Forge & Jay - Bat Out Of Hell
Mar. 8th, 2009 11:58 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAfter their earlier argument, Jay follows Forge to Harry's, and prevents a nearly-fatal accident. Or so it would seem.
Harry's Hideaway had been the refuge for years for those inhabitants of Xavier's who were looking for a break from the tension, a change of scenery, or sometimes just a good stiff drink. More often than not, those of age eventually made the trek in search of all three. Harry himself rarely stepped out from behind the bar, relying on his waitstaff to serve the tables; but as the time grew close to last call, he made it a point to pay specific attention to those who'd driven themselves to the bar instead of arriving on foot (or in some cases via teleportation or giant glowing firebird) and would engage in the time-honored tradition of exchanging car keys for a phone call to the mansion for those who'd had one (or in many cases, half a dozen or more) too many.
But Harry, for all his experience, was only human. And every so often, things would slip by.
Forge made his way out the door, giving a quick wave to the waitress on his way out and sending a short text message before shuffling across the parking lot and unlocking the driver's side door of his black sports car. Seconds later, the engine roared and tires spat gravel as the RX-8 headed out, albeit unsteadily, onto the county road.
Perched at the highest point on the bar, Jay crouched down with his wings hanging over him at a ledge, reminiscent of a gargoyle watching over his people. His fingers absently scratched his arm, watching one patron after another slip out of the bar, catching a cab home. His hot breath blew out of him with an air of smoke before it disappeared in the cool crisp night. Another set of drunks left the bar; one was slung between two friends, half dragged through the parking lot between cars but it was without a doubt that the individual Jay had half a mind to tell off stopped just outside of that circle of friends. Leaning forward, his hand fell, hooking in front of him as he maintained his balance.
Words ground between his teeth and he fought the impulse to crash down on Forge in a dive, the sudden disappointment of not having talons not far from his mind.
The RX-8 flashed its brake lights for a moment, as if conveying some sense of the driver's state of mental confusion. The engine revved again and the sound of grinding came from a slipped clutch before the car lurched forward and turned left, heading away from the Xavier Institute, up into the foothills and beginning to accelerate.
Jay jumped off the roof in a swooping glide and the powerful wings beat down on three strokes before it was gaining speed and kept up easily with the car below. His hoodie fell back and Jay pulled it over again, only to have it fall back again, cursing that he couldn't keep it against his head. The wind did nothing to drown out the blaring sound of bass below him and he rolled his eyes at the music, dropping down closer, not ten feet from the car. The speeding took a few extra strokes but he found he wasn't straining like he thought he would be, turning at every corner, though he noticed the tight turns were being more and more careless as they went.
The red taillights of the sports car seemed to leave streaks in the air as the black RX-8 fishtailed around a hairpin curve, weaving into the opposite lane with only the devil's own luck preventing there from being another vehicle heading the opposite way. Speed still increasing with each straightaway, Forge certainly didn't appear to be driving with his usual care - it was rare for anyone to catch him driving with anything but almost perfect mechanical precision.
Tonight, however, not only was he driving well in excess of posted speed limits, his car was all over the road, tires squealing as they scrabbled for purchase on the roads slick from the week's rain.
"Stupid drunk," Jay mumbled, gliding down until he was just over the roof. Landing while the car was in motion was one thing and everytime Forge swerved, the car skidded and made it almost impossible to get some sort of a grip. He couldn't believe Forge would do this. He was the King of anal concerning safety and here he was, being the King of artards. "Jesus christ," he cursed again as his hand slipped off the edge of the roof and he balled his fist up, smacking the top just as the car skidded again and off the road.
"Shit!"
As if in response, the car's engine roared, sending up gravel as it accelerated along the shoulder, then appeared to regain control -- for all of a second before the wheels spun wildly, sending the car out over an incline with nothing but sixty feet of thin air between it and the rocks below.
