The Hall is a place where the young, restless, and vibrant come to be seen. It hearkens to the punk rockers and the folk singers, the rabblerousers and those who will coalesce one day into great names: Bob Dylan. The Velvet Underground. Mr. Warhol.
She counts among the brightest lights, for literally the spotlights puddle just to the side of her on a clutch of eager dancers probably too stoned or high on LSD to know what much is going on. They don't question a girl in a heavy motorcycle jacket to her wrists, or gloves on, nor are they going to make it easy for anyone to draw close to her. It's a beautiful scene of a cross-section of the city's society, mutants and humans and those in between, dancing to the pulsations of rocking music that slips between actual rock and something almost bordering on a protest song.
An easy place to find her, doubly because she's wearing a loose string of feathers in her hair, the warning Crystal was given to look for. Easy enough to seek her out, seeing that they're dusted with some fluorescent glow in the dark paint.
*
Of all the places Crystal would be likely to appear on her own, this is likely one of the last. As friendly as she is, this scene is a bit more edgy than her usual speed. Still, she's willing to try something new, and if this is where Scarlett wants to meet, then this is where she'll go.
She sticks out like a sore thumb, though. The dark green velvet sheath dress with a wide neck would fit right in somewhere more high-end, but here it's hopelessly…Well. Fuddy-duddy. Still, she moves through the crowd with confidence and smiles until she reaches the other woman. "This place is so colorful," she says as she joins her.
*
The music scene makes for a good cover: loud, lively, full of people. Not the sort of place a conversation can be bugged or eavesdropped on. Too many happy souls happy to accept everyone who might wish. On the other hand, Scarlett's scene sits squarely between Greenwich and East Village. Putting her in the fuddy-duddy sections of the Upper West Side wearing what she wears would be… tricky. Not with such tight lines, short hem, thin leggings. But that being said, the dancing young woman has a little more space than some and she opens her arms to widen that, nudging away a pair of stoned twenty-somethings, as Crystal descends.
"I know it's a bit bright for some," she agrees, nodding to the girls in Dayglo green bouncing by en route to the stage. "Though good for our purposes. You have heard how poorly things have gone for some of our friends?"
*
"I had heard some were…missing," Crystal nods, though she's still cautious with the wording, looking around herself. "I'm afraid I haven't really been consulted on the circumstances of why or how that exactly happened." And she didn't feel it was her place to press the topic, given her unique situation. But that's a more involved explanation.
"I presume you have some of that information." Put her in a room with a dance floor for partnered dancing and she'll follow right along. This whole dancing alone thing, on the other hand, she's going to need some time to figure out.
*
"Not people who should be missing," murmurs the redheaded bohemian, her arms crossing over the line of her torso in something of a hug. She moves to the erratic rhythm played from the speakers, putting paid at least to having some sensibility of dancing. Not conspicuously normal dancing, but athletic all the same. "None have much spoken to me, either, until quite recently. I heard of one or two who went absent, which might be cause of concern. At this time of year, it can be difficult. Summer brings the doldrums, loneliness, a wanderlust I can well understand."
She considers Crystal for a moment, and she slips on a slow angle, drawing Crystal towards a midpoint along the wall instead of buried in the depths of the crowd. "But Miss Grey?" The light tone is brittle, those unholy green eyes of her glimmering like balefires in the dark. Scarlett shakes her head. "Totally unlike her. She hates confinement, and having heard nothing of her, I am deeply worried. I need to link up with Mr. Howlett, as he knows her best. But the day before, Piotr provided me data about a … program. A scientific one, kidnapping people such as them. It's worse, there also seems to be one kidnapping regular folks and doing awful things to them. Drug testing, and the like."
*
Crystal's brows furrow when she mentions Jean, clearly concerned. "No," she agrees slowly. "No, I can't see her leaving without saying anything to anyone. And even if she has, it would be for the best that she not be out alone, I expect." Crossing one arm over her chest, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she thinks. "Kidnapping people to test on them is certainly not promising. Do we have any idea who these people are?"
*
"Not likely leaving of her own free will. She needs to feel safe and independent, and unless something terrible happened in the fields around home, I cannot imagine that was true." Scarlett isn't quite dancing, though the inestimably hypnotic rhythm keeps her moving from side to side. "Call me unnecessarily worried, but I fear the worst and I fear why. They are testing on people. Testing what, I am not sure, but it looks as though they want to weaponize abilities in their subjects. I have an unhealthy amount of paperwork and guesses, all centering on a Ferris wheel. Are you familiar with them? The great, round mechanized objects which spin on their axes, as a vehicle and entertainment found often at fairs. Coney Island has a permanent one. I do not know many others."
*
"I know a thing or two about weaponizing people," Crystal grimaces. It is, after all, the origin of her species. "I've found it doesn't work out well for the people who think they're going to get something out of what they create. What does it have to do with Ferris wheels, though?"
*
The sound of that leaves a similarly unhappy look on Scarlett's face, her mouth downturned in a sickle arc. Dark eyes flooded by concern stare up to the stage. "Truly it concerns me, especially where Jean is involved. She has been badly used in the past, and those who took advantage of her in the past did immense harm to her well-being. When she reaches some degree of stability and happiness, though, I cannot conceive how much this will hurt. Piotr had ideas about whom might be involved. I don't have a concrete name. An organization or department or agency with vast resources, by the looks of it. They have operated in multiple states. I can show you what I have access to, see whether you make any sense of the patterns." Her thoughts roam as she spins around and pulls back towards the question Crystal posits. "The maps are encoded, a cipher I have trouble breaking out. They suggest locations around the city, and in the Rocky Mountains. But the central point suggests a /Ferris wheel/ has significance, and I know Coney Island has one."
