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| I Hear the Train a Comin'; Tag: Marty | |
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| Topic Started: Apr 18 2013, 04:45 PM (307 Views) | |
| Domino | Apr 18 2013, 04:45 PM Post #1 |
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Date April 2 Time Mid-Afternoon It had been several days since the attack in Nevada. It had been one of her first real S.H.I.E.L.D. operations and though it had not exactly gone off without a hitch, things could have been much worse. At least in some ways. She stood outside of a room on the helicarrier. It was guarded by several soldiers and technology that Domino wasn’t sure even she was good enough to get past. And in the middle of this barren room was a frail looking petal. Domino stood outside the virtually unbreakable glass and looked in at Martinique. She seemed so little…so…defeated. It broke her heart in so many ways to see her like this. But this was a very complicated situation then, was it not? Martinique had been part of the invading force of Brotherhood that had struck that base with lethal force. She had to admit, she did not see that coming, and honestly couldn’t really make sense of it now as she looked in at her. The Brotherhood were ruthless killers, intent on destroying humanity through deadly measures and ushering in a new age for mutants by eliminating the competition. Did that compute with what Domino knew of Martinique? Not even a little. In her mind and memory Marty had always been kind and sweet, loving and passionate. There had not been a vengeful or hateful bone in her body so far as Domino could tell. So either Marty had been leading an exceptionally duplicitous lie with her and pretending to be someone completely other than who she really was…or something was very wrong here. Because while it was true enough that every relationship had a certain amount of pretending…or illusion involved with it, Domino was fairly sure she knew the real Marty. She put one hand up against the glass, wanting to reach out to her but knowing just how precarious all of this was. Marty had not been conscious very much during her time here. She had medical help…the best that S.H.I.E.L.D. could offer-which was fairly well impressive in its own right. They confirmed that something had happened to her. Some sort of head trauma, and not just the jostling that the oafish agent Hulkling had put her through during the process of containment. Somehow it was the opening up of an older wound and she hoped sincerely that the damage wasn’t too terribly compounded. Domino ground her teeth together at the thought. But…he was just doing his job, was he not? No, the injury was older. She’d heard that much. Her eyes went over to the guards who were looking at her out of curiosity. What did they know? She counted on the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. knew things. They were an intelligence agency. It was foolish not to assume that they knew about any past trysts between Domino and her. But she was S.H.I.E.L.D. now and this was extremely precarious. She stepped up to the two guards and looked them unflinchingly in the eyes. “You have something to say?” It was a clear challenge. They looked away. “Open the door,” she said. “I have a few words to say to our prisoner.” Yes, it was a dangerous game. But Domino wasn’t taking any chances. If Marty needed some kind of help she was going to get it for her. The soldiers would find when they ran the clearance that she was cleared to do so with severe and specific restrictions. Within a matter of a few minutes Domino was inside and the door was locked tight behind her. She stood across from Martinique wither black-clad arms folded neatly over her chest and a speculative frown on her face as she looked at her. And more than anything she resisted the urge to rush across the room, hold her. She had been looking for Marty for a very long time and had been very worried…and now that she saw her she was even more worried. But she had an audience here and no matter how much it broke her heart she had a part to play. “Prisoner Wyngarde, wake up.” |
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| Martinique Jason | Apr 18 2013, 06:25 PM Post #2 |
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The events of the past few days were written plainly over the woman’s face and body. She was sitting on a hospital cot, propped up to a sitting position, her wrists and ankles cuffed to the bed’s foundations. There was a nullcuff around her neck and she had been clad in the usual prisoner’s issues. With her body straight where it was and bent where it was, she could have been very uncomfortable, but there was still the IV pain drip that hung next to the bed. No, it was obvious that she needed the drip – her body was bruised all over – easily seen by her neck and shoulder where an awful purple bruise had blossomed next to a deep gash that had been sewn shut. Her hair was again shaved down on the right side, old wounds and new wounds showing on her skull. And her face – her pretty face! – had cuts and scrapes all over, the most prominent being on her cheek where it seemed he had been dragged over something rough. Through the past few days since her capture, she had woken on a number of occasions and she had fought any person around her as she woke. It felt like instinct to do so. She had no idea where she was and what was going on – all she knew was that she wasn’t where she wanted to be and it was someone else’s will that she was being bent to. Martinique didn’t like that. At least, she thought she didn’t. It was hard to think. It was hard to remember anything much. And when they came to test her blood or listen to her heart, all she could think was that if she just got a hold of the person and talked to them – or growled, intimidated, yelled, whichever – they would let her go. She wasn’t exactly barking up the right tree. There had been a few things decided by SHIELD doctors – she had some sort of traumatic brain injury, but not from a recent enough event. Three scars, two almost healed, meant that she had three incidents and they were mostly certain that the blow that shook her up was the first and the subsequent ones just made it worse or loosened what was already hanging by a string. It was a very good learning case, however, and the doctors brought their students and nurses along when working with this prisoner. At times, she would open her eyes and start speaking in a language none of them knew and then later found out it was utter gibberish. Other times, she would start