Excessive Force

June 09, 2015:

Nate Grey contacts Cable to talk about X-Men Black

Somewhere in Westchester County

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NPCs: None.

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Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

It has been a few days since Nate got told about Rose and Betsy’s dirty little project. A project he is somewhat conflicted about. He can see the need. He suspects a rather nasty mess coming in the future. But ultimately is also completely sure his place is at Rose’s side.

Three warriors do not make for a good team, though. So there has been some talk about who else would be suitable. Sure, some of the X-Men are ruthless enough. Some few have the experience in military and spy things. Havok, Magik and Gambit names have been tossed in. Even this new ‘Logan’ guy, which weirdly enough (for Nate) the X-Men barely know.

And then Nate mentioned Cable. Why Cable? Apparently Nate thinks he has the skills. And he has been around the school for longer than most of the X-Men. Old friend of Xavier or something. Right. Well, Nate definitely thinks they should talk with Cable and asked the ladies to come to a meeting with the older man. The place is a restaurant a few towns away from Salem Center. Nate has taken over a table at a corner and setup one of those ‘don’t look at here, not your business’ telepathic field so no human bothers them.

Betsy and Rose were going to be a few minutes late. They would have been on time, but Betsy had literally checked Rose at the Institute's front door and frog-marched her back to her room to change. The end result had almost resulted in a pitched battle, but compromises were made and the two of them roared south on her motorcycle, heading towards the cityscape.

Betsy had carefully wrapped her hair with a scarf before donning her helmet, hanging onto Rose's lean stomach as the two women flew south. Finding a rare parking spot a half-block from the restaurant, she'd dismounted, shaking her hair out and hanging the helmet from the handlebars. Wearing black dressy slacks and a red camisole, Betsy makes looking like a model look effortless- like she was expecting a flock of photographers to attack her at any moment. "One moment, dear," she tells Rose, flicking a comb out of nowhere and advancing on the woman, with the intention of fixing her hair and adjusting her outfit.

Rose is anti-socials epitome, and when Betsy is backing her back into the institute to make her re-dress she is huffing, puffing, flailing, and even arguing over the clothing, though… Okay, so /half and /half/. They got shit to do and.. Okay so it was nice. You won't hear Rose say it aloud though.

Unlike Betsy though, she does not don a helmet or a scarf, white hair is simply wtapped and pinned up before she mounted the Dodge Tomahawk and set it roaring to life. She got ill on a Blackbird simulation and it would be a wonder that Betsy does not get ill on her riding maneuvers, weaving and ducking between traffic as well as taking shortcuts no GPS would tell. It's a miracle they did not get pulled over, but when they do park, heeled boots touch down upon the concrete, straddling the bike as she undoes her hair and lets it fall.

"I call this the 'beachy' look Cosmo girls die for." And it falls rather nicely except for the grazzled front pieces that look like they went through hell. They did.

Leather pants and boots were that compromise, wrapping up to her waist in their cling that cinches in place with a wide white belt, accenting the short sleeved white peasant blouse, a blue collar to match the blue hairband she now slides in so she does not get the narrow eyes scrutiny. A deal was a deal.

Dismounting she walks with Betsy to the restaurant and gestures towards Nate before they weave their path to the meeting place.

It's not very difficult for Nate to contact Cable; he is a regular visitor to the school after all, and during one of those visits his genetic brother mentioned this incognito mission. For being essentially the same person they don't particularly know each other very well, but the elder Nathan still views his younger sibling as someone who can be trusted… at least in such a mundane situation as a restaurant. A crackle of energy happens in a nearby alley, and Cable is noticeable to telepathy by the void around him; a black spot in psychic energy, his mind and aura inscrutable to passive scanning.

Of course he had done a thorough analysis of the surroundings before coming. Carefulness is the name of the game. It's also why he's similarly a few minutes late, heavy footsteps reverberating upon the concrete as he thumps along the sidewalk a few blocks off. Wearing a grey trenchcoat over his massive body, left hand settled in a pocket, a glance is given to Betsy and Rose, suspicious cadence to his scarred eye when they enter ahead of him.

