District X Logs: Day 1
Nov. 1st, 2023 06:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsMatch and Artie are working on sandbagging, early on during the storm and find out they have rather a lot in common.
Match felt like he was looming over the man he’d been paired off for setting up sandbags. Looming and out of place. Why was that such a common occurrence for him? And to make matters worse, he knew that he’d need help getting the bags set up. Better to bite the bullet. “I uh… I can’t lift one o’ those, probably.”
Artie blinked up at the long boy beside him and gave him a thumbs up. "You'll be fine. They're like 30 pounds." A couple of guys in high vis were further down the line and a pair of mutants with some sort of physical augmentation were making short work of their end of the stack. "And we're lifting them together." He let the text hang in the air, glowing slightly as it faded.
He stared at the words probably longer than he should have before his eyes snapped back down to the other man. He wasn't about to admit that his brain was still processing the words and instead he nodded. "Yeah, right, yeah." And then they made sense, and Match moved to begin working. "Hey, I, uh, I hate to bring up work on top of this, but, um, Angelo, he said, he told me you could...make IDs?" His voice dropped to a mumble as he took one half of the bag, feeling his face burn at sounding so awkward.
Artie didn't miss the pause. Hands full, he couldn't sign a reply and used his synthesiser instead, the speaker clipped to the outside of his collar, while the input was, as usual, hidden under his clothes. "Yeah, I can do that." He dropped the sandbag into place and straightened. "So, you want a passport?" Three appeared - US, Canadian, Singapore, as he spoke, "Or a license?" The options displayed were Ontario, New York and Florida. "Or something more specialised? Angelo mentioned that you had some trouble."
"Oh, no, I never passed my driver's test." It was said entirely without shame, just cold, hard facts. "I got my learner's, but not the full thing." That was more of an afterthought as they picked up another bag. His feet slid on something and with a jerk Match kept himself from eating absolute shit on the pavement."Yeah, I, uh, don't have anything anymore, accidentally... burned my house down, so everything's gone or whatever. I... my grandma's from Alberta, do you think- I mean, would it be possible for, uh, if it's not too much, I mean."
Artie shrugged. "I truly don't give a shit if you can drive. You said you wanted ID. I don't care if you want to just get drunk or go to Canada or have a crime spree. You want to be 21, with Alberta papers? Sure." He paused. "Wait, are you 18? I have to give a different answer if you're under 18. X-Force rules."
"No thanks," Match shook his head, wholly uninterested in either of the ideas put forth. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I turned 18 in August. I really just wanted a student ID so I could turn in cans and get paid and not have to give half of the pay to someone else." He winced. That sounded bad, but, well, it was his finds, it should be his money.
"The fuck?" Artie shook his head. "Okay, one you need ID. I don't care if it's real or not, but you need ID. Proper ID. Not a student card. You're a mutant and you need papers. Two, recycled cans? Bro. Aim higher. That's bullshit money."
"Like glass recycling money? Nah, shit shatters and contaminates everything." As they set the bag down, Match scratched his chin in an attempt at thoughtfulness. Nothing sprung to mind so he looked at Artie for an answer before shrugging. "People keep saying that. What would I need papers for?"
Artie shrugged helplessly. "You're brown and a mutant. When you're inevitably picked up by the cops, it will go more smoothly if you have ID, especially if you're not somewhere we can send our people to extract you. I'm not saying use your real details because I know you have a record but you need papers." He stopped to pick up his end of the next sandbag. "I'm not going to talk about jobs and college because I am not equipped for that but you need papers and money." He smiled then, gracelessly, deliberately taking the sting out of the words with his next offering. "Seriously though, don't ask jobs and college because I decided that my best option was robbing casinos and living with the Morlocks when I was 18 and it just got me messed up."
“Oh.” For once an adult was actually making sense and Match appreciated the logic. Nodding along, he finally realized he hadn’t actually said anything going on in his internal monologue. “Okay, that does make sense.” Whatever the man had decided to do in the past was none of his business, no reason to comment on that, but at least he wasn’t pushing schoo- “Morlocks? You were in Chicago?”
