2013.08.03 - Lines in the Sand

Shift may have departed from the X-Men. However, his work in tracking the subject named 'Inhibitor Prime', now known as 'Isaac', has lived on.
Nearly two weeks have passed since the X-Men last encountered Isaac and his accomplices, Stephen Kim and Frank Smith. During that questionable encounter, subcutaneous tracking devices were placed underneath Smith and Kim's fingernails. Those tracking devices have fed a constant stream of information related to both men's movements.
Most of the information thus far has turned out to be rudimentary. Frank Smith seems to be spending most of his time in an apartment in the Bronx, where has paid rent for many years. He has ventured out to various bodegas, liquor stores and bars, which is clearly in line with intelligence the X-Men have related to the effects of his X-Gene; lacking the presence of alcohol in his system, he suffers terrible pains and vicious nightmares.
Stephen Kim has been more difficult to track, having spent most of his time wandering around the metropolitan area in an almost erratic manner. This also fits with what the X-Men know about Kim's mutation, which causes an extreme level of hyper-focus to the point of rampant distraction and the inability to stay hyper-focused on one thing for too long.
However, there is one place where both mutants have seemingly frequented.
In Blüdhaven, there is a place called 'Ripley's Lounge'. It's one of those seedy pool halls-turned-mob bar, and is rumored to be run by the infamous 'Rabid Ricardo Ripley'. This classic mob boss has been a medium-level kingpin in the Gotham area for the past four years, and maintains his base of power through crooked Gotham cops and a number of shady deals.
On this dreary, cloudy early afternoon, the sun has been blotted out by clouds that are ready to open their coiffeurs upon the dirty city of Blüdhaven, and the two accomplices of Isaac are about to meet at Ripley's Lounge.
Fiddling once more with the tracking data, Doug frowns. The two had gone their own separate ways for a time, which didn't seem to be something to be too concerned over. However, that they were getting together for a meeting, on the other hand, was of concern. 
Giving a quick call to the available X-Men, the young blond mutant quickly sums up the situation, followed by a note of "This could be a trap, especially if Shift's left the X-Men for..." His voice trails off, before he sighs. "So let's be careful out there, okay?" 
And now, standing outside the Ripley's Lounge, the X-Men's linguist member took a deep breath. Dressed in a pair of jeans, with a soiled flannel shirt that offended -his- sensibility but had to be put up with for the sake of the mission, and a bit of unwashed look about him to fit in (yes, he'd even skipped combing his hair), Doug enters, eyes darting for a quick look for the two men they'd been tracking... 
 
Hair? Slicked back into a tight braid that hangs down to her mid-back. A pair of shades rests upon her nose. Her hands? Are stuffed into the pockets of a bomber style jacket, which has seen better times. The jacket's zipped up to her neck, and a pair of old, run-down jeans adorns her skinny frame. And. She road up on a Harley. An actual Harley. With all the vroom vroom it could muster, and smoke to match. Kitty stole it from some poor X-Man or another, she isn't sure /which/, but hey - she'll give it back, in better condition than it started, if desired. And a full tank of gas. 
Kitty's already /in/ the bar before Doug and Rachel, having arrived earlier to keep the 'cover' going, after all - they might notice Rachel and Doug, but they've /never/ met Kitten. So she's settled in a corner booth, a full glass of some amber shaded liquor in front of her, (which hasn't been touched), the condensation idly pooling around the glass itself. Kitty's hazel eyes, hidden behind her glasses, scan Doug's entrance, as she shifts slightly in her booth. < So, Red..? I'm dying to know what /you're/ wearing, Doug looks like a Caveman. > The thought is sent outwards towards Rachel, a wry grin spreading itself over Kitty's features as she does so.
The establishment, by the way, has gained a strange new corner statue. On top of the building's corner rests a strange purple gargoyle - or is that a dragon. Regardless, it sits on the edge, gazing down with almost realistic looking eyes.
Rachel hadn't needed to be asked twice, when Doug put the call out. Rachel's still bearing something of a grudge against Isaac after their last run-in, although she's not quite able to decide whether he's more deserving of punishment for her getting tased, or for the awkward talk with Doug that followed the incident...
Considering Kitty's (gratefully received) efforts to stock Rachel's wardrobe with decent clothes, the fact she has to dress down for this outing amuses Rachel somewhat. Still, it wasn't exactly a problem. The only thing that dictated her choices was the need to find space for something small and nasty that she's been hiding away in the back of one of her clothes drawers. She's not being caught out /that/ way again.
The last to arrive by design, Rachel is something of a sight. Her short hair has been spiked up and haphazardly streaked with black, She's wearing thick black eyeliner, and her outfit? That's involving a lot of black as well. There's a black hoodie, half-zipped over a black tank top that seems to sport some kind of skull motif, and the pushed-up sleeves reveal a wide black leather cuff around one wrist, studded with silver spikes. Her jeans are black and torn out at both knees, and on her feet are a pair of heavy black lace-up boots. She enters a moment after Doug, sauntering up behind him and slinging an arm aound his shoulders. "Sorry I'm late." She says almost into his ear, at pretty much the same time she replies to Kitty's pointed thought. << He's not hairy enough. >> She sends back. "C'mon." She says to Doug, tossing her head toward a table. "Let's sit down." And despite her 'disguise', Rachel frowns a bit a adds a little telepathic camouflage to her and Doug's features. Just to be on the safe side.
