1963-10-19 - Go Get Me a Store
Summary: Raven finally makes herself seen when Cain stops by for a visit.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
cain raven 

Cain had gotten word that Raven was back, more than a little irritated that things never quite came together for him to help lead the rescue of her. But Cain was always a little irritated, so it might not even seem that noticeable.

He was camped out at the safehouse, a massive rack of ribs set off to one side, half-eaten, along with oversized rolls and some corn on the cob. Say what you would about Hell's Kitchen, it was close enough to Harlem you could get decent grub. Not like the bunch of potato eatin' Irish bastards he had to deal with when he hung in Brooklyn.

He hears a noise outside, but it sounds deliberate, like the kind of noise Raven makes when she doesn't want to embarrass him with a surprise, "C'mon in, sis, nobody here but me an' some dead pig."


Cain has partially disconnected.


There were long days afterward, long days where she didn't stay within the four walls of the tenement, but slept outside on the roof in the open stars. And when the people of the building managed to come out there for their own nightly fun, they were scared away by Raven hissing and near screaming, coupled with a flail of her arms to induce that fact that.. none should be up there. And then the days after, she spent in the bathroom, soaked in the water, where she'd stare at the wall or either sleep. Sometimes she'd only climb out just to throw up and back into the cold water to sleep more.. she was just a mess. And then there were the nightmares, who knows what went on in her head, but it was there. Yet finally, she was 'right' again, right enough to take a walk and right enough to know that someone was in her safehouse. Yes, it was that noise. Deliberate, purposeful. She'd spare the children JUST THIS ONCE, and any other time after that it was fair game. Even to the child who mentioned blue people and here's some cookies, which she so rudely shoved out the door to spill into the hallway. (She tried to eat one, threw up).

Hearing Cain? It was almost something like a dream. But that dream was all filled with sorts of trickery. She really couldn't still trust that she was out of the hellmouth, but she approaches him, blue as she was, nothing else worn with a bit of apprehension.

"What are you doing here." Her tone was flat, suspicious, even as her yellow eyes shift around the room in which he sat. "And why."


Cain lifts his eyes up. He should probably be sympathetic and understanding. She's literally been through hell after all, left to suffer there with no rescue for weeks. Fuck knows what she'd been through. She wouldn't show the scars on her body either, it'd all be on the inside, tough as leather hide and covered with rage and hate and sorrow.

But that didn't mean Cain was gonna take shit.

"Waiting for you," he says. "Because you'd turn up eventually. This is where you said to meet, this is where we meet. Word got around you were back - we tried to find ya, but, well, we ain't exactly magicians," he says. "If you got some sort of bullshit amnesia, you come a little closer and I'll knock it out o' ya right quick you keep lippin' off that way."


Time shakes and is odd. She's been gone for two years, she felt it, but Cain doesn't look it. But no, that was just two weeks. Her brain was still a scrambled mess, she expected to come back to zepplins in the sky and some new fandangled invention that hit the streets. But nope. This is all she gets.

Cain. Who's words cause a little snort and a chuff, her barefeet a light thing walking across the flooring to grab a chair, with a slow and endless drag to sit it in front of him, her body following.

"You're real, alright." She says quietly.

"Fred and Domino were there. So your efforts were noted."

One leg crosses over the other as her hand reaches out in front of him, wrigglig. "Cigarette?" She didn't have any, and it felt like a good time to finally blow out her lungs.


Cain reaches into the pocket of his vest, throwing her a pack of Marlboros after he pulls out one for himself. "Ain't but one me, accept no substitutes," he says.

"Yeah, Fred burbled out that you were back on the phone, but I couldn't make out much through the ham sammich he was prob'ly eatin' while he told me," he says. "I imagine you don't wanna fuckin' talk about it and I don't blame ya a bit. I been in a few bad places my day - some of 'em kinda hellish - an' it weren't nothin' I'd wanna dwell on," he says.


Raven keeps her gaze away from him in favor of the cigarette. It was lit soon after, a deep inhale taken, which was expelled with a series of coughs that manage to hurt her lungs. It was then put out upon the floor, a stamp with her foot and a twist of her heel given. Surely she wasted it, but her cigarette smoking days were clearly over. She even feels a little bit dizzy.

She stands from the chair then, her arms reaching for the ceiling to stretch, her head nodding just a bit. She wasn't going to recount the years that she spent inside the Hellmouth, that would be bringing up old wounds and the need to see Daredevil, though.. her plan to take over Hell's Kitchen? It was on shaky ground.