Jay pulled up in the air for a second before he broke into a dive. He landed on the hood, tips of his wings cutting through the roof of the metal car easily like opening a can. Lunging into the car, he cut through the seatbelt, grabbing his friend by the wrist, Jay pulled and his wings cut into the car more, widening the gap. He pushed off the car, expanding his wings and caught a rush of an updraft, launching the pair into the air before the car crashed into the ground. One hand around Forge's wrist, his other gripped the jacket, flying upwards towards the road, casting a brief glace down where the ruins of the car remained. That was when he noticed Forge was smiling at him.
"What the hell?"
"Joshua Guthrie, you're my hero," Forge singsonged in a cheerful voice - although one completely sober. Reaching up, his metal arm cinched around Jay's waist, holding himself steady as the two spiraled on an updraft before landing on the edge of the incline that only second before, the RX-8 had taken a near-fatal tumble from.
Brushing slivers of metal and particles of broken glass from his jacket, Forge paced over to the edge of the cliff, wincing briefly in sympathy as he saw the twisted, irreparable wreck of his car. But just as quickly, his grimace turned into a smile as he looked back at Jay. "You see? This proves it."
His shock was suddenly overridden with humility and he ground his teeth, livid that the idiot would pull such a stunt. Jay's hands collided with Forge's shoulders, shoving him hard off the cliff. He jumped off, dove down and grabbed Forge's jacket by the back of the collar, letting Forge dangle from where he gripped him. Catching the wind again, Jay's wings beat furiously, launching the pair up past the edge where Jay spun and launched Forge into the gravel of the shoulder.
"Dumb shit!" he yelled. "Walk home then!" God!
Forge sat up from where Jay had dumped him, calmly brushing gravel from his leather jacket. "Listen to me, Jay," he said, voice completely serious. "When have you ever known me to do anything -anything - without a reason? You needed this - and this was the only way I could get you to prove it to yourself."
He rocked back and forth, then up onto his feet, striding towards where Jay stood, wings spread wide, at the side of the road. "You could have let me storm off to Harry's alone, but you went and waited outside. Three hours there, and you didn't leave. And then when you thought I was in trouble - when I needed you, you were there to save me." He reached out to poke Jay in the chest with a solid thump. "Get it through your thick-ass country brain, Jay. Whatever those bastards did to you, they couldn't change who you are. When it came down to it, you saved my life because that's who you are. Accept it."
Jay's hand stopped that poke, his real hand fastened over the metal one. "Are you listenin' to yourself? Do you know how fucked up that logic is? Like someone hit you over the head one too many goddamn times. And by god, don't--" Jay pushed the hand away and the joints of his wings thrusted out, shoving into Forge's shoulders, knocking him back a pace."--touch me ever again."
He pulled the hood over his head, the shadow from it darkening his features and a car sped by without even slowing a bit. The gravel crunched under his converse and he turned, heading for the cliff.
"It doesn't matter how fucked up it is, I'm right and you know it." Forge said, without raising his voice. "Jay, listen to me. You think you've been made into a killer, and believe me - you've got that capability. But listen to something else."
He rushed forward, moving around in front of Jay but not touching the taller man. "Before? Before... you know, the wings? There would have been no way you could have followed me at the speed I was going. I know this, remember? I spent an entire year in Flight class studying you to figure out how human-powered flight worked. These wings... you fly faster, turn harder, dive swifter, climb higher. Whatever's been done to your reflexes, you might see it as predator instincts, but you chose to use those abilities for something heroic. Jay, you can't deny that. You can't turn your back on it."
He snapped his mouth shut, exhaling slowly through his nose and his nostrils flared as he took in sharp breath. "What do you expect me to do, huh? Join that fuckin' team Ah hate? If you ain't one of us, you don't get it - remember that? Is that what you're tryin' to do, some bullshit recruitin'?" He didn't advance on Forge, nor did he step back. Instead, he maintained his position, steady and solid in his posture as he stared at the pinnacle of his frustrations.
