Calls to retrieve a non-functional car in Mutant town can vary widely in both cause and level of damage. But there is generally a certain theme to the card involved. A lot of them are a strong breeze short of the junk yard to begin with. Chauffeurred limousines are not usually part of the job description. But that is exactly what the call is for this time. An annoyed Warren Worthington is standing by the car at the moment, and his driver is nearby. Smoke and spilled coolant are both pouring from the front of the car. Neither is what one expects to see in the middle of February.
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Tannenworth's Garage. If they can't fix it, nobody can. A claim singularly held up by its one employee of any veritable merit, Ford Benett.
And that's no idle claim. When Ford got word that his boss had gotten a call about a busted limosine, he only needed a description of the symptoms to gather what the most likely issue is, load up his Ford 300 (would you expect him to drive anything else?) and roll out for the busted car immediately. As usual, the radio blasting as he drove through Mutant Town, the siren that warns of his approach.
As the music pours out his open window, Ford rolled up to the scene of the accident and thankfully cut the radio off before stepping out of the car, squinting at the billowing smoke cloud and pooling coolant as he grabbed his tool belt. "Mr. Worthington? Ford Benett, Tannenworth's Garage. Heard you had a bit of an issue under the hood. Not to worry, though, I'll have you fixed up and running in no time!" He hailed, wrapping the belt around his waist as he walked over, sparing the man a hand shake given the state of his grease-coated hands. Fellow looked like the sort who was concerned about his image a bit… oily hands and good suits rarely go together. "Now then. Smoke's billowing and coolants leaking. You mind giving me an idea of what it was doing before the accident?"
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It is the driver who answers first, "All I was doing was making a left turn, I swear! I don't get it, this car's never given us trouble." He shakes his head. The blonde billionaire gives a half-smile and shakes his head, "Given the hand gesture and glowing red eyes of the kid inthe crosswalk at the time… I don't think it was "natural causes". He shrugs and looks to Ford, "My company's been trying to quietly help around here since I took over… but apparently a little too quietly. And "rich guy in limo" makes a good target for misplaced anger"
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Ford grimaced, shaking his head. "You know what? Not the strangest thing we've gotten calls for. Turns out, being close to a town full of kids who develop mutant powers is good for business. Means we're never out of work. Not to worry though!" Ford rubbed his hands together as he headed around to the front, popping the hood and letting the smoke billow out a bit so he could get a better look. "Hope this doesn't color your opinion of them. Most are pretty good kids. Just don't know their own strength… plus, they keep us hopping, so I don't complain." Ford squinted through the smoke as he scratched his chin. "Well, looks like it could've been a lot worse. Seems like the coolant pump has a small crack in it. Twisted piston on the engine and… broken rotator, best I can figure. I can twist the piston back into place, I should have some putty for the pump in the car… that fan is what's going to be the challenge. If I have the part, I can get you up and running no problem… if not, I'll have to take it back to the- actually, no, how far's the garage from here? Say… 20 blocks?"
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Warren pinches the bridge of his nose, more over the delays this is causing than the damage and potential cost. "Somehow I doubt you'll have parts for this car handy. Tow it where you need to, my driver will arange to have it transported from there." Obviously, getting it out of the street immediately is necessary one way or the other. He shakes his head, then looks at Ford, "I'm well aware of the damag young mutants can do. And the good. Just like anyone else. I've had tires slashed in other parts of the city, the sentiment here is no different, just hte means." He shakes his head, "Part of the reason I've been trying to create more opportunities here… when you feel powerless in your life, yet have actual powers under your command… it's very easy to misuse them." Which is probably a surprisingly nuanced view for a biusinessman who just had his car sabotaged.
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"…that's a pretty calm response. Most folks I've met are pretty mad about the whole thing. Not that I blame them." Ford scratched his head as he looked at the car and the street it was partially blocking. "Well… tell you what? You look like you've got places to be and things to do. Why don't we get this car out of the road and on to the side for a bit. I'll give you a lift to where you're headed, come back and bring her into the shop. I can give her the once over there, have her running good as new by tomorrow, yeah? Now, if you'd take a couple steps back…"
Shutting the hood of the car, Ford moved around to the side and bent down, as if ready to try and flip the car on its side! What actually happens is a bit more… shocking. Like he was picking up a cardboard box, Ford heaved the car up into the air with a few creaks and groans of the metal, holding it over his head as he looked about, trying to find a good spot to set it. Noting a nearby empty lot, Ford carefully carried the limo over to the open space and gently set it down on the ground, like he'd done little more than move a chair. Standing back up and straightening his back, Ford exhaled at the exercise before heading back to Warren, smirking and waving to his car. "Wouldn't want you to be late. Shall we?"
