17552/Nothing Is Free

Nothing Is Free
Date of Scene:	01 April 2024
Location:	Hammer Bay
Synopsis:	Calling the Juggernaut to Genosha to discuss the details of his continued retainer on behalf of the Brotherhood leads to words of wisdom from Cain Marko.
Cast of Characters:	Lorna Dane, Cain Marko

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Lorna Dane has posed:
Every month, a respectable sum of money appears in Cain Marko's bank account. In theory, it's to keep his unique services available to his benefactor at any time.

In practice, it has been little more than a monthly stringless stipend-- a gift celebrating his very existence. The Brotherhood of Mutants is not what it was five years ago; it's not even what it was a couple years ago, when active engagements were more prevalent-- and by and large, this suits Lorna just fine. The Queen of Genosha is not her father: where he envisioned the Brotherhood as his personal army to facilitate his goal of mutant dominion, Lorna is for all intents a legacy member-- and a later addition at that. The Brotherhood is not her army; the Brotherhood isn't even _hers_.

The money, however: that's hers. Technically, it's Genosha's-- but what's the difference, really?

The royal palace dominates the heart of Hammer Bay, a monolith of glass and steel dedicated to Genoshan resilience. Among its many rooms is the circular reception chamber where Lorna Dane paces, waiting for her invited guest to arrive to discuss that generous stipend going forward. A baby monitor lingers a few feet from her pacing arc, resting at the head of a vast longtable; all it emits is soft, white static right now.

Cain Marko has posed:
The timing is certainly rather ironically perfect.

In recent days, not far from Genosha but free from their territory and national waters, The Juggernaut had been involved in another venture that was set to fill his bank account up with more money than he was going to be able to responsibly spend.

It didn't go as planned.

The intevention of a local resident is what prevented him from trying to make it back to the island nation on foot across the bottom of the ocean, batteling the crushing pressure of the darkest depths of the deep with sheer will, strength and unstoppable momentum. That naive girl's act of altruism saved The Juggernaut quite a bit of time and the rest of the world from the boiling rage that would have built up within him from that particular ordeal. Ultimately, it meant that he was actually already on the nation when both notification of payment and the request to meet hit the device that passes as a phone for him. It's certainly not the sort of invitation he's going to refuse.

Thus, his arrival is heralded by the heavy rumbling impact of his footfalls and the vibrations of the sheer magnitude of his pressure of his very movements cause to the air itself. He's come in 'business' attire, you see. Armored up in full as the Avatar of Cyttorak as opposed to more casual fare. When the Queen calls you show up in your best, after all.

Decorum and respect for the station seems to begin and end with that however as, once he's ushered into the room he gives aveyr informal, "Yo. You rang?" His deep rumbling voice only slightly shy of a full on Lurch impnession as he draws nearer and then slows to take in the entire chamber with a sweeping gaze.

Lorna Dane has posed:
Rumbling bass rings and redoubles into a roar that settles into bones and sets organs aquiver. Crafted as they were by raw magnetic will, the chamber walls have been acoustically tuned for something better than perfection: dramatic impact. The matrices of the glass surfaces have been designed to reflect and amplify certain tones -- including the cavernous rumbles emanating from the Juggernaut -- to thundering effect, a property occasionally put to good use by its original creator to seize control of particularly challenging meetings.

Where Cain is in business attire, Lorna has opted for royal garb: a purple cape flows down her shoulders, lustrous and smooth-- unless, that is, one were to look closer and see the plethora of ridges, of small sharp points, and notice the contours of its countless shards of metal interlocking like a jagged feather mosaic. A green halter crosses her chest and loops around her arms to link up with the cape, secured at the center by a small white skull. Just beneath, a green corset runs from her upper chest, blending smoothly into skintight pants. Heeled sandals laced all the way up to the knee complete the outfit-- that, and the subtle but persistent sheen glowering from its every smooth, polished surface. Halting at the first sign of bass, Lorna flicks a quick glance to the monitor before shifting her attention over-- and up-- to Cain. For a contingent of human-scale beings, the chamber would be spacious, with its many windows and high ceiling; for the avatar of Cyttorak and the regent of Genosha, it's just big enough.

