20073/Griping and Complaining: It's The Juggernaut Way

Griping and Complaining: It's The Juggernaut Way
Date of Scene:	16 February 2025
Location:	West Bushwick (Mutant Town)
Synopsis:	It's a surprise 'family meet up' as several members of the X-men run into Cain and Cliff in Mutant Town.
Cast of Characters:	Cain Marko, Cliff Steele, Quentin Quire, Rogue, Rachel Summers, Remy LeBeau

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Cain Marko has posed:
It turns out that getting jumped by a group of over powered mutant fanatics with an interest in killing you for both revenge and to make a name for themselves can do something to your mood. Especially if you've been spending the better part of the last year and a half lending your monstrous might and weight to a faction at least nominally adjacent to the ones that had attacked you. Sure he might have -maaayyyybeeeee- had something to do with the death of one of their comrades and -maaayyybeeee- he killed another one in a fit of rage and self defense ... but honestly, that's really on them.

Such is the mindset of a certain Citizen Cain Marko. Mercenary. Weapon of Mass Destruction. Exemplar of Physical Power and, right now, trying desperately to get drunk in defiance of his limitless stamina and enhanced biology refusing to allow him that luxury with any ease.

At present, the gigantic man sits in a popular bar and grill, immense figure swamping over a seat reinforced to accoodate his great bulk and the bulk of other meta's and mutants that may frequent Mutant Town. The table before him is strewn with empty glasses of beer and several stacks of plates that once contained a healthy portions of steaks and potatoes. For the most part the activity in the place swirls and moves around him - leaving him to his antics as he gestures absently for a waitress with softly glowing hair in order to get yet another refill. His unshaven, haggad and rough visage gives her some pause but she eventually complies with him giving her a mild grunt of thanks.

Nearby one of the large TVs, a news report plays showing the brawl in Little Italy. Monet struggling to hold a buildign up. Juggernaut stepping in and shoving her aside. "Villain Or Hero?!" runs across the screen at the bottom as news anchors weigh in.

Cain snorts in displeasure. "...Great..."

Cliff Steele has posed:
Along came a Cliffster, stomping along through Mutant Town, when a familiar face was spotted in a nearby window. The golden golem hesitates, shrugs, and turns.

Moments later, the bell above the door rings out, declaring a party of one.

"I'm meeting someone. Yeah, thanks."

The bronzed old bucket of bolts strides across the room, planting himself across from the rundown redhead hogging a window booth.

"My man. You ever been down to the Big Texan in Amarillo? I bet you'd slaughter that 72 ouncer."

Quentin Quire has posed:
Hey, who isn't down for a little bit of day drinking? Quentin always is, since he won the resurrection lottery courtesy of a rogue scientist. Not that he's always successful at convincing bartenders that his ID is legit and he's really twenty-seven years old, his mind having ended up in a body not quite as matured as it could have been.

Seems he lucked out at the bar and grill. He's not quite as deep into it as Cain, but he's having a time of it. Concerned more about the plate infront of him, piled high with a steak and potatoes. Gotta keep the carbs going. Pausing in the shoveling of meat and starch into his open mouth, he swallows it down to clear his mouth and call out a request to change the channel.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue had come down to Mutant town to check on some friends, wanting to get out for the night, away from the school and away from her normal routine.

She'd driven her car down to Bushwick, rather than fly herself. Sure, flying yourself is convenient, until it's 10 degrees outside. Having parked her car not too far from this bar, she'd walked past it earlier on her way to her friend's place, but now, she was passing it by again on her way back. Dressed in a dark grey peacoat, her two toned hair was waving in the wind gently about her shoulders, as she saw the lights from inside the bar, and angled her path to step inside of it.

The door once more opened, and the southern Belle from the great state of Mississippi strode on inside.

With a red wine hued scarf around her neck, and black leather gloves on her hands, the recognizable Mutant from Westchester noticed some faces she in-turn recognized right off the bat. A smirk showed on her dusky red lips, as she moved toward the bar, and planted the palms of her gloved hands against it.