"No, here in Manhattan. A group of mutants moved into these old tunnels underground. Raised me before I came to the mansion. When everything went to shit," Artie smiled ruefully, "like seriously, don't ever try to rob a casino. Trust me. Well, I moved back in for a while. Guess whoever you knew in Chicago read the same book and stole the name."
"Oh." And Match filed this point away for later, unsure what to do with the information now, but sure that one day it would come in handy. There were Morlocks here in New York and never rob a casino. “Postman, yeah, musta been the same book about going to the future. Are they, uh... safe? I mean, with the flooding?”
"They're pretty good at coming up when they need to, even the Tunnellers - mutant separatists, they talk about wanting to go to war sometimes - when they need to," Artie replied, adding the explanation before Match could ask. "And the maintenance tunnels have good drainage but..." He sighed. "There's a non-zero chance that someone drowned but I'd lay money that it's a homeless human, instead. They don't know the tunnels like the Morlocks do."
"Huh, alright, sounds about right. It's beyond my grasp or understanding, honestly, so I'mma just nod and go 'oh well, guess that's what happens,' if it's all the same to you. I already do the fish outta water pretty daily, so I ain't gonna ask. I mean, good to know, but, unless they take people I don't see it coming up in my life." The words were rather flat, bordering on boredom before Match shrugged.
Artie nodded. "Sure." The voice in his synthesiser was mild. "Let me know when you've decided what details you want on your ID, or if you want us to just go wipe your Chicago records. Matt will encourage you to do it by the book but we'll just fix it for you."
"Who the fuck is Matt?” Oh, he’d said that aloud. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Don’t matter to me, honestly. I’ll send you, uh, details that I remember about my life records or whatever, after, I mean later. Sand first. I’m great at words.” It came out in a long suffering huff that shared that he was in fact not great at words, and focusing at the task at hand might distract from that.
Artie responded with a cartoon version of Matt's face, captions helpfully saying 'blind', 'super senses' and 'can hear + smell what you ate last Tuesday' and dragged the next bag into place with a grunt.
The younger man leaned closer, one brow raised in scrutiny. There was nothing behind his eyes, when he looked back into Artie's, no sign of recognition. "I have never seen a man like that, in my life." He finally informed him. "But a lawful guy, alright, I'll avoid him."
"Really? Huh. I thought he'd have talked to you when you arrived given the whole, you know." Artie was nothing if not a helpful man so he provided a couple of cartoons to explain the you know. Burning house. Police. Cartoon man with a pink mohawk sending emanations from his head.
“Angelo was one of the people who picked me up, so I’ve really just worked with him and as Sooraya on things… or Kyle,” Match offered after a beat. Hefting up his half of the bag, he shrugged again. “And I don’t keep normal hours, especially back there.”
"Okay." There wasn't much he could say to that really. They dropped the sandbag into position and Artie straightened, shaking out his arms. A line of sandbags ran along the street, piled at doorways and the gateways to basement stairs. They were probably all still going to flood. There was nothing like a bit of optimism in the face of defeat.
In the midst of rescues, one flier runs into... or rather through another.
In the aftermath of the storm it wasn't exactly bright and sunny, so Nica was saving her visible light bandwidth for providing heat and light to those who needed it. She could fly just as well using ultraviolet, and so a blue streak was zooming around the buildings of DX, checking to see if there was anyone needing help on the streets-turned-canels below.
Sam had just finished delivering a child to her distraught parents and was on his way back to the community center for more supplies when he passed through something. "Wha-"
He turned around to look. "What was that?"
For her part, Nica had seen a flash of yellow fire blur in front of her before she sailed straight through it. She jerked to a stop, dropping a little as she went solid automatically before flashing into her visible light form and turning around. There was... a young man, close to her age or maybe a little older, with blonde hair and an energy field of some sort surrounding him.
"Oh! Sh... er shoot! I'm so sorry, I didn't realise there was anyone else up here! Are you okay?" It came out in a rush.
