maskormenacelogs | (open) ▶ we got new players in town

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(open) ▶ we got new players in town

WHO: Hank Schrader, Jesse Pinkman, Rustin Cohle, and YOU.
WHERE: Around Cape Canaveral, then Heropa's police precinct, apartments, restaurants, and bars. Run into him anywhere, I'm flexible!
WHEN: November 16-22
WHAT: Maiming meth heads and making cliché X-Men jokes. In other words: he's settling in, okay?
WARNINGS: Mention of drug use, violence, and lots of F-bombs.

cape canaveral;

[ He's only just recently arrived, and it doesn't matter that he's been given a clean suit. Doesn't matter that it's a beautiful day. Doesn't matter that he's got an iced coffee just sitting there melting, or that he's probably getting a sunburn on his head that'll make him sorry. Doesn't matter what's good, or what's bad, because none of it is home. That puts it on a level with words he doesn't know. Florida doesn't even sum it up, and that's pretty bad on it's own.

Despite sitting out in the sun in his wheelchair, he's not lounging. He's not sitting like a guy would on a park bench, but instead like anyone might at an office desk. He isn't looking around with a casual front, although there is a newspaper. It's just a crumpled mess on the sidewalk beside him, the bullshit inside only further proof that none of this can be real. But even if it might feel like a dream, he isn't treating it like one. He's looking at everyone like they're a potential enemy (they are), and coming to terms with the realization he may not see his wife for a long time. That's the entire reason he had to leave the building in the first place: making too big of a scene over Marie's whereabouts. The jags thought he'd just cooperate because he can't walk on his own? He can still fire a gun.

Sucking air in through his teeth, he scratches angrily at the spot on his wrist they chose to violate, even if the tattoo isn't visible right now. He doesn't even want to think about what other Frankenstein crap they tried on him. His file wasn't reassuring. Working for the government doesn't entail this level of BS, that much he knows, no matter what Hollywood likes to dazzle laymen with. It's left him completely stuck on how to proceed.

Just when he'd finally had his motivation jump-started again, with Marie's tentative smile still alive in his memory and the Los Pollos logo sitting right in front of him, he's suddenly in the land of nod and unicorns, except these unicorns are just people with super powers. Supposedly. His inner child can't even get any enjoyment out of the prospects, not with everything he is invested in the life he had.

Fuck 'em. This isn't his government. Is it? Fuck. What he wouldn't give for a cigar and his wife's nagging opinions. ]

heropa;

[ So this is a world where the Jetsons didn't quite lie. It's not quite sci-fi, but it borders close enough to almost distract Hank from the gravity of this fuckfest. Almost. Hovering cars don't make him any more pleased to be shipped here, like some recruit in the 60's. Except he's supposed to believe this is still America. Well, fuck, okay then.

The only proper way to cope with that realization is collect as many books as he can on the subject...and drink. Drink a lot. While most of it will no doubt be at the apartment with a pile of texts, he'll still be frequenting bars and cheap diners a couple nights this week. He needs to see the kind of people that live here, anyway, and feel out new connections. It may be difficult when he practically radiates indignation, lurking by a corner table in his wheelchair, but it's hard to be friendly when so far you've only had possible enemies to meet.

He will be checking out the local precinct in the day, even if he's not ready to sign on for any work. As a fed, he isn't thrilled at the idea of working alongside city cops, especially as a Goddamn dispatch. He doesn't even get a proper badge. In reality (ACTUAL reality), he shouldn't give a single fuck about that, if he's to continue along the mindset that none of this is his, anyway; But it's hard to shake stereotypes and expectations, and somehow this seems even worse than a suspension. There's a mutual respect he'll offer street cops, with his history, but that doesn't make him want his old job back any less. Being a desk jockey and listening to panicked people all day? Thanks, no. He'll do nearly anything to change it.

Enough that his mind occasionally drifts back to that fairy godmother move Pinkman pulled on him. It had offered something like...hope. But hope from the enemy? He'd sooner deal with a physical therapist again than owe Pinkman his entire livelihood. He's no fucking Cinderella.

Tiana all the way. ]

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[ Jeez, he can barely finish his french fries before he's being sold a bit. Absently, he glances past her to the table she came from. ...A woman who eats that much and looks like this cannot be trusted, can she? Just another thing Marie would cry about, along with how he keeps running into women.

He needs to stop thinking about how annoying Marie is, he misses her. And hell, he's run into children and junkies, too, so he'll take this over that any day. PIs are only mildly less awkward. ]

Conspiracy theories, huh. I'm not looking for a tin-foil hat and a name tag for your club, sweetheart.

[ ...Eh, throw her a bone, Schrader. He'll scratch his chin. ]

But take a seat, I guess. Can't hurt to get some more answers.

I'm not talking stuff like "faked the moon landing," [she clarifies after a moment.] After a while—[she takes a seat at this point, smiling easily]—it's more than that. This place kind of begs for it, though.

[Kate considers pointing out at this point that he has superpowers, but she keeps that to herself. That might be too obvious, too pushing and way too suspicious. She knows better than that.

Without her stuff at her table, she finds herself somewhat idle, so she grabs a napkin to carefully fiddle with it. Usually she's fairly emotive, so having something to keep her hands still will help.]</small. Anyway—have you had any questions that've been nagging at you?

Uh...