The door dings yet again, threshold eclipsed by Cable as he glances around. Creaking forward, he slides back one of the wooden chairs with his right hand. "Nate." he comments, before glancing over Betsy and Rose. He's seen the former around the institute, although not spoken to her. Rose is new. Telekinesis reinforces his chair so it won't shatter beneath his weight, settling down with a sigh. "Take it this is your crew, huh?" Nice enough on the eyes, at least…!

“Cable,” Nate has seen the older double before. Or maybe he hasn’t. One never knows with a guy that jumps through timelines. But at least he knows of him. And he is always curious at knowing about his sort-of-relatives. “You actually look younger than last time,” he grumbles. “Oh… introductions. The white-haired girl is Rose, the purple head is Elizabeth, or Betsy,” he directs an inquiring glance to the ninja woman. He doesn’t know her very well either. “Actually, it is Betsy who is in sort of in charge. But, hmm… are you still in the mercenary business?”

Betsy chases after Rose, flickering at her hair with longer arms and much more reach. She purses her lips and touches her own up- not that it remotely needs it- and glances at her makeup in a little black compact she flips from her back pocket, snaps open, and replaces before they're inside.

Seating across from Nate, she crosses her legs with elegantly practiced poise and raises an eyebrow at the Someone Else's Problem field Nate has established. "Well, we don't have to discuss security overmuch, at least," she says in her cultured British accent, at odds with her asiatic features.

"I do prefer Betsy," she says, addressing the big man who stumps up to their table. "And it's good to see you again, Cable. You're looking well enough," she says- which, given Cable's grizzled appearance and her inscrutable features, might be a compliment or not.

Rose's mind is only sealed of by the willpower and training of prior. CADMUS ensured she was capable to handle quite a bit and withstand it due to the nature of the jobs she started with, and that was one of very few things they gave her she still used… Aside from the itty bitty weapon she called 'peanut', that could blast very large holes in many-a-things. You'd laugh at it until it hit you. She did, then she shot someone with it.

Oops. (Not really)

After Betsy's preening and the look of dismay/distain passes, Rose claims a seat. It would be easy to tell she is sporting weaponry if not for the billowing fabric of the blouse, but if you know what you're looking for there is a glint along her side, high upon forearms and down along her spine… Posture perfect, and not due to Betsy's trainging, though she does lean back with one hand upon the table, that mismatched gaze following Cable as he comes and claims a seat, the milky white bionic eye scrolling while the subarctic blue keeps /chill/.

"Ravager." She corrects, but it is sloghtly apparent, now her eyes are flicking from the large Nate to the little Nate, comparing…. Then to Betsy as if nothing whatsoever was going on out of the 'norm'.

"So… what kind of men notice makeup and such?" Rose is referring to Nate Jr, unminding of the others who had stared their way on entry and then lost interest due to the field projected. If Cable was giving them a look it gets passed off as business! All the while Rose's shift as to accomodate the wide belt and what she had to manipulate to seat beneath.

Then to Nate. "Brother from another mother?" Yep, Rose noticed.

"Betsy. Rose." is repeated, giving both of them acknowledging dips of the head. "I wager Nate's already given you a rundown on me. I see no need to go beyond that." He gestures, and a drink from the distant counter suddenly flits through the air like a bullet, unnoticed by any. Grasping it, he takes a slow sip. A moment later, a crumpled pair of bills and change thunk down in it's place, to the surprise of the waitress who could have sworn in it's place was a customer's order. Rose would feel his eyes flitting to each hidden weapon, and it seems to be from innate skill, as opposed to anything supernatural. "Ravager. I like that better." Still, he's not so much as tried a surface peek at anyone. Bad form, if you aren't sure whether you'd get caught. Scruples? What are those?

