16112/For Sale: Guns, Slightly Used

For Sale: Guns, Slightly Used
Date of Scene:	19 October 2023
Location:	Salem Center - New York
Synopsis:	A gun buy turns into a philosophical debate.
Cast of Characters:	Rien D'Arqueness, Hope Summers

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Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien is leaned up against the wall of a strip mall building, looking somehow both out of place and suitably shady. The blonde hair has been pulled into a loose ponytail and tucked down into the collar of a black overcoat, leaving just a few shorter locks curling around her face. The angelic looks are belied by the aged, hard look in those blue eyes. This is a woman that's seen some shit. The overcoat shows hints of a blue shirt underneath, black leggings that tuck into boots. And she's smoking something that smells herbal, albeit not THAT herb. Almost more like a smudge stick.

She doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get anywhere, just waiting with the patience of Job for.. something. Or someone.

Hope Summers has posed:
Hope has learned how to blend in well in a non-apocalyptic environment, even if it isn't as easy personality-wise. She wears a faded and stretched concert t-shirt for KISS that she claimed from goodwill, tucked into a pair of jeans that are decidedly more flattering and a pair of heavy black combat boots. Her red hair is hidden beneath a Mets baseball cap, and a pair of sunglasses complete the look.

She shoulders her way out of a Subway, crunching up the paper baggy for a white chocolate cookiee into a ball and tossing it into a nearby trash can. That done, she checks her phone and tucks it into the back pocket of her jeans. A more bare-bones burner cell hangs at her hip, which she sends a quick text message through. Rien's own beeps in response.

> omw <

A little later, she strolls on up to the woman in the black overcoat and smirks with unpainted lips beneath the shaded brim of her cap.

"Hey."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Pulling out her phone when it vibrates in her pocket, Rien checks the message but doesn't respond, just tucking the phone away with a nod. She lets out a breath and lightly hums an old French tune as she waits. She keeps up that casual vigilence, waiting for her 'customer' to show up as she hangs out in this place where she SHOULD stand out... but doesn't.

Glancing up when Hope approaches, Rien offers a subtle nod of her head, "Hello. Weasel send you?" Not that it matters much, or maybe it does, it's good to have someone to vouch for you after all. Especially in this business.

"Do you have an idea of what sort of presents you're hoping to get under the tree this year? A wishlist, perhaps? It's always easier if you can be specific, makes the shopping go so much faster, don't you agree?" As if they were discussing toys or clothes to be wrapped and placed under a Christmas tree that's still a few months away. "You know that I don't take credit, oui?"

Hope Summers has posed:
"Yup," Hope answers, standing in a way that looks far too much like 'parade rest' than a young woman like her should be taking. She doesn't bother to ask if Rien is the supplier she was sent to speak with. The less said out loud the better, after all, and she's not currently nursing any telepathic abilities.

"I've got a few ideas," she continues, reaching to pull a no fooling pen and paper notepad from her pocket and flipping it open, "Winchester Model 100, case of .308. Whitney Wolverine - how could I not? Have you seen that thing? That one's a Christmas present just for me. TDI Vector ... 9 by 19 if you can find it. Benelli Supernova with the telescopic stock ... aaaaand ... "

She flips the page, glancing up at Rien as though checking if she hasn't run away in horror.

" ... how are you with anti-material weapons and MANPADS? I'm not exactly hunting deer."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Nodding at the response, Rien stubs out the herbal cigarette, pocketing the roach end in her coat and glancing towards Hope. She doesn't offer confirmation, either. It's probably pretty obvious by now anyways. She simply waits for the 'wishlist' from Hope.

Nodding at each of the items mentioned, Rien flickers a brief, faint smile at the mention of the Whitney Wolverine. At the end of the list, she lifts a brow at the request, then chuckles, "Perhaps this would be easier if you could see the stock I carry. Shall we?" Pushing away from the wall, she turns and motions towards for Hope to follow. She doesn't go far, just the door to the... coin-op laundromat? Gripping the door handle in one hand, she looks to Hope, "The first step can be disorienting, brace yourself."

