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xp_logsDriving late, Artie and Darcy swap thoughts on small town living.
Artie was driving, in that specific zen that came at 3am after too many hours in the damn car. There was a stop planned at 6am to swap out night shift drivers for day, shower and stretch but that was an indeterminate amount of time away. For now, it was like traveling in nothingness, just the road, what he vaguely thought was probably corn fields in summer, barely illuminated in the headlights and stars overhead. The other cars in the convoy had dropped over the horizon at some point and the road was empty this time of night.
He fiddled the radio with one hand, scrolling through static and overnight filler, before pulling over onto the shoulder, the movement and gravel rocking the car.
Darcy jerked slightly as she came to awareness, having fallen into a light doze. "Izzat time already?" she asked groggily. Her fingers fumbled as she pressed on her seatbelt, making sure the smooth material didn't tangle between her and the door before slipping out and doing a stretch. "You wanna energy drink? I know most of them are gross, but I've got one that tastes like Sprite? Or orange." She rooted around in her backpack for a minute, grateful for the chance to stretch just a bit before they got back to driving this endless stretch.
A bright orange can appeared, along with a sandwich. "Peanut butter sandwich? Or crackers? Go wild dude, my snacks are your snacks." She considered a banana briefly, then ignored it. Sure, tossing the peel would be fine, it'd break down. But it'd also be a mark that someone had been through here, and she didn't want to hang on to it until the next switch, either. She took a giant bite of sandwich as she continued digging through her bag, making a muffled triumphant noise as she dug out an ancient iPod and a cassette with a long headphone string attached. The two items were stuck up front, along with a battery pack and the phone she was using for this trip.
Artie shook his head. "No, not time to change over," he replied through his synthesiser. "I just have a cramp and need to walk around the car a couple of times. This piece of shit doesn't have cruise control." He unbuckled and climbed out, sucking in a breath of the cold air, bouncing on his toes for a moment before bending over to stretch and then opening the rear door to rifle through his own backpack, pulling out a granola bar for later. The nest of pillows and blankets in the back looked tempting but he had to finish out his shift first before he could go and grab a few hours’ shut eye.
"Ugh, and of course on the stretch where you could really let go with it, right?" Darcy was half-signing as she came to better alertness, dropping words occasionally to take another bite of her sandwich. "But hey, at least I found my tunes! Old school enough to be approved, still modern enough to be able to put my new downloads in it. I've got playlists going all the way back to working with Jane - that's the weird Swedish shit you'll see, Dr. Selvig got her into it and was about the only thing she would tolerate in certain moods. Basically sounds like 80s rock, but not all the lyrics are English."
"I know but..." Artie let the projected text vanish and bent over to touch his toes before climbing back into the car. "I got another hour and a half before it's time to swap." He yawned widely. "Do you want to make the music go?" he asked, hitting the ignition and shifting the car out of neutral back into first.
"Yeah, 's fine. Have a preference, or just 'nothing sleepy'?" She scrolled through her playlists, finally settling on 'Astrophysics at Work' and settling back in her seat as Division of Laura Lee started playing through the speakers.
"Fall Out Boy?" The logo glowed softly against the dash, a moment too late as he shifted back into fifth and settled both hands on the wheel. "Oh, this is fine. NM." He flicked his high beams down as headlights appeared on the horizon from an oncoming truck who also did the same a heartbeat later.
He didn't have much to say to her right now. Vague thoughts about liminal space and how it felt like they weren't even moving were something Darcy probably didn't care about.
"I have them on a few playlists, I think. Definitely some Panic. Basically anything we could bop along to on late later entirely too early o'clock weird ass science hours," Darcy said. "Driving playlists to make the endless desert less weird at night. Long stretches of nothing until there's a rest stop or tiny little town on the way to the next observatory or place with a good, clear view and minimal light pollution. She waved her hand at the outside. "Sand version of this, go a few miles off-road until there aren't any streetlights or headlights, find some clear, high ground, wait for just the right moment."
Artie shook his head. "I hate this. Too much nothing. I don't know how anyone can live out here, you know? You step off the highway and go into some small town and everyone knows who you are, what you're doing." The text shone against the dash before dissolving. He was a city guy through and through.
Darcy grinned. "I'm from a pretty small city but Puente Antiguo was so small even I was uncomfortable. Everyone in town noticed when we showed up. Not the sort of place you can really blend into easily unless you live the sort of drifter life that makes you blend into the woodwork. I like the city better. Or even places like Westchester, small enough to know some folks and be a regular, but not so small that everyone is constantly in your business. The mansion's enough for that."