"I don't need to recruit you for anything, Jay," Forge insisted. "You are what you are. The important parts, anyway. You were there when I got brought back from the Brotherhood. Powerless, directionless, I had nothing, Jay, and you were there the moment I woke up. For all you knew tonight, I could have been killed and you were there, dammit!" For the first time all night, Forge's voice rose and he spoke faster, taking a step towards Jay.
"And you know what? I pulled you broken and bloody out of an alley after you'd been stomped half into pulp and I got you home. I was there when Masque twisted you around, just like he did me. I've called you an idiot, you've called me a moron, and we've both been right. But god damn it, Jay. If you think I'm going to see you as anything different because you've got blue skin and metal wings, then by God you're the biggest damn idiot I've ever met. And don't you give me this bullshit about being a killer because your killer instinct just saved my life, and I want you to fucking acknowledge it!"
"Fine! Ah acknowledge it!" Jay shot back, shoving Forge back a pace. "But it don't make me any happier than I was when Ah realized Ah killed a man. Ah ain't no hero and Ah dont' care to be on any team. Ah don't got in me what you got in you. Ah wasn't meant for this. This ain't how Ah was suppose to be. Mah place was up on the stage--" he pointed out in the distance for emphasis. "--in front of a crowd but now, Ah can't even stand in front of mah friends."
"You're standing in front of your friend now," Forge said quietly, hands in his pockets. "And I'm not going anywhere. Yeah, I might not have a healing factor but as long as you need me, I'll keep coming back as well."
Jay pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and trailed up into his hair. Pulling the strands back in place with the tears he shed, his hands slid down his neck and hooked there, staring. After a long minute, a sigh of resolve slipped from his nose and his wings folded up with every intent to walk Forge the rest of the way.
"You selfish jerk. You just wanted a reason to buy that roadster you been eyeballin'."
Forge snorted, looking down over the cliff at the twisted metal that used to be his car, now scattered into at least three distinct pieces across the fallen rocks at the bottom of the incline. "Meh," he said noncommittally. "It's just a car. C'mon, let's head on back homewards. I've got a telekinetic or two owing me a few favors that I can draft for cleanup here before dawn comes and the local highway patrol makes a stink."
Harry's Hideaway had been the refuge for years for those inhabitants of Xavier's who were looking for a break from the tension, a change of scenery, or sometimes just a good stiff drink. More often than not, those of age eventually made the trek in search of all three. Harry himself rarely stepped out from behind the bar, relying on his waitstaff to serve the tables; but as the time grew close to last call, he made it a point to pay specific attention to those who'd driven themselves to the bar instead of arriving on foot (or in some cases via teleportation or giant glowing firebird) and would engage in the time-honored tradition of exchanging car keys for a phone call to the mansion for those who'd had one (or in many cases, half a dozen or more) too many.
But Harry, for all his experience, was only human. And every so often, things would slip by.
Forge made his way out the door, giving a quick wave to the waitress on his way out and sending a short text message before shuffling across the parking lot and unlocking the driver's side door of his black sports car. Seconds later, the engine roared and tires spat gravel as the RX-8 headed out, albeit unsteadily, onto the county road.
Perched at the highest point on the bar, Jay crouched down with his wings hanging over him at a ledge, reminiscent of a gargoyle watching over his people. His fingers absently scratched his arm, watching one patron after another slip out of the bar, catching a cab home. His hot breath blew out of him with an air of smoke before it disappeared in the cool crisp night. Another set of drunks left the bar; one was slung between two friends, half dragged through the parking lot between cars but it was without a doubt that the individual Jay had half a mind to tell off stopped just outside of that circle of friends. Leaning forward, his hand fell, hooking in front of him as he maintained his balance.
Words ground between his teeth and he fought the impulse to crash down on Forge in a dive, the sudden disappointment of not having talons not far from his mind.
The RX-8 flashed its brake lights for a moment, as if conveying some sense of the driver's state of mental confusion. The engine revved again and the sound of grinding came from a slipped clutch before the car lurched forward and turned left, heading away from the Xavier Institute, up into the foothills and beginning to accelerate.
