Midnight Shadows Guided Games GENEsis: DOFP Genesis In Character Days of Future Past [SentS] It's a long way down. [Ericka / Sebastian]


02-22-2019
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02-22-2019, 10:58 AM
[In-Character] [Post #41]
Third time was the charm, or so the saying went. Third time was the moment she almost snapped. Andrea Bock and her ridiculous mouth, her whining attitude, and lazy demeanor. Apparently the serum she had been charged with custody over had been the only vial Andrea’s team had managed to stabilize. Her presence in the conference room poked and prodded at her irritation, but the knowledge that the small team would have to attempt to duplicate the results from scratch were promising enough to temper the rebuttal sitting in wait on the tip of her tongue.

It was becoming a taxing thing, though. She had been present within some structure of SentS for the better side of over half a decade, and it seemed, her time was wearing as thin as her patience.

Perhaps it was better that way.

She had never thought that her intended profession would have made her so sick. Even if she had stepped foot into the field without a clue as to who she was or what she was meant to do. She could place all of her blame over the matter on Tony. Luckily enough for him, he was no longer around to experience the brunt of her agitation.

What he had hoped for, had grown exponentially out of the realm of his consideration. She often wondered if he had ever thought it possible that his hope to secure the world would lead to where it was currently. Humans hunting what was in essence their own kind simply because of genetic mutation. It had happened hundreds of times over the course of human evolution. Fear was a great motivator.

Being removed, or discovered, afforded her the ability to shed the mask she had donned. However, it also removed her from a placement that afforded the likes of those standing against the Services a leg up. She would no longer be able to relay intel or move samples if she were compromised. She would no longer be able to put counter measures into appropriate hands. Everything she hated about the association she worked for could grow darker, and possibly worse simply because the outside stood to be severed.

It was already happening.

Valeria was gone.

Danvers had fallen off the proverbial map.

Guthrie, though…

She snapped herself back into the moment and gave a nod when Annabelle Taggert asked if she understood the predicament that she had let herself slip into. Of curse she understood, this was the third time in a two-week period she had been reminded about it. Once she was released, it was too late in the day to pursue any new endeavor. She put away all her equipment, locked all of her files in the cabinet at her desk and left the building behind.

The uber ride home was quick enough, sure it cost more than taking the subway, but there were days when she couldn’t stand the thought of being that close to random people she didn’t know. She scrolled through the emails on her phone and made her payment once they had arrived, adding a decent tip since he had managed to get her home within a short period of time, and he had left her alone. Still, she at least tanked him and climbed out of the vehicle. She dug around in her purse for her keys as she made her way up the step and reached to slide her card key against the reader when she startled and dropped the small ring on the ground.

For a long moment, she simply stared at him, half his figure cut by the shadow of the neighboring building thanks to the awful short daylight hours the time of year offered. How many months had she been allotted not seeing him, only to have him suddenly thrust right back into her life.

Every accusatory question she could have posed about his presence filtered through her thoughts and remained thankfully behind her teeth.

“Are you okay?” She asked carefully, confusion peppering her tone as she bent over to retrieve her keys. Her fingers curled around them and the metal dug into the skin of her palm, but there was no possible potential for injury no matter how tightly she gripped them. Her mind shifted through possibilities, trying to supply her with reasoning for his presence, but she came up blank. Unless he had been tasked with another interrogation. “Are you here to fire me?” Because at that point in the day, she may welcome the relief of duties. “Or is there something wrong?” Immediately she thought about his health, and then skipped to the twins, then onto the legal matters that existed between him and his ex.
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02-22-2019
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02-22-2019, 12:37 PM
[In-Character] [Post #42]
Sebastian swallowed, exhaled with a small quiver when from the uber pulling up to the curb a familiar figure emerged. He watched, in silence, as if being too loud, too forward, too fast would set something off. He did feel like a house of cards. If something rattled him just a little too much he worried he would implode. Or do something. He had no idea about the things he could do.

