2009-10-17: IOU



Date: October 17th, 2009


Daphne knows someone ratted her out, so she goes to check on her favorite rat. Kevin gets something new out of it, but loses, too.


Apartment Alley

Kevin is crashing on a friend's couch, well, not exactly a friend, more, someone who A) has a couch, B) is out of town for a week or so, and C) has a crappy lock. The X-Box 360 is a bonus that he is currently enjoying, while running up a truly amazing long distance bill. "No, no, come over tonight! Yeah, it's going to be a big party. Nahh, he won't mind, he's a good guy. Did I ever tell you about the time him and me boosted this ice cream truck for a Polish union buster? See, we were on 139th Street when…wait…no, that was the wrong year. That was the year Skinny Jenny O'Connor lost her pants to me in a poker game." he explains, while playing some video game where he's laser beaming people with his brain.

It's about time that crappy locks kicked Kevin right back in the butt. If she would've had to, she was certainly prepared to break her way into the appropriate address, but as things are, she needs only to move. The front door does not even have time to rattle on its loosening hinges before a streak of blurred color zooms into the apartment, through the main living area, and picks up Kevin on its way out the nearby window - which she graciously checked was open before choosing it. If Kevin has never propelled faster than full speed straight down the side of a building before, then this will surely be a new and entirely dizzying experience before he ends up standing in the back corner of an adjoining alley. In front of him, all done up in a strikingly red ensemble of coat, shirt, and pants, is Daphne. Her arms immediately find themselves crossed over her chest as she regards her new crime captive.

Back upstairs, it is game over for his laser-wielding alter-ego.

Kevin yelps. "HEY! What the hell!" He has never been zoomed out a window before, but for some reason he's not 'oh my god this can't have happened'. "Millbrook? Nobody told me you were one of those X-Men types, you scared the living crap outta me! You're not mad, are ya? Don't kill me with your superpowers, I can explain everything. I never, ever told those guys we were together, they just made that up completely." he stammers, gulping for breath. Without shoes on, he wiggles his toes on the slimy alley asphalt. Ew.

Millbrook is not amused. She tilts her head impatiently when he calls her an X-Man, and the only thing stopping those pouted lips from snapping right at him is the impression he gives that he's getting to the point. When that point, instead, turns out to be some other bizarre rumor, the speedster leans forward snappily and gives him a pointed smack to the shoulder. "Together, huh?" She accuses, appearing completely unsympathetic for him and his feet. "You better hope that's not true. The nasty men in black came for me guns a'blazing, I can only imagine how they might treat somebody supposedly all snuggly close to me."

Kevin says, "What? On the Frick job? I heard it went bad, but it wasn't me. Swear to god, nobody has even asked me anything about it! Nobody even knew the stuff was missing! I went to this bookie for one of the guys who played the horses too much and got some names. A few phone calls later I had what you asked for…" He shakes his head, holding up his hands as if to ward off the accusation. "The FBI came after you? Those guys are assholes. Did you ever hear about Special Agent McGillicuddy and the roast beef? See, there's this deli halfway between 1 Federal Plaza and the NYPD Central Precinct, and…"

"Hey!" Daphne's rallying call for him to stop talking, "Focus. I don't know if it was FBI, but it was probably government, and they knew I'd be there. So somebody knew from somebody else and if you'd like to tell me that nobody asked you about it then I'm pretty sure you know the conclusion I'll be forced to come to." She isn't particularly menacing, being all of tiny-short and with the musculature to go with it, but since he started out scared, she attempts her most menacing poise. There's a little glimmer of threatening potential behind her eyes.

Kevin nods solemnly, "Exactly. It must have been a setup from the start!" he says, as if that makes perfect logical sense and she couldn't possibly be mad at him. Who could be mad at this face? "Who vouched for the buyer? Who knew that was the night you'd go in? Or maybe since you're a superpower type someone read your mind or saw the future or something."

Daphne shifts back on her heels, stopping the menacing leaning towards him, which means she's at least considering what he says. "There is no buyer," she admits, finally, "It's mine. I kept it. So maybe you can appreciate the very narrow number of people involved here." She looks put out at the mention of powers, but not necessarily like she's shooting him down. In fact, she brings a hand up to her mouth and nibbles on a nail thoughtfully.

Kevin says, "No buyer?! What the hell, just buy the thing in the gift shop next time." He's baffled by the idea of wanting original art, and a little annoyed that it ended up like this. Be more petty next time! "Okay, so the feds. All right. They shake down the people at the museum. One of them knows he got squeezed, so he squawks. He doesn't know my real name but they might put it together, so yeah, if this is a stealing-things thing then maybe they might bother me. Do you think this is a stealing things thing?"