The wind picks up over Blüdhaven, a tell tale sign of the impending rain, which comes in short order. A warm front has moved over Gotham, which means the rain is probably going to last all day and well into the night.
Inside Ripley's Lounge, there is no shortage of patrons, for the mob operates 24/7. Those who haven't been seen around the place are let in, but they blatantly given the cold shoulder. They're the last to be served and the first to be eyeballed. The lounge itself seems smaller on the inside than it would appear on the outside, but there are many doors in the lounge, lacking windows, which lead to any manner of places.
A kitchen? Store room? Ripley's office? A back room where deals and beatings go down?
One of these doors eventually opens up, and cocky laughter precedes those who walk through it into the lounge's main room. The first two are a pair of busty ladies, one blonde and one ginger, each wearing clothing that is tight but not quite scanty, with plenty of makeup and the expected stockings and heels. They walk to either side of Ripley, who emerges next. A half-smoked cigar juts out of his mouth in a manner that is all too stereotypical. He's a big fellow, half muscle, half pudge, with slicked back hair and a platinum ring through one ear. The skin around his eyes is drawn tight into an arrogant smirk, and as he walks, he makes remarks to the women that draw out their fake laughs and gestures of forced affection. Otherwise, Ripley is plain enough, though his tan slacks, snake-skin shoes, and burgundy collared shirt are so expensive, one would have to be an utter fool not to figure out that he's The Man (™).
Following Ripley, however, are three men that Rachel and Doug will surely recognize. The aging, African-American vet, Frank Smith; the studded denim jacket draped across Stephen Kim's shoulders, and the tall, dark-skinned frame of Isaac.
The entourage make their way toward a big booth in the back end of the bar, not far from where Kitty is seated with her un-touched beverage. To either side of that booth, there are smaller booths where Ripley's thug-like guards are always seated, smoking cigarettes and sipping on non-alcoholic drinks. Their sidearms are in plain view, sitting on each table not far from their hands. M92F Buretta, Glock 26, just to name a few of the assorted handguns.
There is a brief moment where Isaac turns to look directly at Kitty. He perks an eyebrow at her, and offers the girl a brief smirk, before moving to join Ripley and the others at the big booth.
Dear god, Kitty -should- have won the auction role for Sandy Olsen in Grease, given the transformation she'd undergone from good girl to... -that-. Doug doesn't even give much of a nod to 'Kitten' as he takes a seat, ordering the worst swill he could possibly order (which appeared to be some version of a Bud...). As such, he was trying to find a way to chug it without looking out of place. Shoving the mug at Rachel after giving up in disgust, the young mutant doesn't even look up as Isaac enters. Hard to miss someone that massive, in the first place, or the companion with him. 
<< Uh, Rachel, I don't -like- the way 'Isaac' just looked at Kitty... wait, stop Lockheed before he thinks of jumping on Isaac. Now's not the time. >> Doug thinks quietly. 
 
Watching everything through dark sunglasses means hazel eyes can't be tracked as easily. Through the corner of Kitty's eyes, her hazel gems watch as the rowdy bunch enter. Experienced eyes scan those that are dangerous, to those that can be taken out without much difficulty. The bodyguards are armed - deadly so, they'll have to be dealt with first. She can't have Doug, herself, or Rachel get slaughtered by a Glock's bullet to the head. And considering this dangerous individual's powers, himself? Phasing is not going to be an option if things get rough. As her eyes shift away from those that are the most dangerous, to those that need to be looked at very carefully as well, she catches Isaac's direct look at her. 
A forced smirk draws upon Kitty's lips, as the skinny Jewish girl twists that smirk into a wry expression of greeting. A twist of her mouth to one side, her chin raising ever so slightly in acknowledgement, fingers idly lifting upwards in a slow, purpose filled movement as she lowers her sunglasses and eyes Isaac with her bright hazel gems, brows arching upwards in response, before the glasses are shifted back onto her nose. The other hand wraps about the dark liquid in front of her. Kitty takes a calming breath, then lifts the glass upwards, it touches her mouth briefly - before the man turns to join the club owner. A soft 'phew' would escape, but that'd blow Kitty's act, so she just lowers the glass down again, the back of her bomber jacket's sleeved use to wipe the offending foam from her lips and chin. Yuck. 
Outside, as the rain pours down, the gargoyle shifts suddenly. Or maybe that was just the shadows moving. No. This time the wings are out and flapping. And then. The statue is gone, as a small purple dragon begins to circle around, gazing through windows, and being very very annoyed it's raining on him. At the very least. Dragon's skin is difficult to puncture with bullets, and he isn't a mutant, nor a meta. He's.. he's .. well, he's Lockheed.
 
Rachel has to give Doug points for professionalism. Not a flinch or a blink when she accosted him. She'd almost be disappointed not to have made an impression if the situation wasn't so serious.
