2007-08-19: DF: No More Heroes


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Summary: Like oil and water. Or maybe more violent… Like vinegar and baking soda?

Dark Future Date: August 19, 2009

No More Heroes

Rooftop, Deveaux Building

It certainly isn't a chilly August afternoon in New York City by any means, but that doesn't stop the blonde woman standing atop the roof of the Deveaux Building from wearing an ankle-length brown leather trench coat. A gust of wind catches the tails of the coat, causing it to billow around her for a moment. "Stop that," Kate mutters at the wind. "You make it look like a comic book." She stands now on the ledge, walking it like a balance beam. She looks out over the ruined landscape of her beloved city and shakes her head.

"And there are no more heroes in New York."

Maybe that's true. Maybe it's not. Either way, it isn't up to Trina Mah to confirm or deny. Rather, she's simply here to make Jack's rendez-vous. With his latest stunt, Derex had made damned certain that it was entirely unsafe for Saints to be above-ground. In the end, after much arguing and the mechanic being outlandishly stubborn about it, she finally got him to agree to her wishes. She would go. He couldn't risk it. Elena couldn't risk it. That left her. The one who vehemently denied that she was connected at all to the Saints. Ah, sweet irony.

Black combat boots crunching over the terrain of the roof, the black haired woman in her comedically large black sunglasses, black jeans, and a black leather jacket makes her appearance. The wind tousles her wavy hair along her back and across her cheeks, drawing only that more attention to her stoic, rosy lips. No need to speak first. She'll let Kate do that.

Once Kate catches sight of Trina, she smiles. Albeit faintly. She makes the short hop from ledge to rooftop and approaches slowly. She stops several paces away, though. One never knows what Miss Mah might have up her sleeve. "I can't say I honestly expected Jack to come himself, but I must admit that I didn't expect that it would be you who would come." She tilts her head to one side, regarding the Saint with a stoic sort of expression. It doesn't last. "Is Nathan still alive?" The fear stays out of the lines of her face, but shows in her eyes.

Trina doesn't smile back, and she doesn't move from her place. She just keeps her hands in her pockets. She doesn't want to be here. "None of your business," she offers simply with an upward flick of her eyebrows. Her tone is curt, bordering on snappish. "Ain't why I'm here. I'm only here to tell you that if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I will kill you myself."

"I didn't give nobody away," Kate insists. "I only used a code Jack and I agreed on. I never named names. You have my family." She presses her lips together and takes in a slow, deep breath. "Now, I'm willing to play by the rules of the game. Cyprus Donovan himself interrogated me on the whereabouts of my beloved brother-in-law, and I didn't give him enough to find you. I watched what Jack did to him and I didn't bring the entirety of Homeland Security down upon your heads as a matter of professional courtesy. But you are fuckin' with my family now, Miss Mah. I don't give a shit that he's the president. I don't give a shit that you and I have been fighting for the same things with different factions. You have no idea what you've done. That man that we all despise isn't Nathan. Nathan's only a prisoner in his body. What you are doing isn't accomplishing a damn thing! What you are doing is wrong."

At that, Trina just smiles. "Yeah. We know about your little Logan. And guess what, sugar? Still don't care." The smile fades quickly away as she crosses her arms and then sighs. It's not a weary sigh. It's the one that speaks of a temper she's attempting to cool. "Let me explain this to you one more time, and I am goin' to be very clear. You are to no longer attempt any contact with the Shepherd. We are hereby severing all contact. He will not be answering any more of your little calls. He will not be your 'Battle Buddy' — and, yeah, I know about that. And, so help me God, if I ever hear you utter the name 'Harvey' one more time over public airwaves, you're gonna learn a little bit more about how I, personally, feel about your 'professionalism'. I will end you." Her eyes narrow behind those glasses, dangerous slits invisible behind the plastic. "Are there any questions?"

"Just one." Kate's eyes narrow in a mirror of Trina's own expression. She doesn't care what the other woman knows about her and Jack. Though the confession that she's aware of Logan's existence does surprise her some. And then again, not so much. When things came down to it, Logan was only too eager to gloat. To explain who he was and to proclaim Nathan weak. But none of that matters. She does have her one question… "Would you prefer cremation or burial? Because if Nathan doesn't come back to me alive, Peter won't be able to stop me from taking you all apart, piece by piece."

Trina does not move. Instead? She smiles again. It's a horrible, caustic, smirking sort of smile. "Yeah? Shoulda figured you'd'a picked up a couple tricks from your husband."

"I'm surprised. Jack's always seemed far too good for a woman like you." Kate folds her arms over her chest, shaking faintly. "Did his balls drop off? Does he have to hide behind your skirts now, leaving you to snipe? Jack's a better man than this. Your behaviour does him a grave disservice."

"Thank you." Anything Kate has to say to her, Trina's heard worse. Nothin' in the world like havin' your only kin call you a worthless whore. Wind blows, hair shifts, eyes bore into Kate as though they were drills. "Jack ain't hidin'. I'm protectin' him. You don't like it? I. Don't. Care. You just fuckin' stay away from him."

"As long as I get Nathan back, you and I won't have any issues. You and him stay the fuck away from my family, and I'll be more than happy to stay the fuck away from yours." Kate takes a step back. A step toward pacing furiously, but she stops herself. "Jack used to be a decent man." The blonde shakes her head, hair blowing about her face. She turns her back on Trina and heads back toward the ledge. For all their animosity, she trusts the Saint not to simply throw her from the roof.

She won't throw Kate off the roof. But neither will Trina just sit there and let her defile her beau's good name, either. She immediately races forward to catch up, right gloved hand balled up into an angry fist. A hand moves to spin Kate around if she can, a fist going for the other woman's face if she's able. She'll, in the end, take whatever she can get. "You say whatever shit you want about me, but you leave him the fuck out of this."

Kate may have expected the blow, or maybe she didn't. Either way, the fist catches her in the face and she staggers back against the ledge. "I'm done here." There may have been a faint smirk, or it could have been a grimace. Her cheek is already starting to develop a blossoming purple bruise.

"Good." Trina doesn't smile. There's no mirth or pride. The principle of the matter comes far above such minor things. The most important thing is that this woman stays the hell away from Jack Derex. She's a threat. Untrustworthy. Dangerous. "Make sure it stays that way." And with that, she turns to leave.

Kate watches the Saint depart, hands shoved in her pockets. Once she's out of sight, she growls, "If I'm 'The Bitch,' what does that make you?" She turns back out to the city. She pulls a cellphone out of her pocket and punches one of the speed dial numbers. When the other end is picked up, her voice is lowered, frosty. "Negotiations failed. We do things your way."

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