Where did it start? Where would it end? Could he touch anything at all? Well, the coat had not melted under his touch. So … it was not living vs. inanimate object. Something else activated and deactivated the additional effects of his touch. But what? Emotion? Had he not surmised in so many of the cases he worked that emotion was the trigger for so many of the mutants and supers he had come across?

Sebastian’s gaze followed the set of keys as she dropped them. Part of him wanted to rush forward, pick them up, hold them out for her – but he doubted it was a good idea when running the risk of simply melting them into nothingness. She stared at him, and Sebastian wondered what for. What was it that was going through her mind? Was she angry? Did she was to yell at him for just showing up here? It certainly was not quite his style – then again, this moment was not just like any other evening.

The suppressant was wearing off. That was a state of emergency. The serious kind.
Like so often in the last two hours, he wondered why he had skipped that shot.
Why.

Her first question was careful, her tone measured but he could hear the confusion. “Sorry”, was all he pushed out in response. “No”, he said, now her confusion vaulting to him as well. This was not about work. Well, not really any way.

Her next question sounded different yet but her tone resounded with something inside of him. Something that still lived there, and that remembered the nights and days they had spent sharing his bed. That something ached, willing to leap out of his chest. Sebastian swallowed again, his eyes darting left and right to see if anyone was close by, within earshot to overhear.

For the moment, it was just them. His shoulders pulled up, he remained standing where he was. The cold was slowly seeping into his bones and he had begun shivering. He knew he could not just say it. I did not have my shot of suppressant. I’m manifesting. Even with a seemingly empty street, Sebastian knew the Services better than to assume any sense of being safe.

He pulled his hands from his coat pockets, offering his palms to her in front of his thighs. Of course he knew that this would not give her any kind of indication about what was going. Or could she guess? There had been a time when she had been at an uncanny level of being able to extract his thoughts. It was why part of his mind sometimes wanted to get angry, insisted on the fact that she should have known. She should have known that despite what he did, how he had ended things … he still …

Still …

“Four days ago, I should have gotten icecream”, he said, his mind frayed a little, unable to find better code for what he wanted to tell her. “You know? Chocolate.” His eyes were on her, staring into the depths of hers, willing her to understand.

“But I … I didn’t get chocolate.”

He remembered the moment, even if just in glimpses, at the parlour where she had been and then … then Gabriel Summers. Ericka had been there, had taken him home – and she had left him with questions and ideas in his mind that he had been unable to shake.

“No chocolate”, he repeated, his voice a whisper and he balled his hands into fists. His entire body was tense as he stood in front of the only person he could think of to turn to – and he wondered whether she would be able to grasp the meaning underlying the silly analogy he had chosen.
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02-22-2019, 03:17 PM
[In-Character] [Post #43]
His answers were clipped at best, simple, near single syllables. The simplest form of an apology, for the moment that presented. Then a declination of her hoped intent of being fired. She watched his eyes shift, over her face, then about them, watched him swallow as though he was trying to gather himself, and she waited. There was no point trying to pry it out of him, he was ever so capable of letting on what he wanted, even when she could at times draw his thoughts forth out of the most minute expression to flitter across his face.

That had been seemingly so long ago.

She felt her brows pinch as she tried to make sense of the confusion in his features, the hint of anxiety, the breath of being troubled by something. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and offered his palms forth, which served to confuse her all the more.

Then there was the ghost of anger in the way his mouth turned slightly downward at the corners. Something reminiscent, trying push forward and failing in light of whatever it was he actually wanted to convey to her. Her lips parted in response, trying to arrange her own thoughts into another question that would branch out further. Until he interrupted her.

Four days.

She frowned deeper.

Four days since he should have gotten ice cream. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t making sense. He was an adult, he could walk himself to the ice cream parlor, or book an uber, or hail a damned taxi. He didn’t need her to hold his hand.

