17092/What's a Place Like This Doing in a Person Like You

What's a Place Like This Doing in a Person Like You
Date of Scene:	04 February 2024
Location:	Bar With No Name
Synopsis:	An evening of bored takes a serious turn after a text is received. Kiden meets Cain Marko!
Cast of Characters:	Cain Marko, Kiden Nixon

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Cain Marko has posed:
The venue may change for the Bar With No Name, but the bar itself regularly stays the same. Sure, the configuration may change at times, but tonight it's in an old custom's warehouse located on one of The Big Apple's many ports. The bar has been situated near one wall of the old warehouse. To call it a warehouse is perhaps an inaccuracy as it's more akin to a hangar than a true warehouse. The high, curved ceiling and open space has been filled with multiple tables and booths; but none of the furnishings seem to overcome the echo within the expansive space. Even a handful of people within the warehouse can create enough of a buzz to result in a minor echo that while not disruptive to conversations: is noticeable.

The bar itself is as dingy and mildewed as it ever is. Old burn marks from cigars and cigarettes mar the surface, along with the odd scuff or nick within the almost-filthy wood. The bartender is the sort with his head scrunched down to his shoulders, perpetually wearing a scowl, and no matter how much he wipes it out - the inside of that mug just WILL NOT get clean. No matter how much spit he applies to it.

The buzz of conversation creates a din of noise within the warehouse and some might wonder if the Port Authority may show up to crash the party; yet they never do. Maybe the proper palms were greased. Despite health code, city and state regulations; smoke hangs heavily in the air - which is fucking saying something since the ceilings are at least eighty feet up - and the rules on fighting or other conflicts is respected.

A patron of the Bar With No Name this evening is one Cain Marko. The brutish man standing at nearly seven feet tall can be found at the bar, seated atop an old oil drum. Judging by the fact that if he shifts it doesn't make the tell-tale noise of a hollow drum? It's like the thing has been filled with something - perhaps water - to grant it greater durability beneath the considerable mass of the giant of a man. Where many may lean over the bar while nursing their mug, glass or bowl of whatever goopy stew of a brew they may favor - Mr. Marko's seated with a stool to his right and keg settled under his arm as an arm rest that sits atop it. The fact that it's missing the one end and judging by the jagged lines it was likely torn off may very well indicate that the Juggernaut's having himself a drink and a little relaxation while holed up in the City So Nice They Named It Twice.

Kiden Nixon has posed:
Kiden hasn't always run with the 'cleanest' of crowds, and years on the streets as a mutant that's occasionally been on the run from the law (petty theft, burglary, etc.) has netted her some interesting contacts. So even if Kiden isn't truly villainous, she's this side enough to get a heads up when a certain Bar shows up in the city. Generally she gets the location and just takes note to be careful in that area (and to try and steer the heroes from taking routes through that part of the city). Tonight, however, she finds herself a little bored. Conner got called on to help with something on New Krypton, which has left her just sort of shuffling around the apartment.

She doesn't get dressed up, perse, but she throws on something a bit more appropriate to the location. A dark hoodie over a t-shirt that layers over a long-sleeved shirt, dark jeans, scuffed boots. There's only so much she can do to make herself anonymous, she's still barely over five feet and just past a hundred pounds. All the baggy hoodies in the world aren't going to be able to disguise her size. So she doesn't try. Tucking her wallet away, Kiden heads out to the location on her phone.

When she arrives... it isn't what she expected. She wasn't really sure WHAT to expect... but this wasn't it. All that's missing is an off-center pool table and a few chewn up dart boards and this could be any one of a dozen dive bars in the city. Which is probably the point. Heading to the bar, Kiden can't help but stop and stare at the VERY large man with his very own keg. Huh. Not something you see every day!

Still, she came here for some no-questions-asked beer, and maybe to hear something interesting while she drinks it. Hopping up onto a stool, she waits for the bartender to grunt before muttering, "Whatever's cheap in a bottle."

Cain Marko has posed:
The arrival of a new presence and face results in Cain's head turning ponderously aside. Where she may gawk at his size, the brutish red-headed man seems to consider hers. The order for a beer ears a low, thunderous chuckle out of the man as he leans back slightly stop his oil drop with the expanding of his frame on account of the light laughter. It fades away soon enough and he comments finally, following his bit of good humor, "Cheap, expensive; so long as it gets you fucked up, right?" The chuckle renews itself as the question is asked and then Marko's attention turns ahead again. He doesn't so much as grunt when he lifts the keg up between both hands, taking a long pull from it while he hugs it to his broad chest.

