Bhagavad Gita: The Devil You Know
Jul. 1st, 2008 06:52 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsGarrison goes to the man he'll need the most, and the one he least wants to ask.
He was becoming his father's son, Garrison Kane mused wryly as he walked along the hallways of the mansion. Morgan, Adrienne, Paige; he was happily building a group to go right into extreme danger for his own purposes. Now, he was going to try and use a man he didn't entirely trust, make a deal, because it was the most effective and efficient solution to the problem facing him. It was a sick revelation how easy it was to go down a path he'd promised himself he never would. Who would he be at the end of it? Garrison Kane, RCMP? More likely, Garrison Kane, mutant expediter between governments and the X-Men he could convince about a 'higher purpose'.
Kane shoved the thoughts aside, especially considering the powers of the man he was there to speak to. "Professor Farouk?" He said, rapping on the door.
The door opened almost immediately, and Kane stiffened slightly looking past Esteban's shoulder. The apartment's television was on, the sound echoing through the rooms.
Farouk was standing in front of the TV with his arms clasped behind his back, his face almost gray, as if he was relapsing back to the near-death wreck of a man he was during his battle with the Shadow King.
He turned slowly, pulling of his glasses with measured, almost graceful motion and fixed Kane with an impenetrable stare and spoke before the younger man even had the chance to shoulder his way past Trotsky. "The answer is yes, Garrison. I will need time to pack."
"Huh. Alright." Kane shook his head. Telepaths. He must be broadcasting all of the issues running through his mind right now. "It will be under FBI credentials, Professor. I have to ask that you kept that in mind for any of your research activities over there. Whatever we find out, unless Fred Duncan has a way to wrap it up in official sources before presenting it to the weapons inspectors, won't mean anything, eh."
Farouk tried to hide his disbelief, as he put his glasses back on and turned to click the TV off. FBI? Weapons inspectors? He forgot sometimes how naive the Americans and their northern cousins could be. As if any of that mattered when nuclear war loomed and a holocaust of mutants throughout the South West Asia as its inevitable consequence. He wondered if Kane realized the ultimate stakes, or was still thinking just one step ahead.
Christian was not a chess player after all, not by inclination. And his son lacked the experience that eventually tempered the father...
Well, no matter. "I understand completely, Mr. Kane."
He was becoming his father's son, Garrison Kane mused wryly as he walked along the hallways of the mansion. Morgan, Adrienne, Paige; he was happily building a group to go right into extreme danger for his own purposes. Now, he was going to try and use a man he didn't entirely trust, make a deal, because it was the most effective and efficient solution to the problem facing him. It was a sick revelation how easy it was to go down a path he'd promised himself he never would. Who would he be at the end of it? Garrison Kane, RCMP? More likely, Garrison Kane, mutant expediter between governments and the X-Men he could convince about a 'higher purpose'.
Kane shoved the thoughts aside, especially considering the powers of the man he was there to speak to. "Professor Farouk?" He said, rapping on the door.
The door opened almost immediately, and Kane stiffened slightly looking past Esteban's shoulder. The apartment's television was on, the sound echoing through the rooms.
Farouk was standing in front of the TV with his arms clasped behind his back, his face almost gray, as if he was relapsing back to the near-death wreck of a man he was during his battle with the Shadow King.
He turned slowly, pulling of his glasses with measured, almost graceful motion and fixed Kane with an impenetrable stare and spoke before the younger man even had the chance to shoulder his way past Trotsky. "The answer is yes, Garrison. I will need time to pack."
"Huh. Alright." Kane shook his head. Telepaths. He must be broadcasting all of the issues running through his mind right now. "It will be under FBI credentials, Professor. I have to ask that you kept that in mind for any of your research activities over there. Whatever we find out, unless Fred Duncan has a way to wrap it up in official sources before presenting it to the weapons inspectors, won't mean anything, eh."
Farouk tried to hide his disbelief, as he put his glasses back on and turned to click the TV off. FBI? Weapons inspectors? He forgot sometimes how naive the Americans and their northern cousins could be. As if any of that mattered when nuclear war loomed and a holocaust of mutants throughout the South West Asia as its inevitable consequence. He wondered if Kane realized the ultimate stakes, or was still thinking just one step ahead.
Christian was not a chess player after all, not by inclination. And his son lacked the experience that eventually tempered the father...
Well, no matter. "I understand completely, Mr. Kane."
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