2019-08-10 - Music Soothes the Savage Hunter

Summary:

Dr. McCoy comes to Mutant Town to help out, and runs into the mysterious Hunter. He offers her a gift, along with friendship.

Log Info:

Storyteller: {$storyteller}
Date: 2019-08-10
Location: Mutant Town

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Theme Song

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hank-mccoyklavdiya-vasiliev

Late afternoon, heading towards evening and dinner time, and Hank McCoy is in mutant town. Today he is dressed in sturdy slacks, a 'wife beater' style t-shirt (Yes, the -name- bothers him!), massive work boots and thick gloves made of something that is a hell of a lot more durable than mere leather, that's for sure. He actually is one of several workers, volunteers all, finishing the demolition of one of the wrecked buildings in the area.

Presently, he and several more strong mutants are working together on carrying huge construction dumpster full of rubble over uneven ground to a waiting truck. They has to way /tons/, and Hank has one end of it himself. "Careful, Gentlepersons, we'll not want any accidents!"

Diya would surely know that this place was a menace, and most of the folks avoid it, but then just the other day a little girl got hurt. And the very next - bam - Hank arrived! Clearly has a soft spot for kids.


Strangers, not oft seen in the precincts of Mutant Town, have come to make changes to this neighborhood. Something like that does not happen here without being noticed and remarked upon by the Pride.

There are rumors, softly spoken, that say the injured girl was rescued quite promptly by a mysterious figure who leapt up from below with the girl in their arms and then whisked her away to the newly opened clinic in great haste. Oddly, however, no one seems able - or is it perhaps willing? - to describe this figure, or speculate upon whom this might have been or where they came from.

But when strangers came in with their muscles and their tools and their construction dumpsters, they did so while being watched. It is subtle, but not impossible to spot. Some of the homeless in the alleyways redistribute themselves to keep eyes on the work crew. And there are hints - odd hints, at that - of a large milling gathering of feral cats in the area around the work crew. They stay well clear, but they are nearby, almost constantly from down until the coming of dusk.

And those with truly keen senses of self-awareness would instinctually conclude that they are being watched by a terrible predator, as yet unseen.


Well, Hank is both keen of wits and senses, and he has a dear friend who's very very good with cats, so it wouldn't be even a minor stretch to conclude that, and rightly so! This is not his home, though he is known by many, he does fairly frequently come and work at a soup kitchen, or deliver supplies to a shelter, or like today - he offers grunt labor and masterful engineering skills to help out.

That keenly predatory feel would draw a smile to his blue lips, and then he starts to whistle, yes, whistle.

Tchaikovsky, the Waltz of the Flowers in fact. Perhaps a subtle hint?


Once the dumpster is set down, many of the workers on the other end of that thing stumble back, groaning, and panting with the effort as they stretch and strain against the effort expended. As they do so, a shadow moves in the depths of an alleyway nearby, as sunlight glints into those depths, reflected from green-tinted amber eyes. Visibly, several of them start migrating further back, away from not just the dumpster but expressly so from that alleyway. None say a word to anyone, they just simply do so. Instinct.


Hank's fellow workers did all give him some odd looks about the Tchaikovsky, but…ehn…he's weird anyway, even for Mutant Town! Basically a good rep though, he's always done only good when he's come by, so that's something.

Once he catches that glint of green-golden eyes in the shadows, and noting the time, he nods to the workers as they start to drift off. "That's probably enough for now, we'll finish up tomorrow." Hank says, probably to the worker's relief. The guy's not a slave-driver, per se, but he works with such energy and determination he almost shames everyone to work harder!

He moves over to a table with water on it, taking a moment to down a bottle, and then ambles casually towards that alleyway, another water bottle (two actually) engulfed in a massive hand.


With relief, the exhausted and aching workers move forward to claim and rapidly consume the water provided for them; a few actually pour bottles over their heads, but most are wise enough to put the water inside themselves to serve multiple purposes at once.

As expected, when Hank finally steps into the shadows of the alleyway, no longer competing with the sunlight itself, he can clearly make out the silently observant and lethal presence of Hunter, tucked in against the wall and carefully observing the goings-on in the neighborhood. "Outsiders. Changes." she murmurs, in that mushy, indistinct voice of hers. "Shelter gone." she adds. Indeed, there was considerable evidence that as dangerous as the ruin was, it was also a place often housing the unfortunate and the destitute.


