[identity profile] x-wither.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] xp_logs
Kevin just wanted to sit in the sun and make some more sculptures to sell. Hippie girls never get the point, though.

Kevin figured he should probably make more sculptures to sell off to the tourists since his room at the motel was nearly up. He'd gone to the junkyard and found some smaller bits of scrap metal. Some were just silver, some painted over. Not all of it was very good metal, but he was selling this stuff to people who didn't seem to be big on the thinking anyway, so what did he care? He'd spent the last of his money on a portable soldering iron as well.

The motel was not the place he wanted to be. It was good because it had a bed and a shower, but it was dank and dingy, though at least not flea infested. It was a warm day, a bit too warm. Mid to high seventies seemed hotter than it used to. He blamed that on having been in Scotland through their winter. Stupid Muir. Instead, he'd decided to go off to Central Park. He figured he could find a buyer pretty quickly there and might even get sympathy tip money as he made it anyway. Tourists would give anyone money, it seemed.

Clad in his usual all black, Kevin had a trench coat on over the long sleeved black tee shirt, his shorter gloves that only went up a little past his wrists, thick black jeans and heavy, steel-toed faux leather. He missed being able to wear actual leather. Amazingly enough, he had foregone the turtleneck today, thinking it largely unnecessary, especially in the heat. He had everything spread out in front of him and was thoughtfully scrutinizing the metal, trying to decide what it could become.

"Oh wow..." a somewhat stoned girl with blonde dreads wandered over towards Kevin, examining his things perhaps a bit too intently. She needed a shower. "Are these recycled? And you're making them into art? That is so eco-friendly!" she cooed, sitting near him on the grass to watch him work.

Focus sliding to the corner of his eye, Kevin watched her. What the hell did she want? This chick reeked. Dirt, must, body odor, pot, it all mingled disagreeably under his nose which wrinkled up as if it were trying to escape the stench. "No, they are 'recycled,'" he replied shortly. "Recycling them would entail them being processed or whatever. Scrap metal. Trash. Shit no one wants. Got it?" Kevin did not like that she was so close. In fact he wanted her even farther away from himself than he usually wanted people.

"But you're reusing it, that's recycling. It is so wonderful that you're an eco-artist," she wasn't put off by his attitude at all, most people used their words as a defense mechanism to keep people away, whereas she believed in letting everyone in. "What's your name?"

"No, I'm a broke artist, there's a difference," he pointed out. Though, really, Kevin had always done his stuff with metal from junkyards, for obvious reasons. He didn't even know if he could go buy new metal somehow. His gazed slipped sideways as he looked at her inquiring about his name. "I have no name." His tone was resolute, she didn't need to know his name anyway.

"I'm Chakra," she introduced herself. It wasn't her real name, but it was what she called herself."You can choose your name. You don't have to go by what your parents named you. Those middle-America yuppies don't have any idea about what is important, they just mess up the world and expect us to fix it. Well, that's not how it works. Everyone has to work together and help each other in harmony, like you do with your metal," it was obvious she had a few screws loose.

As if the name wasn't bad enough, her propaganda was worse and Kevin hardly appreciated it. He actually glared at her, turning to look at her full on for the first time. "My parents weren't yuppies, they weren't assholes and you didn't know them so why don't you shut the fuck up?" She had no right, not where his parents were concerned. No one had any right to say anything bad about them.

He obviously needed a hug, Leaning forward, she touched his cheek to draw him closer. As her arm began to decay, she screamed falling backwards in horror. Gone was her laid back, slightly stoned demeanor, replaced by shock and revulsion, "You freak! What did you do to me!?!?" she screamed, almost incoherently.

Kevin wasn't expecting the touch. He was expecting her to finally start getting annoyed with him or something. He wasn't even still looking at her when she reached out. He only saw her in his peripheral vision right before she made contact. Kevin had pulled back before she'd fallen backward, but he saw the damage. The decay had crept as far as her elbow. Maybe it could recover. It wasn't that long, right? He didn't know if someone could recover after touching him. No one had ever lived who he'd touched except Jono. "I didn't ask for you to go and touch me! What about me says I want you touching me?!" He yelled back at her, but he was sure 'Chakra' was screaming so loudly that she couldn't hear him.

People were starting to come see why she was screaming. Kevin began to shove all his stuff in his various pockets.

Chakra sat nearby, shaking and staring at her arm. It was....decayed. Thin and gnarled looking, her fingers refused to uncurl or her wrist to move. "Mutie!" she spat. Only minutes earlier she would have been spouting rhetoric about loving everyone including mutants, but already her opinion had changed.

In the distance, she could hear sirens, but she wasn't sure what she wanted more, an ambulance or the police. Regardless, she knew her parents were going to be called. Fuck.

Mutie somehow didn't seem as bad coming from someone named Chakra. Kevin heard the sirens, too. Kevin heard a jail cell slam shut in his head and since it wasn't his fault she touched the only fucking skin he had exposed, he wasn't going to stick around. Trying to explain why it wasn't his fault wasn't on his list of things to do.

The crowd of people around Chakra didn't seem to know who she was accusing of being a mutant so he took off before anyone put it together. He didn't leave anything of his behind, he didn't want something that could make anyone think "hey, what happened to that kid that was there?" He walked calmly away at first. Once out of sight of the crowd that was potentially turning into a mob he started to jog, then run, heading back to his motel.
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