"I will take one of your finest beers, Good Sir." Rogue said, rocking forward and backward on her black leather boots, the heels carrying her height up an inch or two to around 5'9.

She had a sweet smile touche her features, as she watched the bartender acquire her said drink, and thanked him with a simple 'Merci' upon its delivery.

Rachel Summers has posed:
The very concept of 'Mutant Town' was still a novelty to Rachel, given the world she'd come from. Maybe it might be a term used in dark humor at best during her time as a hound, but this? Well...it was different. It might not be the nicest place in the city environment wise, but to the redhead who had come wandering through the streets? Well, it meant a hell of a lot more to her.

Hair down, her form was wrapped in dark figure-hugging jeans and a slim leather jacket paired with a deep red low-cut top beneath to add a splash of color. Subtle wasn't a strong word in the Summers/Grey lines after all. However, like many a young person seeking crowd and company? Her steps bring her through the threshold and into the bar.

Cain Marko has posed:
"Hn."

Cain makes a sound that sounds like a mixture of a group of grunting bulls or ox's as Cliff just sort of invites himself in to join him. He pauses, mid drink, staring at the robot-man with a baleful expression and a slight twitch to his eyes before....finally relaxing. The pressure of his ire lightens and the massive man lets out a soft sigh and slowly lowers his drink to the table before him while answering, "Can't say I've tried it..." he rumbles with a faint hint of sulleness to his voice.

But then he finally slowly allows a smirk to begin to crease his features and he llooks at Cliff with some amusement, "At least you aint stumblin' into a 'super villain' hangout for once. What're you doing? You lookin' for me or something?"

At the bar, the TV is changed from the news report at Quentin's request, the channels flickering here and there in search of some random sports event or another. Cain glances up as this happens and doesn't seem particularly bothered. He was in Little Italy after all, not like he needs a recap. His glance -does- reveal Quentin Quire ...and from that his gaze tracks across the restaurant towards the doors as Rogue comes making her way in with all the charm of the deep south accompanying her..and in her wake the red haired girl, bringing a sudden pop of color into the dimly lit bar and grill with her arrival. That one, he doesn't recognize at a glance. The particulars of her features too difficult ot make out for him. Rogue and Quentin on the other hand..

"Ugh...great.. 'Family' done come calling..." Cain rumbles absently at Cliff and then he takes a deep rapid pull of his drink, fully emptying the mug out before lowering it. "I guess it figures."

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Nah. I just caught the boat back from Ryker's. Longshot and a pal of ours, Conan, got caught up in some bullshit. Worried it's the Bureau."

The Cliffster shifts in his seat moodily, elbows on the table, unconsciously tapping an impatient rhythm on the table with a corroded claw.

"Honestly, I'd like to just bust through the fucking wall, Kool-Aid Man-style. But I don't want to bring that shit home, so decided to go for a walk through M-Town before I catch the loop back to Jersey. What about you? You sure look like shit."

Enter: The X-Men.

"Family, huh? Don't see much of a resemblence--in-laws, maybe? Should I flag them down?"

Quentin Quire has posed:
Even Quentin isn't oblivious enough to overlook the fact that Cain Marko is sitting there. So it's more of a willful ignorance that keeps him from reacting.

Cain's in street clothes, so maybe Quentin's content to let bygones be bygones. He's certainly not dressed for a throw down, spiked leather jacket over a dark grey hoodie with VISIT GENOSHA across the chest, jeans and boots. Along with a few empty pint glasses and that plate of food.

No, Quentin seems to be content to let things be for now as he works on that meal. He gives a little grunt and telekinetically stops the bartender from channel surfing any further once the TV lands on something he finds interesteding. The man behind the bar poking at the button a few times in confusion before he figures that someone's stopping it.

It's some sports game, so that's acceptable anyway.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"I see why you left the parking to me," Remy announces as he steps into the bar, carrying a large gift bag with 'Happy Birthday' printed in celebratory lettering across the side, "I'm already poor from the gift, and now I gotta pay the parking robber barons."

