John and Damon, backdated to 1/31/15
Feb. 3rd, 2015 11:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
om_daken posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
om_mainJohn and Damon meet for the interview to join X-Factor. It goes a lot better than one might think.
The place was fairly quiet at that time of day, in between the flow of morning traffic and the need for their next fix. It helped that it was a small town, too, and there weren't as many visitors in the middle of the day.
When the bell on the door chimed again, a pale, dark-haired young man strolled in, dressed similarly to John...only in much more expensive and better tailored brands. He stopped at the counter, paying for an enormous cup, then headed for the back corner, ice-blue eyes locking on the other mutant briefly before he slid the opposite chair out and sprawled into it.
"So. You're the tracker," he supposed with a slow, careful sip from the lip of his coffee.
"If that's what you want me to be," John said. "You're Damon, I take it," he said, taking in a breath that was supposed to be him getting serious. Really, he was just noting Damon's smell, as best he could through all the rest.
Damon snorted softly. "Oh baby, let's just take it one step at a time." He took another sip of the coffee, eyelids drooped low as he enjoyed the brew. There was something about him that seemed bone tired - like he'd seen too much and couldn't quite come back from it. "So why do you want to work with us?"
"Honestly?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. "I've got two old men in that school that have been pretty much telling me that I won't amount to anything if I don't straighten up and fly by their rules," John said, frankly. "I'm kind of trying to do a little of what I want, and what they want. I want to be useful."
"Yeah? You don't think you'll be useful joining Scott Summers' Superhero Team of Awesome?" Damon asked.
"For one, I doubt they'd have me, with my reputation. Two, I doubt I'd care for taking orders from whoever Scott is, if he's anything like Chrome-Dome," John replied. "And I don't know about the whole super-hero thing, to begin with," he added.
"Explain." Damon twirled his fingers. "What's the reputation and why don't you want to be a super-hero?"
"I got into some fights when I landed at the school," John said, leaning back. "It was a knee-jerk reaction. From my time in juvie. I've gotten better about it, but the rep sticks." He shrugged. "As far as the super-hero thing? Going high profile is like putting a big bulls-eye on your forehead. It's begging for someone to take you down. The smart people work behind the scenes." And ignored the rules as needed, but he was not going to say that yet. "Even some secret super-hero team is going to attract attention, some time or another. And not the good kind."
The corner of Damon's mouth twitched. John was rough around the edges, but the words were practically taken from his own lips. He took another long sip, then drew in a breath. "Tell me about your abilities."
"If I'm close enough to someone, say, the distance we are now, I can hone in on certain things. Whether or not they showered that day. Residual scents, like gunpowder, blood, drugs, what have you. Deodorant, and I'm getting close to being able to pinpoint brands. I can gauge someone's heart rate just by listening. I can track people by scent. Even through the rain, depending on circumstances. Depending on circumstances, I can tell if certain scents, the stronger the better, were present at recent times in the past. Gasoline, blood, gunpowder, stuff like that," John explained, quietly. "I hear better, too. Better reflexes. And if it ever comes down to fighting, I got my claws and reflexes to back me up on that, plus my healing factor."
Damon raised a brow. On his cup, his hand tightened, crumpling the styrofoam a little. He pushed the irrational panic down. Not everyone was a werewolf. "Claws?"
John's eyes darted down momentarily to Damon's hand, and then raised back to his. "Yeah," he said. "They're part of my bone structure. They come from my hands, and one from each of my wrists," he explained, quietly. "I'd show you, but, y'know. Public. The judicial system knows me as a mutant, but it's not like I ever made headlines or anything. I plan on keeping it as quiet as I can."
The older mutant ignored the fact that John had picked up on his reaction. Instead, he quickly reviewed whether John's criminal past would be a problem, and finally dismissed it. Between him and Sage, they could cover the kid and his activities if they needed to. "You sound like one of the other kids that was at the school when I was. Feral little girl. Lily? Tara?"
"I think you might mean Laura," John said, not sure but figuring that between the two names, he could put them together and get Laura... more or less. "She's my half-sister."
Damon grunted softly. "Powers aside, you are nothing like her."
"That's kind of a loaded response, one with a hook and bait at the end, isn't it?" John appraised, smirking a little. "Can't tell if you like that or if you don't. Can't say I much care, either. I'm my own man; doesn't matter who I'm related to."
"Good for you! Family sucks." Damon made a face. "And personally, I don't really give a damn one way or another. As long as you can follow instructions, you could have a ponytail fetish and spend your nights playing I Dream of Jeannie for all I care."