"How long has it been, exactly," she wonders, dispensing entirely with pleasantries to jump right to the main thrust of the meeting, "since we started the arrangement of ours? The money off-shore," comes with a briskly circling hand, "the otherwise unspoken understanding of help?"

Her tone is steady, composed-- and underlined by genuine curiosity rather than displeasure.

Cain Marko has posed:
"I dunno.." drawls out Juggernaut's heavy voice, lower and more controlled now given the impact and power of his greeting as magnified as it was by the chamber's particular nuances. You really don't want him giving his best shout or roar of rage in here...

He lifts one of those masive boulder sized hands of his and does an absent gesture with them ...twisting them this way and that in a series of rolling movements as he searches for a timeframe to answer her question.

"Couple of year? Maybe? Course I haven't been completely idle. The Brotherhood called on me once or twice and I put the fear of God into Bane when he was throwing his weight around and puffing his chest out in Mutant Town.. Not exactly what I had in mind when I said I'd 'assist' but....it was still fun."

He lets his massive limbs fall to rest at his sides and just looms there, looking down at her like some sort of monolithic red and brown monument that was dropped off into the middle of the chamber and left to take up far too much space. "Why?" Curiousity of his own tinges his deep voice now as he studies her from the depths of his helm, "You firin' me, your Majesty?"

Lorna Dane has posed:
"I'm taking stock," the crownless Queen assures before gesturing towards a chair-- the only one like it in the chamber. Every chair is a distinctly fashioned piece of furniture, but more than that: one of them is carved from solid granite and wide enough to seat a family of five-- or a party of one(1) Juggernaut. The bottom's barely discernible because it simply flows directly into the floor, stone bound to steel in a seamless marriage. Twin armrests tipped with carvings of stallions so proud, so wild that fire practically glowers from their sculpted eyes, and a series of three esoteric runes carved near the top of its high back give it a few decorative notes.

"I don't really know what the Brotherhood is, now-- I'm not sure that I knew a year ago, even. Or two, or..." The rest is banished with a quick sweep of her hand.

"Everything's been a blur since G-Day," the day Genosha died, "and it's all I--"

Lorna catches herself-- catches the gradually falling tone and volume of her musings and swallows, hard. Turning from Cain, she paces towards a window overlooking a vast swath of the revived island, dotted with homes and thrumming with life.

"You do great work, Cain... but Genosha can't pay you to do nothing," soon comes in a louder, more resolutely detached voice, "can she?" Fingers tipped with black and deep green nails splay across glass carved by stubborn will; Lorna takes a deep, bracing breath.

"Consider this your notice that the money may not be as easy, going forward," she concludes.

Cain Marko has posed:
The crimson behemoth takes a seat in the offered chair and leans back into it.

There is, perhaps, something that might be a little unsettlintg about the look of him doing so. A strange sort of menace that settles over the mood as he rests his arms upon the arm rests of the magnificent seat and leans his gigantic body back into it, expression completely shrouded into darkness by the helm he wears.

It's not intentional either but he can't help being what he is after all. An Avatar of a force of indescribable power and destructive might...such that he seems less like he's sitting in a chair now and instead sitting on a throne in the middle of a nation that does not belong to him. A look that'd be a near image of Cyttorak himself if Lorna but knew that's exactly what this now looks like. She'd probably tell him to get back up again if she did.

At the very least she probably feels something...slightly off for a few seconds. This isn't helped by the fact that she's basically threatening him with a layoff.

One does not simply layoff The Juggernaut.

But - he doesn't react other then just sitting there and listening. He gives no indication of what his -actual- thoughts are and allows her to work herself through the mental gymnastics forced upon her by the current state of The Brotherhood and when she's finished he sits silent for a few seconds...

And then he simply shrugs and leans forward to rest his elbows upon his knees. "The Brotherhood aint yoru responsiblity, is it?" he asks simply. "..Or at least it's not far as I knew. I thought Mystique had some grand plan? Or your dad? Either way...if you ask me, you're better off doing what you're doing here. They don't seem to have a solid goal in mind, far as I can tell. Really..do any of y'all? Even Charlie's folk seem to be just sittin' around doing much of nothing. Not that I really -care- but...it's kinda funny in a way. I know Charles. That aint like him..."

He leans back again and gestures absently, "Anyway....if you wanna let me go then fine. I'm not hurtin' for cash. I was just trying to...y'know..broaden my horizons. IF you can't afford me you can't afford me... Of course...there's another angle.."