Sliding in across from Doug - since she can always look through /his/ eyes if she wants to, this way she can watch some of the other doors for any extra bad news - Rachel quirks an eyebrow when Doug's drink is shoved roughly towards her. "And here I was thinking I'd have to get my own." She says quietly, opting for the resigned, put-upon tone of the neglected girlfriend. It doesn't stop her picking up the mug, though - but when she gets a flash from Doug's perceptions of the arrival of their target, her knuckles do whiten a bit. After barely a pause, though, she takes a swig of the drink and wrinkles her nose. Bad, but she's tasted worse. And one of them needs to be drinking.
<< She'll be OK... >> Rachel starts, but quickly sees Doug's point. << On it. >> Rachel adds swiftly, and reaches out to Lockheed telepathically. She's never tried this before, but she tries to impart reassurance to him - and an assurance that if Kitty /does/ need him, he'll be the first to know.
Taking another, much smaller, sip of her second-hand drink, Rachel's eyes remain intent on Doug. << Do we have a plan, here? >> She asks carefully. They've got confirmation, Isaac's here, is that enough, given there's only the three of them?
A few moments pass where Isaac, Frank and Stephen hold a conversation with Rabid Ricardo Ripley and his women (read: well-paid escorts). Frank and Stephen seem to be at ease with themselves, and its worth noting that Frank is not drinking--a clear sign that Isaac is using his power to inhibit their mutant abilities.
Soon enough, however, Isaac becomes distracted once again by Kitty. He leans over toward Frank and whispers something into the vet's ear, before nodding his head subtly toward Kitty. Frank turns and looks her way, then stands from the table and starts wandering over toward her.
"'Scuse me, miss?" Frank puts his aged, leathery hand upon Kitty's table, and offers her what seems like an honest-to-goodness smile of cordiality. "I'm sorry t' bother you, but, looks like ma' buddy wants t' chop wood with you." Frank turns and looks over toward the table where Isaac, Ripley and the others are sitting. Then, his eyes glance toward one of Ripley's thugs.
That thug now has a M92F Buretta in his hand, and while it still lays against the table, it's aimed directly at Kitty.
"Do I gotta say 'please'?" Frank looks back at Kitty with an absolutely winning smile.
It seems, for the moment, that Doug and Rachel have gone unnoticed. However, looks can be deceiving. Isaac's attention still seems fully riveted upon Kitty, even though Stephen, Ripley and the two girls seem to be trying to keep him in their conversation.
"Enjoy," Doug replies, absentmindedly, in that way one dismisses the put-upon girlfriend's siiiiiigh. 
Leaning in, Doug's lips moves, although he doesn't vocalize. << The general plan? Observe, watch... and... oh dammit. >> 
Doug's eyes narrow, as he considers the situation, with Kitty. << I really hope we're not going to have to use -that- contingency plan. Because fighting our way out is going to be a -mess- in Bludhaven. Keep your hands on the emergency signals. We might need them. >>
 
And so. Kitty sits in her booth, keeping one eye on the proceedings, (at least corner of her eyes), as well as watching carefully the bodyguards, while keeping her gaze completely away from Doug and Rachel. (Just in case). As the one known as 'Frank' comes forward, Kitty sits back a bit in her booth, hands stretching out on each side of her, arms above the booth seats themselves as she lounges back and eyes Frank. Her gaze flickers towards the gun, then back to Frank. As a slow, ever so quiet smirk spreads itself over her features. "Baby." She begins, her voice a quiet purr. "All he had to do was ask, the fireworks aren't needed. I'm sure that'll come later." She slowly begins to slide out of the booth, keeping a very close eye on everything. And if she took a moment to stand, well that's because she wasn't sure if she should wiggle her hips, or just move. She has such a skinny frame, wiggling hips isn't probably going to work too well. 
Rising up slowly, Kitty's fingers will wrap about her glasses, as she lowers them down and slips them into the pocket of her bomber jacket, before quietly turning to face Isaac and the others. What the hell does chop wood with her mean, anyway!? Oh God. Kitty's so out of her element. "I'm sure there's a nice, quiet place - huh?" She inquires, hazel gems twinkling. All the while, her thoughts rage from, < Ray! What does 'chop wood mean!?' > to < Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. Get ready, when I'm close enough and can still phase, plan a goes into affect. Bodyguards with guns first - if our powers are nulled, we can't let guns blaze! > 
Outside, Rachel will find that a small, purple dragon's mind is impossible to read, to send thoughts to, or any of the above. No. He's just waiting. He knows Kitty's signal well enough by now, and now that he's got a good view of the interior, he's ready for it. All Kitty has to do is signal, and fireballs will ignite.
As for Kitty, still? She's moving forward towards Isaac with a purpose filled stride. She can keep her cool well enough, even if she's completely out of her element. Years of being an X-Man teaches her that, at the very least.
 
Rachel's eyes flash with annoyance at Doug's inattention and she gives a quiet 'huff', just to keep up the pretense, and looks disconsolately into her drink. Her mental voice holds an urgency that's at odds with her outward demeanor, though. << I can't reach Lockheed. I don't know if it's because he's... whatever he is, but I can't make contact. >> Great. So now they have to worry about a purple dragon getting impatient.
