of the table, having only found a bit of chewed up gum. "And what you mean you're too young? Li'le kids in China work all day making shoes and soccer balls, I'm sure you could find somethin' here." He flashes a wicked smile before sipping a bit more of his coffee.

"Um," Grey replies, having to give that enough attention to properly size up the scenario, "Yeah, probably," she decides with a nod. "Or I'd survive, anyway," she allows, canting her head slightly as she has to consider whether or not she'd be 'fine'. But she shakes off these thoughts quickly. "But it's not gonna happen. Besides, I never /said/ I was gonna deal crack. And everyone knows potheads almost never attack you with parts of someone else's anatomy. I'll just make sure not to stand between them and the nearest vending machine, okay?" She rolls her eyes a bit at the question of age. "And if we were in China, I'd be thinking about my 401K by now, but here we got laws. And anyway, they'd want like a name, address, and social security number, and that's not stuff I feel like giving right now."

Fox raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Impervious to hooker bones, are we?" He chuckles a bit and finishes his coffee. He's really quite confused about the vending machine. He's not frequently around high people, and without the luxury of American tv for most of his life, Fox simply doesn't get the reference. "Uh...Right." is all he says. Then he laughs a bit at the China reference. "Yeah I s'pose. 'merica should strive to be like China as far as their policy with youth in Asia." he says 'youth in Asia' quickly...so that it sounds like 'euthanasia'.

"I got a few tricks up my sleeve," Grey just states mysteriously, and as imperiously as a scrawny and dirty thirteen year old can manage. "I'm not completely stupid and helpless, no matter how much people want to treat me like it." She smirks a bit as he doesn't seem to get the vending machine reference, before rolling her eyes at his pun. "You're a real cut up, y'know that? Anyway, if you're done giving me career advice... I mean, what is it /you/ do, anyway?" she asks bluntly.

Fox smirks at the girl. She had obviously survived this long without being killed...Unless she's a zombie...Which Fox doubts because Zombies aren't real. "Well...Since you HAVE to know...I'll have you know that I'm monk with the holy order of Saint...er..." he doesnt actually know any saints...so this lie fails before it's finished. He chuckles a bit. "No, well actually I'm a bartender." So obviously he's capable of getting cheap liquor without Grey's help...But he still seems interested in being her customer.

"/Really/?" Grey breathes, suddenly intrigued. She leans in over the table to study him with her eyes all aglow of the opportunities this might present. "Can you get me into a bar?" she asks almost reverently. She sits back then, smacking back against the chair fairly hard. "Man, that's actually kinda cool. If it's true. I can't even mess with you about that one." On one hand, it's really cool and might even come in handy, but on the other, she /really/ does enjoy hassling people. Oh, such a conundrum.

Fox gives her a look.  “Well I doubt me boss would appreciate me bringin’ such a young kiddo into the bar.”  He shakes his head.  “And ‘sides,” he continues “it’s kind of a...” he ponders for a moment.  “A specific KIND of bar.  Don’t know if you’d fit in there, or if you’d want to run away screamin’.”  He manages a weak smile.  “An’ I mean really.  You seem to have an easy enough time gettin ahold o’ liquor on yer own.”

"Oh, c'mon. You gonna tell me that chugging back some cheap vodka in a dirty alley is the same as going to an actual /bar/?" Grey questions incredulously. "So what is it, like a strip club or something?" she guesses, as to the kind of bar it is. "You think that's gonna scare me? I mean, we got- We had cable, man. I seen some pretty messed up shit. And anyway, maybe your boss doesn't have to know. He can't be there /all/ the time."

Fox stretches a bit, puffing out his chest as he does so. He no longer winces when he does this, that's a plus. His ribs must be healing nicely. "Well it's a...Not EXACTLY a strip club...Though there are usually people there who are down in their skivvies." He nods and plays with his dog-tags idly. "Well...it's a...I work at the Stonewall Inn." Grey may have heard of it. It's kind of the most famous gay bar in America. He sits in silence, watching for her reaction...if she knows where/what it is.

Grey clearly doesn't get the reference, for all her claims of being so worldly. She just stares back at him rather blandly, clearly expecting a much bigger reveal than the fact that he works at some inn. "Uh-huh," she replies slowly, taking a sip of her hot chocolate (now lukewarm at best). "I mean, okay. So, uh... So what?" She doesn't really want to admit she has no idea, though it's a crap job of pretending otherwise.

Fox smiles at the girl. "Maybe when your older," is all he says, though he's sure this will just annoy her. Though he supposes that's fine with him. It would amuse him. He glances at his watch and stretches again. "Well kiddo, I think I should probably be gettin' home. Got a bit o' work to do tomorrow." He grins. "An' if I don't get me beauty-sleep, I get all cranky and sometimes yell at poor incompetent waiters." Actually he does that all the time. It's not like they're real people or anything.

"Older than /what/?" Grey asks, annoyed indeed. "Fuck that shit. The hell about this place is so bad you can't tell me?" she demands, frowning as he takes his leave of her without actually explaining. "Yeah sure, whatever. Knock yourself out," she mutters in her frustration. "I guess if anyone needs their beauty-sleep, it's you." And if it's not actually true, well, it was just too hard to pass up. She begins cramming away the things she hasn't finished, into her many pockets.

Fox stands and heads toward the door. "Right-o kid. See ya around." He gives a quick wave and exits, but not before shooting one last nasty look at the waiter.

Current Mood: amused

Training Gym - Brotherhood Headquarters - Staten Island

This gym is considerably smaller than the main one. Its floor and the bottom half of its walls are completely covered with blue gym mats that provide protection from painful bumps and bruises. There is a small store room which holds specialized training equipment, but mostly those in training just go in against each other here.

There are also large hooks hanging from the ceiling from which punching bags or tackling dummies can be mounted. Foldable gymnastics equipment can find barely enough room to be set up here, but it is provided nonetheless. On the door there is a timetable grid which residents can use to schedule themselves some time in here, though as is noted on the sign, open slots are available on a first come, first served basis.

_____________________________________________________________________________________


The unmistakable sound of a punching-bag being pummeled can be heard drifting out of the training gym of the Brotherhood basement. Fox is in here, wailing on the bag with intermittent punches and kicks. He is currently wearing black leather pants and black boots, a few parts of the uniform he'd worked on a bit today. He is currently topless, though most of his chest is obscured by bandaging. Laying against one wall is a large wooden crate with Fox's coat draped overtop. He takes a break and wipes the sweat off his brow, stretching his arms out behind him a bit.

Leaning in the doorway, Marrow stands watching for a moment after entering while he pummels the hell out of one of the punching-bags. She's dressed much as she usually does while hanging out in the HQ, in comfortable workout pants and a tank top, both black, though her boots appear to be missing, as are her socks. She came down to work out, apparently, so the boots would just get in the way. With her arms crossing over her chest, she rasps out at him from the door, "Not much keeps you down fer long, does it?"

Fox heaves a breath and quirks up at the voice. He cracks a grin and turns to look at marrow. "Aye there, Marrow. How ya' been?" He does another quick stretch of his arms. "Well, can't be sittin' 'round idle-like. I've got real responsibility now an' I want to be in top form." He nods quickly. "Plus I've been working on a bit of me uniform an' I wanted to make sure it wasn't goin' to hinder me movement." He gestures to the lower half of his body. "And er...Well I got me some real painkillers. Works a hell 'o a lot better than whiskey does."

Smirking, Marrow stalks into the room, her feet not really making much noise unlike her boots, which might explain why she was so quiet coming in. "I wouldn't recommend any sparrin' matches until those ribs are healed up, though," she continues to rasp. "One good blow in th' wrong spot will jus' make it worse an' take longer to heal," she notes. "Bu' glad to see yer not down fer th' count." That's one injured BH boy accounted for. She'll have to check on the other soon. "So you found th' trainin' facilities alright."

Fox smiles and puffs out his chest. "Ah I'll be tip top in no time, I reckon. Prolly another two or three days and I can debandage." He relaxes his pose a bit. He nods in response to her question. "Yup I sure did. Yer directions were easy enough ter follow, and the desk staff was also quite helpful. Got me a pagidy-doo." He points over to his coat, indicating that he has the pager in his coat pocket. "And I got me a room an' managed to move a bit o' stuff in this mornin', so I figure I'm settlin' in quite well."

"Sounds like yer doin' alrigh' over all then," Marrow replies with an approving nod. "Tol' you th' office staff would get you all set up an' sorted." She pauses, then asks, "Found th' cafeteria an' all tha' okay, didja?" she asks, probably assuming if he didn't, he wouldn't exactly be out here working on the punching bag so hard on an empty stomach. "We have another trainin' spot, too. Remind me or one of th' others to show you soon, okay?"

Fox rubs the back of his head. "No, actually.. I stopped at a maccas when I ran out ta get a few things." He shakes his head. "Haven't really explored too much, just kinda passed by the second floor...so if it's there I haven't been yet." He looks around the room. "Well this one's ok for today. Works well enough for a bit o' bag beatin'" He juts a thumb at the punching bag. "But it would be nice to know where the other is. I'll be sure to search around for it later. That one significantly different?"

"Th' cafeteria's on th' firs' floor, actually, bu' wit' getting settled an' all that, I can see why you'd miss it, really. It's a big place," Marrow replies with a bit of a nod. "If you have anythin' specific you like to eat, jus' let th' kitchen staff know an' they migh' try to get it in fer you. Most times, we eat wha's served, but some options can be worked out." Nodding, she continues about the training spaces, "Well, the other space is bigger. It's good fer group stuff or if you jus' want a quieter space. There's more, too. Bu' I'll save that fer th' one who takes you down there." There's another 'down' from the basement?

Fox nods, wondering if they serve vegemite in the Brotherhood headquarters. "Ah, right-o then. They have hours posted there? I sometimes get peckish in the wee hours of the mornin'." He ponders stashing a bit of food up in his room just in case they close early. He perks up a bit when he hears about the other training area, "Down from here? As in...What, it's not in the building? Like...South o' here or somethin'?" He scratches the back of his head a little.

