Sonatorrek: Lokasenna - 14

[x-dominion.livejournal.com]

WARNING: MATURE SUBJECT MATTER

Kane is turned down by his superiors for more assistance, as Marie-Ange drops by to put her own insurance policy on Kane`s skin.



Garrison pulled his car into the motel parking lot and slumped against the wheel for a long moment. He was spent – nightmares had gotten so bad and intense that he’d just given up sleep. Closing his eyes, even for a moment, made the images come out again; brutalized bodies, pictures of mutilations and rape, and even children on display. He’d worked hard cases before, but this time, he felt he’d come unanchored, unable to reach down and take hold of the core of who he was to stabilize things. Instead, he lurched from temporary measure to temporary measure, anything to stop or distract the scenes playing in his head. He didn’t even want to think about the possible fallout that his selfish liaisons would generate. It was beyond him at this point to even care about the future.

He had to catch the killer. It was as if his mind had doubled down on his duty. If he couldn’t find the killer, stop him, Kane very honestly felt he might go mad.

Finally, he opened the door and stepped out, and almost stumbled as a brown wrapped package arced out of the air at him. He caught it awkwardly, barely holding on.

“Good reflexes, Agent Kane. I guess the physical tests are kinda lax these days?”

“You’re a riot, Jane.” Kane said dryly, turning over the package. It had to be the books he’d ordered to go with the ones that Amanda had brought him earlier in the week on Norse ritual.

“One day, I will be a famous comedienne and you’ll have to say ‘I remember her when…’” The teenager grinned at him. “And, just so you know, my dad is minding the front tonight, so if you’re going to keep sneaking in women, better keep it down.”

Garrison winced at the comment. “You saw that?”

“Only the trashy blonde biker chick. But I heard Agent Bitchy Dyejob clearly enough.” Her grin got wider. “I thought I had bad taste, Agent Kane.”

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s exactly what Jessie said when she got knocked up. I’ve got the internet. It’s doesn’t look that complicated.” Jane caught the expression on Kane’s face and her smile dropped. “Sorry. I was just teasing you.”

“That’s okay. You’re not wrong. It should be simple.” He took a breath and leaned against his car. “You’re dressed up. Big date?”

“Party. Justin Dormier’s parents are out of town. You’re not going to bust us, right?”

“No. I did the same thing at your age. You know, just after we gaze Fritz a seeing to.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what that means.”

“Jane, be careful, eh? There’s… there’s shit going down in this town right now. Don’t go anywhere alone after, make sure you’re with someone you trust.”

“You sound like an after-school special. Yeah, I’m not going to get roofied or take a midnight walk through the woods. I’m not stupid.” She touched him on the arm for a moment. “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah. It’s a cop thing, you know. Makes us all paranoid.” He took a deep breath and straightened up. “If you need a ride or something, you call me.”

“Wouldn’t that be getting into a car with a strange man? Relax, and get some sleep. You look pretty wasted.” She gave him a last smile and walked off. He watched her until she passed the office and then made his way up to his room. Good kid, and smart too. She was one of the reasons he had to figure things out before he left town, to make sure she was safe.

When he reached his room, his cellphone rang and he hurriedly unlocked the door and stepped in to answer.

“Hello! Yes, thank you for getting back to me.” He recognized the voice at the end of the line – it was the Chicago field office, the biggest close by group. Kane had pushed all the information to them, waiting on a senior officer to authorize a larger investigation.

“You have to be fucking kidding me!” Kane yelled into his phone. “You’ve seen the connections. There’s an established pattern that- no, it is not circumstantial! There has to be a shared link that connects them. Why don’t you- no, look, I need more time to develop the profile. And people. It’s just me out- son of a bitch!“ Kane turned and launched the phone into the wall, where it exploded. He sunk down on the bed with his head in his hands. Duncan had always supported him, and right now, he was clearly on his own.

And he didn’t know what to do next.

"Uncooperative superiors?" Marie-Ange's light accent and formal speech coming from the woman in leathers and tattoos was slightly odd, as she'd maintained a perky California accent for days now. She slid into the room, sitting down next to Garrison. "It is not that Brand woman, is it? Because she is terrible."

Kane gestured at the reams of paper and photos attached to the walls, the books with relevant passages underlined that could give him some insight into the killer he hunted, and worst, the butchers stack of autopsy photos that he had studied for hours, until the humanity disappeared from them. "It's not enough. All this and they won't authorize an investigation. I'm to conclude my investigation on the Valhallas and report back."

"How on earth can it be not enough? You have...." Marie-Ange cut herself off, seeing the expression on Garrison's face. "You are already into this too deeply to just get into your car and drive to the airport, yes?