As Doug leans toward her, Rachel looks up, putting on a hopeful smile, and leans a little forward herself to meet him halfway. << What? >> She says urgently at Doug's 'oh dammit', and takes another peek through his eyes. << Never mind. >> Her mental tones turns grim, and she reaches up one hand to trail a finger along Doug's jaw - to cover the fact that her other hand has disappeared under the table. "You got it." She says quietly, since you can only stay silent so long. "Anytime you're ready." She's successfully hiding any discomfort she feels for this particular aspect of her act.
Leaning back again in her seat, Rachel feels Kitty's frantic thoughts through the light telepathic touch she's keeping on both her companions. << Exactly what you think it means. >> She replies, so very helpfully, but then adds quickly, << Don't worry. We're right here. >>
Making plenty of room for Kitty to depart, Frank chuckles. "It's Blüdhaven. Always gonna be fireworks, kid."
The bodyguard bearing his M92F slides up and out of his seat, turning to exchange places with the table Kitty has just departed. Meanwhile, Isaac removes himself from the conversation with Ripley and the others, and moves toward the table recently vacated by aforementioned bodyguard. It almost has the feeling of choreography.
Frank gestures for Kitty to take her seat with Isaac.
Sitting down, Isaac looks on expectantly. His skin is much darker in complexion than Frank's, and his facial features seem chiseled and barren, save for the sparse facial hair that peppers his chin. He studies Kitty for a few seconds, and slowly begins to smile, as if he'd just finally pieced something together.
While Rachel and Doug seem to still possess their mutant abilities, Kitty's has suddenly been completely shut off.
"I am sorry about all of dis," says Isaac with a softspoken voice, heavily accented. "But, as de good man said, it's Blüdhaven. Dis sort of thing comes with the territory. Oh, and... you'll find dat useful ability of yours is, what should I say, dampened? I can't have you running off when we've just met. Dere are some few things I hope to ask you." Sliding a hand forward, he offers, "I am Isaac."
 
Quietly, Kitty slides into the booth next to Isaac, her gaze has already taken in every threat, from the bad, to the good, with calculated ease. It isn't any surprise when Isaac mentions her powers are off, it's not good, but it is expected. This is why Doug brought Kitty, after all. Her powers are important, but not essential. Rachel's thoughts will garner a swift, <Ew.> Followed by. <Phasing gone. I'm okay.> 
Unzipping her bomber jacket to reveal a tight fitting leather halter top beneath, the jacket is shrugged off with effortless ease, and tossed about her legs. There, one hand remains upon the jacket, the other lifts upwards, to brush aside an errant strand of curly chestnut hair that has managed to unwind itself from her braid. The halter top is actually fairly attractive on Kitty, her slender frame shown off to perfection, it even gives a bit more of a bust than she might normally have. 
With a relaxed ease, Kitty settles into the booth, turning to face Isaac directly. A brief shrug of her shoulders is given, at the powers being turned off, her cool demeanor showing through. "It comes in handy for trips to the bank." She offers, mouth twisting a moment, the smirk there, before fading. "Names Katherine. You can call me Kitty though." The hand that isn't on her coat reaches outwards, collecting Isaac's offered hand. "I wouldn't be in Bludhaven if I wanted a nice place to visit." Cooly, Kitty's fingers begin to retract, as her gaze flickers up and down Isaac. "So, how can this kitten help you, Isaac?"
<< Okay, so if you can still read me, or I can still speak -some- semblance of a known language, >> Doug continues, oblivious to Kitty's predicament, << we're still in good shape. >> 
His gaze shifts to Kitty, eyebrows arching at her ... attire. Who knew Katherine Pryde had -that- in her? 
Maybe the White Queen... but saying that might get all his electronics scrambled if he even suggested that to Kitty. 
Staying close enough to whisper, the young man continues his telepathic conversation with Rachel. << By the way... this time? You get the jiujitsu guy. He's probably prepared this time, so skip the kung-fu and make like Indy Jones. >> 
 
Rachel might be playing telepathic relay between Doug and Kitty, but that doesn't stop her feeling pretty useless when Kitty reports that her powers are gone. Rachel would be far less OK with that than Kitty is, even with her previous experience of that situation. Rachel manages to keep from tensing too much - and with the loose-fitting hoodie, it wouldn't be that obvious anyway, but her eyes do go blank and unseeing for a few seconds. In those seconds, she's behind /Doug's/ eyes, zeroing in on the guns that are on the table and in the hand of the man covering Kitty, ready to make a grab for them while she still has her powers...
But Doug's calm voice keeps her from any precipitous action for the moment. Even so, it's a measure of how concerned Rachel is that she's paying -no- attention to the racy top that Kitty's wearing. She'll save any ribbing for that for later, assuming they all survive unperforated. << For now. If you want out, yell. >> Rachel sounds a bit grim, but Doug's quickly distracting her again. << Don't worry. This time I came prepared. >> She assures him.
It would seem that Isaac is most interested in the conversation that he's about to have. His eyes only briefly glance toward the exposure of Kitty's halter top, before they have flashed right back to her face. There is, of course, a brief moment where Isaac smiles in a condescending way, as if silently scolding her for trying that old trick.
