Case File: Feel the Rush - Log 2
Oct. 26th, 2024 01:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsSome time later, X-Factor arrives on the scene alongside the NYPD.
Some places lose their magic when well lit.
Clubs are certainly one of those, and the stark glare of the overhead lights only underscored the surreal nature of the earlier evening. Mood meshing into sudden tragedy progressing into bright lights, police officers, and medical personnel all discordant to what this night should have been. The harsh yellow orange outlined things not noticed in the dark: spilled drinks, trash on the dance floor, the peek of wild vines from Silver's restroom door. The red and blue of police lights cut across what shadows of the evening still remained.
One figure, however, drifted in the midst of the uniformed officers. Blond, lanky-strong and sort of sideways confident, he was wearing a pair of sunglasses that had a prismatic effect across the lenses -- a gold that faded chromatically into silver on the arms. The floral print of his moto jacket added to the discongruity.
This man slid past an officer interviewing one of the few remaining club staff nonchalantly to pluck up a discarded purse that he stared at like it might hold the secrets of the universe. The uniform didn't bat an eye. Shaking his head at nothing, the blond put the item down. His stare lingered as his face moved through a journey something like a conversation without words.
He stopped, however, and visibly perked as he noted a familiar brunette.
A slow wave was offered with a soft, knowing smile. This turn of torso and a slight dip of the head caused the man's glasses to slide down his nose, revealing what they hid -- Arthur Centino's left eye was afire with light of its own.
Mel was off to the side by herself, huddled against the biting cold of October. Arthur’s warm presence brightened her mood slightly. It was good to see a familiar face after what she had just witnessed. She gave a small wave back, not wanting to disturb his work.
That small bit made Arthur's smile brighten, but then the softness of the expression quirked toward mischief. Keeping eye contact, gold aviators fixed on Mel, the man twisted so that he was much closer than would be comfortable with anyone, let alone a police officer. He took a hand and waved in front of the other man's face – once, twice – before delivering a screen-worthy wink solely for Mel. The officer didn't flinch.
Arthur bowed and went to go, presumably to continue investigating, or whatever he was doing, in the direction of the restrooms.
"Don't mind him, he still gets a kick outta the whole bein' invisible t'the fuzz bit we can do," Inez said, stepping around a nearby corner and nonchalantly walking past one of the officers herself. "S'a handy trick, t'be sure... they won't notice us talkin'. Promise," she added, standing in a relaxed pose before Mel with her hands in the pockets of her jeans.
"So... y'wanna fill us in on what's goin' on here, darlin'?" she asked, leaning against a pillar as she waited for a response.
Pulling her coat in closer, less for the cold and more for comfort. “Well, it was an overdose, I think, but it weren’t like any I’d seen ‘afore.” Mel paused for a moment, thinking. “… more violent, almost, like that poor girl was liable to shake outta her skin. An’ the bathroom’s damm near a jungle now, what with her mutation.”
Inez fought back the urge to ask how many she'd seen before, letting her gaze turn instead toward where she suspected the bathrooms were before turning it back towards Mel once again. "That does sound mighty unpleasant," she agreed quietly.
"How're you doin' yerself?" she asked, taking a soft step in the other mutant's direction so as not to spook her. "You didn't... I mean, whatever she was takin' - or was givin'," she amended, unsure of exactly what happened, "yer not in any danger... right?"
She did a little half shrug in response to the second question. “M’alright. I’ve called an Uber, actually. Jus’ wanna go home.”
“Her friend, um.” Mel reached into her pocket and pulled out a round little green pill. “She gave me this when it was all happenin’. Out of fright I reckon. I weren’t sure I felt comfortable givin’ it to the cops. Could y’all find it useful?”
"Might be, yeah," Inez agreed, taking a plastic glove out of her pocket and sliding it on to take the pill. It may not have been harmful to exposed skin but she figured better safe than sorry, flashing a wry grin at Mel as she did so. "Sorry, force a'habit," she said as she slid it into her other pocket.
