2007-08-01: Dark Angel To Candyman

Starring:

DFTrina_icon.gif Eric_icon.gif DFUnknown_icon.gif

Guest Starring:

DFElena_icon.gif

Summary: Elena finally makes contact after time out on her solo mission.

Dark Future Date: August 1, 2009

Dark Angel to Candyman


Dark Future - NYC - Weischel Carcass House

When the city was devastated by freakish weather Weichsel was one of only two carcass houses left in the Meatpacking District. Though the building is mostly untouched, much of this portion of the city was rendered uninhabitable. No one is in a hurry to reclaim it.
This area was previously used for loading and unloading Weichsel trucks. The concrete floor is heavily stained with both motor oil and blood in decades-old layers that overlap to form a sickly shade of brown. There are rollaway toolboxes and trays of several sizes snugged against one wall. Two large bay doors lead to the street, and both metal stairs and concrete ramps lead upward into the rest of the establishment.

There's the quiet roar of an engine as a small truck, a 14 foot GMC number painted an unobtrusive white, pulls up to one of the bay doors. In the driver's seat, a figure wearing thick black sunglasses and a black crotchet applejack cap ducks down for a moment to press a few buttons set in the back of the glove box. When the door opens, the truck then easily makes its way inside and the door immediately closes behind it.

The driver, with both slender hands still clinging to the steering wheel with a tight grip only made more secure by the use of well-fitting and well-worn black leather gloves, then proceeds to cut the engine and slump forward, resting her forehead on that wheel. For a moment, the driver just looks like a puffy mound of fluff with her big puffy coat and scarf only further obscuring her form. There's a huge sigh that her chest heaves, and then Trina moves to wrestle the old door open. No time to waste with just sittin'.

In the emergency comm station set up inside "Jack's Sanctuary," a familiar voice can be heard patching through…

"Candyman, this is Dark Angel, can you read? Candyman, this is Dark Angel…I don't have a lot of time."

The same transmission repeats.

Hiss the door opens and light floods into the interior of the building for a moment, Trina would see a figure sitting at a ruined desk in the inside of the building. Eric Lancaster seems to like the place, even though he's trying to convince the little group of Saints to move into nicer digs. Its still nice to get away from everything after awhile. Wearing tailored to fit black jeans, great t-shirt and a denim jacket of some kind the young man looks perfectly at home in that as he did in the Armani business suit from last night.

On the table in front of him lie the parts to some kind of pistol, and a second one is held loosely in one of his hands as he cleans the weapon with a dark rag. A second submachine gun sits off to the side, waiting to be cleaned. The light from the door opening shines across his face for a moment, making the scars there stand out. Setting the gun down he stands quickly before crossing towards the returning truck and helping Trina with the door.

Opening his mouth to say hello, he blinks slightly at the sudden transmission from the com station he steps out of the way to let Trina though. "…I take it that's important."

Taking off her sunglasses so that she can see in the dark warehouse, Trina smiles and gladly takes the assistance. While Eric handles the door handle and pulling, there is a black boot that kicks at it from the inside. Let go. Let. Go. LET G— Finally, under the two's efforts, the ancient truck door gives up its death hold on the locking mechanism and it allows her to slip out of the truck and onto the packing floor proper. She's about to properly greet Eric… but.

When the transmission starts going off, Jack's not there to receive it. But Trina does hear the small buzz of the signal overhead indicating that someone's sending something in. "That's important," she agrees. She quickly begins racing towards the office where Jack's equipment stands waiting. It's a couple of minutes, but eventually the young woman gets there, throwing herself into the seat and flicking the switches to get things fired up properly to send back. Soon enough, she has a headset set to her ear. "Dark Angel, we read. Verify." C'mon, babe. Give me the passphrase. Be our girl.

"Dark Angel password verify. Bless me father for I have sinned, it's been eight days since my last confession." It had been eight days since she last saw any of them. Knowing it was going to go through, the feminine voice continues. "I've been made. Need extraction, but not right away - within three days time. Transmitting coordinates now. Have the mobile base ready and moving along the rally point. It's hairy. Homeland Security. Does Dark Knight still have access to homing rocket launchers?"