She-

Chocolate, he clarified. He hadn’t gotten chocolate.

Phenethylamine.

Ericka narrowed her eyes at him. She watched him roll his hands into fists, frustration in the tendons of his wrists. He was trying to tell her something without being obvious. No chocolate. She had- oh. Oh.

She lifted her keys and waved the keycard before the scanner, let her eyes sweep over him. He looked fine, but that didn’t mean anything. Well, he didn’t look fine, he looked…off. Anxious in some regard. He hadn’t…and he had shown up at her apartment. Right in line with the same day that she had once more been lectured about her carelessness. Odd timing, but she pushed it aside and made her way up the four steps to the front door to her duplex building and paused there. Then she turned and looked at him, lifted her brows. “Well?” Had he shown up at her doorstep to just stand around?

When he seemed to get the message and climbed up the steps after her, she held the door open for him. “Go upstairs.” She sighed. “I don’t have any chocolate ice cream.” Even though actual chocolate ice cream sounded amazing at the moment.

And he had come to her.

Once the front door was securely shut behind her and the locking engaged, she followed him up the steps to the upper apartment of the pair. Whatever it was that was pushing through in the waking lack of a dose of suppressant, it at least wasn’t obvious. No blue skin, no colorless eyes, no horns, no extra Just him, still. She wasn’t exactly sure where they could possibly go and have a completely quiet conversation completely without risk, but honestly, she was at a point where she had little care in that regard.

She was equipped well enough to remove herself from SentS reach if necessary. Might as well go out with a bang if it came down to it. She unlocked the front door and set her hand at his shoulder to usher him inside, closing the door behind her and setting the deadbolt for some reason. As if that would make it safer.

“What, uhm…” She shrugged out of her jacket and let it, along with her bag, fall haphazardly to the floor about her feet where she stood. She tossed the keys onto the coffee table and then briefly pressed her hands against either side of her neck. It was the uncertainty that was the most disarming. “Are you okay?” She asked. Again. She had asked that already.
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02-22-2019
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02-22-2019, 03:48 PM
[In-Character] [Post #44]
Relief had washed through him when realisation had registered in her eyes. It helped with the growing anxiety, this weird thing that was twisting and turning and tightening into a coil that would eventually burst. Who was he? What was he? What were the things he could do? Was his touch now lethal?

Sebastian was glad when her apartment door finally fell shut behind them. He did appreciate the sound of the deadbolt sliding home. He turned around, finding it odd to realise that he hardly dared to move. Should he try take off the coat? Or would he risk incinerating the thing then? He had randomly affected things. He had not yet touched a living object other than himself.

So he just stared, willing to take off his coat but unable to. He stared at Ericka’s jacket and purse on the floor. Then back up – he tried to remember when he had been here last. Her question shook him out of the odd sensation of being completely out of control. “No”, he responded, shaking his head. “I touch things, they melt or burn or just crumble to dust. But I don’t know what. Some things do, others don’t. I’ve not touched anything living yet. I …”, another shake of his head. “I … what if I kill upon touch now?” Would gloves keep it in check? Another Anna Beaumont. Gloved up even on the hottest day of summer. Great.

“I’m sorry”, he murmured. “I didn’t know what to do”, he said, holding his hands at his side, a safe distance from about everything around him.

“I thought about what you said … and then … It was a spur of the moment thing. I faked the document. Made it look like I got the shot and walked out again.”

Was he rambling? Sebastian knew that he was talking a lot right now, out of nervousness and fear. Plain old fear. The anxiety was still there, flitting through his mind, not letting him grab a single thought long enough.

“It started today…”

He turned his hands, palms towards her as if by just showing them he could make her witness the things he could do. But of course, he palms looked normal. Sebastian huffed, looked about and then grabbed a pair of sandals. He knew these. A pair he had never seen her wear. Or so he hoped, not that he knew to trust his memory in this regard. He was a man! And yet, he was also a lawyer – and lawyers needed to notice things.