"If y'want we can probably give you a ride back... not sure how much longer we'll be here but I'm sure one of us can split an' give ya a ride," she offered, turning her head to see where Arthur had gone off to behind them.
"Ooh," butted in a chipper male voice, "I'll drive."
The blond man in question, as if summoned, peeked out from behind a very large police officer who stood oblivious to the six foot man. Hard to say when Arthur had exited the bathroom garden, but he was clearly multitasking between eavesdropping. The blond abandoned his buddy-cop shadowplay and hustled over.
"We'll get more from interviews," Arthur said with forced cheer covering a shiver. "Too much . . . let's call it emotion . . . in this place not tied to current events. Like seeing through fog."
Mel winced in sympathy. “That’s alright, really. It’s almost here, an’ I’d hate to cancel on ‘im now. Awful kind of y’all to offer though.” This was code for I really need to be alone right now and also don’t want to run into Sam.
As if on cue, a black honda civic pulled up across the street from the club. “That’ll be my guy. Night.”
Q and Gabe investigate.
"Hey, hot stuff." While Inez and Arthur went their way to chat with patrons, unmolested by CSI thanks to a psychic cloak, Quentin went directly to Gabriel. He felt overdressed in his Chino's and button-down, particularly next to Gabriel's less restrictive evening wear, but he had been busy in the office all night and didn't have time to change before he got the call. "Need a drink or anything before we start?"
"I'm... a few deep, so..." Gabriel was unsure how lucid he was or how lucid he needed to be. He eyed the bar, where he had left his last beverage unfinished. And the cops made him uneasy, even after all this time, which he knew Quentin knew. "I'm fine," he said, not really sure whether it was true or whether he even sounded particularly convincing. "I like your professional drag."
"They don't even know we're here," Quentin reassured Gabriel, not bothering to comment on the veracity of the other man's claim. That would come out on its own in time. "What should my drag name be? Private Dick, maybe? The Maltese F-slur?"
"Hercule Poirheaux." Gabriel considered using his powers to undo another one of Quentin's shirt buttons, full well knowing the other man would notice. He just felt the other man's clothes looked so incongruous with the setting; this was not what the two of them did in places like this. "I've never really seen you at work before," he said, interrupting himself before he followed that particular train of thought.
He did not necessarily need another drink, but he wanted a cigarette. "So," he said.
It was funny in a way how they kept their professional lives to themselves when they shared literally everything else. Maybe some things were too intimate even for them. But that taboo had to be broken some time, and there was no better reason than solving mutant deaths.
"So," Quentin repeated. "What did you see happen?"
"Not much," Gabriel admitted. "I was at the bar when we heard somebody screaming from the bathroom. She had taken something, seemed to be overdosing on something — not an opioid, because Narcan didn't seem to totally work, though, I dunno, people don't always use it right and timing is everything." He shrugged. "But a pill, I guess."
He scratched his nose, feeling uneasy. After everything, it was still jarring to see someone die, and worse still to have to relive it. "When you do this, do you usually..." He waved his hand a bit, searching for the euphemism but hoping Quentin would get it. "Like, would it be easier, if I let you? I mean..."
"Depending on the person, yes, I do," the telepath affirmed. He hesitated before speaking again. "I can if you want me to, if you'd rather not talk about it. But it's up to you. I'm not concerned you're gonna keep any details from me. But, you know..." Speaking of taboos. This was one only violated in the most dire circumstances, and even then, only with outright consent.
"No, no, come on," Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. "You think that's the worst thing I've ever seen? Please. I was just curious." He sensed he'd introduced an awkwardness that wasn't there. "Hold on." He used his powers to jet behind the bar and pour himself a single tequila and soda, which he reappeared in front of with Quentin.
"She took something," he said again. "And it was out of control. Feels like her friend wasn't all that helpful, the way you wouldn't be if you're worried you're going to get caught with something."
Quentin very pointedly did not show any reaction to Gabriel's lightspeed intermission even though he'd called it a minute ago and Gabriel had denied it. He did pluck the cup from Gabriel's hand to take a sip himself, though, before handing it back and continuing.