Prime's Directive: Listen. He's here… lurking in the shadows with his hood up. Nothing to really say or do, except listen in. He's not exactly in a position to be doing something that could be labeled as, well, useful. He's been more of an observer since things have become dark. And what not. There are too many things that need to be done to talk to people. His ears perk up at the sound of his codename and he steps out of the limited darkness. He just raises a hand to show off the thumbs up. Homing rocket launchers are go.

"Candyman ain't here, Dark Angel." Trina's face is a picture of grim determination as she goes about operating the board. This tech stuff is the sort of thing that her nightmares were made of two years ago. Indeed, things do change. The sudden awareness that Prime is in the room and is giving her the confirmation that she needs, Trina offers him a pale ghost of a smile and then goes back to her very time-sensitive work of making sure that everything is prepped to receive the coordinates in the bulky stream of code generated by Gene's wizardry. They'll likely only get one shot at this.

"S'Greaseball. 'm sorry. But we're receivin' the coordinates and we got the goods." Her eyes widen under the stress of watching the piece of tech making this all possible, making sure that there's no warning sign of something that she's gonna miss that could ruin this. "Just hold out a few more seconds for me, sweetness, if you can. You're doin' great. Real proud of you, girl."

Eric knows that voice, his arms cross over his chest and his eyes narrow slightly. A glance over his shoulder towards Prime and he nods. "Looks like a green light on the launchers." He murmurs towards Trina. Though the frowny face stays in place. Three days till extraction. So much can go wrong in three days, and he hasn't even gotten to say hello yet. "…tell her Scrooge McDuck sends his best wishes too." He adds with a wry smirk towards the driver. Then he falls silent to just listen.

Trina casts an odd look to Eric and then slowly drawls into the microphone without taking her eyes off of him. Not for a few moments anyway. "And Scrooge McDuck here seems to be off'rin' his best wishes." What kinda codename is that? Weirdo.

"Transmitting." The coordinates filter in through code of Gene's devise…he can probably retranslate it to give them what they need. As well as a meeting time at the rally point: 3 am. The supposed time Christ died. "Tell Scrooge welcome back and Dark Knight a kiss for me. I'll be home soon, Greaseball, I promise. Tell Candyman Angel's still flying — I just need a lil' bit of help landing this time around."

With that, the other line goes dead.

Prime's done his duty for the day, by giving a thumbs up. Which means that he's going to be fading back into the shadows now, since there's no reason to actually hang around too much. Nothing to say, anyway. He's just busy with the whole not trying to look worried about what he's heard. He doesn't like this whole 'Elena Being On Her Own' thing. Not one bit. Frown.

As the transmission terminates and the coordinates start printing for delivery to Gene, Trina slowly removes her headset and sets it down. The frown is very deeply etched on her face, made ever deeper by the fine wrinkles that have started to carve into her cheeks, as she lowers her head and holds it there for a moment.

She lingers, but soon there's a sharp inhalation as the mechanic collects herself. Right, then. Wordlessly, she takes the page from the printer, folds it up, and unzips her coat so that she can slip the small packet of hope into the safety of her bra. That done, she just offers a tiny glimmer of a smile to the two men present and begins to make her way back down the hall to the main bay where the decrepit truck awaits.


He hasn't been around, so its not Eric's place to disapprove of sending people off on dangerous solo missions. He /wants/ to snap at someone he does, and its a good thing Ramon wasn't here. Else there might have been yelling. Finally though he sighs and shakes his head, viciously raking one hand through his hair. "…remind me not to schedule any business meetings with Ramon until Elena is back." He says with a wry twisting little smile. Very hard to hold thoughts back from a telepath. Especially when your as worried about it as Eric is, though he does his best not to let on to it.

Blowing out a sigh the young man shakes his head once again. "And hello Prime," He says by way a greeting, a smile towards the other young man before glancing back at Trina. "…well…since my original reason to come by is now answered…is there anything else you need a hand with?"

"You could take out the trash." Prime's no longer in the shadows of lurkdom and has managed to get himself back out there with everyone else. He might as well, at least, pretend to be social. He should've snagged a copy of those damn coordinates the first time, that way he could go by himselves, bust out Elena and make everything all heroic and finally get the shot he's been wanting for years. But… no. Of course not. He was too busy giving a thumbs up. "And vacuum. That's always needed."