"Yeah fine." Sam replied, staring at the now visible person he'd just passed through. "That uh- that didn't hurt you right?"
It was taking most of his concentration to stay still long enough to have this conversation but he couldn't just speed off without making sure the girl was alright.
"Me? Oh, that was nothing. I go through stuff all the time." Nica, for her part, essentially lounging in mid air, but she noticed her new acquaintance was practically vibrating on the spot. "Um, would it be easier if we landed on that roof just over there? You look like you're having some trouble staying still?"
“That would be much easier, thanks.” Sam replied, heading toward the roof to wait for her. “I’m Sam by the way.”
"I'm Nica." She couldn't resist doing a little loop-de-loop before she landed on the roof - it wasn't often she met another flier. Apart from Warren, who was, well, Warren. As completely opposite her as any one person could be. She touched down on the roof, solidifying as she held out her hand for him to shake. "It's good to meet another flying mutant."
He took the offered hand and shook it firmly. “Likewise. You doin’ alright out here? Anything I can help you with?”
"Me? I was about to ask you the same thing." She laughed, blushing a little. "I'm good - just doing fly-bys so I can direct the rest of the team to what needs doing."
“I’m flyin’ solo, stopping by the community centers for supplies for folks when needed but most just helping people get to their loved ones.” Sam shrugged with a small smile. “We get a lot of floods back home, I couldn’t just sit by and let folks not used to em suffer.”
"Back home?" Nica asked, curiosity piqued.
“Kentucky, can’t ya hear it?” Sam laughed. “Swear I stand out like a sore thumb up here. The hollers get real bad when we get a load a’ rain.”
"Oh! Yeah, I've spent a lot of time in Europe, so I'm rusty with US accents. My dad's folks are from Louisiana, so yeah, feel you with the flooding thing." Nica coloured again. "Wait... are you the Sam that works at Kirby's? I've heard people talking about you. You used to go to Xavier's, back when it was a school, didn't you?"
“That’s me, but I was up at Muir……. I hope you’re hearing good things. I’d hate to find out I have enemies now.” Sam laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Nica blushed again. "Oh, totally good things. All the good," she hastened to add. "I came when I was still in high school; I'm a grad student now, and an X-Man." She couldn't help sounding proud of the last fact.
“That’s great! I’m….. just Sam.” He offered an awkward smile. “What’re you studying?”
"Political science at Empire State," she replied. She was about to go on when her phone beeped and she fished it out of her pocket to read the text. "Oh, right. Humanitarian crisis," she added in a sheepish tone. "I'm wanted back at the Centre to warm up some folks who are borderline hypothermic, so I'd better book. It was really nice meeting you, Sam. Maybe we can do coffee sometime?"
"Oh nice, I've been thinking about going to school for sociology." He smiled and then also took on a sheepish expression. "Yeah, that'd be nice- uh... Alani has my number, if y'all need anything just call!"
"I will!" And with that, Nica streaked away in a flash of ultra-violent.
Sam nodded before heading back to the outskirts of the neighborhood to look for more folks to bring to the community center.
Later on, Hope and Kurt team up to look for those needing evacuation.
Hope glanced back at the upper floors of the XFI offices, the strain in the back in her mind building. She had been ghosting on and off for a few hours now and a part of her longed to slip back into her body still at the office and to steal Quentin's couch for a long nap. Nevertheless, she dove for the next apartment building... The lower windows were boarded up, but she knew people lived on the higher floors and they'd have been safe from the water...
Kurt waited below, watching for her to come back out to tell him if there were people in there wanting to be evacuated.
Passing through the roof, she ended in pure darkness. Still, she had to pause here... there could be people sheltering here. Carefully she floated around, alert for any movement or sound that might reveal a human. 'Attic is clear, Nightcrawler.' She was able to send a few moments later.
'Would you like to try the lower floors', he sent back, 'or move on?'
'Probably best to check them, just to be sure. Can you see any sign of life from the outside?' Hope quickly replied before sinking through the floor to continue her search. Here there was at least some light and she glanced around. 'This apartment has signs of people having left in a hurry.' She commented as she surveyed the dirty plates still on the table and the closet with clothes hanging half out of it.