Shaking her head, Marrow rasps, "General feedin' times for hot an' prepared foods are th' usual meal times, bu' between meals, you jus' go in an' help yerself to wha'ever you find in th' fridge an' cupboards." As he asks more about the other training area, she grins a bit, apparently proud of the space that's so well hidden. "No. Underground. As in on th' subway level."

Fox ponders the ability to raid the cupboards with glee. He may need to stock it with delicious yeasty paste, though...Because after thinking about it for a moment, he doubts that anyone in the Brotherhood would willingly eat vegemite. He'd have to prepare them a picnic one of these days. "I'll have ter check that out later." He nods, and upon hearing of the secret underground tunnels he grins widely. "Really now!? Ye'v even got a sub-basement, eh?" He looks around this room, not that he actually expects to see another exit. "I eh...Didn't see another door out there. Probably just overlooked it?"

Despite the fact that Marrow was reduced to eating rats on the street before joining the Brotherhood, it's still not likely she would touch that stuff. Shaking her head, she replies easily, "No. You didn't overlook a door. Or if you did, it's because you didn't know it hid th' entrance, an' even if you went in, you probably wouldn' find it still. It's hidden. Someone will have to show you th' way. Bu' yeah, there are catacombs tha' lead down to an old abandoned station. We've sealed it off, cleared it out an' made it our own. Don' get me wrong, trainin' in th' gym's good an' all... bu' th' catacombs are where I feel most comfortable. It's where I do most of my own trainin', though I've used this space sometimes."

Fox itches his chest. "Ah, that right, eh? I'll deffinately get someone ta show me the way, then. S'pose I should have explored the complex a bit more thoroughly by now, but Im sure I'll 'ave pleanty of time to explore later on." He looks around this gym. "You do your own trainin' there, eh?" He remembers that it had been suggested to him to watch Marrow practice against a dummy before sparring with her, but he figures he probably shouldn't challenge her until he's fully healed up anyway. Though he's confident in his own abilities, he's not going to take any chances with Marrow. "Do ya' have set times or anythin' like that?"

"You've been here less than a day, so... relax," Marrow rasps, holding up a placating hand. With a bit of a nod, she replies, "I mean, I train wherever I feel like it, bu' I do prefer th' catacombs. It's quiet. Usually. Bu' mostly, this place is in pretty good shape. I'd rather not have to start answerin' why there are holes in th' walls. Down there, it doesn't matter." So she's violent? Shaking her head, she adds, "As fer times, nah. Jus' when I want to. Which is a lot. Clears my head, really. I get up, I train, even if it's jus' a quick jog around th' complex. I eat, then I patrol some, or see to it tha' shit's gettin' done around here. Maybe I'll head down after tha' an' train..." One shoulder, which happens to be completely sheathed in bone, while the other isn't, hitches upward, then drops again. "Whenever."

Fox chuckles and nods a bit. "Geeze Marrow, ever thought o' becomin' a drill sergeant? Sounds to me like ya train about as much as me old boot instructor." He looks around the room again, glancing quickly at the wooden crate in the corner. Yeah...Probably a good thing she mentioned the other training room before he scuffed the hell out of this one. He looks back to Marrow and grins. "Gran'ed. Didn't you say yer title was Combat Marshal? Guess that's pretty similar an' all, eh?" He contemplates asking her about how frequently the group sees combat, but he decides he'll wait a little. He'd rather show her what he's capable of before bringing that up.

Smirking, Marrow crosses her arms over her chest again and replies, "Some of th' boys here think I'm a drill sergeant, I'm sure." She then adds, "I guess tha's why, yeah, I'm the combat marshal. Frankly, I have a couple of rules, as combat marshal. If you gotta fight, you do it in a sparrin' match an' in th' appropriate places. I don't tolerate th' team wailin' on each other jus' cuz they can't get along. Time an' place fer everythin'. Two, know yer limits an' communicate those limits wit' whoever yer sparrin' wit'. An' pull yer blows enough tha' they feel it, bu' serious injury an'-or death aren' intended." She didn't say they wouldn't be a risk, but so long as they're not intended. "So yeah, guess tha' I'm similar to a drill sergeant."

Fox laughs. "Yeah, I s'pose killin' yer team-mates might be a bit counter-productive to the cause." He nods in agreement. "But I'm glad ta hear you've got rules like that in place. Ever have anyone break em, yet?" He suddenly thinks of something. "Oh, by the way. I've been thinkin' actually...Yer trainin' equipment is mostly dummies, right? Dont do much as far as movement, eh?" At least, none that he's seen anyway. "You ever want to train up the troops on some moving targets just call me down an' I'm sure I can whip somethin' up...For a bit, anyway."

With a sigh, she nods. "Sadly, yeah. We all have our tempers an' breakin' points. It's easy to get on each other's nerves. Bu' from time to time, a couple of th' members don' always get along or there are personality clashes, so... I had to break a couple of th' guys up a few times, bu'..." She pauses, a troubled expression passing over her face, but it's fleeting. Within seconds, she's composed again. "Bu' one of them left, so... s'not as much of a problem these days." Clearing her throat, she says, "An' I've thrown a punch here or there myself. It happens. Bu' fer th' most part, th' fightin' happens in trainin'." Moving right along, she continues, "Yeah, it's all stationary at this point. Dunno if Rogue was plannin' on gettin' th' office to find some new gadgets fer us or wha'. Bu' wha' help you can give would be great."

Fox listens intently to what Marrow says. He actually meant the question in a fleeting sort of way, not actually expecting there to have been trouble with inter-group fighting. "That's actually eh...Well I suppose it is inevitable to have a few tempers here an' there." He nods. "And um..." He notices Marrow's temporary unease and hesitates for a moment. "Well if that bloke who left was causin' trouble, then it's probably best that he's out o' the picture." He nods again. "This group's too important to waste time scrappin' with ourselves, no?" He gives her a reassuring smile, though she's currently composed. "And I'll hunt down Rogue at some point, then. I mean, I have a little knowledge with mechanics. Don't know what she had planned, but I might be able to help a little. Worse comes to worse I can just construct somethin'." He nods toward his crate.

Marrow shrugs and replies, "Mostly, I jus' don' want to be seein' members puttin' each other in th' infirmary on purpose, if it can be helped. There's enough people outside these walls who will want to do that fer us, an' who have." Pause. "Sometimes, wit' tempers or announces or personality differences, it can't be helped. Th' point is most follow tha' rule most of th' time, so it's mostly alright." As he goes on about the 'bloke' who caused trouble, she clears her throat and looks away from him for a moment, scratching briefly at the bone jutting out of her elbow. "Yeah. Well. Anyway," she says, passing over that topic entirely now. "Anyway, yeah, talk to Rogue about th' mechanics thin'. We could use someone wit' those talents, I'm sure."

Fox he nods, remaining silent for a moment. He wonders if he said something to have troubled Marrow, but she's a strong shiela, he's sure that she'll be ok. He nods again and stretches a bit. "Tha's fer sure." he finally responds to the comment about the enemies of mutant kind. "But you've done a good job so far, me dear. Or...At least so I've read in the newsies." He stretches a bit, rubbing his sore ribs a bit. "An' I'll slip a note under Rogue's door sometime, let 'er know I'm 'round. I haven't actually seen her since I got in, yet."

Marrow nods a little, glancing back at him. "Hm? Yeah. I mean, not wit'out some costs to us, bu' we survived it all," she reassures him with another, more succinct nod. She scratches at her elbow again as he rubs his ribs, perhaps in sympathy or perhaps it's actually bugging her. "Anyway, yeah, let Rogue know yer here. If I see her before you, I'll let her know too. An' like I said, don' push it too much wit' yer injury. Give yerself time to heal." She knows all about healing, apparently. "So... I probably shouldn' keep you from yer workout, really."

Fox stretches a bit. "Yeah, I think I'll another half hour before hittin' the showers. I probably should rest up a bit. Busy day today an' all." He rolls his shoulder a bit. "An' it's sure to be a busy day tomorrow as well." He grins at her again. "Been workin' on me uniform, like I said. Almost done, it is. I think you'll love it." He nods, but says no more. He'll let it be a surprise. Fox glances back to the punching bag and then back to Marrow. "But seriously. If ya need anythin', just come fin' me, right? I took room 311 upstairs if ya need ta leave me a note 'er whatever."

"Good, good," Marrow replies. "It's good to see yer so gung-ho about this. I can see I made th' right decision tellin' you about us," she adds with just the tiniest amount of a smile. "Well, good. I look forward to seein' it." There's no reciprocal explanation of her own uniform, nor if she even has one. Instead, she starts to move toward the door. "Likewise. I can usually be found around. You'll figure out my hidin' spots like everyone else sooner or later."

Fox stretches a little as she departs, grinning. "I'm also glad ya told me, Marrow. Kind o' the thing I was lookin' for when I left Oz, ya know?" He turns back to the punching bag and winds up a kick. "I'll be sure ta watch for ya. I'm sure ya know all the best places around here." He flashes a grin in her general direction before turning back to his target and delivering a swift kick to mid-way up the bag.

Marrow watches him a moment before nodding at him, though he likely can't see it since he's already kicking the bag. "Sure thing. Anyway... don' be shy in the cafeteria, remember," she points out, then turns toward the door without another word. She pauses briefly, looking back at him, then heads out toward the hallway and presumably off to a patrol.

Current Mood: energetic

South Ferry - Manhattan

Painted a brilliant hue of orange, the ferry is visible from a long ways off. Passengers on foot are allowed on for free, and directed along to the upper deck where row upon row of seats line the middle of the space. Railings have been set by the window, allowing those who wish to stand a little stability. Through the windows, a breathtaking view of the New York harbour and waterfront is offered as the boat travels on its journey to the islands. In nicer weather, some people venture outside onto the railed landing running along three sides of the passenger deck.

Cars cost a nominal fee and are parked down below in a less prettified space. Concrete and steel pillars are all around with cars parked end to end in three lanes for the length of the ferry. Some passengers remain in the cars for the short trip, while others get out and wander around, perhaps choosing to venture up to the passenger deck.