Should Hope choose to step through, she will find herself moving through a portal that takes her into... a warehouse! One that has a very interesting selection of 'toys'.

Hope Summers has posed:
To Hope's credit, she doesn't scream or even make a peep when she steps through the portal. There's been more than a few strange portals and spatial displacement events in her relatively young life. She does pause for a moment, though, blinking and letting her equilibrium re-establish itself. Once that's done, she removes her sunglasses to look around.

It's almost cute the way she skips a few steps forward, like a kid opening a particularly precious gift on Christmas morning, and moves to one of the makeshift firearms displays. It's a battle rifle of some sort. She doesn't recognize it, but then again not every kind of weapon made it to the world (or, more accurately, worlds) she came from.

"This is so cool," she enthuses, aiming down the sight with excellent trigger discipline before inspecting the aperture, "So much better than Gomer and his pick-up full of deer rifles. Can I just live here?"

She puts the weapon down reverently before moving to a rack of handguns, placing them at her hip and doing a few 'practice draws'. She nods appreciatively, setting the third one she tries aside in her 'purchase' pile.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien follows her through the portal, though of course, to the casual observer, it's just two women walking into a laundromat. Anyone from the interior doesn't even see the door open. Nothing to see here, folks!

The portal closes behind Rien, the faint blue glow of it fading away as it closes behind her. She watches Hope with a faint twitch of her lips, very nearly a smile, following along behind her at a slight distance to let Hope just sort of... experience everything for herself.

"I have been doing what I do for a very long time... you could say this is partly a collection, I suppose. I have some things that aren't exactly practical in the modern day, but I can remember when I acquired them..." And it's true, some of the weaponry she has is fairly 'antique'. Not like ancient times, but some of the guns could be traced back to World War 2. Some of them are extremely modern and possibly even experimental. Look, it's hard to keep things away from someone that can just portal in and out of your super secret base, okay?

Rien glances at the 'purchase pile' and chuckles softly. "I'm afraid there are no facilities here, otherwise I would consider it."

Hope Summers has posed:
"Hell yeah," Hope murmurs under her breath, picking up a well-preserved rifle that looks as though it were plucked straight from the streets of Stalingrad and turning it over in her hands, "Tsk. You should run a museum. Some of these I've only ever seen in books."

She continues to move through the collection, picking out an item here and there or replacing one with another when she changes her mind. She has an unremarkable Jansport backpack slung over one shoulder, which she opens up to peer inside for a moment.

Returning back to Rien, she finds a clear spot on a table and pours the contents of the bag out. A large amount of American currency, bundled up in rubber bands. Her adoptive father taught her never to let the enemy's resources go to waste, after all.

"I don't suppose you have a delivery service? These are great but I'm ... uh ... between vehicles at the moment. And the place I'm staying isn't big on weapons. Guys with claws who get drunk and smoke like chimneys? Fine, give 'em all of that. But one little handgun and it's 'Hope, this is a school.'"

She shakes her head, glancing up from the pile of money and selected weaponry to half-smile at Rien from beneath the brim of her hat.

"Well, if they even let me stay there. But don't worry about that."

There's a pause, as Hope reaches out and recognizes the familiar feeling of a mutant genome. She activates her own mutant ability, copying it to herself. Portal powers? Yes, please. Except when she goes to use them, she suddenly pops claws from between her knuckles insted.

>SNIKT!<

She lets out a shout like the cat who just got their tail caught in a mouse trap.

"Gahhhh! Motherfu- agh! Ow ow ow ow ow ow!"

They retract with a splash of viscera over the bundled up greenbacks and she nurses her bloodied but by now fully healed hand against her chest.