" "I'm not leaving these people to whatever is out there." He flicked off the television, cutting off a Leonard Cohen song halfway, although it seemed to linger in the air after. "I don't even care if it's not related to Legends of the Fall and his gang. This person is hunting this town, and every kill seems to raise the bar in brutality for the next one." Kane's face was a collection of ticks; he had simply stopped sleeping, trusting his mutant powers to keep him going, and more importantly, trying to avoid the images that swirled every time he shut his eyes. Waking wasn't that much better, as he tried not to think of what the fallout of his own actions would be. He was disobeying the Bureau, deep in an investigation that hadn't been authorized, and along the way, had somehow come out of the other side of his curse by fucking friends who were in committed relationships.

He had to find and stop the killer. Waking away wasn't an option; he'd go mad if he tried.

"No, I can see that. You are certainly not leaving. I am just concerned about you. Garrison, this is not your world. This is magic and sorcery and not your police work. It is not even the X-Men's world." Marie-Ange shook her head, and patted Garrison's hand. "And we only have a very little bit of protection to offer you, and Amanda is not even sure it will work."

"Someone is fucking killing people in my world. Do you know what my badge says on it? Maintiens le droit. It doesn't say 'unless weird shit is involved'. I don't care if its a god or three headed dog or vampire or evil undead Elvis involved. Once that line is crossed, it is my responsibility to make it whole again." He shook his head, blinking away the images of corpses behind his eyes. "I have to stop this and I don't care what it costs."

"Garrison. That is not something you want to consider. Please, believe me." Marie-Ange sat down next to him, and pulled her feet up onto the bed after kicking off the ridiculous sandals she'd been wearing all week. "Yes, it is good and right that you are not going to stop even if it is not your world, but I do not think you want to be the person who says you will not care what it costs."

"Don't I? The line has already been crossed, Marie-Ange. The law just said, explicitly, that they don't want to be involved, and people are still dying. They're being used in fucking inhuman ways and then murdered painfully."

Garrison sat silent for a moment, staring into space. "Laughing at me the whole time because he thinks I can't do anything to stop him. All of this creeps up to the line without going over it like a fucking expert. Ooh, he knows the Bureau isn't going to send a team and how he can work those rules to keep me helpless."

"You do not need to cross the line to doing inhuman things and murdering just to stop them." Marie-Ange's expression was far more open than usual, like she'd stopped closing herself off just for this conversation. "Please believe me, you do not want to be that person. I think there are decisions you can make, there are methods you can use without deciding to become... Pete Wisdom, or David North, or Logan. Amanda and I have been trying to find some way to even the odds, but we are not even sure it would work for you."

"Don't. The last thing I need is dealing with anyone's expectations about who I am." The words came out more violently than he intended, making her jump. There was none of the normal humour left in him, none of the professional control; Kane was operating on emotions, and they were ugly ones. "You got something to even the odds, fine. Lay it on me. But I'm not going to rule out any avenue to stop this just because it might give someone a sad, okay?"

Marie-Ange rolled her eyes, and silently turned and left the room. Her own emotions had been running too hot lately, and it was leave or go off on Kane in ways that would be overheard, and they could not afford that. Risky enough that she was in his room, alone.

It was almost an hour before she returned, and it seemed he hadn't even bothered to lock the door. It sagged open slightly, and she nudged it further with her knee. "Amanda and I think perhaps a sigil may even the odds, but it has to be on your skin. So before I do this I need to know two things, please. First, how long does your skin take to clear off marks on you, and second, do not ever think to presume that I am reluctant to offer you something because of "a sad.". My concerns are not invalid."

"Depends. A few days, maybe a week." Kane was sitting in the one chair, staring at a wall board dominated by a topographical map and pictures of the worst kinds of harm a human body could be subjected to, all carefully linked to their location. His gaze didn't flicker from the board. "And your concerns about me get to stop at my soul, OK? I'll make the choice how far I think I have to go. If you don't think you can help me, fine. But I don't need anyone to protect me from my decisions as if I'm ignorant of the consequences."

"So long as you understand that I am justifiably concerned." Marie-Ange said, flatly. "We have been working on - the magic here is Norse, from Asgard, Amanda thinks she might recognize it. So the protection, it has to be the same, no? Like against like. So it is all runes and sigils, but it has to be in the person's skin. A brand, or tattoo, it cannot just be drawn on, it has to be a real thing. I am not at all sure how well it will work on you. Magic does not account for, what did you call your skin adaptation again?"

