2007-06-21: Control, Cooking, Coney Island, And Cars


Jane_icon.gif McAlister_icon.gif Elle_icon.gif

Summary: A succession of topics and activities across an evening in the lives of three Evolved people.

Date It Happened: June 21st, 2007

Control, Cooking, Coney Island, And Cars

Forrest-Bishop Apartment, Greenwich Village, Manhattan, , then Coney Island, Brooklyn, NYC

Saturday, early evening. Outside, there's rain - a steady wetting rainstorm typical for the eastern seaboard in the summer. The streetlights are on, the clouds high - it makes the streets shine in reflected light and the world a universally wet gray.

At the door comes a taptaptap. A soft rapping of knuckles that may not be uncertain, but is tentative.

Through the peephole one would see Ali - in a change of clothes and with a pack slung over her shoulder, hair tied into a functional ponytail that's not flattering. She even looks slept, if still a little pale. And she leans against the far side of the hall, after the knock, thumb hooked in the pack strap, chewing on her other hand's nails.

Sound comes from inside the apartment, that of feet approaching the door which was just knocked upon. On the way a clock is consulted. 4:30 pm. The person's identity is checked, and the barrier opened to admit one Alyssa McAlister. Greeting her there is the not-blonde occupant of this location. "Ali," Jane begins, a quiet smile appearing. "Come in. Great to see you."

Ali offers a relieved smile of her own. "Toldja I'd be back." She stands up off the wall - moving for the door. "So… uh. How pissed is Elle?"

She looks entirely confused. "Why would Elle be angry?" Jane moves to secure the door behind the entering Suggester and approach the kitchen. "Thirsty?" she asks. The question asked of her is mulled over as she goes for the fridge and a two liter of Pepsi.

"Yeah - water, if that's okay?" Ali takes a breath. "If she's not, then it'll all sort itself out." She moves to the edge of the kitchen, and picks another wall to lean on. "Know anybody with a strong back and a pizza fetish?"

"Strong back and a pizza fetish?" she asks, still confused, and not asking anything more about the topic of Elle and anger. Two glasses are taken out, one made full of water and the other cola before Jane crosses toward the guest and hands the clear liquid off. "Let's go sit, Ali."

"Sure - yeah. ANd maybe a truck?" Ali takes the glass, carefully - and follows. Dutifully. "I found a cheaper place - I figure the usual wages for hauling a couch is like, beer and pizza, right?" A wry smile, lopsided and a little ruefull, but it's something. "And I figure if the DA isn't being nice it ends up being easy to throw it all into storage for a while anyway."

"Why would you have to move?" Again, she seems puzzled. "There was that ten thousand dollar check Elle arranged." Jane, entering the main room, directs herself to one of the reclining chairs and settles into it. "I'm not worried about the criminal case, though." She lifts her glass and drinks from it while the other hand rests on a remote device.

"I don't take money.. not like that. I'm not a charity case." Ali heads to the couch, of course. 'her' corner, in fact, curling up on it and dropping that pack to the side. "I can't pay it back - and, you know, maybe Elle's got every right to try to give it to me, but I didn't earn it, it's not mine, and I owe too much to people already. Call it pride if ya want, but I'm not just taking money from anybody. Not now, not ever."

"Fair enough," she answers with a nod. Jane's eyes rest on she who curls, calmly. "I've been there myself. Got into and through Yale on my own work. Not my own money, but my own work. I wasn't going to just be another blueblood legacy person who didn't really earn the way in like our President. That whole Texas thing is a sham. He's from old northeastern money."

"Yeah. Since when is any politican /not/ loaded?" Ali grins, then. "More ways than one, in his case. Thanks, though - I know, it's probably crazy. I don't know what happens next, I don't know if I can even think about going back to radio yet, and the bar job isn't gonna cut it, probably. But at least I've got a /little/ savings and the new place keeps a roof over my head. And that's enough - faith, right? Just gotta have faith, and open eyes. And, hey - I'm a /master/ of cooking ramen."

She takes a small sip of water.. and then seems to remember. "Hey, that reminds me - I hit the library.." She moves over to fish in her bag. "And I found a book - I mean, I didn't /get/ the book, but I grabbed the reference for you. I figured you'd be interested. Probably pretty dense reading, but you're a lawyer. You can take it."

Her head tilts to one side. "I think you can do your radio job, Ali. I mean, you've been gone four days, so you found the on and off switch. You got the handle." Jane drinks a bit more of the cola before continuing. She grimaces a little at the mention of faith. It sounds too much like the title of something really offensive. "Confidence is a much better word," she opines, "but that other one works too." No, she won't say it, will not let the song title pass her lips.

McAlister quirks a brow. "I haven't yet - I'm learning how to talk around it, though. And.. the more I /want/ something, the more enthused I get? It's… easier, ya know?" Ali finds that slip of paper she's hunting… and offers it across. "It's about ultrasonic cavitation, nebulization, and weaponry. Figured you'd find it.. ya know, useful." She grins. "Tell me you can go low, and I can /really/ give you some stuff." A pause, then. "Sort of a peace offering, ya know? Come to find out, I believe you."