"Did you see how she reacted when she hit?" he asked. "Typical symptoms? Any powers thing like a Kick OD?"
"Well, yeah." Gabriel considered this. "I mean, kind of. This plant on the bathroom started to grow so fast. And then she — her skin, like... crawled? Or it looked like it crawled. And she turned green, and these, uh, plant vines kind of grew out of her?" He sounded insane. "I didn't take anything," he added defensively. "And I haven't taken Kick, but this really seemed more... intense?"
Possible chlorokinetic, Quentin reasoned, a power that completely consumed her because of this fentanyl equivalent of Kick and Rave. Hard to forget his own experience with the latter drug when his telepathy was dormant. Desperate times, but it seemed unlikely this young woman was actually looking to awaken something buried inside her. He made a mental note to follow-up with that angle.
"G." Quentin, slipping out of work mode into something more comfortable for the pair, approached the other man and gently placed his hand on the speedster's chest, over his heart. "I know you see plenty of horrible stuff with XF, but I'm sorry you got stuck here, too."
"No, it's..." Gabriel wasn't sure what to say. The touch was nice. He looked at his feet, wondering for a second if he should reciprocate. "Thanks," he said after a second, looking back up. "I just..." He really wanted a cigarette. "We already have so much to deal with," he said after a pause. "And I don't know what this is, but like... I don't know what this is."
"And I'm going to find out." Quentin made that oath with the same passion with which he kissed Gabriel. He offered an impish grin as he stepped back. "I always get my man, and then he can never get rid of me, for better or for worse. And it'll obviously be worse for a mutant murderer."
Sam talks to Jessie and Ashley.
Sam made eye contact with Ashley and tried to gesture to the others on his team that he was going over to talk with her and Jessie. He pushed his way through the crowd, murmuring soft apologies before he could gently pull the two girls into an awkward side hug. "I am so sorry- I know yer havin' a terrible night, but I gotta ask some questions so we can help....do either of ya think you could answer some questions fer me? I'll try to be quick so you can go home as soon as possible."
Jessie was rocking on her heels, both arms wrapped around both of Ashley's, head resting on her shoulder. She only released Ashley just to cling to Sam. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Yeah, we can - Ashley?"
Ashley puffed out both cheeks. "Yeah, but I might throw up." Being narcan trained was one thing. Using it was another. Reliving having to use it was a third thing entirely.
"Hey, you won't be the first person to throw up on me and prolly not the last." Sam tried to reassure her. "'Sides, I threw up on Warren a few weeks ago and he still writes my check, XFi rite of passage or somethin'- don't worry none."
He gently steered them a little further away and turned them away from the activity. "So from my understandin', you gave Narcan to a woman who was od'in'? Do you know what she took?"
"No." Jessie reached to rub Ashley's back. "We were just in line for the bathroom when we heard her friends start screaming."
"Okay....I know it's hard, an' I'm sorry I gotta ask. Can you tell me what OD symptoms she was showin'?" His voice was quiet and he tried to keep it steady. This was one of those things about growing up where he had. You knew what questions to ask.
"Blue lips, I think the she threw up?" Ashley said and swallowed a few times to try not to gag. It had been really gross, mostly spit and bile. “She wasn't breathing much, um, obvious, because the blue lips. Really clammy skin..."
"Okay-" Sam whispers. "Okay, that's- you ain't gotta keep goin' hon."
He pulled her closer, pressing his head against hers comfortingly. "Did you see anyone with her? Maybe anyone that could've given her somethin'?"
"She had friends with her," Jessie said. "I think I saw one of them slip something to Mel."
Sam tried and failed to not let his exhale turn into a sigh. "Okay. You both have my number right? If you promise to call or text me if you can think of anythin' else, I'm gonna go make sure Mellie's okay....an' that we talk to her."
Hi eye twitched as he mumbled under his breath, "Jesus fuck, cain't have a goddamn break in this fuckin' family."
