Logs: Marius & Yvette, Garrison & Logan, Nori & Julio

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Marius and Yvette take a break from the crowds.



Yvette stood as much in the corner as she possibly could without taking chunks out of the wall with her hair, seeming even smaller than usual as she hunched in. Whilst she was enjoying the trip, there were times she was thinking that Japan, with its seas of people and tendency to cram into small spaces, perhaps hadn't been the best idea for her. Take Kamakura, for example. The ancient capital was beautiful, and fascinating in its history, but it was also something of a tourist mecca and she'd been acutely aware of the danger she posed to casual passersby. The fact she couldn't turn around without finding someone staring - or worse, seemingly about to reach out and touch her hair or skin out of curiosity - wasn't exactly helping, either. In the end, she'd excused herself from the touristy stuff to go back to the station, in the hopes of finding a quiet moment or two.

As she waited for Marius to come back from getting them a drink, she concentrated on trying to calm herself down. The last thing she needed to do was get on a crowded train all spiky.

"Shitsureshimasu," Marius said in passable Japanese as he peered over a small woman with a large shopping bag. Though largely clueless of the nuances of the local language, he'd spent an instructive few hours on the flight over with a Japanese phrasebook. Whilst he had been the acquaintance of various Japanese tourists and exchange students in Australia, the few phrases he'd been picked up had been somewhat less appropriate than 'excuse me.'

Ensconced as she was, it took him a few moments to spy Yvette. Fortunately, in addition to his talent for spotting mutants Marius was head and shoulders above most of the country's population. He gave his head an acknowledging bob and headed for her.

"Found some water . . . I think," he said, extending a blue bottle to the small girl. He looked at his own dubiously. "Or the approximation, anyway."

"Thank you," she said with a slightly stiff smile, although her eyes flared brightly as she reached for the bottle. There was a moment of awkwardness as she fumbled with extra-long fingers at the cap, but she eventually managed. As she took the first sip, however, her eyes widened and she coughed a little. "I do not think this is water, Marius," she said, tilting her head a little. "It is, how you say... metal-tasting? A little?" Not entirely bad, though - she took another sip, trying to figure out if she liked it.

"Metallic, yeah. I believe we have stumbled upon a sport drink. Or at least so one would hope of any drink bearin' the unfortunate name of 'Pocari Sweat'." Marius gave his own bottle an appraising look. Despite the clear liquid the aftertaste was distinctly citrus. It wasn't bad, just . . . unexpected. At least the violently unnatural colour of Gatorade provided you time to prepare. Shrugging, Marius turned his attention back to the smaller girl. "Feelin' a bit better?" he inquired, cocking his head. The question was more of a courtesy. He'd been monitoring the state of her face and hair.

"A little," she said, ducking her head a little shamefacedly. "I am sorry. The crowds... there are too many people."

"No worries," Marius said, quietly twisting the cap back on his bottle. "I am not unfamiliar with unwanted attention. Not so much on the comfortable side. Eh . . ."

He glanced around the station. Whilst Japanese fashion had an undeniable flare, the colour scheme of the general culture was on the muted side. There was no haircolor but every assorted shade of brown and black -- or, if someone was really adventurous, the random shock of peroxide. Amongst the sheer volume of ethnic homogeneity even Marius found himself automatically staring at foreigners, and here he was standing in the middle of it next to a red-skinned, blue-eyed girl.

"Here," the older boy said after a moment, "would it make you feel better if I were to, eh . . . well, I notice you're a bit on the sharp side. You want I should perhaps provide a bit of a barrier?" Marius made a vaguely expressive motion with the hand holding the bottle. "You know, in the event of lurchin' trains an' that."

"You mean to be borrowing my powers?" Yvette seized on the idea, eagerly. Mostly because she hadn't been sure how she was going to manage to get back to the hotel in the state she was in, not without hurting someone. "That would be very good, please Marius. I... I have been trying, but it is not so much working." Frustration was clear in her voice, in the way her socked toe talons curled against the floor.