He picked them up, one with each hand. One melted in a way where glowing lines of what could be ambers of a fire drew across the shew. Then it was gone. Nothing happened to the other. Sebastian let his gaze wander between his hands, and he could not help how his spirits took yet another nosedive. How would he discern how to touch something without destroying it? And how would he find out whether it worked on living tissue as well?

Sebastian dragged his gaze up, meeting Ericka’s. “I’ll buy you a new pair”, he said apologetically.
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02-28-2019
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02-28-2019, 03:13 PM
[In-Character] [Post #45]
She made to step forward and then caught herself, an odd sense of confusion taking root in her chest. The fact of the matter was that she had no idea what to do, and the that he was standing in her apartment was almost a completely foreign concept. He opened his mouth, started to explain, and she pressed her teeth together to keep form interjecting with her own questions. His touch caused melting, crumbling. Would he destroy or kill upon touch. It was a destructive sort of mutation, or at least it started that way.

If he was put out quite as he was in the moment, then he had never experienced the lengths of his mutation before. He had agreed to the idiotic suppressant regimen and simply accepted his life as basically being poisoned on a regular basis. Without ever even knowing what would have pushed through. He could have had an ability to that fixed things, people, he could have been a healer for all anyone could have guessed. Instead, at the moment, he destabilized matter, seemingly disintegrated it possibly at a molecular or atomic level or destroyed it.

He forged documentation of receiving his injection, and she wondered about how he had managed to accomplish that. Likely it would prod incessantly at her curiosity until she investigated further. She would have to return to the compound at some point tomorrow to quell it even if she wasn’t scheduled to be there. She wasn’t sure she could make it two or three days. Ericka looked up at him again. Unless he told her exactly what had happened.

It started today. Of course it would have. She tried to think back to the day with the ice cream, the day he had happened upon her in that parlor with Gabriel put beside her and as arrogant as ever. That was…she shook her head. Unimportant at the moment. It didn’t matter. He had skipped a dose at some point and the effects it would have offered from the previous injection were waning enough to allow his mutation to cut through. But then, that was it, also, the possibility that what he was experiencing was only a taste of what lay in wait.

Sebastian turned his hands out towards her as though to explain further, or accentuate where he thought his mutation originated from. It was a belief most humans shared, that a mutation similar to what he was describing was housed in the hands. For the moment, that was where it originated, but it was everywhere. His fear and the focus of his mind simply cornered it into his hands for the time being.

For a moment, she thought about Rogue.

Frustration twisted his features and she watched him search about himself until his eyes locked onto something near the door again. She watched him move towards the shoe rack, watched him pluck up a pair of sandals she had yet to ever wear. They were cute, they looked cute by the door. She hadn’t had anywhere to wear them to. They were meant for a beach. The one in his right immediately glowed, something odd to watched cradled in someone’s hand. The stitching lit up bright, the leather burned bright, then suddenly it completely disintegrated. When she looked to his other hand, the sandal there remained whole.

She took a step forward, even as he apologized and offered to replace them. She didn’t care much at the moment.

Her finger hooked through the heel strap and she lifted it out of his hand, turning it about enough that she could inspect the item with some care. She pressed her lips together and swallowed, let her eyes shift over to his other hand, empty save some ashen remnants. “It’s…okay.” He didn’t need to buy her new shoes. “You can sit down.” She offered, he didn’t need to stand and assume she was going to shove him out her front door. Back to his empty palms, she fought the urge to trace her fingers along the lines in his skin in an attempt to bait the mutation to the surface to determine whether or not it affected living tissue.