He looked up, studying each window carefully, then stopped.
"Yes. On that floor but on the other corner, someone is at the window."
'Heading there now.' Hope passed through the wall, scanning the next two apartments. The third apartment was a hit though. An older man was firmly ensconced in his seat. 'Nightcrawler, I have someone in the fourth apartment from the right.' She sent before addressing the man in the chair. He didn't even seem surprised to see a ghostlike figure hovering in front of him. 'Sir, you have to evacuate.'
"I felt you coming, you know." He commented. "And I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving my things alone."
'It is not safe to remain here, sir. And I understand you are scared of leaving everything behind. We can help you grab some of the important things.' Hope quickly responded to the old man before refocusing on Nightcrawler. 'I am afraid the older gentleman does not want to leave. Any chance you continue this discussion while I scout the rest of the building?'
"Gladly." He was already looking for something to moor the boat to. "Please show me what you see so I can come inside."
Glancing around quickly, Hope frowned when she spotted the ugly thing in the window. 'There is a patchwork object in the window that resembles a cat. It is almost a foot tall at least. Can you see it?’
"I see it. Can you see if he might be willing to let me in?"
She eyed the man, who was stubbornly clinging to the chair with both hands. 'I am almost certain the answer will be no. We can board up the window later if needed. Replacing it can also be done.'
Kurt paused uncertainly. "I am not sure that breaking into his home would have the effect we are hoping for. I cannot remove him by force when he is safe, for now."
Hope paused for a moment, considering this. Just pulling him out might not be the most efficient indeed. 'Perhaps you can discuss this with him further though while I check the rest of the building? You can enter through the window without breaking it.'
"That is true", he allowed. "All right, give me a moment to climb up."
'I have got to check the rest of the building, but my colleague over here would like to discuss things further with you if that is okay.' Hope informed the man as she saw Kurt's blue head appearing in front of the window. 'I wish you luck.' Hope projected at him, floating to the nearest wall.
Match felt like he was looming over the man he’d been paired off for setting up sandbags. Looming and out of place. Why was that such a common occurrence for him? And to make matters worse, he knew that he’d need help getting the bags set up. Better to bite the bullet. “I uh… I can’t lift one o’ those, probably.”
Artie blinked up at the long boy beside him and gave him a thumbs up. "You'll be fine. They're like 30 pounds." A couple of guys in high vis were further down the line and a pair of mutants with some sort of physical augmentation were making short work of their end of the stack. "And we're lifting them together." He let the text hang in the air, glowing slightly as it faded.
He stared at the words probably longer than he should have before his eyes snapped back down to the other man. He wasn't about to admit that his brain was still processing the words and instead he nodded. "Yeah, right, yeah." And then they made sense, and Match moved to begin working. "Hey, I, uh, I hate to bring up work on top of this, but, um, Angelo, he said, he told me you could...make IDs?" His voice dropped to a mumble as he took one half of the bag, feeling his face burn at sounding so awkward.
Artie didn't miss the pause. Hands full, he couldn't sign a reply and used his synthesiser instead, the speaker clipped to the outside of his collar, while the input was, as usual, hidden under his clothes. "Yeah, I can do that." He dropped the sandbag into place and straightened. "So, you want a passport?" Three appeared - US, Canadian, Singapore, as he spoke, "Or a license?" The options displayed were Ontario, New York and Florida. "Or something more specialised? Angelo mentioned that you had some trouble."
"Oh, no, I never passed my driver's test." It was said entirely without shame, just cold, hard facts. "I got my learner's, but not the full thing." That was more of an afterthought as they picked up another bag. His feet slid on something and with a jerk Match kept himself from eating absolute shit on the pavement."Yeah, I, uh, don't have anything anymore, accidentally... burned my house down, so everything's gone or whatever. I... my grandma's from Alberta, do you think- I mean, would it be possible for, uh, if it's not too much, I mean."