"Then… how did you get Elle to let you leave? She was already being nice, in her way, by not handing you over to her bosses until this is gotten in hand." Jane falls silent, then her eyes widen a bit. "And you were asking if she's angry when you got here. I… I'm not like she is. Her life, her experiences, are so much different. She's always been what you could call a psycop. Working with that Company. Me, I'd not have tried to keep you here. But the alternative is much worse."

"I asked her to." Ali is shameless, there - "She was harping on about making me make her do something she wouldn't normally do, and that was about all I could think of." A slight shrug. "But now that I know, I'm mostly able to sort of choose words that don't cause the same kind of problems." And her jaw sets. "I promised her I'd come back, and I did. And I will again, too - I want to get a handle on this. But if she or anybody else thinks I'm going to stand for me or somebody I know getting locked up just because somebody figures they have a right? Maybe I'm naieve, but I have a problem with that. An' I don't like threats - my pop is a teamster. It rubs off. I don't wanna hurt anybody, no. I /do/ want to learn how to get a handle on it."

"They're not people to mess with lightly, Ali," Jane replies, rubbing her eyes for a moment. "I don't like their methods. But I do admit in some cases their tactics are needed. The things I've learned these past few months…" She trails off again as memories surface and are partly shaken off. "My own memories have been edited twice, and I crossed them once, but I don't remember it. What I do remember is spending three days shaking off the addiction they made me believe I had after, I'm told, I took part in a raid on their facilities to free someone. And recently I've been a victim of someone who does basically the same thing you do."

Ali considers that - "Ends and means, ya know? Aquinas wasn't a fool. 'What profit is there in an act of beneficience if brought through means counter to the conscience?' And sure, I know cops get their hands dirty. They have to - but they still have to have a standard, and they still answer to somebody. So who does Elle answer to?" Soft, and serious. "I trust her, Jane. I do. But I'm gonna be really careful for a while - and there's somebody else willing to help, a little. And I'm going to take that help, too. Not 'cause I don't trust Elle, but I don't know how much to trust /anybody/ right now."

"I get it, Ali," Jane replies. "If I had my way, the Company would have to face public oversight and attention just like the regular government. I think about it all the time. The concept of imposing checks and balances like the Founding Fathers designed in the Constitution. But I can't myself make that happen, and don't know of any combination yet that can. The only way, really, would be for us all to go public. And that would present a far worse situation than the Company presents. Some of the people they've taken in deserved it, richly."

"Given… what I figure I might be able to do? Yeah. Yeah, I can guess." Ali sips again at her water. "I mean - you can sing in ultrasound, right? So there's a pitch you can use that will shatter eardrums, there's another one that would make it really hard to see clearly. If you got it just right, you could even disentegrate stuff or nebulize water. Heck, if you figured out how to go to the other end? Below instead of above hearing? You could do so much worse, too. And… Elle. Christ - electricity? I'm surprised she's not into physics - 'cause, honestly? A couple of props and she could do just about anything she wanted."

"I'm working on it," Jane replies with a grin. "The main drawback is places to practice safely. I sometimes go out into the woods and let fly with screams against the trees. No glass to shatter, no attention to draw. Staying in the shadows is crucial. Being subtle, not exposing ourselves. History books are full of what happens to people who are too different, what goes on when populations are afraid. Witch hunts, inquisitions…" She takes another long drink and chuckles. "Low pitches aren't mine to reach. Deepest pitch I hit is a mezzo-soprano. But I don't think there's anyone in the world who can outsoprano me. So far I've used the ultrasound to break glass, move in the dark without bumping into things, neutralize some types of dog whistle from hurting my ears, and drive animals away."

McAlister nods. "That book's a paper on known frequencies and what they do - figured it'd help a little, anyway." THe woman looks speculative. "I guess I"m just bothered by.. you know, the ramifications. There's you, there's me, there's Elle - even /with/ the group Elle's with, there's got to be a lot more. And if there's a lot more.." She takes a breath. "Jane? I've been doing a lot of thinking - about the potential of what I can do. I mean - I"m on the /radio/. I tell everybody in the city to vote for Petrelli? He's gonna win. Then if I can tell him what to do and when? It really wouldn't even be hard to do something like walk into the White House and change the president's mind about something important. That's what gets me - if all this exists, how come it /hasn't/ gotten… weird?"

"The Company is part of the answer to that," Jane replies somberly. "They've been around I don't know how long, and have worked with abilities like ours for that entire time. They've ways to neutralize them, and have at least one operative who can make people forget things. The Company probably cleans up exposures, keeps things under wraps. I have personal ethics, as do you. But you're right, among us just like among standard society, not everyone has them. We even," she pauses for effect, "have our own serial killer, who targets people with abilities and steals them. I know quite a few of us. Most of them and I have an agreement. We don't expose each other without permission. Even though you're like us, I won't tell you who any of them are. And likewise I won't give you away to anyone else. But I want your consent to do so."

McAlister tilts her head to the side. "Uh. Why? I mean - my consent. I don't exactly want to tell people either, ya know? People would never trust me again - they probably shouldn't, but .. they really /wouldn't/, then."

"Because by giving me permission to tell them about you, they may also give permission to tell you about them, and you'll come to know more of us. And open up paths to help you might need, or can give. I know people who at times predict future events, who fly, influence biochemistry, relocate objects… Each of them knows about me, and I know about them."