"I'm from New York. Well, more or less." Artie gave a sardonic smile. "Even growing up at the mansion, I still got the train into the city for school so I could have better ASL skills than I'd get just using it there." It had been kind of Haller to make the arrangements that meant he'd been able to do that, although Artie hadn't realized how kind for years after the fact. "I ... do cities. I work there, I live there. I hate endless driving through the asshole of America just to get there, though. And I especially hate night driving in these conditions, because the moment the clouds clear, there's going to be ice on the damn road."
"City boys," Darcy teased, voice affectionate. "Matt's said something similar before about being outside of the city. I get it though. It's an adjustment either way. I was lucky enough to get the frog treatment. Small city on the outskirts of a big one, then Culver, then bigger cities before New York. Had the time to acclimate to being in increasingly large ponds. Grandma says she always knew I was destined for a bigger city though, said I had too much energy for the farm to contain." She looked over the road and up at the bit of cloud she could see in the dark. "Some of it might be already, black ice is shitty like that. Just slow down a touch, it'll be fine."
"At least I was never a small town teenager with nothing to do but take meth, fuck and join the army." He slowed down and sighed. "We shoulda just bought new identities and flown to LA before driving to Vegas and Black Rock City. I am so done here." The tape to ipod converter began to click and Artie hit eject with one hand and pulled it out to shake it vigorously before jamming it back in without taking his eyes off the road.
"One of those three is highly unlikely to kill you." Darcy paused for a minute. "Okay, all three can kill you, but fucking requires being dumb or our line of work, and health class was scarring enough to scare most of my classmates into using a rubber, probably. Wouldn't know, I waited until college to get up to more than making out." She flicked the playlist over to Touch of Madness, and the strains of "Uma Thurman" filled the car.
"I wouldn't know. I didn't grow up in a small town. We just got demons and Canadian spec ops torturing us. Also, I didn't go to college in a normal way." He added a string of upside down smiley face emojis.
Darcy turned her head enough for Artie to actually see her sticking her tongue out. Childish, yes, but sometimes the best response. "No, you grew up in what sounds like a special kind of nightmare. Honestly, the more I learn about what all of you old-timers went through..." she shook her head. Every bit she heard or read, the overall negatives seemed to outweigh the positives. Minus the surviving. But in some respects, better than the alternatives. "It's a damned miracle any of you made it to adulthood."
"Could have been worse," Artie replied, eyes on the road. "I could have had to go to public schools." He let an image of a yellow school bus drift across the dash. "Get some sleep, will you? We're swapping drivers soon."
"Yeah, yeah. Bossy." Darcy gave Artie a grin. "You're in charge of the tunes, then."
In the RV, Topaz and Felicia get a chance to relax.
Low tech, not no tech. Which was great, because it meant Topaz didn't have to read the same book over and over, or risk someone calling her bag of books unnecessary and tossing it for space (which she would understand). Her eight-year-old Kindle with the wifi drivers removed, though? That was fine.
There was a card game going on somewhere barely beyond her perception. She was perfectly happy sharing a seat with Felicia in the other corner. If not for the bumps, it would have been downright cozy.
Felicia idly nibbled on the cap of her pen, math puzzle against her knee and Topaz pressed into her shoulder. She’d chosen to up the challenge by keeping a count of the cards on the game going on at the same time, but it was becoming more and more tempting to just abandon it and instead just read along with whatever Topaz was working on instead.
She hummed, and voiced the question. “What are you reading now?”
"Hmn?" Topaz's gaze flitted up. "It's an urban fantasy series about Fae living in secret, mostly in the San Francisco area, but they're all over the world. The last book ended on a terrible cliffhanger, and the next one won't be out until next September, so I'm just re-reading from the beginning."
"Rude of them," Felicia idly commented, holding up her book to answer the return question. "Expert Sodoku. I have a stack of books for later but. Warm. Sleepy. No plotlines."
Topaz leaned over to look at the puzzles. "I'm a bit rubbish at that kind of thing. You'd think I'd learn more about patterns considering the people I spend most of my time with, and yet."
“In the beginning it was just nice to have a repetitive activity,” Felicia explained, showing the beginning of her book, which she’d skipped, that had a few easier warmup puzzles. “Scan row one, scan row two, turn brain off. Then you start to recognize the patterns, how they fit. Or you don’t and you just enjoy the rhythm.”
"Huh." Topaz scanned the rows, tilting her head slightly. "May I?" she asked after a moment, gesturing to the book.
Felicia handed it over without hesitation, along with the thin black felt tip pen - the better for writing upside down she'd found - she'd been using. "Have at it," she said with a smile.