So maybe he's not the biggest Eric fan. Big whoop.

"Weren't nobody happy about it," Trina offers as a quiet defense to the tensions running so high in the room that even the mechanic can sense 'em, even as she leaves the office. "There just wasn't any choice." Another sigh, and then she gives a glance to the re-arrived Prime and then back to Eric from the doorway. "And if you guys wanna help me unload the truck, it'll get me back to work sooner." Because there's now a very tight deadline she's working against.

"…nice to see you too after a year or so," Eric replies with a sardonic smile towards his old…friend? Rival? What is Jaden to him anymore. He isn't sure. Well at least Trina seemed happy to see him when he got back, so it can't be all bad. He shakes his head slightly though before nodding towards Trina. "…I know I know…you don't have to defend Jack. If she went it was because she was the only one that could…" Pause. "…or she just insisted. You never could turn her aside when she decided on something." He nods though as he pulls his hands from his pockets and walks towards the truck. "Sure though, I can help."

"We've…" "Got it…" "Covered." Prime en masse (okay, like five of them) are already at the back of the truck doing that thing where they help with the unloading process. They all take a moment to glare up at Eric, as if they aren't happy to see him. However, considering that they haven't jumped him and beat him to nine bloody deaths? He's welcome. Kind of.

"There's always a choice." Prime Prime (hahaha, get it?) is already reaching onto his utility belt to pull of a couple of darts. "Shoulda' tranq'd her." For her own good, of course.

At the joke, Trina offers a hollow chuckle and an upward flick of her sculpted eyebrows. "Yeah. That would've worked. She'd have woken up and probably come at us with a chair for the trouble." Not about to let the Primes do all the work, the token estrogen for this little ensemble slips out of her coat to get down to the tight black tank top she wears with her jeans and boots, tosses the black marshmallow on the floor, and makes her way to the back of the truck and hops inside to start doing her part with her scarf still limply hanging around her neck. "Lemme give you guys a hand."

Lovely. He feels the love, and it feels like burning. Eric smirks slightly and shakes his head. "Oh no, she would have been alot more vindictive than just a chair." He replies with a slight shake of his head. That would have made her so mad. He actually smiles slightly at the thought, dropping his eyes to glance at the concreate under his feet for a moment as he remembers, then a shake of his head brings him right back to reality. What is wrong with him dammitall. He still is worried about her. What right does he have to be worried about her. Deciding to vent his fustration with honest work for a change the young rich boy steps forwards. "…well you can always use one more pair of hands, it'll get it done faster."

Prime narrows his eyes at Eric as he decides to help. The others decide that they too are going to be miffed at this whole exchange and such, so they pop out a couple more Primes to lighten the load even more. Definitely not wanting the help of a guy that decided to stay gone for so long. Not quite a traitor, just a back-turner-on-er. Or something. Prime Prime does the speaking, "She shouldn't be out there. I should go get her now. Three days is a long time."

Grabbing hold of two of the thick, rough rope handles threaded through one of the larger wooden crates, Trina begins to drag it along the floor of the truck until she can get it over to where Eric is waiting. The Primes don't want to let him help? Fine. She will. These parts and miscellaneous supplies are heavy, and it's no skin off her nose. She talks between grunts as she edges the crate towards the truck bed's edge. "Ain't no good, Prime. We pull her out too soon, s'likely it'll just get everyone killed that we're tryin' to save. We have to stick to the plan. Don't gotta like it. Just gotta do it."

A half sigh half growl escapes Eric when he gets…well…made obsolete just by force of lots of too many people in the truck. He glares for a moment at Prime and then sighs. A pause before something causes him to smile. Yeah. Thats more the greeting he expected when he arrived. Distrust, dislike, glares. He can understand that. Closing his eyes a moment he just nods once towards Trina as she drags one of the boxes over. As it gets to the edge he takes most of the weight, letting out a grunt of effort before he balances the box half on him and half on the tailgate. "…so where too?" He asks.