"Hank called it 'omni-skin'. What, you want to tattoo it on me or something?"

"That is what I was thinking, yes." Marie-Ange said. "It seems to be the easiest way and the fastest, and it mixes blood and pain and skin in the sigil. It makes it more effective, we think."

"Fine." Kane stripped off his shirt with an easy gesture. "Where do you need to ink me?"

"Over your heart, and the palm or back of your dominant hand." She was not using even a bastardized version of autumn ritual. There were just some places Garrison did not need tattoos, even temporary ones. Summer would have to do. "Or as near as to. We are hoping, I am fairly sure that it does not so much matter where it goes as if you are willing." Marie-Ange took a tattoo gun out of the bag she'd brought and sat back down next to Garrison. "Or the base of your spine and your heart. That is your choice. Life and wisdom, or life and strength?" She wasn't giving him a choice about the life part.

"Will it give me the wisdom to catch this guy?" Kane said simply, tossing his shirt into the corner of the room.

"It is about what you value more, I think. If you accept it, it is more of a part of you, in as much as it could be." Marie-Ange explained. "What do you want most?"

"Let's keep it hidden on the spine. I don't want to tip this fucker off." Kane said. "Give me strength. I need to stay on my feet to stop this." He didn't mention the grinding fatigue that was already threatening to overtake him.

"Pants off then, please." She could do that one first - one over his heart could wait a bit, and Marie-Ange was still just new enough at this that she wanted a little more practice before she put a mark that was supposed to protect him. That was the one that needed to be perfect. "Flat places are easier. Hands are tricky, I'm told." She'd talked the tattoo place that had done her armband into letting her practice, but hands were all sorts of irregular.

Kane got up and stripped down, left only in a pair of boxer shorts as he tossed his pants over the back of a chair. "Whatever it takes." He muttered.

Once Garrison had settled down on the bed, Marie-Ange found herself at a bit of a loss. Sit next to him, and it would be easy to distort the image. Kneel and she ran the risk of putting her knee in a place where she thought even Garrison might complain. Eventually, she opted to set the tattooing equipment on her bag next to him, and sit on his upper thighs. "No wiggling. It would ruin the design." She said, as he shifted.

"OK." Kane bore her weight easily, like an afterthought as he laced his forearms under his chin and lay there.

Transferring the design to his skin was not that hard - they had put the design on transfer paper and that was harmless, so it seemed like his skin did not even register it. It was when Marie-Ange actually put the tattoo gun to his skin that things got tricky. The first pass seemed faded, like it was already an older mark with fuzzy edges, and it took several passes to make the mark distinct and clear.

She was nearly halfway done when she sat up and rolled her shoulders to ease some of the cramping. The air conditioner was struggling against the summer humidity and even in an abbreviated pair of shorts and a tank top, she felt overheated. She plucked the material of her shirt away from her skin and frowned at it - it was already tight, and the light sheen of sweat was making it nearly transparent - and of course, she hadn't bothered with a bra.

"We done?" Kane twisted about, catching sight of her conflicted state.

"Halfway. it is just -very- warm in here. How can you stand it?" Marie-Ange said. "Do you just lie about in your shorts when you are not being a policeman?" She tilted her head at him, and smiled, oddly demure for a woman who was straddling her mostly-undressed ex-boyfriend. "Not that I am sure anyone would complain if you did. Is there a calendar of FBI agents I can get, or of the RMCP? Which month are you?"

"Seriously?" Kane breathed out hard. It was Marie-Ange, who he had dated. And she didn't see the conflict in him. He was so far past being himself, he was having trouble remembered who he really was. And his friends couldn't tell. Instead, they seemed to only want to maul him sexually. Kane wanted to talk, to try and explain what he was grappling with, but his voice seemed frozen. Instead of trying to come to grips with what was going on inside his head, he pushed it away. It's was a coward's response, but he didn't want to live with the images behind his eyes. He just wanted to forget they existing, and the easiest way was buried in someone else. With a shift, she was pressed against him. "What month do you want me to be?"

"Mm. What month is it again?" There was a nagging something... she should finish the tattoo, maybe that was it, but Garrison was so solidly there and she remembered all too clearly what he'd felt like before, hands on her hips and hard muscles underneath her. "Did you bring the hat? I like the hat."

"Sorry. Just the badge and gun this time."

"I am sure we can make do without the hat." Marie-Ange's shirt peeled off easily, and she tossed it blindly. It landed in heap on the floor next to Garrison's pants. With his strength, he could've easily kept her from pulling his hands to cover her breasts, but he gave no resistance, and she ground into him. "But you will have to make it up to me."