2013.07.23 - Forget Me Now

It's 10:00 am, and Shift is still drunk.
Sometimes, Kwabena Odame wields a finesse that would make others jealous. Then, there are times where, for lack of a better term, he's just plain reckless. He's no telepath, and the last thing he wanted to do was to put even more demand on Jean Grey, should she agree to his wild plan to infiltrate the Brotherhood of Mutants. And so, as soon as he'd departed from the SHIELD Helicarrier, he'd come straight to Mutant Town and wasted no time getting started.
"Annnnodah."
"Damnit, Shift." The bartender, a fellow with four arms and a wicked case of pimples, comes sliding over toward the drunk African with a scowl on his face. "I'm afraid if I give you any more, you're gonna die on me here."
"I haven' had anything since... ssincce... ssev.."
"Since seven, yeah," answers the bartender. "And I told you it was gonna stay that way!"
Kwabena slams his fist onto the bar with ferocity, causing a few nearby bottles and glasses to hop into the air. Fortunately, nothing spills. "Give me anoddah!" he shouts.
The crackling of his skin is all the bartender needs. Reluctantly, and with a heavy sigh, he moves off to gather up another glass, and begins pouring some whiskey from the top shelf.
Mutant Town was not something that Roy Harper was used to. Although he'd worked with mutants long enough, it was certainly a -different- place from where he'd been. 
One thing that remained constant all over, though, were seedy bars, and this, Roy didn't really feel out of place as. 
As he approaches the bar and catches the conversation, the man smirks. And just as the drink is placed in front of Kwabena, Roy reaches out, takes it, and takes a hearty swig. "Ahhh. Hey, Kwa," he greets, as he takes a seat next to the smoky mutant. "You've had enough, man," he comments, keeping the freshly ordered whiskey for himself. "Keep it up, and you'll find yourself missing a kidney the next morning." 
It takes a few moments for Kwabena to register who had joined him, but that was the point. He stares at Roy for a few moments, then blinks drunkenly and sneers. "Shit," he curses, and eyeballs the drink that was stolen from him. "Dat's the point," he drawls. "I'm... trying to kill sum... memories." He looks over toward the bartender and waves his hand about indicatively.
However, the bartender shakes his head. "Nope. The man's right, son. I'm cutting you off."
Kwabena curses the whole situation in his native tongue, then produces a beat up pack of cigarettes.
"Yeah, but I'll let you smoke." The bartender fills a styrofoam cup with water and slides it over to Kwabena.
"Little things, Mick," drawls Kwabena. "Little things." Turning back toward Roy, he says, "Well, I hope you enjoy dat drink, Harpah." Then he blinks, and sits up a bit straighter. "What'r you doing heah, anyway?"
"Oh, I've got to do some follow-up. Clearing off a sub full of undead Nazis here, following up on previous reports... making sure that the memories you're trying hard to forget aren't something I ought to know about," Roy replies, draining the rest of the drink. "Hey, Mick... one more shot of whiskey, then bring on the water," he requests, grinning. 
The order issued, the SHIELD agent leans forwad on the counter, elbows against the railing, as he tilts his head at Kwabena. "So, since there's apparently a few things Fury knows about you that _I_ don't know about, want to tell me what the heck there is that's got the old man interested in you?" 
A huff of laughter comes out as more of a snort, which blows a few plumes of cigarette smoke out into the open. Kwabena lilts his hand to the left and manages to just not miss the makeshift ash tray. "I'm trying to forget dat I was even -dere-," he explains, then motions with his eyes upward. You know, on the helicarrier. "Which isn't working. But... I think innna few days, it'll be hazy."
That last question? It serves a touch of sobriety to Kwabena.
A frown forms and he refuses, for the moment, to look over at Roy. "Oh, I don-no," he drawls. "I went to Gennnosha, came back alive, seem to have some... you know, resources." He looks over at Roy, forming a smirk. "He doesn't think I'm capable of all dis shit on my own." His free hand rises and flicks off a sloppy, mock salute. "Old man's right." Then, he leers at Roy in that way drunk men do, and points his cigarette in Roy's direction while his eyes squint mischievously. "I made him grin, dough. You saw it."