Though personally? He agrees with Prime. If he could, if he knew, then he would go do something about it. So…its better that he /doesn't/ know. That way he's less likely to do something stupid.

Like pretend to be dead and don't tell anyone anything until he decides to show up in a puff of darkness?

Yeah. Fail.

Primes hoist up their own goods and get to moving them to where they belong… and away from Eric. If that's even his real name. The main Prime just continues to stand where he is, making things uncomfortable by not taking his eyes off Eric. No Homo. "They can't kill 'em all. I outnumber whatever they got. Twice." Not confidence, just a complete lack of wanting Elena to be alone in the situation that she's in right now.

With a jerk of her head, Trina indicates a small spot away from the majority of the heavy bits of steel being unloaded. This little beauty's special. "Over there." She gives up one handle, but keeps hold of the other so she can help get this thing carefully to its spot. "Ain't just about her, Jaden." Yeah, she said the name out loud. She's expecting some fall out for it, too. "It's 'bout everybody she went in there to protect. She got the Shepherd on board, and that's that." Once the crate is down where it should be, Trina stoops down to inspect the crate. Then she points to a crowbar on the far wall. "Eric, can you grab that for me, please?" Back to Prime her attention goes. "I wish I could tell you to bring our girl home, Prime, but I *can't*. She's a big girl, and this was *important*. She's doin' exactly what we said was most important. She's helpin' save lives. So she stays. She stays until it's safe enough to even try to get those people out of Satan's hands." There's a very pointed look in his direction, sober and dark. "We clear?"

"Hey, you're the one sleeping with the Boss. Your call." Prime sneers a bit and has already decided it's time to turn around and get the hell out of here before more bad things happen. Or are said.

Like his name. Former name.

"We'll be Anywhere But Here if we're needed for something. Like disposal of unwanted materials." Again, the Primes glare at Eric, before they all disappear one by one, leaving metal to fall and clank to the ground. Prime's pissed now and caring not about whatever may be happening with the unloading of the truck and crates and other stupid stuff. Walking off in a huff.

Hey now. He told Elena he wasn't dead. She knew. Ramon knew….and that was about it. He thought it was better that way.

And he's been funneling money to the Saints for months! ISN'T THAT WORTH SOMETHING?!

Eric doesn't even answer answer Jaden's remark, just shaking his head slightly. He listens though to the exchange between the pair of them as he nods towards Trina. "Alright," He murmurs as he turns to walk over towards the crowbar, flipping it into his hand before strolling back towards the pair. Handing it towards Trina he watches the exchange, committing the important points to memory. "…she'll be alright," He finally says. "…she's stubborn as hell bit if she really needed help to get out of there right now, she would call and ask for it. She's smart enough for that." Shaking his head slightly he passes the crowbar off before stepping back and just watching Trina and her box of toys carefully, and trying to ignore the increasingly uncomfortable glare.

Of course. Then poof goes the Prime and Eric winces at the sudden sound of clattering and falling metal.

Pause.

"…I'll help you clean that up."

As the Primes start disappearing, Trina just sets her jaw. She will not bow down to a temper tantrum. She hasn't the time or the patience for it. "I'm sorry, but at this stage of the game, we're all fucking expendable. The rules ain't ever changed."

The crowbar is taken, but not yet used. Instead, it is lifted up into the air as she throws her hands about emphatically. "What do you want me to do? Just say 'fine'? Tell those priests and nuns that they'll be just fine in the camps? We're better than that, Prime. We're gawdamned *better* than that, and we all do our part." The frown on her face is coupled with a deep furrowing of her brow, and then she digs into her bra, pulling the piece of paper out with the wanted coordinates and holding it up in the air. "But if you don't think so, here. Take 'em. Take 'em to Gene. Get 'em translated. Go pull her out and tell the friggin' servants of God to go fuck themselves. Who knows? Maybe they'll wanna break those celibacy vows before they get stuffed into some gas chamber a few years from now."

Then there's a glance to Eric, Trina doing her best to soften the angry, disappointed look on her face to the man who's actually being helpful. "If you wanna go, I don't blame you. It's alright. I can handle this. I'm a big girl, too."

…awkward…..

