xp_logs | House of Wind: Signposts to the end of the world

The two civillians continue their inquiries around Rio. Finally, headway is made.

"So, how are you holding up?"

Angelo glanced up from his food, vaguely surprised, then managed a faint smile. "Okay, I guess." Even if they still weren't much closer to finding Nathan.

"'I guess'?" Jim echoed, returning the smile wryly. He raised his coffee for a sip. "C'mon, Angelo. Student counselor and fellow civillian here. We've spent two days together combing Rio for leads. This has to be hard on you."

"....had easier days", he admitted after a moment, almost ungrudgingly. Almost. "Not really gettin' anywhere yet, an' all..."

Jim nodded, a sympathetic twist to his mouth. "I know. It's frustrating. You want things to go faster, but realistically there's only so much you can do at once. You're doing all you can, Ange. Everyone is. Sometimes the only thing you can do is be patient." He snorted, fishing in his pocket for his cigarettes. "As shit a consolation as that is in a time like this."

...Cigarettes. What a good idea. Angelo had acquired more at some point, and got them out. "I just... want to get him back, you know?"

Jim smiled slightly. "Yeah. I know. Me, too." He flicked his lighter open and lit up. "We'll find him. And then we'll kick his ass. Singly, and then in turns."

"I get to go first. I tell you about the e-mail he sent me before he left? Time-delayed."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Oh, no. What explanation did he offer for this brilliant tactical move?"

"'No more collateral damage' is about the size of it. He wanted it to be just him an' Gideon at the end. He told me weeks ago he was goin' to do somethin' stupid..."

The older man snorted again. "Funnily enough, he told me, too. He didn't actually admit to outright stupidity, though in retrospect he might as well have." Jim stared at the cigarette in his hand, silent for a moment. "I don't think there's anything anyone could have done to stop him. He'd already made up his mind. It's strange, being able to look back and see the warning signs. Even to have seen them, and known them at the time, but not be able to do anything about it." He paused again, closing his eyes to take another drag. "I wonder if that's how Nathan felt."

"...maybe it was." Angelo glanced down at the table, drawing on his cigarette. "I just... don't know what I'm gonna do if we don't get there in time. I can't carry on what we've been doin' by myself."

Jim gave him a faint smile that was more regret than reassurance. "I'm sorry. I wish I could give you a guarantee, but . . . there's not. What I can say is that if there is any way at all to save him, I trust this group to do it. And Nathan, to do all he can to give us time." He took a deep breath, eyes sliding closed again for a moment. "Do not pursue the past. Do not lose yourself in the future. The past no longer is. The future has not yet come. Live now. Deal with the now. You'll get through this, one day at a time."

Angelo nodded, after a moment. "An' I guess... I'd try. To keep workin' like we have been doin'. But without him..."

Jim shook his head slightly. "There is no 'without him' yet. And I think that right now, the best thing we can do for ourselves is make sure there never is." He reached for his wallet to pay for the meal, then softened at the look on the boy's face.

"I understand," Jim said quietly, "what it's like to lose someone you depend on. I know. I'm scared, too. But Nathan isn't lost yet. We have to hang on to that."

"....yeah. I know." He tried for a smile, pulling out his cigarettes again and lighting one from the last with clumsy hands.

Jim answered the attempt with one of his own, this time devoid of irony or regret. He stubbed out his own cigarette in the ashtray. "We'll get through this," he said again, rising, "but for now -- I say we find that idiot."

Floriano Cequiera was not having a good day. He was working in someone else's office, which he despised - his girlfriend's mockery about "Why are you a consultant, then, Floriano?" never ceased to be moderately annoying - and the project he was supposed to be consulting upon was a mess. There really was no other word for it. What had been meant to be a simple charity clinic for mutants in the poorer areas of Rio had turned into a logistical and public relations nightmare. He was, truthfully, very surprised that Mr. Faraday had not expressed his disappointment while he had been making the travel arrangements for him and his staff. But he had seemed preoccupied, which had been an unexpected blessing. Floriano only hoped he could straighten out the mess and get back to the office in Buenos Aires where he belonged.

Unfortunately, poor Floriano's day was about to get a whole lot worse. The first sign he had of how much worse were the shouts of protest coming from the front office, as the receptionist found herself utterly ignored by the two men who'd just arrived and were on their way in.

"... what?" Floriano asked the secretary who leaned in at his shoulder, hissing at him. "There are people here to see me?" For a moment he thought it might be Mr. Faraday, that something had gone wrong with the travel arrangements, but as he looked around he saw a very tall man, and a much shorter one - with a sword. Floriano blinked. "Oh my."