Topaz took the book and pen, curling up to let it rest against her legs, and she leaned a little on Felicia's shoulder. "So..."
She tapped the pen against the book more than she actually used it. She filled in a few numbers, but mostly she was hesitant.
"You've got it," Felicia praised, burrowing the two of them into each other. "You start with the basic patterns, something you see a lot of, like the 5 you found there, and the 9. Once that's done I usually do two runs; check for each number horizontally and vertically in order. After the second run, patterns should have shown up again, and you can work on those for a bit. Or not, there is no shame in doing another round of chipping away."
"Right," Topaz murmured, expression wrinkled in concentration. The atmosphere, overall, was relaxed (far more than she was used to), she was warm and comfortable, and at some point the bouncing of the RV became rhythmic and comforting. And as much as she was trying... she really did kind of suck at this. So she didn't bother fighting too much when her eyes started to close, or her head drifted to rest on Felicia's shoulder. Now was as good a time as any to take a nap, right?
Judging by the soft sigh from Felicia as her cheek pressed lightly into Topaz's hair, she agreed.
Artie keeps collecting bikes. How many can he strap to the back of the RV?
Artie had bought three bikes before they'd left New York, strapping them to the back of the RV after a custody mechanical. The last couple had been purchased from a very nice man who didn't ask many questions but did sell bikes for cash via Facebook.
Like the others, they were... fine. Mountain bike tyres, comfy seats, easy to adjust. He was currently taking advantage of the rest stop the convoy was taking on the side of the road just past Oklahoma City to spray paint them different colours. This wasn't an RV job.
After the first day, Marie-Ange had begged off driving. An hour here or there, that was fine, but the three and four hour shifts the rest of the team were taking were giving her migraines. She'd ended up trading a long driving shift by volunteering to do the next two grey water dumps. It was a little messy and stinky, but better than two hours of eyestrain headaches and grinding her teeth. She'd just finished hooking up the flexible pipe to the black tank, and was washing her hands with a wet wipe as Artie came around with another can of paint. "Do you know, I almost have more questions about where you stored a tarp on the RV than the ongoing bike project."
Artie pointed to the station wagon on the other side of the parking lot. "Do you think I managed to fit everything we'd need to look like Burners in there? This is part of our camp when we get to Black Rock City." He finished the bike and carefully moved it to one side. "It's too cold for it to dry before we need to get moving," he added, "So I'm going to have to paint the mural on the tarps when we get to the lake unless you can get me a few hours off the road."
"And we do not have the resources to just set the paint on fire like the street artists do." Marie-Ange blew her bangs out of her face. "No, I think painting it there - I think we can make that work. If you have sketches, I can ..." She laughed to herself. "It is you, of course you have sketches. Put me to work when we get there, this is your part of the operation, put my art skills to work."
He gave a silent laugh. "I have plans, not sketches, but close enough." Artie stepped closer to the RV, shielding the side of it with his body and showed her a projection of the camp site as he planned it. Beater car to one side, RV to the other, tarps shielding the space between on both sides and overtop, the two that made the walls painted in simple but effective patterns - one a motif of women's faces, nearly abstract and the other pure psychedelia. String lights and prayer flags flapped in the wind and a series of paper lanterns hung from a steel frame in front with the laser box underneath.
"Sketches, plans, same thing for you." Marie-Ange agreed. "The laser runs off the generator, or is there a bin with car batteries?" She'd put herself on RV duty, not camp duty. The specifics of half the bins were a mystery to her. "Definitely something you will need help with, even if it is just physical lifting labour. This and the bikes means we should fit in well, but yes, too much to try to do now. Art time, drying time. I can at least hang the lights and flags, or I can try to copy your art style? Would a mix of styles work for this?"
"Absolutely," Artie nodded. "We've got batteries - they're under the seats in the RV and the van has a genny, too. It was the best we could do in that timeframe." He let the image go and began to pack up, leaving the bikes till last. "I'll need help but there's no point being there if we're going in ass out because we don't look the part."
"If we look like tourists, we stand out too much and nobody talks to us." Marie-Ange said. "I was given an entire fashion lecture from Doug, which was very disconcerting. Usually I give those." She laughed a little. "I think painting on site is something usual, if all of the Instagram photos I saw are really typical. Do we need anything else to set the scene, so to speak? More bicycles? More art?"
Artie shook his head. "Painting on site, we've got enough bikes for everyone to have one - or will at the next stop - I'm taking to a guy on Craigslist now, lights, lasers and I borrowed the speakers and amps that - you know, I don't even know who had them but someone was doing mini raves for a while at the mansion. And I have buckets and tubs for a camp kitchen outside."