*
"How would they hide something like that at Coney Island?" It's not really a question of Scarlett, but rather the first question that comes to Crystal's mind. "I can't say I've ever been, but I thought it was- Well, I thought it was a popular tourist location. There's cover, and then there's…making things unnecessarily difficult for yourself." She taps her thumb against her lips, pensive. "If it's underground or underwater, I should be able to sense it, though. If we were there."
*
"I don't know. It would seem to me they intend, perhaps, to meet at Coney Island? Perhaps they want to use it for some purpose? I can imagine horrible scenarios involving electrifying it and rolling away through the city but none of these mean anything. The experimentation isn't clear. Narcotics are involved for the mundane subjects, but not the likes of Ms. Grey." Scarlett shakes her head again. "I feared the underground possibilities. It seems very strange to me, if they would have some kind of bunker. For one, it's in the ocean or on the shore, not exactly the most stable of locations. Perhaps we should go and see?"
*
"Perhaps we should," Crystal agrees, though she's tentative. "Not alone, though. I think a few of the more seasoned members of the institute would be helpful for that sort of trip. How many are missing now?" she asks. "If there are…what, three? Of our own missing, then how many more can we assume would be missing from places where they're less closely guarded, less carefully watched?" Again, she pauses, catching her lower lip between her teeth. "I don't think we should bring Erik."
*
Scarlett shakes her head at the suggestion to go alone, or not, as the case would be. "No. Far too dangerous if there would be any sort of security, doubly so if we suspect a group to be at play and hunting us. I think there are three missing, though I haven't made a deliberate survey of everyone who should be there, and someone who has not been." Her worried expression colours her emerald gaze with a stark radiance at odds with her pale features, countenance drawn into the hard marble lines of a statue. "I think it may be best to presume that no one possesses their independence, and possibly not even consciousness. Kitty might be your best lead if you have questions."
*
"If no one is able to reach Jean, then yes, I have to assume that she isn't conscious. Or else she's been very heavily drugged," Crystal grimaces, looking over her shoulder to the rest of the club. "I suppose there isn't much difference, really. Neither is likely to be to her benefit. Of course, it also brings up a question of why or how they would be aware of her capabilities to know to drug her or keep her unconscious. Which may be more important, in terms of who we discuss our plans with."
*
Scarlett gives that frosty, dark smile that lingered for a moment earlier, and now rises above the horizon again. "Indeed, Miss Crystal, I hold the same queries. How do they know, and what markers are they using to detect her? For surely there might be someone inside the house with a reason to cause her harm. But Akihiro? Those are two there, and one I could see connected by a common person of Mr. Howlett. Though I doubt highly he had anything to do with Jean's loss, it would help us to know whom to warn and whom not to be involved with."
*
"You think perhaps someone has been watching Mr. Howlett and took the two of them due to their proximity to him?" Crystal mulls it over. "I'm afraid I haven't…inquired as to his history, in truth. I always had the impression that he didn't much care for discussing it, and it didn't seem polite to press. But taking people close to him would certainly be targeted. The alternative is to imagine that he may be working with someone, feeding them information. And that hardly bears thinking of."
*
"I fear I don't know. Whether he knows them or not is beyond me, at this point, though Piotr and Kitty have large pieces of this to her history. There were stories from him about a young woman with a decidedly violent skill set, but we probably need to ask them." Her hands pushing back her hair, the bohemian wrestles with the ideas in her mind. "I would prefer to think that Mr. Howlett is not involved directly with this. Though like Mr. Lensherr, he seems to hold a great deal of experience with the world. So we might stand by giving him what little information there is and seeing what comes of it, though truth be told, I don't look forward to it. However, Jean is /Jean/. And if I have to fly to the moon to save her, I'll figure out a way to do it."
*
"Well, I will be there as well," Crystal assures, starting to reach out a hand before she catches herself. "Someone has put the institute and everything it stands for at risk. They're threatening people I care about. And I am not inclined to simply let that lie. So. If they're looking for a fight, then I'm afraid they've bitten off more than they can chew with us. We'll get our people back."
*
"I appreciate that." The twenty-something gazes over the masses of people, dancers without a care, troublemakers in their own way in the throes of joy. All of them ignorant of the rumbling stirring in the belly of the social beast, a change in the wind she has become the unfortunate weather vane for. "They hurt others. It is enough for me to consider how to protect the ones I love, though Miss Crystal, I'm not a fighter." Her head shaken, she rubs her hands up and down her arms. "Not by will. There must be something I can do not predicated upon direct engagement. What you saw earlier with Professor King isn't my typical temperament and I fear, truly, what happens if they were somehow to subdue us. Hence, the need for a suitable defensive strategy to stop good people from being hurt."
*
"I'm not a fighter by preference, but I'm quite able to be one if needed." Crystal crosses her arms over her chest, jaw setting with determination. "And I'm afraid most of my defensive strategies involve running away and finding a place to hide where no one will ever find me. Unfortunate, but it's been most of my life experience in one way or another. I somehow suspect that running away isn't the solution our friends at the Institute will be looking for."
*
"Running away is an acceptable defensive strategy. Mine is not that much different, though I do fight to be the last to flee as much as I can. A greater level of durability against the common jerk, and all that." The redhead's smile is faint. "I should bring those files over to you, if you are comfortable with that. Do you mind if I have them delivered in, say, an hour? I haven't kept them at the institute."
*
"Of course," Crystal nods. "I'll see if there's anything in them that I can recognize that might help us to make a plan so that we can put an end to this problem before it takes anyone else."