Attention returns to the ninja amongst them, however. "Mmm. We've been around the same water cooler a few times. I generally keep to myself." Seated at the side between Betsy and Nate, he gives the former a much longer examination. "You know very well how you look. Hardly see the point in reinforcing it." Draining the rest of his thefted mug, another flicker of telekinesis settles it atop a number of other dirty dishes.

"Mercenary is the wrong word. That implies I can be bought. I'm a visionary; if I don't believe in the cause, I don't help. And if I do, my services come free. I presume that's what this is about… you've got some kind of operation in mind, and I've got a useful skill set. I'm listening. To…" Eyes return to Betsy at that. "You…? No offense, but you don't seem as seasoned as Nate." His tone was blase enough that it could very well be construed that way all the same! "We're complicated." he states to Rose. "Our entire family tree is. It's easiest to consider him my little brother."

"Actually I gave no rundown," mentions Nate. "Your secrets are your own, old man. But the folks at Xavier know you as an ally, right? At least I got that impression." Not a mercenary… okay, that is a bit different, but not too important. Except just 'hiring' him would have made it very simple. But when was the last time his family got is simple? Right. Never.

And Rose got him at first sight. Funny Scott never did. He looks at the white-haired girl, "yes, like Rachel. Well, Jean already knows. But Scott doesn't, and I think most of the others don't. Regardless… Cable has been at this business at least a decade longer than the most veteran X-Man. And his line of work I think is closer to what we plan to do than to Xavier's, so I thought we should meet him."

The very corners of Betsy's lips curl in a suggestion of a smile, but it's hard to say if she's preening or just coldly amused. Her mind's as blank a slate as anyone else's- which, handy for a black bag team. "Who says the makeup is for these two?" she says to Rose, though she addresses everyone's statements about her cosmetics. "I might have a date lined up after this meeting. The world doesn't revolve around our life as X-men."

She turns those amethyst eyes to Cable, pursing her lips for moment. "I assure you, Cable, I've all the seniority this team could possibly need," she says, one foot bobbing carelessly under the table. "Once we come to an understanding about the nature of our proposal, I'll explain exactly why and how that's true."

She looks sidelong at Rose, then turns to the Summers boys. "Gentlemen, we've seen with some frequency lately that problems are arising in patterns," she says, her cultured tones confident and assertive. "Enemies that we can't keep put down. Situations that get out of hand because of a lack of… directness." A gesture. "Most recently, the mercenary called Sabertooth stalked Jean from Africa to New York, and nearly ambushed her in a mall in town. As much as I love Jean, even after he killed multiple civilians, she refused to put him down for good. Rose and I- along with Jean- agree that perhaps what the X-men need is a 'black bag' unit. A small team, answering to no one but ourselves, accountable to only ourselves, who answer threats with the decisive force necessary to end them. For obvious reasons, Charles can't know about us. Nor can any students, or faculty, or anyone else. Deniability and concealment would have be our bywords," she says, taking a sip of her water.

It is shocking, but sometimes things said give Ravager food for thought, and his term of visionary does just that for her. A moment when he speaks has her eyes dropping to the tabletop her hand rests upon, fingers stopping in their silent drum to tap index and then draw back to rest her hand in her lap. Nope, she still likes her money and she has been screening her employers as best as possible, as well as her targets - that's been amusing lately to say the least. Visionary though? That is why she is here, why she has said what she did - with this group a firmer foundation is had, even if it is not flawless. Rose likes flaws, especially ones who keep her head on her pretty little neck. When Cable speaks of complicated Rose's eyes shift from narrowed to something else entirely, hardened, assessing, to placid. "I have seen Nate's history. Complicated?" A small huff of laughter that does not even remotely show amusement, and she is sliding in the seat to the side a bit. Jesus tits, metal needs to be just as good but bendy!

When Cable questions Psylocke, Rose looks between the trio and a brow perks. "Yeah and I can think my skills are honed from birth as well as my purpose, but that does not mean I do not trust that she can make the necessary calls. And I am not good at taking orders." Beat. "Ever." Exhale. "From anyone." Shifty eyes.