“I’m going to assume you suppressed yourself before this ever happened before.” She looked at the knot in the tie about his neck. “How does it feel?” She felt her brows pinch slightly when she looked up to meet his gaze. “And what are you going to do about it?” She was of no mind to help him put it all back into the box he had tried to fold a bow around.
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03-01-2019
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03-01-2019, 11:58 AM
[In-Character] [Post #46]
Sebastian’s mind insisted that there was something. Somehow he ought to be able to discern why he was affecting matter with one hand, and not with the other. Could he do it just with his mind? Or was touch required? And would touch mean hands? Or any part of his body? Ericka did not seem too alarmed. Well, most certainly she was not panicking. That was a good thing, or was it?

She continued. He could sit down. Sebastian looked around, momentarily the concept of sitting, on something for that matter, being completely new to his mind. He nodded, swallowed, turned around and finally set his eyes on the couch in the living room area. Sebastian went, and sat. A small voice in his mind congratulated him for making it without burning half her apartment to a crisp.

Ericka followed him into the room but so far made no indication that she would sit. Her questions hung over him and he wondered how it was that somehow this woman managed to make him consider things he had so successfully suppressed for most of his recent months. “I’ve no idea what I’m supposed to do”, he admitted not without a sliver of panic straining the tone of his voice. He shook his head, and his gaze slipped to a point between him and her, losing focus as he turned his gaze inward.

“I’d lose my job. Visitation rights. All fucked.” He folded his hands, kneaded them. They were clammy. Was he sweating?

“It feels like it’s all going to shit.” That was what it felt like. If he was a mutant, if he allowed himself to be a mutant then his life as he had known it was over. And Sebastian knew better than to align himself with the Services as a mutant. But what did that even mean? Being a mutant. Would they stick him into the HOUND programme? Or worse?

“I kept thinking about what you said …” The memory had come back a few days later. In that state half ways between waking and dreaming when the mind would more easily let things slip through. “And suddenly I was … curious. And I thought … maybe it’s not even true. Maybe nothing will happen and I’ve been poisoning myself for no damned reason.” His gaze focussed, staring at his hands as if they were no longer his own. Then he ran one through his hair, almost startling himself with that. Ridiculous, he wouldn’t be able to melt himself, now would he?!

“You’re right. Ericka, you’re … right …”

It was not an easy way out. It was the relenting of a man who saw no way out – who was suddenly met with a reality so harsh; a reality she had been telling him about while he had refused to accept it. “I never wanted to be this. I still don’t …” He bit his lower lip for a moment. Maybe he needed to stop fighting the inevitable.

“You’re the one working in the lab … I’m just the law guy, locking up kids for something they never wanted either.” He exhaled, a measure of defeat dominating his posture. “You know about these things.” He slightly held his hands out for her, as if all his problems were hidden away behind bones and sinew of his fingers. “What am I supposed to do now … I can’t touch anything …” He pressed his jaws together for a moment, shook his head and then let his head hang.

“How does anyone live like this …?”
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03-01-2019, 05:17 PM
[In-Character] [Post #47]
Sebastian seemed almost caught off guard by her suggestion to sit down, as though the concept was foreign, his mind so far afield from its normal processes and cycles that simple being was odd. She followed him when it finally seemed to click and he moved out of the entry way and into the living room, glanced at her sofa and the oversized chair trying to assess where best to put himself. He took one end of the couch and she watched him, trying to discern his thoughts by the tense and pinched nature of his features.

He wasn’t sure what to do, hadn’t thought that far ahead, he had simply acted and forged his injection. It had her wondering what had gone through his head. If he had done it in an attempt to protect himself when the serum wasn’t readily available, or if he had done it wanting to see what would happen. And now there was panic tinging his thoughts and his words. Of course he had no idea what to do, he was a mutant whose job it was to prosecute other mutants simply for being what they were. Even if his own mutation was something new and not completely realized. There would be little in the way of sympathy were he to approach most rebel groups.

If he allowed himself to fully realize his mutation, he feared for his job, for his children. He would lose what he thought of as being his ‘life’ if he simply allowed himself to live. She felt the smallest sliver of guilt for having pushed him, but even just this glimmer that he was experiencing was what hundreds dealt with on a daily basis. He had simply been in a position that had afforded the possibility to keep tact.