That smile is short lived, for her joke about the bank draws a laugh. "I'm sure it does," he answers, before leaning his lanky arms upon the table and leaning forward, still zeroed in upon Kitty. "Dose peopah over dere. They're your friends, aren't they?" He doesn't give her room to answer. "I can sense the one communicating with you. Don't worry, Katherine." He lifts a hand from the table, making a seemingly peaceful gesture of dismissal toward Kitty. "I cannot hear what she is saying, but I do know she is speaking. A telepath. Tell me, have they come to do what they did to my friends, Frank and Stephen?" He glances toward the other table, where Frank and Stephen are chatting idly with Rabid Ripley and his ladies. "Are dey going to beat information out of me, or can we all have a conversation like reasonable adults?"
So all pretense is dropped, which - really. If Kitty's thinking about it too much, makes things a heck of a lot better. The scolding look is offered with a blank stare. Seriously. Kitty has no idea that it's an 'old trick'. Further, she was removing the coat to get a better movement when she plans to kick Isaac's behind into the next booth. (Or..well, so she thinks.) Mostly. She was dressing up to play a part, and now that the part is over, well, Kitty can relax. Only. She sort of realizes then that she's /in/ a halter tank-top. That's leather. Oh dear. No time to flush! 
<What the hell is he talking about? What'd you /do/.. no nevermind. He knows. You're busted. Get ready if things go south. But don't worry about me.> Kitty's eyes narrow down, as her jaw sets into a straight line. "I was not part of, nor was I privy to what transpired." Kitty begins quietly, her head tilting to one side, eyeing Isaac with hazel orbs that read as clearly as day now. Now that she doesn't have to 'pretend' at least. "So I have no idea what you're talking about, but /I/ do not condone violence in such a manner. It is not /my/ way. So you can damn someone else. If you want to talk, then lets talk." Those words are spoken with as much conviction as Kitty can possibly offer, her jaw tightening considerably. 
"It is my way to believe in the good of everyone, mutant and man, and to listen to those that may wish to speak, to explain. I do not judge." Kitty's idealistic view points offer some insight into her soul, as she continues, "So please, do continue." Her free hand gestures outwards, as she continues. "So tell me, Isaac. What about you. I gave you insight into me. Tell me about -you-?"
<< Just -hold- back. Whatever happened, hold it, Rachel. Only if Kitty's -screaming for help-... the last thing we need is an argument over who shot first, okay? >> Doug's murmuring, already reaching under the table. Move that out of the way, let go, and... let Kitty handle diplomacy. Maybe there -is- a chance of getting this solved through... other means. They struck first, the X-Men struck back... and now... 
 
Rachel knows from the feel of Kitty's mind changing that they've been made, before the brunette even tells her directly. Rachel's jaw goes tight, her eyes hard. As far as she's concerned, the mission is blown along with their cover, and they should be getting into fight or flight territory. While she still has her powers, /knowing/ they could be snatched away at any moment, the temptation to use them is strong. It's only the complete -lack- of that response in either of the minds she's linked to that stops her acting on that temptation.
Rachel bristles at Kitty's question, replying with a short, flat, << You weren't there. >> Her hand, on the tabletop, is clenched into a fist, and it's probably a good thing that Doug chooses that moment to intervene. Her eyes flash with genuine anger as they find his, but - she backs down. << You'd better be right about this. >> She concedes with bad grace.
Slowly, Isaac breathes in a deep breath of air, letting it out with the slow rising and falling of his chest. It's the first suggestion that he, of all people, is nervous. In many ways, he is about as trusting of Kitty and her friends as they are of him--which is to say, not very.
"I am a huntah," answers the heavily accented African. "Where I come from, there are no mutants," he answers. "Not, at least, like you and your friends. It used to be dat way, but dat all changed. Some few peopah, like me, changed first. Our abilities, whatevah dey were, went away, and were replaced with this." He gestures about the lounge, indicative of the world as a whole rather than Rabid Ricardo Ripley's little hole in the underworld. "We could sense, locate, and stop the effects of the X-Gene. That is why I am a huntah, where I come from. We hunt down de old mutants, and..." He smiles warmly. "We make them new."
The smile quickly fades, and he reaches forward, as if to grasp Kitty's hands out of desperation. He never finishes the motion, instead drawing his fingers back and into clenched fists, while pulling his body away from its yearning gesture. "But... I don't undahstand what happened. The world changed, to a place I don't even recognize any more. A violent place. This place. I hope you undahstand what I mean, because I don't even undahstand it."
Isaac's eyes dance back and forth, searching Kitty's eyes and face for signs of dishonesty. Oddly enough, in Isaac's eyes and expression--even though a face can be misleading--there is no dishonesty.
 
Everything else recedes in Kitty's mind, /this/ she can handle. /This/ she knows how to deal with - perhaps even more so than fighting, perhaps even more so than everything she was taught by Logan, or Kurt or any of the X-Men. /Talking/ is something Kitty feels she's good at. Whether someone will listen, is another thing. Or for that matter. Whether she'll /say/ the right thing - is a different matter altogether. Still. Kitty's willing to make a mistake while in conversation, versus going directly into a fight mode. Speak first. Ask first. Find out the truth first. Reaction is the last possible course. 