Marius smiled and shook his head. "No worries, Yvette. Bloke runs a marathon, bit silly to criticize him for sweatin'." He looked around a little nervously, but the alcove Yvette had found was relatively out of the way. He dropped into a crouch, setting his drink on the tiles, and nodded for her to follow his lead.

"One on the arm right with you?" he asked, rolling up his sleeve. He paused, giving Yvette a worried look. "Eh -- wait, you all right without Laurie? I don't want to see this endin' in stitches for you again."

Moving easily into her own crouch, Yvette looked up at the taller boy and nodded. "I have been making the practice," she said, with a certain note of resolve. "I think, if I am concentrating on the one place, I can make it be soft enough to make the small scratch."

Marius regarded her steadily for a moment, then nodded. He couldn't say he was entirely comfortable with the fact the transfer required a young girl to cut herself, but it was Yvette's power to share. However, he did briefly envy Marie. Her power may have been uncontrollable, but at least it didn't require an exchange of bodily fluids.

"At your discretion, then," Marius said. Closing his fingers into a fist, he offered Yvette his forearm.

Glancing around, Yvette stripped off her glove, flexing her fingers a little. There was a slight rasping sound as they rubbed together. Almost delicately, she reached out and gently touched Marius' arm with her fingertip, the touch immediately piercing the skin and drawing a drop of blood. Quickly pushing up the sleeve of her body suit, she stared at her forearm, remembering the lessons she'd had with Mr. Haller so far, the work with Laurie. At first there was no discernible change, but then there was the slightest ripple across the hard surface, and she laid her talon-tip against the spot, pressing in. It took more effort than it had with Marius, but she was finally rewarded by a suddenly upwelling of blood from a small spot. "To be quickly, yes?" she said softly. "Before it is stopping?"

With a nod, Marius turned his arm and pressed it to Yvette's. Skin abraded as he settled his arm against hers. The faint prickle of warmth wasn't wholly attributable to the blood smeared between them.

"That should do," Marius said, withdrawing carefully. Rolling his sleeve over the blood, the Australian exhaled slowly and allowed Yvette's mutation to take hold. He rubbed his hand, absently noting the hardening of the skin on his knuckles, and grinned at Yvette. "Think I'm set. You all right?"

Pulling her sleeve down and her glove back on, Yvette nodded, a little nervously. "I think so, yes?" she replied, taking a breath. It was just catching a train. People did it every day.

Moving to slip their drinks into the canvas bag he'd purchased to assist him in the Japan Experience (and which was now, in the nature of all vacations, inexplicably full of cameras which were not his), Marius surreptitiously scanned the station. They'd been discreet, but they were getting odd looks -- possibly, he imagined, because one of them had stooped down olive and was standing up grey. It was a point of pride for Marius that his capacity for shame was significantly less than that of a normal person, and by some strange quirk of psychology it decreased even further in the company of others, based on a basic form of social Darwinism which decreed the only thing more dire than showing embarrassment was doing so in front of one's friends. Unfortunately, from the slightly frozen look of Yvette's expression he did not believe this was a trait she shared.

"You know," Marius said, tilting his head at Yvette, "it occurs to me you're deprived of the full benefit of the sightseein' experience. The tedium of peerin' over crowds, being pushed hither and thither by the uncaring masses -- that is no fit way for a woman of delicate sensitivies to travel." Marius rubbed his hands together. "There's nothin' to be done for it. You'd best get on."

"Get on?" Yvette moved easily upwards from her own crouch. "You mean, like the... how you say? The pony back?" Her eyes brightened a little at the thought.

"A piggy back, indeed. I am versatile. Aside from my decorative uses, I am quite the useful beast of burden." He bent down, arms spread, and grinned back at her. "Here, grab at my neck, an' I'll handle your legs."

Yvette giggled a little, delightedly. Up on Marius' back, she'd be out of the way of people, and with him using her powers, she couldn't hurt him. She laid her hands on his shoulders, only a little tentatively, and squeaked a little as he hoisted her up. "I am not being too heavy for you?" she asked, tightening her grip a little around his neck as he drew up to his full height. She hadn't realised quite how tall he was. Then again, compared to her everyone was.