#That's him,# Jim confirmed, glancing around the office floor. Less than two dozen people. As politely as he could, he reached out and summarily erased the past thirty seconds from the startled workers' memories, then proceeded to block any and all further awareness of their presence -- and Floriano's. His gaze flicked over to the man standing beside him. #And now we have privacy.#

"Thank you, Haller", Angelo said before turning to Floriano. "And hello, Mr. Cequiera. We've got some questions for you."

"Questions? For me?" Floriano looked around, bewildered at how everyone was suddenly ignoring them - wait. He gave the smaller one with the sword a quick look, then eyed the tall one. That one, he thought. That was the telepath. "I'm here to consult on the building of a mutant health clinic," he said slowly. "What questions could you possibly have for me?"

The sword was staying in its scabbard, but of course that wouldn't make it any less unnerving. That was the point. "You work for Gideon Faraday, Mr. Cequiera. Specifically, you made his travel arrangements for him a few days ago. We want to know where he went."

"This'll go faster if you just tell us," Jim said, placing his hands in his pockets. He regarded the other man mildly through mismatched eyes. "I'd rather not have to dig."

Floriano frowned. "That sounded like a threat," he said, offended. "I did make travel arrangements for Mr. Faraday, yes; he's my employer. When he asks me to do something, I do it. But where he went is certainly none of your concern."

"But it is", Angelo said quietly, hand dropping just shy of the sword hilt. "You see, he took my employer with him, against his will. And I want him back in one piece."

"Against his will?" Floriano said, sounding incredulous. "How ridiculous. Mr. Faraday is a businessman, not a criminal, whatever that ridiculous American reporter claimed." He had been first alarmed, then offended by the foolish woman's story. As if there wasn't a logical explanation. Mr. Faraday was a humanitarian, after all.

"The humanitarian side exists," Jim said evenly, catching the thought, "but the face he presents it to the world isn't the whole truth. The goal may be the same, but his private methods push the edge of extreme." Dead children, psychic rape, the murder of loved ones. "Even humanitarianism can go . . . malignant."

"Believe me, Mr. Cequiera. We only want to help our friend. Please, tell us where they went. Or do I have to produce proof of what Gideon's been doing?"

"I've seen the smear campaign against Mr. Faraday already," Floriano said, almost primly. "I have no desire to be exposed to any more of it. As for your friend..." He paused, then shook his head. "I presume you're referring to Mr. Faraday's nephew."

"We are", Angelo confirmed. "You've seen him, then? What did Mr. Faraday tell you?"

"That he was ill. He certainly looked it. They had to help him into the helicopter-" Floriano stopped, making a face at himself. He hadn't intended to say even that much. But they looked obviously concerned... "I'm sure this is some sort of misunderstanding. Mr. Faraday was very concerned about his nephew's welfare."

"Yes. He would be." Floriano wasn't a bad man; Jim could sense it from the nature of his thoughts. He didn't deserve threats or violence, but he had to be made to understand. Jim breathed out and shook his head. "His nephew is a colleague of ours," he explained, his tone gentler now. "Forget the vague generalizations. You know I'm a telepath. Can I show you what makes us so certain Mr. Faraday is a danger to his nephew?"

Floriano hesitated, then nodded. "I have no particular fear of telepaths," he said, as if attempting to reassure. "I have worked with a number of them, over the time I have been with Eris. You may go ahead."

He wasn't sure what he had expected. Images, perhaps, something along the lines of the 'proof' the younger man had mentioned. What he got, instead, was something... he didn't know how to describe it. It did not come crashing down on him all at once, but rather unfolded, image and awareness of what the image meant, that this was someone's mind he was seeing. But it was wrong, very wrong, horribly wrong, and Floriano swallowed, feeling a horror and nausea that he knew, instinctively, were not entirely his.

"I... I don't understand."

Jim's smile was soft, and tinged with regret. "Yes. You do." He withdrew from the man's mind, moving slowly to minimize the shock, gathering the projection up behind him. As gentle a disengagement as he could manage, after what he'd just given him.

"Mr. Faraday likes to -- experiment -- with mutant powers," Jim said. "That's what over a decade of it did to his nephew's mind." He met the other man's eyes with his own and smiled again, the same sad, subdued twist of the lips as the first. "You see why we can't leave him to that."

"This is... how do I know..." Floriano stopped, shaking his head. He couldn't make the decision to ignore this - he didn't know enough! And if this was some sort of misunderstanding, surely Mr. Faraday would sort it out. "Ushuaia," he said hesitantly. "They took a helicopter to Ushuaia. On the tip of Tierra del Fuego? Mr. Faraday has a house there. He said his nephew... needed someplace quiet to rest and recover."

Angelo looked up sharply. The tip of Tierra del Fuego. The end of the world.

"Yes. That's where they are."