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The Trouble with Freedom; Open
Topic Started: Apr 29 2014, 01:21 PM (336 Views)
Charcoal
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Carbon Form/Manipulation
23rd of April
11:00 AM

Chris rolled out of bed at the same time, from the same chirping alarm, same as every other day. Shift change at the TOC (Tactical Operations Control) aboard the Helicarrier was in an hour. Long enough to get dressed, have some food and be there a little early just in case. Then after that it would be 12 straight hours of helping monitor situations around the world. At any given time SHIELD had numerous agents live in the field on numerous ops as well as numerous points of contact, informants, tripwires and surveillance teams. There were a lot of numerous-es. So like every other day for the past month or so Coal would be a hand on deck to help keep a handle on all the stuff that could go wrong for them.

1200 hours and it was briefing time at the shift swap. A quick run down of any situations currently in progress that would need continued handling after the swap of teams. Nothing of note today. Chris scooped up a mug and filled it with coffee from the pot before taking a spot at one of the computers and throwing on a headset attached to the phone beside his screen. A sip of coffee later he heard his name called.
"Rook! Good to see you again, son."
The young agent turned to see Anton Jacobs, big, gruff, ex-army. He helped run a lot of tactics at SHIELD and had been there a week or two before when they had worked on a serious situation together.

Chris flicked his headset off as he stood to shake the man's hand.
"Morning, sir. Coffee?"
He offered. It was declined by Jacobs raising his own already full cup.
"Say kid, how many times has it been now that we've been on shift together? Hell, don't you ever get a week off?"
The man asked before half filling his mustache with a swig of coffee.
"Uh, four of five weeks I believe, sir. Logistics personnel are rostered differently to ops personnel, you guys have specific days where as our TOC time is scheduled for whole weeks."
The carbon mutant explained.

It was at that point that another ops agent strolled over to take the computer next to Chris, giving him a slap on the back on the way past.
"Happy birthday by the way, Rook."
The other agent offered. Chris' eyebrows jumped up. He checked his watch. Wow. That time again already. He smiled a slightly bitter smile just for a moment. Hell of a day to be on TOC duty. Jacobs snapped him from his thoughts.
"So you're telling me you haven't had a day without a TOC shift in four or five weeks and it's your birthday?"
"I guess so, sir."
"Son, take the day off. I have a newbie here who I have to show the ropes, I'll throw him on your station and have O'Donahugh help watch over him. Go get yourself a dang beer, kid."
____________________________

Charcoal checked the time above the bar. A quarter past one in the afternoon. Didn't seem like the right time to be having a drink, but grabbing a beer had seemed like a grand idea. For one, Chris hadn't really been in a position to grab a beer in months, and two it seemed like a fitting day off for a hard working soldier type. He slid a note over the table to Sal himself and took a jug of beer and a glass back to a corner table. Good view of the room and because the seats were built into the wall they were cushioned and comfy.

As he poured himself a glass and took a drink he wondered what he'd do with his time off. Mutant Town, civilian clothes, and the freedom to do whatever he wanted with his day. It had been a while and frankly he was kind of out of practice, so out of practice in fact that he realized he had no idea how he was going to fill a day without work. But if there was one thing he had learned from his time with SHIELD, it was that if you wait long enough, something crazy will always happen.
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It wasn't often that Dallas Gibson found himself in the city. He'd been here once, maybe twice, during his brief stint as a student at Xavier's school in 2010, and not at all since returning earlier in the year. Until today. He wasn't always chained to the kitchen sink in the mansion. Every now and then, his tireless taskmasters let him off the leash for some brief moments of freedom.

...That is, he had two days off a week plus plenty of time in the evenings and either the mornings or afternoons depending on what shift he was working and he could essentially do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. And even when he was at the kitchen sink, he was having a great time because he loved his job. So basically, he had an awesome life and nothing to complain about.

But that didn't mean it wasn't nice to step away from everything for a day now and then. Dallas was a very sociable person, he loved the company of others and was never actually alone thanks to being attached to his living shadow every moment of the day, but even he needed to grab some time alone on occasion. Or, as alone as he was capable of being. The best way of doing that, he'd found, was to take a nice long drive. Being behind the wheel relaxed him, allowed him the space and solitude to get lost in his own thoughts, to just relax, let his dials turn themselves down. He spent so much time seeking friends, trying to be entertaining or at least pleasant company for everyone he encountered, that every now and then he just needed to switch off. Enjoy the peace.

And then he stepped out of his car and into the cacophony of the city. That was fine, though. He'd had his alone time in the car. A couple of hours with nobody to talk to but his shadow was quite enough. His morning had passed enjoyably enough. Dallas's mission in New York was to find himself some kitchen equipment. Which was exciting, to him if nobody else. He had pots and pans in his little apartment, of course, but Dallas was a professional chef and had developed tastes in this area which could reasonably be described as fussy. And, sadly, expensive. North Salem didn't have the quality equipment he was looking for because really he needed to visit a specialist supplier, so this impromptu trip into the city was the perfect opportunity. He'd managed to find the stuff he was looking for fairly quickly, slowed down only by his need to browse through endless displays of gleaming cutlery and futuristically designed salt shakers, which was all pretty much porn to him. After cleaning out his wallet and locking his shiny new purchases in the trunk of his car, he hadn't been quite sure what to do with himself.

Driving for two hours just to turn around and drive back again soon after seemed silly. Then he remembered that someone had recommended a decent, mutant friendly bar in the city, called... called... Sal's! Sal's Bar. Getting directions from his phone, Dallas soon found himself stepping over the threshold and heading to the bar to order a drink. "Hey, can I just get a coke, please? With ice? That'd be great." Something more alcoholic would've been welcome but he was one of those guys who believed you shouldn't drink at all when driving, not just stay under the limit, so he'd doomed himself to a soft drink. Lame. A group of guys behind him were getting a little rambunctious, apparently starting a day of boozing early, so he kept his head down and tried not to bother them as he paid for his drink and lifted it from the counter to take a sip.