Daphne has no answer, just a long roll of her eyes. Gift shop, right, as if. "Nobody should have known anything," she laments, growing frustrated and giving a loose wave of her hand before pulling back into the arms crossed, in control position. "This wasn't just feds. This was full-up masked men with harsh intent. I don't think it would've made a difference if I was a nun." She pauses, digging into her mind for something pertinent to her company. "This is Stryker storms the mansion in the second movie."

Kevin replies, with perfect equanimity: "That movie blew, everyone knows only dumbshits let themselves end up in the military getting shot at." Kevin's idea of loyalty to country is AM radio and running illegal fireworks every July. He ponders the situation deeply. "So you don't even know who it is, it could be the FBI or it could be the frickin' Russians who found a container fulla SWAT stuff somewhere in Nowherezikstan." he says. "That sucks. Because if it's not a stealing-things thing, then what is it about? Do you know something they want to put the squeeze on you for?"

"Right…" Daphne says, if only because it's becoming more clear how Kevin will talk no matter what. She double-checks the alley while he's talking, but there hasn't even been a whisper of another human being since they arrived. Turns out she doesn't quite suck at scoping things out. This time. The highly annoyed look returns to Kevin, though, soon enough. "Hey, dweeb, that reference wasn't just for reference's sake. I mean, it's just like Stryker storming a known location to round up mutants because he's a big giant hater."

Kevin says, baffled, "What? Well, that doesn't make any sense, who would round up mutants in the real world, you can't make money at that, it would cost you a bundle." But he does ponder it deeply for a long moment. "If they were, where would they put you? I mean, I'm guessing it wouldn't be in the can at the 86th precinct. And not to put too frickin' fine a point on it, why wouldn't they just buy you off? Everyone knows the only thing you care about is dough, and hey, we just demonstrated you'd be a grade A kidnapper, so…"

Daphne's face freezes when he calls her out and, when she does move, she tilts it away from him slightly, biting down on whatever reaction turmoil is inside. Her fingers play harshly against her arm and she shifts her weight. But she does, actually, answer him. "Yeah, well, I guess they're kind of against the whole human-mutant collaboration. They just want us gone. Good people… bad people," she hesitates, barrels on, "They've got, like, a baby or something. Look. The point is how mightily not cool this is. So if you're not my leak, then, congratulations, you're still my source."

Kevin says, casually, "Sure, yeah, definitely." Of course he says the same thing to people who ask him to steal trucks, sell fake Rolexes or con tourists out of traveller's checks. "I'll go around and see if any of the other superpowered types have gone missing - not that I have like a confirmed list or anything, but you know, people talk, sometimes someone sees something…What should I say if someone comes to me about the Frick job? I mean, I legitimately don't know how to contact you, so I guess there's nothing I can tell them that they wouldn't already know, unless there was some fake info you wanted me to plant to see who will go chasing down what hole?"

As long as he says it. And means it to some miniscule degree. "Talking does seem to be what you're good at," Daphne says, not quite yet done implying that she could still suspect him. The point made, she chews on this next idea. "Alright, yeah. There's an address," which she gives him, "That's where we met to talk. And you used this phone number to set it up," she pulls a cell out of her messenger bag and, after a few clicks, holds the screen up to him to show. "You can do it again if they ask. Otherwise, you keep on this rumor thing."

Kevin says, "You're gonna have ta write it down for me, you kinda got me out here without a pencil. Or my wallet or phone or anything. You're lucky I had pants on at all. Or unlucky, depending on your point of view." Charming half-grin. Surely it works on someone.

"Shut it for five seconds," Daphne groans, again digging into that bag. This occasion, she wastes no time and uses those superspeedy fingers for something other than stealing for once. Seemingly instantly, the piece of paper with address, phone number, and a large frowny face is ready for him. "I know some people who can do a lot more than me. Not fun things like running up buildings. So try and stay out of trouble."

Kevin says, "Whatever, I discovered the whole thing when I had to get fifteen hundred dollars out of a guy that turned out could shoot electricity." He snags the paper, grins wider, and says, "He had ta sleep sometime." Kevin means it to be comforting and confident, and doesn't know it's the exact wrong thing to say. "See ya around, Millbrook."

Daphne long considers if she wants to before she finally gets out a, "Thanks. Maybe if you end up not being evil, I'll owe you." That is if a big 'if', highly dependent on how productive any next meetings are. That's also her only parting. He's left to fend for his shoeless self getting back up to that apartment, because she's better than gone. And, should he make it there, it probably isn't coincidence that the X-Box 360 has conspicuously been replaced by an 'IOU' card on the same paper as the address she gave him.

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