|
  |
Madrox gets around a lot. One of the virtues of being many, is that you get to have bodies all over the place. Whether or not this one is the original, or a duplicate, we'll never really know; that's kind of the point, they're identical. The hour is late, and the city has accepted the night like a warm blanket. A warm blanket that isn't so warm; it's winter, whether the date has made it official or not. The nighttime sounds of the city are just as loud and intruding as those during the day; sirens, cars, people going about their business. Hell's Kitchen is just as much a part of that as anywhere else, which is where we find this particular Jamie Madrox tonight. Waiting outside the Soup Kitchen, leaned against the wall, a cigarette in his mouth as he takes the last drag. Jamie doesn't smoke often, but the cold air practically invites it. He flicks the cigarette butt to the ground, where it lands in a thin layer of snow, extinguishing instantly, and glances at his watch. If his information is correct, the whole reason he's been waiting around in the cold should emerge any second.
*
The timing was off, but only by about fifteen, to twenty minutes. Either way, the reason is still present, and after a few moments, a girl with flooftastic hair, not pulled into her cap, walks around from beside the building, exiting the mouth of an alley. She's look up, toward the sky as if searching for something. Her hand up, trembling digits brush at her freely bouncing kinks. With a sigh, she shakes her head and finally spots someone she recognizes by the front of the kitchen, that has turned into a make-shift shelter for the evening.
Grinning, she strides up beside him, her hand sinking into the large pocket of her oversized sweater-jacket. "Well, look at dat handsome face." She compliments with a wink. The chill bites at her nose and cheeks, making them both pink, but her lips suffer, having turned slightly pale. "How y'doin', Jamie?" A pause, "Happy T'anksgivin', chere."
*
Jamie is a patient man, for the most part. The first ten or so that he waits doesn't bother him, but the next five, ten minutes have him getting pretty antsy. Another cigarette is in order, which doesn't exactly help calm his nerves, but it does manage to warm him up some more, even if the effect is only psychosomatic. Seeing Lynette approaching, he discards the second cigarette, only half-finished, and exhales pointedly away from her; not everyone enjoys it second-hand. He pushes himself away from the wall, and steps forward to meet her. "Happy Thanksgiving to you, too," he replies with a friendly smile. "Little bird told me you might like an escort back home," he says. "And I was in the area." Certainly not planned, at all. It's not like Jamie makes a point of checking up on people who have intimated that they are mutants like him. It's not like he had duplicates looking into her habits and whereabouts. It's not like he found out what she was doing tonight and then waited outside the soup kitch- wait. Totally did. But his heart was in the right place?
*
Lynette smirks, her brow quirking up at his confession. "Really now? I know dis birdie?" There's a well known, and understood, flicker of paranoia in her eyes a she glances about. Without fail, however, she returns those dark eyes onto Madrox. Then, she moves beside him, and hooks around his arm. She holds, tightly, seeking some sense of stability, safety, and warmth that that sweater-jacket just isn't providing the waif like girl. "S'long walk, chere. But, I ain't 'gainst walkin' a bit, n'maybe gettin' s'm coffee, dough. Den I c'n call a cab or s'mt'ing." Glancing up, she grins. "'less y'got a car? Don' t'ink y'wanna walk /all/ de way t'Westchesta."
*
"You're lookin' at him," Jamie admits, but doesn't go into any more detail about the 'little bird'. Figures Lyn's a smart girl. "I'm parked a couple blocks from here, if you can manage it? I'd offer to carry you, but that might be too forward," he jokes, letting her hook her arm around his own without a word of complaint. "Westchester's a long way to come from," he says matter-of-factly as the pair start to walk. "Don't know too many people who live up there would be volunteering at a shelter in Hell's Kitchen."
*
"Non? B'as f'ward as y'wan', honey. Please." She chuckles, but there's that look of honesty with her words. She gives his arm a soft hug, and turning, they begin to walk together. Their strides match, for now, as they move down the sidewalk, heading in the direction of his car. "I c'n do a couple blocks. M'use t'walkin'." She explains simply. Her head up, she watches his face when he speaks, smiling again and shrugging. "I jus' started goin' t'school up dat way. M'not sure s'where I b'long jus' yet, but…gotta try. I don' mind de travel, neither. Said I'd help here, so, I came t'help. Wit what y'c'n do? Bet y'could help a lotta people all at once."