"Refreshingly solid." Solid was an appropriate adjective for Yvette; her deceptive weight reminded Marius of the rubber weight-training bricks of his swim team days. Linking his arms under her knees, Marius redistributed her weight a bit.

"Somethin' I have learned in my many years of high visibility," the tall boy remarked airily as heads turned, then quickly turned away, "is that when one finds oneself the inevitable centre of attention, it is occasionally worthwhile to conduct oneself in such a manner that any unsolicited spectators have somethin' to look at. Get my meanin'?"

The smaller girl dropped into a thoughtful silence as she translated Marius' words. "The people are going to be looking at you any way, so it is better not to hide?" she suggested at last. "You should do what you want to be doing and not being shamed?"

Marius bobbed his head as they passed the sad skeleton of an abandoned umbrella. "Precisely. If the audience insists on makin' an appearance one may at least exert creative control. Quite an effective social camouflage."

"You must be very brave, Marius, to think to do such a thing." They were getting looks, obviously, but somehow the conversation was making it easier - she was getting the urge to wave at people as she jounced along. "It has always been the easy thing for me to hide."

"Ah, yes, subtlety. That is also a considerable advantage, though one I can regard only from a distance." Marius gave a passing woman with a face like a crumpled paper bag and rather harshly dyed black hair a cheerful smile. "As for brave, difficult to say. There may perhaps have been a time when I was but a babe in arms that I did not welcome extraneous attention. As it was received regardless this was a bit futile; mum has many virtues, but by some unaccountable oversight discretion is not to be found on the list. As amusing as a lifetime of flailings against the breast of Fate would be, learnin' to embrace ultimately proved less effort an' less anguish. It is not an uncommon reaction. I submit for your approval the example of one Clarice Ferguson."

Yvette wrinkled her nose a little as she worked all that out, and nodded. "Miss Clarice likes to make the impression, yes," she agreed. "And I am thinking I understand what you are to mean." There was a toddler, staring open-mouthed at them as he clutched his mother's hand and this time she did wave, eyes flaring bright. He giggled shyly and put his hand over his face, peeking at her between his fingers. "Marius, may I be asking... is the way you speak another way for you to be getting the attention?"

Marius ducked slightly as they stepped out of the station, not particularly caring to either bonk Yvette's head against the doorframe or damaging the doorframe. "Ah, my earliest success. Practically an origin story. It was thought by some that the version of the English language gifted to me by my mother was somewhat, shall we say, unique. I determined that further elevation evoked laughter where once there had been ridicule. Providin' amusement I never have had a problem with." He cocked his head to look slyly up at Yvette, sunlight flooding one yellow eye. "How about you? Have you never made use of people's expectations?"

"When I was the little girl, before I changed, I would do this sometimes," Yvette admitted, more conspiratorial than ashamed. "I was being small, and pretty, and people were thinking I could not be naughty. I would be letting them think that, when I was wanting something. Make the, how you say? Kitty eyes?"

Marius nodded approvingly. "Any small and sufficiently adorable creature may be invoked. 'Puppy', 'baby seal' an' 'manatee,' for example, would also have been acceptable." He leaned forward and bounced on the balls of his feet, repositioning her weight. His next words were spoken in a slightly different voice.

"It's a valuable skill, making people believe there's less than what's made it to the surface," Marius said in a lower tone, nodding at a loose knot of teenaged boys with ginger-streaked hair. "Not that I'm encouraging subterfuge, but sometimes being underestimated comes in useful. Sometimes the easiest hiding place is in the centre of attention." Then a bright smile flashed across his face, and he concluded in a more normal voice, "Or so, in this world so rife with injustice and presumption, I would imagine."

Yvette didn't answer straight away, although her hand shifted slightly to pat his shoulder briefly. "Like, when you are looking dangerous, you let the people think you are quiet and sweet," she said softly.

The boy was silent for a long moment, then gently bumped the back of his head against her chin. "True enough," Marius replied softly.



Garrison and Logan discuss recent events while taking a break



Cafe Doll in Akihabara was bright, airy, and utterly surreal in the legion of Japanese waitstaff, scuttling around in little maid costumes to serve their customers. One, no more than nineteen at the most, made a deep bow to Logan as he came in.