"Ahhh there ain't enough alcohol in the word to burn a grinning Fury out of my head," Roy replies, as his order is placed in front of him. "Not that you'd want to. So... Genosha...? What's the situation there -now- that Fury's decided you had to be brought in? Because it sure wasn't for the Honduras incident." 
Bringing the whiskey to his mouth, the rim of the glass touches Roy's lips before he hesistates, lowering the glass. "Whatever scheme you're playing, I'm wondering... does it have something to do with the way your powers keep going on and off?" He'd noticed sometimes he used it, sometimes he didn't. 
"You watch the news," Kwabena surmises. Briefly, he looks over at Mick. "Mick... coffee. Okay? Double it up, make it strong?"
Turning back to Roy, he leans forward heavily upon the bar, takes a drag of his cigarette, then shakes his head. "I had a littah one on one with Magneto," he admits, again without making eye contact. "He's... interested in me. Has showed me some few things." He finally looks over at Roy, and his eyes seem different somehow. Not many people would know what it is, but it comes from the type of hunger that rests within someone who has seen another world.
As quickly as it shows up, Kwabena seems to blink his eyes rapidly, and it disappears.
Looking away, the African coughs once, then sits back upright. "He's a madman," he concludes. "Fury probably sees what I see. What's started in Genosha won't stay dere. It's only a mattah of time before Genosha goes intahnational."
The coffee arrives, and Kwabena hastily begins slurping it up.
"Powers are powers, man," he adds. "I'm learning how to control dem." He stretches out his hand, but it does not change. A grin forms, and he remarks, "Don't work too well drunk, though."
"Yeah, figured... there's no way someone like Magneto is keeping things within his boundaries. I wouldn't be surprised if action had to be taken sooner or later," Roy comments, taking a swig of his glass. 
"Sooner or later, things're going to go boom. If that's happening, I'm figuring we're getting called in. So if Magneto's interested in you, I'm guessing there's a chance we're gonna clash, are we?" 
At this point, Kwabena looks directly at Roy. There is no joke in his eyes, in fact, it may be the most severe expression the SHIELD agent has ever seen from the African.
"If I go back to Genosha," he whispers, "it will not be as Magneto's ally." He levels a finger at Roy, paired with the warning in his voice. "But you will have to be very careful of what you see."
Turning back away, he takes an extremely deep drag of the cigarette, then lets it out smoothly after a few seconds. "Magneto is what we call an 'Omega Class' mutant. His ability to manipulate de magnetic forces is almost... almost god-like in nature. De most dangerous thing about him is dat... Roy, I really believe, he thinks of himself as god-like."
For a time, Roy Harper drinks his whiskey, considering the Ghana native's words, before smirking. "So, basically, if something happens that SHIELD -needs- an agent, they're gonna call the field agents who don't rely on any metal weapons, are they?" A wider smirk crosses his face, as he reaches out to bring a fist out towards Shift's chin and make a mock punch. "Well then... I'll be seeing you in Genosha, I'm guessing, if things are headed down that road." 
After a pause, as Roy considers that, he brings one hand up. "Hey, couple whiskeys here." 
"He can't have any more," the bartender replies, looking at Roy. 
"Eh, it's the last one for him, I'll take him home myself afterwards. Just need to make sure we're havin' a last salute before then," Roy replies, a fatalistic crooked half-grin on his face.
A lighter mood comes about and Shift smirks to join it. "Show me a plastic weapon dat fires as well as an good old fashioned AR," he quips. "Or slices as well as a knife."
He doesn't commit on whether or not Roy will encounter him in Genosha. That all depends on the decision of one Jean Grey. If it happens... well, let's just say it should prove an interesting series of panels.
"Whatevah you do," he adds, while reaching for the whiskey that is brought over. He lifts it with a drunken hand, and grins drunkenly. "Don't undahestimate Magneto."
"Eh, they don't call me Arsenal for nothing," Roy comments as he reaches for his whiskey. "I'll figure out something if whatever SHIELD has doesn't work." 
After a hearty swig, Roy cracks, "Right. Don't underestimate him." 
Although this -was- Roy Harper, so there were bound to be some overconfidence issues... 
