Chicken Soup

September 21, 2015:

Spearhead and Rachel meet up.

NYC

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

It's an average evening in New York and Rachel is presently walking down the streets searching for a particular vigilante she had heard reports of in the area. He was a man she had helped and been helped by before and she was more curious than anything to see if Spearhead was still alive and kicking.

~Hello Spearhead.~ The telepathic voice can be heard in his head.

Spearhead is in an alley , his head hung on his shoulders and leaning on the brick wall near a dumpster. His body hunches sharply and he falls to his knees and hands as Rachel's telepathic voice reaches him, it appears he is retching, doing so again as he is on his hands and knees, lightheaded and dizzy.
~Hello,…..~ His thought process is interupted by another involuntary retch… ~Hello Y-y-You.~ Is all he can seem to even mentally get out at the moment.

~How have you been since your encounter with Deadpool? No more trouble from him I hope?~ She inquired back to the slightly confused mind before she starts walking in the direction Spearhead is in although she is quite a distance away.

~Since Deadpool? I've been pretty good, I havn't even seen the guy since. Though it seems that I've caught a bit of food poisoning now….. I guess that fish wasn't as fresh as I thought it was….~ Spearhead says in his head, as he gets back up to his feet, ~Which way are you? Which way shoulod I start walking to meet you.?~

~I'm close by. I was just dealing with a few Purifiers, seems like a handful of them managed to stick around after the riots. Why would a fisherman like you, not just fish your own fish?~ Of course, it doesn't occur to Rachel that Spearhead might not just be able to head somewhere with good clean fish to catch!

~It was my own fish, found it in the fridge, thought it was some from a more recent catch…….. I was wrong…~ Spearhead stays where he is then, propped up against the wall. ~Purifiers? Sorry, I've been kinda living under a rock as far as news and basic happenings lately…~

~That doesn't sound all too bright.~ Rachel transmitted telepathically to Spearhead as she walked down a side-alley in his direction, ~Purifiers. Racist anti-mutants, you've helped deal with them before in M Town. What kind of fish was it?~

~It was an honest mistake, it was like after I had been awake for about 48 hours or so, without any stimulants, and Was hungry, was the only thing I had and I thought that I had thron the old ones away but hadn't, and forgot I had cooked the more recent ones…~ Spearhead looks up at Rachel as she gets within visual range, ~M-town….. The time you helped me with that shot?~ He 'thinks out loud'.
Suddenly, he drops back onto his hands and knees, and after this retch, Rachel can sense a sudden panic rise from him.
His hands scramble against the helmet, finding their way down to his neck, A seal can be heard being forcably compramised, fluids pouring out as Spearhead coughs and sputters, the acid burning his eyes , nose, and throat.

~…….Seriously….~

Around the corner Rachel appears with a brown paper bag and she sends out soothing waves of psychic energy to Spearhead, "I picked you up some chicken soup and water, it seemed like you needed it."

Mikial gets back up again, this time, once he's u, he seems a bit more sturdier, both thanks to Rachel's Psy waves and having expelled some of the toxins out of his system, "Oh, thanks!" He says after having stared at the bag, taking in what Rachel had said for prehaps a little too long, his mind numb. "Heh, I still havn't slept yet, May be a good Idea to get some sleep…" he says from behind the skewed helmet, the thing both turned to the left a bit from his face, and a few degrees tilted like a picture frame.
He reaches out and carefully takes the bag, "Oh, the fish, you wanted to know what Kind it was. I believe it was a Snapper of some kind, but I can't be too sure, it was scaled and The taste was prolly a little off."

"I see." Rachel smiled a little at Spearhead before sending out a subtle psychic nudge that he might need to get some sleep, like seriously, "I don't think I've ever had snapper. Maybe next time you catch some fresh fish you can let me know."

Spearhead says, "Alright, I can do that." Spearhead says, the nudge felt, and he takes a look at himself, "Man, I look like shit…" He says, a sound half between a chuckle and a scoff comeing out. "Best go home, take a shower both with and without this thing on, and get some damn sleep…" He looks at the bag, "And see about holding something down for a little while. And thanks again." he says, looking back at Rachel before turning around and heading homeward."

"Not a problem, try to take better care of yourself. If you don't who is going to be there to make those tough shots." Rachel watches Spearhead walk away before turning and heading in the other direction.

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