She inhaled and pressed her lips together, tried to keep the ironic humor out of her chest and off her face. He thought it was all over. If he allowed himself to be a mutant. He still thought he could fight it. Even after she had pointed out that his body was too quickly metabolizing the suppressant he had been on already. He would require a heftier dose, something likely with harsher side effect. When would those be enough? When would he break in their wake? It would continue to change, whatever they reached for to dose him with next, if he continued to escalate, until there was nothing to fully keep him in check. She knew the potential designation that accompanied such mutation if it couldn’t be contained.

She thought about Gabriel, and the commentary Sebastian had offered in regard to him.

He kept looking at his hands as thought they would grow faces and tell him everything he needed to know. That was where he though the power lived. He never wanted to be this.

“And you think any of them do?” She asked gently as she sat down somewhat beside him. Sure, there were mutants that were grateful for their mutations, glad to be something other than human. It often occurred to siblings, once one changed, the others often longed to follow suit just to remain a unit.

When he offered his hands out to her, she looked down at them, almost tasted the fear and regret in the words that he offered forth. She was supposed to know about mutations, the genetic components, the biological signals. That was supposedly outside his realm of knowing, because he sat in an office, he pushed papers, and he put people in prisons and camps and compounds.

“Most have time to adjust, they learn.” She finally told him, her eyes still on his hands. “Or they were old enough to have had the opportunity to harness what they had been given, and then grew to be in a position to help anyone younger.” Those her age had mutated often in adolescence and had been sought out by schools and academies. They were the guardians, now, of those younger, those who were mutating so much sooner when there were no establishments to publicly take them in.

“If you remain this way, you’ll need help.” Gabriel would balk, even if it afforded him someone further within if Sebastian sought to keep his position at SentS. But there were others that would help him. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and sent a text message to a thread under a blocked number. “I can help you with the documentation so that it seems you are still receiving your injections.” And she could arrange to have accidents explained away or covered up. “If you go back to what you were before now, I won’t help you accomplish that.” He could go back to his regimen, but she would not encourage it. “I’ll get you something to drink.” She said as she rose back up to her feet. “And I can make something quick to eat.” Then she moved by him. Not sure what she was going to put together.

“There are a few that would be interested in discovering exactly what you are capable of.”
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03-02-2019
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03-02-2019, 03:34 PM
[In-Character] [Post #48]
Sometimes all it took was for a change of the vantage point. Certain things would flip into place like that. Where it had been impossible to understand before, suddenly it was all crystal clear. Like testimony proving how harsh and inhumane he had often handled his cases, the memory now stood there in his mind. He felt small. Helpless. Insignificant.

In no way did it feel justified, all of sudden, that by simply being what he was the Services basically painted a big red bull’s eye onto his back now. Once anyone would find out about this, he was fair game. Sebastian knew he would be on the run.

So he shook his head when Ericka asked him whether anyone really wanted to be mutant, wanted to have what he now was going through as well. He was grateful that while posing a question that so painfully poked at the fact that he was now seeing it all from the opposing side her voice had carried that gentle tone. It was a version of her voice he could remember. A memory that right now brought the painful reminder that he had left her out in the cold.

That she was even giving him the time of day …

Ericka watched his hands as she explained to him what she knew. That most mutants manifested when younger, and that they then had time to learn and adjust. How often had Sebastian thrown this at men and women who had outgrown adolescence. Should you not know what you are capable of? He had been pretentious. Cruel.

“Remain this way?” he asked, the words pushed out with haste. What did she mean by that? What other way was there if any? “Oh”, he said when she went on. Documentation. He would go back to work. What … he would work undercover? Was that what she did? Sebastian blinked, confusion blatantly visible on his face.

