Tea and Conspiracy
The nevidian nodded his greeting to Roger and sat back down across from Mrs. Brisby. The dup reminded him of another elder couple that owned a B&B in the town of Prince. He wondered where those two were now and if they were alright. Hunter stared intently at the scones, a familiar smile that crept up at another memory; he looked up at Mrs. Brisby, “Back in London- or rather- my London, scones were a rare delight to whatever rations we could muster on that particular day. In fact, our usual desert was either booze or cigarettes, but to see a scone was like saying you hit the lottery. Unfortunately, it was always too dense and too sweet. We always joked that if we ever ran out of ammo, we’d have scones to scare the HGV away.”
Hunter made a sound, between curious smirk and a snort as he picked up the scone from its tiny saucer and took a bite of it. It tasted absolutely delicious and Mrs. Brisby beamed as a second more pleasurable sound of delight escaped his lips.
“And then there are these!” He compliment, reveling in the taste of the Brisby’s fine baking mastery. “You should consider bribing the USiPo with these; I’d think they’d relent!”
Setting the scone down after another bite, he wiped his mouth and sipped his tea quickly. Hot, lightly sweetened, the hot liquid didn’t affect him none and he appreciated its unique taste; Hunter always preferred lighter drinks over stiffer ones like coffee or energy drinks (which were poison in his humble opinion).
The young man set the cup down and stared back at the older woman. He spoke plainly and unblinking. It wasn’t pomp or ego he was going for (hardly), but the way his attitude shifted gave him a dispassionate seriousness that (so far) no one knew him capable of.
“I’m sorry to say I don’t know much about the Underground past the first meeting we’ve had. It took a couple of days to update a few friends over what is currently happening and a little over a day after that for some internal reflection. I came to an… epiphany, I guess you could call it, that I can’t idly sit by and have the same kind of fear and violence grip this city like it did my home. From the night of the meeting when the two of you were introduced as part of this… this Underground… a few things were made clear. The first being that the Underground is very organized. Too organized for my comfort really,” he held a hand up to convey he meant no insult, “but this is coming from someone that had to fight rather than scheme, improvise rather than plan ahead.
“Second thing is that there is definitely an overall plan,” Hunter continued, “You all have said as much during the meeting. But how much information is available to the rest of us is dependent on the level of involvement. Rightfully so, I wouldn’t expect you or Mr. Brisby to give up your secrets even if we’re on the same side. Less risk, less liability - for the both of us. What you can tell me, and was stressed upon is that the Underground is very much active ranging from refuge, extraction, and relocation if necessary. What was left unsaid but I figured could be a potential issue because of - or perhaps in spite of its goals - is that the Undergound could or is beginning to feel the pressure from the authorities at large (especially those mysterious few) and needs more support from anyone that can be trusted and is capable.
“Third, you mentioned a vast network and you two are but smaller parts of the bigger network: specifically, you said that you two were to be our main contacts.”
He stared at the two. Unassuming, warm, kind, oh so very human but there was a certain determination behind Mrs. Brisby’s eyes and a singular strength in Mr. Brisby. He couldn’t place what that meant to him; he hardly knew them after all. But it said enough about these people. They had a certain gravitas that most humans didn’t have, the kind of characteristics that took a lifetime to build. Unfortunately for Hunter it took more than few beatings in the past to recognized the difference between kindness and cruelty. In his London, they were usually synonymous, especially before his physical alterations.
“You were rather… short about my question regarding other contacts that evening, Mrs. Brisby. I didn’t press the issue, there was a lot to take in that night already. But it was the way you answered, or at least my perception of it, which led me to believe you two hold a more significant influence over this Underground than either of you are admitting. Which can only mean being this open and right under the USiPo’s nose is probably the biggest gamble out of any of the other operations.
“I’m not saying the others are any less significant or non-contributory to the overall goal, but it means the Underground is likely the most dangerous group. And that trust and skill are in short supply. I got so used to not relying on those traits to show itself among humans that when the fighting spilled into the streets, the HGV forced you to cooperate to survive, human or otherwise, against them.”
He shrugged, his voice becoming a little quieter, “Sadly it was the only time I’ve ever credited humans to being brave. Noble, even.”