"And telling them about the girl that can make them do stuff is really going to make them /want/ to talk to me." Ali points that out with a sad sort of wry humor. "Hey, you guy that can tell the future? You should meet this chick. If you're not smart at all, you'll never question that maybe she's /making/ Jane do this, right?"

"No one says trust is or will be easy to extend," Jane replies softly. "I've wrestled with the same decisions. Who to tell, who not to tell. I generally share the truth about me when I encounter someone like us, because there's information, vital information, we all should know. Like the serial killer, and the Company, how important it is to stay under the radar. And… there are things that have been predicted, things you could help with. Imagine someone who can make winds blow, or make the earth shake. That person gets nervous, starts to lose it. All you have to do is say 'calm down'. Crisis over."

"Sure. Of course, they're going to say, "or she could tell me to shake down the Empire State." Ali reaches up to let her hair down, running fingers through it. "You said there was a guy stealing powers - get real, Jane. Who needs to steal them if you can make other people do what you want? If they're smart, they wouldn't get anywhere /near/ somebody like that. I wouldn't. That's … kinda what I'm scared of."

"His name is Gabriel Gray, Ali," Jane states. "He's more often called Sylar. He kills people like us, and after the killing is somehow able to do what that person did. Very dangerous. Our eyes are open, if we could get him cornered and hit him with something of a small army, we might end him. But under no circumstances would I encourage anyone to take him on alone. If you see him, best thing is to leave as quickly as possible without drawing attention and call the cops. I'll give you a copy of his photo."

McAlister shrugs. "Sure." Obviously, like most, she's not terribly afraid of the boogeyman, yet. "Look, Jane? That's not the point - the point is, I can /see/ how dangerous what I can do would be - and /telling people/ doesn't make it less dangerous. That's up to me - but it /will/ make it so they don't trust me. And I dunno if telling them up front is worth it or not."

"You'd be surprised how trusting they are," Jane replies quietly. "Being who we are is a bond of sorts. Knowing them, and being known, gives a sense of community. Of not being so alone. Of having others to talk with and bounce ethics questions off of. Whatever it is we do, we have reasons to distrust because of the risks involved, and reasons to trust, because we all face that same risk of exposure. But the choice is yours."

The DJ considers for a very, very long moment - taking a long pull at that water. And then? She shrugs. "I trust you. Tell 'em, if you want. But.. try not to let it get around. Can you imagine if Elle's bunch figured out some way to /use/ me? That's what I'm afraid of the most of all - the more people know, the more chance somebody's going to try."

"Thank you, Ali," she replies softly. "I get all the implications. And the risks. None of us wants to be a lab rat, we prefer our experimentations with our individual abilities to be a personal thing. Learning what we can do, finding the limits. Like you said, and the book you found shows, I've a long way to go in learning my potential. And it's a weapon, too, what I do. I once used it to disarm someone holding a gun on me. She wore glasses. I screamed, and she couldn't see. Gave me the upper hand. Another time a guy tried to drive my boyfriend away with a broken beer bottle so he could have at me. He was surprised when the bottle disintegrated without an audible sound or apparent cause."

Ali finishes off that water. "Mmmph. WHen does it usually show? In people, I mean."

"It varies, from what I've seen," Jane answers. "I've seen one or two who are still kids, not even into teen years. Then there's me, my voice and hearing didn't show until a few months back, and I'm twenty - four. We think it's genetic, but there could be more to it. It also tends to run in families. I've seen and heard of abilities in parents and children, or between siblings. That's evidence to the genetic angle. A few of the people I was talking about may have more answers on the whys and hows. They're into medicine, biology, hard sciences."

The DJ sets her glass aside, shifting on the couch to set her feet back on the floor. "So I might have been doing this most of my life, or just started last week or something." Speculative. "People always been like this?"

"It's hard to say when the phenomena started, really," Jane muses, drinking a bit more from her glass of cola. She smiles slightly. "I asked the same questions, when it started, and sometimes still am. I can't say whether or not the Salem witch hunts were about false superstitions or people like us who got exposed. Or the famous cases of Edgar Cayce or Nostradamus. Even biblical prophets. What I do know is quite a few are in New York now, and we seem to be finding each other."
"I don't believe in Fate." Ali shrugs. "Could be just that like tends to find like - kinda how it works." She considers still, gravely. "It'd explain a heck of a lot, though."

"The future isn't written in stone," Jane replies with a vigorous nod. "If a precog sees something, that doesn't mean it has to happen. I think of it more as a warning, of a potential thing, which can be figured out and avoided." She lapses into thought for some moments, eventually breaking the silence with a changed subject. "You said the trigger might be how badly you want something to happen, Ali?"

"Yeah. That's part of it. It didn't really do much 'till I landed on something I really wanted to have happen, you know? And then - then it worked. Too well - but it doesn't really fit with Elle trying to kiss me. I don't really, you know, swing that way - and I was just trying to crack a joke. So it's not /all/ of it." Ali seems.. happy with the change in subject. At the very least, she goes along with it.

"So it's tied to your emotional state," Jane suggests. "That's not surprising. What she was doing, the direction you gave could've been rooted in sarcasm. Things you want have tied to mood. So it seems the key is training yourself to recognize these things when they surface and not let them control you."