*
Dangerous thing to say to a guy like Jamie, giving him license like that. But for now, he just grins, and pulls Lynette just a little bit closer. For warmth, you see. He can tell she's a bit chilly. He listens to her as she explains about the school, nodding. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. Everyone's gotta belong somewhere. Me, I'm usually in a few places at once. Walking here with you. Washing dishes at a place in Brooklyn Heights. Walking around Midtown on the lookout for others that might need a hand," he kind of waves his hand in a vague motion, with the other one that Lynette isn't clutching for warmth. "You know, doing stuff," he says with a smirk. "Try to help where I can, but I'm more interested in helping our own, you know? Can't do everything, so might as well do what I can where it'll do the most good." He leads the girl around a corner, and down an alleyway; it's a shortcut. Because shortcuts through alleys, in the bad part of town at night, is always a smart decision.
*
"Y'know, m'jealous 'f whateva girl gets t'ya first. De one dat makes y'jus' dat one person f'her." The mambo confesses, almostly wistfully. More pink stains her cheeks as she looks down at their feet. "Sorry. Shouldn' a said dat. 'nyway, yeah, I undastand. 'N we need all de help we c'n get. T'ings afta JFK? Jus' gonna get worse." Turning, she doesn't seem to mind the shift in direction, or the path they're taking. After being one who's use to sneaking about, and sleeping in worse parts of any city, she only glances up now and then to make sure they're heading n a clear enough direction. "How d'y'do it, dough? Keepin' it all straight in y'head?" She finally wonders aloud, lifting her head to ask him directly.
*
"Never gonna happen," Jamie says simply, dismissing the notion of settling down with just one girl. "Not that I haven't thought about it. But it's not for me. I wouldn't say I'm the 'love them and leave them' type, but.." he shrugs a bit. "Not for me. Not really a 'one anything' kind of guy, I guess. Call me old-fashioned," he says with a smirk. The path they've chosen opens up onto another regular street on the opposite side of the block, and Jamie turns to lead them back to a regular sidewalk. "Keeping it all straight is a bit of a trick. I don't see what my other selves see, I don't /actually/ know what they're doing at any given time.. just a general sense, I suppose. When I merge with them later, that's when it becomes an issue. Can be confusing, all the memories joining together, timelines become a bit blurry, and it's hard to remember the exact sequence of events."
*
"Oh. I see." Lyn murmurs, a sliver of disappointment in her voice. The smile has faded, but she does give him a smirk. "Jamie, y'de opposite 'f 'old-fashioned'." The girl explains after the fact. She nods when he speaks, her curls bouncing with the motion. She doesn't pay much attention to where they're going, he's leading as he knows where he car is, after all. Her grip on his arm is present, but has loosened up with its 'affectionate' squeeze.
*
Jamie didn't meant to break poor Lynette's heart, but he knows himself well enough to know what would happen if he fought his nature. "Gotta be honest about who and what I am," he says, almost apologetically, letting her loosen her grip if she wishes to. He's not in the habit of trying to force something the girl doesn't want. "The car's just up ahead," he says, motioning up the street with his free hand. "Probably a bit cold, been out there all day with no-one to keep her company," he says, his tone a bit more empathetic to the plight of the Impala that it probably ought to be. "But the heat works," he finishes with a smile. They'll both be thankful for that, he imagines.
*
Lynette nods again, seeming to have ran out of words for the time being. Her arm removes itself completely now, and her hands sink back into the pockets of her jacket. "Yup," she finally speaks after some time. The comment could be for anything; being true to one's self, praising the pending heat in the vehicle. She double checks their path now, not having him as a physical lead anymore. Now and then, she skips her view about, taking in everything around them before focusing forward toward their destination.
*
Jamie's a bit disappointed when Lynette slips her arm from his entirely, and frowns, though he tries not to let her see it on his face. The car should be coming into view any minute now.. and there it is. Along with a group of guys, all of which are significantly more large and muscular than Jamie and Lynette could ever hope to be. Sitting. On the hood of the Impala. Jamie's baby. Hi frown gains some permanence, and his steps quick to close the distance a little faster. "What the fuck are you doing!? GET OFF MY BABY!" He yells angrily.
They do, but not gently, causing Jamie to wince a little bit. "You baby, huh?" The apparent leader of the group says with a bit of a laugh. "Think you mean mine, soon as you hand over the keys, mutie. See, I think a fuckin' freak like you couldn't possibly have a car like this. Stolen, I'll bet. Gonna do my civic duty and take her back where she came from," he says, motioning for the other four men to circle around Jamie and Lynette. "Maybe I take your little girlfriend there for a ride, too," he says, his toothy grin growing wider by the second.