{{Welcome home master.}} she said brightly, obviously as part of the normal restaurant service. He could see Kane sitting at one of the far tables, drinking from a cup of coffee while he flipped through the newspaper.

Logan, out of sheer unthinking instinct, returned precisely the correct fractional bow to the serving-girl. "Don't mind me, darlin'." he said in English. "My party's already here." he said, making a beeline for Gar, heedless of the stares and politely whispered conversations he was causing.

"Hey Logan." Kane put down his coffee as the other man approached. "Can you believe this place? Girl dressed up like a manga character stopped me on the street with a menu. I consider that fate telling me to have lunch served by a bunch of Sailor Scouts or whatever."

"One of the many, many wrong things about this country." he said with a grin, parking himself into the chair opposite Kane. "Gotta admit, the fish is tasty but the beer sucks." he said. "Can't complain about the girls, though." he said, eyeing a waitress in impossibly tall heels and an impossibly short skirt expertly handle her tray full of food. "And they let ya smoke if ya want to."

"I swear to God, Old Man, you're just looking for a place that coddles all your bad habits." Kane said with a grin, passing over a menu. "The coffee is shockingly good. I'll give them that. So, how did they managed to rope you into this conference. I know Xavier's would be here, but I didn't figure you'd be playing babysitter, eh."

"Figure I've been here before." he said. "Speak the language and all. Maybe something will remind me of something else." he said with a shrug. "Couldn't hurt to try. Plus Noriko asked me to go with her to visit her folks." he added. "Chuck gets a little nervous at the idea of lettin' me talk to the education geeks. So I got a pass."

"You're actually remembering bits of Japan? No offense, Logan, but you're hardly the Pacific Rim tourist type I'd expect." Kane said, leaning forward. He knew about the odd gaps in Logan's memory, and how it bothered him. Now, if he was remembering things? "What do you remember?"

"I dunno, the girls sure are pretty." he said with a friendly leer. "I got nothing yet, so I'm trying to see what all's out there, see if anything jumps out at me." he said. "Hoping something here will give me something. I mean, I speak the language and I fight like they do - kinda - so maybe I spent some time here picking stuff up, eh?" he proposed. "Worth a shot, anyway."

"Can't blame you. Maybe you did do some training over here. Or you could be part Japanese. It would explain the height thing." Kane said, taking a jab at the shorter man's stature.

"Six foot is _not_ short, asshole." he said with a friendly growl. Their waitress showed up - very nice girl indeed - and Logan ordered a classically American meal. Coffee, hot roast beef sandwich, fries, the works. They wanted to play at being American, Logan was more than happy to indulge.

Besides, he was getting tired of sashimi and sake from pine boxes.

"No, it's not. Five-eight is." Kane took a bite of his sandwich with a grin. "Little man."

"Blow me." he said and then laughed. "Must be the proximity of all these little people around me." he said. "Makes me feel tall. So how's your thing been going, speaking of being blown?" he asked. "Having fun in Cop Central?"

"If only. I'm stuck in Department H. The Director is not particularly happy with me right now, and I don't think Minister MacDonald is either. I'm stuck in debriefings until they decide what to do with me." Kane said, a touch sourly.

"Poor baby. Guess getting your throat torn out reflects badly on the RCMP or something." he said. "They in the loop on that one?" he asked curiously.

"Not that they've indicated. I think the Director suspects what happened. He's supposed to have all sorts of connections to the big players; CIA, GRU, Mossad, etc... Because I won't tell them all the details involving the space laser, like for example, that there was a space laser, the question arises of whether or not I can be trusted as a liaison." Garrison took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. "So if I get pulled from Xavier's, do they put me back in the field with the RCMP, should I be replaced for an Alpha Flight slot, that sort of thing."

"If they pull you as a liaison, you can always turn in your badge. Xavier'd hire you in a heartbeat, assuming those bastards in Snow Valley didn't get to you first." he pointed out. "So it's not like you're looking at being completely fucked. And where the hell is my food?" he asked with a louder voice. When in doubt, start humiliating people.