As he turned, however, the guys let out a cheer for reasons best known to themselves and one of them lurched to the side, seemingly re-enacting some kind of football thing. Inevitably, the fella shoved himself straight into Dallas's side, provoking a curious sway from the young mutant as he attempted not to spill his drink or lose his balance. He failed on the first count, a slop of coke flinging itself from the glass and onto his crisply ironed shirt. Instead of an apology, the football fan just shot Dallas a filthy look for daring to be in his path before going back to laughing with his friends.

An irritated sigh escaping his lips, Dallas turned away from them, looking for a place to put down his glass while he wiped himself off. He decided on a corner table, occupied only by a dark haired guy who seemed to be supping a beer alone. Setting down his coke on the edge of the man's table, Dallas offered him a nod in acknowledgement, though he was too aggravated to manage his usual smile for the moment. "Man," he said as he brushed at the dark wet patch on his stomach as if that would somehow dry it out. "Can you believe that? Some people, man, seriously..."
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Charcoal
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Carbon Form/Manipulation
Time chugged along, as it does. People came and went from the dim room. A good of guys closer to the bar grew a little, and got plenty louder. Still the noise was a bit annoying but at the end of the day, it was nothing worth bothering about. The beer was good, not that Chris was much of a connoisseur. It was cool, tasty and refreshing and the young agent figured you couldn't ask for much more than that. The first one went down and he was most of the way through his second fill from the jug when another patron entered.

The guy who walked in was probably about a similar age to Charcoal, early twenties. Pretty similar height too, but it was hard to tell particularly clearly from a few meters away while sitting down. Looked to be in good shape, but didn't have much strut to him. Not the kind of person who created trouble. Chris had gotten pretty good at identifying that type, it only took a bad experience or two and you learned fast. Ultimately there wasn't anything that overly stood out about the guy, but whatever it was, he seemed somehow familiar.

The carbon mutant took another swig of his beer and watched from lounging in his corner, trying to figure out what it was he thought he recognized in the dude up at the bar. It was something old... From some time ago. Not childhood though, not before his mutant abilities surfaced and he left Jersey. Xavier's sometime? Coal had met a lot of people in his time at Xavier's, and that number had taken a jump when he had got on security detail. Then they had moved to Utopia and the number of visitors had dropped again. After that Chris had been through his military and SHIELD preparation courses, it could certainly be one of those. The dude looked like kept on top of his fitness so it would fit.

What happened next shook that belief however, as one of the louder group transitioned from watching the guy at the bar to moving over closer. Something about the switch seemed off and the agent's attention shifted in silence. Suddenly a cheer went up and the partier bumped oddly into the familiar man. Coal's eyes narrowed as if peering. He wondered if it was his business to make a scene out of something that may be nothing. Jacob's voice in his head dissuaded him. He was off duty. He wasn't a SHIELD agent right now, he was just some guy having a beer. Just some guy. Leave it alone.

The strangely un-strange stranger took up another of the seats as Chris' table seeming very put out about a little coke on his shirt. The agent smiled slightly.
"I'm not sure it's the drink you should be mad about, dude."
He offered a little cryptically. Maybe the dude did have some training and what Coal had thought he had seen was actually nothing. But more likely this poor guy had just been made a chump of.

From up close the recognition was even worse, and Coal found himself compelled to solve the niggling drill in his brain that was the question of this man's identity. He took another drink to finish his second glass of the hour, making a note to slow down a tad as he placed the glass down on the table.
"So, sorry if this is out of left field but I feel like I've seen you before somewhere."
The carbon man stated with a probing expression on his features.
"Did you ever visit the Xavier's institute a while back? Anything else I might know you from? You weren't on the Andrew's French Fry Emporium ad or something were you?"
He asked. The military training was also a distinct possibility, but it wasn't something Chris liked to throw out there for no reason.

It dawned on Coal that he should probably express his concerns properly, but there was no need to cut the guy off mid sentence. So he waited to see what the other mutant had to say about the recognition first before letting out a little awkward sigh.
"Also, about the thing over by the bar. Well I don't mean to cause trouble or anything, but I dunno... Just saying, if I were you, I'd check my wallet hadn't gone missing."
Chris explained with a shrug.
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Dallas slumped into the seat at the stranger's table, still fussing with his shirt. Did coke stain? Probably not. But still. Hmph.

Abandoning the dark patch of dampness, he stopped rubbing at his stomach because, really, it wasn't a big deal. He worked in a kitchen, after all, so it wasn't as if he was unused to being splashed or sprayed or dripped upon. It was really the attitude of the guy who'd bumped into him which had pissed him off. The jerk may not have said anything, but he hadn't needed to, it was written all over his face that he considered Dallas to be something he'd scraped off the bottom of his shoe. The mutant had to force himself not to throw a dirty look back at the unnecessarily boisterous group. No point in starting something. There were times when you just had to take your lumps and move on, and this was one of them. Unfortunately.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, it dawned on Dallas that he'd inadvertantly joined this random stranger at his table and that was probably a little rude. Too late now, though. The man said something cryptic he didn't quite grasp but Dallas found himself too distracted to mull it over for a moment. There was something about this guy. Did he know him from somewhere? That seemed unlikely. He didn't think he recognised him from the school. He was familiar but only in a distant way, so he was sure this wasn't a face he saw every day in the cafetorium. Maybe he'd met him back in Portland? That didn't strike him as likely. What were the chances that he'd bump into someone from home on the other side of the country?