"What's ... " Ashley steeled herself. 'What's going to happen now? Is this going to the cops?' She balled up her hands into fists, and then forced her fingers open, hands loose and empty by sheer willpower. "I .. I'm pretty sure that the girl who OD'd... can it not go to the cops? They're gonna make it a mutant thing. I'm pretty sure i've seen her at the DX center. Maybe. I dunno, maybe I'm wrong, she just... looked like someone I flirted with once and I only do that at the DX center and at shows."
"Cops're already here." Sam said softly. "We didn't get much choice after 911 was called. I'm here cause this drug was already on our radar as a mutant thing, community's been whispering around it for a while now. We'll take care of it, Ash. We ain't gonna leave her to rot without answers or justice. Okay?"
"It'll be okay Ashley," Jessie said, shuffling over to wrap her in a tight hug. "We won't let anyone forget either. It's going to be okay."
Sam calls Mel after realizing she has left the scene.
Mel’s leg was jittering as she sat in the backseat of her Uber, hands turning the business card she’d been given from the NYPD detective. Her driver either wasn’t talkative or sensed the girl was in no mood to chat. The only noise other than traffic was the hum of the radio.
Reba’s “I’m a Survivor” cut through the silence, and Mel scrambled to answer the call, immediately recognizing it as her ringtone for Sam. “Um, hi?” She felt her nerves bunch up in her stomach.
Sam was pacing in an alley by the club, pinching the bridge of his nose as he waited for his sister to answer. "Pick up, pick up, pick up..." he muttered.
As soon as Mel's voice could be heard, Sam felt relief wash over him in waves. "Melody Grace Guthrie. Someone handed you a drug that killed somebody and I gotta hear about it from my fuckin' JOB?"
Mel winced at the volume and held the speaker father from her ear. “I, er, didn’t want t’worry you?” She cringed at how that sounded. Her avoidance of Sam at returned after being back home, and this wasn’t how she planned on havin’ him all in a bunch about her again.
“I gave it to Inez. It weren’t on me fer long.”
"Y'gave it to-" He was close to losing it, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Melody why did I have to hear from my friends that you was in danger near where I work? In connection to a case I’m workin? Where even are you right now?"
A quick glance out the window and Mel replied, “The Bronx I think. I’m in an Uber.” She gave a quick smile to her driver in the rear view mirror. “An’ I didn’ know y’all were gonna show up! An’ when ya did it felt, I dunno, awkward to bring up? I didn’t want to be no trouble at one in the mornin’!”
"Folks're gettin' drugged, a woman died, you was handed a lethal drug and you thought it was awkward to let me know you was safe. Not so much as a text message?." Sam's voice was almost steely. "Jesus fuck, Melody, are you tryin' to kill me?"
“Look, m’sorry Sam, it’s jus-“ A little something in Mel’s voice broke. “I watched someone die tonight an’ I’ve had a little too much t’drink fer it an’ I weren’t thinkin’! I just want to be home. I didn’t wanna hafta deal with-”
"I was scared half to death, Mellie." Sam sighed, voice wavering. "Ash and Jessie told me you got handed the same thing that killed that girl and I didn't even know you was here and I didn't know where you were and- I was scared. Don't know what I'd do if I lost ya."
Mel bit back a retort about how she wasn’t stupid enough to take something handed to her while a girl was actively overdosing. She leaned back against the headrest and did a sad little sniffle. “M’sorry Sam. I-“just didn’t think you’d want to be in my problems again.
"....d'ya want me to pick you up ice cream on my way home?" Sam asked quietly. "...An' maybe we can both try an watch somethin' till we pass out cause....I'm definitely too anxious to sleep as soon as I get home now."
“Yeah…. that would be nice.” Mel sniffled again, and frowned when the hand she used to wipe her eyes came back with black streaks of mascara. She probably looked a mess. “….could you see if they have butter pecan?”
"Yes ma'am." He teased, even if his voice was still shaky. "I'll even splurge on the good kind."
“Thank you Sammy,” she whispered wetly.
"Hey- don't go thankin' me. I'm yer big brother Mel Belle, it's my job to love you enough to get the good ice cream. I'll see you at home okay? Love you."