Hank pats some of the workers carefully on the back, wiping his brow before removing the gloves and tucking them away in his rear pants pocket. Some instinct prompts him to lean against the wall in such a way that his considerable bulk provides cover for Diya, a detail she's sure to notice. Hank seems…content. He's gotten a good workout here, good, honest work to do good things. Nice combo.

One of the bottles of water is offered to Diya, and then he starts on the second. "Oh, I know, I was going to try to find someone to build a proper shelter, but in the meantime, I have a great many military surplus tents, once the grounds are -safer-, they'll be setup for whomever needs them. Food as well. Nothing fancy, more military surplus, MRE's are not fancy at all, but they will sustain."


The woman's face smirks a little as Hank talks of all of this military surplus. She nods. "Suggest." she murmurs. "Water." As proven previously, the Hunter is exceptionally laconic; one word, rather than a hundred. But her messages are usually pretty evocative and clear, and this should be little exception. He brought water in today to support the workers. She is recommending he try to do the same in some fashion for those who move into those tents. With the blistering heat and sagging humidity of summer upon them, water will be important for those without shade against the sun. Especially fresh, clean water, a premium for the homeless.


A grin. Yes, Hank's well aware of the irony, considering who he's speaking to. "Water too." He nods. "Good thought." Laconic Hank is not, not even a little bit. A moment to stretch, and twist, and *POP* he actually sighs relief. Wry. "That crick was bugging me for an hour." He observes.

And then he looks a little hesitant, before he nods, decision made. "I made something for you." That he has it with him is proof he was hoping he'd run into Diya again, which could be concerning, or flattering. Maybe both? He continues on. "So…you seemed to like the music on the ride back." Understatement - thy name is Hank! "…I made this for you. It's solar powered, currently at full charge, should only need a few hours each week." He hands her a dull grey bracelet. On the thing are a pair of earbuds too, they apparently charge in it. "I…well, it links to my music server." He offers the thing, hoping she'll accept it, but prepared for her not to.


The Hunter nods as Hank accepts her advice. She noticed he wasn't stupid before; this proves his pride still allows for outside input. That's a mark in his favor, definitely. Practicality. And she does seem to appreciate the body cover he's providing, and stays in it, avoiding any curious eyes glancing in this direction.

When the device is unveiled, Diya does not move toward it. She does not back away. But she does peer closely at it, concentrating, and then flicking her eyes intermittently up at the blue furred male's face. There's a new tension there in her form that was not before. "Networks track." she murmurs, only, and does not reach to accept the admittedly quite thoughtful gift.

If he needed any proof, there it is: this woman is not homeless just because she's a down on her luck vet, though she may well be that. She's also avoiding being tracked. She is in fact likely hiding from someone, something. And not just Tiger Hunters Incorporated.


Hank grins, carefully not showing teeth, this woman triggers too many 'Predator' signals for Hank to react otherwise. Instinct and experience working hand in hand right there! He takes a tool off his belt, opens the casing, and then toggles a dip switch. "I wasn't sure if you'd be worried about it." A nod then as he seals it up. "I just activated the encryption, that should make it nearly impossible for anyone to track it. However, if you'd rather, I can add more storage, it presently holds a quarter terrabyte, so we can download a bunch, and then drop off the server again." He looks to Hunter, and puts the tool away with one hand as he offers the device again with the other.


The Hunter is still quiet, and reticent, but she watches and listens to Hank as he goes to work on this. She doesn't visibly show she's impressed he thought of such things, but she probably is at least pleased about it. She's still nervous, uncertain, but after a long and pregnant pause, she finally gives the hint of a nod and reaches out to take the device.

First thing? Diya sniffs at it. Totally weird to see a seemingly normal human do it, but she does. Only then does she rub it against her cheek and neck, and then slide it onto her wrist. And yes, she does this in that order.

"Thank you." is murmured very softly. Diya is not used to thanking anyone, for anything. Ever. There may well be no words for how uncomfortable that is for her.


Hank waits with considerable patience, the scent marking actions don't really surprise him. It /is/ a little odd in a human-form, but not /that/ odd, not since he knows her alternate self is a massive tiger. A flicker of remembrance at her evident approval of Amur Khatun, and then he watches as she dons the bracelet. It is perhaps noteworthy that it is sized to fit pretty well seamlessly. "Waterproof to thirty meters." He mentions, and then looks down a bit, clearly a bit disgruntled. "Apologies though, I don't understand your powers well enough to allow it to compensate for them." He is genuinely contrite that Hunter will need to remove it before shapeshifting!