Oh, was he famous? What if he was in a boyband or something? It'd be embarrassing if this dude had twenty million teenage girls following him on Twitter and Dallas had no clue who he was. Should he ask for his autograph?

Thankfully, before Dallas could voice his idiot thoughts, the maybe-but-maybe-not stranger took matters into his own hands. It seemed he recognised him too. Never one to stay downcast for long, this unexpected meeting already had Dallas smiling, his unfortunate altercation pretty much forgotten. "Nah, I've never been on TV, but I do work at the school. I'm on the kitchen staff there. Do you... work there too?" Even as the words left his lips, he sounded unconvinced. If this guy worked there, Dallas would probably know him a bit better. And he looked too old to be a student, so... Then it dawned on him. "Oh, I used to be a student at Xavier's too, just for a few months, years ago. 2010, to be exact. I bet we know each other from then?"

How awesome, coming all the way into the city and bumping into someone with links to the school. He probably shouldn't have been surprised, Sal's Bar was a mutant friendly place so it likely wasn't too uncommon for former Xavierites to hang out there but all the same, it struck him as good fortune. Karma for tolerating the rude guy who bumped into him.

He was about to introduce himself properly when the face from the past encouraged him to check his wallet. A puzzled frown creased Dallas's brow for a moment before realisation dawned. Quickly, he patted down his pockets, which were troublingly flat. "...Shit." Standing up, he proceeded to grope at his coat pockets, then his jeans pockets, but found only his car keys, a handful of candy wrappers, a lighter, and the uncool little plastic pouch his grandfather had always insisted he use to keep his credit cards in just in case his wallet was ever stolen. Apparently, his grandfather was a very wise man. At least Dallas wouldn't be spending the afternoon wrangling with the bank to freeze his cards. "Aw, shit." No wallet. Karma was failing him after all.

Turning away from the table, Dallas had to block out the mental urging from his shadow to merge with it and lay into the thieves. If the shadow had its way, Dallas would be ripping their light-fingered hands from their sockets but the young man had enough self control to ignore his darker impulses. He wouldn't attack the pickpockets but he was damn well going to get his wallet back.

...Except they were gone. They must have waited until he was no longer paying attention and slipped out, probably to laugh at him and enjoy the spoils. "'Scuse me," he mumbled, before charging through the bar and yanking the door open to poke his head out into the busy street. There were plenty of people around, going about their business in that fast and loud way which was typical here. None of them looked like the assholes who'd helped themselves to his wallet though. With a heavy sigh, Dallas let the door close and turned back to face the man whose quiet drink he'd interrupted. "Gone," he said, holding his arms out either side of him to indicate the robbers were not, indeed, in his immediate vicinity. "Man, I am such a loser. I didn't even notice. You think there's even any point going after them?"
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Charcoal
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Carbon Form/Manipulation
The mystery of the two mens' identities was soon to be solved. It was the easy part of the interaction after all. Chris' new friend informed him that he hadn't been on tv, which was kind of a disappointment. Chris never got to meet any famous people. Like that one time he hadn't be sent on the mission with the super famous mutant supermodel. Other people had all the luck. He said that he worked at some school and it took Coal a moment to make the connection that he must have been talking about Xavier's. After all, in a mutant bar that was the likely one to be the school. He asked if the agent worked there too, the reply to which was a shake of the head.

The carbon mutant was about to explain that he had been sort of staff for some time a while before, but he didn't manage to get the words out before his fellow former student spoke again. The guy pointed out that he had been a student briefly, and the time matched up about with when Chris had been brought to the institute. He had been shy and stuck to himself a lot more at the beginning so it even made sense that the two men would have probably seen each other around but may not have interacted before coke-shirt here had left.
"Ah! Yeah, that will be it. Our time probably just crossed over, the end of yours and the start of mine."
Charcoal confirmed with a satisfied nod, relieved of the niggling feeling in his brain.

Chris also wanted to introduce himself formally, but it seemed wrong to just leave the topic of a possible stolen wallet. That seemed like the sort of thing you told someone sooner rather than later. So the off duty agent spoke up, trying to be tactful and discrete as he broached the subject. The check started subtly, but Coal noticed that the thief was looking over their way, pretty interested in the goings on. When the other man at his table stood up for a second go over, the criminal snatched the attention of his buddies and they hustled out the back door. Chris smiled, the second exit was something he had just noticed, but it seemed like a quintessential bar feature.

Out of the corner of his eye, the agent noticed his table-buddy spin to face the empty space vacated by the thief's group. Upon seeing their absence, he headed for the front door. The agent reminded himself again that he was off duty. He had been sent away from the day because his boss was worried he didn;t have a life outside of work, which to be totally honest was probably true. But hey, he had tried to avoid it and work had found him anyway. Couldn't turn away from that now could he? Chris stood up a lot more calmly and dug out his own wallet. He slipped out a ten dollar bill as he made his way over to the bar to chat to the owner.
"We'll be back pretty soon, watch our table for us?"
He asked, slapping the note down on the counter. Sal nodded.

Coal went to turn away but twisted his head back for another word to Sal.
"You wouldn't know where those boys like to hang out would you?"
He asked, but then a thought occurred to him.
"There another bar nearby they like?"
He followed up. The bar owner across the counter looked conflicted. Chris guessed he didn't want to rat on people who brought money into his business, they were probably regulars.