If he were to go back onto the suppressants, then this was where they parted ways. He swallowed against a lump in his throat that threatened to take away his ability to breathe.

He sucked in air, barely hearing the wheezing his own shallow breaths was producing. It appeared as if no oxygen went where it ought to. Of course he wanted to go back. But truly, really back. Back to being baseline, to not having any trace of the x-gene inside of him. At least not an active version. He wanted to be a lawyer. He wanted to be a father! And he wanted not the wife back but the woman who had helped him end that marriage.

Sebastian exhaled, pushing the heel of his palm against his forehead. He focussed, willing his own world to stop spinning.

“I won’t go back” he whispered. “I won’t.” His voice was low, a tremor in it sometimes. Defeat rang in it. A sliver of acceptance. He would have to deal with this one way or another, and despite being an adult with a plethora of coping mechanisms, even he knew that suppressing certain things did not work. These things had a habit of coming back to life. Nothing ever stayed buried for long.

“Not sure I’m hungry”, he said when she offered first a drink, then food. “But something strong straight from the bottle would be great.”

He needed something stiff. Possibly a double of it. And someone who could explain to him how he could touch anything. He did not even dare put his hands down on the couch left and right of him. So Sebastian put his hands into his lap. What was it lately with coming into contact with Ericka with his state having degraded yet another few notches each time? Last time, he had fallen asleep on her.

This time, he was in crisis – ready to drink himself into a stupor.

Sebastian sighed at her final sentence. He shook his head, not appreciating suddenly feeling like a lab rat. Was that what his ‘clients’ would feel like once the Services sunk their claws into them? “Like my current employer?” Sebastian knew of a number of shady people in high places. Lately Steven Lang had made a name for himself but was by far not the only one.

“Or who?” Sebastian had little hope to expect help from anywhere really.
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03-08-2019, 06:22 PM
[In-Character] [Post #49]
Watching him struggle was a trying thing, watching him trying to make sense of everything that happened about him and within him that was out of his realm of control. She wanted to do more, somehow ease the transition if it were in her power, but the fact still that he even was mutant and had worked to hide it simply to continue on with his life of punishing people just like himself cut deep. Where she could rationalize his decision to keep himself suppressed for his children’s sakes, she struggled with the fact that he could make terms with basically prosecuting and imprisoning himself in another person’s body.

And yet, on some level, she acted in a similar role. Somewhat. She wasn’t on the front, even if she knew much of what transpired, that which was officially sanctioned at least.

She knew what she was doing. The occasional prisoner here and there that completely vanished from custody…

He spoke, and there was a tremor to the sound of it, a softer cadence she had not been privy to in some time. He wouldn’t go back. She sighed where she stood, relief of some measure, turned enough to look back at him, watched the way he seemed to look at his hands once more. He wouldn’t go back to the lie he had constructed to fool everyone around him that didn’t need to be privy to the fact that he was something other than human. Sentinel Services was exceedingly covert and sneaky in that manner. It wanted mutants brought low, wanted people to be constantly on the lookout, to report everyone from the noise making neighbor to their own grandmother if they so much as hiccupped with a hint of other, but it was quick to employ those it sought to practically eradicate to do the work.

There was defeat or disappointment in the way that his shoulders slumped when he commented he likely wouldn’t eat anything, but a drink, something straight form a bottle would be helpful.

She was not insinuating in any way, shape, or form that she intended for him to turn coat, trade teams, or suddenly act as she did. She had no ideas that he would suddenly turn his back on everything that he had been until that point and spiral down another direction simply because she had made that transition in her life. It had been easier for her to become what she was, the amnesia made stepping into a different pair of shoes so much simpler. There was no ex-spouse involved, no children of her own to worry for. She was what she was and there was no turning it off.

Her steps took her to the open kitchen and she popped the refrigerator, wrapped her fingers around the neck of a sweet red wine she had yet to open and moved back towards the couch. The only straight liquor that had been in her apartment recently was the black label Jack, the bottle currently in the trash, polished dry. If a bottle of wine wasn’t enough, there were three more waiting chilled in one of the fridge drawers.