creating illusions in her sleep and one would have to look through a camera to see what was going on in the ‘real world’. Fascinating, really. But, of course, it was so much better and easier to just keep her in a drugged, quiet state and bring her out of it when they needed to. No one had come to question her yet – which probably meant that they had more coherent or more important prisoners – and the drip had been steady ever since they finished dressing her wounds. Martinique sat, breathing slowly and deeply, her chin leaning against her chest. She was barely aware that someone else had entered the room until a voice echoed in her mind. She squeezed her eyelids shut and then fluttered them open, still staring down at her feet. She was groggy and didn’t remember much except for being in the same position for a long, long time and when she went to lift her hand so that she could wipe the sleep from her eyes, she remembered that she was tethered to the bed. Strangely, the illusion of her hand continued past where her real hand was and both were visible. The illusory hand wiped at her eye and though it really hadn’t done anything, she sighed happily and then lifted her head up a touch so she could see who was speaking. “Mm.” That’s what she said. It’s all that came out for now, but the illusory arm led to an illusory Martinique getting up and out of the bed and standing at its edge, her own arms folded over her chest and staring back at the black and white woman opposite her. The real Marty laughed – then coughed – then laughed again at seeing herself both standing and sitting. “Its where… Okay.” She was obviously out of it at the moment. |
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| Domino | Apr 18 2013, 08:35 PM Post #3 |
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Oh dear Marty…how did this happen to you? And were the poor girl not shackled and nulled she might have been able to hear that thought with the intensity that Domino put into it. But as she stared down at her looking back up with a dazed and lost look on her face…without even a glimmer of recognition…she knew that it was but one of a dozen questions she would not get the answer to. At least not the easy way. No matter how Martinique pictured herself, standing or sitting, Domino saw her as she was, frail and miserable, sitting on the edge of her cot in those clothes that Marty would have been appalled to be seen in. She had bags under her eyes and she seemed to have a very difficult time focusing on anything. Despite herself Domino felt her breath hitch in her throat at the sight of her. She had to force herself to a steely resolve. “Here,” she barked, blinking rapidly. “Right here in front of you. Look at me!” She moved over to get right in front of Martinique, bending at the waist to look into her eyes. “I can’t believe what I heard. The Brotherhood?” She let the incredulous tone carry through the room for whoever was listening. The thing that made it easier was that it was a genuine sentiment. It was just not exactly what was at the forefront of her heart or mind at the current time. She cared more about getting help for Martinique than anything else. And she was willing to go to any length to make sure she could get her that help…no matter how cruel it felt. “I guess that was something you didn’t feel you needed to share with me.” Despite her tone she tried desperately to get a connection from Marty. Anything. A locking of the eyes, a frown, spitting in her face…anything to show that she understood what was going on and who it was that was standing in front of her. Oh Marty, don’t you know how long I looked for you? Don’t you know how much I wanted to prevent this? Those people are not your people. You are good in your heart, I know it. “Was there anything…anything that was real? Or was it all illusion?” |
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| Martinique Jason | Apr 18 2013, 09:18 PM Post #4 |
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No, she could hear a bit of the thoughts running through this other woman’s mind. They didn’t make all that much sense, really, and they somehow included Martinique’s name over and over again. It was confusing, really, because Martinique couldn’t tell what the other woman was saying out loud and what she was pulling from her mind. The illusory Martinique standing in front of the pale woman only mimicked exactly what the other did and the real Martinique’s gaze was more fixated on her made-up self than the woman who’s thoughts and words were so loud. Martinique was drugged. Very drugged. And there was that nullcuff on her neck. Somehow she could push forth useless illusions that were very easily seen through – there might have been a level of nullification on the cuff or perhaps her illusions were good enough to break through barely. Either way, she was not in a state to be either truthful or insightful. She could barely tell if she was sitting up or if she was the illusion walking around mimicking the pale woman. Speaking of… She was very pale, wasn’t she? Martinique stared at the woman, trying to get her eyes to focus on one thing instead of continuously going back and forth between slowly closing and hazily crossing. “It’s the dot,” She finally said after a long moment of staring in the other woman’s general direction. “You’ve ….” Martinique closed her eyes and lay back against the raised cot. It was hard to keep her head lifted and alert. In fact, all of this was hard – easily seen by how her illusion dissipated the moment she closed her eyes and leaned back. But another appeared, this one in exactly the same place as Martinique – like a ghost layered over her real form – and this one had its eyes open and was looking straight at Domino with a smile. Again, it took a moment and it was perhaps the quietest Martinique had ever spoke in her life, but from the illusion, words were sounded. “Just wanted… power.” |
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| Domino | Apr 19 2013, 07:06 PM Post #5 |