Coal opened his mouth to add that he was a SHIELD agent, but Sal had probably seen plenty of trouble from the agency during their more 'iron boot' days. Instead, he tried a different tactic.
"We just want to talk to them, you know. Don't want any trouble. I mean we'd hate to cause trouble with them at that other bar, get them banned. I wonder what they'd do if they couldn't go there for drinks."
Chris added, as though he was just mulling it over. Sal caught on pretty quick and told the agent about another place a few blocks over where the group liked to hang out when they weren't in his bar. The carbon mutant thanked the older man and returned to the victim near the front door.

The guy seemed pretty down on himself over the whole thing but Chris shrugged it off.
"I wouldn't worry about it, man. I don't think I'd have caught it if I wasn't watching from a distance."
He admitted. Then the topic of whether it was worth going after the thieves came up. Coal smiled.
"Depends, how much money did you have in there?"
He asked with a grin. Without waiting for an answer he walked past and headed out into the street, expecting the wallet-less man to follow.
"We're headed to another bar, I have a feeling they'll be headed there to keep drinking with your money."
The implication that they wouldn't get the chance was left unsaid.

"Oh yeah, I'm Chris Rook by the way."
He added as they headed off down the street.
"Nice to re-meet you, dude."
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Well, this was a revoltin' development. Dallas wasn't sure which was worse, the fact that he'd been played for a fool in the first place, or the fact that it had happened in front of this cool guy he vaguely knew. If he was going to be humiliated, he'd much rather his shame was only witnessed by total strangers, not potential new friends. Although he considered everyone he didn't know to be a potential new friend so the better scenario would've been embarrassment in an empty bar. Or just for it to not have happened at all. Yeah, that would work best.

Sadly, though, he was stuck with the reality of the situation, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he watched his fellow former Xavier's student move towards the bar to talk to the guy serving there. Sal, presumably? Dallas couldn't quite catch what they were talking about and, truth be told, was far too busy feeling sorry for himself to pay too much attention. For a moment, he wondered if he'd just lost the attention of the man whose table he'd invaded, that maybe he was too busy rolling his eyes at Dallas's lameness to contemplate continuing to socialise with him and had opted to chat it up with the bartender instead. He couldn't really blame the guy for wanting to avoid an afternoon of patting him on the shoulder while he cried into his coke.

His fears were proven to be unfounded when the young man stepped away from the bar and headed in his direction. He told him not to worry about the incident and Dallas nodded his head in response, though a sorrowful look still dominated his features. He felt like an idiot but more than that, he felt like a victim, and that wasn't a sensation he was accustomed to. Though he was no longer an active superhero since returning to New York, he still wasn't used to being the target of crime rather than the vanquisher of it.

When the man asked him how much was in his wallet, Dallas had to stop and think about it for a moment. Just how out of pocket was he? What had he actually lost here? Before he could get his brain to stop self-pitying long enough to work, the guy continued, and Dallas clued in that the question had been somewhat rhetorical. "Another bar...?" He was pretty slow on the uptake today, clearly. Maybe that was why he'd been such an easy mark for the scammers. After a second, he realised why they might be going on a pub crawl and a sly smile spread across his lips, banishing much of the melancholy from his face. "Oh, another bar. Okay. Good plan."

As they headed out and began making their way down the street, his calm and collected new friend introduced himself as Chris Rook. Dallas was fairly sure the name rang a faint bell in his brain, pretty much confirming that their paths must have crossed a couple of times back in the day. "Yeah, you too, man. My name's Dallas, Dallas Gibson. I was pretty sick towards the end of my time as a student so I wasn't out and about much," he explained. 'Sick' wasn't really the right word but it was easier to say that than to detail how his psyche had been ravaged by a failed switch with his psychotic alternate reality counterpart. Although, since Chris was also a veteran of Xavier's, maybe he wouldn't find that at all remarkable. "That's probably why we didn't come across each other more often."

He found himself glancing up and down the street now and then, studying the faces of passersby, just in case the criminals who suckered him were wandering around. Dallas kept an eye out for other bars too but he wasn't familiar with this area at all and didn't know which bar they were looking for anyway, so was mainly placing his faith in Chris to lead them to the right place.

"There's not much cash in my wallet, really," he said as they walked, to answer the earlier question. "I've been shopping today so most of it already got spent. I, uh, do have a photo in it though. My folks. I only have a couple of pictures of them so... yeah, y'know. I'd like that back." Dallas's parents died while he was still tiny so he had no memories of them and counted on the couple of photographs which had survived the two house fires his family had suffered through. Now that he'd realised something so precious was potentially lost, he could feel his heart sinking. Having his wallet stolen had been annoying and made him feel dumb, but having one of the few links to his parents taken from him was genuinely upsetting. Still, all hope wasn't lost yet.

With that in mind, he tried to shrug off his disquiet and flashed a smile in Chris's direction. "So what do you do these days? Life after school can be a little nuts for people like us, huh? Are you working or...?" Hopefully Chris hadn't graduated to become a supervillain. Dallas hadn't really considered that. That would suck.
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Charcoal
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OOC: Sorry it took so long man, I got hit with a lot of uni work.

IC: As they strolled down the street, the cook introduced himself and gave a little more background on why they didn't know each other as well as they could have. Chris nodded, ignoring the slight hesitation before Dallas had said the word sick. It was just a momentary hold up. Clearly there was more to the story, but he didn't want to tell it, and if that was the case then Coal was just as happy not hearing it. The complications of being a mutant were many and often tough experiences.

They came to a corner and Chris peered off down the road, checking that it was the right one before turning and striding off in a new direction. Dallas spoke up again, telling the carbon mutant that he hadn't lost too much cash, but that there were some personal items in there he would much like to get back. The off duty agent nodded again.
"Well I think we should be able to manage that. One of a couple of ways."
He paused as the thought occurred to him that they may have taken the money and ditched the wallet already. Didn't change the plan.
"I'm hoping that once we confront them, they'll give it back in return for everyone being able to go on their way."