John didn't look relieved, if only because he didn't really care which way Damon fell about it. He just wanted to move on from there. "I figure I can follow instructions well enough. Guess I won't know until we try. I brought you this, though," John added, sliding the brown bag across the table, where the cigars and bourbon were semi-hidden. It reminded him of the Japanese tradition to bring a small gift for someone new you were meeting. It was a tradition lots of places, but the Japanese practiced it too. Another bit of knowledge from his parents, who insisted on treating him like he was a foreigner in their midst.
Damon took another sip of his coffee, then reached out and slid the package closer, lifting the lip of the bag with a finger and a raised brow. "Not bad. How are you at keeping secrets?" He flicked his gaze up. "Because your criminal record doesn't speak highly."
"I'm not a social butterfly," John replied. "Might come as a surprise to you that I'm not real popular around the school. It's not like I go anywhere else. And I have secrets of my own I keep."
"Good for you. How often can you go on cases?" the older teen asked, waving him on.
"You could call me in the middle of class, and I'd get there one way or another," John said, smirking just a bit.
"Perfect," Damon drawled, eyes lighting up a bit. "We could use a bit more muscle on the team. I'll send you the directions to our office. We have a training room downstairs, too, if you need it."
The only thing that concerned John was that he didn't have his license yet... he was working on it, though. And honestly, he was about to buy a bike. With stamina like his, he didn't have to worry overmuch about the distance. "Great," John said, with only just a hint of enthusiasm. He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, and slid it across the table. "Go ahead and get my number, since I'm assuming you need it," John said. It wasn't one of the fancy Stark ones he'd seen some kids using. Just the Poverty Phone given out by the headmasters... Still, it would get the job done. Wasn't like he used it much.
Damon took the phone, entering his own information in before adding John's to his contact list. "Don't walk away when you see the barn. The office is inside. We've got beds in the loft in case you need to crash overnight. Kitchen's open but the wine cellar's off-limits."
"Fair enough," John replied, smirking just a bit. "I'm eager to see the place," John added.
The older teen waved a lazy hand. "What's to see. It's a barn. It's got nice surround sound. The X-Box isn't bad."
"Well, then I'm eager for our first case," John amended, shrugging.
Damon pushed up from the table, smirking openly as he grabbed his coffee and the bag he'd been given. "We'll see if you're still eager afterwards."
John was smirking in an almost mirror image of Damon's own. He settled his leather coat on his shoulders, having to tilt his head back a bit to look Damon in the eye. "Sounds like a challenge. And I love a good challenge. See you around."
The place was fairly quiet at that time of day, in between the flow of morning traffic and the need for their next fix. It helped that it was a small town, too, and there weren't as many visitors in the middle of the day.
When the bell on the door chimed again, a pale, dark-haired young man strolled in, dressed similarly to John...only in much more expensive and better tailored brands. He stopped at the counter, paying for an enormous cup, then headed for the back corner, ice-blue eyes locking on the other mutant briefly before he slid the opposite chair out and sprawled into it.
"So. You're the tracker," he supposed with a slow, careful sip from the lip of his coffee.
"If that's what you want me to be," John said. "You're Damon, I take it," he said, taking in a breath that was supposed to be him getting serious. Really, he was just noting Damon's smell, as best he could through all the rest.
Damon snorted softly. "Oh baby, let's just take it one step at a time." He took another sip of the coffee, eyelids drooped low as he enjoyed the brew. There was something about him that seemed bone tired - like he'd seen too much and couldn't quite come back from it. "So why do you want to work with us?"
"Honestly?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. "I've got two old men in that school that have been pretty much telling me that I won't amount to anything if I don't straighten up and fly by their rules," John said, frankly. "I'm kind of trying to do a little of what I want, and what they want. I want to be useful."
"Yeah? You don't think you'll be useful joining Scott Summers' Superhero Team of Awesome?" Damon asked.
"For one, I doubt they'd have me, with my reputation. Two, I doubt I'd care for taking orders from whoever Scott is, if he's anything like Chrome-Dome," John replied. "And I don't know about the whole super-hero thing, to begin with," he added.
"Explain." Damon twirled his fingers. "What's the reputation and why don't you want to be a super-hero?"
"I got into some fights when I landed at the school," John said, leaning back. "It was a knee-jerk reaction. From my time in juvie. I've gotten better about it, but the rep sticks." He shrugged. "As far as the super-hero thing? Going high profile is like putting a big bulls-eye on your forehead. It's begging for someone to take you down. The smart people work behind the scenes." And ignored the rules as needed, but he was not going to say that yet. "Even some secret super-hero team is going to attract attention, some time or another. And not the good kind."
The corner of Damon's mouth twitched. John was rough around the edges, but the words were practically taken from his own lips. He took another long sip, then drew in a breath. "Tell me about your abilities."
