Quentin & Hope, Friday afternoon
Jun. 23rd, 2023 05:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_erverse posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsQuentin and Hope test out their newfound powers synergy by possessing one of New York's finest (lol).
Quentin wore an uncharacteristically toned down ensemble today. Just suede loafers, a grey V neck tee, and blue shorts. (At least with an appropriate 4" inseam that bared his thighs when he sat at the outdoor cafe; he couldn't be too understated.) The thoughts of the District X crowds were louder than the actual sounds of the city, but he shored up his shields so he did not drown in the din. He did keep a mental ear to the ground for the beat cop he spied across the street, though. It was not often the NYPD deigned to enter this neighborhood, and it ended in trouble more often than not. But at least so far, besides heightened caution of passersby, there were no problems.
He studied his coffee partner from behind his sunglasses, and when he got her attention, he nodded in the direction of the cop. "Thoughts?"
Without thinking Hope smoothed the skirt of her violet sundress and glanced over to the cop in question unobtrusively. "I recognize him. He is as slippery as a snake in an oil bath. He just manages to toe the line in all the right and the wrong ways. Causes quite a bit of trouble, but always in ways that nothing sticks to him." She smiled coldly as she caught QQ's look. "I may have looked into him before. Many virtues on file, but unfortunately also almost no vices to use if necessary."
"So he's good and covering his tracks or he's got friends to cover for him," Quentin reasoned. This was what happened when the watchmen watched themselves. "But if he's got such a glowing file, then why's he stuck on the streets? He could've been promoted or become a detective. Does he really like the beat so much that he's passed up promotions? Or has he never been offered any despite his record?"
"There might be a glowing record, but I would not be surprised if his superiors and his friends are well aware of his duplicitous nature. They might fear him or, in a misguided attempt of honor, feel that he can do the least amount of damage as an ordinary cop and keep him there." Hope carefully felt her way through the situation. "However, that is merely fruitless speculation that does nothing to help us here. I wonder though, what would you like to accomplish today? Except experiment with our strange melding ability."
Quentin grinned. "I do want to do that, yes. Full-on mind control without them knowing and without blowing up their brains is tough work, but working with your astral form somehow makes it easier. And now we have a perfectly suitable guinea pig to test on. Ideally, we develop something new and powerful that'll help us. And worst case, pig's gotta take early retirement and get dementia home care. It's win-win."
"Did you hear about how he terrified those children a few weeks back, threatening to arrest those they love. Luckily someone was able to step in, but I would consider it even more of a win-win if we discover something useful and get him off the streets. If we have evidence of something more obvious, I might just have a suitable connection who owes me a favor." Hope's eyes glittered coldly. "We might want to reconsider our location though. You know I cannot move once I ghost out."
"Can't go too far or I'll be out of range myself." He looked around to try to find a suitable stakeout point. He thought about breaking into one of the cars parked along the street, but that would be awfully conspicuous. But the rooftop of one of the many nearby apartment complexes would work. B&E was no matter to a telekinetic, and a little mass telepathic suggestion would keep eyes off them. "Up there? It'll be safe and he won't see shit."
"Sounds perfect to me." Hope quickly pulled a few bills from her purse, including a generous tip as she dropped them on the table as she rose. "Let us make haste before our friend here moves away and we have to reassess the situation. And especially since he seems to be occupied at the moment."
He led her to the building across the street with appropriate hustle but not so much that they would catch anyone's attention. Grasping the door handle, he telekinetically reached out to the other side to open it. Really poor security in a neighborhood of mutants, he mused. Maybe he would assign Sue to devise better home protections, just so long as he still had a backdoor in.
Once on the rooftop, Quentin settled on the floor near the ledge and easily found the cop's mind. Non-mutant minds lacked a certain je nais se quois that made Quentin increasingly uncomfortable, and tapping the psyche of an agent of state violence made him feel especially gross, but as he'd posed to Hope, there was no better research subject for them, so he shoved away his uneasiness and waited for her.