But he's happy. He's out. Rogue is here. Someone else is not. It's a good time.

He follows swiftly after the Belle, leaning against the bar and holding the bag out to her: "Open it now so I can stop carryin' it. Happy birthday, chere."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue had pulled her gloves off, and was in the process of setting them beside her newly acquired frothy beer, when she noted Quentin at the bar. A second later, and quentin had a pretzel hit the side of his head, and clatter to the bar's top beside his place at it. She offered him a smirk, should he notice her. "They got good spaghetti here?" She asked him, a low voice, natural husky and touched with that burnt-end to every spoken word. "Seems this is the place t'hang out when in town..." She noted, as a redheaded Rachel strode in. Rogue was savvy enough to know the difference between the young woman, and her older motherly-ish counterpart. She gave the young woman an upnod, before she caught a bit of what Cliff and Cain were talking about. Cain, she knew all too well, as their relationship was tumultuous at the best of times.

But with Remy striding inside the bar like he owned the place, the Southern Belle greeted him with a large smile, and a glance at what he was carrying. "Ooo, late birthday presents are still great birthday presents..." She said in her sultry Mississippi midnight voice.

Accepting it, she laid it across the bar, and slowly went about revealing the contents. With some wrappings set aside, a ribbon discarded, and a gasp expelled from between her dusky hued lips, Rogue set up one of the knee high suede boots upon the bar's top, and let her verdent hued eyes scale it up and down. "Saucy..." She quietly said, before she looked back to Remy and leaned up to whisper something in to his left ear, before he got the most vague of kisses from her lipstick coated lips, the lipstick designed specifically to help protect people from her touchful wrath.

Cain Marko has posed:
"No..." drawls Cain, slowly, in answer to Cliff's question on summoning the Xers over to their table. He squints his eyes and reaches up to his face, dragging enormous fingers across his rough hewn, bearded jawline in absent reaction to Cliff's comment about his appearence. A sound like dried brushes scratching across concrete occuring as he does so and continues to peer at the mutant trio as they attend to their business. The place is a pretty bangin' and popular place so.. their presence isn't that much of a surprise to him. On the other hand, given recent events..the timing still has to be carefully considered.

"No.." he rumbles again towards Cliff, "Probably won't be necessary. They know I'm 'ere... trust me."

Awareness of their presence heightens his sense of caution now and he watches Quentin for a few seconds before then taking a moment to study the red haired girl a little more closely now as she draws further into the bar. His face scrunches up just a bit...a lack of certainty creasing his expressive broad features. "Huh...aint that..."

Then the Cajun arrives and Cain looks to him as he joins Rogue at the bar and he just sighs. "Ugh... man if Madripoor wasns't a dump right now...I'd just have gone there..."

It's all probably very disjointed to Cliff's ears. Cain's not exactly being forthcoming on matters but then, finally, he addresses the robot man once more. "I got jumped by some mutant supremacist's the other day. They call themselves The Acolytes. We made a mess out in Little Italy. Knocked a building over. MIghta killed onna them. It's kinda messin' with my vibe cause it's connected to some folk I do some work for occasionally. and they might be lookin' fer me still. They got the jump on me the only way someone can...." Cain takes another long drink and then asks, "Longshot eh...? So what...you asking me to go bust 'im out for you instead?"

Rachel Summers has posed:
Spotting Rogue and Remy both and their little interaction, there's a raise of here eyebrow from the redhead mutant, but she wasn't going to question it out loud or 'mind-to-mind' either right now. Instead she moves, drawing her way over to the bar, she (and anyone else with eyes) of course notices the hulking figure of Cain Marko, but for now she seems to be finding her bearings at the bar counter.

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Please, brother. You're one suspicious cat, you know that? Fuck, man. Just saw a friendly face, thought I'd pop in and say hi."

The grumpy golem looks a little put out by Cain's suggestion, arms crossing unconsciously.

"Conan's got money, I take it--where from, I don't know. Heard they're taking up with some law firm in the city, but I'm foggy on the details. The phone was acting up something fierce, though--not sure what to make of that."