Hunter looked back up, “I can’t help but think that fighting will be inevitable, we’re just buying time for those innocents that don’t need to be caught in the crossfire. I hope it won’t ever come to that, to be spilled on the streets, I sincerely hope not. So I suppose my question is then… how can I help?”
TargBound Home
The crone had fallen silent the rest of the journey, taking a targling despite its mother's grumbling. She needed to pet the baby before her nerves got the best of her and she lashed out in fear. Strange mechanical carriages that made them airborne, far into the atmosphere and into the depths of space. The crone wondered what would happen if she were to reach out and graze a star at her fingertips. It was surreal, to enter the heavens that only their slain gods were worthy to reside in. And then there was the Strumpet, its design unlike anything she could have imagined on her own. Things. In space! She wondered if her people had similar things in the stars, her warrior's heart felt a brief moment of pride that her race would continue its ways if Mezran was anything to go by. Still, her fear of the new and unknown made it difficult to feel the swell of emotion and she had barely listened to Hans explanation of humans, lizards and cyborgs. The crone held the targling closer to her bosom, hushing its whining sound as the she hugged it tighter while the ship's massive bay doors swallowed the SUV whole. A warm touch crept up her arm and the old woman jumped, her glare instantaneous at the offender.
"We arrive, you must come out."
She didn't say anything and instead looked at her side of the passenger seat. Some way, some how, she was supposed to eject herself from the seat like the rest of them. Was there even a handle to do such a thing? She hadn't paid attention the first time they had gotten in, partly because Mezran opened the door for her and partly because she was awestruck by the SUV's alien look. Grumbling, she shifted across the seat and stopped the Klingon from closing the door on her, batting his hands away to assist her.
"I'm not an invalid," she gritted out, seizing the targling from wiggling out of her arms as she planted her fleet firmly on the metal deck plating. The air was breathable, a bit too chilly for her tastes and the people looked quite odd to say the least.
The crone overheard HanS talk about Mezran bunking with a roommate and she rolled her eyes. "If you snore, you sleep in the hallway."
Mezran smirked, shaking his head in amusement and tapped Septimus on the arm before he got too far. "We should spar one of these days, a few tricks to learn with that spear of yours. Good night." He nodded to Hans and followed behind the Crone who seemed intent on finding their quarters by herself.
"You must have been on another starship, you look all too comfortable stalking its corridors like a griznach cat," he teased.
"You mean old grizanch cat," she chuckled. The targling was curled in her arms, snoring softly. She smiled at it and stroked its still-soft spiked back.
"I would never say a thing like that," Mezran chuckled, pointing to the right to his quarters. It was spartan, just the way he liked it, and had barely enough room for the two of them. "You realize, in this entire time, you have never once mentioned your name."
"Oh, he finally comes to that," the crone laughed, gesturing his head to move away (which he obligingly did) and settled the sleeping targling onto her pillow. She snagged the spare one from Mezran's bed. "You can do without," she said plainly.
"What is your name? Crone doesn't quite suit you," he smiled his crooked teethed smile.
She looked up with humor in her eyes. If she stayed by the Klingon for the rest of the journey, provided he didn't drive her up the wall, this could be a most amusing time to her last days.
"I am Tavana," she said finally.
Observatory
"If they did," Anais said with a gulp, shoving a well of emotion down whether her body wanted it or not, "damage done. This could potentially be used like some kind of lightning rod to widen the anti-abhuman sentiment within the population. Children should never be used as weapons, but it can be done if they know how to manipulate the population to swell with hatred." The Ritualist could only shake her head.
Alexia had her eyes closed and busied herself with a whispered prayer to Dwayna. The leader had a vulnerable look to her that belied the burning fire in her to exact vengeance on behalf of those children. Who she would go after, how she would do it, didn't matter as her anger threatened to fill her with a rage not seen since their last battle with the charr. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and opened her eyes to stare at the television screen. "I think it best we confer with the rest of the group. It would make little sense in calling the authorities; we were not involved in that. Their anger and suspicion would only make the matters worse and we'd be left with nothing - by Balthazar, we haven't even started! We could, perhaps, offer some kind of outreach to assist any survivors? Reach out as a third party, it won't matter if they are human or abhuman."