Hope pulled a light scarf out of her purse, draping it over the bird droppings and other dirt before carefully settling down and leaning back against the wall. With one breath the waves rose in her mind and she entered towards the astral plane with the second one. Practice had indeed made things easier and without hesitation she sunk down to the cop's representation on the lowest levels of the astral plane. "You ready?" She sent to QQ.
Officer Fuckface froze in his tracks as the dual psychic signatures invaded his mind, shunting his own anesthetized psyche into a locked closet. "So if we learned anything from last time," Quentin "said" to Hope, "We have to do everything in tandem. So just listen to me and we'll get this."
A directed wave of emotion rose and briefly yet sharply lashed out at QQ. "That is not how this works, you of the too many Q's in your name. This worked last time because we worked together, not because one was following the other like a puppy." Following her instinct Hope 'closed' her eyes, bluish space shimmering around them into a formal dining room, candle light flickering of the china, crystal and silverware. "So, let us negotiate and decide on a plan."
The slap upside the psychic head hurt, but to Quentin, the dress code in Hope's perception of the astral plane was worse. "What is this, Downton Abbey? I am not wearing black tie with fucking tails." He snapped his fingers and imposed his own will on them, so they found themselves front row to a Kim Petras concert. Jacket and tie were replaced with a droopy tank top and torn skinny jeans. Much better.
"Great... a discussion in a place where a good conversation is nigh impossible." Hope snarked. "O yes, and amidst vertical bump and grind... not." Another psychic jab loosened Q's control enough for Hope to impose her own will and the room shifted once more. This time it formed a white marble floor, soothing colors on the walls, lots of candles and the soft sound of tinkling water and harp music in the background. "Will this do for you?"
"Will you stop . . . oh, not bad. Why didn't you choose a spa in the first place?" A pair of lounge pairs appeared beside them, and Quentin daintily sat on one. "Come on, sit. Relax. Let's see what's on TV." He aimed a finger gun at the large windows across from them and made a little "pew pew" sound. The windows shimmered, and the gorgeous open sky and verdant fields outside transformed into the bustling streets of District X, like they were looking through Officer Fuckface's eyes.
"Oh, looks like that person over there is at least aware of something." Hope leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. "You know, how about Officer Idiot has to retie his shoelaces? That has some nice motor skills for us to practice?"
"Do you tie the knot one lace at a time or do you do bunny ears? Because it's going to be hilariously tragic if we fuck this up because we can't agree on the right way to tie shoes."
"I was rather thinking we should go with two square knots." Hope frowned, thinking back to her New Mutant survival training before focusing and sending QQ the image of what she had in mind. "Do you not think this would be far more interesting?"
Quentin snorted in amusement and reclined in his chair. "All right. Square knots it is." He visualized tying the laces just as Hope had imagined, and pushed those images into their host's mind. The policeman slowly and shakily lowered himself to his knees, and with trembling fingers, untied his shoes. But his hands steadied as he took a lace in his hand and twisted them into a square knot. Quentin nodded in approval. "Not too shabby. Looks tight to me."
"How about we up the ante just a bit?" Hope leaned back as well, visualizing the cop tying the shoelaces of both shoes together, using the same square knot. She could not simply push the thought into his mind on her own, so she simply held out a mental hand to QQ, inviting him to accept and put his power behind the visualisation.
Loathe as he was to follow instructions from anyone, especially a subordinate, Quentin could not pass up an opportunity to make a fool out of a police officer. So, he took her hand and envisioned the cop bending over, untying each shoe, and then tying them tightly back together. Satisfied, they ordered their host to stand upright.
"When he falls and busts open his face, will we feel it?" he idly wondered as they sent the command to take a too-far step forward. They watched as the sidewalk quickly filled their vision, and Quentin winced instinctively on impact. He rubbed his chin with his free hand. "Huh. I felt it, kind of. Like it happened a while ago and it's just residual pain. I guess we can abuse this body as much as we want and barely feel a thing. Fascinating."
"Hmm, I would call it even less than that." Hope considered as they let the cop get up. "Oh, look at those faces around him. I believe they might be secretly enjoying his misfortune.... I would say this experiment was a success. I believe it is your turn next?"
He briefly considered literally shooting himself in the foot, but decided that would be too traumatic for passersby and rejected the notion. Further bodily harm in general was kind of boring. Uninspired. They needed something that would test the limits of their cooperative powers and make a statement.
"His beat is over, let's go to the precinct," Quentin directed as they envisioned him waddling back to his car. "I could easily pluck whatever information I could ever need from this flatscan's peanut brain, but there are probably some useful records we could flip through to find something juicy."
"The hunt for information is a tempting prospect. However, the chance of us crashing the car is alarmly high." Hope objected sharply, her mental eyebrow raised. "Unless you are that desirous of experiencing a second hand car crash? Or willing to risk the lives of anyone else on the road?"
She rose, slowly pacing around the room as an image formed in her mind. "Let us get a ride." The image of a flat tire sharpened and she shared it with Quentin, before pushing it in the man's mind.
"I bet you a million dollars I could safely backseat drive," he challenged her. But then he shrugged. "Though it would get him outside our range. Which, actually, is what we should test. How far away can he go until we start slipping?"
"Range is important." Hope tilted her head, considering. "Also... I wonder how much of a lasting effect we could have. I know that you and Dr. Grey are capable of implanting suggestions, but would there be a different effect when we do it together... If we cannot get information, we still might be able to implicate him in something... without his blue friends realizing he has been influenced." Hope added, her eyes glittering coldly.
Quentin looked at her like she was a stranger who just came up and started talking to him on a whim. This was not the stuck-up priss he had taken her for. He certainly had not mischaracterized her, so this must be her personal growth he was now seeing. His influence at X-Factor, no doubt. He met her gaze and grinned wickedly. "Remind me to give you a raise when we get back to the office."
He settled back in his seat and reached for her hand again. Planting seeds of influence was easy; it's how he got away with terrible fake ID's for years. But they never had to last long, and he would let them go once he got what he wanted in the short term. To let a compulsion take root so it would last for longer would take more care and complexity. But through the psychic backdoor that Hope opened for him through her astral projection, he could do it. Their spa getaway psiscape melted away and they found themselves in that metaphor of a wide-open field, clad in dirty overalls and sunhats, bearing trowels to dig into freshly turned earth.
"If he sees anyone in District X commit an infraction, no he didn't."
Hope's eyebrow rose and she quirked her mouth: "Perhaps you might remember me mentioning about his friends not realizing he has been influenced? Subtlety is the name of the game here... That much of a behavioral change is not going to stay below the surface for long."
"He's almost always on the beat alone because it's a small neighborhood and the NYPD doesn't want to spare the manpower," he countered. "Missing everyday nonsense like jaywalking, loitering, or fare evasion means nothing to him but everything to the people he harasses and fines. Cops are so inconsistent on enforcement of those garbage laws, anyway, that not enforcing them makes him look almost normal."
"Perhaps for cops in general, but it would break the pattern of this doofus. It would stand out with even the most rudimentary analysis and people might start digging." Hope snapped sharply as she closed her eyes. "Now let me think... many virtues to shield him, very few vices to attack him... but I do remember there was a note from IA he was under suspicion for knowing one of his friends took some seized drugs. It was never further investigated though."
"You give these pigs too much credit for their perception about little things like ticket quotas, but you think being less careful about covering up internal corruption isn't gonna be suspicious?"
Hope opened one eye and focused all her annoyance into a sharp poke. "I am reviewing the available information, you numbskull. Our charge is to protect District X. If we do not step carefully, all he gets is a slap on the wrist and he will take it out on the people here. I definitely think IA is the way to go here though. His 'friends' will protect him too much."
"How are we supposed to modify him to get caught by Internal Affairs—which, for the record, doesn't give a shit about bad behavior unless it costs them funding—without raising anyone's suspicions and making this all a waste of time? No, if we're brain-hacking to protect District X and keep it on the down-low, then keeping him on the beat but less of a bastard is the way to go."
"Fine, fine... Better the bastard you know?" Hope conceded, but she made a quick note to look into other resources. "So you wish to make him less of a bastard..." Hope stared in front of her, thinking out loud. "Every bastard, every bully... has people even they love and care about. .. So every man, woman and child... mutant or human... each will remind him of someone the asshat cares for... and he sees them as the victim of his actions... family, friends, lovers, old friends... Everyone is fair game..." She blinked and looked at QQ. "It probably could be explained away as a form of burnout or even PTSD."
"If anyone's looking that closely, sure." Now that they had come to an agreement, he accepted a handful of seeds from her and dutifully planted them into the soil. "It'll take some time for these to grow, enough that any change will be gradual and unalarming. But it'll mean everything to the mutants he's not fucking over."
Hope knelt down, carefully smoothing the soil. Acting almost instinctively, she closed her eyes and rested her hands on the earth. With her own abilities she'd never be able to do this, but working together with QQ she pulled from own perceptions of the Astral Plane, the bonds she saw there... Hope set her intentions and envisioned them growing... their stems and leaves slowly unfolding. It was hard to put into words and yet when she opened her eyes again and looked up at Quentin, Hope let out a sigh: "I do not know about you, but I am suddenly quite exhausted."
"Mm, I think we've done enough for now," Quentin agreed. He snapped his fingers and found himself back on the rooftop in his own body. He stumbled like a drunkard as he got to his feet, but steadied himself before he could trip and fall. "Wow, blood rushing back to my head. That was a trip. Well, maybe I'll get Temple or Storm to tail Officer Fuckface for a few days and see how successful we were, or at least make sure we didn't plant a tumor in his brain by accident. Even though that would be very funny."
It took Hope a little longer, unleashing the pearl and gold bracelet to return to the astral plane and riding the waves back to her own body from there, but finally she opened her eyes and groaned: "I really do need to find a better visualisation for the riding." She struggled to her feet, grabbing for a metal pole for support when she bent down to retrieve her scarf. "And have Inez do it. I need Sue to do some hacking so I can give your new sources a better idea of what to look for."
"Fabulous." Staggering to the door to lead them back inside, he pulled up a food delivery app on his phone. "I don't know about you, but I could use something to eat. And a stiff drink. Enchiladas and margs?"
"Both would be very welcome." Blinking against the sharp light, Hope raised her hand and hailed a cab. "Let us go back to the office."
Quentin wore an uncharacteristically toned down ensemble today. Just suede loafers, a grey V neck tee, and blue shorts. (At least with an appropriate 4" inseam that bared his thighs when he sat at the outdoor cafe; he couldn't be too understated.) The thoughts of the District X crowds were louder than the actual sounds of the city, but he shored up his shields so he did not drown in the din. He did keep a mental ear to the ground for the beat cop he spied across the street, though. It was not often the NYPD deigned to enter this neighborhood, and it ended in trouble more often than not. But at least so far, besides heightened caution of passersby, there were no problems.
He studied his coffee partner from behind his sunglasses, and when he got her attention, he nodded in the direction of the cop. "Thoughts?"
Without thinking Hope smoothed the skirt of her violet sundress and glanced over to the cop in question unobtrusively. "I recognize him. He is as slippery as a snake in an oil bath. He just manages to toe the line in all the right and the wrong ways. Causes quite a bit of trouble, but always in ways that nothing sticks to him." She smiled coldly as she caught QQ's look. "I may have looked into him before. Many virtues on file, but unfortunately also almost no vices to use if necessary."
"So he's good and covering his tracks or he's got friends to cover for him," Quentin reasoned. This was what happened when the watchmen watched themselves. "But if he's got such a glowing file, then why's he stuck on the streets? He could've been promoted or become a detective. Does he really like the beat so much that he's passed up promotions? Or has he never been offered any despite his record?"
"There might be a glowing record, but I would not be surprised if his superiors and his friends are well aware of his duplicitous nature. They might fear him or, in a misguided attempt of honor, feel that he can do the least amount of damage as an ordinary cop and keep him there." Hope carefully felt her way through the situation. "However, that is merely fruitless speculation that does nothing to help us here. I wonder though, what would you like to accomplish today? Except experiment with our strange melding ability."
Quentin grinned. "I do want to do that, yes. Full-on mind control without them knowing and without blowing up their brains is tough work, but working with your astral form somehow makes it easier. And now we have a perfectly suitable guinea pig to test on. Ideally, we develop something new and powerful that'll help us. And worst case, pig's gotta take early retirement and get dementia home care. It's win-win."
"Did you hear about how he terrified those children a few weeks back, threatening to arrest those they love. Luckily someone was able to step in, but I would consider it even more of a win-win if we discover something useful and get him off the streets. If we have evidence of something more obvious, I might just have a suitable connection who owes me a favor." Hope's eyes glittered coldly. "We might want to reconsider our location though. You know I cannot move once I ghost out."
"Can't go too far or I'll be out of range myself." He looked around to try to find a suitable stakeout point. He thought about breaking into one of the cars parked along the street, but that would be awfully conspicuous. But the rooftop of one of the many nearby apartment complexes would work. B&E was no matter to a telekinetic, and a little mass telepathic suggestion would keep eyes off them. "Up there? It'll be safe and he won't see shit."
"Sounds perfect to me." Hope quickly pulled a few bills from her purse, including a generous tip as she dropped them on the table as she rose. "Let us make haste before our friend here moves away and we have to reassess the situation. And especially since he seems to be occupied at the moment."
He led her to the building across the street with appropriate hustle but not so much that they would catch anyone's attention. Grasping the door handle, he telekinetically reached out to the other side to open it. Really poor security in a neighborhood of mutants, he mused. Maybe he would assign Sue to devise better home protections, just so long as he still had a backdoor in.
Once on the rooftop, Quentin settled on the floor near the ledge and easily found the cop's mind. Non-mutant minds lacked a certain je nais se quois that made Quentin increasingly uncomfortable, and tapping the psyche of an agent of state violence made him feel especially gross, but as he'd posed to Hope, there was no better research subject for them, so he shoved away his uneasiness and waited for her.
Hope pulled a light scarf out of her purse, draping it over the bird droppings and other dirt before carefully settling down and leaning back against the wall. With one breath the waves rose in her mind and she entered towards the astral plane with the second one. Practice had indeed made things easier and without hesitation she sunk down to the cop's representation on the lowest levels of the astral plane. "You ready?" She sent to QQ.
Officer Fuckface froze in his tracks as the dual psychic signatures invaded his mind, shunting his own anesthetized psyche into a locked closet. "So if we learned anything from last time," Quentin "said" to Hope, "We have to do everything in tandem. So just listen to me and we'll get this."
A directed wave of emotion rose and briefly yet sharply lashed out at QQ. "That is not how this works, you of the too many Q's in your name. This worked last time because we worked together, not because one was following the other like a puppy." Following her instinct Hope 'closed' her eyes, bluish space shimmering around them into a formal dining room, candle light flickering of the china, crystal and silverware. "So, let us negotiate and decide on a plan."
The slap upside the psychic head hurt, but to Quentin, the dress code in Hope's perception of the astral plane was worse. "What is this, Downton Abbey? I am not wearing black tie with fucking tails." He snapped his fingers and imposed his own will on them, so they found themselves front row to a Kim Petras concert. Jacket and tie were replaced with a droopy tank top and torn skinny jeans. Much better.
"Great... a discussion in a place where a good conversation is nigh impossible." Hope snarked. "O yes, and amidst vertical bump and grind... not." Another psychic jab loosened Q's control enough for Hope to impose her own will and the room shifted once more. This time it formed a white marble floor, soothing colors on the walls, lots of candles and the soft sound of tinkling water and harp music in the background. "Will this do for you?"
"Will you stop . . . oh, not bad. Why didn't you choose a spa in the first place?" A pair of lounge pairs appeared beside them, and Quentin daintily sat on one. "Come on, sit. Relax. Let's see what's on TV." He aimed a finger gun at the large windows across from them and made a little "pew pew" sound. The windows shimmered, and the gorgeous open sky and verdant fields outside transformed into the bustling streets of District X, like they were looking through Officer Fuckface's eyes.
"Oh, looks like that person over there is at least aware of something." Hope leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. "You know, how about Officer Idiot has to retie his shoelaces? That has some nice motor skills for us to practice?"
"Do you tie the knot one lace at a time or do you do bunny ears? Because it's going to be hilariously tragic if we fuck this up because we can't agree on the right way to tie shoes."
"I was rather thinking we should go with two square knots." Hope frowned, thinking back to her New Mutant survival training before focusing and sending QQ the image of what she had in mind. "Do you not think this would be far more interesting?"
Quentin snorted in amusement and reclined in his chair. "All right. Square knots it is." He visualized tying the laces just as Hope had imagined, and pushed those images into their host's mind. The policeman slowly and shakily lowered himself to his knees, and with trembling fingers, untied his shoes. But his hands steadied as he took a lace in his hand and twisted them into a square knot. Quentin nodded in approval. "Not too shabby. Looks tight to me."
"How about we up the ante just a bit?" Hope leaned back as well, visualizing the cop tying the shoelaces of both shoes together, using the same square knot. She could not simply push the thought into his mind on her own, so she simply held out a mental hand to QQ, inviting him to accept and put his power behind the visualisation.
Loathe as he was to follow instructions from anyone, especially a subordinate, Quentin could not pass up an opportunity to make a fool out of a police officer. So, he took her hand and envisioned the cop bending over, untying each shoe, and then tying them tightly back together. Satisfied, they ordered their host to stand upright.
"When he falls and busts open his face, will we feel it?" he idly wondered as they sent the command to take a too-far step forward. They watched as the sidewalk quickly filled their vision, and Quentin winced instinctively on impact. He rubbed his chin with his free hand. "Huh. I felt it, kind of. Like it happened a while ago and it's just residual pain. I guess we can abuse this body as much as we want and barely feel a thing. Fascinating."
"Hmm, I would call it even less than that." Hope considered as they let the cop get up. "Oh, look at those faces around him. I believe they might be secretly enjoying his misfortune.... I would say this experiment was a success. I believe it is your turn next?"
He briefly considered literally shooting himself in the foot, but decided that would be too traumatic for passersby and rejected the notion. Further bodily harm in general was kind of boring. Uninspired. They needed something that would test the limits of their cooperative powers and make a statement.
"His beat is over, let's go to the precinct," Quentin directed as they envisioned him waddling back to his car. "I could easily pluck whatever information I could ever need from this flatscan's peanut brain, but there are probably some useful records we could flip through to find something juicy."
"The hunt for information is a tempting prospect. However, the chance of us crashing the car is alarmly high." Hope objected sharply, her mental eyebrow raised. "Unless you are that desirous of experiencing a second hand car crash? Or willing to risk the lives of anyone else on the road?"
She rose, slowly pacing around the room as an image formed in her mind. "Let us get a ride." The image of a flat tire sharpened and she shared it with Quentin, before pushing it in the man's mind.
"I bet you a million dollars I could safely backseat drive," he challenged her. But then he shrugged. "Though it would get him outside our range. Which, actually, is what we should test. How far away can he go until we start slipping?"
"Range is important." Hope tilted her head, considering. "Also... I wonder how much of a lasting effect we could have. I know that you and Dr. Grey are capable of implanting suggestions, but would there be a different effect when we do it together... If we cannot get information, we still might be able to implicate him in something... without his blue friends realizing he has been influenced." Hope added, her eyes glittering coldly.
Quentin looked at her like she was a stranger who just came up and started talking to him on a whim. This was not the stuck-up priss he had taken her for. He certainly had not mischaracterized her, so this must be her personal growth he was now seeing. His influence at X-Factor, no doubt. He met her gaze and grinned wickedly. "Remind me to give you a raise when we get back to the office."
He settled back in his seat and reached for her hand again. Planting seeds of influence was easy; it's how he got away with terrible fake ID's for years. But they never had to last long, and he would let them go once he got what he wanted in the short term. To let a compulsion take root so it would last for longer would take more care and complexity. But through the psychic backdoor that Hope opened for him through her astral projection, he could do it. Their spa getaway psiscape melted away and they found themselves in that metaphor of a wide-open field, clad in dirty overalls and sunhats, bearing trowels to dig into freshly turned earth.