Another sip. "So... think I should make sure I have less iron in my diet for the next few weeks? Cuz I'm gonna have a hard time not having any steak." 
Shift nearly chokes on his whiskey, and some of the stuff spurts out of his nose. The cigarette falls to the bar, and he stamps it out with his fist while trying to control the choking laughter until he's swallowed the rest of his whiskey.
"Damnit, Harpah!" he wheezes, with tears in his eyes. "God... damnit!" Still wheezing with laughter, he snatches up one of the glasses of water and chugs at it hungrily.
Trying to not smirk even more, Roy continues, "Gonna have to subsist on rabbit food for a while. Carrots, celery... gawd, Lian's gonna hate having nothing but vegetarian salad." 
Sighing oh so dramatically, Roy reaches out and puts a hand on Shift's shoulder. "Kwa, bro, Magneto's not just the savior of mutantkind, he's the savior of cows, chickens, and pigs everywhere. Do we really want to be taking his ass down...? I say..." And here, Roy gives a quick light slap on Kwabena's cheek. "HELL YEAH." 
Fortunately, this time, Kwabena has safely finished chugging his water and the glass has been set down before he suffers yet another fit of laughter. The fact that he doesn't reach up to block Harper's light slap is significant.
After a few moments, the laughter dies down. "Dat reminds me." He leans back, reaches with a booze-handicapped hand into his jacket. A bit of rummaging takes place before he produces an extremely small item, which Roy will recognize as a sophisticated communications device. One of those types of items that are definitely not sold at Radio Shack, and really, aren't supposed to be sold to civilians in the United States at all.
"I need you to do me two favahs now." He holds the tiny device up, letting a thin ray of sunlight creep through the slatted windows and shine brightly upon the device. "Give dis to Domino, and ask her to put it in our old warehouse. Tell her I'll pay her back latah."
He lowers his hand, offering the device to Roy. Uniquely enough, however, his eyes never leave the other man's face, watching vigilantly to see how the man reacts.
Pulling back, Roy's expression shifts from mirth to a frown, as he reaches to take the device. "Okay. And what's the other request?" the SHIELD agent replies, turning the device back and forth in his hands, before tucking it away. 
Kwabena allows for a long silence to linger between the two. It likely feels a bit longer than it really is, given he's still mightily intoxicated, but the coffee, the cigarette, the water, the laughter, it has all done something to shake a bit of sobriety back into him.
"Try to trust me."
That's all he says. It's cryptic enough, and he doesn't really explain why he says it, but it carries one of those foreboding tones of finality that suggest it may be the more difficult favor to ask.
Scooting the chair back, Kwabena stands up and takes a moment to center himself. "My train leaves in fifteen minutes. Thanks for da drink."
"All right, bro," Roy says, standing up quickly. Draining the glass of water quickly to make sure he stays hydrated, the agent helps to steady Kwabena. "Uh huh. I told the bartender I was gonna take you home. Don't make a liar out of me, man," the redheaded archer replies. 
Helping Kwabena out the door, the last thing that the bartender can hear as they exit was... 
"So... are we -sure- that's not a giant chicken under that helmet?" 
"Oh, Christ!"
Kwabena's voice spills out onto the street as he stumbles out of a corner bar, being escorted oh-so-gracefully by Roy Harper. It's one of those 'open early' corner bars, and it's not even close to noon yet in mutant town. Of course, this kind of thing is pretty common, so nobody really pays it any mind.
"Come on, maaaaan," barks the clearly intoxicated Kwabena. "I don't want de whole fucking neighbahhood to see you carryin' me out here, makin' nasty jokes about who's pitchah, and who's catchah, and all of dat bullshit!"
He really doesn't like being taken care of while drunk.
 
 "Woah der, mon ami," a smooth Creole accent says, cutting across Kwabena's drunken declarations. Gambit nimbly steps out of the man's staggering path and with a grin, puts his fingertips against Kwa's collarbone to stabilize him. "It be New York an' de twenny-one century an' all, sure, but if you two lovers gonna sing out heah, at least keep yoah voice down a bit, oui?" He flashes a broad grin at Roy, standing a bit straighter as he's assured Kwabena won't simply fall over. "You amateurs need to pace yoahself a bit," he explains. A flask appears in his hand and Remy takes a belt that's probably not healthy for this hour. "De guy who start drinkin' in de mornin' got all day to get drunk. Ain't no rush," he explains, winking once and making the flask vanish.
