*locked*
The first thing I saw when I arrived was the Sentinel. I don't think giant robots programmed to kill were mentioned during my
delightful conversation with the two headmasters of this school, but of course I did my research before applying in the first place. Indeed, it made me rather confident about my prospects. Nothing encourages
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And so, a day or two after the man had arrived, and mere hours after Logan's own return, Logan knocked on the door of the office newly-labeled "Sloane," and waited for the new guy to show himself.
[OOC: *waves* Scott!mun said I should come over here and say hi, so I'm doing so. I hope I'm not imposing. Also, I don't know anything more about Sloane than Logan does, but I'm more than happy to interact nonetheless.]
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"Ah," he says and rises courtously. "Mr. Logan, I presume?"
He did see a picture, both in the file Kitty Pryde gave him, and in the information he managed to access during his cursory exploration of the background of the staff. Which wasn't much, as far as Logan aka Wolverine was concerned. In the past, it wouldn't have been a problem to get the rest declassified, but right now, he didn't want to risk alerting old resources to his survival if he didn't have to.
He gives Logan a small smile and inclines his head. "Arvin Sloane."
[OOC: *waves back* Not all, and I'm happy to interact, too. In theory, their paths could have crossed in the past, but it will make things far simpler for us if they haven't. I'm happy to fill you in on essential Sloane data if you need it, but the muses can start with the same set of knowledge about each other, i.e. nothing but the name, basically.]
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The man is old - mid to late sixties, at least - but age is all relative to Logan. He's taller than Logan is, which isn't unusual, but not nearly as tall as most of the men Logan knows. Medium build, nothing impressive - but he still has the look of someone who could kick your ass without a second thought if he needed to. And he probably had needed to, often, if what Scott mentioned about his background is true.
He doesn't smell like someone with malice on his mind, but he does have an agenda - that much Logan can tell. And the sooner he finds out what it is, the better.
"We don't get a lot of volunteers around here," Logan says, crossing his arms. "So you can see why I've got my suspicions. What's your deal?"
Logan's never cared much for courtesy.
[OOC: If you want to give me a rundown of who Sloane is, I'd love to read it (destroythemeek at yahoo dot com), but I like that the characters are both fairly clueless about each other at the moment.]
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"And here I hoped to remain a man of mystery a while longer," he replies mildly, with a touch of amusement. "Unless you feel you have a monopoly on that status? I have no intention of trespassing on anyone's territory, I can assure you of that."
[OOC: Mail sent!]
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"I've known plenty a' guys like you in my time, and ain't a one of 'em trustworthy, myself included. But I don't care how shifty you are in the grand scheme of things, as long as you ain't bein' shifty about what you're doing at this school. We got kids here. Kids, and a few adults that are pretty damn important to me. So I'm not gonna be satisfied until I know you ain't here to hurt any a' them. You assure me of that, you and me can be best buddies. Got it, bub?"
He narrows his eyes, defiant. Anything he's giving away with his body language, he's intending to give.
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(You're not in charge here, Sloane reminds himself. And this isn't agent evaluation day.)
"And how," he says seriously, deciding to go for a mixture of sincerity and more verbal sparring, to see whether the man really didn't have more to offer than attempts at physical intimidation, "are you going to be satisfied of that, Mr. Logan? Obviously, I could give you my word, but since you do not know me, it would not be of any value to you. Now the delightful Ms Frost and any other telepath are, of course, able to judge my intentions on another basis. Considering this does not appear to address your concerns, you'll forgive me if I doubt that any passionate verbal assurances on my part would."
Then, surprisingly, he smiles. "Though I must admit the offer of best buddy status isn't without its charm. Do you usually bribe new arrivals that way?"
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"Nah, just the ones I take a shining to," Logan replies with a smirk, in response to the best friends crack. Then his tone darkens. "But since we're gonna be best buddies, I'll be honest with you: you probably won't be able to assure me. It takes a lot to do that, and it's doubtful you got what it takes. But if you tell me you ain't here to cause trouble, and then you do cause trouble, I won't feel so bad about slicin' your limbs off. On the other hand, if you can't even make that kinda promise, I'll just gut you right now. Seems like a win-win situation to me. So what's it gonna be?"
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"Then we appear to be on an impasse," Sloane says. "You see, Mr. Logan, I did give such a promise to Scott Summers, but so far you haven't done anything to convince me why I should give it to you."
He removes what Nadia used to call his Nehru jacket, puts it on the chair he stood up from a few minutes ago, then goes back around the desk so he stands in front of Logan again. "I take it your protective instincts on behalf of the school do not extend to my wardrobe, and I'd rather keep this. Feel free to gut me now, though."