"Doesn't work like that, Logan. I wanted to be a cop, not an X-Man." He shook his head. "If they pull me, I don't know whether or not I could go back."

"Horseshit and you know it." he scoffed. "You're a cop because you want to make a difference out there. Because your old man pisses you off and you want to walk something clean. Simple. Understandable. Right here, wrong there. The RCMP shitcans you for keeping secrets, you can still do what you do without the badge." he said. "Besides, there's Marie to consider. You bolt, you'll break her heart and then I'd have to cut you." he smirked.

"I don't need to be an X-Man to be with Marie, Logan. And frankly, she wouldn't want to be with me if I tried to change who I was." Kane sighed, putting down the sandwich. "Stopping criminals isn't the same upholding the law, Logan. Despite appearances, I take my oath pretty seriously, and now... I don't know. I'm not even sure we should have gone up in the first place. Half the team honestly wants blood from the Brotherhood; I'm not an executioner, and I don't want to start being one to cover up a bigger crime."

"What, you wanted him to carry out his threat? You got another strikeforce we don't know about, mebbe, do a better job than the one we sent?" he asked.

"If our agenda is body count, let's have Forge attach a nuke to the side of the thing and blow it. Let's stop pretending that X-Men don't kill, or break the law, except when it's convenient for us." Kane shook his head. "If we're going to change anything outside of the law, we have to hold ourselves and others to a higher standard. Otherwise, we're either thugs with delusions of righteousness, or nothing but a useful tool against other mutants until other governments develop a solution."

"You're losing me here, kid. What's your beef again? That the X-Men don't have badges and don't arrest people for trial?" he asked confusedly. "Or because you got mangled by a would-be genetic dictator that we've tangled with before?"

"I'm still not comfortable saying one thing and doing another. If the X-Men are really about human and mutant integration, we need to be pushing that to hold other countries accountable. What happens when we catch Magneto? Do we give him to the American courts? The Russians? The Israelis? Do we pass him over to a group that endorses capital punishment? When do we start making our own accountable?" Kane shook his head. "I get the feeling that we're running around so fast to do good, that we're missing the larger picture. As a cop, the larger sense of the law is always there. It's designed to try and be self-correcting in an objective way. Not having that makes me worry whether or not we're just going to end up down the same road as Magneto eventually; longer path and with better intentions, but still seen as nothing more than another group of mutants who ignore the law because it doesn't have to apply to them."

Logan shrugged. "Not my problem." he said, then his food finally arrived and he set-to like a starving man. The food was on the acceptable side of meh, but it went down and filled the belly so Logan didn't complain too much. "You think too much, kid. Keep your head down, do what you're told, and leave the big picture stuff to Chuck."

"You know, the world of motivational speaking lost a potential great in you, Logan." Kane said with a snort. Logan was right in that Kane did think too much. Since his first day in the mansion, these thoughts had preyed on him. Maybe it was just his latest brush with death that made it seem more urgent. "So, Marie says we're supposed to go and get a drink. What do you feel like that won't get us deported?"

"I like my motivations red-haired and curvy or sharp, pointy, and come in threes." he laughed. "I'm sure we can find something suitable." he grinned. He'd heard of places where the girls were nude, the drinks strong, and the scent of biz thick in the air.

Sounded great to him. And Kane needed to get the stink of his brush with death off him. Maybe a little company, a little alcohol, and an ear might do the trick.

He owed Kane and Wolverine paid his debts.



Julio and Nori check out Chinatown



"So," Julio said, lacing his fingers behind his head. "is it good to be home?"

Noriko hung by one of the straps on the train, leaning into the curves of the track more than she really needed to, and looking down at Julio on the otherwise empty bench. The train was fairly empty, for Tokyo, but Nori knew that even if it had been packed, chances were good Julio would have gotten a seat to himself with lots of room. Nobody wanted to sit next to a foreigner. "Un," she nodded. "But... is mind buzz..." Her spare hand described a circle near her temple. "Is not good."