Jay jumped off the roof in a swooping glide and the powerful wings beat down on three strokes before it was gaining speed and kept up easily with the car below. His hoodie fell back and Jay pulled it over again, only to have it fall back again, cursing that he couldn't keep it against his head. The wind did nothing to drown out the blaring sound of bass below him and he rolled his eyes at the music, dropping down closer, not ten feet from the car. The speeding took a few extra strokes but he found he wasn't straining like he thought he would be, turning at every corner, though he noticed the tight turns were being more and more careless as they went.
The red taillights of the sports car seemed to leave streaks in the air as the black RX-8 fishtailed around a hairpin curve, weaving into the opposite lane with only the devil's own luck preventing there from being another vehicle heading the opposite way. Speed still increasing with each straightaway, Forge certainly didn't appear to be driving with his usual care - it was rare for anyone to catch him driving with anything but almost perfect mechanical precision.
Tonight, however, not only was he driving well in excess of posted speed limits, his car was all over the road, tires squealing as they scrabbled for purchase on the roads slick from the week's rain.
"Stupid drunk," Jay mumbled, gliding down until he was just over the roof. Landing while the car was in motion was one thing and everytime Forge swerved, the car skidded and made it almost impossible to get some sort of a grip. He couldn't believe Forge would do this. He was the King of anal concerning safety and here he was, being the King of artards. "Jesus christ," he cursed again as his hand slipped off the edge of the roof and he balled his fist up, smacking the top just as the car skidded again and off the road.
"Shit!"
As if in response, the car's engine roared, sending up gravel as it accelerated along the shoulder, then appeared to regain control -- for all of a second before the wheels spun wildly, sending the car out over an incline with nothing but sixty feet of thin air between it and the rocks below.
Jay pulled up in the air for a second before he broke into a dive. He landed on the hood, tips of his wings cutting through the roof of the metal car easily like opening a can. Lunging into the car, he cut through the seatbelt, grabbing his friend by the wrist, Jay pulled and his wings cut into the car more, widening the gap. He pushed off the car, expanding his wings and caught a rush of an updraft, launching the pair into the air before the car crashed into the ground. One hand around Forge's wrist, his other gripped the jacket, flying upwards towards the road, casting a brief glace down where the ruins of the car remained. That was when he noticed Forge was smiling at him.
"What the hell?"
"Joshua Guthrie, you're my hero," Forge singsonged in a cheerful voice - although one completely sober. Reaching up, his metal arm cinched around Jay's waist, holding himself steady as the two spiraled on an updraft before landing on the edge of the incline that only second before, the RX-8 had taken a near-fatal tumble from.
Brushing slivers of metal and particles of broken glass from his jacket, Forge paced over to the edge of the cliff, wincing briefly in sympathy as he saw the twisted, irreparable wreck of his car. But just as quickly, his grimace turned into a smile as he looked back at Jay. "You see? This proves it."
His shock was suddenly overridden with humility and he ground his teeth, livid that the idiot would pull such a stunt. Jay's hands collided with Forge's shoulders, shoving him hard off the cliff. He jumped off, dove down and grabbed Forge's jacket by the back of the collar, letting Forge dangle from where he gripped him. Catching the wind again, Jay's wings beat furiously, launching the pair up past the edge where Jay spun and launched Forge into the gravel of the shoulder.
"Dumb shit!" he yelled. "Walk home then!" God!
Forge sat up from where Jay had dumped him, calmly brushing gravel from his leather jacket. "Listen to me, Jay," he said, voice completely serious. "When have you ever known me to do anything -anything - without a reason? You needed this - and this was the only way I could get you to prove it to yourself."
He rocked back and forth, then up onto his feet, striding towards where Jay stood, wings spread wide, at the side of the road. "You could have let me storm off to Harry's alone, but you went and waited outside. Three hours there, and you didn't leave. And then when you thought I was in trouble - when I needed you, you were there to save me." He reached out to poke Jay in the chest with a solid thump. "Get it through your thick-ass country brain, Jay. Whatever those bastards did to you, they couldn't change who you are. When it came down to it, you saved my life because that's who you are. Accept it."