Eric is up for it though! He's just looking all around while Trina just slams into his old friend. He winces slightly and then takes a looong step back to hide from the flailing crowbar. That might hurt if it connects. Not as much as Trina's words would hurt, but close.

Then she does the disappointed look too. Geeeze. If it was him there is no way he could resist that.

Eric just shakes his head though before giving Trina a slightly lopsided grin. "…yeah I know you are, but even big girls need help sometimes."

Prime stops in his walking away. Temper Tantrum of LOVE FOR ELENA. Yet, somehow, he is still in the wrong. Like usual. One of these days he'll figure out what his role is on this crazy team and then he'll… write it down or something. His head drops and there's nothing for him to say. He's got no rebuttal and he's scarcely ever been good with the arguing thing. He's just a Cain. Or was a Cain. He doesn't even know who he is anymore…

Primes start popping up all over the place in that moment. To help with the mess they created in the first place. "Sorry." "Welcome back, E." "This one's heavy." "I think I threw my back out." "Lazy ass." and other random mutterings come from the Dittos as they're used for what they exist for: Manual Labor.

Meanwhile, Ownedimus Prime disappears out of the area and off somewhere to sulk. Luckily, the floors too dirty for anyone to pick up on the tear drop that's drying in the spot where he was just standing.

As Prime sets his happy workers back to work, Trina knows him well enough to assume that their central hub has vacated. There's a sigh, and then the mechanic lets the crowbar fall to her side, the end resting on the ground. After biting on her lip, she holds out the piece of paper towards Eric with a weary smile. "I'm never gonna get back tonight." Too much to do before they make their move, and not enough time. The smile fades, back into the Look of All Seriousness, wasting few words. "This *needs* to get to Jack. No one else." Jack'll get it to Gene. They'll get the details figured out. Tell her what to do. "Can you do that?" Be honest here, because this is important.

Shaking his head slightly the young man smirks towards Trina. "…I'll talk to him later." He glances at all the Dittos moving about before he suddenly grins towards the one that welcomes him back. "…and thanks, its good to be back." He adds after a moment, then he laughs and shakes his head. "Its good to be out of the hospital." Then the serious look comes back as he reaches for the paper and plucks it from her hands. "…I'll do it." He adds with a nod towards her before turning to collect his guns. "…I'll be back later, take care of yourselves…all of you."

"Thanks. You, too." The dark haired woman with her hair all tucked up in the applejack cap tilts her head and asks one last thing. "And… tell 'im I'm sorry if you remember." Another couple of nights away from home. Whee. Sleepin' with the boss, huh? Yeah, not nearly as often as she'd like. Ain't no use complaining, though.

Her orders given, Trina moves towards the truck to help the Primes finish unloading the truck. "'m sorry," she mutters to one of them, sincerity buried in the quiet undertone. She's not sure if the words will ever reach Jaden or not. Probably not. But at least she said them. It's become her personal habit to always leave home with a clear conscience. The rationale should be obvious to anyone who has known their precarious situation. You never know if you'll get the chance to say it again.

Somewhere in the depths of Anywhere But Here, Prime wipes his eyes. "… me, too. I just want her home." Not that, well, the words can actually travel the network back to Trina, but he too, said them. He sighs and picks up the framed picture of him and Elena, both in Mickey Mouse ears and Elena's scribble on the picture that reads:

What Happens In Disneyland…

Right. Well. As soon as the truck's unloaded and the back door pulled down, Trina moves to reclaim her coat with her face now sufficiently expressionless. She'll inspect the toys and spare parts later. For now, there's other collection work to be done and the clock's ticking.

Throwing on the unseasonably bulky coat and putting her sunglasses back on her face, the young woman fights with the door to get it back open. After another few moments wrestling with the old door that betrays its layers of rust once opened, she grabs hold of the steering wheel and pulls herself up into the seat. She rolls down the window, so that she can lean out and call out one last thing to the collective known as Prime. "See you tomorrow, sugar." Then she turns on the engine, pushes the button to reopen the bay door, and immediately puts the vehicle in reverse, standing up in the seat so that she can look backwards out the window to make sure she clears the door. As soon as the hood of the vehicle is clear and that bay door is closed, the truck can be heard rumbling back off the premises. Time for round two.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License