“Love ya too.” And as soon as Mel ended the call, she burst into tears. Her driver silently passed back a little plastic packet of tissues. What an awful night.
Some places lose their magic when well lit.
Clubs are certainly one of those, and the stark glare of the overhead lights only underscored the surreal nature of the earlier evening. Mood meshing into sudden tragedy progressing into bright lights, police officers, and medical personnel all discordant to what this night should have been. The harsh yellow orange outlined things not noticed in the dark: spilled drinks, trash on the dance floor, the peek of wild vines from Silver's restroom door. The red and blue of police lights cut across what shadows of the evening still remained.
One figure, however, drifted in the midst of the uniformed officers. Blond, lanky-strong and sort of sideways confident, he was wearing a pair of sunglasses that had a prismatic effect across the lenses -- a gold that faded chromatically into silver on the arms. The floral print of his moto jacket added to the discongruity.
This man slid past an officer interviewing one of the few remaining club staff nonchalantly to pluck up a discarded purse that he stared at like it might hold the secrets of the universe. The uniform didn't bat an eye. Shaking his head at nothing, the blond put the item down. His stare lingered as his face moved through a journey something like a conversation without words.
He stopped, however, and visibly perked as he noted a familiar brunette.
A slow wave was offered with a soft, knowing smile. This turn of torso and a slight dip of the head caused the man's glasses to slide down his nose, revealing what they hid -- Arthur Centino's left eye was afire with light of its own.
Mel was off to the side by herself, huddled against the biting cold of October. Arthur’s warm presence brightened her mood slightly. It was good to see a familiar face after what she had just witnessed. She gave a small wave back, not wanting to disturb his work.
That small bit made Arthur's smile brighten, but then the softness of the expression quirked toward mischief. Keeping eye contact, gold aviators fixed on Mel, the man twisted so that he was much closer than would be comfortable with anyone, let alone a police officer. He took a hand and waved in front of the other man's face – once, twice – before delivering a screen-worthy wink solely for Mel. The officer didn't flinch.
Arthur bowed and went to go, presumably to continue investigating, or whatever he was doing, in the direction of the restrooms.
"Don't mind him, he still gets a kick outta the whole bein' invisible t'the fuzz bit we can do," Inez said, stepping around a nearby corner and nonchalantly walking past one of the officers herself. "S'a handy trick, t'be sure... they won't notice us talkin'. Promise," she added, standing in a relaxed pose before Mel with her hands in the pockets of her jeans.
"So... y'wanna fill us in on what's goin' on here, darlin'?" she asked, leaning against a pillar as she waited for a response.
Pulling her coat in closer, less for the cold and more for comfort. “Well, it was an overdose, I think, but it weren’t like any I’d seen ‘afore.” Mel paused for a moment, thinking. “… more violent, almost, like that poor girl was liable to shake outta her skin. An’ the bathroom’s damm near a jungle now, what with her mutation.”
Inez fought back the urge to ask how many she'd seen before, letting her gaze turn instead toward where she suspected the bathrooms were before turning it back towards Mel once again. "That does sound mighty unpleasant," she agreed quietly.
"How're you doin' yerself?" she asked, taking a soft step in the other mutant's direction so as not to spook her. "You didn't... I mean, whatever she was takin' - or was givin'," she amended, unsure of exactly what happened, "yer not in any danger... right?"
She did a little half shrug in response to the second question. “M’alright. I’ve called an Uber, actually. Jus’ wanna go home.”
“Her friend, um.” Mel reached into her pocket and pulled out a round little green pill. “She gave me this when it was all happenin’. Out of fright I reckon. I weren’t sure I felt comfortable givin’ it to the cops. Could y’all find it useful?”
"Might be, yeah," Inez agreed, taking a plastic glove out of her pocket and sliding it on to take the pill. It may not have been harmful to exposed skin but she figured better safe than sorry, flashing a wry grin at Mel as she did so. "Sorry, force a'habit," she said as she slid it into her other pocket.
"If y'want we can probably give you a ride back... not sure how much longer we'll be here but I'm sure one of us can split an' give ya a ride," she offered, turning her head to see where Arthur had gone off to behind them.
