Players:
Summary: It takes some fancy logical tango, but Heather gets a tentative ally in her quest.
Date: February 4, 2012
Log Title: It's a Secret to Everybody
Rating: G
Xavier Mansion - Gymnasium
This big room with wooden floors is build with powered students in mind; the entire room is power proof. Blast the walls all you like, they are not breaking. The gym can either be one large room and it also has dividers to make it two smaller gyms. This large Gym has basketball nets, equipment to set up equipment badminton, volleyball, hockey, soccer, gymnastics, fencing, and everyone's favorite, dodge ball.
Heather is standing at the three point line of the basketball court, throwing balls in rapid succession at it. There are a number of balls all around the gym, just rolling around in a disorganized mess for now. Most of them are positively launched at the basketball nets, while some just roll off of Heather's arm and then roll about on the floor. Every once in awhile, she zips about to gather them all up and take another try. She's pretty bad at basketball, apparently. Presently, she wears a non standard uniform, similar to her squad uniform, but altered so that it doesn't fit quite in the specifications.
Another girl, uninvolved in the chaotic ball game, watches from the gym's entrance with a puzzled expression. Still dressed in black stretch pants and a white athletic top from the school's weekly and typically sparsely attended yoga class, Jill squints and tilts her head slightly to one side while trying to work out if Heather's game actually *has* any rules. "Three points!" she calls enthusiastically, raising her arms above her head when one of the erstwhile projectiles manages to go in.
Heather tilts her head slightly when one actually manages to go in and notes, "That was a curious little bounce." This is spoken through the headset that she is wearing, playing from a speaker mounted to her jacket, as she turns to pay more attention to Jill. "Hello. Have you been watching for long?"
The other girl shakes her head, closing the distance on bare blue feet so she doesn't have to speak quite so loud. "Nope." Jill amends with a helpless little shrug, "Well, not that long anyway. So, is this some sort of experiment or are you making up a new game?" A ball bumps into her ankle with the last of its momentum and Jill puts a foot on it to hold it down.
"Practice. Throwing objects light enough that they do not bounce sharply, but not so light that I drop them," says Heather, tilting her head lightly and looking down at the balls that are about, "The idea is to create an arch high and far enough."
Jill's eyes trace an exaggerated arc from Heather up to the basketball net, ending by making a soft 'swish' sound effect. "You're practicing your three-pointers, then? Are you bending your knees? Like this." Sweeping up the ball at her feet, she bends her knees slightly and uses her right arm to push more than throw the ball at the rim, steadying it with her left. The ball ricochets off the backboard, off the rim, and away. "Shoot. That would've been so much cooler if I'd made it."
"Yes. I am bending my knees to shoot," says Heather, raising an eyebrow lightly, "I throw too fast, too forcefully, most of the time, but I exaggerate holding back too much most of the time as well. That's all." She takes a shot, which ricochets and flies off to the other side of the court because it was too forceful. "I am also thinking. I am working on a project."
Without asking if she's permitted to participate, Jill picks up another ball and lines up her shot. She pauses before taking it. "Sorry, didn't mean to imply you don't know what you're doing. Just can't help sharing if I know something. It makes me sound smart." A dull thump on the backboard and the ball falls lightly through the net. Her arms fall limply to her sides. "What're you workin' on?"
"Some people have been kidnapped. I am trying to locate them," says Heather, eyes shifting towards Jill in those goggles, "Do you know anything about crime families? I am not used to walking the streets. Dealing with such things." She frowns slightly and says, "A rather hefty project." Another ball is launched.
Something about Heather's gaze, or perhaps the subject matter, unsettles the blue girl and she looks away as casually as she can manage. "Umm, no, not really. I don't think watching The Godfather or The Sopranos really counts for much." Trying to scoop up a ball with her foot like a soccer player merely sends it rolling away. "Sounds pretty heavy, yeah. Who's missing?"