The drink is concluded and the scalped keg placed back to the stool to his side. Once more his arm drapes over it, much in the same way a patron may drape an arm across the shoulders of a companion seated next to them. He smacks his lips and upon turning his attention back to Kiden, his chin inclines as a new comment is pitched the young woman's way, "You stand out. A lot," he declares as though he doesn't. The next words come in the form of a question, though it is one that the behemoth of a man seems only half-interested in truly knowing, "First time?" Presumably to the Bar With No Name.

The immense man doesn't linger watching Kiden for long. Soon enough he's turning his attention to look throughout the old customs warehouse, watching his fellow patrons with about as much trust as the handler about to place his head in the gators mouth. Eventually he does turn his attention back to Kiden, given she's one of the more interesting things to saunter within his vicinity in the last few minutes. It's likely that most have given the massive man that's surely on the bodybuilding circuit considerable room to operate.

Kiden Nixon has posed:
Even light laughter from Marko is enough to make her wince from the sheer echoing sound of it. Still, she doesn't move from her seat, staying put as the bartender gives her a onceover, her giving him that dead-eyed stare only the homeless can truly master. Then he's grunting and moving to pluck a longneck from a chest of ice, flipping the cap off before plunking it down in front of her. Kiden drops a five on the bar and looks over at Cain, letting him see a peek of blonde hair peeking out from the hoodie, blue eyes, and a very youthful face. "They both taste like shit, so I'd rather not go broke getting wasted."

She takes a long drink of the beer, making a small face over the taste of it. Even when she knew it was coming, it still tastes terrible. But she didn't buy it for the taste. Taking another swallow, she glances sidelong at the big man when he addresses her again, "Nah, just the first time drinking here. Didn't used to have the cash, only came because the fence I used thought it was 'super cool' to drink here."

Kiden doesn't turn to face the room, she sticks out enough without making eye contact with anyone. But she's very much aware of them, though she does an admirable job of not showing any tension or nerves over it. Still, she can all but feel the weight of Marko's regard on her. Not looking up from her contemplation of the bar and what an interesting science project it would make with all the organisms likely growing on it, she asks, "Aren't you a bit out of this place's league? Last I heard it was mostly henchmen and street thugs that hung out here."

Cain Marko has posed:
The answer on the subject of taste versus cost within the paradigm of alcoholism earns an unsettling grin out of the brutish mercenary, "That's the fuckin' spirit right there". He doesn't laugh this time but the behemoth's grin is broad and bordering on the unpleasant in its ruthless presence. The blue of the man's eyes stands out in sharp contrast to the red of his hair and the overhead lighting of the would-be hangar only seems to enhance the bright gingerness of his hair. The admission that it's the first time drinking at the roving bar earns a slight lift of Cain's chin; nothing more than a silent acknowledgment of having heard the comment. Though another comment follows it and Cain's gaze turns heavily upon Kiden, his grin renewing itself with ease. Yet still it isn't the most comfortable of expressions to have cast in the viewer's direction. It's the look of a bully who's quite likely going to do something that bullies do. "You've got cash now, huh?" Marko asks without so much as a shift in his seat. In fact he again brings his keg around and lifts it up to his mouth. Long, gulping chugs are poured from container to throat. He exhales a heavy, contented sigh upon withdrawing the keg from his mouth and setting it aside again.

The belch that erupts from the man causes the bar to tremble and he begins to laugh again. The sound of the belch seamlessly blends with the laughter, which in turn creates a combined sound but with two distinct parts. He wipes at his mouth with the back of a massive hand and as the human begins to fade away, Cain's attention turns his attention back to Kiden. The way that she attempts to keep her head down and not get drawn into the mix of things results in another smile out of Marko, though this one is considerably smaller and almost bordering on predator.

The comment regarding henchmen and thugs is enough to distract the man in the tight sweat pants and hooded sweatshirt. Another glance is cast back across the tables and makeshift booths, studying the faces among the crowd before he glances back to Kiden with a smirking smile, "Ah, so you know me, huh? Think of it this way. Ain't no competition here. I'm the king, right? You ever want to be a," he pauses a beat while he looks the younger blonde over for a split second, "queen or princess or whatever? You go where you're the strongest. Or are you a henchman or thug looking for work? I might got a job or two, if you got the qual-if-i-cations."