"Point is, there are bigger issues that need handling before they become so inflated that hot air turns to a poisonous gas. It already has with people who seek to use us, or our kind for their means to ends, or those who are so scared anymore they seek to end us. Those numbers are rising, as well as the poisonous ones seeping from it. We're a necessary evil to keep a good vision in tact… As best we can."

"If it's any consolation, I didn't think the makeup was for me." Cable offers matter of factly towards Betsy. Although she does recieve quite a long and hard look at the idea of seniority. He can see strong qualities within her, but nothing that sets her above anyone else. Perhaps the semantics of leadership don't really matter, in the long run.

"Interesting." is all Cable offers after some long moments of consideration. "Especially since I've been doing black bag operations on my own for some time now. Nothing high level. Keeping things out of the light that justice won't help. Mutant snuff rings, for instance. There's no merit to bringing that to the public legal system. Don't need to give certain messiahs fodder to act." Fingers crack one by one, head twisting as well before there's finally a last pop.

"Only concession I would want is that this is a democracy when it comes to picking targets. Once we're on the battlefield, I don't care how the leadership breaks down as long as it works, but I'm not going to erase anyone without knowing and approving of it ahead of time. I consider excessive force to be the last measure. Sabertooth could use a nice psychic lobotomy before death, perhaps…"

"Apocalypse," mentions Nate. No psychic lobotomy for Apocalypse. Nothing less than total annihilation for the ancient mutant, followed by salting the fields of wherever he was lurking. Killing all his horsemen too. Nukes from orbit. Whatever.

"We got some autonomy, but isn't Cyclops going to be watching what we do too?" He glances at Betsy, quite aware Scott might end up not being told everything. But once they start rolling, it is maybe better if they have someone outside making sure they don't go too far. Secrets tend to rot the mind. At least in Nate's opinion.

"Perhaps seniority wasn't the word I was looking for," Betsy murmurs, unfazed by the looks she recieves from people. "Call it… influence. I've been with the X-men for quite some time. I can … manage Jean and Scott, if need be. They want a finger in the pie, in the sense that they don't want us running across the globe without any oversight whatsoever. That said, they can be useful support, and with their tacit approval… or at least agreeing to stay out of our way- I can help us obtain any materiel or equipment or even intelligence the X-men and their allies might have. Discreetly."

"Everyone at this table is in possession of exceptional skillsets. Most importantly, we have a common quality: None of us are afraid to take a life." Her elegantly cultured British tonals are quite at odd with her cold and haughty bearing. "We aren't the X-men, or the Avengers, or the Justice League. Rose and I are looking for three persons- no more than that- to join the two of us in getting done what /must/ be done, outside the moral boundaries that Charles espouses. You two would make excellent candidates for obvious reasons. But in this team, we can't have petty issues of territorialism or ego obstructing our missions. We don't need one person making the decisions for everyone else. If we're not all in accord about the goals of an operation, then it's one we should not pursue. Agreed?" she asks, with a lift of her eyebrow.

Sabretooth, now there's a name she has run across, she paid attention to Cable's analogy of him and tucked it away in case she needed it later. Rose has no other looks to pass. She proposed this, had harbored it close to hr chest for a long time before she walked into the office last week and laid it bare.

"So let me get this straight then," She says, leaning forward in a slow rocking motion that brings hand back to rest on the table, snaring the now settled carafe and filling a mug with coffee. "If one does not agree, but another is passionate about the topic. How would we handle it? Only a few in accord go or we vote and the one against still has to?"

Glancing between Nate, Psylocke, and Cable a shoulder rises and rolls back, like working a kink from muscles at her neck, the light tilt making white hair in meld with the white peasant blouse fall down and away. "Because if I feel something needs done, I tend to go with my gut, if I feel otherwise.. And by the looks of us, we're going to come to this bridge a lot."

