Summary:Hunter and Darkstar meet face to face - kind of. Plans are discussed! Two fuming Russkie girls leave the scene Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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The message was sent. A mauve-skinned mutant known to Laynia called her and left a message. At the appointed time and place, she met with the Russian expat and shared with her that message: "< The Hunter will meet with you. Go to the Clinic. Look South, vertical. Follow the Mother Tongue. >"
When asked why the cryptic message, the thief had no explanation. "This is how the Hunter wants it. That's all I know. But I know better than to argue with her."
Well, there you have it, odd…but…that's okay. Actually, it kind of reminds her of the old days - meets often were blind, or worse, this fits that bill nicely. So she times things to get her to the meet with ample spare time, after all she might run into traffic, or a rampaging supervillain, some freakish trans-dimensional weather event…it goes on and on.
Life as a Super can be be super odd!
Regardless, she parks her black and yellow 2007 Mini Cooper near the clinic. Emerging from it she's in black khaki pants, sturdy boots and a long sleeved black top, and her hair is worn in a braid that severely compacts it, essentially it forms a crown of sorts, and barely reaches her shoulders. It is amazing what a good braid can do!
At the appointed time she does as instructed, looking south, then seeks 'the mother tongue', looking up and up as she pans a few degrees left and right as she does.
It should not take long for Laynia to spot a Cyrillic letter and a number, and one more Cyrillic letter, lowercase this time, followed by another capital letter. Translation: W40mN
And so it begins. Five different spots, as Laynia tromps around Mutant Town, looking in proscribed directions to find the next clue. Finally Laynia ends up at the mouth of an alleyway. She reads the instructions, goes fifty meters down the alley and looks up … up to see a fire escape. And there, at the top of the fire escape, is a thin green banner.
Initially a little vexed, by the end Laynia is actually amused, this Hunter is /way/ into security, she rather admires that level of dedication. She looks up at that fire escape, then climbs it at a careful pace, she's not going to make it shake and rattle and betray her presence, she's not being pursued at present so there's no need for haste.
OBVIOUSLY time is not a concern with this level of convoluted running about!
Once she reaches the rooftop she'll look for cover, her hair darkening as she does so, and indeed, all her visible skin as well coated in a light baffling haze of Darkforce.
When Laynia climbs over the edge, cover isn't hard to find; the roof of this building is one of the flat ones with a raised low wall around the edge and drains built in. Air conditioning units stand up here and there, providing more cover. And then a voice whispers softly, in English, from behind Laynia.
Behind her, being across the alley, on the next rooftop. "Trouble."
The voice is soft, and mushy. Not quite unintelligible, but definitely not clear or clean diction. But it doesn't reveal a Russian accent. And there on that other roof a face peers around a chimney. Dirty. A bit greasy. Unkempt. A mottled tan hood pulled up, a shoulder garbed in threadbare olive drab. "Too many. One place. Drawing trouble."
Settling down, back to the conveniently ample cover, Laynia studies the figure across the way. "Okhotnik? Hunter?" She asks, it would surely be silly for someone else to be here, but…confirmation is good. And SHE knows the Hunter speaks Russian, if nothing else the Cyrillic instructions she's been following are a pretty sure sign - also - 'mother tongue', not something most would say if it wasn't theirs too, or at least one they're fluent in.
Cinnamon eyes obscured by a thin film of Darkforce, Laynia looks to Hunter. "I do not understand." Her accent is definitely that of someone educated. Her diction clear, the accent upper class Russian all the way.
The figure does not speak to answer; she simply nods, once, firmly. That's it. She stays silent for a good while, waiting Laynia out. She'll prove to be exceptionally - frighteningly - patient. She is not one to speak just to fill the silence.
WHen Laynia confirms again she doesn't understand, the woman shakes her head slightly, showing visible frustration. Then she taps her chest. "One." Points at Laynia. "Two." Then she gestures over her head, then indicates broad shoulders. "Three." There. See? Too many!
"Too many Russians in one place." Laynia guesses when the counting thing is done. "Lexi mentioned the Black Razors, that you thought they were after me." She shakes her head. "There is no reason I can come up with as to why they would be. I have never really had any contact with them, and the authorities back in Mother Russia will surely think me dead, I have not been there in just over forty years."
Which can't be - she is no way forty years OLD, let alone 40 years away from Russia!
The woman frowns at her, but does not seem bothered by the idea of Laynia's impossible age. "Wanted." she murmurs, tapping her chest. "Then she motions with one hand, fingers pointed down in a rapidly alternating V. Walking, but very fast. Running. Then she ducks under her hands, held flat over her head, eyes looking up.
Yes. She's miming a conversation.
"Oh." Laynia /gets it/! And choruses of angels sing!