Marie-Agne nodded. "Well, if they are good quality, probably Alison. If they are used.." She shrugged. "Still perhaps Alison, but it could be from that terrible school band when we were teenagers. Good reuse of them, better than terrible pop music at least."
Jubilee is throwing herself into the role of tourist with way too much enthusiasm for Amanda as they stop at the Meramac Caverns in Missouri.
“The enormous sign says to take a left up here,” Jubilee helpfully informed Amanda as she practically vibrated in her seat with excitement. “All the guides say the guided tour is awesome.”
Briefly wondering which particular deity she'd annoyed enough to be Jubilee's tacky tourist trap partner today, Amanda took the turn. They were in the Gator, the lime green distraction-mobile, aimed at drawing attention away from the RV by any possible pursuit and playing up the whole road trip role to the hilt. Which was why they were heading to the Meramec Caverns for a bit.
"You do remember this is all a cover, right?" she said to Jubilee as they approached the parking lot of a rather boring-looking low brick building. "You're way too excited about this."
“Only as excited as I need to be, besides, just because it’s a cover doesn’t mean it isn’t cool.” Jubilee bounced slightly in her seat as they parked in a conveniently open parking space. Must be a slow afternoon she supposed. “I like road trips, and I like tourist traps. There’s always so many interesting people at these things and nobody ever thinks you’re weird beyond the obvious. It’s like a license to be yourself.”
Amanda raised her eyebrows skeptically but didn't say anything else to dampen Jubilee's glee. Perhaps the fact the witch hadn't been able to wash her hair for several days already was making her extra grumpy. "Let's go play with the tourists," she said as she unbuckled and reached for the door handle.
“You gotta relax, Mandy. Live a little, ya know?”
Jubilee slung her arm around the blonde’s shoulders as they walked toward the roadside diner/little shop that seemed to serve as the entrance to the caves. She figured they could hang out, have a snack and then head into the caves for some authentic Americana tourism complete with a funny hat if she could find one.
“I’m thinkin’ pancakes?”
"Darlin', if you want pancakes, then we'll get you pancakes," Amanda replied in a broad Texan accent, bumping Jubilee with her hip as they walked. "But perhaps we ought to not risk the locals getting up a posse for our delightfully gay asses? We're not in San Fran anymore, ya know?" She used the motion of opening the door for Jubilee to subtly shake off the other woman's arm. "Me, I'm dying for a cup of joe. Maybe some pie."
Jubilee for her part wandered over to the case at the front counter to look over the offerings, noting the room had a set of booths along windows that looked out to the parking lot with another set of square tables set up with wooden chairs.
It was quaint, the type of Mom and Pop diner that served anyone from truckers to weary tourists who just stopped off on their journey for a ‘cup of Joe’
“They’ve got key-lime,” Jubilee noted to Amanda with a grin, already having scanned the room for threats and finding nothing immediately dangerous.
The fingers on one of her hands moved in a subtle one-handed sign language they’d developed with Artie and Doug’s help, noting observations.
~Looks normal. Only one main exit.~
"You're singing my song, J," Amanda replied with a smile as she slid into a corner booth. The corner meant neither of them had to sit with their backs to the door, something all of X-Force avoided where they could. It made social nights at the pub interesting, a kind of reverse musical chairs as they tried to avoid the inevitable seat which had someone facing the interior of the room. ~all clear, no sign we're being followed~ her fingers replied in kind as she picked up a menu.
Some time later...
Jubilee was almost lost under the weight of the basket of tourist memorabilia she was trying to find places for in the trunk of the lime-green car, and she gave Amanda an enormous grin as she finally got it stacked amongst all the other crap they'd piled in to make the trip look authentic. Most of their real gear was stashed in the RV but it would have looked deeply suspicious to be traveling with an empty car, even if they were the distractions.
"I still think you should have let me try to outeat the old guy, I bet I could have won that twenty bucks no sweat."
"Sucker bet, babe," drawled Amanda. She was smiling and relaxed, but there was the smallest hint of tension around her eyes. "Besides, nothing will top that last bit in the cave, with the national anthem an' the lights an' everything." She glanced over at the basket Jubilee was lugging with her. "Are you sure you got enough there?"
“Sweetheart, peaches, do not tempt me or I like, will totally get that five thousand piece puzzle of the caves I saw back there.”
Jubilee managed to Tetris pack the very last piece of tourist trap memorabilia into the trunk and she made the V for victory with her arms before she tossed the box in the backseat and slid into the driver’s side.
“Driver change! You get the fun of choosing the music tho'.”
“Anything, if it gets me the fuck away from tacky tourist hell,” Amanda replied, dropping the Texan accent as soon as the door slammed closed behind her.