*
Her dark eyes glance up and notice his face. She, too, is wearing a frown, and then, her curiousity seems to get the better of her. "I mean…if dey all jus' livin' dere on lives, den one settles? None do? I don' undastand." Comes her confession, as she rubs at the nape of her neck. Then, the car, and the mooks, come into view. She's glaring, already, sharing in Jamie's rage, even if the car wasn't her own. Then the terms come up, and the offer for her own ride. Scowling, she murmurs a heated, "Va te faire foutre…" And goes to move past them.
"G'on now, get. We don' wan' no trouble, n'I don' t'ink you do, neitha."
*
"Yeah, you're right, we don't want no trouble.. just the keys, sweetie," the largest, and apparent leader of the group says to Lynette, stepping directly in front of her so she can't just walk past. "You're cute, for a little nigger bitch," he practically spits at her. "Keep your fuckin' mouth shut, and maybe I don't hurt you too much," he growls, pushing her back, or at least trying to.
"Hey jackass, you want a fight, you fight me. Leave the lady the fuck alone," Jamie yells, even as he's being surrounded by a few of the other men. "Friends, you /really/ don't want to do this," he says, turning his attention to the others closing in around him. "I'm not a mathematician, but the odds aren't really in your favour here. Two of us, five of you.. you're gonna need more men," he says. This'd be a lot easier if he just carried his gun, you know? Going to have to do this the old fashioned way. Lesson number one: make the first move. Jamie's fist lashes out at the closest thug; a strong jab to the jaw, hopefully strong enough to break something, but that wasn't really the point. He makes contact, and the force of the blow channels through his fist and into his core. A moment later, where there was once one Jamie, there is now two.
*
Lynette flows with the press that thumps against her petite chest. It causes the girl to stumble on her feet a bit as her eyes set into a piercing glare up at the offensive figure. "Don' y'eva call me dat 'gain…" she warns with the flaring annoyance, of rage and maybe being pushed /too/ far. Jamie's boasting causes her to glance his way, seeing that first 'strike' and taking it as their cue. However, that doesn't prepare her for watching that split of his figure. For a moment, she simply stares, before shaking her head and remembering where she was.
Lynette was always more of a runner, than a fighter, but with how NYC was, the the hostile climate in the world against her and her own, it was an easy choice to switch paths. Slipping around the figure who had laid hands on her, the girl soon appears behind him, handkerchief in hand. After wrapping it around her wrist, the girl sets her newly shifted glare up toward its owner. Her dark eyes were different now, having taken on the appearance of earthy green, with slitted pupils like a serpent. Without further delay, she grips to her own hand and gives it a hard, quick twist, turning it upside down, and not in a natural way.
Bones pop and tendons rip, allowing the extremity to fall limp, but she shows no pain. After all, why would she? She wasn't really the one with the now broken, and useless, wrist. That would be the man that touched her and called such an ugly term.
*
"AOGUSHDGSGJ!" The jumble of sounds emitting from the man with the now magically broken hand is incomprehensible except for the fact that it means PAIN. He falls to his knees, screaming. Wuss. Soon the screams become closer to normal human language, but the slew of ugly terms doesn't stop just because she demanded it. They just get uglier. He manages, somehow, to get back to his feet, and despite the agonizing pain of his broken wrist, he's doubled down on his intent to grab Lynette and do some unspeakably awful things to her, the promise to not hurt her now moot, given his condition.
On Jamie's part, the brawl starts quickly. That first duplication draws the ire of the anti-mutant thugs, and having not figure it out for themselves after the first punch was thrown, they start in on him. Jamie's a capable fighter in his own right, but all in all, he's not really superhuman. He's multiple human. Punches land, bruising his body, but with each one there's another target for the goons to attack, and within a minute here are nearly a dozen of them, before Jamie consciously prevents more from spawning. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, one o the Jamies smiles up his attackers, "I told you to get more men," he says, before they all start retaliating in force. Two to a man, the Madri are a swarm of quick fighters, and it doesn't take long to turn the tide of the fight in their favour.
The one outside the swarm, though, with the broken wrist and vendetta on his mind, pulls out a knife with his good hand, "I'm gonna bleed you like a stuck pig, you fuckin' nigger witch," he says angrily, swiping at Lynette with the blade. One of the Jamie's, having handled his own opponent, moves quickly toward the two, but won't get there quickly enough to stop the man from his attack.
*
The girl quickly glances to her side, trying to size up what's happening with her companion. When he suffers a punch or two, she's moves out her hand and 'grips' to the back of one of their shirts via miming the action. With a jerk, she's pulling him back. This was not the easiest thing for her, mind you, as her mental 'strength' was not the greatest. It's enough, however, to cause him to stumble back and trip over the sidewalk's curb, allowing a Madrox a break.