Artie shrugged. "I truly don't give a shit if you can drive. You said you wanted ID. I don't care if you want to just get drunk or go to Canada or have a crime spree. You want to be 21, with Alberta papers? Sure." He paused. "Wait, are you 18? I have to give a different answer if you're under 18. X-Force rules."
"No thanks," Match shook his head, wholly uninterested in either of the ideas put forth. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I turned 18 in August. I really just wanted a student ID so I could turn in cans and get paid and not have to give half of the pay to someone else." He winced. That sounded bad, but, well, it was his finds, it should be his money.
"The fuck?" Artie shook his head. "Okay, one you need ID. I don't care if it's real or not, but you need ID. Proper ID. Not a student card. You're a mutant and you need papers. Two, recycled cans? Bro. Aim higher. That's bullshit money."
"Like glass recycling money? Nah, shit shatters and contaminates everything." As they set the bag down, Match scratched his chin in an attempt at thoughtfulness. Nothing sprung to mind so he looked at Artie for an answer before shrugging. "People keep saying that. What would I need papers for?"
Artie shrugged helplessly. "You're brown and a mutant. When you're inevitably picked up by the cops, it will go more smoothly if you have ID, especially if you're not somewhere we can send our people to extract you. I'm not saying use your real details because I know you have a record but you need papers." He stopped to pick up his end of the next sandbag. "I'm not going to talk about jobs and college because I am not equipped for that but you need papers and money." He smiled then, gracelessly, deliberately taking the sting out of the words with his next offering. "Seriously though, don't ask jobs and college because I decided that my best option was robbing casinos and living with the Morlocks when I was 18 and it just got me messed up."
“Oh.” For once an adult was actually making sense and Match appreciated the logic. Nodding along, he finally realized he hadn’t actually said anything going on in his internal monologue. “Okay, that does make sense.” Whatever the man had decided to do in the past was none of his business, no reason to comment on that, but at least he wasn’t pushing schoo- “Morlocks? You were in Chicago?”
"No, here in Manhattan. A group of mutants moved into these old tunnels underground. Raised me before I came to the mansion. When everything went to shit," Artie smiled ruefully, "like seriously, don't ever try to rob a casino. Trust me. Well, I moved back in for a while. Guess whoever you knew in Chicago read the same book and stole the name."
"Oh." And Match filed this point away for later, unsure what to do with the information now, but sure that one day it would come in handy. There were Morlocks here in New York and never rob a casino. “Postman, yeah, musta been the same book about going to the future. Are they, uh... safe? I mean, with the flooding?”
"They're pretty good at coming up when they need to, even the Tunnellers - mutant separatists, they talk about wanting to go to war sometimes - when they need to," Artie replied, adding the explanation before Match could ask. "And the maintenance tunnels have good drainage but..." He sighed. "There's a non-zero chance that someone drowned but I'd lay money that it's a homeless human, instead. They don't know the tunnels like the Morlocks do."
"Huh, alright, sounds about right. It's beyond my grasp or understanding, honestly, so I'mma just nod and go 'oh well, guess that's what happens,' if it's all the same to you. I already do the fish outta water pretty daily, so I ain't gonna ask. I mean, good to know, but, unless they take people I don't see it coming up in my life." The words were rather flat, bordering on boredom before Match shrugged.
Artie nodded. "Sure." The voice in his synthesiser was mild. "Let me know when you've decided what details you want on your ID, or if you want us to just go wipe your Chicago records. Matt will encourage you to do it by the book but we'll just fix it for you."
"Who the fuck is Matt?” Oh, he’d said that aloud. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Don’t matter to me, honestly. I’ll send you, uh, details that I remember about my life records or whatever, after, I mean later. Sand first. I’m great at words.” It came out in a long suffering huff that shared that he was in fact not great at words, and focusing at the task at hand might distract from that.
Artie responded with a cartoon version of Matt's face, captions helpfully saying 'blind', 'super senses' and 'can hear + smell what you ate last Tuesday' and dragged the next bag into place with a grunt.