Heather purses her lips as she considers and then shakes her head, "Most people do not, I think. As for the specifics, a student's family has gone missing. I intend to turn them up." She shrugs one shoulder and looks aside. One more of those balls just rolls off her palm and then gets flicked forward at an awkward angle.
Concern furrows Jill's navy blue eyebrows. Her immediate question is, "Do the teachers know?" followed by "What happened?" at and last "Whose family?" She wets her lips anxiously but only casts brief glances at Heather so as not to meet her eyes by accident.
"The teachers know. Presumably because I informed them. What happened is the family was targeted by a crime family called the Firellis. They were to be put in witness protection, but disappeared first. January 12th," says Heather, furrowing her brow and glancing towards Jill. "As for whose family. It is irrelevant. Likely a breach of privacy to disclose."
Points 1 and 2 clarified, Jill nods but frowns deeper at the failure of Point 3. She opens her mouth to protest, "But-", then shuts it again with an air of defeat. Fine, confidentiality it is. "If the teachers already know, I don't see what help I could be," she laments, with similar but silent reservations about what help Heather could be either. "January, huh? Three weeks is a long time to be missin'…"
"Yes… I am aware, it is times like these that I wish I would develop time travel abilities faster," says Heather, lips pursing even tighter for a moment, "I have promised to do what I can, to do everything that is within my power. In any case, I'm surprised it has not spread to you who it is. I imagine if you ask enough students you will find out."
For some reason, Heather's reply makes Jill's cheeks flush with a darker blue. She throws a ball at the backboard too forcefully. It rebounds and comes to rest at her feet without even touching the rim. "Well if I could find out anyway just by askin' around, why can't you cut out the middleman and just tell me?" Jill retorts a bit sorely.
"If I were to tell you, then I would request that you ask around anyways after the fact, so that I retroactively do not provide you with any kind of new information," says Heather, considering that for a moment, "I am not sure who all knows, and I am not fond of spreading stories."
With her head turned slightly away, Jill rolls her eyes skyward in a wordless plea. She draws a breath, holds it, and lets it go slowly. "Right," she says, then again with more calm, "Right. Sorry. Wouldn't want you to get a reputation as a gossip."
"Precisely. Which is why, if I were to tell you, you would have to keep it to yourself unless you found out from someone else, to maintain proper information flow," says Heather, shrugging lightly, "And so you would have to swear to secrecy until that time."
Jill holds up her right hand, flat and fingers straight. "I swear I won't tell anyone until they tell me first." Then she splays her fingers, a gap between ring and middle like a certain pointy-eared science officer from a certain space-theme television show. "It's only logical."
Heather nods her head lightly and says, "Quenton. And I've sworn an oath to do what I can. Now, I am thinking. I should just tattoo the date and time of their disappearance into my arm and then be the person who arranged for it in the first place… That way I would be certain of everyone's safety."
"Quenton?" This stops Jill in her tracks, or would if she were moving. As it is, she looks like she's just been struck about the head. "Like tall, dark, and brutish Quenton?" So great is her surprise (or confusion) that several seconds elapse before she can adequately address Heather's suggestion. "What? No! No, that doesn't even-… I mean, I don't think that would help," she finishes less scathingly and gives the other girl a skeptical look. Could it have been a joke?
"Quenton, yes, one and the same," says Heather, raising her brow lightly, "Is that so shocking? He is just as human as the rest of us." The speedster frowns lightly and then glances towards the nets. "As for the idea, it may work, but I would hate to make a precedent of it. My future self eventually achieves time travel, at least in one timeline that's broken off from ours, but that still makes it highly probable."
"Well, no, I know he is, just…" Jill mumbles before giving up and looking away. She clicks her tongue and lets out a breath. "Y'know," the goo girl tries to say casually. "Maybe it's just me, but I don't think getting a tattoo so your possible future time-travelling self might come back to incriminate you for kidnapping is really the *best* idea here." Her hands go up, palms out, to forestall interruption until she's done. "However. It is an idea, and I'm not saying you should discount it. Just maybe it's not the first one you should go for."