Even as Isaac's form begins to snap forward, Kitty doesn't budge, oh sure - you can see just in her mind's eye that if he followed through, she'd respond afterwards. It's there, the reading of Isaac's body language, the way he moves, then recoils back. She tenses. But does not respond. No. Only if he /had/ gone through with it, would Kitty have then been forced into a different situation. As it is though, Kitty's hazel eyes. Clear. Crystal. Sweet. Innocent. Naive in some ways. But when it comes to this, when it comes to talking, to believing in the best of mankind, mutant kind, every kind. /Kitty's/ soul is as pure as her words, and her eyes echo that truth.
So, Kitty continues to speak honestly, "Where you come from, Isaac." She offers his name, like a friend might, or at least someone who is trying to understand, and /trying/ to reach someone through her words. "In my experience. There are any number of different worlds, different places. Sometimes those worlds collide, and people go through, or are sent away. The why is never sure. In the wrong place at the wrong time, or if you want to be optimistic, the right place at the /right/ time. So - if that is what you mean, then yes. I do understand Isaac, I understand. But that isn't to say I -condone-." Again, Kitty's eyes alight upon Isaac, softly judging his features with a quiet gaze of sincerity. "Some. Some mutants would love the opportunity to no longer have their abilities. To some it is a curse. It is a burden. But it is also /who/ they are. It is who /I/ am. It is not a plague, or a disease. It is an evolution, and while there are powers that are frightening, and horrifying, and make life difficult, there is a way to help them. /That/ is what I do, as well. I /help/ those that can not control their abilities. I help them realize that there is hope. That there are other ways to handle situations than violence. Than hiding. I am an X-Man. And that is what we do."
Silently cheering Kitty on as she asserts -exactly- what the X-Men do, the young blonde glances at Isaac, reading much the same body language as Kitty is.
Reading that, Doug looks at the body language, then back at Rachel... and makes a decision. << Rachel, stand down. Just cover us, but do -not- take action unless we're actually being threatened. >>
"All right," Doug stands up slowly, hands up. Switching to the Haitian's native tongue, Doug nods at the Haitian. "<< If there are other ways to handle things, then tell us what it is you would like us to do. We're looking for other means than that... everything is as Kitty says. >>" And again in English for the rest's benefit. 
 
Rachel is not happy. It goes against the grain to let a friend have her powers taken away, to be threatened with a gun, and for Rachel to just sit there passively while it happens. But since both Doug and Kitty would rather she backed off, Rachel's left in, for her, an uncomfortable position. And with nothing else she /can/ do right now but listen to the conversation between Isaac and Kitty.
Rachel's impressed with how heartfelt Kitty's words are, but, well, she doesn't trust Isaac as far as she could throw him /without/ her powers. << Is she really going to try to TALK him around? >> Rachel asks Doug, her mental tone frustrated. << He /attacked/ us, took our powers, and pretty much set a mob on us. If he was a nice guy, he'd have tried talking /first/...! >> Her eyes narrow. << Let me take a look inside his head. If he's on the level, we'll know. And if he's not... >> Rachel leaves that unsaid. They'll know either way, although Option B could get messy.
But no. Doug tells her to stand down, and she grits her teeth - but obeys. Before looking surprised when Doug stands up. Is he crazy? He's just backed Kitty's play and now he's putting himself in the middle of it? Rachel doesn't get up, but she twists around in her seat so that she's looking at Isaac. She doesn't look so trusting or diplomatic.
When Kitty speaks of other worlds colliding, there is certainly an expression of confusion upon Isaac's face. It would seem that he understands the concept, but cannot simply accept the reality. It would explain many things, but to the African, his mind and soul just isn't willing to accept the possibility. He shakes his head and looks down at the table, then back to Kitty, then over toward his friends, then back toward Kitty's friends across the lounge, before finally settling his gaze upon her again.
He's shaken.
"That is not what we do," he stubbornly answers. "Look at Frank." He turns and gestures toward the veteran, who wears his Vietnam infantry cap proudly. "I have taken away his plague. And Stephen. He can think clearly now. He no longah has to-"
Suddenly, Isaac's eyelids flutter. There is a brief moment of confusion, but it's cast away when his head turns toward Rachel and Doug. He puts up a halting hand toward Kitty and slides out from behind the table, eyes locked upon the latter.
A silence starts to come over Ripley's Lounge, and the tension in the air becomes quickly palpable. Ripley has even stopped talking, and turns to watch with eyes just as wary as those of his bodyguards.
Isaac lifts a hand and makes a gesture toward Doug, even as he speaks in Haitian. Just then, an odd sensation seems to come over human and mutant alike, as if something in the reality of this place just shifted--like the sudden and striking, inescapable weight of an oppressive Déjà vu. It might even take a moment for Doug to recognize it, but halfway through his words, the language changes from Haitian... to Dangme.