"What happened to the portals?!"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"I'm afraid I have to keep a lower profile than that would allow for. But it is gratifying to see someone else appreciate them so much. I have other memorbilia from the era... including some that others might not remember. But I remember." There's a bittersweetness to those last words as she offers a faint smile. Rien chuckles softly, "Well, you are welcome to look around. I try to keep everything in working condition."

Watching as Hope continues to make her way through the warehouse, she pauses when the backpack is upended over the table and bundles of money fall out. Nodding, she looks it over, then over to the pile that Hope has collected, "That should cover you. If you discover there's something that you need or want that isn't here, let me know. I can acquire most things fairly easily."^R^RAbout the respond ont he matter of the delivery service, Rien stops to let out a small laugh at the mention of drunk men with claws who smoke like chimneys, "Ah, you are at Xavier's. Understood. Well, just let me..." Then Hope's hands are exploding with bone claws and blood, and Rien is lifting a brow and watching for a moment.

"You know, it's generally considered impolite to go poking around in peoples' powers without their permission. You get things like... well, this." She moves forward, waving a hand and murmuring under her breath, the blood lifting into the air and evaporating as Rien steps towards Hope and makes a quick visual inspection of her hand. "Interesting, you can absorb more than one at a time... that's unusual. Potent."

Looking up to Hope, she chuckles, "I'm afraid that I'm a bit... unique. I'm not *just* a mutant... I'm also a sorceress. The portals come from my mother's side of the family, and that is not a power that you can absorb, I'm guessing. Perhaps we should sit down... have a chat. Clearly there's more to both of us than meets the eye."

Rien waves a hand and a pair of chairs appear at the table, along with a tea set, of all things. She motions Hope to one of the chairs and moves to pour the tea, a cup for each of them. There's a glance to Hope, "Milk or honey? Lemon?"

Hope Summers has posed:
"Well, it's not like it's intrusive," Hope answers back snippishly, "Doesn't come with private information or social security numbers or anything. My power is poking around, after all."

She's still nursing her hand, still cussing and clutching at it like she's got a nasty papercut. The claw popping might heal, but it hurts like hell. Especially for someone not used to doing so. She is reluctant to offer her hand, but does so in the end.

"Whatever you can do, I can do," she explains, "As far as being a mutant, anyway. The sorcery stuff? Can't copy that. You know, you're not the only one who can do pretty much this exact thing. Small world."

She eyes the chairs critically for a moment, brow furrowing. Another gap in her education that was more focused on survival.

"Milk or honey lemon what?"

She sniffs the air for a moment, reeling back as suddenly-heightened senses bombard her.

"Ugh ... is that ... what, tea? No. Just ... got any water? And keep it down, huh?"

She makes the universal gesture for 'talk quietly' before gingerly sitting down in one of the offered chairs. She pulls the hat from her head after a moment, red hair cascading down to her neck once she pulls loose the hair-tie holding it in place.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"You don't think that reaching into others, sorting through their genes, and taking what you want... is intrusive?" Rien lifts a brow at Hope and shakes her head, "My powers include bone claws and a tendency towards angrily sticking them into people. Yet here I am, not a wanted serial killer... just because you have them, doesn't mean you should be using them without ensuring it's alright with the other person."

She gives a small snort at the 'whatever you can do I can do' bit, glancing towards her, "You can copy the powers, but that doesn't mean you can do what I do... that takes years of practice and experience." Then she's setting the tea potback on its cozy and chuckles.

"Yes, it's tea. I suggest you drink it, it will help tone down the senses until you can cope. I can't do anything about the hearing, though." Rien takes her own seat, adding a spoonful of honey into the tea cup and stirring it lightly. She even manages to not hit the spoon against either the side or bottom of the cup! French people.

The long black coat is mysteriously gone, as is the tie that held back her hair, the blonde locks spilling forward over her shoulders. "As for the mutant powers.. well. Those I acquired from my father's side of the family. As I said, I'm somewhat unique. My name is Rien. I'm Logan's eldest... that we know of."