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When the phone rang earlier today, that familiar, rasping voice told him she'd been given a 'green light' and then set up the meeting for midnight. Marrow gave him directions to a small side street near the ferry where they could meet and not have to be seen by too many people. Now she stands like a sentinel next to a black van, dressed in her long, over-sized coat, her bony outcroppings sticking out behind her like some kind of perverse peacock tail. She looks as menacing as ever as she glares at the odd person who might walk by and have the misfortune of making eye contact.

Fox wanders down one of the side streets, glancing at a bit of parchment in his hand and scratching his head. This WAS where Marrow had told him to meet her, wasn't it? He turns 360, looking all around him before wandering a bit closer to the shore. Ah, there she is...How on earth did he miss her. He walks up to her, smiling. "Hey there Marrow. How's it goin'?" He's not wearing his usual tanktop and coat this evening, he is instead wearing a button down khaki shirt with the top few buttons undone. A bit of bandaging can be seen under the shirt binding his chest, and he's sporting a fat lip, though based on the degree of swelling it looks to be a few days old. Basically, Marrow is likely to correctly assume that Fox has been in a scrap recently.

Marrow spots him before he gets close enough to speak to her, so she watches his approach. As he gets closer, it might or might not be more evident that there is someone else in the van behind the wheel. A driver. With bones protruding out of her back, no doubt she can't sit in the driver's seat too easily. Inclining her head by way of a greeting, the purple-haired young woman replies, "Evenin'. It's goin' well enough. Yerself?" With an approving nod, she adds, "I'm glad to see you decided to take us up on our offer."

Fox glances at the van and grins at Marrow. "Things are goin' just swimmingly, ma dear." He nods. "And o' course, I'm glad you decided I'm worthy to join your cause. Always glad to help out me own, ya know?" He nods toward the van. "Wah's this now? We goin' on an adventure?" He flashes a quick grin before noticing the driver, eyeing the front window incredulously. He decides not to make anything of it, however. He figures that Marrow obviously trusts this individual, so why shouldn't he?

Shrugging, Marrow replies easily and with a bit of a sardonic grin, "We're always lookin' fer like-minded individuals to sign up to our little band of merry men." Glancing over at the driver, then back at him, she holds up a placating hand. "Relax. If yer in, we take a trip really fast to HQ." She actually says the letters. "You get th' nickle-tour an' all tha'. Bu' first, some important formalities." She starts to count on her fingers as she makes her points. "Rule number one of fight club is you don' talk about fight club." Yes, she's making a silly movie reference so that anyone passing by doesn't get the hint, but perhaps the point remains the same. "Rule number two, you don' talk about the location of fight club an' always make sure yer not followed. Rule number three, refer back to rules one an' two. Think you can agree to tha'?"

Being unfamiliar with most American cinema, Fox does not get the reference Marrow is making, but he nods anyways. He understands the concept. Also, having not been told the name of this organization yet, he simply assumes that it is entitled 'The Fight Club'. He nods again. "O' course. I'll keep to these rules, I will. An' 'f anyone seems to be tailin' me, I'll be sure ta lose 'em." He nods again. "So this 'The Fight Club', it has an official building an' all that?" He grins. "Very ace." He's excited to meet a few more like minded individuals...Though he has unknowingly already done so...with unfortunate consequences.

Nodding a bit, Marrow rasps, "We've got our own buildin', yeah. Buildin', name, staff, resources... even reputation." Moving in a little closer so that no one can overhear her, she rumbles, "One last chance to back out if you had any doubts. If you've heard of us, it'd be from tv or newspapers from maybe a year ago or more. We're known as th' Brotherhood. Our boss, Magneto, gave his manifesto of sorts in a one-time broadcast, basically tellin' folks to stay out of our way. If you've heard of us an' don' agree wit' wha' we do or wha'not, turn around now an' ferget we met. If yer still game, we'll get in the van an' head to HQ." She then falls silent, watching him closely as she awaits his answer.

Fox ponders for a moment, trying to remember where he'd heard that name. He lowers his voice as well "Magneto...Magneto...Ah yeah, that bloke was on a site I checked out. Showed up on the telly with that kiddo you busted out o' the slammer, no?" He nods. "Of course, Marrow. I'm all for protecting our kind from the likes o' the people runnin' this place." He shakes his head "People like you an' me, we shouldn' have to hide what we can do. We're gifted. We're better than most, yet we have to hide away an' meet up in the night just to avoid the normals." He shakes his head again. "No way. I'm not goin' to stan' by an' let them pass that act. I'm not going to sit on me arse while others fight for our freedoms. Sign me up, love."

Marrow listens to his response without letting anything away for a long moment, simply watching him and considering his words carefully. Finally, she bangs twice on the side of the van and the door is unlocked. "Righ' then." She holds out one hand toward him to shake as she slides open the sliding door on the van with the other. "Welcome to th' Brotherhood, Fox," she rumbles almost proudly and with a rather serious expression. "Shall we go fer a ride, then?" She motions with her free hand toward the interior of the van, which appears to be just a normal van; no weird equipment or anything. The only thing that might be weird is that there is a bench of seats toward the back, but none in the center.

Fox looks Marrow squarely in the eye and shakes her hand firmly. "Thanks Marrow. Glad to join ya." He steps forward toward the van and peeks his head in, looking around quickly before flashing her a grin and hopping inside. He takes a seat and reaches for the seatbelt, wincing a bit and putting a hand on his chest. It's apparently still a bit sore. He'd have to fix that later...with booze.

Once he's shaken her hand and entered the van, Marrow grabs the sides of the doorframe and hauls her bulky form into the fan. Perhaps the reason for the missing bench of seats is obvious now as she plunks herself down on it, cross-legged, and pulls the door closed. The van fires up and the driver pulls away, apparently well-versed with their destination. Glancing over at him with a new expression of interest at his apparent appearance now that business has been taken care of, she rumbles, "Gonna tell me who roughed you up?"

Fox just now takes note of the fact that the seats are missing. He hadn't noticed, though now that he sees Marrow sitting there he understands the need to have had the seats removed. He rolls his eyes in an 'this is a kind of embarrassing story' kind of way. "Well...I was kind of wandering through some alleys the other nigh'...Seein' if I could find you or Grey to chat wit'. And I seen this boy, right? Started chattin' it up. Ended up pissin' 'im off er somethin'. An', well this kid was real spewin'. Mad as a cut snake, 'e was." He nods, as if to agree with himself on this fact. "So this kid, he's actin like he wants to beat me down or somethin', but he's a kid, right? Figure he'd try to punch me an' I'd jus' bust his head or somethin'." He laughs. "Turns out he was a mute. Real speedy little devil. Punched the shi' outta me. But...when I figured he was a mutie, I made nice with 'im. Things turned out peachy...Other than me gettin' a cracked rib er two."

As he sees to his explanation, Marrow falls silent again, simply listening along. However, as he begins to describe the kid as being pissed off, 'real spewing' and such, she quirks a purple eyebrow, her interest suddenly piqued. But it's the mention of the speed mutation that causes the second brow to jump up and the young woman to clear her throat a little. How many speedster mutants are there in the city? Who knows? If there's recognition at all as to this mutant, she doesn't let on. Instead, she replies in a rasp, "S'good tha' you two patched it up after tha'. Makin' th' wrong enemies can be rather problematic in wha' we do, after all." Inclining her head again so she can peer at him a bit, she adds, "At some point, you should go to our infirmary tonight an' have th' med staff look at you. If nothin' else, they can probably get you some good pain killers."

Fox nods. "Right-o. Well, If I'd known he wasn't a lousy human I wouldn't have pissed him off in the first place." He grins. "But yeah, I'll be more careful in the future, I will." He looks out the window. "An infermery, eh? Neat stuff, that is. Bet it comes in real handy." He nods again "An' I might take ya up on that. Just been usin' whiskey as me pain killer...Can't be good for the liver an all that." He looks back at Marrow "Got just minimal medical trainin', ya know. Just what the nasho taught me in boot."

"Well," Marrow points out, "most people won' just out themselves these days if they don' have to. Bu' wha' can you do?" Drawing in a breath, she considers something, then says, "I don' know wha' you have in the way of livin' arrangements, bu' quarters can be provided -- an' I know it's preferred if members live at th' HQ. Meals are provided. Furniture. Medical attention. Uniforms. Any special arrangements, essentially."

Fox listens to her offers and grins again. "Well if all that's provided, what'll I spend me money on, eh?" He nods "If you don't mind, I think a room'd be nice. We can figure out the arrangements for all that later." He smirks "But seriously...'bout all I spend me money on right now is rent an' gas an' food. So I'm gonna' insist on payin' a rent...Or an 'investment fee' if ye'd prefer that term."

Shaking her head, she replies, "No rent. It's free. Trust me, in time, you'll earn it well enough." For a bit, Marrow falls silent, leaning over the front passenger seat to make some arrangements with the driver. Time passes and the van makes its way across the river to Staten Island on the ferry. The van drives for a bit before it pulls into the front lot of what looks to be an old abandoned school of some sort; this is when the bony one finally speaks up again. "Here we are. Th' Brotherhood headquarters. Doesn't look like much on th' outside, bu' we do alrigh'." The van turns off and she slides open the door, carefully maneuvering her way out of the opening, assuming he'll follow once she's clear.

You say "Ah fine then." Fox responds to her speaking about him not paying rent. Fox figures he can always just buy a few extra rations and stick them in the kitchen...Assuming there is one. He rides in silence the rest of the way until Marrow speaks again. He follows her out of the car and stretches a bit from the ride, wincing again only slightly as he does so. He looks up at the building. "Wha' d' you mean it don't look like much? It looks grand." He's not just saying it. Fox didn't have the most privileged childhood."

Marrow cracks her neck as she waits for Fox to depart from the van, then offers a rare smile as he goes on about their headquarters building. "Glad you like it. It's home to quite a few of us," she explains before stalking up toward the doors, boots crunching and scuffling along on some gravel as she does. Yanking open a door, she waves him in, "Well, if you like th' outside, th' inside might be even better. We even have a pool."

Fox smiles as he follows her up the stairs. He takes them two at a time, but moves slow enough that he's actually travelling at a normal pace. "Oh? Good to know. Strength in numbers, eh?" He hears about the pool and laughs. "Well that's just grand. An' no sharks to worry abou' there. Ya know, me grandad was bit off the coast o' Sydney when I was a wee ankle-biter." He steps through the door into the foyer, looking at the stairs going up. "Well, bit bigger in here than I thought."