Ali just nods, biting at her fingernail - a particular nervous habit, it seems. "I was pretty terrified, then. I still am, a little. There's.. a lot of responsibility, you know? Elle's not right - I can't just go on being who I was; I'm not that person anymore."

"So the key is when you start to feel that sense of responsibility rising up, you get careful with what you say. Or, if the situation warrants, choose to give commands. Tell someone to calm down, or surrender, or whatever fits. What you did with Elle, getting her to let you leave, I'm going to call that self-defense. I can't really fault you for that, you wanted to leave and she wasn't likely to let it happen. I won't lie to her if she asks, but I also don't intend to bring it up. This time. I'm protective of my friends. Even when that means I have to get nasty with one over her behavior." Once that's said and Jane spends a few moments thinking, there's more. "You're still the same person, Ali. What's changed is what you know about yourself, simply. How you deal with it is in tune with who you already were. The ethics, your moral compass, has any of that changed?"

"no - but I'm still not the same as I was. I can't, you know, walk down the street and /not/ remember that if I say something off somebody may take it in a way I never wanted. And I can't just assume that stuff that came before was /real/, and not my fault somehow, even if it was good. Just 'cause I think things are right or wrong doesn't make that any different." Ali's quite serious - "In dealin' with it, I'm not who I was. Heck, I don't even know if I can do the job I've wanted since I was little."

Standing, she motions for Ali to follow her and heads for her bedroom, Jane intends to keep talking while getting that photo she mentioned. "You also can't assume it was all your fault. Can't think nothing was real, or earned. You just learn how to shape the future. You learned radio once, you'll adapt to what you now know. Give me a dose of your radio voice, Ali. Talk about, say, an album as if reviewing it on air." Once she has the photo, she intends to hand it off and head back for the main room.

Evening. A little rainy and definitely wet outside. And Ali and Jane emerge from Jane's bedroom (having just stepped in for a moment), the DJ enunciating as.. well.. a DJ would. "What, something like 'Chili Peppers! You heard 'em, you love 'em! Pick up Californication down at Times when you get the chance - it's worth the time, and definitely worth the dollars.'" And.. by the halfway point? She's having fun with it - "While you're at it, grab the new Jane Forrest single! It's not rock, but it'll grab you by the ears and make you listen anyway."

It doesn't seem to her out of place that someone would suggest buying a piece of music. Jane hands Ali a black and white photo as the two walk and she nods. "I might do that. My copy might be scratched." Yes, that's right, Doctor Forrest has it already. She gots lotsa music, in fact. And her mind segues a bit. "Isn't that also the title of some series starting on Showtime this fall, with David Duchovny? Think I read about it somewhere. Hopefully they won't run into copyright issues. Surely a large company would get all that cleared up first." The other part, well, she doesn't have a single yet, but the get a chance bit perhaps mean she'll buy her own music when it's available in that form. Unless some other musician sharing her name does.

Elle is out on the living room sofa, as the other two come out. She looks back over her shoulder. "Hey, you two. How're you doing?" Electroblonde smiles back at them.

Ali offers Elle a wave of the photo, giving Jane a /really/ suspicious look. "Uh. Jane? You told me to review an album. You know, throw something out there. You /that/ big a fan of RHCP really? 'cause if it's just scratched, I can get you another one." Apparently, this takes precidence. Abrupt precidence.

"They stand out above most," Jane answers, heading over toward the cds. "But they aren't among my influences like Benatar or Heart." And the recollection of something has her a bit insulted. "What do you mean, I'm not rock? You know better than that, you've heard me playing." Under her breath she mutters "woman poisons the air with George Michael and says I don't rock? Hmmph."

Elle just looks lost. Elle is not one with the musical influences, and doesn't recognize half the names. She stands, and starts off towards the kitchen.
McAlister points out, "Yeah, but why do you want to buy a copy if you've already got one?" Apparently, we're sorting through possibilities, here, the woman heading for the kitchen counter and a leany-spot. "And George has his good points. It's bubblegum, you know?"

"No, I don't know any good points about him," she answers. "What's good about bubblegum?" Serious musician here. One who channels angst into her works often enough. "Why buy another when I already have it? Because it's good and doesn't play so well anymore." Having entered the main room and separated from the kitchen bound Ali, Jane goes through the discs and finds the one mentioned, pulling the case out to set on top. "Hey, Elle," she offers. "We didn't hear you come in."

Elle looks to both, and seems amused. "Because I've been here most of the day. So I just came in out of my room." She takes something out of the fridge; puts it in a pan. Yes, be afraid. Elle is cooking.

"I like your job if you get to hang at home.." Ali abruptly offers, with a faint air of concentration. "Jane? You /really/ don't have ta buy that unless that's really scratched up that bad." Apparently, not yet knowing the potential for, perhaps even /explosive/, danger in the kitchen when Elle's got a pot? The DJ goes up on her tiptoes to peer across, curiously. "What are you makin'?"

Elle takes the pan, and puts it not on the stove, but on a glass cutting board. "Chicken. I'm testing." She smiles at the DJ, and lays a number of boneless breast strips in the pan.

"I wouldn't be thinking about it if I didn't like the tunes," Jane answers. The disc under discussion remains where she placed it, case closed, as she wanders toward the kitchen. Cooking. Chicken. Testing. She doesn't seem afraid of this event about to occur, however.