"You're on the run, and hiding, and the concentration of Russians, this is putting YOU in danger." A pause, as realization sets in. "And if /you/ are in danger, so too are our people of the Pride." Yes. Our. As she says this she'd lift her wrist, and there along with several charms to hide it in a mass of bangles, is the arrow head Laynia was given.
There's some real relief as Laynia finally gets it. For pity's sake!
Hunter nods. Yes, their people are in danger, because she is in danger. She thumps her chest. "Changed." She doesn't explain how, or why. "Wanted." She was changed, and then the Black Razors wanted her. And she ran. Ran, and hid here. But now there are so many Russian expats hiding here … and surely Laynia is smart enough a spy to realize any one of them could be an agent of the Razors, or an informant. And that can only mean it is a matter of time until the Black Razors show up here.
"You were changed, and the Black Razors came for you, and so you -had- to run." And yes, Laynia has enough first hand knowledge of what sort of people the Black Razors /report/ to are like that she can't see Hunter doing anything else. And then he gaze narrows, her expression firms. "I have not found any rumors of them, not yet." And then a sigh. "But then I probably wouldn't."
Because that's what the Black Razors -do-. "So…have you had any sightings?"
Hunter shakes her head slightly. Then raises her hands, covering her eyes. Would she actually see them coming? Would they be that reckless, especially here in America? Until they have found their targets, they'll move carefully. Stealthfully. And then they'll pounce.
Not unlike Okhotnik herself.
"Then we will need to set a trap for them." Laynia says with altogether a predatory air, apparently she's not very forgiving of such trespasses. "How can I help? I can make my investigations a bit more heavy handed, just a bit, enough to send up a warning flag or two…try to draw them out…"
After all, she's a SHIELD agent, AND a super-powered mutant, arguably one of the more powerful such around too. It isn't like she's afraid of a fight!
The other woman shakes her head firmly. The last damned thing she wants is anyone setting a trap that will bring those bastards down on her people. As much as she is determined to live, she would rather die than allow that. Instead, she thumps her chest again. "Disappear." Then she points to Laynia. "Scatter." If there's no concentration of Russian expats in the area, there's nothing to draw their attention, and almost impossible for them to hide their agents on recon. Imperfect it may be, but it offers the best chance of foiling the attack before it happens, avoiding harm to the Pride and the rest of Mutant Town.
Laynia looks a little pugnacious, she /wants/ to kick these guy's in their tender bits, a lot. They are a risk to people she cares about, even though she doesn't know most of them - they're people she cares about. That they're hounding a fellow Russian expat, well, since HER life has had that involved in it that gives her another reason to want to stomp some tenders, yup.
But…
…Hunter h as a point, even if she didn't speak it aloud, the very real concern for those caught in the crossfire looms large. And after a moment, she sighs, and nods. "I will do as you suggest, Hunter. Let us meet again in a couple weeks, da? I will see if I cannot work this from another angle and keep our Pride brethren out of it."
Hunter would honestly rather they both disappear, leaving no trace whatsoever. She would hate leaving her people, abandoning them. But she would hate it worse if they were hurt or killed because of her. She honestly had no intention of meeting again. She had no intention of being in the area to meet. She agreed to this meeting solely because recognizing Laynia's other name as she did, she had some idea how much danger that woman could also be in from those in the black armor, and had no desire to leave her to suffer that unawares.
But now the barmy woman is making plans for them to meet up again. The homeless woman eyes her as if she's grown three extra heads in the span of a few seconds for no other reason than to look weird. She growls a bit, a low rumble far more basso and stronger than one would expect from a woman of her apparent size and stature. Then she ducks behind that housing and disappears.
Upon Laynia's return trip out of Mutant Town, she may well notice that all of the markers left for her earlier are gone. No sign of them remains. Then again, it would have been stupid to live noticeable cyrillic markings around Mutant Town if the Black Razors really are coming.
One thing Hunter does not exude is stupidity. Paranoia. Quiet desperation. Anger. Some arrogance. Determination. And a sense of duty larger than all of the rest combined. But not stupidity.
"Right then, scatter…meet in two weeks, I'll courier info to Weather if anything comes up."
No, that growl wasn't a particularly encouraging sound, and no, she's not going to stop her efforts to find and punish the damn Black Razors. It is a very good possibility that miss Petrovna, the Darkstar, MIGHT have an overdeveloped sense of vengeance lurking inside.
When she gets no further answer, she makes sure she can't be traced…TEN portals later she's back at her car, changed into a new outfit, and blonde again. Yeah, that should hopefully help, oh, and the yellow on her car? Blacked out along with all the windows but the front (because that's illegal and would /draw attention/.
She drives at a sedate pace, obeys the laws, and generally just…fumes.