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Foyer - Brotherhood Headquarters - Staten Island

The foyer is a high-ceilinged and open area. Two rows of glass doors, one after the other, create sort of an antechamber before opening onto the foyer. A set of winding stairs leads up to the second floor; half way up they pause at a landing before turning back the same direction they cam in a space-saving measure.

To the left of the doors in, a set of swinging double doors leads into the main office while a glassed-in lounge area can be seen off to the right, the glass frosted to allow some privacy within. Beside this area, a shallow set of stairs leads down to the annex area. Further along, past the stairs, the area splits off into three halls. One continues straight, leading back towards a set of back doors and another stairwell, while the other two lead off left and right.

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Marrow steps into the foyer from outside behind Fox, rumbling, "Our numbers ain't huge, bu' there are a few of us." Letting the door close behind her, she stalks into the foyer a little more and points out a few places, "Th' office is over there. Tha's where you'll wanna go to make arrangements fer yer room an' uniform when yer ready. Over there's th' infirmary, so remember to get those ribs of yers checked. Lounge is there. More rooms upstairs an' down, an' so on. Livin' quarters are on th' third floor. Tha' pool, if yer inclined to use it, is in th' basement wit' th' gyms." She nods a bit, adding, "An' I'm assumin' by all tha' you mean you've been swimmin' fer a while, then?"

Attrition steps out of the infermery, rubbing his arm. Seems that the man has somehow found a way to hurt himself. He has some bandages visible on his arm and in his other hand he has a bottle of Rum... something which is not likely to have been given to him at the infermery. He blinks as he hears the voices and looks up with a smile ."Marrow! Chicka where have you been....and.. Fox? Is that you?" he asks.. he might not be all sober but he is at least 20 percent sober?

Fox looks around, nodding at each room she points out. "Ah, a gym, eh? grand. Won' have ta go clear across town anymore ta use some bloody weights." He nods back to the office "Now what're the hours there, an' about this uniform...The..." He cuts off as he hears Hugo calling to him. He looks up, slightly surprised. He assumed Attrition to be a human. "Um...Hey there...Er...Ha...Hmm...Harold?" Fox isn't very good with names. He eyes the alcohol. "Ah, see? Good ol' bottle-o. Cures what ales ya, eh, mate?"

Hearing the new but familiar voice, Marrow glances over toward the infirmary and the apparently wounded Attrition. "Hugo?" she questions, correcting Fox in a way. "Wha' th' fuck didja do to yerself?" she asks roughly, eyeing his bandaged arm. Immediately, her gaze flickers to the bottle and an eyebrow shoots upward. "Didn' they give you enough pain killers?" she questions.

Attrition shakes his head. "Didn't give me any on account of the fact that I used Rum before I hurt myself....good thing too. Im working on a new combat style... and well.. its a little too effective." he says with a small nod before he sighs. "Seems they figured if I had it in my system.. would be a problem to give me new pain killers." he nods to Fox. "Hugo but here... call me Attrition. And don't complain about the uniform... looks silly as hell but they can do some neat stuff with it."

Fox shakes his head. "Ah right...Hugo it was. Sorry, mate. But Attrition it is. A bit easier to remember." He eyes Hugo incredulously. "A new fightin' style? Involving turps? Sounds questionable to me, mate." He tips his head toward Marrow "An' for your information, Rum's an excellent painkiller. Drink enough an' the pain goes away...Granted...Then you fall down and create more pain for the next day." He frowns a bit. "Actually, 'bout the uniform...I was gonna ask about how well they could conceal me identity. Don't want the press to get ahold o' me pretty mug an' all that."

For a moment, the bony one remains silent as the pair introduce themselves... again, apparently. Looking at Fox, she points out, "Yeah, rum is a good pain killer... fer some of you bunch." She obviously excludes herself from that 'bunch'. But she adds in a rumble, "Rum, however, also doesn't give me sharp people at trainin'." Shaking her own head, Marrow replies, "Fine, so no pain killers...tonight. Tomorrow, as soon as yer up, get yer ass down here to get a 'scrip." Bossy much? Crossing her arms over her chest, she asks, "So gonna share how th' hell ya hurt yerself an' just how bad it is? Does this mean you'll be out of trainin' fer a while or wha'?" She then adds again to Fox, "Uniforms are custom designed. Come up with a design, take the design to te office an' they'll see wha' they can do. Ya want a mask, add it to th' design."

Attrition shakes his head. "It was pretty light but.... well I had my stuff on so it hurt like all hell. I am trying to figure out how to fight with a chain, figure it should let me do my thing better. And no.. I didn't have much to drink when I did it. No more then my usual." he says with a nod ."But yes ma'm.. .tmorow I get a script." he says with a nod. No use arguing with her. "But neh.. Marrow here dosn't drink much."

Fox looks back to the office again. "Right-o. Think I got a few ideas, been thinkin' stuff up the past few days. I'll drop off an idea, if they need help makin' it, I got some skill in what'll need done." He looks back to Attrition. "A chain, eh? 'lot easier to transport than my weapon o' choice...Speakin' o' which." he glances back a Marrow. "You mention trainin'? Might need to go collect meself a bit o' sand if you want me at top notch." Fox doesn't know about what Attrition says about Marrow not drinking. He seems to recall her drinking just about an entire bottle of whiskey a few nights ago.

Shaking her head, Marrow replies to Hugo, "Maybe ya should start with a shorter chain so ya don' have too much backlash if ya miss. An' fer yer information, I drink. It just doesn' do shit fer me." She then crosses her arms over her chest in a stubborn manner. She then turns her attention back to Fox as he mentions training. "Oh, yeah. I fergot to mention. I'm Combat Marshal around these parts. It's my say, generally, who makes active combat duty or not. Quicksilver's my lieutenant an' can make similar calls, an' Rogue can override either of us, but we're all usually on th' same page. As fer sand, put in th' request to th' office an' they'll get ya however much ya need."

Attrition gives a small nod. "Got cocky... tried too much and I had my stuff on it when it hit my arm. Didn't cut deep b ut the nurse said it messed up my nerve endings so thats why It got bad. "he says before he nods. "Marrow here is the general capitan when it comes to combat. She is good at it too... dare you to try to fight her sometime." he says with a small chuckle before he takes another swig. "Hmm you drink? Well alright you do. But yeah dosn't do shit for her.."

Fox smirks at Marrow. "Well, then. Look forward to trainin' with ya. Was in the military for a while there" he flicks his dog-tags "So I'm hopin' I won't disappoint." He looks a bit shocked as she mentions Rogue. "Rogue, eh? Not a common name...White lock o' hair? Might of met her already. And...Quicksilver?...Quick...Silver?" He ponders that for a moment. "Erm...You know. Speedy bloke the other day...He had silver eyes...Sound like the same guy?" He frowns slightly, they'd left on good terms. Just probably would have been better off if they'd not already fought, probably. "And as for the amount...Well I can hold a couple tons o' sand...So whatever you think you have room for here..." He smiles over at Attrition. "Well Marrow's right you know. I s'pose if we might be called out at any time, maybe gettin' tanked ain't such a good idea, eh?"

Marrow reaches up with one hand and pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment. "Hugo," she nearly whines in that rasping voice. "Don' tell me I'm gonna need someone to run spot-checks on safety precautions on you non-healers," she mutters, then lowers her hand again. But she doesn't get into a lecture, even if one is trying to brew. Sighin' she adds, "Yeah, I drink. Fat lot of good it does me, though. Bu' it gives me somethin' to spend money on an' make me..." She stops abruptly, then clears her throat, deciding not to continue that thought. Looking to Fox, she nods a bit, "Sounds like ya met my lieutenant /an'/ th' boss-lady alrigh'. An' tons of sand migh' not be appropriate here. Fer tha', I suggest going to th' beach in th' wee hours of th' mornin'. Bu' ask th' office an' they'll tell ya wha' they can arrange."

Attrition gives a nod. "No no... I wont do it again. Just was doing pretty well and I got stupid." he says before he looks to Fox. "I don't get tanked till after I get hurt... pretty much imposible for me not to get hurt training though. Even if all I get is an anoying rash." he says with a nod before he looks over to Marrow. "Hmm well...well yeah we could just grab some at the beach if that works."

Fox listens to Marrow talking and raises an eyebrow. Alcohol doesn't do anything for her? What's the fun in that. He nods when he hears that he has already met the other two she mentioned, and chuckles a bit when she talks about training. "Right, didn't think it would be too feasible to pull in that much into the buildin', but I'll try an' see if I can't get a few crates up here. I can move it meself effortlessly enough." He nods over to Attrition. "Yeah, not too far a walk. Just go out an' collect some at some point, I can." He makes a slightly confused look at the mention of a rash, though. Sounds slightly unappealing.

Nodding a bit, Marrow replies to Hugo in a near-grumble, "Good. If you wanna get hardcore wit' tha' shit, make sure someone's wit' you, so if you knock yerself out, someone can at least drag yer sorry ass up to the infirmary." That doesn't stop her from getting hardcore with her own personal training, but that's apparently different. She glances back to Fox and replies, "One way or another, you will be accommodated. So... do you have any questions, Fox?"

Attrition gives a small smile. "Will make sure you are there next time then.. so it can give you a good laugh when I do." he says with a wink before he looks over to Fox and chuckles. "Don't ask about the rash.. its not as bad as it sounds." he says before he pauses a moment then lifts his shirt which shows his fit stomach that looks like it has been in a fight with some sandpaper.

Fox looks around again as the two discuss training safety, then back at Attrition as he shows him his rash. "Erm...Little aloe might clear that up, mate." He nods. "But yeah, not as bad as I'd pictured." He tilts his head toward Marrow. "Actually, just one question...Mind if I crash here tonight? Kind o' late to be ridin' the ferry back." He glances at the office, doubting anyone to be awake at this hour.