The lantern jaw slowly unsets as he watches the X-folk mill about.

"I get it, though. Fuck, I didn't know my daughter Clara was alive for, like, twenty years, and when I finally found out I nearly blew the whole thing. Family's fucking tricky."

Cliffy snaps, a lightbulb sparking dimly to life.

"Hold up. Acolytes--the terrorist fucks you were working with? Fabian Stankiewicz, right? The guy on Letterman?"

Quentin Quire has posed:
The pretzel bounces off the side of Quentin's shaved scalp, the telepath arching a brow in the general direction of the Southern Belle for the assault with a snack food and the question. "Not really a spaghetti joint, but the steak and potatoes is pretty damn good..." he replies, taking a bit then washing it down with some more beer. Having turned, he gives Cain a bit of a salute with the pint glass a cordial 'hey there' kind of gesture. Completely innocent.

Quentin looks past Rogue as Remy slips into the bar, and a grin slips across his face before he can turn back to his meal. Finding something about the exchange incredibly amusing.

That grin going even wider as he overhears the convo between Cliff and Cain. "Stankiewicz? shit that's actually pretty funny. Gonna have to remember it next time I run across Cortez...."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"Among other things," Remy murmurs in response to Rogue's whispered comment, lowering the pair of dark glasses he wears even at this hour to wink at her with strange red-on-black eyes. His drink orders, he accepts a short glass of some cheap spirit or another and takes a sip of it.

"Not that late. Gimme a break. I had to go to Rome and get lost in a weird underground tunnel to get 'em. I don't even speak Italian. All I know how to say is ... uh ... hai il corpo ... hai il corpo di una clessidra. Molto bene!"

He turns slightly on his stool, looking off in the direction of Cain and Cliff. No 'halt evil-doer' schtick from him. He just waggles his fingers in a silly little wave, before calling out.

"Hey, bougre," he offers to the giant, "Give the old man a call. He don't have your number and I t'ink that BlueSky profile is a parody."

He exhales, turning back to watch the interaction between Quentin and Rogue.

"There, I told him. Don't say I ain't helpful."

Cain Marko has posed:
Something catches Cain's gaze and he looks down at the table he's sharing with Cliff, eyes squnting in surprise and minor confusion before reaching over it and down to retrieve what looks like.. a cookie? He certainly didn't order this. "Huh..?" he rumbles before frowning as he hears Quentin's voice cut in from the background, intruding in on the conversation with Cliff.

The huge man sighs. It was inevitable. He just shakes his head and finally admits, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. That guy." His tone is brusque and his words come out rapidly as if wanting to move past this point as he continues: "I made a mistake, yeah? Called myself tryin' to be an 'advocate' or 'ally' or some nonsense given other connections we had that were mutual and I figured I'd lend a hand. But his folk never took a lkin' to me being there cause, news flash, I aint a mutant. Later one of 'em took a swing at me, hoped up on some mutant drug or something. I dunno. His friends convinced me to not paste him right then and there so I just...shoved him into a car. I mean I -thought- he was tough enough for that but uh.."

Cain pauses, voice lower in irritation as he then finally says, "..I guess the guy died or somethin'..."

Remy, however, snaps his attention towards him at that. He knows -exactly- who he's talking about. Telepaths present would sense that spike of interest boil up in Cain's mind. The very thought of his brother causing a wild mix of confusion, concern, mistrust, jealousy and....respect? Curiosity? Gratitude?

"Huh?" he finally blurts out at Remy.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue had both of her newly gifted Italian boots on the bar counter in front of her, her expression one of happiness, as she heard Remy's unusual tale. Of course, it was Remy, he always had unusual tales of tunnels, and mischief. "That is more Italian than I know... 'I'll have the gabagool.'" She responds, even doing a bad accent there at the end, before she smirks at the Cajun. "Italian is the only accent we're still allowed to make fun'a, socially, I think..." She clipped the heels of the boots together, and drew in a breath. "These are great, though, I'll wear'em out, to be sure..."