Ali… shrugs. Letting it pass. "Alright. If you say so - " But she leans on the counter, watching with undisguised curiosity. "Testing, huh?"

Elle nods. "Testing." She holds an open hand, palm down, over the pan, and a blue beam of lightning lances down from it, as she begins to move it over the pan.
Watching without comment, and with interest, is what the other resident does, while standing in the doorway. Jane's head tilts to one side. She's thinking of the mechanics involved, about how much current might be required and at what power level to prepare the meat without making it blackened beyond recognition. She already knows the roommate can be intensely accurate over extended time with low power, given the procedure which gave her freedom from blades.

Ali's eyes go /wide/ as she watches, curious and staring - even whistling lowly. See, /this/ is showy. Pyrotechnic. And it seems it's the sort of thing that mesmerizes a Jersey blonde.

She does lean over to Jane - "She done this before?"

Elle shakes her head. "Not for something like trying to cook dinner." She overheard it. "More a thought that I could, since people get cooked when you zap them." She has, indeed, started with a low power, and is raising, testing.

Still watching for the most part, Jane crosses the kitchen and pulls open the appropriate drawer to produce from inside it a meat thermometer. "The target is 180 degrees internal heat when done," she remarks, getting close enough to hand the tool over but not so close as to be affected by either heat or juices from the meat.
"And not frying the counter." Ali supplies helpfully - "Or me." Still, she watches, grinning. "That's.. really impressive. And blue."

Elle stops the beam, and chuckles. "That's just voltage, mostly. The impressive part is control." She inverts her palm, and makes one of her little lightning balls, and then starts "rolling" it over her palm and arm.

When the beam is stopped, Jane sticks the thermometer into the meat and lets it stand there to detect the internal temperature, then steps away so Elle can check it when ready. She's now watching the display of lightning being rolled around over skin. Oddly, perhaps, she isn't very reactive. There's a sense of having seen it before about her.

Ali? Ali's /enthralled/. Absolutely so - laughing delightedly - "That's - see, now I wish I could do something /interesting/. That's truly neat - how do you do it? I mean - is it just.. " She's at a loss. BUt! It's a valid question, perhaps.

Elle has it undercooked so far. She does look at it, and considers. "Hmm….need a little more voltage. And…I can't really explain it, Ali. Just…long practice. I can feel it in my head, and by pushing it certain ways, it does what I want."

Standing back again, Jane's returned to observation, and in doing so taking counsel of her own thoughts. An experiment comes to mind, about the cooking powers of ultrasound. A quiet smile forms as part of this inward journey. She's read here and there that microwaves work by causing vibrations which makes the food cook, the questions are what pitch it would require, the duration, and her own vocal stamina. That's a factor she hasn't tested yet. How long she can keep the high frequency going before crashing into laryngitis.

"That's the thing, though - " A soft, and curious question - Ali asking, "How is it you don't just shock everybody you touch?"

Elle considers. "You learn to hold it in. I still leak electricity some times, when I'm very agitated. I try hard not to get that agitated. But they spent 12 years teaching me control, Ali. Most people don't have my level of skill."

Her eyes move from one to the other and to the meat in a cycle, when they speak in turn and in the silences between. Jane's still adrift in her contemplation, partly, while also listening.

With an odd expression, Ali points out - "Control's good. I wish I had it." It's lame, sure, but she asks, then, soft and serious. "Ever been on a roller coaster?"
Elle answers "Once. Just recently." She starts the beam back up, returning to cooking. "Once they let me out of the box." Her earlier story, referred to.

Out of the box. Her ponderance of limitiations swerves onto a tangent, diverted into memories and not memories. Of how that coincides with a time Jane doesn't remember, and moving onto what she does remember. Being here alone and shaking so badly she couldn't even play, yet somehow getting through. Without much thinking of it, she's meandered over to pull out a glass, open a partly full wine bottle, and fill that glass. Once full she sips from it slowly.

Ali's jaw sets. "Yeah." And then? A grin. "I have an /idea/." She glances to Jane, then back - asking /very/ carefully, "I am /seriously/ in the mood for bumper cars, a hot dog, and cotton candy. You have a car, right? It's late enough and wet enough we could make Coney Island."

The blonde looks surprised, and shuts off her beam. "I have an SUV. I could drive us down there, I guess." She hadn't really ever considered just going somewhere like this.

Taking a slow sip of the wine, she starts to emerge from that mental path. Jane's attention rests on the chicken again, and she comes over to check the temperature now, wondering how close to done it is.

Temperature actually shows done now. Cooked via lightning.

"So.. do you want to?" Ali's grin widens - it's worth noting she's not offering any suggestions either way - likely out of caution - but she definitely almost-bounces. Eager. "I think it might be a lot of fun. And I could really use a hot dog."

After seeing the targeted temperature verified, Jane studies the visual appearance of this meat, and goes to grab both a fork and a plate for setting some of it on. She quite likely intends to perform a taste test. "Coney Island," she muses. "I've played out there a time or three. Brought in decent money from the tourists and such. But not quite like playing near Wall Street."

Elle chuckles. "I think it would be fun. We should go." she says, making her own decision on the matter. The meat is cooked, but bland; Elle didn't season them. This was more a test of cooking method than flavor.

