maskormenacelogs | You turn the screws

Entry tags:

You turn the screws

WHO: Mitchell and Batma -- I mean Bruce Wayne
WHERE: Some nice Lunch Place in De Chima
WHEN: Friday Afternoon
WHAT: Political Conversations Gone Wrong
WARNINGS: N/A

The whole point of the meeting was to set something up for later, right? He couldn't fund an entire thing on his own, so it made sense, seek out the people he knew were good for it, and go from there. There had to be something that he'd need, Mitch was sure. Bruce Wayne was a shrewd businessman, and one who... well, there would be something Mitchell could think to offer him, which would at least get him talking about what he wanted to do. He just wanted to do something good, get people involved and while... his job, the Senate, was dry and boring enough as it was, it just...

The best way to encourage engagement was to pull people in, right? Maybe get people moving, volunteering, but Mitch...

Mitch wasn't exactly a party planner. Hell, he was a dry as hell asshole who would say that they should spend the whole day volunteering, or maybe talking with senators -- which was not anyone's idea of a fun day, even Mitchell's. So that was why he needed to look elsewhere, and when he stepped into the small outdoor café, it was with an aide who was quickly jotting things down in he blackberry, before Mitchell waved her off, and she left for the bar. Mitchell, of course, slipped in with a quick movement, unbuttoning his jacket, before he reached out with his hand. "Mr. Wayne, thank you for taking the time to talk to me today. I really appreciate it."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Bruce hadn't seen a lot of Mitchell since after he'd won the election, but the life of a politician was undoubtedly busy, maybe even busier than his. Still, despite their friendly relationship and Bruce's assistance with Mitchell's campaign in the past, it didn't take a detective to realize why he'd asked him out to lunch. Lucky for Mitchell that Bruce didn't yet feel that he had anything of note to hide from him... little does he know.

Still, when Mitchell arrives, Bruce can spot him coming from a mile away (as is the curse of even mild celebrity), and stands up early to meet his approach. He responds with his best firm handshake and forged, photo-op ready smile.]

Of course, Mitchell. Or maybe I should say senator. I see you had your assistant pick the location-- looks like you've fit into the position comfortably.

[He jokes, however saccharine it might be, but an outdoor café allowed all of the photographers breathing room to clamor for photographs, while at the same time appearing casual enough to appeal to a left wing demographic.]

[ It's good that he has the smile, because yes, there are cameras, and yes, they do catch a whiff of it. It's on Bwitter moments later. "Senator Hundred and Bruce Wayne in a restaurant? Date or business lunch? You Decide."

He sat, and after a moment of orders -- one drink, a salad. If he ate more in public, he was certain someone would say something about his weight. ]

I'd offer to pay, but I'm not even sure if you don't own this restaurant. It seems like the kind of thing someone of your... bracket would do.

[He owns a few, certainly, considering his unfortunate culinary talents, this one doesn't happen to be one. Still, it wasn't beyond someone of his bracket, as Mitchell had so eloquently put, to find his meal comped, nor was it outside the ordinary for an attractive waitress to bat her eye at him.

He wouldn't answer Mitchell, only smile coyly and take a sip of his sparkling water, looking casually wealthy without a coat, his collar unbuttoned, on this rather warm day. His decorative ring affords him this luxury, running a simple, skin-thin hologram over his entire body to canvas the scars.]

That's a way of putting it. [A beat.] It's been a while, Mitchell. I haven't had the chance to congratulate you. A belated one, then.

[ Mitchell wondered, for a half-second, if he knew that the hologram was audible to him. But he didn't say anything. He rarely did, after all. Nobody needed to know that the Senator from Virginia knew far too many imports more intimately than he'd let on, and instead he smiled, and dipped his head. ]

Thank you, but it's hardly necessary. I'm... just happy that the people of Virginia were able to give me this opportunity, and I want... to make sure that I use it for good, you know? [ He leaned back in the seat, and looked around. ]

Which, honestly, was why I called you here today. Not that... I wouldn't be delighted to have lunch with you, but...

[Bruce smiles, casually raising a hand before reaching for his drink with it.]

Don't worry, Mitchell. It doesn't take a detective to figure out what this lunch is all about. I know what my friends like me for. [MONEY...]

Why don't you go ahead and tell me what you need.

[ Mitchell picked up a drink to cover his soft snort. Alright, he couldn't help it, and it was only after a quick glance at him -- did he know? -- before he took a drink, and felt his lips quirk, slightly. ]

I know parties aren't really your thing... [ Actually, they were absolutely Bruce Wayne's thing. ] But, ah, I'd like to work to organize a swear-in up in DC. We'd need...logistical support, transportation, a theme...

I thought of you.

I see. [He replies briefly before sipping at his drink.]

Generally I'm not the biggest fan of swear-ins, given their propensity for going badly, but... I haven't thrown a party since I've arrived, have I? Maybe something like that would be good for the both of us.

[Generally, swear-ins were good for gathering intel, regardless of whether they went smoothly or not.]

Did you have anything in mind?

[ Mitchell laughed, and dipped his head. ] Yeah, well, I made a point to establish safe swear-ins, in De Chima, and I'd like to extend that to DC if we could... [ he took a moment, his fingers tapped on the table. ]

I have a lot of ideas, Mr. Wayne. Most of them are goddamn awful and dry, because I'm not exactly an expert on what's very good. I thought it would be fun if we set something up in the Smithsonian, or on the Mall. Something to give our both new and old imports the opportunity to see the history of the world they've arrived in, and learn the context of what kind of place they've come into.