Her green eyes went to Cain and Cliff again, when Gambit spoke to them, but she didn't engage there. Instead, Rogue looked toward Quentin and Rachel at the bar. "I'm buyin' for them, Mistah." She told the bartender, as she pointed to the skin head and the redhead alike.

"How ya doin', Hot Stuff?" She asked Rachel specifically.

Cliff Steele has posed:
Does the cookie squirm when handled?

Well, maybe. Subtly. But it's still warm, like it came straight out of the oven. Oversized ginger snap, drizzled with frosting. Smells delicious.

"Damn, I bet that tastes good. Fucking hell, I miss food so goddamn much. Sometimes, when I sit silently for long enough, I can remember what it was like to taste something."

A Cajun sensation waggles from the bar. The Cliffster cocks his head, a stupid expression on his face--no big change there. He raises an awkward metal paw in exchange.

"Uh, yeah."

"Wait, so you killed one of those dudes and now they're after you?"

Rachel Summers has posed:
Given that last outing for a shopping trip had ended with Rachel nearly folding a bunch of FoH inside out with her brain? This was already going better. Still, the question her way seemed to blink her out of her reflection and there's a moment for a smile to spread across her face before there's a little laugh. "Careful Rogue, you might make me think you're getting me mixed up with Jean again," she teases before gesturing with a hand, "but I'm...I think I'm good. Decided to come and check this place out, have a drink."

Be normal.

Well, she didn't say that last one aloud.

Quentin Quire has posed:
"You mean his next one, right?" the bartender asks Rogue as she says she's buying for both Quentin and Rachel, gesturing towards Quentin's array of empty pint glasses. With one added even as they speak, Quentin finishing off another beer and setting it down with a burp, and a gesture for more.

While he waits for the refill, he resumes in on his steak and potatoes, close to demolishing that plate as he scarfs it all down. "Of course she means the next one..." he complains with a note of exasperation in his tone as this is slowing down his next drink.

Cain Marko has posed:
"He was alive when they ported 'im out. I know the med bay stuff up on Asteroid M. It's top notch stuff." says Cain, turning away from Remy to answer Cliff.

"Plus- I know for a fact Mystique and Magneto got mutant healers on the payroll! I didn't hit him -that- hard. He shouldn't have died but they claim he did and that it was cause of me."

Cain...puts the cookie down.

He's not hungry enough to test trying to eate a cookie he thinks just giggled at him.

"I dunno. I think one of the ones that attacked me is def dead. I dunno.. he was big enough to take hits from me and then he suddenly wasn't anymore and then when I hit 'im he...uh.. hit a buildin' a few blocks away. I heard they got his body." Cain grunts, "I dunno." he repeats and then begins to slowly rise from his seat. An event that seems to happen without end in sight until he finally stretches up to his full, albiet still 'restrained', gargantuan height.

"i'm gonna go fer a walk." A big roll of bills appears in his meaty hand and he sets it down onto the table roughly. "This should cover everything and some. Get yerself somethin..."

Remy LeBeau has posed:

"Les gens aiment pas faire leur propre affaire, hein?" Remy says to Rogue, glancing across at Rachel when he hears her response. His lips quirk into a partial frown, taking a sip of his drink but otherwise lapsing into silence. He waves a hand as Cain departs, shaking his head. Guess he wasn't as clear as he'd hoped. Oh well, people understand him most of the time, now.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue showed a soft smile at Rachel, as she raised her hands up, palms out. "I promise, I knew it was you. I'm allowed to call'em as I see'em too." She quipped, as she shot Quentin and the bartender another look. "yeah, I don't know if I have enough money ta pay for every drink he's had so far, and seems hell bent on killin' himself with tanight.." She said, as she shot Quentin a look. "You don't drink yourself inta a bad spot tonight, Sugah... Ya hear me?"

When she looked back to Rachel, she offered her another upnod. "You doin' well? Bein' down here in Bushwick, is usually what I do when I wanna get in a bar fight. But I ain't neva been ta this place before... It seems like a nice enough place.." She said all of that, before a smirk slid across her dusky colored lips.