"Ooh," butted in a chipper male voice, "I'll drive."
The blond man in question, as if summoned, peeked out from behind a very large police officer who stood oblivious to the six foot man. Hard to say when Arthur had exited the bathroom garden, but he was clearly multitasking between eavesdropping. The blond abandoned his buddy-cop shadowplay and hustled over.
"We'll get more from interviews," Arthur said with forced cheer covering a shiver. "Too much . . . let's call it emotion . . . in this place not tied to current events. Like seeing through fog."
Mel winced in sympathy. “That’s alright, really. It’s almost here, an’ I’d hate to cancel on ‘im now. Awful kind of y’all to offer though.” This was code for I really need to be alone right now and also don’t want to run into Sam.
As if on cue, a black honda civic pulled up across the street from the club. “That’ll be my guy. Night.”
Q and Gabe investigate.
"Hey, hot stuff." While Inez and Arthur went their way to chat with patrons, unmolested by CSI thanks to a psychic cloak, Quentin went directly to Gabriel. He felt overdressed in his Chino's and button-down, particularly next to Gabriel's less restrictive evening wear, but he had been busy in the office all night and didn't have time to change before he got the call. "Need a drink or anything before we start?"
"I'm... a few deep, so..." Gabriel was unsure how lucid he was or how lucid he needed to be. He eyed the bar, where he had left his last beverage unfinished. And the cops made him uneasy, even after all this time, which he knew Quentin knew. "I'm fine," he said, not really sure whether it was true or whether he even sounded particularly convincing. "I like your professional drag."
"They don't even know we're here," Quentin reassured Gabriel, not bothering to comment on the veracity of the other man's claim. That would come out on its own in time. "What should my drag name be? Private Dick, maybe? The Maltese F-slur?"
"Hercule Poirheaux." Gabriel considered using his powers to undo another one of Quentin's shirt buttons, full well knowing the other man would notice. He just felt the other man's clothes looked so incongruous with the setting; this was not what the two of them did in places like this. "I've never really seen you at work before," he said, interrupting himself before he followed that particular train of thought.
He did not necessarily need another drink, but he wanted a cigarette. "So," he said.
It was funny in a way how they kept their professional lives to themselves when they shared literally everything else. Maybe some things were too intimate even for them. But that taboo had to be broken some time, and there was no better reason than solving mutant deaths.
"So," Quentin repeated. "What did you see happen?"
"Not much," Gabriel admitted. "I was at the bar when we heard somebody screaming from the bathroom. She had taken something, seemed to be overdosing on something — not an opioid, because Narcan didn't seem to totally work, though, I dunno, people don't always use it right and timing is everything." He shrugged. "But a pill, I guess."
He scratched his nose, feeling uneasy. After everything, it was still jarring to see someone die, and worse still to have to relive it. "When you do this, do you usually..." He waved his hand a bit, searching for the euphemism but hoping Quentin would get it. "Like, would it be easier, if I let you? I mean..."
"Depending on the person, yes, I do," the telepath affirmed. He hesitated before speaking again. "I can if you want me to, if you'd rather not talk about it. But it's up to you. I'm not concerned you're gonna keep any details from me. But, you know..." Speaking of taboos. This was one only violated in the most dire circumstances, and even then, only with outright consent.
"No, no, come on," Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. "You think that's the worst thing I've ever seen? Please. I was just curious." He sensed he'd introduced an awkwardness that wasn't there. "Hold on." He used his powers to jet behind the bar and pour himself a single tequila and soda, which he reappeared in front of with Quentin.
"She took something," he said again. "And it was out of control. Feels like her friend wasn't all that helpful, the way you wouldn't be if you're worried you're going to get caught with something."
Quentin very pointedly did not show any reaction to Gabriel's lightspeed intermission even though he'd called it a minute ago and Gabriel had denied it. He did pluck the cup from Gabriel's hand to take a sip himself, though, before handing it back and continuing.
"Did you see how she reacted when she hit?" he asked. "Typical symptoms? Any powers thing like a Kick OD?"
