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Revision as of 19:05, 9 October 2019

Entirely too Honest
Dramatis Personae

Akihiro, and Eric


Akihiro meets a cop in the rain, chats his ear off like the Boomer he is.


Tompkins Square Park

With the beginnings of rain beginning to drip down onto New York, Tompkins Square Park has started to empty out of most of the few visitors that are enjoying a break from the steel and glass of the East Village on a Wednesday afternoon. Not all of its inhabitants have left -- a few dog owners continue to brave the drips as their dogs bark and play in the dog run, and a few people whose weather wear is sturdier continue to wander through the grounds.

Among those who remain are two people sitting on a park bench, talking quietly. Eric, dressed in uniform with his cap in his lap, is quietly murmuring to a somewhat shabbier dressed young woman. "Come on, Evie. Don't give me that. You know, just as well as I do, that he's not really changed his mind about mutants. If you go back to him, you're just going to be nursing another black eye like that in a few weeks. Every time I get the call about your place, I'm worried that it's going to be a murder scene, not just another fight between you two."

If Evie responds, though, it's quiet and lost in the sound of the winds. "Yeah, I know. Well, you have my cell, right? If you need me, call me. I don't want to keep hearing about this over the radio because someone has called in another domestic, yeah? Just ring me first if it's getting bad. OK, OK. I'll stop. Go home, Evie. He'll be out this evening, once he's sobered up from last night." The woman leaves a few moments later, with a brief smile that Eric returns until she turns and slips towards the exits. Then he sighs and puts his head down into his hands, running fingers through increasingly-dark-and-damp hair. "Shit."

"Some people just love the things that hate them." Akihiro offers, stepping out of the rain and into visible range. He's dressed for the weather in a way, sporting a boonie hat and a beige London Fog jacket. "Wasn't eavesdropping on purpose, promise. Just not many people out."

Without asking he takes a seat on the bench and sparks up the what's left of the Marlboro between his lips. "Much as I'd like to say otherwise, you can't save everybody." He lets out a smoky sigh into the rain. "Well, not without compromising your morals anyway."

When Akhiro speaks out of nowhere, Eric jumps slightly -- and considering his occupation, this means one hand lands on the handgun at his waist. He blinks several times as he looks over the other man, slowly relaxing and studying Akhiro with a slightly perplexed expression on his face. "Glad to hear it," Eric says, voice as dry as the Sahara. "Never would'a known that myself." He picks up the cap and puts it back on top of his head, adjusting the brim towards the front. "You compromised your morals a lot recently?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"I like to think I'm done. My soldiering days are behind me." Akihiro raps his knuckles against the wood of the bench just in case. "I just figured maybe you wanted to hear it from somebody else. I know it can be hard." He offers a sort of smile.

Honestly he looks far too young to have done any real fighting. His skin is smooth and he doesn't appear to have a scar on any of the skin he's showing. "Although, how often do you actually get good advice from a stranger in the park?"

Eric’s mouth twitches at the edges, as if he’s fighting a smile. “Rarely — but don’t that mean it’s probably bad advice you’re givin’ me right now?” Eric settles back against the seat, eyeing the other man contemplatively. “You look a bit young to have solderin’ days in ya. Unless you count the kind that’s done with little green men.”

"Since you don't seem to mind, I'm a mutant." Akihiro lowers his voice, on the off chance anybody else is listening. "I heal fast, among other things. I'll be seventy-five next year." His hands come up in a sort of shrug and he takes the last drag from his cigarette. "Spent the better part of fifty years killing for the government and I can't say I recommend it. "

Flicking the butt into a nearby trashcan he straightens up and looks out into the rain.

“It’d be pretty ironic for me to mind mutants, considering...” Eric says, tapping the patch on his shoulder that marks him as a member of the Mutant Incident Division — the freak squad, as they’re more commonly known. “Though I certainly wouldn’t be the first self-hatin’ mutant I’ve come across.”

The comment on killing for the government does raise Eric’s eyebrows, though. “For ours, or for someone else’s? I didn’t think they let mutants into the Army.” His gaze sharpens on the other man, flicking up and down. “Actually, I’m pretty sure they don’t.”

"Canada." Akihiro looks back over at Eric, "It was the sixties and every country wanted their own Captain America. Instead of getting plastered on posters and used to boost morale, those of us that survived training became one-man special forces units, assuming they weren't better suited as spies."

"I've seen conflict from China to Israel all before the nineties. I don't think they were ready for so many new mutations to start cropping up. Probably scared shitless after they saw what a handful of us were capable of."

“Canada. I... see.” Eric nods once, twice, and then pauses for a few seconds, letting the silence build awkwardly. “I imagine that resume makes it a bit difficult for you to find new work. Not many people out there looking for a mutant who is a trained soldier. I could maybe use one, but being a cop and being a soldier aren’t exactly the same. Plus, the academy has age limits, and I’m pretty sure they’re not high enough to let someone who was in the military in the sixties in.”

"I'm more into dog walking right now anyway." Akihiro offers a small grin. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your mutation? I've seen some wild things out here." A small pause. "Kinda nice to still be surprised by things."

“Dog walking. Not quite as hazardous, at least most of the time. Those little terriers can be vicious though.” Eric jokes, a little smile playing at his lips. “Nothing too out there. Similar to you. I heal good. Plain, simple.”

"Oh really?" Akihiro seems pleasantly surprised. "It's not too flashy, but when you lose a limb you'll be glad to have it. I'd be a damn torso if it wasn't for mine." He waggles his fingers a bit. "Really, I don't think there's any part of me that's the original. Except maybe a few teeth."

“Just like Heidi Montag, except cheaper. And it looks more natural too,” Eric says, with a nod of his head. “Still hurts like a bitch though. All things being equal, I’d prefer not to have to use it.”

"Since nobody warned me, I'll warn you." Akihiro pushes back up onto his feet. "There's a real chance you might find yourself sitting in a park like this one day wondering where the last hundred years went. The bright side of being immortal though, it's never too late to take a stand."

"Anyway, I've got an appointment with an old friend. Take care of yourself out here." He offers a small wave and turns to head off.

Eric chuckles and shakes his head. “I hope not. I’m quite looking forward to taking retirement as I age, but thanks for the warning.” He raises his hand in a brief goodbye, and then drops it again at his side. “Only in New York,” he mutters to himself.