"It's a terrible idea, but it would be the one that would give me the least amount of anxiety… if I find out what happened, then it becomes fixed from my perspective. I have to step in moments of uncertainty, where I can never be sure whether I intervened. If I ever become capable of intervention…" explains Heather, frowning lightly.
The blue girl waves her hands like she's diffusing a cloud of smoke. A cloud of particularly dense, confusing smoke. "Hey, c'mon," says Jill reassuringly but stops short of patting Heather on the shoulder. "I'm sure there's still stuff you can do without resorting to…" Her hand rolls at the wrist uncertainly for a brief pause. "Time thingies."
Heather nods at Jill and says, "Presumably I always use time thingies. I have much more time in which to think than most people… I act faster…" The young woman tilts her head slightly, "But it is the human skills that serve best. I will find these Firellis, and I will make them squeak."
"Squeal," Jill corrects immediately, without really meaning to. She looks embarrassed about it. "But hey, speaking of human skills. Think about where you are." A blue hand gestures grandly to encompass the… gym. Or the school as a whole, more probably. "Somebody's gotta have a power, or an idea, or some experience that could help, y'know? Like, umm…" And she promptly draws a blank.
Heather shakes her head, "I am not acting as a student of the school, because I am not a student anymore, or even on behalf of the school. I cannot ask students here to aid me, as it may put them in harm's way."
"So…" Jill gives Heather a look, inclining her head. "You're gonna resort to self-mutilation and time travel instead?"
"No. I will resort to my own human skills. So far I've found out what I know so far using just skills…" says Heather, tilting her head lightly, "I've been given permission to investigate on the streets. I am just unsure how to proceed. But I certainly will proceed."
Jill seems about to say something but stops herself. Several times, in fact. A war of indecision plays across her face as she folds her arms across her stomach and squeezes them tightly. "Okay," she says accommodatingly with a slow nod. "You can't ask any of us for help. I get that. But-" One blue index finger raises to make a salient point. "What if I offer?"
Heather raises her eyebrow at Jill and says, "It's an organized crime family. They are likely to be rather dangerous… It would be rather irresponsible of me to accept help out there. Besides, you have studies to do. I do not." She frowns for a moment and considers, "What motivates you to want to help, anyhow?"
Spreading her hands, Jill says, "I didn't say I'd, like, challenge 'em to a fistfight. Just that I'd help if I could. Which… okay, really isn't all that likely, I'll admit." One self-deprecating shake of her head later, she goes on. "Look, I don't like Quenton, okay? He's been nothing but mean to me and everyone I know. But…" Blue eyes flick away and the girl rubs at one elbow awkwardly. "I mean, the dude's family's missing. That's messed up, y'know?" she offers like it's explanation enough.
"It is indeed messed up. If I could gain help from you that is absolutely safe, I will take you up on that offer," says Heather, nodding once at the question. "But you can't have made that offer until you find out about his family being missing."
"What?" Jill squints, mouth slightly open in confusion. "But I already-… Oh. OH. Right. I can't do anything about something I don't know about. Like this. Which I don't know about yet." She nods, resisting the urge to wink theatrically. She jerks a thumb over her shoulder at the gym doors. "So… I better, umm, go find out. So then we can have this conversation and I can offer to help." Clear? Good.
Heather nods her head at Jill and says, "Precisely. Let me know who you find it out from. Besides, you must consider your source. I could hardly be considered credible in any case." She zips around to collect the rolling basketballs.
Jill purses her lips but doesn't say anything to that. She pads backwards a few steps on bare blue feet before finally closing her mouth and turning away, deciding that no answer is perhaps the best answer. "Right," she says, but to herself in that specific tone of psyching oneself up for a task. "Sher-Blob Holmes is on the case…"