"Well, yeah." Gabriel considered this. "I mean, kind of. This plant on the bathroom started to grow so fast. And then she — her skin, like... crawled? Or it looked like it crawled. And she turned green, and these, uh, plant vines kind of grew out of her?" He sounded insane. "I didn't take anything," he added defensively. "And I haven't taken Kick, but this really seemed more... intense?"
Possible chlorokinetic, Quentin reasoned, a power that completely consumed her because of this fentanyl equivalent of Kick and Rave. Hard to forget his own experience with the latter drug when his telepathy was dormant. Desperate times, but it seemed unlikely this young woman was actually looking to awaken something buried inside her. He made a mental note to follow-up with that angle.
"G." Quentin, slipping out of work mode into something more comfortable for the pair, approached the other man and gently placed his hand on the speedster's chest, over his heart. "I know you see plenty of horrible stuff with XF, but I'm sorry you got stuck here, too."
"No, it's..." Gabriel wasn't sure what to say. The touch was nice. He looked at his feet, wondering for a second if he should reciprocate. "Thanks," he said after a second, looking back up. "I just..." He really wanted a cigarette. "We already have so much to deal with," he said after a pause. "And I don't know what this is, but like... I don't know what this is."
"And I'm going to find out." Quentin made that oath with the same passion with which he kissed Gabriel. He offered an impish grin as he stepped back. "I always get my man, and then he can never get rid of me, for better or for worse. And it'll obviously be worse for a mutant murderer."
Sam talks to Jessie and Ashley.
Sam made eye contact with Ashley and tried to gesture to the others on his team that he was going over to talk with her and Jessie. He pushed his way through the crowd, murmuring soft apologies before he could gently pull the two girls into an awkward side hug. "I am so sorry- I know yer havin' a terrible night, but I gotta ask some questions so we can help....do either of ya think you could answer some questions fer me? I'll try to be quick so you can go home as soon as possible."
Jessie was rocking on her heels, both arms wrapped around both of Ashley's, head resting on her shoulder. She only released Ashley just to cling to Sam. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Yeah, we can - Ashley?"
Ashley puffed out both cheeks. "Yeah, but I might throw up." Being narcan trained was one thing. Using it was another. Reliving having to use it was a third thing entirely.
"Hey, you won't be the first person to throw up on me and prolly not the last." Sam tried to reassure her. "'Sides, I threw up on Warren a few weeks ago and he still writes my check, XFi rite of passage or somethin'- don't worry none."
He gently steered them a little further away and turned them away from the activity. "So from my understandin', you gave Narcan to a woman who was od'in'? Do you know what she took?"
"No." Jessie reached to rub Ashley's back. "We were just in line for the bathroom when we heard her friends start screaming."
"Okay....I know it's hard, an' I'm sorry I gotta ask. Can you tell me what OD symptoms she was showin'?" His voice was quiet and he tried to keep it steady. This was one of those things about growing up where he had. You knew what questions to ask.
"Blue lips, I think the she threw up?" Ashley said and swallowed a few times to try not to gag. It had been really gross, mostly spit and bile. “She wasn't breathing much, um, obvious, because the blue lips. Really clammy skin..."
"Okay-" Sam whispers. "Okay, that's- you ain't gotta keep goin' hon."
He pulled her closer, pressing his head against hers comfortingly. "Did you see anyone with her? Maybe anyone that could've given her somethin'?"
"She had friends with her," Jessie said. "I think I saw one of them slip something to Mel."
Sam tried and failed to not let his exhale turn into a sigh. "Okay. You both have my number right? If you promise to call or text me if you can think of anythin' else, I'm gonna go make sure Mellie's okay....an' that we talk to her."
Hi eye twitched as he mumbled under his breath, "Jesus fuck, cain't have a goddamn break in this fuckin' family."
"What's ... " Ashley steeled herself. 'What's going to happen now? Is this going to the cops?' She balled up her hands into fists, and then forced her fingers open, hands loose and empty by sheer willpower. "I .. I'm pretty sure that the girl who OD'd... can it not go to the cops? They're gonna make it a mutant thing. I'm pretty sure i've seen her at the DX center. Maybe. I dunno, maybe I'm wrong, she just... looked like someone I flirted with once and I only do that at the DX center and at shows."