Marrow rolls her eyes a bit at Attrition and mutters, "Righ'. I'll be laughin' an' havin' a hoot when ya break somethin' next time. Sure." She's being sarcastic, obviously. She doesn't react much to the sight of the rash, apparently familiar with the side effects of Hugo's powers. "All powers have down sides," she points out to no one in particular. With a shrug, she adds to Fox, "Of course. There's a directory list of wha' rooms are taken. Pick a room not on tha' list an' you shoul' be safe."

Attrition gives a small smirk. "Me and aloe are good good freinds. And this is light. Still it lets me do some nice nice things.... so I don't complain. I think aside from Marrow and Silver and his sis... and the big man of course, I am neigh unstoable." he says with a cocky grin.

Fox nods and looks back to the office once more. "Sounds good to me. Ill check that out before I kip...Well...Guess Id have ta, really." He grins at Marrow and looks back to Attrition. "Right. I look forward to seein’ you in action. Actually..." He looks back to Marrow quickly. "Are there set trainin’ times? Like...Do I repor’ to the gym at said time, or do you jus call us out, or do I jus' head down there when I'm bored or what?"

"Careful, Hugo," Marrow warns lowly. "Gettin' cocky is how ya hurt yerself. An' none of us are indestructible... even if I can handle more damage than th' rest of you." Looking to Fox again, s he nods, adding, "Righ'. I doubt Rogue woul' welcome a stranger walkin' into her room, fer example, so checkin' tha' list is a good idea. As fer trainin', it's mostly as you feel like it, bu' sometimes we'll schedule stuff. Sometimes, I'll point out if I don' see you in trainin' fer a while. You can train alone, wit' someone else, or one of th' three in charge... wha'ever works."

Attrition gives a small nod before she smirks. "Im just playing capitan.. you know that. I know my weaknesses pretty well and while I can take anybody out.... It would mean another month or so in the infermery..and Im pretty sure that Doctor is hitting on me." he says with a loud laugh. "BUt feal free to train with me any time Fox.. im no soldier but I have been in fights."

"Right-o. I train by meself allot, so expect me to come lookin' one of you up." He grins at Hugo. "Might as well expand my training to include others, eh?" He stretches a bit and stifles a yawn. "I should probably hit the sack, I s'pose. Been a long day." He looks back and forth between the two of them. "Anythin' else I should know before I head to bed?""

Unlike Attrition, Marrow is more of a soldier, though not in the same respect as Fox. She's an urban soldier with a lot of street cred, contacts and fight time. She wouldn't be made combat marshal for nothing. Nodding a bit, the bony one finally smiles, replying, "Important to remember our own weaknesses... so tha' we know how to hide them well." Clearing her throat, she looks back at Fox and replies, "I'll warn, fightin' wit' me...I don' pull my punches much. I suggest watchin' me against a dummy before ya come up against me. Tha's yer one warning." Now she grins a bit. "Bu' tha's all fer another day. I'll let ya go make th' arrangements."

Attrition gives a small smile. "When she beats you.. she beats y ou good." he says with a smile before he nods to her. "Hmm well I do try to hide them best I can. But I should sleep so my arm heals up.. night Fox." he says with a nod. "Night Marrow." and while he raises his hand and it looks like he might contemplate blowing a kiss he shifts the hand into an elaborate looking bow instead.

Fox grins at Marrow. "Will do, then. Don't want to end up too roughed up I s'pose." He gives her a sly look. "Granted, ye'd have ta get to me, firs'." He offers a wave to Attrition. "Night mate." And offers a salute/wave to Marrow. He decides to head for the infirmary first to pick up some painkillers before finding a room.

Giving Attrition a bit of a nod, Marrow replies, "'Night. Good man. You know I'd kick yer ass hard enough to force you to spend th' night in th' infirmary if you didn't go and rest." As he looks like he's about to blow her a kiss, she peers at him in a warning fashion, then shakes her head as he bows. "Men," she mutters, as she offers Fox a bit of a nod. "I'll take tha' as a challenge, Fox. Sleep well. I've got a patrol to do," she rumbles as she begins to stalk toward the door."

Current Mood: excited

Mike's Diner - SoHo - Manhattan

The diner is a simple affair. The food here might not be great, but it's not bad, and it's not horribly expensive either. Vinyl booths are set up, back to back, along the plate glass window overlooking the street. Old school jukeboxes are mounted at each table, with a selection of songs (none more recent than the early 1980s, however) available for only a quarter apiece.

Opposite the long window, a formica counter is set up, spinning stools lined up along it. Behind the counter is space available for the waitstaff to wander, and a large blackboard above the passthrough to the kitchen lists off the food available here along with the prices, for those who can't be bothered with the menus offered at each table.

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The diner isn't terribly busy, the dinner rush having ended about twenty minutes ago. The door opens and Fox enters. He's not wearing his usual army gettup, but is instead wearing a button down khaki shirt with the top few buttons undone. A bit of bandaging can be seen beneath his shirt, indicating he may have injured himself recently. He frowns up at the menu for a few moments before the waitress stops by. He smiles at her "Heya darlin' don't ya offer beer at this joint?" His voice carries a strongly Australian accent, but most people mistake him for British. The waitress just laughs at him, assuming him to be flirting.

Rogue is here already, sitting at a booth near the counter, idly playing with her fork so that it clangs repeatedly against the table. As the man enters, she looks up out of an absent sort of curiosity. When he tries to order a beer, she arches an eyebrow and lets out a bit of a snort. And then she gets a little over-enthusiastic with her fork and accidentally catapults her knife right off the edge of the table with a clatter.

Fox gives the waitress an annoyed look and tries to get her to shut up as she prattles on about some friend of hers that...Oh he doesn't care right now. He raises his voice a touch. "Would ye shut yer bloody trap, miss?" There is the clatter of a knife hitting the floor which causes Fox to turn around, assuming that his mild outburst caused the knife tossing. He looks to the girl at the table and smirks a bit, jutting his thumb at the fuming waitress and shaking his head. He turns back to the waitress, holding up his hand to silence her. "Look, sweet-pea, just get me a coffee. Spit in it and I'll have yer head, got it?" She just glares at him as he stands up and heads toward Rogue's table. He bends down and picks up the knife. "Drop this, miss?"

"Thanks," Rogue replies, reaching out to deftly pluck the knife while keeping her own glove-covered hand as far from his where he holds it, but doing so with such practice as to make it seem just a little off. "You got a real way with the ladies," she adds with a bit of a smirk, nodding her head towards the counter. "Ah dunno if Ah'd trust that coffee to be entirely spittle-free." Her voice is rich with its own accent, hers Southern in nature. But for all her drawling about the plight of the waitress, she can't be said to care overly much.

Fox chuckles a bit as she takes the knife with extreme care. "Aw now miss, I don't bite." He turns to look at the waitress again, realizing she's right next to him. She slams a coffee cup down and pours him a mug. "Asshole" is all she mutters as she turns and walks away. Fox smirks at the girl "Aw thank ya, miss. Have a grand day." He looks back down at his mug, which the waitress has placed on Rogue's table. "Erm...Mind if I have a seat, miss?"

"That ain't what Ah'm worried about," Rogue replies simply and slightly mysteriously, but then she just watches with vague amusement as the waitress storms about getting the man his coffee. She considers his question for a moment before shrugging and just waving a gloved hand towards the empty side of the booth. "Maybe Ah'll pick up some of your tricks on how to win friends and influence people."

Fox sits down, staring incredulously at his coffee. "Ah yeah, I'm a real charmer." He grins at her. His lower lip is slightly swollen. Add that to his bandaged chest, and one would probably correctly assume that he was in a fight recently. Fox decides that his coffee is probably not poisoned and adds a bit of sugar before taking a swig. "Ah, how refreshing." He sounds a little sarcastic. "I mean honestly. Why don't you Yanks offer beer at places like this? What if I wanted some grog with me..." He glances at the menu quickly "With me eggs n' toast?"

"Watch who you're callin' a yank there, Jeeves," Rogue warns lightly as she brushes a white strand back from her face. Giving up playing with her cutlery, she instead stirs the straw in her soda absently. "As for why there ain't no beer, well, 'fraid some folks never quite got over prohibition, Ah guess. Ah'm sure it's hard to get through a plate of eggs without alcohol, but Ah reckon you'll make it alive." Her gaze flickers keenly over him, no doubt taking in those badges of honour from the recent fight, but she says nothing, just allows her lingering look to speak for her there.

Fox chuckles. "Sorry there, miss. Assumed you was from the states." He makes a slightly confused face. "Jeeves, eh? Naw, me name's Fox." He takes another draught of coffee, noticing that Rogue is looking at his face. He runs his hand across his mouth, checking to see if he had food stuck in his facial hair or something. His feels his swollen lip and chuckles a bit. "Ah, yer noticed me mug, eh?" He shakes his head. "Got into a bit of a scrap last night. Some speedy little bastard. Got in a few punches 'fore I knew he was comin'." He shrugs. That wasn't quite the whole story...but it's all she needs to know.

"Ah'm from the South," Rogue half-explains, putting particular significance on that Southerness. "If you're gonna call me a yank, Ah'm gonna call you Jeeves. Otherwise, my name's Rogue." And if there's any recognition of that being a strange name for a young lady, she doesn't even pause to show it. As he explains the fight, she just nods knowingly - until, that is, he gets to the 'speedy' part. That gets an arched eyebrow before she shakes it off. "Speedy, huh? Well, can't say Ah don't know what that's like."

Fox nods, rubbing his face a little still. "Ah, Rogue then. Nice ta meet ya." To him, Rogue seems like a slightly odd name, but then again, he is from Australia. Perhaps naming your children odd adjectives is all the rage in America. And apparently the south is not in America? Fox is mildly confused, but decides just to sip his coffee as the girl talks. He makes a contemplative face as she mentions that she knows what it's like. He sniggers a bit at this "Oh no miss, he was really quite fast...Er maybe I was just really too slow. The OTHER place actually HAD beer." He shoots the waitress a nasty look as he says this, though she is not paying attention to him in the least.

Rogue's eyes narrow with a slight sort of suspicion now as Fox insists the other man's speed. "Like ... unnaturally fast? That sorta fast?" she inquires, seeming to be going somewhere or at least drawing some sort of conclusion awfully quickly. "And by other place, you mean a bar? Or did you actually find a diner that served beer?" She leaves off stirring her straw to sit back in her seat, watching Fox expectantly. "Maybe you were just drunk," she suggests helpfully, as to why he was too slow.