And Ali's bounding back toward the couch, snagging her bag (the smaller of the two) and grinning rather like a loon. "Rock! And a turn on the ferris wheel sounds like a plan, too. I suck at the games, though. Always have."

She waits a short moment or six, letting the meat cool a bit on the plate, then when she feels it safe takes a small bite of the electrocooked bird. Into Jane's mouth it goes, she chews slowly to get a full sense of how it turned out, and gives her review after swallowing. "Not bad. Chicken generally needs something on it, though. Ketchup will do for this, do nicely." She gets out some foil to cover the rest and places it in the fridge, since Coney Island is being plotted.

Elle laughs. "I wasn't cooking it with intent to eat it. Especially not when it could have ended up burnt, easily. We'll get something when we get to the park."
"Dogs and beer." Ali bounds on for the door. "Seriously - the best part of getting older is beer. That, and having neater toys and an excuse to play with kids' stuff, too." She looks back. "C'…" and she stops herself, laughing, instead stating a simple fact. "You two are /slow/."

"True," she acknowledges, "but it worked, the meat is edible, and so I'll eat it later." Jane finishes storing the experimental results and moves toward the main room, going after her guitar. She isn't in lawyer garb and is headed out, thus she must have the instrument. To be without that, it would seem, is to practically be naked.

Elle smiles. "I'm coming, I'm coming." She walks over, picking up her keys, and then looking over. "Ready when you two are."

"Born ready." Ali nods, still up by the door. "What's first? Dogs or Bumper cars? I warn you guys - I'm the /queen/ of vicious bumpering. S' probably why I never got my licence. Pop was terrified I'd use bumpers for what they were intended for."

Without stating an opinion of which should be first, Jane steps out once she has her guitar in case and over shoulder. Maybe she's even plotting something.
Elle heads out. "I've never done bumper cars. So food?" she suggests. Beep-boop. The car unlocks, as the blonde moves around to the driver's seat.

"Oh, nonono. We gotta.." Ali stops, rolls her eyes, tries again. "If you haven't done it, that's got precidence, right? SO that's my vote." Backseat, scooting to the middle, leaning forward to grin between both women.

Sitting shotgun, and armed with guitar, Doctor Forrest sets her eyes ahead. A quiet smile is showing, she's perhaps planning something, or concealing a secret regarding this excursion.

Elle drives the trio off to Coney Island, getting direction tips from Ali as she goes. It's a weekend, so it's pretty busy, but she doesn't seem to mind, as she parks and gets out.

Ever seen a six year old go to disney? Ali's bolting from the SUV is like that, but with the promise of more beer and with a lot more /style/. Sort of. She doesn't trip, anyway. "No sense waiting, right?" She waves them on, laughing, without /saying/ 'c'mon', but the sentiment's there. She seems to be setting a course based on the famous ferris wheel, and she /babbles on/, happily. "We're going to have to try the baseball throw, right? I suck, but there's this bear I've drooled over for a year now, and I keep trying. I think Eric's workin' the funhouse, too. I'll have ta introduce you."

Elle gets out herself. She's got an excitement about her, but also a little bit of hesitation…nervousness. "We tried the baseball throw when we went to the park, Peter and I. We won stuffed animals." Peter cheated. She didn't.

And the guitar wielder? She's laughing. Bumper cars were mentioned, and so off in that direction Jane is headed. A plot has formed in her mind, to perhaps unveil her driving prowess which neither of them perhaps knows she has, given she doesn't drive in New York, and her car is kept stashed somewhere outside the city. Unawareness seems to exist that Ali's adopted another course.

Ali gets a bit of distance before she realizes she's mostly /alone/. AUGH! But!

She turns, and jogs back, laughing, "Hey! Wai.." And she stops herself again. "Damnit!" But it's good natured, and she works to catch up. "Lucky. I can't win /anything/. I think I blew a week's salary at the ringtoss once, and they didn't even take /pity/ on me. Unfair!"

Elle grins a little at Ali. "You realize, it would be really easy to get prizes now if you wanted them." Unlike some, she has no problem with someone using their powers.

It's a steady track to the bumper cars, although she soon enough realizes the distance opening behind her and slows the pace to permit catching up. Jane lets her eyes wander just a bit, but ultimately remains undistracted from her destination. Once it's reached she pays whatever is required and goes for a vehicle, waiting there for events to commence.

Hey, Ali unashamedly shells out for at ticket in her turn, of course. But she grins at Elle anyway - "Nah. They gotta make a living, too. And just because I am /seriously/ the fail doesn't mean that I don't have fun trying. Besides, if I ever end up finding THE ONE.." She rolls her eyes. "He can win something for me and feel all manly. And it'll be a Special Moment or something."

Elle nods. "I'm surprised you don't have a boyfriend, honestly." Since A) Ali is pretty, and B) her power. Elle pays too as she goes in, and lets Ali take point to whereever she's leading them.

When a full group is aboard and in cars, things start up. Jane sets out with her eyes on target number one, being that vehicle which is closer to her, and has better than average mastery of the machine. Soon she's pulling up right behind some twenty-something guy with dark hair, rear-ending his car, and pulling back to go after another target. Her enjoyment is unmistakable. Seconds later someone is taking aim on her, and she manages to avoid the attempt, making a move at the last second which causes the attempter to impact someone else broadside.