I think if they understand this world, then maybe... maybe they'll have some investment in the community we're creating.

I can... appreciate your passion, and I don't disagree with you...

[But...]

But dry would be accurate, considering the swear-ins of the past. And while they're not exactly parties I would go to, they've gotten crowds. At this rate you'll have to end up throwing a historical reenactment or something.

[He says, with a broad, joking smile. JOKING, I SAID.]

Well... that might get people engaged, at least.

[A sigh.]

You see my problem, then. Government isn't exactly the most engaging, and while I love it, I'm a sucker for facts. Not everyone finds that exciting, I know.

[Boy oh boy does Batman love facts. It's a shame he's playing the part of Bruce Wayne, though, as the playboy billionaire would much rather play around frivolously with his time.]

I do. I can offer you the money, but unless a large portion of this world's history took place on a yacht, I'm not entirely sure I'll be much help.

Not at all?

[ He asked, and tried to make it light, but... his voice faltered, slightly. ]

I mean, money goes far enough to get things arranged, but... I don't want you signing onto this without knowing what we're doing. Your name will be attached, and... I'm pretty sure you don't want to be surprised with the implied endorsement of anything by serendipity, you know?

Oh, I'm certainly not saying I don't want to know more about it, Mitchell. Only that I'm good for it when and if the time comes.

[He notes the falter in his voice, but plays it off roguishly, idly playing with his glass of sparkling lemon water.]

All things considered, I appreciate the honesty. It's not every day I offer free money and someone hesitates to take it. And I do think that we're all a little too complacent here, so maybe getting people active in learning more about the world around them-- the real world around them-- will light a fire under them.

We can hope, right? I mean, it's easy to get caught up in things, and while I don't... disagree that focusing on all the other problems is important... With Russia, and the implicit issues with supervillains cropping up every five minutes...

[ He ticked off his fingers, before he shook his head. ]

I feel like some people tend to forget that this is a real world, and that they could be here for a long time. We might all eventually go home, but... those of us who've been here for a long time know that ignoring the world itself is... it's going to lead to a world of pain, you know?

[As though that's something he's thought about before, Bruce sits back, brow gently knitted as he continues to touch the edges of his perspiring glass.]

All you have to do is look around at this new wave of metahumans after Tony Stark's epidemic late last year. A large percentage of them are only taking to the streets trying to do the job they think we can't. Or won't. And I'm afraid fighting them will only widen the schism between imPorts and natives.

We?

[ Mitchell paused, and he looked at him carefully, green eyes that looked both just as sharp as before -- but more direct. Like he'd been very careful to not meet his eyes before.

Which he had been. It's easier to lie, then. But did he need to? There were times that Mitchell had slipped. Had he read into his history that much? ]

Do you mean all imports, or...?

I like to think I've been brought here for a reason, Mitchell. Just because I don't wear a suit like the others doesn't mean I'm not culpable of any assistance.

[His answer seems fairly even. If he'd slipped, he doesn't let on at all. And really, of all people, would he be so careless? Bruce reaches for his drink and takes another sip, maintaining eye contact.]

Not all things can be solved as a vigilante. I think you're fairly aware of that, though.

[ Mitchell watched. Paused. No, that couldn't have been intentional. If anything, it was probably his mind coming up with a reason, wasn't it? He smiled, and shook his head, before he broke eye contact, and looked down at his own drink. ]

Tell me about it. Don't let anyone fool you, suits -- well, suits like us shouldn't wear capes -- [ Fuck. He paused. ] -- Or Jetpacks, or any other bullshit like I used to.

It's just a recipe for disaster. Some of us do better working...administratively.

[Bruce continues staring, though, perhaps a little bit more earnestly than before.]

Tell me a little about your time in costume. If you don't mind, of course.

As long as you don't mind any...secondhand embarrassment.

[ He smiled, and shook his head. ]

The first night I went out, I stopped a train that a few guys were riding on...to save their lives. It was...

I stopped the entire subway system for ages. And that...wasn't the worst thing that I'd done, either. It was a lot of that shit. And then I got a fucking archenemy.

Well, if saving two lives is one of your more embarrassing stories... [He smirks.] Trains can be fixed. And people will blame you for their inconveniences, but in the end they can do that because you decided to do something about it.

Well, that's not the time I burned my ass on a jetpack, or the time I ran into a chain link fence...

[ Or the time he sicked a pack of wild dogs on his arch-nemesis by distorting his voice. ]

Trust me, my world wasn't made for superheroes, it didn't do any good to be out there doing it. I'm no...Superman, or a Captain America, or anything like that.

The word super is overrated. People look at Superman and think it's heat vision or a bulletproof chest that makes him great. That's not what makes him a hero.

[Mitchell, don't you ever fucking tell anybody he said this about Clark.]

[ Mitchell? Mitchell laughed, a touch ruefully, and shook his head. ]

I'd agree. He was -- the few times I met him -- he was something else. I don't think I've met anyone better, and I had the distinct pleasure of meeting him a few times.

[ Fucking. Fanboy. ]

But I don't know, I think... I just wasn't suited for that life. It wasn't how I could serve best.

It's... difficult to find a purpose. I worked for years before I finally found mine.

[Bruce looks askew wistfully for a moment. A bit of personal honesty from him, as Mitchell will undoubtedly know.]

You?

[ He asked, his grin used to hide the dose of irony in his voice. ] I can't imagine it.

I thought you'd be born into your purpose.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You turn the screws

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject