04 / 17 / 11 - Alessia, Gabriel, Jean-Paul, Madrox, Tom, Xen

[xmm_beaubier]

Saturday afternoon drags dark and dreary and rain-filled in Boston. The weather settles heavily in the area and perhaps stirs the appropriate mood for Jessica's phone call, when it comes. Maybe Harrison is nice enough to put it on speaker phone when the pre-teen rings them up with panic in her voice and insists that not only are the infected /really real/ but that she's found all the missing ones, because they're all here together, all of them, /hundred and hundred/, and she can hear them! A bit of prompting gets a location from her: She's on a building on Beacon street near the lake, but they're /everywhere/.

Xen has probably spent most of the afternoon being wet. And cold. But mostly wet. He has just gotten dry in a new change of clothes and found his way to the kitchen to make himself, or some of the others, something to eat. Dinner seems like it will have to wait, though, as he listens grimly to Jessica's panicked phone call. "We'll be there shortly, Jessia. Just stay away from them." He then looks at the team, "Northstar, aerial recon. Take a pair of the goggles, too-- tell us what you can see." And then he splits the team up into two vehicles, one of which he is planning on driving. Get your gear and saddle up, people.

Alessia grabs her gear, slipping into her armor under a long sleeved t-shirt, a sweatshirt with a couple of pockets inside the big pockets that velcro shut. Small backpack is snagged, before she's jogging down the stairs and claiming the keys to the second vehicle. She's on the move to the vehicle, checking her candy stash.

Already gearing up midway through the call, Jean-Paul tips his hand in a mildly sardonic sort of salute. What else would he be doing? "The last time we saw them in those numbers, they were headed toward the wall. You might want to call a heads-up over there in case the illusion goes that far." Then he's out the door and flinging himself skyward, with his comm left open for further reports. He swans on along Beacon.

Madrox thins his lips, but says nothing. He suits up as he does, tranqs on one hip, live ammo on the other, and oh screw it, trenchcoat over it all. It's April in Boston, it can't be too out of place. He is in Xen's car, we will say.

The line dividing the construction and relief zone from the rest of the IZ isn't strict, nor is it visible, but it's clear from the sky that the infected - not hundreds and hundreds as Jessica said, but /thousands/ and /thousands/ - are massed fairly close to the area where reconstruction is actively taking place. Jean-Paul's suspicions are right: he's seen this before. The figures of armed infected are visible in the massing crowd, which grows with every passing moment.

Relaying the confirmation when he gets it, Jean-Paul adds a distance estimate between illusion and reconstruction: too close. HAVE FUN WITH THAT, XEN.

Dressed darkly in clothes and body armor, Tom gears up with a minimum of grumble. That is not to say an /absence/ of grumble, but at least a minimum. He swings up and into one of the vehicles without wasting breath on commentary.

Vest, gun, and medbag all secured on his person, Gabriel is also quick to the vehicles. He works on a strip of red licorice once he's in one, quiet.

Gear is gotten, including his new goggles that he hopes to god will help this time through, and Xen climbs into the first car. They are on their way when Xen gets the relay from Jean-Paul about the real situation of the gathering infected. He swears, already dialing the man in charge of the National Guard. In quick, matter of fact words, he relays the situation and its dangers, and tell them to clear /everyone/ back and on the other side of the Wall /now/. Do not fire, but keep their eyes peeled. Oh, and they're coming in, so let them through. Minutes later, they arrive.

As they approach their destination, Tom's shields have dropped, telepathy swept out in a wide, alert net. The sweeps are nearly as familiar as the city itself, although this time around, they have certainly come up empty a lot.

Jean-Paul slides on a pair of infrared goggles to compare what he sees with his eyes to what he sees through the goggles. Any interesting anomalies?

Alessia waits until they get closer, popping a piece of Taffy in her mouth as she drops her sheilds in stages until she's got it wide open.

The drive from their pretty little B&B into the Infected Zone is blissfully brief. They come down Route 9 and slide up Washington Street to head southeast on Beacon. They hit the illusion almost immediately. It's no scattered infected here or there this time. A mass of bodies, ragged and torn and bleeding and /angry/, press against the car, around the car, inside the car. They're loud, and the rumbling of thousands of infected merges into one giant, unending cacophony. Every once in awhile, the crowd presses too close and an infected falls, trambled. His brethren on either side of him attack almost immediately, dropping to rip at flesh with teeth and nails. Still, Tom and Alessia sense nothing.

Jean-Paul, on the other hand, is moving a bit faster, a bit further afield, and several blocks away from the car's position he picks out a single figure in infrared. Slender, small, short, standing atop a roof. And then-- there. Across the street, much further down. A blob of heat that closer inspection reveals to be three figures, two standing, one sitting.

"Pretty damn grand scale--" Madrox is pressed up against the car door for all the good it'll do.

Frowning at all of this, Gabriel attempts to not focus on the illused infected while trying to keep alert for, well, anything else. He is not very good at it, however, as it is pretty damned distracting. He sits practically ramrod straight, a tightly-coiled tension keeping him thus.

"I see Jessica--" Well, he thinks he sees Jessica. Jean-Paul lowers the infrared goggles to check on that solo figure atop a roof, and then diverts to drift a little closer to the trio. "--and three others in infrared. Closing on the latter." He uses the goggles to orient on them, but trades them for the higher resolution of binoculars as he nears. He is pretty much straight up, say fifty meters, and looking for a roof where he can Batman above them.

"Jesus Christ," Xen breathes as the truck wades into the mass of Infected. He slows down enough to reach over and grab his own set of goggles, pull them onto his head and down over his eyes. And when it immediately relieves him from the visual, he speaks into his comm. "If you have the goggles, put them on." And then following up after Jean-Paul, "What's your location, Northstar? We'll rendezvous with you there."

The visual fades in the wake of infrared, but the sounds remain. From the left, a scream rises, first in agression and then in a burst of agonizing pain. It's easy enough to imagine visuals to go with the soundtrack.

Alessia remains silent, doing her best to ignore the illusion by focusing on what /isn't/ faked. Feel of the steering wheel in her hands, the candy between her teeth.

"Three others? Great. Maybe we'll have someone we can actually sit on," Madrox mutters as much as states as he tries to squint past the illusions. Great time to forget the goggles.

The three others aren't visible via binocular, at least not from above. There's a building in the way - it used to be a storefront restaurant of some type, with big glass windows that have somehow managed to stay in one piece. Anyone wanting a closer look is going to have to get-- closer.

Lacking a cross street to give Xen, Jean-Paul directs them by landmarks -- and if that isn't good enough, well, they can just track his comm. "Can't get a good look from above. Dropping to street-level." Of course he is. He slides along the side of the building, descending to find footing with infrared slipped back into place to help him find them again.

"Right," Xen confirms at the directions and dropping to street level for Jean-Paul. "Fission, you can get his comm unit to triangulate on?" Because Jamie is totally shotgun without Harrison to claim it. Right? He doesn't race quite as speedily as the other night, but maintains a respectable pace, doing his best to ignore the audio soundtrack to the carnage and focus on where he's going. It shouldn't take them long to get oriented and arrived.

"Uh, I'll try," Madrox says, tilting his head as if to mute all the noise noise noise while he fiddles with tracking and triangulation.

Really, it's probably faster just to take note of Jean-Paul's landmarks. His body heat shows up soon enough as they plow through the horde if infected, and his mind sooner still. He's not alone - the telepaths can sense three others nearby, two alert and watching and one-- sleeping? The side of the building Jean-Paul's reveals little save for a narrow alley, although the back has a door.

His voice low, Jean-Paul stills a moment to report to Xen: "They appear to be inside a restaurant of some kind. There's a back door and the front approach. I could go around the back if you guys are coming from the front. How far are you?" From the sounds of it, close enough that he should notice them soon, huh?

Gabriel maintains his quiet. He opens up his medbag and rearranges a few things as a method of mild distraction from the illused horde o' infected.

"Morrigan, reroute your car. You and Replay meet up with Northstar at the back. Fission, Sunshine and I will head in from the front. We should be there momentarily." Xen continues his way, though as he approaches the venue, he slows the truck down and pulls over, away from the restaurant and out of sight. They'll be walking the rest of the way. Probably right through the illusion. Hope it's as real for the people in the restaurant as it is for everyone out here.

"There's two alert near Northstar, one not so much alert," Tom shares by way of report.

Jean-Paul strolls on over to that back door to check it for locks, security systems, and so on. I mean, sure, things probably aren't in the best repair, but you /never know/. He does not enter. He waits, checking for other exits in the meantime.

Madrox nods confirmation and sits up a little straighter in his seat, all slightly tautened anticipation. And when Xen pulls over, he opens his door in a forced muted fashion, a little slow.

Rerouting a car takes a more significant amount of work than finding Jean-Paul's location had: Beacon Street is inconveniently split by a median, and it takes a bit of driving and GPS finagling through the crowd of roaring infected to find the back door. A few long minutes, too - if they're waiting, they're waiting a good five minutes for the other half of the team to get into place.

With goggles in place, it's only the disturbingly close sound of heavy breathing and the rumbling of angry voices in his ear left to disturb Xen. Others on his team stumble through a pool of blood congealing on the sidewalk while several infected kneel to scoop it up and lick it from their fingers with eyes that are always, always filled with maddening hunger.

At the back door, Jean-Paul finds the lock broken and what was once probably quite a nice little security alarm. It's not running anymore - there's no electricity.

With an eye on that back door, Jean-Paul checks both sides of the building and then waits. His stillness is forced and his gaze is restless.

Tom swings out of the car as Madrox opens his door, far more attuned to his own extra senses than to those that are lying to him about slavering infected and horrific screaming. It is not quite one foot in the astral plane; but he is definitely orienting himself according to where he knows Madrox is, where he knows Xen is, where he knows Jean-Paul waits behind the building. He almost forgets to speak aloud, but catches himself in time to say, "You want me to do anything with our -- uh, friends?"

Alessia ignores the raging infected while she drives. If anything, she's driving a little aggressively. Road rage, what?

Well, maybe the second team should just park with the first one and split up from there, then, following Jean-Paul's path down the side alleyway to join him. (Whichever's clearly more expedient.) Xen climbs out of his car and takes in a deep breath, gritting his teeth before lifting his goggles to a brief orientation on the street in front of them. He tries to see without taking in the gory details, trying to determine how easily they could take cover in the mass illusion, or the best route to get to the front unseen.

Madrox follows Xen, and lacking goggles or astral plane escape routes, drags through concealed blood and grimaces at Infected, that twitched there-and-gone before he strives verily to ignore what's screeching, eating, licking right in front of him. He also takes stock of the road ahead, as matter of course.

"Morrigan, screw trying to drive around," Xen says, noting the median and all the wonky details of re-direction, as he tries to ignoreignoreignore the carnage. "Follow Northstar's route through the alley and join up with him."

It's easy enough to see through the illusion-- sort of. That is, the infected only block what the block, while the rest of the area remains perfectly visible. Unfortunately, they block quite a bit, with bodies pressing so close to each other that they are more a writhing mass of infected humanity than specific individuals. It makes it hard for them to see much of anything that clearly once out of the car and ungoggled, unless you are Tom with his cheater skillz. Almost every step they take is /through/ an infected. It could work to their advantage, maybe. Beyond the blood-spattered figures of the famished infected, there is little to be seen.

"Christ," Xen breathes again at the sheer /mass/ of Infected that surround him, his mind working doubletime to try and adapt to the visual, as if it were some partocularly new horrifying version of 3-D movies. However, his stomach can only take so much, and the goggles go back on to relieve him of the gory mess. Once he forces his lurching stomach back down to settle, he re-orients on Tom's question. "If you put them to sleep, how easy will it be for us to wake them back up?"

Hanging on while attempting to studiously ignore Alessia's (maybe) law-breaking driving, Gabriel snaps his bag closed again, only to look up to see the giant mass of infected packed in like so many sardines. Well. He even says it. "Well--."

Once Alessia gets the car to where it's supposed to be, she gets out and glances at Gabe. Braid is tucked under her hoodie, before she's checking pockets and weapons.

Really, it's not easy for Tom: the evidence of eye and ear is significant, leaving the edges of him raw, his focus shaky and his expression fixed in an attitude of disgust. His attention to the glow of familiar minds around him, his directional orientation on the other minds in his vicinity -- it's not entirely unlike a child clutching his parent's hand as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets himself be guided through the haunted house. Thankfully, Xen is wearing goggles, and he is not in immediate danger of walking into any walls. His eyes are open, but a little glazed, unfocused. He says, "I was just thinking I'd make it so they wouldn't notice us. If you want 'em knocked out..." He hesitates. "I can't do that both at once, so it's not gonna be subtle."

"Your first idea is better," Xen responds to Tom, moving through the illusion slowly, though staying away from the front of the restaurant just yet. "I'm counting on the mass illusion out here to cover us mostly under we get to the door, but your assistance would probably be more useful." He pauses, then continues, "If we need them asleep, we all have the tools to make that happen. Tell me when we're clear." He stops and waits for Tom to do his thing, and for Alessia and Gabe to get in position and join Jean-Paul out back. "Northstar, tell me when you're ready to enter."

Jean-Paul's response comes fairly quick on the heels of Xen's words: "I'm ready. Lock was broken. Waiting on Morrigan and Replay."

Alessia moves quiet-like to join JP, lips pressed together, jaw clenched. She pops another piece of candy into her mouth as she joins him at the back door.

Tom focuses his telepathic attention on the minds inside his building, settling himself over two sets of surface thoughts like a cloak. Even as he eaves'-drops as to what he might find there, he begins to weave a light distraction, building a suggestion that the doors are beneath notice; a somebody else's problem field, making the entrances to the restaurant difficult to remember about. The fog he builds is not unbreachable, but directs attention firmly away from where he and his teammates might make their entrance. The facility with which he builds this bespeaks long practice and training, oddly enough.

Gabriel follows Alessia out of the car, slinging his bag over his shoulder and chest so that it rests at his lower back and out of the way as he does. After that, he draws his weapon, keeping it pointed low but at the ready. He follows after her down the alley at a clipped pace, occasionally half-turning to make sure nothing unexpected pops up behind them. Hi, Jean-Paul.

When his pals join him, Jean-Paul says, "We're ready."

Madrox waits, held-crouched and a little rattled, no, really rattled, but prepped to be more rattled. Huzzah.

What Tom finds there is perhaps not entirely unexpected. One mind is noticably tipsy and set over with a determination to ignore the noises and sights outside the building - for there are no illused infected inside - until her job here is done. Her willpower is a steely thing, and with the aid of a bit of alcohol, she seems to be doing pretty well. Her thoughts settle into distracting ones of her most recent boyfriend, last night, oh, maybe that particularly nice night three or four days ago-- The other mind recoils from the scene outside, but he stands and watches it regardless. Nausea tinges his thoughts and roils in his stomach, and he distracts himself with two primary worries: the cameras, and if they are properly positioned, and if Darkwatch will show up. The distraction of each deepens as Tom weaves his telepathic magic.

"Okay," Tom says. "They won't notice us coming in." He bites at the inside of his cheek, his own focus leaving an intent wrinkle in his brow. He murmurs confirmation: "But they're looking for Darkwatch all right."

As soon as he hears Tom's confirmation, he moves forward towards the front door, pulling out his gun from its holster. He half turns back to Madrox, addressing him over the noise, "Fission, you should take the door in case it's locked from the front." Then into his comm, "Northstar, the two folks alert are distracted. Fission is going to try the front door now-- head in through the back. They're on the lookout for us, so be alert."

As soon as Xen hears Tom's confirmation, he moves forward towards the front door, pulling out his gun from its holster. He half turns back to Madrox, addressing him over the noise, "Fission, you should take the door in case it's locked from the front." Then into his comm, "Northstar, the two folks alert are distracted. Fission is going to try the front door now-- head in through the back. They're on the lookout for us, so be alert."

Alessia keeps tabs on how the minds feel, ready to do something emotionally distracting if Tom needs the back up. Her hand closes around the grip of her gun (the one loaded with tranqs), as she waits for JP's lead.

Madrox salutes, takes in his breath, and moves ahead, keeping his posture low and his breath sucked in, as his path to the door necessitates walking right through over-vivid, cacophonous illusions. And once he is there, barring unforeseen mishaps, he quietly tests the door. Locked, unlocked?

"Morrigan, focus on keeping your eyes open and sing out if they notice us, eh?" Jean-Paul has no special directions for Gabriel. I guess he can just sit there and not do anything. "Right," he says to Xen. "We're headed in." Then, they do: he eases open a door oiled not to squeak. His gun is aimed low to the ground and his eyes are alert as he steps inside. He gestures for the others to follow him.

Jean-Paul and his team enter through a back storage room which goes past a number of refrigerating units (let's not open those - who knows what's rotted inside) and into the kitchen. A pair of swinging doors with tiny circled windows leads into the restaurant proper. Alessia senses two minds deep in distraction, thanks to Tom.

As they move toward the door, Tom trails behind. He picks up the thread of thought in the mind of the man's distraction, hunting for some associative connection, some thread of motivation behind their actions. He frowns deeply, and rests his hand on his holstered weapon without actually drawing it, relying on his teammates to handle the pragmatic aspects of moving the team from outside in the mass of ghostly horrors to inside.

The front door tests unlocked, and it's a good thing Tom's turned eyes elsewhere - they team can clearly see a man and a woman they recognize from photographs - Carla Ramos. The man stands near the windows, eyes fixed blankly on the view out the window, staring without seeing. The woman sits atop a table with her back turned and a beer bottle in her hand. A third figure is slumped against a wall.

Jean-Paul glances out the tiny circled windows to mark the location of the two in the restaurant. Slowly, gently he eases open one of the swinging doors to get a better look at the whole.

Gabriel trails Alessia and Jean-Paul as a sort of rearguard for their three-person miniteam, gun trained low to the ground.

Madrox tests the door, but he's seen what's inside before confirming that their targets are verily just inside. He slips his tranq gun out of its holster, mimes a 'stay down' by pressing his hand horizontal and palm down groundward, then mimes an unnecessary shh the usual way. He braces, then, to open the door without just opening it yet.

Still looking through his goggles, there is far less detail for Xen to be seeing, except for the three warm bodies through the glass of the window. Setting two fingers on Fission's shoulders to get his attention, he also lowers himself with the hand motion. "The second we open this door, they are going to hear it. Let's give Northstar the chance to move first. Do you see any video recording equipment?" Then, into his comm he speaks lowly, "Northstar, you will have to make the first move. If we open the door, they may not ignore the sudden increase in noise."

Alessia looks out through the open door, her gun rising just to be ready in case, before she glances up at JP for the order.

"No," Tom says with a light note of exasperation in his voice as he rubs at his eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, "they won't notice the door. They don't remember that the door exists. If we make noise once we're inside in the room, they'll hear /that/."

"I couldn't see it from the window," Madrox speaks soft, "but I'll see what I can see." And Madrox leans in to look again, hand still door-braced.

Jean-Paul and team's view is much the same as Madrox and team's, only in reverse. He at least can see Carla's pretty face!

Motivation is easy enough to stir to the surface - to find out the truth. Details are vague, but determination is clear. The truth is important, the truth is unclear, the truth is hiding/being hidden/uncoverable.
Also there is no sign of recording equipment.

"Right." This close, door open, Jean-Paul keeps his words to a very few, and very soft. One whispered syllable will do before diving in, right? Right. While Xen and Tom argue the details, Jean-Paul slides on into the room with full attention on Carla. Sooo. Just how distracted ARE they?

Alessia moves in just behind JP, moving to his side, her attention on the man rather than Carla. Her bottom lip is caught in her teeth as she tries to move quietly so she doesn't disrupt Tom's handiwork.

Gabriel remains in the doorway to act as cover-provider and also to try to block the way in case one of them tries to make a run for it and proves to be speedier than Jean-Paul. You know. Just in case.

"Right," Xen says to both Tom's exasperation and Jamie's observation. And then he sees two more blooms of thermal light enter the room from the back, and he taps Madrox on the shoulder, giving him a silent prompt to then move in. He keeps low, knees bent, and his gun comes up, directed towards the nearest target-- the guy staring out the window at the street. His feet are quiet from practice, and he makes sure to move with care, keeping an eye on his surroundings, colored as they are.

"Nothing, Rebound," Madrox supplies, and then opens the door. Since Xen is angling in, he only proceeds within after Xen has entered.

Well. Eyebrow twitching in an arch, Jean-Paul looks on the edge of thought, but only a whisper of it escapes to psionic teammates, a vague speculation as to whether they might themselves be assumed an illusion. Otherwise, once inside, he waits.

Last of their team to slip inside, the weight of Tom's attention is spread evenly between the distracted minds now -- well, maybe he leans a little to the guy who is a nauseous truth-seeker as opposed to the sexytimes going on over there.

Once inside, Xen looks back at Jean-Paul and Alessia, gesturing them to approach Carla in the back, and then Madrox towards the guy sleeping. Once everyone is in motion, he moves steadily towards the window watcher, his gun up and trained at the man as he takes careful, quiet steps. And when he gets close enough, he lets the cold muzzle of the gun press lightly into the side of the man's neck, his voice low. "Don't make a noise, and don't make a move. We have all of you covered."

Although Jean-Paul closes on Carla, he does not follow Xen's example of lifting his gun. It remains lowered -- perhaps pointedly lowered -- and he glances toward Xen with a faint, flickering frown before refocusing his attention on the woman.

Madrox moves as indicated to the sleeping man. He neither raises his gun specially nor does anything much with it, but he does keep a helpful proximity. Just in case.

Freed from Tom's thread-following, the man's mind loops back to his earlier concerns. It startles and jerks with a sudden panic as Xen speaks, and Carla's does something similar. They both look up toward their respective teams, and Carla slides swiftly to the floor despite Xen's instructions. It's the man who speaks, though, even as his mind sparks a sort of resigned triumph in the recognition of Darkwatch: killers, cold-blooded government mercenaries, a gun at his neck to silence the truth. "You won't get away with it," he says in firm, bitter response to his impending death. The sleeping man is still sleeping.

Alessia has her gun trained on Carla, even as she slips to the floor. Blue eyes focused on her, telepathy to track her surface thoughts. "Tell us how you're doin' it." She says in a low, serious tone. She means the royal 'You're'.

Xen continues to hold the gun very lightly against the man's neck as a simple reminder that it is there. His stance remains wary and ready in case he decides to make any sudden, stupid moves. "We won't get away with what, exactly?" He does not turn to glance at Alessia, keeping his focus on the man.

Jean-Paul gestures to Carla when she moves, low and with his off hand. It is a stilling gesture. It is not particularly threatening and he still has yet to lift his gun. Team sissy.

Tom lifts his eyebrows. He tips his head slightly to one side and tucks his hands into his pockets, a particularly harmless posture paired with a particularly skeptical expression. He keeps eaves'-dropping.

Carla stays still and silent, but it's a ready stillness, and her gaze on Alessia - not Jean-Paul - is wary. The man, however, speaks. His voice is bitter as he says, "Killing me. There's no infection to hide behind this time." His mind pinpoints suspicions for Tom: a disease never fully explained, a cure too easily obtained, a city devastated and then saved by a mysterious group with a mysterious name and mysterious doings.

"Jesus Christ," Xen mouths silently underneath his breath, though there is a fresh bloom of frustration that comes at the man's words. Instead, he scowls and stands up fully, though the gun doesn't move from its position against the man's neck. "We're not here to kill you," he says aloud in return, though he aware of the irony of the situation, and it colors his tone. "How do we dispell this nightmare? If you can promise me an end to this living hell right now, and no foolish attempts to get away from us, we'll talk. But I am not going to get into a debate with this madness raging in the streets."

Jean-Paul shifts, settling his weight to get ready to wait out the back-and-forth. He glances away from Carla a moment to study the man speaking to Xen and the man watched over by Madrox. He then looks around the restaurant, watchful -- but quiet.

Alessia doesn't move, doesn't look away from Carla though she can hear Xen's words just fine.

Tom laughs aloud: a light sound, full of breath, a startled bark of surprise. He says, "No infection at all." He folds his arms over his chest, a narrow-eyed kind of brittle smile touching his face. "I think these bozos think we're the bad guys, boss. You don't /debate/ with the bad guys."

The man laughs, a sharp bark of disbelief as his mind outlines the feel of the gun pressed against his neck. He says as much aloud: "You're holding a gun to my neck for no reason at all. Of course you're not here to kill me." To the rest he says nothing, although the telepaths see clearly that turning the images and sounds off is easy. If you're him.

"I admire this whole tenacity against the Man thing, but we're only here because of the giant horde outside," Madrox says, if it's more at a comment-to-self mutter than conversational. Useful as it is not.

"No reason at all?" Xen almost growls, his frustration spiking in response to both Tom's and the man's words. "How about the fact that you're terrorizing people who have already suffered through this infection once?" Xen stands fully and pauses, his mental words reaching out to Tom. << Be ready to knock this guy out first if things go bad. >> He then lifts the goggles from his head and pulls his gun back, and off of the man's neck, pointing it down at the floor, though he doesn't put it away. "Now, shut it down."

<< Ready, >> Tom says blithely. The precise fingers of control, though, angle not at the man's consciousness centers, but hunt through that ready ease to find the exact mechanism of mutation. He waits before he does anything.

The man's mind flickers with doubt for a moment. His eyes shift to Madrox briefly, then away again. He weighs pros and cons, abandoning his work, when he is finally so close to certain breakthroughs, the chance of living whether he does or no. Outside, nothing changes. Aloud, he says a bitter, "And then what?"

"As long as you don't do anything stupid like trying to run, or attack one of my people? Then we talk." Xen says, his gun still kept aimed at the floor, though he remains wary. It probably won't go away for a while yet. "I can't guarantee you that you'll get the answers that you want. But I'll give you the chance to ask the questions provided you tell me what you know about the disappearances, and your role in them."

Tom slants a glance askance in Xen's direction. Then he says, "And if you're very lucky none of us will hit you in the fucking face for abusing all these dead in pursuit of your retarded conspiracy theories." He is a helpful little buddy, isn't he.

Alessia clears her throat, but there's still a sound suspiciously like a chuckle in her throat. Her gun is trained on Carla still.

"/I/ haven't put a gun to anyone's /head/," the man reminds with dark bitterness before her turns his head to glance over his shoulder at Carla. Doubt flickers again, and in the end it's her safety, not his, that snaps the visions outside off. Abruptly, the howls and screams disappear and silence spreads. It hangs heavy in the restaurant as he fixes his gaze on Tom and sits all sorts of judgment on the telepath - judgment that reassigns /abuse/ and articulates evidence for /conspiracy theories/ in silence.

There is maybe a very small, exasperated sigh from the doorway that Gabriel inhabits after Tom's helpfulness.
"No, you've just scarred them for life. Men, women, children." Alessia snarls, a half step closer to Carla. "Retraumatized people who saw their loved ones dying from all of it. Don't get on your high horse."

"No. You've just terrorized innocent people who actually /lived through/ this particular brand of hell," Xen replies, a touch snappishly, suppressed anger abnd frustration easy to hear. "And for what? What were you hoping to find?" He lets the other concentrate on the other two members of the trio, his own is reserved specially for the ringleader.

Madrox looks at his sleeping buddy and makes quiet sure he is still sleeping. Perhaps he should nudge him so he has someone to yell at who is too bleary to fight back.

"Jesus Christ on a pogostick," Tom says, and looks at the ceiling momentarily. He folds his arms over his chest, settles his weight on his heels, and looks annoyed. "Evidence that fits their fabrications. What the hell did you think we were trying to /do/?"

The man snaps sideways suddenly as Alessia steps. "Leave her /alone/," he demands. His expression sets into stubbornness. "I did as you asked. Let her go." Carla gives Alessia a thin smile and answers, "You think we're as weak as that, chica? Those of us in the Zone don't scar so easily. None of us have hearts that tender anymore." She turns her head to look at her companion, and the smile she gives him is almost reassuring. Not that it appears to reassure.

Madrox's buddy still sleeps. Zzz.

"No," Xen says grimly. "No one leaves yet, Daniel." He gives his own look to Alessia, and makes a 'back off' gesture to the redhead with a flick of his hand. And then he tries asking the question again, "Why are you doing this?"

Alessia snorts, but as her eyes are locked on Carla (as is the aim of her gun), she can't really see Xen's gesture.

Glance flicked briefly aside, Tom flicks telepathy across the man's surface thoughts to find his responses to the questions -- or assumptions -- for all that he has been less than cooperative speaking aloud.

"Let her /go/," Daniel answers (he responds to the name readily enough, with no real start of surprise). His mind reads disgust, frustration, but again no surprise. There is a grudging acceptance. What did he expect, really? That they would stand by the spirit of their promise and lower their guns and sit down to a nice meal together? "If you want me to tell you anything, or to leave them turned /off/, let her go. We /will/ be missed." He's looking for Darkwatch - and the truth, the answer to questions and mysteries etc etc see earlier tepe meta I am too lazy to type it all again.

"And how much do you expect Mia to extend herself to get you back?" Xen responds to Daniel's threat about being missed. "What's her part in this charade?" But it seems he doesn't expect and answer just yet, because he looks over to Alessia. "Morrigan, let Ms. Ramos go." And then Xen looks back to Daniel, throwing a thoughtTom's way first. << Get a goddamn name for this last guy, would you? >> Out loud, he asks, "And your other friend? How do we wake him up?"

Alessia flicks the safety back on, lowering her gun. She doesn't stop looking at the woman or listening in to her thoughts.

Daniel's expression flashes briefly worried, and his mind moreso - would Mia /really/ extend herself to get him back? How valuable is he to her, really? Is he worth crossing /them/ for? The doubts last only a moment before they're washed away by a sudden surge of relief, and he turns toward Carla to meet her with a smile that's meant to be encouraging, but mostly looks only nervous. "Go home," he urges her, and she replies with a snort and a "I intend to," although she does give Daniel a smile in return. After a moment Daniel turns to Xen with a moment's frown and hesitation before answering, "Give him about five hours. Carla can take him home." Presumably Tom does as Xen asks and turns up a name: George. If he has a last name, Daniel doesn't know it.

Obligingly, Tom slides mental fingers along the thread's of Daniel's identity, seekingly.

What information he has gleaned, Tom shares it without the bother of using his voice, and shifts his weight between his feet, faint scowl registering in his expression.

Hopefully, Tom also gets a flash of 'home' for George, too, for tracking purposes. Xen watches Daniel's expression in the meantime, noting the uncertainty, followed by relief. "That's fine." When Carla gathers George and leaves, Xen finally puts away his gun, though he doesn't snap the holster closed. He scowls slightly at Daniel, "Now that we've assured ourselves of no more Infected tonight, there are matters /we/ need to deal with, thanks to you." There is some measure of heat in his voice, and he affixes Daniel with those blue eyes. "If you promise me that you'll sit down with us tomorrow and answer our questions, I won't throw you in jail for the night. But if you break that promise? I /will/ come find you," he promises.

Daniel's smile is thin and untrusting, a state made worse every minute by Xen's heat and threats and general manner, but the answer he gives is a stiff nod.

They make the arrangements for meeting up tomorrow, and because Xen is an un-trusting bastard, when Daniel leaves, he sets Jean-Paul to follow him in order to find out where Daniel stays. Maybe he even sets up those of his team who are good at it to keep an eye on the man. And then he goes to talk to the National Guard and smooth things over before eventually returning back to the Harding House.

INVASION. But not. GMing by Kill and Tat.