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She’d overheard some parts of why they hadn’t fully nulled her. At first it outraged her to no end…it seemed like they let her have a very weak version of her powers out of sheer mockery. But that wasn’t it at all. In fact, when she found out that it had been a S.H.I.E.L.D. employed therapist who had recommended that she be able to keep a tiny facet of her power she almost felt bad for her judgmental thoughts. Apparently Martinique’s illusions were almost therapeutic, and at the very least they offered a great insight into the inner workings of her mind. They had nulled her fully at the onset, taking away her powers entirely. Her condition had worsened to the point where they seemed deeply concerned. She was already unresponsive to begin with, but without the trace amounts of telepathy and illusion that she had grown so familiar with over the years she started slipping away entirely. And so she was thankful that they had figured that out. Marty that stood before her, the ghostly translucent apparatus that seemed to almost apologetically explain to her that it was power that she sought after and that was the reason that she’d turned to Exodus in the first place. “Well I guess I can relate with that at least,” Domino said with a shrug. But something had changed. Marty recognized her. Hadn’t she? It was so hard to tell. The image in front of her was like an avatar and the real Marty sat behind her as a veritable drooling zombie. Again Domino’s heart broke and she reminded herself why she was doing all of this. To help her. If S.H.I.E.L.D. had any suspicion that she had any sort of strong emotion wrapped up in Martinique Wyngarde they would likely not allow her to take her anywhere, not even with a dozen armed S.H.I.E.L.D. guards. As it stood her chances for this to be a success were dismal…but Domino always did like her odds. “But you made a poor choice,” she said firmly to the avatar Marty. “As someone who has made plenty of them in her life I wish I had words of wisdom for you.” She paced back and forth with her hands behind her back and her head tipped forward with a frown on her face. “There’s still quite a bit that makes no sense to me,” she said. “You disappeared quite suddenly. She went over and kneeled right beside the real Marty then and put her hands on the sides of her face softly. “Why?” And this was more or less what she’d had planned all along. She hoped anyway that through touch her telepathy could still work at least a little. With all of her will she projected her thoughts. ::Marty, are you in there? Marty I looked for you for so long. I am here to help you. I know you weren’t in your right mind when you did this.:: |
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| Martinique Jason | Apr 20 2013, 12:18 AM Post #6 |
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The illusion of Marty moved off of the cot and stood up, walking around the bed and over to the side so that she could watch the other woman. She seemed to stare, to wonder what the pale woman was doing and why she was speaking the way she was. The illusion might have been Marty's id, giving the basic answers to questions and doing the basic things that the real Marty could not. Or, perhaps it was her super-ego, but it wasn't the real Martinique. It was missing much of her true self and seemed to still not know who the pale woman was. The real Martinique tilted her head to the side and rested against the other woman's hands when she cradled her head. Her eyes were sunken and glazed and she wasn't able to keep her movements steady, but there was something there. In fact, when Domino touched Martinique, the Italian looked down to the side and then back up, the right corner of her lip lifting into something of a grin. "Jason." She said. No, that wasn't the other woman's name. Domino knew her own name. She didn't need someone else to tell her it. The illusion - fading in and out to the left side of Domino - seemed to add a bit more information to the entire topic of conversation. "Its not Wyngarde. Its Jason. Tell them that. It's Jason." It had Martinique's accent. It had her fire. But it still was a shade of the real woman. "Jason, Jason, Jason." As the illusion walked, it flickered, started to fade and after a moment, it was gone and there was just the woman on the cot, doing her best to look at Domino with a straight, even stare. After a long moment, Martinique finally murmured, "Heart... Daddy." And, in a weird sort of movement, it seemed that she lifted her shoulders to shrug. Or just had a very strange kind of seizure that only affected her top half. Then, she leaned forward in Domino's hands and lowered her voice to a quiet sort of halting whisper in which she offered, "The building fell again. Again and again." It was a lot to say and a lot to do for a woman in her state and so she closed her eyes and put all her weight into Domino's hands. |
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| Domino | Apr 20 2013, 09:05 PM Post #7 |
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She had a picture then, as well as something of an epiphany. Martinique put quite a bit of reverence in the word 'daddy'. And maybe a month ago that wouldn't have meant anything to her. But now...with the privilege that she had with working for S.H.I.E.L.D. she had a very good idea of precisely what sort of a man her 'daddy' was. Thinking of the letter she had found that day with Roberto...and the bloody rag she started to seethe with rage. Jason Wyngarde was the man who was responsible for all of this. And as far as Domino was concerned she was going to make him pay dearly. But she kept a firm lock on these thoughts for the time being and when Marty started to talk again about the building falling over and over again she actually gasped a little. It was through sheer compassion that she could feel the turmoil confusion and pain going on in the woman before her and it took a very good amount of acting to keep her emotions in check. "Yes," she said softer, as she tenderly touched the side of her head. "We need you to get better so we can get some answers out of you." ::Marty, it is crucial that you play along. Find the strength inside to play into this. We can get you help. Remy and I will get you help...but you must cooperate.:: It was a very dangerous time for Martinique Jason. She really had no idea how much trouble she was potentially in. ::Exodus and his group are too dangerous. They will not let you go...and I will not give up on you. Fight Martinique. Show me some of that stubborn Italian spark.:: Whether she was getting through or not she didn't know. She turned to the guards behind her though and said. "It's too dangerous to move her," she said. "We can't risk having Exodus and his group attack us when we're vulnerable." Though they were on the other side of the locked door she knew that they heard every word. But she looked back down at Marty, her heart bleeding on the inside. "So if we can't go out to get help we are left with very few options. We're bringing someone in." |
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6:57 PM Jul 11