Artie was driving, in that specific zen that came at 3am after too many hours in the damn car. There was a stop planned at 6am to swap out night shift drivers for day, shower and stretch but that was an indeterminate amount of time away. For now, it was like traveling in nothingness, just the road, what he vaguely thought was probably corn fields in summer, barely illuminated in the headlights and stars overhead. The other cars in the convoy had dropped over the horizon at some point and the road was empty this time of night.
He fiddled the radio with one hand, scrolling through static and overnight filler, before pulling over onto the shoulder, the movement and gravel rocking the car.
Darcy jerked slightly as she came to awareness, having fallen into a light doze. "Izzat time already?" she asked groggily. Her fingers fumbled as she pressed on her seatbelt, making sure the smooth material didn't tangle between her and the door before slipping out and doing a stretch. "You wanna energy drink? I know most of them are gross, but I've got one that tastes like Sprite? Or orange." She rooted around in her backpack for a minute, grateful for the chance to stretch just a bit before they got back to driving this endless stretch.
A bright orange can appeared, along with a sandwich. "Peanut butter sandwich? Or crackers? Go wild dude, my snacks are your snacks." She considered a banana briefly, then ignored it. Sure, tossing the peel would be fine, it'd break down. But it'd also be a mark that someone had been through here, and she didn't want to hang on to it until the next switch, either. She took a giant bite of sandwich as she continued digging through her bag, making a muffled triumphant noise as she dug out an ancient iPod and a cassette with a long headphone string attached. The two items were stuck up front, along with a battery pack and the phone she was using for this trip.
Artie shook his head. "No, not time to change over," he replied through his synthesiser. "I just have a cramp and need to walk around the car a couple of times. This piece of shit doesn't have cruise control." He unbuckled and climbed out, sucking in a breath of the cold air, bouncing on his toes for a moment before bending over to stretch and then opening the rear door to rifle through his own backpack, pulling out a granola bar for later. The nest of pillows and blankets in the back looked tempting but he had to finish out his shift first before he could go and grab a few hours’ shut eye.
"Ugh, and of course on the stretch where you could really let go with it, right?" Darcy was half-signing as she came to better alertness, dropping words occasionally to take another bite of her sandwich. "But hey, at least I found my tunes! Old school enough to be approved, still modern enough to be able to put my new downloads in it. I've got playlists going all the way back to working with Jane - that's the weird Swedish shit you'll see, Dr. Selvig got her into it and was about the only thing she would tolerate in certain moods. Basically sounds like 80s rock, but not all the lyrics are English."
"I know but..." Artie let the projected text vanish and bent over to touch his toes before climbing back into the car. "I got another hour and a half before it's time to swap." He yawned widely. "Do you want to make the music go?" he asked, hitting the ignition and shifting the car out of neutral back into first.
"Yeah, 's fine. Have a preference, or just 'nothing sleepy'?" She scrolled through her playlists, finally settling on 'Astrophysics at Work' and settling back in her seat as Division of Laura Lee started playing through the speakers.
"Fall Out Boy?" The logo glowed softly against the dash, a moment too late as he shifted back into fifth and settled both hands on the wheel. "Oh, this is fine. NM." He flicked his high beams down as headlights appeared on the horizon from an oncoming truck who also did the same a heartbeat later.
He didn't have much to say to her right now. Vague thoughts about liminal space and how it felt like they weren't even moving were something Darcy probably didn't care about.
"I have them on a few playlists, I think. Definitely some Panic. Basically anything we could bop along to on late later entirely too early o'clock weird ass science hours," Darcy said. "Driving playlists to make the endless desert less weird at night. Long stretches of nothing until there's a rest stop or tiny little town on the way to the next observatory or place with a good, clear view and minimal light pollution. She waved her hand at the outside. "Sand version of this, go a few miles off-road until there aren't any streetlights or headlights, find some clear, high ground, wait for just the right moment."
Artie shook his head. "I hate this. Too much nothing. I don't know how anyone can live out here, you know? You step off the highway and go into some small town and everyone knows who you are, what you're doing." The text shone against the dash before dissolving. He was a city guy through and through.
Darcy grinned. "I'm from a pretty small city but Puente Antiguo was so small even I was uncomfortable. Everyone in town noticed when we showed up. Not the sort of place you can really blend into easily unless you live the sort of drifter life that makes you blend into the woodwork. I like the city better. Or even places like Westchester, small enough to know some folks and be a regular, but not so small that everyone is constantly in your business. The mansion's enough for that."