Ali's picked a blue thing that's seen better days - and her own driving is to simply dive merrily into the scrum, putting a foot to the floor and careening from bump to bump. But - before she even headed to that car, she grins at Elle, wryly. "Night shift. And no frat boys. Limits options, you know?" And then, mischeviously, "You're goin' /down/."

So it is that as things get started? She /is/ keeping track of the electroblonde. Ayup. PLOTTING.

Elle looks a little uncertain. "We're…okay…" She gets into the bumper car, and she starts driving around, but she seems to mostly be participating by trying to -avoid- getting hit. Cause that's what you do when you're driving, right?

Coming around, after the one who aimed at her was caused to blow by, Jane picks out another target and goes after it, while working to avoid another taking aim at her. This second one isn't so well escaped and the impact puts her a bit off her goal, but it's recovered and approached. Some blue thing that's seen better days, driven by another woman.

And that blue thing? It's zeroing in on Elle. And Ali's even calling over, laughing as she's battered to the side.. "Chicken!" It's all in fun, though. "Yellow! Running like that.." She's merrily oblivious to Jane, in fact.

Elle isn't taunted too easily, but since Ali's coming for her anyway, Elle swings hers about. And…hmm. These things work on electricity that they yank off the ceiling. She gives her bumper car a little extra, which it translates into a sudden boost of speed. Knight Rider, eat your heart out.

It might even turn out to be an Ali sandwich, as the midnight black thing she's operating continues on its course. Jane is aiming for the side of her battered blue car. She makes a hand gesture toward Elle, hoping there's time for the blonde to adjust and join her in this goal, of both impacting at the same time on opposite sides.

Uh-oh. Yeah. Burst of speed? Jane assault?

That there's criminal teamin', it is! Too bad there's no penalties in bumper-cars for making an Ali-sandwich. But she sure isn't getting out of the way. NOt that it seems she was trying to anyway, given that wide grin and foot-to-the-floor mentality.

Sure enough. Elle sees Jane, and it's roommate tag-team carnage, as she plows into the left side of Ali's car.

Thump! A sound from the right, matching the cushioned tone of that impact from Elle, as Jane connects with the target. Quickly afterward she's backing up and seeking to move in for another strike. This is delayed by having to dodge one operated by a sixteen year old guy and another from his apparent girlfriend which only partly succeeds. One of the pair make contact and she goes a bit sideways, losing some seconds in recovering so she can seek to line up on her own target again.
Ali is definitely jostled about by double-tagging - "Hey!" But a quick right, and punch of the 'gas' and she's doing her best to round on Elle, still grinning like a loon. "Cheating! I /knew/ you had an Evil Plot handy!"

Elle grins. "I'm not cheating!" She lies, too. She's still feeding her car a little extra juice, so it's moving faster than normal. She swerves, trying to throw Ali off her trail.

With Ali preoccupied by a blonde dynamo, Jane is soon able to regain the path toward her target. Here it comes again, heading straight for one side, intending to make contact and send Ali into a minor spin. But this first requires avoiding some orange thing piloted by a forty-something guy from North Carolina who fancies himself a NASCAR driver out to trade paint at the Charlotte Speedway.

No, Ali's not catching up. SHe /is/, though, making motor noises as though it might help. She smacks into one eight year old who's up too late, and spins the wheel, looking to cut across right through the thickest part.

Like sharks, a couple of kids are lining up on Elle in the bargain. See, having the Fastest Car? They're gonna make her pay. Oh, yes /indeedy/.

Jane picks up Ali's faded blue instrument of carnage and does set it spinning… but now they're in the middle, live targets for /everybody/.

Elle is busy paying attention to Ali, and so she's NOT looking at the other two kids. And *WHAM*, plowed by both. The car comes to an abrupt stop, as Elle's flung a bit forward, hair flying from the sudden stop. She looks up, and looks pissed. Let's hope she doesn't fry the kiddies.

Not noticing this, being busy with the cars angling at her once she's spotted in the center. Doc Forrest finds herself having to put the pedal down and get moving forward or be triple-speared by the pair of teens and the forty-something guy from NC. Onward she bolts, missing two but being struck by the third and sent spinning. By some stroke of luck, perhaps, she cuts across the path of one of those kidsharks which got Elle and sends him spinning into the center, where she used to be.

Where /Ali/ gets him. HA! SO THERE! and the swirl and press shows that everybody's a victim, the barker calling a one minute warning and everyone trying to get their few solid hits in. Other than one poor young lady who seems a bit startled to be stuck in the corner? The entire mass of folks is grinning, laughing, with good-natured taunts flying.

Elle's momentary thoughts of vengeance are wiped clean by friend and roommate getting revenge for her. She takes off after Jane. She's starting to get into this now.

That's one she doesn't expect. Her car is brought around to target one of the sixteen year old pair and Jane approaches it, not spotting Elle coming at her from the other side. Suddenly, just as Elle is about to score her strike, here comes the sixteen year old girlfriend, running interference for her athletic jacketed guy. Thump!

At the moment? Ali's caught between an overweight brookynite and a crazy italian lady with hair dyed precisely the wrong shade of red. Apparently, there's a conspiracy to keep DJ's from rolling - but there /is/ a called-over bit of conversation that gets heavily garbled at any range by the general noise, "… take her… right side!" Uh oh. She's pointing over at Elle, she is.