"Stop," says Isaac. With a subtle nodding of his head forward, Doug's X-Gene is summarily snuffed offline, only this time the manipulation feels far more acute, focused. "Stop it, right now," he demands. Another hand extends toward Rachel, though for the time being, the redhead still retains her ability. "We don't want to be your enemies, but all we want is to find our way home." Anger begins to settle upon Isaac, his cordial face and body language quickly becoming enveloped in it. "If you aren't willing to help us do dat, den... leave now."
The bodyguards start to look at each other, then they look over at Ripley. The mob boss has put down his cigar, and gives a subtle nod of his head toward one of the bodyguards. As a group, they begin reaching for their weapons, but only to have them close.
There will be a time and place to discuss what to do next. Or what went wrong. Right now though, her friends are in danger, and that Kitty can not condone. Quietly. She slides out from the booth, moving to swiftly intervene herself between Isaac and Doug. Her actions are deliberate. Her motions swift. The jacket on her lap is draped over one arm, as Kitty's free hand lifts upwards in a gesture of well, resignation. The palm is up, fingers out stretched, "We will go. Right now." 
Taking a step back, the hand that was gesturing upwards reaches behind her, idly pressing reassuring against Doug's arm. "But this isn't over, please know that I do not want to be your enemy and if there was any way that I might be able to help you. Return. Help you get back to where you belong, where you want to be, I would do it. There are ways. There are people that I know, that might be able to help. I can't say for certain, and I wont. Sometimes - things are what they are, and there isn't anything you can do about it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I can not help you further. That I don't have all the answers. But I will leave you with this, Isaac. What happens to those men when you're gone. When you're not there to stop their powers? What happens then? You can't be with them forever, without control, without any way to stop the influx of their abilities, what happens then? I don't know if I can help, I don't know if there is a way to fully help, but without trying, without helping, without teaching them to control, to utilizing their gifts in a manner that will help them, then there will always be nothing but fear, and loathing of themselves, versus loving who they are, as a being, as a person and accepting the fact they are mutants." 
Kitty's steps continue to slowly retreat backwards, her free hand gently gesturing Doug to continue to move back, as a low soft breath echoes outwards. "Red..." Kitty doesn't telepathically state anything, she just speaks it, "Lets go." 
And Kitty will -continue- to move back, staying in front of Doug, as she heads towards the door.
There was a moment of surprise on Doug's face as the language changes from Haitian to Dangme. Just... wasn't that -Shift-'s language? What in the... 
"Ghkjsgfcoo..." Doug begins, before pausing as Kitty's expression indicates that he's being shut down -again-. 
The annoyance that shows on Doug's expression is so very easy to read, as clear as Kitty's, but the young man simply shakes his head, bringing his hands up where they can be seen. A note of 'All right', and a bit of backing up. Pausing as Kitty's body language indicates -she- wants to go, the young mutant reaches out to grasp Kitty's head, shaking his head. He points towards the two men with Isaac. What about what they think? 
 
Rachel doesn't need to be a telepath to feel the change in the atmosphere in the room, and she's inwardly cursing herself for not having rolled the dice when she had the opportunity, looked inside Isaac's mind when things weren't on quite such a knife edge, and to hell with the consequences. As the hand comes up toward Doug, Rachel /knows/ what's about to happen, and she tenses, as if she could hang on to her powers physically. As the hand comes up toward HER, she's a fraction of a second away from blasting Isaac right through the nearest wall. There's suddenly another reason why the atmosphere's gotten heavy, and it's emanating from the redhead. But then, Kitty's standing up, and it's one of the hardest things that Rachel's ever done to fall in line with Kitty's decision.
Rachel's chair scrapes back as she stands to face Isaac, aware of Kitty's words but her eyes flitting between Isaac and the bodyguards. As Kitty backs away, shielding Doug, Rachel remains where she is until they pass her. She's not looking at them, but this close, with her power in her, she can FEEL Doug stop. "Doug. Go." She knows he can't understand the words right now, but her tone is low, sharp, and hopefully clear. Whatever the other two think, there's nothing that the three of them can do about it now. "Both of you." She adds, in not-quite agreement with Kitty's words. But she only needs to be between them and the door...
Because Rachel's had her eye on those guns all through this encounter, and she's plotted exactly where every single one of them is. And there's absolutely no way she's going to allow ANY of them to be shot in the back. There's no theatrics, no waving of her hands, and for shifting this amount of mass, no visible power signature. But all of those guns will be ripped from hands, holsters, belts or wherever, and sent flying to the opposite corner of the room. Rachel doesn't try anything cute like levitating them toward her, she expects her power to be cut in a second, she just wants the guns GONE for long enough for them to retreat. One hand goes behind her back, fingers curling around the grip of her own weapon, concealed until now by the loose fabric of her hoodie. "Here's a tip." She tells Isaac, eyes and voice hard. "Our help is free, but don't ask for it with guns." And then she, too, is backing rapidly away.
With his eyes upon Kitty, Isaac listens. The hand that had stretched out toward Doug makes a different gesture, toward Ripley, designed to inform the mob boss to keep his thugs' trigger fingers quiet. He's about to provide an answer to Kitty, but there is... well... an interruption.