Chris saw the sign above the bar off down the road and his eyes narrowed. Time to see if his little prediction was right. The mutant chef asked him what he did and Charcoal turned and paused looking at the guy a moment, deciding which way to put it.
"I work for the man."
The agent replied with a smirk. Then to clarify he glanced and pointed upwards, indicating to the helicarrier which hung over New York watchfully.
"I'm not working now though. Don't worry. It's my day off."
He finished.

Shortly later they arrived at the door to the bar and the carbon mutant stopped, turning to face his ally in a way that showed he wanted to talk before they headed in.
"Now remember, we're just trying to get your wallet back, nice and simple. So let's keep it calm alright? Second, after I go in I want you to give me..."
Charcoal pulled a thinking face.
"About thirty seconds. I'm going to see if I can spot the guys and get to the other side of them without being noticed. They way they can't just bail when you come in. Ok?"

Once the plan was confirmed, the agent tugged his hood up over his head and slid into the second bar. This one had a few more patrons than Sal's had, but not by very many. A familiar group were over by a tv, apparently having picked up where they had left off. Under his hood, Chris smirked. Other than the thieves, there was a set of two people off by themselves at a table, looked like a couple, and a set of three older men at the bar, workmen in their forties by the looks.

Chris walked up to the bar and asked for a water, he pulled his wallet but the barkeep waved it away. The agent nodded his thanks and scooped up the water, taking a swig as he casually moved over to a table on the far side of the group of thieves, so that they sat between him and the door. He took a seat at the edge of the table so that he was ready to get up in a hurry if he needed to. He guessed his thirty seconds were about up, so he took another sip of his water and waited for Dallas to crash in at any moment.
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(( OOC: I'm not in any rush, it's all good! ))


For one dumb second, Dallas thought the guy was saying he worked for God when he pointed up at the sky. That struck him as unlikely because Chris just didn't look the type to be a... a priest or whatever. But who knew? One thing all mutants knew was that looks could be deceiving. But no, as it turned out, the explanation was a much more logical one, which Dallas realised when his gaze focused in on the helicarrier hovering up in the sky. "Ohhh," he smiled, once he'd clued in.

So Chris was a SHIELD agent? That made sense, he'd often heard the agency mentioned as a potential career path for graduates from the school. Xavier's, and all the madness and trauma which tended to go on there, often bestowed upon its students the kinds of skills which would be useful to an organisation like SHIELD. Dallas hadn't actually spent much time in the company of agents and usually carried an inherent sense of vague distrust on the rare occasions he did encounter them, though there was no real reason for that. It was probably simply because, as Chris himself had put it, SHIELD were the man, and Dallas had a little of his grandfather's disdain for big, authority-wielding organisations in him. Still, he found he wasn't at all uncomfortable with Chris, maybe because he'd started out life at the school so couldn't be all bad, but probably mostly because Dallas had already decided he was a nice guy and that was good enough for him. The shadowy mutant was a simple soul, really.

"Well, day off or not, I'm thinking you were probably the best guy for me to bump into today," he grinned. "And I feel like even more of a bonehead for getting my pocket picked in front of you now." Honestly. He wanted to be a bigtime superhero X-Man but he couldn't even wander past a SHIELD agent and order a drink without becoming the clueless victim of a crime. Lame.

Once the two young men had arrived at the bar they'd been hunting for, Chris paused to lay out the plan of action. Keep it simple, stay calm. These ideas worked for Dallas and he nodded in response. As pissed off as he was, he really didn't want to start a shitstorm with a bunch of random guys who were probably human. As long as they didn't threaten anyone, he wouldn't break their faces, even if they were lowlife assholes who'd wronged him. Sometimes being the good guy wasn't very satisfying but that was the way it was.

"Thirty seconds. Got it."

As Chris tugged up his hood and headed inside, Dallas drew in a breath and held it, counting down the seconds in his head. Being in the company of a man he now knew to be an agent of SHIELD made him slightly anxious, not wanting to add to his earlier humiliation by somehow screwing this up. He had to remind himself that, until a few months ago, he'd been heroing solo for years, with nobody else to count on, so he wasn't completely useless. Walking into a bar really shouldn't be beyond his capabilities. Although, back in Sal's Bar he'd demonstrated that it was. Oh well. He'd just have to muddle through it.

Once the alloted time had expired, Dallas rolled his shoulders, glanced up and down the street once, then pushed open the door. Stepping inside, he immediately spotted the boisterous group who'd stolen his wallet earlier, his eyes narrowing with irritation at the grins on their lips. At the edge of his field of vision, he could see Chris sitting at a table in the ideal position, but Dallas didn't actually look his way, not wishing to tip anybody off that they were together. Instead, he lifted his chin and strode towards the group of pickpockets.

"Remember me?" he asked in greeting, eyebrows raised. He kept his tone steady and calm though, following Chris's advice to keep it simple. With that in mind, he raised both palms to demonstrate that he meant them no physical harm. "Listen, I'm not looking to start anything here. Just give me back my wallet and we'll say no more about it. 'Kay?" This struck him as a totally reasonable request. The lads paused for a second, eyeing him, before breaking into guffaws of laughter.

Well. This was probably going to go south rather quickly, wasn't it?
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Charcoal
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The wait lasted a little longer than the carbon mutant had expected, so he took the extra time to pay attention to the group they were going after. They were loud and seemingly a little drunk. Not much, they still had their wits about them and their legs underneath them and after all it wasn't too long before that one had pulled off a very slick wallet swipe. Still there was enough drink in them that they'd be a little dulled and a little distracted, if it came down to it. But Charcoal was pretty certain it wouldn't. If it was going badly, he'd point out that he was SHIELD and hopefully that would sort everything right out.