Elle is not expecting the ambush. Her eyes widen as she sees the two coming at her. She manages to speed up, and avoid one, but get caught by the other on the rear of her car, spinning her half around. It's off after Ali again, as she heads off for a head-on collision.

Saved, it would seem, by the pair which targeted Elle, and Jane is thus not struck. She scans the field quickly, picking out a target, and goes for it. Yes, it's the battered blue Alimobile. Again. Her foot presses down as far as it can, as she knows time is running short. Maybe, just maybe, she can pull off striking both cars with hers when they meet head on and score a two in one.

And there, at the end, as the buzzer sounds? Ali's WHAMMED. First from the front, then, laughing, from the side by Jane. And so, as the power to the cars is cut and people start piling out? The DJ smiles warmly … no, that's still a grin.. at both of the women there, "Dangit! Almost had you, too.." A theatric sigh. "Next time? Owned. Both of you. I will /have my vengeance/."

Elle grins a bit. She gets out of the bumper car, and nods. "I like that. It was fun." Of course it was. Violence against others? That's always good.

Climbing from her own, she grabs the guitar case and re-slings it over her shoulder. Jane's snickering as she alights from the platform, and perhaps looking for a safe place to set up. She is who she is, and even at Coney Island after a bumper car session she's at least partly thinking musicality. What might it be, if she does make use of the axe? Probably energetic metal, songs with exuberance in them. Rocking fun tunes. Songs about cars and freedom. "And you two probably never thought I had the first clue how to drive."

"I don't. I admit it. I can stand on the button and go - " Ali points that out as she follows Jane through the exit and down. "ANd now that I know you've got mad bumper car skills? I won't be caught off guard /again/." She grins, and pauses to try to lean in and nudge Elle. "Next time you team up with me, right? We'll take her."

Elle smiles. "Hey, I hadn't even done it before. But it's mostly just running into people. That usually doesn't take driving skills, it takes a -lack- of driving skills." she quips. She looks back at them. "Food now?"

"I think it's both, actually," Jane remarks. "The idea being to stay in control and do the hitting means we avoid as much as aim at others." Her grin is spreading, even as desire for food sets in. "That sounds like the next in line, yes." Then, with her guitar still in the case and over shoulder, her voice is into singing mode at mezzo-soprano pitch and stage volume. "My uncle has a country place, that no one knows about. He says it used to be a farm…"

Ali rolls her eyes. "All I know is that it's more fun when you get stuck in." She points up the boardwalk. "Dogs and cokes. Best in new york, 'cept for that vendor outside the Met. Beer's a little farther, though."

Elle looks over. "Well, this is my first time here. So I'll follow your lead. Though I'm a fan of closer rather than farther." Since she, like always, opted for heels when they went out.

She perhaps isn't so much worried about beer. That, after all, can be had after eating. Food is nearby, and this is what Jane is aiming for enjoy first. Foooooood.
"I thought you said you did the coaster, here?" Ali offers that curiously to Elle, leading the way - and no, it's not far - in the direction of a hot-dog cart and a burly greek fellow running it. "'cause you know this one's great. It's a wooden thing - there aren't many left, and that's just different."

Elle considers. "Maybe it was here? Peter was driving, and he was trying to surprise me. If so, it was another part of the park." Since they're down by food at the moment. But she heads on with them towards the hot-dog stand.

Once she gets there, with the others, Jane sets about the getting of food. Her taste, it seems, is for large dogs. Half-smoked sausages, in fact, minus the relish. Her thing is apparently ketchup and mustard only, with fries to join the meat and Pepsi. Not Coke.

Ali hangs back, letting Elle order before her. "Yeah? It is - it's a good walk, too - " She points. "Past the ferris wheel and over by the video place." And.. oddly, she feels the need to explain, seems-like. "My first job was here - walking around in one of the costumes and sweating all summer. It was fun, in a strange way."

Elle orders one of her own hot dogs. She goes in with ketchup and mustard, just like Jane, whether that be imitation or coincidence. "It seems like it would be a nice place to work. Good place. Full of fun?"

"It is a good place to work," Jane replies with a widening smile as food is placed into her hands, and the cold liquid too. "Not in the way Ali did, but with all the tourists coming to check out the famous Coney Island, and the locals too for that matter, it can be a prime place to play. They're not opposed to throwing bills in the case, and there's lots of people when the season is right."

"Yeah? I wish I played instead of spun disks. Who knows? Maybe one day - but yeah, for me, it was a lot of fun. I sweated and bitched about the managers and came in late like everybody else.. but it really was fun." Ali asks for.. and gets.. just a pepsi. "Thanks."

Elle grins a little as she looks from one to another. "I'll bet Jane could teach you how to play. I've learned a little singing stuff from her." She looks over and heads for one of the tables. "This is a nice night." she decides.

"It is," she asserts in agreement with the Electric One. Once Jane reaches a table she sits and lifts her cup. It's not alcohol, but then it doesn't have to be. "To agressive fun and nice nights." Yes, the offering is in the style of toasting.

McAlister raises her own cup. "To friends." And she adds that to it, with a grin, looking across to Elle.

Elle laughs. "To making up for missed times." She lifts her own, and toasts with them.

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