Kiden Nixon has posed:
Chuckling at his response, she lifts her beer bottle towards him before taking another swallow. The taste starting to dull as she gets more used to it with each drink. There's a blink for the sight of his grin, unsettling and almost... brutal. How a person can have a brutal grin while sitting still in sweats at a bar is beyond her, but he manages it quite well. Still, she flashes a brief smile before looking back to the bar and taking another swallow. "Lil bit. Enough to get a few beers. I'm not dumb enough to bring a wallet full of cash or cards into a place like this." She offers a quick half-smile aimed his way, "So if you're gonna hit me up for the 15 bucks I got left... I mean.. go for it, but it's not gonna get you anything satisfying."

The belch draws her attention again, eyes wide as she listens to the impressive range of it. Shaking her head slowly, she turns back to her beer, perhaps contemplating her very existence in the wake of such a sound. She takes another swallow of her beer and looks to the bartender with a nod. One more round for her.

"I'd have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to not be able to recognize you. You kinda stand out." Kiden flicks a quick smile at him and gives a small nod as she finishes off her first beer. The second is set down just in time for her to drop a 5 on the bar and lift the bottle. She quirks a wry smile at him and motions to herself, "I am never gonna be the strongest person in the room, my man. And no, I'm not a henchman. Independent contractor. I take the jobs I want to take, and I don't take the ones that don't interest me."

Cain Marko has posed:
"Aaah," he growls out with a little shrug of his shoulders, "I'm not going to mug you. Go big or go home, right? Fifteen bucks ain't work the effort". He considers Kiden with a sideward glance and a cruel smile before he adds, "Let me know if you wander into some inheritance or something though, yeah?"

For the time being he's not too animated. Sitting, watching, waiting, and on occasion helping himself to another long pull from the keg beneath his right arm. The silence seems to build and after a couple of minutes of quiet, the brutish man finally speaks up on a conversation just as old, "Yeah, I do sometimes, don't I? Reckon I should start dying my hair. Maybe throw some blue and green in there, really make myself blend in with today's youth, huh?" The thought brings another chuckle from the man, though this one is at least a little relaxed and modest.

"Contractor, huh? Everyone's a contractor these days. Just say mercenary - it sounds more bad ass, honestly. Contractor just sounds like a self-employed douchebag that has two mortages and an alimony payment".

The keg is given a little shaking and judging by the low sound of the sloshing, he's running on empty. A shrug later and he adds, this time turning the full attention of his harsh blue eyes back toward the small framed gal nearby, "You afraid of getting your hands dirty? What's your thing, hm? You a mutant? Blessed by some goddess or an alien in disguise or...?" The question is left to linger while the Avatar of Cyttorak watches the considerably smaller human with detached interest.

Kiden Nixon has posed:
"Good to know. And sorry, I'm a poor kid from poor-ass Alphabet City, won't be any inheritances or insurance policies here." Kiden lifts a shrug and takes a swallow of her beer, then glances his way with a half-smile, "But I can give you the addresses of some rich bitches that were stuck up cunts in high school."

As silence falls, Kiden takes the opportunity to do a quick check on the other people in the room, making sure they aren't sneaking closer or whatever bad guys might do to the 'new blood'. She takes a swallow of her beer and glances back at him when he speaks again. Laughing softly, she lifts a brow at him, "Do that and you're gonna have to start learning all the new slang, too. Is that *really* worth the effort?" Lifting the cottle, she sips again.

Shaking her head, Kiden chuckles, "Because I'm not a mercenary. I'm a contractor. I work through known sources who reach out to me with offers that I consider over and select at my leisure." Her shoulders lift into a slow shrug, "Mercenary suggests I just take whatever job passes in front of me."

Looking into her bottle, Kiden considers it for a long moment, then looks back to Cain with a lifted brow. "Why cause myself unnecessary grief if I don't have to? If I can get in and out and do what I need to without anyone seeing me, or even knowing I was there? Why not?" She shrugs again and shakes her head, "You're in a unique position that you don't have to worry about it either way. I do."