He pauses and then says with another shrug, "You find me something to do."

Lorna Dane has posed:
"Genosha is my responsibility."

The proclamation resonates forcefully, scattering off the glass only to seep into the walls at a dozen points, coursing through them-- reverberating--

-- buffeting the air until it is the atmosphere of the room, thick enough for blades or worse.

"And Mystique is... I don't know what she's doing; what she wants to do. The Professor, the rest of the team -- you're right," threads through the thrumming room without adding to the din.

"They have the luxury of being super-heroes," comes with a pointed look towards Cain upon his titanic throne. A mixture of natural light and ambient radiance emanating from-- somewhere keeps every inch of the chamber comfortably illuminated-- except where the Destroyer's monolithic shadow falls the thickest.

It's right about here that the implication underlying this whole interaction - the suggestion of sudden dismissal after months of maintaining a business relationship - slithers down her spine and settles into a cold, hard lump in Lorna's stomach. Turning from him, she regathers herself with another deep breath, rolling her head deliberately around her shoulders with lidded eyes.

"The world's still hard, cold, and full of terrors-- and I don't deserve to call myself Queen of anything if I'm willing to sit back wait until it's at our door, showing its teeth," she utters, measured and taut.

"So I'll keep you busy," she concludes. After a beat and a sharp breath, she takes another glance towards the Juggernaut.

"I don't know what that means yet, but it has to mean something."

Cain Marko has posed:
The armored behemoth is quiet again. He leans back and rests one arm against an arm rest while lifting another one up to drum his fingers against the side of his helmet in an absent minded gesture akin to someone scratching the side of their head in thought.

"Hn. You're caught between two worlds from the sound of it... You sure you wanna tread into these sorta places? You get yourself dirty with what it -sounds- like you're talking about....it's hard to get clean again... You go on the offensive with your nation on the line ...you're talking about a whole different set of challenges and threats."

He lets that sink in for a moment or two and then adds, "..But I think you alreadyd know that so I'm not saying anything you've not already thought about. Just keep in mind that once you cross a line it gets harder and harder and harder to turn back the other way. You aint your father or Mystique, after all."

That seems to be good enough as he falls silent again. Ironic though... The Justice League Dark and now this. IF he's not careful he might wind up on the side of angels on the regular. The very thought makes him shake his head and ultimately put that from his mind. It's just business...more or less. Or so he attempts to remind himself.

Lorna Dane has posed:
"You're very empathetic for a fifty foot-tall avatar of breaking shit."

Without hesitating, Lorna pairs glib observation with a small, tight smile. Turning from the mercenary, her attention drifts back to the window; her lips hang slightly ajar, poised on the edge of a sentence that never quite comes as the seconds tick by--

"... we'll be in touch," finally follows. Her right hand lifts as bands of emerald light swirl from her fingertips down to her wrist. Those fingers slowly spread and curl-- her eyes lid and a long, even breath eases out.

Like a spring shower of fundamental force, magnetic waves course over Cain's helmet leaving a gentle trail of quiet, ringing resonance washing across its surface like ripples in a great red sea.

A means of contact, for when there are no other options-- a pager broadcasting on a singular frequency.

Cain Marko has posed:
"Listen I aint trying to get in your business I'm just telling it like it is."

He's been called out for being empathic in recent days. The homeless elemental girl. The Queen of Genosha. His fellow Justice League Dark member.

Oh man, if she found out he was affiliated with something adjacent to the -Justice League- .. he'd probably never hear the end of it. Iornic in that they called upon him for similar reasons. To deal wit matters nobody else would be willing to do or willing to do what was neessary... it's just unofficial and dealing with the occult and other supernatural forces.

But at this rate he's going to need to break something or someone so he stops feeling so....understanding of people.

"Yeah. Stay in touch." he grunts as he finally rises from his seat and takes a few heavy steps forward and then turns towards the way out of the chamber.
"Oh...by the aay... If you run into some water elemental girl who lives by yer beach and has amnesia...tell 'er Cain said hello."

Oddly specific but knowing Genosha that's probably not as far fetched or bizarre as it sounds.

Witht hat, he turns and begins a slow inexorable tread from the chamber to leave The Queen to her troubles and plans.