The door swung open and Dallas walked in. Chris saw his gaze fall on the thief's group and the stride over began. The SHIELD agent sat tensely in his position, waiting to see what was going to happen, how the people they had followed here were going to react to seeing their last mark show up behind them. Dallas made his introduction, maybe slightly on the aggressive side, but it was ok, provided he didn't push them (literally or figuratively) it should still work out fine. Then Chris' new friend pulled the tone back a little, making a more peaceful approach.

It all seemed to be on the right track until the guys started cracking up with laughter. Not really a good sign. Clearly they didn't take the issue seriously. But that was ok, Coal knew how to deal with that. He stood up and walked a little closer behind the three guys who were now focused on their victim. The carbon mutant stood close enough that he would seem to come out of nowhere, but not close enough to seem like an immediate threat. He still had ever intention of solving the whole problem without causing more trouble.

He took a breath in and interrupted their laughter with a serious tone of voice.
"Seriously guys. The wallet goes home. Let's go."
He instructed in an ice cold tone. The three spun around to see who was talking at them all of a sudden. At first they seemed surprised, but they got a hold of themselves quickly and one stepped forward a little, a who the hell are you look adorning his face.
"What makes you think it's any of your business?"
The guy asked, but it wasn't flat like Chris' tone had been, it was more threatening. The statement had taken the whole conversation in a direction that Chris didn't really want to go.

To diffuse the newly raised tension between them all, Chris changed his body language a little. He held his hands out, open and wide, in a sort of half way point to having them up. He also took a little step back, just to maintain the gap. They were just little changes, but in theory they would detract from the tension without Coal make himself seem weak. In theory. Hopefully with that and a logical reason, everything would finish up fine.
"Look guys, we're not here looking for trouble, we just want his wallet back. Then everyone can go on with their day."
The agent explained.

Reason only caused the group's leader to raise an eyebrow like he wasn't impressed. That meant that the next step was to make it serious. Chris squared up a little, narrowing his eyes and cracking a slight smile.
"And by the way, that's a very generous offer from me. But I'm giving you the option to walk away because today is my day off. Today I'm only an off duty SHIELD agent. Any other day you'd all be in big trouble right now. So seriously, do everyone a favour, give back the wallet and then go home."
He explained, watching in amusement as nervous glanced bounced between the three of them.

Chris was pretty sure that had done it. They were scared, he could see it. And faced with a perfectly reasonable and easy way out, he was sure they'd take it. But he was wrong. The leader turned towards Dallas and shoved out with his arms, trying to give the mark a push before he bolted for the door. The other two took a moment to be shocked before they ran off after the first guy, with an off duty SHIELD agent hot on their heels.
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Specter
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That laugh from the thieves was not the most encouraging of sounds. Best case scenario had been for the pickpocketers to break down in wracked guilt-ridden sobs and hand back the wallet and everything else they'd ever stolen. That was probably a tad unlikely, but Dallas would have settled for a shirty, defensive response as long as they just placed the wallet back into his sweaty paws. It felt like this should be so easy. It wasn't as if he was asking for a lot. He didn't even care if they kept the money, or the wallet itself, he really just wanted his photo back. There was no need for this to be a big thing at all.

Yet, here they were.

As the guys laughed in his face, Dallas clenched his jaw but otherwise held on to his temper. Like most people, he wasn't a fan of being openly mocked by strangers but reacting too negatively wouldn't help the situation at all. It needed to be defused, not exacerbated, otherwise they were going to end up in some kind of brawl and that really wasn't his style. Plus, he had no reason to think these men were anything but regular humans, so a physical fight with a pair of mutants, one a SHIELD agent and the other an experienced super-type, wouldn't go well for them. So really, he and Chris were doing these fellows a favour by keeping things calm.

In truth, Dallas was relieved when he saw his ally making a quiet approach behind the gang. He'd never seen him in action, of course, but the dude had training from both the school and SHIELD so he had to be pretty awesome. His presence was reassuring to the shadowy mutant. Things would turn out okay with Chris on the case.

His friend's initial attempt at resolving the disagreement was met with dismissive hostility, which made Dallas lift his chin in irritation, a frown burning itself into his brow. He remained silent though. Chris carried more authority than he did, even on his day off, so he was happy to let him deal with this. He didn't want to tread on his toes and screw up the delicate exchange. Chris tried a more reasonable approach but, as had been the case with Dallas's own attempt to get the wallet back, had no luck so was forced to hit them with the off-duty-SHIELD-agent whammy. That caused the corners of Dallas's lips to quirk into a smile. That little speech was kinda badass. If this didn't work, nothing would. He was going to have his stolen possession back in his pocket any second now.

Or he was going to be shoved aside by a panicking petty criminal making his escape. That was always possible too.

Though he wasn't hurt, and managed not to lose his balance, Dallas was shocked by the push. He'd been alert to a violent response, but he'd been so confident that these guys wouldn't be dumb enough to resist a SHIELD agent that he'd briefly let his guard down. Dumb of him. After a second, the leader's two buddies dashed off after him, with Chris in pursuit. With an aggravated grunt, Dallas pushed off and began sprinting after them too, following the group as they spilled out onto the street.

In his head, his shadow urged him to initiate the merge which would boost his strength and, crucially, his speed, but Dallas ignored the shadow's pleas. He didn't intend to use his powers unless he was left with absolutely no other choice. Charging after the thieves in full shadow mode would turn this situation into a 'dangerous mutant attacks innocent humans' scenario and that was always best avoided. Besides, they wouldn't need their powers to stop these muppets. Dallas ran several miles at superspeed every single morning so stamina wasn't an issue and he was probably faster than the average human anyway, even without the shadow's boost. And Chris was an agent of SHIELD. These chumps stood no chance.