Rolling his eyes, Roy shoves Kwabena out forward. Adjusting his trucker's hat, Roy grins, tucking his hands into his pocket. "Whatever, man. Not my fault if right now you're throwing knuckleballs. 
"Anyway, which way is home, man? I've got to at least make sure you get there safely, before some scraggy dude rolls you up for money..." 
Pausing to glance at Gambit, Roy closes the distance. "Hey, hey... leave him be... and nah, he's drunk. I'm the designated babysitter tonight." 
Scooting to a halt, Kwabena blinks against the bright sunlight to help clear his eyes. "What de... Remy?" A broad grin forms on his face. "Hey, listen, de point was not to pace. I been at dis since last night and it just isn't working!!"
Suddenly, Kwabena realizes just how loud he's being. They're all starting to get some stares. Soon enough the cops might actually show up and try to haul Kwabena off for public intoxication. That wouldn't go over well.
He reaches up to rub a hand back over his bald head, then draws in a deep breath through his nose. "S'alright, Harpah," grunts the mutant. "He's a friend." Looking back over at Remy, Kwabena squints his face up a bit. "You get any leads on dat piece of shit mutant inhibitah yet, LaBeau?"
 
 Remy glances left and right, the motion of those deep scarlet eyes casual but a pointed reminder of the mutant's background on the streets. "Yes an' no," he says, cryptically, his voice still casual but dropping a few decibels. "Nottin' ah kin say foah sure, oui?" he asks. "But dere be talkin' dat de gov'ment workin' on some kinna beo-logic weapon systahm, large scale. Anni-mutant gas, or sometin'." Remy nosetaps at Kwa, arching an eyebrow. "But dis on de down low. Ah ain't say who I heah it from, an' you ain't heah shit from Remy." He flicks his fingers, producing a lit cigarette. Plumes of smoke go up around his face as he takes a drag, giving him a ghoulish semblance for a moment. "So Remy dun put two 'n' two an' get four. If you cookin' a gumbo dat take a mutant offline, makes sense to me that you need somethin' to start with, oui? He might jes be de bait on de line, 'stead of de whole fish."
Roy seems about to protest again, before Kwabena reassures him that it's a friend of his. With a nod, the ginger SHIELD agent, moves back just a bit, listening but giving the two room to talk. Still, the biological weapon system they were talking about... huh. Fury'd said -something-, and considering the recent information... 
No, he wouldn't. He couldn't. 
Would he? 
It seems that the drunken haze just isn't strong enough to completely destroy Kwabena's sense of tact. His voice drops even further, and he produces a cigarette from within his jacket pocket. It's lit up post haste, adding a bit to the cloud in the area. Good thing Roy stepped back.
Eyes narrow. "Dat's just de sort of thing I was afraid of," he half-drawls, half-whispers. Holding the cigarette to the side, he reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment, eyes clamped shut. A few oathes are uttered in Dangme, most likely something to do with making the mistake of trying to drown out memories with booze.
"I need to sobah up," follows the string of foreign words, before he looks back toward Remy. "I can tell you dis much. It's a man. Don't know if he's doing dis on his own, or if he's got some kind of device that does it, but we had a run in with him in Honduras. We've got to track dis bastahd down before he ends up in de wrong hands."
Kwabena briefly casts a look Roy's way. Did the SHIELD agent really know anything about the mutant inhibitor? He hadn't mentioned anything during his "interview" with Colonel Fury, after all...
 
 "Merde," Gambit agrees with a soft oath. He jams his hands into the voluminous pockets of his Inverness jacket, cigarette bobbling on his lips. "Like Remy say, ain't sure. Might jes' be rumor. But dis de kinna ting dat make Remy nervous," the Cajun says, shaking his head and glancing obliquely about. "An' it if make Remy nervous... well, ah don' wanna know what de real big leaguers tink. Ah'm jes a sewer rat with good looks," he says, flashing a quick and self-deprecating grin. It's gone in a flash, his eyes level and serious. "Some of de mutates out der take real powaful 'ception to bein' taken offline like dat. Some of dem, ain't no cave deep 'nough to run 'n' hide in." 