"Cops're already here." Sam said softly. "We didn't get much choice after 911 was called. I'm here cause this drug was already on our radar as a mutant thing, community's been whispering around it for a while now. We'll take care of it, Ash. We ain't gonna leave her to rot without answers or justice. Okay?"
"It'll be okay Ashley," Jessie said, shuffling over to wrap her in a tight hug. "We won't let anyone forget either. It's going to be okay."
Sam calls Mel after realizing she has left the scene.
Mel’s leg was jittering as she sat in the backseat of her Uber, hands turning the business card she’d been given from the NYPD detective. Her driver either wasn’t talkative or sensed the girl was in no mood to chat. The only noise other than traffic was the hum of the radio.
Reba’s “I’m a Survivor” cut through the silence, and Mel scrambled to answer the call, immediately recognizing it as her ringtone for Sam. “Um, hi?” She felt her nerves bunch up in her stomach.
Sam was pacing in an alley by the club, pinching the bridge of his nose as he waited for his sister to answer. "Pick up, pick up, pick up..." he muttered.
As soon as Mel's voice could be heard, Sam felt relief wash over him in waves. "Melody Grace Guthrie. Someone handed you a drug that killed somebody and I gotta hear about it from my fuckin' JOB?"
Mel winced at the volume and held the speaker father from her ear. “I, er, didn’t want t’worry you?” She cringed at how that sounded. Her avoidance of Sam at returned after being back home, and this wasn’t how she planned on havin’ him all in a bunch about her again.
“I gave it to Inez. It weren’t on me fer long.”
"Y'gave it to-" He was close to losing it, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Melody why did I have to hear from my friends that you was in danger near where I work? In connection to a case I’m workin? Where even are you right now?"
A quick glance out the window and Mel replied, “The Bronx I think. I’m in an Uber.” She gave a quick smile to her driver in the rear view mirror. “An’ I didn’ know y’all were gonna show up! An’ when ya did it felt, I dunno, awkward to bring up? I didn’t want to be no trouble at one in the mornin’!”
"Folks're gettin' drugged, a woman died, you was handed a lethal drug and you thought it was awkward to let me know you was safe. Not so much as a text message?." Sam's voice was almost steely. "Jesus fuck, Melody, are you tryin' to kill me?"
“Look, m’sorry Sam, it’s jus-“ A little something in Mel’s voice broke. “I watched someone die tonight an’ I’ve had a little too much t’drink fer it an’ I weren’t thinkin’! I just want to be home. I didn’t wanna hafta deal with-”
"I was scared half to death, Mellie." Sam sighed, voice wavering. "Ash and Jessie told me you got handed the same thing that killed that girl and I didn't even know you was here and I didn't know where you were and- I was scared. Don't know what I'd do if I lost ya."
Mel bit back a retort about how she wasn’t stupid enough to take something handed to her while a girl was actively overdosing. She leaned back against the headrest and did a sad little sniffle. “M’sorry Sam. I-“just didn’t think you’d want to be in my problems again.
"....d'ya want me to pick you up ice cream on my way home?" Sam asked quietly. "...An' maybe we can both try an watch somethin' till we pass out cause....I'm definitely too anxious to sleep as soon as I get home now."
“Yeah…. that would be nice.” Mel sniffled again, and frowned when the hand she used to wipe her eyes came back with black streaks of mascara. She probably looked a mess. “….could you see if they have butter pecan?”
"Yes ma'am." He teased, even if his voice was still shaky. "I'll even splurge on the good kind."
“Thank you Sammy,” she whispered wetly.
"Hey- don't go thankin' me. I'm yer big brother Mel Belle, it's my job to love you enough to get the good ice cream. I'll see you at home okay? Love you."
“Love ya too.” And as soon as Mel ended the call, she burst into tears. Her driver silently passed back a little plastic packet of tissues. What an awful night.