Hope Summers has posed:
"I'm not reaching in anywhere," Hope shoots back defensively, "It's all just ... up there. Around. I'm not stealing it. I ... yeah, okay, I take your point."

Whether or not she actually does, the young woman seems to agree regardless. She folds her hands on the table, looking a little sullen and reproachful. She peers critically at the tea, as though it were the most bizarre drink ever concocted, but finally lifts it up to take a sip. She smacks her lips thoughtfully, mulling over the entirely new taste.

"Ah, the Wolverine? I don't really know him ... well ... yeah, don't know him that well. If you're out here looking for him, though? You just missed him. Heard he up and left the school and didn't let anyone know where he was going."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
She watches as Hope continues to talk, waiting, watching, then giving a nod when the point is conceded. "Thank you. I'm not saying don't ever, it's clearly quite useful. And I can even see there being situations where using it without permission would be necessary... just... this is not one of those times. Asking could have saved you some pain.. and the senses you're dealing with."

Lifting her own cup, she sips from the tea, letting it slowly invade her senses as she nods, "One thing I learned early on... herbalism. It helps to keep the senses... manageable. And it doesn't taste terrible. A little sweet, a little smokey.. the sage helps a good deal in 'cleansing the palate'."

Shaking her head, Rien chuckles, "I know where Logan is. If I want to find him, it's.. easy enough. No, I'm just here for the meetup. My house is in the city." She lifts the cup for another sip, "Now why don't you tell me about yourself a little, hm? Believe me, no matter how insane the story.. I can relate."

Hope Summers has posed:
It's clear from Hope's general demeanor that she's not predisposed to telling her story. When Rien asks, she gently sets her teacup down and wraps her arms around herself. Her expression is difficult to read, coupled with furrowed brows and a thin-lipped frown.

"I'm not from around here," she explains, picking her words carefully, "At all. I had a dad who ... wasn't really my dad, but closest thing I ever had to one. He thought I was going to save the world one day. He was kind of right. But after I did it, the thing I saved it from put me here with no way to go back. So if you ever wondered what a 'chosen one' does after they've fulfilled their mystical prophecy? Well, you're looking at her."

She shakes her head, looking down into her cup and taking another more enthusiastic sip as it eases the overactive senses.

"That's about all there is too it. The rest is just window dressing."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien watches Hope as she speaks, sipping her tea, letting it infuse her senses, helping them stay manageable. There's nothing to do for the sound, of course. But she's learned to deal with that in her own way. So she watches, and listens.

When Hope finishes, she gives a nod, setting her cup back in its saucer gently. Lifting a hand to run through her hair, pushing the locks back from her face and looking to Hope. "What would you say if I said my own story was... very similar to your own? Almost eerily so, actually. Though... mine is more in the past. So.. added perspective... what does a 'chosen one' do once they've fulfilled their purpose... but are still functionally immortal?"

She motions around her, then looks to Hope with a faint smile, "Prepares for the next apocalypse. And the next one. And the next..." Lifting a small shrug, she looks to Hope and murmurs, "I understand."

Hope Summers has posed:
"Well, I'm not immortal," Hope says, smirking, "Or at least, if I was my dad probably would've been less of a psycho about keeping me alive."

She rolls her shoulders in a shrug, leaning forward to look back into her teacup and watch the contents almost critically.

"Well, whatever apocalypse is coming next, I don't think I'm on deck to save the day. But I'm sure as hell gonna make sure I'm stocked. If those anti-mutant lunatics get in charge ... like those guys who made that mutant cure a few months ago? Did you see that? Crazy shit. My dad told me we're not that far away from becoming some wasteland where the flatscans blow themselves up because they're so scared that we'll do it first."

She waves a hand, shaking her head with a look of distaste: "Ugh, I don't wanna talk about that. But yeah, I guess it's nice to meet someone who gets where I'm coming from. Sorta."