Racing down the street, Dallas hopped off the curb to better avoid charging into pedestrians as he chased down the gang. The leader was out in front, and since Dallas didn't know if Chris had any enhanced speed to call upon (come to think of it, he couldn't remember what Chris's mutation was at all, if he'd ever known in the first place), he chose to aim for him, especially since he was the most likely of the three to be carrying the precious, much sought after wallet. Pumping his fists and kicking his feet hard to pile on as much speed as possible, Dallas closed in on the lead pickpocket quickly, the thief being slowed down by bumping into bystanders on the street. Once he was close enough, Dallas launched himself at the guy, slamming into him and grabbing hold of his arms to hold behind his back. Surely the man was ready to admit defeat now?

"Seriously, man," Dallas said to his captive, even as he glanced to the side to see if Chris had been able to apprehend either of the other two pickpockets. "Is this even worth it at this point? Just give me back the freakin' wallet already."
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Charcoal
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They all piled out of the bar and into the afternoon air, Chris' legs pumping away happily while he took the time to strategize. He could more or less catch them at will with his abilities, provided they didn't possess powers even greater than his own. So for the moment he was fine to calmly run along after them. He still wanted to avoid a fight if possible. After all, he and Dallas were outnumbered and they still had no idea if the three were mutants or not, and if so what their powers were. It was entirely possible that they had abilities, given they seemed to be regulars in Sal's. None of the three had any visual mutations that were visible, but that didn't mean very much. For all they knew, the three thieves could be quite a handful to take down.

The chase sort of spread out as they tore off down the road and around a corner. The leader stuck to a tight line, running down the sidewalk, and Coal noticed his ally chasing close behind just on the edge of the road. The other two however had made it across onto a long slim traffic island in the center of the street. Chris elected to chase those two, but kept an eye on the other. Soon enough the cook tackled his target and seeing that, the other two tried to break straight across the road away from Dallas, their friend and Charcoal coming from behind them. Chris popped into a little cloud of carbon and whooshed across to cut them off, forming back up in the middle of their path.

"Stop guys. Just give it in."
They glanced at each other nervously. One was brave about it, the other wasn't. Law of averages. The brave one tried to charge the off duty agent. Chris lowered his weight and wrapped the guy's neck in a choke hold to stop the charge, but spurred on by his friend the coward waded in too. The second enemy punched out, hitting the agent in the face and freeing the braver thief. Coal stumbled back totally dazed to find the coward sporting newly opened holes in his elbows, pointing straight back opposite to the direction of his lower arm. The brave thief on the other hand slowly extended his thumbs into bone-knives. That was exactly what Coal had been hoping wouldn't happen.

This time, the coward led. What seemed like jet propulsion blew out from the hole in his right elbow, shoving his arm forwards in a wild attack. Chris waited til the last moment to separate his mind from his carbon body. The punch sprayed sooty dust outwards, but Chris gathered it all back in, forming up behind his enemy with an arm around his neck. The agent squeezed as he looked across to see where razor thumb had gotten to. Edward scissor thumbs was on his way in, but Coal stepped around, turning jet arms into his path and halting the attack. From by his arm he heard the gurgle of a person soon to pass out and felt the digging in of hands trying to move his grip. But it was too late, as knife-thumb-man tried to find away around his friend to get his enemy, captain-rocket-radius went limp as the sleeper hold finished its work.

One down, one to go. The braver man was the one still left standing, and Chris could only assume that the greater confidence cam from more fighting experience. Plus those thumbs really did look razor sharp. He dropped the man from his choke hold and circled away, focused intently on the second thief.
"Give up. I'll tell them to go easy on you."
He offered, but was met with a wide swing he had to jump back to avoid. Despite his quick reflexes, the blade dragged across one side of his torso, making a cut and sending a tumble of sooty carbon free like blood.

Then the second attack came, the back swing. That was the time to fight back, when stabbing was out of the question and there was less wind up. Chris stepped in close, blocking the guy's forearm with his own limbs before reaching over to grab the 'knife' below the blade, down where it was still a thumb. Then he twisted. Doesn't matter how sharp your thumbs are, they're still no fun in a thumb lock. A little crack signaled the digit being put out of action and Coal took a quick step back, out of range. Not that it mattered. The man howled in pain and retracted his blades in order to cradle his broken thumb.

"That mean we're done here?"
Chris asked, panting as he checked the wound on his chest.
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Specter
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"Fuck you, shitsmear."

One of Dallas's eyebrows rose a notch at the pickpockets choice of language. "You're a real sweetheart, you know that?" he mumbled back to him, still holding on to the man's arms and keeping them held tightly behind his back to prevent him from escaping. It seemed the guy still wasn't ready to hand back the fabled stolen wallet. Presumably, he had some kind of fetish for weathered, fraying leather? Who knew. At this point, it seemed clear that Dallas was going to have to rummage through the guy's pockets to get his property back but that was fine by him. His patience had fully evaporated.

Confident that the guy wouldn't be escaping his grip, Dallas took the opportunity to turn his head and make sure Chris wasn't having any trouble. He glanced in the direction of his ally just in time to see one of the thieves attack him with some kind of jet-propelled elbow, while his scummy buddy looked on with pointy thumbs. Mutants. Well, that changed the game. If these guys had powers and were using them to attack Dallas and Chris, that gave them license to use their own abilities, as far as Specter was concerned. There was superhero etiquette, and then there was self defense. This firmly fell into the latter camp now.