The younger man leaned closer, one brow raised in scrutiny. There was nothing behind his eyes, when he looked back into Artie's, no sign of recognition. "I have never seen a man like that, in my life." He finally informed him. "But a lawful guy, alright, I'll avoid him."
"Really? Huh. I thought he'd have talked to you when you arrived given the whole, you know." Artie was nothing if not a helpful man so he provided a couple of cartoons to explain the you know. Burning house. Police. Cartoon man with a pink mohawk sending emanations from his head.
“Angelo was one of the people who picked me up, so I’ve really just worked with him and as Sooraya on things… or Kyle,” Match offered after a beat. Hefting up his half of the bag, he shrugged again. “And I don’t keep normal hours, especially back there.”
"Okay." There wasn't much he could say to that really. They dropped the sandbag into position and Artie straightened, shaking out his arms. A line of sandbags ran along the street, piled at doorways and the gateways to basement stairs. They were probably all still going to flood. There was nothing like a bit of optimism in the face of defeat.
In the midst of rescues, one flier runs into... or rather through another.
In the aftermath of the storm it wasn't exactly bright and sunny, so Nica was saving her visible light bandwidth for providing heat and light to those who needed it. She could fly just as well using ultraviolet, and so a blue streak was zooming around the buildings of DX, checking to see if there was anyone needing help on the streets-turned-canels below.
Sam had just finished delivering a child to her distraught parents and was on his way back to the community center for more supplies when he passed through something. "Wha-"
He turned around to look. "What was that?"
For her part, Nica had seen a flash of yellow fire blur in front of her before she sailed straight through it. She jerked to a stop, dropping a little as she went solid automatically before flashing into her visible light form and turning around. There was... a young man, close to her age or maybe a little older, with blonde hair and an energy field of some sort surrounding him.
"Oh! Sh... er shoot! I'm so sorry, I didn't realise there was anyone else up here! Are you okay?" It came out in a rush.
"Yeah fine." Sam replied, staring at the now visible person he'd just passed through. "That uh- that didn't hurt you right?"
It was taking most of his concentration to stay still long enough to have this conversation but he couldn't just speed off without making sure the girl was alright.
"Me? Oh, that was nothing. I go through stuff all the time." Nica, for her part, essentially lounging in mid air, but she noticed her new acquaintance was practically vibrating on the spot. "Um, would it be easier if we landed on that roof just over there? You look like you're having some trouble staying still?"
“That would be much easier, thanks.” Sam replied, heading toward the roof to wait for her. “I’m Sam by the way.”
"I'm Nica." She couldn't resist doing a little loop-de-loop before she landed on the roof - it wasn't often she met another flier. Apart from Warren, who was, well, Warren. As completely opposite her as any one person could be. She touched down on the roof, solidifying as she held out her hand for him to shake. "It's good to meet another flying mutant."
He took the offered hand and shook it firmly. “Likewise. You doin’ alright out here? Anything I can help you with?”
"Me? I was about to ask you the same thing." She laughed, blushing a little. "I'm good - just doing fly-bys so I can direct the rest of the team to what needs doing."
“I’m flyin’ solo, stopping by the community centers for supplies for folks when needed but most just helping people get to their loved ones.” Sam shrugged with a small smile. “We get a lot of floods back home, I couldn’t just sit by and let folks not used to em suffer.”
"Back home?" Nica asked, curiosity piqued.
“Kentucky, can’t ya hear it?” Sam laughed. “Swear I stand out like a sore thumb up here. The hollers get real bad when we get a load a’ rain.”
"Oh! Yeah, I've spent a lot of time in Europe, so I'm rusty with US accents. My dad's folks are from Louisiana, so yeah, feel you with the flooding thing." Nica coloured again. "Wait... are you the Sam that works at Kirby's? I've heard people talking about you. You used to go to Xavier's, back when it was a school, didn't you?"