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Warren answers, "Seeing as the delay is probably costing me more than the repairs, I like that offer just fine, Mister…" He gives an opportunity there for an introduction. Then he steps back when cautioned to, grabbing his driver by the arm and getting the other man out of the way at the same time. Standing there in his long coat, Warren watches rather placidly at the whole limo-lifting procedure. The driver is less sanguine about it, looking a little pale after the demonstration of strength. Warren says as Ford resettles the car, "And for the record, I'd be more annoyed if I thought this were a real attack on me. I saw the boy's expression before it happened… and after. He may have wished to do me harm, but I don't htink he actually intended to. Lack of control is what usually makes young mutants so dangerous."
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Ford smirked a bit wider, knowing that such a display, especially near a town full of mutants, is probably nothing to this fellow. "Mr. Benett. Though I prefer 'Ford'." Ford doesn't seem quite as interested in learning his customer's name. Perhaps it just hasn't crossed his mind… or he doesn't care. He simply moves around to his driver's side of the car, opening up and motioning for Warren and his driver to hop in themselves, wherever they see fit. "That's a fair assessment. I find control is often a big cause of a lot of problems. Not that I would know personally. I often have everything under control. Now then, where to?"
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Warren checks his watch, which until this point he was smart enough, standing on the street s of Mutant Town, to keep his sleeve covering He loks to Ford as he answers the question, "IMy office. Downtown, a block east of Stark Tower." Not all that far, in the scheme of things, but an uncomfortable walk in this weather. Warren's driver gets in first, at his urgint, then Warren gives the seating a dubious look that could easily be mistaken for commentary on the vehicle. He gets into the car gingerly, sittig with rigid posture, and sperched foward on the seat rather than leaning back against it.
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Ford continued to smile as he hopped in, shaking his head. "You can sit back, you know. I take good care of my baby. She's clean. Well… driver's seat might not be, but I keep anything dirty in the trunk… hehe…" he chuckled, evidently amused by his own unintended innuendo. "One block from Stark Tower, coming right up." he announced, switching on the ignition… and the radio, though he had it lowered a bit in volume so he could speak over it. "Should have you there in about… oh, 5-10 minutes, give or take. Big business meeting?" he asked, clearly trying to make small talk. "You should make a bit more of a fuss about your interest in Mutant Town, if you ask me. Perhaps next time, you won't have a kid blowing up your rotator with a good glare. Probably instead look a bit more favorably in your direction. I know I would."
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Warren answers Ford, "It is nothing against your car. I've got… back issues." He does try to move a bit further back in his seat, but still doesn't lean back. His driver looks nervous. "And if it were entirely up to me, I would do exactly that… but I have only recently taken over the company, and while it would certainly make us more popular here, the same might not be true elsewhere. Besides, I'd rather talk six month s from now about what we've been doing here, than come in making promises after such a highly publiciszed attack here."
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Ford chuckled, shaking his head. "Suit yourself." he shrugged, leaning back on his own seat. Letting the radio play for a bit, he let the quiet take over before picking up the topic. "You're probably right. Not a lot of folks have the highest opinions of mutants… I heard talk of a mutant registry a while back. Sounds like a good idea, honestly. Mutants may not like it… but hell, the rest of us would feel a bit comfortable if we knew someone was keeping an eye on folks who can make an engine explode by looking at it. It's not discrimination… it's just safety."
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Warren looks sideways at Ford, "The 'rest of us'? Says the man who lifted a limo over his head a few minutes ago. Even if your talents come from some other source, believe me, were a registry to be formed tehy would want to put your name on it." He shakes his head, "And you're right… it sounds like a good idea. In a vaccuum. BUt once you consider groups like the so-called "friends"… it becomes a hit list. Mutant Town is a different source of place. Most here are fairly open about twhat they are already… or are the sort6 who have no choice but to be. There are pleanty of mutants out there, elsewhere, who are living perfectly normal lives. Many of whom have powers that are ahardly so destructive."
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Ford smirked, shaking his head. "Nope. I don't have to. They may want to, but I don't have to comply. Because I'm the one crafting these theoretical rules. But luckily, I'm just a lowly mechanic. Nothing I say or do is going to influence anyone, you included, on this matter. They'll just do what they damn well please, and I will do the same." Ford leaned under as they passed by Stark Tower. "Almost there…" he mused, letting the quiet take over.
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Warren shugs, "W have a responsibility to the people without powers, and teh people with, both. It's a tricky one to balance. But sooner or later, people have to realize that systemic mistreatment of a group where some individuals can level buildings at will is not something that can go on forever." He shakes his head but says little more for the rest of the ride. When the dy arrive, he looks to ford, "Thanks again for the lift."
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