"I'm from New York. Well, more or less." Artie gave a sardonic smile. "Even growing up at the mansion, I still got the train into the city for school so I could have better ASL skills than I'd get just using it there." It had been kind of Haller to make the arrangements that meant he'd been able to do that, although Artie hadn't realized how kind for years after the fact. "I ... do cities. I work there, I live there. I hate endless driving through the asshole of America just to get there, though. And I especially hate night driving in these conditions, because the moment the clouds clear, there's going to be ice on the damn road."
"City boys," Darcy teased, voice affectionate. "Matt's said something similar before about being outside of the city. I get it though. It's an adjustment either way. I was lucky enough to get the frog treatment. Small city on the outskirts of a big one, then Culver, then bigger cities before New York. Had the time to acclimate to being in increasingly large ponds. Grandma says she always knew I was destined for a bigger city though, said I had too much energy for the farm to contain." She looked over the road and up at the bit of cloud she could see in the dark. "Some of it might be already, black ice is shitty like that. Just slow down a touch, it'll be fine."
"At least I was never a small town teenager with nothing to do but take meth, fuck and join the army." He slowed down and sighed. "We shoulda just bought new identities and flown to LA before driving to Vegas and Black Rock City. I am so done here." The tape to ipod converter began to click and Artie hit eject with one hand and pulled it out to shake it vigorously before jamming it back in without taking his eyes off the road.
"One of those three is highly unlikely to kill you." Darcy paused for a minute. "Okay, all three can kill you, but fucking requires being dumb or our line of work, and health class was scarring enough to scare most of my classmates into using a rubber, probably. Wouldn't know, I waited until college to get up to more than making out." She flicked the playlist over to Touch of Madness, and the strains of "Uma Thurman" filled the car.
"I wouldn't know. I didn't grow up in a small town. We just got demons and Canadian spec ops torturing us. Also, I didn't go to college in a normal way." He added a string of upside down smiley face emojis.
Darcy turned her head enough for Artie to actually see her sticking her tongue out. Childish, yes, but sometimes the best response. "No, you grew up in what sounds like a special kind of nightmare. Honestly, the more I learn about what all of you old-timers went through..." she shook her head. Every bit she heard or read, the overall negatives seemed to outweigh the positives. Minus the surviving. But in some respects, better than the alternatives. "It's a damned miracle any of you made it to adulthood."
"Could have been worse," Artie replied, eyes on the road. "I could have had to go to public schools." He let an image of a yellow school bus drift across the dash. "Get some sleep, will you? We're swapping drivers soon."
"Yeah, yeah. Bossy." Darcy gave Artie a grin. "You're in charge of the tunes, then."
In the RV, Topaz and Felicia get a chance to relax.
Low tech, not no tech. Which was great, because it meant Topaz didn't have to read the same book over and over, or risk someone calling her bag of books unnecessary and tossing it for space (which she would understand). Her eight-year-old Kindle with the wifi drivers removed, though? That was fine.
There was a card game going on somewhere barely beyond her perception. She was perfectly happy sharing a seat with Felicia in the other corner. If not for the bumps, it would have been downright cozy.
Felicia idly nibbled on the cap of her pen, math puzzle against her knee and Topaz pressed into her shoulder. She’d chosen to up the challenge by keeping a count of the cards on the game going on at the same time, but it was becoming more and more tempting to just abandon it and instead just read along with whatever Topaz was working on instead.
She hummed, and voiced the question. “What are you reading now?”
"Hmn?" Topaz's gaze flitted up. "It's an urban fantasy series about Fae living in secret, mostly in the San Francisco area, but they're all over the world. The last book ended on a terrible cliffhanger, and the next one won't be out until next September, so I'm just re-reading from the beginning."
"Rude of them," Felicia idly commented, holding up her book to answer the return question. "Expert Sodoku. I have a stack of books for later but. Warm. Sleepy. No plotlines."
Topaz leaned over to look at the puzzles. "I'm a bit rubbish at that kind of thing. You'd think I'd learn more about patterns considering the people I spend most of my time with, and yet."
“In the beginning it was just nice to have a repetitive activity,” Felicia explained, showing the beginning of her book, which she’d skipped, that had a few easier warmup puzzles. “Scan row one, scan row two, turn brain off. Then you start to recognize the patterns, how they fit. Or you don’t and you just enjoy the rhythm.”
"Huh." Topaz scanned the rows, tilting her head slightly. "May I?" she asked after a moment, gesturing to the book.
Felicia handed it over without hesitation, along with the thin black felt tip pen - the better for writing upside down she'd found - she'd been using. "Have at it," she said with a smile.
Topaz took the book and pen, curling up to let it rest against her legs, and she leaned a little on Felicia's shoulder. "So..."