"There is something going on in this place." She states, getting down to business. Ignoring the food, practically ignoring Cain, it was like she was talking to herself. "There is chaos in Hell's Kitchen, much like I've seen before when I was there.." She inhales softly, moving towards the window. "I think this is ample opportunity to forge ahead with the plan to make this a sanctuary. We just have to operate in secret."


Cain shrugs, "I ain't got no problem with that, although me an' Fred ain't exactly built for stealth, if you ain't noticed," he says. "Ain't no rush, though, you get yer head on straight. Last thing we need is you gettin' yer head blown off cause you're all pissed off and wantin' to work out yer aggression," he says.

"You gotta hurt somethin' that bad, I know places an' people can give you what you need without puttin' anything you give a damn about in jeopardy. I know this cause thing is big for you. I don't always understand it, but I respect it an' I got yer back. But you gotta be pro about this shit," he says. "Go out, kill some asshole, get laid, smoke ten pounds o' dope and sleep for a week. Whatever you gotta do."


"It's not all about the image. The eyes of Hell's Kitchen are pointed elsewhere. With whatever hell that was unleashed with the Hellmouth, to the violence with the mobsters and the destruction of the police department." She turns towards him again, frowning. "It means that no one is going to watch and look out for us and we can operate out in the open while they worry about the immediate, more flashy shit that this city is cooking up. In which we'll take right from underneath them."

She draws in a slight sigh, her head shaking, turning to lean against the window yet again. It was getting hot, so with a yank of the window and a perch upon it's sill, the cool air gives her comfort. "I don't need any of that." She states, sourly. "I just need to work."


Cain snorts, "Ain't nobody needs to work. That's the trick they make, that you gotta do shit. Folks out there, gotta put shelter over their heads, food in the mouths o' their little critters, they gotta work. Me? I don't eat or sleep unless I feel like it, but can go forever without. I don't need no roof. You can be anybody, do what you want, take what you want, anytime you want. You and me? We're better'n them. Ain't no reason to hate 'em. But it ain't no reason for them to hate us. It is what it is," he says.

"Breathe. You'll work better if you do it. Clear your head, sharpen your knives, make sure they cut what ya aim to cut."


"Never said I hated anyone, Cain." Raven nearly spits out. "They hate -US- because for that simple fact. We're better. We're the next step of the evolutionary chain that they're trying to suppress, opress, and -kill-. I do not hate humans, no. Not the ones that raise a hand against me and mine. They -already- have their reasons."

She grumps quietly, her fingers lifting to press into her eyes. Maybe this Cain wasn't real. Maybe he was a figment of her imagination, because he was starting to make a whole lot of goddamned sense. "Say something else. Say something that makes me believe you're real."


Cain can see that she's all messed up. His first instinct is to just smack the sense into her, because he's that kind of man. Man, woman or child, he's never been afraid to lay hands on a body if they get in his way.

But she wanted words and he didn't need to pin her down. He swallows for a moment, "When you were…living with us," he says at last, quietly, "You used to go out sometimes and climb up on the roof. I could see, from out my window up in the attic. Dad put me up there so I wouldn't get in the way, so he wouldn't have to look at me. And I'd see you up there, on clear nights, looking to the stars. Barefoot in your nightie, pretty little thing. I never knew what you were thinkin' of. Probably should've gone out and asked, but I figured you hated me. You were Charlie's pet, his precious girl, after all. You were his, just like my dad was. But I never blamed you for it," he says.
ut he blamed Charles. Oh god, yes, did he blame Charles.


Raven listens, her eyes closed somewhat. Her head rocks and nods a little, trying her best to bring forth the memory which comes in fragments to the clawing of the demons and the crawling of the slugs. The screams, the horror, her entire past bleeding through that entire moment as her eyes slowly open, her head shaking rather quickly as she tries to get him to stop. She was his pet. But now she was no ones. For a time.. in Hell..

"FUCK." She spits out, dropping down from the window sill as she begins to pace.

"I need you to get out. Here." She moves towards a small cabinent in the corner, her fingers prying and peeling against a few of the empty bottles there, the drug tugged open to retrieve a few bills. If he didn't have money, well he does now. "Take this. And this." She hands him a peeled of lable of booze, her fingers careful at not touching him. "Buy it up. Buy up the whole goddamned liquor store. Fuck, just buy the store. Force them out. I don't care but I want those here." She points at the labels, her hands shaking. "Alright, baby brother?"


Cain takes the money and the bottles and nods. He wasn't sure if this was the right course but, fuck it, he wasn't nobody's shrink. Getting wasted seemed like a good solution to him.

So he heads out, quickly, to grab what he can and give her a chance to get it together.

"Hold on tight, big sister. I'll be back," he says.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License