At a glance, it looked like the SHIELD agent, unsurprisingly, had his situation under control so Dallas was able to turn his attention back to his own captive, presumably a mutant too. With that in mind, he called upon his shadow, mentally commanding it to slither up his body, coating him, before the two fused together. Now a figure of almost solid black, Dallas's dark energy boosted body now had the enhanced strength necessary to ensure that this chump had no hope of escaping him. Except... hold on a second. Where did he go?

"What the fu--" Specter's muttered words of bafflement were cut off when a balled fist suddenly struck his chin from nowhere. The blow was followed by two more. There was no strength behind the punches, at least not enough to trouble his boosted body, but the shadowy mutant was taken by surprise enough to stagger for a moment. His gaze was already snapping around before he'd even regained his balance, trying to figure out what his opponent was doing, and he caught a glimpse of the guy grinning at him before he blipped out of existence, reappearing a footstep away. Teleporter. A very short range teleporter too, Dallas was guessing, otherwise the guy would have used his mutation to escape, either back at the bar or now.

"You're fast," Dallas breathed, allowing a smile of his own to quirk at the edge of his lips. "But I'm faster." Actually, that wasn't true, he wasn't faster than a teleporter. He wasn't even faster than the vast majority of speedsters, he was a tortoise in comparison. But he was faster than any human, and, more importantly, he was smarter than this guy. Kicking off, he started dashing around in zigzags around the teleporter, zipping in a random pattern as the guy tried to port and throw punches, missing every time. Specter's ploy worked more quickly than he expected it to, the thief rapidly becoming frustrated and pausing in an attempt to get a fix on his target, a comically befuddled frown on his face. The guy being still for a few seconds was all Dallas needed, speeding forward and delivering a punch to his jaw. He pulled that punch, of course, preferring to avoid smacking the thief's head from his shoulders, but the force of the blow was enough to knock the guy to the ground. Though he was still conscious, he was dazed enough that he'd no longer be a problem, slumped on the sidewalk with a look in his eyes which suggested he could only see circling tweety birds.

With his opponent down, Dallas looked back over his shoulder to see how his friend was doing. By now, the freaky elbow dude was on the ground and out of the fight, while Chris was busy snapping the other attacker's thumb. Ouch. Satisfied that the agent required no assistance, and impressed by how apparently easily he'd bettered twice as many foes as Dallas himself had taken on, Specter smiled to himself and dropped to a crouch beside his own defeated criminal. He shook his head as he patted at the man's pockets, searching for the wallet.

"I'd really like to think you'll learn from this, man," Dallas said to the guy, even though he was sure the man wasn't able to understand him right now. Something square and solid was in one of the thief's pockets, and Dallas squeezed his fingers in to tug out... the wallet! Fiiinally. "There. Now, you really can't say we didn't ask nicely for this. C'mon then." Slipping the wallet back into its rightful home of his own back pocket, Dallas threw an arm around the thief's chest to yank him to his feet and drag him over to his buddies. "Hey, agent!" he called, as he didn't know Chris's codename and didn't think the use of his real name would be appropriate in public, since they'd been using their powers. "Guess what? Got the wallet!"

Dallas's cheery smile faded as he got closer though, realising Chris was checking a wound at his chest. Though there... wasn't any blood. Just black stuff. Hrm. "Shit, are you okay? Did these assholes hurt you?"
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Charcoal
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There was no response from the guy with the broken thumb. But it really didn't seem like he'd be coming back for more. He glanced around to take stock of his situation and saw Dallas standing over the lead thief, digging around in the guy's pockets. Other people stood around in dribs and drabs, most looking shocked at the brawl that had just happened in the middle of the street. Cars beeped as they weaved past the people on the sides of the road. Bystanders had phones out and were recording everything on video. Chris cringed at that, and even more a moment later when Dallas loudly announced that he had "the wallet". It wasn't good look.

Over all though it was a satisfactory end to the contact and Chris felt he had done well. That said there was always room for improvement. Charcoal looked down at the carbon tumbling slowly out of his gut and frowned. The adrenaline was wearing off and it was starting to get quite painful. He put his hands underneath, catching the carbon there and reabsorbing it into his physical form. Ultimately the wound was of little concern to him, injuries were different with his mutation, but they still felt just as bad. The cook showed up beside him and noted the cut.

Charcoal shrugged in return to his friend's worry.
"I'll be fine."
He said through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing as he continued to scan the crowd around them. So many phones out. Chris unformed briefly, puffing out into a cloud and then straight back into his human form. The wound was gone physically now, but his brain still thought it had an injury and he could still feel it like a phantom slice. But it was a start, and at least he wasn't leaking any more.

With that taken care of Chris turned, trying to orient himself as he started to walk off.
"Come on dude, we should skedaddle. The police will probably be on their way and I don't need that right now. After all, I'm off duty. Plus black ops agents and police officers tend to be on opposite sides of the same coin."
The agent jogged away from the three downed enemies and into an alley headed in the direction of Sal's, and his unfinished jug of beer. Once they were out of view he slowed to a walk and turned to glance that his fellow was with him.
"Oh well mission success I guess."
He stated simply.

As the strolled along further, the SHIELD employee started to shake his head, smiling in a bittersweet expression. Yes they had taken care of the situation, but it was likely going to come back to bite him in the ass. Videos would be on youtube, Dallas had called him 'agent', and he was supposed to be on a mandatory day off. He chuckled grimly.
"My boss is going to be pissed. He sent me off today, specifically to stop me from working too much. If h- When he finds out he's probably going to send me on a forced holiday to the moon or something where I can't possibly get myself involved in any law work."

OOC: I don't know if you want to make another post or not, but if you're fine with that all being tied off: [END]
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