"If I'm close enough to someone, say, the distance we are now, I can hone in on certain things. Whether or not they showered that day. Residual scents, like gunpowder, blood, drugs, what have you. Deodorant, and I'm getting close to being able to pinpoint brands. I can gauge someone's heart rate just by listening. I can track people by scent. Even through the rain, depending on circumstances. Depending on circumstances, I can tell if certain scents, the stronger the better, were present at recent times in the past. Gasoline, blood, gunpowder, stuff like that," John explained, quietly. "I hear better, too. Better reflexes. And if it ever comes down to fighting, I got my claws and reflexes to back me up on that, plus my healing factor."
Damon raised a brow. On his cup, his hand tightened, crumpling the styrofoam a little. He pushed the irrational panic down. Not everyone was a werewolf. "Claws?"
John's eyes darted down momentarily to Damon's hand, and then raised back to his. "Yeah," he said. "They're part of my bone structure. They come from my hands, and one from each of my wrists," he explained, quietly. "I'd show you, but, y'know. Public. The judicial system knows me as a mutant, but it's not like I ever made headlines or anything. I plan on keeping it as quiet as I can."
The older mutant ignored the fact that John had picked up on his reaction. Instead, he quickly reviewed whether John's criminal past would be a problem, and finally dismissed it. Between him and Sage, they could cover the kid and his activities if they needed to. "You sound like one of the other kids that was at the school when I was. Feral little girl. Lily? Tara?"
"I think you might mean Laura," John said, not sure but figuring that between the two names, he could put them together and get Laura... more or less. "She's my half-sister."
Damon grunted softly. "Powers aside, you are nothing like her."
"That's kind of a loaded response, one with a hook and bait at the end, isn't it?" John appraised, smirking a little. "Can't tell if you like that or if you don't. Can't say I much care, either. I'm my own man; doesn't matter who I'm related to."
"Good for you! Family sucks." Damon made a face. "And personally, I don't really give a damn one way or another. As long as you can follow instructions, you could have a ponytail fetish and spend your nights playing I Dream of Jeannie for all I care."
John didn't look relieved, if only because he didn't really care which way Damon fell about it. He just wanted to move on from there. "I figure I can follow instructions well enough. Guess I won't know until we try. I brought you this, though," John added, sliding the brown bag across the table, where the cigars and bourbon were semi-hidden. It reminded him of the Japanese tradition to bring a small gift for someone new you were meeting. It was a tradition lots of places, but the Japanese practiced it too. Another bit of knowledge from his parents, who insisted on treating him like he was a foreigner in their midst.
Damon took another sip of his coffee, then reached out and slid the package closer, lifting the lip of the bag with a finger and a raised brow. "Not bad. How are you at keeping secrets?" He flicked his gaze up. "Because your criminal record doesn't speak highly."
"I'm not a social butterfly," John replied. "Might come as a surprise to you that I'm not real popular around the school. It's not like I go anywhere else. And I have secrets of my own I keep."
"Good for you. How often can you go on cases?" the older teen asked, waving him on.
"You could call me in the middle of class, and I'd get there one way or another," John said, smirking just a bit.
"Perfect," Damon drawled, eyes lighting up a bit. "We could use a bit more muscle on the team. I'll send you the directions to our office. We have a training room downstairs, too, if you need it."
The only thing that concerned John was that he didn't have his license yet... he was working on it, though. And honestly, he was about to buy a bike. With stamina like his, he didn't have to worry overmuch about the distance. "Great," John said, with only just a hint of enthusiasm. He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, and slid it across the table. "Go ahead and get my number, since I'm assuming you need it," John said. It wasn't one of the fancy Stark ones he'd seen some kids using. Just the Poverty Phone given out by the headmasters... Still, it would get the job done. Wasn't like he used it much.
Damon took the phone, entering his own information in before adding John's to his contact list. "Don't walk away when you see the barn. The office is inside. We've got beds in the loft in case you need to crash overnight. Kitchen's open but the wine cellar's off-limits."
"Fair enough," John replied, smirking just a bit. "I'm eager to see the place," John added.
The older teen waved a lazy hand. "What's to see. It's a barn. It's got nice surround sound. The X-Box isn't bad."
"Well, then I'm eager for our first case," John amended, shrugging.
Damon pushed up from the table, smirking openly as he grabbed his coffee and the bag he'd been given. "We'll see if you're still eager afterwards."
John was smirking in an almost mirror image of Damon's own. He settled his leather coat on his shoulders, having to tilt his head back a bit to look Damon in the eye. "Sounds like a challenge. And I love a good challenge. See you around."