Fox shakes his head and contemplates how to answer these questions, deciding to answer the second first. "Naw, 'twas a bar. If I found a place that served eggs n' beer I'd never leave." He smirks and looks the girl over, hesitating before answering the first question about the boy's speed. "And erm...Yeah, actually I was probably a bit tanked by then." Something about his answer is unconvincing. He avoids eyecontact with Rogue and drinks a bit more of his coffee.

"You're a shitty liar," Rogue states flatly, as she watches Fox unwaveringly. "So the guy, he /was/ fast," she concludes, beginning to look a little, well, annoyed. "The hell were you two fightin' about anyway?" she asks as she fixes Fox with that unflinching stare, just enough threat to her expression to suggest she expects to hear the truth on this one. "Lemme guess: somethin' stupid?"

Fox gags a bit as he inhales some of his coffee, caught a bit off-guard by Rogue's reaction. He wipes a bit of coffee off his chin and narrows his eyes at the girl. She was asking allot of questions about this boy, and it sounded almost as if she knew who Fox was talking about. He leans forward slightly, studying her expression. "What's it ta you, miss? And why'zit matter how fast tha' bloke was, eh?" He fixes her with an equally intimidating stare.

Rogue doesn't quail in the slightest as Fox fixes her with that stare, just arches an eyebrow slightly as if to express skepticism. "Let's just assume it matters," she replies simply, studying him as he studies her. "And while we're at it, let's assume it's somethin' to me. You got beat up by someone uncannily fast, and for whatever reason, it's somethin' to me. Now Ah'm wonderin' what it was you were fightin' about."

Fox stares at Rogue for a few minutes longer, trying to decide what to tell her. "Well..." He looks around the dinor, making sure no one is within earshot, but still decides a vague answer is best. He leans back a bit, to his previous relaxed position, smirking a bit at the girl. "Let's just say...I mistook him for somethi...er...someONE he wasn't." He takes a long swig of his coffee. "An' once I realized who he was, things were just peachy." He watches her closely, wondering whether she'll accept that answer. "An' again...I never said he was luncannily fast.l" He makes little air quotes.

"Right, right, your ass is covered, whatever," Rogue dismisses his air quotes without much concern. "You /mistook/ him for something. Which means he wasn't that. Which means either Ah'm barkin' up the wrong tree, or you were ... lookin' for something most people ain't." She can also play at the vague game, and she plays to win. She meets his gaze levelly, at any rate, studying him right back in turn. It's like a very intense poker game or something.

Fox shakes his head, swallowing the last of his coffee before answering. "Actually I said he was someONE I thought he wasn't." He stares right back at her. Interestingly, no one seems to be paying attention to their odd little staring contest. "But hypothetically, let's say I was lookin' for someth...someone who this bloke turned out to not be. Who says I was lookin' for someone that was out o' the ordinary. If I mistook someone for somethin' they turned out not to be, and what they turned out not to be was, in fact, not a normal person, then was I in fact looking for someone who is not what most people are in the first place?" He wonders if that was clear...or just severely confusing to Rogue.

"Ah never meant that you were lookin' for someone outta the ordinary for sure. Ah meant that either you were lookin' for somethin' most people don't go lookin' for. But to cut short the bullshit, either this guy's outta the ordinary, or Ah was thinkin' of the wrong someone," Rogue replies, apparently managing to at least figure out where that was supposed to be going. "But you already didn't not say that he was uncannily fast. Guess that means you were lookin' for somethin' - or someone - who weren't."

Fox plays with his empty coffee cup a bit, contemplating what she just said. "Well..." She was thinking of someone. "This would indicate that you know someone who is 'uncannily fast', yourself..." He narrows his eyes again, looking at her white lock of hair as though trying to decide something. "But what was I lookin' for? Just a bit o' fun is all...From someone decidedly slower than the one I ended up with." He nods. "And like I said, once I realised he wasn't what I were lookin' for, things cooled down a bit."

"And so what if Ah do?" Rogue asks challengingly, her expression still unwavering, but she can't help subconsciously tucking that lock of white hair back behind her ear again as she sees him eyeing it. "But if we're talkin' in hypotheticals, let's say Ah do know someone fast, and this someone is also exactly the sorta someone to end up in a barroom brawl over somethin' stupid. And maybe Ah'm gonna hafta kill him 'cause he should know better than that." Seems she's pretty much made up her mind as to who it was. Her eyebrow arches again. "A bit of fun? Ah don't get it."

Well, Fox has to admit that she seems to describe the guy pretty much as Fox remembers him. He smirks slightly, deciding a name couldn't hurt. "Well...It wasn't exactly in a public place. This was after I got out of the bar. He seemed a bit too young to be enterin' a pub. He looked abou'" He looks Rogue up and down quickly "Well he looked to be abou' your age anyway." He nods. "And let's hypothetically..." He stops for a moment. "HYPOTHETICALLY call him Sid." He eyes her again. "And my idea of fun is...Well...Involves." He looks around again. "Its complicated." As an afterthought, he adds "But I kind o' deserved to get socked around a bit, I s'pose." Just in case she does know the boy, and just in case she does have homocidal tendencies.

"Sid, huh?" Rogue replies, smirking and rolling her eyes heavenward. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Hope you didn't tell /him/ he looked too young to be in a bar." Then again, she knows it ended in fisticuffs, so how much worse could it have become? "Complicated? That don't really explain much at all. But Ah guess you don't owe me any explanation. Sounds like Ah was right 'bout it bein' a stupid reason you two were fightin'. Though Ah can't say that Ah don't relate. Whatever you might have deserved."

Fox chuckles and pretends to be interested in the drying contents of his mug. "Actually...I may have called him...Um...A scrawny little kid or something. " He chuckles again. "Granted...I kind of expected him to...not beat the bejeezus out of me." Upon realizing that Rogue seems to know 'Sid', and realizing that she knows about his speed issues and seems not to care, he decides to elaborate slightly on his 'complication'. "Well...my fun sometimes involves...Picking on people assume to be unworthy. I just made a mistake this time. Thought he was...a less advanced individual." He flashes her a grin.

"Oh Christ, you're lucky you can still walk upright," Rogue says, shaking her head a little. "Ah guess maybe you did kinda have it comin'," she allows readily. "You really /do/ got a way with people, doncha." She listens to his explanation, that eyebrow lifting again as she considers this. "Huh," is all she says for a moment. "So you're ... advanced? Or just one of those self-hatin' sorts?" She doesn't seem too concerned about him picking on people, though she also doesn't exactly chime in to agree either.

Fox chuckles again. "Well, I didn't exactly walk away untouched." He rubs his chest a little and upon hearing her question as to whether or not he's 'advanced' he makes a quick decision. He reaches over tentatively and knocks over the salt shaker spilling a bit of it on the table. He looks around a bit, nonchalantly. Pretending to stretch as he does so, though this just causes him to wince a bit from his injuries. Deciding the coast is clear, he leans forward again, holding his hand out over the salt grains. The salt begins to move around a bit, not much, just enough to be noticeable. He doesn't want to do anything that may look too odd to anyone who might happen to look over. "You might say I'm a bit 'advanced'." He stops swirling the salt and throws a bit over his shoulder, grinning at Rogue.

"Yeah, well, Ah think you mighta got off light, considerin'," Rogue replies with a shrug, though this seems to be more an observation than an opinion that he should have been hurt worse for it. She sits back again, watching his demonstration impassively, though her eyebrows do lift a bit at the end. "Just a bit, huh?" She studies him a moment, before, without breaking eye contact, picking up her Coke to have a drink. "Ah guess Ah can see how you two mighta hit it off after things were made clear and all."

Fox 's grin widens a bit. "Yeah, well I can take care o' meself. If I'd been expectin' him to move that fast, I'm sure things would have ended differently...Or rather...Wouldn't have escalated in the firs' place." He scratches the back of his head. "An'...Actually I think I may have confused the bloke." He brushes his chest a bit with his hand. "Used to a few bangs an' bruises here an' there. I think he wasn't expectin' me to be ok with the fact that he cracked me ribs." Fox shrugs and brushes his hand across the table, sending the remaining salt to the floor, though without the use of his powers this time.

"Ah dunno. He's pretty wily," Rogue says simply, though she does seem to have a certain degree of faith in this unnamed person's fighting ability. "Sounds to me like you both were confused. Suppose it's just as well you figured a way to work it out. Ah'm sure the last thing you need is to get outed over a stupid bar fight. And Ah /know/ that's the last thing he needs." Because then she'd have to kill him, and that would be awful inconvenient.

Fox nods agreeably, "I s'pose that would have turned out badly...Though I try to make sure no one's within eyeshot of me when I go all cranky...Usually." Granted he did just display his powers to a stranger. Though she seemed fine with mutants and it was such a small display of his powers that no one nearby could have feasibly realizes what he was doing. He raises his eyebrow a bit at the way she speaks about 'Sid'. Fox chuckles a bit awkwardly. "Well...Like I said, was kind o' my fault there. Don't go castratin' the poor boy on my account, eh?"

"You wanna pick fights with folks, that's your business. But you might wanna be careful there. People round here are just sorta lookin' for an excuse to lynch someone unusual-like. You gotta be smart about it," Rogue advises, leaning in a bit and dropping her voice a little. As to Sid's plight, she just sits back with a shrug. "Ah ain't decided how Ah'm gonna deal with him yet, but you can rest assured he'll get what he deserves and deserve what he gets. But it's good of you to step up like that, anyway."

Fox nods a bit, hoping Sid wont come hunting him down for making his friend or sister or wife angry. He smirks at the girl. "Oh I'll keep that in mind...The bein' careful part anyway." He shakes his head. "I tend to...only do that when I get in a bad mood." He looks a bit shifty. "I'd been reading some o the old newsies from 'round here and was a bit pissed off, honestly." He offers a weak smile.