 Remy takes a deep drag on his cigarette, then looks squarely at Roy. "You know sometin' you ain't sayin'," he declares, flatly. "Kwa say you good, don' mean I trus' you square. What yoah angle?" he asks, his Creole accent thick and heavy.
Rubbing his chin, Roy shakes his head. "-I- don't know specifically, it's just a thought I had," the redheaded SHIELD agent replies, frowning. There's a glance back towards Shift, as he shrug. "I was there in Honduras, but that's about it." Anything else, he wasn't saying, mostly because he had a nagging suspicion that it had to do with Fury. And the sideway glance at Shift... well he would probably figure that the one-eyed squint meant -something-. If he was sober, of course. 
"Yeah," remarks Kwabena, taking a look back toward Gambit. "Some of 'em? Might mean a death sentence. Keeps dem alive and what not." He takes a slow step backward, leaning to steady himself against a lamp post with his cigarette-wielding hand. "Remy? Roy Harpah. Harpah, Remy." He shifts his hand between the two, before standing back upright to take a drag. "I figure, if government types have caught wind of dis guy, there's a good chance they're aftah him, in some fashion."
At this point, he makes sure not to look at Roy, especially when he mentions the government. It wouldn't be nice to out him as a SHIELD agent, after all.
 
 Remy considers Roy for a moment, then takes a half step forward and offers a handshake to the man. "Remy, Remy LaBeau," he says, by way of introduction. He flashes a grin at Roy to disarm the earlier tone of his voice. "Anyone who frien' of Kwabena, frien' of Remy," he informs the man. "Nice to meet you, Roy Harpah," he tells the fellow. "Glad to see somone bein' de designated driver tonight. Kwa get a bit fast an' loose when he had a few unner his belt. Lightweight," he says, winking at Kwabena.
"As long as he doesn't try takin' off his belt and showing off what's underneath it," Roy rejoins, as he moves to shake Remy's hand. "Pleasure to meet you. Guess you're working with him on something that's not my business, so I'll just stand over there a bit. Don't take too long, though, 'cuz if he falls asleep in the street, I'm not playing baseball with him. You're welcome to get to home plate with him." 
Now that you've met Roy, Remy, meet Kwabena's middle finger.
While fipping Remy the bird, Kwabena just happens to notice a fellow serving up gyros on a food cart across the road. "Holy moddah of grace," he quips, then gestures across the way. "That's just what I need right about now."
Before moving away, Harper also gets introduced to Kwabena's middle finger.
"You boys keep talkin' like dat, you'll have every queer mutant in de block eyeballin' to see if dey can out-mutate you into a nice bedroom somewhere."
 
 "You sure tink about dat a lot for a man who say he ain't into othah fellahs, mon ami," Remy grins at Kwabena. His cigarette leaves little irregular trails of smoke lingering around his face. "'nyway, ah step on outta heah an' leave you two love birds to talk," Remy tells the men. His voice grows serious, his scarlet and sable eyes flickering from one face to another. "Dangerous times, boyos. Dangerous tings to be talkin' 'bout. You be careful an' keep yoah head down. Dis de kinda ting people get put in de ground over," he reminds them. The Cajun flicks his cigarette into a sewer grate and hunches down into his coat. "Be careful," he says, moving to take his leave from the duo.
"What he said," Roy smirks. "You know, if you're -so- interested, I do have a few friends I could introduce you to, but man... I don't know if outing yourself in public like that... I mean, fine, if you've got the courage to say it, go ahead, man." 
Not that he even expects Kwa to do it, but Roy puts his hands up to his mouth. "ATTENTION! ATTENTION! KWABENA ODAME HAS SOMETHING TO TELL YOU ALL!"
Up into the air goes Kwabena's fist. Out comes a middle finger. Meanwhile, he orders his gyro and pays for it, as if nothing ever happened.
 
 And Remy's gone, vanished into an alley. Let Kwabena and Roy sort it out- the Cajun's gonna find a good drink and a warm bed to crawl into for a while. Because saving the world is a problem for other people.
Category:Log