Cain Marko has posed:
"Well, fuck," the deep rumble of the man's voice intones those two words as though they're a mantra of sorts. He snaps his fingers and his tongue clucks against his cheek before he grumbles, "no money on you, no inheritance coming your way. You're barely worth talking to". A twisted smile tugs at his mouth and judging by the slow shake of his head, there's some manner of pity nestled away within the cruel jokes. The sound of his tongue at a tooth can be heard a second later and following that sound he speaks anew, "But information's good," he says with a glance back toward Kiden and obvious renewed interest in what she may have to say. He leans forward and places an elbow against the lip of the molding bar. Which causes it to bounce as the weight of the man rests atop it. Only for it to slam back down, rattling mugs and nearly spilling drinks as he sits back again with an annoyed growl. Which when it comes to the Juggernaut... isn't typically the ideal sound one wishes to hear.

He shifts down and his feet scoot about, adjusting his placement atop the old oil drum that he may look to Kiden a bit more directly. While her unease may cause her to steal glances to their surroundings, Cain Marko seems to have no such concerns. He watches and listens while she speaks, his chin inclining slightly before his right shoulder rises and falls with a shrug, "Maybe. Mercenary still works though. I know who to take jobs from, I know who not to work with. They just stopped using mercenary in the modern era because it got a bad reputation for women and baby killing, torching out homes, and shit like that. That's all."

He doesn't turn away now and seems content to look pointedly and directly toward Kiden while she and himself speak. "You looking to get paid or not? You can get about unseen - good. That's helpful sometimes. While I'm fucking shit up across the street and drawing attention to me? You can be cleaning out a whole ass business, kid. You wanna stuff your pockets full of cash or not?"

The question is left to hang and Mr. Marko's attention remains fixed upon the much smaller woman, his expression fixed into a discerning scowl.

Kiden Nixon has posed:
"I know, right? Almost like I'm just some street punk that knows a few people and has a cool trick they can do," Kiden clucks her tongue and shakes her head. "Guess I'll just have to live in anonymity. Damn. Not being hunted by the cops or supers. No bounties on my head. And I make enough money to keep a decently comfortable lifestyle. Just... man. How will I ever?" She lets out a heavy sigh and takes a swallow of her beer, looking for all the world like she's quite pleased with herself and her situation.

His mention of information being good has her laughing. She motions for the bartender to give her a napkin and a pen. Scribbling down a couple names and addresses, she slides it down the bar towards him. "Both of them are complete bitches, and both have daddies that buy them everything they want. Have fun, I'm sure you can squeeze them for a bunch of cash." Kiden takes another swallow of her beer and adds, "At least, they did like.. five years ago. I haven't exactly kept up with them." The growl has her looking askance at him before lifting a brow, "Need another keg?"

Turning slightly on her stool to better face him, it's much less of an ordeal than it is for him, and makes her glad that she held onto her bottle as she watches the toehrs rattle and wobble. Looking back to Cain, she nods, "True. But if you say 'mercenary' it's like painting a superhero-shaped target on you."

"Mmmmmmmm... I *do* like getting paid... but I also like not drawing notice. What sort of business are you looking to have cleaned out?" Kiden looks at him evenly, even smiling faintly. She's intrigued by the offer, but still cautious about going into business with the Juggernaut.

Cain Marko has posed:
"Yeah, it's tough being well known. It really blows having everyone know your name and piss themselves when they see you walking at them," the brutish man rumbles out with a vicious smile. He shifts then at the question of another keg. He gives a shake of his red-haired head and gripping the keg by the open end, he stands up. The oil drum rocks as he barely nudges it and the sound of sloshing within results in it beginning to wobble about heavily. A hand comes to rest atop it and just like that the few hundred pounds of barrel and water comes to an abrupt stop.

The scowling face of the man turns to Kiden while he clutches the keg in one hand and the napkin with its scrawling collected, carefully folded, and crammed into a pocket of his hooded sweat shirt. "Toss me your number and your name, then I'll be in touch with you about work. Nothing specific yet". He waits while yet another napkin is spoiled by writing and that too is crammed into his pocket while he continues to carry what's effectively his plus-sized bucket of beer, "When I got something on the hook, I'll get in touch. We'll meet up to talk details. We don't do that on the phone, capiche?"

Nods of understanding are shared between the two and then off he goes, wandering off toward the large warehouse doors with his near-emptied keg held beneath an arm. Most seem to grant him a wide berth and it's all the wiser. He's Unstoppable and he will fucking demolish toes. Soon he is gone and Kiden is left among a regular hive of scum and villainy all by her lonesome.