"Well, Ah wouldn't know nothin' 'bout bad moods, clearly," Rogue states wryly. "Can't say Ah blame you for bein' pissed off. Just, y'know, make sure'n pick your battles and all. And maybe try'n not attack someone who ain't who or what you're expectin'," she adds with a smirk, taking another sip of her Coke and then rattling the ice cubes a bit. "Then again, Ah sorta gotta be careful as a matter of course," she allows with a shrug, flexing a gloved hand as she sets the glass back down.

Fox chuckles slightly. "Well, next time I cross someone, I'll make sure they deserve it...rather than just assuming they do." He notices her flexing her hand as she mentions her own need to be careful and inquires, "Oh, 'sat so, eh?" Come to think of it, it is a bit warm to be wearing gloves, but fox is wearing a pair himself. Maybe she's a biker or something.

"That sounds like a wise plan," Rogue comments with a bit of a smirk, shaking the glass again before slurping up the last bit of Coke and melted ice. "Yep," she replies simply to his question, her expression now gone inscrutable. "And Ah should probably be gettin' back. No rest for the wicked and all that." She digs in her pocket and comes up with a crumpled bill and a few loose coins, enough to cover her drink and a very modest tip.

Fox nods, accepting her answer and inquiring no further. He looks over at the window and notices that it's getting a bit dark. "Right-o, miss. 'spose I should head out, too." He digs out some change from his own pocket, pulling out just enough for the coffee and no tip. Like that waitress deserved anything more than a slap in the face. He stands. "Well, 'twas nice ter meet ya, miss. Try not to kill Sid, eh?"

"Probably not this time around, but Ah make no promises," Rogue states simply, as to whether or not she's going to kill dear Sid. Her tone is light but she's not entirely joking either. "Take care now," she bids as she rises from the table, and tossing off a quick wave, heads for the door.

Fox stretches and turns to head out as well...But not before shooting the waitress a venomous look.  He doubts he'll come back to this place. Fox decides maybe a beer is in order.

Current Mood: cranky

Alleyway - Clinton - Manhattan

         Heavily littered with newspapers, knocked over garbage cans and other unidentifiable pieces of refuse, this alleyway cuts a narrow pathway between two of the older buildings in the neighborhood. It is dimly lit because of the close proximity of the two buildings and comes to an abrupt end at a brick wall. A couple of doorways dot the crumbling brick walls but otherwise, there is little sign of life down here with the exception of the occasional rat scurries across from one pile of garbage to another.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The hustle and bustle of the street are somewhat muted in this alley. Though it is still a bit light out, the sun has lowered beyond the buildings enough that darkness has begun to creep through the passage to the extent that the far end can no longer be easily seen. Fox has discovered that people try to avoid it if they can. Well, most people do, anyway. That is precisely why he has decided to wander down this way today. He looks around a bit, he'd been in here before, but had never gone all the way through. He tended to meet some pretty interesting people in alleys and decided it might be a good place to look for one of his acquaintances. He reaches the end of the lane and frowns, looking up at a wall that forms the dead end of this alley. He kicks a bit of trash and turns, leaning against the wall and lighting a cigarette.

It's been a while since Pietro lived in the squalor of New York's streets and gutters but that doesn't mean that he has relinquished his knowledge of them. The winding paths of alleyways and back streets offer valuable shortcuts for those who aren't particularly afraid of what lurks in the City's less tourist-friendly areas, after all. He ducks into the alleyway, long legs carrying him away with quick, broad strides in the general direction of the rusted door of one of the buildings and, of course, the dead end beyond. He doesn't seem to notice Fox at first -- in fact, he might have remained oblivious had the man not lit up his cigarette. As it is, the pale-haired boy pauses before the door, squinting slightly to see down the dim alleyway. "Hey," he starts in a thick (but perhaps difficult to place) accent, "can I bum one, man?"

Fox looks up slightly, squinting out into the alley for the voice which has floated forth from the darkness. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, exhaling a cloud of smoke. Walking forward, he pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "Sure thing, mate." His voice carries a distinctly Australian accent, though he is frequently mistaken as British. Fox sees the young man not too far down the alley and approaches slowly, holding up the pack and tossing towards the boy when he feels he is close enough to do so.

Almost before Fox has finished answering Pietro is on his way down to meet him. The Austrailian accent gets a moment's consideration -- after all, he hasn't met too many Aussies in his time -- but he doesn't remark on it just yet. Instead he stops for a beat to catch the pack when it's tossed out to him, wasting no time in plucking out a cig and placing between his lips as his other hand dives into his pocket for the lighter. "Thanks, he says after he takes a long drag. "Here." He takes a moment to look over the other man before he lobs the pack back over. "So you lost or somethin'?" His tone says he's figuring that Fox isn't but nevertheless there's a hint of curiosity lingering there.

Fox quickly looks the boy over before replacing his cigarette in his mouth and catching the pack as it sails back toward him. "Yeah...er no. I ain't lost mate." He ashes on the ground. "Just takin a peak aroun'. Seein' if any o' me mates are nearby." He casually glances past Pietro, but still sees no one approaching through the darkness. His gaze moves back to Pietro. "What of you? Odd time to be wanderin' the alleys alone, ya think?" He doesn't mean to sound rude or threatening, though that last sentence could easily be misinterpreted as such, especially after mentioning that the kind of people he tends to hang out with apparently spend allot of time lurking around dark alleys.

Pietro shrugs his shoulders and slips his lighter back into his pocket. "Like it's not a weird time for /you/ t' be hangin' around here?" He pauses to take another long drag, seeming to particularly relish it as he inhales the smoke. "Anyway, I don't need somebody t' hold my hand through the dark fuckin' alleyways, trust me." He doesn't necessarily sound angry but it's clear enough that he probably misinterpreted the question a little. "So you usually meet your friends in random dead end alleyways?" He doesn't seem able to decide whether to be amused or curious about that so he settles on a combination of the two.

Fox quirks an eyebrow and laughs as the boy retorts his question. He shakes his head. "I s'pose, maybe it's odd fer me as well. Though I'm no' a kiddo, like yerself." Fox figures that Pietro is probably about ten years younger than himself. He takes a puff of his cigarette, noting that the boy seems to be rather pleased to have a smoke. Perhaps he just hadn't had one in a while. Fox tended to get a bit pissy if he went a while without one. He responds to the second question after a short hesitation. "Kid, The kinds of people I hang out with aren't exactly the type to go prancing down the street in a Sunday dress." He smirks, ashing again.

"I dunno who you think you're talkin' to, man. I'm no kid." If Fox is a particularly keen observer he might note that the pace of Pietro's words picked up a little, bolting ahead ever so briefly in tandem with a flash of annoyance before settling back into his normal -- if already slightly accelerated -- speech pattern. Perhaps the young man gets a bit pissy as well after a nicotine drought... Or perhaps it's just a more permanent element of his charming personality. "And hey, even the chicks I hang around wouldn't touch a fuckin' party dress," Well, perhaps one but that's beside the point, "so 's not like I'm all delicate in contrast or somethin'" He ashes a bit on a little pile of trash slumped up against one of the bordering buildings.

Fox nods and grins. "Yeah, I s'pose not." He notes the boy's apparel, not exactly the upper crust of society. He shakes his head. "I just doubt it's quite the same." He spits at the ground and looks back at Pietro with a smirk on his face. "Well then mate. If I can't call ya kid, what should I call ya? Whitey, perhaps? Maybe Frosty?" He gestures with his cigarette toward the boys hair. Fox figures that it might piss the kid off but Fox, being a big buff military man, figures he can handle the kid if he gets too rowdy. He laughs after a moment, which may lead some to rightly assume that he is perhaps a bit tipsy at the moment.

"Sure, whatever," Pietro mutters, giving Fox an apathetic wave of his cigarette to their situations not being quite the same. His indifference doesn't last long however before -- predictably -- those cracks about his hair prick his temper again. "Hey, fuck off. Does that mean I can call you the fuckin' Crocodile Hunter?" He flicks the cigarette again to ash, a bit more aggressively this time, and a few embers flutter down to the concrete as well. Well, at least he identified the accent correctly? Though there's no telling whether it was his first guess.

Fox laughs again. "Aw nah, nah. I don't hunt no crocs, though nice of you to guess correctly. Most Yanks tend to think I'm a Brit or some shit." He takes a quick look around the alley taking note of a few burned trashcans and the general filth of the alley. Not that he'll need to do anything drastic, he just likes to be prepared if the need should arise. He looks back to Pietro, suddenly serious. "But seriously, don't go makin' no cracks on Steve, he was a damn hero, he was. You can call me Fox...'cause er...well tha's me name." He takes a quick puff and flicks the remainder of his cigarette at the ground. "Though come to think of it, yer voice don't sound like a normal Yank's. What is that? Soviet?"

"Yeah, well I'm not a Yank, am I?" Pietro doesn't fail to notice that Fox is glancing about the alley now and he follows suite, just in case there's something about their surroundings that he hasn't picked up on. "Steve? ... Oh, right." That throws him off slightly which is probably a good thing since it also derails his temper for the moment. He sizes up the older man as he goes on, considering the name as it's given. He takes another long drag, ashes again and cocks his head to spit into the pile of garbage. "The accent's the same as me: fucked up," he quips. He's not exactly lying: it's definitely European in origin but he's been in New York long enough to have the local flavour superimposed awkwardly upon the original cadence. He takes a final draw from the cig, seeming to consider Fox -- or perhaps more appropriately, to consider how much he really cares to reveal to him -- before adding simply, gruffly: "Came from Romania. Long time ago."

Fox nods and quirks a brow. "Romania, eh? Tha's interestin'." He says nothing further about that, but in reference to the kid's 'being fucked up' he responds "I'm sure it can't be that bad, kid. Everyone thinks they're...er... 'fucked up'." He makes little air quotes. Fox shrugs "'Least, most people I tend to meet." He looks the boy over again, he seems average enough, and appears slightly less angry. "An' trust me mate, yer not the most rooted person I've met." Granted, Fox is basing all of this off Pietro's appearance and demeanour.