“That’s me, but I was up at Muir……. I hope you’re hearing good things. I’d hate to find out I have enemies now.” Sam laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Nica blushed again. "Oh, totally good things. All the good," she hastened to add. "I came when I was still in high school; I'm a grad student now, and an X-Man." She couldn't help sounding proud of the last fact.
“That’s great! I’m….. just Sam.” He offered an awkward smile. “What’re you studying?”
"Political science at Empire State," she replied. She was about to go on when her phone beeped and she fished it out of her pocket to read the text. "Oh, right. Humanitarian crisis," she added in a sheepish tone. "I'm wanted back at the Centre to warm up some folks who are borderline hypothermic, so I'd better book. It was really nice meeting you, Sam. Maybe we can do coffee sometime?"
"Oh nice, I've been thinking about going to school for sociology." He smiled and then also took on a sheepish expression. "Yeah, that'd be nice- uh... Alani has my number, if y'all need anything just call!"
"I will!" And with that, Nica streaked away in a flash of ultra-violent.
Sam nodded before heading back to the outskirts of the neighborhood to look for more folks to bring to the community center.
Later on, Hope and Kurt team up to look for those needing evacuation.
Hope glanced back at the upper floors of the XFI offices, the strain in the back in her mind building. She had been ghosting on and off for a few hours now and a part of her longed to slip back into her body still at the office and to steal Quentin's couch for a long nap. Nevertheless, she dove for the next apartment building... The lower windows were boarded up, but she knew people lived on the higher floors and they'd have been safe from the water...
Kurt waited below, watching for her to come back out to tell him if there were people in there wanting to be evacuated.
Passing through the roof, she ended in pure darkness. Still, she had to pause here... there could be people sheltering here. Carefully she floated around, alert for any movement or sound that might reveal a human. 'Attic is clear, Nightcrawler.' She was able to send a few moments later.
'Would you like to try the lower floors', he sent back, 'or move on?'
'Probably best to check them, just to be sure. Can you see any sign of life from the outside?' Hope quickly replied before sinking through the floor to continue her search. Here there was at least some light and she glanced around. 'This apartment has signs of people having left in a hurry.' She commented as she surveyed the dirty plates still on the table and the closet with clothes hanging half out of it.
He looked up, studying each window carefully, then stopped.
"Yes. On that floor but on the other corner, someone is at the window."
'Heading there now.' Hope passed through the wall, scanning the next two apartments. The third apartment was a hit though. An older man was firmly ensconced in his seat. 'Nightcrawler, I have someone in the fourth apartment from the right.' She sent before addressing the man in the chair. He didn't even seem surprised to see a ghostlike figure hovering in front of him. 'Sir, you have to evacuate.'
"I felt you coming, you know." He commented. "And I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving my things alone."
'It is not safe to remain here, sir. And I understand you are scared of leaving everything behind. We can help you grab some of the important things.' Hope quickly responded to the old man before refocusing on Nightcrawler. 'I am afraid the older gentleman does not want to leave. Any chance you continue this discussion while I scout the rest of the building?'
"Gladly." He was already looking for something to moor the boat to. "Please show me what you see so I can come inside."
Glancing around quickly, Hope frowned when she spotted the ugly thing in the window. 'There is a patchwork object in the window that resembles a cat. It is almost a foot tall at least. Can you see it?’
"I see it. Can you see if he might be willing to let me in?"
She eyed the man, who was stubbornly clinging to the chair with both hands. 'I am almost certain the answer will be no. We can board up the window later if needed. Replacing it can also be done.'
Kurt paused uncertainly. "I am not sure that breaking into his home would have the effect we are hoping for. I cannot remove him by force when he is safe, for now."
Hope paused for a moment, considering this. Just pulling him out might not be the most efficient indeed. 'Perhaps you can discuss this with him further though while I check the rest of the building? You can enter through the window without breaking it.'
"That is true", he allowed. "All right, give me a moment to climb up."
'I have got to check the rest of the building, but my colleague over here would like to discuss things further with you if that is okay.' Hope informed the man as she saw Kurt's blue head appearing in front of the window. 'I wish you luck.' Hope projected at him, floating to the nearest wall.