Judy Barnett, the psychiatrist Arvin Sloane had an affair with a few years ago, would probably have one or two terse comments at this point, something about there being other ways to seek out punishment for having failed Emily and Nadia in various ways. Sloane, for his part, would tell her he's not seeking out punishment, he's still testing Logan and, incidentally, the school. Is Logan the kind of man who thinks he's so intimidating that he doesn't have to go through with threats he makes, and what will he do if his bluff is called? It's a test of Scott and Emma, too, as they are the leaders here. Does Logan feel free to harm someone for failing to tell him what he wants to hear, and if so, will there be any reaction? Learning about the structures of a new environment is something that works fasted by a test of its ethics.
It's all very sensible and pragmatic, thinks Sloane, and the memory of Siena and Nadia's stricken face followed by a thousand shards piercing him as the glass breaks under him is pushed back as he looks at Logan and waits.
(The memory of another glass shard does not come at all. He has been too successful in wiping it out.)
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"I don't know how much you know about me, but I'll let you know right now: I ain't a fan of head games," Logan hisses, his face inches away from Sloane's. "I ain't a fan of head games, and I ain't a fan of guys who can't even be bothered to tell me that they ain't planning on hurting a bunch of innocent kids."
With one swift motion, he slashes, slicing a cut in Sloane's neck an inch deep, severing an artery. Blood pours out of the wound, darkening Sloane's shirt and the carpet below.
Logan keeps his other hand on the collar. "Now I'm gonna let you bleed awhile. And when you're all healed up, you can come find me and exact some kinda revenge. Or we can pretend this never happened, and be nice and civil. But either way, I ain't gonna trust you. And the first time you screw up around here, I'll be cutting deeper."
Logan releases Sloane's bleeding form and steps away, turning in the direction of the door.
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When Logan does make his inch-deep cut, the routine assessment ends, and so does most of the rationality. The pain is as expected; real, but so far from the worst he ever experienced that it doesn't result in more than a gasp. Sloane has died thrice, and he can't remember the last two occasions, the ones where he actually managed to use the Rambaldi formula he had been reconstructing for a such a long time. He can, however, remember the first occasion, a public execution he had only survived back then because Jack Sisko drugging him in advanced. Death and resurrection: they are a part of the central mystery occupying so much of his life.
He's only peripherally aware of Logan now; the man keeps babbling, something about revenge, and Sloane whispers, as much as one can under the circumstances: "Why would I waste revenge on you?"
Of all the many deaths he's responsible for, only one was for revenge, and it had taught him the utter futility. But he's not thinking of Marcus Dixon and the late Diane Dixon now, who paid the price for Dixon killing Emily, and he's definitely not thinking of Logan anymore, either. He's focusing on the blood leaving him, the conflicting sensation of pain and renewal, and yes, there is is, what he has been waiting for: that fleeting sense of something beyond the horizon.
Arvin Sloane is, among other things, a man of faith. Not very comforting one, and it hinges on prophecies of Renaissance Italian long dead, mysteries and a desperate attempt make sense of it all, but there it is. He's smiling now, somewhat enraptured; his daughter Nadia would have recognized the expression from the time she found him watching a Muller sphere. He had been covered in blood on that occasion as well. It's not a particularly sane moment, but then, faith never is.
(The immortality bestowed by Rambaldi doesn't make for instant healing the way Logan's own natural gift does, it works somewhat slower, but provided Logan isn't already gone, he'd be able to see the healing process as the wound closes and Sloane, who has been leaning against the desk for support, straightens up again.)
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But he doesn't respect the guy otherwise, and he doesn't trust him. This meeting was a test, and as far as Logan is concerned, Sloane failed. Logan will have all the time in the world to find out more about the guy - he's going to be around the school, after all. The point of this meeting was to get a first impression, a first scent, and Logan isn't at all happy about what he got from those impressions.
But the point of this meeting was to give a first impression, as well. And though he doesn't know exactly what Sloane is thinking of him, right now, there's a good chance, if Logan's played his cards right, that the guy's going to underestimate him in the future. And he can use that to his advantage.
Logan stays in the room long enough to see the wound in Sloane's neck begin to close; satisfied that the guy's healing factor really does work and he's not going to need medical attention, he opens the door, then turns back one last time.
"Feel free to call a cleaning service to get that blood out of the rug. The number for the one we use around here is tacked up in the kitchen."
He smiles a dark smile, then steps through the door, closes it behind him, and heads to the kitchen for a beer.
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