She tapped the pen against the book more than she actually used it. She filled in a few numbers, but mostly she was hesitant.
"You've got it," Felicia praised, burrowing the two of them into each other. "You start with the basic patterns, something you see a lot of, like the 5 you found there, and the 9. Once that's done I usually do two runs; check for each number horizontally and vertically in order. After the second run, patterns should have shown up again, and you can work on those for a bit. Or not, there is no shame in doing another round of chipping away."
"Right," Topaz murmured, expression wrinkled in concentration. The atmosphere, overall, was relaxed (far more than she was used to), she was warm and comfortable, and at some point the bouncing of the RV became rhythmic and comforting. And as much as she was trying... she really did kind of suck at this. So she didn't bother fighting too much when her eyes started to close, or her head drifted to rest on Felicia's shoulder. Now was as good a time as any to take a nap, right?
Judging by the soft sigh from Felicia as her cheek pressed lightly into Topaz's hair, she agreed.
Artie keeps collecting bikes. How many can he strap to the back of the RV?
Artie had bought three bikes before they'd left New York, strapping them to the back of the RV after a custody mechanical. The last couple had been purchased from a very nice man who didn't ask many questions but did sell bikes for cash via Facebook.
Like the others, they were... fine. Mountain bike tyres, comfy seats, easy to adjust. He was currently taking advantage of the rest stop the convoy was taking on the side of the road just past Oklahoma City to spray paint them different colours. This wasn't an RV job.
After the first day, Marie-Ange had begged off driving. An hour here or there, that was fine, but the three and four hour shifts the rest of the team were taking were giving her migraines. She'd ended up trading a long driving shift by volunteering to do the next two grey water dumps. It was a little messy and stinky, but better than two hours of eyestrain headaches and grinding her teeth. She'd just finished hooking up the flexible pipe to the black tank, and was washing her hands with a wet wipe as Artie came around with another can of paint. "Do you know, I almost have more questions about where you stored a tarp on the RV than the ongoing bike project."
Artie pointed to the station wagon on the other side of the parking lot. "Do you think I managed to fit everything we'd need to look like Burners in there? This is part of our camp when we get to Black Rock City." He finished the bike and carefully moved it to one side. "It's too cold for it to dry before we need to get moving," he added, "So I'm going to have to paint the mural on the tarps when we get to the lake unless you can get me a few hours off the road."
"And we do not have the resources to just set the paint on fire like the street artists do." Marie-Ange blew her bangs out of her face. "No, I think painting it there - I think we can make that work. If you have sketches, I can ..." She laughed to herself. "It is you, of course you have sketches. Put me to work when we get there, this is your part of the operation, put my art skills to work."
He gave a silent laugh. "I have plans, not sketches, but close enough." Artie stepped closer to the RV, shielding the side of it with his body and showed her a projection of the camp site as he planned it. Beater car to one side, RV to the other, tarps shielding the space between on both sides and overtop, the two that made the walls painted in simple but effective patterns - one a motif of women's faces, nearly abstract and the other pure psychedelia. String lights and prayer flags flapped in the wind and a series of paper lanterns hung from a steel frame in front with the laser box underneath.
"Sketches, plans, same thing for you." Marie-Ange agreed. "The laser runs off the generator, or is there a bin with car batteries?" She'd put herself on RV duty, not camp duty. The specifics of half the bins were a mystery to her. "Definitely something you will need help with, even if it is just physical lifting labour. This and the bikes means we should fit in well, but yes, too much to try to do now. Art time, drying time. I can at least hang the lights and flags, or I can try to copy your art style? Would a mix of styles work for this?"
"Absolutely," Artie nodded. "We've got batteries - they're under the seats in the RV and the van has a genny, too. It was the best we could do in that timeframe." He let the image go and began to pack up, leaving the bikes till last. "I'll need help but there's no point being there if we're going in ass out because we don't look the part."
"If we look like tourists, we stand out too much and nobody talks to us." Marie-Ange said. "I was given an entire fashion lecture from Doug, which was very disconcerting. Usually I give those." She laughed a little. "I think painting on site is something usual, if all of the Instagram photos I saw are really typical. Do we need anything else to set the scene, so to speak? More bicycles? More art?"
Artie shook his head. "Painting on site, we've got enough bikes for everyone to have one - or will at the next stop - I'm taking to a guy on Craigslist now, lights, lasers and I borrowed the speakers and amps that - you know, I don't even know who had them but someone was doing mini raves for a while at the mansion. And I have buckets and tubs for a camp kitchen outside."