With Cain rising up, Rogue regarded Remy once more. she sensed his general mood, and she reached a hand out to press it against his clothing encased bicep. "Don't let it get to ya, Sparky. People get all up on ya, cause they wanna learn the mystery behind them eyes." She encouraged the Cajun, in a playful fashion, but one meant to try and draw a smile out on him. "I appreciate ya goin' to all this trouble ta get these boots too. There are plenty'a nice shoe stores here in Manhattan, so ya sure as heck didn't need ta go around the globe... but the gesture is appreciated..." She said, her hands stroking up down and his arm.

With the large shadow of Cain stalking out of the bar, Rogue looked toward him and Cliff again. "Try not ta crush anyone, Marko." She teased him on his retreat.

Quentin Quire has posed:
Quentin doesn't quite roll his eyes at Rogue; he's bold, but not that bold. It's ac lose thing though. "Pfft, it's Mutant Town, I'll be fine..." he says, picking up the fresh pint as it is set down infront of him. "Salud." a salute with the glass to Rogue as he takes a swallow, then scrapes the last of the steak and potatoes onto his fork to finish it off.

An appreciative burp follows as he drops his silverware on the empty plate and slides it to join the fallen soldiers. A careful eye follows Cain out the door; he may be daydrinking, but he's not dumb.

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Um, dude. Robot?"

A rusted digit points towards the Cliffster's chest, taps metallically.

"What am I going to do, stare at it? Anyways, take care of yourself, Juggs. Try not to kill anyone on the way to the parking lot, huh?"

He stands himself, dusting cookie crumbs off his shirt.

"Fuck, man. Where do these keep coming from?"

As they reach the door, Cliff pats his pal on the shoulder.

"Look, if you're in trouble, you know where to reach me. Pretty sure you can hide out in one of the backhouses until things blow over. Just--take a shower, do something fun, I don't fucking know? Maybe try that place down in Amarillo; 72 oz steak with all the fixins, free if you eat it all. A vacation would do you well."

And with that, our hero heads towards the Hyperloop.

Team-up averted. Time for some Rockford Files and a layer of primer for the model farmhouse. Adventure awaits at Doom Manor!

Cain Marko has posed:
Oh the Cajun was clear. Clear enough to make Cain have that brief mental spaz-out... and clear enough that he's got yet something else on his mind to consider. So much so that he eyes the cajun for a few seconds as he makes his lumbering tread towards the exit of the place and then sweeps his eyes over the rest of the gathered institute members. His eyes linger longer on Rachel for a moment and he squints them for a second or two before hearing Rogue as he reaches the exit at long last.

He pauses and turns, just sort of looking at her with a heavy frown on his brutal features and then to Cliff as he reaches him. He cranes an eyebrow up and looks away just as a smirk starts to come to his face..softening his expression slightly in the process before answring them both.

"I never make promises I can't keep.. Bad for business." He makes a finger gun like gesture at that and then turns and begins ducking his massive body out into the streets.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"Guess we can blow this popsicle stand, hein?" Remy asks of Rogue, looking around the place for a moment.

"But no drivin' back tonight. I paid for parkin' and I'm gonna get my money's worth out of it. All this stealin' made me learn the value of a dollar. My papa'd be proud, if I knew who he was."

He pats Rogue on her shoulder, carefully avoiding any exposed skin.

"C'mon, stop crampin' Quentin's style."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue finished off the rest of her glass, before she slid a fair amount of money to the bartender. She saw that Rachel had taken up a phone call, and that Quentin was doing his best to lure in a bar fly? Or just another plate of bar food, one or the other. She heard the Cajun's words, and showed him a soft smirk, before she slipped the tall boots back in to the gift box they came in, and with a light sigh, she slid them off the bar to tuck them under her arm. "I am ready when you are, Mistah Italian Job..." She said, as she hooked an arm under his, and turned to make for the doorway with him. "Nice lil place though, I might have ta remember it..."

"See ya, Quentin." She called back over her shoulder.