The moment those guns are ripped free from their masters' hands, a collective sound of disgruntled surprise comes from every corner of the room, where various weapons were being drawn. The weapons go soaring through the air at Rachel's command, but halfway through their journey to the corner, they drop and go skidding across the floor in a heap of loaded metal.
Isaac has been growing in power. Ever since the dimensional shift brought him here, his powers were weakened, almost like when his mutation first changed. However, with a silent roar of anger, he flings his hand forward just a bit, and Rachel's mutagenic ability is shut off -- almost violently so.
"Nothing is free," he snarls. "Where I come from? What we do is permanent." He glowers toward the trio. "You should be thankful I have not done dis to you, but be warned." He nods his head slowly, daringly. "I can, and next time, I will."
Oh, it's a bluff, to be sure. Isaac's powers haven't grown to what they were in the timeline where he's come from, and there's no way for him to be certain that they will. However, with Doug and Rachel's powers muted, well... it might be up to Kitty to see through that bluff.
Hissing, Isaac backs away. He lowers his hands and scowls at the trio, even while Ripley's goons rush about in an effort to recollect their guns. As for Isaac, he takes only a brief look at Doug and Rachel, before his eyes level themselves upon Kitty. To her he stares, and there's a promise listed silently within the irises of brown.
They will encounter each other again. It's a silent promise.
 
Doug's gentle moving of Kitty's head will garner a swift shake, no. Now is not the time. Now is not the place. She's given her voice, and she's given her opinion and now is time to step back, and away and let that opinion be known. Any other words, she'll give once Doug is away from Isaac's influence, and can talk normally. Thus, Kitty continues to move backwards, and then.. well... oh hell.
RACHEL! No! If anyone can read expressions right now - Kitty's entire body screams 'by the maker she didn't just do that, did she?' It's a look of betrayal, followed by a setting of her jaw. Well. Rachel is a friend, and a team-mate, if she wants a fight, Kitty will be forced to back her up, but not without giving Rachel one hell of a yelling to later. The bomber jacket in her hand is flipped over, revealing twin escrima sticks that have been hidden within the folds the entire time. With an ease of motion, both are now in Kitty's fingers, held with an experience that she's gained through years of fighting. Always fighting. Her stance is experience etched with an almost reluctance to be forced into this. She could have used them, or tried to, at nearly any point. Instead though, Kitty's eyes lock onto Isaac's, and the sticks then shifted back into the folds her jacket with just as swift of a motion. 
She straightens upwards, and bows. Formal. Head still raised. Eye to eye. As she was taught by someone else, a long time ago. "If that happens, we will then be enemies. I do not believe either one of us wants that." And without looking at Rachel, Kitty will wait until the red-head and Doug are out, before moving out and away herself. 
There is a brief nod in agreement with Kitty as she shakes her head. Fine. So be it. 
And then Rachel pulls her move, and like Kitty's expression, there's such a -look- that one could very easily tell that Doug wanted to facepalm... no, make that a double. 
Hands ball up into fists, before relaxing, as Doug casts a -look- at the other two men, before slowly holding his hands up. "Ghbblcppii, vkksajk.... Rhhjs sogoo..." he mutters, before meeting Kitty's look, and then moving out, but not without an apologetic look at Isaac's two companions. 
 
It's not like last time, when her powers suddenly weren't there. This time they've been forcibly taken from her, and Rachel lets out a hiss of discomfort from between clenched teeth, and even takes a half step to steady her stance as the feedback hits her. But her eyes, in her now-branded face, don't move from Isaac, and her hand only tightens on her gun. At Isaac's threat, Rachel bares her teeth in an almost wolfish grin, too committed now to feel any fear that he can carry out his threat, probably about to pour petrol on the situation by asking if he can do that with a hole through his head.
Kitty's intervention stops Rachel in her tracks, and although Rachel didn't /really/ expect Kitty and Doug to agree with her, she still feels a pang of betrayal that's probably akin to Kitty's own. This guy's been jerking them around - he took her and Doug out - he's been threatening them with no response - Rachel didn't feel she had a choice. She had to show that he didn't have all the power here, that they weren't completely at his mercy. That they weren't weak. And she did it, she feels.
For Rachel's part, the situation is on a knife edge until Kitty delivers her formal warning. Although Rachel's not /quite/ sure she agrees with Kitty's final words, it's good enough for her to step back and hustle Doug out of the place, whatever complaints he's making about her. She trusts Kitty to follow, or she's going right back in!
On this subject, it seems Kitty Pryde will get the last word.
As soon as the three X-Men are out in the rain, the doors to Ripley's Lounge slam shut. Through the closing of the doors, Isaac smiles and raises his hand, flashing his fingers in a wave goodbye.
In short order, both Kitty and Doug will have their mutant abilities restored.
However, it seems there may be some truth to the threat made by Isaac.
Rachel's mutagenic abilities are no longer being directly inhibited by Isaac. That manipulation has been released. However, there is a lingering effect that leaves her telepathically blind and numb for a time. Much like the prickling fire of blood re-entering a strangled limb, her abilities will gradually return... over time.
Category:Log