Marie-Agne nodded. "Well, if they are good quality, probably Alison. If they are used.." She shrugged. "Still perhaps Alison, but it could be from that terrible school band when we were teenagers. Good reuse of them, better than terrible pop music at least."
Jubilee is throwing herself into the role of tourist with way too much enthusiasm for Amanda as they stop at the Meramac Caverns in Missouri.
“The enormous sign says to take a left up here,” Jubilee helpfully informed Amanda as she practically vibrated in her seat with excitement. “All the guides say the guided tour is awesome.”
Briefly wondering which particular deity she'd annoyed enough to be Jubilee's tacky tourist trap partner today, Amanda took the turn. They were in the Gator, the lime green distraction-mobile, aimed at drawing attention away from the RV by any possible pursuit and playing up the whole road trip role to the hilt. Which was why they were heading to the Meramec Caverns for a bit.
"You do remember this is all a cover, right?" she said to Jubilee as they approached the parking lot of a rather boring-looking low brick building. "You're way too excited about this."
“Only as excited as I need to be, besides, just because it’s a cover doesn’t mean it isn’t cool.” Jubilee bounced slightly in her seat as they parked in a conveniently open parking space. Must be a slow afternoon she supposed. “I like road trips, and I like tourist traps. There’s always so many interesting people at these things and nobody ever thinks you’re weird beyond the obvious. It’s like a license to be yourself.”
Amanda raised her eyebrows skeptically but didn't say anything else to dampen Jubilee's glee. Perhaps the fact the witch hadn't been able to wash her hair for several days already was making her extra grumpy. "Let's go play with the tourists," she said as she unbuckled and reached for the door handle.
“You gotta relax, Mandy. Live a little, ya know?”
Jubilee slung her arm around the blonde’s shoulders as they walked toward the roadside diner/little shop that seemed to serve as the entrance to the caves. She figured they could hang out, have a snack and then head into the caves for some authentic Americana tourism complete with a funny hat if she could find one.
“I’m thinkin’ pancakes?”
"Darlin', if you want pancakes, then we'll get you pancakes," Amanda replied in a broad Texan accent, bumping Jubilee with her hip as they walked. "But perhaps we ought to not risk the locals getting up a posse for our delightfully gay asses? We're not in San Fran anymore, ya know?" She used the motion of opening the door for Jubilee to subtly shake off the other woman's arm. "Me, I'm dying for a cup of joe. Maybe some pie."
Jubilee for her part wandered over to the case at the front counter to look over the offerings, noting the room had a set of booths along windows that looked out to the parking lot with another set of square tables set up with wooden chairs.
It was quaint, the type of Mom and Pop diner that served anyone from truckers to weary tourists who just stopped off on their journey for a ‘cup of Joe’
“They’ve got key-lime,” Jubilee noted to Amanda with a grin, already having scanned the room for threats and finding nothing immediately dangerous.
The fingers on one of her hands moved in a subtle one-handed sign language they’d developed with Artie and Doug’s help, noting observations.
~Looks normal. Only one main exit.~
"You're singing my song, J," Amanda replied with a smile as she slid into a corner booth. The corner meant neither of them had to sit with their backs to the door, something all of X-Force avoided where they could. It made social nights at the pub interesting, a kind of reverse musical chairs as they tried to avoid the inevitable seat which had someone facing the interior of the room. ~all clear, no sign we're being followed~ her fingers replied in kind as she picked up a menu.
Some time later...
Jubilee was almost lost under the weight of the basket of tourist memorabilia she was trying to find places for in the trunk of the lime-green car, and she gave Amanda an enormous grin as she finally got it stacked amongst all the other crap they'd piled in to make the trip look authentic. Most of their real gear was stashed in the RV but it would have looked deeply suspicious to be traveling with an empty car, even if they were the distractions.
"I still think you should have let me try to outeat the old guy, I bet I could have won that twenty bucks no sweat."
"Sucker bet, babe," drawled Amanda. She was smiling and relaxed, but there was the smallest hint of tension around her eyes. "Besides, nothing will top that last bit in the cave, with the national anthem an' the lights an' everything." She glanced over at the basket Jubilee was lugging with her. "Are you sure you got enough there?"
“Sweetheart, peaches, do not tempt me or I like, will totally get that five thousand piece puzzle of the caves I saw back there.”
Jubilee managed to Tetris pack the very last piece of tourist trap memorabilia into the trunk and she made the V for victory with her arms before she tossed the box in the backseat and slid into the driver’s side.
“Driver change! You get the fun of choosing the music tho'.”
“Anything, if it gets me the fuck away from tacky tourist hell,” Amanda replied, dropping the Texan accent as soon as the door slammed closed behind her.