Pietro arches an eyebrow to match Fox's but as the man goes on he just flicks his cig away down the alley and falls back to lean against the grimy wall behind him. "You're sure it can't be that bad?" His tone hardens a touch. "That's nice. What'd be even better'd be if you knew what the hell you were talkin' about... What the fuck's that even supposed to mean, exactly? 'Most rooted person'." He snorts derisively. "Maybe everyone you know thinks they're fucked up 'cause they really are. 'S pretty much the way it's worked out for me." Whatever else can be said for the youth, he's flush on one thing at least: cynicism. "What's your deal, anyway? Just like to play Outback Psychologist or somethin'?"

Fox says "Rooted? Means fucked." And he shakes his head, no longer smiling. "An' the people I meet tend not to be fucked up. Everyone else seems to think they are, an' as a result, they think themselves to be." He spits again. "An' my 'deal', I guess, is that I don't like people thinkin' their life's so hard when it perhaps ain't so. " He shakes his head. "An' I mean" he gestures to Pietro "an angsty teen wanderin' the streets? Not really that uncommon." Fox doesn't know why he's acting this way. Maybe he's just bored. It's still a little early for his acquaintances to be out, might as well kill some time and annoy this kid at the same time."

"Oh," is about all that Pietro says as Fox explains his meaning. He crosses his arms over his chest and adjusts his stance against the wall to lean the brunt of his weight at his shoulders. Though he's clearly listening to the little spiel about who is and isn't 'fucked up' he looks patently unimpressed. "Yeah well you don't know the first goddamned thing about my life. 'S none of your business and you've got some fuckin' balls to tell me whether or not you think it's it's hard to be me." He shrugs again but the motion is accelerated, making it look a bit more like a random jerk than a proper shrug. "And anyway, I never said my life's hard. I just said I'm fucked up. Never even said that's a bad thing." Even if being 'fucked up' so is generally considered to be a bad thing by the populace at large.

Fox notices the boys spasm and makes a mildly confused face. He decides it's probably nothing and leans against the opposite wall of the alley. "Really now?" He looks the boy up and down, giving him a patronizing look. A faint ghost of a smile quirks up on his face. "An' how's it 'fucked up', then, eh mate?" He makes some more air quotes, deciding that picking on this kid is one of the more fun things he's done in a while? "You wear some grubby clothes, decided to take up smoking, get a few piercings?" He shakes his head, ignoring the fact that he has piercings himself and the fact that he gave Pietro the cigarette in the first place. "Please. You people are all the same." He says the word 'people' with some contempt and starts talking in a fake child voice "Life's too bloody hard. I'm fucked up because I'm not happy." He shakes his head, returning to his normal voice again. "You don' know nothin' about nothin' kid."

Fox's confused expression gets another brow quirk; after all, as far as Pietro is concerned he just gave a normal shrug. It probably hasn't dawned on him that he's done anything out of the ordinary at all yet. "Like I said, /mate/, 's none of your goddamned business." He straightens up but remains against the wall, glaring daggers over at the Australian man now. Things kick up a notch at the 'you people' comment, though, and suddenly he's more than annoyed, he's practically fuming. "'You-/people/'??" Even after he realizes what sort of 'you people' are being referred to -- which really isn't much better than what he'd originally assumed -- he doesn't show much sign of cooling off. "I don't know nothin', huh? I'd watch my fuckin' mouth if I was you. You-dunno-what-kind-of-fuckin'-people-I-am," he growls, fighting a loosing battle to reign in the speed of his words. "And if you keep running your mouth, I-might-haveta-show-you."

Fox can't help but laugh...in a rather loud and annoying manner. "Oh my. Ye'v got quite a mouth on ya', there mate." He laughs some more, slapping his knee. "Holy dooley you talk fast you little bugger." He calms his chuckles and smirks at the boy, puffing out his muscular chest. "An' wha's that s'post to mean, eh?" He gives the kid another patronizing look. "I mean really, what's a scrawny little ankle-biter like yerself gonna do agin' me, eh?" Fox eyes the kid defiantly, getting a rush out of picking on the kid. Not that it's the nicest thing he's ever done...But he's bored...and the kid IS kind of getting on his nerves. He was just talking about this the other day, and decides to reiterate for Pietro. "The roo taunts the dingo, the roo gets eaten, natural selection." It's a severely odd thing to say. Few people are likely to interpret it properly.

"I-don't-need-a-lesson-on-natural-selection-from-some-cocky-fuckin'-koala-bear-bastard," Pietro barks. It might be a little difficult to discern what he's saying at times what with the way the words are flying out of his mouth now. The look that he gives the man is no less defiant than the one he's getting and he spits a little on the ground between them. "I-ain't-as-patient-as-I-used-to-be-so-you-can-stop-wastin'-my-time." He's definitely not liking the obvious enjoyment in the other man's manner. Not one bit. He narrows his silver eyes dangerously, gritting out, "You-really-wanna-see-what-this-scrawny-little-kid's-gonna-do-to-you? How's-this-for-natural-fuckin'-selection?" Pietro's true to his word, at least insofar as not being patient. It seems he's had enough; it's high time he wipes that smirk off of the Aussie's face. What happens next might be unexpected. One moment he's leaning there against the wall and the next there's a blur of motion sprinting across the alleyway. Unless Fox does something to block or otherwise throw matters off course he'll find a few well-aimed punches in quick succession: a pair at his stomach, one squarely on his jaw and one more, a bit wilder but set to land somewhere in the general vicinity of his ribcage.

You say "Oh my, are..." Whatever he was saying is cut off immediately as he is attacked, he receives all punches. Two to the stomach, one to the jaw, and another under his left pec. As he is attacked, something strange begins to happen. Ash, soot, and dust in the alley begins to move toward the two, but stops as the attack ends. He doubles over, coughing a bit at the extremely unexpected attack...Not that he didn't expect an attack, just that he didn't expect it to happen so quickly. "Yowzer!" he yells out, feeling his jaw with one hand as his other arm wraps around his midsection. He looks up at the boy, but he no longer looks smug or angry, in fact, he now smiles warmly. "Why you ain't no roo at all... Yer a dingo...Just like me. 'f I'd a known that, I would've been a bit friendlier..." He stands up, wincing a bit. Fox suspects he has a cracked rib. He looks at the hand he'd had on his jaw, pulling it away to discover blood from a busted lip. He backs up a bit and holds out his hands in front of him. The spectacle that unfolds is reminiscent of animations depicting how stars are born, dust swirling inward and condensing into a central sphere. The dust ball continues to grow, it is currently about ten pounds, having gained a large amount of ash from a nearby trash bin. "I assumed you were unworthy, didn't realize you were like me...brother.""

Needless to say Pietro is a little preoccupied to note the particles beginning to move toward the pair. At first it seems as though he might go for Fox again, that this little pause is just that and he hasn't finished pounding out his frustrations, but he stills himself for now and just keeps an eagle's watch on the man, almost daring him to retaliate. When he's met with a smile, however, he narrows his eyes suspiciously, not quite ready to relinquish his anger. That slowly changes as the man speaks; by the time he replies there's still heat in his tone but it's that of embers instead of flames at least. "What the fuck's a din--" He cuts himself short, sufficiently distracted by the strange sight of the dust ball morphing into existence before him. "Huh..." He watches it for another second or two; his eyes catch a bit of light from overhead as he flicks their focus between the ball and the man controlling it. "I told you you didn't know what kinda people I was, man." He seems slightly at a loss at the 'brother' moniker -- he doesn't deny it but neither does he reciprocate it, seeming at odds with the remains of his faded annoyance for a moment before he simply nods. "So now I'm not just a scrawny kid, am I?"

The dust ball sinks slowly to the ground and becomes a dust pile, though bits of soot and ash continue to stream into it from the ground. Fox doesn't plan on using it, but he'd rather not receive another pummelling quite yet. He grins, shaking his head. "Naw, you ain't no scrawny kid, strewth." He nods, noting the boys eyes. "Thought you were some common alley rat, didn't realize you was an evolved individual. Like I said, wouldn't try an' piss you off if I didn't think you were unworthy." He winces again at his ribs...He should probably bind his chest soon.

For his part Pietro doesn't seem in the mood to start swinging again -- though that's not to say that he won't if he feels it's necessitated. To that effect, he nods a bit and relaxes his shoulders. "Well... Right. Whatever," seems to signal acceptance of the explanation. "Just be careful who you piss off, I guess... You, uh, okay, man?" That last bit comes out somewhat awkwardly. After all, he's not generally in the practice of beating on people and then checking to ensure that they're still fine. But for what it's worth, he seems to be pretty sincere in the question.

Fox chuckles and wipes a bit of blood from his lip again. "Hey, no worries, mate. Im sure I can patch meself up fine and dandy." He shrugs and grins a bit. "Yeah, maybe I should just be sure they're human before I try an' piss 'em off, eh?" He shakes his head. "Too much fun...unless they turn out to be a mute and decide to crack yer ribs...But...I guess I deserved it." He shrugs again, turning and looking toward the exit to the alley. "Suppose I should go get some whiskey and wrap meself up, eh?"

"Right," Pietro says curtly, though he offers a slight smile as Fox seems rather light-hearted about all this now that he knows they're both mutants. "Eh. Or just make sure you can block better'n that. Can't fault you for fuckin' with the norms, though. 'S too much fun sometimes." Of course, it's not fun at all when he's on the receiving end of things. "But you did deserve it. Fuckin' koala bastard." He offers a little laugh to that, though. "You, uh, gonna be alright t' go? 'Cause I guess it'd be kinda fucked up if I left ya and you keeled over on me or somethin'."

Fox laughs light heartedly. "Yeah, I mean, they pick on us enough, might as well give them something to complain about. And 'long as I don't run into another speedster like yerself, I should be fine." He shakes his head when Pietro asks if he's going to die or something. "Naw. No worries, mate. I've had worse than this." He points a thumb at his chest. "I'll be fine, just need some booze is all." He heads toward the alley exit with an arm still wrapped around his chest. "He does a wave-salute-point thing toward Pietro as he passes by. "See ya 'round, mate."

"Well, don't think there's a lot like me around here so you're probably safe on that," Pietro replies with a smirk to the prospect of Fox running into another speedster. "Alright then. Tank up..." He gives a little up-nod as the other man passes, apparently satisfied by the assurances that he's fine -- that's that and he's certainly not going to follow him out if Fox says he's fine. "Catch ya later... And, uh, just call me Sid."

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