"If he sees anyone in District X commit an infraction, no he didn't."
Hope's eyebrow rose and she quirked her mouth: "Perhaps you might remember me mentioning about his friends not realizing he has been influenced? Subtlety is the name of the game here... That much of a behavioral change is not going to stay below the surface for long."
"He's almost always on the beat alone because it's a small neighborhood and the NYPD doesn't want to spare the manpower," he countered. "Missing everyday nonsense like jaywalking, loitering, or fare evasion means nothing to him but everything to the people he harasses and fines. Cops are so inconsistent on enforcement of those garbage laws, anyway, that not enforcing them makes him look almost normal."
"Perhaps for cops in general, but it would break the pattern of this doofus. It would stand out with even the most rudimentary analysis and people might start digging." Hope snapped sharply as she closed her eyes. "Now let me think... many virtues to shield him, very few vices to attack him... but I do remember there was a note from IA he was under suspicion for knowing one of his friends took some seized drugs. It was never further investigated though."
"You give these pigs too much credit for their perception about little things like ticket quotas, but you think being less careful about covering up internal corruption isn't gonna be suspicious?"
Hope opened one eye and focused all her annoyance into a sharp poke. "I am reviewing the available information, you numbskull. Our charge is to protect District X. If we do not step carefully, all he gets is a slap on the wrist and he will take it out on the people here. I definitely think IA is the way to go here though. His 'friends' will protect him too much."
"How are we supposed to modify him to get caught by Internal Affairs—which, for the record, doesn't give a shit about bad behavior unless it costs them funding—without raising anyone's suspicions and making this all a waste of time? No, if we're brain-hacking to protect District X and keep it on the down-low, then keeping him on the beat but less of a bastard is the way to go."
"Fine, fine... Better the bastard you know?" Hope conceded, but she made a quick note to look into other resources. "So you wish to make him less of a bastard..." Hope stared in front of her, thinking out loud. "Every bastard, every bully... has people even they love and care about. .. So every man, woman and child... mutant or human... each will remind him of someone the asshat cares for... and he sees them as the victim of his actions... family, friends, lovers, old friends... Everyone is fair game..." She blinked and looked at QQ. "It probably could be explained away as a form of burnout or even PTSD."
"If anyone's looking that closely, sure." Now that they had come to an agreement, he accepted a handful of seeds from her and dutifully planted them into the soil. "It'll take some time for these to grow, enough that any change will be gradual and unalarming. But it'll mean everything to the mutants he's not fucking over."
Hope knelt down, carefully smoothing the soil. Acting almost instinctively, she closed her eyes and rested her hands on the earth. With her own abilities she'd never be able to do this, but working together with QQ she pulled from own perceptions of the Astral Plane, the bonds she saw there... Hope set her intentions and envisioned them growing... their stems and leaves slowly unfolding. It was hard to put into words and yet when she opened her eyes again and looked up at Quentin, Hope let out a sigh: "I do not know about you, but I am suddenly quite exhausted."
"Mm, I think we've done enough for now," Quentin agreed. He snapped his fingers and found himself back on the rooftop in his own body. He stumbled like a drunkard as he got to his feet, but steadied himself before he could trip and fall. "Wow, blood rushing back to my head. That was a trip. Well, maybe I'll get Temple or Storm to tail Officer Fuckface for a few days and see how successful we were, or at least make sure we didn't plant a tumor in his brain by accident. Even though that would be very funny."
It took Hope a little longer, unleashing the pearl and gold bracelet to return to the astral plane and riding the waves back to her own body from there, but finally she opened her eyes and groaned: "I really do need to find a better visualisation for the riding." She struggled to her feet, grabbing for a metal pole for support when she bent down to retrieve her scarf. "And have Inez do it. I need Sue to do some hacking so I can give your new sources a better idea of what to look for."
"Fabulous." Staggering to the door to lead them back inside, he pulled up a food delivery app on his phone. "I don't know about you, but I could use something to eat. And a stiff drink. Enchiladas and margs?"
"Both would be very welcome." Blinking against the sharp light, Hope raised her hand and hailed a cab. "Let us go back to the office."