The term 'witch' causes the girl to smirk, darkly, at the man now showing his true colors, along with a blade to match. "Ah, chere. I ain't no witch. M'a mambo, n'dats worse." For all her talk, the slashes thankfully don't seem to connect, only catching loose fabric and shreading it slightly. A stray fist, however, from another man does make contact with her face, sending her spinning and down to the ground.
A drag on her knees, she stands once more, hand up and covering her attacker in almost living shadows. For whatever reason, she moves closer to the man with a knife, her free, unbroken hand testing his, quickly reaching out and holding around his fist, fingers lightly touching the hilt of his knife. That smirk returns, curling into a smile as she leads him forward, actually allowing the tip of his blade to pierce her upper chest, close to her shoulder. The clothing parts, and the knife bites, but no crimson bubbles from her flesh. That wound, as the wrist before, cracks open on her attacker, flowering his shirt crimson as the knife continues to dig deeper. "I said…" she begins, "Neva call me dat 'gain. Keep on. See what happens…" The girl practically hisses.
*
The man who was 'stabbed' in the chest sputters a bit, confusion washing over his features as he stumbles backward, handing gripping at some invisible weapon which had done the damage. Blood flows freely down his chest and to the ground, and he slumps to his knees, and then falls entirely. Perhaps not dead, but certainly on his way. Seeing this, the other men, the ones still conscious, panic. The Madri deliver a few final blows, but it's not long before the group of thugs who thought they were going to have an easy time of the fight are scrambling to make a hasty exit. Seeing it end, the Madri all simultaneously gain a bit of a smug expression. A few exchange glances, and then nod, and start to move to give chase. No doubt they'll find the ones that have escaped largely unharmed and rectify the situation. There are a few Madri left, and one, perhaps the original, perhaps not, approaches Lynette again, looking down at the man she had done in herself. "That's a gruesome but effective gift you've got there, darlin'," he says, smirking, not at all put off by the blood and the fact that there is a dead/dying thug on the ground in front of them. "Remind me not to mess with you, hey?"
*
Lynette holds a hand over the 'hole' beside her shoulder. Her skin closes, without any indication that it had been pierced in the first place. Her snake like eyes roll upward, looking at Jaime with an almost dreamy expression. She smiles, and the solid jade of those orbs shifts away, returning to their original whites with onyx irises. "T'anks." A press upon her toes, and a hand on his jaw, she presses her lips to his own in a brief embrace. It doesn't last long, however, as her lithe form gives a sway, and she leans more so into him, clutching at his chest and jacket for support. It appears that her gift had some draw backs.
*
Jamie returns the smile, and though the brief kiss comes as a surprise, it's not unwelcome, and he doesn't shy away from it in the least. It's momentary, and he holds Lynette close to help her maintain her balance, since that appears to be what she needs. "Let's get you home, darlin'," Jamie says softly. The other two duplicates that remain move closer to the pair, and between the three of them, move to the car, which seems to have suffered only minimal abuse from being sat on; they make 'em sturdy here in the 1960s, that's for sure. One duplicate opens the passenger side door, and they help Lynette get in and comfortable, while Jamie (apparently the original?) slides into the driver's side, and flicks the heat on. Heat makes everything better, right? "Long drive back to Westchester," he says. "If you need to rest, by all means." Front seat of the Impala is prime for resting, nice big cushioned seats, plenty of room to stretch out. The duplicates circle around to the other side, and Jamie reaches a hand out to touch each in turn, absorbing them both back into himself. There's a moment of visible confusion as the memories merge, but they weren't out for long, so it's brief. The key turns, the engine revs, and Jamie shifts the car into gear. Bodies lying on the ground back there? Not our problem.
*
"Y'got a place?" The girl questions in a murmur, her head resting to the side as her body slouches, legs sprawling. "Take me dere. Don' wanna be at de school right now." Her request heard, it all depends on Jaime now. Her hands rest on the flat of her stomach, fingers woven together, the handkerchief still wrapped around her tiny wrist. She's breathing, deeply, quickly falling in and out of a cat nap type sleep.
*
"Yeah, I've got a place," Madrox says, turning up the next street and onto the main road. He flicks the radio on, but quietly, and music hums amidst the rumble fo the engine as he drives. Could head to the safehouse, but instead Jamie heads in the direction of his own apartment in Midtown. Calmer, quieter, or at least more under his control. He glances over at the girl, giving a smirk at her sleeping form. "You surprised me, darlin', and I'm not easily surprised," he says quietly.