"You and me both," Julio said. But it was only a mild headache and he felt there was nothing worth mentioning. Japan was full of fault lines, but if he could get through the trip without something happening, it meant that he was another step closer to going home for good. It was the nausea he was starting to get annoyed by. "So, what is this festival?"

"Mouuu..., Yokohama is Japan Chinatown. Is always festival." Noriko shrugged, waving a hand airly, thoroughly unconcerned by the way the train tossed her about. "Kedo... Is pretty. Many... anou... chi-chi-chi-chi." She made a sound like a little bell. "Is too many good food."

It took Julio a moment to translate what Nori said, his concentration wasn't the greatest lately. "Ah, food, yes. You will have to tell me what is good. I do not know Japanese food very well. Just no shellfish. It makes me sick."

Nori made a face at him, well aware when someone wasn't paying attention to her. "Julio Baaaka. Chinatown is Chinese food. Chahan. Nikkuman. Oishiiiii!"

Julio wanted to say it was all the same to him, but he figured that wouldn't go over well. "Ah, sorry. I did not eat a lot of Chinese food either, back home. My favorite foriegn food is Italian." He grinned sheepishly.

She smiled back at him, seemingly placated. "Julio is like nikkuman, Nori thinks. Sugoi oishii." The train made one last, small shudder as it pulled into yet another station and Noriko swung from the strap one last time before dropping it. "Is Yokohama. Let's go!" She snagged Julio's hand and tugged him to his feet.

The boy allowed himself to be towed out of the subway and onto the street. The crowds reminded him of home. "So, where are we going first, great and wise guide?"

"Ehhh..." she scanned the signs posted about the train station until she spotted the one she wanted. "Exit... kochi." Tugging his hand again, she weaved between tourists and little old ladies, eventually getting them safely out on the street and into a riot of color. Even if she hadn't told him it was Tokyo's Chinatown, Julio would definitely have been able to tell for himself - riotously bright red signs hung everywhere, the clothes people wore were subtly different, and the shops spilling out into the streets were somehow even more crowded with pushy old ladies than in other parts of Tokyo. In the distance they could hear a clanging of off key bells, and Nori made for the noise.

Julio noted the inherent irony of visiting a Chinatown while he was in Japan, but he dutifully followed Nori through the crowds. There was a promise of food, and to Julio, that meant a win. Simply because he couldn't tell if it was a "feed me now!" headache he was having or something else. "You come here a lot, yes?" Julio said as they ducked and weaved, Nori leading him like an expert assassin on the trail of a target.

"Is only sometimes. If festival. If friend is to go..." Turning a corner they ran straight into a much larger crowd, in the middle of which a mobile shrine could be seen, hefted on the shoulders of several dozen people, clearly straining to keep it up. "Atta!" Still pulling Julio after her, she moved through the crowd to get a better view.

The boy whistled in appreciation. "What is this?" Julio asked, shouting a little to be heard over the noise of the crowd.

Nori grinned at the whistle. "Is mikoshi... anou... festival to... god on back." She mimed carrying the shrine, then drew a circle in the air to take in the whole crowd. "Festival day is God to see all place. In mikoshi, God is sightsee."

"Ah," Julio said, nodding. There were similar traditions he'd seen in his religion back home. "Which god is is this one," he gestured with a hand, thinking that pointing would be rather rude.

Nori tilted her head and grinned. "I don't know. Is Chinese God." The shrine bearers continued on down the road, accompanied by much singing and chanting.

"Hmph," Julio said. "There are different gods, you learn something new everyday." his stomach punctuated this sentence with a low rumble. "Ah, yes, I believe we were getting food?"

"Hai hai!" Nori grinned, turning to scan the road. "Jyaaaaa... Is ramen, manjuu, chahan... What is Julio want?" As she spoke she pointed to various eateries, most of which had menus with bright pictures hanging out by their doors.

"See, ramen I recognize. Is ramen good for you, yes?" Julio said.

Noriko nodded. "Is very good. Is not cup ramen. Very delicious," she informed him, turning and heading for the shop in question.

"And I like cup ramen, so this should make me very very happy," Julio added as she towed him into the restaurant.