[ He has to look past her to where she came from, the table and her belongings abandoned. It's only more strange because she's fidgety. Why would she ditch her food to just ask a complete stranger...if he has any questions? He knows that's not normal, and while he could think 'dealer' or 'crackpot' easily enough, she doesn't seem nearly assured enough in whatever the Hell she's trying to do here.

So, naturally, his suspicions lead back to their origin. She must have seen the video of him and Pinkman on YouTube, or she was sent here by him specifically. Fuck it. His tone immediately becomes deadpan, as he motions over her shoulder with a fry. ]

Don't want your food anymore?

It's poor manners to walk away. [The reply itself comes smoothly enough. Now that she's received her absolute confirmation of his existence, she really doesn't need to be here. But he offered her a seat, so it makes sense to continue forward and sit down.] I'll ... go grab it. If you don't mind.

[Kate flashes him an awkward smile and moves to slip out of the booth.

This is going terribly.]

[ No one ever said that Hank makes a great first impression, but it may be due to recent events that it's even harder for anyone else to make a good impression on him. Still, it's worth forcing himself to be a little more patient over.

The behavior, no matter how he look sat it, is suspicious, but it would be stupid to jump to conclusions two minutes into meeting her. He's just too riled up to easily forget, and her clear anxiety is making him feel only slightly guilty.

He still watches her when she leaves, taking the opportunity to check her over for any signs that she might be carrying. He's aware it might not matter, since she could shoot laser beams from her eyes for all he knows, but old habits never actually die, and paranoia doesn't feel much like paranoia when he's attacked in parking lots and given mutant powers.

A smile is halfway attempted once she returns with her things, and he clears his throat. ]

Gotta respect a woman with a healthy appetite. Burger like that doesn't deserve to get cold.

[ It's the most he can muster to make up for being so stand-offish. ]

So how's this work... You got pamphlets, or you hold a Q and A?

[If he inspects her, two things will be clear: she isn't carrying anything, but she's definitely built like someone who doesn't spend a lot of her days in diners eating cheeseburgers and drinking sodas. Of course, Kate actually eats a lot of cheeseburgers, but she works it off, all thanks to that healthy twenty-one-year-old way of keeping herself going.

She pokes at her burger on the plate and gives a swift shake of her head to his question.]

No pamphlets yet, but someone recently requested one. It's right around the corner. [That's likely the most casual she's sounded all night. It is the truth, and it isn't frosted with lies and awkwardness to keep this conversation going just because she needed to know if he's who she thought he was.]

And while the basics are necessary and available, just accepting things as deductive reasoning presents them is a good first step. [She trusts he has good deductive reasoning, what with his bathroom reading trick that he hasn't ... performed yet.] It helps get to the meaty stuff.

[She punctuates that with a bite of her sandwich.]

[ He has to chuckle at her delivery. It's notable. ]

Well trust me, I've already had quite the damn introduction courtesy of a few of your other imPort heroes.

[ Offered as dryly as that fry he's been holding onto, which he puts down so he can hastily wipe his hand off on his jeans. He'll wait until she's finished her bite of food before holding it out, at least.

Sometimes it just takes Hank a second try to remember manners. ]

The name's Hank. Honestly not decided about registering yet, considering what they call sound judgment, just in case you've got a spiel planned.

[Her eyebrows raise at the first statement. It's enough to make her wonder, but this isn't the place to seem too curious. Still, she has a remark about the heroes. Not everyone is a hero, so she'll get there.

It ties in to the registration bit rather well.]

Not everyone is really a hero, you know. [She rolls her shoulders back.] But I've been here nine months without registering. It's really up to you if you want to be into the whole government deal. [She wants to add that it'd make things easier, but she doesn't want to seem that obvious about it.]

[ He doesn't need her to tell him that, exercising that deductive reasoning she went on about.

Still good to have it confirmed, though. ]

So you're not registered but not high-tailing it, huh? [ Well, where can you go when this closely monitored? ] Guess it's a better use of your time than joining a villain empire.

[ Maybe some would disagree. ]

I don't really do the "villain" thing. It doesn't look good on me. [As in, she's tried on a villain's mask once and even dug through her partner's groin for a credit card. These are things that Kate Bishop Never Wants to Do Again even for the greater good. And there was a great deal of good involved with that.]

But high-tailing it is easier said than done. They start contacting you about it the moment you step out, and hey, I like the US. My version of it is better, but I'm an American.

[ Interesting how she says 'doesn't' instead of 'wouldn't', but he's got enough to focus on. ]

How far out?

[If asked, she'd gladly regale him with the story of the mayfly dimensions and the weirdly high number of evil Young Avengers.]

Immediately. I think they track us along the borders. Toronto or London, it doesn't matter.

Even the, uh...

[ A half-cocked chuckle, like he's not sure what's okay to joke about anymore. Well when commies are involved? I mean really? ]

Allies? C'mon. I love the states as much as the next guy, but we can't be relocated?

You're thinking too ... linear. This is a different world. And it also sends a message to the prime minister of England that they're willing to keep an eye on us. See? It goes both ways.

[Though Kate does have something to add. That is, after she takes a large, sloppy bite of her burger. The image is unique: she doesn't mind the slop, but the way she grabs her napkin and pats at her mouth speaks of training. It's ingrained in her.]

That said, I don't know if it'll matter so much if we don't have a choice but to leave.

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(open) ▶ we got new players in town

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