He inclines his head then as she thanks him, and makes no bones about it. Not because he doesn't appreciate the thanks - nope - no bones are made because he is astute enough to infer and observe that thanks are rare and difficult things for the woman.


The Hunter shrugs her shoulders a bit in those baggy, oversized threadbare army surplus clothes. "Strip, then change." she murmurs. And usually she does. Except in emergencies. Those do happen, but she works very, very hard to keep those to a minimum. A lot of foresight, care, planning, and intent helps. She hasn't had to just suddenly shift in a good while, thank goodness.

Diya watches Hank for a bit, silently. It may well get uncomfortable, but she doesn't stop or look away. Then, finally, she offers other words. Not many, but a few. She points at him briefly. Unspoken: 'You'. "Like her." Yep. She's offering the clear opinion - in her own hyper-laconic way - that he likes Amur Khatun.


"Oh, I gathered, but it would have been nice to tailor things to allow for your changing." Hank's eyes half lid. "Though…it sounded incredibly painful." Oh, fun, he heard the change! She might have suspected but now Diya -knows-. Hank's just too empathetic, he finds it far too easy sometimes to see through other's eyes. He's VERY thankful his mental gifts are with science, not the reading of thoughts and feelings, he's just wired to be comfortable with such abilities. He does value those who DO have them, make no mistake, but he's aware of his own nature well enough to know how ill suited such powers would be to him.

He just waits, that intent stare is going to lead to something most likely, and he is far FAR more curious than he is impatient. That will seldom be otherwise too. He smiles toothlessly, and nods. "Of course. I like you both."


Diya just shakes her head a bit. Crazy people, deciding a giant tiger is a pet worth befriending! Let alone deciding to befriend a psychotic killer with PTSD. "Reckless." she murmurs darkly.


"Maybe." Hank doesn't seem particularly bothered about it though. "I like who I like, Hunter. Convenience is nice, of course, but friendship is more than that." He smiles. "Amur Khatun is no unthinking animal, but she is dangerous. I treated her with all due respect, and she responded." He looks to Hunter. "You are clearly more than you portray yourself as, I am betting it was you who saved little Anya." The girl from yesterday who was hurt. He looks into green-gold eyes, bright blue eyes open and clear. "I know you must have enemies, people who hunt you, but you're a good person. Issues? Certainly, but who doesn't have issues? All I can do is recognize who you are, react accordingly and offer my support. But that means you have to trust me, and trust /must/ be earned."


Diya shrugs a little, but she might seem slightly mollified by Hank's response. He has acknowledged the threats, the risks he is taking, the leaps of instinct mixed with his logic. He is, at least, aware of what he's doing and how he at least could be wrong. Even if he doesn't believe he is.

"Anya. Doctors." Hunter offers, shrugging. She didn't patch the girl up. But she did get her to the clinic. The selfsame clinic she evaluated very, very carefully for her own people. The same clinic that received a rather sizable cash donation which appeared mysteriously on their front desk one night before opening. She doesn't keep the money she takes from those who hurt her people.

"Trust hard." Diya offers with equal bald honesty.


Oh, he's aware that there's risks, but he's student of psychology, in fact one of his many Doctorates is in psychology, so he's got reason to trust his instincts. And the simple fact is this - people need other people, very very few people can thrive solo. Survive? Yes, definitely possible. But humans, and cats for that matter, are social animals by their very nature. How many people have the mental fortitude to withstand Hunter's 'Predator Vibe'? Not many, that's for sure.

A nod as she speaks of Anya. "Of course, they did the work /after/ you provided them the patient. Anya needed both your help and theirs." He's not aware of the donation to the Tolliver clinic, but that's okay, it is repurposing ill gotten funds for noble use, he'd be okay with that.

A ginormous hand extends slowly, then he claw taps the bracelet. "Yes, it is." Hank admits. "We're making a start here, though." And then his smile turns playful. "I will just have to keep proving myself until eventually you feel I've failed, or accept." He chin points to her. "Your call, not mine."


Diya considers Hank carefully, intently, as he speaks. She doesn't interrupt; she has so few words to offer, and they are always best when offered when everyone else is done and ready to listen. And she returns that favor by listening intently when others speak, often hearing what they don't say as clearly as what they do. When Hank is done, she nods. "Go. See you. Help. Good." Diya lifts the bracelet into both their eyelines, and then nods once more. Her knees flex, and then she leaps up and clears the roofline above, apparently dismussing Dr. McCoy to his weightlifting tasks and social calendar. At least for now.

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