Jay's hand stopped that poke, his real hand fastened over the metal one. "Are you listenin' to yourself? Do you know how fucked up that logic is? Like someone hit you over the head one too many goddamn times. And by god, don't--" Jay pushed the hand away and the joints of his wings thrusted out, shoving into Forge's shoulders, knocking him back a pace."--touch me ever again."
He pulled the hood over his head, the shadow from it darkening his features and a car sped by without even slowing a bit. The gravel crunched under his converse and he turned, heading for the cliff.
"It doesn't matter how fucked up it is, I'm right and you know it." Forge said, without raising his voice. "Jay, listen to me. You think you've been made into a killer, and believe me - you've got that capability. But listen to something else."
He rushed forward, moving around in front of Jay but not touching the taller man. "Before? Before... you know, the wings? There would have been no way you could have followed me at the speed I was going. I know this, remember? I spent an entire year in Flight class studying you to figure out how human-powered flight worked. These wings... you fly faster, turn harder, dive swifter, climb higher. Whatever's been done to your reflexes, you might see it as predator instincts, but you chose to use those abilities for something heroic. Jay, you can't deny that. You can't turn your back on it."
He snapped his mouth shut, exhaling slowly through his nose and his nostrils flared as he took in sharp breath. "What do you expect me to do, huh? Join that fuckin' team Ah hate? If you ain't one of us, you don't get it - remember that? Is that what you're tryin' to do, some bullshit recruitin'?" He didn't advance on Forge, nor did he step back. Instead, he maintained his position, steady and solid in his posture as he stared at the pinnacle of his frustrations.
"I don't need to recruit you for anything, Jay," Forge insisted. "You are what you are. The important parts, anyway. You were there when I got brought back from the Brotherhood. Powerless, directionless, I had nothing, Jay, and you were there the moment I woke up. For all you knew tonight, I could have been killed and you were there, dammit!" For the first time all night, Forge's voice rose and he spoke faster, taking a step towards Jay.
"And you know what? I pulled you broken and bloody out of an alley after you'd been stomped half into pulp and I got you home. I was there when Masque twisted you around, just like he did me. I've called you an idiot, you've called me a moron, and we've both been right. But god damn it, Jay. If you think I'm going to see you as anything different because you've got blue skin and metal wings, then by God you're the biggest damn idiot I've ever met. And don't you give me this bullshit about being a killer because your killer instinct just saved my life, and I want you to fucking acknowledge it!"
"Fine! Ah acknowledge it!" Jay shot back, shoving Forge back a pace. "But it don't make me any happier than I was when Ah realized Ah killed a man. Ah ain't no hero and Ah dont' care to be on any team. Ah don't got in me what you got in you. Ah wasn't meant for this. This ain't how Ah was suppose to be. Mah place was up on the stage--" he pointed out in the distance for emphasis. "--in front of a crowd but now, Ah can't even stand in front of mah friends."
"You're standing in front of your friend now," Forge said quietly, hands in his pockets. "And I'm not going anywhere. Yeah, I might not have a healing factor but as long as you need me, I'll keep coming back as well."
Jay pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and trailed up into his hair. Pulling the strands back in place with the tears he shed, his hands slid down his neck and hooked there, staring. After a long minute, a sigh of resolve slipped from his nose and his wings folded up with every intent to walk Forge the rest of the way.
"You selfish jerk. You just wanted a reason to buy that roadster you been eyeballin'."
Forge snorted, looking down over the cliff at the twisted metal that used to be his car, now scattered into at least three distinct pieces across the fallen rocks at the bottom of the incline. "Meh," he said noncommittally. "It's just a car. C'mon, let's head on back homewards. I've got a telekinetic or two owing me a few favors that I can draft for cleanup here before dawn comes and the local highway patrol makes a stink."
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