“The Services will want to know.” She gave a nod of her head as she set the wine bottle down on the table before him. “They are, however, under the assumption that you have never fully manifested your mutation, and you will need to keep up that appearance.” That meant he would need help. “Most mutants in the know, have an idea of who you are.” She spoke with care, then. “And what you do.” Gabriel knew who he was, Valeria knew who he was and now that she was in the wind…

“There’s a telepath, though,” she bit at her lower lip, “a little less…hostile.” That was a safe enough description. “Perhaps somewhat sympathetic.” Possibly the only one at the moment who might offer him the time of day. She took another step to put herself nearer to him. “I’ll help you, Sebastian.”
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03-10-2019
08:38 PM
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03-10-2019, 08:38 PM
[In-Character] [Post #50]
Sebastian looked at the bottle Ericka sat down and wondered how fast he could empty it. Then he wondered whether he could even touch it. In an impulse, he reached out and took it by the neck just as Ericka had pulled her hand back. For a moment, he waited – and nothing happened. He screwed off the lid, and put the bottle to his mouth, tipping back what was about a third of its content.

He held on to the bottle, not trusting himself to actually be able to touch it again if he were to set it down now. It was not as strong was what he yearned for, but Sebastian knew that even enough wine could create the kind of buzz he was seeking.

“I’m an asshole”, he just threw in as she explained to him his odds. “Nobody likes lawyers”, and that had nothing to do with whether they worked for SentS or not. He put the bottle back to his lips, briefly wondering whether he was trying to bury something at the bottom of this bottle or whether he was trying to loosen his own tongue.

What got him to put the half-empty bottle down eventually a four-word sentence.

She would help him.

And then the sound of his name rolling off of her lips. He would not deny that hearing that still did things to him. Sebastian looked up to where she stood, having once more drawn closer to him.

“I miss you”, he said not giving a damn that the words did not fit the conversation. Then he ran a hand over his face and drew in a deep breath. “To whom should I be talking? What will that telepath do?” Sebastian shook his head and he wondered why he had allowed to move on from a man who was reeling from a lost custody battle to … this. Why was he suddenly considering a whole new outlook on life?

Would and could he suddenly be one of the resistance? Could he be anything but the man who was bringing in mutants and burying them in cases airtight? It was his job to make sure that no pro-bono lawyer out there could drag the poor souls SentS dug its fangs into could get them out again.

So far, Sebastian had been successful.

And now, Sebastian was one of those poor souls. And he could either run, or he could work the system from the other end. Gazing up at Ericka he knew where his mind wanted to go, but he doubted it was a decision to make right now.

For a long moment he just looked up at her. He reached for the bottle and habit took the upper hand over the state of emergency he was in. Sebastian didn’t even notice that he had no trouble picking up the bottle. He poured several mouthfuls down his throat, waiting for the onset of the buzz that would lift the heaviness from his chest.

He knew that if he headed down this path, he was likely going to lose any kind of access to his kids. And while it drew him back, it also felt like the sole choice he would ever be able to back up when seeing his kids again. The idea to put them through these shots he had received was slowly but surely ruled out as a possibility. He could not put them through that.

“I won’t see my kids.” Sebastian heard himself say as if he needed to put the words out there, say it for himself to realise it, to believe it. There was an odd sensation in his eyes. No, certainly not tears or something equally dramatic. He took a deep breath, pushing his lower jaw against his upper one. “She’s going to tell them lies about me – if I go off the grid now.”

It was now that his mind reminded him of how much he loved the shade of brown that Ericka’s hair had. That she stood close enough for him to just reach forward a little and take her hand …

But that was out of the question, was it?

Sebastian took a deep breath. “So what’s the alternative?” He had no idea whatsoever to do or where to go from here on out.
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