Sipping at her coffee her hand wrap around it, the a/c in this place freezing her fingers and the warm fuzzy caffeine gives her enough to suffice. "I know what the X-Men stand for, Nate has told me. I know who I am. I can stand for some things, but others… It's not in my blood or nature. Hence.." A gesture to the trio in kind and back to clutching that mug.

"You would think these fuckers are polar bears." Rose even tests to see if she can see her breath in the air.

"Of course Apocalypse dies. That's not even worth mentioning." Cable states, with the sort of visibly scathing hatred that Nate probably has too. One of few things the 'brothers' have in common. "If you want, I can talk to Scott. I'm the most likely here to make him understand; and the one most likely for him to believe thinks things through top to bottom…" The idea that Betsy has more sway than himself causes a lift of brows. "I can handle those two better than you. I'm even more senior, and we have our own bit of history." Such as the entire 'being their mostly-son sent into the future' thing.

"Charles has an important dream." Cable states thoughtfully, steepling his fingers before himself. "But all of us here, I assume, knows that pacifism will never work. I want to fight the battles he cannot. Literally cannot, as what has to be done is beyond what he can or will do. Scott and Jean might understand, but he never would. He'll always believe there's 'another way'… and there isn't. Not for some people. Not for all situations."

A nod follows the last thing Psylocke mentions. "The same thing I desire. Ego gets soldiers killed. Obeying commands…" Also gets them killed depending. "Raises the odds of survival, sometimes exponentially. Until you give me a reason not to, I'll follow the lead. As for a base… I believe I got one. Graymalkin. Orbital satellite from the 40th century. Capable of teleporting people globally. Should more than suffice. Can speak there in the future."

Rose brings up a valid topic, and Cable meets her evenly. "A good question." he allows. "This should be an organization for a united front. We can't represent Xavier and be trusted by Jean and Scott if we don't run things proper. If you want to go rogue, make sure nobody hears about it. If you bring someone up, better be damn sure everyone'll be in accord. Unanimous voting; otherwise I wouldn't call it sanctioned by the group."

Nate half-smirks. "You guys are eerily in agreement. Space station, and all?" He glances at Cable a bit surprised. There is still much he doesn't know about the older Nate. In fact chances are that he doesn't know far more than what he knows. And where is Rachel? Probably not the right time to ask about her.

"As I was telling Rose the other day, I am not as convinced of which way is the right way. Xavier makes a compelling argument on… holding the highest standards of morality. So do some other hero types I really admire. But on the other hand, they don't run the world. They are maybe examples of what is best, but not of what is normal. Or of what is needed." He has walked the more violent road most of his (short) life. Getting back is no real effort, and his place is with Rose, anyway. "Welcome to the team, big bro."

"I saw what Apocalypse did." Setting her mug down she looks between Nate and…Nate. "Felt the feelings.." Rose's shoulder rises so much so that you can see beneath the gauzy fabric of the blouse that the flesh behind collar bones dimples in, the muscles along forearms flexing so much so that she even backs off the mug and drops her hands into her lap.

"I've been on the giving end of the spectrum and the receiving, everything in between…" A waffling gesture with one hand made that tells everything and nothing but none the less works in releasing some tension so she can commence finishig off the coffee.

"We're a team of questionable people, with questionable morals, but we all have the same goal in mind. I think if we keep that in mind in the end - we'll do what we have to." 'Be fine'? No. Nate is not unscathed from his history, she knows she isn't. Psylocke and Cable can speak for themselves there as she has not the slightest clue and won't unless they tell her.

Pushing to a stand she stretches in a manner that reseats everything on her person and concealed back into comfort zones. "If you fly it at mach 5 and don't drug me before hand your ship better have little paper baggies." A narrowed stare at Nate and then she is turning on heel to drop money at the counter and exit stage right. She had a confirmation phonecall coming in soon and it was not one that was affiliated. Plus, if you have a Tomahawk one must ride it, show it off, and make it look damn good with the makeup and ensemble rooted from a pricey lady's closet.

Muah Bets!

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